transcriber's note: this work was transcribed from a contemporary printing, not from the edition. certain spellings may have been modernized and typographic and printer's errors changed from the original. the narrative of lunsford lane, formerly of raleigh, n.c. embracing an account of his early life, the redemption by purchase of himself and family from slavery, and his banishment from the place of his birth for the crime of wearing a colored skin. published by himself. boston: printed for the publisher: j. g. torrey, printer. narrative of lunsford lane. [original.] the slave mother's address to her infant child. i cannot tell how much i love to look on thee, my child; nor how that looking rocks my soul as on a tempest wild; for i have borne thee to the world, and bid thee breathe its air, but soon to see around thee drawn the curtains of despair. now thou art happy, child, i know, as little babe can be; thou dost not fancy in thy dreams but thou art all as free as birds upon the mountain winds, (if thou hast thought of bird,) or anything thou thinkest of, or thy young ear has heard. what are thy little thoughts about? i cannot certain know, only there's not a wing of them upon a breath of woe, for not a shadow's on thy face, nor billow heaves thy breast,-- all clear as any summer's lake with not a zephyr press'd. to the reader. i have been solicited by very many friends, to give my narrative to the public. whatever my own judgment might be, i should yield to theirs. in compliance, therefore, with this general request, and in the hope that these pages may produce an impression favorable to my countrymen in bondage; also that i may realize something from the sale of my work towards the support of a numerous family, i have committed this publication to press. it might have been made two or three, or even six times larger, without diminishing from the interest of any one of its pages--_indeed with an increased interest_--but the want of the pecuniary means, and other considerations, have induced me to present it as here seen. should another edition be called for, and should my friends advise, the work will then be extended to a greater length. i have not, in this publication attempted or desired to argue anything. it is only a simple narration of such facts connected with my own case, as i thought would be most interesting and instructive to readers generally. the facts will, i think, cast some light upon the policy of a slaveholding community, and the effect on the minds of the more enlightened, the more humane, and the _christian_ portion of the southern people, of holding and trading in the bodies and souls of men. i have said in the following pages, that my condition as a slave was comparatively a happy, indeed a highly favored one; and to this circumstance is it owing that i have been able to come up from bondage and relate the story to the public; and that my wife, my mother, and my seven children, are here with me this day. if for any thing this side the invisible world, i bless heaven, it is that i was not born a plantation slave, nor even a house servant under what is termed a hard and cruel master. it has not been any part of my object to describe slavery generally, and in the narration of my own case i have dwelt as little as possible upon the dark side--have spoken mostly of the bright. in whatever i have been obliged to say unfavorable to others, i have endeavored not to overstate, but have chosen rather to come short of giving the full picture--omitting much which it did not seem important to my object to relate. and yet i would not venture to say that this publication does not contain a single period which might be twisted to convey an idea more than should be expressed. those of whom i have had occasion to speak, are regarded, where they are known, as among the most kind men to their slaves. mr. smith, some of whose conduct will doubtless seem strange to the reader, is sometimes taunted with being an abolitionist, in consequence of the interest he manifests towards the colored people. if to any his character appear like a riddle, they should remember that, men, like other things, have "two sides," and often a top and a bottom in addition. while in the south i succeeded by stealth in learning to read and write a little, and since i have been in the north i have learned more. but i need not say that i have been obliged to employ the services of a friend, in bringing this narrative into shape for the public eye. and it should perhaps be said on the part of the writer, that it has been hastily compiled, with little regard to style, only to express the ideas accurately and in a manner to be understood. lunsford lane. boston, july , . narrative. the small city of raleigh, north carolina, it is known, is the capital of the state, situated in the interior, and containing about thirty six hundred inhabitants.[a] here lived mr. sherwood haywood, a man of considerable respectability, a planter, and the cashier of a bank. he owned three plantations, at the distances respectively of seventy-five, thirty, and three miles from his residence in raleigh. he owned in all about two hundred and fifty slaves, among the rest my mother, who was a house servant to her master, and of course a resident in the city. my father was a slave to a near neighbor. the apartment where i was born and where i spent my childhood and youth was called "the kitchen," situated some fifteen or twenty rods from the "great house." here the house servants lodged and lived, and here the meals were prepared for the people in the mansion. [footnote a: whites-- free people of color--and , slaves. total , ; according to the census of .] on the th of may, , i was ushered into the world; but i did not begin to see the rising of its dark clouds, nor fancy how they might be broken and dispersed, until some time afterwards. my infancy was spent upon the floor, in a rough cradle, or sometimes in my mother's arms. my early boyhood in playing with the other boys and girls, colored and white, in the yard, and occasionally doing such little matters of labor as one of so young years could. i knew no difference between myself and the white children; nor did they seem to know any in turn. sometimes my master would come out and give a biscuit to me, and another to one of his own white boys; but i did not perceive the difference between us. i had no brothers or sisters, but there were other colored families living in the same kitchen, and the children playing in the same yard, with me and my mother. when i was ten or eleven years old, my master set me regularly to cutting wood, in the yard in the winter, and working in the garden in the summer. and when i was fifteen years of age, he gave me the care of the pleasure horses, and made me his carriage driver; but this did not exempt me from other labor, especially in the summer. early in the morning i used to take his three horses to the plantation, and turn them into the pasture to graze, and myself into the cotton or cornfield, with a hoe in my hand, to work through the day; and after sunset i would take these horses back to the city, a distance of three miles, feed them, and then attend to any other business my master or any of his family had for me to do, until bed time, when with my blanket in my hand, i would go into the dining room to rest through the night. the next day the same round of labor would be repeated, unless some of the family wished to ride out, in which case i must be on hand with the horses to wait upon them, and in the meantime work about the yard. on sunday i had to drive to church twice, which with other things necessary to be done, took the whole day. so my life went wearily on from day to day, from night to night, and from week to week. when i began to work, i discovered the difference between myself and my master's white children. they began to order me about, and were told to do so by my master and mistress. i found, too, that they had learned to read, while i was not permitted to have a book in my hand. to be in the possession of anything written or printed, was regarded as an offence. and then there was the fear that i might be sold away from those who were dear to me, and conveyed to the far south. i had learned that being a slave i was subject to this worst (to us) of all calamities; and i knew of others in similar situations to myself, thus sold away. my friends were not numerous; but in proportion as they were few they were dear; and the thought that i might be separated from them forever, was like that of having the heart wrenched from its socket; while the idea of being conveyed to the far south, seemed infinitely worse than the terrors of death. to know, also, that i was never to consult my own will, but was, while i lived, to be entirely under the control of another, was another state of mind hard for me to bear. indeed all things now made me _feel_, what i had before known only in words, that _i was a slave_. deep was this feeling, and it preyed upon my heart like a never-dying worm. i saw no prospect that my condition would ever be changed. yet i used to plan in my mind from day to day, and from night to night, how i might be free. one day, while i was in this state of mind, my father gave me a small basket of peaches. i sold them for thirty cents, which was the first money i ever had in my life. afterwards i won some marbles, and sold them for sixty cents, and some weeks after mr. hog from fayetteville, came to visit my master, and on leaving gave me one dollar. after that mr. bennahan from orange county gave me a dollar, and a son of my master fifty cents. these sums, and the hope that then entered my mind of purchasing at some future time my freedom, made me long for money; and plans for money-making took the principal possession of my thoughts. at night i would steal away with my axe, get a load of wood to cut for twenty-five cents, and the next morning hardly escape a whipping for the offence. but i persevered until i had obtained twenty dollars. now i began to think seriously of becoming able to buy myself; and cheered by this hope, i went on from one thing to another, laboring "at dead of night," after the long weary day's toil for my master was over, till i found i had collected one hundred dollars. this sum i kept hid, first in one place and then in another, as i dare not put it out, for fear i should lose it. after this i lit upon a plan which proved of great advantage to me. my father suggested a mode of preparing smoking tobacco, different from any then or since employed. it had the double advantage of giving the tobacco a peculiarly pleasant flavor, and of enabling me to manufacture a good article out of a very indifferent material. i improved somewhat upon his suggestion, and commenced the manufacture, doing as i have before said, all my work in the night. the tobacco i put up in papers of about a quarter of a pound each, and sold them at fifteen cents. but the tobacco could not be smoked without a pipe, and as i had given the former a flavor peculiarly grateful, it occurred to me that i might so construct a pipe as to cool the smoke in passing through it, and thus meet the wishes of those who are more fond of smoke than heat. this i effected by means of a reed, which grows plentifully in that region; i made a passage through the reed with a hot wire, polished it, and attached a clay pipe to the end, so that the smoke should be cooled in flowing through the stem like whiskey or rum in passing from the boiler through the worm of the still. these pipes i sold at ten cents apiece. in the early part of the night i would sell my tobacco and pipes, and manufacture them in the latter part. as the legislature sit in raleigh every year, i sold these articles considerably to the members, so that i became known not only in the city, but in many parts of the state, as a _tobacconist_. perceiving that i was getting along so well, i began, slave as i was, to think about taking a wife. so i fixed my mind upon miss lucy williams, a slave of thomas devereaux, esq., an eminent lawyer in the place; but failed in my undertaking. then i thought i never would marry; but at the end of two or three years my resolution began to slide away, till finding i could not keep it longer i set out once more in pursuit of a wife. so i fell in with her to whom i am now united, miss martha curtis, and the bargain between _us_ was completed. i next went to her master, mr. boylan, and asked him, according to the custom, if i might "marry his woman." his reply was, "yes, if you will behave yourself." i told him i would. "and make her behave herself!" to this i also assented; and then proceeded to ask the approbation of my master, which was granted. so in may, , i was bound as fast in wedlock as a slave can be. god may at any time sunder that band in a freeman; either master may do the same at pleasure in a slave. the bond is not recognized in law. but in my case it has never been broken; and now it cannot be, except by a higher power. when we had been married nine months and one day, we were blessed with a son, and two years afterwards with a daughter. my wife also passed from the hands of mr. boylan into those of mr. benjamin b. smith, a merchant, a member and class-leader in the methodist church, and in much repute for his deep piety and devotion to religion. but grace (of course) had not wrought in the same _manner_ upon the heart of mr. smith, as nature had done upon that of mr. boylan, who made no religious profession. this latter gentleman used to give my wife, who was a favorite slave, (her mother nursed every one of his own children,) sufficient food and clothing to render her comfortable, so that i had to spend for her but little, except to procure such small articles of extra comfort as i was prompted to from time to time. indeed mr. boylan was regarded as a very kind master to all the slaves about him; that is, to his house servants; nor did he inflict much cruelty upon his field hands, except by proxy. the overseer on his nearest plantation (i know but little about the rest) was a very cruel man; in one instance, as it was said among the slaves, he whipped a man _to death_; but of course denied that the man died in consequence of the whipping. still it was the choice of my wife to pass into the hands of mr. smith, as she had become attached to him in consequence of belonging to the same church, and receiving his religious instruction and counsel as her class-leader, and in consequence of the peculiar devotedness to the cause of religion for which he was noted, and which he always seemed to manifest.--but when she became his slave, he withheld both from her and her children, the needful food and clothing, while he exacted from them to the uttermost all the labor they were able to perform. almost every article of clothing worn either by my wife or children, especially every article of much value, i had to purchase; while the food he furnished the family amounted to less than a meal a day, and that of the coarser kind. i have no remembrance that he ever gave us a blanket or any other article of bedding, although it is considered a rule at the south that the master shall furnish each of his slaves with one blanket a year. so that, both as to food and clothing, i had in fact to support both my wife and the children, while he claimed them as his property, and received all their labor. she was house servant to mr. smith, sometimes cooked the food for his family, and usually took it from the table, but her mistress was so particular in giving it out to be cooked, or so watched it, that she always knew whether it was all returned; and when the table was cleared away, the stern old lady would sit by and see that every dish (except the very little she would send into the kitchen) was put away, and then she would turn the key upon it, so as to be sure her slaves should not die of gluttony. this practice is common with some families in that region; but with others it is not. it was not so in that of her less pious master, mr. boylan, nor was it precisely so at my master's. we used to have corn bread enough, and some meat. when i was a boy, the pot-liquor, in which the meat was boiled for the "great house," together with some little corn-meal balls that had been thrown in just before the meat was done, was poured into a tray and set in the middle of the yard, and a clam shell or pewter spoon given to each of us children, who would fall upon the delicious fare as greedily as pigs. it was not generally so much as we wanted, consequently it was customary for some of the white persons who saw us from the piazza of the house where they were sitting, to order the more stout and greedy ones to eat slower, that those more young and feeble might have a chance. but it was not so with mr. smith: such luxuries were more than he could afford, kind and christian man as he was considered to be. so that by the expense of providing for my wife and children, all the money i had earned and could earn by my night labor was consumed, till i found myself reduced to five dollars, and this i lost one day in going to the plantation. my light of hope now went out. my prop seemed to have given way from under me. sunk in the very night of despair respecting my freedom, i discovered myself, as though i had never known it before, a husband, the father of two children, a family looking up to me for bread, and i a slave, penniless, and well watched by my master, his wife and his children, lest i should, perchance, catch the friendly light of the stars to make something in order to supply the cravings of nature in those with whom my soul was bound up; or lest some plan of freedom might lead me to trim the light of diligence after the day's labor was over, while the rest of the world were enjoying the hours in pleasure or sleep. at this time an event occurred, which, while it cast a cloud over the prospects of some of my fellow slaves, was a rainbow over mine. my master died, and his widow, by the will, became sole executrix of his property. to the surprize of all, the bank of which he had been cashier presented a claim against the estate for forty thousand dollars. by a compromise, this sum was reduced to twenty thousand dollars; and my mistress, to meet the amount, sold some of her slaves, and hired out others. i hired my time of her,[a] for which i paid her a price varying from one hundred dollars to one hundred and twenty dollars per year. this was a privilege which comparatively few slaves at the south enjoy; and in this i felt truly blessed. [footnote a: it is contrary to the laws of the state for a slave to have command of his own time in this way, but in raleigh it is sometimes winked at. i knew one slave-man who was _doing well for himself_, taken up by the public authorities and hired out for the public good, three times in succession for this offence. the time of hiring in such a case is one year. the master is subject to a fine. but generally, as i have said, if the slave is orderly and appears to be _making nothing_, neither he nor the master is interfered with.] i commenced the manufacture of pipes and tobacco on an enlarged scale. i opened a regular place of business, labelled my tobacco in a conspicuous manner with the names of "_edward and lunsford lane_," and of some of the persons who sold it for me,--established agencies for the sale in various parts of the state, one at fayetteville, one at salisbury, one at chapel hill, and so on,--sold my articles from my place of business, and about town, also deposited them in stores on commission, and thus, after paying my mistress for my time, and rendering such support as necessary to my family, i found in the space of some six or eight years, that i had collected the sum of one thousand dollars. during this time i had found it politic to go shabbily dressed, and to appear to be very poor, but to pay my mistress for my services promptly. i kept my money hid, never venturing to put out a penny, nor to let any body but my wife know that i was making any. the thousand dollars was what i supposed my mistress would ask for me, and so i determined now what i would do. i went to my mistress and inquired what was her price for me. she said a thousand dollars. i then told her that i wanted to be free, and asked her if she would sell me to be made free. she said she would; and accordingly i arranged with her, and with the master of my wife, mr. smith, already spoken of, for the latter to take my money[a] and buy of her my freedom, as i could not legally purchase it, and as the laws forbid emancipation except for "meritorious services." this done, mr. smith endeavored to emancipate me formally, and to get my manumission recorded; i tried also; but the court judged that i had done nothing "meritorious," and so i remained, nominally only, the slave of mr. smith for a year; when, feeling unsafe in that relation, i accompanied him to new york whither he was going to purchase goods, and was there regularly and formally made a freeman, and there my manumission was recorded. i returned to my family in raleigh and endeavored to do by them as a freeman should. i had known what it was to be a slave, and i knew what it was to be free. [footnote a: _legally_, my money belonged to my mistress; and she could have taken it and refused to grant me my freedom. but she was a very kind woman for a slave owner; and she would under the circumstances, scorn to do such a thing. i have known of slaves, however, served in this way.] but i am going too rapidly over my story. when the money was paid to my mistress and the conveyance fairly made to mr. smith, i felt that i was free. and a queer and a joyous feeling it is to one who has been a slave. i cannot describe it, only it seemed as though i was in heaven. i used to lie awake whole nights thinking of it. and oh, the strange thoughts that passed through my soul, like so many rivers of light; deep and rich were their waves as they rolled;--these were more to me than sleep, more than soft slumber after long months of watching over the decaying, fading frame of a friend, and the loved one laid to rest in the dust. but i cannot describe my feelings to those who have never been slaves; then why should i attempt it? he who has passed from spiritual death to life, and received the witness within his soul that his sins are forgiven, may possibly form some distant idea, like the ray of the setting sun from the far off mountain top, of the emotions of an emancipated slave. that opens heaven. to break the bonds of slavery, opens up at once both earth and heaven. neither can be truly seen by us while we are slaves. and now will the reader take with me a brief review of the road i had trodden. i cannot here dwell upon its dark shades, though some of these were black as the pencillings of midnight, but upon the light that had followed my path from my infancy up, and had at length conducted me quite out of the deep abyss of bondage. there is a hymn opening with the following stanza, which very much expresses my feelings: "when all thy mercies, oh my god, my rising soul surveys, transported with the view, i'm lost in wonder, love, and praise." i had endured what a freeman would indeed call hard fare; but my lot, on the whole, had been a favored one for a slave. it is known that there is a wide difference in the situations of what are termed house servants, and plantation hands. i, though sometimes employed upon the plantation, belonged to the former, which is the favored class. my master, too, was esteemed a kind and humane man; and altogether i fared quite differently from many poor fellows whom it makes my blood run chill to think of, confined to the plantation, with not enough of food and that little of the coarsest kind, to satisfy the gnawings of hunger,--compelled oftentimes, to hie away in the night-time, when worn down with work, and _steal_, (if it be stealing,) and privately devour such things as they can lay their hands upon,--made to feel the rigors of bondage with no cessation,--torn away sometimes from the few friends they love, friends doubly dear because they are few, and transported to a climate where in a few hard years they die,--or at best conducted heavily and sadly to their resting place under the sod, upon their old master's plantation,--sometimes, perhaps, enlivening the air with merriment, but a forced merriment, that comes from a stagnant or a stupified heart. such as this is the fate of the plantation slaves generally, but such was not my lot. my way was comparatively light, and what is better, it conducted to freedom. and my wife and children were with me. after my master died, my mistress sold a number of her slaves from their families and friends--but not me. she sold several children from their parents--but my children were with me still. she sold two husbands from their wives--but i was still with mine. she sold one wife from her husband--but mine had not been sold from me. the master of my wife, mr. smith, had separated members of families by sale--but not of mine. with me and my house, the tenderer tendrils of the heart still clung to where the vine had entwined; pleasant was its shade and delicious its fruit to our taste, though we knew, and what is more, we _felt_ that we were slaves. but all around i could see where the vine had been torn down, and its bleeding branches told of vanished joys, and of new wrought sorrows, such as, slave though i was, had never entered into my practical experience. i had never been permitted to learn to read; but i used to attend church, and there i received instruction which i trust was of some benefit to me. i trusted, too, that i had experienced the renewing influences of the gospel; and after obtaining from my mistress a written _permit_, (a thing _always_ required in such a case,) i had been baptised and received into fellowship with the baptist denomination. so that in religious matters, i had been indulged in the exercise of my own conscience--a favor not always granted to slaves. indeed i, with others, was often told by the minister how good god was in bringing us over to this country from dark and benighted africa, and permitting us to listen to the sound of the gospel. to me, god also granted temporal freedom, which _man_ without god's consent, had stolen away. i often heard select portions of the scriptures read. and on the sabbath there was one sermon preached expressly for the colored people which it was generally my privilege to hear. i became quite familiar with the texts, "servants be obedient to your masters."--"not with eye service as men pleasers."--"he that knoweth his master's will and doeth it not, shall be beaten with many stripes," and others of this class: for they formed the basis of most of these public instructions to us. the first commandment impressed upon our minds was to obey our masters, and the second was like unto it, namely, to do as much work when they or the overseers were not watching us as when they were. but connected with these instructions there was more or less that was truly excellent; though mixed up with much that would sound strangely in the ears of freedom. there was one very kind hearted episcopal minister whom i often used to hear; he was very popular with the colored people. but after he had preached a sermon to us in which he argued from the bible that it was the will of heaven from all eternity we should be slaves, and our masters be our owners, most of us left him; for like some of the faint hearted disciples in early times we said,--"this is a hard saying, who can bear it?" my manumission, as i shall call it; that is, the bill of sale conveying me to mr. smith, was dated sept. th, . i continued in the tobacco and pipe business as already described, to which i added a small trade in a variety of articles; and some two years before i left raleigh, i entered also into a considerable business in wood, which i used to purchase by the acre standing, cut it, haul it into the city, deposit it in a yard and sell it out as i advantageously could. also i was employed about the office of the governor as i shall hereafter relate. i used to keep one or two horses, and various vehicles, by which i did a variety of work at hauling about town. of course i had to hire more or less help, to carry on my business. in the manufacture of tobacco i met with considerable competition, but none that materially injured me. the method of preparing it having originated with me and my father, we found it necessary, in order to secure the advantage of the invention, to keep it to ourselves, and decline, though often solicited, going into partnership with others. those who undertook the manufacture could neither give the article a flavor so pleasant as ours, nor manufacture it so cheaply, so they either failed in it, or succeeded but poorly. not long after obtaining my own freedom, i began seriously to think about purchasing the freedom of my family. the first proposition was that i should buy my wife, and that we should jointly labor to obtain the freedom of the children afterwards as we were able. but that idea was abandoned, when her master, mr. smith, refused to sell her to me for less than one thousand dollars, a sum which then appeared too much for me to raise. afterwards, however, i conceived the idea of purchasing at once the entire family. i went to mr. smith to learn his price, which he put at _three thousand dollars_ for my wife and six children, the number we then had. this seemed a large sum, both because it was a great deal for me to raise; and also because mr. smith, when he bought my wife and _two_ children, had actually paid but five hundred and sixty dollars for them, and had received, ever since, their labor, while i had almost entirely supported them, both as to food and clothing. altogether, therefore, the case seemed a hard one, but as i was entirely in his power i must do the best i could. at length he concluded, perhaps partly of his own motion, and partly through the persuasion of a friend, to sell the family for $ , , as i wished to free them, though he contended still that they were worth three thousand dollars. perhaps they would at that time have brought this larger sum, if sold for the southern market. the arrangement with mr. smith was made in december, . i gave him five notes of five hundred dollars each, the first due in january, , and one in january each succeeding year; for which he transferred my family into my own possession, with a _bond_ to give me a bill of sale when i should pay the notes. with this arrangement, we found ourselves living in our own house--a house which i had previously purchased--in january, . after moving my family, my wife was for a short time sick, in consequence of her labor and the excitement in moving, and her excessive joy. i told her that it reminded me of a poor shoemaker in the neighborhood who purchased a ticket in a lottery; but not expecting to draw, the fact of his purchasing it had passed out of his mind. but one day as he was at work on his last, he was informed that his ticket had drawn the liberal prize of ten thousand dollars; and the poor man was so overjoyed, that he fell back on his seat, and immediately expired. in this new and joyful situation, we found ourselves getting along very well, until september, , when to my surprise, as i was passing the street one day, engaged in my business, the following note was handed me. "read it," said the officer, "or if you cannot read, get some white man to read it to you." here it is, _verbatim_: _to lunsford lane, a free man of colour_ take notice that whereas complaint has been made to us two justices of the peace for the county of wake and state of north carolina that you are a free negro from another state who has migrated into this state contrary to the provisions of the act of assembly concerning free negros and mulattoes now notice is given you that unless you leave and remove out of this state within twenty days that you will be proceeded against for the penalty porscribed by said act of assembly and be otherwise dealt with as the law directs given under our hands and seals this the th sept willis scott jp (seal) jordan womble jp (seal) this was a terrible blow to me; for it prostrated at once all my hopes in my cherished object of obtaining the freedom of my family, and led me to expect nothing but a separation from them forever. in order that the reader may understand the full force of the foregoing notice, i will copy the law of the state under which it was issued: sec. . it shall not be lawful for any free negro or mulatto to migrate into this state: and if he or she shall do so, contrary to the provisions of this act, and being thereof informed, shall not, within twenty days thereafter, remove out of the state, he or she being thereof convicted in the manner hereafter directed, shall be liable to a penalty of five hundred dollars; and upon failure to pay the same, within the time prescribed in the judgment awarded against such person or persons, he or she shall be liable to be held in servitude and at labor for a term of time not exceeding ten years, in such manner and upon such terms as may be provided by the court awarding such sentence, and the proceeds arising therefrom shall be paid over to the county trustee for county purposes: provided, that in case any free negro or mulatto shall pay the penalty of five hundred dollars, according to the provisions of this act, it shall be the duty of such free negro or mulatto to remove him or herself out of this state within twenty days thereafter, and for every such failure, he or she shall be subject to the like penalty, as is prescribed for a failure to remove in the first instance.--_revised statutes north carolina, chap. iii._ the next section provides that if the free person of color so notified, does not leave within the twenty days after receiving the notice, he may be arrested on a warrant from any justice, and be held to bail for his appearance at the next county court, when he will be subject to the penalties specified above; or in case of his failure to give bonds, he may be sent to jail. i made known my situation to my friends, and after taking legal counsel it was determined to endeavor to induce, if possible, the complainants to prosecute no farther at present, and then as the legislature of the state was to sit in about two months, to petition that body for permission to remain in the state until i could complete the purchase of my family; after which i was willing, if necessary, to leave. from january st, , i had been employed as i have mentioned, in the office of the governor of the state, principally under the direction of his private secretary, in keeping the office in order, taking the letters to the post office, and doing such other duties of the sort as occurred from time to time. this circumstance, with the fact of the high standing in the city of the family of my former master, and of the former masters of my wife, had given me the friendship of the first people in the place generally, who from that time forward acted towards me the friendly part. mr. battle, then private secretary to governor dudley, addressed the following letter to the prosecuting attorney in my behalf: raleigh, nov. , . dear sir:--lunsford lane, a free man of color, has been in the employ of the state under me since my entering on my present situation. i understand that under a law of the state, he has been notified to leave, and that the time is now at hand. in the discharge of the duties i had from him, i have found him prompt, obedient, and faithful. at this particular time, his absence to me would be much regretted, as i am now just fixing up my books and other papers in the new office, and i shall not have time to learn another what he can already do so well. with me the period of the legislature is a very busy one, and i am compelled to have a servant who understands the business i want done, and one i can trust. i would not wish to be an obstacle in the execution of any law, but the enforcing of the one against him, will be doing me a serious inconvenience, and the object of this letter is to ascertain whether i could not procure a suspension of the sentence till after the adjournment of the legislature, say about st january, . i should feel no hesitation in giving my word that he will conduct himself orderly and obediently. i am most respectfully, your obedient servant, c.c. battle. g.w. haywood, esq. attorney at law, raleigh, n.c. to the above letter the following reply was made: raleigh, nov. , . my dear sir:--i have no objection so far as i am concerned, that all further proceedings against lunsford should be postponed until after the adjournment of the legislature. the process now out against him is one issued by two magistrates, messrs. willis scott and jordan womble, over which i have no control. you had better see them to-day, and perhaps, at your request, they will delay further action on the subject. respectfully yours, geo. w. haywood. mr. battle then enclosed the foregoing correspondence to messrs. scott and womble, requesting their "favorable consideration." they returned the correspondence, but neglected to make any reply. in consequence, however, of this action on the part of my friends, i was permitted to remain without further interruption, until the day the legislature commenced its session. on that day a warrant was served upon me, to appear before the county court, to answer for the sin of having remained in the place of my birth for the space of twenty days and more after being warned out. i escaped going to jail through the kindness of mr. haywood, a son of my former master, and mr. smith, who jointly became security for my appearance at court. this was on monday; and on wednesday i appeared before the court; but as my prosecutors were not ready for the trial, the case was laid over three months, to the next term. i then proceeded to get up a petition to the legislature. it required much hard labor and persuasion on my part to start it; but after that, i readily obtained the signatures of the principal men in the place.--then i went round to the members, many of whom were known to me, calling upon them at their rooms, and urging them for my sake, for humanity's sake, for the sake of my wife and little ones, whose hopes had been excited by the idea that they were even now free; i appealed to them as husbands, fathers, brothers, sons, to vote in favor of my petition, and allow me to remain in the state long enough to purchase my family. i was doing well in business, and it would be but a short time before i could accomplish the object. then, if it was desired, i and my wife and children, redeemed from bondage, would together seek a more friendly home, beyond the dominion of slavery. the following is the petition presented, endorsed as the reader will see: _to the hon. general assembly of the state of north carolina._ gentlemen:--the petition of lunsford lane humbly shews--that about five years ago, he purchased his freedom from his mistress, mrs. sherwood haywood, and by great economy and industry has paid the purchase money; that he has a wife and seven children whom he has agreed to purchase, and for whom he has paid a part of the purchase money; but not having paid in full, is not yet able to leave the state, without parting with his wife and children. your petitioner prays your honorable body to pass a law, allowing him to remain a limited time within the state, until he can remove his family also. your petitioner will give bond and good security for his good behaviour while he remains. your petitioner will ever pray, &c. lunsford lane. * * * * * the undersigned are well acquainted with lunsford lane, the petitioner, and join in his petition to the assembly for relief. charles manly, drury lacy, r.w. haywood, will. peck, eleanor haywood, w.a. stith, wm. hill, a.b. stith, r. smith, j. brown, wm. peace, william white, jos. peace, geo. simpson, wm. m'pheeters, jno. i. christophers, wm. boylan, john primrose, fabius j. haywood, hugh m'queen, d.w. stone, alex. j. lawrence, t. meredith, c.l. hinton. a.j. battle, * * * * * lunsford lane, the petitioner herein, has been servant to the executive office since the st of january, , and it gives me pleasure to state that, during the whole time, without exception, i have found him faithful and obedient, in keeping every thing committed to his care in good condition. from what i have seen of his conduct and demeanor, i cheerfully join in the petition for his relief. c.c. battle, _p. secretary to gov. dudley._ raleigh, nov. , . the foregoing petition was presented to the senate. it was there referred to a committee. i knew when the committee was to report, and watched about the state house that i might receive the earliest news of the fate of my petition. i should have gone within the senate chamber, but no colored man has that permission. i do not know why, unless for fear, he may hear the name of _liberty_. by and by a member came out, and as he passed me, said, "_well, lunsford, they have laid you out; the nigger bill is killed._" i need not tell the reader that my feelings did not enter into the merriment of this honorable senator. to me, the fate of my petition was the last blow to my hopes. i had done all i could do, had said all i could say, laboring night and day, to obtain a favorable reception to my petition; but all in vain. nothing appeared before me but i must leave the state, and leave my wife and my children never to see them more. my friends had also done all they could for me. and why must i be banished? ever after i entertained the first idea of being free, i had endeavored so to conduct myself as not to become obnoxious to the white inhabitants, knowing as i did their power, and their hostility to the colored people. the two points necessary in such a case i had kept constantly in mind. first, i had made no display of the little property or money i possessed, but in every way i wore as much as possible the aspect of poverty. second, i had never appeared to be even so intelligent as i really was. this all colored people at the south, free and slaves, find it peculiarly necessary to their own comfort and safety to observe. i should, perhaps, have mentioned that on the same day i received the notice to leave raleigh, similar notices were presented to two other free colored people, who had been slaves; were trying to purchase their families; and were otherwise in a like situation to myself. and they took the same course i did to endeavor to remain a limited time. isaac hunter, who had a family with five children, was one; and waller freeman, who had six children, was the other. mr. hunter's petition went before mine; and a bill of some sort passed the senate, which was so cut down in the commons, as to allow him only _twenty days_ to remain in the state. he has since, however, obtained the freedom of his family, who are living with him in philadelphia. mr. freeman's petition received no better fate than mine. his family were the property of judge badger, who was afterwards made a member of mr. harrison's cabinet. when mr. badger removed to washington, he took with him among other slaves this family; and freeman removed also to that city. after this, when mr. b. resigned his office, with the other members of the cabinet under president tyler, he entered into some sort of contract with freeman, to sell him this family, which he left at washington, while he took the rest of his slaves back to raleigh. freeman is now endeavoring to raise money to make the purchase. it was now between two and three months to the next session of the court; and i knew that before or at that time i must leave the state. i was bound to appear before the court; but it had been arranged between my lawyer and the prosecuting attorney, that if i would leave the state, and pay the costs of court, the case should be dropped, so that my bondsmen should not be involved. i therefore concluded to stay as long as i possibly could, and then leave. i also determined to appeal to the kindness of the friends of the colored man in the north, for assistance, though i had but little hope of succeeding in this way. yet it was the only course i could think of, by which i could see any possible hope of accomplishing the object. i had paid mr. smith six hundred and twenty dollars; and had a house and lot worth $ , which he had promised to take when i should raise the balance. he gave me also a bill of sale of one of my children, laura, in consideration of two hundred and fifty dollars of the money already paid; and her i determined to take with me to the north. the costs of court which i had to meet, amounted to between thirty and forty dollars, besides the fee of my lawyer. on the th of may, , three days after the court commenced its session, i bid adieu to my friends in raleigh, and set out for the city of new york. i took with me a letter of introduction and recommendation from mr. john primrose, a very estimable man, a recommendatory certificate from mr. battle, and a letter from the church of which i was a member, together with such papers relating to the affair as i had in my possession. also i received the following: raleigh, n.c. may, . the bearer, lunsford lane, a free man of color, for some time a resident in this place, being about to leave north carolina in search of a more favorable location to pursue his trade, has desired us to give him a certificate of his good conduct heretofore. we take pleasure in saying that his habits are temperate and industrious, that his conduct has been orderly and proper, and that he has for these qualities been distinguished among his caste. wm. hill, r. smith, weston r. gales, c. dewey. c.l. hinton, the above was certified to officially in the usual form by the clerk of the court of common pleas and quarter sessions. my success in new york was at first small; but at length i fell in with two friends who engaged to raise for me three hundred dollars, provided i should first obtain from other sources the balance of the sum required, which balance would be one thousand and eighty dollars. thus encouraged, i proceeded to boston; and in the city and vicinity the needful sum was contributed by about the st of april, . my thanks i have endeavored to express in my poor way to the many friends who so kindly and liberally assisted me. i cannot reward them; i hope they will receive their reward in another world. if the limits of this publication would permit, i should like to record the names of many to whom i am very especially indebted for their kindness and aid, not only in contributing, but by introducing me and opening various ways of access to others. on the th of february, , finding that i should soon have in my possession the sum necessary to procure my family, and fearing that there might be danger in visiting raleigh for that purpose, in consequence of the strong opposition of many of the citizens against colored people, their opposition to me, and their previously persecuting me from the city, i wrote to mr. smith, requesting him to see the governor and obtain under his hand a permit to visit the state for a sufficient time to accomplish this business. i requested mr. smith to publish the permit in one or two of the city papers, and then to enclose the original to me. this letter he answered, under date of raleigh, th feb. , as follows: lunsford:--your letter of the th inst. came duly to hand, and in reply i have to inform you, that owing to the absence of gov. morehead, i cannot send you the permit you requested, but this will make no difference, for you can come home, and after your arrival you may obtain one to remain long enough to settle up your affairs. you ought of course to apply to the governor immediately on your arrival, before any malicious person would have time to inform against you; i don't think by pursuing this course you need apprehend any danger. * * * * * we are all alive at present in raleigh on the subjects of temperance and religion. we have taken into the temperance societies, about five hundred members, and about fifty persons have been happily converted. * * * the work seems still to be spreading, and such a time i have never seen before in my life. glorious times truly. do try and get all the religion in your heart you possibly can, for it is the only thing worth having after all. your, &c. b.b. smith. the way now appeared to be in a measure open; also i thought that the religious and temperance interest mentioned in the latter portion of mr. smith's letter, augured a state of feeling which would be a protection to me. but fearing still that there might be danger in visiting raleigh without the permit from the governor, or at least wishing to take every possible precaution, i addressed another letter to mr. smith, and received under date of march th, a reply, from which i copy as follows: "the governor has just returned, and i called upon him to get the permit as you requested, but he said he had no authority by law to grant one; and he told me to say to you, that you might in perfect safety come home in a quiet manner, and remain twenty days without being interrupted. i also consulted mr. manly [a lawyer] and he told me the same thing. * * * _surely you need not fear any thing under these circumstances. you had therefore better come on just as soon as possible._" * * * * * i need not say, what the reader has already seen, that my life so far had been one of joy succeeding sorrow, and sorrow following joy; of hope, of despair; of bright prospects, of gloom; and of as many hues as ever appear on the varied sky, from the black of midnight, or the deep brown of a tempest, to the bright warm glow of a clear noon day. on the th of april it was noon with me; i left boston on my way for raleigh with high hopes, intending to pay over the money for my family and return with them to boston, which i intended should be my future home; for there i had found friends and there i would find a grave. the visit i was making to the south was to be a farewell one; and i did not dream that my old cradle, hard as it once had jostled me, would refuse to rock me a pleasant, or even an affectionate good bye. i thought, too, that the assurances i had received from the governor, through mr. smith, and the assurances of other friends, were a sufficient guaranty that i might visit the home of my boyhood, of my youth, of my manhood, in peace, especially as i was to stay but for a few days and then to return. with these thoughts, and with the thoughts of my family and freedom, i pursued my way to raleigh, and arrived there on the d of the month. it was saturday about four o'clock, p.m. when i found myself once more in the midst of my family. with them i remained over the sabbath, as it was sweet to spend a little time with them after so long an absence, an absence filled with so much of interest to us, and as i could not do any business until the beginning of the week. on monday morning between eight and nine o'clock, while i was making ready to leave the house for the first time after my arrival, to go to the store of mr. smith, where i was to transact my business with him, two constables, messrs. murray and scott, entered, accompanied by two other men, and summoned me to appear immediately before the police. i accordingly accompanied them to the city hall, but as it was locked and the officers could not at once find the key, we were told that the court would be held in mr. smith's store, a large and commodious room. this was what is termed in common phrase in raleigh a "call court." the mayor, mr. loring, presided, assisted by william boylan and jonathan busbye, esqs. justices of the peace. there was a large number of people together--more than could obtain admission to the room, and a large company of mobocratic spirits crowded around the door. mr. loring read the writ, setting forth that i had been guilty of _delivering abolition lectures in the state of massachusetts_. he asked me whether i was guilty or not guilty. i told him i did not know whether i had given abolition lectures or not, but if it pleased the court, i would relate the course i had pursued during my absence from raleigh. he then said that i was at liberty to speak. the circumstances under which i left raleigh, said i, are perfectly familiar to you. it is known that i had no disposition to remove from this city, but resorted to every lawful means to remain. after i found that i could not be permitted to stay, i went away leaving behind everything i held dear with the exception of one child, whom i took with me, after paying two hundred and fifty dollars for her. it is also known to you and to many other persons here present, that i had engaged to purchase my wife and children of her master, mr. smith, for the sum of twenty-five hundred dollars, and that i had paid of this sum (including my house and lot) eleven hundred and twenty dollars, leaving a balance to be made up of thirteen hundred and eighty dollars. i had previously to that lived in raleigh, a slave, the property of mr. sherwood haywood, and had purchased my freedom by paying the sum of one thousand dollars. but being driven away, no longer permitted to live in this city, to raise the balance of the money due on my family, my last resort was to call upon the friends of humanity in other places, to assist me. i went to the city of boston, and there i related the story of my persecutions here, the same as i have now stated to you. the people gave ear to my statements; and one of them, rev. mr. neale, wrote back, unknown to me, to mr. smith, inquiring of him whether the statements made by me were correct. after mr. neale received the answer he sent for me, informed me of his having written, and read to me the reply. the letter fully satisfied mr. neale and his friends. he placed it in my hands, remarking that it would, in a great measure, do away the necessity of using the other documents in my possession. i then with that letter in my hands went out from house to house, from place of business to place of business, and from church to church, relating (where i could gain an ear) the same heart-rending and soul-trying story which i am now repeating to you. in pursuing that course, the people, first one and then another contributed, until i had succeeded in raising the amount alluded to, namely, thirteen hundred and eighty dollars. i may have had contributions from abolitionists; but i did not stop to ask those who assisted me whether they were anti-slavery or pro-slavery, for i considered that the money coming from either, would accomplish the object i had in view. these are the facts; and now, sir, it remains for you to say, whether i have been giving abolition lectures or not. in the course of my remarks i presented the letter of mr. smith to mr. neale, showing that i had acted the open part while in massachusetts; also i referred to my having written to mr. smith requesting him to obtain for me the permit of the governor; and i showed to the court, mr. smith's letters in reply, in order to satisfy them that i had reason to believe i should be unmolested in my return. mr. loring then whispered to some of the leading men; after which he remarked that he saw nothing in what i had done, according to my statements, implicating me in a manner worthy of notice. he called upon any present who might be in possession of information tending to disprove what i had said, or to show any wrong on my part, to produce it, otherwise i should be set at liberty. no person appeared against me; so i was discharged. i started to leave the house; but just before i got to the door i met mr. james litchford, who touched me on the shoulder, and i followed him back. he observed to me that if i went out of that room i should in less than five minutes be a dead man; for there was a mob outside waiting to drink my life. mr. loring then spoke to me again and said that notwithstanding i had been found guilty of nothing, yet public opinion was law; and he advised me to leave the place the next day, otherwise he was convinced i should have to suffer death. i replied, "not to-morrow, but to-day." he answered that i could not go that day, because i had not done my business. i told him that i would leave my business in his hands and in those of other such gentlemen as himself, who might settle it for me and send my family to meet me at philadelphia. this was concluded upon, and a guard appointed to conduct me to the depot. i took my seat in the cars, when the mob that had followed us surrounded me, and declared that the cars should not go, if i were permitted to go in them. mr. loring inquired what they wanted of me; he told them that there had been an examination, and nothing had been found against me; that they were at the examination invited to speak if they knew of aught to condemn me, but they had remained silent, and that now it was but right i should be permitted to leave in peace. they replied that they wanted a more thorough investigation, that they wished to search my trunks (i had but one trunk) and see if i was not in possession of abolition papers. it now became evident that i should be unable to get off in the cars; and my friends advised me to go the shortest way possible to jail, for my safety. they said they were persuaded that what the rabble wanted was to get me into their possession, and then to murder me. the mob looked dreadfully enraged, and seemed to lap for blood. the whole city was in an uproar. but the first men and the more wealthy were my friends: and they did everything in their power to protect me. mr. boylan, whose name has repeatedly occurred in this publication, was more than a father to me; and mr. smith and mr. loring, and many other gentlemen, whose names it would give me pleasure to mention, were exceedingly kind. the guard then conducted me through the mob to the prison; and i felt joyful that even a prison could protect me. looking out from the prison window, i saw my trunk in the hands of messrs. johnson, scott, and others, who were taking it to the city hall for examination. i understood afterwards that they opened my trunk; and as the lid flew up, lo! a paper! a paper!! those about seized it, three or four at once, as hungry dogs would a piece of meat after forty days famine. but the meat quickly turned to a stone; for the paper it happened, was one _printed in raleigh_, and edited by weston r. gales, a nice man to be sure, but no abolitionist. the only other printed or written things in the trunk were some business cards of a firm in raleigh--not incendiary. afterwards i saw from the window mr. scott, accompanied by mr. johnson, lugging my carpet-bag in the same direction my trunk had gone. it was opened at the city hall, and found actually to contain a pair of old shoes, and a pair of old boots!--but they did not conclude that these were incendiary. mr. smith now came to the prison and told me that the examination had been completed, and nothing found against me; but that it would not be safe for me to leave the prison immediately. it was agreed that i should remain in prison until after night-fall, and then steal secretly away, being let out by the keeper, and pass unnoticed to the house of my old and tried friend mr. boylan. accordingly i was discharged between nine and ten o'clock. i went by the back way leading to mr. boylan's; but soon and suddenly a large company of men sprang upon me, and instantly i found myself in their possession. they conducted me sometimes high above ground and sometimes dragging me along, but as silently as possible, in the direction of the gallows, which is always kept standing upon the common, or as it is called "the pines," or "piny old field." i now expected to pass speedily into the world of spirits; i thought of that unseen region to which i seemed to be hastening; and then my mind would return to my wife and children, and the labors i had made to redeem them from bondage. although i had the money to pay for them according to a bargain already made, it seemed to me some white man would get it, and they would die in slavery, without benefit from my exertions and the contributions of my friends. then the thought of my own death, to occur in a few brief moments, would rush over me, and i seemed to bid adieu in spirit to all earthly things, and to hold communion already with eternity. but at length i observed those who were carrying me away, changed their course a little from the direct line to the gallows, and hope, a faint beaming, sprung up within me; but then as they were taking me to the woods, i thought they intended to murder me there, in a place where they would be less likely to be interrupted than in so public a spot as where the gallows stood. they conducted me to a rising ground among the trees, and set me down. "now," said they, "tell us the truth about those abolition lectures you have been giving at the north." i replied that i had related the circumstances before the court in the morning; and could only repeat what i had then said. "but that was not the truth--tell us the truth." i again said that any different story would be false, and as i supposed i was in a few minutes to die, i would not, whatever they might think i would say under other circumstances, pass into the other world with a lie upon my lips. said one, "you were always, lunsford, when you were here, a clever fellow, and i did not think you would be engaged in such business as giving abolition lectures." to this and similar remarks, i replied that the people of raleigh had always said the abolitionists did not believe in buying slaves, but contended that their masters ought to free them without pay. i had been laboring to buy my family; and how then could they suppose me to be in league with the abolitionists? after other conversation of this kind, and after they seemed to have become tired of questioning me, they held a consultation in a low whisper among themselves. then a bucket was brought and set down by my side; but what it contained or for what it was intended, i could not divine. but soon, one of the number came forward with a pillow, and then hope sprung up, a flood of light and joy within me. the heavy weight on my heart rolled off; death had passed by and i unharmed. they commenced stripping me till every rag of clothes was removed; and then the bucket was set near, and i discovered it to contain tar. one man, i will do him the honor to record his name, mr. william andres, a journeyman printer, when he is any thing, except a tar-and-featherer, put his hands the first into the bucket, and was about passing them to my face. "don't put any in his face or eyes," said one.[a] so he desisted; but he, with three other "gentlemen," whose names i should be happy to record if i could recall them, gave me as nice a coat of tar all over, face only excepted, as any one would wish to see. then they took the pillow and ripped it open at one end, and with the open end commenced the operation at the head and so worked downwards, of putting a coat of its contents over that of the contents of the bucket. a fine escape from the hanging this will be, thought i, provided they do not with a match set fire to the feathers. i had some fear they would. but when the work was completed they gave me my clothes, and one of them handed me my watch which he had carefully kept in his hands; they all expressed great interest in my welfare, advised me how to proceed with my business the next day, told me to stay in the place as long as i wished, and with other such words of consolation they bid me good night. [footnote a: i think this was mr. burns, a blacksmith in the place, but i am not certain. at any rate, this man was my _friend_ (if so he may be called) on this occasion; and it was fortunate for me that the company generally seemed to look up to him for wisdom.] after i had returned to my family, to their inexpressible joy, as they had become greatly alarmed for my safety, some of the persons who had participated in this outrage, came in (probably influenced by a curiosity to see how the tar and feathers would be got off) and expressed great sympathy for me. they said they regretted that the affair had happened--that they had no objections to my living in raleigh--i might feel perfectly safe to go out and transact my business preparatory to leaving--i should not be molested. meanwhile, my friends understanding that i had been discharged from prison, and perceiving i did not come to them, had commenced a regular search for me, on foot and on horseback, every where; and mr. smith called upon the governor to obtain his official interference; and after my return, a guard came to protect me; but i chose not to risk myself at my own house, and so went to mr. smith's, where this guard kept me safely until morning. they seemed friendly indeed, and were regaled with a supper during the night by mr. smith. my friend, mr. battle, (late private secretary to the governor,) was with them; and he made a speech to them setting forth the good qualities i had exhibited in my past life, particularly in my connection with the governor's office. in the morning mr. boylan, true as ever, and unflinching in his friendship, assisted me in arranging my business,[a] so that i should start with my family _that day_ for the north. he furnished us with provisions more than sufficient to sustain the family to philadelphia, where we intended to make a halt; and sent his own baggage wagon to convey our baggage to the depot, offering also to send his carriage for my family. but my friend, mr. malone, had been before him in this kind offer, which i had agreed to accept. [footnote a: of course i was obliged to sacrifice much on my property, leaving in this hurried manner. and while i was in the north, a kind _friend_ had removed from the wood-lot, wood that i had cut and corded, for which i expected to receive over one hundred dollars; thus saving me the trouble of making sale of it, or of being burdened with the money it would bring. i suppose i have no redress. i might add other things as bad.] brief and sorrowful was the parting from my kind friends; but the worst was the thought of leaving my mother. the cars were to start at ten o'clock in the morning. i called upon my old mistress, mrs. haywood, who was affected to weeping by the considerations that naturally came to her mind. she had been kind to me; the day before she and her daughter, mrs. hogg, now present, had jointly transmitted a communication to the court representing that in consequence of my good conduct from my youth, i could not be supposed to be guilty of any offence. and now, "with tears that ceased not flowing," they gave me their parting blessing. my mother was still mrs. haywood's slave, and i her only child. our old mistress could not witness the sorrow that would attend the parting with my mother. she told her to go with me; and said that if i ever became able to pay two hundred dollars for her, i might; otherwise it should be her loss. she gave her the following paper, which is in the ordinary form of a _pass_: raleigh, n.c. april , . know all persons by these presents, that the bearer of this, clarissa, a slave, belonging to me, hath my permission to visit the city of new york with her relations, who are in company with her; and it is my desire that she may be protected and permitted to pass without molestation or hindrance, on good behavior. witness my hand this th april, . eleanor haywood. witness--j.a. campbell. on leaving mrs. haywood's, i called upon mrs. badger, another daughter, and wife of judge badger, previously mentioned. she seemed equally affected; she wept as she gave me her parting counsel. she and mrs. hogg and i had been children together, playing in the same yard, while yet none of us had learned that they were of a superior and i of a subject race. and in those infant years there were pencillings made upon the heart, which time and opposite fortunes could not all efface.--may these friends never be slaves as i have been; nor their bosom companions and their little ones be slaves like mine. when the cars were about to start, the whole city seemed to be gathered at the depot; and among the rest the mobocratic portion, who appeared to be determined still that i should not go peaceably away. apprehending this, it had been arranged with my friends and the conductor, that my family should be put in the cars and that i should go a distance from the city on foot, and be taken up as they passed. the mob, therefore, supposing that i was left behind, allowed the cars to start. mr. whiting, known as the agent of the rail road company, was going as far as petersburg, va.; and he kindly assisted in purchasing our tickets, and enabling us to pass on unmolested. after he left, capt. guyan, of raleigh, performed the same kind office as far as alexandria, d.c., and then he placed us in the care of a citizen of philadelphia, whose name i regret to have forgotten, who protected us quite out of the land of slavery. but for this we should have been liable to be detained at several places on our way, much to our embarrassment, at least, if nothing had occurred of a more serious nature. one accident only had happened: we lost at washington a trunk containing most of our valuable clothing. this we have, not recovered; but our lives have been spared to bless the day that conferred freedom upon us. i felt when my feet struck the pavements in philadelphia, as though i had passed into another world. i could draw in a full long breath, with no one to say to the ribs, "why do ye so?" on reaching philadelphia we found that our money had all been expended, but kind friends furnished us with the means of proceeding as far as new-york; and thence we were with equal kindness aided on to boston. in boston and in the vicinity, are persons almost without number, who have done me favors more than i can express. the thought that i was now in my new, though recently acquired home--that my family were with me where the stern, cruel, hated hand of slavery could never reach us more--the greetings of friends--the interchange of feeling and sympathy--the kindness bestowed upon us, more grateful than rain to the thirsty earth,--the reflections of the past that would rush into my mind,--these and more almost overwhelmed me with emotion, and i had deep and strange communion with my own soul. next to god from whom every good gift proceeds, i feel under the greatest obligations to my kind friends in massachusetts. to be rocked in their cradle of liberty,--oh, how unlike being stretched on the pillory of slavery! may that cradle rock forever; may many a poor care-worn child of sorrow, many a spirit-bruised (worse than lash-mangled) victim of oppression, there sweetly sleep to the lullaby of freedom, sung by massachusetts sons and daughters. a number of meetings have been held at which friends have contributed to our temporal wants, and individuals have sent us various articles of provision and furniture and apparel, so that our souls have been truly made glad. there are now ten of us in the family, my wife, my mother, and myself, with seven children, and we expect soon to be joined by my father, who several years ago received his freedom by legacy. the wine fresh from the clustering grapes never filled so sweet a cup as mine. may i and my family be permitted to drink it, remembering whence it came! i suppose such of my readers as are not accustomed to trade in human beings, may be curious to see the bills of sale, by which i have obtained the right to my wife and children. they are both in the hand writing of mr. smith. the first--that for laura is as follows: _state of north carolina, wake county._ know all men by these presents, that for and in consideration of the sum of two hundred and fifty dollars, to me in hand paid, i have this day bargained and sold; and do hereby bargain, sell and deliver unto lunsford lane, a free man of color, a certain negro girl by the name of laura, aged about seven years, and hereby warrant and defend the right and title of the said girl to the said lunsford and his heirs forever, free from the claims of all persons whatsoever. in witness whereof, i have hereunto set my hand and seal at raleigh, this th may, . b.b. smith, [seal.] witness--robt. w. haywood. below is the bill of sale for my wife and other six children, to which the papers that follow are attached. _state of north carolina, wake county._ know all men by these presents, that for and in consideration of the sum of eighteen hundred and eighty dollars to me in hand paid, the receipt of which is hereby acknowledged, i have this day bargained, sold and delivered unto lunsford lane, a free man of color, one dark mulatto woman named patsy, one boy named edward, one boy also named william, one boy also named lunsford, one girl named maria, one boy also named ellick, and one girl named lucy, to have and to hold the said negroes free from the claims of all persons whatsoever. in witness whereof, i have hereunto affixed my hand and seal this th day of april, . b.b. smith, [seal.] witness--th. l. west. * * * * * _state of north carolina, wake county._ office of court of pleas and quarter sessions, april , . the execution of the within bill of sale was this day duly acknowledged before me by b.b. smith, the executor of the same. [l.s.] in testimony whereof, i have hereunto affixed the seal of said court, and subscribed my name at office in raleigh, the date above. jas. t. marriott, clerk. * * * * * _state of north carolina, wake county._ i, wm. boylan, presiding magistrate of the court of pleas and quarter sessions for the county aforesaid, certify that james t. marriott, who has written and signed the above certificate, is clerk of the court aforesaid,--that the same is in due form, and full faith and credit are due to such his official acts. given under my hand and private seal (having no seal of office) this th day of april, . wm. boylan, p.m. [seal.] * * * * * _the state of north carolina._ to all to whom these presents shall come, greeting: be it known, that william boylan, whose signature appears in his own proper hand writing to the annexed certificate, was at the time of signing the same and now is a justice of the peace and the presiding magistrate for the county of wake, in the state aforesaid, and as such he is duly qualified and empowered to give said certificate, which is here done in the usual and proper manner; and full faith and credit are due to the same, and ought to be given to all the official acts of the said william boylan as presiding magistrate aforesaid. [l.s.] in testimony whereof, i, j.m. morehead. governor, captain general and commander in chief, have caused the great seal of the state to be hereunto affixed, and signed the same at the city of raleigh, on the th day of april, in the year of our lord one thousand eight hundred and forty-two, and in the sixty-sixth year of the independence of the united states. j.m. morehead. by the governor. p. reynolds, private secretary. but thou art born a slave, my child; those little hands must toil, that brow must sweat, that bosom ache upon another's soil; and if perchance some tender joy should bloom upon thy heart, another's hand may enter there, and tear it soon apart. thou art a little joy to me, but soon thou may'st be sold, oh! lovelier to thy mother far than any weight of gold; or i may see thee scourg'd and driv'n hard on the cotton-field, to fill a cruel master's store, with what thy blood may yield. should some fair maiden win thy heart, and thou should'st call her thine; should little ones around thee stand, or round thy bosom twine, thou wilt not know how soon away these loves may all be riv'n, nor what a darkened troop of woe through thy lone breast be driv'n. thy master may be kind, and give thy every wish to thee, only deny that greatest wish, _that longing to be free:_ still it will seem a comfort small that thou hast sweeter bread, a better hut than other slaves, or pillow for thy head. what joys soe'er may gather round, what other comforts flow,-- _that_, like a mountain in the sea, o'ertops each wave below, that ever-upward, firm desire to break the chains, and be free as the ocean is, or like the ocean-winds, be free. oh, child! thou art a little slave; and all of thee that grows, will be another's weight of flesh,-- but thine the weight of wees thou art a little slave, my child, and much i grieve and mourn that to so dark a destiny a lovely babe i've borne. and gladly would i lay thee down to sleep beneath the sod, and give thy gentle spirit back, unmarr'd with grief, to god: the tears i shed upon that turf should whisper peace to me, and tell me in the spirit land my lovely babe was free. i then should know thy peace was sure, and only long to go the road which thou had'st gone, and wipe away these tears that flow. death to the slave has double power; it breaks the earthly clod, and breaks the tyrant's sway, that he may worship only god. j.p.b. [illustration: "i have waited all these years"] katrine a novel by elinor macartney lane author of "nancy stair" and "mills of god" new york and london harper & brothers publishers mcmix copyright, , by harper & brothers. _all rights reserved._ published march, . _to_ =grant b. schley= _dear and great friend! in_ =katrine's= _fancied_ "land" _you long have held your own much-honored place-- have met great esmond; held kind newcome's hand; and talked with merry alan face to face; for there, where loyalty was word of countersign, you entered, all unchallenged, for the land was thine!_ _e.m.l._ paris, contents chap. page preface vii i. under the southern pines ii. the meeting in the woods iii. a kindness with mixed motives iv. the promise in the rose garden v. frank falls further under katrine's influence vi. dermott gives a dinner at the old lodge vii. katrine's own country viii. frank yields to temptation ix. the truth x. to try to understand xi. katrine is left alone xii. the real francis ravenel xiii. dermott's interview with frank at the trevoy xiv. dermott discovers a new side to frank's character xv. josef xvi. mrs. ravenel unwittingly becomes an ally of katrine xvii. mcdermott visits his french cousin xviii. katrine meets anne lennox xix. a vision of the past xx. the influence of work xxi. the night of katrine's dÉbut xxii. frank and katrine meet at the van rensselaer's xxiii. an interrupted confession xxiv. "i will take care of you" xxv. katrine in new york xxvi. dermott mcdermott xxvii. self-surrender xxviii. under the southern pines once more preface it is difficult to tell the story of irish folk intimately and convincingly, the bare truths concerning their splendid recklessness, their unproductive ardor, their loyalty and creative memories, sounding to another race like a pack of lies. when, therefore, i recall "the singing woman," katrine; her beauty, her fearlessness, her loyalty, her voice of gold--it seems as if only one lost to caution and heedless of consequence would undertake her history expecting it to be believed. but there is this advantage: the newspapers, recording much of her early life, are still extant, her paris work discussed by josef's pupils to this day, and her divine forgetfulness the night she was to sing at the metropolitan a known thing to people of two continents; but unrecorded of her, till now, is that, for love, like brave, mad antony, she threw a world away. it is impossible to tell the tale of katrine without narrating side by side the story of dermott mcdermott; and here trouble begins, for ireland would never allow anything written concerning him that was not flattering, and the irish people, especially in the regions of kildare and athlone, have combined to make a saint of him. a saint of dermott mcdermott! heaven save the mark! but of frank ravenel's life i can speak with truth and authority. i had the story from his own lips under the pines and the stars of north carolina, fishing the way-home river, or sitting together on the chestnut ridge, where katrine and he first met. this was before he became--before katrine made him--the great man he is to-day. * * * * * and two things linger with me--the first a conversation between dermott and katrine at the countess de nemours'. "tell me," said katrine: "do you think any woman ever married the man who was kindest to her?" "it's unrecorded if it ever occurred," dermott answered. * * * * * and a second, the truth of which is less open to dispute. "nora," katrine asked, "could you ever have loved any but dennis-your first love?" "no," answered nora. "to an irishwoman the drame comes but the wance." e.m.l. katrine i under the southern pines ravenel plantation occupies a singular rise of wooded land in north carolina, between way-home river, loon mountain, and the silver fork. the road which leads from charlotte toward the south branches by the haunted hollow, the right fork going to carlisle and the left following the rushing waters of the way-home river to the very gate-posts of ravenel plantation, through which the noisy water runs. ravenel mansion, which stands a good three miles from the north gate of the plantation, is approached by a driveway of stately pines. the main part is built of gray stone, like a fort, with mullioned windows, the yellow glass of early colonial times still in the upper panes. but the show-places of the plantation are the south wing (added by francis ravenel the fourth), and the great south gateway, bearing the carved inscription: "guests are welcome." long ago, when charles ii. was on his way to be crowned, a certain english ravenel--foulke by name--had the good-luck to fall in with that impulsive monarch, and for no further service than the making of a rhyme, vile in meter and villainous as to truth-telling, to receive from him an earldom and a grant of "certain lands beyond the seas." here, in these north carolina lands, for nearly two hundred years, ravenel child had grown to ravenel man, educated abroad, taught to believe little in american ways, and marrying frequently with a far-off cousin in england or in france. they were gay lads these ravenels, hard riders, hard drinkers, reckless in living and love-making, and held to have their way where women were concerned. indeed, this tradition had ancient authority, for on the stone mount of the sundial in the lilac-walk there had been chiselled, in the year , by some disgruntled rival perhaps: "the ravenels ryde forth, hyde alle ye ladyes gay; they take a heart, they break a heart, then ryde away!" the present owner of the plantation, francis ravenel, seventh of the name, stood in the great doorway, dinner dressed, the night after his return from the east, viewing this inscription with a humorous drawing together of the brows. he was handsome, as the ravenel men had always been, with a bearing which caused men and women, especially women, to follow him with their eyes. certain family characteristics were markedly his: the brown hair and the wide gray eyes, which seemed to brood over a woman as though she were the only one to be desired--these had belonged to the ravenel men for generations; but the shape of the head, with its broad brow, the short upper lip and appealing smile, he had from his lady mother, who had been a d'hauteville, of new orleans. from the time of his majority, some five years before, the south had been rife with tales of his wit, his love-making, and his lawlessness. whatever the cause, women were forever falling in love with him, and the mention of his name from newport news to new orleans would but call forth the history of another love-affair, in which, according to the old inscription, he had taken a heart, had broken a heart, and then had ridden away. he awaited coffee and cigarettes in the great hail where the candles had been lighted for the evening, although the sun was still above loon mountain. looking within he saw their gleams on vanished roses in the old brocade; on dingy armor of those who had fought with charlie stuart; on stately mahogany, old pewters, and on portraits of the fighting ravenels of days long gone. there was malcom, who died music-mad; des grieux, the one with ruff and falcon, said to be a romney; and that francis, fourth of the name (whom the present francis most resembled), who had lost his life, the story ran, for a queen too fair and fond. mrs. ravenel, adoring and tender, in lavender and old lace, the merriest, gayest, most illogical little mother in all that mother-land of the south, regarded frank as he re-entered with a blush of pleasure on her bright, fond face. "who has the mainwaring place, mother?" he asked. "a heavenly person," mrs. ravenel answered. "man, i suppose," francis laughed. mrs. ravenel nodded assent and repeated: "heavenly! an irishman; with black hair, very black brows, pale like a spaniard, about thirty--" "your own age," frank interrupted, with a complimentary gesture. --"who rides like a trooper, drinks half a glass of whiskey at a gulp, and is the greatest liar i can imagine." "it's enlightening to discover an adored parent's idea of a heavenly person," francis said, with an amused smile. "he sends me flowers and writes me poetry. we exchange," she explained, and there came to her eyes a delightfully critical appreciation of her own doings. "the heavenly person has--i suppose--a name?" frank suggested. "dermott mcdermott." "has the heavenly person also a profession?" "he is"--mrs. ravenel hesitated a minute--"he is an international lawyer and a wall street man." "it sounds imposing," frank returned. "what does it mean?" "i don't know," his mother answered. "_i_ have enough of the artist in me to be satisfied with the mere sound. his english--" "his irish," frank interrupted. --"is that of dublin university, the most beautiful speech in the world. he is here in the interest of the mainwaring people, he says, who want some information concerning those disputed mines. added to his other attractions, he can talk in rhyme. do you understand? _can talk in rhyme_," she repeated, with emphasis, "and carries a tom moore in his waistcoat-pocket." there came a sound of singing outside--a man's voice, musical, with an indescribably jaunty clip to the words: "i was never addicted to work, 'twas never the way o' the gradys; but i'd make a most excellent turk, for i'm fond of tobacco and ladies." and with the song still in the air, the singer came through the shadow of the porch and stood in the doorway--a man tall and well set-up, in black riding-clothes, cap in hand, who saluted the two with his crop, and as he did so a jewel gleamed in the handle, showing him to be something of a dandy. standing in the doorway, the lights from the candelabra on his face and the sunset at his back, one noticed on the instant his great freedom of movement as of one good with the foils. his hair was dark, and his eyes, deep-set and luminous as a child's, looked straight at the world through lashes so long they made a mistiness of shadow. he had the pallor of the spanish creole found frequently in the south of ireland folk. his mouth was straight, the upper lip a bit fuller than the under one, as is the case when intellect predominates, and his hair was of a singularly dull and wavy black. but set these and many more things down, and the charm of him has not been written at all, for the words give no hint of his bearing, his impertinent and charming familiarity, the surety of touch, the right word, and the ready concession. "i thought the evening was beautiful till i saw you, madam," he said, with a sweeping salute. "i kiss your hand--with emotion." there was a slight pause here as he regarded mrs. ravenel with open admiration. "and thank you for the beautiful verses, asking that at some soon date you send more of the flowers of your imagination to bind around the gloomy brow of dermott mcdermott." it was the mcdermott way, this. a kiss on the hand and a compliment to madam ravenel; a compliment and a kiss on the lips to peggy of the poplars; but in his heart it was to the deil with all women--save one--for he regarded them as emotional liars to be sported with and forgotten. as mrs. ravenel presented to each other these two men whose lives were to be interwoven for so many years, they shook hands cordially enough, but there was both criticism and appraisement in the first glance each took of the other. the contrast between them, as they stood with clasped hands, did not pass unnoted by mrs. ravenel. the black hair, olive skin, the bluer than blue eyes of dermott, as he stood in the light of the doorway; his alert, theatric, dominating personality; his superb self-consciousness; the decision of manner which comes only to those who have achieved, seemed to her prejudiced gaze admirable in themselves, but more admirable as a foil to the warm brown of frank's hair, to the poetic gray of his eyes, his apparent self-depreciation, his easy acceptances, and his elegant reluctance to obtrude on others either his views or his personality. perhaps it was the prescience of coming trouble between them which caused a noticeable pause after the introduction--a pause which dermott courteously broke. "so this is the son," he said. "sure," he went on, comparing them, "ye've a right to be proud of each other! ye make a fine couple, the two of you. and now"--putting his cap, gloves, and riding-whip on the window-ledge--"i'll have coffee if you'll offer it. let me"--taking some sugar--"eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow," he laughed--"why, to-morrow i may have talked myself to death!" frank rose from his chair and stood by the chimney, regarding the irishman as one might have viewed a performer in a play, realizing to the full what his mother had meant by the "charm of mcdermott," for it was a thing none could deny, for the subtle celt complimented the ones to whom he spoke by an approving and admiring attention, and conveyed the impression that the roads of his life had but led him to their feet. "to tell the truth," mcdermott continued, noting and by no means displeased by frank's scrutiny, "i had heard ye were home, mr. ravenel, and came early to see you with a purpose--two purposes, i might say. first, i wanted to talk to you concerning patrick dulany, the overseer whom i got for your mother last year. ye've not see him yet?" "i arrived only last night, mr. mcdermott," francis answered. "true, i'd forgotten. it's a strange life patrick's had, and a sad one. he's of my own college in dublin, but a good dozen years older than i. 'twas in india i knew him first. he's one of the black dulanys of the north, and we fought side by side at ramazan. what a time! what a time! in the famous charge up the river, when we turned, i lost my horse, and in that backward plunge my life was not worth taking. while i was lying there half dead and helpless, this dulany got from his old gray, flung me across his saddle, and carried me nine miles back to the camp. judge if i love him!" mr. mcdermott looked from the window with the fixed gaze of one struggling with unshed tears. "the next month he was ordered home, and soon after fell the bitter business of the marriage in italy. i stood up with him. she was the most beautiful creature i have ever seen--save one; and a voice--god! i heard her sing in milan once. the king was there; the opera 'la favorita.' she was sent for to the royal box. we had the horses out of her carriage and dragged it home ourselves. what a night it was! what a night it was!" mcdermott paused as in an ecstasy of remembrance. "what was her name?" francis asked. "ah, that"--he threw out his hand with a dramatic gesture--"'tis a thing i swore never to mention. 'tis a fancy of dulany's to let it die in silence." "and she left him?" mrs. ravenel's voice was full of sympathy as she spoke. "for another!" dermott made a dramatic pause, relishing his climaxes. "and then she died." "so, for his daughter's sake"--there was a curious hesitancy in his speech just here, but he carried it off jauntily--"his daughter, a primrose girl and the love of my life, i've come to ask that you be a bit lenient with him, mr. ravenel, at the times he has taken a drop too much, as your lady mother has been in the year past. i think you'll find him able to manage, for, in spite of his infirmity, black and white fall under his spell alike." "if frank has a fault, mr. mcdermott, which i do not think he has, it's over-generosity. you need have no fear for your friend," mrs. ravenel said, proudly, putting her hand on frank's shoulder. as her son turned to kiss the slender fingers, dermott mcdermott regarded the two curiously. "you're fortunate in having a son of twenty--" he hesitated. "of twenty-five," francis finished for him. "--so devoted to you, madam. ye're twenty-five--coming or going?" he inquired, with a laugh. "on my last birthday--april." an odd light shone in mcdermott's eyes for a second before he said, with a bow: "neither of ye look it; i can assure you of that. well," he continued, reaching for his cap and whip, "i must be going. ye've found already, haven't ye, ravenel, that the sound of my own voice is the music of heaven to my ears?" and then, as though trying to recollect: "i think i said it was at ramazan dulany and i fought together?" francis nodded. "god," mcdermott cried, his face illumined, his eyes glowing, "i wish it had been waterloo! i've always carried a bruised spirit that i didn't fight at waterloo." "your loss is our gain, mr. mcdermott," francis answered, with a smile. "you'd scarce be here to tell it if you had." "and that's maybe true," dermott said, pausing by the doorway to put on his gloves. "but i'd rather have fought at waterloo, even if i were dead now, so that i could tell you exactly how it felt--there"--he broke his speech with a laugh--"i caught myself on the way to an irish bull. "oh! mr. ravenel," he called back suddenly, as though the thought had just come to him, "i've been waiting your coming to have a talk with you--a business talk--but not to-night." he waved the matter aside with a gay, outward movement of the hands. "sometime at your pleasure." again the eyes of the two met, and this time each measured the other more openly than before. "i shall be glad to see you at any time, mr. mcdermott," frank answered, his words courteous enough, but his eyes lacking warmth; and the intuitive celt realized that in frank he had met one whom he had failed either to bewilder or to charm. "madam!" he cried, saluting. "mr. francis ravenel, delightful son of a delightful mother! the top of the evening to both of ye." and with a considered manner he made a stage exit, and frank and madam ravenel heard the gay voice-- "... most excellent turk, for i'm fond of tobacco and ladies--" coming back with the clatter of a horse's hoofs through the fading sunlight over the dew of the daisies. "well," said mrs. ravenel, her eyes dancing with merry light, "isn't he delightful?" "delightful!" frank repeated. "is he? i wonder. shrewd, cool-headed, cruel, i think--subtle as well." "nonsense," mrs. ravenel interrupted, with a smile which might not have been so mirthful had she seen at that moment the man of whom she spoke. near the north gate mcdermott had brought his horse suddenly to a walk. there was no longer gayety in his manner or his face. the merry light had left his eyes, and in its place shone a gleam, steady and cold, as only the eye of the intellectual irish can be. "and so that is the son! an unco man for the lassies, like his father before him." his eyelids drew together as he spoke. "handsome, too--with a knowledge of life. it's a pity!" he said. "it's a pity! but he may not interfere. if he does, well--even if he does, the gods are with the irish!" ii the meeting in the woods instead of entering the drawing-room after dermott's departure, frank turned with some abruptness toward mrs. ravenel. "i am going for a walk, mother," he said, with no suggestion that she accompany him; and her intimate acquaintance with francis, sixth of the name, made her understand with some accuracy the moods of his son, francis seventh. "you are handsomer than ever, frank!" she exclaimed, as if in answer to the suggestion. "you spoil me, mother," he returned, with a smile. "women have always done that--" she began. "and you more than any other," frank broke in, kissing her, with a deference of manner singularly his own. "there may be truth in that," mrs. ravenel admitted, a fine sense of humor marked by the grudging tone in which she spoke. "i remember that only yesterday i was in a rage because the roses were not further open to welcome you home." "nature _is_ unappreciative," he returned; and the gray eyes with the level lids looked into the blue ones with the level lids, and both laughed. for a space mrs. ravenel contemplated him, the ecstasy of motherhood illuminating the glance. "you are quite the handsomest human being i ever saw, frank--though i think i said something like that before." "you are, of course, unprejudiced, lady mother," he laughed back from the lowest step. "it's natural i should be--being only a mother," she explained, gayly. "ah," she went on, "i am so happy to have you at home with me! _not_ happy at having asked those people down. they come on the twenty-seventh." "whom have you asked?" "the prescotts." "good." "the porters and sallie maddox." "better." "and anne lennox." there was a silence. "did i hear you say 'best'?" mrs. ravenel inquired. "by some wanderment of mind, i forgot it," frank returned, lightly. "i am always subtle in my methods," his mother continued. "note the adroitness now. why don't you marry her, frank?" "do you think she would marry me?" "don't be foolish. anne is devoted to you, and you must marry someone. you are an only son. there is the family name to be thought of, and there must be a francis eighth to inherit the good looks of francis seventh, must there not? and how i shall hate it!" she added, truthfully. again a silence fell between them before frank turned the talk with intention in word and tone. "about this new overseer?" he asked. "satisfactory?" "when not drunk--very." "does it"--he smiled--"i mean the drunkenness, not the satisfaction--occur frequently?" "i am afraid it does." "what did mcdermott say his name is?" "patrick dulany." "french, i suppose?" he suggested. "by all the laws of inference," his mother returned, with an answering gleam in her eye. "there seems to have been a celtic invasion of the carolinas during my absence. has he a family?" "only a daughter." and as frank turned to leave her mrs. ravenel asked, lightly: "how long do you intend to stay here, frank?" "i have made no plans," he answered; but going down the carriageway he said to himself, with a smile: "mother shows her hand too plainly. the girl is evidently young and pretty." the plantation had never seemed so beautiful to him. the wild roses were in bloom; the fringe-trees and dogwood hung white along the riverbanks; the golden azaleas, nodding wake-robins, and muskadine flowers looked up at them from below, while the cotton spread its green tufts miles and miles away to a sunlit horizon. swinging along the road outside the park, the half-formed plan to visit the overseer left him, and purposeless he climbed the hill to chestnut ridge. something in the occasion of his home-coming after a two years' absence--his mother's reference to his marriage, his remembrances of anne lennox--had brought back to his face its habitual expression of sadness. and more than he would have acknowledged was a disquietude caused by his instant resentment of the existence of dermott mcdermott. never in his life had he felt more strongly the need for companionship. he had been loved by many women. he had never been believed in by any. passionate, proud, intolerant, full of prejudice, conscious by twenty-six years' experience of a most magnetic power with women, he came to the edge of the far wood as lawless a man, in as lawless a mood, as the carolinas had ever seen--a locality where lawless men have not been wanting. suddenly, through the twilight, he heard a voice--a woman's voice--singing, and by instinct he knew that the singer was alone and conscious of nothing save the song. at the top of the rise, under a group of beeches, with both arms stretched along a bar fence, a girl stood, the black of her hair in silhouette against the gold of the sky. he noted the slender grace of her body as she leaned backward, and listened to her voice, heaven-given, vibrant, caressing--_juste_, as the french have it--singing an old song. he had heard it hundreds of times cheapened by lack of temperament, lack of voice, lack of taste; but as he listened, though little versed in music, he knew that it was a great voice that sang it and a great personality which interpreted it. with the song still trembling through the silence the singer turned toward him, and, man of the world and many loves as he had been, an unknown feeling came at sight of her. a flower of a girl--"of fire and dew," delicate features, nose tip-tilted, a chin firmly modelled under the rounded flesh, and eyes bright with the wonder and pride of life. she wore a short-waisted black frock, scant of skirt and cut away at the neck. it was in this same frock that the sargent picture of her was painted--but that was years afterward; and although she was motionless, one knew from her slender figure and arched feet that she moved with fire and spirit. her hair was very dark, though red showed through it in a strong light, and her cheeks had the dusky pink of an october peach. but it was the eyes that held and allowed no forgetting; ravenel always held they were violet, and josef, who saw her every day for years, spoke them gray; but dermott mcdermott was firm as to their being blue until the day she visited him about the railroad business, when he afterward described them "as black as chaos," adding a word or two about her deil's temper as well. the truth was that the color of them changed with her emotions, but the wistfulness of them remained ever the same. dermott, in some lines he wrote of her in paris, described them as "corn-flowers in a mist filled with the poetry and passion of a great and misunderstood people," and though "over-poetic," as he himself said afterward, "the thought was none so bad." suddenly the languor seemed to leave her, and she stood alert, chin drawn in, hands clasped before her, and began the recitative to the "_ah! fors e lui_." twice she stopped abruptly, taking a tone a second time, listening as she did so, her head, birdlike, on one side with a concentrated attention. after the last low note, which was round and low like an organ tone, she resumed her old position with arms outstretched upon the fence. as frank came up the path their eyes met, and he removed his hat, holding it at his side, as one who did not intend to resume it. standing thus, he bore himself, if one might use the word of a man, with a certain sweetness, an entire seeming self-forgetfulness, as though the one to whom he spoke occupied his entire thought. "it is miss dulany?" he inquired, with a smile which seemed to ask pardon for his temerity. "i am katrine dulany," the girl answered, gravely, for the readjustment from the music and the silence was not easily made. "i was fortunate enough to hear you sing. it almost made me forget to say that i am mr. ravenel." "i know," katrine answered. "the plantation has expected your coming." a silence followed, during which, with no embarrassment, she retained her position, waiting for him to pass. the indifference of it pleased him. "i was going to see your father at the lodge. the roads are unfamiliar, and the path, after two years' absence, a bit lonely." the sadness which accompanied the words was honest, but it seemed for some more personal sorrow than it was. "my father is not well," katrine said, hastily. "i am afraid you cannot see him, mr. ravenel. may i ask him to go to you to-morrow instead?" there was entreaty in her voice, and frank knew the truth on an instant. "i cannot have you carrying messages for me." "seeing that i offered myself"--she suggested, with a smile. "--is no reason that i should trespass on your kindness, so i shall carry my message myself." this quite firmly. "i will sing again if you stay." she looked at him through her long lashes without turning her head. "you see," she added, "i have made up my mind." "it's a premium on discourtesy," he answered, "but i yield." near the place where she stood there was a fallen log, and he seated himself upon it, placing his hat on the ground as though for a continued stay, regarding her curiously. she was the daughter of his drunken overseer, a child in years, yet she showed neither embarrassment nor eagerness; indeed, she conveyed to him the impression that it was profoundly equal to her whether he went or stayed. "tell me," he said, "before you sing, where have you studied?" "i?" she laughed, but the laugh was not all mirthful. "in paris, in london, in rome, in new york." there was bitterness in her tone. "i am a _gamin_ of the world, monsieur." "tell me," he repeated, insistently. she made no response, but stood, with her profile toward him, looking into the sunset. "won't you tell me?" he asked again, his tone more intimate than before. "ah, why should i?" and then, with a sudden veering: "after all, there is little to tell. i was born in paris of poor--but irish--parents." she smiled as she spoke. "my mother was a great singer, whose name i will not call. she married my father; left him and me. i do not remember her. since her death my father has been a spent man. we have wandered from place to place. when he found work i was sent to some convent near by. the sisters have taught me. for three months i studied with barili. i have sung in the churches. finally, mr. mcdermott, on the next plantation, met us in new york, recommended my father for this work, and we came here." she turned from him as she ended the telling. "what shall i sing?" she asked. "'the serenade.'" "schubert's?" "there is but one." "it is difficult without the accompaniments but i will try: "'all the stars keep watch in heaven while i sing to thee, and the night for love was given-- darling, come to me-- darling, come to me!'" she ended, her hands clasped before her, her lithe figure, by god-given instinct for song, leaned forward, and francis ravenel was conscious that the passion in the voice had nothing to do with his presence; that it was the music alone of which she thought, and for the first time in his life he touched the edge of the knowledge that _a great gift sets its owner as a thing apart_. "sometime," he said, "when you have become famous, and all the world is singing your praises, i shall say, 'once she sang for me alone, at twilight, under the beeches, in a far land,' and the people will take off their hats to me, as to one who has had much honor." he smiled as he spoke. it was the smile or the praise of the song, or a cause too subtle to name, that changed her. she had already seemed an indifferent woman, a great artist, a careless _bohémienne_ in her speech; but for the next change he was unprepared: it was a pleading child with wistful eyes who seated herself beside him, not remotely through any self-consciousness, but near to him, where speech could be conveniently exchanged. "mr. ravenel," she began, "i had thought to keep it from you, but you are different--the _most_ different person i ever saw." a dimple came in her cheek as she smiled. "and so i am going to tell you everything." she made a little outward gesture of the hands, as though casting discretion to the wind. "my father drinks. it began with his great sorrow. it is not all the time, but frequently. i had hoped that down here he would be better. he is not, and you will have to get another overseer. it is not just to you to have my father in charge. only i think that perhaps such times as he is himself some work might be found for him. it is so peaceful here; i do not want to go away." "you shall not go away." the words were spoken quietly, but for the first time in her life katrine dulany felt there was some one of great power to whom she could turn for help, and her woman heart thrilled at the words. "you mustn't feel about it as you do, either," frank continued. "the time has gone by for thinking of your father's trouble as anything except a disease--a disease which very frequently can be cured." "ah!" she cried, "do you think it would be possible?" "i have known many cases. is your father good to you?" he asked, abruptly. "sick or well, with money or without, he is the kindest father in the world. save in one way, it is always _for_ me he thinks." her hand lay on the log. it was small and white, and she was very beautiful. frank had seldom resisted temptation. this one he did not even try to resist, and he placed his hand over hers. "katrine," he said, "i am not a particularly good man, but the gods have willed that we meet--meet in strange moods and a strange way. i am a better man to-night than i have ever been in my life. it's the music, maybe, or the fringed gentian, or the whippoorwills." there was love-making in every tone of his voice. "whatever it is, it makes me want to help you. may i? will you trust me?" she turned her hand upward, as a child might have done, to clasp his, looking him full in the eyes as she did so. "utterly," she said. "i have not always been considered trustworthy," he explained, lightly. "people may not have understood you." there was a sweet explaining in her voice. "which may have been, on the whole, fortunate for me," he answered, with a curious smile. "don't," she said--"don't talk of yourself like that. i know you are good, good, _good!_" "thank you," and again there came to him the throb in the throat he had felt when their eyes first met. "believe me," he said, "i shall always try to be--to you," and as he spoke he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. a noise startled him. some one was approaching with uncertain footsteps and a shuffling gait, and at the sound the girl's face turned crimson. "katrine, little katrine, where are you?" a voice cried, thickly and uncertainly, as a man came from under the gloom of the trees. there was not a moment's hesitation. the child rose and put her arms around the figure with a divine, womanly gesture, as though to shield him and his infirmities from the whole world. it was the action of one ashamed to be ashamed. "daddy," she said, laying her head against his shoulder, "this is mr. ravenel!" iii a kindness with mixed motives in the walk home through the gloom of the night frank ravenel thought of many things not hitherto considered in his philosophy. the women whom he had known had presented few complexities to him. that he should be giving a second thought to katrine dulany seemed humorous; but the more he resolved to put her from his thoughts the more vivid the memory of her became. he recalled his emotion when their eyes first met, and the remembrance brought again the tightening of the throat which he had on the hilltop. he could feel the clinging pressure of the slender hand, could hear again the voice like a caress, and her words, "you are good--good--good!" kept repeating themselves somewhere in the recesses of his brain to the tune of an old song. "good!" he ejaculated. "god, if she only knew!" he had stated to his mother at the outset of the walk that he had no plans; but in reality his summer had been fairly well arranged before his return, lacking only a few set dates to fill the time till october. the party at ravenel would be over in a fortnight, and then--the thought of another woman who loved him and a certain husband yachting on the mediterranean crossed his mind for an instant with annoyance and a little shame. the girl on the hill had had a more disturbing effect than any one that ever came into his life before. looking down the vista of probable events, he saw nothing but trouble for her if he remained at ravenel--saw it as reasonably and as logically as though he were contemplating the temptation of another. an affair with the daughter of his overseer, a very young person, was a manifest impossibility for him, francis ravenel; his pride and such honor as he had where women were concerned forbade it. but even as he reached this decision the voice of gold came back to him: "and the night for love was given-- darling, come to me!" how she could love a man! he recalled her gesture when she said: "i will tell you everything"! the glance through the lashes--"i've a fancy for my own way"! the forgetting of his presence for the song-singing and the sunset, coming back to talk with him; a pleading child! by the lake he paused, and, looking into the moonlit water, came to his conclusions sanely enough. he would see her no more. there would be many people for the next fortnight to occupy his time; the coming folks were interesting. anne lennox would be there; the time would pass; he would leave ravenel; but as he dropped asleep a voice seemed to call to him through the pines, and he knew he would not go. the next morning before coffee he wrote to dr. johnston, the great specialist in alcoholic diseases, urging him to come to ravenel at his earliest convenience. "there is a man to be helped," he wrote, "and neither money nor brains are to be spared in the helping." through the breakfast the memory of katrine was vividly with him. he recalled, with the approval of an aristocrat in taste, the daintiness of her movements, the delicacy of her hands as they lay open on the fence, even her indifference to him, to him, who was in no wise accustomed to indifference in women. at twilight he went to the chestnut ridge, but katrine was not there, nor did she come. the following day he went again with a similar resulting. the third day he saw her about noon on the river-bank, and she waved her hand to him in a cavalier fashion, disappearing into a small copse of dogwood, not to reappear. the thing had become amusing. during this time he saw neither dermott mcdermott nor the new overseer, whom he learned was at marlton on affairs concerning a sawmill. the fourth day after his meeting with katrine a message from the great doctor gave him the dignity of a mission, and he rode to the old lodge to show her the letter, which said that dr. johnston would be at ravenel soon. there was eagerness in his gait and eyes as he mounted his horse, and as he rode down the carriageway standing in his stirrups, waving his cap to his mother with a "tallyho to the hounds," he had never looked handsomer nor had more of an air of carrying all before him, as was right, she thought, for a ravenel. the old gate-lodge on the ravenel place stands on the north branch of the road which leads to three poplar inn. it is built of pale-colored english brick and gray stones, and runs upward to the height of two stories, with broad doorways and wide windows peeping through ivy which covers the place from foundation to roof. frank remembered it as a drear-looking, lonesome place during the occupancy of the former incumbent. instead, he found a reclaimed garden; hedges of laurel, trim and straight; old-fashioned flowers, snowballs, gillybells, great pink-and-white peonies; and over the front on trellises, by the gate and doorway, scrambles of scarlet roses against the green and the ivied walls. in the doorway nora o'grady, a short, wide woman of fifty or thereabout, was singing at a spinning-wheel. she had a kind, yellow face with high cheek-bones, and dark eyes which seemed darker by reason of the snowy hair showing under a mob cap. her chin was square and pointed upward like old mother hubbard's, and she could talk of batter-cakes or home rule with humorous volubility, and smoke a pipe with the manner of a condescending duchess. she had, as frank found afterward, an excellent gift at anecdote, but a clipping pronunciation of english by reason of having spoken nothing but the erse until she was grown. added to this was an entirely illogical ignorance of certain well-known words, and katrine told him later that once when nora was asked if the dinner was postponed, she answered: "it was pork." for fifteen years this strange old creature and her boy barney had followed the seesawing fortunes of the dulanys, accompanying their gypsy-like sojournings with great loyalty and joyousness. she rose from her spinning as ravenel approached. "is miss katrine at home?" he inquired. nora dropped a courtesy, and with the tail of her eye observed, labelled, and docketed francis ravenel. "will your lordship be seated," she said. "miss katrine will be back in a minute. she's gone to ask after miranda's baby. nothin' seems able to stop her from regardin' the naygurs as human beings. if 'twere not that i know she'd be here immejit i'd go afther her mysel', and not keep your lordship waitin'." she motioned him to a wide settle on the porch with an alert hospitality. in her heart she preferred dermott mcdermott to all possible suitors for katrine, but if this was another jo, as the scotch say, so much the better, for one might urge the other on, she thought, with primitive sagacity. "would ye have a drop of scotch?" she asked, and upon francis declining she reseated herself at her wheel, "with his permission," as she put it, delighted, celtlike, at the chance for conversation. "ye're perhaps," she says, with some humor, "like the man in the old, old tale when a friend asked him to take a drink. he said he couldn't for three reasons. first, he'd promised his mother he never would drink; second, his doctor had tould him he mustn't drink; and, third, he'd just had a drink." frank laughed back at the merry old woman as she sat at the whirring wheel, her accustomed eyes scarcely glancing at the work in her scrutiny of him. "dulany's not at home this day. i'm sorry," she went on. "he's off about the sawmill of that triflin' shehan man. did ye hear that about his telegraph, mr. ravenel? no? it's a funny tale. ye know that old mill of yours ain't worth more than a few hunder dollars. but dulany saw an advertisement for a new kind of machinery, and he wrote the firm to ask them what it would cost to have it put in. they sint back the word: tin thousand dollars, and would he plaze lit thim know immejit if it was wanted. he didn't wait to write. he telegraphed: "'if a man had ten thousand dollars, what in hell would he want with a sawmill?'" frank laughed aloud again, uncomprehending the fact that the shrewd little woman was deliberately holding him with her tales till katrine returned. inside the house he heard a note, struck suddenly, and repeated over and over in a voice little above a whisper. "she's come in the other way. i'll tell her your lordship's wantin' her," said nora o'grady, disappearing. he looked about him in great content. things seemed so much as he desired them to be--the roses, the old furniture, the spinning-wheel, the coiffed peasant woman--that he waited for katrine's coming, fearing that she should be less beautiful than he remembered her. with some surprise he heard a laugh (he had not thought of her as a girl who laughed) so merry, so infectious that he found himself wondering what caused it as the girl herself came through the doorway to greet him, her rose face radiant, her eyes shining, her hand outstretched. she was more loveworthy, more imperious, than he remembered her, a thing which bewildered him as he thought of her entreating smile, and her wistful and approving eyes. she wore white, so simply made as to have something statuesque about the lines of the gown, and cut from the throat to show the poise of the head and the curls at the back of the neck. "i could scarcely believe nora when she said it was you. father is at marlton. i was so lonely. it is good of you to come, even if only on business. you are riding?" she asked, regarding his clothes. "yes," he answered. "i am going to the world's end." "you will be sorry," she returned, quickly. "i have been there. carolina is better. stay here!" she seated herself beside him on the settle as she spoke, and the odor of the red rose she wore at her breast came to him with the words. he had taken off his hat and leaned his bare brown head against the high back of the bench. "you see," he began, his eyelids drawn together in his own way, his eyes fastened upon some remote distance, "i, too, have been lonely. the only companionable person within hundreds of miles has refused me her society. i have been driven, as it were, to the world's end." "do you mean me?" katrine asked, smiling, and looking at him with eyes full of surprise. "it is perhaps nora to whom i refer," he suggested, whimsically. "she is not always companionable--nora," katrine returned; "and to-day she is not pleased with me, so i like her less than usual. she purposed to cook nettles in the potatoes, and i remonstrated, and--i have not absented myself from your society," she said, abruptly breaking her talk after a woman's way. "then why didn't you watch the sunset from the chestnut ridge last night and the night before and the night before that?" he asked. "why didn't i watch the sunset from the chestnut ridge?" she repeated after him, as though not understanding; and then, with a slow, steady smile, looking straight in his eyes, "the thought never occurred to me," she said. no studied coquetry could have piqued him as this simple statement, which he felt to be the plain truth. he had taken three long walks on the off-chance of meeting a girl who apparently had forgotten his existence, and although the thought was humorous it stirred in him a determination to make his existence a remembered thing to her. "but, if i had known," she explained, and the selflessness and sweetness of her as she spoke touched him strangely--"if i had thought you wanted to talk to me, i should have been glad to come." fortunately there remained to him a dignified explanation of his suggestion. "i thought you might come, not so much to see the sunsets as in the hope of seeing me. i promised to help you when i could. i thought you might be interested to know that i had kept my promise. if any one can help your father it is dr. johnston." he gave the letter to her as he spoke. "he is coming to ravenel to-morrow." in an instant her face softened; her eyes became suffused by a soft, warm light, and she looked up at him through a sudden mist of tears. "the interview must be arranged," he went on. but katrine interrupted him: "ah! it will be easy enough. father is as anxious as i am to be himself again. you do not know daddy, mr. ravenel," she explained, a proud loyalty in her tone. "he has not been himself before you; but in paris, in dublin, he was welcomed everywhere; his wit was the keenest, with never an edge that hurt; his stories the brightest, and always of the kind that made you love the people of whom they were told. he will be home to-night. will the doctor come here? i want to tell him _everything_, and then, when he has seen father, you can tell me what to do. you see, i haven't thanked you yet," she said, abruptly. "to know that you are pleased is enough. besides, i have, on some few occasions, drifted into doing a kind act for the act's sake," he said; adding: "not often, it's true, but occasionally." "you have made me, oh, so happy, and hopeful--as i have never been before in all my life. it seems like one of the fairy stories in which one's wishes all come true." "and if it were given you to have whatever you wished, what would you ask for, katrine?" "to have father well. and then," her face became illuminated, "to study with josef." "josef?" he repeated the great name interrogatively. "you have not heard of him?" she asked, incredulously. he made a sign in the negative. "he is the greatest teacher in the world," she explained, as though there could be no doubting. "which is perhaps the reason i have never heard of him," he answered, with a smile. "from your enthusiasm i am led to judge it is music which he teaches." "yes," she answered; "but he teaches more than that. i knew a girl in paris who studied with him. she was quite intricate and self-seeking when she began. and in six months he had changed her whole nature. she became elemental and direct, and," she put her hands together and threw them apart with the gesture which he knew so well, "and splendid! like shakespeare's women!" she finished. "gracious heaven, hear!" said frank. "and does this miracle-worker live uncrowned?" "ah, don't!" she said, her sincerity and enthusiasm reproving his scoffing tone. "you see"--there was sweetness and an apologetic note in her voice as she continued--"i believe in him so much it hurts to have you speak so. josef says that when woman developed to the point of needing more education, there was nothing ready to give her except the same thing they gave men; that because certain studies had been proven all right for them they were given ready-made to women, and they didn't fit. he believes women should be trained to develop the thing we call their instinct. he says it's the psychic force which must in the end rule the world. one of the girls in paris said 'he stretched your soul.'" "i shall not permit you to go to him," frank interrupted, gravely. she regarded him, a question in her glance. "why?" she asked. "because if your soul was any larger, katrine, there would be no room for it here below. it crowds the earth a little as it is. no," he finished, with conviction, "you shall never go to study with josef. music is all right. but that soul-stretching"--he smiled at this phrase--"that would be all wrong for you. i want you exactly as you are." iv the promise in the rose garden a silence fell between them, broken only by the whirring of nora's wheel and the robin's chatter before katrine inquired: "are you still bent on that expedition to that world's end?" "i could," he returned, "be persuaded from it, or at least to postpone it. if by any chance i were invited to luncheon in a certain garden--an old-fashioned garden, with box and peonies, and," he raised his head to look down over the flowers--"and some queer purple things like bells whose name i have forgotten, under a trellis of roses, with--" "me," she interrupted, with a laugh. "we'll make a party, as the children say. nora will give us broiled chicken and yellow wine in the long-necked glasses, and cake with nuts in it, and you," she stopped for a second, the dimple in the left cheek showing itself, "will give all of your nuts to me; for it is well to sacrifice for another," she said, with a laugh, "and exceeding well," she added, "that i should have the nuts." having ordered the luncheon, they went together down the gravelled pathway to the grape arbor, which was grown over with sweet, old-fashioned climbing roses, through which the sunlight filtered in wavy lights on the quaint low rocker, the long rattan couch, the pillows of gay hue, the table covered with books and sewing. frank paused at the archway and looked in. "i have found it," he said. "what?" she asked. "the world's end," he answered. "you must," she explained, "_really_ to appreciate this place, lie on the couch so that you may see the wistaria on the gray wall. you should then light a cigarette and have the table brought near, that you may ring for what you want." she moved the table toward him as she spoke. "and i will take this chair beside you. if you want me to talk to you i shall do so; if you want me to sing, i will do that; or if the king desires silence"--she made an obeisance before him as of great humility--"i can even accomplish that, though it is difficult for a woman," she added, with a laugh. it was dangerous repayment of a kindness: this entire forgetfulness of herself in her gratitude to him; this essence of the wine of flattery, of irish flattery, which has ever a peculiar bouquet of its own. "you have a good friend in mcdermott," francis said, abruptly. "yes; he has been kind to us, most kind," katrine answered. "for old sake's sake?" frank suggested. "scarcely for that. we never knew him until father met him quite by accident in new york two years ago." "didn't they fight together in india?" frank inquired. "in india!" katrine repeated. "father was never in india. will some one have been telling you that mcdermott and he fought together in india, mr. ravenel?" she asked, in astonishment. frank sat upright, regarding her with amazement. "didn't your father save his life at ramazan?" it was katrine's turn to be bewildered. "i never heard of ramazan," she said. "where is it?" "and he was not present at your father's marriage in italy?" katrine shook her head; but to ravenel's astonishment she began to wear an amused smile as he repeated mcdermott's tale to her bit by bit. "i understand," she explained, "my father saved him from a horrible attack of the measles in new york. they thought for weeks that he would die." "but why," frank demanded, "didn't he say just that?" "he couldn't!" katrine stated, as simply and uncritically as a child. "you see, he has the soul of an artist, and there's something about a man of thirty dying of measles impossible for the artistic temperament to contemplate. ah!" she said, with gentle pleading in her voice for an absent friend, "he's the greatest liar as well as the most truthful person alive; but you've got to be irish to understand how that thing can be. he couldn't say my father saved him from the measles. the story of india sounds better--and no one is hurt. can't ye understand? the gratitude for service rendered is the great thing; to remember a kindness has been done; and whether he gives as reason for his gratitude ramazan or the measles, what is the difference? do you know"--there came an apologetic look and blush to her face as she spoke, "that i myself, when it comes to things of the heart--" she ended the sentence with a laugh and a gesture of self-depreciation. "there was once a little child in killybegs," she explained, "a girl, who wanted to be a boy, and she cried all of the time because she wasn't. so i told her _she was a boy_, and it comforted her for quite a year. you see, it made her happy." "oh," francis laughed, "you incomprehensible celts!" "incomprehensible, indeed!" she said. "incomprehensible!" a singing voice broke the talk, rolling strongly, vibrantly through the leaves, a lawless, insistent voice, and dermott mcdermott, with the reins loosened on his horse's neck, and his ardent eyes looking upward to heaven's blue, rode by the other side of the privet hedge: "'war-battered dogs are we, fighters in every clime, fillers of trench and grave, mockers be-mocked by time. war dogs hungry and gray, gnawing a naked bone, fighting in every clime every cause but our own.'" "katrine," frank said, as they listened to the singing die away, "what is dermott mcdermott doing in the carolinas? that story of the mainwaring titles is nonsense. he is here on some other business." "i am not sure," she answered. "i cannot be certain, but i think it has something to do with ravenel. i think it has to do with you." "with me?" frank sat erect. "do you know," he said, after some thought, "absurd as it may seem, katrine, i think so, too." * * * * * the sun was far behind the pines when he rose to leave, flattered, softened, with the remembrance of caressing gray eyes, of a voice full of strange cadence, and speech with quaint humor and dramatic turns to the sentences. "good-bye," he said, standing by the boxwood arch. "i am your debtor, miss dulany, for one perfectly happy day." "my debtor!" she repeated, looking at him through sudden tears. "i've known rich men before now, men richer than you, mr. ravenel; and great men, though none greater than yourself; and handsome men as well, though here"--and the mutinous humor of her showed in the speech--"i can't truthfully say i've ever seen any handsomer than you are this minute, as you stand looking down at me. it's your eyes, or something in your nature, perhaps, that sets you apart from others in your looks. but be that all as it may, it's neither your riches nor your birth nor your good looks that i am thinking about, but your kind heart. i shall never forget you, never in all my life, for what you've done for me; and if the time ever comes when you need a friend, for sometimes a man needs the help that only a woman can give, will you remember me then, for i'll come from the ends of the earth to serve you?" and before he was aware of such an intention, in an ecstasy of gratitude, she raised his hand to her lips and kissed it. v frank falls further under katrine's influence when frank came out on the porch the next morning at ravenel, he found patrick dulany waiting on horse by the main steps. it was the first time the two men had met in daylight, and with the keenest interest mr. ravenel inspected his strange overseer; for in the week since his return he had heard much of his wit and his ability. he found him to be a large man with a broad face tanned to the hue of a mulatto. his eyes were light blue with the fulness under them of people who have gift in speech. his silver hair, of which he had a great quantity, set strangely around his dark face, falling low over a brow markedly intellectual. but it was the mouth and chin at which ravenel most wondered, for their lines were strong, the lips full and finely chiselled, showing, one could have sworn, high birth and great resolution. his clothes were of tweed, with a riding-cap far back on his head, and he rode with an excellent seat. upon seeing mr. ravenel he dismounted, removed his cap, and advanced with outstretched hand, in the manner of one welcoming home an old friend. "twas the sawmill business that kept me from seeing you sooner, mr. ravenel," he began. "but katrine's been telling me of you, with some worry, i think, in her gentle soul for fear that you may not understand our friend mcdermott." francis replied with a comprehending smile. "now that i've seen ye," said dulany, "i know you'll understand. he has a peculiarity of nature. he likes to arrange certain unimportant details of life that they may sound better in the telling. but one has a small knowledge of human nature if he discount mcdermott because of this. in ireland his name is a household word. he's here to-day, gone to-morrow. he works like a galley-slave; his word is as good as his bond when given in honor. and 'tis for others he works always. generous, he gives all, all, all! his work, his brain, the money it earns, everything! his is a great soul, a very great soul. there's not a man in america, barring the president, who has his personal power. quietly, his name unworded in the newspapers, he holds tammany in his hand. i can't tell you how enthusiastic i am about him! mines, politics, wall street, he's into them all, a million ideas a minute! helps the chap that's down. he helps every one with whom he comes in contact. he has helped me." his sadness of tone introduced the next statement better than words could have done. "mr. ravenel," he said, "i have a confession to make to you. i drink." he looked frank squarely in the face as he spoke, with no flinching. "ye may have heard it from one or another since ye've been back. it's been a habit of mine for some time. i was not myself the other evening when i met you on the hill. the worst of it is," and he spoke the words brightly and bravely, "i've no excuse for it, if there can be found an excusing for such a habit. the thing is growing upon me in this solitude. i try, god alone knows how i try, for katrine's sake, to resist; but only those who have fought the thing can realize what its temptations are. however, i've been thinking that if i drink too much, or fail to suit you, it might make it easier for you to tell me to go, if you knew it would be better for me that i went." "i am hoping that you will not find it necessary to go, mr. dulany. the plantation has never been in better shape." "and i'm glad to hear you say that, sir," was the answer. "well"--hopefully--"things may change for the better in me, and so, good-day," and spurring his horse he was off at a gallop down the broad road, and ravenel stood listening to the horse's hoofs clatter over the bridge, strike the soft road under the pines, and die away in silence before he turned into the bridle-path which led to the stables. and a strange thing occurred but a few minutes after this interview, when frank made his daily visit to the stables. one of the head grooms explained a horse's lameness to him as due to a bad place in the road near the north gate which, he finished, would probably not be mended until mr. dulany was over "his coming attack." "is he drinking again?" ravenel asked. "for three days past," the groom answered. francis made no comment whatever, but the next day he discovered the man's suspicions justified, and the third, as he rode to marlton, he saw katrine, a pale-faced, desolate little figure, sitting on the garden bench, her head in her hands, the picture of despair. about five o'clock jerry drove to the station for dr. johnston, and the same evening after the dinner nora o'grady's son, a red-haired, unkempt boy of seventeen, brought a short letter from katrine, asking that the doctor be sent as soon as possible. "mr. dulany is drinking?" frank said, interrogatively, to the youth. "something fierce," was the laconic answer. "is he better this evening?" "worse. heart's actin' up," the boy responded. at the end of the week, after three days spent with the dulanys, at the old lodge, dr. johnston and francis sat together at the dinner-table at ravenel. mrs. ravenel had left them, and the great doctor, in the admirably restrained and cautious language of the scientific mind, gave his findings in the case, as it were. "mr. dulany's habits," the great doctor began, "i should say, after such superficial investigation as i have been able to make, may be cured. one thing i have noted with pleasure. he has lost none of his mental integrity. he is capable of the truth concerning himself. generally those given to the alcoholic habit deny everything or secrete everything concerning it when sober. sometimes they are sentimental over it, given to self-pity, with even a certain desire for dramatic effects in the statements about themselves. dulany is still, so far as i can judge, honest. to-day he told me the history of himself, with a gay humor in the telling. he is a descendant, it seems, of the great and the gifted. there are lawless loves behind him, a picturesque ancestry, artistic and, on the wrong side of the blanket, aristocratic as well." "it is the ancestry of genius," francis answered. "it is the ancestry of katrine dulany," dr. johnston returned, looking at frank with an untranslatable smile. a silence fell between them, broken at length by the doctor. "i have decided to take mr. dulany to new york with me. i shall keep him near me as long as is necessary. if there is no organic trouble, of which i have some fear, the case will be simple enough, if there is the desire in him to help me. he was keen to have his daughter go with him, but i told him frankly it was better that she should not go. he leans too much on her. he must strengthen his own will; he must learn to rely on himself." as the doctor spoke it was not of patrick dulany that francis thought, but of katrine. the people were coming on the twenty-seventh; it was now but the seventeenth. he would have her to himself for ten days, ten days of those caressing eyes, of the charming voice and open adulation, and then? he closed his eyes to whatever lay beyond. he would go away to keep his engagements and forget. he always had forgotten; he would, he thought, be able always to forget. and the ten days were his; days on the river fishing by the indian rocks, or drifting with the current under the dogwoods' white, open faces down to the falls; days with lunches in the rose-garden, and abt and schubert songs under the pines at twilight, when their hands touched in the exchange of a flower or a book and lingered in the touching; when their eyes had learned the answering of each other with no spoken word. and the question and answer were the same in the garden of eden, before man and woman made their first great mistake and did the thing that was intended for them to do. for frank this companionship was unutterably sweet. he enjoyed the small and unimportant events of their intercourse; the way katrine would save flowers for him to wear, pinning them in his coat with a flushed cheek, or read, with an ecstasy of appreciation, a line from some great writer, marking a meaning he had never found, or laugh at his old riding-clothes, his southern prejudices, saying once: "to a _man_ of the world like myself, these ideas seem trivial." on one of these ten precious days the lawyers at marlton telephoned him to obtain an interview. the business was important, and he started immediately for a conference with them. by the fence opening into the main road from the lodge he found katrine, in her high-waisted black frock, looking out between the bars of the great swinging gate, with a radiance about her, an inconsequential joy such as he had never seen before in any human being. she had a letter tucked in her breast, and at sight of him she touched it. "he is getting better, better, better, and the doctor writes he may be quite himself again," she said, with no salutation whatever, her face a wonder to behold. "i am rejoiced more than i can say, katrine," he answered. "you have been so good," she replied, gratefully. "thank you," he said, gravely, and though the words were trivial the manner gave them significance. "were you coming to call on me?" katrine inquired. frank shook his head. "the lawyers at marlton are waiting for me." "stay with me," she said, opening her hand and showing some nuts, as though they might be an inducement to remain. "it's lonesome. i've finished practising. stay with me!" "duty calls," he answered, looking down at her. "put your fingers in your ears! if you once listen to her, you can never hear any other thing in life." she folded her arms on one of the bars of the gate, resting her chin upon them, as she looked up at him. "if you will stay with me," she hesitated, searching her mind for further inducements, "i'll tell you tales of killybegs and the black bradley brothers, who hid their sister in the 'pocheen' barrel"--she waited a minute--"and of the wedding of peggy menalis on the old sea-wall." he shook his head. "and i'll sing you a funny little song that ends like this": [music notation] she sang the tones out sweet and true as a bird. "is she calling still?" she asked. "who?" frank asked, not following. "duty," she answered; and as she spoke she shut her eyes tight and drew the lids together. "somehow, i don't hear her so plainly as i did," he returned, with a laugh. there was another pause, filled by a glance which made his heart throb. "and if you stayed," she went on, at length, "i could tell you how nice you are." frank smiled. "i don't hear her at all now--that duty person," he said, gayly. "you are," she hesitated, "a very nice man." he kept his eyes averted. "one of the nicest i have ever known." he fastened his eyes on the chestnut ridge. "the nicest of all," she said, almost in a whisper, her eyes brimming over with laughter. at the words he sprang to the ground and stood beside her. "and duty?" she asked. "i don't know whether it's duty or not, but something tells me that there's nothing in all the world of any importance except to stay with you," he answered. but with his acquiescence there came the veering in her moods for which he had already learned to watch. "where were you going?" she asked. "the lawyers telephoned for me from marlton." "they are waiting for you?" "yes." "and you are going to keep them waiting because i asked you to stay?" "them or the whole world," he answered. "king francis," she said, with a courtesy, "must do no wrong. here is a flower--a horrible one, it is true, but the only one i have. wear it, and go to the lawyer men and think of me. perhaps--this evening--" she hesitated. "may i come," he said, "early?" * * * * * on the evening of the twenty-sixth they sat on the mahogany settle together, in a moonless night, the lilacs and honeysuckle a-bloom around them. "all those people are coming to-morrow. i wish they were in some other place," he ended, inadequately considering the vehemence of his tone. "do you, katrine?" he asked. she did not answer him. "do you, katrine?" he repeated, insistently. there was no response. "do you wish that we had these ten happy days to live over? do you wish that they might come again? will you miss me?" she turned toward him with a wistful look, letting her eyes rest in his as she spoke. "i am sorry it is over. i shall miss you more than i can say." "thank you." and then, with a mixture of whimsicality and earnestness he continued: "do you remember the talk we had the other day of josef?" "yes." "when you told me he believed women to have some undeveloped psychic power which, with study, could be developed to revolutionize the world?" "i didn't say it so clearly as that, but that is what he means." "do you believe it, katrine?" "i don't know, mr. ravenel." "do you believe that if you tried to help me, even if i were far away, you could?" "again i don't know, mr. ravenel." "i do," he said, in the tone of one thoroughly convinced. "i have been thinking it over, and have come to the conclusion that josef is right. you could make me do anything, katrine. will you try? in these days to come, when i am away with all those people, will you keep me from temptation?" she hesitated for a minute, not knowing whether he was jesting or not. "believe me," she said, at length, "i will try." vi dermott gives a dinner at the old lodge the following morning, as she stood clipping the roses, dermott mcdermott leaned over the hedge. "will you marry me, katrine?" he said, with no salutation whatever. "will you wait," she inquired, "till i've finished cutting the roses?" "but i'm in earnest," he announced. she held the clippers in her gloved hand to shade the sun from her eyes, regarding him in her friendly, companionable way. "dermott," she said, "what makes you such a liar?" the word as she spoke it of him seemed almost a compliment. "you've been associating, i fear, with some narrow and confined spirit, who repeats things exactly as they occurred. i've more imagination!" he explained, with a laugh. "why should i not change things a bit?" he continued. "every irishman's got to have one of three vices: whiskey, love-making, or lying. mention me one of any distinction who had none of these!" "there was st. patrick," katrine suggested, a laugh held under her eyelids. "he's so remote you can prove nothing against him. take another that i have later news of." "wellington." "he was never an irishman." "and burke." "and i'm thinkin', begging your pardon, mistress katrine, there was a lady to be explained away in his case. no," he said, waving her suggestion far from him, "all the irish are alike. they've, as i say, one of three vices. i lie, that's why i'm so interestin', especially to the ladies. suppose i say: 'old mrs. o'hooligan was tripped by a dog in the lane yesterday!' who cares? not one soul in a thousand! but instead, with a gesture: 'did ye hear of the startling adventure of mrs. o'hooligan? she was coming home at midnight from a sick friend's' (it's well to throw in a few sympathetic touches if ye can). 'suddenly an animal, a strange animal, came by, something like a mad bull' (of course you can enlarge or diminish the animal as required; in the mist of night i have found a black cat very telling). 'she saw the vision quite plainly. it passed, touched her, there was a word in the air whose significance she was unable to determine, and in the morning the friend was well--or dead.' for conversational purposes it makes no difference." he wore a broad smile as he spoke, looking down at her with great love and devotion. "ye see, mistress katrine, the ladies like a little exaggeration. there's mrs. ravenel likes me fine, and says it's my temperament; and peggy of the poplars is crazy about me; and hundreds in the two continents who'd marry me at a second's notice. i'm a great lover," he laughed somewhat uneasily, keeping his eyes averted, and adding, "when i don't care! ye see, a woman doesn't mind a bit of exaggeration in a man's love-making," he went on. "now there was antony, who threw a world away. what's that! one world! i'd tell her i'd throw away a universe of worlds. why not be extravagant! it's all," he laughed again softly, "it's all 'hot air,' anyway." "and yet you're a truthful person, dermott mcdermott. there's none can tell the truth more bravely or with greater nicety than you," katrine broke in. "when i've need of it, and it's an affair of men," he answered. "oh, i still know truth when i meet her. we've not fallen out altogether, but i stick to it that she's very dry company. but this discussion, after all, is merely academic," he said, with a droll smile. "i have come to you in a perturbed state of mind. you have refused to marry me thousands of times, it is true; but i am noble, and forgive. to-morrow i am having some delicacies sent me from the north. my cook is a duffer. now, i thought, why can't katrine dulany and i have a little dinner, with nora to prepare it, mr. ravenel asked in, and all be happy together?" "i don't think mr. ravenel can come. there are visitors at ravenel house," katrine explained. "he can-and i think he will-leave them for one evening," dermott answered. * * * * * "i'm the only human being alive that ye've not hypnotized, frank ravenel!" dermott cried, with a laugh, as the three of them sat at dinner at the old lodge the evening following this talk. "the only person ye've ever known, probably, who did not fall under the charm of the ways and the eyes of you." there was flattery in this of such a subtle kind that katrine looked quickly from one to the other, for with woman's intuition she had long since felt the antagonism between them. "ye see," dermott went on, "i underrated the south when i came here. you southerners understand people as i think no other folk on earth understand them. that's your great strength," he said, addressing himself entirely to frank. "now, in a business matter i might, though i'm by no means sure of it, get the better of you." his eyes were bland and frank as he spoke. "but where you would always have the advantage is in knowing the people you may trust. it's a great gift that. the greatest knowledge of all is to know people, and it seems to be an instinct with you, mr. ravenel!" again katrine looked from one to the other, mystified, as francis sat smiling under this flattery. "shouldn't there be accompanying laurel wreaths with this unsolicited testimonial, mr. mcdermott?" he inquired, with a laugh. in a second dermott took warning, left the subject, and was galloping over conversational fields furthest from compliments to frank. "about the trouble over your senator here from north carolina. i'd a talk with the president concerning him, and it was mentioned, though hiddenly, that the white house does not want him returned." and later-- "the pork bill! heavens! i saw mcclenahan in the senate about it, and i said to him: 'if ye stand for the pork bill, ye'll not be returned to the senate next year. i'll see to it myself. i know your district. god! how i know it! you can buy every vote in that part of the land of the free and home of the brave for ten dollars, or less--and i've the money to do it.' he didn't vote for it." mcdermott finished with a jolly laugh. again and again during the dinner he discussed his private affairs in this manner, deferring to ravenel, flattering him by asking opinions on weighty subjects, listening to the answers with gloomy attentiveness, bewildering, fascinating, dominating, by a perfectly conscious use of every power he possessed. at the mention of a coaching party which had passed katrine's house the day before, with frank driving four-in-hand, he added a note of gayety to the dinner, returning at the same time to the game he was playing with frank. "i never see ye drive, ravenel," he cried, "but i think of the olden days. ye've a style all your own when you hold the lines. wait a minute! wait a minute! i'm seized with rhyme." he stood silent, his eyes drawn together at the corners, his gaze concentrated, glass in hand, before he began with a hypnotic look and great lightness of bearing to recite, waiting every little while for the right word to come to him: "when ravenel drives four-in-hand, there's something in his style and way that takes us to a by-gone day of statelier times and manners grand: when ladies gay, in bright array, and patch and powder held their sway." "i rather fancy that last!" he cried, repeating it: "when ladies gay, in bright array, and patch and powder held their sway. "when ravenel drives four-in-hand, the days of chivalry return, hearts with an old-time passion burn, and lords and ladies fill the strand, our thoughts in that old time abide when raleigh lived and rizzio died, and fair queen mary sinned and sighed-- that olden land, that golden land, when ravenel drives four-in-hand. "to you, mr. ravenel!" he cried, draining his glass. "thank you, mcdermott," francis answered, with a pleased smile, "you have, indeed, the gift of rhyme." and katrine knew as frank spoke that his distrust of dermott had been laid aside for the present, and that he was in a state of mind to grant anything which dermott might demand of him. the thought troubled her after she had left them together for the coffee and cigars. she had believed for a long time, as she had told frank in the rose-garden, that dermott was in carolina on some business connected with ravenel, and she had an instinct that the affair was to be brought to a head to-night. from her place in the hall she could see that dermott had brought his chair around to frank's side at the table, and she heard him say: "you know--or probably, with your celestial indifference to business affairs, ravenel, you don't know that there is a small piece of land on the other side of the silver fork which belongs to your estate. in looking up some old titles i discovered it. it's like this." he drew a note-book from his pocket, drawing as he talked. "here's loon mountain. here's the silver fork. here's the way-home river. ye've the right, i discover, to the land marked r. it's, as you know, of small value to you, and i'm wanting it. it's a vagary of mine. i may be going to raise eagles on it." [illustration] at the words, katrine, who had been retuning an old guitar, took alarm and was alert on the instant. striking it quickly, insistently, she came to the door of the dining-room, which framed her beauty like a picture. "i'm going to sing you an irish song, a real irish song!" she cried, gayly, touching the strings. the men turned, and francis, with the land on the other side of the silver fork clear out of his mind at sight of her, came near the doorway where she stood. "come all ye men and fair maids and listen to my song, i'll sing of bloomin' caroline, who never did a wrong. she beats the fragrant roses, she's admired by all aroun'. they call her bloomin' caroline, of edinboro town." she played an interlude carelessly. "young henry, being a highland lad, a-courting her he came, and when her parents heard of it they did not like the same. so she bundled up her costly robes, the stairs came tripping down, and away went bloomin' caroline from edinboro town." dermott had risen and stood by the far window, looking into the night. unseen by him, she touched frank on the sleeve. "do not do anything he asks you to do to-night," she whispered, with great intensity, and in a minute more was back at the singing. "they had not been in london for scarcely half a year--" and before the song ended the two men were joining the refrain, taken out of themselves by her beauty and charm. for nearly a week after this she saw neither of them again, but her honest soul was fretted by the word she had given against a true friend; so, when she saw dermott riding along the river-bank, she called to him from the rocks upon which she sat. "dermott mcdermott," she cried, "come here!" he rode through the ferns and undergrowth toward her, as she stood looking up at him with fearless eyes. "i've done something i want to tell you, something you won't like, for it was going against you; and it makes me feel that i've not been quite loyal to you, you that's always been so good to me, too." the quick tears filled her eyes as she spoke. he dismounted to be nearer her, and, putting out his hand, said: "there's nothing you could do that's not forgiven. you hold my heart in the hollow of your hand. what did ye do, child?" "the other night when i saw you turning mr. ravenel the way you wanted by your flattery and your hypnotic presence, i knew ye wished him to do something for you. i knew when you told him how clever he was--_cleverer than you were yourself_--that it must be something very great to make you admit a thing like that. and when you were not near i warned him against selling you that land. i said: 'don't do anything dermott mcdermott wants you to do to-night." here she broke into a storm of weeping. "you see, he's been so kind to me," she explained. dermott stood looking at her with pity and admiration as he put his hand gently on her shoulder. "ye did just what was right, little lady; just the thing that any sweet, grateful woman should have done. you understood what i was doing, thought a friend might be cajoled wrongly, and warned him against it. i'm proud of ye for it!" he cried, with enthusiasm. "proud of you!" he repeated. "and besides," he added, with a laugh, "it didn't make the slightest difference. he did it anyhow! we signed the papers to-day!" "the papers for what?" she demanded. "for that useless bit of land on the other side of the fork," he responded. "dermott," she said, "you play fair, don't you? you wouldn't take advantage of any one?" "wouldn't i?" he said. "if it were to help you, i'd outwit the deil himself, lady katrine." vii katrine's own country in the following fortnight francis and katrine met but three times. one day, having grown restless, she went to walk, taking the road from the plantation back into the mountains. returning by the ford, she heard laughter and the ring of horses' hoofs, and by a sudden turn of the road came directly upon frank, who, separated from a party, was riding beside anne lennox. at first sight of her whom she knew instinctively to be a rival, katrine was reminded of a golden peony, for the pale-yellow hair, bright hazel eyes shot with yellow light, and thick, creamy skin had given anne lennox from early childhood a noticeable and flower-like beauty. a long-limbed, slender, full-breasted, laughing woman, with square shoulders and the carriage of one much accustomed to the saddle, she looked with curiosity at katrine, who was standing aside beneath the elderberry-bushes to permit them to pass. "as i was saying," anne had just remarked, "when you act as you have done since i have been here, frank, it's always a woman. at biarritz, you remember, it was mrs. vaughn. that beast of a spring at marno, it was mrs. mcintire. you might as well tell me who it is. you will in the end." "upon my honor, anne--" frank began, with a laugh, when he met the clear eyes of katrine looking at him from below. if there had been some coldness, some resentment at his lack of attention to her, or implied jealousy at his devotion to another, he could have understood it. but there was nothing of the kind. in those eyes, which he believed the most beautiful in the world, there was nothing but a glad light at seeing him, a bright smile of recognition in which he could detect neither remembrance nor regret. anne lennox turned her keen brown eyes backward to look at katrine as she crossed the bridge. "frank ravenel," she exclaimed, "if a girl who looks like that lives near you, you have been making love to her! i wonder if by any chance she could be _the_ woman!" "she is the daughter of the new overseer," frank answered; and his tone implied, though the words were not spoken: "and by this reason out of the class." the statement was made with misleading frankness, and anne lennox, understanding his pride, put the affair from her mind. the next time of meeting between francis and katrine was one morning on the river road. her cheeks flushed at sight of him, and there was an odd reserve in her manner; but she never seemed more beautiful. he stood, hat in hand, wondering at her silence, a bit amused. "it is a pleasant day," he suggested, at length, remotely. "it _is_ pleasant," she answered, with averted eyes. "unusual weather for this season, don't you think?" he went on, a bit of teasing in his tone. "i haven't thought of it," she said, concisely. "suppose you think about it now," he suggested, jesting still, but not quite at ease concerning her mood. suddenly she turned toward him, her face suffused, her eyes troubled. "katrine," he cried, "what is the matter? tell me! let me help you!" "i'm jealous," she said, simply. "jealous!" he repeated. "of whom?" "you." she had clasped her hands in front of her, and stood with her chin drawn in, looking at him from under a tangle of dusky hair. "you poor child," he said, moving toward her. "don't!" she cried, backing away, "don't try to comfort me! i've always, _always_ been like this. i cannot help it. whenever i care for anybody--oh, it never made any difference whether i had any right to care or to be jealous! i just was; and it hurts!" she put her hands suddenly over her heart and began to speak rapidly, as a child does when accumulated trouble makes silence no longer possible. "i hated her when i saw she was with you; far up the road, when i only knew she was a woman; and when i saw her nearer i hated her more. she is so pretty," she explained. "are you going to marry her?" she demanded. "not exactly," he answered, grimly. "good-bye!" she cried, dropping down the river-bank to the skiff. "katrine!" he called. "i'm not coming back!" she cried through the bushes. "i'm never coming back! good-bye!" two days later there came from ravenel house a polite note, cordial by the book, asking that miss dulany come to them for dinner on the fifth; and, it added, perhaps miss dulany might give them an opportunity to hear her charming voice. it was written in the quaint, old-fashioned hand of mrs. ravenel. katrine read it with a curious smile around her lips, answering while the messenger waited. she "regretted extremely that a cold"; she paused a minute in the writing to reflect on the way the cold had come; sitting one damp afternoon in the rose-garden with the son of the writer of this extremely polite invitation; "regretted extremely that this cold, which seemed more persistent than such things generally were, prevented her accepting mrs. ravenel's most kind invitation." the third meeting was an intentional one on frank's part. the people at ravenel had become unbearable, and with no thought save for katrine's society, he took a short cut through the laurel trees, crossed the river in his canoe, and entered the lodge garden to find her sitting on the broad steps of the house, her chin resting in her hands. there was an exaltation in her little being, an alluring remoteness, an entire concentration upon her own thoughts, which one sees in a child; and when one saw her thus, dreaming hillward, one knew there were great ongoings in that dusky head of hers. at sight of him she bowed gravely, moving that he might have nearly all the rug upon which she had been sitting, not minding the stones for herself in the least. her careless generosity spoke even in this trifling act. "you are bored?" she asked, after a silence which he seemed disinclined to break. "to extinction, little lady," he answered, puffing a cloud of smoke into the hollyhocks. "you see, you have spoiled me for those others." there was another pause. "and you?" he asked. "i? well, i practised, and planted some flowers, and made some things for miranda's baby, and then"--she hesitated, with an adorably shy look full of that pathos, which made so many of her simplest statements seem claims for protection, "and then i went over into 'my own land.'" he regarded her for a minute, his approval of her showing in every line of his handsome face. it was in these untouchable moods of her, when she eluded him utterly, when she took him out of himself entirely, that he found the most zest in intercourse with her. "is it a long journey to that land of yours?" he demanded, gravely, "making believe" with her. "not long," she answered, "but sometimes difficult. i go down to a queer gate; i never knew where i got that gate," she threw in, in an explaining way; "and let down the bars and walk up a long driveway of blue pines, and there i am!" "go on," he said, "though i think it shabby that you've never told me of your property before now." "i found this country; oh, years ago! of course, i have changed it a great deal. there was only one house at first, like kenilworth castle, only much larger, with those heavenly, deep windows. and i have taken all the people i liked to live there--" "jolly," he said; adding, hastily: "but not in the least a house-party sort of thing, is it? where they play bridge and drink whiskey-sours?" katrine shook her head. "these people _live_ in my country. i've stolen some, but others come of their own accord. they are very great people. colonel newcome is the host. you know him?" "adsum," frank answered, softly, and katrine flashed a smile of appreciation back at him. "and henry esmond," she went on, "i have a time with him. of course, he never really married that other woman and went to live in virginia. he adored beatrice until the end, and is always trying to have her with him. i've had it out with him!" she smiled again, as at a memory, and extended one hand dramatically. "'henry esmond,' i said (you know he's a little man, so i looked straight in his eyes as i spoke), 'i will not have her here with her red stockings and their silver clocks.' "'ye've listened to gossip of her,' says he. "''twas you yourself that rode after her and the king, when ye crossed swords with his majesty for her honor,' said i. "'an event which never took place, believe me,' said he, with a bow, and he bows like a king. "'ye lie like a gentleman,' said i, 'and i've pride in ye for it; but beatrice esmond never comes in here.' and then i just told the truth to him. 'i've had jealousy of her for many years, despite her morals,' i explained." ravenel threw back his head and laughed. "oh, you women!" he cried. "are there many ladies resident in that land of yours?" "some; not many. di vernon, of course, and mary richling, and dora, whom david copperfield never had sense enough to appreciate, and oh, the children! huckleberry finn and little lord fauntleroy! the nigger jim tends the grounds, you know. and that divine harold of the dream days! "one awful day," she went on, "when everything seemed wrong," the quick tears came to her eyes as she spoke, "and i was sick and disgraced before people and wanted to die, i went into my own land, and there was jean valjean at the bars waiting for me. he smiled as i came." "'cheer up, little irish lady!' he cried, at sight of me, 'cheer up! there is reason for everything in that great beyond that we'll understand some day.' and that night, because of his strength, i went to sleep comforted, and the next morning sang the 'ah! patria mia' quite nobly. it was payment for the suffering, perhaps. who can tell?" "and whom," it was curious how frank's jealousy showed in the question, "whom do you like best of all these tenant folk of yours, katrine?" "ye'll never tell?" she turned to look him full in the eyes. "promise me ye'll never tell; for if the word of it gets abroad there'll be no keeping him in bounds, he's so filled with conceit of himself already." she leaned toward frank and whispered: "it's alan breck. ah," she cried, "you feel so fine and sure when ye're out with him! with his glittering sword and his belt of gold, and the way he takes the centre of the stage and the speech skin-fitted to the occasion. it's grand to be with him then. but it's none of these that i love him for. do you remember when he says to catriona: '_i'm a kind of henchman to davie_,' she quoted alan's words with a deep-voiced enthusiasm, '_and whatever he cares for i've got to care for, too. i'm not so very bonny, but i'm leal to them i love_.' in my land, that is all they care for. they are of all religions and times and climes, but they are loyal, every one." and, turning to him suddenly, she brought her wee bit of a fist down on the hard stone, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glorious to see. "it's all there is, in my land or yours, that makes life worth while--_loyalty_! the 'enduring to the end.' _even if one's none so bonny, he can be leal to them he loves_!" frank threw his cigar away and moved nearer to her, holding out his hand with an odd combination of "make-believe" and real pleading in his voice. "katrine, dear," he said, "take me to live in that land of yours. i want to let down the bars of the gate you don't know where you found, and go up the pine driveway to meet colonel newcome. i want all that it means to have those people for intimate friends." "one must make one's own 'land,'" katrine answered. "and besides," with a curious, lovable puckering of her eyelids, "men mustn't _dream_ things. men must _do_." there was a silence. "must they?" he asked, at length. "why?" "did it ever occur to you," she asked, abruptly, "that you might work--ever, i mean--when you were a boy?" "never for a second." "you never felt that you would like to take a part in great affairs, as other men do?" "why should i, katrine? i have all the money i can possibly want. life is short. i come of a family who tire of living quickly. say, for instance, i live until i'm sixty. i probably sha'n't, you know, but we'll say so for argument. one-third of the time i sleep, which reduces the real living to forty years. until the time of fifteen one doesn't count, anyway. that gives me but twenty-five years of life. now, i ask you"--he threw back his head as he spoke, his face charming with a humorous smile, an illuminated eye--"now, i ask you, if you would be so hard-hearted as to desire me--with but twenty-five years at my disposal, remember--to spend them in a treadmill of work when i might be spending them under the pines and the beeches with you, katrine--_with you_!" she had clasped her knees, making of herself a magnetic bunch of color and lovableness, and she let her eyes rest in his a moment before she spoke. "don't talk that way, will you? i like to think of you always as a great man--a man of action, a man who helps." they regarded each other steadily for a full minute before he said: "it has begun." "what?" she asked, mystified. "that mental treatment you spoke of some time ago. you are having a terrible effect on me, katrine, and i find it extremely uncomfortable," he added, laughing. viii frank yields to temptation during the time of the house-party at ravenel, katrine gave vent to the natural rebellion against her position but once. dermott was away on some business in new york; the daily letter from dr. johnston concerning her father's condition had not arrived; and she had seen the gay people from ravenel coach past her as she sat alone on the chestnut ridge. for nearly a week she had been sleeping badly, awakening every hour or two through the night with something--something that could not be put aside--pressing upon her soul. huddled in a sad little heap, in her white gown by the side of the bed, one unbearable night she stretched her arms along the coverlet, sobbing out to the everlasting silence the questionings as to what she had done to be so neglected and set apart. "what has been in my life but shame--shame which was not mine?" she cried, as the horror of life with her drunken father came back to her. "why are some given everything," she demanded, "and i nothing? where is god's justice? what have i done; oh, what have i done?" out in the wooded silence a bird began to sing a mournful melody. of the greatness of night he sang, and dead morns, and dropping stars; of dear forgotten things and loves that might have been, that may not be; of passion and unfulfilled desires, and through the pines the song entered her heart like a response. she listened, not as a girl listening to a bird, but as one artist listens to another with a rapture of appreciation. and the music comforted her. and later, in the midst of great sorrow, she saw intended significance in the occurrence. "it was an answer," she said, "to remind me that there will always be that solace. give me, oh god," she prayed, "power to make of all my sorrow music for the world!" the day following her midnight protest she heard from nora and old cæsar that the guests at ravenel had gone; heard as well that "old miss and marse frank were goin' shortly"; heard it with a stirring at her heart of physical pain to which she had grown used. on the evening of this day, a warm june evening, she expected him to come, and dressed as though there were an engagement between them to spend the evening together. in a thin white gown, low in the neck, with a kerchief of filmy lace knotted in front, sleeves that fell away at the elbow, with faint, pink roses at her breast, her black hair turned high in a curly knot, she stood in the old rose-garden when he came. he wore a light overcoat over his evening dress, and stood hatless by the boxwood arch looking across at her. "katrine," he said, "little katrine, i have come back to you." his face was illumined as he spoke her name. the peculiar ability to express more than he felt was always his, but at the instant he felt more than he was able to express. "i am glad," she answered, not moving toward him nor offering to shake hands. it seemed enough that he was there. "they have gone at last," he said; adding, piously: "thank god!" "you did not have a good time?" she asked. "i did not." "i am sorry," she said, baffling him by the serenity of her tone. "there were two or three occasions which stand out with a peculiarly horrible distinctness. one was the time we had an all-day picnic at bears' den. porter brawley suggested it, and i hope he will suffer for it in eternity. it rained." katrine laughed. "and there was an evening when we had charades, for which nobody had the least gift or training. it was the evening you were to come to us. why didn't you, katrine?" "i was not well," she answered. "but i shouldn't have come if i'd been well, mr. ravenel." she seemed to him so perfect, such an utterly desirable being, as she sat with roses in her hand and the moonlight shining on her flower-like face. neither noted the silence which fell between them, a silence which spoke more than language could have done, for language had become, between them, an unnecessary thing. there was still no spoken word as they walked side by side along the path which led to the house. at the turn into the wider way there was a tall pine-tree, the boughs beginning high from the ground, the turf beneath them covered with brown pine-needles. there was a bench here, upon which they had often sat together. in the moonlight this place under the tree was in a soft, warm glow. as they drew near it frank spoke in a voice scarcely above a whisper. "sit here, just for a minute?" it seemed as though they were alone together in the world. in the moonlit gloom under the pine they stood, near, nearer, and at length he put his arm around her gently, not drawing her toward him, only letting it lie around her waist, as though they had a right to be there, heart to heart, in the stillness of the night. standing thus, he felt her tremble, noted her quickened breath, and the rise and fall of her breast and shoulders because of his caress. although they could not see each other in the gloom, she knew his lips sought hers. by an indefinable instinct she turned from him twice before their lips met in a long kiss of passion and content. they kissed each other again before he drew her down beside him on the garden bench in the flower-scented dusk. "you care?" she asked, in a whisper, her breath on his cheek. "more than i thought i could care for anything in life," he answered. * * * * * it was after ten when nora's shrill voice recalled them to themselves. standing together, she asked, as she bade him good-night: "you--are--going--away?" for answer he clasped her slim white hands behind his throat and drew her toward him. "what do you think?" he said, his lips kissing hers in the speaking of the words. "i hope you will not go." "i shall not." and then: "oh, for a few days, perhaps, to take mother to bar harbor; but i shall come back. and we'll have the whole long summer together, you and i; you and i," he repeated. "good-night. kiss me, katrine!" "good-night," she said, raising her lips to his; and then, almost as though it were a benediction, she added: "god keep you always just as you are, beloved." and as he had done many times before, francis ravenel felt powerless before this girl who gave all, asking nothing in return. ix the truth frank did not leave ravenel even for the few days which he had mentioned to katrine as a possibility. accompanied only by her maid, mrs. ravenel started to bar harbor without him. june drifted into july, and still he lingered at the plantation. and all the summer days were spent with katrine dulany. at first he believed that he would probably tire of the whole affair quickly. he was surprised to find that he did not. he found her always new. there was an elusive quality to her, days when she would barely permit him to touch her hand, when she dazzled him by the audacity of her thinking; her indifference to him, to him who was in no way accustomed to indifference in women. and a few hours later, perchance, he would return to find a girl with wistful eyes and speech of tenderness, with no thought "that is not for the king," she told him once. no word of marriage was spoken between them; if katrine thought such an event possible, she gave no sign, spoke no word concerning it. if he came early, she welcomed him with shining eyes; if he were late, this incomprehensible person bestowed upon him exactly the same smile and glance she would have given had he come two hours before. "i have kept you waiting for me, i am afraid," he said one day, when he had kept an engagement he had made for ten o'clock at a quarter of twelve. that morning she had been studying; not tones, but german church music, and already she had realized, unformulatedly, the solace in the exercise of a great gift; had found that she could forget trouble in the world of inspired work; not for long, perhaps, but long enough to have peace of mind restored to her and strength to go on for another day. "it didn't matter," she said. "i practised. one forgets one is waiting then." finally there arose in him an absurd jealousy of this gift of hers, of the thing which seemed to console her even for his absence. "i shall learn to hate your music," he said one night, when she had drawn herself away from him to listen intently to the song of a nightingale in the pines. "don't do that!" she said. "ah, don't do that! don't you see that it is all i have for my own in life; all i shall ever have!" and with some hidden, mental connection between his words and the act, she began to sing in her great, lovely voice: "ask nothing more of me, sweet, all i can give you i give. heart of my heart, were it more, more shall be laid at your feet. love that should help thee to live, song that should bid thee to soar. all i can give you i give; ask nothing more, nothing more." she asked, neither by word nor look, for any expression concerning the song; but as the last note died away seated herself beside him, chin in hand, looking far past him into the night. at two of the next morning he awakened with a start. he was alone in his own rooms at ravenel. looking around in the half-light of the window, he put his head back on the pillow with the air of one awakened from a feverish dream. but sleep had vanished for the night. conscience was with him. the time had come for the reckoning; some settlement with himself was required. where was he going, and where was he taking katrine dulany? marriage was out of the question. a person of his importance did not make a mesalliance. he owed a duty to all the ravenels who had preceded him, to those who would follow. to marry suitably was the first duty in life; perhaps it was the only one which he acknowledged. _where was he going?_ he lay with open eyes, staring at the ceiling in the faint light of the coming dawn, with a sense of physical sickness at the thought of giving katrine up, of letting her go out of his life forever. he had told her he cared more for her than he had ever thought it possible for him to care for any one. that was long since, back in the times before he had known the sweetness of her. now, with all the heart he had to give, he had learned to love her, to long for her presence; she had touched a new chord in his nature, one which he had never known before her coming. he would not give her up; he could not. why should he? she would be happier with him, even though wrongfully his, than with a drunken father in the forests of north carolina. they would go to paris together. it would be years before he would care to marry. but at the thought katrine's eyes came back to him. _francis the king!_ it was so she spoke of him, and it was this complete trust that appealed to all the best within him, as a tenderness born of her sweetness, her complete loyalty, raised him beyond his own selfishness, and he resolved to save her, save her even from himself. with this fixed thought he rose early and, breakfastless, went out into the dawn. he would go away and leave her. he would see her once more and tell her the truth about himself. he would make it clear to her, "damnably clear," he said to himself, with a set chin. she would be left with no illusions concerning him. it would help her to forget to know him as he really was. he felt it part of his expiation to tell her the truth. as he rode up the pathway to the lodge he was white to the lips. his eyes were sunken. all the passion of which he was capable longed for this woman whom he was about to surrender, perhaps to some other. he winced at the thought of it. she was sitting in the old arbor and turned suddenly at the sound of his steps, an unopened book dropping from her hands at sight of him. "what is the matter?" she asked, anxiously, at sight of his white face. "are you ill?" "katrine!" he cried, "it is shame--shame at what i have been doing; shame at the way i have been treating you!" she grew suddenly pale, and her lips parted as she stood with eyes fastened upon him, waiting for him to go on. "i wanted you to love me," he went on. "i wanted it from the first. as time passed i learned to care so much that i thought of nothing else, wanted nothing else, but to be near you. but never, never for one instant, and, katrine, it is of this you must think always, _never for one instant did i intend to marry you!_" she placed one hand against the bench for support, her face exquisitely pale, her eyes darkened, her mouth drawn; but she regarded him steadily and bravely as he continued. "i might make excuses for my conduct; might even lie about there being some obstacles, my mother's objections, the rest of the family, but i don't want to do that. i want you to know the truth just as it stands, to know me exactly as i am. my mother would object to my marrying you, but if i did it she would in time become reconciled. i have my way with her. the only thing that stands between us is my pride, family pride. it is sending me away from you. i am going to-day, going to-day, because i do not dare to stay." still she spoke no word, but sat looking away from him into the ocean of roses. "for god's sake, say something to me, katrine!" he cried, at length. "tell me even that i am the contemptible cad you think me to be; only say something. i cannot endure this. with every fibre of me i am longing to take you in my arms, to kiss your eyes that have the ache in them. god knows how i want you and how i am suffering!" her lips quivered for an instant before she controlled herself to speak. "there seems nothing to say except 'good-bye.'" her voice was infinitely sad and tender. there was neither anger nor resentment in it, and she rose as though to leave him, but he held her back. the great womanliness of her, the ability to suffer in silence, and the dignity of such a silence touched him strangely. there was a sob in his throat as he spoke. "forgive me!" he said. "oh, say you forgive me, katrine!" "dear," she answered--and as she spoke she put her hand on his brown hair, as a mother might have done, "i don't want you to suffer like this. i might have known, had i thought about it at all, that you would never marry me. but it seemed so perfect as it was, i never thought at all, i just," it seemed as though she were saying her worst to him, "i just trusted you." he flung out one arm as though to protect himself from a physical blow, and a moan escaped him. "let me tell you about myself," she continued; "it will be best, for we may never meet again. oh, please god," she cried, suddenly, "we may never meet again in this world!" the tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she sobbed aloud as she spoke. he reached his arms toward her, but she moved away, sitting silent until she regained such composure as would permit her to go on. "the first thing i remember in my life, i must have been about three, was my father's beating his head against the wall of the room in which i was sleeping because my mother had left him. after that i became used to anything--to sudden moves in the dark; to being alone with him through the long nights when he had been drinking; to poverty, to black poverty that means not enough to eat nor enough clothes to keep one warm; to years and years of want and despair and misery. as i grew older and went to the convent schools, some of the girls invited me home with them. it was because of my looks and my voice, you know." there was sweet humility in the statement, as though apologizing for the fact that she had been desired. "and they were quite kind. their parents liked me, and one of them, i remember, said: 'she has a beautiful manner, which is wonderful considering she is little better than a child of the streets.' i could not feel even then how i was to blame for my birth, seeing that it was a thing arranged for me by the good god. but i learned what to expect. "as father grew worse and less able to care for himself, it was necessary to have money. mr. ravenel, i have been a beggar in the streets! i have sung in the streets, i! in the court-yards of the hotels, for money to keep from starving! so you will see sorrow is no new thing to me. i do not question it. i have had in my life three perfectly happy months, perfectly happy. it is as much as a woman can expect, perhaps, and though it kill me, though it kill me, i shall never regret having known and loved you." she paused a minute. "when one has to die it is best to go quickly, is it not? when there is some terrible thing in life to do, it were best done quickly as well. good-bye," she said, putting out her hand. he shook his head. "if i touch you i shall not go. oh, katrine, katrine, katrine! do you know what i am doing? i am going when i could stay, stay, or take you with me! will you remember it in the years to come, when you are older and will understand what it means? will you, oh, for god's sake, katrine, remember that there was still some little good in me, that although i did not do the best i could have done for you, at least i kept myself from doing the worst?" a scarlet flush suffused her face at his words. "ah, don't!" she cried, putting out her hand, as though to ward off a blow. "don't! don't say it! don't even think it! believe me, it could never have been like that! i should have died first!" x to try to understand she turned and left him, walking quietly along the narrow path through the harrowed field under the silent pines. the feeling of death was upon her. she wanted to cover her eyes, to blot out the sun, to run to some friendly darkness to make her moan. she knew he was watching her, however, and carried her head well up. she hoped that he could not see that her hands were clinched. as she went on, her cheeks scarlet, her carriage splendidly undejected, the wish came to her that she could sing. it would prove to him that she had the will not to let this thing crush her, not to be as other women might have been. but her sincere soul put the thought aside because of its untruth. she had given him a great honesty always, she would give it to him until the end. he knew she suffered, but she desired him to know as well that she was brave, that her spirit was unconquered, that she would do something rather than weakly suffer in ineffectual rebellion. on the crest of the hill she turned to look at him. he was standing with his eyes fastened on her, the strained whiteness of his face marked out against the black of his horse's mane. across the distance she had covered their eyes met. the slim little figure in the black frock outlined against the blue of the sky, the wind blowing the pines over her head, her dusky hair holding the sun, her skirts, pushed backward by the wind, revealing her childish body full of exquisite vitality. the tears stood big in her eyes, but hers was a soldier's courage, the courage to face defeat, a thing goodly to see in man or woman. hastily she untied the scarlet kerchief she wore around her throat and waved it to him, high, at arm's-length, like a flag of victory. "ah, don't worry! it's all right!" she called. "don't think about me! good-bye!" at the back of the lodge, down by the brook, there was a place shut in by bushes and roofed over by boughs, where she had often before hidden her grief. reaching this leafy room, she threw herself on the pine-needles, moving her head from side to side as if in physical pain. there was shame mixed with the grief. remembered endearments came back to her; his head had lain on her bosom one night when she had tried to ease his pain by her small, cool hands. the place burned over her heart, and she pressed her hand to her side as though to stanch a wound. if there had been another reason for his conduct, she thought, any reason save the one he gave! if a father had forbidden marriage between them, or if he had feared the anger of his mother, her pride, at least, would not have suffered. but he had made it clear, "damnably clear," as he has stated it, that the only obstacle to his marrying her was his own will. but he had suffered, too. she had seen him white and haggard with longing for her, and she knew pretence too well to doubt that thus far she was the supreme attraction in his life. the thing that hung black over all was the unchangeableness of the cause of her trouble. she could never be anything but katrine dulany; he had decided that she was not worthy to become katrine ravenel. wherein, then, did these ravenels excel? her rebellious irish heart put questions for her clear head to answer. were they a generous, high-minded, clear-souled people? folk-tales, passed by word of mouth, of the ill doings of francis sixth, as well as francis fifth of the name, told her they were not. certain dusky faces with the ravenel mouth and chin had spoken to her of a moral code before which her clean soul stood abashed. were they more intelligent, more dignified, more refined? the narrow-mindedness of them answered these questionings in the negative. were they; and here that self-belief, which seems placed like a shell to protect all genius, entered its own, demanding; were they of the specially gifted, as she knew herself to be? but through the turmoil of heated thought one idea became fixed, however. she must leave carolina and work; determinedly, doggedly; work to save her reason. unformulated plans were taking shape in her mind even while she sobbed forth her grief. if she could but study, she thought! "there must"--and here she spoke aloud, her hands clinched in the pine-needles--"must, _must_ be found some way to do it!" and by some curious mental twist, as she made the resolution, there came back to her the words of some old reading: _"no great artistic success ever came to any woman, that had not its root in a dead love."_ as she lay face downward, her body convulsed with weeping, it was ordered that dermott mcdermott should take a short cut through that part of the grounds to the boat-landing, on one of his lightning-like trips to foreign parts. he had just encountered frank riding like the wind, his face haggard and drawn, and at the sight of katrine's distress he drew conclusions, with rage and a dancing madness in his eye. "if ye've hurt her, frank ravenel, if i find when i come back ye've hurt her, you'll answer to me for it! god! _how_ you will answer to me!" he cried. * * * * * there is this about life: that frequently when we think the worst has happened it is but the forerunner of worse to come. as katrine lay tossed by misery and shame, nora o'grady, with her kilted linsey-woolsey skirt turned up, her white kerchief loosened over her bosom, and her brogans twinkling in her haste, came running along the road, her face twitching with sorrow. ever and anon in her speed she dried her eyes on her apron and a moan escaped her. "poor heart!" she repeated. "poor heart, she's enough to bear without this coming to her the now!" but pushing the branches aside, she spoke in simulated anger to katrine, a pretence which showed well the peculiar delicacy of her class. it was not for the like of her, she reasoned, to know the truth regarding miss katrine's relation with mr. ravenel; and yet she knew as accurately as if the scene of the morning had taken place before her. with clear, wise eyes she had dreaded such an ending the summer long. nothing, she reasoned, could further hurt katrine's pride than to have it known her love had been slighted, or to offer sympathy, no matter how hiddenly. and so she feigned well an anger she was far from feeling, in an intentional misunderstanding. looking down at the prostrate figure, she began, in a shrill voice: "honestly to god, miss katrine, ye'll hear another word of this! crying like a child in the middle of a lot of damp stickers because ye can't have music as ye like! just throw yourself round on this wet ground a bit more an' mayhap he'll take away the voice he's given ye already! perhaps it's because ye cry for nothing that there's been something sent ye to cry for!" and here her thought of suitable conduct was lost in real grief. "ah, miss katrine! miss katrine! your father," her voice broke and went up in a wail, "your father's come home to ye--" katrine, who had arisen, stood with tear-stained face regarding her. "he is--?" she could not go on with the question, but nora answered it without its being finished. "he has not been drinking. oh, miss katrine, he's past that! can't ye understand? the hand of god's upon him! he's called away, miss katrine. ye should have seen him as he crawled to the doorway and fell on it. i got him to his own seat by the window, and he's wanting you, miss katrine, he's wanting you sore! so i come, in part to tell you, but more to have ye prepare yerself for the change in him, for his end's in sight!" although she was trembling from head to foot and had grown ashen pale, katrine spoke calmly. "he came alone?" nora shook her head in the affirmative. "it seems, miss katrine, that there was some organic trouble; that the great specialist, whose name is gone from me, warned him not to try the cure. he said the other disease was too far along. but your father wanted to be himself again. it was for you he wanted it. it was the disgrace he was to you that was on his mind always." "ah!" she cried, "there was still enough of the old pride in him for that! we must pretend not to understand that he is ill, we must try just to seem glad that he is back home with us again." when katrine entered the room where her father sat, she found him, as nora had said, by the window, his head thrown back, his eyes closed; nor did he open them at her coming, though by a poor movement of the hands he made her understand his knowledge of her presence. "little katrine," he said, while two great tears welled from under the closed lids. "little bother-the-house! i have come back to you. there is no one can help me except you." katrine made a swift movement to be near him. kneeling, she drew his poor, sorrowing head to her breast, and in the twilight these two, the one so old and weak and loving, the other so young and desolate and brave, clung to each other, blinded by the vision of the separation so soon to be. in nearly every crisis of life there comes some twist in affairs which seems to turn the screws harder or sets them to making one flinch in a new and unexpected place. in katrine's case it was a turn which made life so unbearable that there were times when she would be forced to bite her lips and set her teeth to keep back a moan, while for hours at a time patrick dulany iterated and reiterated the kindness, the thoughtfulness, the goodness to him of francis ravenel. "there was never a day, katrine, while i was at the hospital, that i had not a letter from him. money was spent for me like water. the doctor told me he had orders to spare nothing. ay, there's not another man in the world who would do for a stranger what mr. ravenel tried to do for me. and sometimes he'd write drolly, you know his way, that he'd seen ye somewhere, riding, mayhap, or in the garden, or had heard a note of your music as he rode by; and the home feeling would come back to me, and i'd take heart again." xi katrine is left alone in the ten days before her father's death nothing seemed spared katrine. the hopeless life of the man was recounted to her hour by hour, interspersed with the rereadings of frank's letters, and, most of all, with remorse at the desolate place he had prepared for her when he had gone. "but ye'll have a friend in mr. ravenel," he told her, earnestly. "one who will help you, katrine, and ye need have no fear to take his help. he is one who has a high thought for women and would never betray a trust. it's a great comfort to me to know ye've him, katrine." on the day before the end his grief was bitter to hear. "my little wee lassie," he sobbed, "i'm leaving ye alone with nothing; none to shield you, none to care, but just one friend. i'm going out, and it's good i'm going. i would always have held you back, always have been a drag to your name--for ye'll make a name! it's in you, as it was in her." he stopped speaking, but after a little space began, with a crooning, the glorious "ah, patria mia," and it seemed to katrine as though her heart would stop beating in her sorrow, for she knew it was her unknown mother of whom he thought. "ah," he whispered, at length, wiping his brow, "the music's gone from me. in the whole matter with your mother, katrine, i was at fault. i was jealous of her gift, of the love she had for it, and made her life miserable by my demandings." he placed his hand tenderly on her head as he spoke. "katrine," he said, solemnly, "with those we love it's never enough to forgive and forget. one must forgive and try to _understand_. to forget and forgive. ah, katrine, time helps us there! it does almost all of the work, so it's little credit we need take either for the forgiving or forgetting. but to try to understand! when those we love have hurt us or injured us, to study why it was done: what inherited weakness in them, what fault of their environment brought it about, to study to understand, that's the real christianity." in the starry watches of the night, wide-eyed and grief-shaken, katrine took the lesson to heart both for father and lover; learned it with heart and head as well; saw the disarming of criticism, the tolerance, the selflessness which it would bring, and knew that it was good. but, she demanded of herself, was she large-souled enough to acquire such tolerance toward francis ravenel? leaning on the window-ledge, looking into the clouded darkness of the night, awaiting the hour to give her father the potion that for a time relieved his pain, she went over tenderly, bit by bit, the summer that had passed, that flower-scented, love-illumined summer for which she felt she was to pay with the happiness of a lifetime. she lived again her first meeting with frank under the beeches; the recklessness of her own mood because of her father's drinking; frank's lonesomeness at his home-coming; the touching of hands on the old log; the sympathy between them from the first, and at the end asked herself, honestly, who was most to blame. she had done wrong to permit him to kiss her the night under the pine-tree, but she would not have foregone the memory of it for all the world had to offer. on the last day about noon the pain left her father, and toward evening he asked to be helped to his old place by the window, that he might see the sun go down behind the mountains. "there's a letter of mr. ravenel's i'd like you to see, katrine," he said, motioning her to bring him the carefully treasured bundle of frank's writings. after assisting him to find the desired letter, she sat at his feet with a white face and fixed eyes as he read: "i met katrine to-day on the river-bank. she was well and beautiful and happy. it makes me want to be a better man every time i see her. i want to help to make her life happy--" the hand which held the letter suddenly dropped lifeless. "father!" she cried. and again: "oh, father, can you leave me like this?" and as the truth came to her that she was alone, nature was merciful, and she fell unconscious by her father's body, with frank's letters lying scattered around her on the floor. after her father's burial there followed the collapse which comes so frequently to those women who have the power to bear great trials in silence. in the small, white bed, with vines reddening around the window and shining into the room, katrine lay, day after day, with the pallor of death on her face and a horrible nausea of life, but with a merciful benumbing of the power to suffer further. for more than a fortnight she lay, worn out with the task of living, with a heaven-sent indifference to trouble past or to come. but with the return of strength the problem of daily living was to be solved. the little stock of money which she and nora had between them was used for the last sad needs of her father, and with dermott mcdermott away she knew no one to whom she could turn. "don't you be minding troubles like these, though, miss katrine," nora sympathized. "niver ye mind a bit! ye're wanting to go away, and we'll find the money to go. we've some bits of trinkets, an old watch or two, and i'm a good hand at a bargain. and we'll not want to carry the furniture on our backs like turtles, either. i know a woman in marlton whose heart's been set on the old sideboard for months back. we'll go slow, miss katrine, but with your voice we've no great cause for worry, my lamb. look at the thing with sense, and trust to nora; she'll manage it all. and in a few weeks we'll be off to new york, that wicked old place that i'm far from denyin' i like fine." on the day before this departure there fell an event, small in itself, yet so momentous in its outcome that in the story of katrine it cannot remain untold. sad and wide-eyed, she was sitting in her black frock, huddled close to the big pine-tree at the foot of the garden, when barney o'grady, the son of nora, came out of the beech woods. he had been crying, and at sight of katrine he threw himself on the grass, breaking into a passion of tears, and clutching at her skirt as a child might have done. "barney!" katrine cried. "barney, dear, what's your trouble?" and she put a soft hand on the boy's tousled red hair. "mother's going to leave me here," he said, "and i want to go. i hate it, hate it, hate it, here all alone! i want to go! i want to go!" he moaned. "is it the money?" katrine asked. "yes," the boy answered, "there's not enough for us all. and i'm to stay with mr. mcdermott till i earn enough to come. and i want to go _now_." "but if you should get in new york, what would you do?" katrine demanded. "newspaper work," was the answer. "i've the gift for it," he explained, with an assured vanity, between his sobs. she had known such lonesomeness and understood it, yet, with all the willingness in the world to help the boy, she had not one penny which she might call her own. nora kept everything, and she reasoned if nora had made up her mind that barney was to stay in north carolina the chances were heavy that there he would remain. but the boy continued to sob appealingly, and katrine, who had that real intelligence which no sooner sees a desired end than it finds a way to accomplish it, put her sorrow aside for practical thinking. she reviewed her possessions rapidly, remembering, with a throb of pain, some carved gold beads she had worn when "she found herself," at the age of three. they had always seemed part of her, and, though no one had told her, she knew they had belonged to her dead mother, "who went away." but she felt little hesitation in giving them, if some one were to be helped by the sacrifice. "wait, barney," she cried, "here, where nora can't see you! i'll be back in a moment! they're just some old beads," she said, apologetically, with a splendid dissimulation, as she gave them to the boy. "but old mrs. quinby, at marlton, tried to buy them of nora once when they were being mended. offer them for sale now. and, barney," she went on, "if you could reconcile it to your conscience to keep it from your mother that i've given them to you; if you could with no lying, and yet without telling the truth--" she hesitated. "ye needn't worry, miss katrine," he answered, drying his eyes on his sleeve. "it's been betwixt and between the truth with her all my life. but if the time ever comes when i can serve ye--" he choked. "ah!" he cried, "words are poor things! but ye'll see!" and with this he was gone at a breakneck run down the swamp hollow toward the marlton road. and the strangeness is that katrine's hidden gift of old beads to a half-grown irish boy, in the woods of north carolina, should wreck a metropolitan "first night," shake the money-market of two continents, and change the destinies of many lives. xii the real francis ravenel on the afternoon of the day upon which frank said good-bye to katrine he took the evening train north. it was his intention to see ravenel no more for a long time, certainly not while the dulanys remained. he was afraid of himself, for there came to him at every thought of the affair a glow of admiration at the words katrine had thrown back at him: _"it could never have been like that. i should have died first."_ he had given her up, but the fight was not finished, and the struggle went on constantly. in the silences of the night it was upon him again, gripping him with a pain around the heart. the most unexpected happenings would bring remembrances of her. the appealing gaze of an irish newsboy, or a hand-organ grinding out the "ah! che la morte," which brought back the half-lighted piano and katrine's singing in the twilight; the dreariest; most sordid details of existence reminded him, who needed no reminding, of the time that he himself had decreed should be no more. for three days he endured bar harbor before he fled to the canadian woods with no companion save a guide. he gave his address to none save his mother, and for six weeks tramped until his body ached for rest; rowed the sombre lakes for exhaustion and peace of mind, cursing the fact that he was a ravenel, and knowing full well that his conduct was both foolish and illogical. at the first stop for letters he found one from his mother, which disturbed him more than any letter of hers had ever done before. she wrote: dearest laddy,--i am writing in much haste and some perturbation of mind for your advice. last night, at the desmonds', nick van rensselaer came to me after dinner for a chat. i knew he had something upon his mind when he wasted his time talking to a woman. and what do you think it was? the most astounding, impossible, quixotic, unlanguageable thing in the world! he wants to send katrine dulany abroad to study. he wants it to be done in my name, however, so that it will in nowise compromise her, and wishes to have all the credit of the kindness given to me. he says he does not want to be known in the matter at all; that the girl can regard the money as a loan, and return it to him if she becomes a great singer, of which resulting he seems to have no doubt. you see the part i shall be forced to take in the affair. i have asked him for a few days to consider the proposition, and am writing you for advice. when are you coming? every one is asking about you. lovingly always, mother. lying on his back watching the crooked blue spots of the sky through the tree-tops of a canadian forest, francis read this letter over and over, and as he did so it seemed strange to him that he had not thought to help katrine in this way himself. if she ever found out that he had done so she would probably never forgive him, but there were ways, he reasoned, to arrange it so that she could never find out. his decision being made, he acted upon it immediately, and that night two letters, one addressed: monsieur paul rogalle, de rogalle, dupont et cie, paris, france, and another: m. josef, faubourg saint honoré, were mailed by him at the neighboring posting-place of pont du coeur. the morning after the writing of these letters frank started farther north, and heard nothing of the outside world for more than a month. at north point he found a bundle of letters, two from his mother, and another from doctor johnston, enclosing the note which katrine had written him after her father's death. he opened the doctor's first, and at sight of the enclosure his heart, in the homely old phrase, came to his throat. it was a sad letter, thanking the doctor for all he had tried to do, speaking of her father's suffering at some length, parsimonious of detail concerning her own life or future plans. it was ten o'clock in the hunting-hutch. the night outside was starless, the lamps flickered irregularly, the guides lay heavily asleep in their blankets on beds of pine boughs in the corner. it was a strange place for the birth of a man's soul, but as frank ravenel read the letter a tenderness, a selfless tenderness, for the sad little writer of it came to him. he had already protected her from himself--"somewhat late," he confessed, with bitterness, and there had been some effort "not to do the worst." but the feeling that held him as he read was different from any he had had before. he dwelt on her lonesomeness in the world: the long nights she must have passed alone watching the coming of death. unspeakable tenderness brought a sob to his throat and a pain over his heart, as though suffering from a blow. the remembrance of her on the wind-blown hill came back to him; the scarlet handkerchief waved against the blue of the sky, and the brave call over the brown grass: "_don't think of me!_ good-bye!" it seemed in some way to have been a cry of victory. he went to the door of the tent straining his eyes into the blackness. alone in the great woods with the night noises, under the silent stars, things took on a different value. what was he compared to her? stripped of family and wealth, how would each measure before a judging world. "she was so"--he hesitated in his mind for a word--"she was so _square_," he said to himself. wave after wave of pity swept over him as memory brought back to him her vividness, the fervid speech, the humor, the touch of her. he closed his eyes for a moment, she was in his arms, there came the odor of her dusky hair, and for the first time in his life he was a man. "grègoire!" he called to the sleeping guide. "oui, monsieur." "the distance to the nearest railroad?" "by land--it is sixty miles, m'sieu." "by the lakes?" "it is much shorter, but of an extreme dangerousness." "we will go by the lakes." "when, m'sieur?" "to-night, grègoire!" xiii dermott's interview with frank at the trevoy in three days frank reached new york, where he found mail at the club: from the south; from the western mines; from women inviting him; as well as five or six messages by wire or mail from one philip de peyster, soliciting an immediate interview. even in his perturbed and planless state these repeated demands made an impression on frank, and in the morning he telephoned that he was at the trevoy for the day, and would be pleased to see mr. de peyster at his convenience, suggesting the luncheon-hour as a time when both might be free. having received no response to his message, at two o'clock he entered the dining-room of the trevoy alone. after ordering, he sat looking indifferently from one group to another, and noted, with surprise, that dermott mcdermott, with his back toward him, was at the next table lunching with a number of men, who seemed, to frank's quick eye, bent on conciliation. there was nothing in the irishman's appearance to suggest the man of fashion whom frank had known in carolina. his clothes were of rough tweed, he wore an unpicturesque derby hat, and he had the unconsciousness of self which comes from intense occupation with great affairs. francis listened to the jolly laugh, the quick evasion, the masterful voice, leading, cajoling; he knew the men were wanting something from mcdermott, and realized, as they did not, that it was something the irishman had determined not to give. it was of frank's own home they were speaking, disconnectedly, and in a strange jargon: of loon mountain, way-home river, road-beds, cost of production, capitalization, bridges. as he sat wondering at them, their concentration, their unity of thought, their enthusiasm, by one of those throws of fate, which go far toward the making of our lives, dermott's voice came to him clear and scornful. "i have heard much, i might say overmuch, recently, of family and ancestors, and have sometimes wondered what those boasted ancestors might think were they permitted to see the ineffective descendants who bear their names with neither achievement nor distinction. now take my own case. my family was well and bitterly known in ireland as far back as the ninth century. and at the end it availed only enough money to get me through college and over to america. but i've done some things, and with the conceit of the self-made man i'm fond of mentioning them. directly or indirectly, five thousand people depend on me for daily bread. it's helped the world that i've lived. it's not what a man is born to, i ask. family? to hell with family! the question is: what have you done?" if the words had been spoken directly to him, they could not have stung frank more than they did. what had he done? it was katrine's question, and he recalled the lovable, vibrant little figure on the lodge steps demanding of him if he had no desire to work, no wish to take part in the great constructive affairs of men. the group at the next table rose with an approval of dermott's final words, and, cigars lighted, were going their several ways, when the irishman turned and, apparently seeing frank for the first time, came toward him with a smile, hand outstretched. "it's good to see you again, ravenel!" he cried. "if you're alone i'll smoke at your table for a minute or two." he waved a farewell to the men who awaited him. it was a farewell as well as a dismissal. "you've heard the news of dulany, i suppose?" "only a few days ago. i have been fishing in the canadian woods. i can scarcely say how sorry i am." "ah, well! ah, well! ye did all ye could for him," said mcdermott, genially, "and it's probably for the best. everything is, you know," he added. "but i thought you might be interested to hear something of the little girl. she has just sailed for france. i saw her off. _transatlantique_--yesterday. she has gone to paris to study with josef." both men scrutinized each other steadily for a short time, but at the game they were now playing francis was by far the keener. "mother wrote me nearly six weeks ago about somebody's suggesting such a plan for miss dulany. wait a minute," he continued, feeling in his pockets, "here's her letter now." he gave his mother's screed to mcdermott, determined that the irishman should not suspect the part which he had taken in katrine's affairs, and was rewarded by seeing mcdermott return the letter apparently convinced. "nick van rensselaer! so that's the way of it," he remarked. "josef simply wrote her to come, that everything had been arranged by some great lady. there were no conditions save that she should write to her unknown benefactor once a month. the money is to be repaid when katrine becomes a great singer. "it's just as well--just as well!" dermott said, after a silence, peering into the cloud of smoke he had blown ceilingward, as though to foretell the future. "ye see, mr. ravenel, if she will so far honor me, i'm intending some day to marry katrine dulany." there was again the challenge of the eyes, but frank's training stood him well as he raised his brows with genuine surprise. "so?" he said. "i think no one suspected in carolina." "i hope not," mcdermott returned. "you see, she's but a child; eighteen years! and a man protects that age from mistakes, as you, of course, know." the lids came down over his inscrutable gray-blue eyes as mcdermott spoke. "and, besides, i have had so little to offer her." there was real humility in the tone now. "when the almighty gives special attention to the making of such a person as katrine dulany, it behooves the rest of us mortals to respect his handiwork, doesn't it? i've some poor gifts, some money, a nine-century-old name. there's a title, too, been lying loose in the family since sixteen hundred and i forget what year. but i want her to be sure of herself. as for the study with josef, it will be good for her, but the idea of katrine on the stage is an absurdity. i've a cousin in paris--the countess de nemours, a very great lady, though i say it as shouldn't," he said, with a laugh, "whom i am hoping to interest in the little girl. she's no longer young. by-the-way, perhaps you've met her! her miniature hangs in the hail of ravenel house." "in the hall at ravenel?" francis repeated, in genuine surprise. dermott nodded. "under the sconces on the left of the mantel-shelf." "ah!" frank cried. "i remember, a beautiful girl in green. it was found among my father's papers only last year. it was a relic of his life abroad." "yes," dermott answered, with a curious smile, "that's just what it was. a relic of his life abroad. well, good-bye and good luck to you," he said, rising, and francis noted anew the grace of movement, the distinctive pallor, the humor of the great gray eyes as mcdermott turned suddenly to come back to him. "forgive me, ravenel," he said, taking his hat and stick from a self-abasing waiter, "for dragging you into my private affairs in the way i have done, but somehow i thought it might interest you to know of my love for katrine," and, humming an old song, he went his devious celtic way. "three seventeen! three seventeen! mr. ravenel! three seventeen!" dreaming over mcdermott's story, frank realized that a call-boy was charging around the dining-room screaming his name and room number. "mr. philip de peyster." "hello, old man!" frank cried, with genuine pleasure, as mr. de peyster came forward. "i found so many messages from you, i fear the worst. you're wanting me to stand up with you, i take it." de peyster shook his head. "nothing so bad as that. i _have_ rather overwhelmed you with messages and things, haven't i? it's only business, however, not matrimony. i'm sorry, frank," he added, laughing, "to let you in for a business talk this way. i know how you hate it. therefore, i hurry. ravenel plantation lies between two large railroads. to get from one to another it is necessary to make triangles. there were a half-dozen of us here last spring who conceived the idea of building a direct road along the south bank of the silver fork, joining the two roads, like the middle line of the letter h. we believed that the growth in that region of cotton mills, tanneries, and wood manufacture warranted it. you know dermott mcdermott?" he asked, abruptly. "know him!" frank answered. "the almighty alone does that, i fancy. i am acquainted with him." "whether he got word of the scheme, or whether by pure accident he went south about the time the plans were maturing, no one knows; but he bought a mica-mine, started a tannery, and secured, on the south side of the silver fork, a tract of land which lies almost in the centre of our proposed line. it's but ten or fifteen acres, but it goes from the river's edge to owl mountain, and we are forced to buy from him, at his own price, tunnel the mountain or go around it, a distance of twenty-two miles, with two streams to bridge. a cheerful prospect! he is holding the piece of land for which he paid ten or twelve hundred dollars, probably, at forty-five thousand! about a week ago i discovered, through o'grady, that the title was in your name until quite recently." "it was," francis answered, with a queer smile, "it was; but, with unusual business foresight, i sold it to mr. mcdermott myself for eleven hundred dollars. he said he was going to raise eagles on it," he explained, with a laugh. the flowers, the lights, and the music of the night he had dined at the lodge came back to him. he recalled a touch on his arm, an upturned face with wistful gray eyes, and remembered katrine's warning. as he did so a great anger came to him at the way he had been used, and his newly awakened manhood called to him for action. there should be another side to the matter, he determined. mcdermott's overheard misprisement of the south! his statement of his intentions toward katrine! the cut of the words, "_she is but eighteen, and one protects that age_," came back to him. there had never come a time in his life before when he would have been in the mood to do the thing he now offered. "phil," he said, "there is another bank to the silver fork river." "but it is in your own plantation, and we knew the hopelessness of any proposition to you, southerner that you are!" "it would be at least nine miles from ravenel house," frank answered, determinedly. "i find i have changed a great deal in my views of things lately," and here he leaned forward on the table toward his friend. "de peyster," he said, "let us build the railroad together!" xiv dermott discovers a new side to frank's character the next morning news came to mcdermott that his land on the silver fork was no longer desired by the newly formed company. it was nearly a fortnight, however, before he learned the railroad was to be built on the ravenel side of the river. the information came with abruptness from john marix, a gaminlike broker, who encountered mcdermott in the elevator to their mutual offices. "say, mcdermott," he cried, with a cheerful laugh, "ravenel didn't do a thing to you, did he? _he didn't do a thing to you!_" he repeated, with a lively chuckle. mcdermott's eyes were bland on the instant. he did not understand the little man's meaning. what he did understand, always understood, however, was that he must never be taken off guard in the game of life. "i am the football of the street," he said, with a kind of cheerful despondency. "everybody does me!" "yes they do!" the other responded, derisively. "it's because you've done everybody that we're glad somebody's got even for a minute! but"--dropping the bantering tone--"this ravenel is something of a wonder. i was at the meeting of the new company to-day. he's full of the scheme, knows every foot of the land, and is willing to put a whole bunch of money into it. we've elected him president of the concern." by the same afternoon the facts of the case were in mcdermott's possession, and the following morning, upon seeing frank about to enter the de peyster offices, he advanced toward him, hand outstretched. he was entirely unprepared for the manner in which he was received. frank nodded to him slightingly, with the scant courtesy he might have accorded a domestic whom he disliked, and said, with directness, looking him squarely in the eyes, "i don't care to shake hands with you, mcdermott." dermott regarded him steadily in return, the gray gleam in his eyes a bit brighter, the lines of his mouth harder. whatever the grave faults of these two men may have been, there was not a whit of cowardice between them as they stood facing each other. "so!" said dermott. "so!" and yet a third time he repeated "so!"--his tone one of grave consideration. "had another done what ye have just done, mr. ravenel," he said, at length, "this little episode might not have ended so gayly. but for you i have so slight a respect that there's nothing you could do to me that would make me call ye to account for it." and, raising his hat high and jauntily, he said, with a laugh: "good-morning, ravenel!" frank turned white at the words, but the irishman had disappeared in an elevator, and any immediate action seemed impossible and theatric. in the short time he had spent in new york he had learned many things, and the narrow, tiled halls of an office building twenty-three stories high, in wall street, did not seem the fitting background for a personal encounter to which the hills of north carolina might have lent themselves with picturesqueness. he sat thinking the matter over in the club that night with two things fixed in his mind. first, that he would go to see katrine in paris immediately; of the outcome of such a meeting he took no thought whatever. second, that he would put this railroad scheme through; already the feeling of power, of the consciousness of unsystematized ability, was stirring within him. the affair with mcdermott rankled, however, and it was with drawn brows and tightened lips that he answered a telephone call--a call which changed both of the plans which he had so carefully arranged. his mother's doctor at bar harbor had rung him up to say mrs. ravenel was seriously ill and wanted him to come to her at once. he started at midnight, to find his mother in a high fever, unconscious of his arrival, and facing an operation, as the only chance to save her life. he had been to her always, as she herself put it, "a perfect son," and for the next three months, which made the time well into december, he proved the words true, living by her bedside, and allowing himself scant sleep from the watching and service. it was when she was far toward the recovery of her health and her old-time beauty that he spoke to her of his newly formed intentions with characteristic unwordiness. "i am going into business, mother," he said, "with philip de peyster." she was knitting at the time, counting stitches on large needles, and she went placidly on with the counting until the set was finished, when she looked up pleasantly. "you think it will amuse you?" she asked, with the kind interest which she might have shown concerning a polo game in which he was to play. "i am beginning to think a man should have some fixed duties in life," frank explained. "yes, certainly," mrs. ravenel answered. "the bible says something like that, i believe. what are you thinking of doing?" "buying and selling things, like railroads and mines," he answered, smiling at her indifference. "i'm glad it's phil de peyster you are going to buy and sell things with," mrs. ravenel said. "his mother was maid of honor at my wedding, and a charming girl, patty beauregarde, of charleston. and i am delighted at anything you do to make you happy, frank. i have thought you have not been very gay of late. there is, perhaps, a trouble--" "what an idea!" he answered. "will you have offices and things?" mrs. ravenel inquired, vaguely. "i have always had ideas for office furnishings, you know." "if you could see phil's office, mother, i think you would weep. it's very dirty, and he likes it. it's the dust of his great-grandfathers." "well, dearest," mrs. ravenel said, "if it amuses you, i'm glad you thought of doing it," and she folded up her work and put it into her bag. "life's a rather dreary affair at best," she concluded, "and anything that interests one is a positive boon." xv josef there is in the faubourg st. honoré, not far from the hotel of the silver scissors, an old house set far back in a court-yard of its own. a gray stone wall, the height of the first two stories, protects both garden and house from the eyes of the passer-by; and, save for the sound of singing, the place seems uninhabited most of the time. on a misty morning in late november katrine clapped the knocker of this old house with fear in her heart, for her future hung on the word of the great teacher who lived here, josef, whose genius, generosity, and brutal frankness were the talk of the musical world. a brittany peasant woman opened the door with no salutation whatever, for the huge brigitte, in her white _coiffe_ and blue flannel frock, spoke in awed whispers only, when the master was at home. "mademoiselle dulany?" she asked. katrine nodded an affirmative. "the master is expecting you," brigitte said, leading the way up a wide oak staircase to the second floor, which had been made into one great room. it was a bare place, with no draperies and little furniture. two grand pianos stood at one end near a small platform, like a model-stand. there were photographs of some great singers on the walls, and a few chairs huddled together. in the corner at a desk a woman was writing from the dictation of a man who stood gazing out of the window. he turned at katrine's entrance. she has seen his picture frequently, and knew on the instant that it was josef, the greatest teacher in europe--in the world. "you may go, zelie," he said to the woman. "i shall not need you till to-morrow." and the dismissal over, he came forward toward katrine as she stood by the entrance, uncertain what to do. he was a man about fifty years of age, below the medium height, heavily built, and dressed in black, with a waistcoat buttoned to the collar like a priest's. his hair was iron-gray, his eyes brown, and the pupils of them widened and contracted when he spoke. he had a clean-shaven face of ivory paleness, a sensuous mouth and chin, and when he looked at katrine she understood his power, for it seemed to her as though he could see backward to her past and forward to all of her future. being alone with her, he motioned her to a seat by the window, near which he remained standing. "i have been hearing that you have a voice. i have heard great things concerning it. i hope they are true." his tone implied that he had small belief that they were. "you have a serious drawback. you are too rich." she started at this. "the management of your income, however, is given to me, as i suppose you know. will you be so good as to remove your jacket and hat, and walk up and down the room several times?" katrine obeyed. "good!" he said, at the first turn; and at the last, "_very_ good! sing," he said, as abruptly as he had issued his former order. in the after years she was given to making light of her choice, but the command was scarcely spoken before she began, in her lovely, sonorous voice, the song which it was her heritage to sing well: "'tis the most distressful country that ever i have seen, they're hanging men and women there for wearing of the green." as she sang the three great stanzas, josef stood motionless, his lips drawn, his eyes half shut, his face like a wooden man's; but his hands trembled, and as she ended her singing he opened the piano and seated himself in front of it. "take the notes i strike," he said, "little--very little--so--so--so!" he sang. up and down, over and over, listening with his head turned to one side like a dog, he had her sing the tones, saying only, "once more!" and "yet again!" and "over--over--over!" at last, with a sigh, he closed the instrument. "i am not one given to extravagance in language," he said, "but you have the greatest _natural_ voice i have ever heard. it is almost placed. sit down a minute, i want to talk to you. two kinds of pupils i have had in my life: those with voice and no temperament, and those with temperament and no voice. god seldom gives both; if he does, it is the great artist that may be made. to be great one must have both. but even with both given, one must have the ability to work, to work like a galley-slave, to work when all the world is resting, at the dead of night, in the small hours of the morning. when all the others have let go, you must hold on, till your head is tired and your body aches and you faint by the wayside; but you must never let go, you must learn to endure to the end. you will understand me. it is the _mental_ part of which i speak. i do not mean that you are to wear your voice or your body out practising. it's something far harder. you must learn to surrender yourself, to lose your life to have it!" he looked at her keenly. she was drinking his words in, as it were, and the expression on her face assured even him. "do you want me," he said, suddenly coming nearer, "to tell you about yourself; what i see in you?" she bent her head, quivering from head to foot, before the power of this man, who seemed uncanny in his knowledge. "you have had some great sorrow. it is an unhappy love-affair. i understand." here he smiled his critical, unfathomable, remote smile. "you are not yet eighteen, and have been capable of a great sorrow! child," he said, "thank god for it! you have a voice of gold. we will make of that sorrow diamonds and rubies and pearls to set in the voice, so that the world will stand at gaze before you. when you have real insight you will know that nothing was ever taken from us that more was not put in its place." "master," she said, with something of his own abruptness, "may i talk to you a little, a very little, about myself?" already josef realized the charm of her companionship as well as the adoring humility with which her eyes shone into his and the unquestioning way she placed herself under his direction. he nodded his permission with a smile. "i want to be taught in _everything_. i know so little. it is not book studies i mean. i want to learn to be bigger, to think great thoughts. i want, most of all, to develop the power to be happy, to make the people around me happy. _most_, i want"--she drew up her chest and made an outward gesture with her arms, a gesture significant of her whole nature in its indication of courage and generosity--"i want," she repeated, "to grow soul!" josef laughed aloud. "ah," he cried, "you funny, little, unusual thing! i'm glad you've come to me. we will study, study, _and grow soul together_, you and i. we will not accumulate facts to be laid on shelves, like mental lumber, but grow bigger thoughts: see ourselves and people clearer that the work may be broadened. and we will find our ideals changing, changing, getting bigger, higher. and the little people will fall away from us, like punch-and-judy shows, painlessly, with kind thoughts, because we will have no further use for them. wait! trust the master! nothing makes one forget like a great art! in three--four years, you will meet the man, and say: 'ach, heaven! is it for this i suffered? stupid me! praise god things are as they are, and that i still have josef.'" "i have thought sometimes," katrine went on, "that men have many fine traits, which, without becoming masculine, women might study to acquire. i remember once i went to spend the day with a boy and a girl whose mother punished them both for some slight misdemeanor. afterward the girl cried all the rest of the morning, but the boy went out and made a swing, and in a little while was quite happy. i was only five, but i saw then, and later, that women bear their sorrows differently from men. i don't want to cry; i want to make swings." "very well. it is _very_ well," said the great man, and there was a mist in his eyes as he looked at the valiant little creature. "it's a great gospel--that! i wish i could teach it to every woman on earth. _don't cry! make swings_!" she had resumed her hat and jacket, and, with the lesson-day slip in her hand, was at the farther door, when she turned with sweetest pleading in her eyes. "illustrious one!" she said, "i've not told you all. i've not asked you what i really want to know." already there was between them that quick comprehension of each other which exists for those people who have special gift. "well?" he said, waiting with a smile. "you remember a pupil of yours named charlotte hopkins?" "very well, indeed." "you changed her greatly." "it is to be hoped so," he answered, with a laugh. "she told me much of you: of your power, of your ability to make people over. and she said you had studied in the east, and had learned how to make people do your will, even when they were far away from you. is it true?" "some say so," he answered. "it is not hypnotism?" she questioned. "i'm no svengali, if that's what you mean," he responded, grimly. "i'll watch you, katrine dulany, and, if i find you worthy, some day i may tell you more." more moved by her personality than he had been by any other in the twenty-five years of his teaching, he stood by the window and watched her cross the court-yard below and disappear through the great iron gates. "poor little girl!" he thought. "beauty and gift and a divine despair. everything ready to make the great artist. and then the heart of a woman, which is like quicksilver, to reckon with. i spoke bravely about her forgetting, but i have doubts. sometimes i wonder if it be possible for a person with a fine and generous nature to become a really great artist. perhaps it is necessary to have great egotism and selfishness for the arts' development. i wonder," he said, aloud; repeating, after a minute's silence, "i wonder--" xvi mrs. ravenel unwittingly becomes an ally of katrine after his mother's recovery frank went back to new york immediately, keen to arrange the railroad matters and get the actual work started. in the first interview with de peyster, however, he found that dermott mcdermott was far from being out of the reckoning. "it is rumored," said de peyster, "that he is trying to elect himself president of n.c. & t. road. if he succeeds he can control the traffic in carolina to such an extent that our line would be a failure, even if built." "then," returned frank, and any one who loved him would have gloried at the set of his mouth and chin as he spoke, "he mustn't be allowed to be president of the n.c. & t. we must buy up the proxies." before the end of the week, however, they were surprised again by the news that mcdermott had refused to consider the presidency of the n.c. & t. road, even if tendered him, and had given out that he would sail for europe within a fortnight for an indefinite stay. "but," de peyster ended, as he repeated the news to frank, "if you think he's whipped you don't know him! i'm more anxious over this last move than if he stayed right here and fought us openly. there is more to it than we know." in silence frank held the same belief, though he reasoned that mcdermott's european trip could be well explained by his affection for katrine; and so the thought of dermott away from new york disturbed him far more than it did philip de peyster, but for very different reasons. it was at bar harbor that he received the first letter from katrine, in accordance with the compact that she should write her benefactor once a month. the letter had been forwarded from his paris bankers, enclosed with business letters in a great envelope. with a throbbing heart he opened it. she had touched it; it had been near her; one of those small, soft hands, with the dimples at the base of the fingers, had penned the strange, small writing: dear unknown one,--there is little to tell. i go every day to josef. he thinks it possible i may become a great singer. i wonder about you, and feel something like pip in "great expectations," only i know how good and great you must be. isn't it fine to be like a fairy princess, who can do anything for people she chooses? and to have the heart to help--ah, that is the best of all! in my mind, for we irish imagine always, i have made you a stately lady, perhaps not very strong, who is much alone and has had a great sorrow, who helps the world because it is good to help. so every month i will send you letters of what i do and dream to do. if you are alone much, it may amuse you to read of my queer life here in paris. if my letters bore you, you will not have to read them. i want only to show that i appreciate your help and your interest in me. to know josef is the greatest thing, save one, that has come to my life. he gives me little slips of writing to pin up in my room to learn by heart. the last one read: "what is it that enables one to live through the dead calm which succeeds a passionate desolation? good work and hard work. the way to live well is to work well." ever gratefully yours, katrine dulany. another letter came in the same mail, which frank read with a distaste for the writer of it, for the affair that made such a letter possible. it was from another woman, but something in the fervent little soul beyond the seas called to him, to the best in him, and he tore the other note to pieces and wrote a line or two in answer which closed an affair before it was well begun. for two months he had carried a letter which he had written to katrine during the first week of his mother's illness. he took it from his pocket and read it over now, wondering if it were wise to send it: "i heard of your great sorrow sixty miles from a railroad in the canadian woods. i started that night to see if i could help you. to speak truth, katrine, i don't know why i started to come to you, except that i could not stay away. "in new york i met mcdermott, who told me you had sailed to study with josef. this did not change my plans in the least. but there came the question of that land on the other side of the river which detained me for several days, and then my mother's dangerous illness. "i have been with her constantly since--the crisis is past, but she is still too ill for me to leave her. i am coming to you just as soon as i can. and i am going to ask you to forgive me, to take me and make whatever you can out of my worthless self. whatever of good there is in me has come through you. you have given me belief in purity and selflessness and hope of achievement. "don't remember me as i was; don't do that, little one; only as i hope to be; as i hope you will help me to be. i am coming for your answer the first minute i can get away. "francis ravenel." there had been many reasons for not sending this letter: his mother's illness; his sudden plunge into business; but underneath all was the fear, which grew larger day by day, that he might receive from katrine the rebuff which his conduct toward her so richly merited. uncertainly he held the letter, reviewing one of the curious turns that life had taken in giving katrine an ally in his mother. on one of his week-end visits to bar harbor, where mrs. ravenel was still staying, her old gayety had led her one evening to the teasing subject of his marrying. he was standing by the open casement, looking into the twilight over the sea, when he answered her, and he could not hide the break in his voice as he spoke. "i have the misfortune to love the wrong woman, mother!" "frank!" the cry of alarm and tenderness and protest touched him strangely. "yes," he went on, "and it's a hard fight." she came near, putting her hand tenderly on his cheek. "ah," she said, "my boy, my boy!" he drew her to him, and for the minute he seemed, indeed, a boy again, coming to this sure haven of comfort, to the place where he had never been criticised or told that he was wrong. "yes, lady mother, i'm hard hit. i fell in love with one whom i didn't think it square to the family to marry. we have never made mis-alliances, in this country or the other. i believed, and i believe still, that a man owes it to his descendants, to the furthest generation, to marry for them. i believed, and i believe still, that marriage is far less a matter of personal inclination than most people consider it to be. i believe that when a man marries a woman he does not marry her alone, but all of her ancestors, and that he may expect to see the maternal grandfathers appearing again in his own grandchildren." "certainly, dear," mrs. ravenel acquiesced, in a tone which indicated there could be but one opinion on such a subject. "you know how firmly i have believed this always, mother!" she pressed his hand for reply. "i told her that i could never marry her. but the thing was too strong for me--i went away from the place where she was. oh," he cried, in a heat of self-abasing, "i grow cold when i think what a cad i was! i hurt her so! but i did, too late, what i thought was right, what i had been trained to do." far into the night, lying sleepless, with his hands folded under his head, there came a light tap at his door, and he knew his mother had come to him. she wore a rose-colored dressing-gown, and at sight of it he remembered, with tenderness, how she had always longed "to be beautiful to him." kneeling by the bed, she put her gentle arms around his neck, laying her soft cheek against his own. and the way everything in life falls down before mother-love could surely never be shown better than in her talk with him, in which she renounced almost every inherited belief to try to make life happier for him. "onliest one!" she said. it was her baby name for him. "yes, miss cora," he answered. they were the first words, learned from the negroes, that his childhood lips had ever formed. "i couldn't sleep. you remember how i never could bear to see you suffer. i seem to go mad, to lose all self-control if you are not happy. and i came to tell you that it isn't true, that talk about marriage. i know it. i knew it when i taught you all the foolishness about family and position, and helped you to have the pride of lucifer. ah," she cried, "i suffered enough to know it isn't true! there is just one thing on earth that makes marriage endurable: a great and overmastering love. marriage is the one thing about which for the good of the race, for the good of the race," she repeated, "we have a right to be divinely selfish." "perhaps it's true, mother mine, but the knowledge comes too late." "no, it hasn't, boy!" she answered. "it hasn't. if i were a man and wanted a woman, i wouldn't let her wishes interfere in the matter. i would carry her off, if necessary. it was a good, old-time way--that!" she cried, earnestly. "mother! mother! mother!" frank remonstrated, with a laugh, though with tears in his eyes. "and you will have her if you want her; for you are so beautiful and dear and sweet, no woman could help loving you." and with this biased assurance he fell asleep, as she sat by his bedside with her hand on his cheek. xvii mcdermott visits his french cousin it was true that dermott's sudden departure for europe had troubled frank. but it would have disturbed him more had he known the truth, for mcdermott was not only bent upon seeing katrine, but was stirring another trouble for frank, a trouble which mcdermott felt had already slept too long. the week before the irishman sailed (it was the very day upon which he decided, with a laugh to himself, to give up the railroad fight and allow the new company to build the road on the ravenel land) he wrote his french cousin, the countess de nemours, thus: beautiful lady without mercy,--i am writing in a perturbed state of mind, for i think i shall get for you a great fortune. you do not answer my letters, though i have written at the lowest estimate ten thousand times. i want the date of your first marriage securely stated in written evidence; also the dates of the birth and death of the child. i want every scrap of paper which you have, concerning that sad affair of thirty years ago, ready for me when i arrive in paris two weeks from to-day. there is a little girl over there studying music in whom i want you to interest yourself. her name is katrine dulany. she is with josef. yours of the shamrock, dermott mcdermott. the countess de nemours' house in paris stood in the centre of the street of the two repentant magdalens. an iron door in a griffoned arch opened into a sunny court-yard, where peacocks strutted by an old fountain, and a black poodle, who was both a thief and a miser, snarled at the passers-by. on the right of the entrance, in a kind of sentry-box, quantrelle the red acted as _concierge_. he was a man above the peasant class, ridiculously long and spare, with an unbroken record for thirty years of drunkenness and quarrelling. his narrow head was covered with irregular tufts of scarlet hair, and in his forehead were heavy furrows which curved down over the nose and waved upward and back to the temple. his eyebrows were red tufts standing fiercely out over his little red-brown eyes, and his nose, long, lean, and absurdly pointed, seemed peering at his great teeth, yellowed by much smoking of cigarettes. he added to his charms an attire intentionally bizarre, for he dressed himself, so to speak, in character. and with these natural and achieved drawbacks to his appearance he had the temper of a wasp, so that it was small wonder that questionings were rife as to the reason of his retention, his _overpaid_ retention, in the de nemours' household. he had a wit of his own, had quantrelle. frequently his pleasing fancy led him to admit visitors when he knew madame de nemours to be absent, and, after conducting them by some circuitous route to unexpected rooms, he would leave them waiting until discovered by any chance domestic who happened by. and when they were ushered forth to the street he would follow them with a torrent of shrill apology, retiring, in a paroxysm of silent laughter, behind the shutters of his little box. why madame de nemours endured his vagaries was indeed strange, for she was one who demanded of every other domestic something of an over-obsequiousness in service. it was a well-known fact, however, that he held an assured position in the household, and that the countess only smiled at his grimaces and drinking, rewarding him with frequent gifts and holidays in the country. on the morning of dermott's coming, quantrelle the red sat in his little house peering out, monkeylike, expectantly, at the passers-by, and craning his long neck to keep a constant eye on the corner around which the irishman was to arrive. as the brougham drew up to the curb the red one sprang to his feet, threw the iron doors wide apart, and stood bowing double as mcdermott entered. "ah, my quantrelle!" he cried, gayly, at sight of the thin grotesqueness. "still in your old place; still taking care of madame!" "till the end," was the answer, with a serious note in the voice. "you have not changed much in the three years since i saw you last," dermott said, inspecting him closely. "nor you, monsieur," quantrelle answered. "in fact, you have changed little since twelve years ago, when i hid you and young monsieur de chevanne on top of my box here, after some escapade, to keep you both from the police." he scrutinized mcdermott closely as he spoke. "and it's not the money (which i know well you will give me anyhow) which makes me say you are more beautiful than ever, monsieur. the same elegant pallor; the same pursuit in the eye! had i had your looks"; he made a clucking sound in his cheek with his tongue; "and your clothes! always the blacks and grays and very elegant! they are not my colors," he drew himself to his straightest to exhibit his maroon coat and trousers and wide green cravat with an assumed satisfaction; "but each has his own style," he finished. mcdermott laughed. "you are sober, quantrelle!" "distressingly so, monsieur!" "and if i give you money you would use it for--" mcdermott paused. "charity, monsieur," the red one answered, his eyes drooped religiously. he took the gold coin which dermott gave him, tossed it into the sunshine, and slipped it into his pocket with a bow. "you will notice, i honor your integrity by not biting it to see if it be counterfeit." "knowing your character, it is indeed a compliment," mcdermott said. "au revoir, my quantrelle!" "au revoir, monsieur l'irlandais!" and dermott passed. inside he found the countess waiting in the drawing-room, and she greeted him with hands outstretched, kissing him on both cheeks in the french fashion. afterward she stood regarding him with a slow, sweet smile, which came from one of the kindest hearts in the world. "and this," she said, in a beautiful, quiet, warm voice, "is the irish cousin who has not been to see me for so very long!" although past fifty, she was tall and slight, with the grace of a girl. her hair, white and soft and wavy, was worn high in a style quite her own; her skin was pink and white as a child's; her blue eyes shone with tenderness, and they had a merry, dancing light in them continually. her face was of a delicate oval, with a nose slender, beautifully modelled, and exceptionally high between the eyes. she wore a green-white dress of cloth individual in its cut and very plain, with an old silver belt and brooch to match. her hands, fragile and beautiful as shells, were ringless. "it seems so perfectly flat to say that i am glad to see you, doesn't it?" she asked, as dermott smiled down at her. "i like it just the same," he answered. "when did you get in?" she inquired. "i came over from havre yesterday. i was busy with some english folk about a mine, or i would have tried to see you last evening." "and you will stay--" she paused. "ten days at most." "ah!" she said. "that's horrid! you will miss so many pleasant things! a bernhardt first night for one." "i'm a horny-handed son of toil, beautiful cousin," he answered, "and i have come on business only." there was a pause, which dermott felt the countess was waiting for him to break. "patricia," he said, a beautiful consideration for her in his voice, "i want to spare you in every way i can in reviewing the bitter business of your early marriage. i have written you only what was absolutely necessary for you to know. i discovered by accident that your first husband left quite an estate. if you were his wife and had a living child at the time of his death, and if these facts can be established, this property belongs to you. you have not as much money as you should have. i shall get his estate for you--if i can." "about the records?" she inquired. "if you have them ready i shall go over to tours to-morrow to make a search for the sister of the priest." "dermott, dear," the countess said, putting her hand on his shoulder affectionately, "you are not going to make trouble for any one, are you?" "am i not?" he answered, with a short laugh. "am i not?" she took a bundle of papers, which she had evidently prepared for him, from a desk which stood between the windows, but made no motion to give them to him. "it's all so far in the past," she said, "no one can ever know what i suffered. but i want no one else to suffer in order that i may have what you term my rights." "patricia," dermott answered, gravely, "the thing is all a bit in the air as yet. your first marriage will be difficult to establish. the french law requires such absolute proof that i may not be able to obtain it. now, don't let us discuss the matter further, nor worry that kind heart of yours." he patted her head affectionately as he spoke. in the years past she had known him well enough to remember his moods, and she gave him the papers in silence. "about mademoiselle dulany," she continued. "since your letter, i have made inquiries concerning her. i shall be glad to know her, for her own sake as well as yours." "i'm going to ask a great favor of you for her, patricia," he answered. "you live in this great house alone. it would be better to have more people about you. i want you to see much of her, for i am hoping that some day she may be my wife." he spoke the last word tenderly, a bit wistfully. "ah, dermott," she cried, "i had no idea! i shall be so glad to do anything i can! why couldn't she come and stay with me?" "that is like you," he answered, gratefully; "but such things can never be arranged happily. they must grow. wait until you meet her. i am to see her to-night. i will bring her to you to-morrow, if i may." "it is arranged, this marriage?" she asked, delighted at a bit of romance. "not in the least," he answered, concisely. "but she loves you?" "on the contrary," he said, quietly, "she loves another." "and you are hoping--" the countess hesitated. "not hoping," dermott answered, "determined." "how old is she?" "nearly nineteen, and irish." "irish girls are hard to change." "but you loved your second husband, did you not?" dermott inquired. "i hope i was a good wife," the countess answered, evasively, adding, "but you remember our own tom moore!" "'the wild freshness of morning--'?" dermott stood looking into the fire, his eyes drooped, his face saddened. "but there is something else to remember as well," madame de nemours said, touching him on the shoulder and looking up at him admiringly. "the half-gods go when the gods arrive. and you have everything in your favor. you are so great a man and such a charming fellow, dermott!" * * * * * on the following day katrine came alone to see madame de nemours, dermott having concluded wisely that his presence would be but a drawback to any quick acquaintance between the two. "i am katrine," the girl answered, in response to the countess' query. "mr. mcdermott has been so kind as to send me to you." "it came about in this way," the countess explained, drawing katrine to a couch and still keeping her hand. "there was a time when i knew dermott, my cousin, very well. that was in ireland, before he became the great man he now is. since that time we have written to each other always, for he has been kind enough to give me his friendship. he came yesterday. i was sad, and told him of my lonesomeness. it is best, is it not, to be quite frank when two people are meeting as you and i are doing? in spite of all this," and here she made a slight gesture to include her luxurious surroundings, "i am quite a poor woman. and so when i told dermott that i was lonesome in this great house, with none but servants, no companions, he spoke to me of you. he was quite practical. he said that you spent much money as you were living. he told me of your great beauty and your greater voice. i became very much interested in you, and we arranged for this talk. now that i have seen you, i want you to come and live with me very much, _very_ much." she was so charming in her kindness, this great lady! "but you may not desire it. the situation is awkward for me." she smiled here, and a humorous light danced in her eyes, for with all her graciousness she was quite certain of her charm. "and so we will leave you to think it over and tell mr. mcdermott, who will in turn tell the decision to me. that will save my vanity from being hurt openly in case you do not come." impulsively, katrine clasped both the countess' hands in hers. "i want to come very much," she said. "there was never any one with whom i would rather be. i know now that you are the lady of whom monsieur josef spoke to me once. 'ach!' he said, you know his way, 'she is the greatest lady in the world! it is not what she _does_, but what she _is_ so beautifully.'" as katrine spoke with the earnestness of voice and manner always her own, the countess leaned forward suddenly with a startled look. "who is it that you remind me of?" she cried, drawing her, black brows together. "if i could only think! who is it that you remind me of?" xviii katrine meets anne lennox during mcdermott's ten days' stay in paris, katrine saw him constantly. the evening after her first visit to the countess he received with a gay air of irresponsibility the news that she was to take up her residence with madame de nemours, and though he personally assisted in the establishing of herself and nora in the queer old house, it was with the manner of one in no way responsible for what was going forward. some sunny rooms on the third floor were given her, a great piano was enthroned in a bright corner, gay flowers bloomed against the faded tapestry, and the countess urged her to choose from many pictures the ones she desired for intimate friends. she knew that mcdermott visited josef to speak of her, and that he returned delighted with the visit; but in all of his attentions there seemed even to the watchful eyes of the countess more brotherly kindness than the solicitude of a lover. on the night before his return to the states he had a long talk with madame de nemours. his visit to tours had resulted in nothing, and it was with some depression of spirits that he was making his farewells. but the countess was too much occupied with her new protégé to be downcast over any mythical inheritance in america, and as she stood under the lamps in the doorway bidding him farewell, she said, with girlish enthusiasm: "don't you think about it any more. i have enough to live on nicely. and as for that glorious katrine, i'll deave her ears with your name! no praises. ah, i'm too old and wise for that! it will be this way. 'it's a pity,' i'll say, 'that dermott is not better-looking,' and she'll answer, 'sure he's one of the handsomest men in the world.' and the next day, 'how unfortunate he is so niggardly?' 'niggardly!' she'll cry. 'he gives away everything he has. he's the soul of generosity!' ah, trust me!" the countess ended. "she shall persuade herself there's none other like you. and there's not!" she cried, kissing her hand to him as he went down the steps. within the week after mcdermott's leaving paris there occurred two events, seemingly remote from katrine's existence, which later wrought the greatest changes in her life. the first of these was the alarming illness of quantrelle the red. after a day of peculiarly unbearable conduct on his part, the other domestics in the house had revolted, and late in the evening turned him out to pass the night in his fireless sentry-box. for ten days after this occurrence he hovered between life and death with an inflammation of the lungs, during which period the de nemours' household learned his real power, for the countess flew into a paroxysm of rage at his treatment, discharged the cook and one of the upper maids, harangued the others, sent for the best doctors in paris, and herself assisted in the nursing, taking little sleep or nourishment until the old fellow was well on his way to recovery. during all of this turmoil katrine went quietly back and forth to her lessons, in no way questioning the conduct of the countess, for she understood to the full that human hearts form attachments by no rule. one evening during quantrelle's convalescence, when the countess was her sunny self again, she offered, unasked, an explanation of her seemingly singular conduct. "little person," she said, putting her hand on katrine's shoulder, "you mustn't judge too harshly my irish temper. it was gratitude to quantrelle which made me act as i did. there were two years of my life when i should have died but for him." it was an amazing statement, and katrine's face showed her astonishment. "when i was sixteen," madame de nemours continued, "i was sent to a convent school at tours. quantrelle's father was gate-keeper there, and let me pass out the night i went to be married. i was only a child." the countess covered her face with both hands, as though to shut out some horrid sight. "he was an american, a protestant, and my father cursed me. two years after the marriage my husband deserted me. perhaps," she paused in her story, "perhaps dermott has told you this?" "he has never spoken of it to me," said katrine. "after my baby came," madame de nemours continued, "i was alone with poverty and ill health, and for two years, _two years_," she repeated, impressively, "quantrelle, a long, thin-legged, red-haired boy, kept me alive with the money he could earn and the scant assistance his mother could lend him. it was eleven years later, four years after my baby's death and my father's forgiveness, that i married the count. katrine, darling, i gave him a great affection and entire devotion, but my heart died with the first love. to have that first year over! ah, there was never another like him! you could never know, katrine, how different he was from others." "it was long ago?" katrine asked. "thirty years. dermott has recently been demanding papers of me. it seems there may be some property in america belonging to my first husband which he can claim for me." a premonition of the truth came to katrine at the sound of dermott's name. "and your first husband's name?" she inquired. "will it pain you to tell it?" "not at all," the countess answered, with a sad smile. "it was francis ravenel." the sound of the name itself brought no shock to katrine. she seemed to have heard it before it was spoken, but she made no sign. she knew it was frank's father of whom madame de nemours spoke, and the tales of him in north carolina had more than prepared her for wild doings in his student days. it seemed strange, however, that frank had never spoken of an early marriage of his father. but the more she thought of it, the firmer became her belief that he had never known it. it was not until the gray of the following morning that she comprehended to the full the weighty significance of madame de nemours' early marriage, and saw clearly the significance of dermott's stay in carolina, with the direful resulting that might come to frank from the irishman's investigations there. "if frank's father married in america, with a wife and child living in france--" but here katrine stopped in her thinking, putting the idea from her mind as one too horrid to entertain. the second apparently disconnected event which led by a circuitous route to the death of madame de nemours, as well as to the discovery of that missing witness for whom mcdermott long had searched, was announced quietly by the countess herself one morning of the following may. looking up from the paris _herald_, she said to katrine, "i see that anne lennox has leased the old latour place in the boulevard haussmann for an indefinite period." the three months following the coming of mrs. lennox made no change in their lives whatever. katrine was aware that madame de nemours and anne exchanged visits of courtesy, each missing the other, but early in july she went with the countess and josef to brittany and spent the summer in work, the world forgetting and by the world forgot. and the divine days with josef by the sea! his wisdom, his temper, his splendid intolerance, his prophetic imaginings, as he stormed at the imbecility of his kind! "it's this damned idea of realism that's killing art!" he shrieked one day, on the rocks at concarneau. "who wants things natural? if jones and smith could be taught by reiterating life as it is, the race of fools would soon become extinct. my neighbor loves his neighbor's wife, and they go off together and there is murder done. does the reading of this in book or paper stop my going off with the woman i love if i have the chance? not a whit! art must raise one's ideals. it's the only thing that helps you, me, any one!" or, again, and this was at twilight, waiting under the old crucifix for the herring-boats to come in: "anybody with eyesight can imitate the _actual_. the _real_! what has the creative mind to do with that? it is not one great and innocent-minded girl you are to represent in marguerite, it is _all_ girlhood in its innocence and surrender." and another time, on the way home from pont-aven: "women of detail, women who indulge themselves in soul-wearying repetition of the little affairs of life, have driven more men to perdition than all the delilahs ever created." and katrine and he laughed together at his anathema, and went forward into a dusky french twilight, singing as they went. around her room she pinned the written slips which he gave at every lesson, scripture which seemed perverted to uses other than its own: "he that endureth to the end, the same shall be saved. "live with goethe's faust--learn it. you will understand gounod's better. "all art comes from the same kind of nature. if you didn't sing yours, you would paint it, carve it, write it, play it out; for, if it is in you to create something artistic, nothing human can stop your doing it. "there are no mute, inglorious miltons. every one who has the qualifications for success succeeds." as time passed the letters to her unknown benefactor became more and more intimate in tone by reason of her race and youth. no answer ever coming to any of them, it was as though her thoughts were written and cast into the eternal silence. upon the second anniversary of her farewell to francis ravenel, which was soon after her return from brittany to paris, she took from the depths of an old trunk the mementos of that time which seemed to her so far away. such trifling things: a pine cross tied with blue ribbon; a grass ring which he had made for her once in the barley-field; a note or two; a book of collected poems, marked. trifling things, indeed! but her heart throbbed with the sense of his presence as she held them in her hands. in the next room nora was clattering some tea things, making the plain, homely bustle that frequently keeps one sane. out-of-doors it was one of paris' divine gray days, with pinks and lavenders showing in the shadows; but neither the in-door noise nor the outside beauty held her. she was back in the carolinas with her first love; there was the odor of pine and honeysuckle in the paris air, a harvest moon in the sky. "to forgive and forget and understand." on the impulse of the moment she decided to write her story to the unknown with no names, telling the pain which haunted her always; the pain which she felt would be hers until the end. having finished the narrative, she concluded: "i am trying to make it very clear to you. you have been, you are, so kind. but i want you to know about me exactly as i am. the world would say that this man did not treat me well. he had faults; he had ignorances; we are none of us perfect; he was not a great man. but he was just as i would have him." and, womanlike, she added a postscript: "you send me too much money. lessons in fencing, dancing, languages, music, cost a great deal. i have not been spending it all, although i have been helping an art student, who has almost starved himself to death in a room built on a roof, painting by candle-light. "p.p.s.--also a girl who tried to drown herself because she cannot sing, but she writes beautifully. i will send you one of her poems, to show you she is worth helping. [illustration] "p.p.p.s.--also a very poor rag-picker with, i think, twelve children. he looks even worse than this." the routine of her life having been thoroughly established the preceding winter, she fell easily again into the old lines. every day she lunched with madame de nemours. sometimes, when engagements left them both free, they dined together in quite a stately manner in the high, old tapestry room, and once in a fortnight she was bidden to dinner with friends of this great lady--bartand, the dramatist; president arnot; or prince cassini, with his terrible vitality and schemes for universal betterment. one morning she was disturbed at her studies by a card from the countess, saying that mrs. lennox was below and wished to see her. she had grown accustomed to the desire of strangers to be presented to her, for, as dermott had told her, the news of her voice was already newspaper copy. in the drawing-room she found madame de nemours by the window talking animatedly, in her pleasant, low voice, to a lady, young and vivacious, wearing aggressive mourning. "and this," the stranger cried, in a high, strong, musical voice, coming forward, "is the miss dulany of whom i have been hearing such wonderful things?" she waited for no response. "i have just been telling the countess that i almost met you at ravenel house, in carolina, over two years ago. there was a house-party, and you refused to come." katrine flushed and turned pale again suddenly, as she realized that this was the mrs. lennox whom, by current gossip, frank was to marry, and she lived over again in an instant, it seemed, the morning when she had met them riding together by the ford at ravenel. "i was ill, i remember," katrine explained, recovering herself; "unfortunately ill, since i was prevented from meeting you." there was both consideration and compliment in her tone. "everything has changed a great deal since then," mrs. lennox went on, "with me as well as with others. i lost my mother the following winter," she glanced at her mourning as she spoke, "and mrs. ravenel has been back to the old place but once, for a few weeks only. mr. ravenel (you remember mr. ravenel?) has gone in for all sorts of things since then. nobody knows what came over him. frank had never been one to tie himself down, but he is a regular new york business man now. he buys mines and sells them, and railroads and things." she laughed pleasantly. "it lacks definiteness, i can see. and nick van rensselaer! i have just been telling the countess of him." "i do not know mr. van rensselaer," said katrine. "what!" mrs. lennox cried, with amazement. "i thought you met him at ravenel! i understood he heard you sing there, and it was because of it that he wanted to send you abroad to study." "if it be mr. van rensselaer who has been so kind to me, i do not know it," katrine answered, in no small degree annoyed by this enforced intimacy. "i have never seen him nor heard his name before in my life." if mrs. lennox noted katrine's manner she was in nowise deterred by it from going deeper into the subject. "mrs. ravenel told me," she continued, with excitement in her voice, "that nick van rensselaer came to her at bar harbor, and asked the use of her name if he furnished the means to send you abroad to study. he said that he was especially anxious to remain unknown in the matter. mrs. ravenel told me afterward that you had declined the offer because of having inherited a fortune yourself. but, of course, i thought you must have met him; in fact, i remember that frank said he thought so, too. by-the-way," she went on, rising to go, "he is coming over soon; mr. ravenel, i mean." she looked conscious for a second, as though preferring to keep something back, and then finished: "he will, of course, call while he is here?" "he may be so kind," katrine answered, suavely. "good-bye," mrs. lennox said, holding out a slim, black-gloved hand first to the countess and then to katrine. "i hope your studies will let you come to me soon. i hear you are to make your début in the spring." katrine laughed. "that will be as josef says." "good-bye again." after mrs. lennox had left the room, katrine and the countess looked at each other with questioning in the eyes of each. "you lived at a place called ravenel," madame de nemours asked, "and never told me?" "i did not think the name one you would care to hear," katrine answered. "ah, you so sweet thing!" the countess cried, impulsively, putting her hand on the girl's cheek. "you were right. there are probably thousands of ravenels in america unconnected with my unfortunate life." but katrine, who had had her own surprises in the interview, inquired, "why did mrs. lennox, who is very beautiful, very wealthy, and of the monde, take so much trouble to come here to tell me of a mr. van rensselaer?" "i didn't think she came for that alone," answered the countess. "i thought she wanted you to know that monsieur ravenel was coming over to visit her." naturally, a marked change in katrine's attitude toward her unknown benefactor followed this talk with anne lennox. she had become accustomed to think of "the dear unknown" as a lady, old and beneficent. the new idea was startling. thinking it over, she became convinced of the extreme unlikelihood that two people should have become so greatly interested in her voice at exactly the same time, and her conclusions led to believing that mrs. lennox had probably given her a true version of the affair. but if nicholas van rensselaer were her patron, instead of some white-haired old lady down in leeds or kent or surrey, as she had imagined, her last letter must inevitably have told him, who had spent so much time in north carolina, of her love for francis ravenel. the obviously honest thing to do was to write to mr. van rensselaer immediately, to let him know that without effort or curiosity on her part his identity had been revealed to her. her letter to him was short to abruptness. she stated briefly the manner in which the information had come to her as well as her regret that his wish to remain unknown had been thwarted. she hoped that her voice would fulfill all the promise he thought it gave two years back; referred to the personal nature of her last letter; spoke of her desire to repay in full the money part of her obligation to him, realizing that the kind thought could never be repaid in this world, and signed herself his "grateful katrine dulany." in a fortnight the answer came: my dear miss dulany,--your letter reached me but a few minutes ago, and i am feeling, since its arrival, like the ass that wore the lion's skin. mrs. lennox was entirely wrong in her statements. it is true that i proposed the arrangement, which she told you of, to mrs. ravenel, but that dear lady wrote me within the week that i was too late in my offer, and that another believer in your gift had anticipated the pleasure i had promised myself in helping to give to the world a great voice. i am extremely sorry that you are under no obligations to me. the confidences which you mention i assure you are entirely safe so far as i am concerned, for i never received a letter from you save the one which lies before me as i write. i have heard that you will sing at the josef recital in may. may i count upon you to write me a line as to the exact time, so that i may have the pleasure of hearing you? if, meanwhile, there is any way that i can serve you, believe me that i shall be glad to do so, for i heard you sing "ah! fors e lui" one night, standing under the pines outside of your window, and my debt is great. sincerely, nicholas van rensselaer. and it was a curious thing to note that this letter, caused by the chatter of anne lennox, was the direct cause of katrine's next meeting with frank, a meeting which, but for this correspondence which led to an acquaintance with the van rensselaers, might never have taken place. one evening, shortly after the receipt of this letter, madame de nemours told katrine a piece of news for which she was not unprepared. "by-the-way," she said, "mrs. lennox was here to-day. mr. ravenel is expected in paris to-morrow. i have asked a party to dine with them on friday." katrine had just said good-night to the countess, and was standing in the doorway, candle in hand, with the light shining full on her face, as madame de nemours spoke; but she received the news with no change of face, no tremor of an eyelid. she felt it a loyalty to old love that the countess should be forever unable to recognize in frank the man whom they had discussed so often, namelessly; and of whom madame de nemours had such a slighting opinion. the strangest thing of all was that she had for this man's coming; this man for whose presence she had longed day and night for two years; the remembrance of whose words could thrill her and bring tears to her eyes or a smile to her lips; that for this man's coming, she had no thought save regret that he was to come, and determination not to meet him. "i want to be sent away, illustrious master," she said, the following afternoon, to josef, when the lesson was over, and they stood together looking at the sun going down over the gray mist of the paris roofs. "i am not well, and there is some one coming to madame de nemours' on friday whom i do not wish to meet." josef looked at her quickly. "mademoiselle silence," he said, "i, who read voices as others read a printed page, understand. you had better see him." katrine flushed crimson, but changed suddenly to such a whiteness that josef thought she would have fallen. "forgive me," he said, tenderly, putting his hand on her shoulder. "i am the surgeon with the knife, but my work is almost done. let me tell you something. you have worked as i have never seen any one work before. i have not praised much, but i have seen. ah, i know! tones, little, big, staccato, breath, breath, breath! over, and yet again over. and the thinking a tone, which is the hardest of all. and the acting--to conceive what a character's voice should be; to understand that the timbre of carmen's voice would not be that of marguerite's; that the soul of the voice must change for each character. to slave, to slave, to slave, and suffer as you have done into the third year, is it not? none other can know the value of it all as i know it, and at the end what has the master done for you? meet this man and you will find out. it is for my reward i am asking, for i, too, have done something." katrine took the hand of the great teacher and kissed it lovingly. "something?" she said. "you have done all." "not all; a part, a very little part," he returned. "but meet the man, my child, and you will see how much has been done by both of us. on saturday morning you will come to me. you will say, 'prophetic man, i am ashamed through all my being to have loved so slight a thing.' you will find you have outgrown him, and he will have only the weight of the santa claus, which children painlessly outgrow. and ever after you will have toward him a kindly mother-feeling, for that is woman's way toward their first loves." katrine shook her head. "i do not want to forget." "no," said josef, "you never have wanted to forget, and that has made it hard for me. you have a strange creed of your own. but sometimes, when i know beyond words that i have received a 'wireless' message from you over the roof-tops, i begin to believe you dangerous, katrine dulany. but your belief of 'mind-curing' people into being better has the seed of truth in it which makes so many new creeds dangerous. you can make yourself so great by fine thinking that the people who come in contact with you understand and are uplifted." "it is a thing more subtle, greatness!" katrine answered. "it is not a thing more subtle, obstinacy!" he returned, with a laugh. "however, have your way! you are ordered, to fontainebleau to-morrow. your voice is in rags, shall i say? you will stay for two weeks at the house of madame lomard. you will lie in the open and breathe much. and so, good-bye to you!" xix a vision of the past anne lennox's residence in paris was more closely connected with frank ravenel than the world knew. in a letter which she had received from mrs. ravenel, after her illness at bar harbor, that comfort-loving old lady had written that she would like to go abroad for the winter if there could be found some homelike place to stay. mrs. lennox had grown tired of new york, and she quickly devised a plan to take some of her servants with her, find a suitable establishment in paris, and ask mrs. ravenel to make her a prolonged visit. that francis would probably accompany his mother to europe and visit her as frequently as business made it possible was not overlooked in anne lennox's calculations. but mrs. ravenel, who was too fearful of her comfort to trust written descriptions, asked her son to step over to paris, as she jauntily put it, and see anne's home before she committed herself. "she writes me," said mrs. ravenel, eyeing the invitation suspiciously, "that she has taken a house like a palace. i lived in a palace once in venice. the walls were of marble, with moisture on them constantly, and there was but four feet of rug on a tiled floor forty feet square. when i asked for fire they brought me a china basket with three or four semi-hot coals in it, and placed it in the exact centre of the room where one was liable to trip over it. the experience cured me of 'dreaming to dwell in marble halls.' i want heat, electricity, and a large bath of my own." according to his mother's wishes, frank had written to anne that business was bringing him to paris, and that he would give himself the pleasure of calling upon her some time within the following fortnight. in the stately old house, which she had taken on the boulevard haussmann, anne awaited frank's coming with more emotion than she acknowledged to herself. she knew that he had arrived in paris two days before, had seen that he was at the grand club, and the day previous had received from him a note asking permission to call at four. he had been more than deliberate in his attentions, a deliberation to which she had become accustomed. it was, in fact, part of his charm. often, in past years, he had hurt her so much by his coldness that his coming brought a keener pleasure than the presence of a more ardent suitor might have done, if he could with any exactness be termed a suitor at all. long before her ill-assorted marriage had been dissolved by the death of her husband, anne lennox's name had been connected with that of francis ravenel. but it was one of the few affairs of his life which had caused no scandal, one which other women had slurred over with a laugh. "anne's all right, you know," they explained, "and really frank and she would have been very well suited to each other if they could have married. at worst nothing but a flirtation; and who, knowing her husband, can blame her?" these were the excuses framed for mrs. lennox by her many friends. the death of her husband had brought the general belief that a wedding between frank and herself would naturally follow. nearly four years had elapsed, however, and marriage between them seemed no nearer than it had ever done. frank's present visit to paris, anne lennox knew, with some bitterness, was a business one. he had made that disappointingly plain to her in his letter. but as she awaited his coming in a white crêpe gown, which made her seem so fair and young, she hoped the words might be spoken which would bring to her the desired end. with all the love of which her worldly heart was capable, she had loved this man for years, for his wealth, his family, even for his reputed successes with women, which would give added distinction to the charms of the woman whom he finally selected for a wife. after he had been announced she rose to greet him, and stood watching him as he came slowly through the great hall, noticing the hangings as he came. it was a slight thing, but a woman in love knows the value of such signs. "when did you come?" she asked. "three days ago." he offered no excuse for his tardy attention, adding only, "you've a beautiful old place, anne." "you like it?" she asked. "i'm delighted. you are not easily pleased. but you should see the de nemours' place. whenever i come back after seeing it this place seems detestably new, as if it were just varnished! it is with the countess de nemours that miss dulany lives." she watched him with attentiveness. "yes!" he answered, in a tone which might either be asking or answering a question, adding: "the new york papers are heralding many complimentary things concerning her voice. have you heard her sing?" anne shook her head. "she is hedged about like royalty. that dreadful josef prescribes every minute of her day. it must be a great bore to live in the way she has done. i met her once, however. do you know, frank, she had never heard of nick van rensselaer, and when i told her he had wanted to send her abroad before her fortune came she seemed amazed. of course, your mother denied the fact that it was mr. van rensselaer who enabled her to come; but i always believed it was he, didn't you?" "you are complimenting mother's veracity," frank answered, laughing. "if she said it was not mr. van rensselaer, as a dutiful son i am bound to believe it, am i not?" "doubtless," anne answered, smiling. "by-the-way, madame de nemours has left with me an invitation for you to dine with her on friday." "shall we hear miss dulany sing, do you suppose?" frank asked, quietly, unimportantly. "i don't know. she has never dined with us when i have been there. i believe she is allowed frivolities but once a fortnight. perhaps--" but before she finished a maid entered with madame de nemours' card. "you can ask for yourself," anne explained, glancing at the card. "here is the countess in person." it had grown dark in the room, and frank stood in the shadow as he was presented to the countess, who had come with the hope of meeting him, for katrine's sudden resolve to go to fontainebleau had not deceived her at all. by that process of seemingly illogical reasoning by which women arrive accurately at facts, she had come to the conclusion that katrine had gone away to avoid meeting either anne lennox or this mr. ravenel, and a far less brilliant woman than madame de nemours would have suspected frank of being the man who had caused katrine such pain in the past. that she had lived on his plantation, and that there must have been many opportunities for them to have been constantly together, unnoted in a place twenty miles from any dwelling, made the thing doubly sure. and so madame de nemours, by reason of her intuitions, met francis ravenel upon the defensive for this girl whom she had learned to love so deeply. "i am in despair," the countess said, after the greetings had been exchanged. "here am i giving a dinner to distinguished americans," this with a little complimentary gesture toward both of them, "on friday, and katrine dulany ordered off to fontainebleau by that terrible josef. 'you are not well!' said he. 'go on such a day, on such a train, to such a place! say this! think this! imagine this!' and the poor child went off yesterday for a month to fontainebleau, afraid to disobey. do you know, i am thinking," she went on, "of adopting this strange child, katrine, legally, just to circumvent josef? for that, and other reasons," she explained, laughing, "i am so sorry you are not to meet her, mr. ravenel." "i have met miss dulany frequently," frank answered. "in carolina, three years ago. every one there was interested in her voice." "yes," the countess answered, "it will be like that always with her. if i tell you something," she said, the light dancing in her eyes as she spoke, "will you be very discreet about it? i am thinking of marrying katrine to my nephew, the duc de launay. he doesn't know it, being in africa, but i am determined to be firm with both. think of those splendid, great ways of hers! she should have been a duchess in the middle ages, when she could have dressed in long, brocaded stuffs and led armies or killed a king. you can see," she said, drawing her wraps about her, "i am not quite sane on the subject of this irish child, and go before i become a regular bore. good-bye, mrs. lennox; good-bye, mr. ravenel. i am so glad to have you both for friday night." she rose, and as she did so frank came forward to assist her with her wraps. at sight of him, in the full light of the doorway, she drew back for an instant, clutched at a curtain, gave another quick look, and fell, with a white face, unconscious into anne's supporting arms. it was not long, however, before she recovered enough to be helped to her carriage; but this fainting was followed by a protracted illness, the friday dinner was postponed indefinitely, and katrine summoned hurriedly home from fontainebleau. naturally, anne lennox called and brought frank with her to make inquiries and to leave regrets. it was in this visit, as frank stood well in the sunshine admiring the old house, that quantrelle, peering from his box, saw him, and with an oath fell back into the shadow as though hiding from an enemy. peering from a crack in the door, he waited frank's departure, and after the carriage had driven away, seized a hat and ran at a mad pace down the narrow street, upsetting children and dogs as he ran. * * * * * josef protested impatiently that it was a badly chosen time for the countess to be ill, speaking as though madame de nemours had personally selected it with criminal thoughtlessness of katrine, whose début was close at hand; for despite his protests, the girl took the position of nurse, sitting up till all hours of the night, and neglecting her lessons if the countess needed or desired her services. the great lady herself, after the danger seemed passed, lay in silence day by day, neither questioning nor explaining. to katrine, however, explanations were unnecessary, for she understood that to madame de nemours the sight of frank had brought back, with terrible distinctness that other ravenel who had been summoned to his accounting years before. just how much madame de nemours knew of frank's attitude to katrine at this time was never made clear, but she clung to her adopted child with love and a new comprehension. but no word passed between them at the time on the subject of either ravenel, nor did these two great ladies again speak to each other on the subject of francis ravenel until the night of the countess' death. but it was doubtless the bond in suffering, no less than her great love, which made the countess write to dermott, the first day of her convalescence, the letter which is set below: "i am nearing the end, my dear irish cousin, and would set the house in order before i go. what little i have (it is almost nothing, for the house goes back to the estate at my death and my income has never been large) i want to give to katrine dulany. i want her to have, in the old phrase, everything of which i die possessed. and of course i desire you to be the executor. will you arrange the necessary papers and bring them with you when you come to hear her sing? and i'm hoping i may be still here to greet you and thank you once more for a lifetime of loyalty and devotion." sitting in his new york office, dermott read the lines with a face saddened and gray. but the smile, so peculiarly his own, filled with cynicism and humor, came to his lips at its close. "talk of justice!" he said. "why, poetry can't touch this! things always square themselves in the long run, though we may not live to see them do it, but this is one of the times when poetic justice itself got on the job." dermott answered this letter of madame de nemours in person as soon as business made it possible. katrine, who understood from the countess the significance of his coming, awaited him in the reception-room on the second floor. the curtains were drawn; a fitful fire made the figures in the tapestry advance and retreat; the candles in silver sconces lit up a misty greuze over the mantel-shelf. a great bowl of white roses filled the room with fragrance, and dermott thought, as he bent over katrine's hand, that it was all but an exquisite setting for the girl herself. nearly a year had passed since their last meeting, and naturally dermott expected some change in her. but katrine was entirely unprepared for the change in dermott. she had known but the one side of him in carolina. on his previous visits to paris, while grateful for his kindness, she was preoccupied and sad. and so, of the serious-eyed man with the beautiful pallor and grave courtesy, she had scant remembrance. on the instant of his coming, however, she recollected memories of the old days; recalled that underneath his bright and stagelike behavior there had ever been a certain constant attention, a sweeping glance, a quiet scrutiny of persons unaware of his observance, a memory of details and words and dates in some degree inhuman, and in the first hand-clasp she recognized the power she had not had the vision to see in the years before. with both hands in his and her breath caught in her throat with gratitude, she said: "if you think i'm going to try to thank you for all you've done for me here in paris, you're mistaken, dermott. i'm not." and then, with a quick catching of the breath: "i couldn't do it adequately, no matter how i tried. i know it was you who arranged for me to live here with madame de nemours; i know how you've been writing to josef concerning my studies; i know how your kindness has followed me everywhere. that's why i can't thank you," she said, with dewy lashes and the deep note in her voice which made her speech ever seem like a caress. "i've done little," dermott answered. "i hope, however, to do more." there was significance in his words, and katrine looked at him quickly, to find him, however, gazing intently into the fire. "tell me of yourself," he said; "all of it: the work, the ambitions, and the achievements. i have hungered at times for direct news of you. already your fame is newspaper talk. you are happy?" he asked, abruptly. "happier than i thought i ever could be again," she answered, with an evasion. "once," he began, in a remote tone, "i was in arabia with a native serving-man whom i tried to persuade to follow me on a shooting-trip in the desert. he said he couldn't go because he had a wife who wouldn't leave him. 'i made the mistake of beating her once,' he explained to me, 'and after a man has struck a woman once she'll stick to him forever.'" if he expected angry speech of hurt remonstrance because of the too evident implication of the story, he was disappointed, for katrine raised her eyes to his with sad frankness. "i think it speaks a truth, dermott," she said. "sometimes i wonder if there ever was a woman who loved the man who was kindest to her." "it's unrecorded if it ever occurred," he answered, moodily, taking another road in the conversation on the instant. "madame de nemours wrote me that you are to sing at josef's recital next month." "yes, it is arranged." "that will mean an opera engagement somewhere, will it not?" katrine laughed. "that's as may be. it depends on how i sing." there was flattery in the answer. "it will mean covent garden if it depends on that," dermott said. "thank you," she replied; and in the conventionality of the response she realized anew that the jesting-time was by between them and she had a man to reckon with. "to-morrow," he said, "josef has written me that, with your permission, i may hear you sing. have i that permission, katrine?" "you have," she answered, noting the handsome line of the bent head and shoulders. "to-morrow at two?" "to-morrow at two. and then," said katrine, "you will see for yourself what i've been doing, so there's no use discussing it, is there? tell me of yourself and barney. does the newspaper work go well?" "he's doing splendidly. he's more than making good." "and the land you purchased in north carolina! do the eagles flourish on it?" she inquired. "not yet. but there's excellent clay there, and i've turned it into a brick factory for the present. the truth is, i needn't have bought that land. i suppose you've heard of the new railroad through ravenel?" he asked. "something," she said, "but not definitely." "they're building it on the other side from the 'eagle tract,'" he explained, smiling at the words. "mr. ravenel is practically putting the thing through himself. do you know, katrine," he continued, "i think i have underrated ravenel. sometimes in the last year, when i've seen him clearing obstacles from his path," and the way dermott knew how to belittle a rival was plainly shown in the pitying tone he used here, "i've almost admired him. i have sometimes thought if circumstances had been different he might have even been something of a man." but katrine's utter honesty was a thing dermott had not calculated upon. "dermott," she said, "i have always tried to be frank with you, haven't i?" "and at times," he broke in, with a smile, "have succeeded discouragingly well." "i want to be so still. madame de nemours has told me the story of ravenel." mcdermott waited, serene, inspiredly silent. "but," katrine went on, "i was a bit prepared for it. almost the last thing father said to me before he died was that you were planning trouble for mr. ravenel." mcdermott waited still, but with a sterner look upon his keen and ardent face. "madame de nemours has told me you need only a paper and a certain witness at tours to carry out your purpose. is it true?" "it is." "and that purpose is--" she hesitated. "to see justice done to madame de nemours," he answered. "it will mean that mr. ravenel has no right either to his home or his name?" the pleading and protest in her voice did not escape dermott as he answered: "it will mean just that!" "and nothing can move you from your purpose?" "nothing that i can now think of," he answered, adding with some vehemence: "katrine dulany, is it that you know me so little? my cousin suffered much. she was deserted by a scoundrel while little more than a child. these things must be paid for. but if you think i'd do a crooked thing in business to settle a grudge or belittle a rival, you don't know me at all. there's none, not ravenel himself, who will demand everything proven beyond doubt sooner than i. i'll take every point i can honestly, but the man who is not absolutely honest in business is a fool. until he learns to be honest from the higher reason, he should be honest from selfishness. it pays. it's capital." "then you believe the cause just?" "i believe that the present ravenel's father married in america knowing that he had a living wife and child in france." katrine stood, hand-clasped, looking straight into dermott's eyes. but what she saw was an old garden in carolina, wind-blown pines, the scarlet creepers around an old bench, and a man with blanched face and restless eyes; what she heard, underneath dermott's voice, were words from the past: _"i might lie to you, but the thing that separates us is family pride, family pride. i am going away to-day, going because i do not dare to stay!"_ "nothing else in life could hurt mr. ravenel as this thing will if proven," she said, at length. "naturally not," mcdermott answered, succinctly; "but it is not proven yet," he added, in an impartial tone, adding, "i have not been able to find the witness i need." was it katrine's imagination that made her think the door moved suddenly as by human agency? had some of the servants been listening? she paused in her talk, and, looking into the hall, saw quantrelle the red pass quickly up the stairs with his daily flower for madame de nemours. "and, believing that ravenel did not belong to mr. ravenel," she continued, "you encouraged him to build the railroad?" "i neither encouraged nor discouraged that enterprise," dermott answered. "fate steered, and did it well." "and mrs. ravenel?" the name, as she spoke it, was a remonstrance. "mademoiselle dulany," dermott answered, "indeed you've a wrong conception of the matter. there is to be no stage play or newspaper work in the case. it will be quietly adjusted. the ravenels are not people to permit any publicity. there will be compromises. mrs. ravenel, i hope, need never know the facts in the case. there is none need ever know, save frank." "you have never liked him, have you, dermott?" katrine asked, with directness. "never," dermott answered, with a frankness matching her own. "why?" "faith, and there are three excellent reasons," dermott returned, with something of his old manner: "he was himself; i was myself; and a third," he paused, with all the power of his personality in his great gray eyes, "a third," he repeated, "which i hope some time to explain to you at great length, little katrine." xx the influence of work of francis ravenel at this time much could be written. in the first months of his separation from katrine, during all of the period of his mother's illness, he remained firm in the intention expressed in the unsent letter to visit her in paris, ask her forgiveness, and make her a formal offer of marriage. but quick on the heels of his return to new york had followed the railroad business, to which dermott mcdermott's insolence had added new reason for making the enterprise a successful one. but underneath the several postponements of visiting katrine, the real cause of them all, in fact, was a fear of the well-merited rebuff which he might receive from her. he understood her pride well; and although he believed that she had not ceased to love him, he doubted if he held her respect, and many times, when instinct bade him go to her, he had recalled the pleading tones of her voice in that last interview, when she had cried: "we may never meet again! ah, please god, we may never meet again!" katrine's letters, which came to him with perfect regularity, kept him closely in touch with her daily life in paris. he looked anxiously in them for any variation in her sentiments toward himself, but found none. reading one night in firdousi, he discovered a passage which described katrine so perfectly to him that he put a marker between the pages of the book, and kept it by his bedside to read at night as a pious person might have kept the confession of his faith. "she was an elemental force," wrote the old poet, "and astonished me by her amount of life, when i saw her day after day radiating every instant redundant joy and grace on all around her. though the bias of her nature was not to thought but to sympathy, yet was she so perfect in her own nature as to meet intellectual persons by the fulness of her heart, warming them by her sentiments, believing, as she did, that by dealing nobly with all, all would show themselves noble." and there were sometimes bits of her letters which drove him wild with regret for what he had done. "is personal happiness, after all," she wrote once, "a very important thing? nothing can ever make me suffer again as i have suffered, for i have learned to use a man's solace: work; work in which i can go far away from myself and be as impersonal as a problem in geometry. but i ask myself, is that what was intended? sometimes i seem to touch the edge of the knowledge that it is (perhaps) greater to be a sad, little, suffering, incompetent mother, than to be the person which trouble and music have made of me." but in his self-abasement frank failed to take into the accounting the stupendous effect which the new york influences and the handling of great affairs had had upon his own character. day by day he had learned more plainly the lessons of responsibility, of continued and concentrated action, and even mcdermott himself could not use napoleon's great question, "what has he done?" more meaningly than frank himself did now. but with this new manhood came a finer comprehension of his baseness to katrine, and an emphasized doubt as to whether she ever could forgive the miserable selfishness which he had displayed. in his visits between the states and england (he made three during katrine's stay in paris, besides the one in which he had met the countess de nemours) he went from one side of the question to the other in his thinking, wanting to visit katrine, but realizing to the full that mademoiselle dulany, a singer to the world, or katrine, adopted daughter of the countess de nemours, and a possible duchess, were worlds removed from the little irish girl who had loved him in the carolina woods. fontainebleau! fontainebleau! since the day the countess had told him of katrine's being there, the name repeated itself in his head like a song. he remembered the silence of the great trees, the nightingales at dusk among them, and dreamed of a day with katrine there, hearing her quaint humor, her daring speeches, her tenderness, her selfless view of life, of herself, of everything in all the world save him. at the christmas-time of katrine's last year in paris, he received a quaint illumination with the following note of explanation: my dear unknown friend,--i have thought this out and printed it, too. it is not very well done, but i have tried to make it sincere. of course i got the idea of making prayers for myself from r.l.s. i am sending it to you with a heart full of hope that your christmas may be a merry one. affectionately, katrine dulany. he read and reread the printed lines, and finally had them framed and hung by his bedside, where they were the first thing upon which his eyes rested in the morning: "grant me the ability to do some one thing well. "give me sympathy for the suffering of others which has been brought to them by their own acts. "grant that i may have courage for the weak and the friendship of those who demand the best of my nature. "remove all doubts from me that there will be ultimate peace and happiness for every one. "let fear of the consequences of a right act be far from me. let me forget the words expediency, convention, and reward. "grant me largeness of judgment, and silence for all weakness, especially that of woman. "and give me, each day, my daily work, with rest at night under some friendly stars." * * * * * early in april, after the lonesomest winter of his life, he received the following letter from his mother, who was still in paris with anne lennox: my dear, dear child,--i have been going about a great deal, meeting old friends and making some new ones, which accounts for my not having written you last week. anne's house is like a union station for repose and solitude. she has people in to luncheon and dinner and tea, and i suspect even for the _café au lait_ in the mornings. i enjoy it, however. one is seldom bored, though frequently exhausted. why i am writing this dull introduction i cannot say, for i have more important things to tell. i have met katrine dulany. anne and i went to the countess de nemours' reception on friday night. we were all in a whirl of unfinished sentences when miss dulany entered. i wish you might have seen her, as she came toward us! of course she was a very pretty child in north carolina, but she has developed into something really remarkable. she wore white, décolleté, with her hair madonna-wise. and she has such distinction! such repose! truly, frank, she came in so quietly that she made every one else seem to enter on horseback. coming directly toward me, she said: "perhaps you do not remember me, mrs. ravenel! i am katrine dulany. my father was overseer of your plantation, in north carolina, for nearly three years." it was as though mary queen of scots had come to life and asked me if i remembered when she was my parlor-maid! and she stayed and talked to me with sweetest deference and an appeal in her eyes, and i went home quite exalted to think this much-desired person had singled me out for such marked attention. but during the night (and oh, my little, little boy! you will forgive me if what i write hurts you, won't you?) i awoke suddenly, and it seemed that everything was clear to me. i recalled your story of loving the woman whom you didn't think it right for you to marry, of your inexplicable stay at ravenel through an entire summer, your depression afterward, and your sudden plunge into business. i couldn't help putting these things together and believing that this little irish girl was the woman in the case. but if you don't want me to know, i _won't_ know. i never knew anything you didn't want me to. that's a mother's way. and don't say a word about the matter to me unless you care to. believe me, boy of my heart, i will respect your silence. it is three months since you have been here. miss dulany sings on the d. can't you come over? every one is going, and we have taken a box. do come. mother. even to his mother frank could not bring himself to mention katrine's name, and he avoided all explanations by cabling his reply: will arrive in paris on the th.--f.r. xxi the night of katrine's dÉbut the yearly recital of josef's pupils is an event to which paris looks forward with interest, for the great teacher makes of it always an artistic triumph. that year there was more than usual excitement over the event, because of the first appearance in public of mademoiselle dulany, whose voice had been enthusiastically written of by every critic whom josef had permitted to hear her sing. two of the greatest singers of the world, old pupils of josef, had been bidden to sing with her. campanali and rigard, whose sonorous bass tones have thrilled two continents, came gladly at the bidding of their old master, to whom they owed so much. the opera was "faust." the house was packed from pit to dome, with seats in the aisles, and many great people. the countess, trembling with excitement, had with her in her box her old friends the townes, from london, for the event. in the next box the duc d'aumale and a party of club men were making bets about the success of the evening. in the next sat francis ravenel, with his mother and anne lennox. he was more excited than he had believed it possible for him to be over anything in life. the lights, the chatter of the gay throng, the moving of the people in their visiting from place to place, the tuning of the instruments, jarred upon his nerves frightfully and heightened the tension at which he was. outwardly, however, he appeared as unmoved as if sitting alone at the club. his mother and anne were recognizing many acquaintances in the audience, and there was a constant procession of men coming to the box to pay their respects. with every one the topic was la dulany. "would she have stage fright?" josef said not. "will she be as beautiful as rumor has said?" "it is a great undertaking for an absolutely unknown débutante to sing with campanali, who will, nay, must, naturally take all the honors." meanwhile, katrine, in her little white room at the countess de nemours', had just written: dear unknown,--i have shut every one out of my room and shall see them no more until afterward. can i do it? i have prayed god, who knows how i have suffered and worked and despaired and desired, to help me now. i have asked him to remember what i have tried to do, to remember my self-denials, my surrender, my lonesome life, my broken heart, and give it me to do this one thing well. they will all be there, all those people who have heard of me, and josef. ah, for his sake, too, i have prayed to do greatly, inspiredly, the thing he would have me do! and _he_ will be there, too, i am told. he has crossed the ocean to hear me sing. oh, dear god, just once, if never again, let him know me through my voice, know that i forgive and forget and understand! the carriage is ready. good-bye, dear, dear room, dear old books, dear old scores! good-bye, dear unknown! it is the last time i can write you of my hopes to be great. to-morrow you will know what i have done. but whether i go to success or failure, i kiss you with my heart full of love and gratitude, and so-good-bye! katrine. * * * * * "there is josef now; look, mrs. ravenel!" mrs. lennox cried, pointing to a man who had just entered the stage box. "the man with the iron-gray hair. and the eyes! did you ever see such eyes? and who is that with him? great heavens," she exclaimed, "it is that pervasive irishman who was down in north carolina, dermott mcdermott!" josef, pale as a statue, had taken a place in the shadow of the box, back from the reach of opera-glasses. his hands trembled, and at times his lips twitched backward, as one who has lost control through too long a strain. "do look out for him," katrine had said to dermott, the night before, between tears and a smile. "i can get through it all right, but i am fearful it may kill josef. he takes me very seriously, you know." a heavy knocking came. the leader took his place. the overture began, and when the curtain rose campanali received the genuine ovation which was his due. at the conclusion of that great duet, "be mine the delight," there was the vision of marguerite at the spinning-wheel, and, after three years, francis ravenel saw katrine, but in a blurred vision with fold upon fold of gauze between them. finally the soldiers and maidens disappeared, and there came an expectant hush. one heard _now_! the pause was marked, intentional, before there came toward the footlights, in their most relentless glare, a girl with gladness and joy in her very walk. neither a heavy german peasant girl nor a french soubrette. no dreary, timid, _mädchen_, but a glad young soul conscious of nothing save joy, with the beauty in her face of youth and power as she looked at the gay throng of the fair. then, with the gaze of the entire house upon her, her eyes encountered those of faust. there was no start of surprise, but, as though drawn to him by a law beyond control, her eyes rested in his, and with no gesture, without a note sung, with nothing but a change in expression, one understood great love had come to her, the first love of a woman, which is never lived over nor forgotten. and francis ravenel, sitting back of the others in the box, recalled that look and drew behind the curtains. in memory, soft arms were round his throat as a voice, the same, yet not the same, sang: "no signor, not a lady am i, nor yet a beauty, and do not need an arm to guide me on my way." a golden voice, with tones so breathed they had the liquidness of the bluebird's call, as paris held its breath before the beauty and wonder of it; a voice which frank remembered amid the pine and honeysuckle underneath the night blue of the carolinas, saying: "god keep you always just as you are, beloved." * * * * * from the first scene to the clear end, when, in the divine trio, campanali, rigard, and katrine caught fire from each other and went mad together, in that great, strong music where right triumphs, as the song climbs higher and higher in its great insistence, it was such triumph as no first performance had been in the memory of our generation, a success that admitted no cavilling or question, a success indisputable and unparalleled, and before the performance was ended the papers were chronicling, for the ends of the earth, that a world star had arisen in the firmament of song. mcdermott's face was an open book for all who cared to read. the one woman on earth for him was triumphing, and his thoughts were all for her, and master josef saw and noted even in his excitement and trembling. frank, too, gloried in katrine's success, but underneath the pleasure there was a senseless jealousy, a resentment of the position in which it placed her to him. and the conduct of dermott mcdermott during the evening was another bitter morsel for his palate; for the irishman carried an air of ownership of everything, even of josef; gave an appraising and managerial attention to the audience; and bowed to katrine, when she smiled at him over a huge bunch of green orchids with an irish flag in the ribbons, with such an air of proprietorship that it made the time scarcely endurable to frank. but he played the game by a masterly method, and drew nearer to anne, looking into her eyes with the devotion which he knew so well how to assume, despising himself as he did so. but after the last _brava_ had been given and he had put his mother into the brougham, saying, abruptly, that he preferred to walk, his heart and head came to an unexpected encounter. he stood alone, unnoting the passers-by, oblivious of the superfluous praise of katrine's voice which he heard in the broken talk, looking into the distant sky at the two great towers of notre dame. it was not far to the de nemours' house. although very late, it would doubtless be filled with friends congratulating katrine, and under the circumstances, he reasoned, there could seem no precipitancy in calling immediately to offer congratulations. he found the house a blaze of light, with servants going back and forth with arms full of flowers. in front there were many carriages and fiacres. by the entrance arch were several newspaper men, one of whom spoke frank's name as he passed. everywhere there was an air of bustle and disorder. on the second floor he saw lights being carried from one room to another, as though hurried preparations were being made. giving his card to the french servant, who had ushered him with an important and excited manner into a small reception-room, he waited. his heart throbbed like a school-boy's with his first love. in a minute he would see her, would hold her hand. in his pocket he carried a letter, one of katrine's many letters, to "the dear unknown." "i have not forgotten this old love," she had written, "i shall never forget. i never close my eyes without thinking of him nor without a prayer for him upon my lips." suddenly there came a laugh, a jolly, musical sound of real mirth, and he heard dermott's voice dominating and directing on the upper floor. immediately after there came a silence, and then, from the turn in the stairs, he heard the same voice, with a touch of insolence, speaking to the servant to whom he had given the card: "say to mr. ravenel that mademoiselle dulany regrets that it is impossible for her to see him." and then, with a dramatic note, "tell him," the irishman added, "she leaves within an hour to sing before the queen." xxii frank and katrine meet at the van rensselaer's in the three months which followed katrine's great success, frank heard of her constantly, always with a curious self-belittling and a reviewing of his own conduct, fine in its self-depreciation. he had betrayed the great unspoken trust of the finest human being he had ever known, and afterward dallied, for fear of rebuff to his vanity, from squaring the account as well as he could by giving her a chance to refuse him openly. he felt that he could never again be to her what he had been. three years of such work as she had done would change her ideals much. he reflected, too, upon the changes in himself, one of the greatest being his recognition of the sound virtues of dermott mcdermott. there had been times when circumvention by this son of erin had been so masterly, so deft, so unexpected that frank had felt like extending a congratulating hand. once he had actually laughed aloud, at a board meeting, over an election which mcdermott had dictated. but these things assumed a new importance when he thought of dermott's love for katrine, for the queer celtic genius was singularly unattuned to failure in anything, and never, in any matter save that of the railroad, could frank claim a complete victory. and those who believed the railroad issue still unsettled were not wanting. soon after the paris visit, frank heard, through anne lennox, of the death of madame de nemours. the letter reiterated, as well, that katrine had sung to england's good old queen. before this confirmation frank had doubted this statement as one of the outputs of dermott's oriental imagination. in august, having had no letter from katrine or his mother for over a month, he accepted nick van rensselaer's invitation to waring-on-the-sea, with no knowledge whatever as to the other members of the party. as he was driven up the carriageway, under great new england pines, and saw the shining sea and the far-off magnolia hills, he thought, for the first time, of other guests who would probably be there, and recalled with annoyance how one meets the same people everywhere. after he had dressed for dinner, he stood looking from the balcony of his room into the twilight thinking of katrine, and wondering why her monthly letter had not arrived. at the foot of the stairs he encountered sally porter, whom he had not met since she had been his mother's guest at ravenel, three years before. "why, frank ravenel!" she cried, at sight of him. "i thought you were in--where did we hear he was, mother?" "several places, my dear," her mother responded, placidly. "java, japan, or jupiter," nick van rensselaer broke in, coming forward with outstretched hand. "how are you, old man!" as frank returned the grip he looked over nick's shoulder to a merry group which stood near the entrance to the music-room, and his amazed eyes rested upon katrine dulany. a new katrine, yet still the old. she wore white lace. her black hair was parted and rippled over the ears into a low coil. there was even more the look of an august peach to her than he remembered: dusky pink with decided yellow in the curve of her chin, as he had once laughingly asserted. but the softness and uplifted expression of the misty blue eyes were the same, and added to all was the repose of manner which comes only from the consciousness of power or of sorrows lived beyond. for a moment he seemed unable to make any effort to go to her, and then came to him an intense consciousness of himself, of her, and their mutual past. as their eyes met, however, he discovered that whatever embarrassment existed was his own, for katrine saw him, seemed to make sure that her eyes did not deceive her, and with a glad smile stretched both hands toward him. "why, it's mr. ravenel!" she cried. her eyes rested in his as she spoke. "it has been three, oh, so many years, since we have met," she began, with a smile. "don't," he answered, holding her hands. "it was only yesterday." "three yesterdays," she said, with the old "make-believe" look in her eyes. "half a week. somehow it seems longer, doesn't it?" "i was sorry to miss seeing you in paris last may," frank said. "i wanted so much to congratulate you; but congratulations would have been an old story even at that time." "everything was in such a ferment the night you called," she explained. "josef was quite beside himself, and i was rushing off somewhere, i remember, and i didn't get the card until afterward," again the perfectly frank, sweet look, "but i recall that it gave me pleasure to know you came." at dinner francis found, with some annoyance, that he was placed between mrs. dysart and miss porter, at the remote end of the table from katrine, whom he could see at nick van rensselaer's right, showing her dimples and the flash of white teeth and scarlet lips as she told some story of her own. he noted how easily she was first, so sure of herself and her power, but with a marked deference to the women as well as to the men who courted her attention so openly. "such considered conduct!" he commented to himself, approvingly. no chance came to him to talk to katrine again that night, but, analytical as he was of woman, he could discern no smallest sign that it was by any design of hers, nor that she noted his presence more than that of another. she neither avoided nor sought his glance, and it was not until midnight that he had even a word alone with her. "i am going to sing," she said, turning with a pretty smile toward a group in which he was standing. in a minute he came forward and led her to the piano. "the serenade," he said. her eyes gleamed through the long lashes as she looked away from him. "ah," she answered, "i seem to have outgrown it!" xxiii an interrupted confession on the fourth day, because of a nasty twist at polo, the doctor ordered frank to rest. coaching and golf had left the house deserted as he lay on the couch in the second hall, thinking of katrine's masterly deftness in avoiding him. "i have never known another woman who could have done it so well," he thought. "she seems to have neither resentment nor remembrance. it is as though the whole affair had never been. i wonder--" the noise of a door opening at the far end of the corridor disturbed his reflections, and as though walking into his thought, katrine came down the hall. she wore a house-gown of pale blue, low in the neck, with long, flowing sleeves. under her arm she carried a music-score in regular school-girl fashion, and she was humming to herself as she came. frank lay perfectly still; his eyes closed as she approached him. "i am not going to bid you a good-morning, seeing that i am obliged by doctor's orders to do it in this position. it doesn't seem respectful," he explained. the surprise, the dimples, the gay, low laugh seemed such a part of her as she paused beside his couch. "you are ill?" she asked. "or," with a twinkle of the wide eyes, "didn't you want to go on the coaching-party?" "i took a fall at polo yesterday. i was not at dinner last night. i am flattered at the way you have dwelt upon my absence." "i dined at the crosbys' or i might have spent a sleepless night concerning it. there were a great many people there. your friend, dermott mcdermott, for one. he is coming here to-day." her face was illumined by the spirit of teasing as she spoke. "only," she went on, with a sweet and instant sympathy, "i am hoping you are not badly hurt or suffering." "there is nothing, absolutely nothing, the matter, except the doctor. he is all broken up over the accident, and says i must lie here or somewhere for two or three days to cure a wrench in my back which i didn't have." katrine laughed as she turned to go. "i was intending to study some," she said, looking down at her music. "will it annoy you?" a quick, amused smile came to his face at the question, and he looked up with eyes full of laughter as he answered: "certainly, i am naturally unappreciative of music." "i didn't mean that," katrine explained, smiling back at him as she went along the corridor. "miss dulany!" he called. she turned toward him, her face waiting and expectant. "as the german girl said in _rudder grange_, 'it is very loneful here.'" "you mean," she asked, "that you would like to have me stay with you?" "nobody on earth could have stated my wish more accurately," he answered, in a merry, impersonal tone, as though addressing some imaginary third person. she came back to him, drawing a low wicker chair near the couch and putting her music on the floor beside her. "i shall be glad to stay if you want me to. shall we talk?" and here she took up the books he had put beside him for amusement. "balzac, daudet." she made a little disapproving gesture. "you do not care for them?" he asked. "they are not for me, those horrible realist folk. i like books where things fall as they should rather than as they do; and the poetry where beautiful things happen. things as they aren't are what i care for in literature." he laughed. "we won't read," he said, "and _i_ sha'n't talk. you must. all about yourself, the wonderful things that you have been living and achieving. you will tell it all in just your own way, full of quick pauses and sentences finished by funny little gestures." this was dangerous walking, and he felt it on the instant. but the irish of the girl, the instinct to make a story, to entertain, came at his demanding, bringing the old gleam back to her eyes. "ah!" she said, deprecatingly. "the tale of me! it would bore you, would it not? it is just full of josef and work and the countess and father menalis and a few great names, and then more work, with a little more josef," she added, with a smile. and then dropping into the warm, sweet, intimate tones he remembered so well, she said, simply, "it was hard, but glorious in a way, too," she added, after a moment's thinking, "every morning to awaken with the thought of something most important to do; work which one loves, lessons with this great, great soul who knows why art is! the languages for one's art, the fencing for one's art, the eating, breathing, dancing, thinking, living for one's art! with josef's eternal 'think it over! think it over!' and paris with all of its beautiful past! and there were lonesome days, too, when i felt i could never do it, with sleepless nights of discouragements. ah," she said, the scarlet coming to her cheeks, "i have lived! it's a great thing to say that, isn't it? but i have lived! one day, i remember, josef was all fussed up. it was a horror of a day, and he told me that maybe i would never sing, that my temperament might not do, and i went home with thoughts of suicide and didn't go back to him for nearly a week. then he sent for me. 'where have you been?' he demanded, fiercely. 'i am going to give it all up,' i answered. and he took me by the shoulders. 'my god!' he cried, 'with a genius like yours, _could_ you give it up?' 'but you said the last time i was here--' i began. 'bah!' he interrupted, putting his hand on my shoulder, 'you can't believe a word i say. i am a great liar.' and we both cried a little, although, even then, he kept telling me how bad crying was for the voice, and we did some pagliacci together, just as if nothing had happened." "it must have been a wonderful life," francis said, a great appreciation in his voice. "it was; i miss it here--some, although people are so kind. and you?" she demanded. "tell me about yourself." "there is nothing to tell. things are just the same with me. i suppose they will never be much different." "mrs. lennox told me last winter that you were doing quite wonderful things in business." he smiled, but made no explanation. "are your engagements arranged as yet, katrine?" he asked. "it is probable that i shall sing in st. petersburg first. it is what i want most if i sing in public next winter at all." there was a pause. "you have not changed so much as i had thought," he said, at length. "more than i show, i am afraid," she answered. "oh," he returned, "even i can discern some changes. you are more, if i wanted to be subtly flattering, i should say, you are more beautiful, more of the world in appearance, and i know what the countess meant when she said you were becoming 'epic, grand, and homicidal,' or something like that." "how horrible!" she laughed. "not at all, only not as i remembered you." he spoke the words slowly, against his will and his judgment, and in defiance of taste or conduct, looking up as he did so into eyes which from their first glance, over three years before in the woods in north carolina, had been able to stir him as no other eyes had ever done. and it seemed to him as though in that look all conventions were dropped between them. "you were kind to me then, katrine." she looked at him steadily, as a child might have done, with no shrinking in her glance, with neither anger nor shame. "and you?" she asked, wistfully. "were you very kind to me?" "i was not. god!" he said, "if you could only know how i have suffered for the way i acted! to feel such shame as i have felt! oh," he cried, "nobody on earth could make me talk this way but you! there was always between us a curious understanding, wasn't there, katrine, even apart from the other?" he finished vaguely. "i knew you would suffer. i was sorry for that," she answered, gravely. "were you, truly? were you big enough for that?" "well," and the sad smile with which the irish so often speak of personal grief came to her lips, "you see, i loved you. and when one loves one wishes for happiness for the one beloved, does one not? yes," she said, "i was honestly sorry to think that you would have even a regret. i would have taken all the sorrow if i could." "you loved me then?" his head was gone. he remembered only the sweetness of her presence and the nearness of her. "you did love me then, katrine?" she rose suddenly as though to leave him. "don't go," he said, reaching his hand toward her with pleading in his tone. she reseated herself, her face exquisitely pale. "ah," she said, "you know i loved you! i was so young, and it was all so terrible to me! please god, you may never suffer as i did! i have lain awake night after night praying to die, or waking with dread at the knowledge that as soon as consciousness came the horrible pain would return with it, and there came the resentment to the great god for my birth, as though that could make any real difference. but it was good for me. the very best thing in all the world. nothing else could ever have taught me as it did." "katrine!" he cried, and, the doctor's orders forgotten, he sat up and leaned toward her "believe me, i have waited all these years to see you, to talk with you! but unless two people are entirely honest, i knew the thing would be impossible. i thought you would forgive me, would understand as you grew older!" "i understood then," she interrupted. "my whole life had trained me to understand. i was not in the least critical of you. i am not now. you followed your birth and your training. you had been taught no self-control. women had spoiled you. you had never had to consider others. i want to be perfectly frank with you about it all. i never deceived you in word, tone, or look. i shall not begin now. you were my ideal man in everything. you know," she paused, an amused smile upon her lips and her lids lowered, "you know i thought henry of agincourt, wolfe tone, and robert bruce must have been like you, and i was grateful to the good god for letting me live in your time and country." she ceased speaking, and her eyes rested upon the far-away sea with the remembering tenderness a woman might give to an old plaything of childhood before she continued: "it was from josef, of course, that i had most help, always belittling this affair, always trying to make me forget in work. i was too tired at night to grieve; i had to sleep. 'women,' he said, 'coddle their griefs! they revel in hopeless passion! they nurse it! remember,' he said, 'there are two ways to forget: weeping and making swings.' well," she finished, "he taught me to make swings." "and you have forgotten?" francis asked, standing beside her, magnetic, compelling, taken out of himself. memories were drawing them together. remembered kisses, words, spoken lips to lips, and that elemental sweet attraction of man for woman, which should be ranked with the other great elemental things like fire, water, earth, and air. katrine rose also, and they stood looking into each other's eyes. "no," she answered, quite steadily, "i have not forgotten. i never shall forget. i would give my life to feel that you are the man i once believed you to be, the man i believe you could have been." "will you be frank with me, katrine?" he demanded. "have i ever been anything else?" she questioned, in return. "you have avoided me since you came." "yes, only i hope not noticeably." "no, it was well done, but why?" "can you ask?" "i do ask." "i did not want ever to see you again nor to talk to you as we are talking now." "answer me, katrine!" he cried, bending toward her. "answer me! why did you never want to see me again?" there still was the look in her eyes of sweetest frankness as she answered: "there were many reasons before i saw you that first night why i should never wish to see you again. but after that there was only one--one--one that filled my mind. i am afraid." "afraid!" he repeated, with the man's look of the chase in his eye, "afraid of what, katrine?" she had moved by the fireplace, and with a hand on the chimney-shelf turned her eyes to meet his own, with the clear, unafraid look in them of the olden times. "when i first saw you here, the night i sang, i became afraid you were a man whom i had simply overestimated in the past because of my youth. i have avoided you ever since for fear i should find it to be true. i am afraid you are a man who is simply 'not worth while.'" the words were spoken softly, even with a certain odd tenderness, but they struck francis ravenel like a blow in the face, and he set his lips, as a man does in physical suffering. "i think it is just," he said, at length. "i think that describes me as i am: a man who is not worth while. only, you see, katrine, i was not prepared to hear the truth from you." he grew white as he spoke. "in all of your letters you spoke so divinely of that old-time love." for an instant she regarded him with startled attention, her eyebrows drawn together, both hands brought suddenly to her throat. "my letters," she repeated, "my letters!" and then, her quick intuition having told her all, "how could you do it? oh, how could you do it?" she cried, the tears in her eyes and the quick sobs choking her speech. "it was you who sent me abroad to study! it is you to whom i am indebted for all: josef, the countess, my voice! ah, you let a girl write her heart out to you, to flatter your--oh, forgive me!" choking with the sobs which had become continuous, "forgive me!" she cried, as she laid her head on her arms by the corner of the chimney. "forgive me!" she repeated. "i said once (you will remember, i wrote it, too) that i would try never to criticise you by word or thought. i want to be true to that, even _now_. only," she said, pressing her hand over her heart, "i hurt so! the pain makes me say things i would rather not say. oh, i wonder if another man in all the world ever hurt a woman's pride as you have hurt mine!" "katrine," frank said, "god knows i never intended to tell you! there was always the thought in my mind that you should never know, but you hurt me so, i forgot. oh, katrine, forgive me!" "i _am_ grateful," she interrupted, in her hurried, generous way, "grateful for the kind thought for me; but i am angry, too, so angry that i don't dare trust myself," she smiled through her tears, the funny, heart-breaking smile. she gathered up her music. "good-bye," she said, "i shall try to go away in the morning." and with no offer of handshaking she passed him, and he heard her softly close and lock the door of her sitting-room. he knew she would keep her word, knew that the morning would take her from him, and the pain of hurt pride and wounded love goading him on, he covered the distance to the bolted door. "katrine!" he called. within he heard the noise of sobbing, of quick breaths choked with pain. "katrine dulany!" he repeated, with tenderness. "yes!" she answered from within. "i want to speak to you." there was no response. "i must speak to you, katrine." he waited, fearing her new contempt, until the silence became unendurable. "katrine," he said, "you will either come out or i will come in." there was another silence before there came, at the end of the lower corridor, a great commotion of quick orders given and executed, of luggage being placed, and through it all a low singing as of one much at home. it would be an awkward situation, he thought, for the servants to find him clamoring at miss dulany's door, and as he moved toward the window the singing grew nearer, breaking into a loud voice at the top of the steps, "war dogs tattered and gray, gnawing a naked bone, fighting in every clime every cause but our own," and dermott the jaunty, the extremely elegant, in black riding-clothes, with the jewelled crop of north carolina days, stood in the afternoon sunlight at the head of the great stairs. "ah, ravenel," he cried, "i have been staying at the crosbys', and heard but last night from miss dulany that you were here! i accepted the invitation van rensselaer hadn't yet given me to ride over and stay awhile. i am," and here he had the superb impudence to adjust an eyeglass for a complete survey of frank, "i am interested in your doings just now, ravenel, very much interested," he repeated, with a smile. xxiv "i will take care of you" after a brief exchange of incivilities with dermott, frank went to his own room with a flushed cheek, a kindling eye, and something like a song of victory singing low and strong in his heart. it was a strange mood to follow such an interview, for there was scarcely a sentence of his during the talk with katrine of which he was not ashamed. the lack of taste, of delicacy, the rawness of his conduct came back to him, producing a singular sense of elation; for by them he realized that his love was a thing stronger than himself; a thing which carried him along with it; buffeted him, did with him as it would, while considered conduct and the well-turned phrase stood pushed aside to watch the torrent as it passed. there had been times when he feared that his ancestry of inherited self-indulgence had left him without the ability to desire anything continuously or over-masteringly, feared that he was over-raced, with no grasp nor feeling for the jugular vein of events. these had been unworded doubts of his concerning himself in the three years past. but after the talk with katrine he knew himself capable of great love, of love which was stronger than himself, and the new manhood in him gloried in the surrender. he dressed early, hoping to have a word with katrine before the other guests came down, but she was the last to enter the drawing-room before dinner was announced. standing by the doorway, he saw her coming along the wide hall alone. she wore black, unqualified black, low and sleeveless. her hair, which seemed blacker than the gown, was worn high, not in the loose curls he knew so well, but in some statelier manner, with an old jewelled comb placed like a coronet, and she held herself more aloof from him than ever before, her eyes avoiding his glance and her cheeks exquisitely flushed. but at sight of dermott her bearing changed, and frank saw with jealousy that she went quickly toward the irishman, holding out both hands and saying, "dermott," in a voice which seemed to have a sob in it as well as a claim for protection. during dinner ireland was easily triumphant, for while katrine sat at nicholas van rensselaer's right, dermott had been placed on her other side, and frank, sitting by deaf old mrs. van rensselaer, had abundant time to mark mcdermott's gift for society. "one might think him the host," ravenel thought, critically, noting that the laugh, the jokes, the gallantries were ever in the irishman's vicinity, and the head of the table was easily where the mcdermott sat. when the ladies were leaving, dermott took the situation in both hands, as it were, by rising with them and turning a laughing face to the men, who were calling his name. "i'm going to join the ladies now, if they will have me!" he cried. "i have less of their society than i like, belonging, as i do, to the working-classes. and besides," he waved a hand, white and beautifully slender, toward them, "i know you all, unfortunately well, as it is!" a chorus of friendly insults were thrown after him, but he dropped the curtain with no further word, and an hour later frank encountered him walking slowly up and down the terrace in the moonlight with katrine. they were talking earnestly, mcdermott urging something which francis was glad to see katrine was far from yielding. twice he saw her shake her head with great firmness, and once, as they came near him, he heard her say, "i will not, dermott," and, knowing the girl as he did, frank felt that, whatever the matter, it was settled with finality. try as he surely did, he found it impossible to have a word alone with her that evening, and the next morning he learned from the servants that her luggage was to be taken to the station the following day at an early hour. she was not at luncheon, and frank was meditating on the possibility of leaving with her on the early train, when a note was brought to him by her maid. would you care to walk with me now? [it read] i should like to tell you something before i leave. katrine dulany. this was surely the unexpected, and he waited for her on the portico with the feeling that there was some mistake, and that the maid might reappear any minute to ask the missive back again. but katrine herself came around the corner from the greenhouses and called to him from below. she wore a black walking-skirt, a black leather jacket, and a three-cornered black hat, and frank involuntarily compared this very aristocratic-looking young person with the little girl in the short-waisted frocks he had known, so many years ago, it seemed, in north carolina. in silence they went down the driveway to the beach road, along the path to the cliffs. there was a chill in the sea-wind, for the afternoon sun gave only a rose-red glow, but little warmth, as they stood looking at the crumpled reflections in the water. "it is almost sunset," frank began, abruptly, drawing nearer to her. "it might almost be a north carolina sunset, mightn't it? i don't know, katrine, what you want of me, but i want, for the sake of that summer full of sunsets which we knew together, that you should let me tell my story and judge me--finest woman--that--ever--lived--judge me after the telling as it may seem just for you to do!" there was a piteous quiver of her lips as her eyes looked bravely into his as she nodded an acquiescence. "when i left you, katrine, like the coward i was, that dreadful morning, so long ago, i wandered around like an ishmaelite, more wretched than i believed it possible for a human creature to be, longing for you, always, day and night, waking with a convulsion of pain in the gray of the morning, but still obstinately determined to marry none but some one whom my forebears would have considered 'suitable.'" he smiled at the word. "when the news came of your father's death i was in the canadian woods. i started home immediately; i had no fixed plan, except to see you, to help you in some way. in new york i had a telegram saying that my mother was very ill at bar harbor. there was nothing to do but to go to her, of course. it was before this that she had sent me nick van rensselaer's letter, and the idea came to me from that, that i might be the one to do something to make your life a bit happier. you may think it was reparation for the suffering i had caused you, but it was not. i _couldn't_ let you go out of my life. in this way, i reasoned, i could keep in touch with you for years. when i stipulated that you were to write once a fortnight, i had no idea the letters would be anything but simple statements of your daily life. you see, i forgot," he smiled again, the charming, whimsical smile that seemed so much a part of him, "that you were irish and could do nothing impersonally. "immediately after mother's illness came the matter of the railroad, and"--he hesitated--"dermott mcdermott. you see, katrine, you had stirred something in my nature i never knew before-ambition! that was part, but the desolation that followed your out-going made action necessary. well, the new railroad was to be constructed through the plantation, and i worked with all the energy i could to forget. you see what you did for me, katrine! and at every turn, circumventing, obstructing, legislating against me, urging me on by mental friction, was dermott mcdermott. am i tiring you?" he asked, tenderly. "no," she answered. "i am glad to know how it all was. over there in paris, when i was alone, i often wondered." "the interest in my own railroad naturally led to interests in the two adjoining ones, and always, always, katrine, there were those letters of yours urging me on by your divine belief in me. that you loved me, thought of me, wished me well, prayed for me,--a man has to be worse than i ever was to fail to be helped by that. and your loyalty, the very selflessness of your love, your willingness to be hurt if it would help me--katrine," he interrupted himself, "there were other women in my life, but, one by one, i measured them up to the standard of you, and they became nothing. i remember once, at the club, they brought me two letters, one from you and one from another woman. it was the one in which you wrote, _'i have not forgotten, i do not wish to forget. i want to make of myself so great a woman that some day he may say, with pride, "once that woman loved me."'_ i disliked to know that your white letter had even touched the other one, and that night the man i hope to make of myself was born. if there be any achievement in my life that is worth while, if i ever count for anything in the world's work, it is you who have done it, you and the letters which you blame me so much for permitting you to write." she turned toward him, her face flushed and divinely illumined, anger forgotten. "you mean it?" she said. "as god hears, it is the truth." "then," she paused, "i am happier than i thought it possible i should ever be in this life!" "and you forgive me?" "there is nothing to forgive." "that gives me courage to go on," he said. "do you remember," he put his hand over hers as he spoke, and they both went back in thought to the time he had laid his hand over hers on the fallen tree, the night of their first meeting, "do you remember, katrine, that when an alliance is to be arranged for a great queen, it is she who must indicate her choice and her willingness. you have become that, katrine, a great queen! i'm asking, with more humility in my heart than you can ever know, that you choose--me!" as she looked at him, her eyes were incredulous. "don't let us talk of such a thing," she said, abruptly, turning her small hand upward to meet his in a friendly clasp. "but, katrine, it is the only thing in the world i care to talk about. oh," he said, "i know how hard it is for you, that you are going to make it hard for me, that you are not going to believe me, nor in me. but, whether you believe it or not, it is the white truth i tell you, that ever since the first night i saw you i loved you, and wanted you for my wife." she sat on the brown rocks, her knees clasped in her slender arms, looking through the sea-mist at the sun going down behind the magnolia hills. "don't let us talk of it," she said, decisively; "the thing is utterly impossible. tell me about yourself instead: the new railroad; the work; and dermott mcdermott." he turned, looking up at her curiously before answering. "the last four years of my life have contained something overmuch of dermott mcdermott--" and then, the animosity gone from him, "katrine," he cried, "in heaven's name, what did i ever do to him? he seems to spend his time trying to circumvent my plans. he hates me so that it seems"--he waited for an appropriate word--"funny," he ended, with a laugh. "i have sometimes thought he was in love with you. is he in love with you, katrine?" "tell me about the railroad," she said, taking no note whatever of his question. "i have heard many things of it." "well," he began, "there were many things to hear. one by one the men who had pledged themselves 'went back on me,' as the street phrase is, which brought out all the obstinacy in me. i built it myself. it's a success, and it's lucky," he ended, "for if it weren't i don't know where i should have ended in a money way. i was desolate and, as you told me cheerfully in one of the letters to the great unknown, 'full of ignorances and narrow-mindedness.' there was never anything better came to me, save one, than the work. i think it has made me better. i hope so." "it's queer, queer, queer, this little world, isn't it?" she demanded, abruptly. "it is, indeed." "here are we, together again, after many years, talking about ourselves, just as we did in those other days." the old katrine was beside him, with the pleading, explaining, dependent note in her voice, the same rapid, short sentences, the same shy look which was ever hers when doing a kindness. "i must tell you the reason i wrote the note. last night i was very angry at you. i forgot josef, who showed me that anger is for fools only. then dermott came, and while we were walking on the terrace i told him everything: that i owed you money; that i wanted it paid at once. he is madame de nemours' executor. she left me--not a great fortune, you know, but more than enough to repay your loan to me. so much is simple. but there is more." she hesitated before slipping her small, bare hand in his again. "dermott thinks he knows something which will cause you much sorrow and trouble. he is not certain. he is waiting letters from france. and i wanted to tell you that it will rest almost entirely with me to say what shall be done about this bad news which may arrive. and i want you, when trouble comes, to remember that once i said i would come from the end of the earth to serve you--well," she said, the look of unreckoning, honest, _boyish_ loyalty in her eyes, "i will keep my word. you must not worry; i will take care of you." it was like a mother's promise to protect a child, and, save for the sweet confidence in her own powers, frank, not understanding, could have laughed aloud. "i want you to think of this to-night, when dermott talks to you--will you?--and to remember that the matter is far from proven. madame de nemours herself did not believe it." "katrine," he cried, impressed by her serious face and tone, "what is this mysterious trouble that is coming to me? can't _you_ tell me?" "i have thought of that, but i believe that you would be happier in the future to know that we had never discussed it together. i know _i_ should. it's all so foolish," she ended. "you are really going to-morrow, katrine?" he asked. "yes." "why?" "it is better." "for you?" "for both of us." "ah, katrine, why? you are a great enough woman to forgive. can't you do it? you have done so much already." "i am afraid," she answered. "i suffered too much. it was too horrible. only," and she touched his shoulder gently, "you are not to think that i don't care for you. it mayn't be in just the way that i used to do; but nobody else could ever be to me what you have been. i don't believe a woman, a real woman, ever loves twice in her life, do you?" she asked the question with the manner distinctively her own, of comradeship, of wanting to touch souls even on this question most vital to them both. "i hope it's true of you, katrine." the gray sea broke in white lines on the shore beneath them; the gulls uttered shrill, clattering cries above their heads, before katrine rose. "we must be going--on!" she said, looking seaward, her hands clasped in front of her, her face saddened and white. "but, katrine," he cried, "look at me, katrine! nothing has been settled between us. i have asked you to marry me. you say you will not. you tell me you still care some little for me. it's a foolish situation. i was a cad, an ignorant and colossally selfish cad, but i am humbled and oh, i want you so!" there was nothing but kindness and affection in her face as she stood with appealing eyes looking up at him. "do you want me to tell you what i believe to be the truth?" "yes; but, katrine, don't make it hurt too much," he said. "i think," she spoke the words softly, "if i had gone out of your life, had had no voice, had not succeeded, if the world had not spoken my name to you, you would have forgotten me in a year. i believe it is not katrine dulany, the daughter of your irish overseer, whom you love, but la dulany, who happens to have a gift, the adopted daughter of the countess de nemours, the woman whom you have heard the duc de launay wishes to marry!" "oh, katrine!" "i don't want to hurt you! indeed, _indeed_ i don't," she repeated. "i wanted you to know exactly what i think. ah," she cried, "be fair! do you blame me?" "no," he answered. "i blame you for nothing; but it is not true! i love the soul of you, katrine. and there has been between us love, love stronger than ourselves or our foolish prejudices. i believe that neither of us can forget, that something stronger than your will or mine draws us together. i will not accept your refusal. and you will not forget me! i mean to see to it that you shall not." they returned to the house, through the incoming sea fog, in silence. at the foot of the side-stair they shook hands and said "good-bye" softly. he had not expected to see her again in the evening. but here he failed to understand that the excitement under which she was laboring made either solitude or inaction unendurable. she was among the first to come down to dinner, and never, he reviewed the entire past before he came to the conclusion, had he seen her more beautiful. she wore pink, modish in the extreme, with many jewels--he recalled that he had never before seen her wear jewels--and she seemed in sky-scraping spirits, her eyes alight with fire and vivacity; and at the table he could hear the droll tones of her voice before the laughter came; and altogether she went far toward driving him daft by an apparent gayety at parting with him forever. immediately after the ladies left the table dermott touched frank lightly on the arm. "could i have a few words with you in the gun-room?" he asked. "it's the place where we shall be the least likely to be interrupted." ravenel followed him, after a nod of acquiescence, and stood on one side of a great chimney, which was filled with glowing logs, waiting for the irishman to speak. he was entirely unprepared, however, for the consideration, even the impersonal kindness in dermott's voice as he said, "i'm afraid i'm letting you in for a pretty bad time, ravenel." frank bowed. even mcdermott was forced to admire his serene manner. "miss dulany told me last night of her obligation to you." frank waited with no change of expression for dermott to proceed. "she said she desired her money obligation to be paid immediately." "it is an affair of small moment," frank answered. "you know, perhaps, that my cousin, madame de nemours, left her property to miss dulany?" "i heard of it at the time," frank returned. "and named me as executor," dermott explained. "a fact which escaped me," ravenel answered, suavely. "it has taken some time to settle the estate," dermott continued, "because of a certain claim which, if proven, makes the estate a very valuable one. this claim nearly concerns you." "go on," frank said, briefly, discourteously as well. "i do not know," dermott continued, "whether you are aware or not that your father made an earlier marriage than the one with your mother." an ominous chill passed over frank, though he answered, bravely, "i was not." "when he was living at tours he married a girl, an irish girl, who ran away from a convent to become his wife. she was but sixteen at the time. her name was patricia mcdermott, my cousin, afterward the countess de nemours." frank continued to listen, but, although his eyes held keen apprehension and his face was white, he showed a fine courage. "my uncle, her father, was an ardent roman catholic," dermott explained, "a gloomy, overfed, and melancholy man who never forgave his daughter. in a short time your father seemed to have"--dermott coughed--"tired of the affair," he explained, lightly, "and, his studies being finished, he left his wife and child and returned to america. i do not desire to dwell on the misery of my cousin and her child. she was cared for by some poor folks; my uncle gave her a death-bed forgiveness; the child died, and in process of time she married the count de nemours. after the death of her second husband, she gave me full charge of her affairs, and among her papers i found documents relating to this early marriage. the year before your father's death i met him, quite by accident, in new york. the name was familiar to me. i asked questions, found he was married and had a son, yourself. "mr. ravenel," dermott changed his tone of recital to a more intimate one, "to speak truth, the matter is inexplicable to me. your father was a brilliant man; a man of the world who, if he had no religious scruples on the subject of bigamy, must have had respect for law. why," dermott rose from the table by which he had been sitting, and stood directly facing frank--"why he should have made a second marriage, with a wife and child living in france, is beyond explanation." frank drew back, his face colorless, his lips drawn, and, as the horrid import of the news became clear, "ah, god!" he whispered; and then, with memory of his father uppermost, "it's a damned lie!" he cried. "it may be," dermott returned, calmly. "most things are open to that interpretation. i'm afraid, however, you will have difficulty in proving it so. i have had the certificates of the marriage and of the birth of the child for a long time, but international law requires much. i have living witnesses. in carolina, in looking up the matter," he spoke the word vaguely, "i failed to find anything which would disprove the points i have just placed before you. i was awaiting some letters from france before explaining the case to you, when katrine demanded that her debt to you be paid immediately. there are many reasons why i do not wish to pay that debt now, reasons which we, as men, can understand. she might not comprehend them, and she certainly would not give the idea a straw's weight if she did, having once made up her mind. now i'm going to tell her that i've paid her debt, mr. ravenel. it will comfort her. but with the matter which i have revealed to you still a little unsettled, and the markets in the state they are in, i cannot do my duty as executor and fulfil her desires immediately. after all, it is a small amount, and if my personal check--" he waited, and ravenel spoke. "mr. mcdermott, miss dulany's indebtedness to me is too slight to consider. about this other terrible business, i shall search my father's papers! it is necessary that i do everything i can to protect my mother's name as well as my own." "that's reason," dermott agreed. "as to miss dulany--" both men turned, for at the far end of the room katrine stood, under the swinging light of a japanese lamp, regarding them. she came rapidly toward them, her head a little forward, her cheeks scarlet, and a gleam of temper in her eyes, which frank had never seen, but with which dermott was not unfamiliar, and took a place between them. "see!" she cried, smiling, and there was never another woman in all the world who had the appealing smile of katrine dulany. "don't let us make this all so dreadful. there is just some mistake," she said, with a gesture of impatience; and from here she went on with a certain terrifying ability, peculiarly her own, to come directly to a point. "oh," she said, with a gesture including them both, "you've done what i asked you not to do, dermott!" she said. "you've claimed a yet unproven thing. i'm tired of the whole of it. it is better that we three should understand one another altogether and not go talking by twos," and she faced dermott as she turned. "you may prove everything, and i'll never believe a word of it! give me ravenel, and i'll return it to those to whom it belongs. it's his," indicating frank, "and his mother's, and they shall keep it, no matter what you prove! as for me!" she laughed, giving herself a shake as a bird does. "hark!" she cried, raising one finger. softly, as a bird calls to the purpling east at dawn, she took a note, listening intently, going up, up, up, till the tone, a mere thread of gladness, reached high e, where it swelled, rounder and fuller, until it seemed to fill all space, descending in a sparkling shower of chromatics to lower g. "did you mark that?" she cried, in a defiant bit of appreciation of herself. "what do i need with money? i can go out on the streets and come back with hands full." and before they could answer she had disappeared through one of the long windows of the piazza. "and what do you think of that, now?" demanded dermott of frank, with a touch of the brogue, as they stood together in some bewilderment, looking after her. xxv katrine in new york the following morning, in a drizzling rain and wind from the east, dermott mcdermott stood beside katrine at the station, arranging for her comfort, directing her maid, and wiring nora in new york, lest she should be unprepared for this hastily determined return to the city. "i was sorry for ravenel last night, katrine," he said, with an earnest sympathy in his tone. "i think i have never known a man who drew me to him less; but that has nothing to do with the matter. i was sorry for him," he repeated. "isn't it a dreadful performance, this tragedy of life?" he demanded, looking down at her intently, unmindful of noise of luggage or the shrill voices of the passers to and fro. "but the thing to do," he cried, straightening himself and raising his chest, "is to show a brave front always! never let the world know you're downed in anything. so carry all off with a laugh and a song. plant flowers on the graves, flowers for the world to see, and for the great power above as well, that he may know we are not whining--that we're down here doing the best we can." they stood, hands clasped, on the platform as the train drew in, looking into each other's eyes, and katrine's lips trembled as she spoke the word "good-bye." "sure it's not 'good-bye' at all," dermott cried, changing his mood to cheer her--"not 'good-bye' at all! i'll be in town in a day or two bothering you with my visits and advice. and if anything definite turns up about the ravenel matter i'll write you. do you know, katrine, i felt so sorry for him last night i'm almost hoping he can disprove everything." and katrine found, as the train pulled out, that there was another who had not been unmindful of her going, for frank's man appeared from nowhere, touched his hat with accented deference, gave her a letter in silence, and disappeared into the blankness from which he came. but for the envelope she held, katrine might have believed him a vision that had passed. there was no formal beginning. the letter ran: i shall not see you again until i know the truth. you will understand the reasons. i am going to ravenel to-day to make some investigations. of the outcome of these i cannot speak. in all of this there is one thing sure. everything may be changed in my life but my love for you. f.r. it was still early in october when katrine returned to new york and to nora, who was waiting for her in an old-fashioned apartment just off washington square. the irishwoman had driven a thrifty bargain for the place, and in a well-contented spirit was setting up the household goods. there was a great porch at the rear of the rooms, with locust-trees in the yard below, and nora had already put flowers in pots about it, to make a "nearly garden," she explained. here, for over a month, katrine enjoyed the homemaking; the arranging of her paris belongings; the transformation of the shabby surroundings into a delightful spot of restful color and peace. the day after her arrival from the van rensselaer's, nora announced, with a twinkle in her eye, that there was a gentleman below whom she had told to come right up, and barney o'grady entered before his mother had ceased speaking. katrine greeted him with affectionate remembrance, smiling as she did so at the change in this boy whom she had helped to new york. he was flashily dressed, after the style of a college freshman, and conversed, as she discovered, in a language known only to the new york newspaper man, who, as some one told her later, has a "slanguage" all his own. no one could have been more helpful than he, in their present situation, however, and katrine learned anew day by day the gratitude he cherished toward her for the help given so long before. slender and tall, with red face and high cheek-bones, thin nose turned upward, showing the inside of the nostril, and the lines like a parenthesis mark on either side of the mouth, he scanned the world alertly with his pale-blue eyes, scenting news like a human hunter-dog. but he had many of the faults of his race, for with fine insight and ability to forecast events, he fell short in the execution of his brave schemes; failed to keep the respect of others after he had won it; accepted insufficient proof on all subjects, relying dangerously on a much-vaunted intuition, a fault in him which changed katrine's whole life. in a way, he had become a power in the newspaper world, and had, as she discovered, a knowledge of the private affairs of prominent people which seemed supernatural; and it was a habit of his to look over the names in a newspaper, remarking cheerfully at intervals: "there's another man that i could put in jail." but there was an unworded matter which gave katrine a kinder feeling toward barney than either her love for nora or any past acquaintance between them might have done, and this was his admiration for frank ravenel. if barney had any knowledge, directly, through nora, or indirectly through his intuition, of the interwovenness of katrine's life with ravenel's, he had the taste and the ability to conceal it. but his literary temperament got the better of him where katrine was concerned, and before a week was past he set up a hopeless passion for her, as she laughingly put it. "he'd die for you, miss katrine," nora explained one evening. "sure i don't doubt it for a minute, if there were enough people by to see him do it," katrine answered, with irish comprehension. with this over-informed person, her little french maid, whom barney called "her irresponsible frenchiness," and nora, katrine spent a busy month trying to forget her meeting with frank entirely. in the daytime she could do this, but at night she wondered much concerning him--if he were back at ravenel; if dermott had proceeded in the bitter business concerning the early marriage, with many plans for readjustments in case he had done so. through barney, who still clung to many of his north carolina associates, katrine had news of frank's return to ravenel immediately after the van rensselaer visit, and of a sudden journey to france following close upon the heels of his return. early in november--it was the afternoon of the first snowfall--delayed letters came from josef containing the st. petersburg contracts for her signature. she was to have her première in may, and josef wrote that he would go up from paris with her. this arrangement was widely published at the time in london and paris, so that the claim afterward made that katrine's metropolitan engagement was cancelled because of her divine forgetfulness the night she was to sing for melba can be proven utterly untrue. in the mail containing the contracts came other letters, the most important being one from dermott, stating as an incident that her debt to frank had been cancelled, and as a matter of pronounced importance that he was wearing a new green tie. he ended by saying that he would give an account of his stewardship on january st, and that he hoped he had done his duty to her and his dearly remembered cousin. he wrote no word of ravenel, neither of developments nor compromises, and katrine concluded not unnaturally that the matter had been allowed to rest. but she reckoned without two important persons in this conclusion. the first was mcdermott, who, as he put it, "wasn't going to betray a trust because a girl flouted him a bit"; and the second, ravenel himself, who was showing a fine honor and great courage in the quiet, unflagging search he was making for the truth. she saw mcdermott but twice during this time, though he sent almost daily messages or tokens of his remembrance. during his first visit he mentioned, casually, however, the disturbed condition of wall street, and that he was watching the money situation day and night with little time for visiting. his second coming was a fortnight later. in the afternoon katrine had been reading by the fire an old italian tale of love and death. it seemed hardly an epoch-making experience in her life, and yet there had come to her, like the letting in of sudden light, the knowledge that love was beyond and above reason, as religion is, as life itself, of which love is the cause. she had worked to forget, had been taught how to forget, yet she knew she had not forgotten, and that her listlessness since her visit to mrs. van rensselaer had been chiefly worry lest trouble should come to frank. at five nora brought in the tea-things, and katrine closed the book over which she had been dreaming. "nora," she began, for the irishwoman was like a mother to her, "did you ever forget your first love?" "i did worse than that, i married him. barney's the result," was the answer. "but you never could have married any one else but dennis, could you?" katrine persisted. "niver!" the little old woman returned, with ready decision. "he bate me, miss katrine, and misprized me, and came and wint as he listed, and finally left me altogether; but i could never have chose another. it's the way with irishwomen, that! the drame of it niver comes but the wance--niver but the wance," she repeated, looking into the fire, but seeing the old sea-wall at killybegs, with flowers on top of it, against a cloudy sky, and a sailor boy with bold black eyes calling to her from the boats. and katrine, her tea forgotten, repeated, "it's that way with irishwomen--the dream never comes but once." at sunset the bitter wind which had been blowing all day long turned into a gale, a rascal wind, which slapped a handful of sleet and ice, hard as glass, on one side of your face, and scurried round the corner to come back and strike harder from an entirely different direction. the storm must have suited his mood in some way, for dermott mcdermott chose to walk through it, arriving at katrine's door breathless and flushed, the fur of his coat gleaming with ice and snow. here he found a glowing fire, with the old mahogany settle on one side and the green grandmother's chair on the other; the dull glow of old tapestry; flowers; the odor of mignonette; and katrine herself, in a scarlet gown, delighted as a child at his coming. perhaps it was the clatter and roaring and discomfort without which accentuated the peace and happiness within, and led him, more than he knew, to that precipitancy of conduct which ended disastrously for him. as he sat in the great green chair katrine looked up at him from the settle, and something in the intensity of his gaze made her make a quick gesture of warning to him before he spoke. "will you marry me, katrine?" she looked again quickly, to see if he could be jesting. in north carolina it was his custom to ask her every day; but his sudden pallor and the choked voice told how terribly he was in earnest. she answered, with a note of despair in her voice, "i wish with all my heart i could, dermott." "and why not?" he asked. "it wouldn't be fair to you. there is some one else," she explained, bravely, a great wave of coloring coming to her face at the confession. "whom ye will marry?" he asked. she shook her head. "i think not. it seems as if i could almost say i hope not." "dear," dermott said, "i've loved you--always--ever since i've known you. when you were just a wee bit girl in new york, six years ago, and ye stood off the mob of boys who were baiting the old jew--since then i've taken every thought for you i could. and i'm asking you to believe me when i tell you that i want your happiness more than my own. i've felt always that you'll never succeed as a public singer, and here of late, since i've known the st. petersburg contracts were signed, i've suffered in my thoughts of you. we'll just leave another suitor out of the question. it's these public appearances of yours i dread at the present. if stage life could be as it seems from the right side of the footlights; if you knew nothing of the people or their lives, except as valentine or siegfried, it would be different. but the meanness of it; the little jealousies; the ignorant egotisms; i am afraid you can never do it, you will despise it so." he waited a little as though recalling stage life, in which he had taken some active part, before he continued with a noble selfishness. "and i dread this st. petersburg experience! you, just a bit of a girl alone, with nobody but an old irishwoman and that josef, who has a rainbow in his soul but no common-sense in his head. so, whether you care or not, i want you to know, to remember, if trouble comes, that there's a man here in new york thinking always of you, _one who would give his life to save you from pain_." xxvi dermott mcdermott "you who were ever alert to befriend a man, you who were ever the first to defend a man, you who had always the money to lend a man down on his luck and hard up for a v. sure you'll be playing a harp in beatitude (and a quare sight you will be in that attitude) some day, where gratitude seems but a platitude, you'll find your latitude." about christmas-time the metropolitan managers offered katrine an engagement for next season. in a lengthy interview with their extremely courteous representative she explained her inability to accept the very flattering terms by reason of the already signed st. petersburg contracts. although there seemed no definite outcome from the interview, the gentleman with whom it was held left her, as all did, charmed by her sincerity, her enthusiasm, and her great generosity. the following week melba was indisposed, and the much-impressed gentleman of the metropolitan wrote to katrine, asking if she would sing for them in the great prima-donna's place. she accepted the offer with small hesitation, asking no one's advice about an unheralded début. she was too great an artist to desire anything but stern criticism, and if she could sing greatly, she reasoned, the public would be quick enough to discover it. the opera to be given was "faust." her costumes were quite ready by reason of her paris début, and she went to the morning rehearsals with the same joy in her work that she had known when studying with josef. about four of the afternoon, before the final rehearsal, it began to snow persistently in small flakes which dropped evenly from a leaden sky. standing by the window, twisting the curtain-string unconsciously, with her soul out in the storm, she became conscious of excited cries of "extra!" in the street below, and as though in accompaniment to them there came an incessant ringing of the bell at the street door. nora being absent on some self-appointed business of her own, the maid who had brought in the tea, and one of the very damp papers which the boys were still crying below, left the room with some abruptness to see what was demanded below and who was clamoring for admission. katrine, left alone, poured the tea herself, her eyes scanning the news indifferently until they rested on some heavy black lines heading the last column. again and again she looked, hoping that the printing would stay still, would stop seeming to dance up and down between the floor and ceiling--stop long enough for her to get its dreadful import: =reported assignment of francis ravenel!= * * * * * =combined attack made on m.s. and r. railroad!= * * * * * =mr. ravenel dangerously ill at the savoy!= * * * * * dangerously ill! dangerously ill! dangerously ill! the words began going over and over in her brain, seeming to strike from within on her temples in a kind of hammering that she felt would set her mad. she stood helpless, her career, her work, her ambition gone from her in a divine self-forgetting and desire to help, as his gayety, his charm, "his difference" from all others came back to her. she made new excuses for his conduct. she told herself, as a mother might speak of a child, that he had been so spoiled. she remembered only the best of him--his kindness to her father, his generosity to herself. she had long since realized the weight of frank's words the morning of their parting. "and remember, that if i did not do the best, i did not do the worst; that i am going away when i might stay," and she knew, looking back on her youth and trustfulness, how much truth there might have been in those words. she clasped her hands to her head trying to think. the throbbing in her head began to be followed by horrid sensations of things around going far away to an immeasurable distance, and returning again rapidly and horribly enlarged. "dangerously ill!" she repeated. "dying, perhaps, alone in hotel rooms with none but paid attendance." her throat became choked at thought of it. "father in heaven," she cried, her hands clasped together, "help me to help him! don't let him suffer!" she pleaded. "i promised to help him always. help me to keep my promise!" * * * * * outside, the controversy between the maid at the door and some other was growing louder, and a demanding, forceful, insolent voice was insisting upon seeing katrine "immejit," as the frightened french girl came back to the room in a panic of fear. "a gentleman to see you, mademoiselle." "i can see no one," katrine answered, briefly, her face averted. "he says his business is most important." "who is it, marcelle?" she asked. "it is nora's son, mademoiselle, and he has been drinking; but if i were you, i'd see him." the significance of the girl's tone changed katrine's former decision. "tell him to come in," she said. barney came as far as the doorway and stood leaning against the frame of it, his eyes hot and angry, waving a newspaper wildly over his head. "of all the damned dirty businesses," he cried, "this is the damnedest and dirtiest i ever got up against! 'combined attack," he quoted, striking the printed words with his fist. "do you know the name of that combination? dermott mcdermott, that's its name. there may be a few others mixed up in it--marix, for instance--for looks only. but it's mcdermott at the bottom; this same mcdermott mother's always tellin' me to imitate. damned rascal! he's hated mr. ravenel and downed him because be thinks you love him. hit him when he's down, too!" he was too excited to sit down, but walked back and forth, talking loudly with excited gestures. "mr. ravenel got back from europe only three days ago, tuesday, and in the evening he sent for me to come to the savoy. miss katrine, i've never seen so dreadful a change in any one. he was like an old man. the look of death was on him, and he said he'd sent for me to cheer him up with my talk." the boy was unable to continue for the sobs which shook him, and he covered his face with his hands for a space before he could proceed. "he'd found bad news in europe, he told me, and wanted me to cheer him up. i stayed the night with him, and in the morning when i called him he did not answer, but just lay still and white, looking at me, unable to speak. we got dr. johnston right away, and telegraphed mr. ravenel's mother, who arrived the next day. yesterday morning that hound marix, whose affairs are all mixed up with mcdermott's, sent this note to me." he extended a bit of yellow paper toward her, upon which was written: "sell ravenel stocks within the next twenty-four hours, and hold for the bottom to drop out of them." "but i'll get even with him, this marix!" barney shrieked, in his rage. "the only reason he gives me tips is because i know something disgraceful of him! i'll publish him from one end of the country to the other! i'll send him to the penitentiary! but i can't reach mcdermott! oh," he cried, with clinched fists, "if i only could!" "i can," katrine said, quietly; asking, after a minute's doubting, "you're sure it is dermott mcdermott who is at the foot of the trouble?" "who else has the money or the reasons to make such an attack?" he demanded of her as an answer. "and marix as good as told me mcdermott had some big deal on against the ravenel interests last month." she stood looking up at him, the folded yellow paper in her hand, driven by race instinct to fight in the open, to get into the enemy's country, especially if mcdermott were the enemy. with an angry light in her eyes she called for a storm-cloak and demanded a cab, setting nora and her remonstrances aside with abrupt decision. giving the cabman the address of mcdermott's down-town offices, she sat in the dark of the carriage with the paper barney had given her clutched in her hand, with neither consideration of the coming interview nor formulated plans. in a vague way she knew that people stared after her, as she went through the corridor of the great building, the hood of her storm-cloak thrown back. unminding, she rapped at mcdermott's private door. she had no misgiving about his being there. she knew in some way, before she left her apartment, that he would be there when she arrived. "come in!" he called, curtly. she entered to find him alone, standing by the window looking absent-mindedly over the snowy chimney-tops, as though projecting a holiday. "by all the saints at once!" he cried, gayly, at sight of her. "here have i been ruminating on the sins of the fathers; on the triumphant fifth act, with vice punished and virtue rewarded at the fall of the curtain, when you enter!" and here her silence and pallor and accusing eyes stopped his talking. "what is it, katrine?" he demanded. "did you bring this trouble to mr. ravenel?" she asked, her eyes filled with a dangerous light which in a second was matched by the blaze in his. "do you mean that ye think it was i who struck a man in the back in the way this thing was done?" he cried, bringing his closed fist down on the newspaper, which lay on the desk before him, in a splendid kind of anger. "how little you know me, after all!" he said, reproach in his voice. "how little ye know me! i've had neither art or part in it, nor suspicion of it until to-day. you'll be wanting proof of it!" he went on, a bit of scorn in his voice. "if so, mayhap the common-sense of the situation will appeal to you, though i don't know." he was angry, and she felt the brunt of it in these words. "look you!" he continued. "why should i be ruining an estate that i'm trying to get possession of? it would be a fool's part to play." "forgive me, mcdermott!" she cried. "oh, forgive me! i want no further proof. your face is enough for me. but i'm beside myself with grief." "i suppose," he continued, "that you reasoned i was capable of this because of that affair about the land on the other side of the river?" "i did think of it," katrine admitted. "forgive me for it, dermott, but i did think of it!" "do you know for whom i bought that land, katrine dulany? for your father--no less. it was got with the hope of helping him. it stands in his name in the state records to-day." "oh, dermott!" she pleaded, the irish form of speech coming back to her. "you'll just be forgiving me, won't you?" she put her hand on his sleeve and looked up at him with imploring eyes. "you must know how great and good i still believed you to be when i tell you that i came to you to ask you to help him. i've some money--the countess, you know," she explained--"and i thought if you'd faith in my voice--and ye've said often that ye have--that if"--she broke into a storm of weeping--"if you'd just lend him the money that's needed i could sing the debt clear in the years to come." dermott looked down at the bowed head upon his old desk, his eyes moist, his lips twitching. "perhaps," he broke in, the angry light still in his eyes, "ye'll tell me who accuses me of this business?" for answer she extended toward him the yellow paper which barney had given her, signed with john marix's initials. "and so you believed barney, although ye know his weakness for jumping at conclusions? ye must have believed him, for my name's not mentioned here," he said, looking at the paper. "he told me mr. marix had intimated to him that you were behind the attack." "ah! and so it's marix that's been misusing my name, is it?" he cried, his eyes narrowed. "i'll settle with him!" and then, "ye love ravenel, katrine?" "yes," she answered: "there's just nothing else in life for me." "and after all that's gone between him and me, you are asking _me to help him_?" "dermott," she said, gravely, sobbing between the words, "i came to you because i have always known the greatness, the selflessness of you, and i trust you." they stood in silence, not looking at each other. "i have no one else," she went on. "there is no one else in the world i trust as i do you." he held himself more erect at the words, a great light in his face. "you are the only one who has always, always been kind to me," she continued, "and i'd give all there is of me to come to you, heart whole, as your wife. but i can't do it, dermott, i can't do it! i've tried; no one knows how i tried to forget this love in my heart. i studied to forget, worked to forget, _willed_ to forget, but"--and here she spoke the truth of life--"when great love has once been between a man and a woman, the man may forget, but the woman never. i've wealth and beauty, they say, and gift, and they're all just nothing to me except to help him. before i'd been two days at the van rensselaer's it was just as it had been in carolina. it was only fear that kept me from saying i'd marry him." "he wants to marry you now? he has asked you?" dermott spoke softly for her sake, keeping from his voice the scorn he felt for ravenel. "yes," she returned. "and i know all you're thinking; but it makes no difference! when i think of him, ill, perhaps dying, his fortune gone, and nameless, maybe, as well, i'd give my soul to save him!" she cried, tear-eyed and pale, but glorious in self-abnegation. she had risen and stood before him with eyes uplifted and unseeing. for a moment only she stood thus, before, the strain of the time proving too great for her to endure longer, she turned suddenly, and but for his supporting arm would have fallen. for a little while her dear, dark head lay against his breast, a moment never to be forgotten by him, though with stoical delicacy he refrained from thoughts which might have offended her could she have known them. he had grown very white before she recovered herself, but the great light still shone in his eyes as he placed a hand tenderly on her shoulder. "go home, little girl," he said. "go home and be at peace. i give my word to help him. i give my word that all, so far as i can make it, will be well with him." "ah," she cried, "you are so good, so good!" he made no answer whatever, standing gray-faced by the window, looking into the storm without as she drew her cloak about her. "good-bye," she said. "i'll take you to the carriage," he answered, quietly. "the storm is still violent, i see." coming back to the office, he locked the door, drew the curtains, and sat beside the dying fire alone. in the outer room he could hear the click of poker dice, could even distinguish the voices of the players, but they seemed far off. life itself seemed slipping from him. suddenly he threw himself face downward on the rug in front of the fire and lay shivering, catching his breath every little while in dry sobs, impossible for any one to endure for long. every little while he clutched the edge of the rug in his sinewy hand, not knowing in his agony what he did. the dreams and hopes of six years had been taken from him, and a great imagined future built on those dreams as well. the glory of his life had departed, and in his passionate misery there seemed nothing ahead for him but gray skies and barren land and bitter waters. all night and far into the morning he lay. about five, the storm outside having died away, the gray light began showing faintly at the window edges, and with the coming of the dawn the soul of the man gripped him and demanded an accounting. "was this the way he helped?" he asked himself, accusingly. by chairs and desk, for his strength was spent, he reached a small cabinet, and, finding a certain powder, took one, and, after a little while, another. then he felt his pulse, timing it by the watch as he did so. satisfied, he crossed the room to a safe, and with uncertain hands placed package after package of papers on the desk in careful order. last, from an inner compartment, he took one labelled "ravenel," and stood looking at it with speculative eyes. the case was so complete. quantrelle and his brother, a curé of dieppe, of known integrity, had sworn themselves as witnesses, through an open window, of madame de nemours' marriage. but what of it? katrine could never marry a man with a disputed name! still looking at the bundle, he struck a match. it flared up, sputtered, and went out, as though giving him time for second thought. resolutely he lighted another, set the flame to the papers for a second time, and in an instant whatever trouble they contained for frank ravenel was nothing but smoke in the chimney. "god forgive me!" he cried, as he sat down to write the following letter: dear ravenel,--you will remember, i said in my last interview that the matter upon which we spoke could not be fully proven until i received further letters from france. they have come, and i hasten to write you that the marriage we spoke of was not a legal one, the witness, quantrelle le rouge, being a great liar. it is thoroughly proven. pray give yourself no more anxiety on the subject, and forgive me for doing what my duty prompted me to do. the thing is completely by with as far as i am concerned, and i have burned all of the papers relative to the matter. with best wishes for your complete restoration to health, i remain, sincerely yours, dermott mcdermott. he folded the letter and sealed it, a curious smile upon his lips as he did so. afterward he began looking over securities and making a list of them in steady, fine writing for the work in the day to come. about eight he went to his hotel, bathed, dressed himself for the day, and neither of the facts that his heart was breaking, nor that he was about to shake the money market of new york, prevented him from regarding himself critically in the mirror to see if he showed suffering, nor from changing his neck-scarf to one of gallant red. underneath the bitterness of his heart lay a desire to square accounts with marix. but it was part of his nature to excuse the weak, and on the way down to wall street the remembrance of the broker's timid-looking wife and the three little ones came to him. it was easy, after all, to forgive. marix was too unintelligent to understand that it paid to be honest. "perhaps," he reasoned, "god meant that even the fools and traitors should be helped, too." going into the stock-room, he looked over the quotations of the day before in an unimportant manner, waiting for marix to come in. "hello! hello!" he cried, at sight of him, with a genial laugh, putting a hand on each of the little broker's shoulders and looking down at him with warning eyes. "i'm going on the floor myself to-day. it's been a long time since i've been there. ravenel and i have come to an understanding," his long, sinewy hands gripped marix for a minute so hard they made him wince, "and i'm going on to protect his interests." the blue light of battle was in his eyes; his hat was far back on his head and his hands thrust deep in his pockets as he waited for the gong to call him to the fight. he saw that many were regarding him curiously, and his cheeks flushed with the celtic instinct to do the thing well--dramatically well. he knew that, in the long night vigil, part of him had died forever, but with chin well up, like a knight of old, he went, at the sound of the great bell, to battle for the happiness of the woman he loved. xxvii self-surrender when katrine returned to her apartment after her visit to dermott, she found nora, with an excited countenance, waiting for her at the door. finger on lip, she indicated a wish for katrine to follow to her bedroom. "miss katrine," she said, closing the door by backing against it, "there's one waiting for you. and you must think quick whether ye want to see her--with all that it may mean to you--with the rehearsal to-night. though, poor lady, god knows her troubles! it's mrs. ravenel," she concluded. "alone?" katrine asked. "yes, and with the tears streaming from her eyes and the look of death on her face. mr. frank's dyin', they say. but i want you to think--to think for yourself, miss katrine. remember the night in paris, when the world hung on your voice! think of the afternoon when the greatest queen on earth kissed ye, after ye'd sung to her, with dukes and other creatures standin' round admirin'! think that, if your voice fails ye to-night because of excitement and worry, it may be a check on your whole career! think of the beautiful clothes laid out for ye to wear, and judge if it's worth while taking chances for a man who flung ye away like a worn-out glove!" "oh, nora!" cried katrine, reproachfully, "how can any one think of a voice in a time like this?" as katrine entered, mrs. ravenel turned from the fire by which she was standing and came toward her with outstretched hands. her eyes were red with weeping, and there was a hurried, despairing note in her voice as she spoke. "katrine dulany," she said, "i've come to you for help." years of thought could not have given her better words, and the strong, young hands enfolded the cold ones of the suffering mother. "if there is anything i can do for you, i will do it, oh, so gladly!" katrine answered. "frank is very"--mrs. ravenel hesitated, as though lacking courage to speak her fears--"perhaps dangerously ill. for nearly two months the trouble has been coming on--ever since he was at the van rensselaers'. when he came back to me in north carolina he had changed. he seemed struggling to throw off some heavy burden. his old gayety was gone, and he was always going to marlton to look for records or asking me for more of his father's papers. at times he seemed half distracted, and would sit looking at me with brooding eyes with pity in them. but when he came back from europe, just two weeks ago to-day"--the poor lady's voice was choked with sobs, and katrine put a supporting arm around her with beautiful tenderness as she waited for her to continue--"he looked so ill i cried out at first sight of him. and he does not care to live! i can't make it out. it's not the money trouble. money could never worry frank. he cares too little for it! last week," she went on, her voice losing itself in sobs, "anne lennox wrote me of your being at the van rensselaers', and of its being said there that frank had asked you to marry him and that you had refused. then i remembered that he told me, three years ago, of loving some one very greatly. last night he became delirious, and in the fever he called your name over and over again, crying always, 'oh, katrine, forgive!' and that's what i've come to ask you to do--to forgive--to forgive him and me for all the wrong i taught him, for the weak and foolish way i brought him up--to forgive and come to him." "there is nothing not forgiven," katrine said. "i would give my life to save him," and the two clung to each other, weeping, before setting out, wifehood and motherhood, to battle with death. well hidden by the curtains, nora watched katrine enter the carriage after mrs. ravenel, realizing, with more anger than she had ever felt, all that the going meant. she had hoped that after a few years of the singing katrine's heart would turn to dermott, and as she saw her hopes fade away she shook her head knowingly, with even a touch of vindictive satisfaction. "there are two kinds of men," she reflected, her eyes on the departing carriage: "the man who wants a woman to put her head on his shoulder, and the man who wants to put his head on a woman's shoulder. and when a girl's fool enough to like the last kind best, she generally pays." xxviii under the southern pines once more when mrs. ravenel and katrine entered frank's apartments they found dr. johnston by the window of the sitting-room, and, with no spoken word, katrine knew he had been waiting for her to come. his face bespoke more than professional anxiety; it bore a look of sorrow and the dread of losing a dear friend. according katrine but a scant nod of recognition, he crossed to the door of the sleeping-room, and, after looking in, made a gesture, stealthy and cautious, for katrine to enter. the room was dark save for a night light. frank's face was turned toward her, his eyes closed. one hand, helpless, unutterably appealing, lay outside the white cover, and at sight of him thus it seemed her heart would break. with a swift movement she knelt beside the bed, waiting to take the poor, tired head upon her breast. as her eyes grew accustomed to the light, she saw his lips tremble. "dear," she said. there was silence, and then: "it is worth all--it is worth all--for this," he whispered. "touch me, katrine!" and she laid her cheek on his. "katrine?" "yes, dear." "you will stay? i will try to sleep now if you will touch me. katrine, you will not slip away?" "i shall stay until you are quite well, beloved." at three in the morning he awoke with a shiver. "where are you?" he called. "where are you, katrine?" "here," she answered, laying a hand on his cheek. "ah, thank god!" * * * * * it was over a month before mrs. ravenel and katrine were able to take frank south, where he longed to be. the st. petersburg engagement was cancelled, and the metropolitan manager, angry at katrine's forgetfulness to notify him that she could not sing the night mrs. ravenel had come for her, made many caustic newspaper criticisms. but both events seemed entirely unimportant to her, for frank's paralysis, which the doctors had believed but a temporary affair, did not leave him as soon as had been hoped. there was a splendid celtic recklessness in the way she surrendered everything for him, a generosity which mrs. ravenel saw with commending eyes, believing it, by some strange mother-reasoning, to be but just. but frank was far from taking the same attitude in the matter. almost the first day he was able to be wheeled on the great piazza in the sunshine he spoke to katrine of the time she must soon leave, to keep the st. petersburg engagements. "i have no st. petersburg engagements," she explained, briefly. "i cancelled them." he sat with closed eyes, but she saw the tears between the lids as he spoke. "i have not had the courage to tell you," he said, at length, slowly, "before, but all that mcdermott said is true, katrine." "indeed!" words could not explain the tone. she might have received news of the andaman islanders as carelessly. "you know what it means to me!" he said, after a silence. "i know what you think it means to you," she answered. "it means that i have and am nothing. when i think of mother--" he looked at katrine, with her radiant beauty, as she reached upward for an early rose. "and your friend mcdermott," he went on, "has done a strange thing. this morning i opened my mail for the first time since my illness. in it i found a letter from him, saying that it could be proven that my father had never made an early marriage, and that quantrelle was a great liar. i don't understand it. i saw quantrelle myself, as well as his brother, when i was in france. there is not a doubt the marriage was an entirely legal one, not the shadow of a doubt. ah," he cried, "katrine, it seems to kill me when i think of it!" "francis ravenel," she cried, the old smile on her face as she came toward him and placed her hand caressingly on his cheek, "you told me once, not long ago, to ask you to marry me. i do." "do what?" "ask you to marry me." "and i refuse," he said, firmly. "i will not be married through pity." "oh, very well." she seated herself on some cushions on the top step, humming softly, as though his words were of no moment whatever. "you don't think i mean it, do you?" he demanded, at length. she made no answer whatever. "katrine," he said, at length. "yes." "what are you thinking of?" "i've gone away," she answered. "i was not being treated very well, and so i went away. i'm over in my dreaming land, my own country." "ah, come back to me!" he cried. "very well," she said, obligingly, though she made no movement toward him. "i've been rebuilding the old lodge, in my thoughts, for josef. it will be such a wonderful place for him to rest in! he will want the first floor made into one room. and nora and i will come there in the summer-time, when we're not singing. perhaps you will come to visit us sometime, mr. ravenel!" she said, politely. "katrine, katrine!" he pleaded. "it would be so unfair to you." "nonsense," she returned, shortly. there was surely never anything kinder or better in the world than this belittling of the whole matter. "and i may never be strong again--" "then i can have my own way more," she laughed. "and your voice--" "beloved," she said, gravely, "i can never give up my singing. don't think me vain when i say i sing too well to make it _right_ for me to give it up. i don't believe that anybody who does a thing well, who has the real gift, _can_ give it up. but that i shall never have to sing for _money_ is a great happiness for me. i can sing for the poorer folk, for the ones who really feel. ah," she cried, "i've plans of my own, josef and i! and the study and the pain were to teach me how unimportant all things are in this world save only love." "katrine! katrine!" he cried, "you must help me to be square to you!" he raised his hand, feeble from illness, in the manner of one who takes an oath. "i solemnly swear that i will never do you the _injustice_--" "don't!" she cried, springing quickly to her feet and catching the upraised hand quickly to her breast. "don't!" adding quickly, with a laugh, "it's dreadful to commit perjury!" their hands were still clasped as mrs. ravenel came out to join them. in the lavender gown, with her fair face smiling, and carrying a work-bag of the interminable knitting in one hand, she did not look in the least the emissary of fate she really was. "mr. de peyster has sent some letters, frank. he writes me that none of them are of importance, but that you may care to look them over. and they made me think of a great envelope of papers which i had meant to send to you before you were taken ill. i found it just after you had been looking up all those family affairs, before you went abroad! i put them with my knitting, and naturally forgot. your father gave it to me, oh, so many years ago! and i put it in the cedar chest." she gave the papers to frank, talking in a gay, unimportant manner as she did so. "isn't that curious on the outside?" she demanded. "'_to be opened in case my will is ever disputed._' now, who did your father think would ever dispute his will? i had been a faithful and," she laughed, "more or less obedient wife for many years. and you were too small to dispute anything except matters with your tutor. don't look them over now, dearest, they may worry you!" frank took the envelope with an inexplicable feeling of hope. that his mother had forgotten important papers did not surprise him in the least. she had once taken a mortgage held by his father and pasted it over a place in a chimney where it smoked. she said herself that her temperament was not one for affairs. a quick exchange of glances passed between frank and katrine as he excused himself to go to his room for rest, and then, alone at twilight, he broke the seal upon the confession of that francis who had preceded him. to his utter confounding, he discovered in the envelope a certificate of legal marriage between francis ravenel and patricia mcdermott, duly witnessed and sealed. wrapped with several letters which had been exchanged between them was a detailed account of the unfortunate affair in his father's crooked writing, and inside of all a bill of divorce, which had been obtained in illinois previous to the elder ravenel's marriage with the beautiful julie d'hauteville, of new orleans. as frank read the history of the boyish folly he felt that little excusing was needed for his dead father, for the early marriage seemed but an escapade of a spoiled and self-indulgent boy with a headstrong and sentimental girl, neither of whom had taken a thought for the future. "my wife renounced her faith to marry me [his father wrote]. the first year of our marriage, which was a legal one only, was one of great unhappiness, for at heart patricia remained a catholic still. she was depressed, suspicious, afraid of the future. recriminations and quarrels were constant between us. finally, i went to america with no farewell to my wife, to acquaint my father with my foolish act, and to ask him to make some suitable provision for us. immediately following my departure, i discovered, my wife re-entered the catholic church. soon afterward i heard that her father had extended his forgiveness, and that she had been welcomed back by her kinfolk in ireland. hearing nothing from her whatever, with the procrastination which was ever one of my great faults, i put off doing anything about the annulment of the marriage until the father of quantrelle le rouge wrote me that he had heard of her death as well as that of the child. but before my marriage to mademoiselle d'hauteville, i took the precaution to obtain a divorce quietly in illinois. even if patricia were living and should marry again, i knew she needed no protection to make the marriage a valid one, as her church had never recognized that she was married to me, the ceremony having been performed by a protestant." frank laid aside the papers, and, with his head thrown back and his eyes closed, sat in the gathering darkness thinking, with neither continuity nor result, of that strange life--current which, the family history claimed, connected him backward to the song-making minstrels of the time of charlemagne; to the gallant lovers in the time of the stuarts; to the self-indulgent and magnetic ravenels of north carolina. what had they done? dermott's question came back to him again and again, and through the depression into which this thinking was leading him he heard katrine singing softly on the piazza underneath his window. like a child he rose and went to her. she was standing by one of the great white columns looking into the shadowy pine-trees as he came. he did not touch her. he had such fear of breaking utterly before her that he said, with forced quietude of voice: "i've changed my mind about marrying you, katrine." in spite of his effort to be calm, his voice broke into something like a sob as he spoke her name. "yes," she said, realizing what the import of the papers must have been. after he had told katrine the important fact in his father's statement, there came to him with a sudden suspicion of the truth the remembrance of dermott's letter, in which the irishman had stated that whatever documents he had held concerning the early marriage of the elder ravenel had been burned. taking the letter from his pocket, he gave it to katrine, who read it in the fading light and returned it wordlessly. she had turned her face away that frank might not see the glow of admiration she felt for that irish dermott whom frank could never understand. "what do you think of the letter, katrine?" frank asked. "i fail utterly to understand it. dermott knew, when he wrote it, that my father had made that early marriage. it had been proven beyond the shadow of a doubt even to me. i feel sure that he knew nothing of a divorce or he would have mentioned it." "i think," katrine said, softly, "that dermott told a story. you remember"--her voice broke a little--"you discovered long ago he didn't always tell the truth." "and you think, then," frank insisted, "that when mcdermott wrote this letter," he made a motion with it as he spoke, "he still believed that my father and mother were never legally married?" "he believed just that," katrine answered. "he told me so the day he wrote the letter." "but why did he write me what he believed to be an untruth? why did he burn papers which he must have believed to be valuable evidence?" "it's a way of his," katrine answered, vaguely. "katrine," frank cried, "there is more to this! why did mcdermott do this thing for me?" "he told me he would help you." "when?" "the day i went down to wall street to ask him to stop the attack on your firm, when you were so ill. it was the day i told him that i loved you." "and loving you himself, as he has always done, he did this for me?" she made a sign of acquiescence. "ah!" he cried, the glow of enthusiasm in his eyes. "i have never understood the man, but, before god, i honor and reverence him for what he did. there is much of the hero in this strange dermott mcdermott." "i have known that always," katrine answered. "and still you prefer to marry me?" she was standing at a little distance from him, and as their eyes met she nodded her curly head quickly, as a child might have done. "ah," he cried, opening his arms to her, "come to me, come to me, you divine little soul! i'm not worthy, but god knows how i will try to be!" and a little later: "it is cold for you here," he said. "shall we go in, mrs. francis ravenel?" the end +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | transcriber's note: | | | | inconsistent hyphenation and dialect spelling in the | | original document have been preserved. | | | | obvious typographical errors have been corrected in this | | text. for a complete list, please see the end of document. | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ the colonel's dream a novel by charles w. chesnutt harlem moon broadway books new york published in by doubleday, new york. the colonel's dream dedication _to the great number of those who are seeking, in whatever manner or degree, from near at hand or far away, to bring the forces of enlightenment to bear upon the vexed problems which harass the south, this volume is inscribed, with the hope that it may contribute to the same good end._ _if there be nothing new between its covers, neither is love new, nor faith, nor hope, nor disappointment, nor sorrow. yet life is not the less worth living because of any of these, nor has any man truly lived until he has tasted of them all._ list of characters _colonel henry french_, a retired merchant _mr. kirby_, } _mrs. jerviss_, } his former partners _philip french_, the colonel's son _peter french_, his old servant _mrs. treadwell_, an old lady _miss laura treadwell_, her daughter _graciella treadwell_, her granddaughter _malcolm dudley_, a treasure-seeker _ben dudley_, his nephew _viney_, his housekeeper _william fetters_, a convict labour contractor _barclay fetters_, his son _bud johnson_, a convict labourer _caroline_, his wife _henry taylor_, a negro schoolmaster _william nichols_, a mulatto barber _haynes_, a constable one two gentlemen were seated, one march morning in --, in the private office of french and company, limited, on lower broadway. mr. kirby, the junior partner--a man of thirty-five, with brown hair and mustache, clean-cut, handsome features, and an alert manner, was smoking cigarettes almost as fast as he could roll them, and at the same time watching the electric clock upon the wall and getting up now and then to stride restlessly back and forth across the room. mr. french, the senior partner, who sat opposite kirby, was an older man--a safe guess would have placed him somewhere in the debatable ground between forty and fifty; of a good height, as could be seen even from the seated figure, the upper part of which was held erect with the unconscious ease which one associates with military training. his closely cropped brown hair had the slightest touch of gray. the spacious forehead, deep-set gray eyes, and firm chin, scarcely concealed by a light beard, marked the thoughtful man of affairs. his face indeed might have seemed austere, but for a sensitive mouth, which suggested a reserve of humour and a capacity for deep feeling. a man of well-balanced character, one would have said, not apt to undertake anything lightly, but sure to go far in whatever he took in hand; quickly responsive to a generous impulse, and capable of a righteous indignation; a good friend, a dangerous enemy; more likely to be misled by the heart than by the head; of the salt of the earth, which gives it savour. mr. french sat on one side, mr. kirby on the other, of a handsome, broad-topped mahogany desk, equipped with telephones and push buttons, and piled with papers, account books and letter files in orderly array. in marked contrast to his partner's nervousness, mr. french scarcely moved a muscle, except now and then to take the cigar from his lips and knock the ashes from the end. "nine fifty!" ejaculated mr. kirby, comparing the clock with his watch. "only ten minutes more." mr. french nodded mechanically. outside, in the main office, the same air of tense expectancy prevailed. for two weeks the office force had been busily at work, preparing inventories and balance sheets. the firm of french and company, limited, manufacturers of crashes and burlaps and kindred stuffs, with extensive mills in connecticut, and central offices in new york, having for a long time resisted the siren voice of the promoter, had finally faced the alternative of selling out, at a sacrifice, to the recently organised bagging trust, or of meeting a disastrous competition. expecting to yield in the end, they had fought for position--with brilliant results. negotiations for a sale, upon terms highly favourable to the firm, had been in progress for several weeks; and the two partners were awaiting, in their private office, the final word. should the sale be completed, they were richer men than they could have hoped to be after ten years more of business stress and struggle; should it fail, they were heavy losers, for their fight had been expensive. they were in much the same position as the player who had staked the bulk of his fortune on the cast of a die. not meaning to risk so much, they had been drawn into it; but the game was worth the candle. "nine fifty-five," said kirby. "five minutes more!" he strode over to the window and looked out. it was snowing, and the march wind, blowing straight up broadway from the bay, swept the white flakes northward in long, feathery swirls. mr. french preserved his rigid attitude, though a close observer might have wondered whether it was quite natural, or merely the result of a supreme effort of will. work had been practically suspended in the outer office. the clerks were also watching the clock. every one of them knew that the board of directors of the bagging trust was in session, and that at ten o'clock it was to report the result of its action on the proposition of french and company, limited. the clerks were not especially cheerful; the impending change meant for them, at best, a change of masters, and for many of them, the loss of employment. the firm, for relinquishing its business and good will, would receive liberal compensation; the clerks, for their skill, experience, and prospects of advancement, would receive their discharge. what else could be expected? the principal reason for the trust's existence was economy of administration; this was stated, most convincingly, in the prospectus. there was no suggestion, in that model document, that competition would be crushed, or that, monopoly once established, labour must sweat and the public groan in order that a few captains, or chevaliers, of industry, might double their dividends. mr. french may have known it, or guessed it, but he was between the devil and the deep sea--a victim rather than an accessory--he must take what he could get, or lose what he had. "nine fifty-nine!" kirby, as he breathed rather than spoke the words, threw away his scarcely lighted cigarette, and gripped the arms of his chair spasmodically. his partner's attitude had not varied by a hair's breadth; except for the scarcely perceptible rise and fall of his chest he might have been a wax figure. the pallor of his countenance would have strengthened the illusion. kirby pushed his chair back and sprung to his feet. the clock marked the hour, but nothing happened. kirby was wont to say, thereafter, that the ten minutes that followed were the longest day of his life. but everything must have an end, and their suspense was terminated by a telephone call. mr. french took down the receiver and placed it to his ear. "it's all right," he announced, looking toward his partner. "our figures accepted--resolution adopted--settlement to-morrow. we are----" the receiver fell upon the table with a crash. mr. french toppled over, and before kirby had scarcely realised that something was the matter, had sunk unconscious to the floor, which, fortunately, was thickly carpeted. it was but the work of a moment for kirby to loosen his partner's collar, reach into the recesses of a certain drawer in the big desk, draw out a flask of brandy, and pour a small quantity of the burning liquid down the unconscious man's throat. a push on one of the electric buttons summoned a clerk, with whose aid mr. french was lifted to a leather-covered couch that stood against the wall. almost at once the effect of the stimulant was apparent, and he opened his eyes. "i suspect," he said, with a feeble attempt at a smile, "that i must have fainted--like a woman--perfectly ridiculous." "perfectly natural," replied his partner. "you have scarcely slept for two weeks--between the business and phil--and you've reached the end of your string. but it's all over now, except the shouting, and you can sleep a week if you like. you'd better go right up home. i'll send for a cab, and call dr. moffatt, and ask him to be at the hotel by the time you reach it. i'll take care of things here to-day, and after a good sleep you'll find yourself all right again." "very well, kirby," replied mr. french, "i feel as weak as water, but i'm all here. it might have been much worse. you'll call up mrs. jerviss, of course, and let her know about the sale?" when mr. french, escorted to the cab by his partner, and accompanied by a clerk, had left for home, kirby rang up the doctor, and requested him to look after mr. french immediately. he then called for another number, and after the usual delay, first because the exchange girl was busy, and then because the line was busy, found himself in communication with the lady for whom he had asked. "it's all right, mrs. jerviss," he announced without preliminaries. "our terms accepted, and payment to be made, in cash and bonds, as soon as the papers are executed, when you will be twice as rich as you are to-day." "thank you, mr. kirby! and i suppose i shall never have another happy moment until i know what to do with it. money is a great trial. i often envy the poor." kirby smiled grimly. she little knew how near she had been to ruin. the active partners had mercifully shielded her, as far as possible, from the knowledge of their common danger. if the worst happened, she must know, of course; if not, then, being a woman whom they both liked--she would be spared needless anxiety. how closely they had skirted the edge of disaster she did not learn until afterward; indeed, kirby himself had scarcely appreciated the true situation, and even the senior partner, since he had not been present at the meeting of the trust managers, could not know what had been in their minds. but kirby's voice gave no hint of these reflections. he laughed a cheerful laugh. "if the world only knew," he rejoined, "it would cease to worry about the pains of poverty, and weep for the woes of wealth." "indeed it would!" she replied, with a seriousness which seemed almost sincere. "is mr. french there? i wish to thank him, too." "no, he has just gone home." "at this hour?" she exclaimed, "and at such a time? what can be the matter? is phil worse?" "no, i think not. mr. french himself had a bad turn, for a few minutes, after we learned the news." faces are not yet visible over the telephone, and kirby could not see that for a moment the lady's grew white. but when she spoke again the note of concern in her voice was very evident. "it was nothing--serious?" "oh, no, not at all, merely overwork, and lack of sleep, and the suspense--and the reaction. he recovered almost immediately, and one of the clerks went home with him." "has dr. moffatt been notified?" she asked. "yes, i called him up at once; he'll be at the mercedes by the time the patient arrives." there was a little further conversation on matters of business, and kirby would willingly have prolonged it, but his news about mr. french had plainly disturbed the lady's equanimity, and kirby rang off, after arranging to call to see her in person after business hours. mr. kirby hung up the receiver with something of a sigh. "a fine woman," he murmured, "i could envy french his chances, though he doesn't seem to see them--that is, if i were capable of envy toward so fine a fellow and so good a friend. it's curious how clearsighted a man can be in some directions, and how blind in others." mr. french lived at the mercedes, an uptown apartment hotel overlooking central park. he had scarcely reached his apartment, when the doctor arrived--a tall, fair, fat practitioner, and one of the best in new york; a gentleman as well, and a friend, of mr. french. "my dear fellow," he said, after a brief examination, "you've been burning the candle at both ends, which, at your age won't do at all. no, indeed! no, indeed! you've always worked too hard, and you've been worrying too much about the boy, who'll do very well now, with care. you've got to take a rest--it's all you need. you confess to no bad habits, and show the signs of none; and you have a fine constitution. i'm going to order you and phil away for three months, to some mild climate, where you'll be free from business cares and where the boy can grow strong without having to fight a raw eastern spring. you might try the riviera, but i'm afraid the sea would be too much for phil just yet; or southern california--but the trip is tiresome. the south is nearer at hand. there's palm beach, or jekyll island, or thomasville, asheville, or aiken--somewhere down in the pine country. it will be just the thing for the boy's lungs, and just the place for you to rest. start within a week, if you can get away. in fact, you've _got_ to get away." mr. french was too weak to resist--both body and mind seemed strangely relaxed--and there was really no reason why he should not go. his work was done. kirby could attend to the formal transfer of the business. he would take a long journey to some pleasant, quiet spot, where he and phil could sleep, and dream and ride and drive and grow strong, and enjoy themselves. for the moment he felt as though he would never care to do any more work, nor would he need to, for he was rich enough. he would live for the boy. phil's education, his health, his happiness, his establishment in life--these would furnish occupation enough for his well-earned retirement. it was a golden moment. he had won a notable victory against greed and craft and highly trained intelligence. and yet, a year later, he was to recall this recent past with envy and regret; for in the meantime he was to fight another battle against the same forces, and others quite as deeply rooted in human nature. but he was to fight upon a new field, and with different weapons, and with results which could not be foreseen. but no premonition of impending struggle disturbed mr. french's pleasant reverie; it was broken in a much more agreeable manner by the arrival of a visitor, who was admitted by judson, mr. french's man. the visitor was a handsome, clear-eyed, fair-haired woman, of thirty or thereabouts, accompanied by another and a plainer woman, evidently a maid or companion. the lady was dressed with the most expensive simplicity, and her graceful movements were attended by the rustle of unseen silks. in passing her upon the street, any man under ninety would have looked at her three times, the first glance instinctively recognising an attractive woman, the second ranking her as a lady; while the third, had there been time and opportunity, would have been the long, lingering look of respectful or regretful admiration. "how is mr. french, judson?" she inquired, without dissembling her anxiety. "he's much better, mrs. jerviss, thank you, ma'am." "i'm very glad to hear it; and how is phil?" "quite bright, ma'am, you'd hardly know that he'd been sick. he's gaining strength rapidly; he sleeps a great deal; he's asleep now, ma'am. but, won't you step into the library? there's a fire in the grate, and i'll let mr. french know you are here." but mr. french, who had overheard part of the colloquy, came forward from an adjoining room, in smoking jacket and slippers. "how do you do?" he asked, extending his hand. "it was mighty good of you to come to see me." "and i'm awfully glad to find you better," she returned, giving him her slender, gloved hand with impulsive warmth. "i might have telephoned, but i wanted to see for myself. i felt a part of the blame to be mine, for it is partly for me, you know, that you have been overworking." "it was all in the game," he said, "and we have won. but sit down and stay awhile. i know you'll pardon my smoking jacket. we are partners, you know, and i claim an invalid's privilege as well." the lady's fine eyes beamed, and her fair cheek flushed with pleasure. had he only realised it, he might have claimed of her any privilege a woman can properly allow, even that of conducting her to the altar. but to him she was only, thus far, as she had been for a long time, a very good friend of his own and of phil's; a former partner's widow, who had retained her husband's interest in the business; a wholesome, handsome woman, who was always excellent company and at whose table he had often eaten, both before and since her husband's death. nor, despite kirby's notions, was he entirely ignorant of the lady's partiality for himself. "doctor moffatt has ordered phil and me away, for three months," he said, after mrs. jerviss had inquired particularly concerning his health and phil's. "three months!" she exclaimed with an accent of dismay. "but you'll be back," she added, recovering herself quickly, "before the vacation season opens?" "oh, certainly; we shall not leave the country." "where are you going?" "the doctor has prescribed the pine woods. i shall visit my old home, where i was born. we shall leave in a day or two." "you must dine with me to-morrow," she said warmly, "and tell me about your old home. i haven't had an opportunity to thank you for making me rich, and i want your advice about what to do with the money; and i'm tiring you now when you ought to be resting." "do not hurry," he said. "it is almost a pleasure to be weak and helpless, since it gives me the privilege of a visit from you." she lingered a few moments and then went. she was the embodiment of good taste and knew when to come and when to go. mr. french was conscious that her visit, instead of tiring him, had had an opposite effect; she had come and gone like a pleasant breeze, bearing sweet odours and the echo of distant music. her shapely hand, when it had touched his own, had been soft but firm; and he had almost wished, as he held it for a moment, that he might feel it resting on his still somewhat fevered brow. when he came back from the south, he would see a good deal of her, either at the seaside, or wherever she might spend the summer. when mr. french and phil were ready, a day or two later, to start upon their journey, kirby was at the mercedes to see them off. "you're taking judson with you to look after the boy?" he asked. "no," replied mr. french, "judson is in love, and does not wish to leave new york. he will take a vacation until we return. phil and i can get along very well alone." kirby went with them across the ferry to the jersey side, and through the station gates to the waiting train. there was a flurry of snow in the air, and overcoats were comfortable. when mr. french had turned over his hand luggage to the porter of the pullman, they walked up and down the station platform. "i'm looking for something to interest us," said kirby, rolling a cigarette. "there's a mining proposition in utah, and a trolley railroad in oklahoma. when things are settled up here, i'll take a run out, and look the ground over, and write to you." "my dear fellow," said his friend, "don't hurry. why should i make any more money? i have all i shall ever need, and as much as will be good for phil. if you find a good thing, i can help you finance it; and mrs. jerviss will welcome a good investment. but i shall take a long rest, and then travel for a year or two, and after that settle down and take life comfortably." "that's the way you feel now," replied kirby, lighting another cigarette, "but wait until you are rested, and you'll yearn for the fray; the first million only whets the appetite for more." "all aboard!" the word was passed along the line of cars. kirby took leave of phil, into whose hand he had thrust a five-dollar bill, "to buy popcorn on the train," he said, kissed the boy, and wrung his ex-partner's hand warmly. "good-bye," he said, "and good luck. you'll hear from me soon. we're partners still, you and i and mrs. jerviss." and though mr. french smiled acquiescence, and returned kirby's hand clasp with equal vigour and sincerity, he felt, as the train rolled away, as one might feel who, after a long sojourn in an alien land, at last takes ship for home. the mere act of leaving new york, after the severance of all compelling ties, seemed to set in motion old currents of feeling, which, moving slowly at the start, gathered momentum as the miles rolled by, until his heart leaped forward to the old southern town which was his destination, and he soon felt himself chafing impatiently at any delay that threatened to throw the train behind schedule time. "he'll be back in six weeks," declared kirby, when mrs. jerviss and he next met. "i know him well; he can't live without his club and his counting room. it is hard to teach an old dog new tricks." "and i'm sure he'll not stay away longer than three months," said the lady confidently, "for i have invited him to my house party." "a privilege," said kirby gallantly, "for which many a man would come from the other end of the world." but they were both mistaken. for even as they spoke, he whose future each was planning, was entering upon a new life of his own, from which he was to look back upon his business career as a mere period of preparation for the real end and purpose of his earthly existence. _two_ the hack which the colonel had taken at the station after a two-days' journey, broken by several long waits for connecting trains, jogged in somewhat leisurely fashion down the main street toward the hotel. the colonel, with his little boy, had left the main line of railroad leading north and south and had taken at a certain way station the one daily train for clarendon, with which the express made connection. they had completed the forty-mile journey in two or three hours, arriving at clarendon at noon. it was an auspicious moment for visiting the town. it is true that the grass grew in the street here and there, but the sidewalks were separated from the roadway by rows of oaks and elms and china-trees in early leaf. the travellers had left new york in the midst of a snowstorm, but here the scent of lilac and of jonquil, the song of birds, the breath of spring, were all about them. the occasional stretches of brick sidewalk under their green canopy looked cool and inviting; for while the chill of winter had fled and the sultry heat of summer was not yet at hand, the railroad coach had been close and dusty, and the noonday sun gave some slight foretaste of his coming reign. the colonel looked about him eagerly. it was all so like, and yet so different--shrunken somewhat, and faded, but yet, like a woman one loves, carried into old age something of the charm of youth. the old town, whose ripeness was almost decay, whose quietness was scarcely distinguishable from lethargy, had been the home of his youth, and he saw it, strange to say, less with the eyes of the lad of sixteen who had gone to the war, than with those of the little boy to whom it had been, in his tenderest years, the great wide world, the only world he knew in the years when, with his black boy peter, whom his father had given to him as a personal attendant, he had gone forth to field and garden, stream and forest, in search of childish adventure. yonder was the old academy, where he had attended school. the yellow brick of its walls had scaled away in places, leaving the surface mottled with pale splotches; the shingled roof was badly dilapidated, and overgrown here and there with dark green moss. the cedar trees in the yard were in need of pruning, and seemed, from their rusty trunks and scant leafage, to have shared in the general decay. as they drove down the street, cows were grazing in the vacant lot between the bank, which had been built by the colonel's grandfather, and the old red brick building, formerly a store, but now occupied, as could be seen by the row of boxes visible through the open door, by the post-office. the little boy, an unusually handsome lad of five or six, with blue eyes and fair hair, dressed in knickerbockers and a sailor cap, was also keenly interested in the surroundings. it was saturday, and the little two-wheeled carts, drawn by a steer or a mule; the pigs sleeping in the shadow of the old wooden market-house; the lean and sallow pinelanders and listless negroes dozing on the curbstone, were all objects of novel interest to the boy, as was manifest by the light in his eager eyes and an occasional exclamation, which in a clear childish treble, came from his perfectly chiselled lips. only a glance was needed to see that the child, though still somewhat pale and delicate from his recent illness, had inherited the characteristics attributed to good blood. features, expression, bearing, were marked by the signs of race; but a closer scrutiny was required to discover, in the blue-eyed, golden-haired lad, any close resemblance to the shrewd, dark man of affairs who sat beside him, and to whom this little boy was, for the time being, the sole object in life. but for the child the colonel was alone in the world. many years before, when himself only a boy, he had served in the southern army, in a regiment which had fought with such desperate valour that the honour of the colonelcy had come to him at nineteen, as the sole survivor of the group of young men who had officered the regiment. his father died during the last year of the civil war, having lived long enough to see the conflict work ruin to his fortunes. the son had been offered employment in new york by a relative who had sympathised with the south in her struggle; and he had gone away from clarendon. the old family "mansion"--it was not a very imposing structure, except by comparison with even less pretentious houses--had been sold upon foreclosure, and bought by an ambitious mulatto, who only a few years before had himself been an object of barter and sale. entering his uncle's office as a clerk, and following his advice, reinforced by a sense of the fitness of things, the youthful colonel had dropped his military title and become plain mr. french. putting the past behind him, except as a fading memory, he had thrown himself eagerly into the current of affairs. fortune favoured one both capable and energetic. in time he won a partnership in the firm, and when death removed his relative, took his place at its head. he had looked forward to the time, not very far in the future, when he might retire from business and devote his leisure to study and travel, tastes which for years he had subordinated to the pursuit of wealth; not entirely, for his life had been many sided; and not so much for the money, as because, being in a game where dollars were the counters, it was his instinct to play it well. he was winning already, and when the bagging trust paid him, for his share of the business, a sum double his investment, he found himself, at some years less than fifty, relieved of business cares and in command of an ample fortune. this change in the colonel's affairs--and we shall henceforth call him the colonel, because the scene of this story is laid in the south, where titles are seldom ignored, and where the colonel could hardly have escaped his own, even had he desired to do so--this change in the colonel's affairs coincided with that climacteric of the mind, from which, without ceasing to look forward, it turns, at times, in wistful retrospect, toward the distant past, which it sees thenceforward through a mellowing glow of sentiment. emancipated from the counting room, and ordered south by the doctor, the colonel's thoughts turned easily and naturally to the old town that had given him birth; and he felt a twinge of something like remorse at the reflection that never once since leaving it had he set foot within its borders. for years he had been too busy. his wife had never manifested any desire to visit the south, nor was her temperament one to evoke or sympathise with sentimental reminiscence. he had married, rather late in life, a new york woman, much younger than himself; and while he had admired her beauty and they had lived very pleasantly together, there had not existed between them the entire union of souls essential to perfect felicity, and the current of his life had not been greatly altered by her loss. toward little phil, however, the child she had borne him, his feeling was very different. his young wife had been, after all, but a sweet and pleasant graft upon a sturdy tree. little phil was flesh of his flesh and bone of his bone. upon his only child the colonel lavished all of his affection. already, to his father's eye, the boy gave promise of a noble manhood. his frame was graceful and active. his hair was even more brightly golden than his mother's had been; his eyes more deeply blue than hers; while his features were a duplicate of his father's at the same age, as was evidenced by a faded daguerreotype among the colonel's few souvenirs of his own childhood. little phil had a sweet temper, a loving disposition, and endeared himself to all with whom he came in contact. the hack, after a brief passage down the main street, deposited the passengers at the front of the clarendon hotel. the colonel paid the black driver the quarter he demanded--two dollars would have been the new york price--ran the gauntlet of the dozen pairs of eyes in the heads of the men leaning back in the splint-bottomed armchairs under the shade trees on the sidewalk, registered in the book pushed forward by a clerk with curled mustaches and pomatumed hair, and accompanied by phil, followed the smiling black bellboy along a passage and up one flight of stairs to a spacious, well-lighted and neatly furnished room, looking out upon the main street. _three_ when the colonel and phil had removed the dust and disorder of travel from their appearance, they went down to dinner. after they had eaten, the colonel, still accompanied by the child, left the hotel, and following the main street for a short distance, turned into another thoroughfare bordered with ancient elms, and stopped for a moment before an old gray house with high steps and broad piazza--a large, square-built, two-storied house, with a roof sloping down toward the front, broken by dormer windows and buttressed by a massive brick chimney at either end. in spite of the gray monotone to which the paintless years had reduced the once white weatherboarding and green venetian blinds, the house possessed a certain stateliness of style which was independent of circumstance, and a solidity of construction that resisted sturdily the disintegrating hand of time. heart-pine and live-oak, mused the colonel, like other things southern, live long and die hard. the old house had been built of the best materials, and its woodwork dowelled and mortised and tongued and grooved by men who knew their trade and had not learned to scamp their work. for the colonel's grandfather had built the house as a town residence, the family having owned in addition thereto a handsome country place upon a large plantation remote from the town. the colonel had stopped on the opposite side of the street and was looking intently at the home of his ancestors and of his own youth, when a neatly dressed coloured girl came out on the piazza, seated herself in a rocking-chair with an air of proprietorship, and opened what the colonel perceived to be, even across the street, a copy of a woman's magazine whose circulation, as he knew from the advertising rates that french and co. had paid for the use of its columns, touched the million mark. not wishing to seem rude, the colonel moved slowly on down the street. when he turned his head, after going a rod or two, and looked back over his shoulder, the girl had risen and was re-entering the house. her disappearance was promptly followed by the notes of a piano, slightly out of tune, to which some one--presumably the young woman--was singing in a high voice, which might have been better had it been better trained, _"i dreamt that i dwe-elt in ma-arble halls with vassals and serfs at my si-i-ide."_ the colonel had slackened his pace at the sound of the music, but, after the first few bars, started forward with quickened footsteps which he did not relax until little phil's weight, increasing momentarily, brought home to him the consciousness that his stride was too long for the boy's short legs. phil, who was a thoroughbred, and would have dropped in his tracks without complaining, was nevertheless relieved when his father's pace returned to the normal. their walk led down a hill, and, very soon, to a wooden bridge which spanned a creek some twenty feet below. the colonel paused for a moment beside the railing, and looked up and down the stream. it seemed narrower and more sluggish than his memory had pictured it. above him the water ran between high banks grown thick with underbrush and over-arching trees; below the bridge, to the right of the creek, lay an open meadow, and to the left, a few rods away, the ruins of the old eureka cotton mill, which in his boyhood had harboured a flourishing industry, but which had remained, since sherman's army laid waste the country, the melancholy ruin the colonel had seen it last, when twenty-five years or more before, he left clarendon to seek a wider career in the outer world. the clear water of the creek rippled harmoniously down a gentle slope and over the site where the great dam at the foot had stood, while birds were nesting in the vines with which kindly nature had sought to cloak the dismantled and crumbling walls. mounting the slope beyond the bridge, the colonel's stride now carefully accommodated to the child's puny step, they skirted a low brick wall, beyond which white headstones gleamed in a mass of verdure. reaching an iron gate, the colonel lifted the latch, and entered the cemetery which had been the object of their visit. "is this the place, papa?" asked the little boy. "yes, phil, but it is farther on, in the older part." they passed slowly along, under the drooping elms and willows, past the monuments on either hand--here, resting on a low brick wall, a slab of marble, once white, now gray and moss-grown, from which the hand of time had well nigh erased the carved inscription; here a family vault, built into the side of a mound of earth, from which only the barred iron door distinguished it; here a pedestal, with a time-worn angel holding a broken fragment of the resurrection trumpet; here a prostrate headstone, and there another bending to its fall; and among them a profusion of rose bushes, on some of which the early roses were already blooming--scarcely a well-kept cemetery, for in many lots the shrubbery grew in wild unpruned luxuriance; nor yet entirely neglected, since others showed the signs of loving care, and an effort had been made to keep the walks clean and clear. father and son had traversed half the width of the cemetery, when they came to a spacious lot, surrounded by large trees and containing several monuments. it seemed less neglected than the lots about it, and as they drew nigh they saw among the tombs a very black and seemingly aged negro engaged in pruning a tangled rose tree. near him stood a dilapidated basket, partially filled with weeds and leaves, into which he was throwing the dead and superfluous limbs. he seemed very intent upon his occupation, and had not noticed the colonel's and phil's approach until they had paused at the side of the lot and stood looking at him. when the old man became aware of their presence, he straightened himself up with the slow movement of one stiff with age or rheumatism and threw them a tentatively friendly look out of a pair of faded eyes. "howdy do, uncle," said the colonel. "will you tell me whose graves these are that you are caring for?" "yas, suh," said the old man, removing his battered hat respectfully--the rest of his clothing was in keeping, a picturesque assortment of rags and patches such as only an old negro can get together, or keep together--"dis hyuh lot, suh, b'longs ter de fambly dat i useter b'long ter--de ol' french fambly, suh, de fines' fambly in beaver county." "why, papa!" cried little phil, "he means----" "hush, phil! go on, uncle." "yas, suh, de fines' fambly in cla'endon, suh. dis hyuh headstone hyuh, suh, an' de little stone at de foot, rep'esents de grave er ol' gin'al french, w'at fit in de revolution' wah, suh; and dis hyuh one nex' to it is de grave er my ol' marster, majah french, w'at fit in de mexican wah, and died endyoin' de wah wid de yankees, suh." "papa," urged phil, "that's my----" "shut up, phil! well, uncle, did this interesting old family die out, or is it represented in the present generation?" "lawd, no, suh, de fambly did n' die out--'deed dey did n' die out! dey ain't de kind er fambly ter die out! but it's mos' as bad, suh--dey's moved away. young mars henry went ter de norf, and dey say he's got rich; but he ain't be'n back no mo', suh, an' i don' know whether he's ever comin' er no." "you must have been very fond of them to take such good care of their graves," said the colonel, much moved, but giving no sign. "well, suh, i b'longed ter de fambly, an' i ain' got no chick ner chile er my own, livin', an' dese hyuh dead folks 'pears mo' closer ter me dan anybody e'se. de cullud folks don' was'e much time wid a ole man w'at ain' got nothin', an' dese hyuh new w'ite folks wa't is come up sence de wah, ain' got no use fer niggers, now dat dey don' b'long ter nobody no mo'; so w'en i ain' got nothin' e'se ter do, i comes roun' hyuh, whar i knows ev'ybody and ev'ybody knows me, an' trims de rose bushes an' pulls up de weeds and keeps de grass down jes' lak i s'pose mars henry'd 'a' had it done ef he'd 'a' lived hyuh in de ole home, stidder 'way off yandah in de norf, whar he so busy makin' money dat he done fergot all 'bout his own folks." "what is your name?" asked the colonel, who had been looking closely at the old man. "peter, suh--peter french. most er de niggers change' dey names after de wah, but i kept de ole fambly name i wuz raise' by. it wuz good 'nuff fer me, suh; dey ain' none better." "oh, papa," said little phil, unable to restrain himself longer, "he must be some kin to us; he has the same name, and belongs to the same family, and you know you called him 'uncle.'" the old negro had dropped his hat, and was staring at the colonel and the little boy, alternately, with dawning amazement, while a look of recognition crept slowly into his rugged old face. "look a hyuh, suh," he said tremulously, "is it?--it can't be!--but dere's de eyes, an' de nose, an' de shape er de head--why, it _must_ be my young mars henry!" "yes," said the colonel, extending his hand to the old man, who grasped it with both his own and shook it up and down with unconventional but very affectionate vigour, "and you are my boy peter; who took care of me when i was no bigger than phil here!" this meeting touched a tender chord in the colonel's nature, already tuned to sympathy with the dead past of which peter seemed the only survival. the old man's unfeigned delight at their meeting; his retention of the family name, a living witness of its former standing; his respect for the dead; his "family pride," which to the unsympathetic outsider might have seemed grotesque; were proofs of loyalty that moved the colonel deeply. when he himself had been a child of five or six, his father had given him peter as his own boy. peter was really not many years older than the colonel, but prosperity had preserved the one, while hard luck had aged the other prematurely. peter had taken care of him, and taught him to paddle in the shallow water of the creek and to avoid the suck-holes; had taught him simple woodcraft, how to fish, and how to hunt, first with bow and arrow, and later with a shotgun. through the golden haze of memory the colonel's happy childhood came back to him with a sudden rush of emotion. "those were good times, peter, when we were young," he sighed regretfully, "good times! i have seen none happier." "yas, suh! yas, suh! 'deed dem wuz good ole times! sho' dey wuz, suh, sho' dey wuz! 'member dem co'n-stalk fiddles we use' ter make, an' dem elderberry-wood whistles?" "yes, peter, and the robins we used to shoot and the rabbits we used to trap?" "an' dem watermillions, suh--um-m-m, um-m-m-m!" "_y-e-s_," returned the colonel, with a shade of pensiveness. there had been two sides to the watermelon question. peter and he had not always been able to find ripe watermelons, early in the season, and at times there had been painful consequences, the memory of which came back to the colonel with surprising ease. nor had they always been careful about boundaries in those early days. there had been one occasion when an irate neighbour had complained, and major french had thrashed henry and peter both--peter because he was older, and knew better, and henry because it was important that he should have impressed upon him, early in life, that of him to whom much is given, much will be required, and that what might be lightly regarded in peter's case would be a serious offence in his future master's. the lesson had been well learned, for throughout the course of his life the colonel had never shirked responsibility, but had made the performance of duty his criterion of conduct. to him the line of least resistance had always seemed the refuge of the coward and the weakling. with the twenty years preceding his return to clarendon, this story has nothing to do; but upon the quiet background of his business career he had lived an active intellectual and emotional life, and had developed into one of those rare natures of whom it may be truly said that they are men, and that they count nothing of what is human foreign to themselves. but the serenity of peter's retrospect was unmarred by any passing cloud. those who dwell in darkness find it easier to remember the bright places in their lives. "yas, suh, yas, suh, dem watermillions," he repeated with unction, "i kin tas'e 'em now! dey wuz de be's watermillions dat evuh growed, suh--dey doan raise none lack 'em dese days no mo'. an' den dem chinquapin bushes down by de swamp! 'member dem chinquapin bushes, whar we killt dat water moccasin dat day? he wuz 'bout ten foot long!" "yes, peter, he was a whopper! then there were the bullace vines, in the woods beyond the tanyard!" "sho' 'nuff, suh! an' de minnows we use' ter ketch in de creek, an' dem perch in de mill pon'?" for years the colonel had belonged to a fishing club, which preserved an ice-cold stream in a northern forest. for years the choicest fruits of all the earth had been served daily upon his table. yet as he looked back to-day no shining trout that had ever risen to his fly had stirred his emotions like the diaphanous minnows, caught, with a crooked pin, in the crooked creek; no luscious fruit had ever matched in sweetness the sour grapes and bitter nuts gathered from the native woods--by him and peter in their far-off youth. "yas, suh, yas, suh," peter went on, "an' 'member dat time you an' young mars jim wilson went huntin' and fishin' up de country tergether, an' got ti'ed er waitin' on yo'se'ves an' writ back fer me ter come up ter wait on yer and cook fer yer, an' ole marster say he did n' dare ter let me go 'way off yander wid two keerliss boys lak you-all, wid guns an' boats fer fear i mought git shot, er drownded?" "it looked, peter, as though he valued you more than me! more than his own son!" "yas, suh, yas, suh! sho' he did, sho' he did! old marse philip wuz a monstus keerful man, an' _i_ wuz winth somethin', suh, dem times; i wuz wuth five hundred dollahs any day in de yeah. but nobody would n' give five hundred cents fer me now, suh. dey'd want pay fer takin' me, mos' lakly. dey ain' none too much room fer a young nigger no mo', let 'lone a' ol' one." "and what have you been doing all these years, peter?" asked the colonel. peter's story was not a thrilling one; it was no tale of inordinate ambition, no odyssey of a perilous search for the prizes of life, but the bald recital of a mere struggle for existence. peter had stayed by his master until his master's death. then he had worked for a railroad contractor, until exposure and overwork had laid him up with a fever. after his recovery, he had been employed for some years at cutting turpentine boxes in the pine woods, following the trail of the industry southward, until one day his axe had slipped and wounded him severely. when his wound was healed he was told that he was too old and awkward for the turpentine, and that they needed younger and more active men. "so w'en i got my laig kyo'ed up," said the old man, concluding his story, "i come back hyuh whar i wuz bo'n, suh, and whar my w'ite folks use' ter live, an' whar my frien's use' ter be. but my w'ite folks wuz all in de graveya'd, an' most er my frien's wuz dead er moved away, an' i fin's it kinder lonesome, suh. i goes out an' picks cotton in de fall, an' i does arrants an' little jobs roun' de house fer folks w'at 'll hire me; an' w'en i ain' got nothin' ter eat i kin gor oun' ter de ole house an' wo'k in de gyahden er chop some wood, an' git a meal er vittles f'om ole mis' nichols, who's be'n mighty good ter me, suh. she's de barbuh's wife, suh, w'at bought ouah ole house. dey got mo' dan any yuther colored folks roun' hyuh, but dey he'ps de po', suh, dey he'ps de po'." "which speaks well for them, peter. i'm glad that all the virtue has not yet gone out of the old house." the old man's talk rambled on, like a sluggish stream, while the colonel's more active mind busied itself with the problem suggested by this unforeseen meeting. peter and he had both gone out into the world, and they had both returned. he had come back rich and independent. what good had freedom done for peter? in the colonel's childhood his father's butler, old madison, had lived a life which, compared to that of peter at the same age, was one of ease and luxury. how easy the conclusion that the slave's lot had been the more fortunate! but no, peter had been better free. there were plenty of poor white men, and no one had suggested slavery as an improvement of their condition. had peter remained a slave, then the colonel would have remained a master, which was only another form of slavery. the colonel had been emancipated by the same token that had made peter free. peter had returned home poor and broken, not because he had been free, but because nature first, and society next, in distributing their gifts, had been niggardly with old peter. had he been better equipped, or had a better chance, he might have made a better showing. the colonel had prospered because, having no peters to work for him, he had been compelled to work for himself. he would set his own success against peter's failure; and he would take off his hat to the memory of the immortal statesman, who in freeing one race had emancipated another and struck the shackles from a nation's mind. _four_ while the colonel and old peter were thus discussing reminiscences in which little phil could have no share, the boy, with childish curiosity, had wandered off, down one of the shaded paths. when, a little later, the colonel looked around for him, he saw phil seated on a rustic bench, in conversation with a lady. as the boy seemed entirely comfortable, and the lady not at all disturbed, the colonel did not interrupt them for a while. but when the lady at length rose, holding phil by the hand, the colonel, fearing that the boy, who was a child of strong impulses, prone to sudden friendships, might be proving troublesome, left his seat on the flat-topped tomb of his revolutionary ancestor and hastened to meet them. "i trust my boy hasn't annoyed you," he said, lifting his hat. "not at all, sir," returned the lady, in a clear, sweet voice, some haunting tone of which found an answering vibration in the colonel's memory. "on the contrary, he has interested me very much, and in nothing more than in telling me his name. if this and my memory do not deceive me, _you_ are henry french!" "yes, and you are--you are laura treadwell! how glad i am to meet you! i was coming to call this afternoon." "i'm glad to see you again. we have always remembered you, and knew that you had grown rich and great, and feared that you had forgotten the old town--and your old friends." "not very rich, nor very great, laura--miss treadwell." "let it be laura," she said with a faint colour mounting in her cheek, which had not yet lost its smoothness, as her eyes had not faded, nor her step lost its spring. "and neither have i forgotten the old home nor the old friends--since i am here and knew you the moment i looked at you and heard your voice." "and what a dear little boy!" exclaimed miss treadwell, looking down at phil. "he is named philip--after his grandfather, i reckon?" "after his grandfather. we have been visiting his grave, and those of all the frenches; and i found them haunted--by an old retainer, who had come hither, he said, to be with his friends." "old peter! i see him, now and then, keeping the lot in order. there are few like him left, and there were never any too many. but how have you been these many years, and where is your wife? did you bring her with you?" "i buried her," returned the colonel, "a little over a year ago. she left me little phil." "he must be like her," replied the lady, "and yet he resembles you." "he has her eyes and hair," said his father. "he is a good little boy and a lad of taste. see how he took to you at first sight! i can always trust phil's instincts. he is a born gentleman." "he came of a race of gentlemen," she said. "i'm glad it is not to die out. there are none too many left--in clarendon. you are going to like me, aren't you, phil?" asked the lady. "i like you already," replied phil gallantly. "you are a very nice lady. what shall i call you?" "call her miss laura, phil--it is the southern fashion--a happy union of familiarity and respect. already they come back to me, laura--one breathes them with the air--the gentle southern customs. with all the faults of the old system, laura--it carried the seeds of decay within itself and was doomed to perish--a few of us, at least, had a good time. an aristocracy is quite endurable, for the aristocrat, and slavery tolerable, for the masters--and the peters. when we were young, before the rude hand of war had shattered our illusions, we were very happy, laura." "yes, we were very happy." they were walking now, very slowly, toward the gate by which the colonel had entered, with little phil between them, confiding a hand to each. "and how is your mother?" asked the colonel. "she is living yet, i trust?" "yes, but ailing, as she has been for fifteen years--ever since my father died. it was his grave i came to visit." "you had ever a loving heart, laura," said the colonel, "given to duty and self-sacrifice. are you still living in the old place?" "the old place, only it is older, and shows it--like the rest of us." she bit her lip at the words, which she meant in reference to herself, but which she perceived, as soon as she had uttered them, might apply to him with equal force. despising herself for the weakness which he might have interpreted as a bid for a compliment, she was glad that he seemed unconscious of the remark. the colonel and phil had entered the cemetery by a side gate and their exit led through the main entrance. miss laura pointed out, as they walked slowly along between the elms, the graves of many whom the colonel had known in his younger days. their names, woven in the tapestry of his memory, needed in most cases but a touch to restore them. for while his intellectual life had ranged far and wide, his business career had run along a single channel, his circle of intimates had not been very large nor very variable, nor was his memory so overlaid that he could not push aside its later impressions in favour of those graven there so deeply in his youth. nearing the gate, they passed a small open space in which stood a simple marble shaft, erected to the memory of the confederate dead. a wealth of fresh flowers lay at its base. the colonel took off his hat as he stood before it for a moment with bowed head. but for the mercy of god, he might have been one of those whose deaths as well as deeds were thus commemorated. beyond this memorial, impressive in its pure simplicity, and between it and the gate, in an obtrusively conspicuous spot stood a florid monument of granite, marble and bronze, of glaring design and strangely out of keeping with the simple dignity and quiet restfulness of the surroundings; a monument so striking that the colonel paused involuntarily and read the inscription in bronze letters on the marble shaft above the granite base: "'_sacred to the memory of joshua fetters and elizabeth fetters, his wife._ "'_life's work well done, life's race well run, life's crown well won, then comes rest._'" "a beautiful sentiment, if somewhat trite," said the colonel, "but an atrocious monument." "do you think so?" exclaimed the lady. "most people think the monument fine, but smile at the sentiment." "in matters of taste," returned the colonel, "the majority are always wrong. but why smile at the sentiment? is it, for some reason, inappropriate to this particular case? fetters--fetters--the name seems familiar. who was fetters, laura?" "he was the speculator," she said, "who bought and sold negroes, and kept dogs to chase runaways; old mr. fetters--you must remember old josh fetters? when i was a child, my coloured mammy used him for a bogeyman for me, as for her own children." "'look out, honey,' she'd say, 'ef you ain' good, ole mr. fettuhs 'll ketch you.'" yes, he remembered now. fetters had been a character in clarendon--not an admirable character, scarcely a good character, almost a bad character; a necessary adjunct of an evil system, and, like other parasites, worse than the body on which he fed; doing the dirty work of slavery, and very naturally despised by those whose instrument he was, but finding consolation by taking it out of the negroes in the course of his business. the colonel would have expected fetters to lie in an unmarked grave in his own back lot, or in the potter's field. had he so far escaped the ruin of the institution on which he lived, as to leave an estate sufficient to satisfy his heirs and also pay for this expensive but vulgar monument? "the memorial was erected, as you see from the rest of the inscription, 'by his beloved and affectionate son.' that either loved the other no one suspected, for bill was harshly treated, and ran away from home at fifteen. he came back after the war, with money, which he lent out at high rates of interest; everything he touched turned to gold; he has grown rich, and is a great man in the state. he was a large contributor to the soldiers' monument." "but did not choose the design; let us be thankful for that. it might have been like his father's. bill fetters rich and great," he mused, "who would have dreamed it? i kicked him once, all the way down main street from the schoolhouse to the bank--and dodged his angry mother for a whole month afterward!" "no one," suggested miss laura, "would venture to cross him now. too many owe him money." "he went to school at the academy," the colonel went on, unwinding the thread of his memory, "and the rest of the boys looked down on him and made his life miserable. well, laura, in fetters you see one thing that resulted from the war--the poor white boy was given a chance to grow; and if the product is not as yet altogether admirable, taste and culture may come with another generation." "it is to be hoped they may," said miss laura, "and character as well. mr. fetters has a son who has gone from college to college, and will graduate from harvard this summer. they say he is very wild and spends ten thousand dollars a year. i do not see how it can be possible!" the colonel smiled at her simplicity. "i have been," he said, "at a college football game, where the gate receipts were fifty thousand dollars, and half a million was said to have changed hands in bets on the result. it is easy to waste money." "it is a sin," she said, "that some should be made poor, that others may have it to waste." there was a touch of bitterness in her tone, the instinctive resentment (the colonel thought) of the born aristocrat toward the upstart who had pushed his way above those no longer strong enough to resist. it did not occur to him that her feeling might rest upon any personal ground. it was inevitable that, with the incubus of slavery removed, society should readjust itself in due time upon a democratic basis, and that poor white men, first, and black men next, should reach a level representing the true measure of their talents and their ambition. but it was perhaps equally inevitable that for a generation or two those who had suffered most from the readjustment, should chafe under its seeming injustice. the colonel was himself a gentleman, and the descendant of a long line of gentlemen. but he had lived too many years among those who judged the tree by its fruit, to think that blood alone entitled him to any special privileges. the consciousness of honourable ancestry might make one clean of life, gentle of manner, and just in one's dealings. in so far as it did this it was something to be cherished, but scarcely to be boasted of, for democracy is impatient of any excellence not born of personal effort, of any pride save that of achievement. he was glad that fetters had got on in the world. it justified a fine faith in humanity, that wealth and power should have been attained by the poor white lad, over whom, with a boy's unconscious brutality, he had tyrannised in his childhood. he could have wished for bill a better taste in monuments, and better luck in sons, if rumour was correct about fetters's boy. but, these, perhaps, were points where blood _did_ tell. there was something in blood, after all, nature might make a great man from any sort of material: hence the virtue of democracy, for the world needs great men, and suffers from their lack, and welcomes them from any source. but fine types were a matter of breeding and were perhaps worth the trouble of preserving, if their existence were compatible with the larger good. he wondered if bill ever recalled that progress down main street in which he had played so conspicuous a part, or still bore any resentment toward the other participants? "could your mother see me," he asked, as they reached the gate, "if i went by the house?" "she would be glad to see you. mother lives in the past, and you would come to her as part of it. she often speaks of you. it is only a short distance. you have not forgotten the way?" they turned to the right, in a direction opposite to that from which the colonel had reached the cemetery. after a few minutes' walk, in the course of which they crossed another bridge over the same winding creek, they mounted the slope beyond, opened a gate, climbed a short flight of stone steps and found themselves in an enchanted garden, where lilac bush and jessamine vine reared their heads high, tulip and daffodil pushed their way upward, but were all dominated by the intenser fragrance of the violets. old peter had followed the party at a respectful distance, but, seeing himself forgotten, he walked past the gate, after they had entered it, and went, somewhat disconsolately, on his way. he had stopped, and was looking back toward the house--clarendon was a great place for looking back, perhaps because there was little in the town to which to look forward--when a white man, wearing a tinned badge upon his coat, came up, took peter by the arm and led him away, despite some feeble protests on the old man's part. _five_ at the end of the garden stood a frame house with a wide, columned porch. it had once been white, and the windows closed with blinds that still retained a faded tint of green. upon the porch, in a comfortable arm chair, sat an old lady, wearing a white cap, under which her white hair showed at the sides, and holding her hands, upon which she wore black silk mits, crossed upon her lap. on the top step, at opposite ends, sat two young people--one of them a rosy-cheeked girl, in the bloom of early youth, with a head of rebellious brown hair. she had been reading a book held open in her hand. the other was a long-legged, lean, shy young man, of apparently twenty-three or twenty-four, with black hair and eyes and a swarthy complexion. from the jack-knife beside him, and the shavings scattered around, it was clear that he had been whittling out the piece of pine that he was adjusting, with some nicety, to a wooden model of some mechanical contrivance which stood upon the floor beside him. they were a strikingly handsome couple, of ideally contrasting types. "mother," said miss treadwell, "this is henry french--colonel french--who has come back from the north to visit his old home and the graves of his ancestors. i found him in the cemetery; and this is his dear little boy, philip--named after his grandfather." the old lady gave the colonel a slender white hand, thin almost to transparency. "henry," she said, in a silvery thread of voice, "i am glad to see you. you must excuse my not rising--i can't walk without help. you are like your father, and even more like your grandfather, and your little boy takes after the family." she drew phil toward her and kissed him. phil accepted this attention amiably. meantime the young people had risen. "this," said miss treadwell, laying her hand affectionately on the girl's arm, "is my niece graciella--my brother tom's child. tom is dead, you know, these eight years and more, and so is graciella's mother, and she has lived with us." graciella gave the colonel her hand with engaging frankness. "i'm sure we're awfully glad to see anybody from the north," she said. "are you familiar with new york?" "i left there only day before yesterday," replied the colonel. "and this," said miss treadwell, introducing the young man, who, when he unfolded his long legs, rose to a rather imposing height, "this is mr. ben dudley." "the son of malcolm dudley, of mink run, i suppose? i'm glad to meet you," said the colonel, giving the young man's hand a cordial grasp. "his nephew, sir," returned young dudley. "my uncle never married." "oh, indeed? i did not know; but he is alive, i trust, and well?" "alive, sir, but very much broken. he has not been himself for years." "you find things sadly changed, henry," said mrs. treadwell. "they have never been the same since the surrender. our people are poor now, right poor, most of them, though we ourselves were fortunate enough to have something left." "we have enough left for supper, mother," interposed miss laura quickly, "to which we are going to ask colonel french to stay." "i suppose that in new york every one has dinner at six, and supper after the theatre or the concert?" said graciella, inquiringly. "the fortunate few," returned the colonel, smiling into her eager face, "who can afford a seat at the opera, and to pay for and digest two meals, all in the same evening." "and now, colonel," said miss treadwell, "i'm going to see about the supper. mother will talk to you while i am gone." "i must be going," said young dudley. "won't you stay to supper, ben?" asked miss laura. "no, miss laura; i'd like to, but uncle wasn't well to-day and i must stop by the drug store and get some medicine for him. dr. price gave me a prescription on my way in. good-bye, sir," he added, addressing the colonel. "will you be in town long?" "i really haven't decided. a day or two, perhaps a week. i am not bound, at present, by any business ties--am foot-loose, as we used to say when i was young. i shall follow my inclinations." "then i hope, sir, that you'll feel inclined to pay us a long visit and that i shall see you many times." as ben dudley, after this courteous wish, stepped down from the piazza, graciella rose and walked with him along the garden path. she was tall as most women, but only reached his shoulder. "say, graciella," he asked, "won't you give me an answer." "i'm thinking about it, ben. if you could take me away from this dead old town, with its lazy white people and its trifling niggers, to a place where there's music and art, and life and society--where there's something going on all the time, i'd _like_ to marry you. but if i did so now, you'd take me out to your rickety old house, with your daffy old uncle and his dumb old housekeeper, and i should lose my own mind in a week or ten days. when you can promise to take me to new york, i'll promise to marry you, ben. i want to travel, and to see things, to visit the art galleries and libraries, to hear patti, and to look at the millionaires promenading on fifth avenue--and i'll marry the man who'll take me there!" "uncle malcolm can't live forever, graciella--though i wouldn't wish his span shortened by a single day--and i'll get the plantation. and then, you know," he added, hesitating, "we may--we may find the money." graciella shook her head compassionately. "no, ben, you'll never find the money. there isn't any; it's all imagination--moonshine. the war unsettled your uncle's brain, and he dreamed the money." "it's as true as i'm standing here, graciella," replied ben, earnestly, "that there's money--gold--somewhere about the house. uncle couldn't imagine paper and ink, and i've seen the letter from my uncle's uncle ralph--i'll get it and bring it to you. some day the money will turn up, and then may be i'll be able to take you away. meantime some one must look after uncle and the place; there's no one else but me to do it. things must grow better some time--they always do, you know." "they couldn't be much worse," returned graciella, discontentedly. "oh, they'll be better--they're bound to be! they'll just have to be. and you'll wait for me, won't you, graciella?" "oh, i suppose i'll have to. you're around here so much that every one else is scared away, and there isn't much choice at the best; all the young men worth having are gone away already. but you know my ultimatum--i must get to new york. if you are ready before any one else speaks, you may take me there." "you're hard on a poor devil, graciella. i don't believe you care a bit for me, or you wouldn't talk like that. don't you suppose i have any feelings, even if i ain't much account? ain't i worth as much as a trip up north?" "why should i waste my time with you, if i didn't care for you?" returned graciella, begging the question. "here's a rose, in token of my love." she plucked the flower and thrust it into his hand. "it's full of thorns, like your love," he said ruefully, as he picked the sharp points out of his fingers. "'faithful are the wounds of a friend,'" returned the girl. "see psalms, xxvii: ." "take care of my cotton press, graciella; i'll come in to-morrow evening and work on it some more. i'll bring some cotton along to try it with." "you'll probably find some excuse--you always do." "don't you want me to come?" he asked with a trace of resentment. "i can stay away, if you don't." "oh, you come so often that i--i suppose i'd miss you, if you didn't! one must have some company, and half a loaf is better than no bread." he went on down the hill, turning at the corner for a lingering backward look at his tyrant. graciella, bending her head over the wall, followed his movements with a swift tenderness in her sparkling brown eyes. "i love him better than anything on earth," she sighed, "but it would never do to tell him so. he'd get so conceited that i couldn't manage him any longer, and so lazy that he'd never exert himself. i must get away from this town before i'm old and gray--i'll be seventeen next week, and an old maid in next to no time--and ben must take me away. but i must be his inspiration; he'd never do it by himself. i'll go now and talk to that dear old colonel french about the north; i can learn a great deal from him. and he doesn't look so old either," she mused, as she went back up the walk to where the colonel sat on the piazza talking to the other ladies. _six_ the colonel spent a delightful evening in the company of his friends. the supper was typically southern, and the cook evidently a good one. there was smothered chicken, light biscuit, fresh eggs, poundcake and tea. the tablecloth and napkins were of fine linen. that they were soft and smooth the colonel noticed, but he did not observe closely enough to see that they had been carefully darned in many places. the silver spoons were of fine, old-fashioned patterns, worn very thin--so thin that even the colonel was struck by their fragility. how charming, he thought, to prefer the simple dignity of the past to the vulgar ostentation of a more modern time. he had once dined off a golden dinner service, at the table of a multi-millionaire, and had not enjoyed the meal half so much. the dining-room looked out upon the garden and the perfume of lilac and violet stole in through the open windows. a soft-footed, shapely, well-trained negro maid, in white cap and apron, waited deftly upon the table; a woman of serious countenance--so serious that the colonel wondered if she were a present-day type of her race, and if the responsibilities of freedom had robbed her people of their traditional light-heartedness and gaiety. after supper they sat out upon the piazza. the lights within were turned down low, so that the moths and other insects might not be attracted. sweet odours from the garden filled the air. through the elms the stars, brighter than in more northern latitudes, looked out from a sky of darker blue; so bright were they that the colonel, looking around for the moon, was surprised to find that luminary invisible. on the green background of the foliage the fireflies glowed and flickered. there was no strident steam whistle from factory or train to assault the ear, no rumble of passing cabs or street cars. far away, in some distant part of the straggling town, a sweet-toned bell sounded the hour of an evening church service. "to see you is a breath from the past, henry," said mrs. treadwell. "you are a fine, strong man now, but i can see you as you were, the day you went away to the war, in your new gray uniform, on your fine gray horse, at the head of your company. you were going to take peter with you, but he had got his feet poisoned with poison ivy, and couldn't walk, and your father gave you another boy, and peter cried like a baby at being left behind. i can remember how proud you were, and how proud your father was, when he gave you his sword--your grandfather's sword, and told you never to draw it or sheath it, except in honour; and how, when you were gone, the old gentleman shut himself up for two whole days and would speak to no one. he was glad and sorry--glad to send you to fight for your country, and sorry to see you go--for you were his only boy." the colonel thrilled with love and regret. his father had loved him, he knew very well, and he had not visited his tomb for twenty-five years. how far away it seemed too, the time when he had thought of the confederacy as his country! and the sword, his grandfather's sword, had been for years stored away in a dark closet. his father had kept it displayed upon the drawing-room wall, over the table on which the family bible had rested. mrs. treadwell was silent for a moment. "times have changed since then, henry. we have lost a great deal, although we still have enough--yes, we have plenty to live upon, and to hold up our heads among the best." miss laura and graciella, behind the colonel's back, exchanged meaning glances. how well they knew how little they had to live upon! "that is quite evident," said the colonel, glancing through the window at the tasteful interior, "and i am glad to see that you have fared so well. my father lost everything." "we were more fortunate," said mrs. treadwell. "we were obliged to let belleview go when major treadwell died--there were debts to be paid, and we were robbed as well--but we have several rentable properties in town, and an estate in the country which brings us in an income. but things are not quite what they used to be!" mrs. treadwell sighed, and nodded. miss laura sat in silence--a pensive silence. she, too, remembered the time gone by, but unlike her mother's life, her own had only begun as the good times were ending. her mother, in her youth, had seen something of the world. the daughter of a wealthy planter, she had spent her summers at saratoga, had visited new york and philadelphia and new orleans, and had taken a voyage to europe. graciella was young and beautiful. her prince might come, might be here even now, if this grand gentleman should chance to throw the handkerchief. but she, laura, had passed her youth in a transition period; the pleasures neither of memory nor of hope had been hers--except such memories as came of duty well performed, and such hopes as had no root in anything earthly or corruptible. graciella was not in a reflective mood, and took up the burden of the conversation where her grandmother had dropped it. her thoughts were not of the past, but of the future. she asked many eager questions of new york. was it true that ladies at the waldorf-astoria always went to dinner in low-cut bodices with short sleeves, and was evening dress always required at the theatre? did the old knickerbocker families recognise the vanderbilts? were the rockefellers anything at all socially? did he know ward mcallister, at that period the beau brummel of the metropolitan smart set? was fifth avenue losing its pre-eminence? on what days of the week was the art museum free to the public? what was the fare to new york, and the best quarter of the city in which to inquire for a quiet, select boarding house where a southern lady of refinement and good family might stay at a reasonable price, and meet some nice people? and would he recommend stenography or magazine work, and which did he consider preferable, as a career which such a young lady might follow without injury to her social standing? the colonel, with some amusement, answered these artless inquiries as best he could; they came as a refreshing foil to the sweet but melancholy memories of the past. they were interesting, too, from this very pretty but very ignorant little girl in this backward little southern town. she was a flash of sunlight through a soft gray cloud; a vigorous shoot from an old moss-covered stump--she was life, young life, the vital principle, breaking through the cumbering envelope, and asserting its right to reach the sun. after a while a couple of very young ladies, friends of graciella, dropped in. they were introduced to the colonel, who found that he had known their fathers, or their mothers, or their grandfathers, or their grandmothers, and that many of them were more or less distantly related. a little later a couple of young men, friends of graciella's friends--also very young, and very self-conscious--made their appearance, and were duly introduced, in person and by pedigree. the conversation languished for a moment, and then one of the young ladies said something about music, and one of the young men remarked that he had brought over a new song. graciella begged the colonel to excuse them, and led the way to the parlour, followed by her young friends. mrs. treadwell had fallen asleep, and was leaning comfortably back in her armchair. miss laura excused herself, brought a veil, and laid it softly across her mother's face. "the night air is not damp," she said, "and it is pleasanter for her here than in the house. she won't mind the music; she is accustomed to it." graciella went to the piano and with great boldness of touch struck the bizarre opening chords and then launched into the grotesque words of the latest new york "coon song," one of the first and worst of its kind, and the other young people joined in the chorus. it was the first discordant note. at home, the colonel subscribed to the opera, and enjoyed the music. a plantation song of the olden time, as he remembered it, borne upon the evening air, when sung by the tired slaves at the end of their day of toil, would have been pleasing, with its simple melody, its plaintive minor strains, its notes of vague longing; but to the colonel's senses there was to-night no music in this hackneyed popular favourite. in a metropolitan music hall, gaudily bedecked and brilliantly lighted, it would have been tolerable from the lips of a black-face comedian. but in this quiet place, upon this quiet night, and in the colonel's mood, it seemed like profanation. the song of the coloured girl, who had dreamt that she dwelt in marble halls, and the rest, had been less incongruous; it had at least breathed aspiration. mrs. treadwell was still dozing in her armchair. the colonel, beckoning miss laura to follow him, moved to the farther end of the piazza, where they might not hear the singers and the song. "it is delightful here, laura. i seem to have renewed my youth. i yield myself a willing victim to the charm of the old place, the old ways, the old friends." "you see our best side, henry. night has a kindly hand, that covers our defects, and the starlight throws a glamour over everything. you see us through a haze of tender memories. when you have been here a week, the town will seem dull, and narrow, and sluggish. you will find us ignorant and backward, worshipping our old idols, and setting up no new ones; our young men leaving us, and none coming in to take their place. had you, and men like you, remained with us, we might have hoped for better things." "and perhaps not, laura. environment controls the making of men. some rise above it, the majority do not. we might have followed in the well-worn rut. but let us not spoil this delightful evening by speaking of anything sad or gloomy. this is your daily life; to me it is like a scene from a play, over which one sighs to see the curtain fall--all enchantment, all light, all happiness." but even while he spoke of light, a shadow loomed up beside them. the coloured woman who had waited at the table came around the house from the back yard and stood by the piazza railing. "miss laura!" she called, softly and appealingly. "kin you come hyuh a minute?" "what is it, catherine?" "kin i speak just a word to you, ma'am? it's somethin' partic'lar--mighty partic'lar, ma'am." "excuse me a minute, henry," said miss laura, rising with evident reluctance. she stepped down from the piazza, and walked beside the woman down one of the garden paths. the colonel, as he sat there smoking--with miss laura's permission he had lighted a cigar--could see the light stuff of the lady's gown against the green background, though she was walking in the shadow of the elms. from the murmur which came to him, he gathered that the black woman was pleading earnestly, passionately, and he could hear miss laura's regretful voice, as she closed the interview: "i am sorry, catherine, but it is simply impossible. i would if i could, but i cannot." the woman came back first, and as she passed by an open window, the light fell upon her face, which showed signs of deep distress, hardening already into resignation or despair. she was probably in trouble of some sort, and her mistress had not been able, doubtless for some good reason, to help her out. this suspicion was borne out by the fact that when miss laura came back to him, she too seemed troubled. but since she did not speak of the matter, the colonel gave no sign of his own thoughts. "you have said nothing of yourself, laura," he said, wishing to divert her mind from anything unpleasant. "tell me something of your own life--it could only be a cheerful theme, for you have means and leisure, and a perfect environment. tell me of your occupations, your hopes, your aspirations." "there is little enough to tell, henry," she returned, with a sudden courage, "but that little shall be the truth. you will find it out, if you stay long in town, and i would rather you learned it from our lips than from others less friendly. my mother is--my mother--a dear, sweet woman to whom i have devoted my life! but we are not well off, henry. our parlour carpet has been down for twenty-five years; surely you must have recognised the pattern! the house has not been painted for the same length of time; it is of heart pine, and we train the flowers and vines to cover it as much as may be, and there are many others like it, so it is not conspicuous. our rentable property is three ramshackle cabins on the alley at the rear of the lot, for which we get four dollars a month each, when we can collect it. our country estate is a few acres of poor land, which we rent on shares, and from which we get a few bushels of corn, an occasional load of firewood, and a few barrels of potatoes. as for my own life, i husband our small resources; i keep the house, and wait on mother, as i have done since she became helpless, ten years ago. i look after graciella. i teach in the sunday school, and i give to those less fortunate such help as the poor can give the poor." "how did you come to lose belleview?" asked the colonel, after a pause. "i had understood major treadwell to be one of the few people around here who weathered the storm of war and emerged financially sound." "he did; and he remained so--until he met mr. fetters, who had made money out of the war while all the rest were losing. father despised the slavetrader's son, but admired his ability to get along. fetters made his acquaintance, flattered him, told him glowing stories of wealth to be made by speculating in cotton and turpentine. father was not a business man, but he listened. fetters lent him money, and father lent fetters money, and they had transactions back and forth, and jointly. father lost and gained and we had no inkling that he had suffered greatly, until, at his sudden death, fetters foreclosed a mortgage he held upon belleview. mother has always believed there was something wrong about the transaction, and that father was not indebted to fetters in any such sum as fetters claimed. but we could find no papers and we had no proof, and fetters took the plantation for his debt. he changed its name to sycamore; he wanted a post-office there, and there were too many belleviews." "does he own it still?" "yes, and runs it--with convict labour! the thought makes me shudder! we were rich when he was poor; we are poor and he is rich. but we trust in god, who has never deserted the widow and the fatherless. by his mercy we have lived and, as mother says, held up our heads, not in pride or haughtiness, but in self-respect, for we cannot forget what we were." "nor what you are, laura, for you are wonderful," said the colonel, not unwilling to lighten a situation that bordered on intensity. "you should have married and had children. the south needs such mothers as you would have made. unless the men of clarendon have lost their discernment, unless chivalry has vanished and the fire died out of the southern blood, it has not been for lack of opportunity that your name remains unchanged." miss laura's cheek flushed unseen in the shadow of the porch. "ah, henry, that would be telling! but to marry me, one must have married the family, for i could not have left them--they have had only me. i have not been unhappy. i do not know that i would have had my life different." graciella and her friends had finished their song, the piano had ceased to sound, and the visitors were taking their leave. graciella went with them to the gate, where they stood laughing and talking. the colonel looked at his watch by the light of the open door. "it is not late," he said. "if my memory is true, you too played the piano when you--when i was young." "it is the same piano, henry, and, like our life here, somewhat thin and weak of tone. but if you think it would give you pleasure, i will play--as well as i know how." she readjusted the veil, which had slipped from her mother's face, and they went into the parlour. from a pile of time-stained music she selected a sheet and seated herself at the piano. the colonel stood at her elbow. she had a pretty back, he thought, and a still youthful turn of the head, and still plentiful, glossy brown hair. her hands were white, slender and well kept, though he saw on the side of the forefinger of her left hand the telltale marks of the needle. the piece was an arrangement of the well-known air from the opera of _maritana_: _"scenes that are brightest, may charm awhile, hearts which are lightest and eyes that smile. yet o'er them above us, though nature beam, with none to love us, how sad they seem!"_ under her sympathetic touch a gentle stream of melody flowed from the old-time piano, scarcely stronger toned in its decrepitude, than the spinet of a former century. a few moments before, under graciella's vigorous hands, it had seemed to protest at the dissonances it had been compelled to emit; now it seemed to breathe the notes of the old opera with an almost human love and tenderness. it, too, mused the colonel, had lived and loved and was recalling the memories of a brighter past. the music died into silence. mrs. treadwell was awake. "laura!" she called. miss treadwell went to the door. "i must have been nodding for a minute. i hope colonel french did not observe it--it would scarcely seem polite. he hasn't gone yet?" "no, mother, he is in the parlour." "i must be going," said the colonel, who came to the door. "i had almost forgotten phil, and it is long past his bedtime." miss laura went to wake up phil, who had fallen asleep after supper. he was still rubbing his eyes when the lady led him out. "wake up, phil," said the colonel. "it's time to be going. tell the ladies good night." graciella came running up the walk. "why, colonel french," she cried, "you are not going already? i made the others leave early so that i might talk to you." "my dear young lady," smiled the colonel, "i have already risen to go, and if i stayed longer i might wear out my welcome, and phil would surely go to sleep again. but i will come another time--i shall stay in town several days." "yes, _do_ come, if you _must_ go," rejoined graciella with emphasis. "i want to hear more about the north, and about new york society and--oh, everything! good night, philip. _good_ night, colonel french." "beware of the steps, henry," said miss laura, "the bottom stone is loose." they heard his footsteps in the quiet street, and phil's light patter beside him. "he's a lovely man, isn't he, aunt laura?" said graciella. "he is a gentleman," replied her aunt, with a pensive look at her young niece. "of the old school," piped mrs. treadwell. "and philip is a sweet child," said miss laura. "a chip of the old block," added mrs. treadwell. "i remember----" "yes, mother, you can tell me when i've shut up the house," interrupted miss laura. "put out the lamps, graciella--there's not much oil--and when you go to bed hang up your gown carefully, for it takes me nearly half an hour to iron it." "and you are right good to do it! good night, dear aunt laura! good night, grandma!" mr. french had left the hotel at noon that day as free as air, and he slept well that night, with no sense of the forces that were to constrain his life. and yet the events of the day had started the growth of a dozen tendrils, which were destined to grow, and reach out, and seize and hold him with ties that do not break. _seven_ the constable who had arrested old peter led his prisoner away through alleys and quiet streets--though for that matter all the streets of clarendon were quiet in midafternoon--to a guardhouse or calaboose, constructed of crumbling red brick, with a rusty, barred iron door secured by a heavy padlock. as they approached this structure, which was sufficiently forbidding in appearance to depress the most lighthearted, the strumming of a banjo became audible, accompanying a mellow negro voice which was singing, to a very ragged ragtime air, words of which the burden was something like this: _"w'at's de use er my wo'kin' so hahd? i got a' 'oman in de white man's yahd. w'en she cook chicken, she save me a wing; w'en dey 'low i'm wo'kin', i ain' doin' a thing!"_ the grating of the key in the rusty lock interrupted the song. the constable thrust his prisoner into the dimly lighted interior, and locked the door. "keep over to the right," he said curtly, "that's the niggers' side." "but, mistah haines," asked peter, excitedly, "is i got to stay here all night? i ain' done nuthin'." "no, that's the trouble; you ain't done nuthin' fer a month, but loaf aroun'. you ain't got no visible means of suppo't, so you're took up for vagrancy." "but i does wo'k we'n i kin git any wo'k ter do," the old man expostulated. "an' ef i kin jus' git wo'd ter de right w'ite folks, i'll be outer here in half a' hour; dey'll go my bail." "they can't go yo' bail to-night, fer the squire's gone home. i'll bring you some bread and meat, an' some whiskey if you want it, and you'll be tried to-morrow mornin'." old peter still protested. "you niggers are always kickin'," said the constable, who was not without a certain grim sense of humour, and not above talking to a negro when there were no white folks around to talk to, or to listen. "i never see people so hard to satisfy. you ain' got no home, an' here i've give' you a place to sleep, an' you're kickin'. you doan know from one day to another where you'll git yo' meals, an' i offer you bread and meat and whiskey--an' you're kickin'! you say you can't git nothin' to do, an' yit with the prospect of a reg'lar job befo' you to-morrer--you're kickin'! i never see the beat of it in all my bo'n days." when the constable, chuckling at his own humour, left the guardhouse, he found his way to a nearby barroom, kept by one clay jackson, a place with an evil reputation as the resort of white men of a low class. most crimes of violence in the town could be traced to its influence, and more than one had been committed within its walls. "has mr. turner been in here?" demanded haines of the man in charge. the bartender, with a backward movement of his thumb, indicated a door opening into a room at the rear. here the constable found his man--a burly, bearded giant, with a red face, a cunning eye and an overbearing manner. he had a bottle and a glass before him, and was unsociably drinking alone. "howdy, haines," said turner, "how's things? how many have you got this time?" "i've got three rounded up, mr. turner, an' i'll take up another befo' night. that'll make fo'--fifty dollars fer me, an' the res' fer the squire." "that's good," rejoined turner. "have a glass of liquor. how much do you s'pose the squire'll fine bud?" "well," replied haines, drinking down the glass of whiskey at a gulp, "i reckon about twenty-five dollars." "you can make it fifty just as easy," said turner. "niggers are all just a passell o' black fools. bud would 'a' b'en out now, if it hadn't be'n for me. i bought him fer six months. i kept close watch of him for the first five, and then along to'ds the middle er the las' month i let on i'd got keerliss, an' he run away. course i put the dawgs on 'im, an' followed 'im here, where his woman is, an' got you after 'im, and now he's good for six months more." "the woman is a likely gal an' a good cook," said haines. "_she'd_ be wuth a good 'eal to you out at the stockade." "that's a shore fact," replied the other, "an' i need another good woman to help aroun'. if we'd 'a' thought about it, an' give' her a chance to hide bud and feed him befo' you took 'im up, we could 'a' filed a charge ag'inst her for harborin' 'im." "well, i kin do it nex' time, fer he'll run away ag'in--they always do. bud's got a vile temper." "yes, but he's a good field-hand, and i'll keep his temper down. have somethin' mo'?" "i've got to go back now and feed the pris'ners," said haines, rising after he had taken another drink; "an' i'll stir bud up so he'll raise h--ll, an' to-morrow morning i'll make another charge against him that'll fetch his fine up to fifty and costs." "which will give 'im to me till the cotton crop is picked, and several months more to work on the jackson swamp ditch if fetters gits the contract. you stand by us here, haines, an' help me git all the han's i can out o' this county, and i'll give you a job at sycamo' when yo'r time's up here as constable. go on and feed the niggers, an' stir up bud, and i'll be on hand in the mornin' when court opens." when the lesser of these precious worthies left his superior to his cups, he stopped in the barroom and bought a pint of rotgut whiskey--a cheap brand of rectified spirits coloured and flavoured to resemble the real article, to which it bore about the relation of vitriol to lye. he then went into a cheap eating house, conducted by a negro for people of his own kind, where he procured some slices of fried bacon, and some soggy corn bread, and with these various purchases, wrapped in a piece of brown paper, he betook himself to the guardhouse. he unlocked the door, closed it behind him, and called peter. the old man came forward. "here, peter," said haines, "take what you want of this, and give some to them other fellows, and if there's anything left after you've got what you want, throw it to that sulky black hound over yonder in the corner." he nodded toward a young negro in the rear of the room, the bud johnson who had been the subject of the conversation with turner. johnson replied with a curse. the constable advanced menacingly, his hand moving toward his pocket. quick as a flash the negro threw himself upon him. the other prisoners, from instinct, or prudence, or hope of reward, caught him, pulled him away and held him off until haines, pale with rage, rose to his feet and began kicking his assailant vigorously. with the aid of well-directed blows of his fists he forced the negro down, who, unable to regain his feet, finally, whether from fear or exhaustion, lay inert, until the constable, having worked off his worst anger, and not deeming it to his advantage seriously to disable the prisoner, in whom he had a pecuniary interest, desisted from further punishment. "i might send you to the penitentiary for this," he said, panting for breath, "but i'll send you to h--ll instead. you'll be sold back to mr. fetters for a year or two tomorrow, and in three months i'll be down at sycamore as an overseer, and then i'll learn you to strike a white man, you----" the remainder of the objurgation need not be told, but there was no doubt, from the expression on haines's face, that he meant what he said, and that he would take pleasure in repaying, in overflowing measure, any arrears of revenge against the offending prisoner which he might consider his due. he had stirred bud up very successfully--much more so, indeed, than he had really intended. he had meant to procure evidence against bud, but had hardly thought to carry it away in the shape of a black eye and a swollen nose. _eight_ when the colonel set out next morning for a walk down the main street, he had just breakfasted on boiled brook trout, fresh laid eggs, hot muffins and coffee, and was feeling at peace with all mankind. he was alone, having left phil in charge of the hotel housekeeper. he had gone only a short distance when he reached a door around which several men were lounging, and from which came the sound of voices and loud laughter. stopping, he looked with some curiosity into the door, over which there was a faded sign to indicate that it was the office of a justice of the peace--a pleasing collocation of words, to those who could divorce it from any technical significance--justice, peace--the seed and the flower of civilisation. an unwashed, dingy-faced young negro, clothed in rags unspeakably vile, which scarcely concealed his nakedness, was standing in the midst of a group of white men, toward whom he threw now and then a shallow and shifty glance. the air was heavy with the odour of stale tobacco, and the floor dotted with discarded portions of the weed. a white man stood beside a desk and was addressing the audience: "now, gentlemen, here's lot number three, a likely young nigger who answers to the name of sam brown. not much to look at, but will make a good field hand, if looked after right and kept away from liquor; used to workin', when in the chain gang, where he's been, off and on, since he was ten years old. amount of fine an' costs thirty-seven dollars an' a half. a musical nigger, too, who plays the banjo, an' sings jus' like a--like a blackbird. what am i bid for this prime lot?" the negro threw a dull glance around the crowd with an air of detachment which seemed to say that he was not at all interested in the proceedings. the colonel viewed the scene with something more than curious interest. the fellow looked like an habitual criminal, or at least like a confirmed loafer. this must be one of the idle and worthless blacks with so many of whom the south was afflicted. this was doubtless the method provided by law for dealing with them. "one year," answered a voice. "nine months," said a second. "six months," came a third bid, from a tall man with a buggy whip under his arm. "are you all through, gentlemen? six months' labour for thirty-seven fifty is mighty cheap, and you know the law allows you to keep the labourer up to the mark. are you all done? sold to mr. turner, for mr. fetters, for six months." the prisoner's dull face showed some signs of apprehension when the name of his purchaser was pronounced, and he shambled away uneasily under the constable's vigilant eye. "the case of the state against bud johnson is next in order. bring in the prisoner." the constable brought in the prisoner, handcuffed, and placed him in front of the justice's desk, where he remained standing. he was a short, powerfully built negro, seemingly of pure blood, with a well-rounded head, not unduly low in the brow and quite broad between the ears. under different circumstances his countenance might have been pleasing; at present it was set in an expression of angry defiance. he had walked with a slight limp, there were several contusions upon his face; and upon entering the room he had thrown a defiant glance around him, which had not quailed even before the stern eye of the tall man, turner, who, as the agent of the absent fetters, had bid on sam brown. his face then hardened into the blank expression of one who stands in a hostile presence. "bud johnson," said the justice, "you are charged with escaping from the service into which you were sold to pay the fine and costs on a charge of vagrancy. what do you plead--guilty or not guilty?" the prisoner maintained a sullen silence. "i'll enter a plea of not guilty. the record of this court shows that you were convicted of vagrancy on december th, and sold to mr. fetters for four months to pay your fine and costs. the four months won't be up for a week. mr. turner may be sworn." turner swore to bud's escape and his pursuit. haines testified to his capture. "have you anything to say?" asked the justice. "what's de use er my sayin' anything," muttered the negro. "it won't make no diff'ence. i didn' do nothin', in de fus' place, ter be fine' fer, an' run away 'cause dey did n' have no right ter keep me dere." "guilty. twenty-five dollars an' costs. you are also charged with resisting the officer who made the arrest. guilty or not guilty? since you don't speak, i'll enter a plea of not guilty. mr. haines may be sworn." haines swore that the prisoner had resisted arrest, and had only been captured by the display of a loaded revolver. the prisoner was convicted and fined twenty-five dollars and costs for this second offense. the third charge, for disorderly conduct in prison, was quickly disposed of, and a fine of twenty-five dollars and costs levied. "you may consider yo'self lucky," said the magistrate, "that mr. haines didn't prefer a mo' serious charge against you. many a nigger has gone to the gallows for less. and now, gentlemen, i want to clean this case up right here. how much time is offered for the fine and costs of the prisoner, bud johnson, amounting to seventy-five dollars fine and thirty-three dollars and fifty-fo' cents costs? you've heard the evidence an' you see the nigger. ef there ain't much competition for his services and the time is a long one, he'll have his own stubbornness an' deviltry to thank for it. he's strong and healthy and able to do good work for any one that can manage him." there was no immediate response. turner walked forward and viewed the prisoner from head to foot with a coldly sneering look. "well, bud," he said, "i reckon we'll hafter try it ag'in. i have never yet allowed a nigger to git the better o' me, an', moreover, i never will. i'll bid eighteen months, squire; an' that's all he's worth, with his keep." there was no competition, and the prisoner was knocked down to turner, for fetters, for eighteen months. "lock 'im up till i'm ready to go, bill," said turner to the constable, "an' just leave the irons on him. i'll fetch 'em back next time i come to town." the unconscious brutality of the proceeding grated harshly upon the colonel's nerves. delinquents of some kind these men must be, who were thus dealt with; but he had lived away from the south so long that so sudden an introduction to some of its customs came with something of a shock. he had remembered the pleasant things, and these but vaguely, since his thoughts and his interests had been elsewhere; and in the sifting process of a healthy memory he had forgotten the disagreeable things altogether. he had found the pleasant things still in existence, faded but still fragrant. fresh from a land of labour unions, and of struggle for wealth and power, of strivings first for equality with those above, and, this attained, for a point of vantage to look down upon former equals, he had found in old peter, only the day before, a touching loyalty to a family from which he could no longer expect anything in return. fresh from a land of women's clubs and women's claims, he had reveled last night in the charming domestic, life of the old south, so perfectly preserved in a quiet household. things southern, as he had already reflected, lived long and died hard, and these things which he saw now in the clear light of day, were also of the south, and singularly suggestive of other things southern which he had supposed outlawed and discarded long ago. "now, mr. haines, bring in the next lot," said the squire. the constable led out an old coloured man, clad in a quaint assortment of tattered garments, whom the colonel did not for a moment recognise, not having, from where he stood, a full view of the prisoner's face. "gentlemen, i now call yo'r attention to lot number fo', left over from befo' the wah; not much for looks, but respectful and obedient, and accustomed, for some time past, to eat very little. can be made useful in many ways--can feed the chickens, take care of the children, or would make a good skeercrow. what i am bid, gentlemen, for ol' peter french? the amount due the co't is twenty-fo' dollahs and a half." there was some laughter at the squire's facetiousness. turner, who had bid on the young and strong men, turned away unconcernedly. "you'd 'a' made a good auctioneer, squire," said the one-armed man. "thank you, mr. pearsall. how much am i offered for this bargain?" "he'd be dear at any price," said one. "it's a great risk," observed a second. "ten yeahs," said a third. "you're takin' big chances, mr. bennet," said another. "he'll die in five, and you'll have to bury him." "i withdraw the bid," said mr. bennet promptly. "two yeahs," said another. the colonel was boiling over with indignation. his interest in the fate of the other prisoners had been merely abstract; in old peter's case it assumed a personal aspect. he forced himself into the room and to the front. "may i ask the meaning of this proceeding?" he demanded. "well, suh," replied the justice, "i don't know who you are, or what right you have to interfere, but this is the sale of a vagrant nigger, with no visible means of suppo't. perhaps, since you're interested, you'd like to bid on 'im. are you from the no'th, likely?" "yes." "i thought, suh, that you looked like a no'the'n man. that bein' so, doubtless you'd like somethin' on the uncle tom order. old peter's fine is twenty dollars, and the costs fo' dollars and a half. the prisoner's time is sold to whoever pays his fine and allows him the shortest time to work it out. when his time's up, he goes free." "and what has old peter done to deserve a fine of twenty dollars--more money than he perhaps has ever had at any one time?" "'deed, it is, mars henry, 'deed it is!" exclaimed peter, fervently. "peter has not been able," replied the magistrate, "to show this co't that he has reg'lar employment, or means of suppo't, and he was therefore tried and convicted yesterday evenin' of vagrancy, under our state law. the fine is intended to discourage laziness and to promote industry. do you want to bid, suh? i'm offered two yeahs, gentlemen, for old peter french? does anybody wish to make it less?" "i'll pay the fine," said the colonel, "let him go." "i beg yo' pahdon, suh, but that wouldn't fulfil the requi'ments of the law. he'd be subject to arrest again immediately. somebody must take the responsibility for his keep." "i'll look after him," said the colonel shortly. "in order to keep the docket straight," said the justice, "i should want to note yo' bid. how long shall i say?" "say what you like," said the colonel, drawing out his pocketbook. "you don't care to bid, mr. turner?" asked the justice. "not by a damn sight," replied turner, with native elegance. "i buy niggers to work, not to bury." "i withdraw my bid in favour of the gentleman," said the two-year bidder. "thank you," said the colonel. "remember, suh," said the justice to the colonel, "that you are responsible for his keep as well as entitled to his labour, for the period of your bid. how long shall i make it?" "as long as you please," said the colonel impatiently. "sold," said the justice, bringing down his gavel, "for life, to--what name, suh?" "french--henry french." there was some manifestation of interest in the crowd; and the colonel was stared at with undisguised curiosity as he paid the fine and costs, which included two dollars for two meals in the guardhouse, and walked away with his purchase--a purchase which his father had made, upon terms not very different, fifty years before. "one of the old frenches," i reckon, said a bystander, "come back on a visit." "yes," said another, "old 'ristocrats roun' here. well, they ought to take keer of their old niggers. they got all the good out of 'em when they were young. but they're not runnin' things now." an hour later the colonel, driving leisurely about the outskirts of the town and seeking to connect his memories more closely with the scenes around him, met a buggy in which sat the man turner. after the buggy, tied behind one another to a rope, like a coffle of slaves, marched the three negroes whose time he had bought at the constable's sale. among them, of course, was the young man who had been called bud johnson. the colonel observed that this negro's face, when turned toward the white man in front of him, expressed a fierce hatred, as of some wild thing of the woods, which finding itself trapped and betrayed, would go to any length to injure its captor. turner passed the colonel with no sign of recognition or greeting. bud johnson evidently recognised the friendly gentleman who had interfered in peter's case. he threw toward the colonel a look which resembled an appeal; but it was involuntary, and lasted but a moment, and, when the prisoner became conscious of it, and realised its uselessness, it faded into the former expression. what the man's story was, the colonel did not know, nor what were his deserts. but the events of the day had furnished food for reflection. evidently clarendon needed new light and leading. men, even black men, with something to live for, and with work at living wages, would scarcely prefer an enforced servitude in ropes and chains. and the punishment had scarcely seemed to fit the crime. he had observed no great zeal for work among the white people since he came to town; such work as he had seen done was mostly performed by negroes. if idleness were a crime, the negroes surely had no monopoly of it. _nine_ furnished with money for his keep, peter was ordered if again molested to say that he was in the colonel's service. the latter, since his own plans were for the present uncertain, had no very clear idea of what disposition he would ultimately make of the old man, but he meant to provide in some way for his declining years. he also bought peter a neat suit of clothes at a clothing store, and directed him to present himself at the hotel on the following morning. the interval would give the colonel time to find something for peter to do, so that he would be able to pay him a wage. to his contract with the county he attached little importance; he had already intended, since their meeting in the cemetery, to provide for peter in some way, and the legal responsibility was no additional burden. to peter himself, to whose homeless old age food was more than philosophy, the arrangement seemed entirely satisfactory. colonel french's presence in clarendon had speedily become known to the public. upon his return to the hotel, after leaving peter to his own devices for the day, he found several cards in his letter box, left by gentlemen who had called, during his absence, to see him. the daily mail had also come in, and the colonel sat down in the office to read it. there was a club notice, and several letters that had been readdressed and forwarded, and a long one from kirby in reference to some detail of the recent transfer. before he had finished reading these, a gentleman came up and introduced himself. he proved to be one john mclean, an old schoolmate of the colonel, and later a comrade-in-arms, though the colonel would never have recognised a rather natty major in his own regiment in this shabby middle-aged man, whose shoes were run down at the heel, whose linen was doubtful, and spotted with tobacco juice. the major talked about the weather, which was cool for the season; about the civil war, about politics, and about the negroes, who were very trifling, the major said. while they were talking upon this latter theme, there was some commotion in the street, in front of the hotel, and looking up they saw that a horse, attached to a loaded wagon, had fallen in the roadway, and having become entangled in the harness, was kicking furiously. five or six negroes were trying to quiet the animal, and release him from the shafts, while a dozen white men looked on and made suggestions. "an illustration," said the major, pointing through the window toward the scene without, "of what we've got to contend with. six niggers can't get one horse up without twice as many white men to tell them how. that's why the south is behind the no'th. the niggers, in one way or another, take up most of our time and energy. you folks up there have half your work done before we get our'n started." the horse, pulled this way and that, in obedience to the conflicting advice of the bystanders, only became more and more intricately entangled. he had caught one foot in a manner that threatened, with each frantic jerk, to result in a broken leg, when the colonel, leaving his visitor without ceremony, ran out into the street, leaned down, and with a few well-directed movements, released the threatened limb. "now, boys," he said, laying hold of the prostrate animal, "give a hand here." the negroes, and, after some slight hesitation, one or two white men, came to the colonel's aid, and in a moment, the horse, trembling and blowing, was raised to its feet. the driver thanked the colonel and the others who had befriended him, and proceeded with his load. when the flurry of excitement was over, the colonel went back to the hotel and resumed the conversation with his friend. if the new franchise amendment went through, said the major, the negro would be eliminated from politics, and the people of the south, relieved of the fear of "nigger domination," could give their attention to better things, and their section would move forward along the path of progress by leaps and bounds. of himself the major said little except that he had been an alternate delegate to the last democratic national nominating convention, and that he expected to run for coroner at the next county election. "if i can secure the suppo't of mr. fetters in the primaries," he said, "my nomination is assured, and a nomination is of co'se equivalent to an election. but i see there are some other gentlemen that would like to talk to you, and i won't take any mo' of yo' time at present." "mr. blake," he said, addressing a gentleman with short side-whiskers who was approaching them, "have you had the pleasure of meeting colonel french?" "no, suh," said the stranger, "i shall be glad to have the honour of an introduction at your hands." "colonel french, mr. blake--mr. blake, colonel french. you gentlemen will probably like to talk to one another, because you both belong to the same party, i reckon. mr. blake is a new man roun' heah--come down from the mountains not mo' than ten yeahs ago, an' fetched his politics with him; but since he was born that way we don't entertain any malice against him. mo'over, he's not a 'black and tan republican,' but a 'lily white.'" "yes, sir," said mr. blake, taking the colonel's hand, "i believe in white supremacy, and the elimination of the nigger vote. if the national republican party would only ignore the coloured politicians, and give all the offices to white men, we'll soon build up a strong white republican party. if i had the post-office here at clarendon, with the encouragement it would give, and the aid of my clerks and subo'dinates, i could double the white republican vote in this county in six months." the major had left them together, and the lily white, ere he in turn made way for another caller, suggested delicately, that he would appreciate any good word that the colonel might be able to say for him in influential quarters--either personally or through friends who might have the ear of the executive or those close to him--in reference to the postmastership. realising that the present administration was a business one, in which sentiment played small part, he had secured the endorsement of the leading business men of the county, even that of mr. fetters himself. mr. fetters was of course a democrat, but preferred, since the office must go to a republican, that it should go to a lily white. "i hope to see mo' of you, sir," he said, "and i take pleasure in introducing the honourable henry clay appleton, editor of our local newspaper, the _anglo-saxon_. he and i may not agree on free silver and the tariff, but we are entirely in harmony on the subject indicated by the title of his newspaper. mr. appleton not only furnishes all the news that's fit to read, but he represents this county in the legislature, along with mr. fetters, and he will no doubt be the next candidate for congress from this district. he can tell you all that's worth knowin' about clarendon." the colonel shook hands with the editor, who had come with a twofold intent--to make the visitor's acquaintance and to interview him upon his impressions of the south. incidentally he gave the colonel a great deal of information about local conditions. these were not, he admitted, ideal. the town was backward. it needed capital to develop its resources, and it needed to be rid of the fear of negro domination. the suffrage in the hands of the negroes had proved a ghastly and expensive joke for all concerned, and the public welfare absolutely demanded that it be taken away. even the white republicans were coming around to the same point of view. the new franchise amendment to the state constitution was receiving their unqualified support. "that was a fine, chivalrous deed of yours this morning, sir," he said, "at squire reddick's office. it was just what might have been expected from a southern gentleman; for we claim you, colonel, in spite of your long absence." "yes," returned the colonel, "i don't know what i rescued old peter from. it looked pretty dark for him there for a little while. i shouldn't have envied his fate had he been bought in by the tall fellow who represented your colleague in the legislature. the law seems harsh." "well," admitted the editor, "i suppose it might seem harsh, in comparison with your milder penal systems up north. but you must consider the circumstances, and make allowances for us. we have so many idle, ignorant negroes that something must be done to make them work, or else they'll steal, and to keep them in their place, or they would run over us. the law has been in operation only a year or two, and is already having its effect. i'll be glad to introduce a bill for its repeal, as soon as it is no longer needed. "you must bear in mind, too, colonel, that niggers don't look at imprisonment and enforced labour in the same way white people do--they are not conscious of any disgrace attending stripes or the ball and chain. the state is poor; our white children are suffering for lack of education, and yet we have to spend a large amount of money on the negro schools. these convict labour contracts are a source of considerable revenue to the state; they make up, in fact, for most of the outlay for negro education--which i approve of, though i'm frank to say that so far i don't see much good that's come from it. this convict labour is humanely treated; mr. fetters has the contract for several counties, and anybody who knows mr. fetters knows that there's no kinder-hearted man in the south." the colonel disclaimed any intention of criticising. he had come back to his old home for a brief visit, to rest and to observe. he was willing to learn and anxious to please. the editor took copious notes of the interview, and upon his departure shook hands with the colonel cordially. the colonel had tactfully let his visitors talk, while he listened, or dropped a word here and there to draw them out. one fact was driven home to him by every one to whom he had spoken. fetters dominated the county and the town, and apparently the state. his name was on every lip. his influence was indispensable to every political aspirant. his acquaintance was something to boast of, and his good will held a promise of success. and the colonel had once kicked the honourable mr. fetters, then plain bill, in presence of an admiring audience, all the way down main street from the academy to the bank! bill had been, to all intents and purposes, a poor white boy; who could not have named with certainty his own grandfather. the honourable william was undoubtedly a man of great ability. had the colonel remained in his native state, would he have been able, he wondered, to impress himself so deeply upon the community? would blood have been of any advantage, under the changed conditions, or would it have been a drawback to one who sought political advancement? when the colonel was left alone, he went to look for phil, who was playing with the children of the landlord, in the hotel parlour. commending him to the care of the negro maid in charge of them, he left the hotel and called on several gentlemen whose cards he had found in his box at the clerk's desk. their stores and offices were within a short radius of the hotel. they were all glad to see him, and if there was any initial stiffness or shyness in the attitude of any one, it soon became the warmest cordiality under the influence of the colonel's simple and unostentatious bearing. if he compared the cut of their clothes or their beards to his own, to their disadvantage, or if he found their views narrow and provincial, he gave no sign--their hearts were warm and their welcome hearty. the colonel was not able to gather, from the conversation of his friends, that clarendon, or any one in the town--always excepting fetters, who did not live in the town, but merely overshadowed it--was especially prosperous. there were no mills or mines in the neighbourhood, except a few grist mills, and a sawmill. the bulk of the business consisted in supplying the needs of an agricultural population, and trading in their products. the cotton was baled and shipped to the north, and re-imported for domestic use, in the shape of sheeting and other stuffs. the corn was shipped to the north, and came back in the shape of corn meal and salt pork, the staple articles of diet. beefsteak and butter were brought from the north, at twenty-five and fifty cents a pound respectively. there were cotton merchants, and corn and feed merchants; there were dry-goods and grocery stores, drug stores and saloons--and more saloons--and the usual proportion of professional men. since clarendon was the county seat, there were of course a court house and a jail. there were churches enough, if all filled at once, to hold the entire population of the town, and preachers in proportion. the merchants, of whom a number were jewish, periodically went into bankruptcy; the majority of their customers did likewise, and thus a fellow-feeling was promoted, and the loss thrown back as far as possible. the lands of the large farmers were mostly mortgaged, either to fetters, or to the bank of which he was the chief stockholder, for all that could be borrowed on them; while the small farmers, many of whom were coloured, were practically tied to the soil by ropes of debt and chains of contract. every one the colonel met during the afternoon had heard of squire reddick's good joke of the morning. that he should have sold peter to the colonel for life was regarded as extremely clever. some of them knew old peter, and none of them had ever known any harm of him, and they were unanimous in their recognition and applause of the colonel's goodheartedness. moreover, it was an index of the colonel's views. he was one of them, by descent and early associations, but he had been away a long time, and they hadn't really known how much of a yankee he might have become. by his whimsical and kindly purchase of old peter's time--or of old peter, as they smilingly put it, he had shown his appreciation of the helplessness of the negroes, and of their proper relations to the whites. "what'll you do with him, colonel?" asked one gentleman. "an ole nigger like peter couldn't live in the col' no'th. you'll have to buy a place down here to keep 'im. they wouldn' let you own a nigger at the no'th." the remark, with the genial laugh accompanying it, was sounding in the colonel's ears, as, on the way back to the hotel, he stepped into the barber shop. the barber, who had also heard the story, was bursting with a desire to unbosom himself upon the subject. knowing from experience that white gentlemen, in their intercourse with coloured people, were apt to be, in the local phrase; "sometimey," or uncertain in their moods, he first tested, with a few remarks about the weather, the colonel's amiability, and finding him approachable, proved quite talkative and confidential. "you're colonel french, ain't you, suh?" he asked as he began applying the lather. "yes." "yes, suh; i had heard you wuz in town, an' i wuz hopin' you would come in to get shaved. an' w'en i heard 'bout yo' noble conduc' this mawnin' at squire reddick's i wanted you to come in all de mo', suh. ole uncle peter has had a lot er bad luck in his day, but he has fell on his feet dis time, suh, sho's you bawn. i'm right glad to see you, suh. i feels closer to you, suh, than i does to mos' white folks, because you know, colonel, i'm livin' in the same house you wuz bawn in." "oh, you are the nichols, are you, who bought our old place?" "yes, suh, william nichols, at yo' service, suh. i've own' de ole house fer twenty yeahs or mo' now, suh, an' we've b'en mighty comfo'table in it, suh. they is a spaciousness, an' a air of elegant sufficiency about the environs and the equipments of the ed'fice, suh, that does credit to the tas'e of the old aristocracy an' of you-all's family, an' teches me in a sof' spot. for i loves the aristocracy; an' i've often tol' my ol' lady, 'liza,' says i, 'ef i'd be'n bawn white i sho' would 'a' be'n a 'ristocrat. i feels it in my bones.'" while the barber babbled on with his shrewd flattery, which was sincere enough to carry a reasonable amount of conviction, the colonel listened with curiously mingled feelings. he recalled each plank, each pane of glass, every inch of wall, in the old house. no spot was without its associations. how many a brilliant scene of gaiety had taken place in the spacious parlour where bright eyes had sparkled, merry feet had twinkled, and young hearts beat high with love and hope and joy of living! and not only joy had passed that way, but sorrow. in the front upper chamber his mother had died. vividly he recalled, as with closed eyes he lay back under the barber's skilful hand, their last parting and his own poignant grief; for she had been not only his mother, but a woman of character, who commanded respect and inspired affection; a beautiful woman whom he had loved with a devotion that bordered on reverence. romance, too, had waved her magic wand over the old homestead. his memory smiled indulgently as he recalled one scene. in a corner of the broad piazza, he had poured out his youthful heart, one summer evening, in strains of passionate devotion, to his first love, a beautiful woman of thirty who was visiting his mother, and who had told him between smiles and tears, to be a good boy and wait a little longer, until he was sure of his own mind. even now, he breathed, in memory, the heavy odour of the magnolia blossoms which overhung the long wooden porch bench or "jogging board" on which the lady sat, while he knelt on the hard floor before her. he felt very young indeed after she had spoken, but her caressing touch upon his hair had so stirred his heart that his vanity had suffered no wound. why, the family had owned the house since they had owned the cemetery lot! it was hallowed by a hundred memories, and now!---- "will you have oil on yo' hair, suh, or bay rum?" "nichols," exclaimed the colonel, "i should like to buy back the old house. what do you want for it?" "why, colonel," stammered the barber, somewhat taken aback at the suddenness of the offer, "i hadn' r'ally thought 'bout sellin' it. you see, suh, i've had it now for twenty years, and it suits me, an' my child'en has growed up in it--an' it kind of has associations, suh." in principle the colonel was an ardent democrat; he believed in the rights of man, and extended the doctrine to include all who bore the human form. but in feeling he was an equally pronounced aristocrat. a servant's rights he would have defended to the last ditch; familiarity he would have resented with equal positiveness. something of this ancestral feeling stirred within him now. while nichols's position in reference to the house was, in principle, equally as correct as the colonel's own, and superior in point of time--since impressions, like photographs, are apt to grow dim with age, and nichols's were of much more recent date--the barber's display of sentiment only jarred the colonel's sensibilities and strengthened his desire. "i should advise you to speak up, nichols," said the colonel. "i had no notion of buying the place when i came in, and i may not be of the same mind to-morrow. name your own price, but now's your time." the barber caught his breath. such dispatch was unheard-of in clarendon. but nichols, a keen-eyed mulatto, was a man of thrift and good sense. he would have liked to consult his wife and children about the sale, but to lose an opportunity to make a good profit was to fly in the face of providence. the house was very old. it needed shingling and painting. the floors creaked; the plaster on the walls was loose; the chimneys needed pointing and the insurance was soon renewable. he owned a smaller house in which he could live. he had been told to name his price; it was as much better to make it too high than too low, as it was easier to come down than to go up. the would-be purchaser was a rich man; the diamond on the third finger of his left hand alone would buy a small house. "i think, suh," he said, at a bold venture, "that fo' thousand dollars would be 'bout right." "i'll take it," returned the colonel, taking out his pocket-book. "here's fifty dollars to bind the bargain. i'll write a receipt for you to sign." the barber brought pen, ink and paper, and restrained his excitement sufficiently to keep silent, while the colonel wrote a receipt embodying the terms of the contract, and signed it with a steady hand. "have the deed drawn up as soon as you like," said the colonel, as he left the shop, "and when it is done i'll give you a draft for the money." "yes, suh; thank you, suh, thank you, colonel." the barber had bought the house at a tax sale at a time of great financial distress, twenty years before, for five hundred dollars. he had made a very good sale, and he lost no time in having the deed drawn up. when the colonel reached the hotel, he found phil seated on the doorstep with a little bow-legged black boy and a little white dog. phil, who had a large heart, had fraternised with the boy and fallen in love with the dog. "papa," he said, "i want to buy this dog. his name is rover; he can shake hands, and i like him very much. this little boy wants ten cents for him, and i did not have the money. i asked him to wait until you came. may i buy him?" "certainly, phil. here, boy!" the colonel threw the black boy a silver dollar. phil took the dog under his arm and followed his father into the house, while the other boy, his glistening eyes glued to the coin in his hand, scampered off as fast as his limbs would carry him. he was back next morning with a pretty white kitten, but the colonel discouraged any further purchases for the time being. * * * * * "my dear laura," said the colonel when he saw his friend the same evening, "i have been in clarendon two days; and i have already bought a dog, a house and a man." miss laura was startled. "i don't understand," she said. the colonel proceeded to explain the transaction by which he had acquired, for life, the services of old peter. "i suppose it is the law," miss laura said, "but it seems hardly right. i had thought we were well rid of slavery. white men do not work any too much. old peter was not idle. he did odd jobs, when he could get them; he was polite and respectful; and it was an outrage to treat him so. i am glad you--hired him." "yes--hired him. moreover, laura. i have bought a house." "a house! then you are going to stay! i am so glad! we shall all be so glad. what house?" "the old place. i went into the barber shop. the barber complimented me on the family taste in architecture, and grew sentimental about _his_ associations with the house. this awoke _my_ associations, and the collocation jarred--i was selfish enough to want a monopoly of the associations. i bought the house from him before i left the shop." "but what will you do with it?" asked miss laura, puzzled. "you could never _live_ in it again--after a coloured family?" "why not? it is no less the old house because the barber has reared his brood beneath its roof. there were always negroes in it when we were there--the place swarmed with them. hammer and plane, soap and water, paper and paint, can make it new again. the barber, i understand, is a worthy man, and has reared a decent family. his daughter plays the piano, and sings: _'i dreamt that i dwelt in marble halls, with vassals and serfs by my side.'_ i heard her as i passed there yesterday." miss laura gave an apprehensive start. "there were negroes in the house in the old days," he went on unnoticing, "and surely a good old house, gone farther astray than ours, might still be redeemed to noble ends. i shall renovate it and live in it while i am here, and at such times as i may return; or if i should tire of it, i can give it to the town for a school, or for a hospital--there is none here. i should like to preserve, so far as i may, the old associations--_my_ associations. the house might not fall again into hands as good as those of nichols, and i should like to know that it was devoted to some use that would keep the old name alive in the community." "i think, henry," said miss laura, "that if your visit is long enough, you will do more for the town than if you had remained here all your life. for you have lived in a wider world, and acquired a broader view; and you have learned new things without losing your love for the old." _ten_ the deed for the house was executed on friday, nichols agreeing to give possession within a week. the lavishness of the purchase price was a subject of much remark in the town, and nichols's good fortune was congratulated or envied, according to the temper of each individual. the colonel's action in old peter's case had made him a name for generosity. his reputation for wealth was confirmed by this reckless prodigality. there were some small souls, of course, among the lower whites who were heard to express disgust that, so far, only "niggers" had profited by the colonel's visit. the _anglo-saxon_, which came out saturday morning, gave a large amount of space to colonel french and his doings. indeed, the two compositors had remained up late the night before, setting up copy, and the pressman had not reached home until three o'clock; the kerosene oil in the office gave out, and it was necessary to rouse a grocer at midnight to replenish the supply--so far had the advent of colonel french affected the life of the town. the _anglo-saxon_ announced that colonel henry french, formerly of clarendon, who had won distinction in the confederate army, and since the war achieved fortune at the north, had returned to visit his birthplace and his former friends. the hope was expressed that colonel french, who had recently sold out to a syndicate his bagging mills in connecticut, might seek investments in the south, whose vast undeveloped resources needed only the fructifying flow of abundant capital to make it blossom like the rose. the new south, the _anglo-saxon_ declared, was happy to welcome capital and enterprise, and hoped that colonel french might find, in clarendon, an agreeable residence, and an attractive opening for his trained business energies. that something of the kind was not unlikely, might be gathered from the fact that colonel french had already repurchased, from william nichols, a worthy negro barber, the old french mansion, and had taken into his service a former servant of the family, thus foreshadowing a renewal of local ties and a prolonged residence. the conduct of the colonel in the matter of his old servant was warmly commended. the romantic circumstances of their meeting in the cemetery, and the incident in the justice's court, which were matters of public knowledge and interest, showed that in colonel french, should he decide to resume his residence in clarendon, his fellow citizens would find an agreeable neighbour, whose sympathies would be with the south in those difficult matters upon which north and south had so often been at variance, but upon which they were now rapidly becoming one in sentiment. the colonel, whose active mind could not long remain unoccupied, was busily engaged during the next week, partly in making plans for the renovation of the old homestead, partly in correspondence with kirby concerning the winding up of the loose ends of their former business. thus compelled to leave phil to the care of some one else, he had an excellent opportunity to utilise peter's services. when the old man, proud of his new clothes, and relieved of any responsibility for his own future, first appeared at the hotel, the colonel was ready with a commission. "now, peter," he said, "i'm going to prove my confidence in you, and test your devotion to the family, by giving you charge of phil. you may come and get him in the morning after breakfast--you can get your meals in the hotel kitchen--and take him to walk in the streets or the cemetery; but you must be very careful, for he is all i have in the world. in other words, peter, you are to take as good care of phil as you did of me when i was a little boy." "i'll look aftuh 'im, mars henry, lak he wuz a lump er pyo' gol'. me an' him will git along fine, won't we, little mars phil?" "yes, indeed," replied the child. "i like you, uncle peter, and i'll be glad to go with you." phil and the old man proved excellent friends, and the colonel, satisfied that the boy would be well cared for, gave his attention to the business of the hour. as soon as nichols moved out of the old house, there was a shaking of the dry bones among the mechanics of the town. a small army of workmen invaded the premises, and repairs and improvements of all descriptions went rapidly forward--much more rapidly than was usual in clarendon, for the colonel let all his work by contract, and by a system of forfeits and premiums kept it going at high pressure. in two weeks the house was shingled, painted inside and out, the fences were renewed, the outhouses renovated, and the grounds put in order. the stream of ready money thus put into circulation by the colonel, soon permeated all the channels of local enterprise. the barber, out of his profits, began the erection of a row of small houses for coloured tenants. this gave employment to masons and carpenters, and involved the sale and purchase of considerable building material. general trade felt the influence of the enhanced prosperity. groceries, dry-goods stores and saloons, did a thriving business. the ease with which the simply organised community responded to so slight an inflow of money and energy, was not without a pronounced influence upon the colonel's future conduct. when his house was finished, colonel french hired a housekeeper, a coloured maid, a cook and a coachman, bought several horses and carriages, and, having sent to new york for his books and pictures and several articles of furniture which he had stored there, began housekeeping in his own establishment. succumbing willingly to the charm of old associations, and entering more fully into the social life of the town, he began insensibly to think of clarendon as an established residence, where he would look forward to spending a certain portion of each year. the climate was good for phil, and to bring up the boy safely would be henceforth his chief concern in life. in the atmosphere of the old town the ideas of race and blood attained a new and larger perspective. it would be too bad for an old family, with a fine history, to die out, and phil was the latest of the line and the sole hope of its continuance. the colonel was conscious, somewhat guiltily conscious, that he had neglected the south and all that pertained to it--except the market for burlaps and bagging, which several southern sales agencies had attended to on behalf of his firm. he was aware, too, that he had felt a certain amount of contempt for its poverty, its quixotic devotion to lost causes and vanished ideals, and a certain disgusted impatience with a people who persistently lagged behind in the march of progress, and permitted a handful of upstart, blatant, self-seeking demagogues to misrepresent them, in congress and before the country, by intemperate language and persistent hostility to a humble but large and important part of their own constituency. but he was glad to find that this was the mere froth upon the surface, and that underneath it, deep down in the hearts of the people, the currents of life flowed, if less swiftly, not less purely than in more favoured places. the town needed an element, which he could in a measure supply by residing there, if for only a few weeks each year. and that element was some point of contact with the outer world and its more advanced thought. he might induce some of his northern friends to follow his example; there were many for whom the mild climate in winter and the restful atmosphere at all seasons of the year, would be a boon which correctly informed people would be eager to enjoy. of the extent to which the influence of the treadwell household had contributed to this frame of mind, the colonel was not conscious. he had received the freedom of the town, and many hospitable doors were open to him. as a single man, with an interesting little motherless child, he did not lack for the smiles of fair ladies, of which the town boasted not a few. but mrs. treadwell's home held the first place in his affections. he had been there first, and first impressions are vivid. they had been kind to phil, who loved them all, and insisted on peter's taking him there every day. the colonel found pleasure in miss laura's sweet simplicity and openness of character; to which graciella's vivacity and fresh young beauty formed an attractive counterpart; and mrs. treadwell's plaintive minor note had soothed and satisfied colonel french in this emotional indian summer which marked his reaction from a long and arduous business career. _eleven_ in addition to a pronounced attractiveness of form and feature, miss graciella treadwell possessed a fine complexion, a clear eye, and an elastic spirit. she was also well endowed with certain other characteristics of youth; among them ingenuousness, which, if it be a fault, experience is sure to correct; and impulsiveness, which even the school of hard knocks is not always able to eradicate, though it may chasten. to the good points of graciella, could be added an untroubled conscience, at least up to that period when colonel french dawned upon her horizon, and for some time thereafter. if she had put herself foremost in all her thoughts, it had been the unconscious egotism of youth, with no definite purpose of self-seeking. the things for which she wished most were associated with distant places, and her longing for them had never taken the form of envy of those around her. indeed envy is scarcely a vice of youth; it is a weed that flourishes best after the flower of hope has begun to wither. graciella's views of life, even her youthful romanticism were sane and healthful; but since she had not been tried in the furnace of experience, it could only be said of her that she belonged to the class, always large, but shifting like the sands of the sea, who have never been tempted, and therefore do not know whether they would sin or not. it was inevitable, with such a nature as graciella's, in such an embodiment, that the time should come, at some important crisis of her life, when she must choose between different courses; nor was it likely that she could avoid what comes sometime to all of us, the necessity of choosing between good and evil. her liking for colonel french had grown since their first meeting. he knew so many things that graciella wished to know, that when he came to the house she spent a great deal of time in conversation with him. her aunt laura was often busy with household duties, and graciella, as the least employed member of the family, was able to devote herself to his entertainment. colonel french, a comparatively idle man at this period, found her prattle very amusing. it was not unnatural for graciella to think that this acquaintance might be of future value; she could scarcely have thought otherwise. if she should ever go to new york, a rich and powerful friend would be well worth having. should her going there be delayed very long, she would nevertheless have a tie of friendship in the great city, and a source to which she might at any time apply for information. her fondness for colonel french's society was, however, up to a certain time, entirely spontaneous, and coloured by no ulterior purpose. her hope that his friendship might prove valuable was an afterthought. it was during this happy period that she was standing, one day, by the garden gate, when colonel french passed by in his fine new trap, driving a spirited horse; and it was with perfect candour that she waved her hand to him familiarly. "would you like a drive?" he called. "wouldn't i?" she replied. "wait till i tell the folks." she was back in a moment, and ran out of the gate and down the steps. the colonel gave her his hand and she sprang up beside him. they drove through the cemetery, and into the outlying part of the town, where there were some shaded woodland stretches. it was a pleasant afternoon; cloudy enough to hide the sun. graciella's eyes sparkled and her cheek glowed with pleasure, while her light brown hair blown about her face by the breeze of their rapid motion was like an aureole. "colonel french," she said as they were walking the horse up a hill, "are you going to give a house warming?" "why," he said, "i hadn't thought of it. ought i to give a house warming?" "you surely ought. everybody will want to see your house while it is new and bright. you certainly ought to have a house warming." "very well," said the colonel. "i make it a rule to shirk no plain duty. if i _ought_ to have a house warming, i _will_ have it. and you shall be my social mentor. what sort of a party shall it be?" "why not make it," she said brightly, "just such a party as your father would have had. you have the old house, and the old furniture. give an old-time party." * * * * * in fitting up his house the colonel had been animated by the same feeling that had moved him to its purchase. he had endeavoured to restore, as far as possible, the interior as he remembered it in his childhood. at his father's death the furniture had been sold and scattered. he had been able, through the kindly interest of his friends, to recover several of the pieces. others that were lost past hope, had been reproduced from their description. among those recovered was a fine pair of brass andirons, and his father's mahogany desk, which had been purchased by major treadwell at the sale of the elder french's effects. miss laura had been the first to speak of the desk. "henry," she had said, "the house would not be complete without your father's desk. it was my father's too, but yours is the prior claim. take it as a gift from me." he protested, and would have paid for it liberally, and, when she would take nothing, declared he would not accept it on such terms. "you are selfish, henry," she replied, with a smile. "you have brought a new interest into our lives, and into the town, and you will not let us make you any return." "but i am taking from you something you need," he replied, "and for which you paid. when major treadwell bought it, it was merely second-hand furniture, sold under the hammer. now it has the value of an antique--it is a fine piece and could be sold in new york for a large sum." "you must take it for nothing, or not at all," she replied firmly. "it is highway robbery," he said, and could not make up his mind to yield. next day, when the colonel went home, after having been down town an hour, he found the desk in his library. the treadwell ladies had corrupted peter, who had told them when the colonel would be out of the house and had brought a cart to take the desk away. when the house was finished, the interior was simple but beautiful. it was furnished in the style that had been prevalent fifty years before. there were some modern additions in the line of comfort and luxury--soft chairs, fine rugs, and a few choice books and pictures--for the colonel had not attempted to conform his own tastes and habits to those of his father. he had some visitors, mostly gentlemen, and there was, as graciella knew, a lively curiosity among the ladies to see the house and its contents. the suggestion of a house warming had come originally from mrs. treadwell; but graciella had promptly made it her own and conveyed it to the colonel. * * * * * "a bright idea," he replied. "by all means let it be an old-time party--say such a party as my father would have given, or my grandfather. and shall we invite the old people?" "well," replied graciella judicially, "don't have them so old that they can't talk or hear, and must be fed with a spoon. if there were too many old, or not enough young people, i shouldn't enjoy myself." "i suppose i seem awfully old to you," said the colonel, parenthetically. "oh, i don't know," replied graciella, giving him a frankly critical look. "when you first came i thought you _were_ rather old--you see, you are older than aunt laura; but you seem to have grown younger--it's curious, but it's true--and now i hardly think of you as old at all." the colonel was secretly flattered. the wisest man over forty likes to be thought young. "very well," he said, "you shall select the guests." "at an old-time party," continued graciella, thoughtfully, "the guests should wear old-time clothes. in grandmother's time the ladies wore long flowing sleeves----" "and hoopskirts," said the colonel. "and their hair down over their ears." "or in ringlets." "yes, it is all in grandmother's bound volume of _the ladies' book_," said graciella. "i was reading it only last week." "my mother took it," returned the colonel. "then you must have read 'letters from a pastry cook,' by n.p. willis when they came out?" "no," said the colonel with a sigh, "i missed that. i--i wasn't able to read then." graciella indulged in a brief mental calculation. "why, of course not," she laughed, "you weren't even born when they came out! but they're fine; i'll lend you our copy. you must ask all the girls to dress as their mothers and grandmothers used to dress. make the requirement elastic, because some of them may not have just the things for one particular period. i'm all right. we have a cedar chest in the attic, full of old things. won't i look funny in a hoop skirt?" "you'll look charming in anything," said the colonel. it was a pleasure to pay graciella compliments, she so frankly enjoyed them; and the colonel loved to make others happy. in his new york firm mr. french was always ready to consider a request for an advance of salary; kirby had often been obliged to play the wicked partner in order to keep expenses down to a normal level. at parties débutantes had always expected mr. french to say something pleasant to them, and had rarely been disappointed. the subject of the party was resumed next day at mrs. treadwell's, where the colonel went in the afternoon to call. "an old-time party," declared the colonel, "should have old-time amusements. we must have a fiddler, a black fiddler, to play quadrilles and the virginia reel." "i don't know where you'll find one," said miss laura. "i'll ask peter," replied the colonel. "he ought to know." peter was in the yard with phil. "lawd, mars henry!" said peter, "fiddlers is mighty sca'ce dese days, but i reckon ole 'poleon campbell kin make you shake yo' feet yit, ef ole man rheumatiz ain' ketched holt er 'im too tight." "and i will play a minuet on your new piano," said miss laura, "and teach the girls beforehand how to dance it. there should be cards for those who do not dance." so the party was arranged. miss laura, graciella and the colonel made out the list of guests. the invitations were duly sent out for an old-time party, with old-time costumes--any period between and permissible--and old-time entertainment. the announcement created some excitement in social circles, and, like all of colonel french's enterprises at that happy period of his home-coming, brought prosperity in its train. dressmakers were kept busy making and altering costumes for the ladies. old archie christmas, the mulatto tailor, sole survivor of a once flourishing craft--mr. cohen's universal emporium supplied the general public with ready-made clothing, and, twice a year, the travelling salesman of a new york tailoring firm visited clarendon with samples of suitings, and took orders and measurements--old archie christmas, who had not made a full suit of clothes for years, was able, by making and altering men's garments for the colonel's party, to earn enough to keep himself alive for another twelve months. old peter was at archie's shop one day, and they were talking about old times--good old times--for to old men old times are always good times, though history may tell another tale. "yo' boss is a godsen' ter dis town," declared old archie, "he sho' is. de w'ite folks says de young niggers is triflin' 'cause dey don' larn how to do nothin'. but what is dere fer 'em to do? i kin 'member when dis town was full er black an' yaller carpenters an' 'j'iners, blacksmiths, wagon makers, shoemakers, tinners, saddlers an' cab'net makers. now all de fu'nicher, de shoes, de wagons, de buggies, de tinware, de hoss shoes, de nails to fasten 'em on wid--yas, an' fo' de lawd! even de clothes dat folks wears on dere backs, is made at de norf, an' dere ain' nothin' lef' fer de ole niggers ter do, let 'lone de young ones. yo' boss is de right kin'; i hopes he'll stay 'roun' here till you an' me dies." "i hopes wid you," said peter fervently, "i sho' does! yas indeed i does." peter was entirely sincere. never in his life had he worn such good clothes, eaten such good food, or led so easy a life as in the colonel's service. even the old times paled by comparison with this new golden age; and the long years of poverty and hard luck that stretched behind him seemed to the old man like a distant and unpleasant dream. * * * * * the party came off at the appointed time, and was a distinct success. graciella had made a raid on the cedar chest, and shone resplendent in crinoline, curls, and a patterned muslin. together with miss laura and ben dudley, who had come in from mink run for the party, she was among the first to arrive. miss laura's costume, which belonged to an earlier date, was in keeping with her quiet dignity. ben wore a suit of his uncle's, which the care of old aunt viney had preserved wonderfully well from moth and dust through the years. the men wore stocks and neckcloths, bell-bottomed trousers with straps under their shoes, and frock coats very full at the top and buttoned tightly at the waist. old peter, in a long blue coat with brass buttons, acted as butler, helped by a young negro who did the heavy work. miss laura's servant catherine had rallied from her usual gloom and begged the privilege of acting as lady's maid. 'poleon campbell, an old-time negro fiddler, whom peter had resurrected from some obscure cabin, oiled his rheumatic joints, tuned his fiddle and rosined his bow, and under the inspiration of good food and drink and liberal wage, played through his whole repertory, which included such ancient favourites as, "fishers' hornpipe," "soldiers' joy," "chicken in the bread-tray," and the "campbells are coming." miss laura played a minuet, which the young people danced. major mclean danced the highland fling, and some of the ladies sang old-time songs, and war lyrics, which stirred the heart and moistened the eyes. little phil, in a child's costume of , copied from _the ladies' book_, was petted and made much of for several hours, until he became sleepy and was put to bed. "graciella," said the colonel to his young friend, during the evening, "our party is a great success. it was your idea. when it is all over, i want to make you a present in token of my gratitude. you shall select it yourself; it shall be whatever you say." graciella was very much elated at this mark of the colonel's friendship. she did not dream of declining the proffered token, and during the next dance her mind was busily occupied with the question of what it should be--a ring, a bracelet, a bicycle, a set of books? she needed a dozen things, and would have liked to possess a dozen others. she had not yet decided, when ben came up to claim her for a dance. on his appearance, she was struck by a sudden idea. colonel french was a man of affairs. in new york he must have a wide circle of influential acquaintances. old mr. dudley was in failing health; he might die at any time, and ben would then be free to seek employment away from clarendon. what better place for him than new york? with a position there, he would be able to marry her, and take her there to live. this, she decided, should be her request of the colonel--that he should help her lover to a place in new york. her conclusion was really magnanimous. she might profit by it in the end, but ben would be the first beneficiary. it was an act of self-denial, for she was giving up a definite and certain good for a future contingency. she was therefore in a pleasant glow of self-congratulatory mood when she accidentally overheard a conversation not intended for her ears. she had run out to the dining-room to speak to the housekeeper about the refreshments, and was returning through the hall, when she stopped for a moment to look into the library, where those who did not care to dance were playing cards. beyond the door, with their backs turned toward her, sat two ladies engaged in conversation. one was a widow, a well-known gossip, and the other a wife known to be unhappily married. they were no longer young, and their views were marked by the cynicism of seasoned experience. "oh, there's no doubt about it," said the widow. "he came down here to find a wife. he tried a yankee wife, and didn't like the breed; and when he was ready for number two, he came back south." "he showed good taste," said the other. "that depends," said the widow, "upon whom he chooses. he can probably have his pick." "no doubt," rejoined the married lady, with a touch of sarcasm, which the widow, who was still under forty, chose to ignore. "i wonder which is it?" said the widow. "i suppose it's laura; he spends a great deal of time there, and she's devoted to his little boy, or pretends to be." "don't fool yourself," replied the other earnestly, and not without a subdued pleasure in disabusing the widow's mind. "don't fool yourself, my dear. a man of his age doesn't marry a woman of laura treadwell's. believe me, it's the little one." "but she has a beau. there's that tall nephew of old mr. dudley's. he's been hanging around her for a year or two. he looks very handsome to-night." "ah, well, she'll dispose of him fast enough when the time comes. he's only a poor stick, the last of a good stock run to seed. why, she's been pointedly setting her cap at the colonel all the evening. he's perfectly infatuated; he has danced with her three times to once with laura." "it's sad to see a man make a fool of himself," sighed the widow, who was not without some remnants of beauty and a heart still warm and willing. "children are very forward nowadays." "there's no fool like an old fool, my dear," replied the other with the cheerful philosophy of the miserable who love company. "these fair women are always selfish and calculating; and she's a bold piece. my husband says colonel french is worth at least a million. a young wife, who understands her business, could get anything from him that money can buy." "what a pity, my dear," said the widow, with a spice of malice, seeing her own opportunity, "what a pity that you were older than your husband! well, it will be fortunate for the child if she marries an old man, for beauty of her type fades early." old 'poleon's fiddle, to which one of the guests was improvising an accompaniment on the colonel's new piano, had struck up "camptown races," and the rollicking lilt of the chorus was resounding through the house. _"gwine ter run all night, gwine ter run all day, i'll bet my money on de bobtail nag, oh, who's gwine ter bet on de bay?"_ ben ran out into the hall. graciella had changed her position and was sitting alone, perturbed in mind. "come on, graciella, let's get into the virginia reel; it's the last one." graciella obeyed mechanically. ben, on the contrary, was unusually animated. he had enjoyed the party better than any he had ever attended. he had not been at many. colonel french, who had entered with zest into the spirit of the occasion, participated in the reel. every time graciella touched his hand, it was with the consciousness of a new element in their relations. until then her friendship for colonel french had been perfectly ingenuous. she had liked him because he was interesting, and good to her in a friendly way. now she realised that he was a millionaire, eligible for marriage, from whom a young wife, if she understood her business, might secure the gratification of every wish. the serpent had entered eden. graciella had been tendered the apple. she must choose now whether she would eat. when the party broke up, the colonel was congratulated on every hand. he had not only given his guests a delightful evening. he had restored an ancient landmark; had recalled, to a people whose life lay mostly in the past, the glory of days gone by, and proved his loyalty to their cherished traditions. ben dudley walked home with graciella. miss laura went ahead of them with catherine, who was cheerful in the possession of a substantial reward for her services. "you're not sayin' much to-night," said ben to his sweetheart, as they walked along under the trees. graciella did not respond. "you're not sayin' much to-night," he repeated. "yes," returned graciella abstractedly, "it was a lovely party!" ben said no more. the house warming had also given him food for thought. he had noticed the colonel's attentions to graciella, and had heard them remarked upon. colonel french was more than old enough to be graciella's father; but he was rich. graciella was poor and ambitious. ben's only assets were youth and hope, and priority in the field his only claim. miss laura and catherine had gone in, and when the young people came to the gate, the light still shone through the open door. "graciella," he said, taking her hand in his as they stood a moment, "will you marry me?" "still harping on the same old string," she said, withdrawing her hand. "i'm tired now, ben, too tired to talk foolishness." "very well, i'll save it for next time. good night, sweetheart." she had closed the gate between them. he leaned over it to kiss her, but she evaded his caress and ran lightly up the steps. "good night, ben," she called. "good night, sweetheart," he replied, with a pang of foreboding. in after years, when the colonel looked back upon his residence in clarendon, this seemed to him the golden moment. there were other times that stirred deeper emotions--the lust of battle, the joy of victory, the chagrin of defeat--moments that tried his soul with tests almost too hard. but, thus far, his new career in clarendon had been one of pleasant experiences only, and this unclouded hour was its fitting crown. _twelve_ whenever the colonel visited the cemetery, or took a walk in that pleasant quarter of the town, he had to cross the bridge from which was visible the site of the old eureka cotton mill of his boyhood, and it was not difficult to recall that it had been, before the war, a busy hive of industry. on a narrow and obscure street, little more than an alley, behind the cemetery, there were still several crumbling tenements, built for the mill operatives, but now occupied by a handful of abjectly poor whites, who kept body and soul together through the doubtful mercy of god and a small weekly dole from the poormaster. the mill pond, while not wide-spreading, had extended back some distance between the sloping banks, and had furnished swimming holes, fishing holes, and what was more to the point at present, a very fine head of water, which, as it struck the colonel more forcibly each time he saw it, offered an opportunity that the town could ill afford to waste. shrewd minds in the cotton industry had long ago conceived the idea that the south, by reason of its nearness to the source of raw material, its abundant water power, and its cheaper labour, partly due to the smaller cost of living in a mild climate, and the absence of labour agitation, was destined in time to rival and perhaps displace new england in cotton manufacturing. many southern mills were already in successful operation. but from lack of capital, or lack of enterprise, nothing of the kind had ever been undertaken in clarendon although the town was the centre of a cotton-raising district, and there was a mill in an adjoining county. men who owned land mortgaged it for money to raise cotton; men who rented land from others mortgaged their crops for the same purpose. it was easy to borrow money in clarendon--on adequate security--at ten per cent., and mr. fetters, the magnate of the county, was always ready, the colonel had learned, to accommodate the needy who could give such security. he had also discovered that fetters was acquiring the greater part of the land. many a farmer imagined that he owned a farm, when he was, actually, merely a tenant of fetters. occasionally fetters foreclosed a mortgage, when there was plainly no more to be had from it, and bought in the land, which he added to his own holdings in fee. but as a rule, he found it more profitable to let the borrower retain possession and pay the interest as nearly as he could; the estate would ultimately be good for the debt, if the debtor did not live too long--worry might be counted upon to shorten his days--and the loan, with interest, could be more conveniently collected at his death. to bankrupt an estate was less personal than to break an individual; and widows, and orphans still in their minority, did not vote and knew little about business methods. to a man of action, like the colonel, the frequent contemplation of the unused water power, which might so easily be harnessed to the car of progress, gave birth, in time, to a wish to see it thus utilised, and the further wish to stir to labour the idle inhabitants of the neighbourhood. in all work the shiftless methods of an older generation still survived. no one could do anything in a quarter of an hour. nearly all tasks were done by negroes who had forgotten how to work, or by white people who had never learned. but the colonel had already seen the reviving effect of a little money, directed by a little energy. and so he planned to build a new and larger cotton mill where the old had stood; to shake up this lethargic community; to put its people to work, and to teach them habits of industry, efficiency and thrift. this, he imagined, would be pleasant occupation for his vacation, as well as a true missionary enterprise--a contribution to human progress. such a cotton mill would require only an inconsiderable portion of his capital, the body of which would be left intact for investment elsewhere; it would not interfere at all with his freedom of movement; for, once built, equipped and put in operation under a competent manager, it would no more require his personal oversight than had the new england bagging mills which his firm had conducted for so many years. from impulse to action was, for the colonel's temperament, an easy step, and he had scarcely moved into his house, before he quietly set about investigating the title to the old mill site. it had been forfeited many years before, he found, to the state, for non-payment of taxes. there having been no demand for the property at any time since, it had never been sold, but held as a sort of lapsed asset, subject to sale, but open also, so long as it remained unsold, to redemption upon the payment of back taxes and certain fees. the amount of these was ascertained; it was considerably less than the fair value of the property, which was therefore redeemable at a profit. the owners, however, were widely scattered, for the mill had belonged to a joint-stock company composed of a dozen or more members. colonel french was pleasantly surprised, upon looking up certain musty public records in the court house, to find that he himself was the owner, by inheritance, of several shares of stock which had been overlooked in the sale of his father's property. retaining the services of judge bullard, the leading member of the clarendon bar, he set out quietly to secure options upon the other shares. this involved an extensive correspondence, which occupied several weeks. for it was necessary first to find, and then to deal with the scattered representatives of the former owners. _thirteen_ in engaging judge bullard, the colonel had merely stated to the lawyer that he thought of building a cotton-mill, but had said nothing about his broader plan. it was very likely, he recognised, that the people of clarendon might not relish the thought that they were regarded as fit subjects for reform. he knew that they were sensitive, and quick to resent criticism. if some of them might admit, now and then, among themselves, that the town was unprogressive, or declining, there was always some extraneous reason given--the war, the carpetbaggers, the fifteenth amendment, the negroes. perhaps not one of them had ever quite realised the awful handicap of excuses under which they laboured. effort was paralysed where failure was so easily explained. that the condition of the town might be due to causes within itself--to the general ignorance, self-satisfaction and lack of enterprise, had occurred to only a favoured few; the younger of these had moved away, seeking a broader outlook elsewhere; while those who remained were not yet strong enough nor brave enough to break with the past and urge new standards of thought and feeling. so the colonel kept his larger purpose to himself until a time when greater openness would serve to advance it. thus judge bullard, not being able to read his client's mind, assumed very naturally that the contemplated enterprise was to be of a purely commercial nature, directed to making the most money in the shortest time. "some day, colonel," he said, with this thought in mind, "you might get a few pointers by running over to carthage and looking through the excelsior mills. they get more work there for less money than anywhere else in the south. last year they declared a forty per cent. dividend. i know the superintendent, and will give you a letter of introduction, whenever you like." the colonel bore the matter in mind, and one morning, a day or two after his party, set out by train, about eight o'clock in the morning, for carthage, armed with a letter from the lawyer to the superintendent of the mills. the town was only forty miles away; but a cow had been caught in a trestle across a ditch, and some time was required for the train crew to release her. another stop was made in the middle of a swamp, to put off a light mulatto who had presumed on his complexion to ride in the white people's car. he had been successfully spotted, but had impudently refused to go into the stuffy little closet provided at the end of the car for people of his class. he was therefore given an opportunity to reflect, during a walk along the ties, upon his true relation to society. another stop was made for a gentleman who had sent a negro boy ahead to flag the train and notify the conductor that he would be along in fifteen or twenty minutes with a couple of lady passengers. a hot journal caused a further delay. these interruptions made it eleven o'clock, a three-hours' run, before the train reached carthage. the town was much smaller than clarendon. it comprised a public square of several acres in extent, on one side of which was the railroad station, and on another the court house. one of the remaining sides was occupied by a row of shops; the fourth straggled off in various directions. the whole wore a neglected air. bales of cotton goods were piled on the platform, apparently just unloaded from wagons standing near. several white men and negroes stood around and stared listlessly at the train and the few who alighted from it. inquiring its whereabouts from one of the bystanders, the colonel found the nearest hotel--a two-story frame structure, with a piazza across the front, extending to the street line. there was a buggy standing in front, its horse hitched to one of the piazza posts. steps led up from the street, but one might step from the buggy to the floor of the piazza, which was without a railing. the colonel mounted the steps and passed through the door into a small room, which he took for the hotel office, since there were chairs standing against the walls, and at one side a table on which a register lay open. the only person in the room, beside himself, was a young man seated near the door, with his feet elevated to the back of another chair, reading a newspaper from which he did not look up. the colonel, who wished to make some inquiries and to register for the dinner which he might return to take, looked around him for the clerk, or some one in authority, but no one was visible. while waiting, he walked over to the desk and turned over the leaves of the dog-eared register. he recognised only one name--that of mr. william fetters, who had registered there only a day or two before. no one had yet appeared. the young man in the chair was evidently not connected with the establishment. his expression was so forbidding, not to say arrogant, and his absorption in the newspaper so complete, that the colonel, not caring to address him, turned to the right and crossed a narrow hall to a room beyond, evidently a parlour, since it was fitted up with a faded ingrain carpet, a centre table with a red plush photograph album, and several enlarged crayon portraits hung near the ceiling--of the kind made free of charge in chicago from photographs, provided the owner orders a frame from the company. no one was in the room, and the colonel had turned to leave it, when he came face to face with a lady passing through the hall. "are you looking for some one?" she asked amiably, having noted his air of inquiry. "why, yes, madam," replied the colonel, removing his hat, "i was looking for the proprietor--or the clerk." "why," she replied, smiling, "that's the proprietor sitting there in the office. i'm going in to speak to him, and you can get his attention at the same time." their entrance did not disturb the young man's reposeful attitude, which remained as unchanged as that of a graven image; nor did he exhibit any consciousness at their presence. "i want a clean towel, mr. dickson," said the lady sharply. the proprietor looked up with an annoyed expression. "huh?" he demanded, in a tone of resentment mingled with surprise. "a clean towel, if you please." the proprietor said nothing more to the lady, nor deigned to notice the colonel at all, but lifted his legs down from the back of the chair, rose with a sigh, left the room and returned in a few minutes with a towel, which he handed ungraciously to the lady. then, still paying no attention to the colonel, he resumed his former attitude, and returned to the perusal of his newspaper--certainly the most unconcerned of hotel keepers, thought the colonel, as a vision of spacious lobbies, liveried porters, and obsequious clerks rose before his vision. he made no audible comment, however, but merely stared at the young man curiously, left the hotel, and inquired of a passing negro the whereabouts of the livery stable. a few minutes later he found the place without difficulty, and hired a horse and buggy. while the stable boy was putting the harness on the horse, the colonel related to the liveryman, whose manner was energetic and business-like, and who possessed an open countenance and a sympathetic eye, his experience at the hotel. "oh, yes," was the reply, "that's lee dickson all over. that hotel used to be kep' by his mother. she was a widow woman, an' ever since she died, a couple of months ago, lee's been playin' the big man, spendin' the old lady's money, and enjoyin' himself. did you see that hoss'n'-buggy hitched in front of the ho-tel?" "yes." "well, that's lee's buggy. he hires it from us. we send it up every mornin' at nine o'clock, when lee gits up. when he's had his breakfas' he comes out an' gits in the buggy, an' drives to the barber-shop nex' door, gits out, goes in an' gits shaved, comes out, climbs in the buggy, an' drives back to the ho-tel. then he talks to the cook, comes out an' gits in the buggy, an' drives half-way 'long that side of the square, about two hund'ed feet, to the grocery sto', and orders half a pound of coffee or a pound of lard, or whatever the ho-tel needs for the day, then comes out, climbs in the buggy and drives back. when the mail comes in, if he's expectin' any mail, he drives 'cross the square to the post-office, an' then drives back to the ho-tel. there's other lazy men roun' here, but lee dickson takes the cake. however, it's money in our pocket, as long as it keeps up." "i shouldn't think it would keep up long," returned the colonel. "how can such a hotel prosper?" "it don't!" replied the liveryman, "but it's the best in town." "i don't see how there could be a worse," said the colonel. "there couldn't--it's reached bed rock." the buggy was ready by this time, and the colonel set out, with a black driver, to find the excelsior cotton mills. they proved to be situated in a desolate sandhill region several miles out of town. the day was hot; the weather had been dry, and the road was deep with a yielding white sand into which the buggy tires sank. the horse soon panted with the heat and the exertion, and the colonel, dressed in brown linen, took off his hat and mopped his brow with his handkerchief. the driver, a taciturn negro--most of the loquacious, fun-loving negroes of the colonel's youth seemed to have disappeared--flicked a horsefly now and then, with his whip, from the horse's sweating back. the first sign of the mill was a straggling group of small frame houses, built of unpainted pine lumber. the barren soil, which would not have supported a firm lawn, was dotted with scraggy bunches of wiregrass. in the open doorways, through which the flies swarmed in and out, grown men, some old, some still in the prime of life, were lounging, pipe in mouth, while old women pottered about the yards, or pushed back their sunbonnets to stare vacantly at the advancing buggy. dirty babies were tumbling about the cabins. there was a lean and listless yellow dog or two for every baby; and several slatternly black women were washing clothes on the shady sides of the houses. a general air of shiftlessness and squalor pervaded the settlement. there was no sign of joyous childhood or of happy youth. a turn in the road brought them to the mill, the distant hum of which had already been audible. it was a two-story brick structure with many windows, altogether of the cheapest construction, but situated on the bank of a stream and backed by a noble water power. they drew up before an open door at one corner of the building. the colonel alighted, entered, and presented his letter of introduction. the superintendent glanced at him keenly, but, after reading the letter, greeted him with a show of cordiality, and called a young man to conduct the visitor through the mill. the guide seemed in somewhat of a hurry, and reticent of speech; nor was the noise of the machinery conducive to conversation. some of the colonel's questions seemed unheard, and others were imperfectly answered. yet the conditions disclosed by even such an inspection were, to the colonel, a revelation. through air thick with flying particles of cotton, pale, anæmic young women glanced at him curiously, with lack-luster eyes, or eyes in which the gleam was not that of health, or hope, or holiness. wizened children, who had never known the joys of childhood, worked side by side at long rows of spools to which they must give unremitting attention. most of the women were using snuff, the odour of which was mingled with the flying particles of cotton, while the floor was thickly covered with unsightly brown splotches. when they had completed the tour of the mills and returned to the office, the colonel asked some questions of the manager about the equipment, the output, and the market, which were very promptly and courteously answered. to those concerning hours and wages the replies were less definite, and the colonel went away impressed as much by what he had not learned as by what he had seen. while settling his bill at the livery stable, he made further inquiries. "lord, yes," said the liveryman in answer to one of them, "i can tell you all you want to know about that mill. talk about nigger slavery--the niggers never were worked like white women and children are in them mills. they work 'em from twelve to sixteen hours a day for from fifteen to fifty cents. them triflin' old pinelanders out there jus' lay aroun' and raise children for the mills, and then set down and chaw tobacco an' live on their children's wages. it's a sin an' a shame, an' there ought to be a law ag'inst it." the conversation brought out the further fact that vice was rampant among the millhands. "an' it ain't surprisin'," said the liveryman, with indignation tempered by the easy philosophy of hot climates. "shut up in jail all day, an' half the night, never breathin' the pyo' air, or baskin' in god's bright sunshine; with no books to read an' no chance to learn, who can blame the po'r things if they have a little joy in the only way they know?" "who owns the mill?" asked the colonel. "it belongs to a company," was the reply, "but old bill fetters owns a majority of the stock--durn, him!" the colonel felt a thrill of pleasure--he had met a man after his own heart. "you are not one of fetters's admirers then?" he asked. "not by a durn sight," returned the liveryman promptly. "when i look at them white gals, that ought to be rosy-cheeked an' bright-eyed an' plump an' hearty an' happy, an' them po' little child'en that never get a chance to go fishin' or swimmin' or to learn anything, i allow i wouldn' mind if the durned old mill would catch fire an' burn down. they work children there from six years old up, an' half of 'em die of consumption before they're grown. it's a durned outrage, an' if i ever go to the legislatur', for which i mean to run, i'll try to have it stopped." "i hope you will be elected," said the colonel. "what time does the train go back to clarendon?" "four o'clock, if she's on time--but it may be five." "do you suppose i can get dinner at the hotel?" "oh, yes! i sent word up that i 'lowed you might be back, so they'll be expectin' you." the proprietor was at the desk when the colonel went in. he wrote his name on the book, and was served with an execrable dinner. he paid his bill of half a dollar to the taciturn proprietor, and sat down on the shady porch to smoke a cigar. the proprietor, having put the money in his pocket, came out and stepped into his buggy, which was still standing alongside the piazza. the colonel watched him drive a stone's throw to a barroom down the street, get down, go in, come out a few minutes later, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, climb into the buggy, drive back, step out and re-enter the hotel. it was yet an hour to train time, and the colonel, to satisfy an impulse of curiosity, strolled over to the court house, which could be seen across the square, through the trees. requesting leave of the clerk in the county recorder's office to look at the records of mortgages, he turned the leaves over and found that a large proportion of the mortgages recently recorded--among them one on the hotel property--had been given to fetters. the whistle of the train was heard in the distance as the colonel recrossed the square. glancing toward the hotel, he saw the landlord come out, drive across the square to the station, and sit there until the passengers had alighted. to a drummer with a sample case, he pointed carelessly across the square to the hotel, but made no movement to take the baggage; and as the train moved off, the colonel, looking back, saw him driving back to the hotel. fetters had begun to worry the colonel. he had never seen the man, and yet his influence was everywhere. he seemed to brood over the country round about like a great vampire bat, sucking the life-blood of the people. his touch meant blight. as soon as a fetters mortgage rested on a place, the property began to run down; for why should the nominal owner keep up a place which was destined in the end to go to fetters? the colonel had heard grewsome tales of fetters's convict labour plantation; he had seen the operation of fetters's cotton-mill, where white humanity, in its fairest and tenderest form, was stunted and blighted and destroyed; and he had not forgotten the scene in the justice's office. the fighting blood of the old frenches was stirred. the colonel's means were abundant; he did not lack the sinews of war. clarendon offered a field for profitable investment. he would like to do something for humanity, something to offset fetters and his kind, who were preying upon the weaknesses of the people, enslaving white and black alike. in a great city, what he could give away would have been but a slender stream, scarcely felt in the rivers of charity poured into the ocean of want; and even his considerable wealth would have made him only a small stockholder in some great aggregation of capital. in this backward old town, away from the great centres of commerce, and scarcely feeling their distant pulsebeat, except when some daring speculator tried for a brief period to corner the cotton market, he could mark with his own eyes the good he might accomplish. it required no great stretch of imagination to see the town, a few years hence, a busy hive of industry, where no man, and no woman obliged to work, need be without employment at fair wages; where the trinity of peace, prosperity and progress would reign supreme; where men like fetters and methods like his would no longer be tolerated. the forces of enlightenment, set in motion by his aid, and supported by just laws, should engage the retrograde forces represented by fetters. communities, like men, must either grow or decay, advance or decline; they could not stand still. clarendon was decaying. fetters was the parasite which, by sending out its roots toward rich and poor alike, struck at both extremes of society, and was choking the life of the town like a rank and deadly vine. the colonel could, if need be, spare the year or two of continuous residence needed to rescue clarendon from the grasp of fetters. the climate agreed with phil, who was growing like a weed; and the colonel could easily defer for a little while his scheme of travel, and the further disposition of his future. so, when he reached home that night, he wrote an answer to a long and gossipy letter received from kirby about that time, in which the latter gave a detailed account of what was going on in the colonel's favourite club and among their mutual friends, and reported progress in the search for some venture worthy of their mettle. the colonel replied that phil and he were well, that he was interesting himself in a local enterprise which would certainly occupy him for some months, and that he would not visit new york during the summer, unless it were to drop in for a day or two on business and return immediately. a letter from mrs. jerviss, received about the same time, was less easily disposed of. she had learned, from kirby, of the chivalrous manner in which mr. french had protected her interests and spared her feelings in the fight with consolidated bagging. she had not been able, she said, to thank him adequately before he went away, because she had not known how much she owed him; nor could she fittingly express herself on paper. she could only renew her invitation to him to join her house party at newport in july. the guests would be friends of his--she would be glad to invite any others that he might suggest. she would then have the opportunity to thank him in person. the colonel was not unmoved by this frank and grateful letter, and he knew perfectly well what reward he might claim from her gratitude. had the letter come a few weeks sooner, it might have had a different answer. but, now, after the first pang of regret, his only problem was how to refuse gracefully her offered hospitality. he was sorry, he replied, not to be able to join her house party that summer, but during the greater part of it he would be detained in the south by certain matters into which he had been insensibly drawn. as for her thanks, she owed him none; he had only done his duty, and had already been thanked too much. so thoroughly had colonel french entered into the spirit of his yet undefined contest with fetters, that his life in new york, save when these friendly communications recalled it, seemed far away, and of slight retrospective interest. every one knows of the "blind spot" in the field of vision. new york was for the time being the colonel's blind spot. that it might reassert its influence was always possible, but for the present new york was of no more interest to him than canton or bogota. having revelled for a few pleasant weeks in memories of a remoter past, the reaction had projected his thoughts forward into the future. his life in new york, and in the clarendon of the present--these were mere transitory embodiments; he lived in the clarendon yet to be, a clarendon rescued from fetters, purified, rehabilitated; and no compassionate angel warned him how tenacious of life that which fetters stood for might be--that survival of the spirit of slavery, under which the land still groaned and travailed--the growth of generations, which it would take more than one generation to destroy. in describing to judge bullard his visit to the cotton mill, the colonel was not sparing of his indignation. "the men," he declared with emphasis, "who are responsible for that sort of thing, are enemies of mankind. i've been in business for twenty years, but i have never sought to make money by trading on the souls and bodies of women and children. i saw the little darkies running about the streets down there at carthage; they were poor and ragged and dirty, but they were out in the air and the sunshine; they have a chance to get their growth; to go to school and learn something. the white children are worked worse than slaves, and are growing up dulled and stunted, physically and mentally. our folks down here are mighty short-sighted, judge. we'll wake them up. we'll build a model cotton mill, and run it with decent hours and decent wages, and treat the operatives like human beings with bodies to nourish, minds to develop; and souls to save. fetters and his crowd will have to come up to our standard, or else we'll take their hands away." judge bullard had looked surprised when the colonel began his denunciation; and though he said little, his expression, when the colonel had finished, was very thoughtful and not altogether happy. _fourteen_ it was the week after the colonel's house warming. graciella was not happy. she was sitting, erect and graceful, as she always sat, on the top step of the piazza. ben dudley occupied the other end of the step. his model stood neglected beside him, and he was looking straight at graciella, whose eyes, avoiding his, were bent upon a copy of "jane eyre," held open in her hand. there was an unwonted silence between them, which ben was the first to break. "will you go for a walk with me?" he asked. "i'm sorry, ben," she replied, "but i have an engagement to go driving with colonel french." ben's dark cheek grew darker, and he damned colonel french softly beneath his breath. he could not ask graciella to drive, for their old buggy was not fit to be seen, and he had no money to hire a better one. the only reason why he ever had wanted money was because of her. if she must have money, or the things that money alone would buy, he must get money, or lose her. as long as he had no rival there was hope. but could he expect to hold his own against a millionaire, who had the garments and the manners of the great outside world? "i suppose the colonel's here every night, as well as every day," he said, "and that you talk to him all the time." "no, ben, he isn't here every night, nor every day. his old darky, peter, brings phil over every day; but when the colonel comes he talks to grandmother and aunt laura, as well as to me." graciella had risen from the step, and was now enthroned in a splint-bottomed armchair, an attitude more in keeping with the air of dignity which she felt constrained to assume as a cloak for an uneasy conscience. graciella was not happy. she had reached the parting of the ways, and realised that she must choose between them. and yet she hesitated. every consideration of prudence dictated that she choose colonel french rather than ben. the colonel was rich and could gratify all her ambitions. there could be no reasonable doubt that he was fond of her; and she had heard it said, by those more experienced than she and therefore better qualified to judge, that he was infatuated with her. certainly he had shown her a great deal of attention. he had taken her driving; he had lent her books and music; he had brought or sent the new york paper every day for her to read. he had been kind to her aunt laura, too, probably for her niece's sake; for the colonel was kind by nature, and wished to make everyone about him happy. it was fortunate that her aunt laura was fond of philip. if she should decide to marry the colonel, she would have her aunt laura come and make her home with them: she could give philip the attention with which his stepmother's social duties might interfere. it was hardly likely that her aunt entertained any hope of marriage; indeed, miss laura had long since professed herself resigned to old maidenhood. but in spite of these rosy dreams, graciella was not happy. to marry the colonel she must give up ben; and ben, discarded, loomed up larger than ben, accepted. she liked ben; she was accustomed to ben. ben was young, and youth attracted youth. other things being equal, she would have preferred him to the colonel. but ben was poor; he had nothing and his prospects for the future were not alluring. he would inherit little, and that little not until his uncle's death. he had no profession. he was not even a good farmer, and trifled away, with his useless models and mechanical toys, the time he might have spent in making his uncle's plantation productive. graciella did not know that fetters had a mortgage on the plantation, or ben's prospects would have seemed even more hopeless. she felt sorry not only for herself, but for ben as well--sorry that he should lose her--for she knew that he loved her sincerely. but her first duty was to herself. conscious that she possessed talents, social and otherwise, it was not her view of creative wisdom that it should implant in the mind tastes and in the heart longings destined never to be realised. she must discourage ben--gently and gradually, for of course he would suffer; and humanity, as well as friendship, counselled kindness. a gradual breaking off, too, would be less harrowing to her own feelings. "i suppose you admire colonel french immensely," said ben, with assumed impartiality. "oh, i like him reasonably well," she said with an equal lack of candour. "his conversation is improving. he has lived in the metropolis, and has seen so much of the world that he can scarcely speak without saying something interesting. it's a liberal education to converse with people who have had opportunities. it helps to prepare my mind for life at the north." "you set a great deal of store by the north, graciella. anybody would allow, to listen to you, that you didn't love your own country." "i love the south, ben, as i loved aunt lou, my old black mammy. i've laid in her arms many a day, and i 'most cried my eyes out when she died. but that didn't mean that i never wanted to see any one else. nor am i going to live in the south a minute longer than i can help, because it's too slow. and new york isn't all--i want to travel and see the world. the south is away behind." she had said much the same thing weeks before; but then it had been spontaneous. now she was purposely trying to make ben see how unreasonable was his hope. ben stood, as he obscurely felt, upon delicate ground. graciella had not been the only person to overhear remarks about the probability of the colonel's seeking a wife in clarendon, and jealousy had sharpened ben's perceptions while it increased his fears. he had little to offer graciella. he was not well educated; he had nothing to recommend him but his youth and his love for her. he could not take her to europe, or even to new york--at least not yet. "and at home," graciella went on seriously, "at home i should want several houses--a town house, a country place, a seaside cottage. when we were tired of one we could go to another, or live in hotels--in the winter in florida, at atlantic city in the spring, at newport in the summer. they say long branch has gone out entirely." ben had a vague idea that long branch was by the seaside, and exposed to storms. "gone out to sea?" he asked absently. he was sick for love of her, and she was dreaming of watering places. "no, ben," said graciella, compassionately. poor ben had so little opportunity for schooling! he was not to blame for his want of knowledge; but could she throw herself away upon an ignoramus? "it's still there, but has gone out of fashion." "oh, excuse me! i'm not posted on these fashionable things." ben relapsed into gloom. the model remained untouched. he could not give graciella a house; he would not have a house until his uncle died. graciella had never seemed so beautiful as to-day, as she sat, dressed in the cool white gown which miss laura's slender fingers had done up, and with her hair dressed after the daintiest and latest fashion chronicled in the _ladies' fireside journal_. no wonder, he thought, that a jaded old man of the world like colonel french should delight in her fresh young beauty! but he would not give her up without a struggle. she had loved him; she must love him still; and she would yet be his, if he could keep her true to him or free from any promise to another, until her deeper feelings could resume their sway. it could not be possible, after all that had passed between them, that she meant to throw him over, nor was he a man that she could afford to treat in such a fashion. there was more in him than graciella imagined; he was conscious of latent power of some kind, though he knew not what, and something would surely happen, sometime, somehow, to improve his fortunes. and there was always the hope, the possibility of finding the lost money. he had brought his great-uncle ralph's letter with him, as he had promised graciella. when she read it, she would see the reasonableness of his hope, and might be willing to wait, at least a little while. any delay would be a point gained. he shuddered to think that he might lose her, and then, the day after the irrevocable vows had been taken, the treasure might come to light, and all their life be spent in vain regrets. graciella was skeptical about the lost money. even mrs. treadwell, whose faith had been firm for years, had ceased to encourage his hope; while miss laura, who at one time had smiled at any mention of the matter, now looked grave if by any chance he let slip a word in reference to it. but he had in his pocket the outward and visible sign of his inward belief, and he would try its effect on graciella. he would risk ridicule or anything else for her sake. "graciella," he said, "i have brought my uncle malcolm's letter along, to convince you that uncle is not as crazy as he seems, and that there's some foundation for the hope that i may yet be able to give you all you want. i don't want to relinquish the hope, and i want you to share it with me." he produced an envelope, once white, now yellow with time, on which was endorsed in ink once black but faded to a pale brown, and hardly legible, the name of "malcolm dudley, esq., mink run," and in the lower left-hand corner, "by hand of viney." the sheet which ben drew from this wrapper was worn at the folds, and required careful handling. graciella, moved by curiosity, had come down from her throne to a seat beside ben upon the porch. she had never had any faith in the mythical gold of old ralph dudley. the people of an earlier generation--her aunt laura perhaps--may once have believed in it, but they had long since ceased to do more than smile pityingly and shake their heads at the mention of old malcolm's delusion. but there was in it the element of romance. strange things had happened, and why might they not happen again? and if they should happen, why not to ben, dear old, shiftless ben! she moved a porch pillow close beside him, and, as they bent their heads over the paper her hair mingled with his, and soon her hand rested, unconsciously, upon his shoulder. "it was a voice from the grave," said ben, "for my great-uncle ralph was dead when the letter reached uncle malcolm. i'll read it aloud--the writing is sometimes hard to make out, and i know it by heart: _my dear malcolm: i have in my hands fifty thousand dollars of government money, in gold, which i am leaving here at the house for a few days. since you are not at home, and i cannot wait, i have confided in our girl viney, whom i can trust. she will tell you, when she gives you this, where i have put the money--i do not write it, lest the letter should fall into the wrong hands; there are many to whom it would be a great temptation. i shall return in a few days, and relieve you of the responsibility. should anything happen to me, write to the secretary of state at richmond for instructions what to do with the money. in great haste_, _your affectionate uncle,_ ralph dudley" graciella was momentarily impressed by the letter; of its reality there could be no doubt--it was there in black and white, or rather brown and yellow. "it sounds like a letter in a novel," she said, thoughtfully. "there must have been something." "there must _be_ something, graciella, for uncle ralph was killed the next day, and never came back for the money. but uncle malcolm, because he don't know where to look, can't find it; and old aunt viney, because she can't talk, can't tell him where it is." "why has she never shown him?" asked graciella. "there is some mystery," he said, "which she seems unable to explain without speech. and then, she is queer--as queer, in her own way, as uncle is in his. now, if you'd only marry me, graciella, and go out there to live, with your uncommonly fine mind, _you'd_ find it--you couldn't help but find it. it would just come at your call, like my dog when i whistle to him." graciella was touched by the compliment, or by the serious feeling which underlay it. and that was very funny, about calling the money and having it come! she had often heard of people whistling for their money, but had never heard that it came--that was ben's idea. there really was a good deal in ben, and perhaps, after all---- but at that moment there was a sound of wheels, and whatever graciella's thought may have been, it was not completed. as colonel french lifted the latch of the garden gate and came up the walk toward them, any glamour of the past, any rosy hope of the future, vanished in the solid brilliancy of the present moment. old ralph was dead, old malcolm nearly so; the money had never been found, would never come to light. there on the doorstep was a young man shabbily attired, without means or prospects. there at the gate was a fine horse, in a handsome trap, and coming up the walk an agreeable, well-dressed gentleman of wealth and position. no dead romance could, in the heart of a girl of seventeen, hold its own against so vital and brilliant a reality. "thank you, ben," she said, adjusting a stray lock of hair which had escaped from her radiant crop, "i am not clever enough for that. it is a dream. your great-uncle ralph had ridden too long and too far in the sun, and imagined the treasure, which has driven your uncle malcolm crazy, and his housekeeper dumb, and has benumbed you so that you sit around waiting, waiting, when you ought to be working, working! no, ben, i like you ever so much, but you will never take me to new york with your uncle ralph's money, nor will you ever earn enough to take me with your own. you must excuse me now, for here comes my cavalier. don't hurry away; aunt laura will be out in a minute. you can stay and work on your model; i'll not be here to interrupt you. good evening, colonel french! did you bring me a _herald_? i want to look at the advertisements." "yes, my dear young lady, there is wednesday's--it is only two days old. how are you, mr. dudley?" "tol'able, sir, thank you." ben was a gentleman by instinct, though his heart was heavy and the colonel a favoured rival. "by the way," said the colonel, "i wish to have an interview with your uncle, about the old mill site. he seems to have been a stockholder in the company, and we should like his signature, if he is in condition to give it. if not, it may be necessary to appoint you his guardian, with power to act in his place." "he's all right, sir, in the morning, if you come early enough," replied ben, courteously. "you can tell what is best to do after you've seen him." "thank you," replied the colonel, "i'll have my man drive me out to-morrow about ten, say; if you'll be at home? you ought to be there, you know." "very well, sir, i'll be there all day, and shall expect you." graciella threw back one compassionate glance, as they drove away behind the colonel's high-stepping brown horse, and did not quite escape a pang at the sight of her young lover, still sitting on the steps in a dejected attitude; and for a moment longer his reproachful eyes haunted her. but graciella prided herself on being, above all things, practical, and, having come out for a good time, resolutely put all unpleasant thoughts aside. there was good horse-flesh in the neighbourhood of clarendon, and the colonel's was of the best. some of the roads about the town were good--not very well kept roads, but the soil was a sandy loam and was self-draining, so that driving was pleasant in good weather. the colonel had several times invited miss laura to drive with him, and had taken her once; but she was often obliged to stay with her mother. graciella could always be had, and the colonel, who did not like to drive alone, found her a vivacious companion, whose naïve comments upon life were very amusing to a seasoned man of the world. she was as pretty, too, as a picture, and the colonel had always admired beauty--with a tempered admiration. at graciella's request they drove first down main street, past the post-office, where she wished to mail a letter. they attracted much attention as they drove through the street in the colonel's new trap. graciella's billowy white gown added a needed touch of maturity to her slender youthfulness. a big straw hat shaded her brown hair, and she sat erect, and held her head high, with a vivid consciousness that she was the central feature of a very attractive whole. the colonel shared her thought, and looked at her with frank admiration. "you are the cynosure of all eyes," he declared. "i suppose i'm an object of envy to every young fellow in town." graciella blushed and bridled with pleasure. "i am not interested in the young men of clarendon," she replied loftily; "they are not worth the trouble." "not even--ben?" asked the colonel slyly. "oh," she replied, with studied indifference, "mr. dudley is really a cousin, and only a friend. he comes to see the family." the colonel's attentions could have but one meaning, and it was important to disabuse his mind concerning ben. nor was she the only one in the family who entertained that thought. of late her grandmother had often addressed her in an unusual way, more as a woman than as a child; and, only the night before, had retold the old story of her own sister mary, who, many years before, had married a man of fifty. he had worshipped her, and had died, after a decent interval, leaving her a large fortune. from which the old lady had deduced that, on the whole, it was better to be an old man's darling than a young man's slave. she had made no application of the story, but graciella was astute enough to draw her own conclusions. her aunt laura, too, had been unusually kind; she had done up the white gown twice a week, had trimmed her hat for her, and had worn old gloves that she might buy her niece a new pair. and her aunt had looked at her wistfully and remarked, with a sigh, that youth was a glorious season and beauty a great responsibility. poor dear, good old aunt laura! when the expected happened, she would be very kind to aunt laura, and repay her, so far as possible, for all her care and sacrifice. _fifteen_ it was only a short time after his visit to the excelsior mills that colonel french noticed a falling off in the progress made by his lawyer, judge bullard, in procuring the signatures of those interested in the old mill site, and after the passing of several weeks he began to suspect that some adverse influence was at work. this suspicion was confirmed when judge bullard told him one day, with some embarrassment, that he could no longer act for him in the matter. "i'm right sorry, colonel," he said. "i should like to help you put the thing through, but i simply can't afford it. other clients, whose business i have transacted for years, and to whom i am under heavy obligations, have intimated that they would consider any further activity of mine in your interest unfriendly to theirs." "i suppose," said the colonel, "your clients wish to secure the mill site for themselves. nothing imparts so much value to a thing as the notion that somebody else wants it. of course, i can't ask you to act for me further, and if you'll make out your bill, i'll hand you a check." "i hope," said judge bullard, "there'll be no ill-feeling about our separation." "oh, no," responded the colonel, politely, "not at all. business is business, and a man's own interests are his first concern." "i'm glad you feel that way," replied the lawyer, much relieved. he had feared that the colonel might view the matter differently. "some men, you know," he said, "might have kept on, and worked against you, while accepting your retainer; there are such skunks at the bar." "there are black sheep in every fold," returned the colonel with a cold smile. "it would be unprofessional, i suppose, to name your client, so i'll not ask you." the judge did not volunteer the information, but the colonel knew instinctively whence came opposition to his plan, and investigation confirmed his intuition. judge bullard was counsel for fetters in all matters where skill and knowledge were important, and fetters held his note, secured by mortgage, for money loaned. for dirty work fetters used tools of baser metal, but, like a wise man, he knew when these were useless, and was shrewd enough to keep the best lawyers under his control. the colonel, after careful inquiry, engaged to take judge bullard's place, one albert caxton, a member of a good old family, a young man, and a capable lawyer, who had no ascertainable connection with fetters, and who, in common with a small fraction of the best people, regarded fetters with distrust, and ascribed his wealth to usury and to what, in more recent years, has come to be known as "graft." to a man of colonel french's business training, opposition was merely a spur to effort. he had not run a race of twenty years in the commercial field, to be worsted in the first heat by the petty boss of a southern backwoods county. why fetters opposed him he did not know. perhaps he wished to defeat a possible rival, or merely to keep out principles and ideals which would conflict with his own methods and injure his prestige. but if fetters wanted a fight, fetters should have a fight. colonel french spent much of his time at young caxton's office, instructing the new lawyer in the details of the mill affair. caxton proved intelligent, zealous, and singularly sympathetic with his client's views and plans. they had not been together a week before the colonel realised that he had gained immensely by the change. the colonel took a personal part in the effort to procure signatures, among others that of old malcolm dudley and on the morning following the drive with graciella, he drove out to mink run to see the old gentleman in person and discover whether or not he was in a condition to transact business. before setting out, he went to his desk--his father's desk, which miss laura had sent to him--to get certain papers for old mr. dudley's signature, if the latter should prove capable of a legal act. he had laid the papers on top of some others which had nearly filled one of the numerous small drawers in the desk. upon opening the drawer he found that one of the papers was missing. the colonel knew quite well that he had placed the paper in the drawer the night before; he remembered the circumstance very distinctly, for the event was so near that it scarcely required an exercise, not to say an effort, of memory. an examination of the drawer disclosed that the piece forming the back of it was a little lower than the sides. possibly, thought the colonel, the paper had slipped off and fallen behind the drawer. he drew the drawer entirely out, and slipped his hand into the cavity. at the back of it he felt the corner of a piece of paper projecting upward from below. the paper had evidently slipped off the top of the others and fallen into a crevice, due to the shrinkage of the wood or some defect of construction. the opening for the drawer was so shallow that though he could feel the end of the paper, he was unable to get such a grasp of it as would permit him to secure it easily. but it was imperative that he have the paper; and since it bore already several signatures obtained with some difficulty, he did not wish to run the risk of tearing it. he examined the compartment below to see if perchance the paper could be reached from there, but found that it could not. there was evidently a lining to the desk, and the paper had doubtless slipped down between this and the finished panels forming the back of the desk. to reach it, the colonel procured a screw driver, and turning the desk around, loosened, with some difficulty, the screws that fastened the proper panel, and soon recovered the paper. with it, however, he found a couple of yellow, time-stained envelopes, addressed on the outside to major john treadwell. the envelopes were unsealed. he glanced into one of them, and seeing that it contained a sheet, folded small, presumably a letter, he thrust the two of them into the breast pocket of his coat, intending to hand them to miss laura at their next meeting. they were probably old letters and of no consequence, but they should of course be returned to the owners. in putting the desk back in its place, after returning the panel and closing the crevice against future accidents, the colonel caught his coat on a projecting point and tore a long rent in the sleeve. it was an old coat, and worn only about the house; and when he changed it before leaving to pay his call upon old malcolm dudley, he hung it in a back corner in his clothes closet, and did not put it on again for a long time. since he was very busily occupied in the meantime, the two old letters to which he had attached no importance, escaped his memory altogether. the colonel's coachman, a young coloured man by the name of tom, had complained of illness early in the morning, and the colonel took peter along to drive him to mink run, as well as to keep him company. on their way through the town they stopped at mrs. treadwell's, where they left phil, who had, he declared, some important engagement with graciella. the distance was not long, scarcely more than five miles. ben dudley was in the habit of traversing it on horseback, twice a day. when they had passed the last straggling cabin of the town, their way lay along a sandy road, flanked by fields green with corn and cotton, broken by stretches of scraggy pine and oak, growing upon land once under cultivation, but impoverished by the wasteful methods of slavery; land that had never been regenerated, and was now no longer tilled. negroes were working in the fields, birds were singing in the trees. buzzards circled lazily against the distant sky. although it was only early summer, a languor in the air possessed the colonel's senses, and suggested a certain charity toward those of his neighbours--and they were most of them--who showed no marked zeal for labour. "work," he murmured, "is best for happiness, but in this climate idleness has its compensations. what, in the end, do we get for all our labour?" "fifty cents a day, an' fin' yo'se'f, suh," said peter, supposing the soliloquy addressed to himself. "dat's w'at dey pays roun' hyuh." when they reached a large clearing, which peter pointed out as their destination, the old man dismounted with considerable agility, and opened a rickety gate that was held in place by loops of rope. evidently the entrance had once possessed some pretensions to elegance, for the huge hewn posts had originally been faced with dressed lumber and finished with ornamental capitals, some fragments of which remained; and the one massive hinge, hanging by a slender rust-eaten nail, had been wrought into a fantastic shape. as they drove through the gateway, a green lizard scampered down from the top of one of the posts, where he had been sunning himself, and a rattlesnake lying in the path lazily uncoiled his motley brown length, and sounding his rattle, wriggled slowly off into the rank grass and weeds that bordered the carriage track. the house stood well back from the road, amid great oaks and elms and unpruned evergreens. the lane by which it was approached was partly overgrown with weeds and grass, from which the mare's fetlocks swept the dew, yet undried by the morning sun. the old dudley "mansion," as it was called, was a large two-story frame house, built in the colonial style, with a low-pitched roof, and a broad piazza along the front, running the full length of both stories and supported by thick round columns, each a solid piece of pine timber, gray with age and lack of paint, seamed with fissures by the sun and rain of many years. the roof swayed downward on one side; the shingles were old and cracked and moss-grown; several of the second story windows were boarded up, and others filled with sashes from which most of the glass had disappeared. about the house, for a space of several rods on each side of it, the ground was bare of grass and shrubbery, rough and uneven, lying in little hillocks and hollows, as though recently dug over at haphazard, or explored by some vagrant drove of hogs. at one side, beyond this barren area, lay a kitchen garden, enclosed by a paling fence. the colonel had never thought of young dudley as being at all energetic, but so ill-kept a place argued shiftlessness in a marked degree. when the carriage had drawn up in front of the house, the colonel became aware of two figures on the long piazza. at one end, in a massive oaken armchair, sat an old man--seemingly a very old man, for he was bent and wrinkled, with thin white hair hanging down upon his shoulders. his face, of a highbred and strongly marked type, emphasised by age, had the hawk-like contour, that is supposed to betoken extreme acquisitiveness. his faded eyes were turned toward a woman, dressed in a homespun frock and a muslin cap, who sat bolt upright, in a straight-backed chair, at the other end of the piazza, with her hands folded on her lap, looking fixedly toward her _vis-à-vis_. neither of them paid the slightest attention to the colonel, and when the old man rose, it was not to step forward and welcome his visitor, but to approach and halt in front of the woman. "viney," he said, sharply, "i am tired of this nonsense. i insist upon knowing, immediately, where my uncle left the money." the woman made no reply, but her faded eyes glowed for a moment, like the ashes of a dying fire, and her figure stiffened perceptibly as she leaned slightly toward him. "show me at once, you hussy," he said, shaking his fist, "or you'll have reason to regret it. i'll have you whipped." his cracked voice rose to a shrill shriek as he uttered the threat. the slumbrous fire in the woman's eyes flamed up for a moment. she rose, and drawing herself up to her full height, which was greater than the old man's, made some incoherent sounds, and bent upon him a look beneath which he quailed. "yes, viney, good viney," he said, soothingly, "i know it was wrong, and i've always regretted it, always, from the very moment. but you shouldn't bear malice. servants, the bible says, should obey their masters, and you should bless them that curse you, and do good to them that despitefully use you. but i was good to you before, viney, and i was kind to you afterwards, and i know you've forgiven me, good viney, noble-hearted viney, and you're going to tell me, aren't you?" he pleaded, laying his hand caressingly upon her arm. she drew herself away, but, seemingly mollified, moved her lips as though in speech. the old man put his hand to his ear and listened with an air of strained eagerness, well-nigh breathless in its intensity. "try again, viney," he said, "that's a good girl. your old master thinks a great deal of you, viney. he is your best friend!" again she made an inarticulate response, which he nevertheless seemed to comprehend, for, brightening up immediately, he turned from her, came down the steps with tremulous haste, muttering to himself meanwhile, seized a spade that stood leaning against the steps, passed by the carriage without a glance, and began digging furiously at one side of the yard. the old woman watched him for a while, with a self-absorption that was entirely oblivious of the visitors, and then entered the house. the colonel had been completely absorbed in this curious drama. there was an air of weirdness and unreality about it all. old peter was as silent as if he had been turned into stone. something in the atmosphere conduced to somnolence, for even the horses stood still, with no signs of restlessness. the colonel was the first to break the spell. "what's the matter with them, peter? do you know?" "dey's bofe plumb 'stracted, suh--clean out'n dey min's--dey be'n dat way fer yeahs an' yeahs an' yeahs." "that's mr. dudley, i suppose?" "yas, suh, dat's ole mars ma'com dudley, de uncle er young mistah ben dudley w'at hangs 'roun miss grac'ella so much." "and who is the woman?" "she's a bright mulattah 'oman, suh, w'at use' ter b'long ter de family befo' de wah, an' has kep' house fer ole mars' ma'com ever sense. he 'lows dat she knows whar old mars' rafe dudley, _his_ uncle, hid a million dollahs endyoin' de wah, an' huh tongue's paralyse' so she can't tell 'im--an' he's be'n tryin' ter fin' out fer de las' twenty-five years. i wo'ked out hyuh one summer on plantation, an' i seen 'em gwine on like dat many 'n' many a time. dey don' nobody roun' hyuh pay no 'tention to 'em no mo', ev'ybody's so use' ter seein' 'em." the conversation was interrupted by the appearance of ben dudley, who came around the house, and, advancing to the carriage, nodded to peter, and greeted the colonel respectfully. "won't you 'light and come in?" he asked. the colonel followed him into the house, to a plainly furnished parlour. there was a wide fireplace, with a fine old pair of brass andirons, and a few pieces of old mahogany furniture, incongruously assorted with half a dozen splint-bottomed chairs. the floor was bare, and on the walls half a dozen of the old dudleys looked out from as many oil paintings, with the smooth glaze that marked the touch of the travelling artist, in the days before portrait painting was superseded by photography and crayon enlargements. ben returned in a few minutes with his uncle. old malcolm seemed to have shaken off his aberration, and greeted the colonel with grave politeness. "i am glad, sir," he said, giving the visitor his hand, "to make your acquaintance. i have been working in the garden--the flower-garden--for the sake of the exercise. we have negroes enough, though they are very trifling nowadays, but the exercise is good for my health. i have trouble, at times, with my rheumatism, and with my--my memory." he passed his hand over his brow as though brushing away an imaginary cobweb. "ben tells me you have a business matter to present to me?" the colonel, somewhat mystified, after what he had witnessed, by this sudden change of manner, but glad to find the old man seemingly rational, stated the situation in regard to the mill site. old malcolm seemed to understand perfectly, and accepted with willingness the colonel's proposition to give him a certain amount of stock in the new company for the release of such rights as he might possess under the old incorporation. the colonel had brought with him a contract, properly drawn, which was executed by old malcolm, and witnessed by the colonel and ben. "i trust, sir," said mr. dudley, "that you will not ascribe it to any discourtesy that i have not called to see you. i knew your father and your grandfather. but the cares of my estate absorb me so completely that i never leave home. i shall send my regards to you now and then by my nephew. i expect, in a very short time, when certain matters are adjusted, to be able to give up, to a great extent, my arduous cares, and lead a life of greater leisure, which will enable me to travel and cultivate a wider acquaintance. when that time comes, sir, i shall hope to see more of you." the old gentleman stood courteously on the steps while ben accompanied the colonel to the carriage. it had scarcely turned into the lane when the colonel, looking back, saw the old man digging furiously. the condition of the yard was explained; he had been unjust in ascribing it to ben's neglect. "i reckon, suh," remarked peter, "dat w'en he fin' dat million dollahs, mistah ben'll marry miss grac'ella an' take huh ter new yo'k." "perhaps--and perhaps not," said the colonel. to himself he added, musingly, "old malcolm will start on a long journey before he finds the--million dollars. the watched pot never boils. buried treasure is never found by those who seek it, but always accidentally, if at all." on the way back they stopped at the treadwells' for phil. phil was not ready to go home. he was intensely interested in a long-eared mechanical mule, constructed by ben dudley out of bits of wood and leather and controlled by certain springs made of rubber bands, by manipulating which the mule could be made to kick furiously. since the colonel had affairs to engage his attention, and phil seemed perfectly contented, he was allowed to remain, with the understanding that peter should come for him in the afternoon. _sixteen_ little phil had grown very fond of old peter, who seemed to lavish upon the child all of his love and devotion for the dead generations of the french family. the colonel had taught phil to call the old man "uncle peter," after the kindly southern fashion of slavery days, which, denying to negroes the forms of address applied to white people, found in the affectionate terms of relationship--mammy, auntie and uncle--designations that recognised the respect due to age, and yet lost, when applied to slaves, their conventional significance. there was a strong, sympathy between the intelligent child and the undeveloped old negro; they were more nearly on a mental level, leaving out, of course, the factor of peter's experience, than could have been the case with one more generously endowed than peter, who, though by nature faithful, had never been unduly bright. little phil became so attached to his old attendant that, between peter and the treadwell ladies, the colonel's housekeeper had to give him very little care. on sunday afternoons the colonel and phil and peter would sometimes walk over to the cemetery. the family lot was now kept in perfect order. the low fence around it had been repaired, and several leaning headstones straightened up. but, guided by a sense of fitness, and having before him the awful example for which fetters was responsible, the colonel had added no gaudy monument nor made any alterations which would disturb the quiet beauty of the spot or its harmony with the surroundings. in the northern cemetery where his young wife was buried, he had erected to her memory a stately mausoleum, in keeping with similar memorials on every hand. but here, in this quiet graveyard, where his ancestors slept their last sleep under the elms and the willows, display would have been out of place. he had, however, placed a wrought-iron bench underneath the trees, where he would sit and read his paper, while little phil questioned old peter about his grandfather and his great-grandfather, their prowess on the hunting field, and the wars they fought in; and the old man would delight in detailing, in his rambling and disconnected manner, the past glories of the french family. it was always a new story to phil, and never grew stale to the old man. if peter could be believed, there were never white folks so brave, so learned, so wise, so handsome, so kind to their servants, so just to all with whom they had dealings. phil developed a very great fondness for these dead ancestors, whose graves and histories he soon knew as well as peter himself. with his lively imagination he found pleasure, as children often do, in looking into the future. the unoccupied space in the large cemetery lot furnished him food for much speculation. "papa," he said, upon one of these peaceful afternoons, "there's room enough here for all of us, isn't there--you, and me and uncle peter?" "yes, phil," said his father, "there's room for several generations of frenches yet to sleep with their fathers." little phil then proceeded to greater detail. "here," he said, "next to grandfather, will be your place, and here next to that, will be mine, and here, next to me will be--but no," he said, pausing reflectively, "that ought to be saved for my little boy when he grows up and dies, that is, when i grow up and have a little boy and he grows up and grows old and dies and leaves a little boy and--but where will uncle peter be?" "nem mine me, honey," said the old man, "dey can put me somewhar e'se. hit doan' mattuh 'bout me." "no, uncle peter, you must be here with the rest of us. for you know, uncle peter, i'm so used to you now, that i should want you to be near me then." old peter thought to humour the lad. "put me down hyuh at de foot er de lot, little mars' phil, unner dis ellum tree." "oh, papa," exclaimed phil, demanding the colonel's attention, "uncle peter and i have arranged everything. you know uncle peter is to stay with me as long as i live, and when he dies, he is to be buried here at the foot of the lot, under the elm tree, where he'll be near me all the time, and near the folks that he knows and that know him." "all right, phil. you see to it; you'll live longer." "but, papa, if i should die first, and then uncle peter, and you last of all, you'll put uncle peter near me, won't you, papa?" "why, bless your little heart, phil, of course your daddy will do whatever you want, if he's here to do it. but you'll live, phil, please god, until i am old and bent and white-haired, and you are a grown man, with a beard, and a little boy of your own." "yas, suh," echoed the old servant, "an' till ole peter's bones is long sence crumble' inter dus'. none er de frenches' ain' never died till dey was done growed up." on the afternoon following the colonel's visit to mink run, old peter, when he came for phil, was obliged to stay long enough to see the antics of the mechanical mule; and had not that artificial animal suddenly refused to kick, and lapsed into a characteristic balkiness for which there was no apparent remedy, it might have proved difficult to get phil away. "there, philip dear, never mind," said miss laura, "we'll have ben mend it for you when he comes, next time, and then you can play with it again." peter had brought with him some hooks and lines, and, he and phil, after leaving the house, followed the bank of the creek, climbing a fence now and then, until they reached the old mill site, upon which work had not yet begun. they found a shady spot, and seating themselves upon the bank, baited their lines, and dropped them into a quiet pool. for quite a while their patience was unrewarded by anything more than a nibble. by and by a black cat came down from the ruined mill, and sat down upon the bank at a short distance from them. "i reckon we'll haf ter move, honey," said the old man. "we ain't gwine ter have no luck fishin' 'g'ins' no ole black cat." "but cats don't fish, uncle peter, do they?" "law', chile, you'll never know w'at dem critters _kin_ do, 'tel you's watched 'em long ez i has! keep yo' eye on dat one now." the cat stood by the stream, in a watchful attitude. suddenly she darted her paw into the shallow water and with a lightning-like movement drew out a small fish, which she took in her mouth, and retired with it a few yards up the bank. "jes' look at dat ole devil," said peter, "playin' wid dat fish jes' lack it wuz a mouse! she'll be comin' down heah terreckly tellin' us ter go 'way fum her fishin' groun's." "why, uncle peter," said phil incredulously, "cats can't talk!" "can't dey? hoo said dey couldn'? ain't miss grac'ella an' me be'n tellin' you right along 'bout bre'r rabbit and bre'r fox an de yuther creturs talkin' an' gwine on jes' lak folks?" "yes, uncle peter, but those were just stories; they didn't really talk, did they?" "law', honey," said the old man, with a sly twinkle in his rheumy eye, "you is de sma'tes' little white boy i ever knowed, but you is got a monst'us heap ter l'arn yit, chile. nobody ain' done tol' you 'bout de black cat an' de ha'nted house, is dey?" "no, uncle peter--you tell me." "i didn' knowed but miss grac'ella mought a tole you--she knows mos' all de tales." "no, she hasn't. you tell me about it, uncle peter." "well," said peter, "does you 'member dat coal-black man dat drives de lumber wagon?" "yes, he goes by our house every day, on the way to the sawmill." "well, it all happen' 'long er him. he 'uz gwine long de street one day, w'en he heared two gent'emen--one of 'em was ole mars' tom sellers an' i fuhgot de yuther--but dey 'uz talkin' 'bout dat ole ha'nted house down by de creek, 'bout a mile from hyuh, on de yuther side er town, whar we went fishin' las' week. does you 'member de place?" "yes, i remember the house." "well, as dis yer jeff--dat's de lumber-wagon driver's name--as dis yer jeff come up ter dese yer two gentlemen, one of 'em was sayin, 'i'll bet five dollahs dey ain' narry a man in his town would stay in dat ha'nted house all night.' dis yer jeff, he up 'n sez, sezee, 'scuse me, suh, but ef you'll 'low me ter speak, suh, i knows a man wat'll stay in dat ole ha'nted house all night.'" "what is a ha'nted house, uncle peter?" asked phil. "w'y. law,' chile, a ha'nted house is a house whar dey's ha'nts!" "and what are ha'nts, uncle peter?" "ha'nts, honey, is sperrits er dead folks, dat comes back an' hangs roun' whar dey use' ter lib." "do all spirits come back, uncle peter?" "no, chile, bress de lawd, no. only de bad ones, w'at has be'n so wicked dey can't rest in dey graves. folks lack yo' gran'daddy and yo' gran'mammy--an' all de frenches--dey don' none er _dem_ come back, fer dey wuz all good people an' is all gone ter hebben. but i'm fergittin' de tale. "'well, hoo's de man--hoo's de man?' ax mistah sellers, w'en jeff tol' 'im dey wuz somebody wat 'ud stay in de ole ha'nted house all night. "'i'm de man,' sez jeff. 'i ain't skeered er no ha'nt dat evuh walked, an' i sleeps in graveya'ds by pref'ence; fac', i jes nach'ly lacks ter talk ter ha'nts. you pay me de five dollahs, an' i'll 'gree ter stay in de ole house f'm nine er clock 'tel daybreak.' "dey talk' ter jeff a w'ile, an' dey made a bahgin wid 'im; dey give 'im one dollah down, an' promus' 'im fo' mo' in de mawnin' ef he stayed 'tel den. "so w'en he got de dollah he went uptown an' spent it, an' 'long 'bout nine er clock he tuk a lamp, an' went down ter de ole house, an' went inside an' shet de do'. "dey wuz a rickety ole table settin' in de middle er de flo'. he sot de lamp on de table. den he look 'roun' de room, in all de cawners an' up de chimbly, ter see dat dey wan't nobody ner nuthin' hid in de room. den he tried all de winders an' fastened de do', so dey couldn' nobody ner nuthin' git in. den he fotch a' ole rickety chair f'm one cawner, and set it by de table, and sot down. he wuz settin' dere, noddin' his head, studyin' 'bout dem other fo' dollahs, an' w'at he wuz gwine buy wid 'em, w'en bimeby he kinder dozed off, an' befo' he knowed it he wuz settin' dere fast asleep." "w'en he woke up, 'long 'bout 'leven erclock, de lamp had bu'n' down kinder low. he heared a little noise behind him an' look 'roun', an' dere settin' in de middle er de flo' wuz a big black tomcat, wid his tail quirled up over his back, lookin' up at jeff wid bofe his two big yaller eyes. "jeff rub' 'is eyes, ter see ef he wuz 'wake, an w'iles he sot dere wond'rin' whar de hole wuz dat dat ole cat come in at, fus' thing he knowed, de ole cat wuz settin' right up 'side of 'im, on de table, wid his tail quirled up roun' de lamp chimbly. "jeff look' at de black cat, an' de black cat look' at jeff. den de black cat open his mouf an' showed 'is teef, an' sezee----" "'good evenin'!' "'good evenin' suh,' 'spon' jeff, trimblin' in de knees, an' kind'er edgin' 'way fum de table. "'dey ain' nobody hyuh but you an' me, is dey?' sez de black cat, winkin' one eye. "'no, suh,' sez jeff, as he made fer de do', _'an' quick ez i kin git out er hyuh, dey ain' gwine ter be nobody hyuh but you!_'" "is that all, uncle peter?" asked phil, when the old man came to a halt with a prolonged chuckle. "huh?" "is that all?" "no, dey's mo' er de tale, but dat's ernuff ter prove dat black cats kin do mo' dan little w'ite boys 'low dey kin." "did jeff go away?" "did he go 'way! why, chile, he jes' flew away! befo' he got ter de do', howsomevuh, he 'membered he had locked it, so he didn' stop ter try ter open it, but went straight out'n a winder, quicker'n lightnin', an' kyared de sash 'long wid 'im. an' he'd be'n in sech pow'ful has'e dat he knock' de lamp over an' lack ter sot de house afire. he nevuh got de yuther fo' dollahs of co'se, 'ca'se he didn't stay in de ole ha'nted house all night, but he 'lowed he'd sho'ly 'arned de one dollah he'd had a'ready." "why didn't he want to talk to the black cat, uncle peter?" "why didn' he wan' ter talk ter de black cat? whoever heared er sich a queshtun! he didn' wan' ter talk wid no black cat, 'ca'se he wuz skeered. black cats brings 'nuff bad luck w'en dey doan' talk, let 'lone w'en dey does." "i should like," said phil, reflectively, "to talk to a black cat. i think it would be great fun." "keep away f'm 'em, chile, keep away f'm 'em. dey is some things too deep fer little boys ter projec' wid, an' black cats is one of 'em." they moved down the stream and were soon having better luck. "uncle peter," said phil, while they were on their way home, "there couldn't be any ha'nts at all in the graveyard where my grandfather is buried, could there? graciella read a lot of the tombstones to me one day, and they all said that all the people were good, and were resting in peace, and had gone to heaven. tombstones always tell the truth, don't they, uncle peter?" "happen so, honey, happen so! de french tombstones does; an' as ter de res', i ain' gwine to 'spute 'em, nohow, fer ef i did, de folks under 'em mought come back an' ha'nt me, jes' fer spite." _seventeen_ by considerable effort, and a moderate outlay, the colonel at length secured a majority of interest in the eureka mill site and made application to the state, through caxton, for the redemption of the title. the opposition had either ceased or had proved ineffective. there would be some little further delay, but the outcome seemed practically certain, and the colonel did not wait longer to set in motion his plans for the benefit of clarendon. "i'm told that fetters says he'll get the mill anyway," said caxton, "and make more money buying it under foreclosure than by building a new one. he's ready to lend on it now." "oh, damn fetters!" exclaimed the colonel, elated with his victory. he had never been a profane man, but strong language came so easy in clarendon that one dropped into it unconsciously. "the mill will be running on full time when fetters has been put out of business. we've won our first fight, and i've never really seen the fellow yet." as soon as the title was reasonably secure, the colonel began his preparations for building the cotton mill. the first step was to send for a new england architect who made a specialty of mills, to come down and look the site over, and make plans for the dam, the mill buildings and a number of model cottages for the operatives. as soon as the estimates were prepared, he looked the ground over to see how far he could draw upon local resources for material. there was good brick clay on the outskirts of the town, where bricks had once been made; but for most of the period since the war such as were used in the town had been procured from the ruins of old buildings--it was cheaper to clean bricks than to make them. since the construction of the railroad branch to clarendon the few that were needed from time to time were brought in by train. not since the building of the opera house block had there been a kiln of brick made in the town. inquiry brought out the fact that in case of a demand for bricks there were brickmakers thereabouts; and in accordance with his general plan to employ local labour, the colonel looked up the owner of the brickyard, and asked if he were prepared to take a large contract. the gentleman was palpably troubled by the question. "well, colonel," he said, "i don't know. i'd s'posed you were goin' to impo't yo' bricks from philadelphia." "no, mr. barnes," returned the colonel, "i want to spend the money here in clarendon. there seems to be plenty of unemployed labour." "yes, there does, till you want somethin' done; then there ain't so much. i s'pose i might find half a dozen niggers round here that know how to make brick; and there's several more that have moved away that i can get back if i send for them. if you r'al'y think you want yo'r brick made here, i'll try to get them out for you. they'll cost you, though, as much, if not more than, you'd have to pay for machine-made bricks from the no'th." the colonel declared that he preferred the local product. "well, i'm shore i don't see why," said the brickmaker. "they'll not be as smooth or as uniform in colour." "they'll be clarendon brick," returned the colonel, "and i want this to be a clarendon enterprise, from the ground up." "well," said barnes resignedly, "if you must have home-made brick, i suppose i'll have to make 'em. i'll see what i can do." colonel french then turned the brick matter over to caxton, who, in the course of a week, worried barnes into a contract to supply so many thousand brick within a given time. "i don't like that there time limit," said the brickmaker, "but i reckon i can make them brick as fast as you can get anybody roun' here to lay 'em." when in the course of another week the colonel saw signs of activity about the old brickyard, he proceeded with the next step, which was to have the ruins of the old factory cleared away. "well, colonel," said major mclean one day when the colonel dropped into the hotel, where the major hung out a good part of the time, "i s'pose you're goin' to hire white folks to do the work over there." "why," replied the colonel, "i hadn't thought about the colour of the workmen. there'll be plenty, i guess, for all who apply, so long as it lasts." "you'll have trouble if you hire niggers," said the major. "you'll find that they won't work when you want 'em to. they're not reliable, they have no sense of responsibility. as soon as they get a dollar they'll lay off to spend it, and leave yo' work at the mos' critical point." "well, now, major," replied the colonel, "i haven't noticed any unnatural activity among the white men of the town. the negroes have to live, or seem to think they have, and i'll give 'em a chance to turn an honest penny. by the way, major, i need a superintendent to look after the work. it don't require an expert, but merely a good man--gentleman preferred--whom i can trust to see that my ideas are carried out. perhaps you can recommend such a person?" the major turned the matter over in his mind before answering. he might, of course, offer his own services. the pay would doubtless be good. but he had not done any real work for years. his wife owned their home. his daughter taught in the academy. he was drawn on jury nearly every term; was tax assessor now and then, and a judge or clerk of elections upon occasion. nor did he think that steady employment would agree with his health, while it would certainly interfere with his pleasant visits with the drummers at the hotel. "i'd be glad to take the position myself, colonel," he said, "but i r'aly won't have the time. the campaign will be hummin' in a month or so, an' my political duties will occupy all my leisure. but i'll bear the matter in mind, an' see if i can think of any suitable person." the colonel thanked him. he had hardly expected the major to offer his services, but had merely wished, for the fun of the thing, to try the experiment. what the colonel really needed was a good foreman--he had used the word "superintendent" merely on the major's account, as less suggestive of work. he found a poor white man, however, green by name, who seemed capable and energetic, and a gang of labourers under his charge was soon busily engaged in clearing the mill site and preparing for the foundations of a new dam. when it was learned that the colonel was paying his labourers a dollar and a half a day, there was considerable criticism, on the ground that such lavishness would demoralise the labour market, the usual daily wage of the negro labourer being from fifty to seventy-five cents. but since most of the colonel's money soon found its way, through the channels of trade, into the pockets of the white people, the criticism soon died a natural death. _eighteen_ once started in his career of active benevolence, the colonel's natural love of thoroughness, combined with a philanthropic zeal as pleasant as it was novel, sought out new reforms. they were easily found. he had begun, with wise foresight, at the foundations of prosperity, by planning an industry in which the people could find employment. but there were subtler needs, mental and spiritual, to be met. education, for instance, so important to real development, languished in clarendon. there was a select private school for young ladies, attended by the daughters of those who could not send their children away to school. a few of the town boys went away to military schools. the remainder of the white youth attended the academy, which was a thoroughly democratic institution, deriving its support partly from the public school fund and partly from private subscriptions. there was a coloured public school taught by a negro teacher. neither school had, so far as the colonel could learn, attained any very high degree of efficiency. at one time the colonel had contemplated building a schoolhouse for the children of the mill hands, but upon second thought decided that the expenditure would be more widely useful if made through the channels already established. if the old academy building were repaired, and a wing constructed, for which there was ample room upon the grounds, it would furnish any needed additional accommodation for the children of the operatives, and avoid the drawing of any line that might seem to put these in a class apart. there were already lines enough in the town--the deep and distinct colour line, theoretically all-pervasive, but with occasional curious exceptions; the old line between the "rich white folks" or aristocrats--no longer rich, most of them, but retaining some of their former wealth and clinging tenaciously to a waning prestige--and the "poor whites," still at a social disadvantage, but gradually evolving a solid middle class, with reinforcements from the decaying aristocracy, and producing now and then some ambitious and successful man like fetters. to emphasise these distinctions was no part of the colonel's plan. to eradicate them entirely in any stated time was of course impossible, human nature being what it was, but he would do nothing to accentuate them. his mill hands should become, like the mill hands in new england towns, an intelligent, self-respecting and therefore respected element of an enlightened population; and the whole town should share equally in anything he might spend for their benefit. he found much pleasure in talking over these fine plans of his with laura treadwell. caxton had entered into them with the enthusiasm of an impressionable young man, brought into close contact with a forceful personality. but in miss laura the colonel found a sympathy that was more than intellectual--that reached down to sources of spiritual strength and inspiration which the colonel could not touch but of which he was conscious and of which he did not hesitate to avail himself at second hand. little phil had made the house almost a second home; and the frequent visits of his father had only strengthened the colonel's admiration of laura's character. he had learned, not from the lady herself, how active in good works she was. a lady bountiful in any large sense she could not be, for her means, as she had so frankly said upon his first visit, were small. but a little went a long way among the poor of clarendon, and the life after all is more than meat, and the body more than raiment, and advice and sympathy were as often needed as other kinds of help. he had offered to assist her charities in a substantial way, and she had permitted it now and then, but had felt obliged at last to cease mentioning them altogether. he was able to circumvent this delicacy now and then through the agency of graciella, whose theory was that money was made to spend. "laura," he said one evening when at the house, "will you go with me to-morrow to visit the academy? i wish to see with your eyes as well as with mine what it needs and what can be done with it. it shall be our secret until we are ready to surprise the town." they went next morning, without notice to the principal. the school was well ordered, but the equipment poor. the building was old and sadly in need of repair. the teacher was an ex-confederate officer, past middle life, well taught by the methods in vogue fifty years before, but scarcely in harmony with modern ideals of education. in spite of his perfect manners and unimpeachable character, the professor, as he was called, was generally understood to hold his position more by virtue of his need and his influence than of his fitness to instruct. he had several young lady assistants who found in teaching the only career open, in clarendon, to white women of good family. the recess hour arrived while they were still at school. when the pupils marched out, in orderly array, the colonel, seizing a moment when miss treadwell and the professor were speaking about some of the children whom the colonel did not know, went to the rear of one of the schoolrooms and found, without much difficulty, high up on one of the walls, the faint but still distinguishable outline of a pencil caricature he had made there thirty years before. if the wall had been whitewashed in the meantime, the lime had scaled down to the original plaster. only the name, which had been written underneath, was illegible, though he could reconstruct with his mind's eye and the aid of a few shadowy strokes--"bill fetters, sneak"--in angular letters in the printed form. the colonel smiled at this survival of youthful bigotry. yet even then his instinct had been a healthy one; his boyish characterisation of fetters, schoolboy, was not an inapt description of fetters, man--mortgage shark, labour contractor and political boss. bill, seeking official favour, had reported to the professor of that date some boyish escapade in which his schoolfellows had taken part, and it was in revenge for this meanness that the colonel had chased him ignominiously down main street and pilloried him upon the schoolhouse wall. fetters the man, a goliath whom no david had yet opposed, had fastened himself upon a weak and disorganised community, during a period of great distress and had succeeded by devious ways in making himself its master. and as the colonel stood looking at the picture he was conscious of a faint echo of his boyish indignation and sense of outraged honour. already fetters and he had clashed upon the subject of the cotton mill, and fetters had retired from the field. if it were written that they should meet in a life-and-death struggle for the soul of clarendon, he would not shirk the conflict. "laura," he said, when they went away, "i should like to visit the coloured school. will you come with me?" she hesitated, and he could see with half an eye that her answer was dictated by a fine courage. "why, certainly, i will go. why not? it is a place where a good work is carried on." "no, laura," said the colonel smiling, "you need not go. on second thought, i should prefer to go alone." she insisted, but he was firm. he had no desire to go counter to her instincts, or induce her to do anything that might provoke adverse comment. miss laura had all the fine glow of courage, but was secretly relieved at being excused from a trip so unconventional. so the colonel found his way alone to the schoolhouse, an unpainted frame structure in a barren, sandy lot upon a street somewhat removed from the centre of the town and given over mainly to the humble homes of negroes. that his unannounced appearance created some embarrassment was quite evident, but his friendliness toward the negroes had already been noised abroad, and he was welcomed with warmth, not to say effusion, by the principal of the school, a tall, stalwart and dark man with an intelligent expression, a deferential manner, and shrewd but guarded eyes--the eyes of the jungle, the colonel had heard them called; and the thought came to him, was it some ancestral jungle on the distant coast of savage africa, or the wilderness of another sort in which the black people had wandered and were wandering still in free america? the attendance was not large; at a glance the colonel saw that there were but twenty-five pupils present. "what is your total enrolment?" he asked the teacher. "well, sir," was the reply, "we have seventy-five or eighty on the roll, but it threatened rain this morning, and as a great many of them haven't got good shoes, they stayed at home for fear of getting their feet wet." the colonel had often noticed the black children paddling around barefoot in the puddles on rainy days, but there was evidently some point of etiquette connected with attending school barefoot. he had passed more than twenty-five children on the streets, on his way to the schoolhouse. the building was even worse than that of the academy, and the equipment poorer still. upon the colonel asking to hear a recitation, the teacher made some excuse and shrewdly requested him to make a few remarks. they could recite, he said, at any time, but an opportunity to hear colonel french was a privilege not to be neglected. the colonel, consenting good-humouredly, was introduced to the school in very flowery language. the pupils were sitting, the teacher informed them, in the shadow of a great man. a distinguished member of the grand old aristocracy of their grand old native state had gone to the great north and grown rich and famous. he had returned to his old home to scatter his vast wealth where it was most needed, and to give his fellow townsmen an opportunity to add their applause to his world-wide fame. he was present to express his sympathy with their feeble efforts to rise in the world, and he wanted the scholars all to listen with the most respectful attention. colonel french made a few simple remarks in which he spoke of the advantages of education as a means of forming character and of fitting boys and girls for the work of men and women. in former years his people had been charged with direct responsibility for the care of many coloured children, and in a larger and indirect way they were still responsible for their descendants. he urged them to make the best of their opportunities and try to fit themselves for useful citizenship. they would meet with the difficulties that all men must, and with some peculiarly their own. but they must look up and not down, forward and not back, seeking always incentives to hope rather than excuses for failure. before leaving, he arranged with the teacher, whose name was taylor, to meet several of the leading coloured men, with whom he wished to discuss some method of improving their school and directing their education to more definite ends. the meeting was subsequently held. "what your people need," said the colonel to the little gathering at the schoolhouse one evening, "is to learn not only how to read and write and think, but to do these things to some definite end. we live in an age of specialists. to make yourselves valuable members of society, you must learn to do well some particular thing, by which you may reasonably expect to earn a comfortable living in your own home, among your neighbours, and save something for old age and the education of your children. get together. take advice from some of your own capable leaders in other places. find out what you can do for yourselves, and i will give you three dollars for every one you can gather, for an industrial school or some similar institution. take your time, and when you're ready to report, come and see me, or write to me, if i am not here." the result was the setting in motion of a stagnant pool. who can measure the force of hope? the town had been neglected by mission boards. no able or ambitious negro had risen from its midst to found an institution and find a career. the coloured school received a grudging dole from the public funds, and was left entirely to the supervision of the coloured people. it would have been surprising had the money always been expended to the best advantage. the fact that a white man, in some sense a local man, who had yet come from the far north, the land of plenty, with feelings friendly to their advancement, had taken a personal interest in their welfare and proved it by his presence among them, gave them hope and inspiration for the future. they had long been familiar with the friendship that curbed, restricted and restrained, and concerned itself mainly with their limitations. they were almost hysterically eager to welcome the co-operation of a friend who, in seeking to lift them up, was obsessed by no fear of pulling himself down or of narrowing in some degree the gulf that separated them--who was willing not only to help them, but to help them to a condition in which they might be in less need of help. the colonel touched the reserves of loyalty in the negro nature, exemplified in old peter and such as he. who knows, had these reserves been reached sooner by strict justice and patient kindness, that they might not long since have helped to heal the wounds of slavery? "and now, laura," said the colonel, "when we have improved the schools and educated the people, we must give them something to occupy their minds. we must have a library, a public library." "that will be splendid!" she replied with enthusiasm. "a public library," continued the colonel, "housed in a beautiful building, in a conspicuous place, and decorated in an artistic manner--a shrine of intellect and taste, at which all the people, rich and poor, black and white, may worship." miss laura was silent for a moment, and thoughtful. "but, henry," she said with some hesitation, "do you mean that coloured people should use the library?" "why not?" he asked. "do they not need it most? perhaps not many of them might wish to use it; but to those who do, should we deny the opportunity? consider their teachers--if the blind lead the blind, shall they not both fall into the ditch?" "yes, henry, that is the truth; but i am afraid the white people wouldn't wish to handle the same books." "very well, then we will give the coloured folks a library of their own, at some place convenient for their use. we need not strain our ideal by going too fast. where shall i build the library?" "the vacant lot," she said, "between the post-office and the bank." "the very place," he replied. "it belonged to our family once, and i shall be acquiring some more ancestral property. the cows will need to find a new pasture." the announcement of the colonel's plan concerning the academy and the library evoked a hearty response on the part of the public, and the _anglo-saxon_ hailed it as the dawning of a new era. with regard to the colonel's friendly plans for the negroes, there was less enthusiasm and some difference of opinion. some commended the colonel's course. there were others, good men and patriotic, men who would have died for liberty, in the abstract, men who sought to walk uprightly, and to live peaceably with all, but who, by much brooding over the conditions surrounding their life, had grown hopelessly pessimistic concerning the negro. the subject came up in a little company of gentlemen who were gathered around the colonel's table one evening, after the coffee had been served, and the havanas passed around. "your zeal for humanity does you infinite credit, colonel french," said dr. mackenzie, minister of the presbyterian church, who was one of these prophetic souls, "but i fear your time and money and effort will be wasted. the negroes are hopelessly degraded. they have degenerated rapidly since the war." "how do you know, doctor? you came here from the north long after the war. what is your standard of comparison?" "i voice the unanimous opinion of those who have known them at both periods." "_i_ don't agree with you; and i lived here before the war. there is certainly one smart negro in town. nichols, the coloured barber, owns five houses, and overreached me in a bargain. before the war he was a chattel. and taylor, the teacher, seems to be a very sensible fellow." "yes," said dr. price, who was one of the company, "taylor is a very intelligent negro. nichols and he have learned how to live and prosper among the white people." "they are exceptions," said the preacher, "who only prove the rule. no, colonel french, for a long time _i_ hoped that there was a future for these poor, helpless blacks. but of late i have become profoundly convinced that there is no place in this nation for the negro, except under the sod. we will not assimilate him, we cannot deport him----" "and therefore, o man of god, must we exterminate him?" "it is god's will. we need not stain our hands with innocent blood. if we but sit passive, and leave their fate to time, they will die away in discouragement and despair. already disease is sapping their vitals. like other weak races, they will vanish from the pathway of the strong, and there is no place for them to flee. when they go hence, it is to go forever. it is the law of life, which god has given to the earth. to coddle them, to delude them with false hopes of an unnatural equality which not all the power of the government has been able to maintain, is only to increase their unhappiness. to a doomed race, ignorance is euthanasia, and knowledge is but pain and sorrow. it is his will that the fittest should survive, and that those shall inherit the earth who are best prepared to utilise its forces and gather its fruits." "my dear doctor, what you say may all be true, but, with all due respect, i don't believe a word of it. i am rather inclined to think that these people have a future; that there is a place for them here; that they have made fair progress under discouraging circumstances; that they will not disappear from our midst for many generations, if ever; and that in the meantime, as we make or mar them, we shall make or mar our civilisation. no society can be greater or wiser or better than the average of all its elements. our ancestors brought these people here, and lived in luxury, some of them--or went into bankruptcy, more of them--on their labour. after three hundred years of toil they might be fairly said to have earned their liberty. at any rate, they are here. they constitute the bulk of our labouring class. to teach them is to make their labour more effective and therefore more profitable; to increase their needs is to increase our profits in supplying them. i'll take my chances on the golden rule. i am no lover of the negro, _as_ negro--i do not know but i should rather see him elsewhere. i think our land would have been far happier had none but white men ever set foot upon it after the red men were driven back. but they are here, through no fault of theirs, as we are. they were born here. we have given them our language--which they speak more or less corruptly; our religion--which they practise certainly no better than we; and our blood--which our laws make a badge of disgrace. perhaps we could not do them strict justice, without a great sacrifice upon our own part. but they are men, and they should have their chance--at least _some_ chance." "i shall pray for your success," sighed the preacher. "with god all things are possible, if he will them. but i can only anticipate your failure." "the colonel is growing so popular, with his ready money and his cheerful optimism," said old general thornton, another of the guests, "that we'll have to run him for congress, as soon as he is reconverted to the faith of his fathers." colonel french had more than once smiled at the assumption that a mere change of residence would alter his matured political convictions. his friends seemed to look upon them, so far as they differed from their own, as a mere veneer, which would scale off in time, as had the multiplied coats of whitewash over the pencil drawing made on the school-house wall in his callow youth. "you see," the old general went on, "it's a social matter down here, rather than a political one. with this ignorant black flood sweeping up against us, the race question assumes an importance which overshadows the tariff and the currency and everything else. for instance, i had fully made up my mind to vote the other ticket in the last election. i didn't like our candidate nor our platform. there was a clean-cut issue between sound money and financial repudiation, and _i_ was tired of the domination of populists and demagogues. all my better instincts led me toward a change of attitude, and i boldly proclaimed the fact. i declared my political and intellectual independence, at the cost of many friends; even my own son-in-law scarcely spoke to me for a month. when i went to the polls, old sam brown, the triflingest nigger in town, whom i had seen sentenced to jail more than once for stealing--old sam brown was next to me in the line. "'well, gin'l,' he said, 'i'm glad you is got on de right side at las', an' is gwine to vote _our_ ticket.'" "this was too much! i could stand the other party in the abstract, but not in the concrete. i voted the ticket of my neighbours and my friends. we had to preserve our institutions, if our finances went to smash. call it prejudice--call it what you like--it's human nature, and you'll come to it, colonel, you'll come to it--and then we'll send you to congress." "i might not care to go," returned the colonel, smiling. "you could not resist, sir, the unanimous demand of a determined constituency. upon the rare occasions when, in this state, the office has had a chance to seek the man, it has never sought in vain." _nineteen_ time slipped rapidly by, and the colonel had been in clarendon a couple of months when he went home one afternoon, and not finding phil and peter, went around to the treadwells' as the most likely place to seek them. "henry," said miss laura, "philip does not seem quite well to-day. there are dark circles under his eyes, and he has been coughing a little." the colonel was startled. had his growing absorption in other things led him to neglect his child? phil needed a mother. this dear, thoughtful woman, whom nature had made for motherhood, had seen things about his child, that he, the child's father, had not perceived. to a mind like colonel french's, this juxtaposition of a motherly heart and a motherless child seemed very pleasing. he despatched a messenger on horseback immediately for dr. price. the colonel had made the doctor's acquaintance soon after coming to clarendon, and out of abundant precaution, had engaged him to call once a week to see phil. a physician of skill and experience, a gentleman by birth and breeding, a thoughtful student of men and manners, and a good story teller, he had proved excellent company and the colonel soon numbered him among his intimate friends. he had seen phil a few days before, but it was yet several days before his next visit. dr. price owned a place in the country, several miles away, on the road to mink run, and thither the messenger went to find him. he was in his town office only at stated hours. the colonel was waiting at home, an hour later, when the doctor drove up to the gate with ben dudley, in the shabby old buggy to which ben sometimes drove his one good horse on his trips to town. "i broke one of my buggy wheels going out home this morning," explained the doctor, "and had just sent it to the shop when your messenger came. i would have ridden your horse back, and let the man walk in, but mr. dudley fortunately came along and gave me a lift." he looked at phil, left some tablets, with directions for their use, and said that it was nothing serious and the child would be all right in a day or two. "what he needs, colonel, at his age, is a woman's care. but for that matter none of us ever get too old to need that." "i'll have tom hitch up and take you home," said the colonel, when the doctor had finished with phil, "unless you'll stay to dinner." "no, thank you," said the doctor, "i'm much obliged, but i told my wife i'd be back to dinner. i'll just sit here and wait for young dudley, who's going to call for me in an hour. there's a fine mind, colonel, that's never had a proper opportunity for development. if he'd had half the chance that your boy will, he would make his mark. did you ever see his uncle malcolm?" the colonel described his visit to mink run, the scene on the piazza, the interview with mr. dudley, and peter's story about the hidden treasure. "is the old man sane?" he asked. "his mind is warped, undoubtedly," said the doctor, "but i'll leave it to you whether it was the result of an insane delusion or not--if you care to hear his story--or perhaps you've heard it?" "no, i have not," returned the colonel, "but i should like to hear it." this was the story that the doctor told: * * * * * when the last century had passed the half-way mark, and had started upon its decline, the dudleys had already owned land on mink run for a hundred years or more, and were one of the richest and most conspicuous families in the state. the first great man of the family, general arthur dudley, an ardent patriot, had won distinction in the war of independence, and held high place in the councils of the infant nation. his son became a distinguished jurist, whose name is still a synonym for legal learning and juridical wisdom. in ralph dudley, the son of judge dudley, and the immediate predecessor of the demented old man in whom now rested the title to the remnant of the estate, the family began to decline from its eminence. ralph did not marry, but led a life of ease and pleasure, wasting what his friends thought rare gifts, and leaving his property to the management of his nephew malcolm, the orphan son of a younger brother and his uncle's prospective heir. malcolm dudley proved so capable a manager that for year after year the large estate was left almost entirely in his charge, the owner looking to it merely for revenue to lead his own life in other places. the civil war gave ralph dudley a career, not upon the field, for which he had no taste, but in administrative work, which suited his talents, and imposed more arduous tasks than those of actual warfare. valour was of small account without arms and ammunition. a commissariat might be improvised, but gunpowder must be manufactured or purchased. ralph's nephew malcolm kept bachelor's hall in the great house. the only women in the household were an old black cook, and the housekeeper, known as "viney"--a negro corruption of lavinia--a tall, comely young light mulattress, with a dash of cherokee blood, which gave her straighter, blacker and more glossy hair than most women of mixed race have, and perhaps a somewhat different temperamental endowment. her duties were not onerous; compared with the toiling field hands she led an easy life. the household had been thus constituted for ten years and more, when malcolm dudley began paying court to a wealthy widow. this lady, a mrs. todd, was a war widow, who had lost her husband in the early years of the struggle. war, while it took many lives, did not stop the currents of life, and weeping widows sometimes found consolation. mrs. todd was of clarendon extraction, and had returned to the town to pass the period of her mourning. men were scarce in those days, and mrs. todd was no longer young, malcolm dudley courted her, proposed marriage, and was accepted. he broke the news to his housekeeper by telling her to prepare the house for a mistress. it was not a pleasant task, but he was a resolute man. the woman had been in power too long to yield gracefully. some passionate strain of the mixed blood in her veins broke out in a scene of hysterical violence. her pleadings, remonstrances, rages, were all in vain. mrs. todd was rich, and he was poor; should his uncle see fit to marry--always a possibility--he would have nothing. he would carry out his purpose. the day after this announcement viney went to town, sought out the object of dudley's attentions, and told her something; just what, no one but herself and the lady ever knew. when dudley called in the evening, the widow refused to see him, and sent instead, a curt note cancelling their engagement. dudley went home puzzled and angry. on the way thither a suspicion flashed into his mind. in the morning he made investigations, after which he rode round by the residence of his overseer. returning to the house at noon, he ate his dinner in an ominous silence, which struck terror to the heart of the woman who waited on him and had already repented of her temerity. when she would have addressed him, with a look he froze the words upon her lips. when he had eaten he looked at his watch, and ordered a boy to bring his horse round to the door. he waited until he saw his overseer coming toward the house, then sprang into the saddle and rode down the lane, passing the overseer with a nod. ten minutes later dudley galloped back up the lane and sprang from his panting horse. as he dashed up the steps he met the overseer coming out of the house. "you have not----" "i have, sir, and well! the she-devil bit my hand to the bone, and would have stabbed me if i hadn't got the knife away from her. you'd better have the niggers look after her; she's shamming a fit." dudley was remorseful, and finding viney unconscious, sent hastily for a doctor. "the woman has had a stroke," said that gentleman curtly, after an examination, "brought on by brutal treatment. by g--d, dudley, i wouldn't have thought this of you! i own negroes, but i treat them like human beings. and such a woman! i'm ashamed of my own race, i swear i am! if we are whipped in this war and the slaves are freed, as lincoln threatens, it will be god's judgment!" many a man has been shot by southern gentlemen for language less offensive; but dudley's conscience made him meek as moses. "it was a mistake," he faltered, "and i shall discharge the overseer who did it." "you had better shoot him," returned the doctor. "he has no soul--and what is worse, no discrimination." dudley gave orders that viney should receive the best of care. next day he found, behind the clock, where she had laid it, the letter which ben dudley, many years after, had read to graciella on mrs. treadwell's piazza. it was dated the morning of the previous day. an hour later he learned of the death of his uncle, who had been thrown from a fractious horse, not far from mink run, and had broken his neck in the fall. a hasty search of the premises did not disclose the concealed treasure. the secret lay in the mind of the stricken woman. as soon as dudley learned that viney had eaten and drunk and was apparently conscious, he went to her bedside and took her limp hand in his own. "i'm sorry, viney, mighty sorry, i assure you. martin went further than i intended, and i have discharged him for his brutality. you'll be sorry, viney, to learn that your old master ralph is dead; he was killed by an accident within ten miles of here. his body will be brought home to-day and buried to-morrow." dudley thought he detected in her expressionless face a shade of sorrow. old ralph, high liver and genial soul, had been so indulgent a master, that his nephew suffered by the comparison. "i found the letter he left with you," he continued softly, "and must take charge of the money immediately. can you tell me where it is?" one side of viney's face was perfectly inert, as the result of her disorder, and any movement of the other produced a slight distortion that spoiled the face as the index of the mind. but her eyes were not dimmed, and into their sombre depths there leaped a sudden fire--only a momentary flash, for almost instantly she closed her lids, and when she opened them a moment later, they exhibited no trace of emotion. "you will tell me where it is?" he repeated. a request came awkwardly to his lips; he was accustomed to command. viney pointed to her mouth with her right hand, which was not affected. "to be sure," he said hastily, "you cannot speak--not yet." he reflected for a moment. the times were unsettled. should a wave of conflict sweep over clarendon, the money might be found by the enemy. should viney take a turn for the worse and die, it would be impossible to learn anything from her at all. there was another thought, which had rapidly taken shape in his mind. no one but viney knew that his uncle had been at mink run. the estate had been seriously embarrassed by roger's extravagant patriotism, following upon the heels of other and earlier extravagances. the fifty thousand dollars would in part make good the loss; as his uncle's heir, he had at least a moral claim upon it, and possession was nine points of the law. "is it in the house?" he asked. she made a negative sign. "in the barn?" the same answer. "in the yard? the garden? the spring house? the quarters?" no question he could put brought a different answer. dudley was puzzled. the woman was in her right mind; she was no liar--of this servile vice at least she was free. surely there was some mystery. "you saw my uncle?" he asked thoughtfully. she nodded affirmatively. "and he had the money, in gold?" yes. "he left it here?" yes, positively. "do you know where he hid it?" she indicated that she did, and pointed again to her silent tongue. "you mean that you must regain your speech before you can explain?" she nodded yes, and then, as if in pain, turned her face away from him. viney was carefully nursed. the doctor came to see her regularly. she was fed with dainty food, and no expense was spared to effect her cure. in due time she recovered from the paralytic stroke, in all except the power of speech, which did not seem to return. all of dudley's attempts to learn from her the whereabouts of the money were equally futile. she seemed willing enough, but, though she made the effort, was never able to articulate; and there was plainly some mystery about the hidden gold which only words could unravel. if she could but write, a few strokes of the pen would give him his heart's desire! but, alas! viney may as well have been without hands, for any use she could make of a pen. slaves were not taught to read or write, nor was viney one of the rare exceptions. but dudley was a man of resource--he would have her taught. he employed a teacher for her, a free coloured man who knew the rudiments. but viney, handicapped by her loss of speech, made wretched progress. from whatever cause, she manifested a remarkable stupidity, while seemingly anxious to learn. dudley himself took a hand in her instruction, but with no better results, and, in the end, the attempt to teach her was abandoned as hopeless. years rolled by. the fall of the confederacy left the slaves free and completed the ruin of the dudley estate. part of the land went, at ruinous prices, to meet mortgages at ruinous rates; part lay fallow, given up to scrub oak and short-leaf pine; merely enough was cultivated, or let out on shares to negro tenants, to provide a living for old malcolm and a few servants. absorbed in dreams of the hidden gold and in the search for it, he neglected his business and fell yet deeper into debt. he worried himself into a lingering fever, through which viney nursed him with every sign of devotion, and from which he rose with his mind visibly weakened. when the slaves were freed, viney had manifested no desire to leave her old place. after the tragic episode which had led to their mutual undoing, there had been no relation between them but that of master and servant. but some gloomy attraction, or it may have been habit, held her to the scene of her power and of her fall. she had no kith nor kin, and her affliction separated her from the rest of mankind. nor would dudley have been willing to let her go, for in her lay the secret of the treasure; and, since all other traces of her ailment had disappeared, so her speech might return. the fruitless search was never relinquished, and in time absorbed all of malcolm dudley's interest. the crops were left to the servants, who neglected them. the yard had been dug over many times. every foot of ground for rods around had been sounded with a pointed iron bar. the house had suffered in the search. no crack or cranny had been left unexplored. the spaces between the walls, beneath the floors, under the hearths--every possible hiding place had been searched, with little care for any resulting injury. * * * * * into this household ben dudley, left alone in the world, had come when a boy of fifteen. he had no special turn for farming, but such work as was done upon the old plantation was conducted under his supervision. in the decaying old house, on the neglected farm, he had grown up in harmony with his surroundings. the example of his old uncle, wrecked in mind by a hopeless quest, had never been brought home to him as a warning; use had dulled its force. he had never joined in the search, except casually, but the legend was in his mind. unconsciously his standards of life grew around it. some day he would be rich, and in order to be sure of it, he must remain with his uncle, whose heir he was. for the money was there, without a doubt. his great-uncle had hid the gold and left the letter--ben had read it. the neighbours knew the story, or at least some vague version of it, and for a time joined in the search--surreptitiously, as occasion offered, and each on his own account. it was the common understanding that old malcolm was mentally unbalanced. the neighbouring negroes, with generous imagination, fixed his mythical and elusive treasure at a million dollars. not one of them had the faintest conception of the bulk or purchasing power of one million dollars in gold; but when one builds a castle in the air, why not make it lofty and spacious? from this unwholesome atmosphere ben dudley found relief, as he grew older, in frequent visits to clarendon, which invariably ended at the treadwells', who were, indeed, distant relatives. he had one good horse, and in an hour or less could leave behind him the shabby old house, falling into ruin, the demented old man, digging in the disordered yard, the dumb old woman watching him from her inscrutable eyes; and by a change as abrupt as that of coming from a dark room into the brightness of midday, find himself in a lovely garden, beside a beautiful girl, whom he loved devotedly, but who kept him on the ragged edge of an uncertainty that was stimulating enough, but very wearing. _twenty_ the summer following colonel french's return to clarendon was unusually cool, so cool that the colonel, pleasantly occupied with his various plans and projects, scarcely found the heat less bearable than that of new york at the same season. during a brief torrid spell he took phil to a southern mountain resort for a couple of weeks, and upon another occasion ran up to new york for a day or two on business in reference to the machinery for the cotton mill, which was to be ready for installation some time during the fall. but these were brief interludes, and did not interrupt the current of his life, which was flowing very smoothly and pleasantly in its new channel, if not very swiftly, for even the colonel was not able to make things move swiftly in clarendon during the summer time, and he was well enough pleased to see them move at all. kirby was out of town when the colonel was in new york, and therefore he did not see him. his mail was being sent from his club to denver, where he was presumably looking into some mining proposition. mrs. jerviss, the colonel supposed, was at the seaside, but he had almost come face to face with her one day on broadway. she had run down to the city on business of some sort. moved by the instinct of defense, the colonel, by a quick movement, avoided the meeting, and felt safer when the lady was well out of sight. he did not wish, at this time, to be diverted from his southern interests, and the image of another woman was uppermost in his mind. one moonlight evening, a day or two after his return from this brief northern trip, the colonel called at mrs. treadwells'. caroline opened the door. mrs. treadwell, she said, was lying down. miss graciella had gone over to a neighbour's, but would soon return. miss laura was paying a call, but would not be long. would the colonel wait? no, he said, he would take a walk, and come back later. the streets were shady, and the moonlight bathed with a silvery glow that part of the town which the shadows did not cover. strolling aimlessly along the quiet, unpaved streets, the colonel, upon turning a corner, saw a lady walking a short distance ahead of him. he thought he recognised the figure, and hurried forward; but ere he caught up with her, she turned and went into one of a row of small houses which he knew belonged to nichols, the coloured barber, and were occupied by coloured people. thinking he had been mistaken in the woman's identity, he slackened his pace, and ere he had passed out of hearing, caught the tones of a piano, accompanying the words, _"i dreamt that i dwelt in marble halls, with vassals and serfs at my s-i-i-de."_ it was doubtless the barber's daughter. the barber's was the only coloured family in town that owned a piano. in the moonlight, and at a distance of some rods, the song sounded well enough, and the colonel lingered until it ceased, and the player began to practise scales, when he continued his walk. he had smoked a couple of cigars, and was returning toward mrs. treadwells', when he met, face to face, miss laura treadwell coming out of the barber's house. he lifted his hat and put out his hand. "i called at the house a while ago, and you were all out. i was just going back. i'll walk along with you." miss laura was visibly embarrassed at the meeting. the colonel gave no sign that he noticed her emotion, but went on talking. "it is a delightful evening," he said. "yes," she replied, and then went on, "you must wonder what i was doing there." "i suppose," he said, "that you were looking for a servant, or on some mission of kindness and good will." miss laura was silent for a moment and he could feel her hand tremble on the arm he offered her. "no, henry," she said, "why should i deceive you? i did not go to find a servant, but to serve. i have told you we were poor, but not how poor. i can tell you what i could not say to others, for you have lived away from here, and i know how differently from most of us you look at things. i went to the barber's house to give the barber's daughter music lessons--for money." the colonel laughed contagiously. "you taught her to sing-- _'i dreamt that i dwelt in marble halls?'_" "yes, but you must not judge my work too soon," she replied. "it is not finished yet." "you shall let me know when it is done," he said, "and i will walk by and hear the finished product. your pupil has improved wonderfully. i heard her singing the song the day i came back--the first time i walked by the old house. she sings it much better now. you are a good teacher, as well as a good woman." miss laura laughed somewhat excitedly, but was bent upon her explanation. "the girl used to come to the house," she said. "her mother belonged to us before the war, and we have been such friends as white and black can be. and she wanted to learn to play, and offered to pay me well for lessons, and i gave them to her. we never speak about the money at the house; mother knows it, but feigns that i do it out of mere kindness, and tells me that i am spoiling the coloured people. our friends are not supposed to know it, and if any of them do, they are kind and never speak of it. since you have been coming to the house, it has not been convenient to teach her there, and i have been going to her home in the evening." "my dear laura," said the colonel, remorsefully, "i have driven you away from your own home, and all unwittingly. i applaud your enterprise and your public spirit. it is a long way from the banjo to the piano--it marks the progress of a family and foreshadows the evolution of a race. and what higher work than to elevate humanity?" they had reached the house. mrs. treadwell had not come down, nor had graciella returned. they went into the parlour. miss laura turned up the lamp. * * * * * graciella had run over to a neighbour's to meet a young lady who was visiting a young lady who was a friend of graciella's. she had remained a little longer than she had meant to, for among those who had called to see her friend's friend was young mr. fetters, the son of the magnate, lately returned home from college. barclay fetters was handsome, well-dressed and well-mannered. he had started at one college, and had already changed to two others. stories of his dissipated habits and reckless extravagance had been bruited about. graciella knew his family history, and had imbibed the old-fashioned notions of her grandmother's household, so that her acknowledgment of the introduction was somewhat cold, not to say distant. but as she felt the charm of his manner, and saw that the other girls were vieing with one another for his notice, she felt a certain triumph that he exhibited a marked preference for her conversation. her reserve gradually broke down, and she was talking with animation and listening with pleasure, when she suddenly recollected that colonel french would probably call, and that she ought to be there to entertain him, for which purpose she had dressed herself very carefully. he had not spoken yet, but might be expected to speak at any time; such marked attentions as his could have but one meaning; and for several days she had had a premonition that before the week was out he would seek to know his fate; and graciella meant to be kind. anticipating this event, she had politely but pointedly discouraged ben dudley's attentions, until ben's pride, of which he had plenty in reserve, had awaked to activity. at their last meeting he had demanded a definite answer to his oft-repeated question. "graciella," he had said, "are you going to marry me? yes or no. i'll not be played with any longer. you must marry me for myself, or not at all. yes or no." "then no, mr. dudley," she had replied with spirit, and without a moment's hesitation, "i will not marry you. i will never marry you, not if i should die an old maid." she was sorry they had not parted friends, but she was not to blame. after her marriage, she would avoid the embarrassment of meeting him, by making the colonel take her away. sometime she might, through her husband, be of service to ben, and thus make up, in part at least, for his disappointment. as she ran up through the garden and stepped upon the porch--her slippers were thin and made no sound--she heard colonel french's voice in the darkened parlour. some unusual intonation struck her, and she moved lightly and almost mechanically forward, in the shadow, toward a point where she could see through the window and remain screened from observation. so intense was her interest in what she heard, that she stood with her hand on her heart, not even conscious that she was doing a shameful thing. * * * * * her aunt was seated and colonel french was standing near her. an open bible lay upon the table. the colonel had taken it up and was reading: "'who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. the heart of her husband doth safely trust in her. she will do him good and not evil all the days of her life. strength and honour are her clothing, and she shall rejoice in time to come.' "laura," he said, "the proverb maker was a prophet as well. in these words, written four thousand years ago, he has described you, line for line." the glow which warmed her cheek, still smooth, the light which came into her clear eyes, the joy that filled her heart at these kind words, put the years to flight, and for the moment laura was young again. "you have been good to phil," the colonel went on, "and i should like him to be always near you and have your care. and you have been kind to me, and made me welcome and at home in what might otherwise have seemed, after so long an absence, a strange land. you bring back to me the best of my youth, and in you i find the inspiration for good deeds. be my wife, dear laura, and a mother to my boy, and we will try to make you happy." "oh, henry," she cried with fluttering heart, "i am not worthy to be your wife. i know nothing of the world where you have lived, nor whether i would fit into it." "you are worthy of any place," he declared, "and if one please you more than another, i shall make your wishes mine." "but, henry, how could i leave my mother? and graciella needs my care." "you need not leave your mother--she shall be mine as well as yours. graciella is a dear, bright child; she has in her the making of a noble woman; she should be sent away to a good school, and i will see to it. no, dear laura, there are no difficulties, no giants in the pathway that will not fly or fall when we confront them." he had put his arm around her and lifted her face to his. he read his answer in her swimming eyes, and when he had reached down and kissed her cheek, she buried her head on his shoulder and shed some tears of happiness. for this was her secret: she was sweet and good; she would have made any man happy, who had been worthy of her, but no man had ever before asked her to be his wife. she had lived upon a plane so simple, yet so high, that men not equally high-minded had never ventured to address her, and there were few such men, and chance had not led them her way. as to the others--perhaps there were women more beautiful, and certainly more enterprising. she had not repined; she had been busy and contented. now this great happiness was vouchsafed her, to find in the love of the man whom she admired above all others a woman's true career. "henry," she said, when they had sat down on the old hair-cloth sofa, side by side, "you have made me very happy; so happy that i wish to keep my happiness all to myself--for a little while. will you let me keep our engagement secret until i--am accustomed to it? it may be silly or childish, but it seems like a happy dream, and i wish to assure myself of its reality before i tell it to anyone else." "to me," said the colonel, smiling tenderly into her eyes, "it is the realisation of an ideal. since we met that day in the cemetery you have seemed to me the embodiment of all that is best of my memories of the old south; and your gentleness, your kindness, your tender grace, your self-sacrifice and devotion to duty, mark you a queen among women, and my heart shall be your throne. as to the announcement, have it as you will--it is the lady's privilege." "you are very good," she said tremulously. "this hour repays me for all i have ever tried to do for others." * * * * * graciella felt very young indeed--somewhere in the neighbourhood of ten, she put it afterward, when she reviewed the situation in a calmer frame of mind--as she crept softly away from the window and around the house to the back door, and up the stairs and into her own chamber, where, all oblivious of danger to her clothes or her complexion, she threw herself down upon her own bed and burst into a passion of tears. she had been cruelly humiliated. colonel french, whom she had imagined in love with her, had regarded her merely as a child, who ought to be sent to school--to acquire what, she asked herself, good sense or deportment? perhaps she might acquire more good sense--she had certainly made a fool of herself in this case--but she had prided herself upon her manners. colonel french had been merely playing with her, like one would with a pet monkey; and he had been in love, all the time, with her aunt laura, whom the girls had referred to compassionately, only that same evening, as a hopeless old maid. it is fortunate that youth and hope go generally hand in hand. graciella possessed a buoyant spirit to breast the waves of disappointment. she had her cry out, a good, long cry; and when much weeping had dulled the edge of her discomfiture she began to reflect that all was not yet lost. the colonel would not marry her, but he would still marry in the family. when her aunt laura became mrs. french, she would doubtless go often to new york, if she would not live there always. she would invite graciella to go with her, perhaps to live with her there. as for going to school, that was a matter which her own views should control; at present she had no wish to return to school. she might take lessons in music, or art; her aunt would hardly care for her to learn stenography now, or go into magazine work. her aunt would surely not go to europe without inviting her, and colonel french was very liberal with his money, and would deny his wife nothing, though graciella could hardly imagine that any man would be infatuated with her aunt laura. but this was not the end of graciella's troubles. graciella had a heart, although she had suppressed its promptings, under the influence of a selfish ambition. she had thrown ben dudley over for the colonel; the colonel did not want her, and now she would have neither. ben had been very angry, unreasonably angry, she had thought at the time, and objectionably rude in his manner. he had sworn never to speak to her again. if he should keep his word, she might be very unhappy. these reflections brought on another rush of tears, and a very penitent, contrite, humble-minded young woman cried herself to sleep before miss laura, with a heart bursting with happiness, bade the colonel good-night at the gate, and went upstairs to lie awake in her bed in a turmoil of pleasant emotions. miss laura's happiness lay not alone in the prospect that colonel french would marry her, nor in any sordid thought of what she would gain by becoming the wife of a rich man. it rested in the fact that this man, whom she admired, and who had come back from the outer world to bring fresh ideas, new and larger ideals to lift and broaden and revivify the town, had passed by youth and beauty and vivacity, and had chosen her to share this task, to form the heart and mind and manners of his child, and to be the tie which would bind him most strongly to her dear south. for she was a true child of the soil; the people about her, white and black, were her people, and this marriage, with its larger opportunities for usefulness, would help her to do that for which hitherto she had only been able to pray and to hope. to the boy she would be a mother indeed; to lead him in the paths of truth and loyalty and manliness and the fear of god--it was a priceless privilege, and already her mother-heart yearned to begin the task. and then after the flow came the ebb. why had he chosen her? was it _merely_ as an abstraction--the embodiment of an ideal, a survival from a host of pleasant memories, and as a mother for his child, who needed care which no one else could give, and as a helpmate in carrying out his schemes of benevolence? were these his only motives; and, if so, were they sufficient to ensure her happiness? was he marrying her through a mere sentimental impulse, or for calculated convenience, or from both? she must be certain; for his views might change. he was yet in the full flow of philanthropic enthusiasm. she shared his faith in human nature and the triumph of right ideas; but once or twice she had feared he was underrating the power of conservative forces; that he had been away from clarendon so long as to lose the perspective of actual conditions, and that he was cherishing expectations which might be disappointed. should this ever prove true, his disillusion might be as far-reaching and as sudden as his enthusiasm. then, if he had not loved her for herself, she might be very unhappy. she would have rejoiced to bring him youth and beauty, and the things for which other women were preferred; she would have loved to be the perfect mate, one in heart, mind, soul and body, with the man with whom she was to share the journey of life. but this was a passing thought, born of weakness and self-distrust, and she brushed it away with the tear that had come with it, and smiled at its absurdity. her youth was past; with nothing to expect but an old age filled with the small expedients of genteel poverty, there had opened up to her, suddenly and unexpectedly, a great avenue for happiness and usefulness. it was foolish, with so much to be grateful for, to sigh for the unattainable. his love must be all the stronger since it took no thought of things which others would have found of controlling importance. in choosing her to share his intellectual life he had paid her a higher compliment than had he praised the glow of her cheek or the contour of her throat. in confiding phil to her care he had given her a sacred trust and confidence, for she knew how much he loved the child. _twenty-one_ the colonel's schemes for the improvement of clarendon went forward, with occasional setbacks. several kilns of brick turned out badly, so that the brickyard fell behind with its orders, thus delaying the work a few weeks. the foundations of the old cotton mill had been substantially laid, and could be used, so far as their position permitted for the new walls. when the bricks were ready, a gang of masons was put to work. white men and coloured were employed, under a white foreman. so great was the demand for labour and so stimulating the colonel's liberal wage, that even the drowsy negroes around the market house were all at work, and the pigs who had slept near them were obliged to bestir themselves to keep from being run over by the wagons that were hauling brick and lime and lumber through the streets. even the cows in the vacant lot between the post-office and the bank occasionally lifted up their gentle eyes as though wondering what strange fever possessed the two-legged creatures around them, urging them to such unnatural activity. the work went on smoothly for a week or two, when the colonel had some words with jim green, the white foreman of the masons. the cause of the dispute was not important, but the colonel, as the master, insisted that certain work should be done in a certain way. green wished to argue the point. the colonel brought the discussion to a close with a peremptory command. the foreman took offense, declared that he was no nigger to be ordered around, and quit. the colonel promoted to the vacancy george brown, a coloured man, who was the next best workman in the gang. on the day when brown took charge of the job the white bricklayers, of whom there were two at work, laid down their tools. "what's the matter?" asked the colonel, when they reported for their pay. "aren't you satisfied with the wages?" "yes, we've got no fault to find with the wages." "well?" "we won't work under george brown. we don't mind working _with_ niggers, but we won't work _under_ a nigger." "i'm sorry, gentlemen, but i must hire my own men. here is your money." they would have preferred to argue their grievance, and since the colonel had shut off discussion they went down to clay jackson's saloon and argued the case with all comers, with the usual distortion attending one-sided argument. jim green had been superseded by a nigger--this was the burden of their grievance. thus came the thin entering wedge that was to separate the colonel from a measure of his popularity. there had been no objection to the colonel's employing negroes, no objection to his helping their school--if he chose to waste his money that way; but there were many who took offense when a negro was preferred to a white man. through caxton the colonel learned of this criticism. the colonel showed no surprise, and no annoyance, but in his usual good-humoured way replied: "we'll go right along and pay no attention to him. there were only two white men in the gang, and they have never worked under the negro; they quit as soon as i promoted him. i have hired many men in my time and have made it an unvarying rule to manage my own business in my own way. if anybody says anything to you about it, you tell them just that. these people have got to learn that we live in an industrial age, and success demands of an employer that he utilise the most available labour. after green was discharged, george brown was the best mason left. he gets more work out of the men than green did--even in the old slave times negroes made the best of overseers; they knew their own people better than white men could and got more out of them. when the mill is completed it will give employment to five hundred white women and fifty white men. but every dog must have his day, so give the negro his." the colonel attached no great importance to the incident; the places of the workmen were filled, and the work went forward. he knew the southern sensitiveness, and viewed it with a good-natured tolerance, which, however, stopped at injustice to himself or others. the very root of his reform was involved in the proposition to discharge a competent foreman because of an unreasonable prejudice. matters of feeling were all well enough in some respects--no one valued more highly than the colonel the right to choose his own associates--but the right to work and to do one's best work, was fundamental, as was the right to have one's work done by those who could do it best. even a healthy social instinct might be perverted into an unhealthy and unjust prejudice; most things evil were the perversion of good. the feeling with which the colonel thus came for the first time directly in contact, a smouldering fire capable always of being fanned into flame, had been greatly excited by the political campaign which began about the third month after his arrival in clarendon. an ambitious politician in a neighbouring state had led a successful campaign on the issue of negro disfranchisement. plainly unconstitutional, it was declared to be as plainly necessary for the preservation of the white race and white civilisation. the example had proved contagious, and fetters and his crowd, who dominated their state, had raised the issue there. at first the pronouncement met with slight response. the sister state had possessed a negro majority, which, in view of reconstruction history was theoretically capable of injuring the state. such was not the case here. the state had survived reconstruction with small injury. white supremacy existed, in the main, by virtue of white efficiency as compared with efficiency of a lower grade; there had been places, and instances, where other methods had been occasionally employed to suppress the negro vote, but, taken as a whole, the supremacy of the white man was secure. no negro had held a state office for twenty years. in clarendon they had even ceased to be summoned as jurors, and when a negro met a white man, he gave him the wall, even if it were necessary to take the gutter to do so. but this was not enough; this supremacy must be made permanent. negroes must be taught that they need never look for any different state of things. new definitions were given to old words, new pictures set in old frames, new wine poured into old bottles. "so long," said the candidate for governor, when he spoke at clarendon during the canvas, at a meeting presided over by the editor of the _anglo-saxon_, "so long as one negro votes in the state, so long are we face to face with the nightmare of negro domination. for example, suppose a difference of opinion among white men so radical as to divide their vote equally, the ballot of one negro would determine the issue. can such a possibility be contemplated without a shudder? our duty to ourselves, to our children, and their unborn descendants, and to our great and favoured race, impels us to protest, by word, by vote, by arms if need be, against the enforced equality of an inferior race. equality anywhere, means ultimately, equality everywhere. equality at the polls means social equality; social equality means intermarriage and corruption of blood, and degeneration and decay. what gentleman here would want his daughter to marry a blubber-lipped, cocoanut-headed, kidney-footed, etc., etc., nigger?" there could be but one answer to the question, and it came in thunders of applause. colonel french heard the speech, smiled at the old arguments, but felt a sudden gravity at the deep-seated feeling which they evoked. he remembered hearing, when a boy, the same arguments. they had served their purpose once before, with other issues, to plunge the south into war and consequent disaster. had the lesson been in vain? he did not see the justice nor the expediency of the proposed anti-negro agitation. but he was not in politics, and confined his protests to argument with his friends, who listened but were not convinced. behind closed doors, more than one of the prominent citizens admitted that the campaign was all wrong; that the issues were unjust and reactionary, and that the best interests of the state lay in uplifting every element of the people rather than selecting some one class for discouragement and degradation, and that the white race could hold its own, with the negroes or against them, in any conceivable state of political equality. they listened to the colonel's quiet argument that no state could be freer or greater or more enlightened than the average of its citizenship, and that any restriction of rights that rested upon anything but impartial justice, was bound to re-act, as slavery had done, upon the prosperity and progress of the state. they listened, which the colonel regarded as a great point gained, and they agreed in part, and he could almost understand why they let their feelings govern their reason and their judgment, and said no word to prevent an unfair and unconstitutional scheme from going forward to a successful issue. he knew that for a white man to declare, in such a community, for equal rights or equal justice for the negro, or to take the negro's side in any case where the race issue was raised, was to court social ostracism and political death, or, if the feeling provoked were strong enough, an even more complete form of extinction. so the colonel was patient, and meant to be prudent. his own arguments avoided the stirring up of prejudice, and were directed to the higher motives and deeper principles which underlie society, in the light of which humanity is more than race, and the welfare of the state above that of any man or set of men within it; it being an axiom as true in statesmanship as in mathematics, that the whole is greater than any one of its parts. content to await the uplifting power of industry and enlightenment, and supremely confident of the result, the colonel went serenely forward in his work of sowing that others might reap. _twenty-two_ the atmosphere of the treadwell home was charged, for the next few days, with electric currents. graciella knew that her aunt was engaged to colonel french. but she had not waited, the night before, to hear her aunt express the wish that the engagement should be kept secret. she was therefore bursting with information of which she could manifest no consciousness without confessing that she had been eavesdropping--a thing which she knew miss laura regarded as detestably immoral. she wondered at her aunt's silence. except a certain subdued air of happiness there was nothing to distinguish miss laura's calm demeanor from that of any other day. graciella had determined upon her own attitude toward her aunt. she would kiss her, and wish her happiness, and give no sign that any thought of colonel french had ever entered her own mind. but this little drama, rehearsed in the privacy of her own room, went unacted, since the curtain did not rise upon the stage. the colonel came and went as usual. some dissimulation was required on graciella's part to preserve her usual light-hearted manner toward him. she may have been to blame in taking the colonel's attentions as intended for herself; she would not soon forgive his slighting reference to her. in his eyes she had been only a child, who ought to go to school. he had been good enough to say that she had the making of a fine woman. thanks! she had had a lover for at least two years, and a proposal of marriage before colonel french's shadow had fallen athwart her life. she wished her aunt laura happiness; no one could deserve it more, but was it possible to be happy with a man so lacking in taste and judgment? her aunt's secret began to weigh upon her mind, and she effaced herself as much as possible when the colonel came. her grandmother had begun to notice this and comment upon it, when the happening of a certain social event created a diversion. this was the annual entertainment known as the assembly ball. it was usually held later in the year, but owing to the presence of several young lady visitors in the town, it had been decided to give it early in the fall. the affair was in the hands of a committee, by whom invitations were sent to most people in the county who had any claims to gentility. the gentlemen accepting were expected to subscribe to the funds for hall rent, music and refreshments. these were always the best the town afforded. the ball was held in the opera house, a rather euphemistic title for the large hall above barstow's cotton warehouse, where third-class theatrical companies played one-night stands several times during the winter, and where an occasional lecturer or conjurer held forth. an amateur performance of "pinafore" had once been given there. henry w. grady had lectured there upon white supremacy; the reverend sam small had preached there on hell. it was also distinguished as having been refused, even at the request of the state commissioner of education, as a place for booker t. washington to deliver an address, which had been given at the town hall instead. the assembly balls had always been held in the opera house. in former years the music had been furnished by local negro musicians, but there were no longer any of these, and a band of string music was brought in from another town. so far as mere wealth was concerned, the subscribers touched such extremes as ben dudley on the one hand and colonel french on the other, and included barclay fetters, whom graciella had met on the evening before her disappointment. the treadwell ladies were of course invited, and the question of ways and means became paramount. new gowns and other accessories were imperative. miss laura's one party dress had done service until it was past redemption, and this was graciella's first assembly ball. miss laura took stock of the family's resources, and found that she could afford only one gown. this, of course, must be graciella's. her own marriage would entail certain expenses which demanded some present self-denial. she had played wall-flower for several years, but now that she was sure of a partner, it was a real sacrifice not to attend the ball. but graciella was young, and in such matters youth has a prior right; for she had yet to find her mate. graciella magnanimously offered to remain at home, but was easily prevailed upon to go. she was not entirely happy, for the humiliating failure of her hopes had left her for the moment without a recognised admirer, and the fear of old maidenhood had again laid hold of her heart. her aunt laura's case was no consoling example. not one man in a hundred would choose a wife for colonel french's reasons. most men married for beauty, and graciella had been told that beauty that matured early, like her own, was likely to fade early. one humiliation she was spared. she had been as silent about her hopes as miss laura was about her engagement. whether this was due to mere prudence or to vanity--the hope of astonishing her little world by the unexpected announcement--did not change the comforting fact that she had nothing to explain and nothing for which to be pitied. if her friends, after the manner of young ladies, had hinted at the subject and sought to find a meaning in colonel french's friendship, she had smiled enigmatically. for this self-restraint, whatever had been its motive, she now reaped her reward. the announcement of her aunt's engagement would account for the colonel's attentions to graciella as a mere courtesy to a young relative of his affianced. with regard to ben, graciella was quite uneasy. she had met him only once since their quarrel, and had meant to bow to him politely, but with dignity, to show that she bore no malice; but he had ostentatiously avoided her glance. if he chose to be ill-natured, she had thought, and preferred her enmity to her friendship, her conscience was at least clear. she had been willing to forget his rudeness and be a friend to him. she could have been his true friend, if nothing more; and he would need friends, unless he changed a great deal. when her mental atmosphere was cleared by the fading of her dream, ben assumed larger proportions. perhaps he had had cause for complaint; at least it was only just to admit that he thought so. nor had he suffered in her estimation by his display of spirit in not waiting to be jilted but in forcing her hand before she was quite ready to play it. she could scarcely expect him to attend her to the ball; but he was among the subscribers, and could hardly avoid meeting her, or dancing with her, without pointed rudeness. if he did not ask her to dance, then either the virginia reel, or the lancers, or quadrilles, would surely bring them together; and though graciella sighed, she did not despair. she could, of course, allay his jealousy at once by telling him of her aunt laura's engagement, but this was not yet practicable. she must find some other way of placating him. ben dudley also had a problem to face in reference to the ball--a problem which has troubled impecunious youth since balls were invented--the problem of clothes. he was not obliged to go to the ball. graciella's outrageous conduct relieved him of any obligation to invite her, and there was no other woman with whom he would have cared to go, or who would have cared, so far as he knew, to go with him. for he was not a lady's man, and but for his distant relationship would probably never have gone to the treadwells'. he was looked upon by young women as slow, and he knew that graciella had often been impatient at his lack of sprightliness. he could pay his subscription, which was really a sort of gentility tax, the failure to meet which would merely forfeit future invitations, and remain at home. he did not own a dress suit, nor had he the money to spare for one. he, or they, for he and his uncle were one in such matters, were in debt already, up to the limit of their credit, and he had sold the last bale of old cotton to pay the last month's expenses, while the new crop, already partly mortgaged, was not yet picked. he knew that some young fellows in town rented dress suits from solomon cohen, who, though he kept only four suits in stock at a time, would send to new york for others to rent out on this occasion, and return them afterwards. but ben would not wear another man's clothes. he had borne insults from graciella that he never would have borne from any one else, and that he would never bear again; but there were things at which his soul protested. nor would cohen's suits have fitted him. he was so much taller than the average man for whom store clothes were made. he remained in a state of indecision until the day of the ball. late in the evening he put on his black cutaway coat, which was getting a little small, trousers to match, and a white waistcoat, and started to town on horseback so as to arrive in time for the ball, in case he should decide, at the last moment, to take part. _twenty-three_ the opera house was brilliantly lighted on the night of the assembly ball. the dancers gathered at an earlier hour than is the rule in the large cities. many of the guests came in from the country, and returned home after the ball, since the hotel could accommodate only a part of them. when ben dudley, having left his horse at a livery stable, walked up main street toward the hall, carriages were arriving and discharging their freight. the ladies were prettily gowned, their faces were bright and animated, and ben observed that most of the gentlemen wore dress suits; but also, much to his relief, that a number, sufficient to make at least a respectable minority, did not. he was rapidly making up his mind to enter, when colonel french's carriage, drawn by a pair of dashing bays and driven by a negro in livery, dashed up to the door and discharged miss graciella treadwell, radiantly beautiful in a new low-cut pink gown, with pink flowers in her hair, a thin gold chain with a gold locket at the end around her slender throat, white slippers on her feet and long white gloves upon her shapely hands and wrists. ben shrank back into the shadow. he had never been of an envious disposition; he had always looked upon envy as a mean vice, unworthy of a gentleman; but for a moment something very like envy pulled at his heartstrings. graciella worshipped the golden calf. _he_ worshipped graciella. but he had no money; he could not have taken her to the ball in a closed carriage, drawn by blooded horses and driven by a darky in livery. graciella's cavalier wore, with the ease and grace of long habit, an evening suit of some fine black stuff that almost shone in the light from the open door. at the sight of him the waist of ben's own coat shrunk up to the arm-pits, and he felt a sinking of the heart as they passed out of his range of vision. he would not appear to advantage by the side of colonel french, and he would not care to appear otherwise than to advantage in graciella's eyes. he would not like to make more palpable, by contrast, the difference between colonel french and himself; nor could he be haughty, distant, reproachful, or anything but painfully self-conscious, in a coat that was not of the proper cut, too short in the sleeves, and too tight under the arms. while he stood thus communing with his own bitter thoughts, another carriage, drawn by a pair of beautiful black horses, drew up to the curb in front of him. the horses were restive, and not inclined to stand still. some one from the inside of the carriage called to the coachman through the open window. "ransom," said the voice, "stay on the box. here, you, open this carriage door!" ben looked around for the person addressed, but saw no one near but himself. "you boy there, by the curb, open this door, will you, or hold the horses, so my coachman can!" "are you speaking to me?" demanded ben angrily. just then one of the side-lights of the carriage flashed on ben's face. "oh, i beg pardon," said the man in the carriage, carelessly, "i took you for a nigger." there could be no more deadly insult, though the mistake was not unnatural. ben was dark, and the shadow made him darker. ben was furious. the stranger had uttered words of apology, but his tone had been insolent, and his apology was more offensive than his original blunder. had it not been for ben's reluctance to make a disturbance, he would have struck the offender in the mouth. if he had had a pistol, he could have shot him; his great uncle ralph, for instance, would not have let him live an hour. while these thoughts were surging through his heated brain, the young man, as immaculately clad as colonel french had been, left the carriage, from which he helped a lady, and with her upon his arm, entered the hall. in the light that streamed from the doorway, ben recognised him as barclay fetters, who, having finished a checkered scholastic career, had been at home at sycamore for several months. much of this time he had spent in clarendon, where his father's wealth and influence gave him entrance to good society, in spite of an ancestry which mere character would not have offset. he knew young fetters very well by sight, since the latter had to pass mink run whenever he came to town from sycamore. fetters may not have known him, since he had been away for much of the time in recent years, but he ought to have been able to distinguish between a white man--a gentleman--and a negro. it was the insolence of an upstart. old josh fetters had been, in his younger days, his uncle's overseer. an overseer's grandson treated him, ben dudley, like dirt under his feet! perhaps he had judged him by his clothes. he would like to show barclay fetters, if they ever stood face to face, that clothes did not make the man, nor the gentleman. ben decided after this encounter that he would not go on the floor of the ballroom; but unable to tear himself away, he waited until everybody seemed to have gone in; then went up the stairs and gained access, by a back way, to a dark gallery in the rear of the hall, which the ushers had deserted for the ballroom, from which he could, without discovery, look down upon the scene below. his eyes flew to graciella as the needle to the pole. she was dancing with colonel french. the music stopped, and a crowd of young fellows surrounded her. when the next dance, which was a waltz, began, she moved out upon the floor in the arms of barclay fetters. ben swore beneath his breath. he had heard tales of barclay fetters which, if true, made him unfit to touch a decent woman. he left the hall, walked a short distance down a street and around the corner to the bar in the rear of the hotel, where he ordered a glass of whiskey. he had never been drunk in his life, and detested the taste of liquor; but he was desperate and had to do something; he would drink till he was drunk, and forget his troubles. having never been intoxicated, he had no idea whatever of the effect liquor would have upon him. with each succeeding drink, the sense of his wrongs broadened and deepened. at one stage his intoxication took the form of an intense self-pity. there was something rotten in the whole scheme of things. why should he be poor, while others were rich, and while fifty thousand dollars in gold were hidden in or around the house where he lived? why should colonel french, an old man, who was of no better blood than himself, be rich enough to rob him of the woman whom he loved? and why, above all, should barclay fetters have education and money and every kind of opportunity, which he did not appreciate, while he, who would have made good use of them, had nothing? with this sense of wrong, which grew as his brain clouded more and more, there came, side by side, a vague zeal to right these wrongs. as he grew drunker still, his thoughts grew less coherent; he lost sight of his special grievance, and merely retained the combative instinct. he had reached this dangerous stage, and had, fortunately, passed it one step farther along the road to unconsciousness--fortunately, because had he been sober, the result of that which was to follow might have been more serious--when two young men, who had come down from the ballroom for some refreshment, entered the barroom and asked for cocktails. while the barkeeper was compounding the liquor, the young men spoke of the ball. "that little treadwell girl is a peach," said one. "i could tote a bunch of beauty like that around the ballroom all night." the remark was not exactly respectful, nor yet exactly disrespectful. ben looked up from his seat. the speaker was barclay fetters, and his companion one tom mcrae, another dissolute young man of the town. ben got up unsteadily and walked over to where they stood. "i want you to un'erstan'," he said thickly, "that no gen'l'man would mensh'n a lady's name in a place like this, or shpeak dissuspeckerly 'bout a lady 'n any place; an' i want you to unerstan' fu'thermo' that you're no gen'l'man, an' that i'm goin' t' lick you, by g--d!" "the hell you are!" returned fetters. a scowl of surprise rose on his handsome face, and he sprang to an attitude of defence. ben suited the action to the word, and struck at fetters. but ben was drunk and the other two were sober, and in three minutes ben lay on the floor with a sore head and a black eye. his nose was bleeding copiously, and the crimson stream had run down upon his white shirt and vest. taken all in all, his appearance was most disreputable. by this time the liquor he had drunk had its full effect, and complete unconsciousness supervened to save him, for a little while, from the realisation of his disgrace. "who is the mucker, anyway?" asked barclay fetters, readjusting his cuffs, which had slipped down in the melee. "he's a chap by the name of dudley," answered mcrae; "lives at mink run, between here and sycamore, you know." "oh, yes, i've seen him--the 'po' white' chap that lives with the old lunatic that's always digging for buried treasure---- _'for my name was captain kidd, as i sailed, as i sailed.'_ but let's hurry back, tom, or we'll lose the next dance." fetters and his companion returned to the ball. the barkeeper called a servant of the hotel, with whose aid, ben was carried upstairs and put to bed, bruised in body and damaged in reputation. _twenty-four_ ben's fight with young fetters became a matter of public comment the next day after the ball. his conduct was cited as sad proof of the degeneracy of a once fine old family. he had been considered shiftless and not well educated, but no one had suspected that he was a drunkard and a rowdy. other young men in the town, high-spirited young fellows with plenty of money, sometimes drank a little too much, and occasionally, for a point of honour, gentlemen were obliged to attack or defend themselves, but when they did, they used pistols, a gentleman's weapon. here, however, was an unprovoked and brutal attack with fists, upon two gentlemen in evening dress and without weapons to defend themselves, "one of them," said the _anglo-saxon_, "the son of our distinguished fellow citizen and colleague in the legislature, the honourable william fetters." when colonel french called to see miss laura, the afternoon of next day after the ball, the ladies were much concerned about the affair. "oh, henry," exclaimed miss laura, "what is this dreadful story about ben dudley? they say he was drinking at the hotel, and became intoxicated, and that when barclay fetters and tom mcrae went into the hotel, he said something insulting about graciella, and when they rebuked him for his freedom he attacked them violently, and that when finally subdued he was put to bed unconscious and disgracefully intoxicated. graciella is very angry, and we all feel ashamed enough to sink into the ground. what can be the matter with ben? he hasn't been around lately, and he has quarrelled with graciella. i never would have expected anything like this from ben." "it came from his great-uncle ralph," said mrs. treadwell. "ralph was very wild when he was young, but settled down into a very polished gentleman. i danced with him once when he was drunk, and i never knew it--it was my first ball, and i was intoxicated myself, with excitement. mother was scandalised, but father laughed and said boys would be boys. but poor ben hasn't had his uncle's chances, and while he has always behaved well here, he could hardly be expected to carry his liquor like a gentleman of the old school." "my dear ladies," said the colonel, "we have heard only one side of the story. i guess there's no doubt ben was intoxicated, but we know he isn't a drinking man, and one drink--or even one drunk--doesn't make a drunkard, nor one fight a rowdy. barclay fetters and tom mcrae are not immaculate, and perhaps ben can exonerate himself." "i certainly hope so," said miss laura earnestly. "i am sorry for ben, but i could not permit a drunken rowdy to come to the house, or let my niece be seen upon the street with him." "it would only be fair," said the colonel, "to give him a chance to explain, when he comes in again. i rather like ben. he has some fine mechanical ideas, and the making of a man in him, unless i am mistaken. i have been hoping to find a place for him in the new cotton mill, when it is ready to run." they were still speaking of ben, when there was an irresolute knock at the rear door of the parlour, in which they were seated. "miss laura, o miss laura," came a muffled voice. "kin i speak to you a minute. it's mighty pertickler, miss laura, fo' god it is!" "laura," said the colonel, "bring catharine in. i saw that you were troubled once before when you were compelled to refuse her something. henceforth your burdens shall be mine. come in, catharine," he called, "and tell us what's the matter. what's your trouble? what's it all about?" the woman, red-eyed from weeping, came in, wringing her apron. "miss laura," she sobbed, "an' colonel french, my husban' bud is done gone and got inter mo' trouble. he's run away f'm mistah fettuhs, w'at he wuz sol' back to in de spring, an' he's done be'n fine' fifty dollahs mo', an' he's gwine ter be sol' back ter mistah fettuhs in de mawnin', fer ter finish out de ole fine and wo'k out de new one. i's be'n ter see 'im in de gyard house, an' he say mistah haines, w'at use' ter be de constable and is a gyard fer mistah fettuhs now, beat an' 'bused him so he couldn' stan' it; an' 'ceptin' i could pay all dem fines, he'll be tuck back dere; an'he say ef dey evah beats him ag'in, dey'll eithuh haf ter kill him, er he'll kill some er dem. an' bud is a rash man, miss laura, an' i'm feared dat he'll do w'at he say, an' ef dey kills him er he kills any er dem, it'll be all de same ter me--i'll never see 'm no mo' in dis worl'. ef i could borry de money, miss laura--mars' colonel--i'd wuk my fingers ter de bone 'tel i paid back de las' cent. er ef you'd buy bud, suh, lack you did unc' peter, he would n' mind wukkin' fer you, suh, fer bud is a good wukker we'n folks treats him right; an' he had n' never had no trouble nowhar befo' he come hyuh, suh." "how did he come to be arrested the first time?" asked the colonel. "he didn't live hyuh, suh; i used ter live hyuh, an' i ma'ied him down ter madison, where i wuz wukkin'. we fell out one day, an' i got mad and lef' 'im--it wuz all my fault an' i be'n payin' fer it evuh since--an' i come back home an' went ter wuk hyuh, an' he come aftuh me, an de fus' day he come, befo' i knowed he wuz hyuh, dis yer mistah haines tuck 'im up, an' lock 'im up in de gyard house, like a hog in de poun', an' he didn' know nobody, an' dey didn' give 'im no chanst ter see nobody, an' dey tuck 'im roun' ter squi' reddick nex' mawnin', an' fined 'im an' sol' 'im ter dis yer mistuh fettuhs fer ter wo'k out de fine; an' i be'n wantin' all dis time ter hyuh fum 'im, an' i'd done be'n an' gone back ter madison to look fer 'im, an' foun' he wuz gone. an' god knows i didn' know what had become er 'im, 'tel he run away de yuther time an' dey tuck 'im an' sent 'im back again. an' he hadn' done nothin' de fus' time, suh, but de lawd know w'at he won' do ef dey sen's 'im back any mo'." catharine had put her apron to her eyes and was sobbing bitterly. the story was probably true. the colonel had heard underground rumours about the fetters plantation and the manner in which it was supplied with labourers, and his own experience in old peter's case had made them seem not unlikely. he had seen catharine's husband, in the justice's court, and the next day, in the convict gang behind turner's buggy. the man had not looked like a criminal; that he was surly and desperate may as well have been due to a sense of rank injustice as to an evil nature. that a wrong had been done, under cover of law, was at least more than likely; but a deed of mercy could be made to right it. the love of money might be the root of all evil, but its control was certainly a means of great good. the colonel glowed with the consciousness of this beneficent power to scatter happiness. "laura," he said, "i will attend to this; it is a matter about which you should not be troubled. don't be alarmed, catharine. just be a good girl and help miss laura all you can, and i'll look after your husband, and pay his fine and let him work it out as a free man." "thank'y, suh, thank'y, mars' colonel, an' miss laura! an' de lawd is gwine bless you, suh, you an' my sweet young lady, fuh bein' good to po' folks w'at can't do nuthin' to he'p deyse'ves out er trouble," said catharine backing out with her apron to her eyes. * * * * * on leaving miss laura, the colonel went round to the office of squire reddick, the justice of the peace, to inquire into the matter of bud johnson. the justice was out of town, his clerk said, but would be in his office at nine in the morning, at which time the colonel could speak to him about johnson's fine. the next morning was bright and clear, and cool enough to be bracing. the colonel, alive with pleasant thoughts, rose early and after a cold bath, and a leisurely breakfast, walked over to the mill site, where the men were already at work. having looked the work over and given certain directions, he glanced at his watch, and finding it near nine, set out for the justice's office in time to reach it by the appointed hour. squire reddick was at his desk, upon which his feet rested, while he read a newspaper. he looked up with an air of surprise as the colonel entered. "why, good mornin', colonel french," he said genially. "i kind of expected you a while ago; the clerk said you might be around. but you didn' come, so i supposed you'd changed yo' mind." "the clerk said that you would be here at nine," replied the colonel; "it is only just nine." "did he? well, now, that's too bad! i do generally git around about nine, but i was earlier this mornin' and as everybody was here, we started in a little sooner than usual. you wanted to see me about bud johnson?" "yes, i wish to pay his fine and give him work." "well, that's too bad; but you weren't here, and mr. turner was, and he bought his time again for mr. fetters. i'm sorry, you know, but first come, first served." the colonel was seriously annoyed. he did not like to believe there was a conspiracy to frustrate his good intention; but that result had been accomplished, whether by accident or design. he had failed in the first thing he had undertaken for the woman he loved and was to marry. he would see fetters's man, however, and come to some arrangement with him. with fetters the hiring of the negro was purely a commercial transaction, conditioned upon a probable profit, for the immediate payment of which, and a liberal bonus, he would doubtless relinquish his claim upon johnson's services. learning that turner, who had acted as fetters's agent in the matter, had gone over to clay johnson's saloon, he went to seek him there. he found him, and asked for a proposition. turner heard him out. "well, colonel french," he replied with slightly veiled insolence, "i bought this nigger's time for mr. fetters, an' unless i'm might'ly mistaken in mr. fetters, no amount of money can get the nigger until he's served his time out. he's defied our rules and defied the law, and defied me, and assaulted one of the guards; and he ought to be made an example of. we want to keep 'im; he's a bad nigger, an' we've got to handle a lot of 'em, an' we need 'im for an example--he keeps us in trainin'." "have you any power in the matter?" demanded the colonel, restraining his contempt. "me? no, not _me_! i couldn't let the nigger go for his weight in gol'--an' wouldn' if i could. i bought 'im in for mr. fetters, an' he's the only man that's got any say about 'im." "very well," said the colonel as he turned away, "i'll see fetters." "i don't know whether you will or not," said turner to himself, as he shot a vindictive glance at the colonel's retreating figure. "fetters has got this county where he wants it, an' i'll bet dollars to bird shot he ain't goin' to let no coon-flavoured no'the'n interloper come down here an' mix up with his arrangements, even if he did hail from this town way back yonder. this here nigger problem is a south'en problem, and outsiders might's well keep their han's off. me and haines an' fetters is the kind o' men to settle it." the colonel was obliged to confess to miss laura his temporary setback, which he went around to the house and did immediately. "it's the first thing i've undertaken yet for your sake, laura, and i've got to report failure, so far." "it's only the first step," she said, consolingly. "that's all. i'll drive out to fetters's place to-morrow, and arrange the matter. by starting before day, i can make it and transact my business, and get back by night, without hurting the horses." catharine was called in and the situation explained to her. though clearly disappointed at the delay, and not yet free of apprehension that bud might do something rash, she seemed serenely confident of the colonel's ultimate success. in her simple creed, god might sometimes seem to neglect his black children, but no harm could come to a negro who had a rich white gentleman for friend and protector. _twenty-five_ it was not yet sunrise when the colonel set out next day, after an early breakfast, upon his visit to fetters. there was a crisp freshness in the air, the dew was thick upon the grass, the clear blue sky gave promise of a bright day and a pleasant journey. the plantation conducted by fetters lay about twenty miles to the south of clarendon, and remote from any railroad, a convenient location for such an establishment, for railroads, while they bring in supplies and take out produce, also bring in light and take out information, both of which are fatal to certain fungus growths, social as well as vegetable, which flourish best in the dark. the road led by mink run, and the colonel looked over toward the house as they passed it. old and weather-beaten it seemed, even in the distance, which lent it no enchantment in the bright morning light. when the colonel had travelled that road in his boyhood, great forests of primeval pine had stretched for miles on either hand, broken at intervals by thriving plantations. now all was changed. the tall and stately growth of the long-leaf pine had well nigh disappeared; fifteen years before, the turpentine industry, moving southward from virginia, along the upland counties of the appalachian slope, had swept through clarendon county, leaving behind it a trail of blasted trunks and abandoned stills. ere these had yielded to decay, the sawmill had followed, and after the sawmill the tar kiln, so that the dark green forest was now only a waste of blackened stumps and undergrowth, topped by the vulgar short-leaved pine and an occasional oak or juniper. here and there they passed an expanse of cultivated land, and there were many smaller clearings in which could be seen, plowing with gaunt mules or stunted steers, some heavy-footed negro or listless "po' white man;" or women and children, black or white. in reply to a question, the coachman said that mr. fetters had worked all that country for turpentine years before, and had only taken up cotton raising after the turpentine had been exhausted from the sand hills. he had left his mark, thought the colonel. like the plague of locusts, he had settled and devoured and then moved on, leaving a barren waste behind him. as the morning advanced, the settlements grew thinner, until suddenly, upon reaching the crest of a hill, a great stretch of cultivated lowland lay spread before them. in the centre of the plantation, near the road which ran through it, stood a square, new, freshly painted frame house, which would not have seemed out of place in some ohio or michigan city, but here struck a note alien to its surroundings. off to one side, like the negro quarters of another generation, were several rows of low, unpainted cabins, built of sawed lumber, the boards running up and down, and battened with strips where the edges met. the fields were green with cotton and with corn, and there were numerous gangs of men at work, with an apparent zeal quite in contrast with the leisurely movement of those they had passed on the way. it was a very pleasing scene. "dis yer, suh," said the coachman in an awed tone, "is mistah fetters's plantation. you ain' gwine off nowhere, and leave me alone whils' you are hyuh, is you, suh?" "no," said the colonel, "i'll keep my eye on you. nobody'll trouble you while you're with me." passing a clump of low trees, the colonel came upon a group at sight of which he paused involuntarily. a gang of negroes were at work. upon the ankles of some was riveted an iron band to which was soldered a chain, at the end of which in turn an iron ball was fastened. accompanying them was a white man, in whose belt was stuck a revolver, and who carried in one hand a stout leather strap, about two inches in width with a handle by which to grasp it. the gang paused momentarily to look at the traveller, but at a meaning glance from the overseer fell again to their work of hoeing cotton. the white man stepped to the fence, and colonel french addressed him. "good morning." "mornin', suh." "will you tell me where i can find mr. fetters?" inquired the colonel. "no, suh, unless he's at the house. he may have went away this mornin', but i haven't heard of it. but you drive along the road to the house, an' somebody'll tell you." the colonel seemed to have seen the overseer before, but could not remember where. "sam," he asked the coachman, "who is that white man?" "dat's mistah haines, suh--use' ter be de constable at cla'endon, suh. i wouldn' lak to be in no gang under him, suh, sho' i wouldn', no, suh!" after this ejaculation, which seemed sincere as well as fervent, sam whipped up the horses and soon reached the house. a negro boy came out to meet them. "is mr. fetters at home," inquired the colonel? "i--_i_ don' know, suh--i--i'll ax mars' turner. _he's_ hyuh." he disappeared round the house and in a few minutes returned with turner, with whom the colonel exchanged curt nods. "i wish to see mr. fetters," said the colonel. "well, you can't see him." "why not?" "because he ain't here. he left for the capital this mornin', to be gone a week. you'll be havin' a fine drive, down here and back." the colonel ignored the taunt. "when will mr. fetters return?" he inquired. "i'm shore i don't know. he don't tell me his secrets. but i'll tell _you_, colonel french, that if you're after that nigger, you're wastin' your time. he's in haines's gang, and haines loves him so well that mr. fetters has to keep bud in order to keep haines. there's no accountin' for these vi'lent affections, but they're human natur', and they have to be 'umoured." "i'll talk to your _master_," rejoined the colonel, restraining his indignation and turning away. turner looked after him vindictively. "he'll talk to my _master_, like as if i was a nigger! it'll be a long time before he talks to fetters, if that's who he means--if i can prevent it. not that it would make any difference, but i'll just keep him on the anxious seat." it was nearing noon, but the colonel had received no invitation to stop, or eat, or feed his horses. he ordered sam to turn and drive back the way they had come. as they neared the group of labourers they had passed before, the colonel saw four negroes, in response to an imperative gesture from the overseer, seize one of their number, a short, thickset fellow, overpower some small resistance which he seemed to make, throw him down with his face to the ground, and sit upon his extremities while the overseer applied the broad leathern thong vigorously to his bare back. the colonel reached over and pulled the reins mechanically. his instinct was to interfere; had he been near enough to recognise in the negro the object of his visit, bud johnson, and in the overseer the ex-constable, haines, he might have yielded to the impulse. but on second thought he realised that he had neither authority nor strength to make good his interference. for aught he knew, the performance might be strictly according to law. so, fighting a feeling of nausea which he could hardly conquer, he ordered sam to drive on. the coachman complied with alacrity, as though glad to escape from a mighty dangerous place. he had known friendless coloured folks, who had strayed down in that neighbourhood to be lost for a long time; and he had heard of a spot, far back from the road, in a secluded part of the plantation, where the graves of convicts who had died while in fetters's service were very numerous. _twenty-six_ during the next month the colonel made several attempts to see fetters, but some fatality seemed always to prevent their meeting. he finally left the matter of finding fetters to caxton, who ascertained that fetters would be in attendance at court during a certain week, at carthage, the county seat of the adjoining county, where the colonel had been once before to inspect a cotton mill. thither the colonel went on the day of the opening of court. his train reached town toward noon and he went over to the hotel. he wondered if he would find the proprietor sitting where he had found him some weeks before. but the buggy was gone from before the piazza, and there was a new face behind the desk. the colonel registered, left word that he would be in to dinner, and then went over to the court house, which lay behind the trees across the square. the court house was an old, square, hip-roofed brick structure, whose walls, whitewashed the year before, had been splotched and discoloured by the weather. from one side, under the eaves, projected a beam, which supported a bell rung by a rope from the window below. a hall ran through the centre, on either side of which were the county offices, while the court room with a judge's room and jury room, occupied the upper floor. the colonel made his way across the square, which showed the usual signs of court being in session. there were buggies hitched to trees and posts here and there, a few negroes sleeping in the sun, and several old coloured women with little stands for the sale of cakes, and fried fish, and cider. the colonel went upstairs to the court room. it was fairly well filled, and he remained standing for a few minutes near the entrance. the civil docket was evidently on trial, for there was a jury in the box, and a witness was being examined with some prolixity with reference to the use of a few inches of land which lay on one side or on the other of a disputed boundary. from what the colonel could gather, that particular line fence dispute had been in litigation for twenty years, had cost several lives, and had resulted in a feud that involved a whole township. the testimony was about concluded when the colonel entered, and the lawyers began their arguments. the feeling between the litigants seemed to have affected their attorneys, and the court more than once found it necessary to call counsel to order. the trial was finished, however, without bloodshed; the case went to the jury, and court was adjourned until two o'clock. the colonel had never met fetters, nor had he seen anyone in the court room who seemed likely to be the man. but he had seen his name freshly written on the hotel register, and he would doubtless go there for dinner. there would be ample time to get acquainted and transact his business before court reassembled for the afternoon. dinner seemed to be a rather solemn function, and except at a table occupied by the judge and the lawyers, in the corner of the room farthest from the colonel, little was said. a glance about the room showed no one whom the colonel could imagine to be fetters, and he was about to ask the waiter if that gentleman had yet entered the dining room, when a man came in and sat down on the opposite side of the table. the colonel looked up, and met the cheerful countenance of the liveryman from whom he had hired a horse and buggy some weeks before. "howdy do?" said the newcomer amiably. "hope you've been well." "quite well," returned the colonel, "how are you?" "oh, just tol'able. tendin' co't?" "no, i came down here to see a man that's attending court--your friend fetters. i suppose he'll be in to dinner." "oh, yes, but he ain't come in yet. i reckon you find the ho-tel a little different from the time you were here befo'." "this is a better dinner than i got," replied the colonel, "and i haven't seen the landlord anywhere, nor his buggy." "no, he ain't here no more. sad loss to carthage! you see bark fetters--that's bill's boy that's come home from the no'th from college--bark fetters come down here one day, an' went in the ho-tel, an' when lee dickson commenced to put on his big airs, bark cussed 'im out, and lee, who didn't know bark from adam, cussed 'im back, an' then bark hauled off an' hit 'im. they had it hot an' heavy for a while. lee had more strength, but bark had more science, an' laid lee out col'. then bark went home an' tol' the ole man, who had a mortgage on the ho-tel, an' he sol' lee up. i hear he's barberin' or somethin' er that sort up to atlanta, an' the hotel's run by another man. there's fetters comin' in now." the colonel glanced in the direction indicated, and was surprised at the appearance of the redoubtable fetters, who walked over and took his seat at the table with the judge and the lawyers. he had expected to meet a tall, long-haired, red-faced, truculent individual, in a slouch hat and a frock coat, with a loud voice and a dictatorial manner, the typical southerner of melodrama. he saw a keen-eyed, hard-faced small man, slightly gray, clean-shaven, wearing a well-fitting city-made business suit of light tweed. except for a few little indications, such as the lack of a crease in his trousers, fetters looked like any one of a hundred business men whom the colonel might have met on broadway in any given fifteen minutes during business hours. the colonel timed his meal so as to leave the dining-room at the same moment with fetters. he went up to fetters, who was chewing a toothpick in the office, and made himself known. "i am mr. french," he said--he never referred to himself by his military title--"and you, i believe, are mr. fetters?" "yes, sir, that's my name," replied fetters without enthusiasm, but eyeing the colonel keenly between narrowed lashes. "i've been trying to see you for some time, about a matter," continued the colonel, "but never seemed able to catch up with you before." "yes, i heard you were at my house, but i was asleep upstairs, and didn't know you'd be'n there till you'd gone." "your man told me you had gone to the capital for two weeks." "my man? oh, you mean turner! well, i reckon you must have riled turner somehow, and he thought he'd have a joke on you." "i don't quite see the joke," said the colonel, restraining his displeasure. "but that's ancient history. can we sit down over here in the shade and talk by ourselves for a moment?" fetters followed the colonel out of doors, where they drew a couple of chairs to one side, and the colonel stated the nature of his business. he wished to bargain for the release of a negro, bud johnson by name, held to service by fetters under a contract with clarendon county. he was willing to pay whatever expense fetters had been to on account of johnson, and an amount sufficient to cover any estimated profits from his services. meanwhile fetters picked his teeth nonchalantly, so nonchalantly as to irritate the colonel. the colonel's impatience was not lessened by the fact that fetters waited several seconds before replying. "well, mr. fetters, what say you?" "colonel french," said fetters, "i reckon you can't have the nigger." "is it a matter of money?" asked the colonel. "name your figure. i don't care about the money. i want the man for a personal reason." "so do i," returned fetters, coolly, "and money's no object to me. i've more now than i know what to do with." the colonel mastered his impatience. he had one appeal which no southerner could resist. "mr. fetters," he said, "i wish to get this man released to please a lady." "sorry to disoblige a lady," returned fetters, "but i'll have to keep the nigger. i run a big place, and i'm obliged to maintain discipline. this nigger has been fractious and contrary, and i've sworn that he shall work out his time. i have never let any nigger get the best of me--or white man either," he added significantly. the colonel was angry, but controlled himself long enough to make one more effort. "i'll give you five hundred dollars for your contract," he said rising from his chair. "you couldn't get him for five thousand." "very well, sir," returned the colonel, "this is not the end of this. i will see, sir, if a man can be held in slavery in this state, for a debt he is willing and ready to pay. you'll hear more of this before i'm through with it." "another thing, colonel french," said fetters, his quiet eyes glittering as he spoke, "i wonder if you recollect an incident that occurred years ago, when we went to the academy in clarendon?" "if you refer," returned the colonel promptly, "to the time i chased you down main street, yes--i recalled it the first time i heard of you when i came back to clarendon--and i remember why i did it. it is a good omen." "that's as it may be," returned fetters quietly. "i didn't have to recall it; i've never forgotten it. now you want something from me, and you can't have it." "we shall see," replied the colonel. "i bested you then, and i'll best you now." "we shall see," said fetters. fetters was not at all alarmed, indeed he smiled rather pityingly. there had been a time when these old aristocrats could speak, and the earth trembled, but that day was over. in this age money talked, and he had known how to get money, and how to use it to get more. there were a dozen civil suits pending against him in the court house there, and he knew in advance that he should win them every one, without directly paying any juryman a dollar. that any nigger should get away while he wished to hold him, was--well, inconceivable. colonel french might have money, but he, fetters, had men as well; and if colonel french became too troublesome about this nigger, this friendship for niggers could be used in such a way as to make clarendon too hot for colonel french. he really bore no great malice against colonel french for the little incident of their school days, but he had not forgotten it, and colonel french might as well learn a lesson. he, fetters, had not worked half a lifetime for a commanding position, to yield it to colonel french or any other man. so fetters smoked his cigar tranquilly, and waited at the hotel for his anticipated verdicts. for there could not be a jury impanelled in the county which did not have on it a majority of men who were mortgaged to fetters. he even held the judge's note for several hundred dollars. the colonel waited at the station for the train back to clarendon. when it came, it brought a gang of convicts, consigned to fetters. they had been brought down in the regular "jim crow" car, for the colonel saw coloured women and children come out ahead of them. the colonel watched the wretches, in coarse striped garments, with chains on their legs and shackles on their hands, unloaded from the train and into the waiting wagons. there were burly negroes and flat-shanked, scrawny negroes. some wore the ashen hue of long confinement. some were shamefaced, some reckless, some sullen. a few white convicts among them seemed doubly ashamed--both of their condition and of their company; they kept together as much as they were permitted, and looked with contempt at their black companions in misfortune. fetters's man and haines, armed with whips, and with pistols in their belts, were present to oversee the unloading, and the colonel could see them point him out to the state officers who had come in charge of the convicts, and see them look at him with curious looks. the scene was not edifying. there were criminals in new york, he knew very well, but he had never seen one. they were not marched down broadway in stripes and chains. there were certain functions of society, as of the body, which were more decently performed in retirement. there was work in the state for the social reformer, and the colonel, undismayed by his temporary defeat, metaphorically girded up his loins, went home, and, still metaphorically, set out to put a spoke in fetters's wheel. _twenty-seven_ his first step was to have caxton look up and abstract for him the criminal laws of the state. they were bad enough, in all conscience. men could be tried without jury and condemned to infamous punishments, involving stripes and chains, for misdemeanours which in more enlightened states were punished with a small fine or brief detention. there were, for instance, no degrees of larceny, and the heaviest punishment might be inflicted, at the discretion of the judge, for the least offense. the vagrancy law, of which the colonel had had some experience, was an open bid for injustice and "graft" and clearly designed to profit the strong at the expense of the weak. the crop-lien laws were little more than the instruments of organised robbery. to these laws the colonel called the attention of some of his neighbours with whom he was on terms of intimacy. the enlightened few had scarcely known of their existence, and quite agreed that the laws were harsh and ought to be changed. but when the colonel, pursuing his inquiry, undertook to investigate the operation of these laws, he found an appalling condition. the statutes were mild and beneficent compared with the results obtained under cover of them. caxton spent several weeks about the state looking up the criminal records, and following up the sentences inflicted, working not merely for his fee, but sharing the colonel's indignation at the state of things unearthed. convict labour was contracted out to private parties, with little or no effective state supervision, on terms which, though exceedingly profitable to the state, were disastrous to free competitive labour. more than one lawmaker besides fetters was numbered among these contractors. leaving the realm of crime, they found that on hundreds of farms, ignorant negroes, and sometimes poor whites, were held in bondage under claims of debt, or under contracts of exclusive employment for long terms of years--contracts extorted from ignorance by craft, aided by state laws which made it a misdemeanour to employ such persons elsewhere. free men were worked side by side with convicts from the penitentiary, and women and children herded with the most depraved criminals, thus breeding a criminal class to prey upon the state. in the case of fetters alone the colonel found a dozen instances where the law, bad as it was, had not been sufficient for fetters's purpose, but had been plainly violated. caxton discovered a discharged guard of fetters, who told him of many things that had taken place at sycamore; and brought another guard one evening, at that time employed there, who told him, among other things, that bud johnson's life, owing to his surliness and rebellious conduct, and some spite which haines seemed to bear against him, was simply a hell on earth--that even a strong negro could not stand it indefinitely. a case was made up and submitted to the grand jury. witnesses were summoned at the colonel's instance. at the last moment they all weakened, even the discharged guard, and their testimony was not sufficient to justify an indictment. the colonel then sued out a writ of habeas corpus for the body of bud johnson, and it was heard before the common pleas court at clarendon, with public opinion divided between the colonel and fetters. the court held that under his contract, for which he had paid the consideration, fetters was entitled to johnson's services. the colonel, defeated but still undismayed, ordered caxton to prepare a memorial for presentation to the federal authorities, calling their attention to the fact that peonage, a crime under the federal statutes, was being flagrantly practised in the state. this allegation was supported by a voluminous brief, giving names and dates and particular instances of barbarity. the colonel was not without some quiet support in this movement; there were several public-spirited men in the county, including his able lieutenant caxton, dr. price and old general thornton, none of whom were under any obligation to fetters, and who all acknowledged that something ought to be done to purge the state of a great disgrace. there was another party, of course, which deprecated any scandal which would involve the good name of the state or reflect upon the south, and who insisted that in time these things would pass away and there would be no trace of them in future generations. but the colonel insisted that so also would the victims of the system pass away, who, being already in existence, were certainly entitled to as much consideration as generations yet unborn; it was hardly fair to sacrifice them to a mere punctilio. the colonel had reached the conviction that the regenerative forces of education and enlightenment, in order to have any effect in his generation, must be reinforced by some positive legislative or executive action, or else the untrammelled forces of graft and greed would override them; and he was human enough, at this stage of his career to wish to see the result of his labours, or at least a promise of result. the colonel's papers were forwarded to the proper place, whence they were referred from official to official, and from department to department. that it might take some time to set in motion the machinery necessary to reach the evil, the colonel knew very well, and hence was not impatient at any reasonable delay. had he known that his presentation had created a sensation in the highest quarter, but that owing to the exigencies of national politics it was not deemed wise, at that time, to do anything which seemed like an invasion of state rights or savoured of sectionalism, he might not have been so serenely confident of the outcome. nor had fetters known as much, would he have done the one thing which encouraged the colonel more than anything else. caxton received a message one day from judge bullard, representing fetters, in which fetters made the offer that if colonel french would stop his agitation on the labour laws, and withdraw any papers he had filed, and promise to drop the whole matter, he would release bud johnson. the colonel did not hesitate a moment. he had gone into this fight for johnson--or rather to please miss laura. he had risen now to higher game; nothing less than the system would satisfy him. "but, colonel," said caxton, "it's pretty hard on the nigger. they'll kill him before his time's up. if you'll give me a free hand, i'll get him anyway." "how?" "perhaps it's just as well you shouldn't know. but i have friends at sycamore." "you wouldn't break the law?" asked the colonel. "fetters is breaking the law," replied caxton. "he's holding johnson for debt--and whether that is lawful or not, he certainly has no right to kill him." "you're right," replied the colonel. "get johnson away, i don't care how. the end justifies the means--that's an argument that goes down here. get him away, and send him a long way off, and he can write for his wife to join him. his escape need not interfere with our other plans. we have plenty of other cases against fetters." within a week, johnson, with the connivance of a bribed guard, a poor-white man from clarendon, had escaped from fetters and seemingly vanished from beaver county. fetters's lieutenants were active in their search for him, but sought in vain. _twenty-eight_ ben dudley awoke the morning after the assembly ball, with a violent headache and a sense of extreme depression, which was not relieved by the sight of his reflection in the looking-glass of the bureau in the hotel bedroom where he found himself. one of his eyes was bloodshot, and surrounded by a wide area of discolouration, and he was conscious of several painful contusions on other portions of his body. his clothing was badly disordered and stained with blood; and, all in all, he was scarcely in a condition to appear in public. he made such a toilet as he could, and, anxious to avoid observation, had his horse brought from the livery around to the rear door of the hotel, and left for mink run by the back streets. he did not return to town for a week, and when he made his next appearance there, upon strictly a business visit, did not go near the treadwells', and wore such a repellent look that no one ventured to speak to him about his encounter with fetters and mcrae. he was humiliated and ashamed, and angry with himself and all the world. he had lost graciella already; any possibility that might have remained of regaining her affection, was destroyed by his having made her name the excuse for a barroom broil. his uncle was not well, and with the decline of his health, his monomania grew more acute and more absorbing, and he spent most of his time in the search for the treasure and in expostulations with viney to reveal its whereabouts. the supervision of the plantation work occupied ben most of the time, and during his intervals of leisure he sought to escape unpleasant thoughts by busying himself with the model of his cotton gin. his life had run along in this way for about two weeks after the ball, when one night barclay fetters, while coming to town from his father's plantation at sycamore, in company with turner, his father's foreman, was fired upon from ambush, in the neighbourhood of mink run, and seriously wounded. groaning heavily and in a state of semi-unconsciousness he was driven by turner, in the same buggy in which he had been shot, to doctor price's house, which lay between mink run and the town. the doctor examined the wound, which was serious. a charge of buckshot had been fired at close range, from a clump of bushes by the wayside, and the charge had taken effect in the side of the face. the sight of one eye was destroyed beyond a peradventure, and that of the other endangered by a possible injury to the optic nerve. a sedative was administered, as many as possible of the shot extracted, and the wounds dressed. meantime a messenger was despatched to sycamore for fetters, senior, who came before morning post-haste. to his anxious inquiries the doctor could give no very hopeful answer. "he's not out of danger," said doctor price, "and won't be for several days. i haven't found several of those shot, and until they're located i can't tell what will happen. your son has a good constitution, but it has been abused somewhat and is not in the best condition to throw off an injury." "do the best you can for him, doc," said fetters, "and i'll make it worth your while. and as for the double-damned scoundrel that shot him in the dark, i'll rake this county with a fine-toothed comb till he's found. if bark dies, the murderer shall hang as high as haman, if it costs me a million dollars, or, if bark gets well, he shall have the limit of the law. no man in this state shall injure me or mine and go unpunished." the next day ben dudley was arrested at mink run, on a warrant sworn out by fetters, senior, charging dudley with attempted murder. the accused was brought to clarendon, and lodged in beaver county jail. ben sent for caxton, from whom he learned that his offense was not subject to bail until it became certain that barclay fetters would recover. for in the event of his death, the charge would be murder; in case of recovery, the offense would be merely attempted murder, or shooting with intent to kill, for which bail was allowable. meantime he would have to remain in jail. in a day or two young fetters was pronounced out of danger, so far as his life was concerned, and colonel french, through caxton, offered to sign ben's bail bond. to caxton's surprise dudley refused to accept bail at the colonel's hands. "i don't want any favours from colonel french," he said decidedly. "i prefer to stay in jail rather than to be released on his bond." so he remained in jail. graciella was not so much surprised at ben's refusal to accept bail. she had reasoned out, with a fine instinct, the train of emotions which had brought her lover to grief, and her own share in stirring them up. she could not believe that ben was capable of shooting a man from ambush; but even if he had, it would have been for love of her; and if he had not, she had nevertheless been the moving cause of the disaster. she would not willingly have done young mr. fetters an injury. he had favoured her by his attentions, and, if all stories were true, he had behaved better than ben, in the difficulty between them, and had suffered more. but she loved ben, as she grew to realise, more and more. she wanted to go and see ben in jail but her aunt did not think it proper. appearances were all against ben, and he had not purged himself by any explanation. so graciella sat down and wrote him a long letter. she knew very well that the one thing that would do him most good would be the announcement of her aunt laura's engagement to colonel french. there was no way to bring this about, except by first securing her aunt's permission. this would make necessary a frank confession, to which, after an effort, she nerved herself. "aunt laura," she said, at a moment when they were alone together, "i know why ben will not accept bail from colonel french, and why he will not tell his side of the quarrel between himself and mr. fetters. he was foolish enough to imagine that colonel french was coming to the house to see me, and that i preferred the colonel to him. and, aunt laura, i have a confession to make; i have done something for which i want to beg your pardon. i listened that night, and overheard the colonel ask you to be his wife. please, dear aunt laura, forgive me, and let me write and tell ben--just ben, in confidence. no one else need know it." miss laura was shocked and pained, and frankly said so, but could not refuse the permission, on condition that ben should be pledged to keep her secret, which, for reasons of her own, she was not yet ready to make public. she, too, was fond of ben, and hoped that he might clear himself of the accusation. so graciella wrote the letter. she was no more frank in it, however, on one point, than she had been with her aunt, for she carefully avoided saying that she _had_ taken colonel french's attentions seriously, or built any hopes upon them, but chided ben for putting such a construction upon her innocent actions, and informed him, as proof of his folly, and in the strictest confidence, that colonel french was engaged to her aunt laura. she expressed her sorrow for his predicament, her profound belief in his innocence, and her unhesitating conviction that he would be acquitted of the pending charge. to this she expected by way of answer a long letter of apology, explanation, and protestations of undying love. she received, instead, a brief note containing a cold acknowledgment of her letter, thanking her for her interest in his welfare, and assuring her that he would respect miss laura's confidence. there was no note of love or reproachfulness--mere cold courtesy. graciella was cut to the quick, so much so that she did not even notice ben's mistakes in spelling. it would have been better had he overwhelmed her with reproaches--it would have shown at least that he still loved her. she cried bitterly, and lay awake very late that night, wondering what else she could do for ben that a self-respecting young lady might. for the first time, she was more concerned about ben than about herself. if by marrying him immediately she could have saved him from danger and disgrace she would have done so without one selfish thought--unless it were selfish to save one whom she loved. * * * * * the preliminary hearing in the case of the state _vs._ benjamin dudley was held as soon as doctor price pronounced barclay fetters out of danger. the proceedings took place before squire reddick, the same justice from whom the colonel had bought peter's services, and from whom he had vainly sought to secure bud johnson's release. in spite of dudley's curt refusal of his assistance, the colonel, to whom miss laura had conveyed a hint of the young man's frame of mind, had instructed caxton to spare no trouble or expense in the prisoner's interest. there was little doubt, considering fetters's influence and vindictiveness, that dudley would be remanded, though the evidence against him was purely circumstantial; but it was important that the evidence should be carefully scrutinised, and every legal safeguard put to use. the case looked bad for the prisoner. barclay fetters was not present, nor did the prosecution need him; his testimony could only have been cumulative. turner described the circumstances of the shooting from the trees by the roadside near mink run, and the driving of the wounded man to doctor price's. doctor price swore to the nature of the wound, its present and probable consequences, which involved the loss of one eye and perhaps the other, and produced the shot he had extracted. mcrae testified that he and barclay fetters had gone down between dances, from the opera ball, to the hotel bar, to get a glass of seltzer. they had no sooner entered the bar than the prisoner, who had evidently been drinking heavily and showed all the signs of intoxication, had picked a quarrel with them and assaulted mr. fetters. fetters, with the aid of the witness, had defended himself. in the course of the altercation, the prisoner had used violent and profane language, threatening, among other things, to kill fetters. all this testimony was objected to, but was admitted as tending to show a motive for the crime. this closed the state's case. caxton held a hurried consultation with his client. should they put in any evidence, which would be merely to show their hand, since the prisoner would in any event undoubtedly be bound over? ben was unable to deny what had taken place at the hotel, for he had no distinct recollection of it--merely a blurred impression, like the memory of a bad dream. he could not swear that he had not threatened fetters. the state's witnesses had refrained from mentioning the lady's name; he could do no less. so far as the shooting was concerned, he had had no weapon with which to shoot. his gun had been stolen that very day, and had not been recovered. "the defense will offer no testimony," declared caxton, at the result of the conference. the justice held the prisoner to the grand jury, and fixed the bond at ten thousand dollars. graciella's information had not been without its effect, and when caxton suggested that he could still secure bail, he had little difficulty in inducing ben to accept colonel french's friendly offices. the bail bond was made out and signed, and the prisoner released. caxton took ben to his office after the hearing. there ben met the colonel, thanked him for his aid and friendship, and apologised for his former rudeness. "i was in a bad way, sir," he said, "and hardly knew what i was doing. but i know i didn't shoot bark fetters, and never thought of such a thing." "i'm sure you didn't, my boy," said the colonel, laying his hand, in familiar fashion, upon the young fellow's shoulder, "and we'll prove it before we quit. there are some ladies who believe the same thing, and would like to hear you say it." "thank you, sir," said ben. "i should like to tell them, but i shouldn't want to enter their house until i am cleared of this charge. i think too much of them to expose them to any remarks about harbouring a man out on bail for a penitentiary offense. i'll write to them, sir, and thank them for their trust and friendship, and you can tell them for me, if you will, that i'll come to see them when not only i, but everybody else, can say that i am fit to go." "your feelings do you credit," returned the colonel warmly, "and however much they would like to see you, i'm sure the ladies will appreciate your delicacy. as your friend and theirs, you must permit me to serve you further, whenever the opportunity offers, until this affair is finished." ben thanked the colonel from a full heart, and went back to mink run, where, in the effort to catch up the plantation work, which had fallen behind in his absence, he sought to forget the prison atmosphere and lose the prison pallor. the disgrace of having been in jail was indelible, and the danger was by no means over. the sympathy of his friends would have been priceless to him, but to remain away from them would be not only the honourable course to pursue, but a just punishment for his own folly. for graciella, after all, was only a girl--a young girl, and scarcely yet to be judged harshly for her actions; while he was a man grown, who knew better, and had not acted according to his lights. three days after ben dudley's release on bail, clarendon was treated to another sensation. former constable haines, now employed as an overseer at fetters's convict farm, while driving in a buggy to clarendon, where he spent his off-duty spells, was shot from ambush near mink run, and his right arm shattered in such a manner as to require amputation. _twenty-nine_ colonel french's interest in ben dudley's affairs had not been permitted to interfere with his various enterprises. work on the chief of these, the cotton mill, had gone steadily forward, with only occasional delays, incident to the delivery of material, the weather, and the health of the workmen, which was often uncertain for a day or two after pay day. the coloured foreman of the brick-layers had been seriously ill; his place had been filled by a white man, under whom the walls were rising rapidly. jim green, the foreman whom the colonel had formerly discharged, and the two white brick-layers who had quit at the same time, applied for reinstatement. the colonel took the two men on again, but declined to restore green, who had been discharged for insubordination. green went away swearing vengeance. at clay johnson's saloon he hurled invectives at the colonel, to all who would listen, and with anger and bad whiskey, soon worked himself into a frame of mind that was ripe for any mischief. some of his utterances were reported to the colonel, who was not without friends--the wealthy seldom are; but he paid no particular attention to them, except to keep a watchman at the mill at night, lest this hostility should seek an outlet in some attempt to injure the property. the precaution was not amiss, for once the watchman shot at a figure prowling about the mill. the lesson was sufficient, apparently, for there was no immediate necessity to repeat it. the shooting of haines, while not so sensational as that of barclay fetters, had given rise to considerable feeling against ben dudley. that two young men should quarrel, and exchange shots, would not ordinarily have been a subject of extended remark. but two attempts at assassination constituted a much graver affair. that dudley was responsible for this second assault was the generally accepted opinion. fetters's friends and hirelings were openly hostile to young dudley, and haines had been heard to say, in his cups, at clay jackson's saloon, that when young dudley was tried and convicted and sent to the penitentiary, he would be hired out to fetters, who had the country contract, and that he, haines, would be delighted to have dudley in his gang. the feeling against dudley grew from day to day, and threats and bets were openly made that he would not live to be tried. there was no direct proof against him, but the moral and circumstantial evidence was quite sufficient to convict him in the eyes of fetter's friends and supporters. the colonel was sometimes mentioned, in connection with the affair as a friend of ben's, for whom he had given bail, and as an enemy of fetters, to whom his antagonism in various ways had become a matter of public knowledge and interest. one day, while the excitement attending the second shooting was thus growing, colonel french received through the mail a mysteriously worded note, vaguely hinting at some matter of public importance which the writer wished to communicate to him, and requesting a private interview for the purpose, that evening, at the colonel's house. the note, which had every internal evidence of sincerity, was signed by henry taylor, the principal of the coloured school, whom the colonel had met several times in reference to the proposed industrial school. from the tenor of the communication, and what he knew about taylor, the colonel had no doubt that the matter was one of importance, at least not one to be dismissed without examination. he thereupon stepped into caxton's office and wrote an answer to the letter, fixing eight o'clock that evening as the time, and his own library as the place, of a meeting with the teacher. this letter he deposited in the post-office personally--it was only a step from caxton's office. upon coming out of the post-office he saw the teacher standing on an opposite corner. when the colonel had passed out of sight, taylor crossed the street, entered the post-office, and soon emerged with the letter. he had given no sign that he saw the colonel, but had looked rather ostentatiously the other way when that gentleman had glanced in his direction. at the appointed hour there was a light step on the colonel's piazza. the colonel was on watch, and opened the door himself, ushering taylor into his library, a very handsome and comfortable room, the door of which he carefully closed behind them. the teacher looked around cautiously. "are we alone, sir?" "yes, entirely so." "and can any one hear us?" "no. what have you got to tell me?" "colonel french," replied the other, "i'm in a hard situation, and i want you to promise that you'll never let on to any body that i told you what i'm going to say." "all right, mr. taylor, if it is a proper promise to make. you can trust my discretion." "yes, sir, i'm sure i can. we coloured folks, sir, are often accused of trying to shield criminals of our own race, or of not helping the officers of the law to catch them. maybe we does, suh," he said, lapsing in his earnestness, into bad grammar, "maybe we does sometimes, but not without reason." "what reason?" asked the colonel. "well, sir, fer the reason that we ain't always shore that a coloured man will get a fair trial, or any trial at all, or that he'll get a just sentence after he's been tried. we have no hand in makin' the laws, or in enforcin' 'em; we are not summoned on jury; and yet we're asked to do the work of constables and sheriffs who are paid for arrestin' criminals, an' for protectin' 'em from mobs, which they don't do." "i have no doubt every word you say is true, mr. taylor, and such a state of things is unjust, and will some day be different, if i can help to make it so. but, nevertheless, all good citizens, whatever their colour, ought to help to preserve peace and good order." "yes, sir, so they ought; and i want to do just that; i want to co-operate, and a whole heap of us want to co-operate with the good white people to keep down crime and lawlessness. i know there's good white people who want to see justice done--but they ain't always strong enough to run things; an' if any one of us coloured folks tells on another one, he's liable to lose all his frien's. but i believe, sir, that i can trust you to save me harmless, and to see that nothin' mo' than justice is done to the coloured man." "yes, taylor, you can trust me to do all that i can, and i think i have considerable influence. now, what's on your mind? do you know who shot haines and mr. fetters?" "well, sir, you're a mighty good guesser. it ain't so much mr. fetters an' mr. haines i'm thinkin' about, for that place down the country is a hell on earth, an' they're the devils that runs it. but there's a friend of yo'rs in trouble, for something he didn' do, an' i wouldn' stan' for an innocent man bein' sent to the penitentiary--though many a po' negro has been. yes, sir, i know that mr. ben dudley didn' shoot them two white men." "so do i," rejoined the colonel. "who did?" "it was bud johnson, the man you tried to get away from mr. fetters--yo'r coachman tol' us about it, sir, an' we know how good a friend of ours you are, from what you've promised us about the school. an' i wanted you to know, sir. you are our friend, and have showed confidence in us, and i wanted to prove to you that we are not ungrateful, an' that we want to be good citizens." "i had heard," said the colonel, "that johnson had escaped and left the county." "so he had, sir, but he came back. they had 'bused him down at that place till he swore he'd kill every one that had anything to do with him. it was mr. turner he shot at the first time and he hit young mr. fetters by accident. he stole a gun from ole mr. dudley's place at mink run, shot mr. fetters with it, and has kept it ever since, and shot mr. haines with it. i suppose they'd 'a' ketched him before, if it hadn't be'n for suspectin' young mr. dudley." "where is johnson now," asked the colonel. "he's hidin' in an old log cabin down by the swamp back of mink run. he sleeps in the daytime, and goes out at night to get food and watch for white men from mr. fetters's place." "does his wife know where he is?" "no, sir; he ain't never let her know." "by the way, taylor," asked the colonel, "how do _you_ know all this?" "well, sir," replied the teacher, with something which, in an uneducated negro would have been a very pronounced chuckle, "there's mighty little goin' on roun' here that i _don't_ find out, sooner or later." "taylor," said the colonel, rising to terminate the interview, "you have rendered a public service, have proved yourself a good citizen, and have relieved mr. dudley of serious embarrassment. i will see that steps are taken to apprehend johnson, and will keep your participation in the matter secret, since you think it would hurt your influence with your people. and i promise you faithfully that every effort shall be made to see that johnson has a fair trial and no more than a just punishment." he gave the negro his hand. "thank you, sir, thank you, sir," replied the teacher, returning the colonel's clasp. "if there were more white men like you, the coloured folks would have no more trouble." the colonel let taylor out, and watched him as he looked cautiously up and down the street to see that he was not observed. that coloured folks, or any other kind, should ever cease to have trouble, was a vain imagining. but the teacher had made a well-founded complaint of injustice which ought to be capable of correction; and he had performed a public-spirited action, even though he had felt constrained to do it in a clandestine manner. about his own part in the affair the colonel was troubled. it was becoming clear to him that the task he had undertaken was no light one--not the task of apprehending johnson and clearing dudley, but that of leavening the inert mass of clarendon with the leaven of enlightenment. with the best of intentions, and hoping to save a life, he had connived at turning a murderer loose upon the community. it was true that the community, through unjust laws, had made him a murderer, but it was no part of the colonel's plan to foster or promote evil passions, or to help the victims of the law to make reprisals. his aim was to bring about, by better laws and more liberal ideas, peace, harmony, and universal good will. there was a colossal work for him to do, and for all whom he could enlist with him in this cause. the very standards of right and wrong had been confused by the race issue, and must be set right by the patient appeal to reason and humanity. primitive passions and private vengeance must be subordinated to law and order and the higher good. a new body of thought must be built up, in which stress must be laid upon the eternal verities, in the light of which difficulties which now seemed unsurmountable would be gradually overcome. but this halcyon period was yet afar off, and the colonel roused himself to the duty of the hour. with the best intentions he had let loose upon the community, in a questionable way, a desperate character. it was no less than his plain duty to put the man under restraint. to rescue from fetters a man whose life was threatened, was one thing. to leave a murderer at large now would be to endanger innocent lives, and imperil ben dudley's future. the arrest of bud johnson brought an end to the case against ben dudley. the prosecuting attorney, who was under political obligations to fetters, seemed reluctant to dismiss the case, until johnson's guilt should have been legally proved; but the result of the negro's preliminary hearing rendered this position no longer tenable; the case against ben was nolled, and he could now hold up his head as a free man, with no stain upon his character. indeed, the reaction in his favour as one unjustly indicted, went far to wipe out from the public mind the impression that he was a drunkard and a rowdy. it was recalled that he was of good family and that his forebears had rendered valuable service to the state, and that he had never been seen to drink before, or known to be in a fight, but that on the contrary he was quiet and harmless to a fault. indeed, the clarendon public would have admired a little more spirit in a young man, even to the extent of condoning an occasional lapse into license. there was sincere rejoicing at the treadwell house when ben, now free in mind, went around to see the ladies. miss laura was warmly sympathetic and congratulatory; and graciella, tearfully happy, tried to make up by a sweet humility, through which shone the true womanliness of a hitherto undeveloped character, for the past stings and humiliations to which her selfish caprice had subjected her lover. ben resumed his visits, if not with quite their former frequency, and it was only a day or two later that the colonel found him and graciella, with his own boy phil, grouped in familiar fashion on the steps, where ben was demonstrating with some pride of success, the operation of his model, into which he was feeding cotton when the colonel came up. the colonel stood a moment and looked at the machine. "it's quite ingenious," he said. "explain the principle." ben described the mechanism, in brief, well-chosen words which conveyed the thought clearly and concisely, and revealed a fine mind for mechanics and at the same time an absolute lack of technical knowledge. "it would never be of any use, sir," he said, at the end, "for everybody has the other kind. but it's another way, and i think a better." "it is clever," said the colonel thoughtfully, as he went into the house. the colonel had not changed his mind at all since asking miss laura to be his wife. the glow of happiness still warmed her cheek, the spirit of youth still lingered in her eyes and in her smile. he might go a thousand miles before meeting a woman who would please him more, take better care of phil, or preside with more dignity over his household. her simple grace would adapt itself to wealth as easily as it had accommodated itself to poverty. it would be a pleasure to travel with her to new scenes and new places, to introduce her into a wider world, to see her expand in the generous sunlight of ease and freedom from responsibility. true to his promise, the colonel made every effort to see that bud johnson should be protected against mob violence and given a fair trial. there was some intemperate talk among the partisans of fetters, and an ominous gathering upon the streets the day after the arrest, but judge miller, of the beaver county circuit, who was in clarendon that day, used his influence to discountenance any disorder, and promised a speedy trial of the prisoner. the crime was not the worst of crimes, and there was no excuse for riot or lynch law. the accused could not escape his just punishment. as a result of the judge's efforts, supplemented by the colonel's and those of doctor price and several ministers, any serious fear of disorder was removed, and a handful of fetters's guards who had come up from his convict farm and foregathered with some choice spirits of the town at clay jackson's saloon, went back without attempting to do what they had avowedly come to town to accomplish. _thirty_ one morning the colonel, while overseeing the work at the new mill building, stepped on the rounded handle of a chisel, which had been left lying carelessly on the floor, and slipped and fell, spraining his ankle severely. he went home in his buggy, which was at the mill, and sent for doctor price, who put his foot in a plaster bandage and ordered him to keep quiet for a week. peter and phil went around to the treadwells' to inform the ladies of the accident. on reaching the house after the accident, the colonel had taken off his coat, and sent peter to bring him one from the closet off his bedroom. when the colonel put on the coat, he felt some papers in the inside pocket, and taking them out, recognised the two old letters he had taken from the lining of his desk several months before. the housekeeper, in a moment of unusual zeal, had discovered and mended the tear in the sleeve, and peter had by chance selected this particular coat to bring to his master. when peter started, with phil, to go to the treadwells', the colonel gave him the two letters. "give these," he said, "to miss laura, and tell her i found them in the old desk." it was not long before miss laura came, with graciella, to call on the colonel. when they had expressed the proper sympathy, and had been assured that the hurt was not dangerous, miss laura spoke of another matter. "henry," she said, with an air of suppressed excitement, "i have made a discovery. i don't quite know what it means, or whether it amounts to anything, but in one of the envelopes you sent me just now there was a paper signed by mr. fetters. i do not know how it could have been left in the desk; we had searched it, years ago, in every nook and cranny, and found nothing." the colonel explained the circumstances of his discovery of the papers, but prudently refrained from mentioning how long ago they had taken place. miss laura handed him a thin, oblong, yellowish slip of paper, which had been folded in the middle; it was a printed form, upon which several words had been filled in with a pen. "it was enclosed in this," she said, handing him another paper. the colonel took the papers and glanced over them. "mother thinks," said miss laura anxiously, "that they are the papers we were looking for, that prove that fetters was in father's debt." the colonel had been thinking rapidly. the papers were, indeed, a promissory note from fetters to mr. treadwell, and a contract and memorandum of certain joint transactions in turpentine and cotton futures. the note was dated twenty years back. had it been produced at the time of mr. treadwell's death, it would not have been difficult to collect, and would have meant to his survivors the difference between poverty and financial independence. now it was barred by the lapse of time. miss laura was waiting in eager expectation. outwardly calm, her eyes were bright, her cheeks were glowing, her bosom rose and fell excitedly. could he tell her that this seemingly fortunate accident was merely the irony of fate--a mere cruel reminder of a former misfortune? no, she could not believe it! "it has made me happy, henry," she said, while he still kept his eyes bent on the papers to conceal his perplexity, "it has made me very happy to think that i may not come to you empty-handed." "dear woman," he thought, "you shall not. if the note is not good, it shall be made good." "laura," he said aloud, "i am no lawyer, but caxton shall look at these to-day, and i shall be very much mistaken if they do not bring you a considerable sum of money. say nothing about them, however, until caxton reports. he will be here to see me to-day and by to-morrow you shall have his opinion." miss laura went away with a radiantly hopeful face, and as she and graciella went down the street, the colonel noted that her step was scarcely less springy than her niece's. it was worth the amount of fetters's old note to make her happy; and since he meant to give her all that she might want, what better way than to do it by means of this bit of worthless paper? it would be a harmless deception, and it would save the pride of three gentlewomen, with whom pride was not a disease, to poison and scorch and blister, but an inspiration to courtesy, and kindness, and right living. such a pride was worth cherishing even at a sacrifice, which was, after all, no sacrifice. he had already sent word to caxton of his accident, requesting him to call at the house on other business. caxton came in the afternoon, and when the matter concerning which he had come had been disposed of, colonel french produced fetters's note. "caxton," he said, "i wish to pay this note and let it seem to have come from fetters." caxton looked at the note. "why should you pay it?" he asked. "i mean," he added, noting a change in the colonel's expression, "why shouldn't fetters pay it?" "because it is outlawed," he replied, "and we could hardly expect him to pay for anything he didn't have to pay. the statute of limitations runs against it after fifteen years--and it's older than that, much older than that." caxton made a rapid mental calculation. "that is the law in new york," he said, "but here the statute doesn't begin to run for twenty years. the twenty years for which this note was given expires to-day." "then it is good?" demanded the colonel, looking at his watch. "it is good," said caxton, "provided there is no defence to it except the statute, and provided i can file a petition on it in the county clerk's office by four o'clock, the time at which the office closes. it is now twenty minutes of four." "can you make it?" "i'll try." caxton, since his acquaintance with colonel french, had learned something more about the value of half an hour than he had ever before appreciated, and here was an opportunity to test his knowledge. he literally ran the quarter of a mile that lay between the colonel's residence and the court house, to the open-eyed astonishment of those whom he passed, some of whom wondered whether he were crazy, and others whether he had committed a crime. he dashed into the clerk's office, seized a pen, and the first piece of paper handy, and began to write a petition. the clerk had stepped into the hall, and when he came leisurely in at three minutes to four, caxton discovered that he had written his petition on the back of a blank marriage license. he folded it, ran his pen through the printed matter, endorsed it, "estate of treadwell _vs._ fetters," signed it with the name of ellen treadwell, as executrix, by himself as her attorney, swore to it before the clerk, and handed it to that official, who raised his eyebrows as soon as he saw the endorsement. "now, mr. munroe," said caxton, "if you'll enter that on the docket, now, as of to-day, i'll be obliged to you. i'd rather have the transaction all finished up while i wait. your fee needn't wait the termination of the suit. i'll pay it now and take a receipt for it." the clerk whistled to himself as he read the petition in order to make the entry. "that's an old-timer," he said. "it'll make the old man cuss." "yes," said caxton. "do me a favour, and don't say anything about it for a day or two. i don't think the suit will ever come to trial." _thirty-one_ on the day following these events, the colonel, on the arm of old peter, hobbled out upon his front porch, and seating himself in a big rocking chair, in front of which a cushion had been adjusted for his injured ankle, composed himself to read some arrears of mail which had come in the day before, and over which he had only glanced casually. when he was comfortably settled, peter and phil walked down the steps, upon the lowest of which they seated themselves. the colonel had scarcely begun to read before he called to the old man. "peter," he said, "i wish you'd go upstairs, and look in my room, and bring me a couple of light-coloured cigars from the box on my bureau--the mild ones, you know, peter." "yas, suh, i knows, suh, de mil' ones, dem wid de gol' ban's 'roun' 'em. now you stay right hyuh, chile, till peter come back." peter came up the steps and disappeared in the doorway. the colonel opened a letter from kirby, in which that energetic and versatile gentleman assured the colonel that he had evolved a great scheme, in which there were millions for those who would go into it. he had already interested mrs. jerviss, who had stated she would be governed by what the colonel did in the matter. the letter went into some detail upon this subject, and then drifted off into club and social gossip. several of the colonel's friends had inquired particularly about him. one had regretted the loss to their whist table. another wanted the refusal of his box at the opera, if he were not coming back for the winter. "i think you're missed in a certain quarter, old fellow. i know a lady who would be more than delighted to see you. i am invited to her house to dinner, ostensibly to talk about our scheme, in reality to talk about you. "but this is all by the way. the business is the thing. take my proposition under advisement. we all made money together before; we can make it again. my option has ten days to run. wire me before it is up what reply to make. i know what you'll say, but i want your 'ipse dixit.'" the colonel knew too what his reply would be, and that it would be very different from kirby's anticipation. he would write it, he thought, next day, so that kirby should not be kept in suspense, or so that he might have time to enlist other capital in the enterprise. the colonel felt really sorry to disappoint his good friends. he would write and inform kirby of his plans, including that of his approaching marriage. he had folded the letter and laid it down, and had picked up a newspaper, when peter returned with the cigars and a box of matches. "mars henry?" he asked, "w'at's gone wid de chile?" "phil?" replied the colonel, looking toward the step, from which the boy had disappeared. "i suppose he went round the house." "mars phil! o mars phil!" called the old man. there was no reply. peter looked round the corner of the house, but phil was nowhere visible. the old man went round to the back yard, and called again, but did not find the child. "i hyuhs de train comin'; i 'spec's he's gone up ter de railroad track," he said, when he had returned to the front of the house. "i'll run up dere an' fetch 'im back." "yes, do, peter," returned the colonel. "he's probably all right, but you'd better see about him." little phil, seeing his father absorbed in the newspaper, and not wishing to disturb him, had amused himself by going to the gate and looking down the street toward the railroad track. he had been doing this scarcely a moment, when he saw a black cat come out of a neighbour's gate and go down the street. phil instantly recalled uncle peter's story of the black cat. perhaps this was the same one! phil had often been warned about the railroad. "keep 'way f'm dat railroad track, honey," the old man had repeated more than once. "it's as dange'ous as a gun, and a gun is dange'ous widout lock, stock, er bairl: i knowed a man oncet w'at beat 'is wife ter def wid a ramrod, an' wuz hung fer it in a' ole fiel' down by de ha'nted house. dat gun couldn't hol' powder ner shot, but was dange'ous 'nuff ter kill two folks. so you jes' better keep 'way f'm dat railroad track, chile." but phil was a child, with the making of a man, and the wisest of men sometimes forget. for the moment phil saw nothing but the cat, and wished for nothing more than to talk to it. so phil, unperceived by the colonel, set out to overtake the black cat. the cat seemed in no hurry, and phil had very nearly caught up with him--or her, as the case might be--when the black cat, having reached the railroad siding, walked under a flat car which stood there, and leaping to one of the truck bars, composed itself, presumably for a nap. in order to get close enough to the cat for conversational purposes, phil stooped under the overhanging end of the car, and kneeled down beside the truck. "kitty, kitty!" he called, invitingly. the black cat opened her big yellow eyes with every evidence of lazy amiability. peter shuffled toward the corner as fast as his rickety old limbs would carry him. when he reached the corner he saw a car standing on the track. there was a brakeman at one end, holding a coupling link in one hand, and a coupling pin in the other, his eye on an engine and train of cars only a rod or two away, advancing to pick up the single car. at the same moment peter caught sight of little phil, kneeling under the car at the other end. peter shouted, but the brakeman was absorbed in his own task, which required close attention in order to assure his own safety. the engineer on the cab, at the other end of the train, saw an old negro excitedly gesticulating, and pulled a lever mechanically, but too late to stop the momentum of the train, which was not equipped with air brakes, even if these would have proved effective to stop it in so short a distance. just before the two cars came together, peter threw himself forward to seize the child. as he did so, the cat sprang from the truck bar; the old man stumbled over the cat, and fell across the rail. the car moved only a few feet, but quite far enough to work injury. a dozen people, including the train crew, quickly gathered. willing hands drew them out and laid them upon the grass under the spreading elm at the corner of the street. a judge, a merchant and a negro labourer lifted old peter's body as tenderly as though it had been that of a beautiful woman. the colonel, somewhat uneasy, he scarcely knew why, had started to limp painfully toward the corner, when he was met by a messenger who informed him of the accident. forgetting his pain, he hurried to the scene, only to find his heart's delight lying pale, bleeding and unconscious, beside the old negro who had sacrificed his life to save him. a doctor, who had been hastily summoned, pronounced peter dead. phil showed no superficial injury, save a cut upon the head, from which the bleeding was soon stanched. a negro's strong arms bore the child to the house, while the bystanders remained about peter's body until the arrival of major mclean, recently elected coroner, who had been promptly notified of the accident. within a few minutes after the officer's appearance, a jury was summoned from among the bystanders, the evidence of the trainmen and several other witnesses was taken, and a verdict of accidental death rendered. there was no suggestion of blame attaching to any one; it had been an accident, pure and simple, which ordinary and reasonable prudence could not have foreseen. by the colonel's command, the body of his old servant was then conveyed to the house and laid out in the front parlour. every honour, every token of respect, should be paid to his remains. _thirty-two_ meanwhile the colonel, forgetting his own hurt, hovered, with several physicians, among them doctor price, around the bedside of his child. the slight cut upon the head, the physicians declared, was not, of itself, sufficient to account for the rapid sinking which set in shortly after the boy's removal to the house. there had evidently been some internal injury, the nature of which could not be ascertained. phil remained unconscious for several hours, but toward the end of the day opened his blue eyes and fixed them upon his father, who was sitting by the bedside. "papa," he said, "am i going to die?" "no, no, phil," said his father hopefully. "you are going to get well in a few days, i hope." phil was silent for a moment, and looked around him curiously. he gave no sign of being in pain. "is miss laura here?" "yes, phil, she's in the next room, and will be here in a moment." at that instant miss laura came in and kissed him. the caress gave him pleasure, and he smiled sweetly in return. "papa, was uncle peter hurt?" "yes, phil." "where is he, papa? was he hurt badly?" "he is lying in another room, phil, but he is not in any pain." "papa," said phil, after a pause, "if i should die, and if uncle peter should die, you'll remember your promise and bury him near me, won't you, dear?" "yes, phil," he said, "but you are not going to die!" but phil died, dozing off into a peaceful sleep in which he passed quietly away with a smile upon his face. it required all the father's fortitude to sustain the blow, with the added agony of self-reproach that he himself had been unwittingly the cause of it. had he not sent old peter into the house, the child would not have been left alone. had he kept his eye upon phil until peter's return the child would not have strayed away. he had neglected his child, while the bruised and broken old black man in the room below had given his life to save him. he could do nothing now to show the child his love or peter his gratitude, and the old man had neither wife nor child in whom the colonel's bounty might find an object. but he would do what he could. he would lay his child's body in the old family lot in the cemetery, among the bones of his ancestors, and there too, close at hand, old peter should have honourable sepulture. it was his due, and would be the fulfilment of little phil's last request. the child was laid out in the parlour, amid a mass of flowers. miss laura, for love of him and of the colonel, with her own hands prepared his little body for the last sleep. the undertaker, who hovered around, wished, with a conventional sense of fitness, to remove old peter's body to a back room. but the colonel said no. "they died together; together they shall lie here, and they shall be buried together." he gave instructions as to the location of the graves in the cemetery lot. the undertaker looked thoughtful. "i hope, sir," said the undertaker, "there will be no objection. it's not customary--there's a coloured graveyard--you might put up a nice tombstone there--and you've been away from here a long time, sir." "if any one objects," said the colonel, "send him to me. the lot is mine, and i shall do with it as i like. my great-great-grandfather gave the cemetery to the town. old peter's skin was black, but his heart was white as any man's! and when a man reaches the grave, he is not far from god, who is no respecter of persons, and in whose presence, on the judgment day, many a white man shall be black, and many a black man white." the funeral was set for the following afternoon. the graves were to be dug in the morning. the undertaker, whose business was dependent upon public favour, and who therefore shrank from any step which might affect his own popularity, let it be quietly known that colonel french had given directions to bury peter in oak cemetery. it was inevitable that there should be some question raised about so novel a proceeding. the colour line in clarendon, as in all southern towns, was, on the surface at least, rigidly drawn, and extended from the cradle to the grave. no negro's body had ever profaned the sacred soil of oak cemetery. the protestants laid the matter before the cemetery trustees, and a private meeting was called in the evening to consider the proposed interment. white and black worshipped the same god, in different churches. there had been a time when coloured people filled the galleries of the white churches, and white ladies had instilled into black children the principles of religion and good morals. but as white and black had grown nearer to each other in condition, they had grown farther apart in feeling. it was difficult for the poor lady, for instance, to patronise the children of the well-to-do negro or mulatto; nor was the latter inclined to look up to white people who had started, in his memory, from a position but little higher than his own. in an era of change, the benefits gained thereby seemed scarcely to offset the difficulties of readjustment. the situation was complicated by a sense of injury on both sides. cherishing their theoretical equality of citizenship, which they could neither enforce nor forget, the negroes resented, noisly or silently, as prudence dictated, its contemptuous denial by the whites; and these, viewing this shadowy equality as an insult to themselves, had sought by all the machinery of local law to emphasise and perpetuate their own superiority. the very word "equality" was an offence. society went back to egypt and india for its models; to break caste was a greater sin than to break any or all of the ten commandments. white and coloured children studied the same books in different schools. white and black people rode on the same trains in separate cars. living side by side, and meeting day by day, the law, made and administered by white men, had built a wall between them. and white and black buried their dead in separate graveyards. not until they reached god's presence could they stand side by side in any relation of equality. there was a negro graveyard in clarendon, where, as a matter of course the coloured dead were buried. it was not an ideal locality. the land was low and swampy, and graves must be used quickly, ere the water collected in them. the graveyard was unfenced, and vagrant cattle browsed upon its rank herbage. the embankment of the railroad encroached upon one side of it, and the passing engines sifted cinders and ashes over the graves. but no negro had ever thought of burying his dead elsewhere, and if their cemetery was not well kept up, whose fault was it but their own? the proposition, therefore, of a white man, even of colonel french's standing, to bury a negro in oak cemetery, was bound to occasion comment, if nothing more. there was indeed more. several citizens objected to the profanation, and laid their protest before the mayor, who quietly called a meeting of the board of cemetery trustees, of which he was the chairman. the trustees were five in number. the board, with the single exception of the mayor, was self-perpetuating, and the members had been chosen, as vacancies occurred by death, at long intervals, from among the aristocracy, who had always controlled it. the mayor, a member and chairman of the board by virtue of his office, had sprung from the same class as fetters, that of the aspiring poor whites, who, freed from the moral incubus of slavery, had by force of numbers and ambition secured political control of the state and relegated not only the negroes, but the old master class, to political obscurity. a shrewd, capable man was the mayor, who despised negroes and distrusted aristocrats, and had the courage of his convictions. he represented in the meeting the protesting element of the community. "gentlemen," he said, "colonel french has ordered this negro to be buried in oak cemetery. we all appreciate the colonel's worth, and what he is doing for the town. but he has lived at the north for many years, and has got somewhat out of our way of thinking. we do not want to buy the prosperity of this town at the price of our principles. the attitude of the white people on the negro question is fixed and determined for all time, and nothing can ever alter it. to bury this negro in oak cemetery is against our principles." "the mayor's statement of the rule is quite correct," replied old general thornton, a member of the board, "and not open to question. but all rules have their exceptions. it was against the law, for some years before the war, to manumit a slave; but an exception to that salutary rule was made in case a negro should render some great service to the state or the community. you will recall that when, in a sister state, a negro climbed the steep roof of st. michael's church and at the risk of his own life saved that historic structure, the pride of charleston, from destruction by fire, the muncipality granted him his freedom." "and we all remember," said mr. darden, another of the trustees, "we all remember, at least i'm sure general thornton does, old sally, who used to belong to the mcrae family, and was a member of the presbyterian church, and who, because of her age and infirmities--she was hard of hearing and too old to climb the stairs to the gallery--was given a seat in front of the pulpit, on the main floor." "that was all very well," replied the mayor, stoutly, "when the negroes belonged to you, and never questioned your authority. but times are different now. they think themselves as good as we are. we had them pretty well in hand until colonel french came around, with his schools, and his high wages, and now they are getting so fat and sassy that there'll soon be no living with them. the last election did something, but we'll have to do something more, and that soon, to keep them in their places. there's one in jail now, alive, who has shot and disfigured and nearly killed two good white men, and such an example of social equality as burying one in a white graveyard will demoralise them still further. we must preserve the purity and prestige of our race, and we can only do it by keeping the negroes down." "after all," said another member, "the purity of our race is not apt to suffer very seriously from the social equality of a graveyard." "and old peter will be pretty effectually kept down, wherever he is buried," added another. these sallies provoked a smile which lightened the tension. a member suggested that colonel french be sent for. "it seems a pity to disturb him in his grief," said another. "it's only a couple of squares," suggested another. "let's call in a body and pay our respects. we can bring up the matter incidentally, while there." the muscles of the mayor's chin hardened. "colonel french has never been at my house," he said, "and i shouldn't care to seem to intrude." "come on, mayor," said mr. darden, taking the official by the arm, "these fine distinctions are not becoming in the presence of death. the colonel will be glad to see you." the mayor could not resist this mark of intimacy on the part of one of the old aristocracy, and walked somewhat proudly through the street arm in arm with mr. darden. they paid their respects to the colonel, who was bearing up, with the composure to be expected of a man of strong will and forceful character, under a grief of which he was exquisitely sensible. touched by a strong man's emotion, which nothing could conceal, no one had the heart to mention, in the presence of the dead, the object of their visit, and they went away without giving the colonel any inkling that his course had been seriously criticised. nor was the meeting resumed after they left the house, even the mayor seeming content to let the matter go by default. _thirty-three_ fortune favoured caxton in the matter of the note. fetters was in clarendon the following morning. caxton saw him passing, called him into his office, and produced the note. "that's no good," said fetters contemptuously. "it was outlawed yesterday. i suppose you allowed i'd forgotten it. on the contrary, i've a memorandum of it in my pocketbook, and i struck it off the list last night. i always pay my lawful debts, when they're properly demanded. if this note had been presented yesterday, i'd have paid it. to-day it's too late. it ain't a lawful debt." "do you really mean to say, mr. fetters, that you have deliberately robbed those poor women of this money all these years, and are not ashamed of it, not even when you're found out, and that you are going to take refuge behind the statute?" "now, see here, mr. caxton," returned fetters, without apparent emotion, "you want to be careful about the language you use. i might sue you for slander. you're a young man, that hopes to have a future and live in this county, where i expect to live and have law business done long after some of your present clients have moved away. i didn't owe the estate of john treadwell one cent--you ought to be lawyer enough to know that. he owed me money, and paid me with a note. i collected the note. i owed him money and paid it with a note. whoever heard of anybody's paying a note that wasn't presented?" "it's a poor argument, mr. fetters. you would have let those ladies starve to death before you would have come forward and paid that debt." "they've never asked me for charity, so i wasn't called on to offer it. and you know now, don't you, that if i'd paid the amount of that note, and then it had turned up afterward in somebody else's hands, i'd have had to pay it over again; now wouldn't i?" caxton could not deny it. fetters had robbed the treadwell estate, but his argument was unanswerable. "yes," said caxton, "i suppose you would." "i'm sorry for the women," said fetters, "and i've stood ready to pay that note all these years, and it ain't my fault that it hasn't been presented. now it's outlawed, and you couldn't expect a man to just give away that much money. it ain't a lawful debt, and the law's good enough for me." "you're awfully sorry for the ladies, aren't you?" said caxton, with thinly veiled sarcasm. "i surely am; i'm honestly sorry for them." "and you'd pay the note if you had to, wouldn't you?" asked caxton. "i surely would. as i say, i always pay my legal debts." "all right," said caxton triumphantly, "then you'll pay this. i filed suit against you yesterday, which takes the case out of the statute." fetters concealed his discomfiture. "well," he said, with quiet malignity, "i've nothing more to say till i consult my lawyer. but i want to tell you one thing. you are ruining a fine career by standing in with this colonel french. i hear his son was killed to-day. you can tell him i say it's a judgment on him; for i hold him responsible for my son's condition. he came down here and tried to demoralise the labour market. he put false notions in the niggers' heads. then he got to meddling with my business, trying to get away a nigger whose time i had bought. he insulted my agent turner, and came all the way down to sycamore and tried to bully me into letting the nigger loose, and of course i wouldn't be bullied. afterwards, when i offered to let the nigger go, the colonel wouldn't have it so. i shall always believe he bribed one of my men to get the nigger off, and then turned him loose to run amuck among the white people and shoot my boy and my overseer. it was a low-down performance, and unworthy of a gentleman. no really white man would treat another white man so. you can tell him i say it's a judgment that's fallen on him to-day, and that it's not the last one, and that he'll be sorrier yet that he didn't stay where he was, with his nigger-lovin' notions, instead of comin' back down here to make trouble for people that have grown up with the state and made it what it is." caxton, of course, did not deliver the message. to do so would have been worse taste than fetters had displayed in sending it. having got the best of the encounter, caxton had no objection to letting his defeated antagonist discharge his venom against the absent colonel, who would never know of it, and who was already breasting the waves of a sorrow so deep and so strong as almost to overwhelm him. for he had loved the boy; all his hopes had centred around this beautiful man child, who had promised so much that was good. his own future had been planned with reference to him. now he was dead, and the bereaved father gave way to his grief. _thirty-four_ the funeral took place next day, from the episcopal church, in which communion the little boy had been baptised, and of which old peter had always been an humble member, faithfully appearing every sunday morning in his seat in the gallery, long after the rest of his people had deserted it for churches of their own. on this occasion peter had, for the first time, a place on the main floor, a little to one side of the altar, in front of which, banked with flowers, stood the white velvet casket which contained all that was mortal of little phil. the same beautiful sermon answered for both. in touching words, the rector, a man of culture, taste and feeling, and a faithful servant of his master, spoke of the sweet young life brought to so untimely an end, and pointed the bereaved father to the best source of consolation. he paid a brief tribute to the faithful servant and humble friend, to whom, though black and lowly, the white people of the town were glad to pay this signal tribute of respect and appreciation for his heroic deed. the attendance at the funeral, while it might have been larger, was composed of the more refined and cultured of the townspeople, from whom, indeed, the church derived most of its membership and support; and the gallery overflowed with coloured people, whose hearts had warmed to the great honour thus paid to one of their race. four young white men bore phil's body and the six pallbearers of old peter were from among the best white people of the town. the double interment was made in oak cemetery. simultaneously both bodies were lowered to their last resting-place. simultaneously ashes were consigned to ashes and dust to dust. the earth was heaped above the graves. the mound above little phil's was buried with flowers, and old peter's was not neglected. beyond the cemetery wall, a few white men of the commoner sort watched the proceedings from a distance, and eyed with grim hostility the negroes who had followed the procession. they had no part nor parcel in this sentimental folly, nor did they approve of it--in fact they disapproved of it very decidedly. among them was the colonel's discharged foreman, jim green, who was pronounced in his denunciation. "colonel french is an enemy of his race," he declared to his sympathetic following. "he hires niggers when white men are idle; and pays them more than white men who work are earning. and now he is burying them with white people." when the group around the grave began to disperse, the little knot of disgruntled spectators moved sullenly away. in the evening they might have been seen, most of them, around clay jackson's barroom. turner, the foreman at fetters's convict farm, was in town that evening, and jackson's was his favourite haunt. for some reason turner was more sociable than usual, and liquor flowed freely, at his expense. there was a great deal of intemperate talk, concerning the negro in jail for shooting haines and young fetters, and concerning colonel french as the protector of negroes and the enemy of white men. _thirty-five_ at the same time that the colonel, dry-eyed and heavy-hearted, had returned to his empty house to nurse his grief, another series of events was drawing to a climax in the dilapidated house on mink run. even while the preacher was saying the last words over little phil's remains, old malcolm dudley's illness had taken a sudden and violent turn. he had been sinking for several days, but the decline had been gradual, and there had seemed no particular reason for alarm. but during the funeral exercises ben had begun to feel uneasy--some obscure premonition warned him to hurry homeward. as soon as the funeral was over he spoke to dr. price, who had been one of the pallbearers, and the doctor had promised to be at mink run in a little while. ben rode home as rapidly as he could; as he went up the lane toward the house a negro lad came forward to take charge of the tired horse, and ben could see from the boy's expression that he had important information to communicate. "yo' uncle is monst'ous low, sir," said the boy. "you bettah go in an' see 'im quick, er you'll be too late. dey ain' nobody wid 'im but ole aun' viney." ben hurried into the house and to his uncle's room, where malcolm dudley lay dying. outside, the sun was setting, and his red rays, shining through the trees into the open window, lit the stage for the last scene of this belated drama. when ben entered the room, the sweat of death had gathered on the old man's brow, but his eyes, clear with the light of reason, were fixed upon old viney, who stood by the bedside. the two were evidently so absorbed in their own thoughts as to be oblivious to anything else, and neither of them paid the slightest attention to ben, or to the scared negro lad, who had followed him and stood outside the door. but marvellous to hear, viney was talking, strangely, slowly, thickly, but passionately and distinctly. "you had me whipped," she said. "do you remember that? you had me whipped--whipped--whipped--by a poor white dog i had despised and spurned! you had said that you loved me, and you had promised to free me--and you had me whipped! but i have had my revenge!" her voice shook with passion, a passion at which ben wondered. that his uncle and she had once been young he knew, and that their relations had once been closer than those of master and servant; but this outbreak of feeling from the wrinkled old mulattress seemed as strange and weird to ben as though a stone image had waked to speech. spellbound, he stood in the doorway, and listened to this ghost of a voice long dead. "your uncle came with the money and left it, and went away. only he and i knew where it was. but i never told you! i could have spoken at any time for twenty-five years, but i never told you! i have waited--i have waited for this moment! i have gone into the woods and fields and talked to myself by the hour, that i might not forget how to talk--and i have waited my turn, and it is here and now!" ben hung breathlessly upon her words. he drew back beyond her range of vision, lest she might see him, and the spell be broken. now, he thought, she would tell where the gold was hidden! "he came," she said, "and left the gold--two heavy bags of it, and a letter for you. an hour later _he came back and took it all away_, except the letter! the money was here one hour, but in that hour you had me whipped, and for that you have spent twenty-five years in looking for nothing--something that was not here! i have had my revenge! for twenty-five years i have watched you look for--nothing; have seen you waste your time, your property, your life, your mind--for nothing! for ah, mars' ma'colm, you had me whipped--_by another man_!" a shadow of reproach crept into the old man's eyes, over which the mists of death were already gathering. "yes, viney," he whispered, "you have had your revenge! but i was sorry, viney, for what i did, and you were not. and i forgive you, viney; but you are unforgiving--even in the presence of death." his voice failed, and his eyes closed for the last time. when she saw that he was dead, by a strange revulsion of feeling the wall of outraged pride and hatred and revenge, built upon one brutal and bitterly repented mistake, and labouriously maintained for half a lifetime in her woman's heart that even slavery could not crush, crumbled and fell and let pass over it in one great and final flood the pent-up passions of the past. bursting into tears--strange tears from eyes that had long forgot to weep--old viney threw herself down upon her knees by the bedside, and seizing old malcolm's emaciated hand in both her own, covered it with kisses, fervent kisses, the ghosts of the passionate kisses of their distant youth. with a feeling that his presence was something like sacrilege, ben stole away and left her with her dead--the dead master and the dead past--and thanked god that he lived in another age, and had escaped this sin. as he wandered through the old house, a veil seemed to fall from his eyes. how old everything was, how shrunken and decayed! the sheen of the hidden gold had gilded the dilapidated old house, the neglected plantation, his own barren life. now that it was gone, things appeared in their true light. fortunately he was young enough to retrieve much of what had been lost. when the old man was buried, he would settle the estate, sell the land, make some provision for aunt viney, and then, with what was left, go out into the world and try to make a place for himself and graciella. for life intrudes its claims even into the presence of death. when the doctor came, a little later, ben went with him into the death chamber. viney was still kneeling by her master's bedside, but strangely still and silent. the doctor laid his hand on hers and old malcolm's, which had remained clasped together. "they are both dead," he declared. "i knew their story; my father told it to me many years ago." ben related what he had overheard. "i'm not surprised," said the doctor. "my father attended her when she had the stroke, and after. he always maintained that viney could speak--if she had wished to speak." _thirty-six_ the colonel's eyes were heavy with grief that night, and yet he lay awake late, and with his sorrow were mingled many consoling thoughts. the people, his people, had been kind, aye, more than kind. their warm hearts had sympathised with his grief. he had sometimes been impatient of their conservatism, their narrowness, their unreasoning pride of opinion; but in his bereavement they had manifested a feeling that it would be beautiful to remember all the days of his life. all the people, white and black, had united to honour his dead. he had wished to help them--had tried already. he had loved the town as the home of his ancestors, which enshrined their ashes. he would make of it a monument to mark his son's resting place. his fight against fetters and what he represented should take on a new character; henceforward it should be a crusade to rescue from threatened barbarism the land which contained the tombs of his loved ones. nor would he be alone in the struggle, which he now clearly foresaw would be a long one. the dear, good woman he had asked to be his wife could help him. he needed her clear, spiritual vision; and in his lifelong sorrow he would need her sympathy and companionship; for she had loved the child and would share his grief. she knew the people better than he, and was in closer touch with them; she could help him in his schemes of benevolence, and suggest new ways to benefit the people. phil's mother was buried far away, among her own people; could he consult her, he felt sure she would prefer to remain there. here she would be an alien note; and when laura died she could lie with them and still be in her own place. "have you heard the news, sir," asked the housekeeper, when he came down to breakfast the next morning. "no, mrs. hughes, what is it?" "they lynched the negro who was in jail for shooting young mr. fetters and the other man." the colonel hastily swallowed a cup of coffee and went down town. it was only a short walk. already there were excited crowds upon the street, discussing the events of the night. the colonel sought caxton, who was just entering his office. "they've done it," said the lawyer. "so i understand. when did it happen?" "about one o'clock last night. a crowd came in from sycamore--not all at once, but by twos and threes, and got together in clay johnson's saloon, with ben green, your discharged foreman, and a lot of other riffraff, and went to the sheriff, and took the keys, and took johnson and carried him out to where the shooting was, and----" "spare me the details. he is dead?" "yes." a rope, a tree--a puff of smoke, a flash of flame--or a barbaric orgy of fire and blood--what matter which? at the end there was a lump of clay, and a hundred murderers where there had been one before. "can we do anything to punish _this_ crime?" "we can try." and they tried. the colonel went to the sheriff. the sheriff said he had yielded to force, but he never would have dreamed of shooting to defend a worthless negro who had maimed a good white man, had nearly killed another, and had declared a vendetta against the white race. by noon the colonel had interviewed as many prominent men as he could find, and they became increasingly difficult to find as it became known that he was seeking them. the town, he said, had been disgraced, and should redeem itself by prosecuting the lynchers. he may as well have talked to the empty air. the trail of fetters was all over the town. some of the officials owed fetters money; others were under political obligations to him. others were plainly of the opinion that the negro got no more than he deserved; such a wretch was not fit to live. the coroner's jury returned a verdict of suicide, a grim joke which evoked some laughter. doctor mckenzie, to whom the colonel expressed his feelings, and whom he asked to throw the influence of his church upon the side of law and order, said: "it is too bad. i am sorry, but it is done. let it rest. no good can ever come of stirring it up further." later in the day there came news that the lynchers, after completing their task, had proceeded to the dudley plantation and whipped all the negroes who did not learn of their coming in time to escape, the claim being that johnson could not have maintained himself in hiding without their connivance, and that they were therefore parties to his crimes. the colonel felt very much depressed when he went to bed that night, and lay for a long time turning over in his mind the problem that confronted him. so far he had been beaten, except in the matter of the cotton mill, which was yet unfinished. his efforts in bud johnson's behalf--the only thing he had undertaken to please the woman he loved, had proved abortive. his promise to the teacher--well, he had done his part, but to no avail. he would be ashamed to meet taylor face to face. with what conscience could a white man in clarendon ever again ask a negro to disclose the name or hiding place of a coloured criminal? in the effort to punish the lynchers he stood, to all intents and purposes, single-handed and alone; and without the support of public opinion he could do nothing. the colonel was beaten, but not dismayed. perhaps god in his wisdom had taken phil away, that his father might give himself more completely and single-mindedly to the battle before him. had phil lived, a father might have hesitated to expose a child's young and impressionable mind to the things which these volcanic outbursts of passion between mismated races might cause at any unforeseen moment. now that the way was clear, he could go forward, hand in hand with the good woman who had promised to wed him, in the work he had laid out. he would enlist good people to demand better laws, under which fetters and his kind would find it harder to prey upon the weak. diligently he would work to lay wide and deep the foundations of prosperity, education and enlightenment, upon which should rest justice, humanity and civic righteousness. in this he would find a worthy career. patiently would he await the results of his labours, and if they came not in great measure in his own lifetime, he would be content to know that after years would see their full fruition. so that night he sat down and wrote a long answer to kirby's letter, in which he told him of phil's death and burial, and his own grief. something there was, too, of his plans for the future, including his marriage to a good woman who would help him in them. kirby, he said, had offered him a golden opportunity for which he thanked him heartily. the scheme was good enough for any one to venture upon. but to carry out his own plans, would require that he invest his money in the state of his residence, where there were many openings for capital that could afford to wait upon development for large returns. he sent his best regards to mrs. jerviss, and his assurance that kirby's plan was a good one. perhaps kirby and she alone could handle it; if not, there must be plenty of money elsewhere for so good a thing. he sealed the letter, and laid it aside to be mailed in the morning. to his mind it had all the force of a final renunciation, a severance of the last link that bound him to his old life. long the colonel lay thinking, after he retired to rest, and the muffled striking of the clock downstairs had marked the hour of midnight ere he fell asleep. and he had scarcely dozed away, when he was awakened by a scraping noise, as though somewhere in the house a heavy object was being drawn across the floor. the sound was not repeated, however, and thinking it some trick of the imagination, he soon slept again. as the colonel slept this second time, he dreamed of a regenerated south, filled with thriving industries, and thronged with a prosperous and happy people, where every man, having enough for his needs, was willing that every other man should have the same; where law and order should prevail unquestioned, and where every man could enter, through the golden gate of hope, the field of opportunity, where lay the prizes of life, which all might have an equal chance to win or lose. for even in his dreams the colonel's sober mind did not stray beyond the bounds of reason and experience. that all men would ever be equal he did not even dream; there would always be the strong and the weak, the wise and the foolish. but that each man, in his little life in this our little world might be able to make the most of himself, was an ideal which even the colonel's waking hours would not have repudiated. following this pleasing thread with the unconscious rapidity of dreams, the colonel passed, in a few brief minutes, through a long and useful life to a happy end, when he too rested with his fathers, by the side of his son, and on his tomb was graven what was said of ben adhem: "here lies one who loved his fellow men," and the further words, "and tried to make them happy." * * * * * shortly after dawn there was a loud rapping at the colonel's door: "come downstairs and look on de piazza, colonel," said the agitated voice of the servant who had knocked. "come quick, suh." there was a vague terror in the man's voice that stirred the colonel strangely. he threw on a dressing gown and hastened downstairs, and to the front door of the hall, which stood open. a handsome mahogany burial casket, stained with earth and disfigured by rough handling, rested upon the floor of the piazza, where it had been deposited during the night. conspicuously nailed to the coffin lid was a sheet of white paper, upon which were some lines rudely scrawled in a handwriting that matched the spelling: _kurnell french_: _take notis. berry yore ole nigger somewhar else. he can't stay in oak semitury. the majority of the white people of this town, who dident tend yore nigger funarl, woant have him there. niggers by there selves, white peepul by there selves, and them that lives in our town must bide by our rules._ _by order of_ cumitty. the colonel left the coffin standing on the porch, where it remained all day, an object of curious interest to the scores and hundreds who walked by to look at it, for the news spread quickly through the town. no one, however, came in. if there were those who reprobated the action they were silent. the mob spirit, which had broken out in the lynching of johnson, still dominated the town, and no one dared to speak against it. as soon as colonel french had dressed and breakfasted, he drove over to the cemetery. those who had exhumed old peter's remains had not been unduly careful. the carelessly excavated earth had been scattered here and there over the lot. the flowers on old peter's grave and that of little phil had been trampled under foot--whether wantonly or not, inevitably, in the execution of the ghoulish task. the colonel's heart hardened as he stood by his son's grave. then he took a long lingering look at the tombs of his ancestors and turned away with an air of finality. from the cemetery he went to the undertaker's, and left an order; thence to the telegraph office, from which he sent a message to his former partner in new york; and thence to the treadwells'. _thirty-seven_ miss laura came forward with outstretched hands and tear-stained eyes to greet him. "henry," she exclaimed, "i am shocked and sorry, i cannot tell you how much! nor do i know what else to say, except that the best people do not--cannot--could not--approve of it!" "the best people, laura," he said with a weary smile, "are an abstraction. when any deviltry is on foot they are never there to prevent it--they vanish into thin air at its approach. when it is done, they excuse it; and they make no effort to punish it. so it is not too much to say that what they permit they justify, and they cannot shirk the responsibility. to mar the living--it is the history of life--but to make war upon the dead!--i am going away, laura, never to return. my dream of usefulness is over. to-night i take away my dead and shake the dust of clarendon from my feet forever. will you come with me?" "henry," she said, and each word tore her heart, "i have been expecting this--since i heard. but i cannot go; my duty calls me here. my mother could not be happy anywhere else, nor would i fit into any other life. and here, too, i am useful--and may still be useful--and should be missed. i know your feelings, and would not try to keep you. but, oh, henry, if all of those who love justice and practise humanity should go away, what would become of us?" "i leave to-night," he returned, "and it is your right to go with me, or to come to me." "no, henry, nor am i sure that you would wish me to. it was for the old town's sake that you loved me. i was a part of your dream--a part of the old and happy past, upon which you hoped to build, as upon the foundations of the old mill, a broader and a fairer structure. do you remember what you told me, that night--that happy night--that you loved me because in me you found the embodiment of an ideal? well, henry, that is why i did not wish to make our engagement known, for i knew, i felt, the difficulty of your task, and i foresaw that you might be disappointed, and i feared that if your ideal should be wrecked, you might find me a burden. i loved you, henry--i seem to have always loved you, but i would not burden you." "no, no, laura--not so! not so!" "and you wanted me for phil's sake, whom we both loved; and now that your dream is over, and phil is gone, i should only remind you of where you lost him, and of your disappointment, and of--this other thing, and i could not be sure that you loved me or wanted me." "surely you cannot doubt it, laura?" his voice was firm, but to her sensitive spirit it did not carry conviction. "you remembered me from my youth," she continued tremulously but bravely, "and it was the image in your memory that you loved. and now, when you go away, the old town will shrink and fade from your memory and your heart and you will have none but harsh thoughts of it; nor can i blame you greatly, for you have grown far away from us, and we shall need many years to overtake you. nor do you need me, henry--i am too old to learn new ways, and elsewhere than here i should be a hindrance to you rather than a help. but in the larger life to which you go, think of me now and then as one who loves you still, and who will try, in her poor way, with such patience as she has, to carry on the work which you have begun, and which you--oh, henry!" he divined her thought, though her tear-filled eyes spoke sorrow rather than reproach. "yes," he said sadly, "which i have abandoned. yes, laura, abandoned, fully and forever." the colonel was greatly moved, but his resolution remained unshaken. "laura," he said, taking both her hands in his, "i swear that i should be glad to have you with me. come away! the place is not fit for you to live in!" "no, henry! it cannot be! i could not go! my duty holds me here! god would not forgive me if i abandoned it. go your way; live your life. marry some other woman, if you must, who will make you happy. but i shall keep, henry--nothing can ever take away from me--the memory of one happy summer." "no, no, laura, it need not be so! i shall write you. you'll think better of it. but i go to-night--not one hour longer than i must, will i remain in this town. i must bid your mother and graciella good-bye." he went into the house. mrs. treadwell was excited and sorry, and would have spoken at length, but the colonel's farewells were brief. "i cannot stop to say more than good-bye, dear mrs. treadwell. i have spent a few happy months in my old home, and now i am going away. laura will tell you the rest." graciella was tearfully indignant. "it was a shame!" she declared. "peter was a good old nigger, and it wouldn't have done anybody any harm to leave him there. i'd rather be buried beside old peter than near any of the poor white trash that dug him up--so there! i'm so sorry you're going away; but i hope, sometime," she added stoutly, "to see you in new york! don't forget!" "i'll send you my address," said the colonel. _thirty-eight_ it was a few weeks later. old ralph dudley and viney had been buried. ben dudley had ridden in from mink run, had hitched his horse in the back yard as usual, and was seated on the top step of the piazza beside graciella. his elbows rested on his knees, and his chin upon his hand. graciella had unconsciously imitated his drooping attitude. both were enshrouded in the deepest gloom, and had been sunk, for several minutes, in a silence equally profound. graciella was the first to speak. "well, then," she said with a deep sigh, "there is absolutely nothing left?" "not a thing," he groaned hopelessly, "except my horse and my clothes, and a few odds and ends which belong to me. fetters will have the land--there's not enough to pay the mortgages against it, and i'm in debt for the funeral expenses." "and what are you going to do?" "gracious knows--i wish i did! i came over to consult the family. i have no trade, no profession, no land and no money. i can get a job at braking on the railroad--or may be at clerking in a store. i'd have asked the colonel for something in the mill--but that chance is gone." "gone," echoed graciella, gloomily. "i see my fate! i shall marry you, because i can't help loving you, and couldn't live without you; and i shall never get to new york, but be, all my life, a poor man's wife--a poor white man's wife." "no, graciella, we might be poor, but not poor-white! our blood will still be of the best." "it will be all the same. blood without money may count for one generation, but it won't hold out for two." they relapsed into a gloom so profound, so rayless, that they might almost be said to have reveled in it. it was lightened, or at least a diversion was created by miss laura's opening the garden gate and coming up the walk. ben rose as she approached, and graciella looked up. "i have been to the post-office," said miss laura. "here is a letter for you, ben, addressed in my care. it has the new york postmark." "thank you, miss laura." eagerly ben's hand tore the envelope and drew out the enclosure. swiftly his eyes devoured the lines; they were typewritten and easy to follow. "glory!" he shouted, "glory hallelujah! listen!" he read the letter aloud, while graciella leaned against his shoulder and feasted her eyes upon the words. the letter was from colonel french: _"my dear ben_: _i was very much impressed with the model of a cotton gin and press which i saw you exhibit one day at mrs. treadwells'. you have a fine genius for mechanics, and the model embodies, i think, a clever idea, which is worth working up. if your uncle's death has left you free to dispose of your time, i should like to have you come on to new york with the model, and we will take steps to have the invention patented at once, and form a company for its manufacture. as an evidence of good faith, i enclose my draft for five hundred dollars, which can be properly accounted for in our future arrangements._" "o ben!" gasped graciella, in one long drawn out, ecstatic sigh. "o graciella!" exclaimed ben, as he threw his arms around her and kissed her rapturously, regardless of miss laura's presence. "now you can go to new york as soon as you like!" _thirty-nine_ colonel french took his dead to the north, and buried both the little boy and the old servant in the same lot with his young wife, and in the shadow of the stately mausoleum which marked her resting-place. there, surrounded by the monuments of the rich and the great, in a beautiful cemetery, which overlooks a noble harbour where the ships of all nations move in endless procession, the body of the faithful servant rests beside that of the dear little child whom he unwittingly lured to his death and then died in the effort to save. and in all the great company of those who have laid their dead there in love or in honour, there is none to question old peter's presence or the colonel's right to lay him there. sometimes, at night, a ray of light from the uplifted torch of the statue of liberty, the gift of a free people to a free people, falls athwart the white stone which marks his resting place--fit prophecy and omen of the day when the sun of liberty shall shine alike upon all men. when the colonel went away from clarendon, he left his affairs in caxton's hands, with instructions to settle them up as expeditiously as possible. the cotton mill project was dropped, and existing contracts closed on the best terms available. fetters paid the old note--even he would not have escaped odium for so bare-faced a robbery--and mrs. treadwell's last days could be spent in comfort and miss laura saved from any fear for her future, and enabled to give more freely to the poor and needy. barclay fetters recovered the use of one eye, and embittered against the whole negro race by his disfigurement, went into public life and devoted his talents and his education to their debasement. the colonel had relented sufficiently to contemplate making over to miss laura the old family residence in trust for use as a hospital, with a suitable fund for its maintenance, but it unfortunately caught fire and burned down--and he was hardly sorry. he sent catherine, bud johnson's wife, a considerable sum of money, and she bought a gorgeous suit of mourning, and after a decent interval consoled herself with a new husband. and he sent word to the committee of coloured men to whom he had made a definite promise, that he would be ready to fulfil his obligation in regard to their school whenever they should have met the conditions. * * * * * one day, a year or two after leaving clarendon, as the colonel, in company with mrs. french, formerly a member of his firm, now his partner in a double sense--was riding upon a fast train between new york and chicago, upon a trip to visit a western mine in which the reorganised french and company, limited, were interested, he noticed that the pullman car porter, a tall and stalwart negro, was watching him furtively from time to time. upon one occasion, when the colonel was alone in the smoking-room, the porter addressed him. "excuse me, suh," he said, "i've been wondering ever since we left new york, if you wa'n't colonel french?" "yes, i'm mr. french--colonel french, if you want it so." "i 'lowed it must be you, suh, though you've changed the cut of your beard, and are looking a little older, suh. i don't suppose you remember me?" "i've seen you somewhere," said the colonel--no longer the colonel, but like the porter, let us have it so. "where was it?" "i'm henry taylor, suh, that used to teach school at clarendon. i reckon you remember me now." "yes," said the colonel sadly, "i remember you now, taylor, to my sorrow. i didn't keep my word about johnson, did i?" "oh, yes, suh," replied the porter, "i never doubted but what you'd keep your word. but you see, suh, they were too many for you. there ain't no one man can stop them folks down there when they once get started." "and what are you doing here, taylor?" "well, suh, the fact is that after you went away, it got out somehow that i had told on bud johnson. i don't know how they learned it, and of course i knew you didn't tell it; but somebody must have seen me going to your house, or else some of my enemies guessed it--and happened to guess right--and after that the coloured folks wouldn't send their children to me, and i lost my job, and wasn't able to get another anywhere in the state. the folks said i was an enemy of my race, and, what was more important to me, i found that my race was an enemy to me. so i got out, suh, and i came no'th, hoping to find somethin' better. this is the best job i've struck yet, but i'm hoping that sometime or other i'll find something worth while." "and what became of the industrial school project?" asked the colonel. "i've stood ready to keep my promise, and more, but i never heard from you." "well, suh, after you went away the enthusiasm kind of died out, and some of the white folks throwed cold water on it, and it fell through, suh." when the porter came along, before the train reached chicago, the colonel offered taylor a handsome tip. "thank you, suh," said the porter, "but i'd rather not take it. i'm a porter now, but i wa'n't always one, and hope i won't always be one. and during all the time i taught school in clarendon, you was the only white man that ever treated me quite like a man--and our folks just like people--and if you won't think i'm presuming, i'd rather not take the money." the colonel shook hands with him, and took his address. shortly afterward he was able to find him something better than menial employment, where his education would give him an opportunity for advancement. taylor is fully convinced that his people will never get very far along in the world without the good will of the white people, but he is still wondering how they will secure it. for he regards colonel french as an extremely fortunate accident. * * * * * and so the colonel faltered, and, having put his hand to the plow, turned back. but was not his, after all, the only way? for no more now than when the man of sorrows looked out over the mount of olives, can men gather grapes of thorns or figs of thistles. the seed which the colonel sowed seemed to fall by the wayside, it is true; but other eyes have seen with the same light, and while fetters and his kind still dominate their section, other hands have taken up the fight which the colonel dropped. in manufactures the south has gone forward by leaps and bounds. the strong arm of the government, guided by a wise and just executive, has been reached out to crush the poisonous growth of peonage, and men hitherto silent have raised their voices to commend. here and there a brave judge has condemned the infamy of the chain-gang and convict lease systems. good men, north and south, have banded themselves together to promote the cause of popular education. slowly, like all great social changes, but visibly, to the eye of faith, is growing up a new body of thought, favourable to just laws and their orderly administration. in this changed attitude of mind lies the hope of the future, the hope of the republic. but clarendon has had its chance, nor seems yet to have had another. other towns, some not far from it, lying nearer the main lines of travel, have been swept into the current of modern life, but not yet clarendon. there the grass grows thicker in the streets. the meditative cows still graze in the vacant lot between the post-office and the bank, where the public library was to stand. the old academy has grown more dilapidated than ever, and a large section of plaster has fallen from the wall, carrying with it the pencil drawing made in the colonel's schooldays; and if miss laura treadwell sees that the graves of the old frenches are not allowed to grow up in weeds and grass, the colonel knows nothing of it. the pigs and the loafers--leaner pigs and lazier loafers--still sleep in the shade, when the pound keeper and the constable are not active. the limpid water of the creek still murmurs down the slope and ripples over the stone foundation of what was to have been the new dam, while the birds have nested for some years in the vines that soon overgrew the unfinished walls of the colonel's cotton mill. white men go their way, and black men theirs, and these ways grow wider apart, and no one knows the outcome. but there are those who hope, and those who pray, that this condition will pass, that some day our whole land will be truly free, and the strong will cheerfully help to bear the burdens of the weak, and justice, the seed, and peace, the flower, of liberty, will prevail throughout all our borders. * * * * * +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | typographical errors corrected in text: | | | | page : resposeful replaced with reposeful | | page : retrogade replaced with retrograde | | page : h'anted replaced with ha'nted | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ transcriber's note: minor punctuation errors have been corrected without notice. printer's errors have been corrected, and they are listed at the end. all other inconsistencies are as in the original. the author's spelling has been retained. hanover; or the persecution of the lowly. a story of the wilmington massacre by jack thorne published by m. c. l. hill. respectfully dedicated to the eminent heroine ida b. wells barnett negroes fleeing from wilmington. driven out by organized bands of "red shirts." obnoxious white men also ordered to get out of town. no lynching allowed. mayor waddell and his police prevent further killing. rule of whites now prevail. three hundred policemen sworn in to preserve order--no collision between the races expected. no trade at wilmington. * * * * * [associated press market report] wilmington, n. c., nov. .--spirits turpentine--nothing doing. rosin--nothing doing. crude turpentine--nothing doing. wilmington, nov. .--with the killing of the negroes yesterday the backbone of the trouble seems to have been broken. the authors of the tragedy have gone to their homes and the mob has disbanded as if in contempt of the gangs of negroes who still hang about in the black quarters growling and threatening the whites. law and order are gradually being restored; and those among the negroes who feel resentment against the whites are afraid to show their true colors. early this morning resolute white men gathered at the mayor's office and were sworn in as new policemen. late last night half a hundred white citizens got together and planned a big lynching party which was to raid the city from centre to circumference to-day. there were six negroes in jail who had been arrested during the excitement of the day, and who some people of the town thought should be summarily dispatched. one was a leader, thomas miller, who was charged with declaring that he would wash his hands in a white man's blood before night. another was a. r. bryant, charged with being a dangerous character; the others were less prominent, but had been under the ban of the whites for conduct calculated to incite trouble. mayor waddell and his associates put a veto upon the proposed lynching. they said that good government was to prevail in wilmington from this time, and would commence immediately. the would-be lynchers were so insistent that the mayor called out a guard and kept the jail surrounded all night. this morning the six negroes were taken out and escorted to the north bound train by a detachment of militia, to be banished from the city. the citizens cheered as they saw them going, for they considered their departure conducive to peace in the future. g. z. french, one of the county leaders, attempted to escape. he ran through the streets, but was overtaken at the depot by several members of the posse. a noose was thrown over his head and was drawn tightly around his neck. gasping and half choked, he fell upon his knees, begging for his life. negro begs for life. "do you solemnly promise that you will leave and never come back?" asked the leader of the posse. "oh, yes; yes. for god's sake, gentlemen, let me go, and i'll never come back any more!" the frightened wretch was allowed to go and crawled aboard the train, scared half to death. after finishing with french the "red shirts" made a raid on justice bunting's residence. he was away from home. the mob tore from the walls of his house the picture of his negro wife and that of bunting, and put them on exhibition on market street. they were labelled: "r. h. bunting, white," and "mrs. r. h. bunting, colored." from bunting's residence the mob proceeded to the house of a negro lawyer named henderson. the hard-knuckled leader knocked at the door. "who's there?" came the query. "a white man and a friend," was the reply. inside there was the deep silence of hesitation. "open the door or we'll break it down," shouted the leader. henderson, badly frightened, opened the door. "we want you to leave the city by o'clock sunday morning," said the leader. "all right," replied henderson, "all i want is time enough to get my things in order." a negro lawyer named scott was also banished and left the city before morning. the democrats hired one of pinkerton's negro detectives to associate with the negroes several weeks, and his investigation, it is said, revealed that the two lawyers and the other negroes mentioned were ringleaders, who were inciting their race to violence. white men must go too. the retiring chief of police, magistrate r. h. bunting, charles h. gilbert, charles mcalister, all white republicans, and many assertive negroes, who are considered dangerous to the peace of the community, are now under guard and are to be banished from the city. the negro carter peaman, who was exiled last night, got off the train several miles from the city and was shot dead. a report is current that john c. dancy, the negro united states collector of customs for this port, has been notified to leave the city and will be waited upon if orders are not summarily obeyed. the city is now under thorough military and police protection and there is no indication of further outbreaks. [illustration] introductory note. on the cape fear river, about thirty miles from the east coast of north carolina rests the beautiful city of wilmington. wilmington is the metropolis; the most important city of the old north state, and in fact, is one of the chief seaports of the atlantic coast. the city lies on the east bank of the river, extending mainly northward and southward. market street, the centre and main thoroughfare of the city, wide and beautiful, begins at the river front and gradually climbs a hill eastward, so persistently straight, that the first rays of a summer's morning sun kiss the profusion of oak and cedar trees that border it; and the evening sun seems to linger in the western heavens, loath to bid adieu to that foliage-covered crest. wilmington is the mecca for north carolina's interior inhabitants who flock thither to breathe in its life-giving ocean breezes when summer's torrid air becomes unbearable, and lazy lawrence dances bewilderingly before the eyes. the winter climate is temperate, but not congenial to northern tourists, who like swallows, only alight there for a brief rest, and to look around on their journeying to and from the far south: yet wilmington is cosmopolitan; there dwells the thrifty yankee, the prosperous jew, the patient and docile negro, the enterprising, cunning and scrupulous german; and among her first families are the scotch-irish, descendants of the survivors of culloden. wilmington suckled children who rallied under scott in mexico, heard the thunderings at monterey, and the immortal alamo. when the civil strife of four years was nearing its close, when the enemies to the union of states, sullen and vindictive, were retreating before an invading army, wilmington, nestling behind fort fisher, one of the most formidable fortresses ever contrived, was shaken by some of the most terrific bombarding that ever took place on earth. "then thronged the citizens with terror dumb or whispering with white lips, 'the foe! they come! they come!'" wilmington, the scene of one of the last desperate stands of a demoralized army, witnessed the "memorizing of golgotha" as her sons desperately struggled to resist a conquering foe. in oak dale cemetery on the northeastern boundary of the city sleep a few of the principal actors in that tragedy. there rests noble james; there rests colonel hall--grand old roman! i am glad he did not live to see the th of november, , lest he should have been tempted to join that mob of misguided citizens whose deeds of cowardice plunged that city, noted for its equity, into an abyss of infamy. southward from oak dale cemetery awaiting the final reveille, are calmly sleeping not a few of that grand army who fell in the arms of victory at fort fisher. during the slave period, north carolina could not be classed with south carolina, georgia, and other far southern states in cruelty and inhumanity to its slave population; and in wilmington and vicinity, the pillage of a victorious army, and the reconstruction period were borne with resignation. former master and freedman vied with each other in bringing order out of chaos, building up waste places, and recovering lost fortunes. up to but a few years ago, the best feeling among the races prevailed in wilmington; the negro and his white brother walked their beats together on the police force; white and black aldermen, white mayor and black chief of police, white and black school committeemen sat together in council; white and black mechanics worked together on the same buildings, and at the same bench; white and black teachers taught in the same schools. preachers, lawyers and physicians were cordial in their greetings one toward the other, and general good-feeling prevailed. negroes worked, saved, bought lands and built houses. old wooden meeting houses were torn down, and handsome brick churches went up in their places. let the prejudiced scoffer say what he will, the negro has done his full share in making the now illfated city blossom as the rose. we who have for so many years made our abode elsewhere, have made our boast in wilmington as being ahead of all other southern cities in the recognition of the citizenship of all of her inhabitants; unstained by such acts of violence that had disgraced other communities. to be laid to rest 'neath north carolina pines has been the wish of nearly every pilgrim who has left that dear old home. all this is changed now; that old city is no longer dear. the spoiler is among the works of god. since the massacre on the th of november, , over one thousand of wilmington's most respected taxpaying citizens have sold and given away their belongings, and like lot fleeing from sodom, have hastened away. the lawyer left his client, the physician his patients, the carpenter his work-bench, the shoemaker his tools--all have fled, fled for their lives; fled to escape murder and pillage, intimidation and insult at hands of a bloodthirsty mob of ignorant descendants of england's indentured slaves, fanned into frenzy by their more intelligent leaders whose murderous schemes to obtain office worked charmingly. legally elected officers have been driven from the city which is now ruled by a banditti whose safety in office is now threatened by the disappointed poor whites whose aid was secured in driving out wealthy negroes on the promise that the negroes' property should be turned over to them. what has wrought all this havoc in the city once so peaceful? rev. a. j. mckelway of charlotte, editor of the _north carolina presbyterian_, in an article published in the _new york independent_ of november, , explains as follows:--"in was passed at governor russell's wish and over the protest of the western republicans, a bill to amend the charter of the city. if there had been any condition of bad or inefficient government, there might have been some excuse for this action; but the city was admirably governed by those who were most interested in her growth and welfare. here is the law that is responsible for the bloodshed recently in wilmington:" "be it enacted, that there shall be elected by the qualified voters of each ward one alderman only, and there shall be appointed by the governor one alderman for each ward, and the board of aldermen thus constituted shall elect a mayor according to the laws declared to be in force by this act." "it will be readily seen that, combining with those elected from the negro wards, it was easy for the appointees of the governor to elect the mayor and appoint the other city officers." "when the new board took possession there were found to be three aldermen, fourteen policemen, seventeen officers in the fire department, four deputy sheriffs, and forty negro magistrates besides. it is probable that _not one of these_ was qualified to fill his office. the new government soon found itself incapable of governing. it could not control its own. the homes of the people were at the mercy of thieves, burglars and incendiaries, and the police were either absolutely incapable of preventing crime, or connived at it. white women were insulted on the streets in broad daylight by negro men, and on more than one occasion slapped in the face by negro women on no provocation. * * * * white people began to arm themselves for the protection of their lives and property. * * * * in the city of wilmington it has been found upon investigation, that the negroes own per cent. of the property, and pay per cent. of the taxes. * * * "the negro editor publicly charged to the white women of the south equal blame for the unspeakable crime, etc." the rev. mr. mckelway has worded his defense well; but in giving a plausible excuse for the crime of nov. th, he makes a dismal failure. a mob headed by a minister of the gospel, and a hoary-headed deacon, after cutting off every avenue of escape and defense, and after the government had been surrendered to them as a peace offering, wantonly kills and butchers their brethren, is without parallel in a christian community, and the more mr. mckelway seeks to excuse such a deed, the blacker it appears. the hon. judson lyon, register of the united states treasury, in his reply to senator mclaurin in the _new york herald_, says truthfully: "in wilmington, n. c., albeit the executive as a leader of his party had backed down and surrendered everything as a peace offering, and the democracy, if that is what they call themselves, had carried the day, still the main thoroughfares of that city were choked with armed men. they destroyed personal property, they burned houses, they wantonly took more than a dozen lives, they drove thousands to the woods where nearly a dozen infants were born and died in many instances, with their mothers the victims of exposure as the result of the cruelty of people who call themselves democrats and patriots. weyler in his maddest moments was hardly more barbarous." in the city of wilmington, where so much innocent blood had been spilled and so many valuable lives had been taken by that furious mob, see what are the facts: there were ten members of the board of aldermen, seven of these white and three colored; there were twenty-six policemen, sixteen white and ten colored, the chief being white and a native of the state, city attorney a white republican, city clerk and treasurer, white, with colored clerk. turnkeys and janitors white republicans with colored assistants, superintendent of streets a white man, superintendent of garbage carts a white man, clerk of front street market, a white man, clerk of fourth street market, a white man, superintendent of health, a white democrat, two lot inspectors, colored men, chief of fire department and assistant chief, both white democrats. there are three white fire companies and two colored. superintendent of city hospital is a white democrat with white nurses for white wards, and colored nurses for colored wards. the school committees have always had two white members and one colored. superintendent of public schools is a white democrat. now, will somebody point out where that awful thing that is iterated and reiterated so much, to wit, negro domination existed under this showing in the communicipality of wilmington. the men who were driven from the city by the mob, with but few exceptions, had no political following, nor political aspirations. it has always been the rule with mobs to villify their victims, assail their characters in the most shameful manner in justification of their murder. but an attack upon the character and integrity of the negroes of wilmington, in order to justify the massacre of nov. th, shall not go unchallenged. if what i write should raise a howl of protest and call another ex-governor northern to boston to brand it as a lie, it is nevertheless a truthful statement of the causes that led up to the doings of the th of november, and although i shall fictitiously name some of the star actors in this tragedy and the shifters of the scenes, i can call them all by their names and point them out. it will be proven that the massacre of nov. th, , had been carefully planned by the leading wealthy citizens of wilmington, and that over thirty thousand dollars was subscribed to buy arms and ammunition to equip every man and boy of the white race, rich and poor; that secret dispatches were sent to sympathizers in adjoining states and communities to come in and assist in making the th of november, , a second bartholemew's eve in the history of the world, by the wholesale killing of black citizens after every means of defense had been cut off; that black men and women for banishment and slaughter had been carefully listed; that clubs and clans of assassins had been organized and drilled in signals and tactics; that the aid of the state militia and the naval reserves had been solicited to enter wilmington on the th of november to assist in disarming every negro, and aiding in his slaughter and banishment. that the intervention of providence in the earnest and persistent entreaties of white citizens who were too nobly bred to stoop so low, and the strategy and cunning of the negro himself, frustrated the carrying out to its fullest intent, one of the most infamous and cowardly deeds ever planned. chapter i. the editor. "i will not retract! no! not a single sentence! i have told the truth. this woman not satisfied with the south's bloody record since the war, is clamoring and whining like a she wolf for more human sacrifices, and an increased flow of human blood. she is unmercifully pounding a helpless and defenseless people. the article was issued in defense of the defenseless. it is right against wrong; truth against error, and it must stand even if the one who uttered it is annihilated; it must stand!" "but you must remember my dear man, that the south is no place to speak plainly upon race matters. you have written the truth, but its a truth that the white people of the south cannot and will not stand. now the leading whites are much incensed over this article of yours which they interpret as an intent to slander white women, and i am sent to say to you that they demand that you retract or leave the city." "i will do neither! the truth has been said, a slanderer rebuked. god help me, i will not go back on that truth." "well, i leave you; i've done my duty. good morning." it is often said that there is nothing so indispensible as the newspaper. it is the moulder of public opinion; the medium of free speech; the promoter and stimulator of business; the prophet, the preacher, swaying the multitudes and carrying them like the whirlwind into the right or wrong path. to millions its the bible, the apostles creed. their opinion of god, of religion, of immortality is shaped by what the newspaper has to say upon such subjects. glowing headlines in the newspapers have kindled the flames of anarchy, and started men upon the path of destruction like wolves stimulated and brutalized by the scent of blood, to pause only when irrepairable evil hath been wrought.--"when new widows howl and new orphans cry." what a power for evil is the newspaper! the newspaper arrayed on the side of the right hurls its mighty battering-ram against gigantic walls of oppresion until they fall; takes up the cause of the bondman, echoes his wails and the clanking of his chains until the nation is aroused, and men are marching shoulder to shoulder on to the conflict for the right. what a power for good is the newspaper! i once heard a great editor say that "although newspaper work was hard and laborious, requiring a great store of intellectual strength it was nevertheless a fascinating work." but in the south where freedom of speech is limited to a class _grit and backbone_ outweigh intellectual ability and are far more requisite. when we consider the fact that many white newspaper men have "licked the dust" in the southland because they dared to emerge from the trend of popular thought and opinion, the spartan who without a tremor held his hand into the flames until it had burned away was not more a subject of supreme admiration than the little octoroon editor of the _wilmington record_ whose brave utterances begin this chapter. the great newspapers of today are too engrossed in weightier matters to concern themselves to any extent with things that promote directly the interests of the ten million black americans. that is largely the cause of the existence of the negro editors. the negro, like the white man, likes to read something good of himself; likes to see his picture in the paper; likes to read of the social and business affairs of his people; likes to see the bright and sunnyside of his character portrayed; so he often turns from the great journals (who are if saying anything at all concerning him, worrying over the "negro problem" (?)) to look at the bright side presented by the negro newspaper. a few days ago while worried and disconsolate over the aspersions heaped upon a defenseless people that floated upon the feotid air from the alabama conference, _the new york age_ came to me, a ray of light in a dungeon of gross darkness. prior to the year there had been no genuine zeal among colored people to establish a colored newspaper in wilmington. _the record_ was launched at about that time: but not until taken in hand by the famous a. l. manly did it amount to very much as a news medium. under the management of this enterprising little man _the record_ forged ahead, and at the time of its suspension was the only negro daily, perhaps, in the country. it was a strong champion of the cause of wilmington's colored citizens. improvements in the section of the city owned by black people were asked for, and the request granted. good roads were secured, bicycle paths made, etc. the greatest deed achieved however, was the exposure by _the record_ of the very unsanitary condition of the colored wards in the city hospital. _the record_ made such a glowing picture of the state of affairs, that the board of county commissioners were compelled to investigate and take action, which resulted in the putting of the old hospital in habitable shape. this, though a good work, did not enhance the editor's popularity with the whites who thought him too _high strung, bold and saucy_. and the colored people who appreciated his pluck felt a little shaky over his many tilts with editors of the white papers. the brave little man did not last very long however--the end came apace: sitting in his office one evening in august reading a new york paper, his eyes fell upon a clipping from a georgia paper from the pen of a famous georgia white woman, whose loud cries for the lives of negro rapists had been so very widely read and commented upon during the past year. this particular article referred to the exposure of and the protection of white girls in the isolated districts of the south from lustful brutes. "narrow-souled fool!" exclaimed the editor, throwing the paper upon the floor; "i wonder does she ever think of the negro girls in isolated districts of the south exposed to lustful whites! does she think of those poor creatures shorn of all protection by the men of her race! i guess her soul is too small to be generous a little bit.--'white girls in isolated districts exposed to lustful negro brutes.' colored girls in isolated districts exposed to lustful white brutes; what's the difference? does the negro's ruined home amount to nought? can man sin against his neighbor without suffering its consequences? 'woe unto you scribes and pharisees, hypocrites!' i'll throw a broadside at that old women, so help me god." the editor took up his pen and wrote the retort which shook the old state from mountain to sea, and which enhanced the chances of the white supremacy advocates who were then planning for an uprising in november. "_punish sin because it is sin_," concluded the editor, "_and not because the one who commits it is black._" the article was commented upon by the press throughout the state, and "the affrontery of the negro" in assailing white women bitterly discussed. _the record_ advanced from five to twenty-five cents a copy, so anxious was every one to see what the negro had said to call for such ado. threatening letters began to come in to the editor's office. "leave on pain of death." "stop the publishing of that of paper." "apologize for that slander," etc. but the editor refused to apologize, "suspend or quit." a meeting of citizens was called, and a colored man sent to advise the editor to retract, but he was obdurate. immediately after the departure of the colored advocate, the owner of the building came in and told the editor that he was compelled to ask him to move out. he looked around the office so full of pleasant recollections. the face of "little shunshine," once the writer of the social column whose rolicksome disposition had robbed labor of its irksomeness in the work-room, beamed upon him from far over the seas, and rendered the quitting of the old home a much harder thing to do. but go he must. colored friends hearing of his predicament rallied to his aid, and offered him at least a temporary asylum in one of their buildings. so the office of _the record_ was moved into seventh street. excitement soon abated however, and _the record_ resumed its work. those who are inclined to blame the editor of _the wilmington record_ for the massacre of must remember that the article was written in august, and the massacre occurred in november; and that the editor of that paper did not leave wilmington until a few days before the massacre, upon the urgent advice of friends. the whites of wilmington had need to be afraid of the negroes, and did not attempt to do violence until sufficiently reinforced from the outside, and the black citizens had been cut off from all means of defense. editor manley's reply to the georgia woman was not the cause of the upheaval, but it was an excellent pretext when the election came on. chapter ii. the colonel. there strode out of a humble but neatly furnished dwelling in the southern section of the city of wilmington on a sultry morning in august, , a man not over the average height, neatly dressed in a well-brushed suit of black. his full and well kept beard of mixed gray hung low upon his immaculate shirt front. his head classic and perfectly fashioned, set well poised upon shoulders as perfectly proportioned as an apollo. his gray hair parted upon the side of his head, was carefully brushed over his forehead to hide its baldness, and from beneath abundant shaggy eyebrows, looked forth a pair of cold gray eyes. though past sixty, he was erect, and his step was as firm as a man of thirty. this was "the colonel," typical southern gentleman of the old school, a descendant of the genuine aristocracy, the embodiment of arrogance. the southerners' definition of the term "gentleman" is a peculiar one. the gentleman is born, and there is no possible way for him to lose the title. he is a gentleman, drunk or sober, honest or dishonest, in prison or out of prison. he is a gentleman with the stains of murder unwashed from his hands. it is birth and not character with the southerner, appearance, rather than worth. while in new england settled the tanner, the wheelwright, the blacksmith, the hardy son of the soil who came over to escape religious persecution, and to serve god according to the dictates of his own conscience, with none to molest or make him afraid, in the south there settled england and europe's aristocrat, lazy and self-indulgent, satisfied to live upon the unrequited toil of others. the "colonel," aside from having a brilliant war record, had also a lofty political career in north carolina during and following the reconstruction period. twenty years or more ago he, in the height of his career, was the idol of eastern north carolina. "the silver-tongued orator of the east," his appearance in any town or hamlet was greeted with the greatest enthusiasm. holidays were proclaimed and houses were decked with flags and bunting in honor of the hero of the day and hour. the workman forgot his toil, the merchant his business; old and young, little and big thronged the streets, women raised their little ones in their arms and cried, "see, the colonel comes!" we listened with rapt attention to his superior eloquence, and no man was more deeply rooted in the affections of his people. we esteemed him too high to be low, too lofty in thought and aspiration to do a mean thing. republican aspirants to congress in those days were easily turned down by the colonel who represented that district for three or more terms at the national capitol. but there came a time when the colonel's influence began to wane; whisperings were current that he was indulging too freely in the southern gentleman's besetting sin--poker and mint julips, and that the business of the people whose interests he had been sent to look after was being neglected. still wilmingtonians' confidence in the colonel did not slacken, and when the time for congressional nominations came, we went to fayetteville with bands playing and banners flying, and we cheered ourselves hoarse in order to quicken slumbering interest in the colonel, but failed. cumberland, bladen, mecklinburg and other counties came down unanimously in favor of one shackleford, of the upper section, a name almost unknown to us, and new hanover, which stood alone for the colonel, was defeated. after the expiration of his term in congress the colonel went to his home in wilmington, and resumed the practice of law. the last time that i visited the old city, the colonel was solicitor in the criminal court. he had also moved out of his palatial dwelling on third street, and sought cheaper quarters. twenty years ago he would have scorned the thought of doing this deed which he was now contemplating as he strode down the street on this sultry august morning. "i will carry this election or choke the river with their carcasses," he said slowly to himself. but why this ghastly sentence from the mouth of a representative wilmingtonian? what had plunged the colonel into such a desperate state of mind? poverty! lost honor, unsatisfied ambition. the negro and the "low white" are prospering, holding positions in the city government that rightfully belong to first families who are better qualified to hold said positions and more entitled to the remunerations; but the changing of this order of things cannot be brought about by honest methods, so like the hungry wolf, the colonel is preparing to make a desperate charge to carry the election and place himself in office, even if the streets of the old city flow with blood. yea, although the usual state election time is some distance off, plans have been already secretly perfected not only to carry the election by the democrats, but to reduce the negro majorities by banishment, intimidation and murder. senator ----, by invitation, had visited the state, and advised the carrying of the election with the shotgun, and had offered the loan of five hundred guns from south carolina. merchants, most of them in wilmington, had promised to discharge all colored help who showed a disposition to vote, and had also subscribed to a fund for the purpose of purchasing powder, guns and dynamite. a railroad company operating into the city had subscribed five hundred guns. stump orators had secured the aid of the poor whites both in the city and rural districts by promising them that by assisting to kill and chase the negro from the city, the property owned by the colored citizens would be turned over to them. this was the work of hungry politicians who, to get office told an infamous lie, and were ready to deluge a city in blood just to get into office. certain negroes and white men had been listed for slaughter and banishment. negro men and women who had had any difficulty in which they had gotten the best of a white person before the courts or otherwise, for even ten years back, were to be killed or driven from the city. those who owned houses in white neighborhoods were to be driven out and their property taken. all this was being done quietly while the old city rested peacefully upon this smouldering volcano. the negro, unaware of the doom that awaited him, went quietly about his work; but there were a few white men in the city who, although southerners by birth and education, did not coincide with the methods adopted for the securing of white supremacy. among these was mr. gideon who could not be persuaded to assist in such a movement, even in the minutest way. a few mornings previous to the opening of my story, there had appeared in the columns of a small negro journal edited in wilmington, a short article which had been interpreted as an intent to slander white women. this had thrown the city into a fever of excitement, and dire threats had been made against the editor, and the flocking of the colored people to his aid had made the whites that much more bitter toward negroes in general. but they soon quieted down, and waited the "final day." the colonel feeling assured that this article in the negro journal would be the means of driving all lukewarm whites into line, leisurely strolled on this particular day toward the office of mr. gideon. "why, good morning, colonel!" said mr. gideon, arising from his desk and extending his hand toward the colonel who strode noiselessly across the large office and gently tapped him upon the shoulder. the colonel sank into a chair, and opening the little sheet which he had drawn from his coat pocket, laid it on the desk before mr. gideon. "now, is it not time for white men to act?" mr. gideon made no answer, but fastened his eyes upon the paper before him. the colonel continued, "we have taken care of the negro, paid his taxes, educated his children, tried to show to him that we were more interested in his well-being than the yankee radical carpet-bagger he has chosen to follow; but he has persistently disregarded us, unheeded our advice, rode rough shod over us, and fretted us until patience is no longer a virtue. the negro has reached the end of his rope. emboldened by successful domination, and the long suffering of the white people of this community, this nigger has made an unpardonable attack upon our white women. now, gideon, if this article is not sufficient to stimulate you to join in with your brethren in driving the ungrateful nigger out of wilmington and inducing white labor into it, you are not true to your race." mr. gideon turned in his chair and faced the colonel, "i have previously read the article," he answered slowly "i have read also with--i must say--considerable disgust, the letters on the negro question from the pen of mrs. fells, of georgia, and the editorials of kingston upon the subject; and to tell you the truth, colonel, i must commend the boy for his courage; he was simply defending his race against the attack." the colonel jumped to his feet; "in the name of god, gideon, do you believe that a nigger should answer a white man back?" "under certain circumstances, colonel, i do. mrs. fells style is extremely brazen, and can we expect to harp with impunity upon the shortcomings of the negro? let us blame the right persons; those whose uncalled for assaults provoked the issuing of the article. but that's a small matter just at this time. i have refrained from entering into the scheme of driving out negroes, because i am concerned about the business interests of this city; sit down, colonel, sit down and hear me out. now, when we have driven out the negro, whose to take his place? we have tried the poor white." "why, encourage thrifty emigrants from the north." "thrifty emigrants from the north," echoed mr. gideon. "invite labor unions, strikes, incendiarism, anarchy into our midst. look at illinois; can the south cope with such? the negro we understand; he has stood by us in all of our ups and downs, stood manfully by our wives and children while we fought for his enslavement. after the war we found no more faithful ally than the negro has been; he has helped us to build waste places and to bring order out of chaos. now pray tell me where do we get the right to drive him from his home where he has as much right to dwell as we have?" "then you believe in negro rule?" "no!" "yes you do gideon, or you'd not talk in that manner," replied the colonel, now beside himself with rage. "now, by heaven, we are going to put the negro in his place. look at our city government in the hands of ignorant niggers and carpet baggers. god did not intend that his white faced children were ever to be ruled by black demons," and the colonel rose again and began to pace the floor. "calm yourself, colonel, calm yourself," said mr. gideon. "now we ought to be ashamed of ourselves to raise the cry of negro rule in north carolina, when we so largely outnumber them. i admit that there are objectionable negroes in wilmington, negroes who would greatly benefit the community by leaving it; but shall we slay the righteous with the wicked? must the innocent and guilty suffer alike? ten righteous men would have saved the cities of the plains." "but they could nt be found," interrupted the colonel. "i warrant you they can be found here," calmly replied mr. gideon. "we the white people of this community, have often given expression of our love and even veneration for such characters as alfred howe, henry taylor, john norwood, george ganse, john h. howe, thomas revera, joe sampson, henry sampson, isham quick, and scores of others whom we must, if we do the right thing, acknowledge as the black fathers of this city. thrifty and industrious negroes have always been the objects of the envy of poor whites who will eagerly grasp the opportunity when given, to destroy the property of these people. while it is your object, colonel, to carry the election, and triumph politically, they will murder and plunder, and when once licensed and started, you cannot check them. i see that they are being armed--a dangerous proceeding. take care colonel; i beg you to beware lest those guns in the hands of these people be turned upon you, and the best white people of this community be compelled to quit it. i listened with fear and apprehension a few evenings ago, to fisher's harrangue to the poor whites of dry pond. they will take him at his word, for they are just that ignorant. shall we for the sake of political ascension plunge wilmington into an abyss of shame?" "now, gideon," said the colonel, "your talk is all nonsense, we are trying to extricate wilmington from the slough of infamy into which it has been plunged by radicals. we are going to elevate the white man to his place and regulate sambo to his sphere, if the streets have to flow with blood to accomplish that end. good niggers who know their places will be protected; but these half educated black rascals who think themselves as good as white men, must go. 'nigger root doctors' are crowding white physicians out of business; 'nigger' lawyers are sassing white men in our courts; 'nigger' children are hustling white angels off our sidewalks. gideon, in the name of god, what next? what next?" and the colonel bounded into the air like an indian in a war dance. "white supremacy must be restored, and you gideon will regret the day you refused to assist your white brethren to throw off the yoke of oppression. good day, gideon, good day"; and the colonel stalked out of the office. uncle ephraim, one of the old nimrods who supplied wilmington's markets with savory ducks and rice birds, stood with his gun on the corner of front and market streets that morning, as the colonel briskly strode past on his way from the office of mr. gideon to the court house. "good mawnin co'nel," said uncle ephraim, saluting politely; but the colonel did not as usual pause to crack a joke with the docile old darky; he did not even vouchsafe a nod of recognition, but moved hastily on his way. uncle ephraim stood and wistfully watched the colonel until he turned the corner of second and market streets. "whoop! dar's er pow'ful big load on de co'nel's mine sho. dat white man didn' eben see me; an' i his ole bodysarbant, too." uncle ephraim strode slowly down market street and entered the store of sprague & company. "look yer!" said he, "i wants er bout fo' ounce powder an er few cap." the salesman shook his head. "wa fur yo' shake yer hed, you no got um?" "we are selling nothing of the kind to darkies just now, uncle." "but how i gwine fer kill duck?" the salesman made him no answer. uncle ephraim stood, looked about for a moment, then slowly sauntered into the street, and made his way to joslins, in south front street, but was also refused there. going again to the corner of market and front streets, he saw several white men and boys enter sprague & company and came out armed with shot guns and other fire-arms, and walk briskly away. "de ole boy is gwine to tun heself loose in dis yer town soon; fer i see um in de bery eye ob dese bocra. i can't buy um, but see how de bocra go in an git um. niggah, hit's time ter look er bout,"--and uncle ephraim slowly walked up front street towards morrow's. [illustration] chapter iii. the meeting in the wigwam. three months have passed since the events narrated in the preceeding chapters. chill winds are heralding the approach of winter. wilmington is three months nearer its doom. political warriors are buckling on their armour for the final struggle on the th of november which must result in complete victory for white supremacy, or indefinate bondage to negro domination (?) far out on dry pond in an old meeting house known as the wigwam, the white supremacy league has gathered. the old hall is poorly lighted but it is easy for the observer to see the look of grim determination on the faces of all present. it is a representative gathering. there is the jew, the german, irishman, bourbon aristocrat and "poor bocra." the deacon, the minister of the gospel, the thug and murderer. no one looking upon this strangely assorted gathering in a southern community would for a moment question its significance. only when politics and the race question are being discussed is such a gathering possible in the south. there is a loud rap: the hum of voices ceases. the individual who gives the signal stands at a small table at the end of the long narrow hall. one hand rests upon the table, with the other he nervously toys with a gavel. he is a tall, lean, lank, ungainly chap, whose cheek bones as prominent as an indian's seem to be on the eve of pushing through his sallow skin. a pair of restless black eyes, set far apart, are apparently at times hidden by the scowls that occasionally wrinkle his forehead. his gray hair hangs in thick mats about his shoulders. teck pervis had served in the war of secession under general whiting, and was one of the many demoralized stragglers, who swept before the advancing tide of the union troops scampered through the swamps and marshes after the fall of fort fisher, to find refuge in wilmington. during the reconstruction period and many years following, he, with such characters as sap grant, neal simonds, henry sallins, watson and others, made nights hideous on dry pond by their brawls and frolics. in introducing teck pervis to the reader, i wish to briefly call attention to that peculiar class in the south known as the "poor whites." always an ignorant dependent, entirely different in every respect from the descendants of the huguenots, celt and cavaliers that make up the south's best people; the origin of this being, who since the war has been such a prominent figure in the political uprisings and race troubles, and so on, is worthy of consideration. in the early centuries the english government made of america what in later years australia became--_a dumping ground for criminals_. men and women of the mother country guilty of petty thefts and other misdemeanors were sent to america, bound out to a responsible person to be owned by said person until the expiration of sentence imposed, a stipulated sum of money being paid to the crown for the services of the convict. at the expiration of their term of servitude these subjects were given limited citizenship, but were never allowed to be upon equality with those who once owned them. these indentured slaves and their descendants were always considered with contempt by the upper classes. the advance of american civilization, the tide of progress has arisen and swept over this indolent creature who remains the same stupid, lazy, ignoramus. in connecticut, new york, new jersey, delaware, maryland, virginia, north and south carolina, and throughout the entire south are legion of this people, some of whom could not be taught the rudiments of arithmetic. when african slavery became established in america, white slavery was then tried in australia where the treatment was so severe that thousands of them fled to the woods to become as wild in many instances as the natives. as the introduction of african slavery caused the indentured slave to depreciate in value as bond men, they were converted into overseers, patrolmen, negro drivers to look for and to return runaway negroes to their masters. they were licensed to break up negro frolics, whip the men, and ravish the women. but in the main the poor white subsisted by hunting and fishing. to him work was degrading, and only for "niggers" to do. a squatter upon the property of others, his sole belongings consisted of fishing tackle, guns, a house full of children, and a yard full of dogs. in virginia, north and south carolina he is known as "poor bocra," "poor tackie." in georgia and florida it's "cracker," and there are few readers of current literature who are not familiar with that class of whites known as clay eaters of alabama and mississippi. looked down upon by the upper classes, the poor white before the war was simply a tool for designing politicians. when war between the north and south became iminent, the poor white increased in value; for the aristocrat was adverse to being a common private. so they sought the poor white, appealed to his patriotism, pictured to him the wrongs heaped upon the south, and the righteousness of slavery. they drew glowing pictures of the southern army's invasion of the north to thrash the yankees, and pardon them in faneuil hall. the south freed, was to open her markets to the world. her wealth was to be untold, while grass would grow on the sidewalks of northern cities. every poor white who shouldered a gun was to be elevated out of serfdom, be given forty acres of land, a "nigger" and a mule. enthused by these glowing promises, the southern poor white shouldered his gun and waded in: and no one reviewing the history of that immortal struggle would for a moment question the bravery of the southern soldiers. they fought like demons. they invaded the north. they made the world wonder at gettysburg. here mississippi flushed with pride met pennsylvania's deadly tide and georgia's rash and gallant ride was checked by new york's chivalry. here alabama's rebel yell rang through the valleys down to hell but maine's decisive shot and shell cut short the dreadful revelry. but the south's victorious armies did not reach faneuil hall. the air castles, the hopes of southern prosperity and the poor whites elevation and wealth were blasted, when two years after that gallant dash at gettysburg, that ragged, starved, wretched host surrendered at appomattox. the blasted hopes of the poor white caused him to drift further away from the aristocrat who had fooled him into a foolhardy and disastrous struggle. land was cheap but he hadn't the money to buy it, and the aristocrat didn't have the "nigger" and the mule to give him. he grew lukewarm politically, got his rod and went a fishing. but with the negro freed and enfranchised, and the northern politician on the premises, the vote of the poor white became indispensible to the former southern ruler who wished to hold his own politically. so a new battle cry was made, viz:--"negro domination," "social equality." but so lukewarm had the poor white become, that his song had to be sung with pertinacious fervor to make him do more than pause to listen. "_do you want niggers to marry your daughters? do you want niggers to sit in school beside your children? do you want niggers on the juries trying white men? if you don't want such dreadful calamities to befall the south, go to the polls and do your duty!_" "what'd he say? niggers er marryin our darters? niggers in skule wid we uns? thet aint er goin ter du! le' me see thet ticket!" the southern poor white has never had much of a hankering after "book larning." he's better than the "nigger" and that's all he cares to know. to be white means license to trample upon the rights of others. the cat's paw--the tool of the aristocrat, he stands ready always, to do the dirty work of lynching, burning and intimidation. traveling south, especially on the east coast, the train conductor only has to say to the colored passenger in a first class car but once that he must get out. if the passenger refuses, the conductor need not waste words; a telegram to jessup or way cross, ga., or bartow junction in florida will call together a crowd of crackers, large enough to put the engine off the track if necessary. like the dog in the manger, unable to pay for a first class ride himself, the poor white squats about railroad stations and waits for the opportunity to eject some prosperous negro. i have known as many as two hundred to swarm around a train to put off one frail woman not over ninety pounds in weight. this is the creature that is held up continually before the negro as his superior--an assertion that will ever be met with strong resistance. for while the negro was a slave he is not a descendant of criminals. "gentermen," said teck pervis, "whils we air waitin fur ther kernul and other big uns ter errive, as cheerman uv the dry pond white supreemacy leeg, i wish ter keep this here meet'n warm by makin' er few broken remarks"--"go ahead teck, give us a speech" came from more than a dozen throats; "i wanter say jes here" he continued "thet ther white folks uv wilmington, north caliny hav tuk and stood nigger biggitty and hifullutin carryins on with moe patience then eny folks on top side er this green yerth" (laughter and applause). "we po uns have jes layed er roun an slep till mr. nigger has trotted so fur er hed that i am feared we wont be able ter over take him." (laughter). "they air in better houses then we po white uns, thur chilan air er wearin better cloes an er gittin moe larnin then our'n. an gentermen surs jes tackle eny er them little uns er'n an they'd surprise yer; why they kin spit latin faster then er terbacky worm kin spit terbacky. (laughter). who give ther nigger ther stick ter break our heads? _who done it i say?_ you rich white uns, thets who;" "but we'll do it no longer," said a voice from the audience. "we uns hepped yer ter fite yer battles," continued teck, "an when thet war was ended, we did'n git ther nigger an mule yer promised, but we uns did' n kick powerful hard agin yer bekase yer did'n hev em ter giv us." (laughter). "but you uns could er giv we uns ther wurk instid uv givin it ter good fur nuthin nigger bekase we po uns hev voted yer ticket rite er long an kep yer in office-- "i see ther kurnels on hand' so i giv way fur im," and teck pervis advanced to where the colonel had paused to remove his overcoat. "whats the matter with the colonel? he's all right!" was uttered with a ring that shook the old wigwam. the colonel, escorted by teck pervis, leisurely strutted to the centre of the hall. the colonel had seen the time when he would have scorned the idea of being introduced to an audience by a low white. "oh vain boast! who can control his fate?" he is now as poor as the poorest indentured slave, seeking to feed at the public crib by appealing to the passions and prejudices of the masses. "gentlemen," says he, "it is needless for me to ask you to night whether or not you believe that the anglo-saxon race was ordained by god to rule the world. it is needless for me to say that the anglo-saxon proposes to carry out god's decree to the letter. (applause). when god made man, he placed him over every other living creature to rule and govern, and that man was a white man. (applause). when god said to man 'have dominion over the beasts of the field,' he meant to include inferior races. these inferior races are to be kept in subjection by their superiors, and wherever and whenever they assume to dominate their superiors we are justified by our creator in using every means available to put them down. the white people of north carolina, the curled darlings of god's favor have by their long suffering gotten into such a state of subjection that it is time to act. (applause). wherever the saxon has planted his foot, he has been a civilizer. he came to america, drove out the savage and made it the greatest nation on the face of the earth, (applause) and he has the right to govern it in its entirety from the humblest official to the executive head of the nation, (prolonged applause). we have for years been dominated by semi-civilized barbarians, flattered into the belief that they are as good as white people by unprincipalled yankee carpet-baggers who have profited by their ignorance. emboldened by the leniency of their superiors, negroes have become unbearable. the government is corrupt, and so bold has the negro become that the virtue of our women has been assailed by that black rascal, the editor of _the record_--(cries of kill him! burn the scoundrel!) the snake is not to be scorched this time: we are going to make a clean sweep, and permanently restore white man's government. our friends in other sections of the state, and even in adjoining states are in sympathy with us, and are willing to come in and help us," etc. but why weary the reader with the colonel's firey harangue? although there is no foundation for such incendiary language the reader will soon see just how much misery it wrought upon a defenseless people. fanned into fury by the rehearsing of imaginary wrongs by gifted tongues, the mob when once started astonished its leaders, who quailed and looked aghast at the hellish work they had inaugurated. chapter iv. mrs. amanda pervis. "whew! dis here win is er blowin pow'ful col fer octoby. ther ol sow was er tot'n straw yistedy and that means winter aint fur off. shoo there! i never seed ther beat er thet ol hen; make hase ter gulp her own co'n down ter driv ther turkeys way from their'n." thus spoke mrs. amanda pervis as she stood in the door of her humble wooden dwelling on kidder's hill a brisk morning in october. "thanksgiving haint fur off, an turkey meat's er gittin high. shoo ther yer hussy!" "who air yu er talkin ter mandy?" said her husband coming to the door and peeping over his wife's shoulder. "i tho't er trader er some sort wus er passin." the wife turned and looked astonished at her husband. "why fer ther lan sake, what's er comin over ye teck pervis? i tho't yer'd be fas er sleep after bein so late ter meetin las nite. i tho't yer'd tak yer res bein yer haint er goin er fishin!" "i felt kinder resliss like, and i tho't i jes es well be er gittin up," answered teck, plunging his face into the basin of cool spring water that his wife had placed on the shelf beside the door. "well hit won't tak me long ter git breakfus reddy," and mrs. pervis darted into the kitchen. teck pervis dipped his hands into the basin, poured the cool water on his head until his gray hair hung in thick mats over his face then leisurely drawing the towel from the nail beside the door, lazily wiped his head and face. the smell of fried bacon and delicious coffee arose from the kitchen; the rattling of dishes was to him sufficient token of the putting of victuals on the table. teck pervis sauntered in, sat down folded his arms upon the table, and sheepishly watched his wife as she flitted from place to place in the humble little kitchen. mrs. pervis paused, and her eyes met her husband's gaze. "well what in ther wor'l is ter matter teck pervis? why air ye gazin at me so dis mornin, turn yer cup and tak yer coffy." "we uns had er interestin meetin las night," he said meekly. "well mus yer put on er graveyard face ter day bekase yer had er interestin meetin las night? don't put so much gravy on yer rice, hits ergin yer helth. maria tappin tol me yestidy thet her brother tom was to be nitiated las night with er good meny other uns, an i 'lowed i'd here erbout hit, as my husban was er goin. now yer air talkin erbout er interestin meetin the candidates muster all bin on han." teck pervis looked pleadingly at his wife. mrs. pervis went on: "i am glad yer went ter loge meetin; er lot er them red shirt varmints cum er roun las night er lookin fer yer to go with em ter that wigwam, and i was proud ter tell em that my husban' was not in politicks when it cum to killin colud folks ter git inter office, an that truth hit em so hard dey sneaked." teck shuddered. during a series of revivals in the free will baptist church during the summer teck pervis had professed religion. a fierce struggle was going on 'neath his rugged breast. must he tell the truth. the best whites were there even ministers of the gospel; but then preachers are not always on the right side; and teck pervis had promised his wife that he'd not allow himself to be a tool for hungry broken down aristocrats who only wished to use the poor as cats' paws. he took a big swallow of coffee, drummed nervously with his fingers upon the table. "i jes es well tell yer ther plain truth, mandy," he said finally, "i got wi ther boys las night and went ter ther wigwam, an was made cheerman ov ther meetin. they lowed thet hit wus ter be ther mos importent meetin in ther campain, an hit wus time fer white men ter be er standin tergither." "teck pervis," exclaimed the wife, "hev i bin er rastlin'in prayer an pleadin ter ther lawd in vain? didn't i beg yer not ter fergit yer religin in jine-in in wid sinners in doin eval?" "there aint er goin ter be eny killin done, mandy, we air jes er goin ter skeer ther niggers way from ther polls, an keep um frum votin." "i know all erbout hit," broke in mrs. pervis. "hit will en' in murder, for yer know thet niggers won't be drove." "why all ther big guns war there mandy; merchints, lawyers, docters an ev'n preachers." "laws e massy me!" exclaimed mrs. pervis. "an if ther shepod wus ther, yer kaint blame ther flock." "teck pervis did i understan yo ter say that--" "don't git excited, mandy, yer jes es well git use ter ther new tern things air takin. them preachers war thar bekase they sed hits time fur white uns ter stan tergither. radicul rule mus be put down." mrs. pervis crossed her hands upon the table and looked resigned. "teck, do tell me what preachers war they?" "why ef yo own minister wus'n thar hiself i hope er hoppergrass may chaw me." "teck pervis, do ye mean ter tell me thet brother jonas melvin wus at thet meetin?" "yes, and hoosay too, thet presberteen man thet sines his name with er dubble d hung on ter ther een." "jonas melvin is er windin up his kerrare in free will church. we'll hev no sich men fumblin wi ther werd ev god in our pulpit. i never did think them presbyteens hed eny religin no way. they air full of book larnin, but havn't bin tech wit ther sparit. this hussy is lik ther res er these hi tone preachers thet hang on ter this docterin thet ther yerth moves insted uv ther sun." "hoosay mandy. why don't yer tak proper! hoosay!" "well, he jes oughter be named hussy, fur he is er hussy. when ole sat'n meets them two at the cross-road thars er goin ter be er tussle now i tell yer." "well now yer know thet ther scripter says cussed be canyon, least wise thets the way brother melvin splained hit tother night, cussed be canyon means cussed be niggers." "now teck pervis, wher is yer proof thet the scripter ment nigger? i aint rusty un ther scripter ef i am er gittin ole." "now, mandy, yer know ther scripter reads thet canyon was the son er ham an wus cussed bekase his daddy laffed at ole noey, bekase when he layed down ter sleep he didn't pull the kivver on his self proper like. when de ole man woke up the tother boys tole him what ham hed done, he cussed canyon ham's son, and sed sarvant of sarvants shill he be. ham wus ther nigger boy in ther family, and we uns air carin out ther edicts of ther scripter when we try ter keep the nigger cussed. sarvant ov sarvants shill he be, an we air--" "hol on, teck pervis," exclaimed his wife. "let me git in er word kinder catiwompus like et leas. now we air all ther time er lookin fer scripter ter back us up in our devalmint. ther scripter don't say thet god'l mighty cussed canyon, it says thet noey cussed him, an ef noey hed kep sober an b'haved hisself he wouldenter hed ter cuss at eny body. whose teachin air we er follerin? ole noey's er our blessed lawd an saviour? he sed all things what soiver ye wood thet men should do ter yo, do ye evan so ter thim. have yer back slided an fergot yer religin erready teck pervis?" teck was dumb. "yo red shirts ruff riders an broke down ristecrats kin go on an do yer devilment but mark what mandy pervis says, god'l mighty will giv yu uns ther wurk er yer hans." "why, mandy, yo ought ter git er license ter preach, why you kin spit scripter lik er bon evangilis," and teck pervis reached over and slapped his wife upon the shoulder. this compliment from her husband stimulated the old lady to more earnest effort. "now look er here," she continued. "what do them risticrats kere er bout the likes er we? in slave times we war not as good as their niggers an ef we didn't get out ther way on the road, they'd ride their fine critters plum over us. they hed no use fer we uns unless hit wus ter use us fer somethin. whan ther war broke out, of course they wanted der po'uns ter do ther fightin, an they kill me ole daddy bekase he would'n jine em. he didn't think it right ter tak up an fight agin the union; an i can't fergit thet you'ns who did go ter ther fight ware promis'd er nigger an er mule. but did yer git em?" teck pervis winced. mrs. pervis continued. "now sich es ole wade an moss teele an uthers air hungry ter git er bite at ther public grip, so they throw out bait fer yo uns ter nibble; an yer air fools ernuff ter nibble. jane snow tells me thet all ther big bug niggers er goin ter be driv out, and we uns will git ther property and wash up in ther churches." "thet wus promused," broke in teck. "but who hes ther rite ter tek them critters property an giv hit ter yo uns?" replied mrs. pervis. "teck pervis yo may mark my words, but jes es soon es them broken down ristocrats git er hol of ther gov'mint, jes es soon es yo po fools help them, then yer kin go." teck pervis glared at his wife like a fierce beast at bay. he was teck pervis of old, the defiant, blood-thirsty rebel in the rifle pit glaring over the breastworks at the enemy. "wese got ther guns!" he thundered, bringing his fist down upon the table, "an ef they dont give ther po' uns er show when ther city is took, why! we'd jes es leave kill er ristercrat as er nigger, and we uns will do it. wat yo say is right frum start to finish. we uns air watchin um; wese got ther guns, an we uns'll hold em till we see how things air goin ter wurk. reach up there an han me my pipe mandy." chapter v. molly pierrepont. "sweet and low, sweet and low wind of the western sea low, low, breathe and blow wind of the western sea over the rolling waters go, come from the dying moon and blow blow him again to me while my little one, while my pretty one sleeps." this sweet old lullaby of longfellow's, sung by a rich soprano voice floated upon the cool october air out from a beautiful and richly furnished suburban cottage in wilmington. the singer sat alone at the piano. though vulgarly called a "negress," her skin was almost as fair as a saxon's; and because of the mingling of negro blood--more beautiful in color. she was gowned in an evening dress of gossamer material, ashes of rose in color. her hair let out to its full length hung in silky profusion down her back. there were plain old fashioned half moon rings in her ears, and bands of gold upon her bare arms enhanced their beauty. no one will deny that among the women of mixed blood in the south, there are types of surpassing beauty. the inter-mixture of negro and saxon, negro and spanish and indian blood gives the skin a more beautiful color than exists in the unadulterated of either race. while the mulatto and octoroon may reveal the saxon in the fairness of the skin, the negro reinforcement shows itself generally in the slight inclination of the lips toward thickness, the lustrious black of the eye and hair which is generally abundant and slightly woolly in texture. this is brought out plainly in the case of the jew. although centuries have passed since the jews very extensively amalgamated with the dark races of egypt and canaan, their dark complexions, lustrous black eyes, abundant woolly hair plainly reveal their hamatic lineage. to pass through the bowery or lower broadway in the great metropolis at an hour when the shop and factory girl is hurrying to or from her work, one is struck by the beauty of jewish womanhood. king david's successful campaigns placed solomon over large dominions of moabitish and canaanitish peoples; and for the stability of his kingdom, solomon took wives out of all of these nationalities; and solomon's most favored wife was his black princess, naamah, the mother of rehoboam, his successor. the poet describes naamah as the "rose of sharon, the most excellent of her country." the marriage of solomon to his black princess was the most notable of any of his marriages; for that wonderful poem, "solomon's songs," is mainly a eulogy to this one of his many wives. "i am black but comely, o ye daughters of jerusalem as the tents of kedar, as the curtains of solomon. look not upon me because i am black, because the sun hath looked upon me." in the most beautiful language in the gift of the poets of that day solomon converses with naamah in the following dialogue: "return, return o shulamite; return, return that we may look upon thee." naamah, "what will you see in shulamite?" solomon, "as it were a company of two armies." we have conclusive evidence that the southern gentleman did, and does sing such love ditties, and talk sweet nothings to the southern black woman, and the woman of mixed blood, but unlike solomon, he is too much of a coward to publicly extol her. during the slave period in the west indian islands a child born to a slave woman shared the fortunes of its father; and if the father was free, so was the child. but the american slave holder reversed that law so that he could humble the bond-woman and damn her offspring with impunity. upheld by the law the southerner sold his own daughter and sister into a life of shame. the pretty negress and the woman of mixed blood brought extortionate prices in southern markets. northern sympathizers may talk of the new south, and the southern orator may harp upon the shortcomings of the "inferior race," but on this line of thought and conduct, the southern whites have not changed one whit. before the war, sambo only had a quit-claim on his black or mulatto wife, and now the laws are so framed that he cannot defend the woman of his race against the encroachments of his white brother, who looks at the destruction of the negro woman as only an indiscretion. the humble black fool is often forced away from his own wife or sweet-heart at the point of a revolver, cowed by the feeling that a manly stand against a white man might cause incalculable loss of life. yet the advocate of lynch law pictures this humble fellow, this man who is afraid to attempt to defend his own home, as a reckless dare-devil, keeping the whites in constant terror. how incompatible these two traits of character. no; it is not the reckless dare deviltry of the negro that terrorizes the south, but the conscience of the white man whose wrong treatment of a defenseless people fills him with fear and intensifies his hatred. he is determined to fill to overflow his cup of iniquity. like macbeth, he has waded in so far, that to return were as tedious as to go over. it matters not how loud the southerner shouts about "the good-for-nothing nigger," he still has the same old anti-bellum liking for the women of that race. bishop turner is the only honest and earnest advocate of negro emigration, the others have only a half-hearted leaning in that direction. if it were possible for emigration to become a reality, the southern whites would be the hardest kickers against the scheme. the only beneficiaries from this wonderful enterprise would be the steamship companies; for after the hundreds of years of transportation are over, then excursion parties would be the order of the day for time immemorial. our southern gentleman will not be deprived of the negro woman. there is no ocean too wide for him to cross; no wall too high for him to scale; he'd risk the fires of hell to be in her company, intensely as he pretends to hate her. wilmington, north carolina, the scene of that much regretted phenomenon--the fatal clashing of races in november, , was not, and is not without its harems, its unholy minglings of shem with ham; where the soft-fingered aristocrat embraces the lowest dusky sirene in paddy's hollow, and thinks nothing of it. molly pierrepont whom i introduce to the reader in this chapter, is a type of negro women whose progress along ennobling avenues is more hotly contested than any other woman in the south, because of her beauty. to decide between the honor with poverty offered by the black man and the life of ease with shame offered by the white one is her "gethsemine." yet where love of honor has conquered, she has made a devoted wife and a loving mother. such a character as molly pierrepont was an exclusive luxury for gentlemen. the poor white could not afford to support a mistress who of course went to the highest bidder. ben hartright left the wigwam before the close of the meeting in which he was so deeply interested, and proceeded directly to molly's cottage; but he did not notice as he tipped lightly through the gate a cloaked and veiled form crouching down in the bushes a few yards away. he heard not the light footsteps as it drew nearer to be sure that there was no mistaking the visitor. ben hartright entered boldly; knocking was unnecessary, he was master there. the furniture and hangings were all his purchase, even the expensive jewels that the woman wore. the figure on the outside drew still closer, peered in, tip-toed upon the piazza, pressed the ear against the window to catch as much as possible of what went on within. only a few minutes did it tarry however. as the door swung open, molly arose from the piano and advanced with outstretched arms to meet him. "hello, ben! i thought you were to be here by eight to-night." ben hartright sank upon a sofa and gently drew the girl down beside him before he assayed to answer her. "well, molly, you must remember that i am in politics now," he said, kissing her fondly, "and i must attend the different meetings, business before pleasure you know. we are in the most exciting period of the campaign; a campaign the like of which has never before been experienced in north carolina. we are organized and determined to save the state to the democratic party and make white supremacy an established fact if we have to kill every nigger and nigger-hearted white man in it. to make assurance doubly sure, we are arming ourselves, and seeing to it that no nigger shall buy an ounce of powder, and every nigger man and woman is to be searched and what weapons they have taken away that no white man's life may be endangered. there are some niggers and white men who must be killed, and they are carefully listed." ben hartright unbosomed to molly the plots of the white supremacy league in all its blood-curdling details, naming every man and woman who were to be the victims of the mob's fury. "do you think that a very brave thing to do?" asked molly at the conclusion of ben's recital. "oh, anything is fair in dealing with niggers," answered ben. but the look of astonishment in molly's black eyes suddenly brought ben hartright to the full realization that he was revealing the secrets of his klan to one of the race he was plotting to massacre. "of course we don't include such as you, molly," he said, lightly tapping her on the shoulder. "you are no nigger, you are nearly as white as i am." "nearly as white," echoed molly with a sneer. "do you mean to try to choke it down my throat that my whiteness would save me should your people rise up against niggers in wilmington? honestly, ben hartright, do you mean that?" molly arose from the sofa and stood up before her lover that she might the better study his face. hartright was silent. in southern legislative halls white minorities in old reconstruction days ruled republican majorities by appealing to the vanity of light-skinned negro representatives. "you are almost white, why vote with them niggers?" ben hartright was using the old tactics; he had realized that he perhaps had been careless with his secrets. "what i really mean, molly, is that you are a friend of white people--that is you are not one of those nigger wenches who want to be er--er--ladies--that want nigger dudes to raise their hats to them--want to be like white people you know." "i understand," said molly. "we white gentlemen believe in having colored girl friends, and we always stand by them no matter what happens." molly momentarily eyed the ceiling. "benny, did you ever read uncle tom's cabin?" "yes, i have," answered ben, but it has been too long ago to remember very much of its contents. "why? everybody should read that book it seems to me; read and read again cassie's story of her love for the man who after promising to protect and defend her, sneaked away and sold her. cassie was almost white. cassie was a white man's friend, and to that man she was true; but cassie's story of betrayal, disappointment, misery at the hands of that long haired brute who afterwards became her master, would make the strongest heart weep. _you will stand by your colored girl friend._ perhaps you think you would, but i doubt it, ben hartright. when that time comes that the two races are arrayed against each other, my fair complexion will be of no avail. i am a nigger, and will be dealt with as such, even by the man who now promises me protection." ben hartright quailed under molly's biting sarcasm. he was unprepared for this change of front on the part of his mistress. his pretention of love were not sufficient to create in molly a feeling of security. "then d'm it all! you as good as tell a gentleman to his teeth that he lies then?" said he doggedly. "no; i don't mean to say that you lie. what you say to me _now_, you may earnestly mean, but under circumstances just mentioned, you would deny that you ever knew me. what you have revealed tonight concerning your aims and plots, portrays to my mind just who and what you are, and just who and what i am. samson has revealed his secret to his delilah, and its delilah's duty to warn her people of the dangers that await them. men whose lives are threatened must be warned; women who are in danger of being ignominiously dealt with must be put upon their guard; must know that these defenders of virtue, these southern gentlemen who are thirsting for the blood of a slanderer (?) of white women are hypocrites, who strain out a gnat and swallow a camel." "by the thunder, what do you mean by such language?" and ben hartright arose from the sofa and glared at the girl, his eyes flashing. "do you know that you are talking to a gentleman?" "be careful," said molly, "you wouldn't have the women for whom you would be so chivalrous know who ben hartright _really is_, would you?" "why, what's the matter molly?" said hartright in a more subdued voice. "have you joined the sanctified band?" "no; but i realize as never before just who and what i am, and your trying to flatter me into the belief that i am better than black women who try to be pure, is a revelation to me who and what _you are_. there are men whom you have named to be killed whose only offense is that they are respectable and independent; and women who are hated because they are not easy victims such as i am--women who will live honestly upon bread and water. these are colored people who have so much confidence in the better class of white people, that they would not believe that such a plot is being laid for their destruction." ben hartright put his arms around molly's waist. "i thought you were a true friend of white people, molly; but i find that you are not, so let's drop the unpleasant subject. if the niggers keep away from the polls, and don't attempt to run a ticket, there will be no trouble; but if they persist in defying the whites, there'll be hell. but all pretty nigger gals such as you will be all right." "unhand me!" said molly, twisting herself from his grasp. "go tell your hypocritical associates in crime that the deed they are about to commit will recoil upon their own heads, and upon the heads of their children." "but--er--now molly--" "go!" hissed molly, pointing to the door. ben hartright walked slowly to the door paused and wistfully eyed molly who stood with uplifted hand pointing in that direction. "oh, you are quite full of race pride just now, but when it comes to deciding between the easy life that a white man pays for and nigger drudgery, you'll doubtless change your tune. i leave you to reflect." hartright walked out. molly sank upon the sofa and buried her face in her hands. "how true!" she sobbed. "what have i done?" but she rose and her anguish was gone in a twinkling. "easy life! drudgery! but _here i swear from this hour molly pierrepont will live no longer such a life_." ben hartright reached his home in orange street about three o'clock, noiselessly opened the door and strode up to his apartments, thinking he would get to bed without disturbing his young wife; but she was not there. the bed remained as it was when the chambermaid left it that morning, after giving it its finishing touches. ben hartright looked about the room in wild amazement. he drew out his watch, scanned its face eagerly. "by ginger!" he exclaimed, "it's past three o'clock. wonder where is emily? this is indeed something unusual." thinking perhaps that his child might have taken ill during the night and that his wife had remained in the nurse's room with it, he crossed the hall and rapped upon the door; a second rap brought the nurse to the door rubbing her eyes. "what's the matter, fannie; is the baby sick?" "no, sah!" answered the girl. "isn't miss emily in there?" "no, sah; mr. benny she aint in heah, sah." "_where in the thunder is she then?_" roared ben hartright, now beside himself with rage. "_is this the way you look after your mistress?_" and he seized the already frightened girl by the shoulders and shook her vigorously, turned away before she could utter a word of excuse, and bounded down to his mother's apartments. mrs. hartright, aroused by the noise above, was just emerging from her door to learn the cause of it all. "why, what's the matter, son?" she questioned gently, as ben, both angry and frightened, strode up to where she stood. "didn't you hear me asking fannie where emily is? didn't you know that she hasn't been in her room, and here it is nearly four o'clock in the morning!" "emily went out just after tea, and i thought she had returned," answered the mother. "perhaps she went walking with some of her girl friends, was taken ill and had to stop at one of their homes. wait benny, i'll dress and help you to look for her." ben hartright turned and walked slowly to the door and paused to wait for his mother. there was a turn of the door latch, a vigorous twist of a key in the lock; the door flew open and emily hartright walked in. she apparently did not see her husband who stood and eyed her angrily as she entered and began to ascend the steps to her room. "emily," said ben, following and seizing his wife by the arm. "are you mad, if not explain this extraordinary conduct of yours. where have you been?" she turned, gazed into her husband's eyes for a moment, then with one vigorous tug, she wrenched her arm from his grasp and proceeded up the steps. the mother by this time had joined her son, and they both followed the young lady who had entered her room and was removing her wraps. "what's the matter my darling?" said mrs. hartright, throwing her arms around her daughter's waist. "i was so troubled about you. what kept you out so late, emily?" "wait, mother, until i have rested and composed myself, then i will explain," answered emily, softly. ben had sank into a chair and sat with his chin resting upon the palm of his hand. emily sat upon the side of the bed. "men go night after night," she said, "stay as long as they please, and return in whatever condition they please; and to queries of their wives, they are evasive in their answers; but when a woman takes the privilege of exercising her rights--" "_her rights_," roared ben, jumping to his feet. "a lady goes out of her residence, leaves her servant and relatives in ignorance of her destination, returns at four o' clock in the morning to tell anxious husband and mother about _her rights_! we'll have a direct explanation from you, mrs. hartright, without preambling." "i'll not be bullied, ben hartright," answered the young wife calmly. "remember that when you married _me_, you didn't marry a chambermaid or housekeeper, but a lady of one of the first families of virginia, and such people brook _no bullying_," and emily arose and glared at her husband like a tigress. ben hartright quailed. never had he seen his little wife in such a state of anger and defiance. "if you are man enough to reveal your whereabouts until the small hours of the morning, you can tell where your wife was." ben hartright raised his eyes from the floor and looked at his wife in amazement. "when you entered the house of your mistress, molly pierrepont, to-night, i saw you. i, your _wife_, whom _you_ swore to honor and protect, saw you. she saw you embrace and kiss a negro woman, the woman of a race whom you pretend to despise, and whom you and your pals are secretly scheming to cold bloodedly murder and drive from their homes. take care! god knows your hypocrisy and the deeds you commit will recoil upon your own heads." "emily, are you mad?" gasped the elder lady who stood as if transfixed to the floor. "ask him," returned the young lady, "he knows whether or not i utter the truth, or whether i am a victim of a beclouded brain. he knows that he has wronged me; he knows that he has lied to me. i care not for your frowns. _you_ a gentleman? you hate niggers, yet you can embrace one so fondly. i will no longer live with such a gentleman, who night after night under the excuse of 'clubs' and 'business' spends his time away from his wife, and in company of a negro woman. i am going home to my people." "now, emily," said the elder mrs. hartright, "don't start a scandal; remember that you are a southerner. southern people do not countenance the airing of unpleasant family matters!" "yes," replied the young lady, "this fear of airing family troubles on the part of our women, has made us slaves, while the men are licensed to indulge in all manner of indecencies with impunity. i will be the first southern woman to sever the chain of 'formality,' and cry aloud to the world that i leave my husband because of his unfaithfulness. it is my right, and i will exercise that right." ben who had again sank into his seat arose and advanced toward his wife to sue for forgiveness. "don't touch me!" she cried, with uplifted hand. "the cup is full. go back to her who has monopolized the best portion of your time since you have married me." ben hartright sank again into his chair and buried his face into his hands. "now, my darlings, let mother be the daysman between you," said the elder mrs. hartright, coming near carressing the young wife. "benny knows just to what extent he has wronged you my dear, and i believe him honest enough and manly enough to acknowledge it, and sue for forgiveness. i leave you to yourselves. god grant that you may be enabled to peacably settle your difficulties satisfactorily to you both, without giving license to madame gossip. god bless you." kissing emily, mrs. hartright descended to her room. ben hartright succeeded in patching up matters with his wife by promising to live a more honest life, only to break it, which caused her to make good her threat and leave him. chapter vi. the union aid society holds a meeting. the home of mrs. west was one of the many snug little cottages owned by the colored inhabitants of that section of wilmington known as "camp land." it also had the distinction of facing campbell street, the main thoroughfare of that portion of the city. although mrs. west knew something of slavery as it existed in north carolina, she was free born; her grandfather having purchased his freedom, and afterwards that of the rest of the family before her birth. the rule that the free negro was a shiftless being more to be pitied than envied by slaves, was not without many exceptions in north carolina. there were many negroes in old north carolina who by grasping every opportunity to earn an extra dollar by working for neighboring planters when their own tasks were done, and making such useful articles as their genius could contrive, often after years of patient toiling and saving would often astonish their masters by offering to purchase their freedom. there were others who paid to their masters annually a specified sum of money for their time, that they might enjoy the control of their own affairs as much as possible. for many years before the war my father did public carting in the town of fayetteville as a free-man, his master receiving a certain amount of his earnings. of course there were free negroes whose conception of freedom was a release from manual toil, and who like poor whites, lived a shiftless indolent life, following the sunshine in winter and the shade in summer. free negroes in north carolina had the right to purchase property and enjoy other limited privileges. the parents of mrs. west, known as burchers, emigrated to the west in the forties, where their children could be educated. after the war mrs. west, with her husband whom she had met and married in ohio, returned to north carolina, prepared to enter upon the work of uplifting the newly emancipated of their unfortunate race; and now well advanced in years, she could look over many years of active useful service in the cause of her people. it was the evening for the regular monthly meeting of the union aid society of which mrs. west was president, and several members had already arrived; but in such a season such business for which a society of this kind was organized would doubtless be neglected, so pregnant was the air with the all absorbing subject--politics. but the union aid society is composed exclusively of women. what of that? some of our most skilled politicians in the south are among the women of both races. although they do not take the stump and sit upon platforms in public assemblages, they are superior house-to-house canvassers, and in their homes noiselessly urge the men to do their duty. for earnest persistence and true loyalty to the party of her choice, the negro woman of the south outdoes her sister in white. give the ballot to the women of the south, and give her dusky daughters an equal show, and a solid south would be a thing of the past; for the negro woman is the most loyal supporter of republican principles in that section. so radical is the negro woman, that it is worth a husband's, or brother's, or sweetheart's good standing in the home or society to assay to vote a democratic ticket. such a step on the part of a negro man has in some instances broken up his home. the spartan loyalty of the southern white woman to the confederacy and the lost cause was not more marked than is the fidelity of the negro woman to that party which stood for universal freedom and the brotherhood of man, and whose triumphant legions so ignominiously crushed freedom's sullen and vindictive foe. although the government provides for the annual placing of a small flag upon the grave of each of the thousands of heroes now sleeping in the southland, it is the dusky fingers of the negro woman, perfumed by the sweet incense of love and gratitude that places the lilac, the rose and forget-me-not there. the northern white woman in the south, in order to maintain her social caste, generally allows her patriotism to cool. but the negro woman sings patriotic airs on each th of may as she twines wreaths of pine to lay upon the graves of those _who died for her_. of course, these women who had gathered in the parlor of mrs. west's cottage were intensely interested in the coming election in wilmington, and were ready to discuss the event with all the fervor of their patriotic souls. "ladies," said mrs. west after the prayers had been said, and the minutes of the previous meeting read, "i confess that for the first time since my election to the presidency of this society, i feel an inclination to waive the transaction of its regular business, so depressed am i over events now crowding upon us." "i believe thats the case with every one," answered mrs. cole. "i have received a letter from the chairman of the executive committee," continued mrs. west, "stating that so grave is the situation all over the state that he is advised by the governor himself to withdraw republican candidates from the field--a request without a precedent in north carolina." "it would never do to show such cowardice!" said mrs. cole. "if i were chairman of that committee i'd put the ticket in the field and go to the polls if the devils were around it as thick as shingles upon a housetop." "i was of the same mind" answered mrs. west, "but when the governor of the state--when brave daniel lane has become apprehensive, i can appreciate the gravity of the situation. i have seen that man walk undismayed through the streets of wilmington during very turbulent periods in her history. i see that in the upper section of the state the democrats have already organized red shirt brigades who are riding through the rural districts terrorizing negroes, and we may look for the same to take place in wilmington. silas writes that they are determined to carry the election. he has received two threatening letters and is afraid. you are aware that that monster has been, and is advising the whites in our state to copy south carolina's method of carrying elections, and they are heeding his advice. i am compelled to acknowledge despite my previous confidence in the integrity and honesty of our north carolina white people that my faith is getting shaky. the buying of guns and other weapons by poor whites who are often unable to buy food, means something. it means that the rich are going to use them to perform the dirty work of intimidation and murder if necessary to carry this election." "colored men must show their manhood, and fight for their rights," exclaimed mrs. wise the secretary who had laid down her pen and was attentively listening to the president's talk. "but how are they to do it?" asked mrs. west; "my son tells me that there is not a store in the city that will sell a negro an ounce of powder. the best thing to do--if such things should happen--is to stay in our homes, and advise the men to be cool. rashness on their part would be all the excuse the unprincipalled whites would want to kill them. editor manly's reply to mrs. fell's letter in august is now brought forward to be used by their stump orators to fan the flames of race hatred." "i wish he hadn't written it," interrupted mrs. cole. "it was a truth unwisely said," answered mrs. wise, "and by a man who meant to defend his own; so let us make the best of it. i would not have editor manly feel for a moment that we are such ingrates as to say anything against him." "the most important thing that i intended to mention, and which makes me feel that our situation is a critical one," continued mrs. west, "was a letter that came this morning from molly pierrepont." "molly pierrepont!" echo every one almost in one breath. "poor erring girl!" said mrs. wise slowly. "what has happened her?" "molly has written me a long and even affectionate letter. she writes, '_ben hartright confided to me the other night the ghastly plans of the rough riders, a band made up from the most respectable of the whites. they are to be reinforced from all over the state, and even from other states for the purpose of killing and driving from wilmington objectionable blacks and whites, john holloway, nicholas mcduffy, editor manly, john brown, lawyers scott, moore and henderson, george z. french, thomas miller, ariah bryant, mclane lofton, pickens and bell and others of prominence and independenence are to be special marks of vengeance. i beg you my dear aunt betty, warn these people. i shall take it upon myself to give the alarm, for these are my people._' "there is some good in this wayward child after all," said mrs. west, pushing her spectacles back, and looking up. "but who of these people would believe that such was in store for them? these men would not leave their homes without a severe struggle." "the government should protect its citizens in their rights," said mrs. wise. "government? bah!" answered mrs. west. "here's the highest official of the state afraid for his own life." "well if the governor is incapable of coping with the situation, the president has the power to send in the troops," said mrs. cole. "yes, but will he use that power? i don't believe mckinley is going to do anything to offend the southern whites if they kill every negro in the south. the interests of an alien race are too trivial to risk the sundering of the ties that are supposed by the north to bind the two sections. each state according to the southern view, is a sovereignty itself, and can kill and murder its inhabitants with impunity. there is no john brown, beecher, nor sumner, nor douglass, garrison, phillips and others of that undaunted host who were willing and did risk persecution and death for us; this generation has not produced such precious characters. god is our only helper and we must look to him for deliverance. we are living too well for the broken down aristocrats and poor whites who are disappointed because we are not all domestics. "molly expresses her intention to call, and i was hoping she would come before you all left. perhaps you know molly pierrepont, for a woman of her reputation cannot help being known to a small community; but you are not all aware of the fact that i raised her, and took special pains to give her a good education, and i thought she'd requite me by trying to lead a useful life." "but you know mrs. west, that negro girls of attractiveness in the south have a great battle to fight, if they wish to be pure," said mrs. wise. "that's very true" answered mrs. west; "i have often pondered over the thought since she left me five years ago, that the conditions under which she was born may have had something to do with shaping her course in life. we, innocent as we may be, must suffer for the iniquities of our parents. before the war, there lived in brunswick a large slave owner by name of philpot. he was the father of molly's mother, one of his slaves. after the surrender, this woman did not leave the plantation of her master but remained there until her death. the child, molly's mother, whose name was eliza, at the time of her mother's death was a pretty lass of fourteen; so attractive that the father then an old man could not curb his brutal passion. it is needless for me to speak plainer ladies. there is a passage of scripture which reads as follows: 'the dog has returned to his vomit, and the sow that was washed is wallowing in the mire.' the young mother brought the child to wilmington, gave her to me, and disappeared. molly was then about four years old. those who knew of me and my affairs know how carefully i raised the girl. she graduated from hampton with honors, has a fair musical education, and a voice that might have made her a fortune. imagine how proud her foster mother was when she returned home from school, so full of promise. if she would only leave this place and seek to live a better life in some strange community i would be more content. it would be hard for her to do so here. this ben hartright and another white gentleman had a free fight over her about a month ago. ben was prevented from using his pistol by the girl's timely interference. that fiend of georgia who is urging the men of her race to revel in the blood of their fellows, would do them more good by urging upon them the necessity of good morals. doubtless this ben hartright is one of the leaders of this proposed raid in wilmington to drive out undesirable citizens, yet he is so low morally, that he leaves a richly furnished home, a refined wife and pretty child to fight over a negro woman, for such he has i hear." "but this letter proves that there are redeemable qualities in molly despite her birth and bad life." "magdalene made a devoted follower of christ, you know," said mrs. wise; "with god's help, she can if she wills, pull away from her present surroundings and be a good woman." "yes, she says in her letter that '_never did the full realization of what i am, come so plainly before me, as when this villian so cooly told me of his plans. i drove him from my presence as i would a dog._' this shows that molly's race pride is not entirely blunted by dissipation and unholy living. i counsel you all ere you depart, to remember that we are at the mercy of the whites, and each one of us should do all in our power to show our men the wisdom of coolness. by this, with god's help, we may be able to avert the evil threatened. i declare the union aid society adjourned, subject to the call of the president." chapter vii. molly's atonement. a few evenings after the unpleasant interview between molly pierrepont and ben hartright, silas wingate, chairman of the republican executive committee, sat alone in his office. in that morning's mail had come to him a letter from the governor, full of discouraging news as to the chances of republican success throughout the state, and advising that for the safety of life republican candidates be withdrawn from the field--a request unprecedented in the history of the state. "this would be too cowardly a backdown," he soliloquized. "the situation is not so serious perhaps as the governor imagines. such bluffs the democrats have resorted to more than once before, but they didn't deter us in the least. we put our ticket in the field and fought hard for its election." but never before had the chairman of the executive committee seen in new hanover county such grim and warlike activity on the part of the democrats. the arming of the poor whites, the hiring of sterner implements of war, secret house-to-house meetings, and the stern refusal of dealers to sell a black man a deadly weapon of any description or as much as an ounce of powder meant something more than bluff. yet so strong was the faith of mr. wingate in the integrity of the better classes of wilmington's white citizens that he was slow to grasp the situation although the evidence was so overwhelming. he took the letter from the desk and read it for the fourth time since receiving it, riveting his eyes long and intently upon the signature affixed. of all the years he had known the governor he had never known him to shrink or show cowardice in any form whatever, although he'd passed through such crises as would tend to test the mettle of any man, it matters not how brave. "surely the situation must be terrible!" finally observed mr. wingate, throwing the letter upon the desk and whirling around in his chair. "i will call a meeting and put the matter before the committee. when that man says back down then surely doomsday is not far off." there was a timid knock at the door. feeling that perhaps it was one of his colleagues dropping in for a chat upon the all-absorbing topic of the day, mr. wingate did not rise or turn his face in that direction, but simply bid the visitor enter. the latch was timidly turned, followed by light footsteps, accompanied by the rustle of skirts, and before he could turn his head to see who this unexpected visitor might be, the figure had glided up to his chair and two soft hands were pressed over his eyes. "now, just guess who it is. i will not release my hold until you do," was the soft command. "now, as i was expecting only politicians to-night and, of course, no visitor in petticoats, i should be excused from trying to guess who you are on these grounds," answered mr. wingate, trying to force the hands which were firmly pressing down upon his eyes. "in such times as these you are likely to see even the women in the forefront in the fray, and doing even more than merely making calls," returned the visitor, releasing her hold and stepping in front of mr. wingate. "why, molly pierrepont! what brings you here?" exclaimed mr. wingate, rising and staring at his visitor, who unceremoniously sank into a chair. "i am somewhat interested in this campaign myself--astonishing intelligence i know," calmly replied the visitor; "yet i am going to astonish you more by saying that i have information to impart to the chairman of the executive committee that will be of great value to him in conducting this campaign." molly's calm demeanor, so unlike a woman of her disposition and temperament, struck mr. wingate somewhat humorously. molly pierrepont, having chosen a life of shame that she might--if only clandestinely--associate with and enjoy the favors of the men of the white race, would be the last person of the race to take a stand in its defense to give aid to the negro in his combat with the white man, politically or otherwise. women of molly's stamp, possessing no race pride, had never been race defenders, so it was plausible for mr. wingate to feel that the woman was jesting, or that she was sent by his enemies into his camp as a spy. "in our present dilemma the republican committee stands much in need of information and advice," said mr. wingate, slowly. "things are assuming quite a serious aspect; you are in position to get a good deal of information as to the maneuvers of the enemy. but, my dear girl, if you are here to aid us, have you counted the cost?" mr. wingate knew that molly pierrepont was the mistress of one of wilmington's best citizens, a bitter democrat, and a reputed leader of the white supremacy league; that she was well cared for, that her gowns, etc., equaled in quality and construction those of her paramour's wife, and, considering her love for such ease and luxury, to come out and reveal the doings, and openly denounce the schemes of the party of her paramour, was a sacrifice that a woman of her character was not generally ready to make--in fact, such thoughts did not find lodgment in her brain. in the flattering embrace of the philistine all noble aspirations ordinarily become extinct. mr. wingate's interrogation was followed by a brief pause, which caused molly to move uneasily in her chair. "i see, silas wingate, that you question my sincerity," she said, slowly. "i can't blame you, though. it is perfectly natural for such as i to be arrayed with the whites or be neutral, stifling all thoughts of being of service to my wronged people, because my life belies it. but i am sincere, silas; believe me," and molly reached over and laid her hand upon the arm of mr. wingate, whose look betrayed his incredulity. "in spite of the lowliness of my birth, and the life i have chosen, some good remains in me." she went on: "my fair complexion and life of ease have not made me forget that i am identified with the oppressed and despised." "thank god! thank god!" said mr. wingate, his face brightening. "there is a ring of sincerity in your voice, my dear, that banishes doubt." "i come to-night to warn you, silas," continued molly. "before many moons wilmington will be the scene of a bloody race war. ben hartright is my medium of information. he came to my house last evening, and, imbued with the feeling that i was in sympathy with the white element, revealed to me the dastardly plot in all its blood-curdling details." mr. wingate trembled and shook like an aspen leaf as molly named the men and women singled out as victims. "these people have ample time now to make good their escape. tell them, silas, that the best whites are in this move, and they are determined to carry it to the bitter end, and their only safety is in flight. ben tells me that the plans are well laid, that men will be here to assist in the dirty work from as far south as texas. i listened patiently to hartright's recital and then denounced him and his cohorts as infamous cowards!" "did you dare?" exclaimed mr. wingate, gazing eagerly into molly's face. "i drove him from my presence." mr. wingate drew nigh and laid his hand caressingly upon molly's head. "you have risked much," he said, eagerly. "i fully realize that," returned molly. "when he had left me, what i had said and done came home with its full force, but, like jephthah, i had sworn, and will not go back; and here now, as i did then, i swear with uplifted hand to renounce forever my life of shame, and will be no longer a magdalene!" "angels record thy vow in heaven," said mr. wingate. "you can, with god's help, be true to your vow, for magdalene, who became one of the faithful, was a greater sinner than you, molly." "but magdalene perhaps never threw away the opportunities for good that i have," answered molly, who had arisen and begun to pace the floor. "magdalene is not charged with having spurned the love and sent to a premature grave a man who offered to honor and protect her through life." "don't brood over the past, molly," said mr. wingate, a grass-covered mound in pine forest cemetery rising before him. "let the dead past be gone." "i will not! i cannot!" said molly, pausing. "the past will spur me to higher aims in the future. i never can forget the time that harold came to make a last plea to me to be his wife, expressing his willingness to make every sacrifice for my happiness. he had bright hopes of success in his profession. yet i spurned his offer to live a life of shame with a white man. you know he went to macon afterwards, and there as a physician built up quite a lucrative practice. he wrote me often; he spoke of his prosperity and his unhappiness without me to share it. he could not forget me. i tried to forget him by plunging deeper into sin. it's some three years ago now since the last letter came, in which he said, 'i am dying! dying! dying for you!' i tried to make light of it as perhaps merely a jest. but, silas, you know that it's quite two years now since they buried the heart which i had broken in pine forest cemetery. harold! harold! if i could only call you back with those sunny days of innocence. no one knows but god what anguish i have suffered since you left me. but i was unworthy of you, harold, unworthy!" the woman had bowed her head upon the desk and was sobbing convulsively. "oh, that you could come back to me, harold! harold, tender and true. how gladly would i accept your offer now, harold. you would forgive me, unworthy me." her voice sank into an incoherent murmur. mr. wingate was deeply moved. he arose and bent over her. "courage, my child, courage," he whispered, soothingly. "you have just started out to do the noblest work of your life. there are many years before you to live nobly and amend for the past." "'up, faint heart, up! immortal life is lodged within thy frame. then let no recreant tho't or deed divert thy upward aim. shall earth's brief ills appall the brave? shall manly hearts despond? up, faint heart, up! the blackest cloud but veils the heavens beyond.'" these inspired lines caused molly to raise her head. "i must command myself," she said, firmly, "for what i have to do requires courage." she arose and laid her hand caressingly upon mr. wingate's shoulder. "you will warn them, won't you, silas? keep the men from the polls. surrender everything. better to lose a vote than lose a life." she moved toward the door, mr. wingate following. laying her hand upon the knob, she paused and faced him. "coming events cast their shadows before," she said. "i fear that our days of freedom are at an end in wilmington. good night," and molly pierrepont was gone. "poor girl, poor girl," said mr. wingate, as he locked the door. "she might have been a queen, but, like the base judean, she threw a pearl away richer than all her tribe. "'of all the sad words of tongue or pen the saddest are these, 'it might have been.' "harold carlyle's youthful life was blighted because he could not give up this woman who was unworthy of him. but at last repentance has come. god forgive her." chapter viii. dr. jose. i will read for your consideration this evening joshua, tenth chapter, eighth and tenth verses, which are as follows: "and the lord said unto joshua, fear them not, for i have delivered them into thine hand. there shall not a man of them stand before thee. "and the lord discomfited them before israel and slew them with great slaughter at gibeon and chased them along the way that goeth up to beth-horon and smote them to azekah and unto makkedah." thus read the pastor of one of wilmington's presbyterian churches at the beginning of one of the weekly prayer meetings. "brethren," said he, "i have chosen these two verses of scripture this evening because my mind is as, i believe, yours are--weighted down by the situation that confronts the white people of this city. no doubt all of you would like to see white man's government permanently restored, although you are most of you averse to resorting to physical force to accomplish that end. while most all biblical students believe and teach that god told joshua to destroy these amorites, canaanites and jebusites because of their wickedness, i go further and say that they were to be destroyed because they were the black descendants of ham, the accursed son of noah. joshua was commanded to utterly destroy them or put them under subjection according to god's word--'cursed be canaan, servant of servants shall he be.' the jew in this instance represented shem, the blessed son, who was to triumph over ham and keep him forever in subjection. god has blackened with his curse the descendants of this cursed son of noah that shem and japheth may ever know who the cursed of god is. you who are hesitating in doubt as whether it is right to use force to put this descendant of ham in his rightful place--the place which god ordained that he should be--i counsel you to ponder over the passages of scripture just read. the education of the negro is giving him an advantage that justifies our apprehension. this, combined with accumulated wealth, make him a subject for grave and careful consideration. we are in a condition of subjection under negro rule and domination that justifies the taking of the sword. we are god's chosen people, the banner carriers of civilization. we civilized the negro and set him free, and it's our right to return him, if necessary, to his former condition of servitude. "the meeting is now open for prayer, praise and exhortation." saying this, dr. jose took his seat. when the country was wrought up over the question of slavery it was the presbyterian church south that drafted resolutions declaring that "slavery is a divine institution." if a divine institution, then the destruction of that institution was wrong, and the champions of freedom and the brotherhood of man open violators of divine law. if it is the will of god that the dusky children of ham are to ever serve their brethren and ever to be reminded of their inferiority, then why not the professing christian, the minister of the gospel, join in the work of carrying out god's decree? the victory of union guns at fort fisher brought many carpet-baggers to wilmington, many of them thrifty men of enterprise, who willingly assisted their brethren to restore life to that devastated town. quite a goodly number of these good people worshipped god in wilmington's presbyterian church. therefore, among these cool and thoughtful northerners the ministers' exhortation to retort to the shotgun was not very favorably commented upon at that meeting. but this did not in the least dampen the ardor of this hot-blooded virginian. he went home, and instead of kneeling, as usual, by his bedside to pray, he knelt in his study. "lord, we are sorely tried; the enemies of thy chosen people are waxing stronger and stronger. thou art a god of battle. thou didst in days of old lead thy children to victory over the enemies. shall we this day rise in our might? shall we smite with the sword?" there are many instances recorded where men strong in faith have heard the voice of god assuring them of his divine approval, that he was ready to lead them to victory. but dr. jose heard no voice, felt no divine presence near him. he arose, took his bible and turned again to the wars of joshua and the terrible triumphs of jehovah. mrs. jose, seeing that her husband lingered longer than usual in his study that night, glided softly in to see what so absorbed his attention. "why do you sit up so late to-night, my dear?" she asked, softly, laying a hand gently upon her husband's shoulders. "i am exceedingly troubled to-night, mary, darling," returned the minister. "this question of negro domination is troubling us. we are about to the point of desperation. negroes are becoming so bold that our white angels are no longer safe on our streets. we have made up our minds to arm ourselves and shake off the yoke." mrs. jose gently closed the book and laid her hand caressingly upon her husband's head. "cease to ponder over and keep before you the old scripture, with its martial spirit. remember christ and the doctrine he came to teach. he came to teach the new commandment, to heal the broken hearted, to release the captives. 'verily, brethren, avenge not yourselves, for it is written vengeance is mine, i will repay, saith the lord.' what would jesus do under such circumstances? his was the spirit of love. he would not break the bruised reed nor quench the smoking flax. come away, darling, and leave the regulation of everything to god." "but mary," persisted the minister, "you don't understand the situation. we, the men of wilmington, see utter ruin in store for us unless something is done to check the negro. our women can scarcely venture out alone after dark, so ugly and bold has he become under our lenient treatment." "this is all imaginary, my dear," interrupted mrs. jose. "i am afraid that you have allowed yourself to be influenced by these designing politicians, whose desire to gain power has stifled their love for truth. rev. dr. jose is a christian. dr. jose is a minister of the gospel, who should not be enticed by sinners into evil. it matters not how justifiable the deed may seem, you, my darling, cannot afford to lend either hand or voice in this contemplated work. he that taketh the sword shall perish by the sword.' our homes, our firesides, our women are perfectly safe. the only uneasy ones among us are those who want offices. come away, my darling; leave wickedness for the wicked to do; you cannot afford to take a hand in it." mrs. jose took her husband by the hand and gently led him to his bedchamber. how much happier man would be if in such trying periods of life he'd heed the counsel of the angel of his bosom. but those who read the account of the massacre of november, , learned that among that body of men, who, armed to the teeth, marched to dry pond on that fatal morning was a minister of the gospel. some papers published the text which that minister of the gospel took to preach from the sunday following, "we have taken a city," etc. but those hands which turned the leaves of the sacred word were crimson with the blood of the defenseless. "and pilate took a basin of water and washed his hands before the multitude." but would we suppose that pilate washed his hands only once? doubtless far into the night, when the faint shouts of triumph from the enemies of god resounded through that ancient city, pilate arose from his bed and washed his hands again, but the blood stains were still there. the court scene appears. the cry of the pharisees rings in his ears, the humble nazarene stands bound before him, then calvary, with the three ghastly instruments of death upon its brow, looms up. "out, damned spot! will these hands never be clean?" the blood stains upon his hands have doubtless worried dr. jose somewhat, and all the others who joined with him in the work of carnage. but the blood stains are on their hands still, and the groans and wails of innocents must ever ring in their ears. "it was a knavish piece of work." "tell it not in gath, publish it not in the streets of askelon, lest the daughters of the philistines rejoice, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph."--ii samuel, i, . chapter ix. george howe. from the fall of fort fisher and political upheavals of the reconstruction period to the awful tragedy of , with the exception of a few tragic scenes, wilmington had been the theatre of one continuous comedy, performed by gifted players, whose names and faces will ever remain indelibly fixed in the memory. phillis, "state mary" tinny, george howe, uncle abram, bill dabney, "uncle billy" pass over the stage before me as i write. but of those who unwittingly struggled for the foremost rank in the line of fun-making, george howe must be the acknowledged star. unlike others of the same school, whose minds had become unbalanced by overwork, worry or disease, george howe was born a fool. being a child of honorable and respectable parentage, the playmates with whom he associated in his early youth were of that class who regarded his imbecility as a terrible affliction, were charitable and kind, never allowing others to impose upon this simple fellow, who was incapable of taking his own part. but as george howe advanced in years he gradually threw off his stupidity, and although he never outgrew the habit of keeping his mouth open, he ceased to slobber, and acquired the habit of looking respectable. he entered school and became quite proficient in one branch of study in particular--he was an excellent reader, with a wonderfully retentive memory. but he never outgrew his simple-mindedness, and appellation of "fool" always justly clung to him, for, bright as he seemed to be upon many things, he was incapable of applying his knowledge to his own advantage. george howe kept abreast with the doings of the times, especially in the political and religious world, and these two subjects he was always ready to discuss. was there a public meeting called, religious, political or otherwise, george howe would be there, often in some conspicuous place, with wide-open mouth and staring eyes, drinking in all that was said or done. it mattered not how many were held in a single day or night, george howe would spend sufficient time at all of them to tell something of what took place. for, with a jewsharp as his sole companion, george could cover more ground in a single day or night than any other inhabitant of wilmington, keeping time to its discordant twanks. during political campaigns, before the press of the city could announce to its readers the result of the contest, george howe could be heard howling the news through the streets of wilmington. "oh-o-o, look er here, every bod-e-e-e! new york, new jerseee, dilewar hev gone dimocratic by big majoritees. great dimocratic gains throughout ther country." when, in , the democratic party astonished the country and itself by electing grover cleveland to the presidency by a safe majority, it was george howe who led that host of elated democrats down front street and toward the custom house on the evening of election day to inform republican officeholders that at length their time had come to give place for others. being generally shunned by those of his own race, george howe cherished quite a liking for colored people, and could be very frequently found among them in their religious meetings. there was something in the negroes' mode of worship that seemed to fascinate him, especially the saints of color who worshipped in old ebenezer church, in south seventh street. when that most eloquent of pulpit orators, the rev. william h. banks, led his hosts to cape fear river's brink, and drew three-fourths of the worshippers of other denominations with them, george howe would be there, yea, marching with the converts themselves, joining as lustily as they in the singing of that familiar old marching song: "i'm er goin' up ter join in the army of the lord, i'm er goin' up ter join in the army." upon the river's bank he'd stand and drink in every word that flowed from the mouth of that great divine. no negro woman or man could lisp the name of "brother banks" with sweeter accent than george howe, and no one could sing his praises more earnestly. who can forget those early days of revivals and religious enthusiasm in wilmington, and the three great divines who filled the three great pulpits from which the bread of life was given to hungry multitudes. there was lavender in "christian chapel," slubie in st. stephen, and, more powerful and influential than either of these, was william h. banks, the pastor of ebenezer baptist church. even years after slubie and lavender had been called to other fields, it was george howe's delight to stand upon the street corner opposite the residence of the rev. banks and sing the parody to that famous old song that electrified and filled with the spirit the revival meetings of the early seventies: "brother lavender's got some liars, brother slubie's got some, too; jus' carry 'em down to cape fear river, an' banks'll put 'em through." chorus: "git on board, children," etc. these great men are gone into the spirit world, but george howe still lives. banks was the last to go, and when that coffined clay was being borne from old ebenezer, where for sixteen years he had labored, george howe was one of that multitude of bleeding hearts who followed his precious bones to the burying ground. he stood and looked on until the last spadeful of earth was thrown upon the coffin and the mound shaped above it. after the death of the rev. banks george howe became very much attached to his eldest daughter, mary elizabeth, and he could often be seen leisurely strolling down seventh street in the direction of banks' residence, playing his jewsharp and singing the praises of "sister mary lizzie" between the twanks. "i'm er goin' down to sister mary lizzie banksies; sister mary lizzie is the daughter of brother banks, an' i think er great 'eal of sister mary lizzie; sister lizzie, i've got ter tell you-u-u." pausing in front of the door, he would roll up his sleeves, stretch his mouth, roll his eyes and make all kinds of comical expressions. "sister mary lizzie, i'm jus' out er jail-l-l, i'm full er lice-e-e; but jus' as soon as i take er bath i'm comin' back to see you-u-u, for i have news-s-s-s to tell you-u-u." the young lady would often have to run in and lock her doors when she'd see this harmless nuisance approaching. george howe was one of the few that listened to the colonel and teck pervis in the wigwam on this particular night in october. even when the ghastly plans of the murderous clan were being discussed, no one thought of excluding the town fool, who stood gaping around taking it all in. schults, the german, was arranging things in and about his well-filled and well-patronized grocery store on castle street on the following morning, when george howe entered. grabbing a handful of dried apples from a tray which sat upon the counter, he stuffed them into his mouth, threw his long legs across a flour barrel and momentarily watched the german as he busied himself about the store. "you didn't git out las' night, schults," said he to the german, gulping the apples down to clear his throat for conversation. "oudt! oudt weer?" asked schults, pausing with a tray of onions in his hands. "to the meetin' in the wigwam," answered george. "they done er powerful lot er plannin' there las' night. the dimocrats mean business this time. they say they'll carry the election this time or kill every nigger in the district. an' white men who are lukewarm, who don't come out an' take er stan' with white men will share niggers' fate. they got the names of the lukewarm in this affair. i don't want ter skeer you, schults, but you are on the black list." schults had laid down the tray of onions and was eyeing george from behind the showcase. "what did you say boudt black lisdt, gheorge?" "i say they read your name on the black list last night, an' that means they are goin' ter kill yer, for their air determin' ter kill everything in the way of white supremacy. i don't want ter skeer you, schults; i jes' wan' ter warn you. you hain't tended eny of their meetings, and they conclude you air agin them. an' then you wouldn't discharge your nigger." schults' eyes flashed. he locked his hands and brought them down upon the show case hard enough to break it. "what i keers fer der black lisdt, eh? i dondt keers whadt dey duse mid schults. before i vould hep dem ter harm dese kullod peeples py dams i suffers ter be kilt. who ish mine frients? who buys mine groceries? kullud peeples. when schults cum ster wilmiton sick mit der rhumatiz, mit no moneys, mit no frients, who helbs schults ter git on his feets? dese rich bocra? no; dey kicks schults off de sidewalks, cowhide schults on der sthreets. who helbs schults den? kullud peeples! an' befoe i rais' mine hand 'gin dem i suffer det. let dem kum, kum an' git schults when dey chuse. don't let dem t'ink fur er moment i no prepare fer dem. dem ghermans who 'lows dem down bhroke ristocrats persuade dem gintz deir kullud frients who thrade mit dem an' keeps dem from starvin' when dese rich bocra thry ter dhrive dem frum des country deserbe de cuss ov almighty got! an' you damn po bocras dat allows yo'uselfs ter be make fools mit you'selfs fer broke down risterchrats ter dhrive kullud peeples frum dey homes deserfs efry one eff you' ter be kilt." george howe's under jaw dropped. he stared at schults in astonishment, for he did not expect to witness such a show of bravery on the part of this quiet german grocer. "i didn't mean to insult you, schults," said he, reaching over and helping himself from a barrel of apples which stood close by. "i jes thought i'd warn you." "now, dere's dat gheorge bohn," continued schults, with apparent inattention to what george had said. "i see his nhame in der bapers as one uv der leaders in dis supremacy humbug. who makes bohn whadt he is on dry pon'? who makes gheorge bohn whad he is in dis counthry? dem very peeples who he is now thrin' ter kill. dem broke down ristercrats, sich as moss an' odders, cares no more fer sich as him den dey do fur de grass neat der feets. when dey gits demselfs in office dem dutchmen kin go, po bocras kin go, dey cares noddings fur yo when dey wus rich. now dey air po as job's turkey, dey wants us dutchmans an po bocras to dhrive oud our meat an' bread so dey kin demselfs git fat at de public crib. but i tells you dis: schults will haft nodding to do mit dem. i stays in mine house, mine house is mine castle, and ef dey wants me let dem cum to mine house, by dams i fills dem full uv lead; yo kin put dat in yo pipe and shmoke id." george howe arose, yawned, then slowly walked to the door, turned, dropped his under jaw and stared again at schults, who had resumed his work about the store. "didn't mean ter hurt yer feelings, schults, but ter put yer on yer giard, that unless you jine em dey air goin' ter do yo." george stepped out upon the walk, drew forth his jewsharp and sauntered up the street, twanking upon it as he went. the german to the southern negro has been and is what the jew is to the russian peasant--the storekeeper, the barterer. the german citizen has never been a manufacturer or a farmer; he is in no business that gives extensive employment to wage earners. but, as a corner grocer, he lays for the negro as he goes to and from his toil, and, with cheap wares and bad whisky, he grows fat upon his unwary customer. the german usually comes to this country poor, enters small towns, and, by the aid of other older residents of his nation who have already grown prosperous, he goes into business on a small scale--grocery business as a rule. he begins in a one-story structure, one-half devoted to business, while in the other he lives. these little stores were never without their indispensable liquor departments, where the trader was invited to refresh himself after paying his weekly grocery bill. before the war the south's best people had no use for the german emigrant, and did everything in their power to discourage his living among them. if the slave returned home to his master under the influence of liquor, the master in many instances went and cowhided the seller. the flogging of the negro did not keep him from returning to the german to trade, and the german prospered, and to-day is among the foremost property owners in the south. i do not exaggerate when i say that the german's wealth has come to him solely through negro patronage; not even to-day does the people known as the best people trade with germans. the bohns--joseph, charles, george and william--coming into wilmington in the seventies, had lived principally and conducted business in that section of the old city known as dry pond, and, like the most of their kind, have accumulated their wealth from the patronage of the colored people, among whom they had ever lived. this makes the crime of george bohn appear the more atrocious and cowardly. george joined the white supremacy league during the uprising in wilmington, and was one of its most active members. there was a certain colored citizen who knew of bohn's secret relations to the movement which disgraced the city. this man gave the information to the people of his race who were patronizing bohn, and entreated them not to support such an ingrate. when the excitement was at its height, when red shirts and rough riders were terrorizing the city, a band of poor whites, headed by george bohn, sought this colored man's residence, battered down the door, fired several bullets into the bed where the man and his wife lay, the latter in a precarious condition. the house was riddled with shots; they were compelled to get out and leave their own home, to which they have not as yet been permitted to return. bohn, after the deed was done, sneaked back to his home, and when the horrible crime was reported, tried to prove an alibi. but george bohn is the guilty man, and george bohn shall not escape! the hand of justice shall point him out. his name shall go down to posterity on the list of cowards who, on the th of november, , brought into disrepute the fair name of one of the best little cities on the american continent. chapter x. judas iscariot. when the executive committee, in response to mr. wingate's call, met in his office the following evening, the governor's letter was read to them, and molly pierrepont's story repeated. plans of action were mapped out, but not without some bitter attacks upon the enemy. mr. wingate's proposal to surrender for the sake of averting bloodshed, if possible, however, prevailed. the bitter language and threats made by hotheads would, if they reached the ears of whites, only add fuel to the fire already burning; so the members were cautioned by the chairman to give to the enemy no opportunity. but even among the twelve chosen of god there was a traitor, and since that memorable time nearly every band of brothers has had its judas ready at any time of trouble to sacrifice others to save himself, or betray them for reward. was there a judas on the republican executive committee of new hanover county? yes! in the days of slavery there existed in the south a kind of negro known as the "good nigger" or "white folks nigger," who was a stubborn believer in his own inferiority and the righteousness of his enslavement. he sneaked around, grinned his way into the confidence of other slaves, then stole away and told their secrets. were there any plots being concocted to rise up and strike a blow for liberty, the good nigger would inevitably be there to join in the shaping of plans, only to go out and hang his fellow-conspirators. the san domingons in their struggle for liberty found this good nigger a most formidable barrier, and those who are familiar with the history of that bloody struggle know just how heart-sickening was the taking off of this creature wherever found. in many instances they cut off his toes, his fingers, his ears, his nose, stuffed pieces of these extremities into his mouth, and left him to die a slow death. the emancipation and the consequent opportunities for intellectual advancement have not changed this good nigger, for in numerous instances you will find him well educated, and often swaying quite an influence in a community. but he is generally an ignorant, shiftless fellow, forever lamenting about his freedom, flaying the yankees for taking him away from his master, who took care of him. he still likes to sit around on the back steps of the whites' residences to talk about good old days when he was free from the responsibility of "keerin' fer mase'f." or, in higher walks of life, from pulpit and public rostrum, he's bewailing the shortcomings of his own people and magnifying the virtues of the whites. he stands among the ashes of the victims of a mob's fury to abuse the negro for having been killed, and to praise the whites for the crime. george r. shaw, a prominent negro, writes a card to the public, in which he says: "one reason why such crimes are committed by negroes is that there is no discipline over negro children. from ten years up they are allowed to loaf about from place to place and with all kinds of characters. they have no moral restraints. book learning in colleges dooms the negro to be fit for nothing. they think they cannot do manual labor. what my people need is an industrial, moral, common school training. lynching does no good, and makes bad worse. the brute who will commit these crimes never sees a newspaper. sam hose and all such should die, but not at the hands of a mob. the negro must be taught to abhor crime from principle, not through fear. let critics take this sam hose case home to themselves. if the same crime was to happen in my immediate vicinity most any of us would do very nearly like those georgians did. if we did not lynch him we would hold the clothing of those that were doing the lynching." shortly after the burning of sam hose in georgia, a good nigger, signing his name as shaw sent to a certain southern paper an article commending the action of the mob, and expressing a willingness to have held their coats while the dastardly act was performed. did this man know that sam hose committed the crime for which he suffered such a horrible death? can men capable of committing such deeds as the burning and mutilating the body of this wretch be relied upon for truth? if cranford was one of that mob of cowards who shot to death those manacled men at palmetto, the knocking out of his brains would have made a man of another race a hero. calvin sauls, who had heretofore been a kind of an independent, having at various times voted with democrats, populists, green-backers and republicans, had shown a disposition to be earnestly interested in republican success in the campaign of . running here and there, attending primaries and committee meetings, full of information as to the movements of the enemy, he had worked his way into the confidence of these unwary colored politicians, who considered him an earnest worker for the cause of republicanism, so much so that he had been admitted into the headquarters of the executive committee on that evening. "and judas, having received the sop, went immediately out, and it was night." no one noticed calvin sauls on that night, as he, taking the advantage of a moment of exciting debate, slipped out into the darkness, and made his way into the democratic headquarters. at the corner of fourth and chestnut streets a dark figure stepped out from the darkness and confronted him. "hello dar, calvin sauls!" said a gruff voice. "where is you sneakin' ter? you got er few uv us fool, but not all. goin' down ter tell wa't you foun' out at de committee meet'n, eh?" "o, g'wan way f'm me, man; i got dese white fo'ks bizness ter ten' ter." the man seized sauls and held on to him. "look er here, some women waited at de corner of red cross an' fourth street to beat yo' las' night." "wa' fer?" asked sauls, trying to free himself from the man's grasp. "fur trying ter suade dey dauters down ter dat fayette club for dem white mens." "it's er no sich ting!" "you lie, you louse!" exclaimed the man, loosening his hold, and shoving sauls nearly off the sidewalk. sauls, recovering, staggered on his way. ben hartright leaned against a post on the veranda of the democratic club's meeting place when calvin sauls came up. "why hello, calvin, is that you?" "yes, sah, marse ben," returned the negro. "i comin' ter make ma report." ben hartright intercepted sauls as he placed his foot upon the door sill and drew him aside. "say, calvin, i saw you talking to a rather striking looking colored girl the other day; who is she? can't you fix it so i can get an interview?" "uh, uh," said sauls, shaking his head. "dat's bob sims' gal; she jes from college, an' she's all right now, i tell yer. you know dem simses is top er de pot niggers." "that's the kind i always play for, calvin; you know me," answered ben. "gentlemen must always have the best, ding it all! i though you were sufficiently well bred to know that the best of everything in this world is for white people." "dat's so," said sauls, "but yo member dat time bob sims cum nie beat'n dat white man head off bout insult'n dat tudder gal er his. i feared mon." "that's all right, calvin; i'll stand by you. molly's gone back on me now; i'm afraid she's converted and joined the sanctified band. by thunder, she defied me the other night." "yes, sah, an' she's in yernes', too; she's on de warpath fur true. i got er heap ter report ter night, so i see you later on dat udder matter." and sauls pushed past hartright and made his way into the club room. chapter xi. uncle guy. on looking over the list of wilmingtons' personages who have been instrumental in moulding its character and making it one of the most desirable places on earth, and the memory of whose face and name revive the sweetest recollections of early youth in the dear old town, the name and face of uncle guy comes most vividly before me. in ante-bellum days in the south, one week in all the year was given by the master to the slave--a week of absolute freedom, in which the negro, unrestrained, danced and frolicked and otherwise amused himself to his heart's content. this season of freedom commenced with the dawn of christmas, and lasted until the beginning of the new year. the slave heard not the story of the christ, of the wise men, or the shepherds of bethlehem; he saw no christmas tree brilliant with tapers even in the home of his master. for, unlike christmas observances in the north, full of solemnity and historic significance, the southern christmas was and is still a kind of mardi gras festival, ending with the dawn of the new year. early on each christmas morning the slaves, old and young, little and big, gathered at the door of the "big house" to greet their master, who gave each in turn his christmas "dram," and then, like a kennel is opened and pent-up hounds are bidden to scamper away, the slaves were let go to enjoy themselves to their heart's content, and were summoned no more to the field before the dawn of the new year. while in the rural districts the frolics and kindred pleasures were the chief pastimes, in the cities and towns the celebrations were more elaborate. in gaudy regalia the "hog eye" danced for the general amusement, and the cooner in his rags "showed his motions." for many years before the war uncle guy was the star performer at these functions in wilmington. with whip in hand, he danced and pranced, and in sport flogged children who had been naughty during the year. but to us, who were youngsters in the seventies, uncle guy is most vividly remembered as a musician--a clarionet soloist--a member of the shoo fly band, whose martial music will ever ring in the ear of memory. the fall of fort fisher added many a new face and character to wilmington life. negroes who had in the conflict just closed learned of the art of war, added impetus to and stimulated the old city's martial spirit and love of gaudy display. and those who through the same agency had learned in the military bands and drum corps the art of music were indispensable adjuvants in elevating her lowly inhabitants. but he who came with the knowledge of music had a much wider field for usefulness before him; for the negroes' love for music is stronger than love for war. frank johnson, who had the credit of organizing the shoo fly band, had not tasted of war, but he and uncle guy had been "orchestra" musicians before the war. and now, as the increase of talent in wilmington opened a wider field, the band was organized. it was called frank johnson's band at first, but in after years more familiarly known as the "shoo fly." the name is a small matter, however; music was the chief thing. and how that band could play it! there was a ring in that music that electrified the soul and filled the limbs with renewed vigor. there was dick stove with his trombone, henry anderson with his bass, making music swift as raindrops in a race. there was guy wright with his clarionet, henry adams with his b, and the music made the youngsters dance with glee. there was johnson, he play'd second, who, when horn-blowing was dull, could play a fiddle tempting to the soul. at hilton, paddy's hollow, at the oaks, on kidder's hill, where good and bad alike could dance their fill. then there was jim, the drummer, who could beat a drum like jim? oh! we little ones were awful proud of him. how nicely he could keep the time. "shoo fly, don't bother me!" for i'm a member of old comp'ny d. it was down old seventh to market, and through market down to third. playin' molly darlin', sweetes' ever heard; from thence up third to castle, while "up in a balloon" made us wish to pay a visit to the moon. then we had no gen'l jacksons dressed in gol' lace all for show, then such hifullutin notions didn't go. it was music! sweetes' music! "darlin', i am growin' old," will live, forever live within the soul. the old shoo fly band is a thing of the past; no more shall we listen to its inspiring music, for the majority of its members have crossed the melancholy flood. the last time that they appeared on the streets of wilmington only a sextet remained. dick stove's trombone horn had been curtailed in order to hide the marks of decay upon its bell. they gallantly marched up market street, and with a dismal, yet not discordant blast, turned into fourth, en route to hilton. i think that uncle guy is the only remaining one of that gallant few living in wilmington to-day, and the friends of those who departed this life in later years followed their bodies to the grave keeping step to the sad wail of his lone clarionet. jim richardson, dick stove, johnson, adams, anderson--i wonder, does he think of them now, tenderly, emotionally and with a longing to join them on the other side. i wonder if they all cluster about him when in his lonely hours he consoles himself with his clarionet. for many years uncle guy has been wilmington's chief musician. bands magnificent in equipment and rich in talent have been organized, to flourish for a few years only. but uncle guy's trio of clarionet and drums has withstood the test of time; yea, they were indispensable for base ball advertisement and kindred amusements, heading both civic and military processions, white and black, in their outings and celebrations, or with bowed head and thoughtful countenance he has led the march to the grave. as i recollect uncle guy, he was the embodiment of neatness, feminine in build--it seemed that nature intended to form a woman instead of a man. like a woman, he plaited his hair and drew it down behind his ears. his hands and feet were small, his fingers tapering; his face was black, his eyes small, his lips and nose thin, his voice fine, but harsh, and he slightly stooped or bent forward as he walked. there is poetry in every move of his bent figure as he slowly walks down the street on this autumn morning. as we gaze upon him strolling feebly along, we involuntarily sigh for the days when the heart was young. may day, with its buds and blossoms, christmastide, full of bright anticipations, come trooping up the misty way. we are following the old band; listen to the music! how enchanting! "up in a balloon, boys, up in a balloon, where the little stars are sailing round the moon; up in a balloon, to pay a visit to the moon, all among the little stars sailing round the moon." we are making water-mills in the brooks; we are swinging our sweethearts; we feel again the heart throbs of early youth when we dared the first caress. "shoo fly, don't bother me! for i belong to company d." * * * * * it is monday morning--the washwoman's day of preparation; when the clothes are brought in, the shopping attended to; when the women congregate on the street corners, sit upon their baskets and bundles or lean against the fences to discuss the doings of the sunday just past--what the preacher said and what the neighbors wore, etc. three women stood upon the corner toward which uncle guy was tending. but they were not talking about texts and fashions. uncle guy heard the following as he drew nigh: "bu'n um! bu'n um! good fer nuthin' broke down ristercrats an' po' white trash. ef de men kayn't git gun we kin git karsene an' match an' we'll hab um wahkin' de street in dere nite gown." judge morse passed by, turned his head to catch as much as possible of what was being spoken. "negro like," he said, as he went on his way. "they are all talk. i was raised among them, heard them talk before, but it amounted to nothing. i'm against any scheme to do them harm, for there's no harm in them. this negro domination talk is all bosh." uncle guy stepped to one side and humbly saluted judge morse as he passed, then bore down upon the women who were vigorously discussing the all-absorbing topic. the old man walked out to the edge of the sidewalk, squinted his eyes and came slowly up to where the women stood, comically pointing his index finger at them: "look yer," said he, "yuna ta'k too much!" raising his voice. "yuna mouts g'wine ter git yuna inter trouble; hear me? did yuna see jedge morse when he go by? did yuna see 'im stop ter listen at you? le' me tell yuna sumthin' right good." the old man shook his finger several seconds before proceeding. "dese white fo'kes is onter you, dey got de road all map out. dey no ebry move yuna nigger makin'. how dey no it? how dey no it, i say?" another long finger shake. "yuna nigger uman tell um, yuna runnin' yuna tongue in de kitchen, yuna runnin' yer tongue in de street. now, instid ov de bocra bein' in de street in dey nite gown, yuna gwine ter be thar wid nuttin' on. don't you no dat we ain't bin able ter by er gun er ounce powder in munts, an' de bocra got cannon an ebry ting. see how he'pliss yer is? now yuna go home, an' quit so much ta'k. keep cool fer dese bocra pisen." uncle guy walked slowly on and the women dispersed. those who read the newspaper accounts of that terrible massacre know full well just how true was the prophecy of this old citizen. doubtless he looks back over it now as a catastrophe beyond his expectations or dreams. chapter xii. the massacre. the five days prior to the massacre wilmington was the scene of turmoil, of bickerings between the factions in the political struggle; "red shirts" and "rough riders" had paraded, and for two or three days captain keen had been displaying his gatling gun, testing its efficiency as a deadly weapon before the negroes. all of these demonstrations had taken place to convince the negro that to try to exercise his right as an elector would have a disastrous result. upon the conservative and peace-loving these things had the desired effect. but the bolder ones showed a rugged front, and on election day hung about the polls and insisted upon exercising their rights as citizens, and many clashings were the results. but the major portion of black electors stayed at home in hope that the bloodshed which hot-headed democrats had been clamoring for as the only means of carrying the election might be averted. when the sun set upon the little city on the th of november there seemed to be a rift in the storm cloud that had for so many weeks hung over it, and the city had apparently resumed its wonted quiet. far out on dry pond, in the old "wigwam" a gang of men had met, who ere the sun should set upon another day would make wilmington the scene of a tragedy astonishing to the state and to the nation. they had gathered to await the signal to begin; they had good rifles and a plentiful supply of ammunition, and their tethered steeds standing about the old "wigwam" were pawing and neighing for the fray. the clock in the old presbyterian church on orange street dismally tolled out the hour of three. teck pervis arose, yawned, walked up and then down the floor among the men who lay asleep with their weapons beside them. he made a deep, long, loud whistle; the men began to arise one after another, and soon the room was in a bustle. some were washing faces, others sipping coffee as a forerunner of something hotter that would stimulate and give force to the spirit of deviltry that the work of the day required. "gentermen," said teck pervis, standing in the middle of the hall and holding a cup of coffee in his hand. "this is ther day thet ther white people of north ca'liny is going ter show mr. nigger who's ter rule in wilmin'ton, and there's ter be no drawin' back in this here bizness." just then dick sands interrupted the leader by jumping out into the floor. he shuffled, he danced, kissed his gun, threw it into the air, and twirled it between his fingers like a born drum major. "gentermen! hit's ther happies' day i seed sence way foe ther war. this is er day i bin er longin' fur and prayin' fur eber since ther ding yanks cum and freed mr. nigger an' sot im on ekal footin' wid er white man. laws er massy me'. gentermen, i'se seed things happen in this here town sence fo't fisher fell thet wus enuf ter make eny dec'nt white man go inter his hole, an' pull his hole after 'im. think uv it, gentermen, think uv it! nigger lawyers, nigger doctors, nigger storekeepers, nigger teachers, nigger preachers, niggers in fine houses--why, gentermen, jedgmint hain't fur off. who was in ther cote house thet day when thet nigger white tole colonel buck he did'n no law? i wus thar, an' never wanter see sich ergin. evrybody jis' opened his mouth an' stared fus at ther nigger an' then at colonel buck. i felt thet ther merlineum wus at han', jus' waitin' ter see ther worl' turn een uppermos', an' go ter smash. whoopalah! but we air goin' ter show um sump'n ter day, an' i jes wish thet nigger white wus in wilminton, fur these big niggers'll be the firs' whose cases we'll try. oh. mr. peaman, oh, mr. bryant, mr. miller and all you uns er the afrikin foe hundered! yo time is cum!" dick sands ended his harangue by turning a somersault. "i jes bet dick sands owes tom miller now," said a young chap who sat leaning against the wall with his legs spread out, laughing at dick's indian-like antics. "yes," broke in another; "tom's he'ped er lot er we po' devals; he's lent out thousans er dollars in all ter white men. hits er shame ter do him!" "yes, i mus admit that i owe tom, but this is er time fur me ter jump bail," said dick sands. "i don't b'lieve thet er nigger should hav es much money es tom's got no way. hit's ergin his helth. you know niggers liv longer po' then they do when they air rich, bekase when they're po' they air in ther natruls, an air easier kept in their places. hit's these foe hundred niggers thet er raisin all ther trouble." ... "well, les git ter bizness, gentermen," broke in teck pervis "there's er lot befoe us ter do; hell is ter begin at ther cotton press under kurnel moss, while cap'n keen'll kinder peramerlate er roun in ther middle er ther town with thet everlasting hell belcher uv his ter keep tings in check. kurnel wade, tom strong, hines an uther big uns will sortie er roun' to'ards dry pond an blow up ther print'n press; thets ter draw ther niggers out frum ther cotton press, so thet kurnel moss kin git at um, an mow em down. we uns will canter to'ards brooklyn holdin' up niggers as we go. then we air to jine hill, sikes, turpin, isaacs an' others, an' raise hell in thet sexion. we uns air ter take no chances wid theese wilminton darkies. i ain't ferget seventy-six. let nun git by without bein' sarched, uman er man. shoot ef they resiss. them's the kurnel's orders." "who is this man isaacs?" asked a stranger from georgia. "a jew?" "thet name's jewey e'nuff fur yir, ain't it?" replied dick sands. "he is er jew, an er good un, i tell yer. i never took much stock in er jew, but this here un is er bo'n genterman, mo fit ter be christun. no church in hard circumstance is ever turned away from ole mose; he he'ps em all, don't kere what they be, jewish, protestan er caterlick, white er black. he throde his influence with ther prohibitionists some years er go, an foute hard ter make er dry town outer wilminton, but ther luvers uv ole ginger wair too strong an jes wallop'd ther life out er ther cold water uns. ole mose tuk hit cool, he died game, took his defeat like er bon fighter, bekase he'd done an fill'd his jugs an' stowd em up in de house afore ther fight begun, so he cu'd erford ter be beat. takin er drink in public was ergin his creed. nice ole jew tho. keeps er paint store down street, and deals in painters' merterial, but never buys er baral er biled oil wonc't in five yers; but, like de widder in the scripter, he alers has er baral ter draw frum when er customer wants biled oil. ole mose is er fine man tho; jes go in his stoe ter buy sumthin, pat him on his back, and tell him he is er bo'n genterman, an thet you b'lieve he kin trace his geneology back ter moses an ther prophets, and thet his great-granddaddy's daddy was ther only jew thet sined ther dicleration of independance; thet he looks like napolyan, and he'll jes go inter his office an fetch yer ther fines' segyar yer ever smoked an foller yer all over ther stoe. nice ole jew isaacs is. ter see him stridin down ter bizniss ov er mawnin, yer air reminded uv ther prophets uv ole jurneyin toards jarusalum ter read ther law." "what is the feller's name?" soliloquized a sallow-looking chap who stood with his back to the stove scratching his head in perplexity. "name?" returned dick sands. "why is you bin er listenin ter me all this time an dunno who i'm talkin erbout?" "excuse me," returned the sallow man; "i no powerful well who yer ware talking er bout, and i wus tryin ter think uv ther name uv thet chap who's bin er stump speakin up in sampson." "fisher?" "no-o-o, thet ain't ther name; he's ther feller thet's runnin fur congress." "belden!" exclaimed several in one breath. "thet's ther feller. look er here," continued the sallow man, "he tole we uns up there thet ef we cum an he'p ter make wilminton er white man's town, we ware ter jes move inter ther niggers' houses an own em; thet's what brung me here ter jine in this here fite." "well, i tell yer fren," answered dick, "we air goin ter make this er white man's town, thet's no lie, but ther ain't no shoity er bout ther other matter." "boots an saddles." further conversation was cut off. every man flew to his horse and the host of murderers were off in a jiffy. the city of wilmington was startled by the loud report of a cannon on the morning of november th, , which made her tremble as though shaken by an earthquake. molly pierrepont arose, hastened to the south window of her cottage and looked out; the clouds which hung low over dry pond were as brilliant in hue as though they hung over a lake of fire. "tis fire!" exclaimed molly; "the hell hounds are at their work. ben hartwright is keeping his word. but it's at the cotton press that the dance of death was to really begin, where hundreds of unsuspecting men are at work. the fire and the cannon shot are only a ruse to entice them out to be shot down. they must be warned! i must warn them!" she hastily dressed herself, locked her cottage and hurried away. down bladen street she hastened, turned into fourth and across bony bridge. at the corner of campbell street she came upon a large body of armed men who were parleying with a negro who was making a futile protest against being searched. more than half a dozen of them thrust pistols into the helpless and frightened man's face, while two others rifled his pockets for firearms. all this molly took in at a glance, as she hurried down campbell street toward the press. at the corner of third street she encountered five white boys, mere lads, who were proceeding up campbell street. "halt!" cried they all in one voice, and five pistols were thrust into her face. molly paused, but with no show of embarrassment or dismay. "come, hol up your hans!" commanded one of them, advancing a step nearer. "hol on, fellers, we're not to search white ladies," said another, lowering his pistol, and attempting to push the others aside. "o, she's no lady; she's er nigger; i know her," returned the lad who gave the command. "search her! tear her clothes from her! all er these nigger women are armed." the boy raised his hand to seize molly, but was not quick enough. molly stepped back; a quick raise of her foot sent the boy sprawling into the gutter. this completely demoralized his companions, who broke and ran. a gang of men coming up third street inspired the boys to renew the attack upon the woman, who was hurrying on her way. "nigger," cried the boy, raising himself up and scrambling from the gutter into which molly's well-aimed kick had sent him. the men ran and overtook molly, spread themselves across the sidewalk in front of her. "will i never be permitted to reach the press?" she murmured to herself. "you've got ter be searched, ole gal," said one of the men, with a mocking smile of triumph in his face, "an' you jes' es well let these boys go through them duds er your'n an' have done with it. come now, hands up!" and they all glared like hungry wolves at the woman, who stood apparently unmoved. molly drew herself up to her full height. "cowards!" she shrieked. "not satisfied at the cutting off of every means of defense from the black men of wilmington, that you may shoot them down with impunity, you are low enough to take advantage of their helplessness to insult weak women. but here i stand!" she cried, stepping backward, and drawing a gleaming revolver from beneath her cloak. "search me! but it must be done when the body is lifeless; i'll be a target for the whole of you before i'm searched; so let the battle begin." the men stared at the woman in amazement. "pluckies' nigger gal we're tackled ter day!" exclaimed a gruff and rough-looking chap. "got grit enough ter buil er fort. let her go, men; not er hair un her hed mus' be tech'd!" the men stepped to one side, and molly proceeded on her way. when she reached front street the sight which met her gaze caused her blood to chill. from front to water street below was choked with armed men. to pass through such a crowd without much more difficulty was impossible. "too late!" she sobbed. rushing across the railroad bridge, she hastily descended the steps to the road below, crossed the tracks to the shed of the great compress, and entered by one of the large side doors. news of burning and pillage on dry pond had been conveyed to the workmen by another, and the news had brought confusion among them indescribable. at the main entrance to the press stood an army of whites, ready to shoot them down as they rushed forth to go to the rescue of their wives and little ones whom they thought were being murdered. white men with a cannon mounted on a lighter anchored in the river just opposite were waiting to fire upon those driven back by the fire from colonel moss' riflemen in water street. a crowd of frightened and angry men hastily retreating towards this death-trap were suddenly confronted by a woman, who like an heavenly messenger, stood with uplifted hand, her hair streaming in the wind. "back! back men!" she cried. "to go to the river is to be killed also; they're waiting there for the opportunity." "molly pierrepont!" exclaimed one of the men in astonishment. "no time for questions now!" said the woman; "your only safety from slaughter is to remain in this shed; you are not able to cope with that mob of cowards on the outside, who now are even searching women in a most shameful manner on the streets. back! don't rush like fools to death." molly's head began to whirl. before any one could reach out a hand to catch her, she sank in a swoon upon the floor. tenderly the prostrate form was lifted up, and borne to a place of safety, and an effort made to revive her. at the front entrance were huddled hundreds of negroes, cursing and crying in their desperation. on the opposite side of the street in front of a company of armed whites stood colonel moss, his face red with determination. above the oaths and groans of the helpless negroes his harsh voice was heard: "stand back, mr. ----! i tell you again, stand out of the way, that i may blow them into eternity." mr. ---- heeded him not, and colonel moss was afraid to fire for fear of injuring a british consul. there were tears in the eyes of this good man as he went about among his angry workmen imploring them to keep cool. it was his bravery and presence of mind that prevented the ignominious slaughter of hundreds of defenseless men by a mob of armed cowards, who stood there awaiting the signal from colonel moss to "blow them into eternity." dispatching a messenger to dry pond, who returned with the assurance that no one had been killed, was instrumental in cooling the negroes and inducing them to return to work. mr. ---- kept at his post until the white mob melted away to join their fellows in other portions of the city. look! up front street comes an excited crowd of men and boys. every one of them seems to be wrought up to the highest pitch of excitement. every individual is struggling to get to some one who is in the centre of the crowd. on they come! struggling, pushing and swearing. as the mob draws near, the tall, stately figure of an old man is seen towering above them. his abundant hair and beard are shaggy and gray. he stares wildly at his tormenters, and begs them to spare his life. they shove, they kick, they slap him. "shoot the yankee dog! hang him to a lamp post! nigger hearted carpet bagger! kill him!" still the crowd pushes towards the depot. "who is this man? what has he done?" asked a stranger. "done!" exclaims a citizen close-by. '"why he's been teachin' niggers they're es good es white men." "how long has he been in wilmington?" "ever sence the fall er fort fisher." "is he a tax payer? is he or has he ever engaged in any business in the community?" "well, yes; he owns er whole county up the road there er piece." "think of it! bin here all these years, an' we can't make er decent white man out'n him!" "well, if he has been in this community as long as you say, and is to the community what you acknowledge, i'd like to know what right his fellow citizens have to--" "well now, stranger, don't you think you're gettin' too inquisitive? when er white man shows that he's ergin er white man, the question of what he owns don't cut no ice; he's got ter go. this is er white man's country, an' white men are goin' ter rule it." saying this the citizen hastened away to join the mob, who were then crossing the bridge to the depot to put the undesirable citizen upon the train to send him away. the mob that had a few hours previous made a futile attempt to butcher the negroes at the compress had now moved in the direction of brooklyn like a whirlwind, sweeping men, women and children before as it went. negroes, filled with terror and astonishment, fled before this armed mob, who shot at them as they ran. when in a certain battle during the revolutionary war, terror stricken colonists were retreating before the superiorly equipped and disciplined british soldiers, it was israel putnam who vainly implored the frightened americans to make a stand. general putnam cursed and swore, when he saw that it was impossible to stop his men and induce them to give battle to the british. was there a putnam here to essay to inspire courage into these frightened negroes, who left their wives and children at the mercy of the mob, and were fleeing toward hillton? yes, there was one, and his name was dan wright. did dan wright fully realize the enormity of his act as he faced this mob of white men, armed to the teeth, now pressing down upon him? did dan wright feel that death was to be his reward for this act of bravery? yes, but this did not deter him or affect the steadiness of his aim. above the oaths and yells of this band of cowards, now almost upon him, the report of his rifle rang out, and a bandit reeled and fell from his horse. but dan was not to escape; the crowd pressed upon him and crushed him to the earth; they riddled his body with bullets, and dragged him bleeding and torn through the streets. "back wench!" cried a bandit, as poor mrs. wright pressed forward to succor her dying husband. "you shall not touch his black carcass; let the buzzards eat it!" but the mob did not tarry long beside dan's bleeding form; they swept on to brunswick street, where they divided, some turning into brunswick, while others rode toward hillton. dan wright did not die in the street, however. torn and riddled as his body was, he lingered a few days in agony in the city hospital before death released him. "and the king followed the bier; and the king lifted up his voice and wept; and the king said, 'died abner as a fool dieth?'" as we gaze upon the bleeding form of this simple negro, this question comes forcibly to us: died dan wright as a fool dieth? was it right for him to stand alone against such fearful odds? yes, that the chronicler in recording this terrible one-sided fight might be able to mention one act of true bravery; that among so many cowards there was one man. i knew dan wright ever since he was a lad. he was simple, quiet, unobtrusive; pious in life and glorious in death. "he was swifter than an eagle; he was stronger than a lion." over the humble grave in which he sleeps no shaft of granite rises to point to passers-by where this martyr to the cause of freedom lies. but when justice shall write the names of true heroes upon the immortal scroll, she will write the names of leonidas, buoy, davy crocket, daniel boone, nathan hale, wolf, napoleon, smalls, cushing, lawrence, john brown, nat turner, and then far above them all, in letters that shall shine as the brightness of the firmanent, the name of dan wright. unlike most of the heroes named above, dan's name will not in this generation be engraved upon brass or steel, or carved in marble. to an unsympathetic world he was an outlaw, who raised his arms against kings and princes, who feel that they have the sanction of god himself to trample upon the lowly. with tall pines as sentinels keeping watch over it, and stars for tapers tall, the body of this immortal hero lies beneath the soil enriched by his blood. "fleet foot on the corey, brave counsel in cumber, red hand in the foray, how sound is the slumber!" who killed this simple fellow, and the score of others of his race who fell on that eventful day? the blame is laid upon the georgians, who were invited there to assist in restoring white man's government, when there had never been any other government in existence there. but who is really responsible for this cowardly massacre? wilmington's best white citizens, by whose invitation and under whose directions the georgians acted. and what better market could have been sought for murderers and cowards and assassins, and intense haters of negroes than georgia? in ante-bellum days georgia outdid all other slave-holding states in cruelty to its slave population. the north carolina master could subdue the most unruly slave by threatening to sell him or her into georgia. the old negro voo-doo doctor or fortune teller could fill any negro for whom she had formed a dislike with terror, and bring him to her feet begging for mercy by walking backward, making a cross with her heel and prophesying, "you'll walk georgia road." when georgia, the altar for human sacrifices, perfumed by the odor of cooked human flesh, travailed, she brought forth the prodegy of the nineteenth century, whose cries for blood would startle catherine de medici and cause bloody mary to look aghast. georgia bore upon her sulphurous bosom an andersonville, within whose walls thousands of the nation's noblest sons suffered the most inhuman treatment and died the most agonizing and ignominious death. georgia trained her cannon upon these emaciated, starved vermin-eaten creatures rather than submit to their rescue by an invading army. georgia's convict camps of the present day are worse than slavery, and more intolerable than the siberian mines. the order of the states upon the map should be changed so as to read as follows: north carolina, south carolina, alabama, mississippi, louisana, texas, georgia, hell. the people of wilmington were bargaining for the genuine article when they sent to georgia for trained murderers and assassins. josh halsey was the second one to fall on that fatal day. josh was deaf and did not hear the command to halt, and ran until brought down by a bandit's bullet. josh halsey was asleep in bed when the mob turned into brunswick street, and his daughter awoke him, only to rush from his house to death. the mob swept on over his prostrate form, shooting into private dwellings, and frightening men and children, who fled to the woods for safety, or hid beneath their dwellings. let us go back and see what has become of molly. to bring her around it required heroic efforts on the part of men and the women who were the sewers of bagging on the docks. too weak for further effort in behalf of her people, she was tenderly lifted into a buggy, carried up by way of the old charlotte depot to her home in brooklyn. mrs. west, who knowing of her determination, and anxious as to her fate, had arrived at the cottage that morning too late to intercept molly. she lingered about the cottage, however, and when they bore the exhausted and faint girl home, the foster mother was frantic with grief. "it was only a fainting spell, mother," said molly, as mrs. west bent over her. "i was there in time to save them, but it cost me--oh so much." "you have done nobly," returned the mother, soothingly. "your name should be placed upon the roll of honor, my dear. go to sleep; rest serenely upon your laurels." dr. philip le grand. st. stephen's church on the corner of red cross and fifth streets, in wilmington, is among the finest and most refined of the a. m. e. conference. in appointing ministers to this post the most diligent care has always been exercised, for the appointee must be of the most eloquent, the most learned and efficient in the gift of the assembly. so st. stephen's audiences have listened to some of the world's best orators, and have had the word expounded by superior doctors of divinity. who of that great church can forget frey chambers, thomas, nichols, gregg, epps and others whose names i cannot now recall? st. stephen's is among the finest of church edifices in the city, put up at a cost of over sixty thousand dollars, with a seating of twenty-two hundred. back of her pulpit stands an immense and costly pipe organ, operated by water power, and presided over by a young woman raised up in the church, educated in the public schools of wilmington. during the political upheaval in eastern north carolina, it was the fortune of rev. philip le grand, d. d., to be the pastor of st. stephen's, in wilmington, and there is living to-day. many men and women owe their lives to the wonderful presence of mind, superior tact and persuasiveness of this grave, good man. besides being a minister, he had filled many positions of trust in the south. yet dr. le grand was both unassuming and undemonstrative. he looked for and expected a clashing of races on election day in wilmington, but that which took place on the th of november was far more than he was prepared to grapple with. the dawn of that fatal day found the streets of wilmington crowded with armed men and boys, who had sprung, as it were, by magic from the earth. aroused by loud noises in the neighborhood of his residence, the minister arose early, dressed and hastened into the street. a large crowd of colored citizens, mostly women, stood upon the street corner half a block away, excitedly talking and brandishing broomsticks, stove-pokers, hoes, axes and other rude implements of war. all was confusion among them. there seemed to be no leader, but each individual was wildly ejaculating in a manner that showed that she or he was highly wrought up. dr. le grand came slowly up to them, paused and raised his hands for silence. "why this excitement so early in the morning?" he asked. "we's prepared fer um ter day," said a woman, coming forward and brandishing a broomstick. "dey says dey gointer kill niggers, but we's gwine ter tek er few er dem long wid us." "bah!" exclaimed the minister. "what will such a thing as that amount to against rifles? disperse and go home, or you'll be sorry." this command had but slight effect upon this throng, whom rev. le grand left and proceeded toward a crowd of white men and boys who stood not far distant, apparently debating the question of bearing down upon and dispersing the blacks on the corner. "halt!" said one of the men, stepping in front of mr. le grand and placing his rifle against his breast. "you can't go no further; this town's under military law now." "what means this demonstration?" calmly asked the minister, with his eyes fixed steadily upon the face of the man who had given the command. "it means that white men are in charge of things from now on," said another fellow, stepping up and eying the minister contemptuously. "you educated nigger preachers have been teaching your race that white men are not ordained to rule, and such teaching has got 'em beside themselves, so much so that the white people are compelled to take stringent measures." "will you kindly inform me who the leader of this movement is?" persisted dr. le grand calmly. "big words these," said the first man who had spoken. "i guess we'd better settle this nigger." "hold on, sam," said the second man, pushing aside the gun the man had raised. "this is st. stephen's preacher. he is not on the list." "i'm out here in the name of peace," said dr. le grand, "willing to do anything to bring that end." "well," said the leader, producing a notebook from his breast pocket, and scribbling something in it, "we came out to-day to wash the streets in nigger gore, and if you can induce them to go home, you and others of the leading men of your race, instead of encouraging them to bully white people, you can save many lives. colonel moss is the gentleman to go to. but you'll need a pass," tearing a leaf from the notebook and handing it to dr. le grand; "and i doubt if that will take you through the lines. you will doubtless find the colonel somewhere in the down-town section of the city. stand aside, men, and let him pass." dr. le grand took the slip of paper and started for the section of the city indicated, but the way was so choked with men and boys, who challenged and parleyed with him in spite of the permit he carried, that progress was slow. men whom he had met in his common every-day life in wilmington, men who had been cordial and gentlemanly in their greetings, now either hurled bitter epithets at him, or passed him with averted eyes. several times during that morning were guns pointed into his face as he paused here and there to stop collisions that were constantly occurring between white and black men, fatal in every instance to the blacks, who, without arms, were no match for the well-equipped whites, who took advantage of their helplessness to bully them. the most thrilling scene witnessed was that which made the minister's heart faint, although the incident excited the admiration of all who beheld it. above the oaths of excited men and boys was heard a wild cheer a few blocks away, followed by the defiant cry of a negro boy, who came panting up the street, unmindful of the cry of "halt" that issued from many lips. frantically waving a huge revolver in his hand, he fell upon his face within a few yards of where the minister stood, pierced by a rifle ball. turning over slowly upon his back, he leveled his pistol and fired into the crowd of men closing in on him, shattering the arm of a georgia bandit. "he is dying!" exclaimed the minister, with uplifted hand to prevent the men from doing further violence to the dying lad, whose life-blood was making crimson the sand where he lay. one man in the crowd stooped and picked up the pistol that had fallen from the lad's grasp. he raised it up before the crowd and said: "let him die in peace, boys; i admire a brave heart, if it is under a black skin." the crowd dispersed. the minister got down upon his knees and raised the lad's head into his arms. he opened his eyes and fixed them upon the face of the man of god, who had begun to stroke his forehead with his hand. "god be merciful to thee, my son," said the minister tenderly. "dat's all right, parson," returned the lad faintly, with a smile upon his ebony face. "i tol' um i'd die foe i'd giv' up ma gun, an' i tink dat when i tun ober dat time i got one er dem." "what is your name, my son?" asked dr. le grand, eagerly. there was no answer; the boy was gone into undying life. the minister gently laid the little hero back upon the ground to await the arrival of the undertaker's wagon, and went on his way. this incident somewhat awed the bandits, some of whom stood off some little distance and watched him through the scene; and his progress was attended with but little further difficulty. when he reached front street, however, the record office on dry pond had been burned, and the futile attempt to murder the workmen at the cotton press had been made. several black men had been killed during the morning, and their bodies left where they had been shot down. at the corner of front and chestnut streets three men passed him under guard, walking rapidly toward the depot, and whom he recognized as prominent citizens--one a grocery man another quite an extensive real estate owner and money lender, while the third, a white man, had been a magistrate in the city for quite a number of years. these men were being escorted to the trains by soldiers, who had considerable trouble in keeping a mob of men and boys from doing them violence. "well, what are you standing up here for?" asked a man, turning aside from the throng that surrounded the fugitives, and akimbowed in front of the minister. "no niggers are allowed to loiter; white men are in charge of affairs from now on." "i have a pass that permits me to interview the colonel," answered dr. le grand, holding up the paper before the man's eyes. the man took the paper and read it slowly. "come," said he in a gentler tone of voice, "i'll take you through to the colonel, for you can't go by yourself." across the street, and in the direction of the cotton press they proceeded. at the corner of mulberry street they met colonel moss going southward, with a crowd of soldiers and citizens about him. he scowled at the minister, his face flushed with anger as the minister saluted. "what do you want?" he roared. "that's the question i have come to ask you," returned the minister. "what do you wish us to do? we are willing to do anything to stop this carnage." "we want nothing! we are masters of the situation," answered the colonel hotly. but the minister persisted. "hear me, colonel. this is indeed a one-sided fight. our men are unarmed, and are the chief sufferers in this affair." "it's your own fault," roared colonel moss. "we gave you colored leaders time to comply with our request to burn the negro's printing outfit. we waited twelve hours for your reply, and it came not, so we took the matter into our own hands. we propose to scourge this black pest out of wilmington. if you can induce them to go to their homes and recognize the authority of the white people, you can prevent further bloodshed." "i will do my best," replied the minister. dr. le grand was placed in a buggy, between two whites, to protect him against violence. this man of god finished that day, and the other days of terror to the unfortunate negroes, in inducing rebellious black citizens throughout the city to submit to overwhelming odds against them, and staking his own life upon the good character of this or that man or woman in danger of being killed for some trivial charge made by a white person, whether remote or recent. chapter xiii. mrs. adelaide peterson's narrative. new bedford, mass., dec. , . dear jack thorne: in compliance with your request for a narrative of what i witnessed of the massacre which took place in wilmington, n. c., in november, , i herewith write for the information of the world what happened in the section of the city known as dry pond. the plans for the slaughter of november th had been carefully laid. the negroes, lulled into a feeling of security by the usual yet unexpected quiet election, were utterly surprised on the morning of the th to find the streets choked with armed men and boys. the mob, it seems, formed at the court house, and dividing itself into bands scattered into every direction, holding up and searching both black men and women, beating and shooting those who showed a disposition to resist. on the corner of seventh and nun streets stands gregory normal institute for colored youth, with christ church (congregational) and the teachers' home, comprising the most beautiful group of buildings in the city. this is the property of the american missionary association. the morning devotions had just ended in this school on the morning of the th, and scholars were going to the different class-rooms, when the report of a gun threw the entire school and neighborhood into confusion. children ran to their teachers for safety, who, with blanched faces, stood dumb with terror, for a mob of armed whites had already surrounded the buildings and completely blocked seventh, ann and nun streets. on seventh street, between nun and church streets, in a small wooden structure, the much talked of _wilmington record_ had found a temporary home, and this was the objective point of the mob. surrounding this building, they battered down the door, broke in pieces the printing outfit, and then set fire to the building. many women, with their little ones, took to the woods, so thoroughly frightened were they at this strange and unlooked-for spectacle. black men were awed into helplessness by the superiorly armed mob. i was at the ironing table, when one of my little ones ran in and told me that the school house was on fire. i hurried out to join the crowd of anxious mothers, who were hurrying in that direction to rescue their children, whom, they supposed, were in danger. but we were not able to get past the crowd of men who surrounded the record building. the cries of the frightened children could be heard, and the inability of the mothers to reach them added to the horror of the scene. one mother, frenzied with grief and desperation, pushed and shoved her way through, despite the threats of the mob. one little girl died of sheer fright. the shooting without, mingled with the oaths of the men and the frantic wails of the women without were too much for the little one to bear. her teacher's assurance of safety were of no avail. the teachers finally made a bold front, pushed their way through the crowd and delivered the frightened children to their frightened parents, some of whom did not return to their homes, but hastened to the woods for safety. i returned home. my husband, who worked at the press did not arrive until late that night, he having had serious difficulty in passing the armed whites who lined the streets, and challenged him at every corner. he informed me that colonel moss, on leaving dry pond, went immediately to the press with the intention of killing all the men at work there, but was thwarted by the coolness of mr. ---- and molly pierrepont, who went from her home to warn them. i bless that woman for her courage. she stood like a goddess among those men and prevented them from rushing into a trap prepared for them. my husband at first thought it unsafe to remain in the house that night; the poor whites were heavily armed and were likely to do most anything. they had already fired into several houses in the neighborhood. some one rapped at the door. i was too frightened to move. my husband finally opened the door, and in staggered joe bently, bleeding profusely from a large gash in his forehead. he said: "i was trying to reach the hill this evening without being searched, as i did not want to part with my gun. at the corner of market and front streets i met mr. philip hines, who offered to take me through the crowd to safety, and led me right into trouble. i was held up and searched. ben turpin took my revolver from me and gave me this gash on my forehead with the butt of it." i bathed and bound up bently's wound, and he lay himself upon the lounge in my dining-room, and being weak from the loss of blood, soon dropped off to sleep. we were too frightened to lie down. thirty minutes elapsed. we heard the sound of footsteps approaching; the door received a vigorous kick. "hello!" came from without. "say peterson! don't be afraid; this is mcginn!" my husband opened the door. "is that you, mr. mac?" said he. "yes, we are looking for that feller manly." "i guess he's far away," returned my husband. "well, its good for him that he is. who's in there with you?" "my family." "well, i believe you, peterson. good night." the men went their way. we were molested no more during the night, but shooting was kept up at intervals in the neighborhood all night. some citizens slept under their houses for safety. the morning of the th of november dawned clear and cold, and the sufferings of those who were compelled to sleep in the open air were terrible. at about nine o'clock rev. simons called at my house. he had his wagon laden with comfortables for the suffering ones. "hundreds are in the woods," he said after greeting me, "and god only knows what their sufferings were during the night." "people of the saxon race, whom we have trusted so implicitly, this is your work, for which you must answer to god," and with his hand he brushed away a tear. together we rode to the woods, my husband remaining home with the children. far beyond "jump and run" we came upon quite a crowd of women and children, who had built a large fire, and were huddled about it. one woman, a tall creature, ran to meet us as we approached with outstretched hands and a maniacal stare in her eyes. "where's my husband?" she shrieked. "is it true he is killed? an' are you comin' to kill me?" "no, my dear," answered the minister, "we come to bring you comfort." "no! no! no!" she cried. "tell me no more about god. hagar's children have no god. they are forsaken! lost! lost! lost!" several women came up and took hold of the demented creature and led her away. "she's los' her mind," said one. "she sat here las' night an' saw her dear friend an' neighbor die in the agony of childbirth; and that, with the news of her husband's death has unbalanced her mind." "there lays the woman," said another, taking the minister by the hand and leading him to where--cold and lifeless--the body of the woman with that of the new-born babe by its side. the poor, demented creature had taken a seat upon a stump beside the corpse, and was moaning and wringing her hands. "lord, be merciful!" exclaimed the minister, with clasped hands. "they are all about here," said another woman; "these are not all that have died during the night." we busied ourselves in giving such comfort as lay in our power. in our search among the bushes we came across several dead and others dying from the night's exposure. so thoroughly frightened were these people that we could not induce them to believe it safe to venture back to their own homes. the situation was indeed appalling. on our way into the city we met some humane whites going out to persuade the frightened refugees back. the th day of november, , can never be forgotten. i will not close this narrative without mentioning an act of bravery performed by a lone woman which stopped the vulgar and inhuman searching of women in our section of the city. the most atrocious and unpardonable act of the mob was the wanton disregard for womanhood. lizzie smith was the first woman to make a firm and stubborn stand against the proceeding in the southern section. it was near the noon hour when lizzie, homeward bound, reached the corner of orange and third streets. a block away she saw a woman struggling to free herself from the grasp of several men who were, in turn, slapping her face and otherwise abusing her. the woman fought until her clothes were torn to shreds; then with a shove the men allowed her to proceed on her way. lizzie could have saved herself by running away, but anger at such cowardice had chased away every vestige of fear. she leisurely walked up to where the fight was going on. "halt," said one of the ruffians to lizzie, "an' let's see how many razors you got under them duds. that tother wench was er walkin' arsennel. come now!" roared the man, "none er your cussed impert'nence." lizzie, instead of assaying to comply, akimbowed and looked defiantly at the crowd about her. "oh, yo' po' white trash." "shut up or we'll settle you an' have done with it," said the leader, making a motion toward his hip pocket. "yo' will, eh!" answered the girl, "yo' kan't skeer me. but ef yo' wanter search me i'll take off ma clothes, so yo' won't have ter tear 'em," and lizzie began to hurriedly unfasten her bodice. "yo've got ter search me right," she continued, throwing off piece after piece; "yo'll fin' i am jes' like yo' sisters an' mammies, yo' po' tackies." "that'll do," growled one of the men, as lizzie was unbuttoning the last piece. "oh, no," returned the girl, "i'm goin' ter git naked; yer got ter see that i'm er woman." white women were looking on from their windows at this sight so shocking. one had the courage to shout "shame! how dare you expose that woman in that manner?" "them's the curnel's orders," replied the leader, raising his hat. "who is the colonel, and what right has he to give such orders?" shrieked the woman. "you ought to be ashamed of yourselves for your own wives and daughters' sakes." the men skulked away and left lizzie victor on the field. yours for justice and right, adelaide peterson. chapter xiv. the flight of reverend selkirk. there is a great deal said about the fatality of the wind of boston bay. even the native bostonian dreads its icy touch, and when winter comes to re-enforce its intensity, as many as can, seek warmer climes. a few winters ago, among the many tourists who sought accommodations on a train south-bound were rev. hiland silkirk, wife and two children. rev. silkirk's many years of ministerial work in the old cradle of liberty had somewhat told upon his health, and he felt that a few months or years in a warmer clime would result in the recovery of lost vigor. he had purchased a ticket for wilmington, n. c. the air there was mild, bracing and dry and made health giving and mellow by the sweet odor of the yellow pine. and then, again, a field was open for the continuance of his work while he recuperated, a certain baptist church in the old city had called him to its pastorate. being a man of exceptional ability, affable and of sunny temperament, rev. hiland silkirk was just the man to win friends among southern people, and he won them among both white and black citizens in that old town. this is the case in every southern community. a negro man of prominence can retain his popularity on certain lines among the whites if he keeps out of politics and in all race troubles remains neutral. but he cannot take this stand and be universally loved. his reward will inevitably be the contempt of his own race, which he cannot afford to engender. and no man who loves his people can hide his light under a bushel; can keep quiet when they are assailed. he must, he will raise hand and voice in their defense. moses refused to dwell in the king's palace while his people suffered about him. no! he went forth, and in his zeal smote an uncircumcised egyptian oppressor to death and fled into a strange land and there fitted himself for their deliverer. rev. hiland silkirk counted his friends among some leading ministers and laymen of the opposite race. but rev. silkirk was true to his own, and when the time came to test that devotion, he arrayed himself with his own people and endangered his own life. when, in the early part of august, , the fight between the editor of the record and the editor of the messenger waxed hot over the inflammatory letters on the race question from the pen of mrs. fells, of georgia, which had its final result in the destruction of the record's property and the banishment of its editor, rev. silkirk did not hesitate to join in the controversy. this caused many of his white friends to cool towards him, and it placed his name upon the list of dangerous(?) negroes to be killed or banished. after the general raid which terrorized and put the city in a state of panic on the th of november, the mobs divided into squads, and, as deputy sheriffs, begun to arrest and drive from the city the objects of their spleen. the duly elected mayor and other officials having been deposed, bandits were put in their places. a portion of the mob which destroyed the record building on the morning of the th, started northward toward walnut street, on which the hated negro minister resided. but among the white ministers in wilmington there was one at least who would not allow his prejudice to impair his devotion to a worthy friend. he, aware of the plot to murder the black divine, set out on that morning to warn him of his danger. the rev. silkirk, aroused and alarmed by the noise of guns coming from every direction in the city, had just mounted his bicycle and started in the direction of dry pond. as he turned into seventh street he saw, more than two blocks away, another bicyclist breathlessly pedaling toward him. "why, dr. sawyer, i was just starting to your house!" said the colored man, as the white one rode up and dismounted. "and i was just coming to your house to inform you that a ride in my direction is dangerous! return! there is no time to be lost. get into the woods! they are on the way to your house now to kill you. i must not be seen with you. go! make haste!" this was all said in one breath, and before the colored man could recover from his astonishment to ask a question the white one was gone. down the street a cloud of dust rose before the colored minister's eyes. the bandits were only a few blocks away. there was not even time to return to his home. he hastened down walnut street, crossed red cross into campbell, and made for the woods. the bandits rode up to the minister's house, dismounted and surrounded it, but the quarry was gone. from the frightened wife and little ones they could glean no information as to the whereabouts of the minister. they were about to satisfy their vengeance by subjecting the helpless woman to revolting indignities, when a boy ran up to inform them of the direction in which the man had fled. the mob mounted their horses and made a dash for oak dale cemetery. the colored people in the neighborhood, afraid to approach to offer protection to poor mrs. silkirk, now gathered about her. all were unanimous in the belief that the bandits would return should they fail to find the minister, and not only molest her, but shoot into the houses of others as well. so they decided to take her to the church, yea, gather the whole neighborhood in there. "sho, dey won't shoot in de house er god," said an old lady. "le'us git dar an' pray; we kin do nuth'n better. le' us ask de lawd wot it all means?" when rev. silkirk reached a secluded spot in the woods he was wet, sore and exhausted from wading through marshes and being scratched by briars. night had set in. he lay down beneath a clump of bushes to rest; but there was no rest for this poor innocent wretch, outlawed by ruffians and compelled to leave his wife and little ones, and be hunted as a wild beast in the forest. this is the fate of many a negro who had committed no more offense against law and order. but this, to such characters as rev. silkirk, was no evidence of god's displeasure. men more righteous than he had been compelled to flee for their lives; yea, suffer death for truth's sake; men of whom the world was not worthy. he pillowed his head upon a tuft of wire grass, and gazed upward towards the spangled skies. "lord, we cannot tell why this, thy people, are so severely tried; yet we believe that all things work together for good to them that trust in thee. strengthen our faith, lord. save our wives and little ones from a fate worse than death at the hands of the wicked, who glory and take delight in shameful treatment of the defenseless." he heard the tramping of horses' feet among the bushes only a short distance away, and soon several men galloped past where he lay--so close that one of the horses brushed against the bush which sheltered him. the frightened minister lay perfectly still until the footsteps died away, then he arose and went cautiously back to the city to see, if possible, what had been the fate of his wife and children, left to the mercy of a disappointed and angry mob. the feeling that the church was the only place for safety filled the breasts of most of the frightened souls in the neighborhood of seventh and red cross streets on the evening of the dreadful th of november, after the band of red shirts had terrorized the people in their blusterous hunt for the negro minister. "it seemed like the day of judgment," said an eye witness. "there were no loud lamentations, as is usual when colored people are wrought up under excitement, but sobs, groans and whispered petitions. bless our pastor, lord, an' save him ef it be thy will," came from many lips, followed by "amens" and "do, lord." suddenly the church was thrown into a spasm of excitement that could not be suppressed, for while they were breathing prayers for his deliverance, the pastor, wet, footsore and tired, entered and strode slowly up the aisle. "why did you, oh, why did you come back?" exclaimed his wife, throwing her arms about the minister's neck, while others in their excitement gathered about them. the rev. silkirk gently led his wife, who had almost fainted in his arms, to a chair and raised his hand for silence. "brethren and sisters," he began, "my escape from death to-day has been a narrow one. i knew that my attitude in the manly-fells controversy had caused some of my friends to cool toward me, but i did not believe that it would ripen into a desire to murder me, because of my opinions. nevertheless, my attitude is the same. i do not retract a single word said in defense of my people. twenty or more men were killed to-day--men who are innocent of any wrong. i may be numbered with them before morning; yet love for my wife and little ones and you caused me to tempt death by returning here to console and speak a word of comfort to you. these may be evidences of god's displeasure; we may have in our prosperity forgotten to give him the glory due unto his name; yet by these afflictions we may know that we are beloved of god, for whom he loveth he chasteneth. we are too well schooled in affliction to be dismayed, and they who are responsible for this rioting may just as well try to stop the river in its flow as to try to triumph permanently over a people who by affliction have waxed so strong in faith. we are as firm as mount zion, which cannot be moved. you, all of you, deem it expedient that i go away; so to-night, by the help of the lord, i shall try to get away from this place. i may see you again, i cannot tell; if not, there are twelve gates to the city, and, with god's help, we'll meet up there. let us have a few moments of silent prayer." every knee was bended on that terrible night; but so emotional is the colored american that silence in a meeting of this kind is maintained with difficulty. a silence of two minutes elapsed--followed by sobs and groans painful to listen to. then a voice tremulous with emotion floated over the assemblage--a woman's voice: "father in heaven, we have evidence that thou didst hear thy children's cry in days past and gone, and we believe that thou wilt hear us now. (yes, lord.) thou didst hear the hebrew children. (yes.) thou didst deliver daniel. (yes.) thou didst hear africa's groans, and didst break her chains. (yes, lord.) oh jesus, master, hear us to-night. (do, jesus.) we cannot tell, lord, why we are buffeted, beaten, murdered and driven from our homes, and made to seek refuge among strangers; but thou knowest. perhaps in our prosperity we have forgotten to give thee the glory, blessed lord, and these demons that have flocked to wilmington from all quarters may be the scourgers that thou art using to bring us closer to thee. hear, o lord, the groans and cries of the widows and orphans of the slaughtered ones; men who gave up their lives in the feeble efforts to defend their homes and firesides. (do, lord.) bless brother silkirk and his little family (amen), who are about to start upon a perilous journey. the way is beset by demons thirsting for his blood. (lord, help.) but he's in thy hands, and thou canst save him and save us from further persecution, if it be thy will. amen!" rev. silkirk was visibly moved by this earnest and pathetic plea. he thanked the petitioner and the entire church for their solicitude. he was dissuaded from attempting to take his wife and little ones with him on his perilous journey, and they were left in care of friends until an opportune season presented itself. the parting between that good man and his wife and friends was indeed touching. a substantial bank note was hurriedly thrust into his hand, and, with two deacons, he stepped out into the darkness and disappeared. * * * * * when the north-bound passenger train leaving wilmington at . slowed up at castle hayne on the morning of the th of november a wretched-looking negro minister stepped aboard. the trains had for two days been leaving the city ladened with undesirable citizens, white and black, and the trainmen had been earnest abettors in the injury and insult offered them. from wilmington to weldon at every stop crowds waited to do injury, if possible, to "nigger" and radical refugees. thomas miller, aria bryant and other citizens had been taken off and jailed at goldsboro, and one man in trying to escape was shot to death. the rev. silkirk did not feel very comfortable under the searching eye of the conductor who lifted his fare, and that individual's refusal to give satisfactory answers to inquiries concerning connections at rocky mount increased his feeling of uneasiness. he felt assured that failing to capture him in the woods, his would-be murderers had telegraphed his description, etc., along the road. at dudley station two men came into the smoker and took seats immediately in front of him, and continued the discussion of the topic which doubtless absorbed their minds before entering. "i was saying," said one, an elderly man, with quite a refined appearance, "that impertinent article by that negro preacher was equally as spicy as the editorial, and as the editor took time by the forelock and made good his escape, the determination was to make sure of this preacher. but he was warned in time to get out, and the impression is that he was warned by a white man." "shame," said the other, slapping his knee vigorously. "he got away, then." "yes, but it's likely he'll sneak back before taking final leave, as he has a family there, and they are on the lookout for him; besides, the boys have been notified along the road to be on the lookout." "what's his name?" "silkirk; he is er boston darkey, an' doubtless is heading for that place, as southern climate has got too hot for 'im." "goldsboro! change cars for newbern," shouted the porter. "well, good-bye!" said the genteel man, rising and making a bolt for the door. as the train slowly clanged its way through the old town the remaining passenger settled himself back in the seat and went to sleep. several men passed through the train, the conductor in the lead. each man slyly glanced at the minister, but said nothing. the train sped on its way through the town. now, wilson is the place where through passengers change cars and board north-bound trains from the far south. wilson for the past few days had been the rendezvous for a well-organized vigilance committee, who had vied with the ruffians at goldsboro in offering violence to citizens driven out of wilmington. the leader of this gang was a young farmer by the name of bull. that afternoon mr. bull and quite a number of his fellow-committeemen sat on the steps of the railroad station whittling sticks when the station operator came up and handed him a telegram, which ran as follows: "goldsboro--man on train answering description of silkirk. look out for him. barnet." "by joe!" exclaimed captain bull, jumping to his feet. "well, what's up?" asked three or four of his companions, gathering around the leader. "nothing, only that boston black yankee is on train , an' he mustn't git any further 'an wilson, that's all," returned bull. "go, buxton," he said to a sallow-faced young man leaning against the wall, "an' tell the boys ter git ready for er feast ter night. that nigger editor slipped through like grease, an' ef we let this nigger do so we all uns ought ter be gibbited. we want er be ready ter mount the train time she stops. i've got no description of the man, but, then, its no hard tas' to pick out er preacher from the tother uns." with that captain bull started toward home to get his gun, and the crowd dispersed. at wilson trains usually pause at the water tank, a few yards below, for coal and water, before making the final stop at the station. just as train paused at this place, a colored man with a buggy whip under his arm got aboard. he walked briskly through the train, scanning the faces of the passengers as he went. "the' ain't but one colored man on here," he said, as he reached the door of the smoking car and looked in. walking up and touching this man on the shoulder, he said: "looker here, mister, you goin' north?" "i want to," returned the colored passenger. "well, come with me an' get somethin' ter eat foe you go; you look like you hungry. i keep er resterant, put up thar jes' fer my people, bekase thar's no show fer 'em in the other place. come on! no time ter be los', train don't stay up thar more 'an twenty minutes." with that he led the passenger from the train. "git up in thar," he said, pointing to a small wagon. "got er trunk?" "no, just this bag," returned the other. "well, let's go. git up, nell," and the horse started off in a brisk trot. "looker here, mister, i ain't got no more resterant then er dog. ain't your name silkirk?" "that's may name," returned the passenger in astonishment. "i knowed it," said the driver. "i got on that train ter save yer life ter night. slower dar, nell! this road's full er mud holes sence the big rain we had tother day. i jes' happen ter that depot ter day jes' in time ter see thet telegraph when hit cum an' was put inter captain bull's han'. sence dem riots in wilmin'ton he's bin er getin' telegraphs an' sarchin' trains, an' insultin' women an' killin' col'd mens. an' i jes' slied erroun' tell i hear what that telegraph say. hit say, look out fer silkirk. thar's er gang of crackers waitin' ter kill you as sho es yo' er bo'n; but bob jones is goin' ter cheat um dis time. go on thar!" "god moves in a mysterious way," murmured the minister, slowly. "you'll bet he does. come, gal, pick um up an' put um down; thar's no time ter be los'. gwine ter take yer cross de country here, an' put yer on er frate train, an' dat train gwine take yer to norfolk, for yo' sholy ain't safe on dat coas' line road. dis is what we call throwin' de houn's off de scent. pure nigger cunnin', here me? git up, nell." it was near the midnight hour when the horse, panting for breath, paused at a lonely rickety old station. the men alighted. "hit's jes' twenty minutes pas' eleven," said bob jones glancing at his watch. "now that train's comin' long here in er few minutes. jes' git er board an' treat de cap'n right, an' he'll put yer through." "god bless you and all of yours," said the minister, gratefully. "my people in wilmington and boston must know of you and what you have done for me to-night." "dat's all right, parson, keep de change. ise jes' doin' my duty, that's all. we should feel each other's keer, an' bear each other's cross, says de good word. dar's de train now!" the old freight train panted slowly up and stopped to look for freight. the rev. hiland silkirk, with tears of gratitude in his eyes, got aboard, and the triumphant jehu turned his horse and started homeward. "well done, good and faithful servant, forasmuch as you have done good unto one of the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me." chapter xv. captain nicholas mcduffy. before the introduction of the improved method of fire fighting in southern cities--before the steam engine, the hook and ladder and water tower companies supplanted the old hand pump and bucket companies, the negro was the chief fire fighter, and there was nothing that tended more to make fire fighting a pleasant pastime than those old volunteer organizations. for many years after the war wilmington was supplied with water for the putting out of fires by means of cisterns which were built in the centre of streets. when the old bell in the market house tower sounded the alarm of fire, the volunteers left their work and hastened to headquarters to drag forth the old hand pump and make for the cistern nearest the scene of the fire, where, keeping time to the tune of some lively song, they pumped the fire out. there was peculiar sweetness in those old songs which made fire fighting a fascinating pastime in those old days. while a few men spannered the hose, directed the stream and did the work of rescuing and saving furniture, etc., the majority were required to man the pumps. thirty or forty men in brilliant uniform lined up on either side of the huge engine, tugging away at the great horizontal handles, presented a spectacle which no one even in these days of advancement would despise. and the singing! "o lindy, lindy my dear honey, lindy, gal, i'm boun' to go; o lindy, lindy my dear honey, o lindy, gal, i'm boun' to go," etc. a few lines of another: "the cows in de ole field, don't yo' hear de bell? let her go, let her go. the cows in de ole field, don't yo' hear de bell? let her go, let her go," etc. but the things that will make those old organizations live longest in the memory are their frolics, excursions and picnics, full of all that appealed to the appetite for pleasure and excitement. there the dancer, the fighter, the runner, the wrestler, could indulge freely in his favorite pastime; there old scores could be settled and new ones made. the most noteworthy and serviceable of those old volunteer organizations was the old "brooklyn no. ," which guarded that portion of the city known by that name. no. , in the middle section, and the "old no. double deck," in the southern part of the city. these old-fashioned machines have given place to the modern fire fighter, the steam engine. but of all of these banished organizations, no. will be the longest remembered. upon her roll were the names of some of wilmington's best citizens. in the year this company, too serviceable to be disbanded, was reorganized under the name of "cape fear engine company," and presented by the city with a handsome steam engine of that name. and although the germans had replaced their hand pump by costly steamer, and a company had been organized among the aristocracy, this colored company kept and maintained the reputation of being the best fire fighters in the city, and second to none in the entire state. upon the walls of their engine house hung trophies for superior firemanship won in nearly every city in the state. the insurance companies of the city recognized their value as savers of property, and upon more than one occasion made them valuable presents. only men of good repute who could "stand the gaze of an honest eye" were eligible to membership in the cape fear fire company, and he who aspired to leadership must be efficient both in character and experience as a fire fighter. i write the above that the reader may know what manner of man this was who was compelled to leave his home, his wife and little ones and flee for his life. captain nicholas mcduffy was at one time foreman of the cape fear engine company. mcduffy came to wilmington a rough country lad, secured employment, went to work, saved his money, bought property and became a citizen of note and respectability. he joined the engine company and rose like a meteor to its foremost rank. the relations between the races in the south have always been such that it requires a negro of spartan courage to face a white man and return blow for blow, it matters not how righteous may be his cause. captain nicholas mcduffy was a man without fear. two or three years ago, while a member of the police force of wilmington, it became his duty to arrest some white roughs for disorderly conduct. it was a hazardous undertaking, but mcduffy waded in and landed his men, but it cost him dear. his body was so hacked by knife thrusts that he was compelled to go to the hospital for repairs. generally policemen are commended and rewarded for such heroic deeds, but this placed the name of nicholas mcduffy upon the death list. a negro officer must not presume to arrest a white man. there were, however, white men who admired mcduffy for his frankness and courage, and when the riotous excitement was at its height and the assassins were seeking here and there for victims, one of these true men warned mcduffy just in time to get into the swamp before a mob surrounded his house. they pursued him, however, but by swimming a creek not far from the city's limit he escaped their bullets, and without coat or hat made his way to new berne. his poor wife and children were left to the mercy of the mob, who drove them forth and burned the house behind them. chapter xvi. tempting negroes to return. wilmington officials scouring the woods for refugees--want them to return and go to work. special to the world. wilmington, n. c., nov. .--affairs are settling down to their normal condition here. chief of police edgar g. parmle and several representatives of the new city government drove out ten miles on the various roads leading from the city to-day, to induce the refugee negroes to come back. city officials also attended the colored churches and urged the pastors and their people to go into the woods to induce the frightened negroes to return and resume their work. the pastors of the white churches referred to the riot in their sermons to-day. the burden of the discourses was that the struggle at the polls tuesday was for liberty, decency, honesty and right; that it was not so much the drawing of the color line as a contest for the supremacy of intelligence and competence over ignorance, incompetence and debauchery. dr. hoge, pastor of the first presbyterian church, who recently preached in the fifth avenue presbyterian church, new york, and was mentioned as dr. hall's successor, took as his text: "he that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city." "we have done both," he said. "we have taken a city. that is much, but it is more because it is our own city that we have taken." dr. hoge justified the movement which led to the change of government. chapter xvii. at mrs. mclane's. it was thanksgiving day. the political storm increased tenfold in velocity and destructiveness by race hatred that had swept through the old city of wilmington, devastating homes, leaving orphans, widows and ruined fortunes in its wake, was slowly abating. a city in a state of siege could not have presented a more distressing appearance. soldiers and armed white men and boys stood in groups on every street ready to pounce upon and disperse any assemblage of black citizens upon the streets. the ringing of church bells, the call to praise only served to intensify the fear of colored worshippers whose meetings had been previously broken up by armed mobs. these dusky worshippers, devout as they were, had not the faith sufficient to enable them to discern the smiling face of god through the clouds which hung over them. demoralized, dejected, disconsolate, they dodged about here and there like sheep having no shepherd. just as the bell in the tall steeple of the old baptist church on market street was making its last long and measured peals there crept out from behind the old marine hospital a woman leading a little child by the hand. both were wretchedly clad. thrown about the woman's shoulders was an old quilt. her shoes were tied with strings, which were wrapped around the soles to keep from leaving her feet. her skirt, tattered and torn, hung dejectedly about her scant form. the child, barefooted and with only one piece to hide its nakedness, dodged behind its mother as it walked to keep the wind from striking with its full force its emaciated body. the woman, though young in years, was old and haggard in face. her woolly hair, unkempt and sprinkled with gray, the result of just three weeks of privation, apprehension and dread, bulged out from beneath the old shawl which covered her head. at the northwest corner of the hospital fence she paused, looked cheerfully toward her own cottage, but a few blocks away, then slowly walked on in that direction, the child toddling at her side. "what is the bells ringin' for, mamma?" asked the little one. "it ain't sunday." "it's thanksgiving day, and we usually go to church on that day," answered the mother, slowly. "what is thanksgiving day?" "it is a day set apart by the president for the people to assemble and give thanks for--for--blessings--received during the year, my child." this last answer tore that disconsolate mother's heart till it bled. she had reached the gate of her cottage, from which she had fled on the night of november th to escape insult and murder. a white woman sat upon the steps knitting, her children playing about the yard. the colored woman stood and momentarily gazed in amazement at the intruder upon her premises. "well, whart du you wannt?" said the white one, looking up from her work and then down again. "what do i want?" returned the colored one. "that's the question for me to ask. what are you doing in my house?" "your house?" "yes, my house!" "niggers don't own houses in dis here town no mo'; white uns air rulin' now," was the saucy response. "we uns air in these houses, an' we air goin' ter stay in um. an' mo'n thet; them's ther mair's orders." "you poor white trash; i worked hard for this house, and hold the deed for it, so you get out!" so saying, she caught hold of the latch. the white woman rushed to the corner of the fence and screamed "police!" at the top of her voice. "well, what's ther mater here?" asked one of the four men who came running up in response to the woman's call. "this nigger cums here ter purt me out er this house." "this is my house!" broke in the other. "my house," repeated the man, with a sneer. "pocession is nine-tents er th' law. she's in, you air out, so git." several colored people had responded to the call, most of them women. "come, eliza," said one, putting her arms affectionately about the wretched and angry woman's waist, while another took the little one in her arms. "it's no use to waste words; we all have suffered at the hands of these superior (?) people. but god will give the wrong-doer his reward in due season. come with us, my dear, and wait patiently." "all my nice furniture being ruined by this dirty cracker, and i can do nothing to prevent it," sobbed eliza, struggling to free herself that she might fly at the throat of the intruder, who stood glaring at her in triumph. "take her er long," said the white bully, "or i'll lock her up. the time fer niggers ter sass white fo'ks is past in wilmington." "come, eliza; that's a good woman." the woman walked reluctantly away, to be cared for by her neighbors. * * * * * that evening at about dusk mrs. mclane, an old and wealthy white citizen, stood at the window of her palatial dwelling on third street watching the twilight fade--watching the thanksgiving day of slowly die. mrs. mclane had not attended church; she felt more like hiding away from the world to be alone with god. in her devotions that morning she had cried out with all the fervency of her soul that god would turn away his anger from a people with whom he was justly displeased. "my people are to-day imbued with the feeling of boastfulness in their own strength rather than thankfulness to god. for can any of us feel that god has countenanced the murder, pillage and intimidation which the whites of wilmington have resorted to? and for what?" thus she soliloquized as she watched the day die. the clock in the old presbyterian church slowly chimed the hour of six. a long jingle of the doorbell awoke mrs. mclane from her reverie. "mrs. hill, mrs. bruce and mrs. engel, missis," said a servant, slightly pulling the door ajar and pushing her head in. "all right, margaret, i'll be right down," answered the lady. "tell aunt susan that the guests i expected to tea are here." "yes m'm." the servant disappeared, and mrs. mclane slowly descended to the parlor. "why, marjorie!" exclaimed mrs. bruce, as the hostess glided into the parlor, where the three women sat chatting. "how could you stay at home from church on such a lovely day! you missed a treat, you--" "tea's ready, missis," said margaret, appearing suddenly in the parlor door. "now, ladies, we must retire to the dining room and let conversation aid digestion; remember that my tea has waited until half an hour past the usual time for you. so, without further delay, let me lead the way to tea," and mrs. mclane proceeded to the dining room, followed by her three visitors. "well, from mrs. bruce's exclamation when i entered a while ago i must infer that you all enjoyed church service immensely." "well, i should say so," promptly answered mrs. bruce. "i don't see how any one could have remained at home on such a day as this. and, you know, we have so much to be thankful for. dr. jose quoted for his text, 'he that is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he that controlleth his spirit than he that taketh a city.' 'we have taken a city,' said he, 'our city; freed it from ignorance and misrule.' i, for one, am grateful to see our men have so nobly shown to the women of wilmington that they are worthy of our loyalty and devotion. i said to my husband, after reading that infamous and slanderous article in the record, that our men were too pigeon-livered to take that nigger out and give him what he deserves; and i think it was just such talk from our women in the households that brought about this revolution. such as the white people of wilmington have been compelled to resort to would never have happened had the good-for-nothing yankee left the black where he belonged, instead of wrenching him from his master and then educating him into the belief that he is as good as he who owned him. this manly is a new nigger--a product of yankee schools and colleges. freedom and education have worked only harm to the negro by putting high notions into his head. blacks of wilmington have had more sway than was for their good, and they need checking, and it has come at last. we will have no more black lawyers, doctors, editors and so forth, taking the support from our own professional men. and no more such disgraceful scenes as we have been compelled to endure--well-dressed negro women flaunting about our streets in finery, when they ought to be in their places. why, we can't order a gown or bonnet, but what, before we can get into the street with it on our backs, some nigger woman flirts by with the very same thing on, style, material and all. it is preposterous! how i have burned in desire to jump upon them and tear the things off and flog them, as they deserve. and to go to seventh street on a sunday or on a week-day, for that matter, the sight is heart sickening! there sambo and his woman, dressed to death, strut along with heads erect, looking as important as though they owned the city, or, astride their bicycles, they'll ride plumb over you. but we have put a stop to nigger high-stepping for a while at least, thanks to our true and patriotic men, blue-blooded southern gentlemen." "and our boys, who did so nobly!" chimed in mrs. engel. "yes! yes!" exclaimed mrs. bruce, with a triumphant laugh. "how full of zeal and love for home and country they are! it was indeed charming to see them hold up big, burly blacks and make them stand until bidden to pass on. one of the most amusing and gratifying sights was the holding up of a big nigger woman, right in front of my gate. she reared and charged, but to no purpose; those boys made her shake her duds. they pulled her clothes almost off her back trying to make her stand until searched." "and you didn't protest against such ungallant treatment of a woman, and by mere lads?" asked mrs. mclane. "protest! why, marjorie mclane! you must not, my dear, allow yourself to think of such creatures as women entitled to such consideration as is due white women. how did i know but what that creature had set out to burn some lady's dwelling. protest? no! decidedly no! i just stood there and enjoyed the fun. i am afraid you are too full of yankeeism, marjorie. you should be thankful that our enemies are vanquished. when colonel moss reached dry pond, instead of showing fight and standing by their editor, whom they upheld in slandering white women, they scampered to the woods." "and the poor frightened creatures are still there. they cannot be induced to return, and the suffering among them is intense. mothers have given birth out there, and they and their offspring have died from exposure." "poor creatures!" exclaimed mrs. engel. "god pity them and us!" continued mrs. mclane. "if what has been done in wilmington within the last few days is the work of gentlemen, then in the name of god let us have a few men in wilmington, if such can be found." "but, my dear--" "don't interrupt me, mrs. bruce! hear me through," said mrs. mclane, raising her voice. "may the groans of these suffering women and children ever ring in the ears of colonels moss and wade, and may the spirits of their murdered victims unrelentingly pursue them through the regions of hell." "marjorie mclane!" exclaimed mrs. bruce, in astonishment. "such language from a southern lady!" said mrs. hill. "yes, a southern lady clothed in her right mind," returned the hostess. "these men in their blind zeal to restore white supremacy, and to defend women, have unmistakably demonstrated their weakness. white supremacy cannot be maintained by resorting to brute force, neither can the women of one race be protected and defended while the defender of virtue looks upon the destruction of the other race as only an indiscretion. 'thou must be true thyself if thou the truth wouldst teach. thy soul must overflow if thou another's soul would reach.' "enduring supremacy, the supremacy that will be acknowledged is supremacy of character, supremacy of deportment, supremacy in justice and fair play. we have irreparably lost our hold upon the negro because we lack these attributes. we must not allow ourselves to feel that the negro in this enlightened age is incapable of knowing and appreciating true manhood and true gallantry. to shoot men after they have been totally disarmed, and after they have surrendered everything as a peace offering is cowardice without parallel. "what would lee and jackson have said should their departed spirits return to gaze upon men who so bravely followed them through the wilderness, in perilous times, leading in such dastardly work as was done in wilmington on the th of november? 'whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap.' it is not in future fires that men are to get the reward for their doings, but here in this life. our fathers have sowed the seeds that are sprung up now in race troubles and discord. the north was first to see the danger, and gave the warning; but we blindly plunged into four years of bitter strife, to maintain what we thought was our right. the troubles through which we are passing are the reaping of the fruits of the sowing of our fathers. the conduct of our people on the th of november shows plainly to my mind that we are making the same mistakes. we are foolish enough to sow that which will cause the harvester to curse us in his misery. here were boys not over twelve years of age armed and licensed to insult women, tear their clothes from them and humiliate them." "humiliate them!" echoed mrs. bruce, with a sneer, "as though such creatures could be humiliated. they are entitled to no respect from white men." "and we should not allow ourselves to think of them as women with the same feelings and propensities that we have," said mrs. engel. "i say," continued mrs. mclane, "that the negro woman should be considered a woman in the fullest sense of the term, and those men and boys who in their zeal to protect white women humiliated and disgraced black ones, insulted and humbled their own mothers, sisters and sweethearts; for what disgraces one woman disgraces another, be she white, black, red or brown. we, the white people of the south, have acknowledged the black woman's right to all the sympathy that we ourselves may expect. she has carried us in her arms and suckled us at her breast, and in thousands of instances her word has been the only law among our children in our nurseries. she heard and faithfully kept the secrets of our lives. we sought her advice, and believed in the efficacy of her prayers." "now, marjorie, you know," said mrs. bruce, "that such negro women are still dear to us; these old mammies and uncles who know and keep in their places are never troubled in the south. the yankee did us a great injury by lifting the negro out of his place, and making him feel that he is as good as we are. it is this new nigger that is causing all the trouble. the black woman, allowed to dress and flaunt about illures, tempts and often robs our domestic life of its sweetness, while the black man, with the wrong conception of freedom, often makes it impossible for our men to leave their homes unguarded." "bah! away with such nonsensical babbling! you are saying, mrs. bruce, that which down in your innermost soul you do not believe. such talk as that has given southern women undesirable notoriety, and is making the world believe that to keep us pure it costs yearly hundreds of ignominious human sacrifices, a thing that we should rise up and brand as a lie! who is to guard the home of the negro man? can we look around wilmington and believe that his home does not need a stronger arsenal than ours? while we are boiling over with sympathy for mrs. hartright, do we think for a moment of the humble home of that negro father made unhappy by mr. hartright? do we feel pity for dan hawes, john maxim, charlotte jones? the negro no longer feels that the appearance of a white illegitimate among his honestly begotten piccaninnies is an honor bestowed upon his household. charlotte's case was indeed a sad one. no one knows better than i what a heavy heart she carried after her favorite child, the one she had taken such pains to educate, and from whom she expected so much, fell a victim to the flatteries of a jew." "well, must white women stop to lament over such things?" asked mrs. hill. "are we to blame for the shortcomings of these people?" "yes," answered the hostess. "we have looked on unmoved and beheld our sister in black shorn of all protection by the laws upon the state books of every southern state, that she may be humiliated with impunity, and we have gloried in her shame." "harriet beecher stowe's "uncle tom's cabin" is no exaggeration. simon legree stalks abroad unrebuked in the south, and cassies with sad stories of betrayal and humiliation are plentiful." "i do not think it possible to better the black woman morally," said mrs. hill. "the germs of high and lofty thought are not in her, that is certain." "have you ever tried to put that theory to a test?" asked mrs. mclane sharply. "i cant say that i have," returned mrs. hill slowly. "if the negro is morally low, we are ourselves responsible, and god will call us to account for it. in our greed for gain we stifled every good impulse, fostered and encouraged immorality and unholy living among our slaves by disregarding the sacredness of the marriage relation. 'that which god hath joined together let no man put asunder!' we have done that. we have made a discord in the sweetest music that ever thrilled the human heart--the music of love. i believe that there is that pathos, that true poetry in negro love-making that no other race possesses. when a child i used to love to listen to the simple and yet pathetic pleading of the negro boy for the hand of the girl, whom to protect and defend he owned not himself. my very heart would weep when i pictured those fond hearts torn asunder by the slave trader. i could see the boy far away, in some lonely cornfield in georgia, pause, lean upon his plow and sigh for his lost love as he listened to the cooing of the dove, while she, far away in tennessee or in some virginia cornfield mournfully sang as she dropped the yellow corn. 'ebry time the sun goes down i hangs ma head an' cries.' have we not done enough to a forgiving race? the case of richard holmes is a strong proof of the negroes' high and lofty conception of purity and virtue, and had he been a white man, his actions would have been applauded to the echo. my opinion is that just so long as the safeguards around negro women are so weak, so long as the laws upon the statute books of southern states brand her as a harlot, pure or impure, and keep her outside the pale of pity and consideration, just so long will our representatives have to resort to murder and intimidation to get to congress. the strength of any race rests in the purity of its women, and when the womanhood is degraded, the life blood of a race is sapped. should we be disappointed under this showing because the negro does not vote with us? you know as well as i that the negro's vote was at the bottom of all this trouble. and we will always have trouble as long as the destruction of negro womanhood is only an indiscretion. mrs. fells of georgia shows the narrowness of her soul when she cries aloud for the protection of white women in isolated sections of georgia against lustful negroes, when she knows perfectly well that negro girls in georgia need the same protection against lustful whites. a woman who is not desirous of protecting the innocent of any race is insincere, and should be branded as a hypocrite." "mrs. fells should not be blamed for ignoring negro women. they are all fallen creatures," said mrs. engle. "that's a broad assertion for any woman to make, and there's no white woman that believes it in her innermost soul," returned mrs. mclane. "the best white blood of the south flows through the veins of negroes, and this reveals the unmistakable weakness of a superior race." * * * "the weakness of the men of a superior race! be careful and make that distinction, marjorie," said mrs. bruce. "southern white women are the most virtuous women in the world." "that's the general boast," returned mrs. mclane. "and a boast that cannot be gainsaid," said mrs. hill. "visiting the iniquities of the fathers upon the children to the third and fourth generation," quoted mrs. mclane slowly. "do you believe in the truthfulness of god's word?" there was no answer. "you all are willing to admit that the fathers have eaten sour grapes, that the sin of unlawful inter-mixture with the alien is the fault of the men. but can we prove that the taint of lust in the blood of the fathers has come down through the generations to effect the male child only, and leave the female uncontaminated? god has not so ordained it. our men sin and boast in it. consorting with the women of the alien race to them is only an indiscretion. while even to acknowledge that in the negro man are the elements of genuine manhood would make a southern white women a social exile, and make her the butt of ridicule. does not this account for the human sacrifices that have shocked the nation? if the negro's life is cheap and a frank acknowledgement of preference for him means so much to her, and knowing that her word is judge and jury, is it not likely that she would pursue the easiest course? the passing of laws since the war prohibiting the intermarriage of the races is proof that the men do not trust us as implicitly as they pretend. the lynchings and burnings that are daily occurring in the south are intended as warnings to white women as well as checks to negro men. men who constitute these mobs care no more for virtue than so many beasts; and saying that they are composed of best citizens does not alter my opinion. instead of going about as mrs. fells is doing, crying for more of the blood of the black men, and vilifying defenseless black women as mrs. harris of that same state is doing, we the southern white women better be doing a little missionary work among the men of our own race. it is time for us to rise up and let our voices be heard against the making of our protection an excuse for crime. women like mrs. harris have done nothing, and would do nothing to better the condition of the woman whom they vilify. nathan said unto david: 'thou art the man.' this poor wretch will rise up in the judgment and cry aloud against us as her unnatural sisters who stood upon her and trampled her in the mud and mire. as inferior and morally low as we may deem her, it may be more tolerable for her in the judgment than for us. i wonder sometimes how the black woman could even look with favor upon the man who to her has been and is a sneaking coward, as well as a hypocrite in conduct toward the women of his own race. to us he abuses the negro women, makes her the subject of ridiculous cartoons, shows her up before the world as a beast with his lips wet with kisses from her mouth, and she suckles at her breast the child of his begetting." "we can't afford to be too plain on that subject, marjorie," interrupted mrs. bruce. "southern women, not being independent and self-supporting, like our northern sisters, cannot afford to call the men to account, though we, some of us, see the situation just as you have presented it." "but i for one will speak plainly," said mrs. mclane. "officer bunts, instead of being driven from the city and hung in effigy, should have been treated differently, because in publicly acknowledging that he preferred a negro woman as a companion he showed that he was more of a man than those who, like the pharisees, rose up against him. if we as parents should refuse to give our daughters in marriage to men who have not clandestinely consorted with women of the alien race, how many could hold up clean hands?" "she who comes through environments of temptation unprotected from the assaults of the devil to glory and immortality will have a more exceeding and eternal weight of glory than she who has been shut in, as it were, by the walls of a nunnery." "if we could have kept the negro from the bible, kept the religion of jesus christ out of his heart, the massacre of november th might have the effect that those who planned it desired. but such demonstrations of barbarism will never be the means of vanquishing a trusting people. there's my cook, susan. her faith is simply astonishing. that young negro man who was shot to death trying to escape from the naval reserves who were taking him from his home and family was her son. when my son read the news to her, she said no word, there was no sign of distress in her face, but i could see that her heart was deeply moved. she arose after a few minutes' silent meditation, then went on with her work. that evening i stole up to her room to speak a comforting word to her. i found her reading her bible. she took off her glasses and wiped the water from her eyes as i entered." "i'm jes' layin' hold of god's promises," she said with a smile. "god is our refuge an' strength in all kinds er trouble, honey." she threw her arms about my neck and drew me down beside her, and pointing to a verse in the prayer of habakkuk said: "read it loud, honey. that's whar i stan'. 'although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines, the labor of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat.' 'the flock shall be cut off from the fold and there shall be no herd in the stalls. yet will i rejoice in the lord, i will joy in the god of my salvation.' these are her sentiments." "this demonstrates the strength of her faith. she will not believe that her child was killed. in some miraculous way he must have escaped, and will some day come to her. for the faith of the simple negro woman i would give a world." it was near the midnight hour when mrs. mclane's visitors departed, wiser women by that thanksgiving day visit, we hope. chapter xviii. the colonel's repentance. the riotous excitement was slowly abating in the old city. the woods were full of panic-stricken, starving colored people, and trains were leaving the city laden with those who had means to get away. the leading whites, feeling both alarmed at and ashamed of the havoc and misery their ambition had wrought, had begun to send men into the woods to carry food to the starving, and induce them to return to the city. but so thoroughly frightened were these poor refugees that the sight of white faces made them run away from the very food offered them. the ambassadors came back to the city disgusted, and dispatched colored men, who were more successful. it was the evening of the th of november. mr. julius kahn, eastern north carolina's representative of the life insurance company of virginia, sat at his desk in his office on front street. this company, which had been giving, for a small weekly payment, quite a substantial and satisfactory death benefit, and consequently doing quite an enormous business among the poorer classes of the colored people, were among the heaviest sufferers from the massacre, for some of the collectors had been pressed into the service of the rioters to shoot down, and intimidate their very means of support. as mr. kahn sat there, he saw nothing but absolute ruin staring him in the face. "well, what news?" he asked a man who stalked in, and sank heavily into a chair. the man threw his book upon the desk before him, shrugged his shoulders and sighed wearily. "it's useless," he answered finally. "i give it up. i haven't succeeded in getting within ten yards of a nigger woman to-day. if i went in at the front door, every occupant in a house would bolt out at the back one, and run for dear life. they will listen to no overtures of friendship. our very faces fill them with abject terror. we had just as well throw up the insurance business and quit, as far as wilmington is concerned. god's curse on the men who are responsible for this blight upon the good name of this city. one woman opened her door, cursed me, threw her book at me, and slammed the door in my face; and i can't blame her, for she saw and recognized me among the mob who shot her husband down right in her gate. and god knows i did not want to be among them, but was compelled to. and they say that old devil, after usurping the mayoralty of the city, and killing and driving from their homes so many colored people, has softened, and has sent out to induce the wretches to return," said mr. kahn after a long pause. "yes," returned the agent, "but that won't help us. they say they've lost their confidence in white people. why, you have no idea what a wretched state of things i've come across. the last five days' experience has made raving maniacs out of some of the niggers. the papers have announced the giving out of rations at the city hall to-morrow, but i doubt if many will go to get them." mr. kahn leaned over, rested his elbows upon the desk, and slowly ran his fingers through his hair. "some of our men left the city before they would be mixed up in this affair, and i wish now that i had done the same. but," he continued slowly, "we may just as well wait until all excitement is at an end before we pull up stakes. other blacks will doubtless pour in to fill the places of those that are going, and we may be enabled to build up business." "you can remain and wait, mr. kahn," answered the agent rising. "this accursed town can no longer hold me. i leave to-night for richmond, for i can no longer look into the faces of the people whom i have had a hand in killing and terrorizing. good bye, mr. kahn," and the collector was gone. * * * * * "everybody git in line an' pass one ba one before ther mair an' git yer permits; fer yer can't git rations thoughten 'um," shouted a policeman to a crowd of hungry citizens who stood upon the steps of the city hall. "git in thur ole aunty an' wait yer turn!" to an old lady, who started to leisurely climb the steps. the mayor sat at his desk, which had been placed just behind the railing in the court room, and mildly lectured each applicant as he or she came up. "this state of affairs is terrible, but it's your own fault. white people were born to rule, and you to obey. we liberated you and we can re-enslave you. freedom and yankee advice have ruined a good many of you. what's your name, old aunty?" he asked an old woman who came limping up. "maria tapp'n, marster," answered the old woman courtesing. "that's right, you haven't lost your manners," said the mayor with a smile, writing out for her an order for a double portion. "emulate these old mammies and uncles, who know their places, and you will have no trouble. next!" "ef ther's eny who needs er double po'tion hits ther widders an' orphans," said a policeman gently, pushing a little woman in black before the mayor's desk. "whose widow are you?" asked the mayor. "was your husband killed in the riots?--resisting arrest, i suppose." "this is ther widder of dan wright," answered the policeman; "an' ef wilmin'ton had er had a hundred niggers like that, we uns would er had er diff'ant tale ter tell. he was ded game." "dan wright," repeated the mayor slowly. "he's ther darkey that drawed er bead on an' defied we uns ter the las'," said the policeman pushing the woman away, and pushing another up to the desk. but the mayor neither answered nor looked up. one by one they continued to come up to receive their orders and pass out; but the executive looked them no more in the face, nor essayed to speak. the crowd slowly dwindled away until the last applicant had passed out. the mayor laid his pen upon the desk before him, leaned back in his chair, raised his feet upon the desk, and fell into a reverie. the doings of the past few days came back to his mind in all their shocking significance. the curses, the groans, the agonizing cries of the bereaved and the dying sounded a hundred-fold more voluminous and heart-rending. then the bloody form of dan wright appeared with hands uplifted, eyes staring at his murderers, the blood streaming from a hundred wounds. the mayor had seen hard service in war, was one of the immortal few who, under the leadership of pickett, made that gallant but futile charge at gettysburg, to be driven back for a third time, crushed, mangled and defeated. he doubtless assisted in digging the trenches into which those ghastly remnants that told of the cannon's awful work were thrown. that was war, and such sights had never so affected the veteran as the vision now before him. "avaunt! avaunt! quit my sight! let the earth hide thee! thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; thou hast no speculation in those eyes that thou dost glare with!" the mayor started up, opened his eyes. uncle guy stood before him. "i jes' taut i'd drap in, kurnel, but didn't speck ter fin' yer sleep," said he, wincing under the mayor's abstracted gaze. "oh, i don' want nut'n; don' make er scratch on dat paper. i ain't beggin'," he exclaimed, as the mayor, recovering, reached for his pen. "that's so guy; you needn't be a beggar as long as the white people own a crust," he answered, settling back in his chair again. "well, what are negroes saying about the uprising, guy?" the old man shrugged his shoulders, and shook his index finger at the mayor. "le' me tell yo', kurnel, you na wilmin'ton rich bocra, dun throw yo' number an' los'; hear me? ef enybody gone tell me dat dese people i bin raise wid, who bin called de bes' bocra in de worl' would go an' kick up all dis ere devil, i'd er tole um no." the old man straightened up, pointed skyward. "lowd deliver yunna bocra when yer call befo' de bar. dese niggers ain't su'prise at po' white trash; dey do enyting. but yunna fus class white fo'ks--" "well, guy," broke in the mayor, "it was hard for us to resort to such, but it was in self-defense." "self-defense! self-defense!" repeated the old man. "when po' nigger han bin tie, an' yunna bocra got eberyt'ing--gun, cannon an' all de am-nition, an' beside dat, de town full wid strange trash frum all ober de country to crush dem? some er dese men i sees shootin' an' killin', dars men an' umen livin' er my race dat nussed an' tuk keer er dem w'en dey bin little. god er mighty gwinter pay yunna well fer yer work, kurnel, an' de gost er dem po' murdered creeters gwine ter haunt yo' in yer sleep. god don' lub ugly, an' yunna can't prosper." the old man concluded with a low bow, strode out, and left the mayor alone with his thoughts. chapter xix. teck pervis, the leader. "come, stan' back, men! i led you uns this fer, an' kin lead you through. i'm goin' ter lead the way ter ther mare's office. foller me!" a crowd of disappointed poor whites, who had assisted in restoring white supremacy and who had not been treated fairly in the distribution of the spoils, had gathered upon the city hall steps in wilmington to state their grievances and have them adjusted. teck pervis, the chairman of white supremacy league of dry pond and leader of the raiders on the th of november, pushed his way through the crowd and faced the mayor, who, seeing them approaching, had sent forward a platoon of police to intercept them, but without effect. "i say, mr. mare," said the leader, fumbling with his hat, "we uns heard that you sont orders fer us ter turn in our guns." "i did give such orders," returned the mayor calmly. "le' me tell yer, mr. mare, you uns ain't filled yer contract wid we po' uns, an' ther hain't er goin' ter be eny turnin' in guns tell yer do." "state your grievance," commanded the mayor, in a tone that betrayed the ugliness of his temper. "you hain't carried out yer promus by a jug full," said teck. "we uns have ter have ther pintin' er half er ther new officers in ther city. we uns war ter be giv'n these big-bug niggers' houses, churches an' so on. niggers places in ther sto'es an' every whar was ter be giv' ter we uns. now, drot my hides, ef these things air takin' shape zactly ter suit we uns. now, we want satisfaction." "well," said the mayor, "we thank you gentlemen for your zeal in helping us to rid wilmington of radical rule, but we are sorry that you misunderstood us in regard to spoils and so forth. we can't take from the negro his property and give it to you, but in cases where he has been timid enough to give it up (and we have had instances of the kind) we have sustained the white man. as many of the merchants as could consistently do so have discharged their black help and put on whites. but complaints are coming in to me that you can't do their work; that it often takes two white men to perform one negro's task. good and reliable colored help are leaving the city in alarming numbers, and we must call a halt. mr. skidmore tells me that he tried a few whites at his mill a few days ago and the result was most unsatisfactory. they couldn't count and pile the lumber and run the saws, and the scheme is a dead loss. what are we to do? we have given you the street work, and the police force is full. you men are not sufficiently educated to fill clerical positions, and even if you were, we must reserve them for the first families," concluded the mayor, with a haughty lift of his head. "now, mr. mare, yo' speech is all right 'nough, but it don't suit we uns ernough ter give up ther guns. we went back on our colored frends ter giv' yo' 'ristocrats ther gov'ment, and we uns'll combine wi' ther colored men an' take hit from yer, see?" teck pervis turned and faced the men who stood like a wall at his back. "gentermen, go home an' keep yer guns an' yer powder dry, for yo'll need 'em! good day, mr. mare!" he followed and addressed his men from the steps of the city hall. "gentermen, we pu' down nigger rule on the tenth, the nex' move mus' be ter let ther 'ristocrats know thet the one gullus boys air indowed by god wi' ther same rites as they air. we po' uns'll have er show, er break up the whole thing. go home, boys, and be ready to rally when ther order's giv'!" chapter xx. rev. jonas melvin, resigns. "i've bin er readin' ther scripter an' rastlin' wi' ther lord in prayer fer lo these meny ye'rs, an' hain't never seed er time when i tho't thet er preacher of ther word was jestified in j'inin' in with sinners in devilment. thar's no use in talkin', brother melvin mus' wine up his kareer in free will church." mrs. aamanda pervis was addressing the above to deacon littleton, as arm in arm they proceeded toward the church a few evenings after thanksgiving day. ever since the massacre she had been busily trying to awaken sentiment in the church against the pastor, who on that fatal day had stood with dr. jose upon the firing line to shoot down his fellow citizens of color. the deacons had waited upon jonas melvin and informed him of what was being done, and had advised him to tender his resignation and get out; but he preferred coming before the church and "quitting honorably," as he termed it. mrs. pervis had worked so earnestly that the church was crowded to the doors on that evening. it was deacon littleton who called the meeting to order and stated its purpose. "brethren an' sisters," he began, "the th of november was to the people of this community a tryin' time. it was a war which many of us felt justifiable in enterin', but there was no justification in it; it was the work of the devil. if we had got on our knees an' kept our eyes fixed upon the things of god, such a deed as has disgraced this community would not have happened. i wonder what the negro thinks of us now? does he think we air the banner carriers of christian civilization? orphans are cryin', widows are moanin', a paradise has been turned into hell by a people calling themselves a superior people. christians and sinners have gone hand and hand into this evil. we don't know whether any other church has felt in duty boun' to sift its membership, an' reprimanded the guilty, but free will baptist church feels it her indispensable duty to do so, an' we are sorry to say that the first case we are pained to try is that of our pastor, rev. jonas melvin, who, on the th of november, , stood with gun in hand, assisting the devil in his work." turning to the minister, who sat all the while with head bowed, the deacon concluded: "brother jonas melvin, have you anything to say to this charge, why it should not be sustained, and you be dismissed from this church?" rev. jonas melvin arose. "brethren," he began, "this work began in the church; church people laid the plans and led in the execution of those plans. those men who waited upon the governor to persuade him to keep the troops away that the mob might execute its work unmolested, were leading church men and ministers of the gospel." "they were no christians!" cried a feminine voice. "i thought i was doing my duty as a christian in assisting in restoring good government to the people of this town, and if i have done wrong, the lord is my judge." mr. melvin sat down. "the state of things as they existed in wilmington did not justify the taking of a single life," said a brother, rising, "and many a man has been made to stumble by the deeds of professing christians in this riot; and while i'm on my feet, i move that the resignation of rev. jonas melvin from the pastorate of this church be demanded." "secon' ther motion!" exclaimed mrs. pervis, jumping to her feet. "an' i wish ter say jes' here that teck pervis, who perfessed religion las' year, has jes' gone back to ther deval bekase, ses he, the preachers war in this thing. preachers whose han's air full er blood air not fit ter handle ther word er god." the motion was carried with but few opposers. mrs. pervis felt light enough to fly away that night as she walked homeward, for she had carried the church with her for god and the right. she hugged the arm of deacon littleton with painful tenacity as they both strode homeward together. "think of them po' creeters drove frum ther homes ter suffer an' die by men claimin' ter hev religion. jonas melvin mus' go back ter georgy whar the people air in leeg wid ther deval." chapter xxi. bill sikes. bill sikes was a man who always looked ahead and wisely prepared for declining years. bill was a carpenter by trade, and by thrift and industry saved money, bought land and built houses upon it, so that he might leave comfortable homes for his many children. when the calamity came which incapacitated him for further usefulness he had come into possession of a whole block in the portion of the city known as "new town." his prosperity did not, however, lessen his activity; he forgot that he was getting old, for his limbs were yet supple and his eyes perfectly clear. he measured off his lumber and drove nails with the strength and accuracy of a young man; yet, as death lurks in every passing breeze, feeling well is no evidence of sound health or assurance of long life. bill sikes seldom complained. steady habits had made him vigorous and confident; but one morning his fond wife stood in the door and watched him as with head erect and firm step he strode away to his work, only to be borne back to her at noon a helpless paralytic. "what's the matter, william?" she asked tenderly, as loving hands lay him upon the lounge before her. but the tongue which had bid her good-bye so fondly that morning could not utter a word, and the eyes that had gazed so sweetly into hers bespoke the bitter anguish of his soul as they stared vacantly at her. "he's done fer," said one of the men, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. "the doctors seen him and says he ain't fer long." "speak to me, william," cried mrs. sikes, bending low and pressing her cheeks against her husband's. he raised his arm to caress her, but it fell again to his side. but bill sikes did not die; he rallied; the lost strength gradually came back to his palsied limbs sufficiently to enable him to hobble around, and his tongue became light enough to utter words that could be understood with difficulty. full and complete recovery was impossible, however; he was a child, helplessly clinging to his wife, whose burden was increased tenfold with the larger children all away and management of everything--the looking after their little store and other property upon her shoulders; she felt that god had tried her as no other soul had been tried. the property of bill sikes had for a long time been coveted by his white neighbors, but even extortionate offers had been refused. but the th of november offered a favorable opportunity for the covetous to bulldoze black men who owned valuable real estate into selling it at any price, and mrs. sikes was one of that number whose experience had turned their love for the dear old home into hate. she had witnessed the killing of a poor wretch right in front of her door, within a stone's throw of his home; had heard the agonizing wails of his wife and children--a sight which she had never expected to witness in wilmington. the roar of cannon and musketry, the yells of frightened women and children kept her poor, helpless husband in constant terror, hanging on to her skirts like a babe. and now, although weeks had passed since that fatal day, the native white, emboldened by re-enforcement and the demoralization of colored men, kept up the reign of terror. colored women of respectability who had not fled the city were compelled to remain prisoners in their homes to escape ignominious treatment upon the highways. it was a few mornings after thanksgiving day when mrs. west left her cottage on campbell street and ventured over to pay a visit to mrs. sikes. "well, henrietta, how have you managed to live through it all?" she asked, throwing her arms about the waist of mrs. sikes, who saw her approaching, and had gone out upon the porch to greet her. "and poor william! i've thought of you oh! so many times, henrietta, knowing of just how much you were in need of his protection during these days of trial." "yes," answered mrs. sikes, leading the visitor in and bolting the door. "the burden upon his poor wife's shoulders is indeed heavy; but, then, our men are unable to protect us, anyway, so great are the odds against them." "oh, wilmington! wilmington! who would have thought that thou wouldst be the theatre for the tragedy enacted within thy borders!" interrupted mrs. west. "some of us, at least, are too well bred, have too much self-respect and pride to stand and endure this state of things that exists now in our home. we could go to church and worship unmolested in the days of slavery; now we have not been permitted for weeks to hold public worship. they are determined to place and keep north carolina on a level with states further south. would you believe it? one of our white ladies sent her servant down to the bandit mayor to be whipped the other day." "yes," said mrs. sikes, "another went down to have a negro woman driven out of her own house because she lived in a white neighborhood and the children had had a little trouble among themselves. and the poor black woman, to remain in her house, was compelled to get down on her knees and beg the white one's pardon." "well," said mrs. west, "we held a meeting the other night, and i told the few who had the courage to venture out that i was going. give me liberty or give me death! i would rather be a beggar in a land of liberty than a croesus where my wealth will not purchase toleration. the colored citizens who own property are the very ones who have been forced to leave the city." "i have also made up my mind to do the same," answered mrs. sikes. "william is so disgusted that he wants to go even if he has to sell our property for half its value. then he thinks that in new york he can go under treatment in one of the many great hospitals there. he has improved so much that he believes final recovery possible. to tell you the truth, i did not believe that i could become so disgusted with my own home, in which i was born and loved so well." "it may all be for the best," said mrs. west. "some one hath sinned--there is an achan in the camp, and when the sin is punished innocent and guilty suffer alike. in our prosperity we have strayed away from him who hath redeemed us, and these broken down aristocrats and poor white indentured slaves are the philistines sent to scourge us. and, then, we have been slaves to the idea that there is no place on earth for us to live but here in our home. the eagle hath stirred up her nest that her young may scatter abroad. old as i am, i will leave wilmington, trusting in god and feeling that the world is mine, and if i can't live in peace in one place i can go to another. but the most important thing is, molly has consented to go." "brave girl!" said mrs. sikes. "i heard of her wonderful deeds during the massacre; i didn't believe it was in her. in her new surroundings, away from old associate, she will keep straight. i have made up my mind to go finally to cleveland, ohio, my old home. colored women are not so much annoyed by white men in the north and west as in the south, and molly may there be enabled to quit her old habits. we will see each other before we start away, as i shall take a steamer, for we may stay a while in new york," concluded mrs. west, rising to go. "it matters not where on earth we may roam, there are twelve gates to the city up there. there is no more parting, no more persecution, no more separation, no tears. so long, till i see you again." the usurping mayor of wilmington had just disposed of the last case upon docket, dismissed the court and had settled back in his chair to enjoy the morning paper, when bill sikes entered, and, with his hat in his hand, humbly approached the railing behind which the mayor sat. he rested his palsied hand upon the rail and saluted. the mayor arose, came forward and extended his hand. "well, bill, how are you?" "mornin', colonel," answered he. "i come down to tell yer i'm goin'." "going? where?" "i think i'll try the north, colonel." the mayor's face relaxed. "why, bill, you are all right; no one's troubled you. if all the negroes were like you we would have had no trouble." "yes, i know i'm all right," answered bill, "but i can't stan' seein' men who was playmates of mine shot down on the streets like dogs by their ol' 'sociates an' neighbors. you know, colonel, i'm one who b'lieved in the white people of this town, an' was ready at any time to stake ma life on that belief; but what has took place in wilmington an' what is still goin' on has converted me." "now, bill," said the mayor, somewhat moved, "the white people of wilmington had to resort to this to restore the government to those to whom it rightfully belonged. white people must rule, bill." "i ain't got no objection to your rulin', but drivin' out black citizens who have stood by yer an' been always faithful to yer is er grave mistake. the deal yer made with these po-bocra is goin' ter give yer trouble, colonel, mark ma words. you ain't got no more use fer po' whites than i have, an' i know it." "but they were the means to the end, bill," answered the mayor, with a smile. "a kingdom divided agin itself is er goin' ter fall, colonel." "don't be a fool and leave your home because of unpleasantness; remember you are getting old; the north is no place for you; you are comfortably fixed here." "yes, colonel, i know that, but i'm not goin' ter stay in er place where a d--n scoundrel can insult ma wife an' i can't pertect her, an' you know there's been a time when i could. good-bye, colonel." "good-bye, bill; you'll regret it i'm afraid." bill sikes went back home to prepare for his journey northward. chapter xxii. a ship sails. when on the evening of december , , the old clyde steamer drifted out from her docks into mid stream in the harbor of wilmington, among the host of passengers that stood upon her deck, with tear-dimmed eyes, to bid adieu to the dear old town was molly pierrepont. leaning upon the shoulder of her foster mother, whose heart was too full to speak, she frantically waved her handkerchief and cried "farewell, old home! dear as thou hast been to me, i must leave thee for ever; for thou art in the possession of the wicked. the spoiler is in thy borders. the blood of innocents has flowed freely in thy highways, and the murderer and the assassin stalk abroad in thy streets. but it matters not where i go, thy days of equity, when every citizen, it mattered not how humble, was free, shall ever live with me. days of childhood innocence, the shouts of the children, the clang of the school bell, the rippling of the rills, the hum of bees will be the means of helping me to forget thy latter days of turmoil and strife. good-bye, old home! good-bye!" chapter xxiii. bill sikes in new york. it was near the christmas holidays, a genuine northern winter day, cold and piercing, going to the marrow in spite of heavy clothing. francis lewis, contractor and builder, sat in his comfortable office in west forty-seventh street, new york city, when the door was pushed open and a light-skinned colored man entered. his face was thin and pinched, his hair and beard slightly mixed with gray, and he dragged one foot as he walked. "well, what can i do for you, my good man?" said mr. lewis, rising. "take a seat; you don't look as though you are very well," pointing to a chair near by. "i'm jes' lookin' aroun'," answered the man, lowering himself into the chair with difficulty. "i'm er carp'nter maself." "yes? where are you from?" asked mr. lewis. "from the south--wilmington," was the reply. "oh, that's the scene of recent riots. what's the matter with those people down there--crazy?" "no, but that was the only way they could git er hol' er the gov-nment," answered the colored man. "the colored people bein' in the majority of course had controlin' power, but they were always willin' fer the whites ter rule, an' they did rule. but there wasn't offices ernough to go 'round to all the bankrup' whites who wanted political jobs, and give the negro er repersentation too, so they concluded ter wipe the negro off the earth." "shame! shame!" exclaimed mr. lewis. "then the colored people were gittin' er lon too well; they had considerable property, and was well up in the trades an' professions. i owned er whole block maself, an' was perpared to spen' ther balance of ma days at ease, but had ter sell ma house an' git out." "you say you are a carpenter--house builder?" "yes, sir." "you mean to say that you took contracts, planned and built houses?" "oh, yes," replied the colored man. "i never saw a colored architect. say, george!" to a man who had just entered, "here's a colored architect and house-builder from the south." "architect and builder?" queried the other, drawing nigh. "well, mr.--what is your name?" "william--william sikes." "mr. sikes, are you looking for work at your trade in the north? the trades union and so forth make it pretty hard for a colored man to get in here; and then you can't work, you are lame." "i am a little lame," replied bill, looking down at his palsied arm. "i had a paralytic stroke some time er go. i am goin' in for treatment, an' if i git well, i won't ask trade union an' labor unions no boot. where there's er will there's er way." "but i am afraid you will never recover sufficient strength to work again at your trade, my man," answered mr. lewis, tenderly; "but you can try." "good day," said bill, rising to go. "good day," said mr. lewis. but mrs. sikes, still vigorous and strong, found in new york abundant opportunities for women to be useful. there was day's work, general house work, chamber work and cooking situations to be had without very much effort on the part of the seeker. mrs. sikes, whose work had chiefly been dressmaking and plain sewing, found the new field of labor quite irksome. the money realized from the sale of her property she must not let dwindle away too swiftly; her husband was helpless, and she must work, and the children must work. she found the north a place where a day's work meant a day's work in full; there was no let up; the pound of flesh was exacted. so she often tugged home to her apartments very tired and discouraged. they had been in new york quite a year, and mrs. sikes had quite gotten used to northern ways (everything seeming easier accomplished), when one evening at the dinner table she noticed that her husband watched her more than usual. "what's the matter, william?" she asked, tenderly. "i'm awful discouraged," he said. "i--i don't get any better, an' hate ter see you an' children strugglin' so hard an' i can't help." "now, don't worry about that, william; it will do no good." "i was thinkin'," he went on, "that we might try it again in wil--" "now, don't mention wilmington to me again, william!" broke in mrs sikes, sharply. "if you wish to go back to that hell, i'll put you on the train and you can go; but i, never! life is not so easy here, but i can walk the streets as a lady, and my children are free to play and romp without fear of being killed for accidentally or purposely treading upon the toe of a white child. i have been free too long to endure slavery for one moment. wilmington is not what it used to be, and i fear it never will be. i have just received a letter from mrs. cole saying that the situation has not changed. on castle street about a month ago a black child's body was found full of bruises. it is supposed he was killed by white boys in sport. a young man was called to his door a few nights ago and shot down because he had driven his horse over a gentleman's (?) dog. she says to appeal to the law is useless. she says further that the poor whites are preparing for another raid. now, i would rather live here free in poverty than to live there a slave in comfort. the children are all away, the property is sold, and there is nothing to be gained by going." bill said no more to his wife upon the subject; he knew her too well to misunderstand her words. molly's final step. it was sunday evening in new york. bethel church was crowded to the doors. the sermon had been concluded, and the choir and congregation had solemnly chanted the lord's prayer. "as i looked over this audience to-night," said dr. henderson, descending from the pulpit, "i think of the words of the blessed saviour, 'the fields are white and ready to harvest,' so i'm going to open the doors of the church. who here is ready to make a start for heaven to-night? come, sinner! god's not calling the righteous, but you. there is a prodigal child here to-night who has wandered from home. come home; there is bread and to spare, and a warm welcome there. here comes one, thank god!" a young man went forward and took the minister's hand, followed by two others. "who else will come? there is some one that is almost persuaded. remember that to be almost persuaded is to be lost. come, sinner. "'will you scorn the message sent in mercy from above? every sentence, oh how tender! every line is full of love.' "listen to it: 'every line is full of love.' god requires no preparation; come just as you are. just surrender yourself, yourself to--" "i surrender, lord." this exclamation startled the audience, and all eyes were turned upon a tall and stately woman, who suddenly arose in the centre of the church and started forward. this was molly pierrepont, making the final step. "poor magdalene," she whispered as she took dr. henderson's hand. "but god is gracious, my child," returned the minister. a month went by. it was sunday evening, and again bethel was filled to overflowing; but, large as that audience was, a serene stillness prevailed, for out from the choir loft a rich soprano voice, pathetic and appealing in its tone, fell serenely upon listening ears. "just as i am thou wilt receive, wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve; because thy promise i believe oh lamb of god, i come. "just as i am, thy love unknown, hath broken every barrier down, now to be thine, yea thine alone, oh lamb of god, i come." molly has done her part nobly and well, so i close the story with molly. * * * * * transcriber's note: the following changes have been made to the text: page : "whose there" changed to "who's there". page : "state from mountian" changed to "state from mountain". page : "good da , gideon" changed to "good day, gideon". page : "georgia and florida its" changed to "georgia and florida it's". page : "kidder s hill" changed to "kidder's hill". page : "anti-bellum liking" changed to "ante-bellum liking". page : "the main thorougfare" changed to "the main thoroughfare". page : "by offering to puschase" changed to "by offering to purchase". page : "it is writeen" changed to "it is written". page : "great' eal" changed to "great 'eal". page : "wilmington record" was italicized. page : "dr. pond" changed to "dry pond". page : "misses," said a servant" changed to "missis," said a servant". page : "such langauge" changed to "such language". page : "make it prety hard" changed to "make it pretty hard". file was produced from images generously made available by the bibliothèque nationale de france (bnf/gallica) at http://gallica.bnf.fr and by first-hand history at http://www. st-hand-history.org) * * * * * smithsonian institution--bureau of ethnology. illustrated catalogue of a portion of the collections made by the bureau of ethnology during the field season of . william h. holmes. * * * * * contents. page. introductory collections from jackson county, north carolina from the cherokee indians articles of stone articles of clay vegetal substances animal substances collections from cocke county, tennessee from the fields at newport articles of stone from a mound on pigeon river articles of clay collections from sevier county, tennessee the mcmahan mound articles of stone articles of clay objects of metal objects of shell animal substances from the fields of sevierville articles of stone articles of clay collections from roane county, tennessee mound at taylor's bend articles of stone articles of clay objects of shell from field at taylor's bend articles of stone vicinity of kingston mound at niles' ferry mounds near paint rock ferry fragments of pottery objects of shell collections from jefferson county mound on fain's island articles of clay from the fields of fain's island articles of stone objects of shell animal substances collections from mississippi county, arkansas pemissicott mound chickasawba mound mounds in carson lake township mounds at pecan point articles of clay field graves and fields in vicinity of pecan point articles of stone articles of clay collections from arkansas county, arkansas mounds at arkansas post articles of clay field graves about menard mounds articles of stone articles of clay objects of metal animal substances collection from monroe county, arkansas mound at lawrenceville articles of clay mounds at indian bay articles of clay collections from ohio from mounds and fields articles of stone articles of clay human remains collections from oregon articles of stone collections from kentucky collections from missouri articles of clay collections from other states collections from peru illustrations. fig. .--stone implement, tennessee .--sections of earthen vessels, tennessee .--earthen vessel, tennessee .--shell ornament, tennessee .--shell ornament, tennessee .--shell ornament, tennessee .--shell ornament, tennessee .--shell ornament, tennessee .--shell ornament, tennessee .--shell ornament, tennessee .--shell ornament, tennessee .--shell ornament, tennessee .--shell ornament, tennessee .--stone implement, tennessee .--stone implement, tennessee .--stone implement, tennessee .--stone implement, tennessee .--stone implement, tennessee .--stone implement, tennessee .--stone implement, tennessee .--shell bead, tennessee .--shell bead, tennessee .--shell bead, tennessee .--earthen vessel, tennessee .--shell ornament, tennessee .--shell ornament, tennessee .--stone implement, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--stone implement, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--earthen vessel, arkansas .--method of plaiting sandals .--method of plaiting mat .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--earthen vessel, missouri .--wooden mask, peru .--stone net-sinker, peru .--copper fish-hooks, peru * * * * * illustrated catalogue of a portion of the ethnologic and archÆologic collections made by the bureau of ethnology during the year . by william h. holmes. * * * * * collection made by edward palmer, in north carolina, tennessee, and arkansas. introductory. mr. palmer began his explorations early in july, , and continued with marked success until the end of the year. he first paid a visit to the cherokee indians of north carolina, and collected a large number of articles manufactured or used by this people, besides a number of antiquities from the same region. from carolina he crossed into tennessee, and began work by opening a number of mounds in cocke county. in september he opened a very important mound, which i have named the mcmahan mound. it is located in the vicinity of sevierville, sevier county. afterwards mounds were opened on fain's island, at dandridge, and at kingston. in september he crossed into arkansas and made extensive explorations at osceola, pecan point, arkansas post, and indian bay. it has devolved upon the writer to examine and catalogue this fine collection. in preparing the catalogue the plan of arrangement already adopted by the bureau has been carried out; that is, a primary classification by locality and a secondary by material. the descriptions of specimens are taken from the card catalogue prepared by the writer on first opening the collection, and will be given in full, excepting in cases where detailed descriptions have been furnished in separate papers, either in this or the preceding annual report. cuts have been made of a number of the more interesting specimens. the localities are named in the order of their exploration. collections from jackson county, north carolina. obtained chiefly from the cherokee indians. articles of stone. . a small disk of dark-gray slate, ¼ inches in diameter and ½ inches in thickness. the form is symmetrical and the surface well polished. the sides are convex, slightly so near the center and abruptly so near the circumference. the rim or peripheral surface is squared by grinding, the circular form being accurately preserved. this specimen was obtained from an aged cherokee, who stated that it had formerly been used by his people in playing some sort of game. it seems not improbable that this stone has been used for polishing pottery. . a small subglobular pebble used as a polishing stone for pottery. . a polishing stone similar to the above. this implement was seen in use by the collector. . a hemispherical stone, probably used as a nut-cracker. . a stone implement somewhat resembling a thick, round-pointed pick, ½ inches in length and inch in diameter. it is perforated exactly as an iron pick would be for the insertion of a handle. the perforation has been produced by boring from opposite sides; at the surface it is five-eighths of an inch in diameter, and midway about three-eighths. the material seems to be an indurated clay or soft slate. the collector suggests that this specimen was probably used for smoothing bow-strings or straightening arrow-shafts. . eight arrow points of gray and blackish chalcedony. . pipe of gray, indurated steatite, of modern cherokee manufacture. . pipe of dark greenstone, highly polished. it is well modeled, but of a recent type. . grooved ax of compact greenish sandstone; found near bakersville, n.c. articles of clay. obtained from the southern band of cherokees, jackson county, north carolina. the manufacture of pottery, once so universally practiced by the atlantic coast indians, is still kept up by this tribe, rather, however, for the purpose of trade than for use in their domestic arts. the vessels are, to a great extent, modeled after the ware of the whites, but the methods of manufacture seem to be almost wholly aboriginal. . a handled mug or cup of brownish ware. the form is not aboriginal. it is composed of clay, tempered, apparently, with pulverized shell. the surface has a slight polish produced by a polishing implement. the height is ½ inches and the width nearly the same. . large flat-bottomed bowl, inches in height, inches in diameter at the top, and at the base. although made without a wheel, this vessel is quite symmetrical. the thickness is from one-fourth to one-half of an inch. the material has been a dark clay paste with tempering of powdered mica. . a three-legged pot, with spherical body, resembling very closely in appearance the common iron cooking pot of the whites. the rim is inches in diameter, and inch high. the body is inches in diameter. two handles are attached to the upper part of the body. the form is symmetrical and the surface highly polished. the polishing stone has been used with so much skill that the effect of a glaze is well produced. the materials used were clay and pulverized mica. the color is dark brown. . a strong, rudely made vessel shaped like a half cask. the walls are about one-half an inch in thickness. the surface is rough, the polishing stone having been very carelessly applied. . a flat-bottomed bowl symmetrical in shape but rudely finished. vegetal substances. . basket sieve said to be used to separate the finer from the coarser particles of pounded corn. the coarse meal thus obtained is boiled and allowed to ferment. this is used as food and is called _connawhana_. the sieve is made of split cane carefully smoothed; some of the strips are dyed red and others brown. a simple ornamental design is worked in these colors. the opening is square, with rounded corners, the sides measuring inches. the depth is inches. the bottom is flat and loosely woven. . a bottle-shaped basket, with constricted neck and rectangular body, used by the cherokees for carrying fish. height, inches; width of mouth, inches; diameter of body, inches. it is made of strips of white oak or hickory, one-fourth of an inch in thickness. . basket made of strips of white oak intended for the storage of seeds and for other household uses. the rim is about inches in diameter; the body is inches in diameter, the base being rectangular and flat. . basket, made of cane, used for storing seed. . two baskets, made of cane, probably used for household purposes. they are neatly ornamented with simple designs, produced by the use of colored strips. the rims are oval in shape, and the bases rectangular. the larger will hold about half a bushel, the smaller about a gallon. . small basket with a handle, made of splints of white oak. yellow strips of hickory bark are used to ornament the rim. other colors are obtained by using bark of different trees, maple, walnut, etc. . small cup or dish carved from laurel or cucumber wood. it is very neatly made. the depth is about inch; the width inches. . large spoon, carved from laurel or cucumber wood, used by the cherokees in handling the _connawhana_, or fermented meal. the carving is neatly done. the heart-shaped bowl is inches in length, in width, and about in depth. the handle is inches long, and is embellished at the end by a knob and ring. the knob is carved to represent a turtle's or snake's head. . a smaller spoon similar in shape to the above. . a large, five-pronged fork carved from the wood of the _magnolia glauca_ (?). it resembles the iron forks of the whites. . a small, three-pronged fork of the same pattern and material as the above. . a wooden comb made in imitation of the shell combs used by white ladies for supporting and ornamenting the back hair. the carving is said to have been done with a knife. considerable skill is shown in the ornamental design at the top. the wood is maple or beech. . a walnut paddle or club, used to beat clothes in washing. . bow of locust wood, feet long, one-half an inch thick, and ½ inches wide in the middle, tapering at the ends to inch. the back of the bow is undressed, the bark simply having been removed. the string, which resembles ordinary twine, is said to be made of wild hemp. the arrows are inches in length. the shafts are made of hickory wood and have conical points. stone and metal points are not used, as the country abounds in small game only, and heavy points are considered unnecessary. in trimming the arrow two feathers of the wild turkey are used; these are close clipped and fastened with sinew. . blow-gun used by the cherokees to kill small game. this specimen is feet in length, and is made of a large cane, probably the _arundinaria macrosperma_. these guns are made from to feet in length, the diameter in large specimens reaching ½ inches. . arrows used with the blow-gun. the shafts, which are made of hickory wood, are feet in length and very slender. the shooting end has a conical point; the feather end is dressed with thistle-down, tied on in overlapping layers with thread or sinew. the tip of down completely fills the barrel of the gun; and the arrow, when inserted in the larger end and blown with a strong puff, has a remarkable carrying and penetrating power. . thistle-heads, probably the _cnicus lanceolatus_, from which the down is obtained in preparing the arrows of the blow-gun. . ball-sticks or racquets made of hickory wood. rods of this tough wood, about feet long, are dressed to the proper shape, the ends having a semicircular section, the middle part being flat. each is bent and the ends united to form a handle, leaving a pear-shaped loop inches in width by about in length, which is filled with a network of leather or bark strings sufficiently close to hold the ball. . ball, ½ inches in diameter, covered with buckskin, used with the racquets in playing the celebrated ball game of the cherokee, choctaw, creek, and seminole indians. animal substances. . shell, probably a _unio_, used by potters to scrape the surface of clay vessels; seen in use. . comb made of horn. the teeth are inches in length, and have been made with a saw. it is used in dressing the hair. . charm made of feathers and snake rattles; worn on the head or on some part of the costume. . awl of iron set in a handle of deer's horn. collections from cocke county, tennessee. from fields near newport. articles of stone. . grooved ax, inches in length, ½ in width, and about in thickness; one side is quite flat, the other convex. the material is a banded schistose slate. . a fine specimen of grooved ax, inches in length, in width, and ½ in thickness. the groove is wide and shallow, and is bordered by two narrow ridges, which are in sharp relief all the way around. the material appears to be a greenish-gray diorite. . a grooved ax, inches long, ½ inches wide, and inch thick. this specimen is similar to the preceding, the groove being deeper on the lateral edges of the implement, and the upper end less prominent. it is made of a fine-grained gray sandstone. . fragment of a grooved ax, of gray slate. the groove is shallow and irregular. . celt of compact gray sandstone, somewhat chipped at the ends. it is ½ inches in length by ½ in width and ½ in thickness. one face is flat, the other convex. the sides are nearly parallel. a transverse section would be sub rectangular. . fragment of celt, inches in length by in width and about ½ in thickness. the material is a fine grained sandstone or a diorite. . a long, slender celt, very carefully finished, inches in length, in width, and less than in thickness. the material is a very compact gray slate. it has apparently been recently used as a scythe-stone by some harvester. . fragment of a small, narrow celt, both ends of which are lost. material, gray diorite. . heavy celt of gray diorite, inches in length by in width and ½ in thickness. . a pestle of gray diorite, with enlarged base and tapering top, ½ inches in length and inches in diameter at the base. . a pestle of banded schistose slate, inches in length, and ½ inches in diameter in the middle, tapering symmetrically toward the ends, which terminate in rounded points. . a ceremonial (?) stone resembling somewhat a small broad-bladed pick, the outline being nearly semicircular. it is pierced as a pick is pierced for the insertion of a handle. it is ½ inches in length, ½ in width, and three-fourths of an inch in thickness. the material is a soft greenish mottled serpentine, or serpentinoid limestone. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] . a pierced tablet of gray slate, ½ inches long, ½ inches wide, and half an inch thick. the two perforations are ½ inches apart; they have been bored from opposite sides, and show no evidence of use. nine notches have been cut in one end of the tablet. it has been much injured by recent use as a whetstone. . cup stone of rough sandstone, having seventeen shallow cup-like depressions, from to inches in diameter. the stone is of irregular outline, about inches in diameter and in thickness. . a large pipe of gray steatite; the bowl is square and about inches in length, by in diameter. the stem end is inches in length and three-fourths of an inch in diameter. the bowl has a deep, conical excavation. the same is true of the stem-end also. mound at the junction of the pigeon and french broad rivers. articles of clay. . the mound from which these fragments were obtained was located miles from newport. it was feet square and feet high. the original height was probably much greater. the pottery was mixed with ashes and _débris_ of what appeared to be three fire-places. no human remains were found. the fragments are not numerous, nor do they indicate a great variety in form. there is, however, considerable variety in decoration. _material._--the clay is generally gray or dark-reddish gray in the mass, and is apparently quite siliceous or sandy, numerous grains of quartz being visible. there is generally a sprinkling of finely-powdered mica, but no shell matter can be detected. when much weathered the surface is quite gritty. _form._--the leading form is a round-bodied, pot-shaped vase. there is one small hemispherical bowl. the outlines have been quite symmetrical. the mouths of the pots are wide, and the necks deeply constricted. the lip or rim exhibits a number of novel features. that of the larger specimen, of which a considerable segment remains, is furnished on the upper edge with a deep channel, nearly one-half an inch wide, and more than one-fourth of an inch deep. first section, fig. . others have a peculiar thickening of the rim, a sort of collar being added to the outside. this is about inch in width, and is thicker below, giving a triangular section. third section, fig. . [illustration: fig. .] the walls of the vessels are usually quite thin. the bottoms were probably round, or nearly so. no fragments, however, of the lower parts of the vessels were collected. there is but one example of handle, and this presents no unusual features. middle section, fig. . _ornamentation._--the ornamentation is in some respects novel. the double or channeled rim of the larger specimen, the mouth of which has been or inches in diameter, is embellished with a line of flutings, which seem to be the impressions of a hollow bone or reed. the whole exterior surface is embellished with a most elaborate ornamental design, which resembles the imprint of some woven fabric. if a woven fabric has not been used, a pliable stamp, producing the effect of a fabric, has been resorted to. the fact that the sharply concave portions of the neck are marked with as much regularity as the convex body of the vessel, precludes the idea of the use of a solid or non-elastic stamp. the pattern consists of groups of parallel indented lines, arranged at right angles with one another, the puzzling feature being that there is no evidence of the passing of the threads or fillets over or under each other, such as would be seen if a woven fabric had been used. the outer surface of the triangular collar peculiar to many of the pots has been decorated with a herring-bone pattern, made by impressing a sharp implement. the handle in one case is similarly ornamented. this handle has been added _after_ the figure previously described was impressed upon the neck of the vessel. one small fragment shows another style of indented or stamped pattern, which consists of series of straight and curved lines, such as are characteristic of many of the vessels obtained from the gulf states. a small fragment of coal-black ware is entirely smooth on the outside, and indicates an unusually well finished and symmetrical vessel. another shows the impression of basket-work, in which a wide fillet or splint has served as the warp and a small twisted cord as the woof. one interesting feature of this vessel is that from certain impressions on the raised ridges we discover that the vessel has been taken from the net mold while still in a plastic state. still another reddish porous fragment has a square rim, which is ornamented with a series of annular indentations. collections from sevier county, tennessee. the mcmahan mound. on the west fork of the little pigeon river, at sevierville, on a rich bottom, yards from the river, is a celebrated mound, the owners of which have for years refused to have it opened. mr. palmer spent several days in trying to obtain permission to open it, and was about leaving in despair, when the owners finally yielded, not, however, without requiring a number of concessions on the part of the collector, which concessions were put in the form of a legal document. this mound is feet high and feet in circumference. three feet below the surface, a stratum of burnt clay, feet wide by long, was reached. this has probably formed part of the roof of a dwelling. beneath this was a bed of charcoal inches thick. in this bed remnants of cedar posts from to inches thick and to feet in length were found. below this was a stratum of ashes, covering a limited area to the depth of feet. surrounding this, the earth contained fragments of numerous articles used by the inhabitants, while beneath came ½ feet of earth, in which numerous skeletons had been deposited. the bodies had been interred without order, and the bones were so intermingled, and so far decayed, that no complete skeletons could be collected. beneath the layer of bones came a second deposit of ashes, feet thick by ½ feet in diameter, and beneath this a mass of red clay, inches in thickness. in the earth surrounding the ashes and clay, a number of skeletons were found; these were in such an advanced stage of decomposition that only a few fragments of skulls could be preserved. three feet below the second layer of bones, the undisturbed soil was reached. two boxes of bones were collected, the well-preserved crania numbering about twenty. a great many interesting specimens of the implements, utensils, and ornaments of the mound-builders were obtained. the following catalogue includes everything of interest: articles of stone. , , , , , . numerous specimens of arrow-points, flakes, cores, and rough masses of gray and black chalcedony, obtained partly from the mound, and partly from the soil surrounding it. . a somewhat conical object of black compact graphite. the flattish base is rubbed off in an irregular way, as if in grinding down for use as a pigment. . fragment of hammerstone of gray micaceous sandstone, inches long by inches in diameter. it was found associated with the upper layer of skeletons. . pipe carved from gray marble. the bowl is symmetrically shaped, and resembles a common clay pipe. it is about ½ inches in height and in diameter. the stem part is about one-fourth of an inch in length. found with the upper layer of skeletons. . a perforated stone tube, ¼ inches long and three-fourths of an inch in diameter. it is probably the upper part of a pipe bowl. . a large number of minute quartz pebbles, probably used in a rattle or in playing some game of chance. found with the skeletons in the mound. . three glass beads, found feet below the surface of the mound. one is a bright blue bead of translucent glass. one is opaque, resembling porcelain. the third is of blue-gray glass, and has three longitudinal stripes of brown, underlaid by bands of white. all are cylindrical in shape, and are from three-eighths to half an inch in length, and about one-fourth of an inch in diameter. articles of clay. the collection of pottery from this mound is of much interest. there is but one entire vessel, but the fragments are so plentiful and well preserved that many interesting forms can be restored, and a very good idea of the ceramic work of this locality be formed. _form._--i have spent much time in the examination of these fragments, and have assigned each to the form of vessel to which it belonged. where large pieces are preserved, especially if the rim is included, we have little trouble in reconstructing the entire vessel, without fear of being seriously wrong. the lower parts of the bodies of all forms are round or slightly flattened, and but a small fragment of the rim is needed to tell whether the vessel was a bottle, pot, or bowl. i find, however, that the forms merge into each other in such a way that a complete graduated series can be found. of first importance, are the round or globular vases with more or less constricted necks. _ornamentation._--the inside of all forms is plain with the exception of accidental markings of the fingers. the rim is square, sharp, or round on the edge, and sometimes slightly enlarged or beaded on the outer margin. a collar is attached to many forms, which at the lower edge overhangs. it is added to the body with the rim, or as a strip afterward attached. it is often notched or indented with a stick, bone, or reed, or with the fingers. the necks of vases and pot-shaped vessels have a great variety of handles, knobs, and ornaments. some of the latter seem to be atrophied handles. in some cases a low horizontal ridge, from to or more inches in length is placed near the rim, in place of the continuous collar. in other cases a narrow, crescent-shaped ridge is attached, the points reaching down on the shoulder, the arch lying upon the neck. still others have one or more handles which connect the rim with the neck or shoulder of the vessel, leaving a round or oblong passage for a cord or vine. these handles were added after the vessel was completed. they are never ornamented. in one case an arched handle, like the handle of a basket, connects the opposite sides of the rim. this is the only entire vessel recovered from the mound. it was associated with the upper layer of skeletons. diameter ½ inches. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] the body of these vessels is sometimes quite plain, but is more frequently covered with cord markings. these, with one or two exceptions, seem to be made by a series of fine cords, approximately parallel, but without cross-threads of any kind. there is little uniformity of arrangement. in the upper part, and about the base of the neck, the indented lines are generally vertical. on the bottom they are quite irregular, as if the vessel, in making, had been rolled about on a piece of netting or coarse cloth. the cords have been about the size of the ordinary cotton cord used by merchants. one exception is seen in a fragment of a large, rudely-made vase, in which we have the impression of a fabric, the warp of which, whether wood or cord, has consisted of fillets more than one-fourth of an inch in width, the woof being fine cord. this is what is frequently spoken of as the ear-of-corn impression. no incised or excavated lines have been noticed in these fragments of pot-shaped vessels. some of the most elegant vessels are without upright necks. the upper or incurved surface of the body is approximately flat, forming, with the lower part of the body a more or less sharp peripheral angle. the base is rounded, and, so far as we can judge from the examples, the bottom is slightly flattened. vessels having vertical or flaring rims are generally somewhat more shallow. the incurved upper surface is often tastefully ornamented with patterns of incised or excavated lines which are arranged in groups, in vertical or oblique positions, or encircle the vessel parallel with the border. one specimen has a row of stamped circles, made by a reed or hollow bone. bowls of the ordinary shape are variously decorated. in one case we have on the outside of the rim, and projecting slightly above it, a rudely-modeled grotesque face. a notched fillet passes around the rim, near the lip, connecting with the sides of this head. in another case a rude node is added to the rim. the only bowl having a flaring rim is without ornament. we have only one fragment of a bowl in which the body has been marked with cords. _composition._--the clay used in the pottery from this mound is generally fine in texture, and of a light-gray color. many of the fragments have been blackened by burning subsequently to their original firing, and some may have been originally blackened with graphite. the prevailing colors seen in the fragments are yellowish and reddish grays. the percentage of powdered shell used in tempering has usually been very large, forming at times at least half the mass. the flakes of shell are very coarse, being often as much as one-fourth of an inch in diameter. in many cases they have been destroyed by burning, or have dropped out from decay, leaving a deeply pitted surface. _pipes._--there are a number of pipes in the collection, most of which were found near the surface of the mound. in some cases they resemble modern forms very closely. the most striking example is made of a fine-grained clay, without visible admixture of tempering material. the color is a reddish gray. it is neatly and symmetrically formed, the surface being finished by polishing with a smooth, hard implement, and shaving with a knife. the bowl is inches high, and the rim is bell-shaped above, with a smooth, flat lip, one-fourth of an inch wide. the diameter of the opening is nearly inches. the base is conical. the stem part is one-half an inch long and one-half an inch in diameter. the bowl and stem are both conically excavated. another specimen is made of clay mixed with powdered shell. the bowl is cylindrical, being a little larger at the rim, which is ornamented with rows of punctures. the elbow is ornamented by a rosette of indented lines. the mouth piece has been broken away. objects of metal. . one of the most instructive finds in this mound is a pair of brass pins, of undoubted european manufacture. the collector makes the statement, with entire confidence in its correctness, that they had been encased in the earth at the time of the interment of the bodies. one was associated with the upper and the other with the lower layer of bones. in size and shape they resemble our ordinary brass toilet pin. the head is formed of a spiral coil of wire, the diameter of which is about one-half that of the shaft of the pin. it is also stated by the collector that an iron bolt was found in the lower stratum of bones. this object was unfortunately lost. . a small brass cylinder, found feet inches below the surface of the mound. the thin sheet of which the coil is made is about inch square. the edges are uneven. it was probably used as a bead. objects of shell. few mounds have rivaled this in its wealth of shell ornaments. engraved gorgets cut from the body of the _busycon perversum_ and large pins from the columellæ of the same shell are especially numerous and well-preserved. large numbers of beads and unworked shells were also found. all were intimately associated with the skeletons. while many of the specimens are well-preserved, we find that many are in an advanced stage of decay, and unless most carefully handled, crumble to powder. similar shell ornaments are found in mounds in other parts of tennessee, as well as in neighboring states. these have been pretty fully described in the second annual report. - . these pins are all made from the _busycon perversum_. the entire specimens range from to inches in length; two are fragmentary, having lost their points by decay. the heads are from one-half to inch in length, and are generally less than inch in diameter. they are somewhat varied in shape, some being cylindrical, others being conical above. the shaft is pretty evenly rounded, but is seldom symmetrical or straight. it is rarely above one-half an inch in diameter, and tapers gradually to a more or less rounded point. the groove of the canal shows distinctly in all the heads, and may often be traced far down the shaft. in a number of cases the surface retains the fine polish of the newly finished object, but it is usually somewhat weathered, and frequently discolored or chalky. these specimens were found in the mounds along with deposits of human remains, and generally in close proximity to the head; this fact suggests their use as ornaments for the hair. - . a number of saucer-shaped shell gorgets, the upper edge being somewhat straightened, the result of the natural limit of the body of the shell. two small holes, for suspension occur near the upper margin. the diameter ranges from to inches. [illustration: fig. . ] [illustration: fig. . ] in studying the design the attention is first attracted by an eye-like figure near the left border. this is formed of a series of concentric circles, and is partially inclosed by a looped band about one-eighth of an inch in width, which opens downward to the left. this band is occupied by a series of conical dots or depressions, the number of which varies in the different specimens. the part of the figure inclosed by this band represents the head and neck of the serpent. to the right of the eye we have the mouth, which is usually shown in profile, the upper jaw being turned upward exhibiting a double row of notches or teeth. the body encircles the head in a single coil, which appears from beneath the neck on the right, passes around the front of the head, and terminates at the back in a pointed tail armed with well-defined rattles. the spots and scales of the serpent are represented in a highly conventionalized manner. [illustration: fig. . fig. . shell gorgets with engraved designs representing the rattlesnake.] - . the handsome specimen given in fig. is in a very good state of preservation. it is a deep, somewhat oval plate, made from a _busycon perversum_. the surface is nicely polished and the margins neatly beveled. the marginal zone is less than half an inch wide and contains at the upper edge two perforations, which have been considerably abraded by the cord of suspension. four long curved slits or perforations almost sever the central design from the rim; the four narrow segments that remain are each ornamented with a single conical pit. the serpent is very neatly engraved and belongs to the chevroned variety. the eye is large and the neck is ornamented with a single rectangular intaglio figure. the mouth is more than usually well defined. the upper jaw is turned abruptly backward and is ornamented with lines peculiar to this variety of the designs. [illustration: fig. . ( .) fig. . ( .) shell gorgets with engraved designs representing the rattlesnake.] the body of the serpent opposite the perforations for suspension is interrupted by a rather mysterious cross band, consisting of one broad and two narrow lines. as this is a feature common to many specimens, it probably had some important office or significance. - . mask-like shell ornaments. by a combination of engraving and sculpture a rude resemblance to the human features is produced. the objects are generally made from large pear-shaped sections of the lower whorl of marine univalves. the lower portion, which represents the neck and chin, is cut from the somewhat constricted part near the base of the shell, while the broad outline of the head reaches the first suture at the noded shoulder of the body whorl. the simplest form is shown in fig. . a more elaborate form is given in fig. . [illustration: fig. . ( .) mask-like object of shell.] [illustration: fig. . ( .) mask-like object of shell.] these objects are especially numerous in the mounds of tennessee, but their range is quite wide, examples having been reported from kentucky, virginia, illinois, missouri, and arkansas, and smaller ones of a somewhat different type from new york. in size they range from to inches in length, the width being considerably less. they are generally found associated with human remains in such a way as to suggest their use as ornaments for the head or neck. there are, however, no holes for suspension except those made to represent the eyes, and these, so far as i have observed, show no abrasion by a cord of suspension. their shape suggests the idea that they may have been used as masks, after the manner of metal masks by some of the oriental nations. [illustration: fig. .--shell gorget with engraving of a curious human figure.] . engraved shell, fig. . this very interesting object has been fully described in the second annual report of the bureau. the figure is so obscure that considerable study is necessary in making it out. . engraved shell, fig. . this remarkable specimen has already been described in the second annual report of the bureau. the engraved design is certainly of a very high order of merit, and suggests the work of the ancient mexicans. - , , , , . shell beads discoidal and cylindrical in form, made chiefly from the columellæ and walls of marine univalves. . shell bead made by grinding off the apex of a large _oliva biplicata_. (?) . beads made from _marginella_ (?) shells. , , - , . species of shell found in the mound, some with the skeletons, others near the surface. [illustration: fig. .--shell gorget with engraved design representing two fighting figures.] the following genera and species are provisionally determined: _unio multiplicatus._ _uhio ovatus._ _unio crassidens._ _unio victorum._ _marginella (?)._ _oliva (?)._ _io spinosa._ _trypanostoma anthonyi._ _anculosa subglobosa._ _busycon perversum._ . a tooth-shaped fresh-water pearl, found with the skeletons. animal substances. . fragments of deer-horn found near the surface of the mound. . an implement of unusual form, made from a flat piece of bone, found with the skeletons in the mound. , . bone implements, needles and perforators, some of which are well preserved and retain the original polish; others are in a very advanced stage of decay. three boxes of human bones (not numbered). from the fields at sevierville. articles of stone. . a small grooved ax, formed of a coarse textured stone, resembling diorite. it is ½ inches in length and ½ in width. the head is rounded and the cutting edge much battered. the groove is wide and shallow, and the bordering ridges prominent. the blade thins out quite abruptly. presented by j. b. emert. . a celt ¾ inches long, ½ inches wide, and inch thick. the material is a compact, blue-gray, banded slate. the sides are straight and a transverse section is somewhat rectangular. both edges are sharpened, and are very neatly beveled and polished. presented by w. p. mitchell. . a small celt of compact greenish slate; one face is flat, the other convex. it is neatly made and perfectly preserved, the broader end being oblique and sharp. it is - / inches in length. . a rude, much-battered celt of coarse sandstone or diorite. it is inches in length by in width near the cutting edge. the top is somewhat conical. . a large unsymmetrical celt made of coarse yellowish sandstone; one side is much battered. the cutting edge is round and dull. it is inches in length by in width near the broad end and is ½ inches thick. . a knife-blade-shaped object, apparently a fragment of a winged ceremonial stone. the whole surface is smooth and shows no evidence of use. it is made of fine-grained gray slate. it is inches in length by five-eighths in width. . a bell-shaped pestle made of yellowish gray quartzite. the surface has been evenly roughened by picking, but has become slightly polished on parts most exposed when in use. the base part is subrectangular in section, and the bottom is slightly but evenly convex. the upper part, which has been shaped for convenient grasping by the hand, is evenly rounded at the top. height, ½ inches; width, of base, ½ inches. . a well-formed globe of gritty sandstone. the surface is roughened or granular. it is ½ inches in diameter. . portion of an oblong hammer stone, inches in length by in diameter in the middle part. one end has been much reduced by use. it is made of some dark, much decomposed, crystalline rock. . asymmetrical sandstone ring, inches in diameter and three-fourths of an inch in thickness. the perforation is about five-eighths of an inch in diameter. the surface is roughened by picking. [illustration: fig. .] . a symmetrical, neatly finished disk of light gray quartzite. it is ¼ inches in diameter and ¼ inches in thickness at the circumference, and less than inch thick at the center. . an hour-glass shaped tube made of gray hydro-mica schist, which resembles very compact steatite. it is ½ inches long, inches in diameter at the widest part and ¼ inches at the narrowest part. the most restricted part near the middle is girdled by a ridge or ring, on the circumference of which seventy or eighty shallow notches have been cut. the perforation is much enlarged at the ends, giving cup-like cavities. the walls are thin near the ends and quite thick near the middle, the passage being hardly more than one-quarter of an inch in diameter. the markings on the inside indicate that the excavation has been made by a gouging process, rather than by the use of a rotary perforator. [illustration: fig. .] . a boat-shaped ceremonial stone of banded slate, inches long, inch wide, and inch deep. from the side the outline is triangular, the two lines of the keel forming almost a right angle. from the top the outline is a long, pointed oval, as seen in the illustration, fig. . [illustration: fig. .] the trough-shaped excavation is more rounded in outline, and is three-fourths of an inch in depth. perforations have been made near the ends of this trough; these seem to be somewhat abraded on the outside by a cord of suspension or attachment which has passed between them along a groove in the apex or angle of the keel. [illustration: fig. . ] . an amulet or charm of dark-greenish rock, probably a serpentine, carved to represent a bird's head. the more highly polished parts are quite dark, while freshly cut lines are whitish. the head is graphically represented, the bill, the eye, and nostril being well shown. a stand-like base takes the place of the body of the bird. around this, near the bottom, a groove has been cut for the purpose of attaching a string or securing a handle. in dressing the surface some implement has been used that has left file-like scratches. fig. represents this object natural size. . fragment of a stone disk or wheel that has lines cut upon it resembling in arrangement the grooves of an ordinary millstone. diameter, inches; thickness, inches. this is probably not an aboriginal work. [illustration: fig. . ] . a banner-stone of unusual shape, made of gray slate. the cut, fig. , represents this object three-fourths natural size. the perforation is one-half an inch in diameter, and is quite symmetrical. the entire surface is well polished. articles of clay. a few specimens of potsherds were collected from the fields about sevierville. most of these are identical in every way with the pottery of the mound, but three examples are of a totally different type. the material of these is a fine sandy clay, tempered with a large percentage of finely pulverized mica. the forms of the vessels cannot be made out. the outer surfaces were ornamented by a stamped pattern of small square or lozenge-shaped figures, a number of these together were apparently formed by a single stamp. among the fragments we have half a dozen disks, from to inches in diameter, worked from ordinary potsherds. a small rudely modeled figure of a bird was also found with these fragments. there were also masses of indurated clay, which seem to have been used for chinking purposes. collections from roane county, tennessee. mound at taylor's bend. this mound is situated three hundred and fifty yards from the french broad river, on the farm of mr. william harris. it is feet high and nearly feet in circumference. its summit has been cultivated for many years, and the height has doubtless been much reduced. immediately under the surface soil a heavy bed of ashes and charcoal was reached, which at the border of the mound was only a few inches thick, but at the center was about feet thick. in this stratum were found a few implements, and fragments of pottery, and two very much decayed skeletons. a part of one cranium was preserved. the mound beneath this stratum was composed chiefly of loam, with some sand in the center, and contained nothing of interest. articles of stone. . a needle-like implement, made of a soft black stone that may be cannel coal. it is ½ inches in length, but is not entire. the shaft is a little more than one-fourth of an inch in diameter, is nearly round, and tapers to a symmetrical point. the surface is highly polished. it was found in the stratum of ashes. articles of clay. , - . a considerable number of fragments of pottery was found in the stratum of ashes. _form._--vases of the wide-mouthed, round-bodied variety are represented, also a number of hemispherical bowls. one large fragment representing a vessel with rounded bottom was found. _size._--the pot-like vases have been quite large, the mouths being as much as inches in diameter. the larger bowls have been inches or more in diameter. others are smaller. the walls of some of the larger vessels have been half an inch in thickness. _material._--classified by material, there are two varieties, one is composed of the usual clay and pulverized shells, the latter being coarse and exceedingly plentiful; the other has no shell material, but in its place an admixture of sand and small quartz pebbles. _ornamentation._--the inside is plain as usual, and many of the fragments have no exterior ornament. there are two varieties of surface markings; one consists of impressions of basket work, which indicate a broad series of fillets bound together by small twisted cords of grass or bark; the other appears to have been made by an open net-work of fine cords, which have been quite irregularly arranged. objects of shell. . a shell pin made from the columella of a large univalve. the original polish is still preserved. the head is round and small, and the shaft inches in length. found in the stratum of ashes. . two species of shells, _io spinosa_ and _pleurocera conradii_ (?), obtained from the stratum of ashes. collections from the fields at taylor's bend. articles of stone. . a lot of arrow points, spear points, and knives, having a wide range of shape and size. a serrated specimen is inches in length, and is made of yellowish striped chalcedony. one is made of white translucent quartz, and others of dark gray and black chalcedony. . a stone disk, ¼ inches in diameter and three-eighths of an inch thick. it is of gray sandstone, nicely smoothed. the edge is rounded and the sides slightly convex. . two stone disks similar to the preceding, but smaller. . a small, thick, nearly symmetrical celt, ½ inches in length, ½ inches in width, and one-half of an inch thick. the edge is rounded in outline and well sharpened. the beveled areas are narrow and stand at an angle of ° with each other. it is widest at the edge, tapering above to a conical point. the material is apparently a compact greenish diorite. . a small celt similar to the preceding in form and material. it is ¼ inches long, and ¾ inches in width near the cutting edge, which is considerably battered. . a curved celt of considerable interest, made of a greenish diorite. it is inches in length, ½ inches wide near the cutting edge, and about inch thick. it tapers toward the apex to ½ inches in width. a transverse section would be a sharp oval. a longitudinal section showing the thickness of the implement gives a bow-like figure, the median line of which would deflect nearly half an inch from a straight line. . a celt, ½ inches in length, of the usual form, made of a greenish diorite. . a grooved ax of gray sandstone, inches long, inches wide, and inch thick. the groove is deep and well rounded, and has two bordering ridges in high relief. the head is low and conical, and the blade narrow and rectangular. the surface has originally been quite smooth, but is now somewhat battered. [illustration: fig. . ] [illustration: fig. . ] . a cylindrical pestle of gray diorite (?), inches long and inches in diameter. the general surface is rough, the points being smoothed by use. . a perforated tablet, made of gray, chloritic schist, ½ inches long by ½ inches broad, illustrated in fig. . the sides are notched in a way that gives a dumb-bell like outline. the ends are almost square. series of notches have been cut in the terminal edges. on one of the lateral margins rude notches and zigzag lines have been engraved. in the middle of the plate there is a circular perforation one-fourth of an inch in diameter. midway between this and the ends are two other perforations, one being circular and one-eighth of an inch in diameter, and the other lozenge or diamond shaped and nearly one-fourth of an inch in width. these show no evidence of wear. the surface is uneven, though somewhat polished. it has probably been used for straightening arrow shafts and shaping strings. . fragment of a perforated tablet carved from gray slate. it has been broken transversely near the middle, through a perforation which has been about one-eighth of an inch in diameter. the remnant is inches in length and ½ inches in width at the perforation. one side is plain, the other has a design of plain and zigzag lines. the edges are beveled and notched. see fig. . vicinity of kingston. on the farm of mr. m. biss, three miles from kingston, on the tennessee river, a mound was opened which was so located as to overlook the river, and at the same time guard the approach from two pieces of projecting wood. it was feet high, feet wide on the top, and feet in diameter at the base. it was composed entirely of clay. three feet from the surface six very much decayed skeletons were found, no parts of which could be preserved. the bodies seem to have been deposited without definite order. no objects of art were obtained. opposite kingston, on the clinch river, are three mounds, located on the farm of t. n. clark. they are all small, and, with the exception of two much decayed skeletons and a single arrow point, contained nothing of interest. on the farm of s. p. evans, three miles below kingston, are three groups of mounds. the first contains five mounds; the second, a little higher up, has the same number, while the third has but two. they are all built of clay, and seem to be without remains of any sort. mound at niles' ferry. on the farm of j. w. niles, at this point, is a large mound that has the appearance of a creek or cherokee ball-ground. it was flat on the top, and had an area of ¾ acres. the height was feet. in outline it was somewhat triangular. this mound was also constructed of clay, and contained nothing of interest. in the fields, near by, human bones, pottery, stone implements, beads, etc., are frequently plowed up. from this locality the following specimens were collected: . arrow heads and knives of gray and black chalcedony. . unworked unio shells. . a number of shell beads of usual size and form. mounds near paint rock ferry. about three hundred yards from the tennessee river, at paint rock ferry, is a large mound feet in height, and covering an area of about about two acres. permission could not be obtained to open the mound, on account of the crop of corn that covered it. near its base, on opposite sides, were two smaller mounds. one of these was feet high and in diameter, and contained a stone grave. the body which it contained had been laid on the ground and covered a foot deep with earth. a flat rock had been laid upon this, and slabs of limestone set on edge all around. the inclosed space was feet in width by in length. earth had been used to cover the cist and form the mound. about this mound were scattered many slabs of stone which had been plowed up during previous years; and it is stated that human bones and various objects of art have, at different times, been brought to light. a short distance from the large mound, and near the river bank, is another mound on which a barn has been built. several hundred yards from the river, in a meadow, is a third mound, less than half as large as that first mentioned. the owner would not allow it to be disturbed. still another mound, near by, was oval in outline, feet long, by wide, and high. it was composed of clay and contained nothing but a few pieces of pottery. , , . fragments of pottery from the mounds at paint rock ferry. objects of shell. [illustration: fig. . fig. .] , . shell beads, buttons, and pendants, made from marine shells. a neatly made pendant is inch in diameter and one-sixth of an inch thick. near the edge are two small perforations for suspension, and at the center is a conical pit, encircled by a shallow incised line. beside this, there are a number of buttons of similar shape, which have single perforations at the center. some of the smaller beads seem to have been painted red. figs. , , and . . fragment of a large _busycon perversum_. . teeth of the bear, and possibly of the horse found near the surface of one of the mounds. [illustration: fig. .] collections from jefferson county. mound on fain's island. this mound is located on the east end of the island. although it has been under cultivation for many years, it is still feet in height. the circumference at the base is about feet. near the surface a bed of burned clay was encountered, in which were many impressions of poles, sticks, and grass. this was probably the remains of the roof of a house, which had been about feet long by feet in width. the bed of clay was about inches thick. beneath this was a layer of charcoal and ashes, with much charred cane. there were also indications of charred posts, which probably served as supports to the roof. four feet below the surface were found the remains of thirty-two human skeletons. with the exception of seventeen skulls, none of the bones could be preserved. there seems to have been no regularity in the placing of the bodies. articles of clay. the fragments of pottery from this mound are unusually large and well preserved, and exhibit a number of varieties of form and ornamentation. _forms._--the prevailing form is a pot-shaped vase, with wide mouth, and rounded body; the neck is short and straight or but slightly constricted. the handles or ears which connect the upper part of the neck with the shoulder are in some cases as much as inches wide. the bowls are mostly hemispherical, but in a few cases have incurved lips, the shoulder being rounded and the base somewhat flattened. the largest specimens have been or inches in diameter. the vases have been somewhat larger. _material._--classified by material, there seem to be two varieties, one with a very large percentage of coarsely pulverized shell material, the other without visible _dégraissant_. the clay is usually fine and apparently without admixture of sand or other impurities. a little comminuted mica may be seen in some cases. _color._--the prevailing color is a reddish gray, more or less blackened by use. a remarkable variety has a bright red surface, the mass being gray. _ornamentation._--the ornamentation consists of cord and net impressions, incised lines, stamped figures, indented fillets, and life and fanciful forms modeled in relief. the study of cord impressions is quite interesting. the cords are twisted and as large as medium twine. these cords appear to have been disconnected, at least, not woven into a fabric, and the impressions are generally nearly vertical about the upper part of the vessel, but below take all positions, the result being a sort of hatching of the lines. this effect may be the result of placing the vessel upon a coarse fabric while the rim was being finished or the handles added. it seems possible that a loose net of cords, probably with fine crossthreads, is used to suspend the vessel in during the process of modeling. it appears, however, if this has been the case, that the vessel has been taken out of this net before it was burned. where handles have been added, it will be found that the cord markings have been destroyed by the touch of the fingers. but the body has impressions of the net made after the addition of the handles and ornaments, as the impressions appear on the outside or lower edges of these additions. the lower part of the body may still have been supported by the net during the process of drying; but as some vessels have no cord markings whatever, it is evident that it was not difficult to complete the vessel without the support of the net. [illustration: fig. .] by making a clay impression of one of the fragments i have been able to determine the character of the fabric used. it was loosely woven and quite flexible, the clay often receiving finger impressions through it. it was probably made of grasses or the fibre of bark. beside the net and cord marks, which may or may not be the result of an attempt at ornament, there are ornaments made of fillets of clay. in a number of cases a comb-like figure made of thin fillets has been added to the shoulder of a vase. in other cases a fillet has been carried around the neck of the vase and indented by the finger or an implement. the rim of one bowl has been ornamented with three deeply incised or excavated lines, which form a sort of embattled figure about the incurved lip. another has a series of shallow, vertical, incised lines near the rim, and a circle of annular indentations, three-eighths of an inch in diameter, about one-fourth of an inch from the lip. there are also various forms of noded ornaments on the rims of bowls. the handles of vases are in a few cases effectively ornamented. in one case the handle has been elaborated into a life form, representing a frog or human figure. the arms are attached to the upper part of the handle and lie extended along the rim. the handle proper represents the body, the breast being protruded. the legs lie flattened out upon the shoulder of the vessel, the feet being bent back beneath the body; height ½ inches. this vessel is illustrated in fig. . from the fields of fain's island. articles of stone. . a very handsome specimen of grooved ax. it is made of a remarkable variety of porphyritic diorite that resembles breccia. the matrix has the appearance of a gray speckled quartzite; the angular inclusions being whitish feldspar, with dark-greenish patches of hornblende. the surface is smooth and shows but little wear. the length is inches, the width , and the thickness inches. the groove is deep, and has two well-defined bordering ridges. the head is low and rounded, and occupies about one-third of the length of the implement. the blade is well-formed, the sides being parallel or nearly so. the edge is slightly rounded in outline, and is polished and sharp. . a grooved stone ax, inches in length, ½ inches in width, and ¼ inches in thickness. the groove is placed as in the preceding example, but has a bordering ridge on the upper side only. the head is very large and narrow. the blade is rectangular in outline, and has a rounded, moderately sharp edge. the material is a compact graphic diorite (?). . a grooved ax, inches in length, ½ inches in width, and three-fourths of an inch in thickness. the groove, which is well defined, has no lateral ridges. it seems to have been made from a flattish, oval, river pebble. . fragment of a pierced tablet of slate. . a well shaped disk of translucent quartz, ¾ inches in diameter and three-fourths of an inch in thickness. the sides are nearly flat, and the edge evenly rounded. the surface is quite smooth. . steatite pipe found on the surface of the mound. the bowl is about inches in length and inch in thickness. a section is nearly square. the cavities are roughly excavated. objects of shell. . well preserved specimen of _io spinosa_. . specimens of _unio probatus_. . a large specimen of shell pin, made from the columella of a _busycon perversum_. it is much discolored and in an advanced stage of decay. length nearly inches. form as usual. . a shell pin similar to the preceding. [illustration: fig. .--shell gorget with an engraved cross.] . a number of large shell beads, made from the columellæ of marine shells. the larger specimens are cylindrical in form, and are inch in length and upwards of inch in diameter. [illustration: fig. .--shell gorget with the engraving of a spider.] - . shell beads of various sizes and shapes, made from the columellæ and walls of marine shells. . a shell ornament, on the convex surface of which a very curious ornamental design has been engraved. the design, inclosed by a circle, represents a cross such as would be formed by two rectangular tablets or slips, slit longitudinally and interlaced at right-angles to each other. the lines are neatly and deeply incised. the edge of the ornament has been broken away nearly all around. it is represented natural size in the cut. fig. . . this disk is somewhat more convex on the front than is indicated in the engraving. it is ½ inches in diameter, and is quite thin and fragile, although the surface has not suffered much from decay. the margin is ornamented with twenty-four very neatly-made notches or scallops. immediately inside the border on the convex side are two incised circles, on the outer of which two small perforations for suspension have been made; inside of these, and less than half an inch from the margin, is a circle of seventeen subtriangular perforations, the inner angle of each being much rounded. inside of this again is another incised circle, about ¼ inches in diameter, which incloses the highly conventionalized figure of an insect resembling a spider. the middle segment of the body is nearly round and has near the center a large conical perforation. this round portion corresponds to the thorax of the insect and has four pairs of legs attached to it. it is difficult to distinguish the anterior and posterior extremities of the body. it is probable that the subtriangular figure below is intended for the head, as the two circles with central dots are good representations of eyes. fig. . animal substances. , , . a number of bone implements, including needles, perforators, and paddle-shaped objects, found with the skeletons in the mound. collections from mississippi county, arkansas. pemisscott mound. on pemisscott bayou, miles northwest of osceola, on the farm of samuel hector, is a mound feet in height, with a surface area of about one-fourth of an acre. the sides have been dug into extensively, but the central part remained untouched. it was composed of sand and bluish clay, but contained no remains of interest. it is stated by the proprietor that formerly there were three circular ditches extending around the slopes of the mound. when the surface of the mound was first plowed quantities of charcoal and potsherds were found. chickasawba mound. this mound is situated at chickasawba village, miles north of osceola. it is feet high, and covers an area of one-fourth of an acre. collectors had already done much work on this mound, but obtained little or nothing. the owner does not wish it disturbed further. a field of several acres near by abounds in fragments of pottery, stone implements, and the remains of houses and camp-fires. the field contained originally many small mounds or heaps, which were probably the sites of houses. in a number of cases skeletons have been found beneath these heaps. mounds in carson lake township. in carson lake township, miles southwest of osceola, on the farm of hugh walker, are three mounds, which were much disturbed by the earthquake that visited the new madrid district in . the first one inspected is feet wide by feet long, but exhibits no evidence of having been a dwelling or burial place. the second mound is about yards from the first, and is circular in outline, having two ridge-like projections from opposite sides. it is feet in height, and about feet across at the top. a number of recent interments have been made near the summit. the third mound is yards from the preceding, and is feet high, feet wide, and feet long. six skeletons were found in this mound. a stratum of ashes, charcoal, and burned clay was associated with them. one cranium and a few bones were collected. . burnt clay from the third mound just described. . fragment of a plain vase; interior, reddish; exterior, yellowish-gray. other fragments are of ordinary undecorated ware. mounds at pecan point. on the land of r. w. friend, mile west of the mississippi river, are two mounds. the one first examined is feet high and feet in circumference. the other is feet high and feet in circumference. two skeletons were found near the surface of the latter mound. near these mounds is another, feet high and feet in diameter. formerly this mound was covered with large trees, and the roots have penetrated the soil, causing much injury to the contents. it is the opinion of the collector that this mound, as well as many others of the same region, has been used as a dwelling site, and that when a death occurred the dwelling was burned down over the body. before building again the site was covered with a few inches of earth. there was no uniformity in the position of the graves or their contents. the following objects were obtained from this mound: articles of clay. . a jar-shaped vase, with low neck and much compressed body. height, inches; width, ½ inches; surface, moderately smooth; color, almost black. . a jar similar to the preceding, but somewhat taller. . a rather unusual form of bottle-shaped vase. the neck is narrow and tapering. a fillet with finger indentations encircles the lip. the base of the neck is also ornamented with a collar or fillet. the body is globular, apparently a little pointed above. whole height, ½ inches; width, inches; color, gray. . a small, large-necked vase, with globular body, and lip a little recurved. the body is ornamented with a number of indentations, probably made with the finger nail. color, dark gray. . a large, thick-bodied vase, modeled to represent a hunchbacked human figure. the head is missing. it is inches in width, and has been about inches in height. ware of the ordinary dark variety. . fragments of steatite vessels which have been from to feet in diameter. the walls about the rims were quite thin. . a large clay pipe, found in the soil near the banks of the mississippi. field graves and fields in the vicinity of pecan point. articles of stone. . a large lot of arrow-points of yellow and gray jasper. , , - , - . celts or knives made of jasper and yellowish jaspery slate, which range from to inches in length, and are less than inch in width and half an inch in thickness. they have been chipped into the desired shape, and finished by grinding off the more prominent parts and producing in many eases sharp cutting edges. a good example is shown in fig. . [illustration: fig. .] . a flat pebble, with rudely-made notches at the side. , , . fragments of celts. . yellowish jasper pebble, resembling a celt. . fragment of a long, chipped, knife-like implement, the extremities of which are lost. . fragment of a steatite vessel. , . sandstone pebbles. . hammer-stone, with conical points, made from a pebble of cherty sandstone. . slightly grooved fragment of rubbing-stone. . flat pebble, slightly hollowed by use; a sort of shallow mortar. . fragment of a stone similar to the preceding. . fragment of concretionary iron ore, concave on one side. . red paint. articles of clay. [illustration: fig. .] a large number of very fine vessels of clay was presented by dr. j. m. lindsley. they were obtained from a field near pecan point, within half a mile of the mississippi river. in the fields is a large mound which could not be opened on account of the crops. years ago, when the timber was cleared from this field, many small elevations or hillocks were observed scattered irregularly over the surface. the plow has obliterated these, but has brought to light many evidences of ancient occupation, such as charcoal, ashes, burned clay, stone implements, and human bones. . a large, beautifully-formed jar has received this number. the neck is short and slender, and the rim slightly enlarged and recurved. the body is full and symmetrical, but greatly compressed vertically, the width being about twice the height. the ware is of the dark, porous variety. full height, inches; width, inches. . a bottle-shaped jar or vase, with long neck and globular body. the form is unusually graceful. height is inches. diameter of body, ½ inches. this vessel is shown in fig. . . a well-formed jar, with plain neck and globular body. seven and one-half inches in height, and ½ in width. [illustration: fig. .] . a medium sized, bottle-shaped vessel, of elegant proportions. a rudimentary foot or stand is added to the bottom. height, inches. fig. . . a small, much compressed, bottle-shaped vase. height, inches; width, ½ inches. . a bottle-shaped vase of reddish-gray color, resembling the preceding in shape and size. . a large, bottle-shaped vase, with long neck and subglobular body. it is unique in having a stand or base which seems to have been added after the body was somewhat hardened. this stand has been perforated for ornament, as shown in fig. . height, inches; diameter, inches. . a small vase, ornamented with a series of ribs, which extend around the body from the neck to the base. this vessel is shown in fig. . it is in a fragmentary state. height, ¼ inches; width, inches. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] . a medium-sized vase with vertically compressed body. height, inches; diameter, ½ inches. fig. . . a plain bowl, with flattish bottom. diameter, inches; height inches. [illustration: fig. .] . a well-made jar or vase, with globular body, inches in width and ½ in height. the surface of the vessel is completely covered with an irregular, bead-like ornamentation, made by pinching the soft clay between the thumb and fingers. fig. . diameter ½ inches. [illustration: fig. .] . a much compressed vase, ½ inches in height and ½ in width. four equi-distant protuberances are placed about the widest part of the body and rudely imitate the extremities of some animal. . a small, jar-like vase, with globular body, inches in height, and the same in diameter. the form is not quite symmetrical. . a small vase, with large, high neck and much compressed body. height, ½ inches; width, ½ inches. . a vase similar to the preceding. . a medium-sized bowl, ½ inches in diameter and inches in height. the rim has an exterior ornament of thumb indentations. . a small, rudely-constructed jar, inches in height and ½ in width. [illustration: fig. .] . a jar having a high, wide neck, and small, globular body. the bottom is flat. height, inches; width, ½ inches. . a small, rudely-constructed cup, of a reddish color. height, inch; width, ½ inches. . a small, rudely-finished vase, with high, wide neck and short pedestal. the globular body is embellished with an encircling band of scroll-work of incised lines. the scrolls are bordered by triangular wings filled with reticulated lines, as shown in fig. ; height, ¾ inches. nos. , , and are plain vessels of similar form. additional numbers have been given to numerous fragments from this locality. collection from arkansas county. mounds at arkansas post. a group of well-known mounds is situated on the farm of the late frank menard, miles south-east of the village of arkansas post. the largest mound is feet in circumference at the top and considerably larger at the base. the slopes are covered with trees and bushes. this mound had already been dug into quite extensively, and it was thought useless to explore it further. connected with this mound by a ridge of earth feet long and feet across, is a small circular mound, feet high and feet in diameter, which bore evidence of having been occupied by houses. articles of clay. near the middle of the connecting ridge, just under the soil, a layer of burnt clay, about or feet in diameter, was found. at one side, imbedded in the _débris_ of clay, a large quantity of fragments of earthen vessels was discovered. they comprise a number of bowls of various sizes, which are all quite new-looking, and are of a type of ware quite distinct from that found in the fields and graves of the same locality. restorations of a large number have been made, and the collection proves to be extremely interesting. the collector argues, from the position of the fragmentary vessels, that they had been placed by their owners upon the roof of the house, which, he surmises, was destroyed by fire. , , , , , , , . plain bowls of yellowish-gray ware, restored from fragments described above. they are wide and shallow, and somewhat conical below; hand-made, and without polish. composed of clay, tempered with pulverized shell. the walls are usually quite thin. diameter to inches. height to inches. [illustration: fig. .] , , - , , , - , ,- , , . bowls corresponding in general character to those described above, but having tasteful designs of incised lines and indentations on the exterior surface. the most interesting of these designs consists of series of interlaced or of festooned lines. the exterior margin is encircled, in all cases, by ornaments consisting of parallel lines, groups of short incised lines, or rows of indentations. [illustration: fig. .] the principal design encircles the body beneath this, as shown in figs. and . , , . bowls similar to the above having interior decorations consisting of curved lines. , , , , , , - , . bowls corresponding to the above in general characters, but having flaring rims. they are mostly plain. a few have decorative designs of incised lines. some have been blackened by use as cooking vessels. field graves near menard mound. surrounding the menard mound is a field containing about twenty acres, which appears at one time to have been the site of a great number of dwellings, as, at a depth of from to feet, layers of burned clay are found. this field seems also to have been a great cemetery, as the remains of skeletons are found in great numbers. pottery is found in great abundance. it has, as a rule, been deposited near the heads of the dead, but no ornaments or implements have been discovered with the remains. the frequent plowing of the field has destroyed many earthen vessels, the interments having been made quite near the surface. it is a noticeable fact that the pottery from these graves is of a character quite distinct from that of the mound. it is of the class of ware so common in this region. articles of stone. , , . arrow-points, spear-points, and knives of chalcedony, jasper, and quartz. . celt or chisel of mack slate, ½ inches long, and ¼ wide at the wider end. . celt of gray diorite. the blade is quite smooth; the upper part is roughened. length, inches. width, ½ inches. thickness, inch. . celt of yellow limestone, ½ inches long, and ½ inches wide. . a two-edged celt of gray quartzite, ¼ inches long, and three-fourths of an inch wide. [illustration: fig. .] . celt of yellowish-gray jasper, chipped, and afterwards partially smoothed by grinding. four and one-half inches long, and ½ inches wide. . celt very similar to the preceding. . celt of dark-gray slate; edge nicely sharpened. lower part smooth, upper part rough; ½ inches long, ½ inches wide, and nearly inch thick. . fragment of a large celt, with conical apex. . a hammer-stone. . a pebble of coarse sandstone, resembling a celt in shape. . a quartz pebble, probably used as a polishing-stone. . a boat-shaped implement of speckled volcanic rock, inches long, inch wide, and three-fourths of an inch thick at the middle part. . an implement of grayish-red sandstone similar to the above in size and shape. the ends are slightly squared. . a small disk of gray quartzite, having a shallow circular depression in each face. . a pendant of gray slate, somewhat pear-shaped in outline, ½ inches in diameter, and one-eighth of an inch thick. near the pointed end, a neat, biconical perforation has been made. . an implement or ceremonial stone of ferruginous slate, possibly a clay iron-stone, or limonite. it has a hatchet-like outline, the blade being semicircular, and the upper part elongated and narrow. a large biconical perforation has been made near the center of the implement; a smaller one, as if for suspension, at the upper end. it is ¼ inches long, ½ inches wide, and three-fourths of an inch thick. fig. . articles of clay. . a small reddish cup or vase. the rim is low and wide and is ornamented with four ears placed at regular intervals on the exterior surface. two of these are pierced as if for the insertion of a string. height, inches. width, inches. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] . a small bottle-shaped vase. the surface has been painted red. height, inches. width, ½ inches. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] . a small globular vase, with low neck of medium width, which has an ornament consisting of a band of clay, slightly raised and indented with oblique lines. yellowish-gray ware with dark stains. height, inches. . a low bottle-shaped vase, of yellowish ware, with flaring rim and somewhat flattened body. height, inches; width inches. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] . a well-made bottle shaped vase, with low neck and globular body, somewhat conical above. color dark brownish. ½ inches in height. shown in fig. . [illustration: fig. .] . fragments of vases corresponding in characters to the preceding. one example has been painted red. . a small bottle-shaped vase of red ware. height inches, width ½ inches. . the body of a small bottle-shaped vase, much flattened, the outline being quite angular at the most expanded part. yellowish-gray in color and without polish. there are indications that a design in red has ornamented the body. width inches. . the body of a small bottle-shaped vase, globular in form. surface painted red and unusually well polished. diameter ½ inches. . neck and upper part of body of a vase resembling in form and color the example last described. . a handsome bottle-shaped vase with flaring lip. the neck widens toward the base. the body is almost globular, being slightly pointed above, and expanded along the equatorial belt. the surface is only moderately smooth. the body is ornamented with a very handsome design of incised lines, which consists of a scroll pattern, divided into four sections by perpendicular lines. the design covers the upper part of the body, the lower part being plain. height, ½ inches. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] . a bottle-shaped vessel of dark, rudely finished ware. the body is modeled to represent a fish, the mouth and eyes appearing on one side, and the tail upon the other. width ¼ inches. fig. . , . two small vessels with globular bodies, which have a curious resemblance to an ordinary tea-pot. a spout has, in each case, been added to the side of the body. figs. and show these vessels on a scale of one-half. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] . an oblong, shallow basin. wide, flat handles have been added to the rim at the ends of the vessel; one of these is pierced. length ¾ inches, width inches, depth inches. color dark gray. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] , , , , , , . plain bowls of ordinary composition and appearance. fig. is a good example. diameter inches. [illustration: fig. .] . a handsome bowl of dark ware. the body is ornamented with an incised design, which consists of a somewhat disconnected running scroll. the bottom, is flat. diameter ¼ inches. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] . a bowl of dark porous ware, very nicely made. the rim is ornamented at one side with a grotesque head, representing some wild animal, probably a panther. the ornament on the opposite side takes the place of the tail of the animal. diameter of bowl inches. fig. . , . fragments of many vessels, chiefly of black porous ware, among which are a number of handles representing the heads of birds and quadrupeds, also the fragments of a vessel which restored give the vase shown in fig. . the designs are red on a yellowish ground. diameter ½ inches. . a large vase modeled to represent a grotesque human figure. it is painted with designs in red and white, the ground color being a reddish yellow. the figure has a kneeling posture. the hands are upraised against the shoulders, with palms turned forward. height, ½ inches; width of shoulders, inches. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] , , . fragments of pottery having incised designs, similar to the dark ware already described. a few of these fragments have been worked into rude disks. [illustration: fig. .] objects of metal. . a thin plate of copper, probably intended for a pendent ornament, as two perforations have been made at one end. it is rectangular in outline, and has suffered much from corrosion. . a fragment of galena ore. animal substances. . fragment of a needle-like perforator. a conical perforation has been made toward the larger end. the point has been lost. . a cubical fragment of bone, the sides of which have been squared by cutting or grinding. collection from monroe county, arkansas. mound at lawrenceville. on the farm of daniel thompson, near lawrenceville, the remains of ancient habitations are of frequent occurrence. the fields have been cultivated for many years. in one case a bed of clay inches thick, and covering an area of many hundred feet, was discovered near the surface; this is supposed to be the remains of the roof of a house. associated with it were a number of objects, among which were five very interesting specimens of pottery. articles of clay. . a large bottle-shaped vase of red and white ware. the upper part of the neck is lost. the body is encircled by an ornamental design in white, upon a red ground, which resembles a rudely drawn greek fret. the diameter of the body is inches; the height has been or inches. [illustration: fig. .] . a fine bottle-shaped vase, resembling the preceding; very handsome, and in a remarkably good state of preservation. it also has a design in red and white. the original color of the vase has been a dull reddish yellow. the neck is red, the body is ornamented with four red and four white figures, which extend from the neck to the base of the vessel. these belts of color are separated by bands of the ground-color of the vessel. height inches. fig. . . a small rude cup of gray clay, without decoration. diameter inches. . an egg-shaped vessel, made in imitation of a gourd. the mouth of this vessel is a small round opening on the side, near the pointed end. the base is somewhat flattened. height inches. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] . a minute cup, ½ inches in diameter. the rim is encircled by a series of rude notches. mounds at indian bay. a large mound feet high and feet long is located on the farm of mr. a. spencer, near indian bay. our collector, however, could not obtain permission to examine it. at the edge of indian bay corporation is another large mound, used as a cemetery by the white residents. in a field near by were two small mounds about feet in height and feet in circumference. in one of these, two feet beneath the surface, a skeleton was found, near the head of which three earthen vessels had been placed. from the other small mound a very interesting collection of pottery was procured, much of which was in a fragmentary condition. from these fragments a number of vessels have been reconstructed. these are given in the following list: articles of clay. . a bottle-shaped vase of dart, grayish-brown ware. the neck is quite high and slender, and the body globular--a little elongated above. the rim and collar are ornamented with incised notches. height, inches. . a large symmetrically shaped vase or jug of a grayish yellow color. restored from fragments. the body of the jug is globular, the neck slightly flaring, the rim being notched on the outer edge. the ware is coarse and rough. height, ½ inches. , , , , . fragments of vessels similar to that last described. . a low wide-mouthed vase of dark gray compact ware. the neck is decorated by two series of lines, which cross and recross the neck in such a manner as to form diamond-shaped figures. they are deeply incised. the rim is notched, and has three small nodes on the outer margin. the body is covered with an ornament produced by pinching the clay while in a soft state. height, ½ inches; diameter, inches. [illustration: fig. .] . a very large wide-mouthed vase, the body of which is conical below. the rim and neck are ornamented in a manner very similar to the one last described. height, inches; diameter, inches. fig. . , , , , , . fragments of vessels similar to the one last described. , , . three small vessels restored from fragments; two of these resemble deep bowls with flaring rims. the lip is notched on the outer margin. the other has an upright, slightly constricted neck, ornamented with a band of rude indentations. diameter, ¾ inches. fig. . . a shallow bowl of yellowish gray ware, ornamented with irregular notches about the rim. diameter, inches. , , . bowls similar to the preceding. , , . large bowls with flaring rims. . a very deep bowl. fragmentary. . a large, handled cup or ladle of yellowish clay. the bowl part is inches in diameter. the extremity of the handle has been lost. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] , , . large portions of the bodies of two vessels of unusual shape. [illustration: fig. .] collection from ohio. from mounds and fields. during the year small collections of stone implements and articles of pottery were forwarded to the bureau by dr. wills de haas. most of these are, however, without record, excepting of the most general character. the majority appear to have been obtained from warren county, at or in the vicinity of fort ancient. articles of stone. . spear points or knives of gray chalcedony. three are very sharply pointed, and have probably been used as perforators. average width inch, average length ½ inches. . lot of rudely chipped arrow or spear points of grayish, chalcedony. notches quite shallow. . a lot of medium-sized, rather heavy arrow points of gray chalcedony. . lot of neatly shaped, deeply notched spear and arrow points, averaging about inch in width, and ranging from to inches in length. made of gray chalcedony. . lot of arrow points, spear points, and knives of various sizes and shapes. material same as the preceding. . lot of rudely finished knives and spear points, mostly wide and heavy, some being almost circular in outline. material same as the preceding. . lot of large knives and spear points of variously colored chalcedony. . knives and flakes of chalcedony. . large lot of long, triangular knives or spear points, made of gray and reddish mottled chalcedony. they average about ½ inches in length, and ½ in width. . large lot of flakes and fragments of gray and dark chalcedony or flint, left from the manufacture of implements. - . celts and fragments of celts of greatly varied size and shape, made of a grayish, speckled rock, resembling diorite. - , . medium-sized, grooved axes-of ordinary forms. one is made of diorite (?), the others of gray rock resembling sandstone. - . very large grooved axes of greenish diorite (?). the largest is ½ inches long, inches wide, and inches thick. . short, heavy pestles with broad bases and conical tops, made of gray diorite or sandstone. diameter of bases from ½ to inches. height from to inches. . a long, heavy, cylindrical pestle. - . bound, oblong, and flattish pebbles, comprising several varieties of stone, used as hammer-stones, nut-crackers, &c., varying from to inches in diameter. the sides of many are flattened or hollowed out by use. . fragment of cup stone, made of coarse sandstone. on one side two cavities remain; on the other, three. these are about ¼ inches in diameter, and about one-half an inch in depth. . a grooved stone implement, made from a large pebble of coarse gray stone. the groove about the middle has evidently been made for attaching a handle. the upper lobe has been considerably reduced by picking, and the base, which would correspond to the edge of an ax, has been worked quite flat. length of lower part ½ inches. height of implement inches. articles of clay. . a number of small fragments of pottery of ordinary varieties. collection from oregon. articles of stone. the following articles were forwarded to the bureau from john day river, oregon, by captain bendire: - . arrow-points, knives, and flakes of obsidian, agate, etc., from indian graves on john day river. - . fragments of stone implements, including celts, cylindrical pestles, etc., mostly of compact, eruptive rock. . pipe of gray sandstone, shaped very much like an ordinary straight cigar-holder; inches long, and inch in diameter at the larger end. obtained from an indian grave on john day river. . fragment of a pipe-stem (?) made of soft black stone, apparently a chloritic slate. a very neat, ornamental design has been engraved upon the cylindrical stem. . fragment of an ornament carved from greenish sandstone. collections from kentucky. a small collection of ancient relics, obtained from caves in the vicinity of mammoth cave, kentucky, was presented to the bureau by mr. francis klett. with this collection were a number of articles of stone, some of which were probably obtained from the fields of the same region. . fragments of gourds. [illustration: fig. .] . two very beautifully knit or plaited sandals. the fiber used has probably been obtained from the inner bark of trees. the combination of threads is shown in fig. . a small piece of matting from the same place is shown in fig. . [illustration: fig. .] . two bundles of charred sticks and reeds. - . spearheads of chert or flint. . stone knife. . flake knife. . small spearheads. . flint knife. . arrow heads. . same; small and thin. - . stone awls or perforators. . leaden bullet. . pieces of pottery. collections from missouri. articles of clay. a fine collection of earthen vessels was purchased for the bureau from mr. j. t. gouden, of morrow, ohio, through the agency of dr. wills de haas. few facts in regard to them have been furnished, excepting that they were taken from graves in the vicinity of charleston, mo. they resemble so closely the well-known types of missouri pottery that it is safe to conclude that they were obtained from ancient graves and mounds in the locality named. the numerous cuts accompanying this section are intended for subsequent use in a general treatise on the works of the moundbuilders. [illustration: fig. .] this ware is generally of the dark gray or black variety, handsmoothed, or but slightly polished, and tempered with pulverized shells. a few examples are yellowish-red in color. some of these have been painted red or have been ornamented with designs in red. in one case white paint has been used. the prevailing form is a bottle-shaped vessel, the neck being frequently high and slender, and the body globular or subglobular. the base is nearly always slightly flattened. . an effigy vase of unusual form. the body is subrectangular. the upper part or neck is lost, but has doubtless been modeled to represent the human figure, as the feet remain attached to the shoulder of the vessel. the color is yellowish gray. diameter, inches. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] . an effigy vase of the dark ware. the body is globular. a kneeling human figure forms the neck. the mouth of the vessel occurs at the back of the head--a rule in this class of vessels. is is finely made and symmetrical. ¾ inches high and inches in diameter. fig. . . effigy vase representing a kneeling or squatting human figure, moderately well modeled. the exterior surface is painted red. height, inches; diameter, inches. the locality is not known with certainty. - , , . effigy vases of human figures. sizes, medium to small. the body below the waist is hemispherical, and the legs are not indicated. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] . effigy vase, representing an owl. the body is globular. the wings are indicated at the sides, and the legs and tail serve as a tripod when the vessel is placed in an upright position. the head is quite grotesque. this is a usual form in the middle mississippi district. height, inches; width, ½ inches. . small example, resembling the preceding. , . vases with globular bodies; the necks represent an owl's head. size, medium. . a small vase similar to the above, but having a human head. . a minute vessel modeled to represent a bird, the opening or mouth being on the under side of the body; length, inches. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] , , , . bottle-shaped vases, with globular or flattish bodies and grotesque tops. the rounded heads are armed with a number of nodes or horns, but no features are shown. the largest is inches in width by in height. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] . similar vase of medium size. the top is modeled to represent the curved stem and neck of a gourd. fig. . height inches. [illustration: fig. .] . vase similar to the above. the top representing a gourd with short conical neck. four lines are drawn from the stem down the sides which represent the natural markings of the gourd. height, ½ inches; diameter, ½ inches. [illustration: fig. .] . a two-storied vessel, the lower part being a cup of flattened globular form. the upper part is similar in size and shape, but is modeled to represent a univalve shell, the apex being represented by a large node surrounded by six smaller nodes, and the base or spine by a graceful extension of the rim. the groove or depression that encircles the vessel between the upper and lower parts of the body is spanned by two minute handles. height, inches; width, ½. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] , , , , . small bowls or cups, made in imitation of shell vessels, the noded apex occurring at one side, and the more or less pointed beak at the opposite side fig. . another similar specimen with hemispherical body is given in fig. . length, inches. [illustration: fig. .] , , . small vases with wide mouths, the rim and shoulders of which have the heads and extremities of frogs, modeled in relief. fig. . diameter, inches. [illustration: fig. .] , , , . low, wide-mouthed vases or bowls, modeled about the rim to represent sunfish. a vertical view is given in fig. . inches in length. . a small bowl, the rim of which is embellished on one side with the head of a panther, on the other side a flattish projection which resembles a tail. . a small bowl, having upon the rim a human head, the face of which is turned inward. on the opposite side is the usual flattish projection. fig. . diameter of bowl inches. [illustration: fig. .] . small bowl, the rim of which is embellished with the head of a fox or wolf; at the opposite side is the usual tail. [illustration: fig. .] , , , . bowls of various sizes, the rims of which are ornamented with the heads and tails of birds. no. is an unusually fine example. besides the features described it has been farther embellished by four incised lines which encircle the rim, forming a loop on the opposite sides as seen in fig. . bowl inches in diameter. . small bowl, the rim of which has been embellished by four pairs of nodes. fig. . diameter, inches. . a small globular cup of dark ware which has four large nodes about the rim, between these on the sides of the vessel, four ornamental figures have been painted in red, these consist of an inner circle occupied by a cross, and an exterior circle of rays or scallops. height, ½ inches; width, ½ inches. the rim has been perforated for the purpose of suspension. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] , , , , , , , . bottle-shaped vases. the bodies are generally globular. a few are conical above, while others are much compressed vertically. some are slightly ridged about the greatest circumference, while all are slightly flattened on the bottom. the necks are slender and long, being about equal to the body in height. they are generally narrowest in the middle, expanding trumpet-like toward the mouth, and widening more or less abruptly toward the shoulder below. in a few cases a ridge or collar encircles the base of the neck. the exterior surface is generally quite smooth, but never polished, although a polishing implement seems to have been used. the largest is inches in height and inches in diameter. no. has a very tasteful incised design, encircling the shoulder as shown in fig. . diameter ½ inches. [illustration: fig. .] . vase similar to the above in form, but with the addition of a base or stand, inch high and inches in diameter at the base. . same, with the base divided into three parts, forming a kind of tripod, the legs being flat. fig. . height, inches. , , , , . bottle or jug shaped vases, resembling the preceding, but having wide, short necks. fig. illustrates a typical form. height, ¼ inches. . a vase similar to the above, but of yellowish gray ware, decorated with a design in broad red and white lines. height, inches; width, inches. height of neck, inches; width, inches. . similar to the above in shape, but with flattish body, and peculiar in having two small handles or ears at the base of the neck. fig. . diameter, inches. , , , , . small caps, with low, wide necks, and globular or subglobular bodies, having two handles or ears which connect the lip with the shoulder. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] . a cup like the above, with four handles. , , . small cups similar to the preceding, but having a variety of indented ornaments about the shoulder and upper part of the body; these ornaments consist of wide vertical lines, or of encircling scalloped lines. figs. and . diameter of each, ½ inches. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] . has six nodes about the circumference, and a scalloped figure of three incised lines encircling the vessel above them. the handles have oblique incised lines upon the outer surface. , . bowls with scalloped rims. the largest is inches in diameter and inches in height. fig. . [illustration: fig. .] , , , , , . plain bowls, of various sizes, and somewhat varied shapes. figs. and . drawn one-half the real size. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] collections from other states. . stone implement of unusual form. it may be described as a flattish cylinder tapering slightly toward the ends, which are truncated. in one end a hole has been bored one-half an inch in diameter and three-fourths of an inch deep. a narrow, shallow groove encircles the implement near the middle. the material is a grayish slate. the form is symmetrical and the surface quite smooth. found upon the surface in hamilton county, indiana. . a copper knife or poinard, with bent point. found by edward daniels while digging a cellar at ripon, wis. . a handsome vase, shaped like a bowl with incurved rim, obtained from a mound on the farm of a. c. zachary, in morgan county, georgia. the incurved surface above has an ornamental design of incised lines resembling the greek fret. the most expanded portion of the vessel is encircled by a raised band, which is neatly ornamented with notches. the lower part of the body is shaped like a bowl with a flattened base. diameter ½ inches. presented by j. c. c. blackburn. collection from peru, south america. a number of interesting articles were presented by mr. g. h. hurlbut. these were obtained from ancient graves in the vicinity of lima by an agent sent out for the purpose by mr. hurlbut while the city was invested by the chilian army. details of their occurrence were consequently not obtained. a study of this collection leads to the belief that all the specimens are from one interment, that is, the grave of a single individual. the fact that there is but one skull, one mask-like idol, and but a small number of articles of each, of the classes represented, tends to confirm this supposition. . skull retaining the scalp and hair. the latter is long, coarse, and black. the lower jaw is missing. . a mask-like wooden figure, the face being somewhat above life-size. fig. . it is of a form not unusual in peruvian graves. the features are fairly well shown. the eyes are formed by excavating oval depressions and setting in pieces of shell. first, oval pieces of white clam-shell are inserted, which represent the whites of the eye; upon these small circular bits of dark shell are cemented, representing the pupils. locks of hair have been set in beneath the shell, the ends of which project, forming the lashes of the eye. the back head is formed by a neatly-rounded bundle of leaves, held in place by a net-work of coarse cord. the edges of the wooden mask are perforated in several places; by means of these the back head, some long locks of fine flax which serve as hair, and a number of other articles have been attached. upon the crown a large bunch of brilliantly colored feathers has been fixed; behind this, extending across the top of the head, is a long pouch of coarse white cloth in which a great number of articles have been placed--little packages of beans and seeds, rolls of cloth of different colors and textures, minute bundles of wool and flax and cords, bits of copper and earth carefully wrapped in husks, bundles of feathers, etc. encircling the crown are long, narrow bands or sashes, one of which is white, the others having figures woven in brilliant colors. the ends of these hang down at the sides of the face. attached to one side of the mask by long stout cords is a pouch of coarse cotton cloth resembling a tobacco-bag. it is about inches square. attached to the lower edge of this is a fringe of long, heavy cords. to the opposite side a net is suspended, in which had been placed innumerable articles, probably intended for the use of the dead--a sling, made of cords, very skillfully plaited; bundles of cord and flax; small nets containing beans, seeds, and other articles; copper fish-hooks, still attached to the lines, which are wound about bits of cornstalk or cane; neatly-made sinkers wrapped in corn-husks, together with a variety of other articles. [illustration: fig. .] , . sinkers of gray slate, shaped somewhat like a cigar, one or more groves partially encircling the ends. these were carefully wrapped in corn-husks. fig. . , . two copper fish-hooks and the cords to which they are attached. the hooks pierce the ends of the bit of cornstalk about which the cord is wound. fig. . [illustration: fig. . / ] [illustration: fig. . / ] . a sling, feet long. the extremities consist of a single cord, the middle part of heavy, compactly-plaited cords. . head-bands of coarse fabrication, having figures of red, yellow and white. . a large piece of cloth, possibly a mantle, made by piecing together fragments of highly-colored cloths. . a large piece of gauze-like white cotton fabric. , . small nets containing a variety of articles. . a head ornament of red feathers, skillfully attached to cords. index animal substances, collection of objects of , , arkansas: collections of pottery from - arkansas county ancient pottery - monroe county ancient pottery - bendire, capt. g., sent stone relics from oregon blackburn, j. c. s., presented vase from mound cocke county, tennessee, collection from , - collections in : bought of j. t. couden - by capt. c. bendire dr. willis de haas g. h. hurlbut - edward palmer - from cherokee indians - arkansas: carson lake township chiokasawha mound lawrenceville menard mound mounds at arkansas post pecan point , pemiscott mound georgia indiana missouri - north carolina , ohio mounds - oregon - peru, south america - tennessee: newport junction of pigeon and french broad rivers jefferson county - roane county - sevier county - wisconsin articles of animal substances , , , , clay , , , , , - , , - , , , , - metal , shell , , - , , , stone , , , , , , , , vegetal substances de haas, dr. w., bought indian relics collected indian relics - fain's island, collection of relics from french broad river, relics from gorget, shell , hurlbut, g. h., presented collection from ancient peruvian graves - indian bay, ark., collection of indian relics from jackson county, north carolina, indian relics from - jefferson county, tennessee, collection of indian relics from - lawrenceville, ark., collection of indian relics from metal objects from tennessee mississippi county, arkansas, collection from missouri, collection of indian relics from - monroe county, arkansas, collection from newport, tenn., collection of relics from - niles ferry, tenn., collection of relics from north carolina; collections from jackson county - ohio, collection of indian relics from oregon, collection of indian relics from - paint rock ferry, collection from palmer, e., collection of indian relics by - peru, collection of relics from - pigeon river, tenn., collection of relics from roane county, tenn., collection of relics from - sevier county, tenn., collection of relics from - shell objects, collection of , , , , - , , , stone objects, collection of , , , , , , , tennessee, collection of relics from-- cocke county , - jefferson county - newport - roane county - vegetal substances, collections of * * * * * errors and anomalies: differences between table of contents and body text: _this list does not include trivial differences such as singular for plural, or inconsistent use of "the"_ collection made by edward palmer, in north carolina, tennessee, and arkansas. _first heading in body text, before "introductory": missing from table of contents_ from the fields at newport _body text has "near newport"_ from a mound on pigeon river _body text has "mound at the junction of the pigeon and french broad rivers."_ mounds near paint rock ferry // fragments of pottery _printed heading not used in body text_ pemissicott mound _body text reads "pemisscott"_ collections from ohio // human remains _category does not appear in body text_ collections from peru _body text reads "peru, south america"_ ... diameter _text reads "diamter"_ ... flattish base _text reads "flatish"_ collections from jefferson county _state not named: tennessee_ the vases have been somewhat larger. _text reads "somwhat"_ on pemisscott bayou _"o" in "bayou" invisible_ a large number of very fine vessels _text reads "vessls"_ . a copper knife or poinard _so in original: "poniard"?_ [index] peru, collection of relics from ... - _text reads " - "_ images generously made available by the joyner library of east carolina university (http://digital.lib.ecu.edu/) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) images of the original pages are available through the north carolina history and fiction digital library of the joyner library, east carolina university. see http://digital.lib.ecu.edu/historyfiction/document/hom/ money island. by andrew j. howell, jr. copyright, , by andrew j. howell, jr. commercial printing co., wilmington n.c. contents: page. money island the conquest of jamesby [illustration: the little island among the marshes] money island. this is the story of the buried treasure on money island, which lies in greenville sound, not far from wilmington, north carolina. it was told by mr. jonathan landstone many years ago, and is a part of another story which follows, and which will explain something further about the mysterious little island that blinks in the sunlight and tries to hide its secret. the words are mr. landstone's and were written by him, to make sure that the story would be told correctly when the time came to publish it. (mr. landstone's ms.) my grandfather lived in charleston, s.c. my home is in philadelphia. in my boyhood i visited him several times. he was a fine old man, and was very fond of me. he used to tell me many stories of the good old colonial days. he said his father was a pirate; but that pirates in those days were gentlemen. although they made game of the king's revenue on the high seas, it was regarded as nothing very wrong; and, although they played havoc with the spanish shipping, it was but the assertion of a time-honored right of englishmen, who never did love spaniards. they were, many of them, ingloriously hanged, it is true, but it was by the king's officers, and not by the people. however, not to defend pirates, or indeed to condemn them, i will tell you what my grandfather narrated about his father, who was capt. john redfield. he was a gallant seaman, who consorted with charles vane and other doughty corsairs of those days of romance upon the seas. when captain kidd forsook the king's commission to run down the pirates on the american coast, and organized his formidable squadron, captain redfield was chosen as his trusted counsellor, to accompany the brilliant leader on his adventures. he gave up his own ship, and was with captain kidd on many voyages, being entrusted with many a commission of importance. one fine spring morning, while off the carolina coast, captain kidd was pacing his deck, enjoying the warm splendor of the early sunshine. he had just returned from a successful voyage among the spanish colonies of the south, and was gaily attired after the manner of a spanish cavalier. he wore a cocked hat, decked with a yellow band and a black plume, and a coat of black velvet which reached down to his knees. his trousers were blue, and were adorned by large golden knee-buckles. he wore massive silver buckles on his shoes. with his well-proportioned body, neatly trimmed beard, and steady, alert eyes, he presented as fine a picture of a man as could have anywhere been found. his manner had the dignity and repose of a beneficent prince, as he gave his orders for the day and received the salutations of his men. the ship had passed the cape of fear, and was making in towards the shore-line, which captain kidd was observing with great interest. some near-by point was evidently the destination. at length, at his orders, the sails were lowered and the anchor dropped. "we will lie here to-day," he remarked, "and have a little rest." this information met the ready approbation of the men, who soon disposed themselves in careless groups about the ship. they knew it would be a day of idleness; because there were no forays to be made upon the land, for the reason that there wore no human habitations in those parts. to the buccaneers the locality was well known as furnishing a safe retreat when retirement from active work was desired. during the day there were singing, dancing, feasting. it was a day such as only a gallant corsair could have with his merry crew. the hours sped swiftly; and at dusk anchors were weighed, and the ship moved a few miles to the northward. captain kidd, standing at the prow, called captain redfield to him. "captain," said he, "i wish to entrust you with a most important service. i am somewhat overstocked. i have not failed to be generous to the men; but still i do not feel at ease for a journey to new england. you appreciate the situation. i wish to make a deposit; and, as our interests along the coast are now beginning to be extensive, i desire to detail you as a resident of carolina to keep an oversight for me. you will live on this coast near the location of to-night's deposit. you will find the climate agreeable, and other things favorable. i will hand you for your own use, in case of need, gold to the value of one thousand pounds. is it agreeable, captain?" "aye, sir; your wishes are my orders." "then, swear by the holy virgin that you will faithfully watch over the stuff; that you will not touch the chests or their contents, nor give any information or suggestion that might lead any one to their discovery--in fact, that you will not disclose to any one the object of your residence in this secluded place." captain redfield doffed his hat, and, raising his right hand, said, "captain, i so swear." "your hand with the oath, redfield. you are a trusty fellow, and i have the fullest confidence in you." "thank you, captain." "but, hold," captain kidd continued in his great benevolent voice, "i had forgotten the conditions. they are: you are to keep the engagement, if necessary, for five years. our calling; as you know, is a little uncertain. at the end of that period, if i have not returned, you will be at liberty to take up the smaller chest to be deposited to-night, and use the contents, subject to such division--not to exceed one-half to each of us--as i may demand on my return. the same conditions will apply to the other chest for an additional period of five years. in the event, however, of any special need, i may send an order for some of the stuff. but look you for my signet. see!" and he drew from his pocket a piece of resin upon which he had stamped his signet. "keep that to prove the genuineness of my written orders. is everything satisfactory, redfield?" "everything is satisfactory, captain." captain redfield was a man of stalwart build. his height was six feet or more, and his movements were quick and firm. his face was beardless and wore an expression of stability and energy. the two stood for some time upon the prow of the ship, and discussed the locality of the proposed hiding of the precious booty. then captain kidd called two men by name, who promptly responded. he said, "i have trusted you in times past, and i desire to do so again. i believe you will not betray my confidence. we are going to make another deposit to-night. i have long had the location in mind. now, swear by the holy virgin that you will not disturb the stuff yourselves, nor in any way aid or abet any one else in doing so." they swore with deep earnestness. the group continued there awhile, until the moon rose and shed its silver splendor on the rolling water about them, touching the white-capped breakers with a soft and magic radiance as they dashed upon the near-by beach. then orders were given for the lowering of the boat. captain kidd proceeded to the lockers of the ship, which opened into his cabin; and, with the aid of captain redfield, drew forth two iron chests. these he carried to the outer deck, and carefully lowered them to the boats by means of ropes. from a respectful distance the sailors who had no hand in this work watched the proceedings with eager interest. firearms, shovels, and axes were then placed in the boat. four rowers took their positions; and captains kidd and redfield climbed down the rope ladder, and sat in the stern. everything was ready, and word was given to ply the oars. soon the ship became a mystic shape in the dim distance; and, as the inlet was entered, it was lost entirely to view. by tortuous passages among the marshes, they drew up at the island--money island. "island the fourth!" said captain kidd jocularly. "magnificent indeed will be the buccaneer's castle in merry england when they all give up their wealth! ha, a fine life this; but i suppose as fine a one when the retired merchant from the south seas brings his well-earned fortune to a corner of old england. not captain kidd then, men, but john so-and-so, a wise and revered merchant. ha! do you see the game?" the sailors sprang upon the land and pulled the boat well in from the water. the officers stepped lightly ashore, and railed against the low-lying branches, which whipped their faces. the trees were thick and low, making passage beneath them arduous and slow. however, the whole island was small and soon traversed; and, finally, a spot was selected as being accessible and suitable to the purpose. two deep holes about ten feet apart were dug, and the chests brought and deposited within them. some of the earth was replaced; and then they sought two small trees to plant above the chests. this was accomplished slowly and carefully, so that the growth of the trees would not be stopped. at length the task was completed; and the little island bore within its bosom wealth sufficient to buy an earldom. the silence of the dreary solitude sealed the secret; and there was no man who might discover it, other than those who laid the chests in their earthly hiding place. the moon gave testimony to the hidden treasure, and bore its silent witness through the many decades that followed. upon leaving the island, they rowed to the mainland, which was but a short distance away; and there captain redfield hid in three places in the ground the money which captain kidd had supplied him for his own needs, and as compensation for his services until his return. the axes and shovels, also, were secreted in the woods. it was past midnight when they returned to the ship, which set sail at break of day towards the north. by sunset they reached albemarle sound, the rendezvous of some companion buccaneers; and there waited for several days feasting and engaging in jovial pastimes. meantime, a small sloop was procured for captain redfield; and, having been supplied with necessary provisions and household comforts, and manned by four sturdy men who knew naught of the buried treasure, but engaged for the service on goodly pay, it sailed for the captain's new home near money island. upon reaching their destination, the pioneer residents set to work at once to construct temporary quarters, and were soon provided with a comfortable house. according to the plans of the commander-in-chief, the men who accompanied captain redfield were to understand that they were to engage in any service that might come to hand. they were to clear the land and till it, build houses and fences, and do such other work as might tend to prepare the locality for a more permanent settlement in case it should be desired to inaugurate such an enterprise. the sloop gave them communication with the outside world, enabling them to visit charleston, where a colony had been lately planted, and the several settlements to the north. it also afforded captain redfield opportunity to find a wife, whom he brought to rindout, as he styled his new home. there the party lived in the quiet enjoyment of a life with nature, which abundantly supplied, during the frequent periods of recreation, every facility for hunting, fishing, and other sports. one year passed, and another reached its seventh month; and the party had experienced nothing to arouse more than a passing interest. there had been no visitors to their settlement, not even an indian. on one october morning, however, a ship was seen lying off the inlet. this was a sight which caused a considerable stir among them. captain redfield debated the question within himself whether or not it was the ship of the commander-in-chief, and if it would be wise to go out and pay her a visit. but he hesitated, not wishing to jeopardize the commission imposed upon him. finally, a boat was seen approaching the shore, bearing a flag at its prow. in due course this was recognized as the ensign of captain kidd; and everything wag hastily arranged to receive the leader with due honor and welcome. as the boat drew near, though, it was discovered that he was not among the occupants; but on a seat at the stern, and with dignified mien, sat max brisbau, an old shipmate of captain redfield's, and a former companion in the service of captain kidd. brisbau alighted, and, extending his hand to captain redfield with suave complacency, stated that he had came upon a little service for captain kidd, and would later communicate his object. he showered courtly attentions upon his host, who exhibited unfeigned pleasure in welcoming him. the visiting boat's crew consisted of six men, who enjoyed the companionship of captain redfield's assistants, mingling with them in their various pursuits. all the graces of hospitality were generously displayed, and mirth and good cheer possessed the men. in the afternoon captain redfield was entertaining his guest in his private room. brisbau said he would now advise him regarding the commission upon which he was sent; which was, in fact, none other than the execution of an order from captain kidd for the two cheats that he had secreted in that neighborhood. captain redfield was to be awarded a generous portion, and his arduous service as guardian of the treasure would terminate. in the name of captain kidd, he graciously extended thanks for the faithfulness which captain redfield had shown in the discharge of his duties, and gave him assurances of the high esteem and confidence of the gallant leader. the words were very pleasing; but captain redfield hesitated to make answer. "it may or may not be true," said he after a pause, "that captain kidd has buried possessions in this immediate locality. it is not to be denied that he has secreted treasure along the coast, but where? that is the question. i have some knowledge of the hiding place of some of it, but must have some written order over the signature and seal of the captain to warrant me in disclosing it." brisbau promptly responded that he had such a communication from captain kidd, and proceeded to draw it from an inner pocket of his coat. he failed to find it, and with a great show of annoyance and a sudden recollection, he exclaimed with an oath that he had left it on the dressing table on his ship. what was to be done? he would send immediately out to the ship, and have the paper brought to him. no, that was hardly worth while. he assured captain redfield that he would hand him the paper on their return to the ship, with captain redfield accompanying him. that, captain redfield replied, would hardly be satisfactory. his obligation was to give information as to the hidden treasure only upon a well attested written order from captain kidd. brisbau cajoled, implored, and vehemently asserted the injury to his feelings which the foolish reluctance of his friend caused him. by intuition, captain redfield became convinced, on account of a certain weakness in the attitude of brisbau in defending his request, that there were deceit and treachery in his conduct. therefore, he coolly stated his determination to make no movement in the matter without the authority about which he had spoken. at this brisbau rose in great anger and exclaimed, "i shall have the money, or your life will be no more than jack kettle's, who flaunted his opposition before captain kidd himself!" hardly had he spoken when captain redfield in the flash of a thought for self-preservation, sprang upon him. brisbau, equally as quick, met the onset and moved as best he could to avoid the grasp that threatened him. they were quite alone. redfield was entirely unarmed, but his opponent wore a sword at his side, with pistol and knife hanging from his belt. having made the assault, the only safety for redfield lay in his gaining the ascendency over his opponent by sheer physical effort, to enable him to keep brisbau from using the weapons at his side. he missed the hold around both arms which he had planned, but firmly secured brisbau's right arm, while his own right hand grasped the other's wrist. these advantages he succeeded in holding, although he could do nothing towards disarming brisbau or binding him more securely as a captive. they struggled long and furiously. redfield, whose position required his utmost exertion, gradually became exhausted; but he had a desperate determination to win the mastery over brisbau, who was likewise weary from the struggle and doggedly angry. he feared a result disastrous to himself if he gave his opponent an opportunity to use his weapons. finally, just at a critical moment, mrs. redfield appeared. she started at the sight which met her eyes; but, seeing the situation at a glance, she ran back into the room out of which she had come, and quickly reappeared with a rope. with a woman's ready wit, she had found the means of bringing victory to her husband. she threw the rope around brisbau's shoulders and wound it over his arms until he was powerless to resist further. he was then easily bound and tied, body and legs, to a chair, grumbling his angry displeasure at the turn of affairs. captain redfield paused a little while to recover his balance, and sat down to cogitate the matter of the disposition of his prisoner; and, also, to watch for the return of his men from an excursion they had gone upon for the entertainment of their guests. they were slow in coming, and an annoying suspicion grew upon him. he could not tell what the attitude of brisbau's men might be; or if a conflict between them and his own men were to occur, what consequences might ensue. at any rate, he wished to avoid such a conflict if it were by any means possible; but he feared it could not be done. his good wife was greatly concerned, and urged upon him some amicable settlement with brisbau, even to the delivery of part of the treasure; for, after all, she thought, his claim might be just. an hour later, one of captain redfield's men returned; and, to his great dismay, informed him that an agreement had been made with the visiting seamen which would affect their standing with him, but would work him no harm. he said that, upon the arrival of the other men, the matter would be discussed with the captain, and meantime he would take no steps toward providing a defense for him in a conflict which was not likely to occur. this disclosure was startling, and a shock to the spirit which had upheld captain redfield. his first impulse was to attack the man for what he considered the basest treachery, but he desisted. parley with him he could not. he could only await the consequences of the compact which had been hinted at. but upon one thing he was determined--not to disclose any knowledge of the secreted treasure without first having in hand the credentials from captain kidd which he had demanded. his honor had been pledged to such a course, and he would not forsake his trust. the men came. but they looked with indifference upon the bound prisoner. there was no display of the strong feelings which had been anticipated. the situation was obvious. so far as captain redfield was concerned, he felt that he had been forsaken, betrayed. there was no man who stood with him. in vain he pleaded with his men to stand by him in his defense against a most dastardly plan to wrong him. he then inquired their attitude towards brisbau, and received an evasive answer. at length he gave up the struggle, and sought to learn the purpose of the men who had all now gathered before him; those of his own company, and those who had come with brisbau. one of them as spokesman, a new-comer, informed him that he and his friends had accompanied captain brisbau for the purpose of securing some of the buried treasure, which was known to be in that neighborhood; and they intended to find the booty before leaving. he also stated that captain redfield's men, upon learning about the hidden treasure, had agreed to become confederates; and that their master would be treated in every way as a friend, and be given a full share of the treasure, provided he would properly inform them and captain brisbau, whom they intended to release immediately, as to its location. if he for any reason should refuse so to favor them, he and his wife would be treated as prisoners, and dealt with as might seem best--until, of course, he would consent to aid them in their project. the response that came was firm and unmistakable. the brave custodian averred that he would not betray his trust, even in the very face of death. nor did days of urging and threatening turn him from his purpose. brisbau was released, and given to understand that the men were in control of affairs; and that his animosity towards captain redfield must cease. the woods were scoured for the treasure. days passed, and weeks, and the search was incessant; but there was no discovery made. captain redfield and his wife, now prisoners in chains, were urged and implored; but he could not be persuaded to give the information, although the mental tension he suffered was almost unbearable. one day on a sudden determination, brisbau set sail with his men and companions, together with the prisoners. his purpose was to take a short cruise and then return; meantime allowing captain redfield a further opportunity to disclose his secret; otherwise--and he repeated his threat made upon his first day at rindout. the ship stopped at charleston, and, almost immediately upon its arrival, it was seized under a suspicion of piracy, and a search made for evidences of the unlawful traffic. the prisoners were released through some favor of the authorities, but brisbau and his men were imprisoned. in the hands of the king's officers their lives were in great jeopardy, but they finally escaped the scaffold. as to captain redfield and his wife, the unexpected release was a most welcome boon. for her he had felt the tenderest and most agonized solicitude. the temptation to acquiesce in the demand of his captors and thus free her from the trying situation came often to him with a weight under which he almost broke down. when it was over, the joy of freedom was as great as the suffering had been while they were prisoners. he lived thereafter at charleston, and soon outgrew the suspicion with which he was at first regarded, of having being connected with the buccaneers. he determined to settle down to an honest, industrious life. my grandfather was born soon after. captain redfield was never afterwards known to refer to anything connected with a pirate in conversation with any one; and i have never learned whether or not he ever afterwards visited rindout. i know he was wealthy; but then he worked hard and saved his earnings, and i do not believe he increased his store from the hidden chests on money island. the story i have now written he told to my grandfather in his old age, and, upon relating it, he urged the greatest caution in his use of it. twice my grandfather made unsuccessful efforts to find the chests. he urged that i, his grandchild, should keep the knowledge of the treasure as a family heritage; but that i might do as i liked about it. after giving the subject very careful thought, i have now given up the secret of money island, and have not withheld a single detail which was told me. of course, nearly a century and a half has elapsed since the precious booty was hidden. the story, therefore, is old, but i do not believe it has suffered from age. captain kidd was executed in london not long after the hiding of the treasure, and his associates gave up their old calling; and probably no one has since disturbed the precious chests. * * * * * now, as to when i first heard mr. landstone's story. it was when i was a boy in the early forties, and the events connected with its telling have modified its conclusion, as will presently be seen. i have heretofore spoken very little of the subject to any one; and when i have done so at all, it has been to one or two intimate friends as a matter of particular confidence. in my old age, however, i am going to let my tale forsake its hiding-place and become public property. my parents owned a summer home on greenville sound not far from money island. to us children it was the very heart of life. the best pleasure of the year was confined to the four months spent there from the first of june to the last day of september. we rowed, sailed, fished, swam, hunted, frolicked, and ran the whole gamut of youthful delights. those good days are yet vivid in memory; and it is a matter of regret with me that my grandchildren--as fine boys and girls as ever lived--cannot have the same wild, wholesome fun at the sound as fell to my lot when i was a boy. the time that i now speak of, however, was about the middle of may, the balmy month of soft breezes and bright flowers. i had been particularly studious in school, and my father agreed to let me spend three days at the sound in company with a young friend. we arranged our food supply, took the old family rockaway, and set out early in the morning, as happy a pair of boys as ever started on a project of pleasure. after spending an hour or two at the sound house, arranging our fishing tackle and looking after the boats, which had been hauled up for the winter, we started out on a sail towards the beach. it was a fine day for sailing, and the breeze bore us away as smoothly and quickly as if we had been in a balloon. as we passed money island, we observed a boat moored on the south side, and tried to locate the occupants; but we could see nobody, and concluded that it belonged to a fishing party who had, for some reason, left the boat tied there. we sailed on; and when we had gone perhaps half a mile away. i happened to turn around, and was surprised to see two men stealthily embarking in the boat with what appeared to be shovels and rods of some kind. this sight was too much for our youthful imagination. so we decided at once to change our course, and essayed to follow at a distance the movements of the other boat. this we had no difficulty in doing; and we afterwards learned that we were successful in our efforts to avoid the suspicion of purposely following it. the men sailed down the sound a short distance to the south, and made for the shore in a little cove at a somewhat secluded place. we were familiar with the locality, and decided to wait until later for a closer observation. accordingly, we bore once again toward the beach, and enjoyed an hour watching the breakers roll upon the shore, and in picking up curios, such as are always to be found upon the sea beach. upon our return, we passed close to the little cove into which the boat had gone, and could readily discern through the trees a tent not far inland; in front of which were seated the two strangers, watching a pot hung over a fire made upon the ground. this excited an additional flutter of wonderment with us. indeed, what we had seen, coupled with the current tradition regarding money island, soon wrought us up into a fever of excitement; for it was very suggestive of a search for the treasure on the island. i had heard from my early childhood that captain kidd, the historic and lordly pirate, who reigned supreme upon the high seas during the seventeenth century, was supposed to have buried some of his booty on money island. everybody was familiar with the tradition; and i doubt if there is, even now, a single person reared in the town of wilmington, of in the vicinity of the sound, who has not likewise been told the same indefinite story about the little island. but the presence of these two strangers, and their somewhat mysterious conduct, gave the tradition a touch of reality such as it could never have otherwise had. we concluded that these men had evidently some positive information on the subject, and were showing their confidence in that information by prosecuting a search for the hidden treasure, at much trouble and expense. this was clear to us, and we talked the matter over that night with eager interest. we surmised every possible case that might have furnished the strange visitors with a working clue to the discovery of the treasure. speculation ran high. but there was one thing that we became agreed upon, and that was, to become, if possible, parties to the secret enterprise. we pondered with boys' shrewdness how this should be done. this we could not decide upon; but we determined to play a venture toward the desired end. the attitude of innocent curiosity seemed best suited to our purpose. so we planned to draw up at money island in the morning if we observed that the men were there; and to approach them in an unsuspicious manner, as if we had just happened to stop at the island without any definite motive. this should work as a capital ruse, and, we felt confident, it would initiate a connection on our part with the mysterious search. that point settled, we concluded to investigate the tent and its occupants as well as we might under the cover of darkness, and we promptly set out upon that project. we approached within a hundred feet of the tent, and saw the men still sitting in the light of the fire at the tent door; but there was no discovery of importance. they were merely talking quietly and carelessly about some ship that one of them seemed to be interested in. we could hear their conversation distinctly, and we were also able to take a good observation of their appearance. one of them was a man upwards of sixty, of robust build and gray hair and beard. he had a kind face, which bore the aspect of one accustomed only to the quieter walks of life, unfamiliar with adventure and ill-suited to an enterprise such as they were now apparently engaged upon. the other man had a weather-beaten face with a long nose, and a swagger of manner which betokened the sailor. this, we afterwards learned, had been his occupation. we watched them for about an hour; but finally withdrew in the hope of making a better acquaintance in the morning. soon after daylight we began eagerly to watch for the boat, which appeared around a bend in the sound after the lapse of an hour or so and headed straight for the island. we loitered about the yard a little while longer, and then made ready our yacht without any appearance of haste. on setting sail, we made for the beach; but, upon reaching there, turned back at once and sailed for money island in an indirect course. we soon reached there and stepped upon the shore. the men immediately dropped their implements. they returned our salutation pleasantly. we observed with much surprise the disturbed state of the ground and the holes which had been dug; and then began to make inquiries as innocently as we could as to their object. our plans of the night before began to work successfully. by sheer force of persistence, we won our way into their confidence, and worked with them until late in the afternoon. for they were indeed on a determined search for captain kidd's buried treasure. we were in constant expectation of discovering the chests of gold--two iron chests, which mr. landstone, the elder gentleman, assured us he felt positive were there. but the discovery was not made, and they said this had been the fourth day of labor on the island. the conclusion was reached that, either the surrounding water had encroached upon that portion of the island where the treasure had been buried, and had thus imposed an almost impossible barrier to its being unearthed; or that the chests had become imbedded beneath the massive roots of two dwarfed old oaks which stood gnarled and storm-worn in the centre of the island. to the task of removing these trees the men felt entirely unequal after their days of work; and, therefore, it was decided to wait a day or two, and approach the task of doing so, if at all, with renewed spirit. upon invitation, we boys accompanied the men to their camp and had supper with them. we were entertained by stories of adventure and travel, of sea voyage, of indian warfare; and, finally, after several requests of mr. landstone, with the story of money island. he said he would tell it upon condition that its secrecy would be kept inviolate, at least for many years. so, in the weird light of a large pine-wood fire among the trees, we had the story of money island, told in the living voice of a capital story-teller, in almost the same words as are used in the ms he gave me that night, and which has now been publicly printed. when mr. landstone finished, we boys sat in breathless amazement, overcome by the glamour of romance which the story had thrown around the mysterious little island. the old sailor forgot his pipe, which turned over and dropped its contents to the ground. "aye, sir," he exclaimed, "we will surely uproot those trees in the morning!" and that became the decision of us all. i remember that, after a long pause, i asked, to reassure myself, "mr. landstone, do you really believe that story?" he laughed and said, "well, you see i am on an undertaking i have had in mind for nearly fifty years. yes, i believe those chests are there." that was enough. i did not sleep an hour that night; and the next morning we were early at the task of searching for the treasure. and a stupendous undertaking it proved to be. all day we labored at one tree. the roots were massive and wide-spread, and the work of cutting and removing them required the utmost exertion. finally, just before sunset, we completed the task, and began to dig for the treasure in the earth below. already water had begun to percolate into the hole, and ere we had gone much deeper, it flooded it so that we found it impossible to continue the excavation. then we resorted to our sounding rod again for a last ray of hope, and almost immediately it struck something hard! our spirits rose within us. i tore off my clothes, and jumped into the water. after working for some time, with the aid of a shovel, i brought to the surface a piece of rusty sheet iron. nothing more could be found. we gathered round the worn sheet of metal, and held a solemn consultation. the conclusion was reached that the piece of iron which we found was in reality a part of one of captain kidd's chests, which had become rust-eaten and crumbled, and which had been torn asunder by the growing roots of the tree, and parts of it carried in various directions by them as they had spread, scattering the contents through the ground. we became animated with a new purpose; and the old sailor seized a shovel and began vigorously to throw more earth from the excavation; but darkness was falling, and we urged him to wait until the next morning. "what about the sand already thrown out?" some one exclaimed at this juncture. the suggestion had hardly been offered before we all bent forward, and thrust our hands into the pile of wet, black sand lying about us. i at once felt something round and suggestive. "look at this!" i cried. it was a blackened gold coin! in the darkness we hurriedly sifted the sand with our fingers; and each one soon found several pieces of money. with feverish energy, we thus labored until late in the night, meeting with constant success; and, when we stopped, every one had a precious pile to carry back to the shore. the coins were all corroded and misshapen through the action of the salty mud in which they had lain, and the disturbance caused by the roots of the trees. a few silver coins were found, but all were in a very worn condition; some being little more than ragged discs of the thickness of paper. others, or the remains of them, crumbled into a black powder at the touch of our fingers. the gold was in better preservation; and we secured a goodly store of it. we secreted our treasure in the woods on shore, and early the next morning returned to our work. i can well remember our exultant feeling as we set out in our boats. "boys," mr. landstone called out, as we were sailing over the narrow stretches of water toward the island, "how do you feel?" "i feel like--like--" i answered, rising in my seat and lifting my hat to cheer. "none of that!" he said quickly--but i knew i was about to express the excited feeling of us all. as to our further success, i would say that it was unabated during nearly the whole day. i think we secured every piece of precious metal that had been buried beneath the tree. the following day we uprooted the other tree, but failed to find any trace of more booty. we concluded that the remaining chest had probably been removed; but that is still an unsettled question. besides the coin, we had discovered the remains of much silver plate; but it was of little value, being almost entirely destroyed. but the gold--there was an abundance of it, and we were all made rich! in the meantime our parents appeared on the scene to learn the cause of our protracted absence from home. it is needless to say that there was no rod of correction held over us that day. if i had taken care of my share of the treasure as i should have done after my father's death, i would be living in luxury and comfort to-day; but, even regretting my poor judgment, i can now thank a good providence that i have been sustained through a long life, which has had an undue share of misfortune, by the splendid fortune which came to me in that happy may of long ago. [illustration: "the decaying hulks of blockade runners that rise a little here and there above the waves"] the conquest of jamesby. i reached home for tea a little late, and saw my young friend jamesby in the back yard where he had gone to admire my fowls, in which i take a just pride. old henry, my colored servant, was playing the part of host; for there was no one else at home. when i made my appearance, the chickens had evidently become a matter of secondary interest. jamesby, a rising young banker of the city, was sitting on an empty box near the fence, and henry was standing before him, leaning upon his cane, chuckling and talking in his customary deferential manner, which has always made him a very acceptable servant about my premises. i approached without being observed, and did not hail them, for i did not wish to intrude too suddenly upon what appeared to be a very amusing subject of conversation. i heard jamesby say laughingly, "why, it was in the paper this morning--five or six columns of it! it was a great big yarn. i can't imagine why he never told you anything about it." i knew what they were talking about. i was well aware that i had told my tale of money island for publication; for had i not been sought after by men, women, and children for every imaginable explanation and sidelight relating to the story which might have been omitted from the ms furnished the printer? and had i not been asked to repeat by living voice facts in the narrative which i had written, as i thought, with entire clearness in the published story? the boys had all read the story, and i had been put to my wits' end to answer the questions asked by them; but i had assured several of them that if they would take a copy of the paper, go to the island and there read it on the very spot where the treasure had been buried, and then and there take a careful survey of the situation, there would be no difficulty in their comprehending even the slightest detail. this seemed to me to be a very sensible suggestion; and i suppose some of them will carry it out. while i really enjoyed the experience of having entertained so many people that day, i was fairly well fatigued when i reached home, where i thought i could at least be quiet and free from the constant inquiries of interested friends. but here was jamesby with designs against me! he had dashed my fond hopes of rest; although he was somehow always considerate and endurable. i could never become impatient with him, even if i knew he was going to make demands upon me for more information concerning money island. "what is uncle henry telling you, jamesby?" i asked on drawing closer to them. "oh," he answered in a somewhat self-conscious manner, "he was about to tell me of an experience of his in money digging." now, i had heard old henry tell that story before. it was one which seemed to justify his very sober ideas as to money getting by any other means than by one's daily work. "well, henry," i said, taking my seat also on the box, "did you really ever dig for money?"--as if i had never before heard him say anything about it. the implied doubt would, i knew, make him all the more ready to talk. he replied promptly, with a grin of interest, "yes, sah, cose i tried money diggin'." then he paused as if to await an invitation to proceed. "go on, uncle henry," urged jamesby. henry shifted his position, and, leaning upon his cane from another angle, went on: "'twas dis away. once uponer time me an' john gomus an' john flowers, we was round at mr. holmes' stables, right back of mr. kidder's whey i uster keep my horse and kyart; dere was woods right dare den, sah, an' a graveyard; an' i had a horse and kyart of my own. so one evenin' an ole white 'oman come fum de sound, an' she tole us that a sperit had done tole her whey some money was buried; an' she wanted us to come down dere and dig it up; she couldn't dig for it, but she knowed whey 'twas--de sperit had tole her. so we got togedder and made a club to go down--three of us. de place was on wrightsville sound, not fur from mr. wright's place. "de sign was, dat one read de bible back'ards, and no one speak--all hadter go by signs, an' dat'd keep de sperits fum pesterin' us. john gomus, he had de rod goin' roun', an' fonn' a place to stick it. i dunno why he stick it whey he did. de rod pinted right down dere; and right whey de rod pinted we digged. when we commence diggin', it was about half-past eight o'clock, and we worked hard, sah. we digged a hole big enough to set a small house in. john, he kep' bearin' on de rod, an' de rod it kep' goin' down. den de rod at las' struck sumpn; and we was so glad, thinkin' we'd struck de pot! every one was rejoiced! we didn' talk, but jes fling up de dirt! an' when we dig down dere, sah, what you spose 'twas. nothin' but a big ole cow's horn. an' after all dat diggin'! we done an' digged a hole 'bout fifteen or twenty feet across, and goodness knows how deep; an' 'twas 'bout four in de mornin' before we quit. we pack up an' come back home, feelin' jes as cheap as a wet chicken. "de ole 'oman come 'roun agin, an' tole us dat de money was dere; fer de sperit had tole her agin 'twas dere. but we warn't anxious to try for it agin. we thought we done enough." old henry chuckled, and limped away; and we both laughed heartily at his droll yarn. jamesby enjoyed the tale particularly; and, although i felt that it might somehow be at my expense, i was duly amused. when jamesby descended from his hilarious heights, he turned to me rather gravely, and said, "now, i want it from your own lips; did you really dig for money on money island?" i answered, "i did." "and," he continued, "was that a true story you told about it?" "now, jamesby," i replied, "i really cannot endure this doubt cast upon the truthfulness of my story. i decline to discuss the matter. you have read the paper, and you know me as the author of the story." "but," he added in rather a comical tone, "there are some things which (with all due respect for your trustworthiness) call for a more positive confirmation." i knew i would not have written anything on so important a subject without proper consideration; and he knew it too. however, i realized the fact that an effort to believe such a story as i had offered to the public may have made a somewhat weighty demand upon credulity, at least with some people. to answer his last suggestion, i merely drew out of my pocket a copy of the "savannah morning news", containing an account of a stranger's mysterious movements about warsaw island near savannah, and his sudden disappearance, leaving good evidence that he had carried with him a hidden treasure found there, and which tradition had stated lay upon the island. i also reminded him of the fact that dutch island near savannah is full of what are known as "treasure holes", which have been made by persons seeking the buried booty of the pirates of the olden times. he knew all about these; and he had also heard that some of the enterprising explorers into the mysteries of that island had been successful. but jamesby was still incredulous. so i turned the conversation to my fowls; and he was very ready to admit that i had told the genuine thing in describing to him some of the excellent points of my prize birds. there was no doubt that i could exhibit several specimens which any fancier would be proud of. jamesby remained to tea, so that we could go to the lodge together, and i enjoyed the quiet stroll down town with him. we had hardly entered the hall, though, before the historian of the town, who is also a leading mason, approached me regarding my money island revelations. "sir," he said, "i regard it throughout as a most interesting and plausible narrative; and i am glad we have been favored by being allowed to read it. i have made a study of the pirates who infested our coast in the early colonial days, and i know that this section, particularly the lower region of the cape fear, was a favorite rendezvous for them. it is known upon most reliable information that there are immense quantities of captured treasure secreted along the coast, and the wonder is that there have not been some really serious efforts to find it." another gentleman added, "yes, and they also buried treasure further down south; for at my old home (and i speak the honest trath) i have stood in the hole from which my friend, mr. coachman, unearthed accidentally a small fortune, which gave him a very comfortable start in life." the conversation lingered in this absorbing vein until the meeting was opened, much to my relief; for i had been surfeited with the subject of money finding for that day, at least. but that was not all; for, during the solemnity of the opening exercises, i heard some one telling, in an undertone, of a negro who had found a roll of old bank notes in a log which had been hauled to a saw mill to be cut. the next day i was still aware that i possessed an unusual attraction; and i resigned myself patiently to the service of all my inquiring friends. jamesby actually stopped by my office to walk up with me at lunch time. he was willing to move along slowly with me, for now in my old age i find i have to walk slowly. i knew it would have been more natural for him to have gone on briskly; but he was polite and assured me that the pleasure of my company was better than too much time spent at his meal. we stopped on the way at a newspaper office. the editor and proprietor had observed our approach and they were awaiting us with looks of amused interest. "hello!" the proprietor said cheerily, "you have really stimulated the enterprise of the town. why have you kept so reticent on that subject all these years?" of course, i knew what subject was referred to; for i had been living for those two days in an atmosphere filled with the phantoms of hidden gold, buried treasure, marvelous discoveries, pirates and other engaging topics of thought; and i now looked for nothing else. "in my opinion," he continued, "it was a very good story. of course, it goes without saying that it is true. i tell you, sir, that it is my judgment that this whole section of coast line is rich in gold. not only did those pirates bury gold here, but, during the civil war, the confederate blockade runners, when fearing capture, were known repeatedly to throw gold into the sea along the beach, sometimes by the keg full; and not one dollar's worth of it has ever yet been recovered, so far as i can learn. it is all right there where they dropped it. and besides that, at least on one occasion, it is a well proven fact that a chest of gold was buried by the commander of one of the blockade runners in the marsh grass on the shore not far below wilmington; and there is no evidence that it has ever yet been unearthed. in fact, all knowledge of the exact spot has been lost, i understand." "yes," interposed the editor, "it is all quite reasonable; and, as something germain to the subject, i can cite an interesting instance. when, soon after the war our old confederate naval captain bought his home on greenville sound and was preparing to build his residence, he had the old house which stood upon the site torn down, and, upon the carpenters coming one morning to begin the erection of the new building, they found an immense excavation right where the old house stood. now, that old building was in former years used by a portuguese as an inn for the entertainment of sailors from the vessels in the port of wilmington; and, there being certain traditions in regard to some money having been buried beneath it, it was natural to conclude that the excavation resulted from an energetic effort to find the money. the hole was made at night, but by whom it has never been found out. the incident was shrouded in a mystery which has never been cleared." we talked still further along that vein, the editor emphatically asserting his assured belief in the possibility of recovering quantities of gold from the seashore below wilmington, and from the decaying hulks of blockade runners that rise a little here and there above the waves, where they met a disastrous check to their efforts to slip into the harbor. as we started out again upon the street, jamesby said, "well, sir,--pardon my frankness--but i must say that i have never found your company so interesting before; and i shall be equally frank in saying that--i have never been able yet to believe half the tales i have heard about the mysterious discovery of buried treasure. there is something so unsubstantial about most of them. of course, there may be some exceptions, and--" "jamesby," i interrupted in good humor, "don't let your frankness expire for the lack of the proper courage. let your speech continue during the whole run of an honest statement. but it's all right. i have some indisputable proofs--" "good morning!" it was young riggins who joined us. "i read that story of yours, sir. it was good, i must say. it is just like something that happened in my own personal experience. a few months ago, i was down at homosassa, florida; and, while i was there, some clam diggers discovered a large chest of old spanish coin. they sold them to the government for thirty thousand dollars, and have now retired from the clam business." that was a tale rather to the point, and jamesby received it soberly; but i laughed out of sheer appreciation of another good yarn. i did not see jamesby for several days. i knew it was his busy season; but i really wished to know how he fared. so, i decided to look him up. he was a happy, enthusiastic, ingenuous young fellow, and i had become quite accustomed to having his cheerful company occasionally. i found him sitting at his desk in intense abstraction; but he soon observed me standing before him, and quickly arose with a hearty welcome, such as he alone knew how to extend. "i tell you, sir," he said enthusiastically, "it is a magnificent project!" "what is?" i answered. "i don't know--" "oh," he continued, absently, "i forgot; it was my brother i was talking with. but i have investigated thoroughly the whole subject of those blockade runners, and i believe the prospect of success is worth a giant effort for the recovery of some of that money from the sea. there must be untold quantities of it lying there, inviting even a meagre attempt to get it. the boats can be chartered cheaply; and i have learned that the necessary divers can be secured on an equitable division of the spoils. there are many details of the organization of the enterprise which i have thought out." his voice had an eager ring, and his eyes sparkled with interest. "jamesby, my boy," i answered calmly, "you are decidedly on the right track. i wish you all good fortune." produced from images generously made available by the library of congress, manuscript division) slave narratives _a folk history of slavery in the united states from interviews with former slaves_ typewritten records prepared by the federal writers' project - assembled by the library of congress project work projects administration for the district of columbia sponsored by the library of congress _illustrated with photographs_ washington [transcriber's note: obvious printer errors have been corrected. in some instances transcriber's notes (tr) are included with each individual interview, as well as some handwritten notes (hw) from the original were maintained but as notation only. in addition, punctuation and formatting have been made consistent, particularly the use of quotation marks. added two lines to list of illustrations missing from original.] volume xi north carolina narratives part i prepared by the federal writers' project of the works progress administration for the state of north carolina informants adams, louisa adkins, ida allen, martha anderson, joseph anderson, mary andrews, cornelia anngady, mary arrington, jane augustus, sarah louis austin, charity baker, blount baker, lizzie baker, viney barbour, charlie barbour, mary baugh, alice beckwith, john bectom, john c. bell, laura blalock, emma blount, david bobbit, clay bobbitt, henry bogan, herndon boone, andrew bost, w. l. bowe, mary wallace brown, lucy burnett, midge cannady, fanny cofer, betty coggin, john coverson, mandy cozart, willie crasson, hannah crenshaw, julia crowder, zeb crump, adeline crump, bill crump, charlie curtis, mattie dalton, charles lee daniels, john daves, harriet ann davis, jerry debnam, w. s. debro, sarah dickens, charles w. dickens, margaret e. dowd, rev. squire dunn, fannie dunn, jennylin dunn, lucy ann durham, tempie herndon eatman, george edwards, doc evans, john faucette, lindsey flagg, ora m. foster, analiza foster, georgianna freeman, frank gill, addy glenn, robert green, sarah anne griffeth, dorcas gudger, sarah hall, thomas hamilton, hecter harris, george w. harris, sarah hart, cy haywood, alonzo haywood, barbara henderson, isabell henry, essex henry, milly hews, chaney high, joe high, susan hill, kitty hinton, jerry hinton, martha adeline hinton, robert hinton, william george hodges, eustace huggins, alex hunter, charlie h. hunter, elbert illustrations _facing page_ louisa adams viney baker john beckwith clay bobbit henry bobbitt herndon bogan w. l. bost john coggin hannah crasson bill crump charlie crump and granddaughter harriet ann daves charles w. dickens margaret e. dickens rev. squire dowd jennylin dunn tempie herndon durham george eatman john evans sarah gudger sarah harris essex henry milly henry joe high elbert hunter n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: louisa adams person interviewed: louisa adams editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jul "] louisa adams my name is louisa adams. i wuz bawned in rockingham, richmond county, north carolina. i wuz eight years old when the yankees come through. i belonged to marster tom a. covington, sir. my mother wuz named easter, and my father wuz named jacob. we were all covingtons. no sir, i don't know whur my mother and father come from. soloman wuz brother number one, then luke, josh, stephen, asbury. my sisters were jane, frances, wincy, and i wuz nex'. i 'members grandmother. she wuz named lovie wall. they brought her here from same place. my aunts were named, one wuz named nicey, and one wuz named jane. i picked feed for the white folks. they sent many of the chillun to work at the salt mines, where we went to git salt. my brother soloman wuz sent to the salt mines. luke looked atter the sheep. he knocked down china berries for 'em. dad and mammie had their own gardens and hogs. we were compelled to walk about at night to live. we were so hongry we were bound to steal or parish. this trait seems to be handed down from slavery days. sometimes i thinks dis might be so. our food wuz bad. marster worked us hard and gave us nuthin. we had to use what we made in the garden to eat. we also et our hogs. our clothes were bad, and beds were sorry. we went barefooted in a way. what i mean by that is, that we had shoes part of the time. we got one pair o' shoes a year. when dey wored out we went barefooted. sometimes we tied them up with strings, and they were so ragged de tracks looked like bird tracks, where we walked in the road. we lived in log houses daubed with mud. they called 'em the slaves houses. my old daddy partly raised his chilluns on game. he caught rabbits, coons, an' possums. we would work all day and hunt at night. we had no holidays. they did not give us any fun as i know. i could eat anything i could git. i tell you de truth, slave time wuz slave time wid us. my brother wore his shoes out, and had none all thu winter. his feet cracked open and bled so bad you could track him by the blood. when the yankees come through, he got shoes. i wuz married in rockingham. i don't 'member when mr. jimmie covington, a preacher, a white man, married us. i married james adams who lived on a plantation near rockingham. i had a nice blue wedding dress. my husband wuz dressed in kinder light clothes, best i rickerlect. it's been a good long time, since deen [hw: den] tho'. i sho do 'member my marster tom covington and his wife too, emma. da old man wuz the very nick.[hw correction: nick] he would take what we made and lowance us, dat is lowance it out to my daddy after he had made it. my father went to steven covington, marster tom's brother, and told him about it, and his brother stephen made him gib father his meat back to us. my missus wuz kind to me, but mars. tom wuz the buger. it wuz a mighty bit plantation. i don't know how many slaves wuz on it, there were a lot of dem do'. dere were overseers two of 'em. one wuz named bob covington and the other charles covington. they were colored men. i rode with them. i rode wid 'em in the carriage sometimes. de carriage had seats dat folded up. bob wuz overseer in de field, and charles wuz carriage driver. all de plantation wuz fenced in, dat is all de fields, wid rails; de rails wuz ten feet long. we drawed water wid a sweep and pail. de well wuz in the yard. de mules for the slaves wuz in town, dere were none on the plantation. dey had 'em in town; dey waked us time de chicken crowed, and we went to work just as soon as we could see how to make a lick wid a hoe. lawd, you better not be caught wid a book in yor han'. if you did, you were sold. dey didn't 'low dat. i kin read a little, but i can't write. i went to school after slavery and learned to read. we didn't go to school but three or four week a year, and learned to read. dere wuz no church on the plantation, and we were not lowed to have prayer meetings. no parties, no candy pullings, nor dances, no sir, not a bit. i 'member goin' one time to the white folkses church, no baptizing dat i 'member. lawd have mercy, ha! ha! no. de pateroller were on de place at night. you couldn't travel without a pas. we got few possums. i have greased my daddy's back after he had been whupped until his back wuz cut to pieces. he had to work jis the same. when we went to our houses at night, we cooked our suppers at night, et and then went to bed. if fire wuz out or any work needed doin' around de house we had to work on sundays. they did not gib us christmas or any other holidays. we had corn shuckings. i herd 'em talkin' of cuttin de corn pile right square in two. one wud git on one side, another on the other side and see which out beat. they had brandy at the corn shuckin' and i herd sam talkin' about gittin' drunk. i 'member one 'oman dying. her name wuz caroline covington. i didn't go to the grave. but you know they had a little cart used with hosses to carry her to the grave, jist a one horse wagon, jist slipped her in there. yes, i 'member a field song. it wuz 'oh! come let us go where pleasure never dies. great fountain gone over'. dat's one uv 'em. we had a good doctor when we got sick. he come to see us. the slaves took herbs dey found in de woods. dat's what i do now, sir. i got some 'erbs right in my kitchen now. when the yankees come through i did not know anything about 'em till they got there. jist like they were poppin up out of de ground. one of the slaves wuz at his master's house you know, and he said, 'the yankees are in cheraw, s. c. [hw correction: south carolina] and the yankees are in town'. it didn't sturb me at tall. i wuz not afraid of de yankees. i 'member dey went to miss emma's house, and went in de smoke house and emptied every barrel of 'lasses right in de floor and scattered de cracklings on de floor. i went dere and got some of 'em. miss emma wuz my missus. dey just killed de chickens, hogs too, and old jeff the dog; they shot him through the thoat. i 'member how his mouth flew open when dey shot him. one uv 'em went into de tater bank, and we chillun wanted to go out dere. mother wouldn't let us. she wuz fraid uv 'em. abraham lincoln freed us by the help of the lawd, by his help. slavery wuz owin to who you were with. if you were with some one who wuz good and had some feelin's for you it did tolerable well; yea, tolerable well. we left the plantation soon as de surrender. we lef' right off. we went to goin' towards fayetteville, north carolina. we climbed over fences and were just broke down chillun, feet sore. we had a little meat, corn meal, a tray, and mammy had a tin pan. one night we came to a old house; some one had put wheat straw in it. we staid there, next mornin', we come back home. not to marster's, but to a white 'oman named peggy mcclinton, on her plantation. we stayed there a long time. de yankees took everything dey could, but dey didn't give us anything to eat. dey give some of de 'omen shoes. i thinks mr. roosevelt is a fine man and he do all he can for us. district no: [ ] worker: travis jordan no. words: title: ida adkins ex-slave interviewed: ida adkins county home, durham, n. c. [tr: date stamp "jun "] ida adkins ex-slave years. [tr note: numerous hand written notations and additions in the following interview (i.e. wuz to was; er to a; adding t to the contractions.) made changes where obvious without comment. additions and comments were left as notation, in order to preserve the flow of the dialect.] i wuz bawn befo' de war. i wuz about eight years ole when de yankee mens come through. my mammy an' pappy, hattie an' jim jeffries belonged to marse frank jeffries. marse frank come from mississippi, but when i wuz bawn he an' mis' mary jane wuz livin' down herr near louisburg in north carolina whare dey had er big plantation an' [hw addition: i] don' know how many niggers. marse frank wuz good to his niggers, 'cept [hw addition: that] he never give dem ernough to eat. he worked dem hard on half rations, but he didn' believe in all de time beatin' an' sellin' dem. my pappy worked at de stables, he wuz er good horseman, but my mammy worked at de big house helpin' mis' mary jane. mammy worked in de weavin' room. i can see her now settin' at de weavin' machine an' hear de pedals goin' plop, plop, as she treaded dem wid her feets. she wuz a good weaver. i stayed 'roun' de big house too, pickin' up chips, sweepin' de yard an' such as dat. mis' mary jane wuz quick as er whippo'-will. she had black eyes dat snapped, an' dey seed everythin'. she could turn her head so quick dat she'd ketch you every time you tried to steal a lump of sugar. i liked marse frank better den i did mis' mary jane. all us little chillun called him big pappy. every time he went [hw correction: come back] to raleigh he brung us niggers back some candy. he went to raleigh erbout twice er year. raleigh wuz er far ways from de plantations--near 'bout sixty miles. [hw notation: check--appears to be about miles only.] it always took marse frank three days to make de trip. a day to go, er' day to stay in town, an' a day to come back. den he always got home in de night. ceptn' [hw addition: when] he rode ho'se back 'stead of de carriage, [hw addition: an'] den sometimes he got home by sun down. marse frank didn' go to de war. he wuz too ole. so when de yankees come through dey foun' him at home. when marse frank seed de blue coats comin' down de road he run an' got his gun. de yankees was on horses. i ain't never seed so many men. dey was thick as hornets comin' down de road in a cloud of dus' [hw: correction "dust"]. dey come up to de house an' tied de horses to de palin's; [hw correction: dey was so many dey was stan] 'roun' de yard [hw addition: fence]. when dey seed marse frank standin' on de po'ch [hw correction: porch] wid de gun leveled on dem, dey got mad. time marse frank done shot one time [hw correction: "once a"] a bully yankee snatched de gun away an' tole marse frank to hold up his hand. den dey tied his hands an' pushed him down on de floor 'side de house an' tole him dat if he moved [hw addition: a inch] dey would shoot him. den dey went in de house. i wuz skeered near 'bout to death, but i run in de kitchen an' got a butcher knife, an' when de yankees wasn' lookin', i tried to cut de rope an' set marse frank free. but one of dem blue debils seed me an' come runnin'. he say: 'whut you doin', you black brat! you stinkin' little alligator bait!' he snatched de knife from my hand an' told me to stick out my tongue, dat he wuz gwine to cut it off. i let out a yell an' run behin' de house. some of de yankees was in de smoke house gettin' de meat, some of dem wuz at de stables gettin' de ho'ses, an' some of dem wuz in de house gettin' de silver an' things. i seed dem put de big silver pitcher an' tea pot in a bag. den dey took de knives an' fo'ks an' all de candle sticks an' platters off de side board. dey went in de parlor an' got de gol' clock dat wuz mis' mary jane's gran'mammy's. den dey got all de jewelry out of mis' mary jane's box. dey went up to mis' mary jane, an' while she looked at dem wid her black eyes snappin', dey took de rings off her fingers; den dey took her gol' bracelet; dey even took de ruby ear rings out of her ears an' de gol' comb out of her hair. i done quit peepin' in de window an' wuz standin' 'side de house when de yankees come out in de yard wid all de stuff dey wuz totin' off. marse frank wuz still settin' on de po'ch [hw correction: porch] floor wid his han's tied an' couldn' do nothin'. 'bout dat time i seed de bee gums in de side yard. dey wuz a whole line of gums. little as i wuz i had a notion. i run an' got me a long stick an' tu'ned over every one of dem gums. den i stirred dem bees up wid dat stick 'twell [hw correction: 'till] dey wuz so mad i could smell de pizen. an' bees! you ain't never seed de like of bees. dey wuz swarmin' all over de place. dey sailed into dem yankees like bullets, each one madder den de other. dey lit on dem ho'ses 'twell [hw correction: till] dey looked like dey wuz live [hw correction: alive] wid varmints. de ho'ses broke dey bridles an' tore down de palin's an' lit out down de road. but dey [hw correction: dar] runnin' wuzn' nothin' to what dem yankees done. dey bust out cussin', but what did a bee keer about cuss words! dey lit on dem blue coats an' every time dey lit dey stuck in a pizen sting. de yankee's forgot all about de meat an' things dey done stole; dey took off down de road on er [hw correction: a] run, passin' de horses. de bees was right after dem in a long line. dey'd zoom an' zip, an' zoom an' zip, an' every time dey'd zip a yankee would yell. when dey'd gone mis' mary jane untied marse frank. den dey took all de silver, meat an' things de yankees lef' behin' an' buried it so if dey come back dey couldn' fin' it. den day called ma an' said: 'ida lee, if you hadn't tu'ned [hw correction: turned] over dem bee gums dem yankees would have toted off near 'bout everythin' fine we got. we want to give you somethin' you can keep so' you'll always remember dis day, an' how you run de yankees away.' den mis' mary jane took a plain gold ring off her finger an' put it on mine. an' i been wearin' it ever since. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave story person interviewed: martha allen editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] [hw: good short sketch] ex-slave story an interview with martha allen, , of south person street, raleigh. i wuz borned in craven county seventy eight years ago. my pappa wuz named andrew bryant an' my mammy wuz named harriet. my brothers wuz john franklin, alfred, an' andrew. i ain't had no sisters. i reckon dat we is what yo' call a general mixture case i am part injun, part white, an' part nigger. my mammy belonged ter tom edward gaskin an' she wuzn't half fed. de cook nussed de babies while she cooked, so dat de mammies could wuck in de fiel's, an' all de mammies done wuz stick de babies in at de kitchen do' on dere way ter de fiel's. i'se hyard mammy say dat dey went ter wuck widout breakfast, an' dat when she put her baby in de kitchen she'd go by de slop bucket an' drink de slops from a long handled gourd. de slave driver wuz bad as he could be, an' de slaves got awful beatin's. de young marster sorta wanted my mammy, but she tells him no, so he chunks a lightwood knot an' hits her on de haid wid it. dese white mens what had babies by nigger wimmens wuz called 'carpet gitters'. my father's father wuz one o' dem. yes mam, i'se mixed plenty case my mammy's grandmaw wuz cherokee injun. i doan know nothin' 'bout no war, case marster carried us ter cedar falls, near durham an' dar's whar we come free. i 'members dat de ku klux uster go ter de free issues houses, strip all de family an' whup de ole folkses. den dey dances wid de pretty yaller gals an' goes ter bed wid dem. dat's what de ku klux wuz, a bunch of mean mens tryin' ter hab a good time. i'se wucked purty hard durin' my life an' i done my courtin' on a steer an' cart haulin' wood ter town ter sell. he wuz haulin' wood too on his wagin, an' he'd beat me ter town so's dat he could help me off'n de wagin. i reckon dat dat wuz as good a way as any. i tries ter be a good christian but i'se got disgusted wid dese young upstart niggers what dances in de chu'ch. dey says dat dey am truckin' an' dat de bible ain't forbid hit, but i reckin dat i knows dancin' whar i sees hit. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mrs. edith s. hibbs no. words: subject: story of joseph anderson interviewed: joseph anderson rankin st., wilmington, n. c. edited: mrs. w. n. harriss [tr: no date stamp] [hw: unnumbered] story of joseph anderson rankin street wilmington, n. c. yes'm i was born a slave. i belong to mr. t. c. mcilhenny who had a big rice plantation "eagles nest" in brunswick county. it was a big place. he had lots of slaves, an' he was a good man. my mother and father died when i was fourteen. father died in february and my mother died of pneumonia in november . my older sister took charge of me. interviewer: "can you read and write?" joseph: "oh yes, i can write a little. i can make my marks. i can write my name. no'm i can't read. i never went to school a day in my life. i just "picked up" what i know." i don't remember much about slave times. i was fourteen when i was freed. after i was freed we lived between th and th on chestnut. we rented a place from dan o'connor a real estate man and paid him $ a month rent. i've been married twice. first time was married by mr. ed taylor, magistrate in southport, brunswick county. i was married to my first wife twenty years and eight months. then she died. i was married again when i was seventy-five years old. i was married to my second wife just a few years when she died. i was on the police force for a year and a half. i was elected april , . mr. mcilhenny was an ole man then an' i used to go to see him. i was a stevedore for mr. alexander sprunt for sixty years. joseph is now buying his house at rankin street. rents part of it for $ . a month to pay for it. he stays in one room. note: joseph's health is none too good, making information sketchy and incoherent. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: mary anderson person interviewed: mary anderson editor: g. l. andrews [tr: date stamp "aug "] mary anderson years of age. poole road, r. f. d. # . raleigh, n. c. my name is mary anderson. i was born on a plantation near franklinton, wake county, n. c. may , . i was a slave belonging to sam brodie, who owned the plantation at this place. my missus' name was evaline. my father was alfred brodie and my mother was bertha brodie. we had good food, plenty of warm homemade clothes and comfortable houses. the slave houses were called the quarters and the house where marster lived was called the great house. our houses had two rooms each and marster's house had twelve rooms. both the slave and white folks buildings were located in a large grove one mile square covered with oak and hickory nut trees. marster's house was exactly one mile from the main louisburg road and there was a wide avenue leading through the plantation and grove to marster's house. the house fronted the avenue east and in going down the avenue from the main road you traveled directly west. the plantation was very large and there were about two hundred acres of cleared land that was farmed each year. a pond was located on the place and in winter ice was gathered there for summer use and stored in an ice house which was built in the grove where the other buildings were. a large hole about ten feet deep was dug in the ground; the ice was put in that hole and covered. [tr: hw note in left margin is illegible.] a large frame building was built over it. at the top of the earth there was an entrance door and steps leading down to the bottom of the hole. other things besides ice were stored there. there was a still on the plantation and barrels of brandy were stored in the ice house, also pickles, preserves and cider. many of the things we used were made on the place. there was a grist mill, tannery, shoe shop, blacksmith shop, and looms for weaving cloth. there were about one hundred, and sixty-two slaves on the plantation and every sunday morning all the children had to be bathed, dressed, and their hair combed and carried down to marster's for breakfast. it was a rule that all the little colored children eat at the great house every sunday morning in order that marster and missus could watch them eat so they could know which ones were sickly and have them doctored. the slave children all carried a mussel shell in their hands to eat with. the food was put on large trays and the children all gathered around and ate, dipping up their food with their mussel shells which they used for spoons. those who refused to eat or those who were ailing in any way had to come back to the great house for their meals and medicine until they were well. marster had a large apple orchard in the tar river low grounds and up on higher ground and nearer the plantation house there was on one side of the road a large plum orchard and on the other side was an orchard of peaches, cherries, quinces and grapes. we picked the quinces in august and used them for preserving. marster and missus believed in giving the slaves plenty of fruit, especially the children. marster had three children, one boy named dallas, and two girls, bettie and carrie. he would not allow slave children to call his children marster and missus unless the slave said little marster or little missus. he had four white overseers but they were not allowed to whip a slave. if there was any whipping to be done he always said he would do it. he didn't believe in whipping so when a slave got so bad he could not manage him he sold him. marster didn't quarrel with anybody, missus would not speak short to a slave, but both missus and marster taught slaves to be obedient in a nice quiet way. the slaves were taught to take their hats and bonnets off before going into the house, and to bow and say, 'good morning marster sam and missus evaline'. some of the little negroes would go down to the great house and ask them when it wus going to rain, and when marster or missus walked in the grove the little negroes would follow along after them like a gang of kiddies. some of the slave children wanted to stay with them at the great house all the time. they knew no better of course and seemed to love marster and missus as much as they did their own mother and father. marster and missus always used gentle means to get the children out of their way when they bothered them and the way the children loved and trusted them wus a beautiful sight to see. patterollers were not allowed on the place unless they came peacefully and i never knew of them whipping any slaves on marster's place. slaves were carried off on two horse wagons to be sold. i have seen several loads leave. they were the unruly ones. sometimes he would bring back slaves, once he brought back two boys and three girls from the slave market. sunday wus a great day on the plantation. everybody got biscuits sundays. the slave women went down to marsters for their sunday allowance of flour. all the children ate breakfast at the great house and marster and missus gave out fruit to all. the slaves looked forward to sunday as they labored through the week. it was a great day. slaves received good treatment from marster and all his family. we were allowed to have prayer meetings in our homes and we also went to the white folks church. they would not teach any of us to read and write. books and papers were forbidden. marster's children and the slave children played together. i went around with the baby girl carrie to other plantations visiting. she taught me how to talk low and how to act in company. my association with white folks and my training while i was a slave is why i talk like white folks. bettie brodie married a dr. webb from boylan, virginia. carrie married a mr. joe green of franklin county. he was a big southern planter. the war was begun and there were stories of fights and freedom. the news went from plantation to plantation and while the slaves acted natural and some even more polite than usual, they prayed for freedom. then one day i heard something that sounded like thunder and missus and marster began to walk around and act queer. the grown slaves were whispering to each other. sometimes they gathered in little gangs in the grove. next day i heard it again, boom, boom, boom. i went and asked missus 'is it going to rain?' she said, 'mary go to the ice house and bring me some pickles and preserves.' i went and got them. she ate a little and gave me some. then she said, 'you run along and play.' in a day or two everybody on the plantation seemed to be disturbed and marster and missus were crying. marster ordered all the slaves to come to the great house at nine o'clock. nobody was working and slaves were walking over the grove in every direction. at nine o'clock all the slaves gathered at the great house and marster and missus came out on the porch and stood side by side. you could hear a pin drap everything was so quiet. then marster said, 'good morning,' and missus said, 'good morning, children'. they were both crying. then marster said, 'men, women and children, you are free. you are no longer my slaves. the yankees will soon be here.' marster and missus then went into the house got two large arm chairs put them on the porch facing the avenue and sat down side by side and remained there watching. in about an hour there was one of the blackest clouds coming up the avenue from the main road. it was the yankee soldiers, they finally filled the mile long avenue reaching from marster's house to the main louisburg road and spread out over the mile square grove. the mounted men dismounted. the footmen stacked their shining guns and began to build fires and cook. they called the slaves, saying, 'your are free.' slaves were whooping and laughing and acting like they were crazy. yankee soldiers were shaking hands with the negroes and calling them sam, dinah, sarah and asking them questions. they busted the door to the smoke house and got all the hams. they went to the ice-house and got several barrels of brandy, and such a time. the negroes and yankees were cooking and eating together. the yankees told them to come on and join them, they were free. marster and missus sat on the porch and they were so humble no yankee bothered anything in the great house. the slaves were awfully excited. the yankees stayed there, cooked, eat, drank and played music until about night, then a bugle began to blow and you never saw such getting on horses and lining up in your life. in a few minutes they began to march, leaving the grove which was soon as silent as a grave yard. they took marster's horses and cattle with them and joined the main army and camped just across cypress creek one and one half miles from my marster's place on the louisburg road. when they left the country, lot of the slaves went with them and soon there were none of marster's slaves left. they wandered around for a year from place to place, fed and working most of the time at some other slave owner's plantation and getting more homesick every day. the second year after the surrender our marster and missus got on their carriage and went and looked up all the negroes they heard of who ever belonged to them. some who went off with the yankees were never heard of again. when marster and missus found any of theirs they would say, 'well, come on back home.' my father and mother, two uncles and their families moved back. also lorenza brodie, and john brodie and their families moved back. several of the young men and women who once belonged to him came back. some were so glad to get back they cried, 'cause fare had been mighty bad part of the time they were rambling around and they were hungry. when they got back marster would say, 'well you have come back home have you, and the negroes would say, 'yes marster.' most all spoke of them as missus and marster as they did before the surrender, and getting back home was the greatest pleasure of all. we stayed with marster and missus and went to their church, the maple springs baptist church, until they died. since the surrender i married james anderson. i had four children, one boy and three girls. i think slavery was a mighty good thing for mother, father, me and the other members of the family, and i cannot say anything but good for my old marster and missus, but i can only speak for those whose conditions i have known during slavery and since. for myself and them, i will say again, slavery was a mighty good thing. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: cornelia andrews story teller: cornelia andrews editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] cornelia andrews an interview on may , with cornelia andrews of smithfield, johnston county, who is years old. de fust marster dat i 'members wuz mr. cute williams an' he wuz a good marster, but me an' my mammy an' some of de rest of 'em wuz sold to doctor mckay vaden who wuz not good ter us. doctor vaden owned a good-sized plantation, but he had just eight slaves. we had plank houses, but we ain't had much food an' clothes. we wored shoes wid wooden bottom in de winter an' no shoes in de summer. we ain't had much fun, nothin' but candy pullin's 'bout onct a year. we ain't raised no cane but marster buyed one barrel of 'lasses fer candy eber year. yo' know dat dar wuz a big slave market in smithfield dem days, dar wuz also a jail, an' a whippin' post. i 'members a man named rough somethin' or other, what bought forty er fifty slaves at de time an' carried 'em ter richmond to re-sell. he had four big black horses hooked ter a cart, an' behind dis cart he chained de slaves, an' dey had ter walk, or trot all de way ter richmond. de little ones mr. rough would throw up in de cart an' off dey'd go no'th. dey said dat der wuz one day at smithfield dat three hundret slaves wuz sold on de block. dey said dat peoples came from fer an' near, eben from new orleans ter dem slave sales. dey said dat way 'fore i wuz borned dey uster strip dem niggers start naked an' gallop' em ober de square so dat de buyers could see dat dey warn't scarred nor deformed. while i could 'member dey'd sell de mammies 'way from de babies, an' dere wuzn't no cryin' 'bout it whar de marster would know 'bout it nother. why? well, dey'd git beat black an' blue, dat's why. wuz i eber beat bad? no mam, i wuzn't. (here the daughter, a graduate of cornell university, who was in the room listening came forward. "open your shirt, mammy, and let the lady judge for herself." the old ladies eyes flashed as she sat bolt upright. she seemed ashamed, but the daughter took the shirt off, exposing the back and shoulders which were marked as though branded with a plaited cowhide whip. there was no doubt of that at all.) "i wuz whupped public," she said tonelessly, "for breaking dishes an' 'bein' slow. i wuz at mis' carrington's den, an' it wuz jist 'fore de close o' de war. i wuz in de kitchen washin' dishes an' i draps one. de missus calls mr. blount king, a patteroller, an' he puts de whuppin' yo' sees de marks of on me. my ole missus foun' it out an' she comed an' got me." a friend of the interviewer who was present remarked, "that must have been horrible to say the least." "yo' 'doan know nothin," the old negro blazed. "alex heath, a slave wuz beat ter death, hyar in smithfield. he had stold something, dey tells me, anyhow he wuz sentenced ter be put ter death, an' de folkses dar in charge 'cided ter beat him ter death. dey gib him a hundret lashes fer nine mornin's an' on de ninth mornin' he died." "my uncle daniel sanders, wuz beat till he wuz cut inter gashes an' he wuz tu be beat ter death lak alex wuz, but one day atter dey had beat him an' throwed him back in jail wid out a shirt he broke out an' runned away. he went doun in de riber swamp an' de blow flies blowed de gashes an' he wuz unconscious when a white man found him an' tuk him home wid him. he died two or three months atter dat but he neber could git his body straight ner walk widout a stick; he jist could drag." "i 'specks dat i doan know who my pappy wuz, maybe de stock nigger on de plantation. my pappy an' mammy jist stepped ober de broom an' course i doan know when. yo' knows dey ain't let no little runty nigger have no chilluns. naw sir, dey ain't, dey operate on dem lak dey does de male hog so's dat dey can't have no little runty chilluns." "some of de marsters wuz good an' some of dem wuz bad. i wuz glad ter be free an' i lef' der minute i finds out dat i is free. i ain't got no kick a-comin' not none at all. some of de white folkses wuz slaves, ter git ter de united states an' we niggers ain't no better, i reckons." n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: , subject: a slave story (princess quango hennadonah perceriah). reference: mary anngady [hw: years] editor: george l. andrews [tr: date stamp "oct "] mary anngady (princess quango hennadonah perceriah) oakwood avenue, raleigh, north carolina. i was eighteen years old in but i wanted to get married so i gave my age as nineteen. i wish i could recall some of the ole days when i was with my missus in orange county, playing with my brothers and other slave children. i was owned by mr. franklin davis and my madam was mrs. bettie davis. i and my brother used to scratch her feet and rub them for her; you know how old folks like to have their feet rubbed. my brother and i used to scrap over who should scratch and rub her feet. she would laugh and tell us not to do that way that she loved us both. sometimes she let me sleep at her feet at night. she was plenty good to all of the slaves. her daughter sallie taught me my a b c's in webster's blue back spelling book. when i learned to spell b-a-k-e-r, baker, i thought that was something. the next word i felt proud to spell was s-h-a-d-y, shady, the next l-a-d-y, lady. i would spell them out loud as i picked up chips in the yard to build a fire with. my missus bettie gave me a blue back spelling book. my father was named james mason, and he belonged to james mason of chapel hill. mother and i and my four brothers belonged to the same man and we also lived in the town. i never lived on a farm or plantation in my life. i know nothing about farming. all my people are dead and i cannot locate any of marster's family if they are living. marster's family consisted of two boys and two girls--willie, frank, lucy and sallie. marster was a merchant, selling general merchandise. i remember eating a lot of brown sugar and candy at his store. my mother was a cook. they allowed us a lot of privileges and it was just one large happy family with plenty to eat and wear, good sleeping places and nothing to worry about. they were of the presbyterian faith and we slaves attended sunday school and services at their church. there were about twelve slaves on the lot. the houses for slaves were built just a little ways back from marster's house on the same lot. the negro and white children played together, and there was little if any difference made in the treatment given a slave child and a white child. i have religious books they gave me. besides the books they taught me, they drilled me in etiquette of the times and also in courtesy and respect to my superiors until it became a habit and it was perfectly natural for me to be polite. the first i knew of the yankees was when i was out in my marster's yard picking up chips and they came along, took my little brother and put him on a horse's back and carried him up town. i ran and told my mother about it. they rode brother over the town a while, having fun out of him, then they brought him back. brother said he had a good ride and was pleased with the blue jackets as the yankee soldiers were called. we had all the silver and valuables hid and the yankees did not find them, but they went into marster's store and took what they wanted. they gave my father a box of hardtack and a lot of meat. father was a christian and he quoted one of the commandments when they gave him things they had stolen from others. 'thou shalt not steal', quoth he, and he said he did not appreciate having stolen goods given to him. i traveled with the white folks in both sections of the country, north and south, after the _war between the states_. i kept traveling with them and also continued my education. they taught me to recite and i made money by reciting on many of the trips. since the surrender i have traveled in the north for various charitable negro societies and institutions and people seemed very much interested in the recitation i recited called "when malinda sings". the first school i attended was after the war closed. the school was located in chapel hill, north carolina, and was taught by a yankee white woman from philadelphia. we remained in chapel hill only a few years after the war ended when we all moved to raleigh, and i have made it my home ever since. i got the major part of my education in raleigh under dr. h. m. tupper[ ] who taught in the second baptist church, located on blount street. miss mary lathrop, a colored teacher from philadelphia, was an assistant teacher in dr. tupper's school. i went from there to shaw collegiate institute, which is now shaw university. i married aaron stallings of warrenton, north carolina while at shaw. he died and i married rev. matthews anngady of monrovia, west coast of africa, liberia, pastor of first church. i helped him in his work here, kept studying the works of different authors, and lecturing and reciting. my husband, the rev. matthews anngady died, and i gave a lot of my time to the cause of charity, and while on a lecture tour of massachusetts in the interest of this feature of colored welfare for richmond, va., the most colorful incident of my eventful life happened when i met quango hennadonah perceriah, an abyssinian prince, who was traveling and lecturing on the customs of his country and the habits of its people. our mutual interests caused our friendship to ripen fast and when the time of parting came, when each of us had finished our work in massachusetts, he going back to his home in new york city and i returning to richmond, he asked me to correspond with him. i promised to do so and our friendship after a year's correspondence became love and he proposed and i accepted him. we were married in raleigh by rev. j. j. worlds, pastor of the first baptist church, colored. p. t. barnum had captured my husband when he was a boy and brought him to america from abyssinia, educated him and then sent him back to his native country. he would not stay and soon he was in america again. he was of the catholic faith in america and they conferred the honor of priesthood upon him but after he married me this priesthood was taken away and he joined the episcopal church. after we were married we decided to go on an extensive lecture tour. he had been a headsman in his own country and a prince. we took the customs of his people and his experiences as the subject of our lectures. i could sing, play the guitar, violin and piano, but i did not know his native language. he began to teach me and as soon as i could sing the song _how firm a foundation_ in his language which went this way: ngama i-bata, njami buyek wema wemeta, negana i bukek diol, di njami, i-diol de kak annimix, annimix hanci bata ba satana i-bu butete bata ba npjami i bunanan bata be satana ba laba i wa-- bata ba njami ba laba munonga we traveled and lectured in both the north and the south and our life, while we had to work hard, was one of happiness and contentment. i traveled and lectured as the princess quango hennadonah perceriah, wife of the abyssinian prince. i often recited the recitation written by the colored poet, paul lawrence dunbar _when malinda sings_ to the delight of our audiences. * * * * * the following incidents of african life were related to me by my husband quango hennadonah perceriah and they were also given in his lectures on african customs while touring the united states. the religion of the bakuba tribe of abyssinia was almost wholly pagan as the natives believed fully in witchcraft, sorcery, myths and superstitions. the witch doctor held absolute sway over the members of the tribe and when his reputation as a giver of rain, bountiful crops or success in the chase was at stake the tribes were called together and those accused by the witch doctor of being responsible for these conditions through witchery were condemned and speedily executed. the people were called together by the beating of drums. the witch doctor, dressed in the most hellish garb imaginable with his body painted and poisonous snake bone necklaces dangling from his neck and the claws of ferocious beasts, lions, leopards and the teeth of vicious man-eating crocodiles finishing up his adornment, sat in the middle of a court surrounded by the members of the tribe. in his hand he carried a gourd which contained beads, shot, or small stones. he began his incantations by rattling the contents of the gourd, shouting and making many weird wails and peculiar contortions. after this had gone on for sometime until he was near exhaustion his face assumed the expression of one in great pain and this was the beginning of the end for some poor ignorant savage. he squirmed and turned in different directions with his eyes fixed with a set stare as if in expectancy when suddenly his gaze would be fixed on some member of the tribe and his finger pointed directly at him. the victim was at once seized and bound, the doctor's gaze never leaving him until this was done. if one victim appeased his nervous fervor the trial was over but if his wrought-up feelings desired more his screechings continued until a second victim was secured. he had these men put to death to justify himself in the eyes of the natives of his tribe for his failing to bring rain, bountiful crops and success to the tribe. the witch doctor who sat as judge seemed to have perfect control over the savages minds and no one questioned his decisions. the persons were reconciled to their fate and were led away to execution while they moaned and bade their friends goodbye in the doleful savage style. sometimes they were put on a boat, taken out into the middle of a river and there cut to pieces with blades of grass, their limbs being dismembered first and thrown into the river to the crocodiles. a drink containing an opiate was generally given the victim to deaden the pain but often this formality was dispensed with. the victims were often cut to pieces at the place of trial with knives and their limbs thrown out to the vultures that almost continuously hover 'round the huts and kraals of the savage tribes of africa. in some instances condemned persons were burned at the stake. this form of execution is meted out at some of the religious dances or festivities to some of their pagan gods to atone and drive away the evil spirits that have caused pestilences to come upon the people. the victims at these times are tortured in truly savage fashion, being burned to death by degrees while the other members of the tribe dance around and go wild with religious fervor calling to their gods while the victim screeches with pain in his slowly approaching death throes. young girls, women, boys and men are often accused of witchcraft. one method they used of telling whether the victim accused was innocent or guilty was to give them a liquid poison made from the juice of several poisonous plants. if they could drink it and live they were innocent, if they died they were guilty. in most cases death was almost instantaneous. some vomited the poison from their stomachs and lived. the bakubas sometimes resorted to cannibalism and my husband told me of a bakuba girl who ate her own mother. once a snake bit a man and he at once called the witch doctor. the snake was a poisonous one and the man bitten was in great pain. the witch doctor whooped and went through several chants but the man got worse instead of better. the witch doctor then told the man that his wife made the snake bite him by witchery and that she should die for the act. the natives gathered at once in response to the witch doctor's call and the woman was executed at once. the man bitten by the snake finally died but the witch doctor had shifted the responsibility of his failure to help the man to his wife who had been beheaded. the witch doctor had justified himself and the incident was closed. the tribe ruled by a king has two or more absolute rules. the kings word is law and he has the power to condemn any subject to death at any time without trial. if he becomes angry or offended with any of his wives a nod and a word to his bodyguard and the woman is led away to execution. any person of the tribe is subject to the king's will with the exemption of the witch doctor. executions of a different nature than the ones described above are common occurrences. for general crimes the culprit after being condemned to death is placed in a chair shaped very much like the electric chairs used in american prisons in taking the lives of the condemned. he is then tied firmly to the chair with thongs. a pole made of a green sapling is firmly implanted in the earth nearby. a thong is placed around the neck of the victim under the chin. the sapling is then bent over and the other end of the thong tied to the end of the sapling pole. the pole stretches the neck to its full length and holds the head erect. drums are sometimes beaten to drown the cries of those who are to be killed. the executioner who is called a headsman then walks forward approaching the chair from the rear. when he reaches it he steps to the side of the victim and with a large, sharp, long-bladed knife lops off the head of the criminal. the bodies of men executed in this manner are buried in shallow holes dug about two feet deep to receive their bodies. the rank and file of the savage tribes believe explicitly [hw correction: implicitly] in the supernatural powers of the witch doctor and his decisions are not questioned. not even the king of the tribe raises a voice against him. the witch doctor is crafty enough not to condemn any of the king's household or any one directly prominent in the king's service. after an execution everything is quiet in a few hours and the incident seems forgotten. the african negroes attitude towards the whole affair seems to be instinctive and as long as he escapes he does not show any particular concern in his fellowman. his is of an animal instinctive nature. the males of the african tribes of savages have very little respect for a woman but they demand a whole lot of courtesies from their wives, beating them unmercifully when they feel proper respect has not been shown them. the men hunt game and make war on other tribes and the women do all the work. a savage warrior when not engaged in hunting or war, sleeps a lot and smokes almost continuously during his waking hours. girls are bought from their parents while mere children by the payment of so many cows, goats, etc. the king can take any woman of the tribe whether married or single he desires to be his wife. the parents of young girls taken to wife by the king of a tribe feel honored and fall on their knees and thank the king for taking her. the prince of a tribe is born a headsman and as soon as he is able to wield a knife he is called upon to perform the duty of cutting off the heads of criminals who are condemned to death by the king for general crimes. those condemned by the witch doctor for witchcraft are executed by dismemberment or fire as described above. * * * * * my husband was a cannibal headsman and performed this duty of cutting off persons heads when a boy and after being civilized in america this feature of his early life bore so heavily upon his mind that it was instrumental in driving him insane. by custom a prince was born a headsman and it was compulsory that he execute criminals. he died in an insane ward of the new jersey state hospital. [footnote : [hw: ]dr. henry m. tupper, a union army chaplain, who helped to start shaw university in .] n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: jane arrington story teller: jane arrington editor: geo. l. andrews [tr: date stamp "aug "] jane arrington years old fowle street raleigh, n. c. i ort to be able to tell sumpin cause i wus twelve years old when dey had de surrender right up here in raleigh. if i live to see dis coming december i will be eighty five years old. i was born on the th of december . i belonged to jackson may of nash county. i wus born on de plantation near tar river. jackson may never married until i wus of a great big girl. he owned a lot of slaves; dere were eighty on de plantation before de surrender. he married miss becky wilder, sister of sam wilder. de wilders lived on a jining plantation to where i wus borned. jackson may had so many niggers he let billy williams who had a plantation nearby have part of 'em. marster jackson he raised my father and bought my mother. my mother wus named louisa may, and my father wus named louis may. my mother had six chilluns, four boys and two girls. the boys were richard, farro, caeser, and fenner. de girls rose and jane. jane, dats me. we lived in log houses with stick an' dirt chimleys. they called 'em the slave houses. we had chicken feather beds to sleep on an' de houses wus good warm comfortable log houses. we had plenty of cover an' feather pillows. my grandmother on my mother's side told me a lot of stories 'bout haints and how people run from 'em. dey told me 'bout slaves dat had been killed by dere marster's coming back and worryin' 'em. ole missus penny williams, before jackson may bought mother, treated some of de slaves mighty bad. she died an' den come back an' nearly scared de slaves to death. grandmother told all we chillun she seed her an' knowed her after she been dead an' come back. john may a slave wus beat to death by bill stone an' oliver may. oliver may wus junius may's son. junius may wus jackson may's uncle. john may come back an' wurried both of 'em. dey could hardly sleep arter dat. dey said dey could hear him hollerin' an' groanin' most all de time. dese white men would groan in dere sleep an' tell john to go away. dey would say, 'go way john, please go away'. de other slaves wus afraid of 'em cause de ghost of john wurried 'em so bad. i wurked on de farm, cuttin' corn stalks and tendin' to cattle in slavery time. sometimes i swept de yards. i never got any money for my work and we didn't have any patches. my brothers caught possums, coons and sich things an' we cooked 'em in our houses. we had no parties but we had quiltin's. we went to the white folks church, peach tree church, six miles from de plantation an' poplar springs church seven miles away. both were missionary baptist churches. there were no overseers on jackson may's plantation. he wouldn't have nary one. billy williams didn't have none. dey had colored slave foremen. after wurkin' all day dere wus a task of cotton to be picked an' spun by 'em. dis wus two onces of cotton. some of de slaves run away from bill williams when marster jackson may let him have 'em to work. dey run away an' come home. aunt chaney runned away an' mother run away. marster jackson may kept 'em hid cause he say dey wus not treated right. he wouldn't let 'em have 'em back no more. i never saw a grown slave whupped or in chains and i never saw a slave sold. jackson may would not sell a slave. he didn't think it right. he kept 'em together. he had eighty head. he would let other white people have 'em to wurk for 'em sometimes, but he would not sell none of 'em. if dey caught a slave wid a book you knowed it meant a whuppin', but de white chillun teached slaves secretey sometimes. ole man jake rice a slave who belonged to john rice in nash county wus teached by ole john rice's son till he had a purty good mount of larnin'. we did not have prayer meeting at marster's plantation or anywhur. marster would not allow dat. when i wus a child we played de games of three handed reels, 'old gray goose', 'all little gal, all little gal, all little gal remember me'. we took hold of hands an' run round as we sang dis song. we sang 'old dan tucker'. git outen de way, ole dan tucker, sixteen hosses in one stable, one jumped out an' skined his nable an' so on. dr. mann and dr. sid harris and dr. fee mann and dr. mathias looked arter us when we wus sick. mother and de other grown folks raised herbs dat dey give us too. chillun took a lot of salts. jackson may wus too rich to go to de war. billy williams didn't go, too rich too, i reckons. i remember when dey said niggers had to be free. de papers said if dey could not be freedom by good men dere would be freedom by blood. dey fighted an' kept on fightin' a long time. den de yankees come. [hw correction: new paragraph] i heard dem beat de drum. marster tole us we wus free but mother an' father stayed on with marster. he promised 'em sumptin, but he give 'em nothin'. when de crop wus housed dey left. father and mother went to hench stallings plantation and stayed there one year. then they went to jim webbs farm. i don't remember how long they stayed there but round two years. they moved about an' about among the white folks till they died. they never owned any property. they been dead 'bout thirty years. i married sidney arrington. he has been dead six years las' september. i am unable to do any kind of work. my arm is mighty weak. i know slavery wus a bad thing. i don't have to think anything about it. abraham lincoln wus the first of us bein' free, i think he wus a man of god. i think roosevelt is all right man. i belongs to the pentecostal holiness church. ac n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: , subject: sarah louise augustus source: sarah louise augustus editor: george l. andrews [tr: no date stamp] sarah louise augustus age years lane street raleigh, north carolina i wus born on a plantation near fayetteville, n. c., and i belonged to j. b. smith. his wife wus named henrietta. he owned about thirty slaves. when a slave was no good he wus put on the auction block in fayetteville and sold. my father wus named romeo harden and my mother wus named alice smith. the little cabin where i wus born is still standing. there wus seven children in marster's family, four girls and two boys. the girls wus named ellen, ida, mary and elizabeth. the boys wus named harry, norman and marse george. marse george went to the war. mother had a family of four girls. their names wus: mary, kate, hannah and myself, sarah louise. i am the only one living and i would not be living but i have spent most of my life in white folk's houses and they have looked after me. i respected myself and they respected me. my first days of slavery wus hard. i slept on a pallet on the floor of the cabin and just as soon as i wus able to work any at all i wus put to milking cows. i have seen the paterollers hunting men and have seen men they had whipped. the slave block stood in the center of the street, fayetteville street, where ramsey and gillespie street came in near cool springs street. the silk mill stood just below the slave market. i saw the silkworms that made the silk and saw them gather the cocoons and spin the silk. they hung people in the middle of ramsey street. they put up a gallows and hung the men exactly at o'clock. i ran away from the plantation once to go with some white children to see a man hung. the only boats i remember on the cape fear wus the governor worth, the hurt, the iser and the north state. oh! lord yes, i remember the stage coach. as many times as i run to carry the mail to them when they come by! they blew a horn before they got there and you had to be on time 'cause they could not wait. there wus a stage each way each day, one up and one down. mr. george lander had the first tombstone marble yard in fayetteville on hay street on the point of flat iron place. lander wus from scotland. they gave me a pot, a scarf, and his sister gave me some shells. i have all the things they gave me. my missus, henrietta smith, wus mr. lander's sister. i waited on the landers part of the time. they were hard working white folks, honest, god fearing people. the things they gave me were brought from over the sea. i can remember when there wus no hospital in fayetteville. there wus a little place near the depot where there wus a board shanty where they operated on people. i stood outside once and saw the doctors take a man's leg off. dr. mcduffy wus the man who took the leg off. he lived on hay street near the silk mill. when one of the white folks died they sent slaves around to the homes of their friends and neighbors with a large sheet of paper with a piece of black crepe pinned to the top of it. the friends would sign or make a cross mark on it. the funerals were held at the homes and friends and neighbors stood on the porch and in the house while the services were going on. the bodies were carried to the grave after the services in a black hearse drawn by black horses. if they did not have black horses to draw the hearse they went off and borrowed them. the colored people washed and shrouded the dead bodies. my grandmother wus one who did this. her name wus sarah mcdonald. she belonged to capt. george mcdonald. she had fifteen children and lived to be one hundred and ten years old. she died in fayetteville of pneumonia. she wus in raleigh nursing the briggs family, mrs. f. h. briggs' family. she wus going home to fayetteville when she wus caught in a rain storm at sanford, while changing trains. the train for fayetteville had left as the train for sanford wus late so she stayed wet all night. next day she went home, took pneumonia and died. she wus great on curing rheumatism; she did it with herbs. she grew hops and other herbs and cured many people of this disease. she wus called black mammy because she wet nursed so many white children. in slavery time she nursed all babies hatched on her marster's plantation and kept it up after the war as long as she had children. grandfather wus named isaac fuller. mrs. mary ann fuller, kate fuller, mr. will fuller, who wus a lawyer in wall street, new york, is some of their white folks. the fullers were born in fayetteville. one of the slaves, dick mcalister, worked, saved a small fortune and left it to mr. will fuller. people thought the slave ought to have left it to his sister but he left it to mr. will. mr. fuller gives part of it to the ex-slaves sister each year. mr. will always helped the negroes out when he could. he was good to dick and dick mcalister gave him all his belongings when he died. the yankees came through fayetteville wearing large blue coats with capes on them. lots of them were mounted, and there were thousands of foot soldiers. it took them several days to get through town. the southern soldiers retreated and then in a few hours the yankees covered the town. they busted into the smokehouse at marstar's, took the meat, meal and other provisions. grandmother pled with the yankees but it did no good. they took all they wanted. they said if they had to come again they would take the babies from the cradles. they told us we were all free. the negroes begun visiting each other in the cabins and became so excited they began to shout and pray. i thought they were all crazy. we stayed right on with marster. he had a town house and a big house on the plantation. i went to the town house to work, but mother and grandmother stayed on the plantation. my mother died there and the white folks buried her. father stayed right on and helped run the farm until he died. my uncle, elic smith, and his family stayed too. grandfather and grandmother after a few years left the plantation and went to live on a little place which mrs. mary ann fuller gave them. grandmother and grandfather died there. i wus thirty years old when i married. i wus married in my missus' graduating dress. i wus married in the white folks' church, to james henry harris. the white folks carried me there and gave me away. miss mary smith gave me away. the wedding wus attended mostly by white folks. my husband wus a fireman on the cape fear river boats and a white man's negro too. we had two children, both died while little. my husband and i spent much of our time with the white folks and when he wus on his runs i slept in their homes. often the children of the white families slept with me. we both tried to live up to the standards of decency and honesty and to be worthy of the confidence placed in us by our white folks. my husband wus finally offered a job with a shipping concern in deleware and we moved there. he wus fireman on the freighter wilmington. he worked there three years, when he wus drowned. after his death i married david augustus and immediately came back to north carolina and my white folks, and we have been here ever since. i am a member of several negro lodges and am on the committee for the north carolina colored state fair. there are only a few of the old white folks who have always been good to me living now, but i am still working with their offspring, among whom i have some mighty dear friends. i wus about eight years old when sherman's army came through. guess i am about eighty years of age now. ac n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: a slave story story teller: charity austin editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] charity austin south bloodworth street, raleigh, n. c. i wus borned in the year , july . i wus born in granville county, sold to a slave speculator at ten years old and carried to southwest, georgia. i belonged to samuel howard. his daughter took me to kinston, north carolina and i stayed there until i wus sold. she married a man named bill brown, and her name wus julia howard brown. my father wus named paul howard and my mother wus named chollie howard. my old missus wus named polly howard. john richard keine from danville, virginia bought me and sent me to a plantation in georgia. we only had a white overseer there. he and his wife and children lived on the plantation. we had slave quarters there. slaves were bought up and sent there in chains. some were chained to each other by the legs, some by the arms. they called the leg chains shackles. i have lived a hard life. i have seen mothers sold away from their babies and other children, and they cryin' when she left. i have seen husbands sold from their wives, and wives sold from their husbands. abraham lincoln came through once, but none of us knew who he wus. he wus just the raggedest man you ever saw. the white children and me saw him out at the railroad. we were settin' and waitin' to see him. he said he wus huntin' his people; and dat he had lost all he had. dey give him somethin' to eat and tobacco to chew, and he went on. soon we heard he wus in de white house then we knew who it wus come through. we knowed den it wus abraham lincoln. we children stole eggs and sold 'em durin' slavery. some of de white men bought 'em. they were irishmen and they would not tell on us. their names were mulligan, flanagan and dugan. they wore good clothes and were funny mens. they called guns flutes. boss tole us abraham lincoln wus dead and we were still slaves. our boss man bought black cloth and made us wear it for mourning for abraham lincoln and tole us that there would not be freedom. we stayed there another year after freedom. a lot o' de niggers knowed nothin' 'cept what missus and marster tole us. what dey said wus just de same as de lawd had spoken to us. just after de surrender a nigger woman who wus bad, wus choppin' cotton at out plantation in georgie. john woodfox wus de main overseer and his son-in-law wus a overseer. dey had a colored man who dey called a nigger driver. de nigger driver tole de overseer de woman wus bad. de overseer came to her, snatched de hoe from her and hit her. the blow killed her. he was reported to de freedman's bureau. dey came, whupped de overseer and put him in jail. dey decided not to kill him, but made him furnish de children of de dead woman so much to live on. dere wus a hundred or more niggers in de field when this murder happened. we finally found out we were free and left. dey let me stay with miss julia brown. i was hired to her. she lived in dooley county, georgia. i next worked with mrs. dunbar after staying with mrs. brown four years. her name wus mrs. winnie dunbar and she moved to columbia, south carolina takin' me with her. i stayed with her about four years. this wus the end of my maiden life. i married isaac austin of richmond county, georgia. he wus a native of warrenton county and he brought me from his home in richmond county, georgia to warrenton and then from warrenton to raleigh. i had two brothers and thirteen sisters. i did general house work, and helped raise children during slavery, and right after de war. then you had to depend on yourself to do for children. you had to doctor and care for them yourself. you just had to depend on yourself. dey had acres o' cleared fields in georgia and then de rice fields, i just don't know how many acres. i have seen jails for slaves. dey had a basement for a jail in georgia and a guard at de holes in it. no, no! you better not be caught tryin' to do somethin' wid a book. dey would teach you wid a stick or switch. de slaves had secret prayer meetin's wid pots turned down to kill de soun' o' de singin'. we sang a song, 'i am glad salvation's free.' once dey heard us, nex' mornin' dey took us and tore our backs to pieces. dey would say, 'are you free? what were you singin' about freedom?' while de niggers were bein' whupped they said, 'pray, marster, pray.' the doctor came to see us sometimes when we were sick, but not after. people just had to do their own doctorin'. sometimes a man would take his patient, and sit by de road where de doctor travelled, and when he come along he would see him. de doctor rode in a sully drawn by a horse. he had a route, one doctor to two territories. when de white folks were preparing to go to de war they had big dinners and speakin'. dey tole what dey were goin' to do to sherman and grant. a lot of such men as grant and sherman and lincoln came through de south in rags and were at some o' dese meetings, an' et de dinners. when de white folks foun' it out, dere wus some sick folks. sometimes we got two days christmas and two days july. when de nigger wus freed dey didn't know where to go and what to do. it wus hard, but it has been hard since. from what de white folks, marster and missus tole us we thought lincoln wus terrible. by what mother and father tole me i thought he wus all right. i think roosevelt wus put in by god to do the right things. eh n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: blount baker person interviewed: blount baker editor: g. l. andrews [tr: date stamp "sep "] blount baker an interview with blount baker, spruce street, wilson, north carolina. yes'um, i 'longed ter marse henry allen of wilson county an' we always raise terbacker. marse henry wus good ter us so we had a heap of prayer meetin's an' corn shuckin's an' such. i 'members de big meetin's dat we'd have in de summer time an' dat good singin' we'd have when we'd be singin' de sinners through. we'd stay pretty nigh all night to make a sinner come through, an' maybe de week atter de meetin' he'd steal one of his marster's hogs. yes'um, i'se had a bad time. you know, missy, dar ain't no use puttin' faith in nobody, dey'd fool you ever time anyhow. i know once a patteroller tol' me dat iffen i'd give him a belt i found dat he'd let me go by ter see my gal dat night, but when he kotch me dat night he whupped me. i tol' marse henry on him too so marse henry takes de belt away from him an' gives me a possum fer hit. dat possum shore wus good too, baked in de ashes like i done it. i ain't never hear marse henry cuss but once an' dat wus de time dat some gentlemens come ter de house an' sez dat dar am a war 'twixt de north an' de south. he sez den, 'let de damn yaller bellied yankees come on an' we'll give 'em hell an' sen' dem a-hoppin' back ter de north in a hurry.' we ain't seed no yankees 'cept a few huntin' rebs. dey talk mean ter us an' one of dem says dat we niggers am de cause of de war. 'sir,' i sez, 'folks what am a wantin' a war can always find a cause'. he kicks me in de seat of de pants fer dat, so i hushes. i stayed wid marse henry till he died den i moved ter wilson. i has worked everwhere, terbacker warehouses an' ever'thing. i'se gittin' of my ole age pension right away an' den de county won't have ter support me no mo', dat is if dey have been supportin' me on three dollars a month. le n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: lizzie baker person interviewed: lizzie baker editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] lizzie baker smith street i was born de las' year o' de surrender an'course i don't remember seein' any yankee soldiers, but i knows a plenty my mother and father tole me. i have neuritis, an' have been unable to work any fer a year and fer seven years i couldn't do much. my mother wus named teeny mcintire and my father william mcintire. mammy belonged to bryant newkirk in duplin county. pap belonged to someone else, i don't know who. dey said dey worked from light till dark, and pap said dey beat him so bad he run away a lot o' times. dey said de paterollers come to whare dey wus havin' prayer meetin' and beat 'em. mammy said sometimes dey were fed well and others dey almost starved. dey got biscuit once a week on sunday. dey said dey went to de white folks's church. dey said de preachers tole 'em dey had to obey dere missus and marster. my mammy said she didn't go to no dances 'cause she wus crippled. some o' de help, a colored woman, stole something when she wus hongry. she put it off on mother and missus made mother wear trousers for a year to punish her. mammy said dey gave de slaves on de plantation one day christmas and dat new years wus when dey sold 'em an' hired 'em out. all de slaves wus scared 'cause dey didn't know who would have to go off to be sold or to work in a strange place. pap tole me 'bout livin' in de woods and 'bout dey ketchin' him. i 'member his owner's name den, it wus stanley. he run away so bad dey sold him several times. pap said one time dey caught him and nearly beat him to death, and jest as soon as he got well and got a good chance he ran away again. mammy said when de yankees come through she wus 'fraid of 'em. de yankees tole her not to be 'fraid of 'em. dey say to her, 'do dey treat you right', mammy said 'yes sir', 'cause ole missus wus standin' dere, an' she wus 'fraid not to say yes. atter de war, de fust year atter de surrender dey moved to james alderman's place in duplin county and stayed dere till i wus a grown gal. den we moved to goldsboro. father wus a carpenter and he got a lot of dat work. dat's what he done in goldsboro. we come from goldsboro to raleigh and we have lived here every since. we moved here about de year o' de shake and my mother died right here in raleigh de year o' de shake. some of de things mother tole me 'bout slavery, has gone right out of my min'. jes comes and goes. i remember pap tellin' me' bout stretchin' vines acrost roads and paths to knock de patterollers off deir horses when dey were tryin' to ketch slaves. pap and mammy tole me marster and missus did not 'low any of de slaves to have a book in deir house. dat if dey caught a slave wid a book in deir house dey whupped 'em. dey were keerful not to let 'em learn readin' and writin'. dey sold my sister lucy and my brother fred in slavery time, an' i have never seen 'em in my life. mother would cry when she was tellin' me 'bout it. she never seen 'em anymore. i jes' couldn't bear to hear her tell it widout cryin'. dey were carried to richmond, an' sold by old marster when dey were chillun. we tried to get some news of brother and sister. mother kept 'quiring 'bout 'em as long as she lived and i have hoped dat i could hear from 'em. dey are dead long ago i recons, and i guess dare aint no use ever expectin' to see 'em. slavery wus bad and mr. lincoln did a good thing when he freed de niggers. i caint express my love for roosevelt. he has saved so many lives. i think he has saved mine. i want to see him face to face. i purely love him and i feel i could do better to see him and tell him so face to face. le n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: viney baker story teller: viney baker editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] viney baker ex-slave story an interview with viney baker of s. harrington street, raleigh. my mammy wuz hannah murry an' so fur as i know i ain't got no father, do' i reckon dat he wuz de plantation stock nigger. i wuz borned in virginia as yo' mought say ter my marster mr. s. l. allen. we moved when i wuz little ter durham county whar we fared bad. we ain't had nothin' much ter eat an' ter w'ar. he had a hundert slaves an' i reckon five hundert acres o' lan'. he made us wuck hard, de little ones included. one night i lay down on de straw mattress wid my mammy, an' de nex' mo'nin' i woked up an' she wuz gone. when i axed 'bout her i fin's dat a speculator comed dar de night before an' wanted ter buy a 'oman. dey had come an' got my mammy widout wakin' me up. i has always been glad somehow dat i wuz asleep. dey uster tie me ter a tree an' beat me till de blood run down my back, i doan 'member nothin' dat i done, i jist 'members de whuppin's. some of de rest wuz beat wuser dan i wuz too, an' i uster scream dat i wuz sho' dyin'. yes'um i seed de yankees go by, but dey ain't bodder us none, case dey knows dat 'hind eber' bush jist about a confederate soldier pints a gun. i warn't glad at de surrender, case i doan understand hit, an' de allen's keeps me right on, an' whups me wuser den dan eber. i reckon i wuz twelve years old when my mammy come ter de house an' axes mis' allen ter let me go spen' de week en' wid her. mis' allen can't say no, case mammy mought go ter de carpet baggers so she lets me go fer de week-en'. mammy laughs sunday when i says somethin' 'bout goin' back. naw, i stayed on wid my mammy, an' i ain't seed mis' allen no mo'. ac district: no. [ ] no. words: worker: mary a. hicks subject: ex-slave story story teller: charlie barbour editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] [hw: a (circled)] ex-slave story an interview on may , with charlie barbour, of smithfield, n. c. johnston county. i belonged ter mr. bob lumsford hyar in smithfield from de time of my birth. my mammy wuz named candice an' my pappy's name wuz seth. my brothers wuz rufus, william an' george, an' my sisters wuz mary an' laura. i 'minds me of de days when as a youngin' [hw correction: youngun'] i played marbles an' hide an' seek. dar wuzn't many games den, case nobody ain't had no time fer 'em. de grown folkses had dances an' sometimes co'n shuckin's, an' de little niggers patted dere feets at de dances an' dey he'p ter shuck de co'n. at christmas we had a big dinner, an' from den through new year's day we feast, an' we dance, an' we sing. de fust one what said christmas gift ter anybody else got a gif', so of cou'se we all try ter ketch de marster. on de night 'fore de first day of jinuary we had a dance what lasts all night. at midnight when de new year comes in marster makes a speech an' we is happy dat he thanks us fer our year's wuck an' says dat we is good, smart slaves. marster wucked his niggers from daylight till dark, an' his thirteen grown slaves had ter ten' 'bout three hundred acres o' land. course dey mostly planted co'n, peas an' vege'ables. i can 'member, do' i wuz small, dat de slaves wuz whupped fer disobeyin' an' i can think of seberal dat i got. i wuz doin' housewuck at de time an' one of de silber knives got misplaced. dey 'cused me of misplacin' it on purpose, so i got de wust beatin' dat i eber had. i wuz beat den till de hide wuz busted hyar an' dar. we little ones had some time ter go swimmin' an' we did; we also fished, an' at night we hunted de possum an' de coon sometimes. ole uncle jeems had some houn's what would run possums or coons an' he uster take we boys 'long wid him. i 'members onct de houn's struck a trail an' dey tree de coon. uncle jeems sen's joe, who wuz bigger den i wuz, up de tree ter ketch de coon an' he warns him dat coons am fightin' fellers. joe doan pay much mind he am so happy ter git der chanct ter ketch de coon, but when he ketched dat coon he couldn't turn loose, an' from de way he holler yo' would s'pose dat he ain't neber wanted ter ketch a coon. when joe barbour wuz buried hyar las' winter dem coon marks wuz still strong on his arms an' han's an' dar wuz de long scar on his face. i 'members onct a yankee 'oman from new york looks at him an' nigh 'bout faints. 'i reckon', says she, dat am what de cruel slave owner or driver done ter him'. yes mam, i knows when de yankees comed ter smithfield. dey comed wid de beatin' of drums an' de wavin' of flags. dey says dat our governor wuz hyar makin' a speech but he flewed 'fore dey got hyar. anyhow, we libed off from de main path of march, an' so we ain't been trouble so much 'cept by 'scootin' parties, as my ole missus call' em. dey am de darndest yo' eber seed, dey won't eat no hog meat 'cept hams an' shoulders an' dey goes ter de smoke house an' gits 'em 'thout no permission. dey has what dey calls rammin' rods ter dere guns an' dey knock de chickens in de haid wid dat. i hyard dem say dat dar warn't no use wastin' powder on dem chickens. dey went ober de neighborhood stealin' an' killin' stock. i hyard 'bout 'em ketchin' a pig, cuttin' off his hams an' leave him dar alive. de foun' all de things we done hid, not dat i thinks dat dey am witches, but dat dey has a money rod, an' 'cides dat some of de slaves tol' 'em whar marster had hid de things. yes 'um, i reckon i wuz glad ter git free, case i knows den dat i won't wake up some mornin' ter fin' dat my mammy or some ob de rest of my family am done sold. i left de day i hyard 'bout de surrender an' i fared right good too, do' i knows dem what ain't farin' so well. i ain't neber learn ter read an' write an' i knows now dat i neber will. i can't eben write a letter ter raleigh 'bout my ole man's pension. i 'members de days when mammy wored a blue hankerchief 'round her haid an' cooked in de great house. she'd sometimes sneak me a cookie or a cobbler an' fruits. she had her own little gyardin an' a few chickens an' we w'oud ov been happy 'cept dat we wuz skeered o' bein' sold. i'se glad dat slavery am ober, case now de nigger has got a chanct ter live an' larn wid de whites. dey won't neber be as good as de whites but dey can larn ter live an' enjoy life more. speakin' 'bout de ku klux dey ain't do nothin' but scare me back in ' , but iffen we had some now i thinks dat some of dese young niggers what has forgot what dey mammies tol' 'em would do better. mh:eh n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: mary barbour person interviewed: mary barbour editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] mary barbour ex-slave story an interview with mary barbour of s. bloodworth street, raleigh, n. c. i reckon dat i wuz borned in mcdowell county, case dat's whar my mammy, edith, lived. she 'longed ter mr. jefferson mitchel dar, an' my pappy 'longed ter er mr. jordan in avery county, so he said. 'fore de war, i doan know nothin' much 'cept dat we lived on a big plantation an' dat my mammy wucked hard, but wuz treated pretty good. we had our little log cabin off ter one side, an' my mammy had sixteen chilluns. fas' as dey got three years old de marster sol' 'em till we las' four dat she had wid her durin' de war. i wuz de oldes' o' dese four; den dar wuz henry an' den de twins, liza an' charlie. one of de fust things dat i 'members wuz my pappy wakin' me up in de middle o' de night, dressin' me in de dark, all de time tellin' me ter keep quiet. one o' de twins hollered some an' pappy put his hand ober its mouth ter keep it quiet. atter we wuz dressed he went outside an' peeped roun' fer a minute den he comed back an' got us. we snook out o' de house an' long de woods path, pappy totin' one of de twins an' holdin' me by de han' an' mammy carryin' de udder two. i reckons dat i will always 'member dat walk, wid de bushes slappin' my laigs, de win' sighin' in de trees, an' de hoot owls an' whippoorwills hollerin' at each other frum de big trees. i wuz half asleep an' skeered stiff, but in a little while we pass de plum' thicket an' dar am de mules an' wagin. dar am er quilt in de bottom o' de wagin, an' on dis dey lays we youngins. an' pappy an' mammy gits on de board cross de front an' drives off down de road. i wuz sleepy but i wuz skeered too, so as we rides 'long i lis'ens ter pappy an' mammy talk. pappy wuz tellin' mammy 'bout de yankees comin' ter dere plantation, burnin' de co'n cribs, de smokehouses an' 'stroyin' eber'thing. he says right low dat dey done took marster jordan ter de rip raps down nigh norfolk, an' dat he stol' de mules an' wagin an' 'scaped. we wuz skeerd of de yankees ter start wid, but de more we thinks 'bout us runnin' way frum our marsters de skeerder we gits o' de rebs. anyhow pappy says dat we is goin' ter jine de yankees. we trabels all night an' hid in de woods all day fer a long time, but atter awhile we gits ter doctor dillard's place, in chowan county. i reckons dat we stays dar seberal days. de yankees has tooked dis place so we stops ober, an' has a heap o' fun dancin' an' sich while we am dar. de yankees tells pappy ter head fer new bern an' dat he will be took keer of dar, so ter new bern we goes. when we gits ter new bern de yankees takes de mules an' wagin, dey tells pappy something, an' he puts us on a long white boat named ocean waves an' ter roanoke we goes. later i larns dat most o' de reffes[ ] is put in james city, nigh new bern, but dar am a pretty good crowd on roanoke. dar wuz also a ole indian witch 'oman dat i 'members. atter a few days dar de ocean waves comes back an' takes all ober ter new bern. my pappy wuz a shoemaker, so he makes yankee boots, an' we gits 'long pretty good. i wuz raised in new bern an' i lived dar till forty years ago when me an' my husban' moved ter raleigh an' do' he's been daid a long time i has lived hyar ober [tr: eber] since an' eben if'en i is eighty-one years old i can still outwuck my daughter an' de rest of dese young niggers. [footnote : refugees] n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: plantation times person interviewed: alice baugh editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] plantation times an interview on may , with alice baugh, , who remembers hearing her mother tell of slavery days. my mammy ferbie, an' her brother darson belonged ter mr. david hinnant in edgecombe county till young marster charlie got married. den dey wuz drawed an' sent wid him down hyar ter wendell. de ole hinnant home am still standin' dar ter dis day. marster charlie an' missus mary wuz good ter de hundred slaves what belonged ter' em. dey gib 'em good houses, good feed, good clothes an' plenty uv fun. dey had dere co'n shuckin's, dere barn dances, prayer meetin's an' sich like all de year, an' from christmas till de second day o' january dey had a holiday wid roast oxes, pigs, turkey an' all de rest o' de fixin's. from saturday till monday de slaves wuz off an' dey had dere sunday clothes, which wuz nice. de marster always gib 'em a paper so's de patterollers won't git 'em. dey went up de riber to other plantations ter dances an' all dem things, an' dey wuz awful fond uv singin' songs. dat's whut dey done atter dey comes ter dere cabins at de end o' de day. de grown folkses sings an' somebody pickin' de banjo. de favorite song wuz 'swing low sweet chariot' an' 'play on yo' harp little david'. de chilluns uster play hide an' seek, an' leap frog, an' ever'body wuz happy. dey had time off ter hunt an' fish an' dey had dere own chickens, pigs, watermillons an' gyardens. de fruits from de big orchard an' de honey from de hives wuz et at home, an' de slave et as good as his marster et. dey had a whole heap o' bee hives an' my mammy said dat she had ter tell dem bees when mis' mary died. she said how she wuz cryin' so hard dat she can't hardly tell 'em, an' dat dey hum lak dey am mo'nin' too. my mammy marry my pappy dar an' she sez dat de preacher from de methodis' church marry 'em, dat she w'ar miss mary's weddin' dress, all uv white lace, an' dat my pappy w'ar mr. charlie's weddin' suit wid a flower in de button hole. dey gived a big dance atter de supper dey had, an' marster charlie dance de first [hw correction: fust] set wid my mammy. i jist thought of a tale what i hyard my mammy tell 'bout de issue frees of edgecombe county when she wuz a little gal. she said dat de issue frees wuz mixed wid de white folks, an' uv cou'se dat make 'em free. sometimes dey stay on de plantation, but a whole heap uv dem, long wid niggers who had done runned away from dere marster, dugged caves in de woods, an' dar dey lived an' raised dere families dar. dey ain't wored much clothes an' what dey got to eat an' to w'ar dey swiped from de white folkses. mammy said dat she uster go ter de spring fer water, an' dem ole issue frees up in de woods would yell at her, 'doan yo' muddy dat spring, little gal'. dat scared her moughty bad. dem issue frees till dis day shows both bloods. de white folkses won't have 'em an' de niggers doan want 'em but will have ter have 'em anyhow. my uncle wuz raised in a cave an' lived on stold stuff an' berries. my cousin runned away 'cause his marster wuz mean ter him, but dey put de blood hounds on his trail, ketched him. atter he got well from de beatin' dey gib him, dey sold him. i'se hyard ole lady prissie jones who died at de age of las' winter tell 'bout marsters dat when dere slaves runned away dey'd set de bloodhounds on dere trail an' when dey ketched 'em dey'd cut dere haids off wid de swords. ole lady prissie tole 'bout slaves what ain't had nothin' ter eat an' no clothes 'cept a little strip uv homespun, but my mammy who died four months ago at de age said dat she ain't knowed nothin' 'bout such doin's. when de yankees come, dey come a burnin' an' a-stealin' an' marster charlie carried his val'ables ter mammy's cabin, but dey found 'em. dey had a money rod an' dey'd find all de stuff no matter whar it wuz. mammy said dat all de slaves cried when de yankees come, an' dat most uv 'em stayed on a long time atter de war. my mammy plowed an' done such work all de time uv slavery, but she done it case she wanted to do it an' not 'cause dey make her. all de slaves hate de yankees an' when de southern soldiers comed by late in de night all de niggers got out of de bed an' holdin' torches high dey march behin' de soldiers, all of dem singin', 'we'll hang abe lincoln on de sour apple tree.' yes mam, dey wuz sorry dat dey wuz free, an' dey ain't got no reason to be glad, case dey wuz happier den dan now. i'se hyard mammy tell 'bout how de niggers would sing as dey picked de cotton, but yo' ain't hyard none uv dat now. den dey ain't had to worry 'bout nothin'; now dey has ter study so much dat dey ain't happy nuff ter sing no mo'. "does yo' know de cause of de war?" aunt alice went to a cupboard and returned holding out a book. "well hyar's de cause, dis _uncle tom's cabin_ wuz de cause of it all; an' its' de biggest lie what ever been gived ter de public." n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: when the yankees came story teller: john beckwith editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] when the yankees came an interview with john beckwith , of cary. i reckon dat i wuz 'bout nine years old at de surrender, but we warn't happy an' we stayed on dar till my parents died. my pappy wuz named green an' my mammy wuz named molly, an' we belonged ter mr. joe edwards, mr. marion gully, an' mr. hilliard beckwith, as de missus married all of 'em. dar wuz twenty-one other slaves, an' we got beat ever' onct in a while. when dey told us dat de yankees wuz comin' we wuz also told dat iffen we didn't behave dat we'd be shot; an' we believed it. we would'uv behaved anyhow, case we had good plank houses, good food, an' shoes. we had saturday an' sunday off an' we wuz happy. de missus, she raised de nigger babies so's de mammies could wuck. i 'members de times when she rock me ter sleep an' put me ter bed in her own bed. i wuz happy den as i thinks back of it, until dem yankees come. dey come on a chuesday; an' dey started by burnin' de cotton house an' killin' most of de chickens an' pigs. way atter awhile dey fin's de cellar an' dey drinks brandy till dey gits wobbly in de legs. atter dat dey comes up on de front porch an' calls my missus. when she comes ter de do' dey tells her dat dey am goin' in de house ter look things over. my missus dejicts, case ole marster am away at de war, but dat doan do no good. dey cusses her scan'lous an' dey dares her ter speak. dey robs de house, takin' dere knives an' splittin' mattresses, pillows an' ever' thing open lookin' fer valerables, an' ole missus dasen't open her mouth. dey camped dar in de grove fer two days, de officers takin' de house an' missus leavin' home an' goin' ter de neighbor's house. dey make me stay dar in de house wid 'em ter tote dere brandy frum de cellar, an' ter make 'em some mint jelup. well, on de secon' night dar come de wust storm i'se eber seed. de lightnin' flash, de thunder roll, an' de house shook an' rattle lak a earthquake had struck it. dem yankees warn't supposed ter be superstitious, but lemmie tell yo', dey wuz some skeered dat night; an' i hyard a captain say dat de witches wuz abroad. atter awhile lightnin' struck de catawba tree dar at de side of de house an' de soldiers camped round about dat way marched off ter de barns, slave cabins an' other places whar dey wuz safter dan at dat place. de next mornin' dem yankees moved frum dar an' dey ain't come back fer nothin'. we wuzn't happy at de surrender an' we cussed ole abraham lincoln all ober de place. we wuz told de disadvantages of not havin' no edercation, but shucks, we doan need no book larnin' wid ole marster ter look atter us. my mammy an' pappy stayed on dar de rest of dere lives, an' i stayed till i wuz sixteen. de ku klux klan got atter me den' bout fightin' wid a white boy. dat night i slipped in de woods an' de nex' day i went ter raleigh. i got a job dar an' eber' since den i'se wucked fer myself, but now i can't wuck an' i wish dat yo' would apply fer my ole aged pension fer me. i went back ter de ole plantation long as my pappy, mammy, an' de marster an' missus lived. sometimes, when i gits de chanct i goes back now. course now de slave cabins am gone, ever' body am dead, an' dar ain't nothin' familiar 'cept de bent catawba tree; but it 'minds me of de happy days. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: , subject: john c. bectom story teller: john c. bectom editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] [hw: n. c.] john c. bectom my name is john c. bectom. i was born oct. , , near fayetteville, cumberland county, north carolina. my father's name was simon bectom. he was years of age when he died. he died in at fayetteville, n. c. my mother's name was harriet bectom. she died in , may , when she was seventy years old. my brother's were named ed, kato and willie. i was third of the boys. my sisters were lucy, anne and alice. my father first belonged to robert wooten of craven county, n. c. then he was sold by the wootens to the bectoms of wayne county, near goldsboro, the county seat. my mother first belonged to the mcneills of cumberland county. miss mary mcneill married a mcfadden, and her parents gave my mother to mis' mary. mis' mary's daughter in time married ezekial king and my mother was then given to her by mis' mary mcfadden, her mother. mis' lizzie mcfadden became a king. my grandmother was named lucy murphy. she belonged to the murpheys. all the slaves were given off to the children of the family as they married. my father and mother told me stories of how they were treated at different places. when my grandmother was with the murpheys they would make her get up, and begin burning logs in new grounds before daybreak. they also made her plow, the same as any of the men on the plantation. they plowed till dusk-dark before they left the fields to come to the house. they were not allowed to attend any dances or parties unless they slipped off unknowin's. they had candy pullings sometimes too. while they would be there the patterollers would visit them. sometimes the patterollers whipped all they caught at this place, all they set their hands on, unless they had a pass. they fed us mighty good. the food was well cooked. they gave the slaves an acre of ground to plant and they could sell the crop and have the money. the work on this acre was done on moonshiny nights and holidays. sometimes slaves would steal the marster's chickens or a hog and slip off to another plantation and have it cooked. we had plenty of clothes, and one pair o' shoes a year. you had to take care of them because you only got one pair a year. they were given at christmas every year. the clothes were made on the plantation. there were corn mills on the plantation, and rice mills, and threshing machines. the plantation had about acres in farm land. the enclosure was three miles. my marster lived in a fine house. it took a year to build it. there were about rooms in it. we slaves called it the great house. some of the slaves ran away and finally reached ohio. there was no jail on the plantation. sometimes the overseer would whip us. the kings had no overseers. king beat his slaves with a stick. i remember seeing him do this as well as i can see that house over there. he became blind. an owl scratched him in the face when he was trying to catch him, and his face got into sich a fix he went to philadelphia for treatment, but they could not cure him. he finally went blind. i have seen him beat his slaves after he was blind. i remember it well. he beat 'em with a stick. he was the most sensitive man you ever seed. he ran a store. after he was blind you could han' him a piece of money and he could tell you what it was. there were no churches on the plantation but prayer meeting' were held in the quarters. slaves were not allowed to go to the white folk's church unless they were coach drivers, etc. no sir, not in that community. they taught the slaves the bible. the children of the marster would go to private school. we small negro children looked after the babies in the cradles and other young children. when the white children studied their lessons i studied with them. when they wrote in the sand i wrote in the sand too. the white children, and not the marster or mistress, is where i got started in learnin' to read and write. we had corn shuckings, candy pullings, dances, prayer meetings. we went to camp meetin' on camp meeting days in august when the crops were laid by. we played games of high jump, jumping over the pole held by two people, wrestling, leap frog, and jumping. we sang the songs, 'go tell aunt patsy'. 'some folks says a nigger wont steal, i caught six in my corn field' 'run nigger run, the patteroller ketch you, run nigger run like you did the other day'. when slaves got sick marster looked after them. he gave them blue mass and caster oil. dr. mcduffy also treated us. dr. mcswain vaccinated us for small pox. my sister died with it. when the slaves died marster buried them. they dug a grave with a tomb in it. i do not see any of them now. the slaves were buried in a plain box. the marsters married the slaves without any papers. all they did was to say perhaps to jane and frank, 'frank, i pronounce you and jane man and wife.' but the woman did not take the name of her husband, she kept the name of the family who owned her. i remember seeing the yankees near fayetteville. they shot a bomb shell at wheeler's calvary, and it hit near me and buried in the ground. wheeler's calvary came first and ramsaked the place. they got all the valuables they could, and burned the bridge, the covered bridge over cape fear river, but when the yankees got there they had a pontoon bridge to cross on,--all those provision wagons and such. when they passed our place it was in the morning. they nearly scared me to death. they passed right by our door, sherman's army. they began passing, so the white folks said, at o'clock in the mornin'. at o'clock at night they were passin' our door on foot. they said there were two hundred and fifty thousan' o' them passed. some camped in my marster's old fiel'. a yankee caught one of my marster's shoats and cut off one of the hind quarters, gave it to me, and told me to carry and give it to my mother. i was so small i could not tote it, so i drug it to her. i called her when i got in hollering distance of the house and she came and got it. the yankees called us johnnie, dinah, bill and other funny names. they beat their drums and sang songs. one of the yankees sang 'rock a bye baby'. at that time jeff davis money was plentiful. my mother had about $ . it was so plentiful it was called jeff davis shucks. my mother had bought a pair of shoes, and had put them in a chest. a yankee came and took the shoes and wore them off, leaving his in their place. they tol' us we were free. sometimes the marster would get cruel to the slaves if they acted like they were free. mat holmes, a slave, was wearing a ball and chain as a punishment for running away. marster ezekial king put it on him. he has slept in the bed with me, wearing that ball and chain. the cuff had embedded in his leg, it was swollen so. this was right after the yankees came through. it was march, the th of march, when the yankees came through. mat holmes had run away with the ball and chain on him and was in the woods then. he hid out staying with us at night until august. then my mother took him to the yankee garrison at fayetteville. a yankee officer then took him to a black smith shop and had the ball and chain cut off his leg. the marsters would tell the slaves to go to work that they were not free, that they still belonged to them, but one would drop out and leave, then another. there was little work done on the farm, and finally most of the slaves learned they were free. abraham lincoln was one of the greatest men that ever lived. he was the cause of us slaves being free. no doubt about that. i didn't think anything of jeff davis. he tried to keep us in slavery. i think slavery was an injustice, not right. our privilege is to live right, and live according to the teachings of the bible, to treat our fellowman right. to do this i feel we should belong to some religious organization and live as near right as we know how. the overseers and patterollers in the time of slavery were called poor white trash by the slaves. on the plantations not every one, but some of the slave holders would have some certain slave women reserved for their own use. sometimes children almost white would be born to them. i have seen many of these children. sometimes the child would be said to belong to the overseer, and sometimes it would be said to belong to the marster. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: aunt laura story teller: laura bell editor: geo. l. andrews [tr: date stamp "aug "] aunt laura an interview with laura bell, years old, of bragg street, raleigh, north carolina. being informed that laura bell was an old slavery negro, i went immediately to the little two-room shack with its fallen roof and shaky steps. as i approached the shack i noticed that the storm had done great damage to the chaney-berry tree in her yard, fallen limbs litterin' the ground, which was an inch deep in garbage and water. the porch was littered with old planks and huge tubs and barrels of stagnant water. there was only room for one chair and in that sat a tall negro woman clad in burlap bags and in her lap she held a small white flea-bitten dog which growled meaningly. when i reached the gate, which swings on one rusty hinge, she bade me come in and the carolina power and light company men, who were at work nearby, laughed as i climbed over the limbs and garbage and finally found room for one foot on the porch and one on the ground. "i wus borned in mount airy de year 'fore de yankees come, bein' de fourth of five chilluns. my mammy an' daddy minerva jane an' wesley 'longed ter mr. mack strickland an' we lived on his big place near mount airy." "mr. mack wus good ter us, dey said. he give us enough ter eat an' plenty of time ter weave clothes fer us ter wear. i've hearn mammy tell of de corn shuckin's an' dances dey had an' 'bout some whuppin's too." "marse mack's overseer, i doan know his name, wus gwine ter whup my mammy onct, an' pappy do' he ain't neber make no love ter mammy comes up an' takes de whuppin' fer her. atter dat dey cou'ts on sadday an' sunday an' at all de sociables till dey gits married." "i'se hearn her tell' bout how he axed marse mack iffen he could cou't mammy an' atter marse mack sez he can he axes her ter marry him." "she tells him dat she will an' he had 'em married by de preacher de nex' time he comes through dat country." "i growed up on de farm an' when i wus twelve years old i met thomas bell. my folks said dat i wus too young fer ter keep company so i had ter meet him 'roun' an' about fer seberal years, i think till i wus fifteen." "he axed me ter marry him while he wus down on de creek bank a fishin' an' i tol' him yes, but when he starts ter kiss me i tells him dat der's many a slip twixt de cup an' de lip an' so he has ter wait till we gits married." "we runned away de nex' sadday an' wus married by a justice of de peace in mount airy." "love ain't what hit uster be by a long shot," de ole woman reflected, "'cause dar ain't many folks what loves all de time. we moved ter raleigh forty years ago, an' tom has been daid seberal years now. we had jest one chile but hit wus borned daid." "chilluns ain't raised ter be clean lak we wus. i knows dat de house ain't so clean but i doan feel so much lak doin' nothin', i jest went on a visit 'bout seben blocks up de street dis mo'nin' an' so i doan feel lak cleanin' up none." i cut the interview short thereby missing more facts, as the odor was anything but pleasant and i was getting tired of standing in that one little spot. "thank you for comin'", she called, and her dog growled again. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: emma blalock story teller: emma blalock editor: geo. l. andrews [tr: date stamp "aug "] emma blalock years old bannon avenue raleigh, n. c. i shore do 'member de yankees wid dere blue uniforms wid brass buttons on 'em. i wus too small to work any but i played in de yard wid my oldes' sister, katie. she is dead long ago. my mother belonged to ole man john griffith an' i belonged to him. his plantation wus down here at auburn in wake county. my father wus named edmund rand. he belonged to mr. nat rand. he lived in auburn. de plantations wus not fur apart. dere wus about twenty-five slaves on de plantation whur mother an' me stayed. marse john used ter take me on his knee an' sing, 'here is de hammer, shing ding. gimme de hammer, shing ding.' marster loved de nigger chilluns on his plantation. when de war ended father come an' lived with us at marse john's plantation. marster john griffith named me emmy. my grandfather on my fathers side wus named harden rand, an' grandmother wus named mason rand. my grandfather on my mother's side wus named antny griffiths an' grandmother wus named nellie. our food wus a plenty and well cooked. marster fed his niggers good. we had plenty of homespun dresses and we got shoes once a year, at christmas eve. i ken 'member it just as good. we got christmas holidays an' a stockin' full of candy an' peanuts. sometimes we got ginger snaps at christmas. my grandmother cooked' em. she wus a good cook. my mother's missus wus miss jetsy griffith and my father's missus wus lucy rand. dey wus both mighty good women. you know i am ole. i ken 'member all dem good white folks. dey give us fourth july holidays. dey come to town on dat day. dey wore, let me tell you what dey wore, dey wore dotted waist blouses an' white pants. dat wus a big day to ever'body, de fourth of july. dey begun singing at auburn an' sung till dey reached raleigh. auburn is nine miles from raleigh. dere wus a lot of lemonade. dey made light bread in big ovens an' had cheese to eat wid it. some said just goin' on de fofe to git lemonade an' cheese. in the winter we had a lot of possums to eat an' a lot of rabbits too. at christmas time de men hunted and caught plenty game. we barbecued it before de fire. i 'members seein' mother an' grandmother swinging rabbits 'fore de fire to cook 'em. dey would turn an' turn 'em till dey wus done. dey hung some up in de chimbly an' dry 'em out an' keep 'em a long time an' dat is de reason i won't eat a rabbit today. no sir! i won't eat a rabbit. i seed 'em mess wid 'em so much turned me 'ginst eatin' 'em. i don't know how much lan' marster john owned but, honey, dat wus some plantation. it reached from auburn to de neuse river. yes sir, it did, 'cause i been down dere in corn hillin' time an' we fished at twelve o'clock in neuse river. marster john had overseers. dere wus six of 'em. dey rode horses over de fields but i don't 'member dere names. i never seen a slave whupped but dey wus whupped on de plantation an' i heard de grown folks talkin' 'bout it. my uncles nat an' bert griffiths wus both whupped. uncle nat would not obey his missus rules an' she had him whupped. dey whupped uncle bert 'cause he stayed drunk so much. he loved his licker an' he got drunk an' cut up bad, den dey whupped him. you could git plenty whiskey den. twon't like it is now. no sir, it won't. whiskey sold fur ten cents a quart. most ever' body drank it but you hardly ever seed a man drunk. slaves wus not whupped for drinkin'. dere marsters give 'em whiskey but dey wus whupped for gittin' drunk. dere wus a jail, a kind of stockade built of logs, on de farm to put slaves in when dey wouldn't mind. i never say any slave put on de block an' sold, but i saw aunt helen rand cryin' because her marster nat rand sold her boy, fab rand. no sir, no readin' an' writin'. you had to work. ha! ha! you let your marster or missus ketch you wid a book. dat wus a strict rule dat no learnin' wus to be teached. i can't read an' write. if it wus not fur my mother wit don't know what would become of me. we had prayer meetings around at de slave houses. i 'member it well. we turned down pots on de inside of de house at de door to keep marster an' missus from hearin' de singin' an' prayin'. marster an' his family lived in de great house an' de slave quarters wus 'bout two hundred yards away to the back of de great house. dey wus arranged in rows. when de war ended we all stayed on wid de families griffiths an' rands till dey died, dat is all 'cept my father an' me. he lef' an' i lef'. i been in raleigh forty-five years. i married mack blalock in raleigh. he been dead seven years. my mother had two boys, antny an' wesley. she had four girls, katie, grissie, mary ella an' emma. i had three chilluns, two are livin' yet. they both live in raleigh. we had big suppers an' dinners at log rollin's an' corn shuckin's in slavery time ha! ha! plenty of corn licker for ever'body, both white an' black. ever'body helped himself. dr. tom busbee, one good ole white man, looked after us when we got sick, an' he could make you well purty quick, 'cause he wus good an' 'cause he wus sorry fer you. he wus a feelin' man. course we took erbs. i tell you what i took. scurrey grass, chana balls dey wus for worms. scurrey grass worked you out. dey give us winter green to clense our blood. we slaves an' a lot of de white folks drank sassafras tea in de place of coffee. we sweetened it wid brown sugar, honey, or molasses, just what we had in dat line. i think slavery wus a right good thing. plenty to eat an' wear. when you gits a tooth pulled now it costs two dollars, don't it? well in slavery time i had a tooth botherin' me. my mother say, emma, take dis egg an' go down to doctor busbee an' give it to him an' git your tooth pulled. i give him one egg. he took it an' pulled my tooth. try dat now, if you wants to an' see what happens. yes, slavery wus a purty good thing. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: days on the plantation person interviewed: uncle david blount editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] [hw: n. c. good general story--] [hw: good story hates the yankees boy beaten by overseer who is later discharged; slaves make pact with yankees] days on the plantation as told by uncle david blount, formerly of beaufort county, who did not know his age. "de marster" he refers to was major wm. a. blount, who owned plantations in several parts of north carolina. yes mam, de days on de plantation wuz de happy days. de marster made us wuck through de week but on sadays we uster go swimmin' in de riber an' do a lot of other things dat we lak ter do. we didn't mind de wuck so much case de ground wuz soft as ashes an' de marster let us stop and rest when we got tired. we planted 'taters in de uplan's and co'n in de lowgroun's nex' de riber. it wuz on de cape fear an' on hot days when we wuz a-pullin' de fodder we'd all stop wuck 'bout three o'clock in de ebenin' an' go swimmin'. atter we come out'n de water we would wuck harder dan eber an' de marster wuz good to us, case we did wuck an' we done what he ast us. i 'members onct de marster had a oberseer dar dat wuz meaner dan a mean nigger. he always hired good oberseers an' a whole lot of times he let some negro slave obersee. well, dis oberseer beat some of de half grown boys till de blood run down ter dar heels an' he tole de rest of us dat if we told on him dat he'd kill us. we don't dasen't ast de marster ter git rid of de man so dis went on fer a long time. it wuz cold as de debil one day an' dis oberseer had a gang of us a-clearin' new groun'. one boy ast if he could warm by de bresh heap. de oberseer said no, and atter awhile de boy had a chill. de oberseer don't care, but dat night de boy am a sick nigger. de nex' mornin' de marster gits de doctor, an' de doctor say dat de boy has got pneumonia. he tells 'em ter take off de boys shirt an' grease him wid some tar, turpentine, an' kerosene, an' when dey starts ter take de shirt off dey fin's dat it am stuck. dey had ter grease de shirt ter git it off case de blood whar de oberseer beat him had stuck de shirt tight ter de skin. de marster wuz in de room an' he axed de boy how come it, an' de boy tole him. de marster sorta turns white an' he says ter me, 'will yo' go an' ast de oberseer ter stop hyar a minute, please?' when de oberseer comes up de steps he axes sorta sassy-like, 'what yo' want?' de marster says, 'pack yo' things an' git off'n my place as fast as yo' can, yo' pesky varmit.' de oberseer sasses de marster some more, an' den i sees de marster fairly loose his temper for de first time. he don't say a word but he walks ober, grabs de oberseer by de shoulder, sets his boot right hard 'ginst de seat of his pants an' sen's him, all drawed up, out in de yard on his face. he close up lak a umbrella for a minute den he pulls hisself all tergether an' he limps out'n dat yard an' we ain't neber seed him no more. no mam, dar wuzent no marryin' on de plantation dem days, an' as one ole 'oman raised all of de chilluns me an' my brother johnnie ain't neber knowed who our folkses wuz. johnnie wuz a little feller when de war ended, but i wuz in most of de things dat happen on de plantation fer a good while. one time dar, i done fergit de year, some white mens comes down de riber on a boat an' dey comes inter de fiel's an' talks ter a gang of us an' dey says dat our masters ain't treatin' us right. dey tells us dat we orter be paid fer our wuck, an' dat we hadn't ort ter hab passes ter go anywhar. dey also tells us dat we ort ter be allowed ter tote guns if we wants 'em. dey says too dat sometime our marsters was gwine ter kill us all. i laughs at 'em, but some of dem fool niggers listens ter 'em; an' it 'pears dat dese men gib de niggers some guns atter i left an' promised ter bring 'em some more de nex' week. i fin's out de nex' day 'bout dis an' i goes an' tells de marster. he sorta laughs an' scratches his head, 'dem niggers am headed fer trouble, dave, 'he says ter me, 'an i wants yo' ter help me.' i says, 'yas sar, marster.' an' he goes on, 'yo' fin's out when de rest of de guns comes dave, an' let me know.' when de men brings back de guns i tells de marster, an' i also tells him dat dey wants ter hold er meetin'. 'all right,' he says an' laughs, 'dey can have de meetin'. yo' tell 'em, dave, dat i said dat dey can meet on chuesday night in de pack house.' chuesday ebenin' he sen's dem all off to de low groun's but me, an' he tells me ter nail up de shutters ter de pack house an' ter nail 'em up good. i does lak he tells me ter do an' dat night de niggers marches in an' sneaks dar guns in too. i is lyin' up in de loft an' i hyars dem say dat atter de meetin' dey is gwine ter go up ter de big house an' kill de whole fambly. i gits out of de winder an' i runs ter de house an tells de marster. den me an' him an' de young marster goes out an' quick as lightnin', i slams de pack house door an' i locks it. den de marster yells at dem, 'i'se got men an' guns out hyar, he yells, 'an' if yo' doan throw dem guns out of de hole up dar in de loft, an' throw dem ebery one out i'se gwine ter stick fire ter dat pack house.' de niggers 'liberates for a few minutes an' den dey throws de guns out. i knows how many dey has got so i counts till dey throw dem all out, den i gathers up dem guns an' i totes 'em off ter de big house. well sar, we keeps dem niggers shet up fer about a week on short rations; an' at de end of dat time dem niggers am kyored for good. when dey comes out dey had three oberseers 'stid of one, an' de rules am stricter dan eber before; an' den de marster goes off ter de war. i reckon i was 'bout fifteen or sixteen den; an' de marster car's me 'long fer his pusonal sarvant an' body guard an' he leabes de rest of dem niggers in de fiel's ter wuck like de dickens while i laughs at dem yankees. jim belonged to mr. harley who lived in new hanover county during de war, in fac' he was young massa harley's slave; so when young massa tom went to de war jim went along too. dey wuz at manassas, dey tells me, when massa tom got kilt, and de orders wuz not to take no bodies off de field right den. course ole massa down near wilmington, doan know 'bout young massa tom, but one night dey hears jim holler at de gate. dey goes runnin' out; an' jim has brung massa tom's body all dat long ways home so dat he can be buried in de family burian ground. de massa frees jim dat night; but he stays on a time atter de war, an' tell de day he died he hated de yankees for killing massa tom. in fact we all hated de yankees, 'specially atter we hear 'bout starve dat first winter. i tried ter make a libin' fer me an' johnnie but it was bad goin'; den i comes ter raleigh an' i gits 'long better. atter i gits settled i brings johnnie, an' so we done putty good. dat's all i can tell yo' now miss, but if'n yo'll come back sometime i'll tell yo' de rest of de tales. shortly after the above interview uncle dave who was failing fast was taken to the county home, where he died. he was buried on may th, , the rest of the tale remaining untold. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave story person interviewed: clay bobbit editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] ex-slave story an interview with clay bobbit, of s. harrington street, raleigh, n. c., may , . i wuz borned may , in warren county to washington an' delisia bobbit. our marster wuz named richard bobbit, but we all calls him massa dick. massa dick ain't good ter us, an' on my arm hyar, jist above de elbow am a big scar dis day whar he whupped me wid a cowhide. he ain't whupped me fer nothin' 'cept dat i is a nigger. i had a whole heap of dem whuppin's, mostly case i won't obey his orders an' i'se seed slaves beat 'most ter deff. i wuz married onct 'fore de war by de broom stick ceremony, lak all de rest of de slaves wuz but shucks dey sold away my wife 'fore we'd been married a year an' den de war come on. i had one brother, henry who am wuckin' fer de city, an' one sister what wuz named deliah. she been daid dese many years now. massa dick owned a powerful big plantation an' ober a hundert slaves, an' we wucked on short rations an' went nigh naked. we ain't gone swimmin' ner huntin' ner nothin' an' we ain't had no pleasures 'less we runs away ter habe 'em. eben when we sings we had ter turn down a pot in front of de do' ter ketch de noise. i knowed some pore white trash; our oberseer wuz one, an' de shim shams[ ] wuz also nigh 'bout also. we ain't had no use fer none of 'em an' we shorely ain't carin' whe'her dey has no use fer us er not. de ku kluxes ain't done nothin' fer us case dar ain't many in our neighborhood. yo' see de yankees ain't come through dar, an' we is skeerd of dem anyhow. de white folks said dat de yankees would kill us if'en dey ketched us. i ain't knowed nothin' 'bout de yankees, ner de surrender so i stays on fer seberal months atter de wahr wuz ober, den i comes ter raleigh an' goes ter wuck fer de city. i wucks fer de city fer nigh on fifty years, i reckon, an' jis' lately i retired. i'se been sick fer 'bout four months an' on, de second day of may. de day when i wuz a hundert years old i warn't able ter git ter de city lot, but i got a lot uv presents. dis 'oman am my third lawful wife. i married her three years ago.[ ] [footnote : shim sham, free issues or negroes of mixed blood.] [footnote : the old man was too ill to walk out on the porch for his picture, and his mind wandered too much to give a connected account of his life.] n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave story story teller: henry bobbitt editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] ex-slave stories an interview with henry bobbitt, of raleigh, wake county n. c. may , by mary a. hicks. i wuz borned at warrenton in warren county in . my father wuz named washington, atter general washington an' my mamma wuz named diasia atter a woman in a story. us an' 'bout forty or fifty other slaves belonged ter mr. richard bobbitt an' we wucked his four hundred acres o' land fer him. i jist had one brother named clay, atter henry clay, which shows how massa dick voted, an' delilah, which shows dat ole missus read de bible. we farmed, makin' tobacco, cotton, co'n, wheat an' taters. massa dick had a whole passel o' fine horses an' our sunday job wuz ter take care of 'em, an' clean up round de house. yes mam, we wucked seben days a week, from sunup till sundown six days, an' from seben till three or four on a sunday. we didn't have many tear-downs an' prayer meetin's an' sich, case de fuss sturbed ole missus who wuz kinder sickly. when we did have sompin' we turned down a big wash-pot in front of de do', an' it took up de fuss, an' folkses in de yard can't hyar de fuss. de patterollers would git you iffen you went offen de premises widout a pass, an' dey said dat dey would beat you scandelous. i seed a feller dat dey beat onct an' he had scars as big as my fingers all ober his body. i got one whuppin' dat i 'members, an' dat wuz jist a middlin' one. de massa told me ter pick de cotton an' i sot down in de middle an' didn't wuck a speck. de oberseer come an' he frailed me wid a cotton-stalk; he wuz a heap meaner ter de niggers dan massa dick wuz. i saw some niggers what wuz beat bad, but i ain't neber had no bad beatin'. we libed in log houses wid sand floors an' stick an' dirt chimneys an' we warn't 'lowed ter have no gyarden, ner chickens, ner pigs. we ain't had no way o' makin' money an' de fun wuz only middlin'. we had ter steal what rabbits we et from somebody elses [tr correction: else's] boxes on some udder plantation, case de massa won't let us have none o' our own, an' we ain't had no time ter hunt ner fish. now talkin' 'bout sompin' dat we'd git a whuppin' fer, dat wuz fer havin' a pencil an' a piece of paper er a slate. iffen you jist looked lak you wanted ter larn ter read er write you got a lickin'. dar wuz two colored women lived nigh us an' dey wuz called "free issues," but dey wuz really witches. i ain't really seen 'em do nothin' but i hyard a whole lot 'bout 'em puttin' spells on folkses an' i seed tracks whar day had rid massa dick's hosses an' eber mo'nin' de hosses manes an' tails would be all twisted an' knotted up. i know dat dey done dat case i seed it wid my own eyes. dey doctored lots of people an' our folkses ain't neber had no doctor fer nothin' dat happen. you wuz axin' 'bout de slave sales, an' i want ter tell you dat i has seen some real sales an' i'se seed niggers, whole bunches of' em, gwin' ter richmond ter be sold. dey wuz mostly chained, case dey wuz new ter de boss, an' he doan know what ter 'spect. i'se seed some real sales in warrenton too, an' de mammies would be sold from deir chilluns an' dare would be a whole heap o' cryin' an' mou'nin' 'bout hit. i tell you folkses ain't lak dey uster be, 'specially niggers. uster be when a nigger cries he whoops an' groans an' hollers an' his whole body rocks, an' dat am de way dey done sometime at de sales. speakin' 'bout haints: i'se seed a whole lot o' things, but de worst dat eber happen wuz 'bout twenty years ago when a han'ts hand hit me side o' de haid. i bet dat hand weighed a hundred pounds an' it wuz as cold as ice. i ain't been able ter wuck fer seben days an' nights an' i still can't turn my haid far ter de left as you sees. i reckon 'bout de funniest thing 'bout our plantation wuz de marryin'. a couple got married by sayin' dat dey wuz, but it couldn't last fer longer dan five years. dat wuz so iffen one of 'em got too weakly ter have chilluns de other one could git him another wife or husban'. i 'members de day moughty well when de yankees come. massa dick he walked de floor an' cussed sherman fer takin' his niggers away. all o' de niggers lef', of course, an' me, i walked clean ter raleigh ter find out if i wuz really free, an' i couldn't unnerstan' half of it. well de first year i slept in folkses woodhouses an' barns an' in de woods or any whar else i could find. i wucked hyar an' dar, but de folkses' jist give me sompin' ter eat an' my clothes wuz in strings' fore de spring o' de year. yo' axes me what i thinks of massa lincoln? well, i thinks dat he wuz doin' de wust thing dat he could ter turn all dem fool niggers loose when dey ain't got no place ter go an' nothin' ter eat. who helped us out den? hit wuzn't de yankees, hit wuz de white folkses what wuz left wid deir craps in de fiel's, an' wuz robbed by dem yankees, ter boot. my ole massa, fur instance, wuz robbed uv his fine hosses an' his feed stuff an' all dem kaigs o' liquor what he done make hisself, sides his money an' silver. slavery wuz a good thing den, but de world jist got better an' outgrowed it. eh n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: herndon bogan story teller: herndon bogan editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] herndon bogan ex-slave story an interview with herndon bogan, (?) of state prison, raleigh, n. c. i wus bawned in union county, south carolina on de plantation o' doctor bogan, who owned both my mammy issia, an' my pap edwin. dar wus six o' us chilluns; clara, lula, joe, tux, mack an' me. i doan' member much 'bout slavery days 'cept dat my white folkses wus good ter us. dar wus a heap o' slaves, maybe a hundert an' fifty. i 'members dat we wucked hard, but we had plenty ter eat an' w'ar, eben iffen we did w'ar wood shoes. i kin barely recolleck 'fore de war dat i'se seed a heap o' cocks fightin' in pits an' a heap o' horse racin'. when de marster winned he 'ud give us niggers a big dinner or a dance, but if he lost, oh! my daddy wus gived ter de doctor when de doctor wus married an' dey shore loved each other. one day marster, he comes in an' he sez dat de yankees am aimin' ter try ter take his niggers way from him, but dat dey am gwine ter ketch hell while dey does hit. when he sez dat he starts ter walkin' de flo'. 'i'se gwine ter leave yore missus in yore keer, edwin,' he sez. but pa 'lows, 'wid all respec' fer yore wife sar, she am a yankee too, an' i'd ruther go wid you ter de war. please sar, massa, let me go wid you ter fight dem yanks.' at fust massa 'fuses, den he sez, 'all right.' so off dey goes ter de war, massa on a big hoss, an' my pap on a strong mule 'long wid de blankets an' things. dey tells me dat ole massa got shot one night, an' dat pap grabs de gun 'fore hit hits de earth an' lets de yanks have hit. i 'members dat dem wus bad days fer south carolina, we gived all o' de food ter de soldiers, an' missus, eben do' she has got some yankee folks in de war, l'arns ter eat cabbages an' kush an' berries. i 'members dat on de day of de surrender, leastways de day dat we hyard 'bout hit, up comes a yankee an' axes ter see my missus. i is shakin', i is dat skeerd, but i bucks up an' i tells him dat my missus doan want ter see no blue coat. he grins, an' tells me ter skedaddle, an' 'bout den my missus comes out an' so help me iffen she doan hug dat dratted yank. atter awhile i gathers dat he's her brother, but at fust i ain't seed no sense in her cryin' an' sayin' 'thank god', over an' over. well sar, de massa an' pap what had gone off mad an' healthy an' ridin' fine beastes comes back walkin' an' dey looked sick. massa am white as cotton, an' so help me, iffen my pap, who wuz black as sin, ain't pale too. atter a few years i goes ter wuck in spartanburg as a houseboy, den i gits a job wid de southern railroad an' i goes ter charlotte ter night-watch de tracks. i stays dar eighteen years, but one night i kills a white hobo who am tryin' ter rob me o' my gol' watch an' chain, an' dey gives me eighteen months. i'se been hyar six already. he wus a white man, an' jist a boy, an' i is sorry, but i comes hyar anyhow. i hyard a ole 'oman in charlotte tell onct 'bout witchin' in slavery times, dar in mecklenburg county. she wus roun' ninety, so i reckon she knows. she said dat iffen anybody wanted ter be a witch he would draw a circle on de groun' jist at de aidge o' dark an' git in de circle an' squat down. dar he had ter set an' talk ter de debil, an' he mus' say, 'i will have nothin' ter do wid 'ligion, an' i wants you ter make me a witch.' atter day he mus' bile a black cat, a bat an' a bunch of herbs an' drink de soup, den he wuz really a witch. when you wanted ter witch somebody, she said dat you could take dat stuff, jist a little bit of hit an' put hit under dat puson's doorsteps an' dey'd be sick. you could go thru' de key hole or down de chimney or through de chinks in a log house, an' you could ride a puson jist lak ridin' a hoss. dat puson can keep you outen his house by layin' de broom 'fore de do' an' puttin' a pin cushion full of pins side of de bed do', iffen he's a mind to. dat puson can kill you too, by drawin' yore pitcher an' shootin' hit in de haid or de heart too. dar's a heap o' ways ter tell fortunes dat she done tol' me but i'se done forgot now 'cept coffee groun's an' a little of de others. you can't tell hit wid 'em do', case hit takes knowin' how, hit shore does. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: , subject: andrew boone story teller: andrew boone editor: g. l. andrews andrew boone age years. wake county, north carolina. harris farm. i been living in dese backer barns fifteen years. i built this little shelter to cook under. dey cut me off the wpa cause dey said i wus too ole to work. dey tole us ole folks we need not put down our walkin' sticks to git work cause dey jes' won't goin' to put us on. well, i had some tomatoes cooked widout any grease for my breakfast. i had a loaf of bread yesterday, but i et it. i ain't got any check from the ole age pension an' i have nothin' to eat an' i am hongry. i jes' looks to god. i set down by de road thinkin' bout how to turn an' what to do to git a meal, when you cum along. i thanks you fer dis dime. i guess god made you give it to me. i wus glad to take you down to my livin' place to give you my story. dis shelter, an ole tobacco barn, is better dan no home at all. i is a man to myself an' i enjoy livin' out here if i could git enough to eat. well de big show is coming to town. it's de devil's wurk. yes sir, it's de devil's wurk. why dem show folks ken make snakes an' make 'em crawl too. dere wus one in watson field in de edge of raleigh not long ago an' he made snakes an' made 'em crawl too. all shows is de devil's wurk. i never done anything fer myself in all my life. i always wurked fer de rebels. i stuck right to 'em. didn't have no sense fer doin' dat i guess. one time a rebel saw a yankee wid one eye, one leg an' one arm. de yankee wus beggin'. de rebel went up to him an' give him a quarter. den he backed off an' jes' stood a-lookin' at de yankee, presently he went back an' give him anudder quarter, den anudder, den he said, 'you take dis whole dollar, you is de first yankee i eber seed trimmed up jes' to my notion, so take all dis, jes' take de whole dollar, you is trimmed up to my notion'. i belonged to billy boone in slavery time. he wus a preacher. he lived on an' owned a plantation in northampton county. the plantation wus near woodland. the nearest river to the place wus the roanoke. my ole missus' name wus nancy. when ole marster died i stayed around wid fust one then another of the chilluns, cause marster tole me jes' fore he died fer me to stay wid any of 'em i wanted to stay with. all dem ole people done dead an' gone on. niggers had to go through thick an' thin in slavery time, with rough rations most of de time, wid jes' enough clothin' to make out wid. our houses were built of logs an' covered wid slabs. dey wus rived out of blocks of trees about - and ft in length. de chimleys wus built of sticks and mud, den a coat of clay mud daubed over 'em. de cracks in de slave houses wus daubed wid mud too. we wurked from sun to sun. if we had a fire in cold weather where we wus wurkin' marster or de overseer would come an' put it out. we et frozen meat an' bread many times in cold weather. after de day's wurk in de fields wus over we had a task of pickin' de seed from cotton till we had two ounces of lint or spin two ounces of cotton on a spinnin' wheel. i spun cotton on a spinnin' wheel. dats de way people got clothes in slavery time. i can't read an' write but dey learned us to count. dey learned us to count dis way. 'ought is an' ought, an' a figger is a figger, all for de white man an' nothin' fer de nigger'. hain't you heard people count dat way? dey sold slaves jes' like people sell hosses now. i saw a lot of slaves sold on de auction block. dey would strip 'em stark naked. a nigger scarred up or whaled an' welted up wus considered a bad nigger an' did not bring much. if his body wus not scarred, he brought a good price. i saw a lot of slaves whupped an' i was whupped myself. dey whupped me wid de cat o' nine tails. it had nine lashes on it. some of de slaves wus whupped wid a cabbin paddle. dey had forty holes in' em an' when you wus buckled to a barrel dey hit your naked flesh wid de paddle an' every whur dere wus a hole in de paddle it drawed a blister. when de whuppin' wid de paddle wus over, dey took de cat o' nine tails an' busted de blisters. by dis time de blood sometimes would be runnin' down dere heels. den de next thing wus a wash in salt water strong enough to hold up an egg. slaves wus punished dat way fer runnin' away an' sich. if you wus out widout a pass dey would shore git you. de paterollers shore looked after you. dey would come to de house at night to see who wus there. if you wus out of place, dey would wear you out. sam joyner, a slave, belonged to marster. he wus runnin' from de paterollers an' he fell in a ole well. de pateroller went after marster. marster tole' em to git ole sam out an' whup him jes' as much as dey wanted to. dey got him out of de well an' he wus all wet an' muddy. sam began takin' off his shoes, den he took off his pants an' got in his shirt tail. marster, he say, 'what you takin' off you clothes fer sam?' sam, he say, 'marster, you know you all can't whup dis nigger right over all dese wet clothes.' den sam lit out. he run so fas' he nearly flew. de paterollers got on dere hosses an' run him but dey could not ketch him. he got away. marster got sam's clothes an' carried 'em to de house. sam slipped up next morning put his clothes on an' marster said no more about it. i wus a great big boy when de yankees come through. i wus drivin' a two mule team an' doin' other wurk on de farm. i drove a two hoss wagon when dey carried slaves to market. i went to a lot of different places. my marster wus a preacher, billy boone. he sold an' bought niggers. he had fifty or more. he wurked the grown niggers in two squads. my father wus named isham boone and my mother wus sarah boone. marster boone whupped wid de cobbin paddle an' de cat o' nine tails an' used the salt bath an' dat wus 'nough. plenty besides him whupped dat way. marster had one son, named solomon, an' two girls, elsie an' alice. my mother had four children, three boys an' one girl. the boys were named sam, walter and andrew, dats me, an' de girl wus cherry. my father had several children cause he had several women besides mother. mollie and lila lassiter, two sisters, were also his women. dese women wus given to him an' no udder man wus allowed to have anything to do wid 'em. mollie an' lila both had chilluns by him. dere names wus jim, mollie, liza, rosa, pete an' i can't remember no more of 'em. de yankees took jes' what dey wanted an' nothin' stopped 'em, cause de surrender had come. before de surrender de slave owners begun to scatter de slaves 'bout from place to place to keep de yankees from gittin' 'em. if de yankees took a place de slaves nearby wus moved to a place further off. all i done wus fer de rebels. i wus wid 'em an' i jes' done what i wus tole. i wus afraid of de yankees 'cause de rebels had told us dat de yankees would kill us. dey tole us dat de yankees would bore holes in our shoulders an' wurk us to carts. dey tole us we would be treated a lot worser den dey wus treating us. well, de yankees got here but they treated us fine. den a story went round an' round dat de marster would have to give de slaves a mule an' a year's provisions an' some lan', about forty acres, but dat was not so. dey nebber did give us anything. when de war ended an' we wus tole we wus free, we stayed on wid marster cause we had nothin' an' nowhere to go. we moved about from farm to farm. mother died an' father married maria edwards after de surrender. he did not live wid any of his other slave wives dat i knows of. i have wurked as a han' on de farm most of de time since de surrender and daddy worked most of de time as a han', but he had gardens an' patches most everywhere he wurked. i wurked in new york city for fifteen years with crawford and banhay in de show business. i advertised for 'em. i dressed in a white suit, white shirt, an' white straw hat, and wore tan shoes. i had to be a purty boy. i had to have my shoes shined twice a day. i lived at manilla lane, new york city. it is between mcdougall street and th avenue. i married clara taylor in new york city. we had two children. the oldest one lives in new york. the other died an' is buried in raleigh. in slavery time they kept you down an' you had to wurk, now i can't wurk, an' i am still down. not allowed to wurk an' still down. it's all hard, slavery and freedom, both bad when you can't eat. the ole bees makes de honey comb, the young bee makes de honey, niggers makes de cotton an' corn an' de white folks gets de money. dis wus de case in slavery time an' its de case now. de nigger do mos' de hard wurk on de farms now, and de white folks still git de money dat de nigger's labor makes. le state editorial identification form [ ] state: north carolina received from: (state office) asheville ms: interview with w. l. bost, ex-slave. words: , date: sept. , interview with w. l. bost, ex-slave [hw: years] curve street, asheville, n. c. by--marjorie jones my massa's name was jonas bost. he had a hotel in newton, north carolina. my mother and grandmother both belonged to the bost family. my ole massa had two large plantations one about three miles from newton and another four miles away. it took a lot of niggers to keep the work a goin' on them both. the women folks had to work in the hotel and in the big house in town. ole missus she was a good woman. she never allowed the massa to buy or sell any slaves. there never was an overseer on the whole plantation. the oldest colored man always looked after the niggers. we niggers lived better than the niggers on the other plantations. lord child, i remember when i was a little boy, 'bout ten years, the speculators come through newton with droves of slaves. they always stay at our place. the poor critters nearly froze to death. they always come 'long on the last of december so that the niggers would be ready for sale on the first day of january. many the time i see four or five of them chained together. they never had enough clothes on to keep a cat warm. the women never wore anything but a thin dress and a petticoat and one underwear. i've seen the ice balls hangin' on to the bottom of their dresses as they ran along, jes like sheep in a pasture 'fore they are sheared. they never wore any shoes. jes run along on the ground, all spewed up with ice. the speculators always rode on horses and drove the pore niggers. when they get cold, they make 'em run 'til they are warm again. the speculators stayed in the hotel and put the niggers in the quarters jes like droves of hogs. all through the night i could hear them mournin' and prayin'. i didn't know the lord would let people live who were so cruel. the gates were always locked and they was a guard on the outside to shoot anyone who tried to run away. lord miss, them slaves look jes like droves of turkeys runnin' along in front of them horses. i remember when they put 'em on the block to sell 'em. the ones 'tween and always bring the most money. the auctioneer he stand off at a distance and cry 'em off as they stand on the block. i can hear his voice as long as i live. if the one they going to sell was a young negro man this is what he say: "now gentlemen and fellow-citizens here is a big black buck negro. he's stout as a mule. good for any kin' o' work an' he never gives any trouble. how much am i offered for him?" and then the sale would commence, and the nigger would be sold to the highest bidder. if they put up a young nigger woman the auctioneer cry out: "here's a young nigger wench, how much am i offered for her?" the pore thing stand on the block a shiverin' an' a shakin' nearly froze to death. when they sold many of the pore mothers beg the speculators to sell 'em with their husbands, but the speculator only take what he want. so meybe the pore thing never see her husban' agin. ole' massa always see that we get plenty to eat. o' course it was no fancy rashions. jes corn bread, milk, fat meat, and 'lasses but the lord knows that was lots more than other pore niggers got. some of them had such bad masters. us pore niggers never 'lowed to learn anything. all the readin' they ever hear was when they was carried through the big bible. the massa say that keep the slaves in they places. they was one nigger boy in newton who was terrible smart. he learn to read an' write. he take other colored children out in the fields and teach 'em about the bible, but they forgit it 'fore the nex' sunday. then the paddyrollers they keep close watch on the pore niggers so they have no chance to do anything or go anywhere. they jes' like policemen, only worser. 'cause they never let the niggers go anywhere without a pass from his master. if you wasn't in your proper place when the paddyrollers come they lash you til' you was black and blue. the women got lashes and the men . that is for jes bein' out without a pass. if the nigger done anything worse he was taken to the jail and put in the whippin' post. they was two holes cut for the arms stretch up in the air and a block to put your feet in, then they whip you with cowhide whip. an' the clothes shore never get any of them licks. i remember how they kill one nigger whippin' him with the bull whip. many the pore nigger nearly killed with the bull whip. but this one die. he was a stubborn negro and didn't do as much work as his massa thought he ought to. he been lashed lot before. so they take him to the whippin' post, and then they strip his clothes off and then the man stan' off and cut him with the whip. his back was cut all to pieces. the cuts about half inch apart. then after they whip him they tie him down and put salt on him. then after he lie in the sun awhile they whip him agin. but when they finish with him he was dead. plenty of the colored women have children by the white men. she know better than to not do what he say. didn't have much of that until the men from south carolina come up here and settle and bring slaves. then they take them very same children what have they own blood and make slaves out of them. if the missus find out she raise revolution. but she hardly find out. the white men not going to tell and the nigger women were always afraid to. so they jes go on hopin' that thing won't be that way always. i remember how the driver, he was the man who did most of the whippin', use to whip some of the niggers. he would tie their hands together and then put their hands down over their knees, then take a stick and stick it 'tween they hands and knees. then when he take hold of them and beat 'em first on one side then on the other. us niggers never have chance to go to sunday school and church. the white folks feared for niggers to get any religion and education, but i reckon somethin' inside jes told us about god and that there was a better place hereafter. we would sneak off and have prayer meetin'. sometimes the paddyrollers catch us and beat us good but that didn't keep us from tryin'. i remember one old song we use to sing when we meet down in the woods back of the barn. my mother she sing an' pray to the lord to deliver us out o' slavery. she always say she thankful she was never sold from her children, and that our massa not so mean as some of the others. but the old song it went something like this: "oh, mother lets go down, lets go down, lets go down, lets go down. oh, mother lets go down, down in the valley to pray. as i went down in the valley to pray studyin' about that good ole way who shall wear that starry crown. good lord show me the way." then the other part was just like that except it said 'father' instead of 'mother', and then 'sister' and then 'brother'. then they sing sometime: "we camp a while in the wilderness, in the wilderness, in the wilderness. we camp a while in the wilderness, where the lord makes me happy and then i'm a goin' home." i don't remember much about the war. there was no fightin' done in newton. jes a skirmish or two. most of the people get everything jes ready to run when the yankee sojers come through the town. this was toward the las' of the war. cose the niggers knew what all the fightin' was about, but they didn't dare say anything. the man who owned the slaves was too mad as it was, and if the niggers say anything they get shot right then and thar. the sojers tell us after the war that we get food, clothes, and wages from our massas else we leave. but they was very few that ever got anything. our ole massa say he not gwine pay us anything, corse his money was no good, but he wouldn't pay us if it had been. then the ku klux klan come 'long. they were terrible dangerous. they wear long gowns, touch the ground. they ride horses through the town at night and if they find a negro that tries to get nervy or have a little bit for himself, they lash him nearly to death and gag him and leave him to do the bes' he can. some time they put sticks in the top of the tall thing they wear and then put an extra head up there with scary eyes and great big mouth, then they stick it clear up in the air to scare the poor negroes to death. they had another thing they call the 'donkey devil' that was jes as bad. they take the skin of a donkey and get inside of it and run after the pore negroes. oh, miss them was bad times, them was bad times. i know folks think the books tell the truth, but they shore don't. us pore niggers had to take it all. then after the war was over we was afraid to move. jes like tarpins or turtles after 'mancipation. jes stick our heads out to see how the land lay. my mammy stay with marse jonah for 'bout a year after freedom then ole solomon hall made her an offer. ole man hall was a good man if there ever was one. he freed all of his slaves about two years 'fore 'mancipation and gave each of them so much money when he died, that is he put that in his will. but when he die his sons and daughters never give anything to the pore negroes. my mother went to live on the place belongin' to the nephew of solomon hall. all of her six children went with her. mother she cook for the white folks an' the children make crop. when the first year was up us children got the first money we had in our lives. my mother certainly was happy. we live on this place for over four years. when i was 'bout twenty year old i married a girl from west virginia but she didn't live but jes 'bout a year. i stayed down there for a year or so and then i met mamie. we came here and both of us went to work, we work at the same place. we bought this little piece of ground 'bout forty-two years ago. we gave $ for it. we had to buy the lumber to build the house a little at a time but finally we got the house done. its been a good home for us and the children. we have two daughters and one adopted son. both of the girls are good cooks. one of them lives in new jersey and cooks in a big hotel. she and her husband come to see us about once a year. the other one is in philadelphia. they both have plenty. but the adopted boy, he was part white. we took him when he was a small and did the best we could by him. he never did like to 'sociate with colored people. i remember one time when he was a small child i took him to town and the conductor made me put him in the front of the street car cause he thought i was just caring for him and that he was a white boy. well, we sent him to school until he finished. then he joined the navy. i ain't seem him in several years. the last letter i got from him he say he ain't spoke to a colored girl since he has been there. this made me mad so i took his insurance policy and cashed it. i didn't want nothin' to do with him, if he deny his own color. very few of the negroes ever get anywhere; they never have no education. i knew one negro who got to be a policeman in salisbury once and he was a good one too. when my next birthday comes in december i will be eighty-eight years old. that is if the lord lets me live and i shore hope he does. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: travis jordan subject: mary wallace bowe ex-slave years durham county home durham, n. c. [hw: lovely story about abraham lincoln] [tr: this interview was heavily corrected by hand. i.e. wuz to was, er to a, etc. changes made without comment.] mary wallace bowe ex-slave years my name is mary wallace bowe. i was nine years ole at de surrender. my mammy an' pappy, susan an' lillman graves, first belonged to marse fountain an' mis' fanny tu'berville, but marse fountain sold me, my mammy an' my brother george to mis' fanny's sister, mis' virginia graves. mis' virginia's husban' was marse doctor graves. dey lived on de ole elijah graves estate not far from marse fountain's plantation here in durham county, an' mis' virginia an' mis' fanny seed each other near 'bout every day. i was little when marse fountain an' marse doctor went to de war but i remembers it. i remembers it kaze mis' fanny stood on de po'ch smilin' an' wavin' at marse fountain 'til he went 'roun' de curve in de road, den she fell to de floor like she was dead. i thought she was dead 'till mis' virginia th'owed some water in her face an' she opened her eyes. de nex day mis' virginia took me an' mammy an' we all went over an' stayed wid mis' fanny kaze she was skeered, an' so dey'd be company for each other. mammy waited on mis' virginia an' he'ped surella tu'berville, mis' fanny's house girl, sweep an' make up de beds an' things. i was little but mammy made me work. i shook de rugs, brung in de kindlin' an run 'roun' waitin' on mis' virginia an' mis' fanny, doin' things like totin' dey basket of keys, bringin' dey shawls and such as dat. dey was all de time talkin' about de folks fightin' an' what dey would do if de yankees come. every time dey talk mis' fanny set an' twist her han's an' say: "what is we gwine do, sister, what is we gwine do?" mis' virginia try to pacify mis' fanny. she say, 'don' yo' worry none, honey, i'll fix dem yankees when dey come.' den she set her mouf. when she done dat i run an' hid behin' mis' fanny's chair kaze i done seed mis' virginia set her mouf befo' an' i knowed she meant biznes'. i didn' have sense enough to be skeered den kaze i hadn' never seed no yankee sojers, but 'twaren't long befo' i wuz skeered. de yankees come one mornin', an' dey ripped, oh, lawd, how dey did rip. when dey rode up to de gate an' come stompin' to de house, mis' fanny 'gun to cry. 'tell dem somethin', sister, tell dem somethin'; she tole mis' virginia. mis' virginia she ain' done no cryin'. when she seed dem yankees comin' 'cross de hill, she run 'roun' an' got all de jewelry. she took off de rings an' pins she an' mis' fanny had on an' she got all de things out of de jewelry box an' give dem to pappy. "hide dem, lillmam" she tole pappy, 'hide dem some place whare dem thieves won't find dem'. pappy had on high top boots. he didn' do nothin but stuff all dat jewelry right down in dem boots, den he strutted all' roun' dem yankees laughin' to heself. dey cussed when dey couldn' fin' no jewelry a tall. dey didn' fin' no silver neither kaze us niggers done he'p mis' fanny an' mis' virginia hide dat. we done toted it all down to de cottin gin house an' hid it in de loose cotton piled on de floor. when dey couldn' fin' nothin' a big sojer went up to mis' virginia who wuz standin' in de hall. he look at her an' say: 'yo's skeered of me, ain' yo'?' mis' virginia ain' batted no eye yet. she tole him, "if i was gwine to be skeered, i'd be skeered of somethin'. i sho ain' of no ugly, braggin' yankee." de man tu'ned red an he say: "if you don' tell me where you done hide dat silver i'se gwine to make' you skeered." mis' virginia's chin went up higher. she set her mouf an' look at dat sojer twell he drap his eyes. den she tole him dat some folks done come an' got de silver, dat dey done toted it off. she didn' tell him dat it wuz us niggers dat done toted it down to de cotton gin house. in dem days dey wuz peddlers gwine 'roun' de country sellin' things. dey toted big packs on dey backs filled wid everythin' from needles an' thimbles to bed spreads an' fryin' pans. one day a peddler stopped at mis' fanny's house. he was de uglies' man i ever seed. he was tall an' bony wid black whiskers an' black bushy hair an' curious eyes dat set way back in his head. dey was dark an' look like a dog's eyes after you done hit him. he set down on de po'ch an' opened his pack, an' it was so hot an' he looked so tired, dat mis' fanny give him er cool drink of milk dat done been settin' in de spring house. all de time mis' fanny was lookin' at de things in de pack an' buyin', de man kept up a runnin' talk. he ask her how many niggers dey had; how many men dey had fightin' on de 'federate side, an' what wuz was she gwine do if de niggers wuz was set free. den he ask her if she knowed mistah abraham lincoln. 'bout dat time mis' virginia come to de door an' heard what he said. she blaze up like a lightwood fire an' told dat peddler dat dey didn't want to know nothin' 'bout mistah lincoln; dat dey knowed too much already, an' dat his name wuzn [hw correction: wasn't] 'lowed called in dat [hw correction: her] house. den she say he wuzn [hw correction: wasn't] nothin' but a black debil messin' in other folks biznes' [hw correction: business], an' dat she'd shoot him on sight if she had half a chance. de man laughed. "maybe he [hw correction: mr. lincoln] ain't so bad,' he told her. den he packed his pack an' went off down de road, an' mis' virginia watched him 'till he went out of sight 'roun' de bend." two or three weeks later mis' fanny got a letter. de letter was from dat peddler. he tole her dat he was abraham lincoln hese'f; dat he wuz peddlin' over de country as a spy, an' he thanked her for de res' on her shady po'ch an' de cool glass of milk she give him. when dat letter come mis' virginia got so hoppin' mad dat she took all de stuff mis' fanny done bought from mistah lincoln an' made us niggers burn it on de ash pile. den she made pappy rake up de ashes an' th'ow dem in de creek. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave recollections person interviewed: lucy brown editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] ex-slave recollections an interview with lucy brown of hecktown, durham, durham county, may , . she does not know her age. i wuz jist a little thing when de war wuz over an' i doan 'member much ter tell yo'. mostly what i does know i hyard my mammy tell it. we belonged to john neal of person county. i doan know who my pappy wuz, but my mammy wuz named rosseta an' her mammy's name 'fore her wuz rosseta. i had one sister named jenny an' one brother named ben. de marster wuz good ter us, in a way, but he ain't 'lowin' no kinds of frolickin' so when we had a meetin' we had ter do it secret. we'd turn down a wash pot outside de do', an' dat would ketch de fuss so marster neber knowed nothin' 'bout hit. on sundays we went ter church at de same place de white folkses did. de white folkses rid an' de niggers walked, but eben do' we wored wooden bottomed shoes we wuz proud an' mostly happy. we had good clothes an' food an' not much abuse. i doan know de number of slaves, i wuz so little. my mammy said dat slavery wuz a whole lot wuser [hw correction: wusser] 'fore i could 'member. she tol' me how some of de slaves had dere babies in de fiel's lak de cows done, an' she said dat 'fore de babies wuz borned dey tied de mammy down on her face if'en dey had ter whup her ter keep from ruinin' de baby. she said dat dar wuz ghostes an' some witches back den, but i doan know nothin' 'bout dem things. naw. i can't tell yo' my age but i will tell yo' dat eber'body what lives in dis block am either my chile or gran'chile. i can't tell yo' prexackly how many dar is o' 'em, but i will tell you dat my younges' chile's baby am fourteen years old, an' dat she's got fourteen youngin's [hw correction: youngun's], one a year jist lak i had till i had sixteen. i'se belonged ter de church since i wuz a baby an' i tells dem eber'day dat dey shore will miss me when i'se gone. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary hicks no. words: subject: plantation life in georgia reference: midge burnett editor: george l. andrews [tr: date stamp "aug "] plantation life in georgia an interview with midge burnett, years old, of s. bloodworth street, raleigh, north carolina. i wus borned in georgia eighty years ago, de son of jim an' henretta burnett an' de slave of marse william joyner. i wurked on de farm durin' slavery times, among de cotton, corn, an' sugar cane. de wurk wusn't so hard an' we had plenty of time ter have fun an' ter git inter meanness, dat's why marse william had ter have so many patterollers on de place. marse william had near three hundret slaves an' he kept seben patterollers ter keep things goin' eben. de slaves ain't run away. naw sir, dey ain't, dey knows good things when dey sees dem an' dey ain't leavin' dem nother. de only trouble wus dat dey wus crazy 'bout good times an' dey'd shoot craps er bust. de patterollers 'ud watch all de paths leadin' frum de plantation an' when dey ketched a nigger leavin' dey whupped him an' run him home. as i said de patterollers watched all paths, but dar wus a number of little paths what run through de woods dat nobody ain't watched case dey ain't knowed dat de paths wus dar. on moonlight nights yo' could hear a heap of voices an' when yo' peep ober de dike dar am a gang of niggers a-shootin' craps an' bettin' eber'thing dey has stold frum de plantation. sometimes a pretty yaller gal er a fat black gal would be dar, but mostly hit would be jist men. dar wus a ribber nearby de plantation an' we niggers swum dar ever' sadday an' we fished dar a heap too. we ketched a big mess of fish ever' week an' dese come in good an' helped ter save rations ter boot. dat's what marse william said, an' he believed in havin' a good time too. we had square dances dat las' all night on holidays an' we had a christmas tree an' a easter egg hunt an' all dat, case marse william intended ter make us a civilized bunch of blacks. marse william ain't eber hit one of us a single lick till de day when we heard dat de yankees wus a-comin'. one big nigger jumps up an' squalls, 'lawd bless de yankees'. marse yells back, 'god damn de yankees', an' he slaps big mose a sumerset right outen de do'. nobody else wanted ter git slapped soe ever'body got outen dar in a hurry an' nobody else dasen't say yankees ter de marster. eben when somebody seed de yankees comin' mose wont go tell de' marster 'bout hit, but when marster william wus hilt tight twixt two of dem big husky yankees he cussed 'em as hard as he can. dey carries him off an' dey put him in de jail at atlanta an' dey keeps him fer a long time. atter de surrender we left dar an' we moves ter star, south carolina, whar i still wurks 'roun' on de farm. i stayed on dar' till fifty years ago when i married roberta thomas an' we moved ter raliegh. we have five chilluns an' we's moughty proud of 'em, but since i had de stroke we has been farin' bad, an' i'se hopin' ter git my ole aged pension. eh n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: travis jordan subject: fanny cannady ex-slave years durham county [tr no. words: , ] [tr: no date stamp] fanny cannady ex-slave years i don' 'member much 'bout de sojers an' de fightin' in de war kaze i wuzn' much more den six years ole at de surrender, but i do 'member how marse jordan moss shot leonard allen, one of his slaves. i ain't never forgot dat. my mammy an' pappy, silo an' fanny moss belonged to marse jordan an' mis' sally moss. dey had 'bout three hundred niggahs an' mos' of dem worked in de cotton fields. marse jordan wuz hard on his niggahs. he worked dem over time an' didn' give den enough to eat. dey didn' have good clothes neither an' dey shoes wuz made out of wood. he had 'bout a dozen niggahs dat didn' do nothin' else but make wooden shoes for de slaves. de chillun didn' have no shoes a tall; dey went barefooted in de snow an' ice same as 'twuz summer time. i never had no shoes on my feets 'twell i wuz pas' ten years ole, an' dat wuz after de yankees done set us free. i wuz skeered of marse jordan, an' all of de grown niggahs wuz too 'cept leonard an' burrus allen. dem niggahs wuzn' skeered of nothin'. if de debil hese'f had come an' shook er stick at dem dey'd hit him back. leonard wuz er big black buck niggah; he wuz de bigges niggah i ever seed, an' burrus wuz near 'bout as big, an' dey 'spized marse jordan wus'n pizen. i wuz sort of skeered of mis' polly too. when marse jordan wuzn' 'roun' she wuz sweet an' kind, but when he wuz 'roun', she wuz er yes, suh, yes, suh, woman. everythin' he tole her to do she done. he made her slap marmy one time kaze when she passed his coffee she spilled some in de saucer. mis' sally hit mammy easy, but marse jordan say: 'hit her, sally, hit de black bitch like she 'zerve to be hit.' den mis' sally draw back her hand an' hit mammy in de face, pow, den she went back to her place at de table an' play like she eatin' her breakfas'. den when marse jordan leave she come in de kitchen an' put her arms 'roun' mammy an' cry, an' mammy pat her on de back an' she cry too. i loved mis' sally when marse jordan wuzn' 'roun'. marse jordan's two sons went to de war; dey went all dressed up in dey fightin' clothes. young marse jordan wuz jus' like mis' sally but marse gregory wuz like marse jordan, even to de bully way he walk. young marse jordan never come back from de war, but 'twould take more den er bullet to kill marse gregory; he too mean to die anyhow kaze de debil didn' want him an' de lawd wouldn' have him. one day marse gregory come home on er furlo'. he think he look pretty wid his sword clankin' an' his boots shinin'. he wuz er colonel, lootenent er somethin'. he wuz struttin' 'roun' de yard showin' off, when leonard allen say under his breath, 'look at dat god damn sojer. he fightin' to keep us niggahs from bein' free.' 'bout dat time marse jordan come up. he look at leonard an' say: 'what yo' mumblin' 'bout?' dat big leonard wuzn' skeered. he say, i say, 'look at dat god damn sojer. he fightin' to keep us niggahs from bein' free.' marse jordan's face begun to swell. it turned so red dat de blood near 'bout bust out. he turned to pappy an' tole him to go an' bring him dis shot gun. when pappy come back mis' sally come wid him. de tears wuz streamin' down her face. she run up to marse jordan an' caught his arm. ole marse flung her off an' took de gun from pappy. he leveled it on leonard an' tole him to pull his shirt open. leonard opened his shirt an' stood dare big as er black giant sneerin' at ole marse. den mis' sally run up again an' stood 'tween dat gun an' leonard. ole marse yell to pappy an' tole him to take dat woman out of de way, but nobody ain't moved to touch mis' sally, an' she didn' move neither, she jus' stood dare facin' ole marse. den ole marse let down de gun. he reached over an' slapped mis' sally down, den picked up de gun an' shot er hole in leonard's ches' big as yo' fis'. den he took up mis' sally an' toted her in de house. but i wuz so skeered dat i run an' hid in de stable loft, an' even wid my eyes shut i could see leonard layin' on de groun' wid dat bloody hole in his ches' an' dat sneer on his black mouf. after dat leonard's brother burrus hated ole marse wus' er snake, den one night he run away. mammy say he run away to keep from killin' ole marse. anyhow, when ole marse foun' he wuz gone, he took er bunch of niggahs an' set out to find him. all day long dey tromped de woods, den when night come dey lit fat pine to'ches an' kept lookin', but dey couldn' find burrus. de nex' day ole marse went down to de county jail an' got de blood houn's. he brung home er great passel of dem yelpin' an' pullin' at de ropes, but when he turned dem loose dey didn' find burrus, kaze he done grease de bottom of his feets wid snuff an' hog lard so de dogs couldn' smell de trail. ole marse den tole all de niggahs dat if anybody housed an' fed burrus on de sly, dat he goin' to shoot dem like he done shot leonard. den he went every day an' searched de cabins; he even looked under de houses. one day in 'bout er week mis' sally wuz feedin' de chickens when she heard somethin' in de polk berry bushes behin' de hen house. she didn' go 'roun' de house but she went inside house an' looked through de crack. dare wuz burrus layin' down in de bushes. he wuz near 'bout starved kaze he hadn' had nothin' to eat since he done run away. mis' sally whisper an' tole him to lay still, dat she goin' to slip him somethin' to eat. she went back to de house an' made up some more cawn meal dough for de chickens, an' under de dough she put some bread an' meat. when she went 'cross de yard she met marse jordan. he took de pan of dough an' say he goin' to feed de chickens. my mammy say dat mis' sally ain't showed no skeer, she jus' smile at ole marse an' pat his arm, den while she talk she take de pan an' go on to de chicken house, but ole marse he go too. when dey got to de hen house ole marse puppy begun sniffin' 'roun'. soon he sta'ted to bark; he cut up such er fuss dat ole marse went to see what wuz wrong. den he foun' burrus layin' in de polk bushes. ole marse drag burrus out an' drove him to de house. when mis' sally seed him take out his plaited whip, she run up stairs an' jump in de bed an' stuff er pillow over her head. dey took burrus to de whippin' post. dey strip off his shirt, den dey put his head an' hands through de holes in de top, an' tied his feets to de bottom, den, ole marse took de whip. dat lash hiss like col' water on er red hot iron when it come through de air, an' every time it hit burrus it lef' er streak of blood. time ole marse finish, burrus' back look like er piece of raw beef. dey laid burrus face down on er plank den dey poured turpentine in all dem cut places. it burned like fire but dat niggah didn' know nothin' 'bout it kaze he done passed out from pain. but, all his life dat black man toted dem scares on his back. when de war ended mis' sally come to mammy an' say: 'fanny, i's sho glad yo's free. yo' can go now an' yo' won' ever have to be er slave no more.' but mammy, she ain't had no notion of leavin' mis' sally. she put her arms' roun' her an' call her baby, an' tell her she goin' to stay wid her long as she live. an' she did stay wid her. me an' mammy bof stayed mis' sally 'twell she died. n. c. district: no. [ ] field worker: esther s. pinnix word total: , editor: p. g. cross subject: "negro folklore of the piedmont". consultants: mrs. p. g. cross, miss kate jones, descendants of dr. beverly jones. sources of information: aunt betty cofer--ex-slave of dr. beverly jones [hw: cofer] negro folk lore of the piedmont. * * * * * the ranks of negro ex-slaves are rapidly thinning out, but, scattered here and there among the ante-bellum families of the south, may be found a few of these picturesque old characters. three miles north of bethania, the second oldest settlement of the "unitas fratrum" in wachovia, lies the acre jones plantation. it has been owned for several generations by the one family, descendants of abraham conrad. conrad's daughter, julia, married a physician of note, dr. beverly jones, whose family occupied the old homestead at the time of the civil war. here, in , was born a negro girl, betty, to a slave mother. here, today, under the friendly protection of this same jones family, surrounded by her sons and her sons' sons, lives this same betty in her own little weather-stained cottage. encircling her house are lilacs, althea, and flowering trees that soften the bleak outlines of unpainted out-buildings. a varied collection of old-fashioned plants and flowers crowd the neatly swept dooryard. a friendly german-shepherd puppy rouses from his nap on the sunny porch to greet visitors enthusiastically. in answer to our knock a gentle voice calls, "come in." the door opens directly into a small, low-ceilinged room almost filled by two double beds. these beds are conspicuously clean and covered by homemade crocheted spreads. wide bands of hand-made insertion ornament the stiffly starched pillow slips. against the wall is a plain oak dresser. although the day is warm, two-foot logs burn on the age-worn andirons of the wide brick fire place. from the shelf above dangles a leather bag of "spills" made from twisted newspapers. in a low, split-bottom chair, her rheumatic old feet resting on the warm brick hearth, sits aunt betty cofer. her frail body stoops under the weight of four-score years but her bright eyes and alert mind are those of a woman thirty years younger. a blue-checked mob cap covers her grizzled hair. her tiny frame, clothed in a motley collection of undergarments, dress, and sweaters, is adorned by a clean white apron. although a little shy of her strange white visitors, her innate dignity, gentle courtesy, and complete self possession indicate long association with "quality folks." her speech shows a noticeable freedom from the usual heavy negro dialect and idiom of the deep south. "yes, ma'am, yes, sir, come in. pull a chair to the fire. you'll have to 'scuse me. i can't get around much, 'cause my feet and legs bother me, but i got good eyes an' good ears an' all my own teeth. i aint never had a bad tooth in my head. yes'm, i'm , going on . marster done wrote my age down in his book where he kep' the names of all his colored folks. muh (mother) belonged to dr. jones but pappy belonged to marse israel lash over yonder. (pointing northwest.) younguns always went with their mammies so i belonged to the joneses. "muh and pappy could visit back and forth sometimes but they never lived together 'til after freedom. yes'm, we was happy. we got plenty to eat. marster and old miss julia (dr. jones' wife, matriarch of the whole plantation) was mighty strict but they was good to us. colored folks on some of the other plantations wasn't so lucky. some of' em had overseers, mean, cruel men. on one plantation the field hands had to hustle to git to the end of the row at eleven o'clock dinner-time 'cause when the cooks brought their dinner they had to stop just where they was and eat, an' the sun was mighty hot out in those fields. they only had ash cakes (corn pone baked in ashes) without salt, and molasses for their dinner, but we had beans an' grits an' salt an' sometimes meat. "i was lucky. miss ella (daughter of the first beverly jones) was a little girl when i was borned and she claimed me. we played together an' grew up together. i waited on her an' most times slept on the floor in her room. muh was cook an' when i done got big enough i helped to set the table in the big dinin' room. then i'd put on a clean white apron an' carry in the victuals an' stand behind miss ella's chair. she'd fix me a piece of somethin' from her plate an' hand it back over her shoulder to me (eloquent hands illustrate miss ella's making of a sandwich.) i'd take it an' run outside to eat it. then i'd wipe my mouth an' go back to stand behind miss ella again an' maybe get another snack. "yes'm, there was a crowd of hands on the plantation. i mind 'em all an' i can call most of their names. mac, curley, william, sanford, lewis, henry, ed, sylvester, hamp, an' juke was the men folks. the women was nellie, two lucys, martha, nervie, jane, laura, fannie, lizzie, cassie, tensie, lindy, an' mary jane. the women mostly, worked in the house. there was always two washwomen, a cook, some hands to help her, two sewin' women, a house girl, an' some who did all the weavin' an' spinnin'. the men worked in the fields an' yard. one was stable boss an' looked after all the horses an' mules. we raised our own flax an' cotton an' wool, spun the thread, wove the cloth, made all the clothes. yes'm, we made the mens' shirts an' pants an' coats. one woman knitted all the stockin's for the white folks an' colored folks too. i mind she had one finger all twisted an' stiff from holdin' her knittin' needles. we wove the cotton an' linen for sheets an' pillow-slips an' table covers. we wove the wool blankets too. i use to wait on the girl who did the weavin' when she took the cloth off the loom she done give me the 'thrums' (ends of thread left on the loom.) i tied 'em all together with teensy little knots an' got me some scraps from the sewin' room and i made me some quilt tops. some of 'em was real pretty too! (pride of workmanship evidenced by a toss of betty's head.) "all our spinnin' wheels and flax wheels and looms was hand-made by a wheel wright, marse noah westmoreland. he lived over yonder. (a thumb indicates north.) those old wheels are still in the family'. i got one of the flax wheels. miss ella done give it to me for a present. leather was tanned an' shoes was made on the place. 'course the hands mostly went barefoot in warm weather, white chillen too. we had our own mill to grind the wheat and corn an' we raised all our meat. we made our own candles from tallow and beeswax. i 'spect some of the old candle moulds are over to 'the house' now. we wove our own candle wicks too. i never saw a match 'til i was a grown woman. we made our fire with flint an' punk (rotten wood). yes'm, i was trained to cook an' clean an' sew. i learned to make mens' pants an' coats. first coat i made, miss julia told me to rip the collar off, an' by the time i picked out all the teensy stitches an' sewed it together again i could set a collar right! i can do it today, too! (again there is manifested a good workman's pardonable pride of achievement) "miss julia cut out all the clothes herself for men and women too. i 'spect her big shears an' patterns an' old cuttin' table are over at the house now. miss julia cut out all the clothes an' then the colored girls sewed 'em up but she looked 'em all over and they better be sewed right! miss julia bossed the whole plantation. she looked after the sick folks and sent the doctor (dr. jones) to dose 'em and she carried the keys to the store-rooms and pantries. [hw: paragraph mark here.] yes'm, i'm some educated. muh showed me my 'a-b-abs' and my numbers and when i was fifteen i went to school in the log church built by the moravians. they give it to the colored folks to use for their own school and church. (this log house is still standing near bethania). our teacher was a white man, marse fulk. he had one eye, done lost the other in the war. we didn't have no colored teachers then. they wasn't educated. we 'tended school four months a year. i went through the fifth reader, the 'north carolina reader'. i can figger a little an' read some but i can't write much 'cause my fingers 're--all stiffened up. miss julia use to read the bible to us an' tell us right an' wrong, and muh showed me all she could an' so did the other colored folks. mostly they was kind to each other. "no'm, i don't know much about spells an' charms. course most of the old folks believed in 'em. one colored man use to make charms, little bags filled with queer things. he called 'em 'jacks' an' sold 'em to the colored folks an' some white folks too. "yes'm, i saw some slaves sold away from the plantation, four men and two women, both of 'em with little babies. the traders got 'em. sold 'em down to mobile, alabama. one was my pappy's sister. we never heard from her again. i saw a likely young feller sold for $ . that was my uncle ike. marse jonathan spease bought him and kept him the rest of his life. "yes'm, we saw yankee soldiers. (stoneman's cavalry in .) they come marchin' by and stopped at 'the house. i wasn't scared 'cause they was all talkin' and laughin' and friendly but they sure was hongry. they dumped the wet clothes out of the big wash-pot in the yard and filled it with water. then they broke into the smokehouse and got a lot of hams and biled 'em in the pot and ate 'em right there in the yard. the women cooked up a lot of corn pone for 'em and coffee too. marster had a barrel of 'likker' put by an' the yankees knocked the head in an' filled their canteens. there wasn't ary drop left. when we heard the soldiers comin' our boys turned the horses loose in the woods. the yankees said they had to have 'em an' would burn the house down if we didn't get 'em. so our boys whistled up the horses an' the soldiers carried 'em all off. they carried off ol' jennie mule too but let little jack mule go. when the soldiers was gone the stable boss said,'if ol' jennie mule once gits loose nobody on earth can catch her unless she wants. she'll be back!' sure enough, in a couple of days she come home by herself an' we worked the farm jus' with her an' little jack. "some of the colored folks followed the yankees away. five or six of our boys went. two of 'em travelled as far as yadkinville but come back. the rest of 'em kep' goin' an' we never heard tell of' em again. "yes'm, when we was freed pappy come to get muh and me. we stayed around here. where could we go? these was our folks and i couldn't go far away from miss ella. we moved out near rural hall (some miles from bethania) an' pappy farmed, but i worked at the home place a lot. when i was about twenty-four marse r. j. reynolds come from virginia an' set up a tobacco factory. he fotched some hands with 'im. one was a likely young feller, named cofer, from patrick county, virginia. i liked 'im an' we got married an' moved back here to my folks.(the jones family) we started to buy our little place an' raise a family. i done had four chillen but two's dead. i got grandchillen and great-grandchillen close by. this is home to us. when we talk about the old home place (the jones residence, now some hundred years old) we just say 'the house' 'cause there's only one house to us. the rest of the family was all fine folks and good to me but i loved miss ella better'n any one or anythin' else in the world. she was the best friend i ever had. if i ever wanted for anythin' i just asked her an she give it to me or got it for me somehow. once when cofer was in his last sickness his sister come from east liverpool, ohio, to see 'im. i went to miss ella to borrow a little money. she didn't have no change but she just took a ten dollar bill from her purse an' says 'here you are, betty, use what you need and bring me what's left'. "i always did what i could for her too an' stood by her--but one time. that was when we was little girls goin' together to fetch the mail. it was hot an' dusty an' we stopped to cool off an' wade in the 'branch'. we heard a horse trottin' an' looked up an' there was marster switchin' his ridin' whip an' lookin' at us. 'git for home, you two, and i'll 'tend to you,' he says, an' we got! but this time i let miss ella go to 'the house' alone an' i sneaked aroun' to granny's cabin an' hid. i was afraid i'd git whupped! 'nother time, miss ella went to town an' told me to keep up her fire whilst she was away. i fell asleep on the hearth and the fire done burnt out so's when miss ella come home the room was cold. she was mad as hops. said she never had hit me but she sure felt like doin' it then. "yes'm, i been here a right smart while. i done lived to see three generations of my white folks come an' go, an' they're the finest folks on earth. there use to be a reg'lar buryin' ground for the plantation hands. the colored chillen use to play there but i always played with the white chillen. (this accounts for aunt betty's gentle manner and speech.) three of the old log cabins (slave cabins) is there yet. one of 'em was the 'boys cabin'. (house for boys and unmarried men) they've got walls a foot thick an' are used for store-rooms now. after freedom we buried out around our little churches but some of th' old grounds are plowed under an' turned into pasture cause the colored folks didn't get no deeds to 'em. it won't be long 'fore i go too but i'm gwine lie near my old home an' my folks. "yes'm, i remember marse israel lash, my pappy's marster. he was a low, thick-set man, very jolly an' friendly. he was real smart an' good too, 'cause his colored folks all loved 'im. he worked in the bank an' when the yankees come, 'stead of shuttin' the door 'gainst 'em like the others did, he bid 'em welcome. (betty's nodding head, expansive smile and wide-spread hands eloquently pantomime the banker's greeting.) so the yankees done took the bank but give it back to 'im for his very own an' he kep' it but there was lots of bad feelin' 'cause he never give folks the money they put in the old bank. (possibly this explains the closing of the branch of the cape fear bank in salem and opening of israel lash's own institution, the first national bank of salem, .) "i saw general robert e. lee, too. after the war he come with some friends to a meeting at five forks baptist church. all the white folks gathered 'round an' shook his hand an' i peeked 'tween their legs an' got a good look at' im. but he didn't have no whiskers, he was smooth-face! (pictures of general lee all show him with beard and mustache) "miss ella died two years ago. i was sick in the hospital but the doctor come to tell me. i couldn't go to her buryin'. i sure missed her. (poignant grief moistens betty's eyes and thickens her voice). there wasn't ever no one like her. miss kate an' young miss julia still live at 'the house' with their brother, marse lucian (all children of the first beverly jones and 'old miss julia',) but it don't seem right with miss ella gone. life seems dif'rent, some how, 'though there' lots of my young white folks an' my own kin livin' round an' they're real good to me. but miss ella's gone! "goodday, ma'am. come anytime. you're welcome to. i'm right glad to have visitors 'cause i can't get out much." a bobbing little curtsy accompanies betty's cordial farewell. although a freed woman for years, property owner for half of them, and now revered head of a clan of self respecting, self-supporting colored citizens, she is still at heart a "jones negro," and all the distinguished descendants of her beloved marse beverly and miss julia will be her "own folks" as long as she lives. n. c. district: no. [ ] no. words: worker: mary a. hicks subject: ex-slave story story teller: john coggin editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] john coggin. ex-slave story. an interview with john coggin , of method, n. c. when the interviewer first visited uncle john he was busy cutting hay for a white family nearby, swinging the scythe with the vigor of a young man. in late afternoon he was found sitting on the doorsteps of his granddaughter's house after a supper which certainly had onions on the menu and was followed by something stronger than water. "i was borned on march , in orange county. my mammy wuz named phillis fenn an' she wuz from virginia. i ain't neber had no paw an' i ain't wanted none, i ain't had no brothers nar sisters nother." "we 'longed ter doctor jim leathers, an' de only whuppin' i eber got wuz 'bout fightin' wid young miss agnes, who wuz sommers long' bout my age. hit wuz jist a little whuppin' but i' members hit all right." "we wucked de fiel's, i totin' water fer de six or seben han's that wucked dar. an' we jist wucked moderate like. we had plenty ter eat an' plenty ter w'ar, do' we did go barefooted most of de year. de marster shore wuz good ter us do'." "i 'members dat de fust i hyard of de yankees wuz when young marster come in an' says, 'lawd pa, de yankees am in raleigh.'" "dat ebenin' i wuz drawin' water when all of a sudden i looks up de road, an' de air am dark wid yankees. i neber seed so many mens, hosses an' mules in my life. de band wuz playin' an' de soldiers wuz hollerin' an' de hosses wuz prancin' high. i done what all of de rest o' de slaves done, i run fer de woods." "atter de surrender we moved ter a place nigh dix hill hyar in raleigh an' my mammy married a coggin, dar's whar i gits my name. all of us slaves moved dar an' farmed." "way long time atter dat ole marster jim come ter visit his niggers, an' we had a big supper in his honor. dat night he died, an' 'fore he died his min' sorta wanders an' he thinks dat hit am back in de slave days an' dat atter a long journey he am comin' back home. hit shore wuz pitiful an' we shore did hate it." "yes 'um honey, we got 'long all right atter de war. you knows dat niggers ain't had no sense den, now dey has. look at dese hyar seben chilluns, dey am my great gran'chillun an' dey got a heap mo' sense dan i has right now." eh n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: mandy coverson story teller: mandy coverson editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] mandy coverson ex-slave story an interview with mandy coverson, , of south wilmington street, raleigh. i wuz borned in union county to sarah an' henderson tomberlin. my mother belonged to mr. moses coverson, an' my pappy belonged to mr. jackie tom tomberlin. i stayed wid my mammy, of course, an' marster moses wuz good ter me. dey warn't so good ter my mammy, case dey makes her wuck frum sunup till sundown in de hot summertime, an' she ain't had no fun at all. she plowed two oxes, an' if'en yo' has eber been around a steer yo' knows what aggravatin' things dey is. de oberseer, whose name i'se plumb forget, wuz pore white trash an' he wuz meaner dan de meanest nigger. anyhow i wuz too little ter do much wuck so i played a heap an' i had a big time. my mammy, died 'fore i wuz very old an' missus kept me in de house. i wuz petted by her, an' i reckon spoiled. yo' knows dat den de niggers ain't neber eat no biscuits but missus always gimmie one eber meal an' in dat way she got me interested in waitin' on de table. i wuzn't old enough ter know much, but i does 'member how de fambly hid all de valuables 'fore de yankees come, an' dat marster moses in pickin' up de big brass andirons hurt his back an' dey said dat dat wuz de cause of his death a little while atterwards. anyhow de andirons wuz saved an' dar warn't no trouble wid de yankees who comed our way, an' dey ain't hurt nobody dar. dey did kill all de things dat dey could eat an' dey stold de rest of de feed stuff. dey make one nigger boy draw water fer dere hosses fer a day an' night. de yankees wuz mean 'bout cussin', but de southern soldiers wuz jist as bad. wheeler's cavalry wuz de meanest in de whole bunch, i thinks. de ku kluxes wuz pretty mean, but dey picked dere spite on de free issues. i doan know why dey done dis 'cept dat dey ain't wantin' no niggers a-favorin' dem nigh by, now dat slavery am ober. dey done a heap of beatin' an' chasin' folkses out'n de country but i 'specks dat de carpet bagger's rule wuz mostly de cause of it. i married daniel coverson, a slave on de same plantation i wuz on, an' forty years ago we moved ter raleigh. we had a hard time but i'se glad dat he an' me am free an' doan belong ter two diff'ent famblies. ac n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave story story teller: willie cozart editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] ex-slave story an interview by mary a. hicks with willis cozart of zebulon, (wake co. n. c.) age . may , . no mam, mistress, i doan want ter ride in no automobile, thank you, i'se done walked these three miles frum zebulon an' walkin' is what has kept me goin' all dese years. yes'm i'se a bachelor an' i wuz borned on june , in person county. my papa wuz named ed an' my maw wuz named sally. dar wuz ten of us youngins, morris, dallas, stephen, jerry, florence, polly, lena, phillis, caroline, an' me. mr. starling oakley of person county, near roxboro wuz my master an' as long as him an' ole mistress lived i went back ter see dem. he wuz right good to de good niggers an' kinder strick wid de bad ones. pusonly he ain't never have me whupped but two or three times. you's hyard 'bout dese set down strikes lately, well dey ain't de fust ones. onct when i wuz four or five years old, too little to wuck in de fiel's, my master sot me an' some more little chilluns ter wuck pullin' up weeds roun' de house. well, i makes a speech and i tells dem le's doan wuck none so out we sprawls on de grass under de apple tree. atter awhile ole master found us dar, an' when he fin's dat i wuz de ring-leader he gives me a little whuppin'. hit wuz a big plantation, round , acres o' land, i reckon, an' he had 'bout seventy or eighty slaves to wuck de cotton, corn, tobacco an' de wheat an' vege'bles. de big house wuz sumpin to look at, but de slave cabins wuz jist log huts wid sand floors, and stick an' dirt chimneys. we wuz 'lowed ter have a little patch o' garden stuff at de back but no chickens ner pigs. de only way we had er' makin' money wuz by pickin' berries an' sellin' 'em. we ain't had much time to do dat, case we wucked frum sunup till sundown six days a week. de master fed us as good as he knowed how, but it wuz mostly on bread, meat, an' vege'bles. i 'members seberal slave sales whar dey sold de pappy or de mammy 'way frum de chillums an' dat wuz a sad time. dey led dem up one at de time an' axed dem questions an' dey warn't many what wuz chained, only de bad ones, an' sometime when dey wuz travelin' it wuz necessary to chain a new gang. i'se seed niggers beat till da blood run, an' i'se seed plenty more wid big scars, frum whuppin's but dey wuz de bad ones. you wuz whupped 'cordin ter de deed yo' done in dem days. a moderate whuppin' wuz thirty-nine or forty lashes an' a real whuppin' wuz a even hundred; most folks can't stand a real whuppin'. frum all dis you might think dat we ain't had no good times, but we had our co'n shuckin's, candy pullin's an' sich like. we ain't felt like huntin' much, but i did go on a few fox hunts wid de master. i uster go fishin' too, but i ain't been now since , i reckon. we sometimes went ter de neighborhood affairs if'n we wuz good, but if we wuzn't an' didn't git a pass de patter-rollers would shore git us. when dey got through whuppin' a nigger he knowed he wuz whupped too. de slave weddin's in dat country wuz sorta dis way: de man axed de master fer de 'oman an' he jist told dem ter step over de broom an' dat wuz de way dey got married dem days; de pore white folks done de same way. atter de war started de white folks tried ter keep us niggers frum knowin' 'bout it, but de news got aroun' somehow, an' dar wuz some talk of gittin' shet of de master's family an' gittin' rich. de plans didn't 'mout to nothin' an' so de yankees come down. i 'members moughty well when de yankees come through our country. dey stold ever'thing dey could find an' i 'members what ole master said. he says, 'ever' one dat wants ter wuck fer me git in de patch ter pullin' dat forty acres of fodder an' all dat don't git up de road wid dem d---- yankees.' well we all went away. dat winter wuz tough, all de niggers near 'bout starved ter death, an' we ain't seed nothin' of de forty acres of land an' de mule what de yankees done promise us nother. atter awhile we had ter go ter our ole masters an' ax 'em fer bread ter keep us alive. de klu klux klan sprung right up out of de earth, but de yankees put a stop ter dat by puttin' so many of dem in jail. dey do say dat dat's what de state prison wus built fer. i never believed in witches an' i ain't put much stock in hain'ts but i'se seed a few things durin' my life dat i can't 'splain, like de thing wid de red eyes dat mocked me one night; but shucks i ain't believin' in dem things much. i'se plowed my lan', tended it year atter year, lived by myself an' all, an' i ain't got hurted yet, but i ain't never rid in a automobile yet, an' i got one tooth left. b. n. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: hannah crasson story teller: hannah crasson editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: hw notes at bottom of page illegible] hannah crasson my name is hannah crasson. i wuz born on john william walton's plantation miles from garner and miles from raleigh, n. c. in the county of wake. i am years ole the nd day uv dis las' gone march. i belonged to mr. john william walton in slavery time. my missus wuz named miss martha. my father wuz named frank walton. my mother wuz named flora walton. grandma wuz years when she died. she died down at de old plantation. my brothers were named johnnie and lang. my sisters were adeline, violet, mary, sarah, ellen, and annie. four of us are livin', ellen, mary, sarah and me. de old boss man wuz good to us. i wuz talkin' about him the udder night. he didn't whup us and he said, he didn't want nobody else to whup us. it is jis like i tell you; he wuz never cruel to us. one uv his sons wuz cruel to us. we had a plenty to eat, we shore did, plenty to eat. we had nice houses to live in too. grandma had a large room to live in, and we had one to live in. daddy stayed at home with mother. they worked their patches by moonlight; and worked for the white folks in the day time. they sold what they made. marster bought it and paid for it. he made a barrel o' rice every year, my daddy did. mr. bell allen owned slaves too. he had a plenty o' niggers. his plantation wuz miles from ourn. we went to church at the white folks church. when mr. bell allen seed us cummin' he would say, 'yonder comes john walton's free niggers.' our marster would not sell his slaves. he give dem to his children when they married off do'. i swept yards, churned, fed the chickens. in de ebening i would go with my missus a fishin'. we eat collards, peas, corn bread, milk, and rice. we got biskit and butter twice a week. i thought dat de best things i ever et wuz butter spread on biskit. we had a corn mill and a flour mill on the plantation. there wuz about slaves on de place. dey had brandy made on de plantation, and de marster gib all his slaves some for dere own uses. my grandmother and mother wove our clothes. dey were called homespun. dey made de shoes on de plantation too. i wuz not married til atter de surrender. i did not dress de finest in the world; but i had nice clothes. my wedding dress wuz made of cream silk, made princess with pink and cream bows. i wore a pair of morocco store bought shoes. my husband was dressed in a store bought suit of clothes, the coat wuz made pigen [hw correction: pigeon] tail. he had on a velvet vest and a white collar and tie. somebody stole de ves' atter dat. one of our master's daughters wuz cruel. sometimes she would go out and rare on us, but old marster didn't want us whupped. our great grand mother wuz named granny flora. dey stole her frum africa wid a red pocket handkerchief. old man john william got my great grandmother. de people in new england got scured of we niggers. dey were afrid me would rise aginst em and dey pushed us on down south. lawd, why didn't dey let us stay whur we wuz, dey nebber wouldn't a been so menny half white niggers, but the old marster wuz to blame for that. we never saw any slaves sold. they carried them off to sell 'em. the slaves travelled in droves. fathers and mothers were sold from their chilluns. chilluns wuz sold from their parents on de plantations close to us. where we went to church, we sat in a place away from de white folks. the slaves never did run away from marster, because he wuz good to 'em; but they run away from other plantations. yes, we seed the patterollers, we called 'em pore white trash, we also called patterollers pore white pecks. they had ropes around their necks. they came to our house one night when we were singin' and prayin'. it wuz jist before the surrender. dey were hired by de slave owner. my daddy told us to show 'em de brandy our marster gib us, den dey went on a way, kase dey knowed john walton wuz a funny man about his slaves. dey gave us christmas and other holidays. den dey, de men, would go to see dere wives. some of the men's wives belong to other marsters on other plantations. we had corn shuckin's at night, and candy pullin's. sometimes we had quiltings and dances. one of the slaves, my aint, she wuz a royal slave. she could dance all over de place wid a tumbler of water on her head, widout spilling it. she sho could tote herself. i always luved to see her come to church. she sho could tote herself. my oldest sister violet died in slavery time. she wuz ten years old when she died. her uncles were her pall bearers. uncle hyman and uncle handy carried her to the grave yard. if i makes no mistake my daddy made her coffin. dere wuz no singin'. there were seven of the family dere, dat wuz all. dey had no funeral. dere were no white folks dere. dey baptized people in creeks and ponds. we rode corn stalks, bent down small pine trees and rode' em for horses. we also played prison base. colored and white played, yes sir, whites and colored. we played at night but we had a certain time to go to bed. dat wuz nine o'clock. [hw: new paragraph indicated] de boss man looked atter us when we wuz sick. he got doctors. i had the typhoid fever. all my hair came out. dey called it de "mittent fever." dr. thomas banks doctored me. he been dead a long time. oh! i don't know how long he been dead. near all my white folks were found dead. mr. john died outside. walton died in bed. marster joe walton died sitting under a tree side de path. miss hancey died in bed. i 'member the day de war commenced. my marster called my father and my two uncles handy and hyman, our marster called 'em. dey had started back to the field to work in the afternoon. he said, 'cum here boys,' that wuz our young marster, ben walton, says 'cum here boys. i got sumptin' to tell you.' uncle hyman said, 'i can't. i got to go to work.' he said 'come here and set down, i got sumptin' to tell you.' the niggers went to him and set down. he told them; 'there is a war commenced between the north and the south. if the north whups you will be as free a man as i is. if the south whups you will be a slave all your days.' mr. joe walton said when he went to war dat dey could eat breakfast at home, go and whup the north, and be back far dinner. he went away, and it wuz four long years before he cum back to dinner. de table wuz shore set a long time for him. a lot of de white folks said dey wouldn't be much war, dey could whup dem so easy. many of dem never did come back to dinner. i wuz afraid of the yankees because missus had told us the yankees were going to kill every nigger in the south. i hung to my mammy when dey come through. i thought abraham lincoln wuz the medicine man, with grip in his han', cause he said every borned man must be free. i did not think anything of jeff davis. i thank de will of god for setting us free. he got into abraham lincoln and the yankees. we are thankful to the great marster dat got into lincoln and the yankees. dey say booker washington wuz fine, i don't know. the white folks did not allow us to have nuthing to do wid books. you better not be found, tryin' to learn to read. our marster wuz harder down on dat den anything else. you better not be ketched wid a book. day read the bible and told us to obey our marster for de bible said obey your marster. the first band of music i ever herd play the yankees wuz playin' it. they were playin' a song. 'i am tired of seeing de homespun dresses the southern women wear'. i thinks mr. roosevelt is a fine man. jus' what we need. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave story story teller: julia crenshaw editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: hw circled "i"] [tr: no date stamp] ex-slave story as julia crenshaw recalled her mother's story. my mammy wuz named jane an' my pappy wuz named richard. dey belonged ter lawyer r. j. lewis in raleigh, dar whar peace institute am ter day. mammy said dat de white folkses wuz good ter dem an' gib 'em good food an' clothes. she wuz de cook, an' fer thirty years atter de war she cooked at peace. before de yankees come mr. lewis said, dat he dreamed dat de yard wuz full uv dem an' he wuz deef. when dey comed he played deef so dat he won't have ter talk ter 'em. him he am dat proud. mammy said dat she ain't cared 'bout been' free case she had a good home, but atter all slavery wusn't de thing fer america. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: , subject: zeb crowder story teller: zeb crowder editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] zeb crowder e. cabarrus street i wont nuthin' in slavery time and i aint nuthin' now. all de work i am able ter do now is a little work in de garden. dey say i is too ole ter work, so charity gives me a little ter go upon every week. for one weeks 'lowance o' sumptin' ter eat dey gives me, hold on, i will show you, dat beats guessin'. here it is: / peck meal (corn meal), lbs oat meal, lb dry skim milk, and lb plate meat. dis is what i gits fer one week 'lowance. i can't work much, but de white folks gib me meals fur washin' de woodwork in dere houses, de white folks in hayes's bottom. what little i do, i does fer him. he gives me meals for workin'. de charity gives me about cts worth o' rations a week. i wus seven years old when de yankees come through. all de niggers 'cept me an' de white folks ran to de woods. i didn't have sense enough ter run, so i stayed on de porch where dey were passin' by. one of 'em pointed his gun at me. i remember it as well as it was yisterday. yes sir, i seed de yankees and i remember de clothes dey wore. dey were blue and dere coats had capes on' em and large brass buttons. de niggers and white folks were afraid of' em. de ole house where dey came by, an' me on de porch is still standin', yes sir, and dey are livin' in it now. it belongs to ralph crowder, and he has a fellow by de name o' edward, a colored man, livin' dere now. de house is de udder side o' swift creek, right at rands mill. i belonged ter ole man william crowder durin' slavery, tom crowder's daddy. ralph is tom's son. my missus wus named miss melvina an' if i lives ter be a hundred years old i will never forget dem white folks. yes sir, dey shore wus good ter us. we had good food, good clothes and a good place ter sleep. my mother died before de war, but miss melvina wus so good ter us we didn't know so much difference. mother wus de first person i remember seein' dead. when she died miss melvina, marster's wife, called us chillun in and says, 'chillun your mother is dead, but anything in dis kitchen you wants ter eat go take it, but don't slip nuthin'. if you slip it you will soon be stealin' things.' i had four brothers and one sister, and none of us never got into trouble 'bout stealin'. she taught us ter let other people's things alone. my father wus named waddy crowder. my mother wus named neelie crowder. grandpa was named jacob crowder and grandma was named sylvia crowder. i know dem jist as good as if it wus yisterday. never went ter school a day in my life. i can't read an' write. dey would not 'low slaves ter have books, no sir reee, no, dat dey wouldn't. we went wid de white folks to church; dey were good ter us, dat's de truth. dere aint many people dat knows 'bout dem good times. dey had a lot o' big dinners and when de white folks got through i would go up and eat all i wanted. i 'member choppin' cotton on clabber branch when i wus a little boy before de surrender. when de surrender come i didn't like it. daddy an' de udders didn't like it, 'cause after de surrender dey had to pay marster fer de meat an' things. before dat dey didn't have nuthin' to do but work. dere were eight slaves on de place in slavery time. clabber branch run into swift creek. lord have mercy, i have caught many a fish on dat branch. i also piled brush in de winter time. birds went in de brush ter roost. den we went bird blindin'. we had torches made o' lightwood splinters, and brushes in our han's, we hit de piles o' brush after we got 'round 'em. when de birds come out we would kill 'em. dere were lots o' birds den. we killed' em at night in the sage fields[ ] where broom grass was thick. dem were de good times. no sich times now. we killed robins, doves, patridges and other kinds o' birds. dey aint no such gangs o' birds now. we briled 'em over coals o' fire and fried 'em in fryin' pans, and sometimes we had a bird stew, wid all de birds we wanted. de stew wus de bes' o' all. dere aint no sich stews now. we put flour in de stew. it was made into pastry first, and we called it slick. when we cooked chicken wid it we called it chicken slick. dere were no overseers on our plantation. marster wouldn't let you have any money on sunday. he would not trade on sunday. he would not handle money matters on monday, but 'ceptin' dese two days if you went to him he would keep you. he was who a good ole man. dat's de truf. the ku klux would certainly work on you. if dey caught you out of your place dey would git wid you. i don't remember anything 'bout de freedman's bureau but de ku klux klan was something all niggers wus scared of. yes sir, dey would get wid you. dats right. ha! ha! dat's right. i never seen a slave whupped, no sir, i never see a slave sold. i saw de speculators do'. i saw de patterollers, but dey didn't never whup my daddy. dey run him one time, but dey couldn't cotch him. marster crowder allus give daddy a pass when he asked fer it. i believe ole marster an' ole missus went right on ter heaven, yes, i do believe dat. dat's de truf. yes, my lawd, i would like to see' em right now. dere is only one o' de old crowd livin', an' dat is miss cora. she stays right here in raleigh. we used to have candy pullin's, an' i et more ash cakes den anybody. we cooked ash cakes out o' meal. we had dances in de winter time, and other plays. i played marbles an' runnin' an' jumpin' when i wus a chile. dey give us sasafrac tea sweetened to eat wid bread. it shore wus mighty good. my father never married enny more. he settled right down after de war and farmed fer his old marster and all we chillun stayed. we didn't want ter leave, an' i would be wid 'em right now if dey wus livin'. i got married when i wus years old, and moved ter myself in a little house on de plantation. de house is standin' dere now, de house where i lived den. i seed it de udder day when i went out dere to clean off my wife's grave. i married lula hatcher. she died 'bout ten years ago. i married her in georgia. i stayed dere a long time when missus' brother, wiley clemmons, went ter georgia ter run turpentine an' tuck me wid him. i stayed dere till he died; an' mr. tom crowder went after him an' brought him back home an' buried him at de ole home place. he is buried right dere at de crowder place. i have worked wid some o' de crowders mos' all my life and i miss dem people, when one of 'em dies. dey allus give my daddy outside patches, and he made good on it. he cleaned up seven acres, and do you know how he fenced it? wid nuthin' but bresh. an' hogs an' cows didn't go in dere neither. we had lots o' game ter eat. marster 'lowed my daddy ter hunt wid a gun, and he killed a lot o' rabbits, squirrels, an' game. we trapped birds an' caught rabbits in boxes. daddy caught possums an' coons wid dogs. one o' my brothers is livin' at garner, n. c. i am four years older den he is. from what little judgment i got i thought a right smart o' abraham lincoln, but i tells you de truf mr. roosevelt has done a lot o' good. dats de truf. i likes him. [footnote : the negroes call the tall grass sage.] ac n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: adeline crump story teller: adeline crump editor: daisy bailey waitt adeline crump cannon street my name is adeline crump, and i am years old. my husband's name wus james crump. my mother's wus marie cotton and my father's name wus cotton. my mother belonged to the faucetts; rich faucett wus her marster. father belonged to the cottons; wright cotton wus his marster. my maiden name wus cotton. mother and father said they were treated all right and that they loved their white folks. they gave them patches, clothed them tolerably well, and seed that they got plenty to eat. the hours of work wus long. nearbout everybody worked long hours then, but they said they wus not mistreated 'bout nothing. when they got sick marster got a doctor, if they wus bad off sick. they wus allowed holidays christmas and at lay-by time, an' they wus 'lowed to hunt possums an' coons at night an' ketch rabbits in gums. they also caught birds in traps made of splinters split from pine wood. mother and father had no learnin'. they would not allow them to learn to read and write. marster wus keerful 'bout that. i cannot read an' write. my mother and father told me many stories 'bout the patterollers and ku klux. a nigger better have a pass when he went visitin' or if they caught him they tore up his back. the ku klux made the niggers think they could drink a well full of water. they carried rubber things under their clothes and a rubber pipe leadin' to a bucket o' water. the water bag helt the water they did not drink it. guess you have heard people tell 'bout they drinking so much water. marster didn't have no overseers to look after his slaves. he done that hisself with the help o' some o' his men slaves. sometimes he made 'em foreman and my mother and father said they all got along mighty fine. the colored folks went to the white folk's church and had prayer meeting in their homes. mother lived in the edge o' marster's yard. when the surrender come after the war they stayed on the plantation right on and lived on marster's land. they built log houses after de war cause marster let all his slaves stay right on his plantation. my mother had twenty-one chillun. she had twins five times. i was a twin and emaline wus my sister. she died 'bout thirty years ago. she left chillun when she died. i never had but four chillun. all my people are dead, i is de only one left. marster's plantation was 'bout six miles from merry oaks in chatham county. we moved to merry oaks when i wus fourteen years old. i married at seventeen. i have lived in north carolina all my life. we moved to raleigh from merry oaks long time ago. my husband died here seventeen years ago. i worked after my husband died, washin' and ironin' for white folks till i am not able to work no more. hain't worked any in fo' years. charity don't help me none. my chillun gives me what i gits. slavery wus a bad thing, cause from what mother and father tole me all slaves didn't fare alike. some fared good an' some bad. i don't know enough 'bout abraham lincoln an' mr. roosevelt to talk about 'em. no, i don't know just what to say. i sho' hopes you will quit axin' me so many things cause i forgot a lot mother and father tole me. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: bill crump person interviewed: bill crump editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] [hw: "photo"] bill crump ex-slave story an interview with bill crump, of state prison, raleigh north carolina. i reckon dat i wus borned in davidson county on de plantation of mr. whitman smith, my mammy's marster. my daddy wus named tom an' he 'longed ter mr. ben murry fust an' later ter mr. jimmy crump. daddy wus named atter his young marster. dey lived in randolph, de county next ter davidson whar me mammy an' de rest of de chilluns, alt, george, harriet, sarah, mary an' de baby libed. both of de marsters wus good ter us, an' dar wus plenty ter eat an' w'ar, an' right many jubilees. we ain't none of de dozen er so of us eber got a whuppin', case we ain't desarved no whuppin'; why, dar wusn't eben a cowhide whup anywhar on de place. we wucked in de fie'ls from sunup ter sundown mos' o' de time, but we had a couple of hours at dinner time ter swim or lay on de banks uv de little crick an' sleep. ober 'bout sundown marster let us go swim ag'in iff'en we wanted ter do it. de marster let us have some chickens, a shoat an' a gyarden, an' 'tater patch, an' we had time off ter wuck 'em. in season we preserved our own fruits fer de winter an' so we larned not ter be so heaby on de marster's han's. my daddy wus a fiddler, an' he sometimes played fer de dances at de cross roads, a little village near de marster's place. all what ain't been mean could go, but de mean ones can't, an' de rest o' us has ter habe a pass ter keep de patterollers from gittin us. yes mam, we had our fun at de dances, co'n chuckin's, candy pullin's, an' de gatherin's an' we sarbed de marster better by habin' our fun. i'se seed a bunch o' slaves sold a heap of times an' i neber seed no chains on nobody. dey jist stood dem on de table front of de post office at cross roads an' sol' 'em ter de one what bids de highes'. we hyard a whisper 'bout some slaves bein' beat ter death, but i ain't neber seed a slave git a lick of no kin', course atter de war i seed de ku klux runnin' mean niggers. dar wus no marryin' on de plantation, iffen a nigger wants a 'oman he has got ter buy her or git her marster's permit, den dey am married. when one o' de slaves wus sick he had a doctor fast as lightnin', an' when de died he wus set up wid one night. de marster would gibe de mourners a drink o' wine mebbe, an' dey'd mo'n, an' shout, an' sing all de night long, while de cop'se laid out on de coolin' board, which 'minds me of a tale. onct we wus settin' up wid a nigger, 'fore de war an' hit bein' a hot night de wine wus drunk an' de mo'ners wus settin' front o' de do' eatin' watermillons while de daid man laid on de coolin' board. suddenly one of de niggers looks back in at de do', an' de daid man am settin' up on de coolin' board lookin right at him. de man what sees hit hollers, an' all de rest what has been wishin 'dat de daid man can enjoy de wine an' de watermillons am sorry dat he has comed back. dey doan take time ter say hit do', case dey am gone ter de big house. de marster am brave so he comes ter see, an' he says dat hit am only restrictions o' de muscles. de nex' mornin', as am de way, dey puts de man in a pine box made by 'nother slave an' dey totes him from de cabin ter de marster's buryin' groun' at de cedars; an' de slaves bury's him while de marster an' his fambly looks on. i doan know much 'bout de yankees case de warn't none 'cept de skirtin' parties comed our way. atter de war we stays on fer four or five years mebbe, an' i goes ter school two weeks. de teacher wus mr. edmund knights from de no'th. i'se sarbed four years an' ten months of a eight ter twelve stretch fer killin' a man. dis man an' a whole gang o' us wus at his house gamblin'. i had done quit drinkin' er mont' er so 'fore dat, but dey 'sists on hit, but i 'fuses. atter 'while he pours some on me an' i cusses him, den he cusses me, an' he says dat he am gwine ter kill me, an' he follers me down de road. i turns roun' an' shoots him. dat am all of my story 'cept dat i has seen a powerful heap of ghostes an' i knows dat dey comes in white an' black, an' dat dey am in de shape er dogs, mens, an' eber'thing dat you can have a mind to. le n. c. district: no. . [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: charlie crump person interviewed: charlie crump editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "--- "] charlie crump ex-slave story an interview with charlie crump of cary (near) i wuz borned at evan's ferry in lee or chatham county, an' i belonged ter mr. davis abernathy an' his wife mis' vick. my pappy wuz named ridge, an' my mammy wuz named marthy. my brothers wuz stokes an' tucker, an' my sisters wuz lula an' liddy ann. dar wuz nine o' us in all, but some o' dem wuz sold, an' some o' dem wuz dead. de abernathy's wuzn't good ter us, we got very little ter eat, nothin' ter wear an' a whole lot o' whuppin's. dey ain't had no slaves 'cept seben or eight, in fact, dey wuz pore white trash tryin' ter git rich; so dey make us wuck. dey wucks us from daylight till dark, an' sometimes we jist gits one meal a day. de marster says dat empty niggers am good niggers an' dat full niggers has got de debil in dem. an' we ain't 'lowed ter go nowhar at night, dat is if dey knowed it. i'se seed de time dat niggers from all ober de neighborhood gang up an' have fun anyhow, but if dey hyard de patterollers comin' gallopin' on a hoss dey'd fly. crap shootin' wuz de style den, but a heap of times dey can't find nothin ter bet. i toted water, case dat's all i wuz big enough ter do, an' lemmie tell yo' dat when de war wuz ober i ain't had nary a sprig of hair on my haid, case de wooden buckets what i toted on it wored it plumb off. when we got hongry an' could fin' a pig, a calf or a chicken, no matter who it had belonged to, it den belonged ter us. we raised a heap o' cane an' we et brown sugar. hit 's funny dat de little bit dey gibed us wuz what dey now calls wholesome food, an' hit shore make big husky niggers. my mammy had more grit dan any gal i now knows of has in her craw. she plowed a hateful little donkey dat wuz about as hongry as she wuz, an' he wuz a cuss if'en dar eber wuz one. mammy wuz a little brown gal, den, tough as nails an' she ain't axin' dat donkey no odds at all. she uster take him out at twelve an' start fer de house an' dat donkey would hunch up his back an' swear dat she wuzn't gwine ter ride him home. mammy would swear dat she would, an' de war would be on. he'd throw her, but she'd git back on an' atter she'd win de fight he'd go fer de house as fast as a scaulded dog. when we hyard dat de yankees wuz comin' we wuz skeerd, case marse abernathy told us dat dey'd skin us alive. i'members hit wuz de last o' april or de fust o' may when dey comed, an' i had started fer de cane fil' wid a bucket o' water on my haid, but when i sees dem yankees comin' i draps de bucket an' runs. de folks thar 'bouts burnt de bridge crost de ribber, but de yankees carried a rope bridge wid 'em, so dey crossed anyhow. dem yankees tuck eber thing dat dey saw eben to our kush, what we had cooked fer our supper. kush wuz cornmeal, onions, red pepper, salt an' grease, dat is if we had any grease. dey killed all de cows, pigs, chickens an' stold all de hosses an' mules. we wuz glad ter be free, an' lemmie tell yo', we shore cussed ole marster out 'fore we left dar; den we comed ter raleigh. i'se always been a farmer an' i'se made right good. i lak de white folkses an' dey laks me but i'll tell yo' miss, i'd ruther be a nigger any day dan to be lak my ole white folks wuz. m. a. h. l. e. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary hicks no. words: , subject: before and after the war story teller: mattie curtis editor: george l. andrews [hw: / / ] before and after the war an interview with mattie curtis, years old, of raleigh, north carolina, route # . i wus borned on de plantation of mr. john hayes in orange county ninety-eight years ago. seberal of de chilluns had been sold 'fore de speculator come an' buyed mammy, pappy an' we three chilluns. de speculator wus named bebus an' he lived in henderson, but he meant to sell us in de tobacco country. we come through raleigh an' de fust thing dat i 'members good wus goin' through de paper mill on crabtree. we traveled on ter granville county on de granville tobacco path till a preacher named whitfield buyed us. he lived near de granville an' franklin county line, on de granville side. preacher whitfield, bein' a preacher, wus supposed to be good, but he ain't half fed ner clothed his slaves an' he whupped 'em bad. i'se seen him whup my mammy wid all de clothes offen her back. he'd buck her down on a barrel an' beat de blood outen her. dar wus some difference in his beatin' from de neighbors. de folks round dar 'ud whup in de back yard, but marse whitfield 'ud have de barrel carried in his parlor fer de beatin'. we ain't had no sociables, but we went to church on sunday an' dey preached to us dat we'd go ter hell alive iffen we sassed our white folks. speakin' 'bout clothes, i went as naked as yo' han' till i wus fourteen years old. i wus naked like dat when my nature come to me. marse whitfield ain't carin', but atter dat mammy tol' him dat i had ter have clothes. marse whitfield ain't never pay fer us so finally we wus sold to mis' fanny long in franklin county. dat 'oman wus a debil iffen dar eber wus one. when i wus little i had picked up de fruit, fanned flies offen de table wid a peafowl fan an' nussed de little slave chilluns. de las' two or three years i had worked in de fiel' but at mis' long's i worked in de backer factory. yes mam, she had a backer factory whar backer wus stemmed, rolled an' packed in cases fer sellin'. dey said dat she had got rich on sellin' chawin' terbacker. we wus at mis' long's when war wus declared, 'fore dat she had been purty good, but she am a debil now. her son am called ter de war an' he won't go. dey comes an' arrests him, den his mammy tries ter pay him out, but dat ain't no good. de officers sez dat he am yaller an' dat day am gwine ter shoot his head off an' use hit fer a soap gourd. de yankees did shoot him down here at bentonville an' mis' long went atter de body. de confederates has got de body but dey won't let her have it fer love ner money. dey laughs an' tells her how yaller he am an' dey buries him in a ditch like a dog. mis' long has been bad enough fore den but atter her son is dead she sez dat she am gwine ter fight till she draps dead. de nex' day she sticks de shot gun in mammy's back an' sez dat she am gwine ter shoot her dead. mammy smiles an' tells her dat she am ready ter go. mis' long turns on me an' tells me ter go ter de peach tree an' cut her ten limbs 'bout a yard long, dis i does an' atter she ties dem in a bundle she wears dem out on me at a hundret licks. lemmie tell yo', dar wus pieces of de peach tree switches stickin' all in my bloody back when she got through. atter dat mis' long ain't done nothin' but whup us an' fight till she shore nuff wore out. de yankee captain come ter our place an tol' us dat de lan' was goin' ter be cut up an' divided among de slaves, dey would also have a mule an' a house apiece. i doan know how come hit but jist 'fore de end of de war we come ter moses mordicia's place, right up de hill from here. he wus mean too, he'd get drunk an' whup niggers all day off' an' on. he'd keep dem tied down dat long too, sometimes from sunrise till dark. mr. mordicia had his yaller gals in one quarter ter dereselves an' dese gals belongs ter de mordicia men, dere friends an' de overseers. when a baby wus born in dat quarter dey'd sen' hit over ter de black quarter at birth. dey do say dat some of dese gal babies got grown an' atter goin' back ter de yaller quarter had more chilluns fer her own daddy or brother. de thompson's sprung from dat set an' dey say dat a heap of dem is halfwits fer de reason dat i has jist tol' yo'. dem yaller wimen wus highfalutin' too, dey though [hw correction: thought] dey wus better dan de black ones. has yo' ever wondered why de yaller wimen dese days am meaner dan black ones 'bout de men? well dat's de reason fer hit, dere mammies raised dem to think 'bout de white men. when de yankees come dey come an' freed us. de woods wus full of rebs what had deserted, but de yankees killed some of dem. some sort of corporation cut de land up, but de slaves ain't got none of it dat i ever heard about. i got married before de war to joshua curtis. i loved him too, which is more dam most folks can truthfully say. i always had craved a home an' a plenty to eat, but freedom ain't give us notin' but pickled hoss meat an' dirty crackers, an' not half enough of dat. josh ain't really care 'bout no home but through dis land corporation i buyed dese fifteen acres on time. i cut down de big trees dat wus all over dese fields an' i milled out de wood an' sold hit, den i plowed up de fields an' planted dem. josh did help to build de house an' he worked out some. all of dis time i had nineteen chilluns an' josh died, but i kep' on an' de fifteen what is dead lived to be near 'bout grown, ever one of dem. right atter de war northern preachers come around wid a little book a-marrying slaves an' i seed one of dem marry my pappy an' mammy. atter dis dey tried to find dere fourteen oldest chilluns what wus sold away, but dey never did find but three of dem. but you wants ter find out how i got along. i'll never fergit my first bale of cotton an' how i got hit sold. i wus some proud of dat bale of cotton, an' atter i had hit ginned i set out wid hit on my steercart fer raleigh. de white folks hated de nigger den, 'specially de nigger what wus makin' somethin' so i dasen't ax nobody whar de market wus. i thought dat i could find de place by myself, but i rid all day an' had to take my cotton home wid me dat night 'case i can't find no place to sell hit at. but dat night i think hit over an' de nex' day i goes' back an' axes a policeman 'bout de market. lo an' behold chile, i foun' hit on blount street, an' i had pass by hit seberal times de day before. i done a heap of work at night too, all of my sewin' an' such an' de piece of lan' near de house over dar ain't never got no work 'cept at night. i finally paid fer de land. some of my chilluns wus borned in de field too. when i wus to de house we had a granny an' i blowed in a bottle to make de labor quick an' easy. dis young generation ain't worth shucks. fifteen years ago i hired a big buck nigger to help me shrub an' 'fore leben o'clock he passed out on me. you know 'bout leben o'clock in july hit gits in a bloom. de young generation wid dere schools an dere divorcing ain't gwine ter git nothin' out of life. hit wus better when folks jist lived tergether. dere loafin' gits dem inter trouble an' dere novels makes dem bad husban's an' wives too. eh by miss nancy woodburn watkins [ ] rockingham county madison, north carolina [tr: no. words: , ] ex-slave biography--charles lee dalton, . in july, , the census taker went to the home of unka challilee dalton and found that soft talking old darky on the porch of his several roomed house, a few hundred feet south of the dirt road locally called the ayersville road because it branches from the hard surfaced highway to mayodan at anderson scales' store, a short distance from unka challilie's. black got its meaning from his face, even his lips were black, but his hair was whitening. his lean body was reclining while the white cased pillows of his night bed sunned on a chair. his granddaughter kept house for him the census taker learned. unka challilie said: "i'se got so i ain't no count fuh nuthin. i wuz uh takin' me a nap uh sleepin' (' am). dem merry-go-wheels keep up sich a racket all nite, sech a racket all nite, ah cyan't sleep." this disturbance was "the red wolfe medicine troop of players and wheels" near anderson scales' store in the forks of the mayodan and the ayresville roads. in in the home of his son, unka challilie ninety-three, told the cause of his no "countness." "i wuz clean-up man in de mill in mayodan ontill three years ago, i got too trimbly to git amongst de machinery. daze frade i'd fall and git cut." i cum tuh madison forty-five yeah ago, and i bought one acre, and built me a house on it, an' razed my leben chillun dyah. my wife was ellen irving of reidsville. we had a cow, pigs, chickens, and gyardum of vegetables to hope out what i got paid at de mill. nome i nevah learned to read an write. ounct i thought mebbe i'd git sum lunnin but aftah i got married, i didn't think i would. my old marse wuz marse lee dalton and i stayed on his plantation till forty-five years ago when i cum tuh madison. his place wuz back up dyah close tuh. mt. herman church. nome we slaves ain't learn no letters, but sumtimes young mistis' 'd read de bible tuh us. day wuz pretty good tuh us, but sumtimes i'd ketch uh whippin'. i wuz a hoe boy and plow man. my mothers' name wuz silvia dalton and my daddy's name wuz peter dalton. day belonged to marse lee and his wife wuz miss matilda steeples (staples). marse lee lived on beaver island creek at the john hampton price place. mr. price bought it. he married miss mollie dalton, marse lee's daughter. dyah's uh ole graveyard dyah whah lots uh daltons is buried but no culled fokes. day is buried to the side uh stoneville wiff no white fokes a-tall berried dyah. de ole daltons wuz berried on de ole jimmy scales plantation. day bought hit, an little john price what runs uh tuhbaccah warehouse in madison owns hit now. ( ) his tenant is marse walt hill, an hits five miles frum madison. i knose whah de old deatherage graveyard is, too, up close to stoneville whah sum daltons is berried. ole marse lee's mother was a deatherage. ole marse was kind to us, an' i stayed on his plantation an' farmed till i kum to madison. dee yankees, day didn't giv us nuthin so we had kinduh to live off'n old marse. fuh ayteen yuz i kin member ah de mefodis church byah in madison. i wuzn't converted unduh de holiness preachment uh james foust but duh de revival of reverend william scales. william didn't bare much lunnin. his wife wuz mittie scales an huh mother wuz chlocy scales, sister to tommie scales, de shoemaker, what died lase summuh (july, ). william jes wanted so much tuh preach, and mittie hoped him. i'se been uh class leader, an uh stewart, an uh trustee in de church. it's st. stephen's and de new brick church was built in , an mistuh john wilson's son wrote uh peace uh bout hit in de papuh. de fuss chuch wuz down dyah cross de street fum jim foust's "tabernacle." but de fuss cullud chuch in madison wuz a union chuch over dyah by de presbyterian graveyard whah now is de gyartuh factry. an' jane richardson wuz de leader. yess'm i got so no count, i had to cum live with mah son, frank dalton. frank married mattie cardwell. you remembuh mary mann? she married anderson cardwell. day's bofe dade long time. days berried jess up hyuh at mayodan whah mr. bollin's house is on and dem new bungyloes is on top um, too. uh whole lots uh cullud people berried in dah with de slaves of ole miss nancy (watkins) webster on till de mayo mills got started and day built mayhodan at de mayo falls. an' dat's whah my daughter-in-law's folks is berried. my leben chillun--frank, one died in west virginia; cora married henry cardwell; hattie married roy current and bafe ob dem in winston; della married arthur adkins, an' joe, an' george an' perry an' nathaniel dalton, an'. yes'm mah daughter-in-law has de writings about de brick chuch, dem whut started hit, an' she'll put it out whah she can git hit fuh you easy, when you coun back fuh hit. nome, up at marse lee dalton's fob de s'renduh us slaves didn't nevuh go tuh chuch. but young miss'ud read de bible to us sometimes. here in the five room, white painted cottage of his son, frank, unka challilie is kindly cared for by his daughter-in-law, mattie. a front porch faces the mayodan hard road a few doors from the "coppubration line." a well made arch accents the entrance to the front walk. a climbing rose flourishes on the arch. well kept grass with flowers on the edges show mattie's love. at the right side is the vegetable garden, invaded by several big domineckuh chickens. a kudzu vine keeps out the hot west sun. unka challilie sits on the front porch and nods to his friends [hw: , or] else back in the kitchen, he sits and watches mattie iron after he has eaten his breakfast. several hens come on the back porch and lay in boxes there. one is "uh settin" fuh fried chicken later! a walnut tree, "uh white wawnut", waves its long dangly green blooms as the leaves are half grown in the early may. well dressed, clean, polite, comforted with his religion, but very "trimbly" even on his stout walking stick, unka challilie often dozes away his "no countness" with "uh napuh sleepin" while the mad rush of traffic and tourist wheels stir the rose climbing over the entrance arch. an ex-slave who started wiff nuffin de yankees gave him, who lived on his old marse's place ontil he wuz forty-eight, who cleaned the mayo mills ontill he wuz too trimbly to get amongst de machinery, who raised eleven children on an acre of red rockingham county hillside, faces the next move with plenty to eat, wear, plenty time to take a nap uh sleepin. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: john daniels story teller: john daniels editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] john daniels ex-slave story [hw: (?)] i'se named fer my pappy's ole massa down in spartanburg, south carolina, course i doan know nothin' 'bout no war, case i warn't borned. i does 'member seein' de ole 'big house' do', maybe you want me ter tell you how hit looked? it wuz a big white two-story house at de end uv a magnolia lane an' a-settin' in a big level fiel'. back o' de big house wuz de ole slave cabins whar my folks uster live. dey said dat de massa wuz good ter 'em, but dat sometimes in de mo'nin' dey jist has lasses an' co'nbread fer breakfas'. i started ter tell you 'bout de joe moe do'. you mebbe doan know hit, but de prisoners hyar doan git de blues so bad if de company comes on visitin' days, an' de mail comes reg'lar. we's always gittin' up somepin' ter have a little fun, so somebody gits up de joe moe. yo' sees dat when a new nigger comes in he am skeerd an' has got de blues. somebody goes ter cheer him up an' dey axes him hadn't he ruther be hyar dan daid. yo' see he am moughty blue den, so mebbe he says dat he'd ruther be daid; den dis feller what am tryin' ter cheer him tells him dat all right he sho' will die dat [hw correction: 'cause] he's got de joe moe put on him. seberal days atter dis de new nigger fin's a little rag full of somepin twix de bed an' mattress an' he axes what hit am. somebody tells him dat hit am de joe moe, an' dey tells him dat de only way he can git de spell off am ter git de bag off on somebody else. ever'body but him knows' bout hit so de joe moe keeps comin' back till a new one comes in an' he l'arns de joke. talkin' 'bout ghostes i wants ter tell you dat de air am full of 'em. dar's a strip from de groun' 'bout four feet high which am light on de darkes' night, case hit can't git dark down dar. git down an' crawl an' yo'll see a million laigs of eber' kin' an' if'en you lis'ens you'll hyar a little groanin' an' den you has gone through a warm spot. b. n. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: harriet ann daves story teller: harriet ann daves editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] harriet ann daves e. cabarrus street my full name is harriet ann daves, i like to be called harriet ann. if my mother called me when she was living, i didn't want to answer her unless she called me harriet ann. i was born june , . milton waddell, my mother's marster was my father, and he never denied me to anybody. my mother was a slave but she was white. i do not know who my mother's father was. my mother was mary collins. she said that her father was an indian. my mother's mother was mary jane collins, and she was white--maybe part indian. my grandfather was old man william d. waddell, a white man. i was born in virginia near orange courthouse. the waddells moved to lexington, missouri, after i was born. i guess some of the family would not like it if they knew i was telling this. we had good food and a nice place to live. i was nothing but a child, but i know, and remember that i was treated kindly. i remember the surrender very well. when the surrender came my grandfather came to mother and told her: 'well, you are as free as i am.' that was william d. waddell. he was one of the big shots among the white folks. my white grandmother wanted mother to give me to her entirely. she said she had more right to me than my indian grandmother that she had plenty to educate and care for me. my mother would not give me to her, and she cried. my mother gave me to my indian grandmother. i later went back to my mother. while we were in missouri some of my father's people, a white girl, sent for me to come up to the great house. i had long curls and was considered pretty. the girl remarked, 'such a pretty child' and kissed me. she afterwards made a remark to which my father who was there, my white father, took exception telling her i was his child and that i was as good as she was. i remember this incident very distinctly. my mother had two children by the same white man, my father. the other was a girl. she died in california. my father never married. he loved my mother, and he said if he could not marry mary he did not want to marry. father said he did not want any other woman. my father was good to me. he would give me anything i asked him for. mother would make me ask him for things for her. she said it was no harm for me to ask him for things for her which she could not get unless i asked him for them. when the surrender came my mother told my father she was tired of living that kind of a life, that if she could not be his legal wife she wouldn't be anything to him, so she left and went to levenworth, kansas. she died there in . i do not know where my father is, living or dead, or what became of him. i can read and write well. they did not teach us to read and write in slavery days. i went to a school opened by the yankees after the surrender. i went with my mother to levenworth, kansas. she sent me to school in flat, nebraska. i met my husband there. my first husband was elisha williams; i ran away from school in flat, and married him. he brought me to raleigh. he was born and raised in wake county. we lived together about a year when he died july st, . there was one child born to us which died in infancy. i married the second time rufus h. daves in . he was practically a white man. he wouldn't even pass for a mulatto. he used to belong to the haywoods. he died in in raleigh. i think abraham lincoln was a fine, conscientious man; my mother worshipped him, but he turned us out without anything to eat or live on. i don't think mr. roosevelt is either hot or cold--just a normal man. ac n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: jerry davis story teller: jerry davis editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] jerry davis ex-slave story and folk tale an interview with jerry davis of e. south street, raleigh, north carolina. i wus borned in warren county ter mataldia an' jordan davis. dere wus twenty-two o' us chilluns, an' natu'ally marster sam davis laked my mammy an' daddy. he owned two hundert an' sebenty slaves, an' three, four, or five scopes o' lan'. marster wus good ter us, he gibe us plenty ter eat, an' w'ar, an' he wus good an' kind in his talkin'. i warn't big 'nuff ter do much 'sides min' de chickens, an' sich lak. i doan 'member so much 'bout de yankees comin' 'cept sein' dem, an' dat dey gibe my pappy a new blue overcoat an' dat i slep' on it onct er twict. i knows dat de yankees wus good ter de niggers but dey warn't so good ter de ole issues. dey did 'stroy most eber'thing do'. i can't 'member, but i'se hyard my mammy tell o' dances, co'n shuckin's, wrestlin' matches, candy pullin's an' sich things dat wus had by de slaves dem days. my pappy tol' me 'bout de cock fights in de big pits at warrenton an' how dat when de roosters got killed de owner often gibe de dead bird ter him. i'se also hyard him tell 'bout de hoss races an' 'bout marster sam's fine hosses. i knows dat de marster an' missus wus good case my mammy an' daddy 'sisted on stayin' right on atter de war, an' so dey died an' was buried dar on marster sam's place. i wucked in de dupont powder plant durin' de world war but i wus discharged case i had acid injury. yessum, i'll tell you de only rale ole tale dat i knows an' dat am de story' bout----jack. jack onct dar wus a white man down in beaufort county what owned a nigger named jack. dis man owned a boat an' he was fer ever more goin' boat ridin', fer days an' nights. he larned jack how ter steer an' often he'd go ter sleep leavin' jack at de wheel, wid 'structions ter steer always by de seben stars. one night as jack steered for his master to sleep, jack suddenly fell asleep too. when he awake it wuz jist at de crack of dawn so no stars wus dar. jack went flyin' ter de marster hollerin', 'please sur marster, hang up some mo' stars, i done run by dem seben'. jack and the devil onct jack an' de debil got inter a 'spute 'bout who can throw a rock de ferderest. de debil sez dat he can throw a rock so fur dat hit won't come down in three days. iffen you can throw a rock furder dan dat, sez de debil, i'll give you yer freedom. de debil chunks a rock an' hit goes up an' stays fer three days. when hit comes down jack picks hit up an' he 'lows, 'good lawd, move de stars an' de moon case dar's a rock comin' ter heaben'. de debil sez, 'iffen you can do dat den you can beat me case i can't throw a rock in a mile o' heaben'. ac. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: a slave story story teller: w. s. debnam editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] w. solomon debnam. smith street. yes, i remember the yankees coming to raleigh. i don't know very much about those times, i was so young, but i remember the yankees all right in their blue clothes; their horses, and so on. i'll be years old the th of this comin' september an' i've heard mother an' father talk about slavery time a whole lot. we belonged to t. r. debnam at eagle rock, wake county. his wife was named priscilla debnam. my father was named daniel debnam an' my mother was named liza debnam. my master had several plantations an' a lot of slaves. i don't know how many, but i know he had 'em. he fed us well; we had a good place to sleep. we had wove clothes, enough to keep us warm. he treated me just like he had been my father. i didn't know the difference. marster an' missus never hit me a lick in their lives. my mother was the house girl. father tended business around the house an' worked in the field sometimes. our houses were in marster's yard. the slave quarters were in the yard of the great house. i don't remember going to church until after the surrender. i remember the corn shuckin's, but not the christmas and the fourth of july holidays. they had a lot of whiskey at corn shuckin's and good things to eat. i heard pappy talk of patterollers, but i do not know what they were. pappy said he had to have a pass to visit on, or they would whip him if they could ketch him. sometimes they could not ketch a nigger they were after. yes, they taught us to say pappy an' mammy in them days. i remember the coon and possum hunts an' the rabbits we caught in gums. i remember killin' birds at night with thorn brush. when bird blindin' we hunt 'em at night with lights from big splinters. we went to grass patches, briars, and vines along the creeks an' low groun's where they roosted, an' blinded 'em an' killed 'em when they come out. we cooked 'em on coals, and i remember making a stew and having dumplings cooked with 'em. we'd flustrate the birds in their roostin' place an' when they come out blinded by the light we hit 'em an' killed 'em with thorn brush we carried in our han's. marster had a gran'son, the son of alonza hodge an' arabella hodge, 'bout my age an' i stayed with him most of the time. when alonza hodge bought his son anything he bought for me too. he treated us alike. he bought each of us a pony. we could ride good, when we were small. he let us follow him. he let us go huntin' squirrels with him. when he shot an' killed a squirrel he let us race to see which could get him first, while he laughed at us. i didn't sleep in the great house. i stayed with this white boy till bed time then my mammy come an' got me an' carried me home. when marster wanted us boys to go with him he would say, 'let's go boys,' an' we would follow him. we were like brothers. i ate with him at the table. what they et, i et. he made the house girl wait on me just like he an' his son was waited on. my father stayed with marster till he died, when he was an' i was ; we both stayed right there. my white playmate's name was richard hodge. i stayed there till i was married. when i got years old i married ida rawlson. richard hodge became a medical doctor, but he died young, just before i was married. they taught me to read an' write. after the surrender i went to free school. when i didn't know a word i went to old marster an' he told me. during my entire life no man can touch my morals, i was brought up by my white folks not to lie, steal or do things immoral. i have lived a pure life. there is nothing against me. i remember the yankees, yes sir, an' somethings they done. well, i remember the big yeller gobler they couldn't ketch. he riz an' flew an' they shot him an' killed him. they went down to marster's store an' busted the head outen a barrel o' molasses an' after they busted the head out i got a tin bucket an' got it full o' molasses an' started to the house. then they shoved me down in the molasses. i set the bucket down an' hit a yankee on the leg with a dogwood stick. he tried to hit me. the yankees ganged around him, an' made him leave me alone, give me my bucket o' molasses, an' i carried it on to the house. they went down to the lot, turned out all the horses an' tuck two o' the big mules, kentucky mules, an' carried 'em off. one of the mules would gnaw every line in two you tied him with, an' the other could not be rode. so next morning after the yankees carried 'em off they both come back home with pieces o' lines on 'em. the mules was named, one was named bill, an' the other charles. you could ride old charles, but you couldn't ride old bill. he would throw you off as fast as you got on 'im. after i was married when i was years old i lived there ten years, right there; but old marster had died an' missus had died. i stayed with his son nathaniel; his wife was named drusilla. i had five brothers, richard, daniel, rogene, lorenzo, lumus and myself. there wont places there for us all, an' then i left. when i left down there i moved to raleigh. the first man i worked fer here was george marsh company, then w. a. myatt company an' no one else. i worked with the myatt company twenty-six years; 'till i got shot. it was about half past twelve o'clock. i was on my way home to dinner on the th of december, . when i was passing patterson's alley entering lenoir street near the colored park in the block something hit me. i looked around an' heard a shot. the bullet hit me before i heard the report of the pistol. when hit, i looked back an' heard it. capt. bruce pool, o' the raleigh police force, had shot at some thief that had broken into a a&p store an' the bullet hit me. it hit me in my left thigh above the knee. it went through my thigh, a caliber bullet, an' lodged under the skin on the other side. i did not fall but stood on one foot while the blood ran from the wound. a car came by in about a half hour an' they stopped an' carried me to st. agnes hospital. it was not a police car. i stayed there a week. they removed the bullet, an' then i had to go to the hospital every day for a month. i have not been able to work a day since. i was working with w. a. myatt company when i got shot. my leg pains me now and swells up. i cannot stand on it much. i am unable to do a day's work. can't stand up to do a day's work. the city paid me $ . , an' paid my hospital bill. abraham lincoln was all right. i think slavery was wrong because birds an' things are free an' man ought to have the same privilege. franklin roosevelt is a wonderful man. men would have starved if he hadn't helped 'em. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: travis jordan subject: sarah debro ex-slave years durham, n. c. [tr: date stamp "jul "] sarah debro ex-slave years i was bawn in orange county way back some time in de fifties. mis polly white cain an' marse docter cain was my white folks. marse cain's plantation joined mistah paul cameron's land. marse cain owned so many niggers dat he didn' know his own slaves when he met dem in de road. sometimes he would stop dem an' say: 'whose niggers am you?' dey'd say, 'we's marse cain's niggers.' den he would say, 'i'se marse cain,' and drive on. marse cain was good to his niggers. he didn' whip dem like some owners did, but if dey done mean he sold dem. dey knew dis so dey minded him. one day gran'pappy sassed mis' polly white an' she told him dat if he didn' 'have hese'f dat she would put him in her pocket. gran'pappy wuz er big man an' i ax him how mis' polly could do dat. he said she meant dat she would sell him den put de money in her pocket. he never did sass mis' polly no more. i was kept at de big house to wait on mis' polly, to tote her basket of keys an' such as dat. whenever she seed a chile down in de quarters dat she wanted to raise be hand, she took dem up to do big house an' trained dem. i wuz to be a house maid. de day she took me my mammy cried kaze she knew i would never be 'lowed to live at de cabin wid her no more mis' polly was big an' fat an' she made us niggers mind an' we had to keep clean. my dresses an' aprons was starched stiff. i had a clean apron every day. we had white sheets on de beds an' we niggers had plenty to eat too, even ham. when mis' polly went to ride she took me in de carriage wid her. de driver set way up high an' me an' mis' polly set way down low. dey was two hosses with shiney harness. i toted mis' polly's bag an' bundles, an' if she dropped her hank'chief i picked it up. i loved mis' polly an' loved stayin' at de big house. i was 'bout wais' high when de sojers mustered. i went wid mis' polly down to de musterin' fiel' whare dey was marchin'. i can see dey feets now when dey flung dem up an' down, sayin', hep, hep. when dey was all ready to go an' fight, de women folks fixed a big dinner. aunt charity an' pete cooked two or three days for mis' polly. de table was piled wid chicken, ham, shoat, barbecue, young lam', an'all sorts of pies, cakes an' things, but nobody eat nothin much. mis' polly an' de ladies got to cryin.' de vittles got cold. i was so sad dat i got over in de corner an' cried too. de men folks all had on dey new sojer clothes, an' dey didn' eat nothin neither. young marse jim went up an' put his arm 'roun' mis' polly, his mammy, but dat made her cry harder. marse jim was a cavalry. he rode a big hoss, an' my uncle dave went wid him to de fiel' as his body guard. he had a hoss too so if marse jim's hoss got shot dare would be another one for him to ride. mis' polly had another son but he was too drunk to hold a gun. he stayed drunk. de first cannon i heard skeered me near 'bout to death. we could hear dem goin' boom, boom. i thought it was thunder, den mis polly say, 'lissen, sarah, hear dem cannons? dey's killin' our mens.' den she 'gun to cry. i run in de kitchen whare aunt charity was cookin an' tole her mis' polly was cryin. she said: 'she ain't cryin' kaze de yankees killin' de mens; she's doin' all dat cryin' kaze she skeered we's goin' to be sot free.' den i got mad an' tole her mis' polly wuzn' like dat. i 'members when wheelers cavalry come through. dey was 'federates but dey was mean as de yankees. dey stold everything dey could find an' killed a pile of niggers. dey come 'roun' checkin'. dey ax de niggahs if dey wanted to be free. if dey say yes, den dey shot dem down, but if dey say no, dey let dem alone. dey took three of my uncles out in de woods an' shot dey faces off. i 'members de first time de yankees come. dey come gallupin' down de road, jumpin' over de palin's, tromplin' down de rose bushes an' messin' up de flower beds. dey stomped all over de house, in de kitchen, pantries, smoke house, an' everywhare, but dey didn' find much, kaze near 'bout everything done been hid. i was settin' on de steps when a big yankee come up. he had on a cap an' his eyes was mean. 'whare did dey hide do gol' an silver, nigger?' he yelled at me. i was skeered an my hands was ashy, but i tole him i didn' nothin' 'bout nothin; dat if anybody done hid things dey hid it while i was sleep. 'go ax dat ole white headed devil,' he said to me. i got mad den kaze he was tawkin' 'bout mis' polly, so i didn' say nothin'. i jus' set. den he pushed me off de step an' say if i didn' dance he gwine shoot my toes off. skeered as i was, i sho done some shufflin'. den he give me five dollers an' tole me to go buy jim cracks, but dat piece of paper won't no good. 'twuzn nothin' but a shin plaster like all dat war money, you couldn' spend it. dat yankee kept callin' mis' polly a white headed devil an' said she done ramshacked 'til dey wuzn' nothin' left, but he made his mens tote off meat, flour, pigs, an' chickens. after dat mis' polly got mighty stingy wid de vittles an' de didn' have no more ham. when de war was over de yankees was all 'roun' de place tellin' de niggers what to do. dey tole dem dey was free, dat dey didn' have to slave for de white folks no more. my folks all left marse cain an' went to live in houses dat de yankees built. dey wuz like poor white folks houses, little shacks made out of sticks an' mud wid stick an' mud chimneys. dey wuzn' like marse cain's cabins, planked up an' warm, dey was full of cracks, an' dey wuzn' no lamps an' oil. all de light come from de lightwood knots burnin' in de fireplace. one day my mammy come to de big house after me. i didn' want to go, i wanted to stay wid mis' polly. i 'gun to cry an' mammy caught hold of me. i grabbed mis' polly an' held so tight dat i tore her skirt bindin' loose an' her skirt fell down 'bout her feets. 'let her stay wid me,' mis' polly said to mammy. but mammy shook her head. 'you took her away from me an' didn' pay no mind to my cryin', so now i'se takin' her back home. we's free now, mis' polly, we ain't gwine be slaves no more to nobody.' she dragged me away. i can see how mis' polly looked now. she didn' say nothin' but she looked hard at mammy an' her face was white. mammy took me to de stick an' mud house de yankees done give her. it was smoky an' dark kaze dey wuzn' no windows. we didn' have no sheets an' no towels, so when i cried an' said i didn' want to live on no yankee house, mammy beat me an' made me go to bed. i laid on de straw tick lookin' up through de cracks in de roof. i could see de stars, an' de sky shinin' through de cracks looked like long blue splinters stretched 'cross de rafters. i lay dare an' cried kaze i wanted to go back to mis' polly. i was never hungry til we waz free an' de yankees fed us. we didn' have nothin to eat 'cept hard tack an' middlin' meat. i never saw such meat. it was thin an' tough wid a thick skin. you could boil it allday an' all night an' it wouldn' cook dome, i wouldn' eat it. i thought 'twuz mule meat; mules dat done been shot on de battle field den dried. i still believe 'twuz mule meat. one day me an' my brother was lookin' for acorns in de woods. we foun' sumpin' like a grave in de woods. i tole dave dey wuz sumpin' buried in dat moun'. we got de grubbin hoe an' dug. dey wuz a box wid eleven hams in dat grave. somebody done hid it from de yankees an' forgot whare dey buried it. we covered it back up kaze if we took it home in de day time de yankees an' niggers would take it away from us. so when night come we slipped out an' toted dem hams to de house an' hid dem in de loft. dem was bad days. i'd rather been a slave den to been hired out like i was, kaze i wuzn' no fiel' hand, i was a hand maid, trained to wait on de ladies. den too, i was hungry most of de time an' had to keep fightin' off dem yankee mens. dem yankees was mean folks. we's come a long way since dem times. i'se lived near 'bout ninety years an' i'se seen an' heard much. my folks don't want me to talk 'bout slavery, day's shame niggers ever was slaves. but, while for most colored folks freedom is de bes, dey's still some niggers dat out to be slaves now. dese niggers dat's done clean forgot de lawd; dose dat's always cuttin' an' fightin' an' gwine in white folks houses at night, dey ought to be slaves. dey ought to have an' ole marse wid a whip to make dem come when he say come, an' go when he say go, 'til dey learn to live right. i looks back now an' thinks. i ain't never forgot dem slavery days, an' i ain't never forgot mis' polly an' my white starched aprons. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: charles w. dickens story teller: charles w. dickens editor: daisy bailey waitt [hw note: ] [tr: date stamp "jun "] charles w. dickens east lenoir street my name is charles w. dickens. i lives at east lenoir street, raleigh, north carolina, wake county. i wuz born august , , de year de war started. my mother wuz named ferebee dickens. my father wuz named john dickens. i had nine sisters and brothers. my brothers were named allen, douglas, my name [hw: question mark above "my name"], jake, johnnie and jonas. the girls katie, matilda francis, and emily dickens. my grandmother wuz named charity dickens. my grandfather wuz dudley t. dickens. i do not know where dey came from. no, i don't think i do. my mother belonged to washington scarborough, and so did we chilluns. my father he belonged to obediah dickens and missus wuz named silvia dickens. dey lowed mother to go by the name of my father after dey wuz married. we lived in log houses and we had bunks in 'em. master died, but i 'member missus wuz mighty good to us. we had tolerable fair food, and as fur as i know she wuz good to us in every way. we had good clothing made in a loom, that is de cloth wuz made in de loom. my father lived in franklin county. my mother lived in wake county. i 'member hearin' father talk about walkin' so fur to see us. there wuz about one dozen slaves on de plantation. dere were no hired overseers. missus done her own bossing. i have heard my father speak about de patterollers, but i never seed none. i heard him say he could not leave the plantation without a strip o' something. no, sir, the white folks did not teach us to read and write. my mother and father, no sir, they didn't have any books of any kind. we went to white folk's church. my father split slats and made baskets to sell. he said his master let him have all de money he made sellin' de things he made. he learned a trade. he wuz a carpenter. one of the young masters got after father, so he told me, and he went under de house to keep him from whuppin' him. when missus come home she wouldn't let young master whup him. she jist wouldn't 'low it. i 'members de yankees comin' through. when mother heard they were comin', she took us chillun and carried us down into an ole field, and after that she carried us back to the house. missus lived in a two-story house. we lived in a little log house in front of missus' house. my mother had a shoulder of meat and she hid it under a mattress in the house. when the yankees lef, she looked for it; they had stole the meat and gone. yes, they stole from us slaves. the road the yankees wuz travellin' wuz as thick wid' em as your fingers. i 'member their blue clothes, their blue caps. de chickens they were carrying on their horses wuz crowing. dey wuz driving cows, hogs, and things. yes sir, ahead of 'em they come first. the barns and lots were on one side de road dey were trabellin' on and de houses on de other. atter many yankees had passed dey put a bodyguard at de door of de great house, and didn't 'low no one to go in dere. i looked down at de yankees and spit at 'em. mother snatched me back, and said, 'come back here chile, dey will kill you.' dey carried de horses off de plantation and de meat from missus' smokehouse and buried it. my uncle, louis scarborough, stayed wid de horses. he is livin' yet, he is over a hundred years old. he lives down at moores mill, wake county, near youngsville. before de surrender one of de boys and my uncle got to fightin', one of de scarborough boys and him. my uncle threw him down. the young master scarborough jumped up, and got his knife and cut uncle's entrails out so uncle had to carry 'em to de house in his hands. about a year after de war my father carried us to franklin county. he carried us on a steer cart. dat's about all i 'member about de war. abraham lincoln wuz de man who set us free. i think he wuz a mighty good man. he done so much for de colored race, but what he done was intended through de higher power. i don't think slavery wuz right. i think mr. roosevelt is a fine man, one of the best presidents in the world. i voted for him, and i would vote for him ag'in. he has done a lot for de people, and is still doin'. he got a lot of sympathy for 'em. yas sir, a lot of sympathy for de people. mm n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: margaret e. dickens story teller: margaret e. dickens editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] margaret e. dickens e. lenoir st. my name is margaret e. dickens and i was born on the th of june . my mother wuz free born; her name wuz mary ann hews, but my mother wuz colored. i don't remember anything about marster and missus. my father was named henry byrd. here is some of father's writing. my mother's father was dark. he had no protection. if he did any work for a white man and the white man didn't like it, he could take him up and whup him. my father was like a stray dog. my name was margaret e. byrd before i got married. here is some of father's writing--"margaret elvira byrd the daughter of henry and mary ann byrd was born on the th june ." my grandfather, my mother's father was a cabinet maker. he made coffins and tables and furniture. if he made one, and it didn't suit the man he would beat him and kick him around and let him go. dis was told to me. my father was a carpenter. he built houses. i can read and write. my father could read and write. my mother could read, but couldn't write very much. i have heerd my mother say when she heerd the yankees were commin' she had a brand new counterpane, my father owned a place before he married my mother, the counterpane was a woolen woven counterpane. she took it off and hid it. the yankees took anything they wanted, but failed to find it. we were living in raleigh, at the time, on the very premises we are living on now. the old house has been torn down, but some of the wood is in this very house. i kin show you part of the old house now. my mother used to pass this place when she wuz a girl and she told me she never expected to live here. she was twenty years younger than my father. my mother, she lived here most of the time except twenty-four years she lived in the north. she died in . my father bought the lan' in from a man named henry morgan. here is the deed.[ ] when we left raleigh, and went north we first stopped in cambridge, mass. this was with my first husband. his name was samuel e. reynolds. he was a preacher. he had a church and preached there. the east winds were so strong and cold we couldn't stan' it. it was too cold for us. we then went to providence, r. i. from there to elmira, n. y. from there we went to brooklyn, n. y. he preached in the state of new york; we finally came back south, and he died right here in this house. i like the north very well, but there is nothing like home, the south. another thing i don't have so many white kin folks up north. i don't like to be called auntie by anyone, unless they admit bein' kin to me. i was not a fool when i went to the north, and it made no change in me. i was raised to respect everybody and i tries to keep it up. some things in the north are all right, i like them, but i like the south better. yes, i guess i like the south better. i was married to charles w. dickens in . he is my second husband. i inherited this place from my father henry byrd. i like well water. there is my well, right out here in the yard. this well was dug here when they were building the first house here. i believe in havin' your own home, so i have held on to my home, and i am goin' to try to keep holdin' on to it. [footnote : an interesting feature of the deed is the fact that henry morgan made his mark while henry byrd's signature is his own.] n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: rev. squire dowd story teller: rev. squire dowd editor: daisy bailey waitt [hw: minister--interesting] [tr: date stamp "jun "] [hw: language not negro, very senternous & interesting.] [tr: the above comment is crossed out.] reverend squire dowd battle street raleigh, n. c. my name is squire dowd, and i was born april , . my mother's name was jennie dowd. my father's name was elias kennedy. my mother died in georgia at the age of , and my father died in moore county at the age of . i attended his funeral. my sister and her husband had carried my mother to georgia, when my sister's husband went there to work in turpentine. my mother's husband was dead. she had married a man named stewart. you could hardly keep up with your father during slavery time. it was a hard thing to do. there were few legal marriages. when a young man from one plantation courted a young girl on the plantation, the master married them, sometimes hardly knowing what he was saying. my master was general w. d. dowd. he lived three miles from carthage, in moore county, north carolina. he owned fifty slaves. the conditions were good. i had only ten years' experience, but it was a good experience. no man is fool enough to buy slaves to kill. i have never known a real slave owner to abuse his slaves. the abuse was done by patterollers and overseers. i have a conservative view of slavery. i taught school for four years and i have been in the ministry fifty years. i was ordained a christian minister in . i lived in moore county until , then i moved to raleigh. i have feeling. i don't like for people to have a feeling that slaves are no more than dogs; i don't like that. it causes people to have the wrong idea of slavery. here is john bectom, a well, healthy friend of mine, years of age. if we had been treated as some folks say, these big, healthy niggers would not be walking about in the south now. the great negro leaders we have now would never have come out of it. the places we lived in were called cabins. the negroes who were thrifty had nice well-kept homes; and it is thus now. the thrifty of the colored race live well; the others who are indolent live in hovels which smell foul and are filthy. prayer meetings were held at night in the cabins of the slaves. on sunday we went to the white folk's church. we sat in a barred-off place, in the back of the church or in a gallery. we had a big time at cornshuckings. we had plenty of good things to eat, and plenty of whiskey and brandy to drink. these shuckings were held at night. we had a good time, and i never saw a fight at a cornshucking in life. if we could catch the master after the shucking was over, we put him in a chair, we darkies, and toted him around and hollered, carried him into the parlor, set him down, and combed his hair. we only called the old master "master". we called his wife "missus." when the white children grew up we called them mars. john, miss mary, etc. we had some money. we made baskets. on moonlight nights and holidays we cleared land; the master gave us what we made on the land. we had money. the darkies also stole for deserters during the war. they paid us for it. i ate what i stole, such as sugar. i was not big enough to steal for the deserters. i was a house boy. i stole honey. i did not know i was free until five years after the war. i could not realize i was free. many of us stayed right on. if we had not been ruined right after the war by carpetbaggers our race would have been, well,--better up by this time, because they turned us against our masters, when our masters had everything and we had nothing. the freedmen's bureau helped us some, but we finally had to go back to the plantation in order to live. we got election days, christmas, new year, etc., as holidays. when we were slaves we had a week or more christmas. the holidays lasted from christmas eve to after new years. sometimes we got passes. if our master would not give them to us, the white boys we played with would give us one. we played cat, jumping, wrestling and marbles. we played for fun; we did not play for money. there were acres on the plantation. we hunted a lot, and the fur of the animals we caught we sold and had the money. we were allowed to raise a few chickens and pigs, which we sold if we wanted to. the white folks rode to church and the darkies walked, as many of the poor white folks did. we looked upon the poor white folks as our equals. they mixed with us and helped us to envy our masters. they looked upon our masters as we did. negro women having children by the masters was common. my relatives on my mother's side, who were kellys are mixed blooded. they are partly white. we, the darkies and many of the whites hate that a situation like this exists. it is enough to say that seeing is believing. there were many and are now mixed blooded people among the race. i was well clothed. our clothes were made in looms. shoes were made on the plantation. distilleries were also located on the plantation. when they told me i was free, i did not notice it. i did not realize it till many years after when a man made a speech at carthage, telling us we were free. i did not like the yankees. we were afraid of them. we had to be educated to love the yankees, and to know that they freed us and were our friends. i feel that abraham lincoln was a father to us. we consider him thus because he freed us. the freedmen's bureau and carpet baggers caused us to envy our masters and the white folks. the ku klux klan, when we pushed our rights, came in between us, and we did not know what to do. the ku klux were after the carpet baggers and the negroes who followed them. it was understood that white people were not to teach negroes during slavery, but many of the whites taught the negroes. the children of the white folks made us study. i could read and write when the war was up. they made me study books, generally a blue-back spelling book as punishment for mean things i done. my missus, a young lady about years old taught a sunday school class of colored boys and girls. this sunday school was held at a different time of day from the white folks. sometimes old men and old women were in these classes. i remember once they asked uncle ben pearson who was meekest man, 'moses' he replied. 'who was the wisest man?' 'soloman', 'who was the strongest man?' was then asked him. to this he said 'they say bill medlin is the strongest, but tom shaw give him his hands full.' they were men of the community. medlin was white, shaw was colored. i do not like the way they have messed up our songs with classical music. i like the songs, 'roll jordan roll', 'old ship of zion', 'swing low sweet chariot'. classical singers ruin them, though. there was no use of our going to town of saturday afternoon to buy our rations, so we worked saturday afternoons. when we got sick the doctors treated us. dr. j. d. shaw, dr. bruce, and dr. turner. they were the first doctors i ever heard any tell of. they treated both whites and darkies on my master's plantation. i married a matthews, anna matthews, august . we have one daughter. her name is ella. she married george cheatam of henderson, n. c. a magistrate married us, mr. pitt cameron. it was just a quiet wedding on saturday night with about one-half dozen of my friends present. my idea of life is to forget the bad and live for the good there is in it. this is my motto. b. n. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: fannie dunn story teller: fannie dunn editor: g. l. andrews [tr: date stamp "aug "] fannie dunn heck street, raleigh, n. c. i don't 'zakly know my age, but i knows and 'members when de yankees come through wake county. i wus a little girl an' wus so skeered i run an hid under de bed. de yankees stopped at de plantation an' along de road fur a rest. i 'members i had diphtheria an' a yankee doctor come an' mopped my throat. dey had to pull me outen under de bed so he could doctor me. one yankee would come along an' give us sumptin' an another would come on behind him an' take it. dats de way dey done. one give mother a mule an' when dey done gone she sold it. a yankee give mother a ham of meat, another come right on behind him an' took it away from her. dere shore wus a long line of dem yankees. i can 'member seeing 'em march by same as it wus yisterday. i wus not old enough to work, but i 'members 'em. i don't know 'zackly but i wus 'bout five years old when de surrender wus. my name before i wus married wus fannie sessoms an' mother wus named della sessoms. we belonged to dr. isaac sessoms an' our missus wus named hanna. my father wus named perry vick, after his marster who wus named perry vick. my missus died durin' de war an' marster never married anymore. i don't 'member much 'bout missus but mother tole me she wus some good woman an' she loved her. marster wus mighty good to us an' didn't allow patterollers to whip us none. de slave houses wus warm and really dey wus good houses, an' didn't leak neither. i don't 'member much 'bout my grandparents, just a little mother tole me 'bout 'em. grandma 'longed to de sessoms an' dr. isaac sessoms brother wus mother's father. mother tole me dat. look at dat picture, mister, you see you can't tell her from a white woman. dats my mother's picture. she wus as white as you wid long hair an' a face like a white woman. she been dead 'bout twenty years. my mother said dat we all fared good, but course we wore homemade clothes an' wooden bottomed shoes. we went to the white folks church at red oak an' rocky mount missionary baptist churches. we were allowed to have prayer meetings at de slave houses, two an' three times a week. i 'members goin' to church 'bout last year of de war wid mother. i had a apple wid me an' i got hungry an' wanted to eat it in meetin' but mother jest looked at me an' touched my arm, dat wus enough. i didn't eat de apple. i can 'member how bad i wanted to eat it. don't 'member much 'bout dat sermon, guess i put my mind on de apple too much. marster had about twenty slaves an' mother said dey had always been allowed to go to church an' have prayer meetings 'fore i wus born. marster had both white an' colored overseers but he would not allow any of his overseers to bulldoze over his slaves too much. he would call a overseer down for bein' rough at de wrong time. charles sessoms wus one of marster's colored overseers. he 'longed to marster, an' mother said marster always listened to what charles said. dey said marster had always favored him even 'fore he made him overseer. charles sessoms fell dead one day an' mother found him. she called marster sessoms an' he come an' jest cried. mother said when marster come he wus dead shore enough, dat marster jest boohooed an' went to de house, an' wouldn't look at him no more till dey started to take him to de grave. everybody on de plantation went to his buryin' an' funeral an' some from de udder plantation dat joined ourn. i 'members but little 'bout my missus, but 'members one time she run me when i wus goin' home from de great house, an' she said, 'i am goin' to catch you, now i catch you'. she pickin' at me made me love her. when she died mother tole me 'bout her bein' dead an' took me to her buryin'. next day i wanted to go an' get her up. i tole mother i wanted her to come home an' eat. mother cried an' took me up in her arms, an' said, 'honey missus will never eat here again.' i wus so young i didn't understand. dr. sessoms an' also dr. drake, who married his daughter, doctored us when we wus sick. dr. joe drake married marster's only daughter harriet an' his only son david died in mississippi. he had a plantation dere. i been married only once. i wus married forty years ago to sidney dunn. i had one chile, she's dead. from what i knows of slavery an' what my mother tole me i can't say it wus a bad thing. mister, i wants to tell de truth an' i can't say its bad 'cause my mother said she had a big time as a slave an' i knows i had a good time an' wus treated right. le n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: jennylin dunn person interviewed: jennylin dunn editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] jennylin dunn ex-slave story an interview with jennylin dunn , of bledsoe avenue, raleigh, n. c. i wuz borned hyar in wake county eighty-seben years ago. me an' my folks an' bout six others belonged ter mis' betsy lassiter who wuz right good ter us, do' she sho' did know dat chilluns needs a little brushin' now an' den. my papa wuz named isaac, my mammy wuz named liza, an' my sisters wuz named lucy, candice an' harriet. dar wuz one boy what died 'fore i can 'member an' i doan know his name. we ain't played no games ner sung no songs, but we had fruit ter eat an' a heap of watermillions ter eat in de season. i seed seberal slabe sales on de block, front of de raleigh cou't house, an' yo' can't think how dese things stuck in my mind. a whole heap o' times i seed mammies sold from dere little babies, an' dar wuz no'min' den, as yo' knows. de patterollers wuz sumpin dat i wuz skeerd of. i know jist two o' 'em, mr. billy allen dunn an' mr. jim ray, an' i'se hyard of some scandelous things dat dey done. dey do say dat dey whupped some of de niggers scandelous. when dey hyard dat de yankees wuz on dere way ter hyar dey says ter us dat dem yankees eats little nigger youngins, an' we shore stays hid. i jist seed squeamishin' parties lookin' fer sumpin' ter eat, an' i'se hyard dat dey tuck ever'thing dey comes 'crost. a whole heap of it dey flunged away, an' atterwards dey got hongry too. one of 'em tried ter tell us dat our white folks stold us from our country an' brung us hyar, but since den i foun' out dat de yankees stole us dereselves, an' den dey sold us ter our white folkses. atter de war my pappy an' mammy brung us ter raleigh whar i'se been libin' since dat time. we got along putty good, an' de yankees sont us some teachers, but most o' us wuz so busy scramblin' roun' makin' a livin' dat we ain't got no time fer no schools. i reckon dat hit wuz better dat de slaves wuz freed, but i still loves my white folkses, an' dey loves me. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: aunt lucy's love story person interviewed: lucy ann dunn editor: g. l. andrews [tr: date stamp "aug "] aunt lucy's love story an interview with lucy ann dunn, years old, cannon street, raleigh, n. c. my pappy, dempsey, my mammy, rachel an' my brothers an' sisters an' me all belonged ter marse peterson dunn of neuse, here in wake county. dar wus five of us chilluns, allen, charles, corina, madora an' me, all borned before de war. my mammy wus de cook, an' fur back as i 'members almost, i wus a house girl. i fanned flies offen de table an' done a heap of little things fer mis' betsy, marse peterson's wife. my pappy worked on de farm, which wus boun' ter have been a big plantation wid two hundert an' more niggers ter work hit. i 'members when word come dat war wus declared, how mis' betsy cried an' prayed an' how marse peter quarreled an' walked de floor cussin' de yankees. de war comes on jist de same an' some of de men slaves wus sent ter roanoke ter hep buil' de fort. yes mam, de war comes ter de great house an' ter de slave cabins jist alike. de great house wus large an' white washed, wid green blinds an' de slave cabins wus made of slabs wid plank floors. we had plenty ter eat an' enough ter wear an' we wus happy. we had our fun an' we had our troubles, lak little whuppin's, when we warn't good, but dat warn't often. atter so long a time de rich folkses tried ter hire, er make de po' white trash go in dere places, but some of dem won't go. dey am treated so bad dat some of dem cides ter be ku kluxes an' dey goes ter de woods ter live. when we starts ter take up de aigs er starts from de spring house wid de butter an' milk dey grabs us an' takes de food fer dereselbes. dis goes on fer a long time an' finally one day in de spring i sets on de porch an' i hear a roar. i wus 'sponsible fer de goslins dem days so i sez ter de missus, 'i reckin dat i better git in de goslins case i hear hit a-thunderin'. 'dat ain't no thunder, nigger, dat am de canon', she sez. 'what canon', i axes? 'why de canon what dey am fightin' wid', she sez. well dat ebenin' i is out gittin' up de goslins when i hears music, i looks up de road an' i sees flags, an' 'bout dat time de yankees am dar a-killin' as dey goes. dey kills de geese, de ducks, de chickens, pigs an' ever'thing. dey goes ter de house an' dey takes all of de meat, de meal, an' ever'thing dey can git dere paws on. when dey goes ter de kitchen whar mammy am cookin' she cuss dem out an' run dem outen her kitchen. dey shore am a rough lot. i aint never fergot how mis' betsy cried when de news of de surrender come. she aint said nothin' but marse peter he makes a speech sayin' dat he aint had ter sell none of us, dat he aint whupped none of us bad, dat nobody has ever run away from him yet. den he tells us dat all who wants to can stay right on fer wages. well we stayed two years, even do my pappy died de year atter de surrender, den we moves ter marse peter's other place at wake forest. atter dat we moves back ter neuse. hit wus in de little baptist church at neuse whar i fust seed big black jim dunn an' i fell in love wid him den, i reckons. he said dat he loved me den too, but hit wus three sundays 'fore he axed ter see me home. we walked dat mile home in front of my mammy an' i wus so happy dat i aint thought hit a half a mile home. we et cornbread an' turnips fer dinner an' hit wus night 'fore he went home. mammy wouldn't let me walk wid him ter de gate. i knowed, so i jist sot dar on de porch an' sez good night. he come ever' sunday fer a year an' finally he proposed. i had told mammy dat i thought dat i ort ter be allowed ter walk ter de gate wid jim an' she said all right iffen she wus settin' dar on de porch lookin'. dat sunday night i did walk wid jim ter de gate an' stood under de honeysuckles dat wus a-smellin' so sweet. i heard de big ole bullfrogs a-croakin' by de riber an' de whipper-wills a-hollerin' in de woods. dar wus a big yaller moon, an' i reckon jim did love me. anyhow he said so an' axed me ter marry him an' he squeezed my han'. i tol' him i'd think hit ober an' i did an' de nex' sunday i tol' him dat i'd have him. he aint kissed me yet but de nex' sunday he axes my mammy fer me. she sez dat she'll have ter have a talk wid me an' let him know. well all dat week she talks ter me, tellin' me how serious gittin' married is an' dat hit lasts a powerful long time. i tells her dat i knows hit but dat i am ready ter try hit an' dat i intends ter make a go of hit, anyhow. on sunday night mammy tells jim dat he can have me an' yo' orter seed dat black boy grin. he comes ter me widout a word an' he picks me up outen dat cheer an' dar in de moonlight he kisses me right 'fore my mammy who am a-cryin'. de nex' sunday we wus married in de baptist church at neuse. i had a new white dress, do times wus hard. we lived tergether fifty-five years an' we always loved each other. he aint never whup ner cuss me an' do we had our fusses an' our troubles we trusted in de lawd an' we got through. i loved him durin' life an' i love him now, do he's been daid now fer twelve years. the old lady with her long white hair bowed her head and sobbed for a moment then she began again unsteadily. we had eight chilluns, but only four of dem are livin' now. de livin' are james, sidney, helen an' florence who wus named fer florence nightingale. i can't be here so much longer now case i'se gittin' too old an' feeble an' i wants ter go ter jim anyhow. the old woman wiped her eyes, 'i thinks of him all de time, but seems lak we're young agin when i smell honeysuckles er see a yaller moon. le n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: travis jordan subject: tempie herndon durham ex-slave years old pine st., durham, n. c. [tr: date stamp "aug "] tempie herndon durham ex-slave years old pine st., durham, n. c. i was thirty-one years ole when de surrender come. dat makes me sho nuff ole. near 'bout a hundred an' three years done passed over dis here white head of mine. i'se been here, i mean i'se been here. 'spects i'se de olest nigger in durham. i'se been here so long dat i done forgot near 'bout as much as dese here new generation niggers knows or ever gwine know. my white fo'ks lived in chatham county. dey was marse george an' mis' betsy herndon. mis betsy was a snipes befo' she married marse george. dey had a big plantation an' raised cawn, wheat, cotton an' 'bacca. i don't know how many field niggers marse george had, but he had a mess of dem, an' he had hosses too, an' cows, hogs an' sheeps. he raised sheeps an' sold de wool, an' dey used de wool at de big house too. dey was a big weavin' room whare de blankets was wove, an' dey wove de cloth for de winter clothes too. linda hernton an' milla edwards was de head weavers, dey looked after de weavin' of de fancy blankets. mis' betsy was a good weaver too. she weave de same as de niggers. she say she love de clackin' soun' of de loom, an' de way de shuttles run in an' out carryin' a long tail of bright colored thread. some days she set at de loom all de mawnin' peddlin' wid her feets an' her white han's flittin' over de bobbins. de cardin' an' spinnin' room was full of niggers. i can hear dem spinnin' wheels now turnin' roun' an' sayin' hum-m-m-m, hum-m-m-m, an' hear de slaves singin' while dey spin. mammy rachel stayed in de dyein' room. dey wuzn' nothin' she didn' know' bout dyein'. she knew every kind of root, bark, leaf an' berry dat made red, blue, green, or whatever color she wanted. dey had a big shelter whare de dye pots set over de coals. mammy rachel would fill de pots wid water, den she put in de roots, bark an' stuff an' boil de juice out, den she strain it an'put in de salt an' vinegar to set de color. after de wool an' cotton done been carded an' spun to thread, mammy take de hanks an' drap dem in de pot of bollin' dye. she stir dem' roun' an' lif' dem up an' down wid a stick, an' when she hang dem up on de line in de sun, dey was every color of de rainbow. when dey dripped dry dey was sent to de weavin' room whare dey was wove in blankets an' things. when i growed up i married exter durham. he belonged to marse snipes durham who had de plantation 'cross de county line in orange county. we had a big weddin'. we was married on de front po'ch of de big house. marse george killed a shoat an' mis' betsy had georgianna, de cook, to bake a big weddin' cake all iced up white as snow wid a bride an' groom standin' in de middle holdin' han's. de table was set out in de yard under de trees, an' you ain't never seed de like of eats. all de niggers come to de feas' an' marse george had a dram for everybody. dat was some weddin'. i had on a white dress, white shoes an' long white gloves dat come to my elbow, an' mis' betsy done made me a weddin' veil out of a white net window curtain. when she played de weddin ma'ch on de piano, me an' exter ma'ched down de walk an' up on de po'ch to de altar mis' betsy done fixed. dat de pretties' altar i ever seed. back 'gainst de rose vine dat was full or red roses, mis' betsy done put tables filled wid flowers an' white candles. she done spread down a bed sheet, a sho nuff linen sheet, for us to stan' on, an' dey was a white pillow to kneel down on. exter done made me a weddin' ring. he made it out of a big red button wid his pocket knife. he done cut it so roun' an' polished it so smooth dat it looked like a red satin ribbon tide 'roun' my finger. dat sho was a pretty ring. i wore it 'bout fifty years, den it got so thin dat i lost it one day in de wash tub when i was washin' clothes. uncle edmond kirby married us. he was de nigger preacher dat preached at de plantation church. after uncle edmond said de las' words over me an' exter, marse george got to have his little fun: he say, 'come on, exter, you an' tempie got to jump over de broom stick backwards; you got to do dat to see which one gwine be boss of your househol'.' everybody come stan' 'roun to watch. marse george hold de broom 'bout a foot high off de floor. de one dat jump over it backwards an' never touch de handle, gwine boss de house, an' if bof of dem jump over widout touchin' it, dey won't gwine be no bossin', dey jus' gwine be 'genial. i jumped fus', an' you ought to seed me. i sailed right over dat broom stick same as a cricket, but when exter jump he done had a big dram an' his feets was so big an' clumsy dat dey got all tangled up in dat broom an' he fell head long. marse george he laugh an' laugh, an' tole exter he gwine be bossed 'twell he skeered to speak less'n i tole him to speak. after de weddin' we went down to de cabin mis' betsy done all dressed up, but exter couldn' stay no longer den dat night kaze he belonged to marse snipes durham an' he had to back home. he lef' de nex day for his plantation, but he come back every saturday night an' stay 'twell sunday night. we had eleven chillun. nine was bawn befo' surrender an' two after we was set free. so i had two chillun dat wuzn' bawn in bondage. i was worth a heap to marse george kaze i had so manny chillun. de more chillun a slave had de more dey was worth. lucy carter was de only nigger on de plantation dat had more chillun den i had. she had twelve, but her chillun was sickly an' mine was muley strong an' healthy. dey never was sick. when de war come marse george was too ole to go, but young marse bill went. he went an' took my brother sim wid him. marse bill took sim along to look after his hoss an' everything. dey didn' neither one get shot, but mis' betsy was skeered near 'bout to death all de time, skeered dey was gwine be brung home shot all to pieces like some of de sojers was. de yankees wuzn' so bad. de mos' dey wanted was sumpin' to eat. dey was all de time hungry, de fus' thing dey ax for when dey came was sumpin' to put in dey stomach. an' chicken! i ain' never seed even a preacher eat chicken like dem yankees. i believes to my soul dey ain' never seed no chicken 'twell dey come down here. an' hot biscuit too. i seed a passel of dem eat up a whole sack of flour one night for supper. georgianna sif' flour 'twell she look white an' dusty as a miller. dem sojers didn' turn down no ham neither. dat de onlies' thing dey took from marse george. dey went in de smoke house an' toted off de hams an' shoulders. marse george say he come off mighty light if dat all dey want, 'sides he got plenty of shoats anyhow. we had all de eats we wanted while de war was shootin' dem guns, kaze marse george was home an' he kep' de niggers workin'. we had chickens, gooses, meat, peas, flour, meal, potatoes an' things like dat all de time, an' milk an' butter too, but we didn' have no sugar an' coffee. we used groun' pa'ched cawn for coffee an' cane 'lasses for sweetnin'. dat wuzn' so bad wid a heap of thick cream. anyhow, we had enough to eat to 'vide wid de neighbors dat didn' have none when surrender come. i was glad when de war stopped kaze den me an' exter could be together all de time 'stead of saturday an' sunday. after we was free we lived right on at marse george's plantation a long time. we rented de lan' for a fo'th of what we made, den after while be bought a farm. we paid three hundred dollars we done saved. we had a hoss, a steer, a cow an' two pigs, 'sides some chickens an' fo' geese. mis' betsy went up in de attic an' give us a bed an' bed tick; she give us enough goose feathers to make two pillows, den she give us a table an' some chairs. she give us some dishes too. marse george give exter a bushel of seed cawn an some seed wheat, den he tole him to go down to de barn an' get a bag of cotton seed. we got all dis den we hitched up de wagon an' th'owed in de passel of chillun an' moved to our new farm, an' de chillun was put to work in de fiel'; dey growed up in de fiel' kaze dey was put to work time dey could walk good. freedom is all right, but de niggers was better off befo' surrender, kaze den dey was looked after an' dey didn' get in no trouble fightin' an' killin' like dey do dese days. if a nigger cut up an' got sassy in slavery times, his ole marse give him a good whippin' an' he went way back an' set down an' 'haved hese'f. if he was sick, marse an' mistis looked after him, an' if he needed store medicine, it was bought an' give to him; he didn' have to pay nothin'. dey didn' even have to think' bout clothes nor nothin' like dat, dey was wove an' made an' give to dem. maybe everybody's marse an' mistis wuzn' good as marse george an' mis' betsy, but dey was de same as a mammy an' pappy to us niggers. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave story story teller: george eatman editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] ex-slave story an interview on may , with george eatman, , of cary, r. # . i belonged ter mr. gus eatman who lived at de ole templeton place on de durham highway back as fer as i can 'member. i doan r'member my mammy an' pappy case dey wuz sold 'fore i knowed anything. i raised myself an' i reckon dat i done a fair job uv it. de marster an' missus wuz good to dere twenty-five slaves an' we ain't neber got no bad whuppin's. i doan 'member much playin' an' such like, but i de 'members dat i wuz de handy boy 'round de house. de confederate soldiers camp at ephesus church one night, an' de nex' day de marster sent me ter de mill on crabtree. yo' 'members where ole company mill is, i reckon? well, as i rode de mule down de hill, out comes wheeler's calvalry, which am as mean as de yankees, an' dey ax me lots uv questions. atter awhile dey rides on an' leaves me 'lone. while i am at de mill one uv wheeler's men takes my mule an' my co'n, an' i takes de ole saddle an' starts ter walkin' back home. all de way, most, i walks in de woods, case wheeler's men am still passin'. when i gits ter de morgan place i hyars de cannons a-boomin', ahh--h i ain't neber hyar sich a noise, an' when i gits so dat i can see dar dey goes, as thick as de hairs on a man's haid. i circles round an' gits behin' dem an' goes inter de back uv de-house. well, dar stan's a yankee, an' he axes missus mary fer de smokehouse key. she gibes it ter him an' dey gits all uv de meat. one big can uv grease am all dat wuz saved, an' dat wuz burried in de broom straw down in de fiel'. dey camps roun' dar dat night an' dey shoots ever chicken, pig, an' calf dey sees. de nex' day de marster goes ter raleigh, an' gits a gyard, but dey has done stole all our stuff an' we am liven' mostly on parched co'n. de only patterollers i knowed wuz kenyan jones an' billy pump an' dey wuz called po' white trash. dey owned blood houn's, an' chased de niggers an' whupped dem shamful, i hyars. i neber seed but one ku klux an' he wuz sceered o' dem. atter de war we stayed on five or six years case we ain't had no place else ter go. we ain't liked abraham lincoln, case he wuz a fool ter think dat we could live widout de white folkses, an' jeff davis wuz tryin' ter keep us, case he wuz greedy an' he wanted ter be de boss dog in politics. district: no. . [ ] worker: daisy whaley subject: ex-slave story. interviewed: doc edwards, ex-slave. yrs staggville, n. c. [hw: capital a--circled] [tr: date stamp "aug "] doc edwards ex-slave, yrs. i was bawn at staggville, n. c., in . i belonged to marse paul cameron. my pappy was murphy mccullers. mammy's name was judy. dat would make me a mccullers, but i was always knowed as doc edwards an' dat is what i am called to dis day. i growed up to be de houseman an' i cooked for marse benehan,--marse paul's son. marse benehan was good to me. my health failed from doing so much work in de house an' so i would go for a couple of hours each day an' work in de fiel' to be out doors an' get well again. marse paul had so many niggers dat he never counted dem. when we opened de gate for him or met him in de road he would say, "who is you? whare you belong?" we would say, "we belong to marse paul." "alright, run along" he'd say den, an' he would trow us a nickel or so. we had big work shops whare we made all de tools, an' even de shovels was made at home. dey was made out of wood, so was de rakes, pitchforks an' some of de hoes. our nails was made in de blacksmith shop by han' an' de picks an' grubbin' hoes, too. we had a han' thrashing machine. it was roun' like a stove pipe, only bigger. we fed de wheat to it an' shook it' til de wheat was loose from de straw an' when it come out at de other end it fell on a big cloth, bigger den de sheets. we had big curtains all roun' de cloth on de floor, like a tent, so de wheat wouldn' get scattered. den we took de pitchfork an' lifted de straw up an' down so de wheat would go on de cloth. den we moved de straw when de wheat was all loose den we fanned de wheat wid big pieces of cloth to get de dust an' dirt outen it, so it could be taken to de mill an' groun' when it was wanted. when de fall come we had a regular place to do different work. we had han' looms an' wove our cotton an' yarn an' made de cloth what was to make de clothes for us to wear. we had a shop whare our shoes was made. de cobbler would make our shoes wid wooden soles. after de soles was cut out dey would be taken down to de blacksmiyh an' he would put a thin rim of iron aroun' de soles to keep dem from splitting. dese soles was made from maple an' ash wood. we didn' have any horses to haul wid. we used oxen an' ox-carts. de horse and mules was used to do de plowin'. when de yankees come dey didn' do so much harm, only dey tole us we was free niggers. but i always feel like i belong to marse paul, an' i still live at staggville on de ole plantation. i has a little garden an' does what i can to earn a little somethin'. de law done fixed it so now dat i will get a little pension, an' i'll stay right on in dat little house 'til de good lawd calls me home, den i will see marse paul once more. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mrs. w. n. harriss no. words: subject: john evans born in slavery editor: mrs. w. n. harriss interviewed john evans on the street and in this office. residence changes frequently. [tr: date stamp "sep-- "] story of john evans born in slavery. i was born august th, . i am years old. dat comes out right, don't it? my mother's name was hattie newbury. i don't never remember seein' my pa. we lived on middle sound an' dat's where i was born. i knows de room, 'twas upstairs, an' when i knowed it, underneath, downstairs dat is, was bags of seed an' horse feed, harness an' things, but it was slave quarters when i come heah. me an' my mother stayed right on with mis' newberry after freedom, an' never knowed no diffunce. they was jus' like sisters an' i never knowed nothin' but takin' keer of mistus newberry. she taught me my letters an' the bible, an' was mighty perticler 'bout my manners. an' i'm tellin' you my manners is brought me a heap more money than my readin'--or de bible. i'm gwine tell you how dat is, but fust i want to say the most i learned on middle sound was' bout fishin' an' huntin'. an' dawgs. my! but there sho' was birds an' possums on de sound in dem days. pa'tridges all over de place. why, even me an' my mammy et pa'tridges fer bre'kfust. think of dat now! but when i growed up my job was fishin'. i made enough sellin' fish to the summer folks all along wrightsville and greenville sounds to keep me all winter. my mammy cooked fer mis' newberry. after a while they both died. i never did'nt git married. i don't know nothin' 'bout all the mean things i hear tell about slaves an' sich. we was just one fam'ly an' had all we needed. we never paid no 'tention to freedom or not freedom. i remember eve'ybody had work to do in slavery an' dey gone right on doin' it sence. an' nobody don't git nowheres settin' down holdin' their han's. it do'n make so much diffunce anyhow what you does jes so's you does it. one time when i was carryin' in my fish to "airlie" [tr: difficult to read] mr. pem jones heard me laff, an' after i opened dis here mouf of mine an' laffed fer him i didn't have to bother 'bout fish no mo'. lordy, dose rich folks he used to bring down fum new yo'k is paid me as much as _sixty_ dollars a week to laff fer 'em. one of 'em was named mr. _fish_. now you know dat tickled _me_. i could jes laff an' laff 'bout dat. mr. pem give me fine clo'es an' a tall silk hat. i'd eat a big dinner in de kitchen an' den go in' mongst de quality an' laff fer' em an' make my noise like a wood saw in my th'oat. dey was crazy 'bout dat. an' then's when i began to be thankful 'bout my manners. i's noticed if you has nice manners wid eve'ybody people gwine to be nice to you. well, (with a long sigh) i don't pick up no sich money nowadays; but my manners gives me many a chance to laff, an' i never don't go hungry. john has been a well known character for fifty years among the summer residents along the sounds and on wrightsville beach. he was a fisherman and huckster in his palmy days, but now john's vigor is on the wane, and he has little left with which to gain a livelihood except his unusually contagious laugh, and a truly remarkable flow of words. "old john" could give walter winchel a handicap of twenty words a minute and then beat him at his own game. his mouth is enormous and his voice deep and resonant. he can make a noise like a wood saw which he maintains for or minutes without apparent effort, the sound buzzing on and on from some mysterious depths of his being with amazing perfection of imitation. any day during the baseball season john may be seen sandwiched between his announcement boards, a large bell in one hand, crying the ball game of the day. "old john" to the youngsters; but finding many a quarter dropped in his hand by the older men with memories of gay hours and hearty laughter. district: no. [ ] worker: daisy whaley subject: ex-slave storyteller: lindsay faucette ex-slave church street, durham, n. c. [tr: date stamp "jul "] lindsey faucette, yrs. ex-slave. yes, mis', i wuz bawn in , de th of november, on de occoneechee plantation, owned by marse john norwood an' his good wife, mis' annie. an' when i say 'good' i mean jus dat, for no better people ever lived den my marse john an' mis' annie. one thing dat made our marse an' mistis so good wuz de way dey brought up us niggers. we wuz called to de big house an' taught de bible an' dey wuz bible readin's every day. we wuz taught to be good men an' women an' to be hones'. marse never sold any of us niggers. but when his boys and girls got married he would give dem some of us to take with dem. marse never allowed us to be whipped. one time we had a white overseer an' he whipped a fiel' han' called sam norwood, til de blood come. he beat him so bad dat de other niggers had to take him down to de river an' wash de blood off. when marse come an' foun' dat out he sent dat white man off an' wouldn' let him stay on de plantation over night. he jus' wouldn' have him roun' de place no longer. he made uncle whitted de overseer kase he wuz one of de oldest slaves he had an' a good nigger. when any of us niggers got sick mis' annie would come down to de cabin to see us. she brung de best wine, good chicken an' chicken soup an' everything else she had at de big house dat she thought we would like, an' she done everything she could to get us well again. marse john never worked us after dark. we worked in de day an' had de nights to play games an' have singin's. we never cooked on a sunday. everything we ett on dat day was cooked on saturday. dey wuzn' lighted in de cook stoves or fire places in de big house or cabins neither. everybody rested on sunday. de tables wuz set an' de food put on to eat, but nobody cut any wood an' dey wuzn' no other work don' on dat day. mammy beckie wuz my gran'mammy an' she toted de keys to de pantry an' smoke house, an' her word went wid marse john an' mis' annie. marse john wuz a great lawyer an' when he went to pittsboro an' other places to practice, if he wuz to stay all night, mis' annie had my mammy sleep right in bed wid her, so she wouldn' be 'fraid. marse an mistis had three sons an' three daughters,--de oldest son wuz not able to go to war. he had studied so hard dat it had 'fected his mind, so he stayed at home. de secon' son, named albert, went to war an' wuz brought back dead with a bullet hole through his head. dat liked to have killed marse john an' mis' annie. dey wuz three girls, named, mis' maggie, mis' ella bella and mis' rebena. i wuz de cow-tender. i took care of de cows an' de calves. i would have to hold de calf up to de mother cow 'til de milk would come down an' den i would have to hold it away 'til somebody done de milkin'. i tended de horses, too, an' anything else dat i wuz told to do. when de war started an' de yankees come, dey didn' do much harm to our place. marse had all de silver an' money an' other things of value hid under a big rock be de river an' de yankees never did fine anything dat we hid. our own sojers did more harm on our plantation den de yankees. dey camped in de woods an' never did have nuff to eat an' took what dey wanted. an' lice! i ain't never seed de like. it took fifteen years for us to get shed of de lice dat de sojers lef' behind. you jus' couldn' get dem out of your clothes les' you burned dem up. dey wuz hard to get shed of. after de war wuz over marse john let pappy have eighteen acres of land for de use of two of his boys for a year. my pappy made a good crop of corn, wheat an' other food on dis land. dey wuz a time when you couldn' find a crust of bread or piece of meat in my mammy's pantry for us to eat, an' when she did get a little meat or bread she would divide it between us chillun, so each would have a share an' go without herself an' never conplained. when pappy wuz makin' his crop some of de others would ask him why he didn' take up some of his crop and get somethin' to eat. he would answer an' say dat when he left dat place he intended to take his crop with him an' he did. he took plenty of corn, wheat, potatoes an' other food, a cow, her calf, mule an' hogs an' he moved to a farm dat he bought. later on in years my pappy an mammy come here in durham an' bought a home. i worked for dem' til i wuz thirty-two years old an' give dem what money i earned. i worked for as little as twenty-five cents a day. den i got a dray an' hauled for fifteen cents a load from de durham depo' to west durham for fifteen years. little did i think at dat time dat i would ever have big trucks an' a payroll of $ , . a year. de good lawd has blest me all de way, an' all i have is his'n, even to my own breath. den one day i went back home to see my old marse an' i foun' him sittin' in a big chair on de po'ch an' his health wuzn' so good. he sed, "lindsey, why don' you stop runnin' roun' wid de girls an' stop you cou't 'n? you never will get nowhere makin' all de girls love you an' den you walk away an' make up with some other girl. go get yourself a good girl an' get married an' raise a family an' be somebody." an' i did. i quit all de girls an' i foun' a fine girl and we wuz married. i sho got a good wife; i got one of de best women dat could be foun' an' we lived together for over forty-five years. den she died six years ago now, an' i sho miss her for she wuz a real help-mate all through dese years. we raised five chillun an' educated dem to be school teachers an' other trades. i have tried to live de way i wuz raised to. my wife never worked a day away from home all de years we wuz married. it wuz my raisin an' my strong faith in my lawd an' marster dat helped me to get along as well as i have, an' i bless him every day for de strength he has given me to bring up my family as well as i have. der is only one way to live an' dat is de right way. educate your chillun, if you can, but be sho you give dem de proper moral training at home. de right way to raise your chillun is to larn dem to have manners and proper respect for their parents, be good citizens an' god fearin' men an' women. when you have done dat you will not be ashamed of dem in your old age. i bless my maker dat i have lived so clos' to him as i have all dese years an' when de time comes to go to him i will have no regrets an' no fears. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: a slave story story teller: ora m. flagg editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] ora m. flagg oberlin road my name is ora m. flagg. i wus born in raleigh near the professional building, in the year , october . my mother wus named jane busbee. her marster wus quent busbee, a lawyer. her missus wus julia busbee. she wus a taylor before she married mr. busbee. now i tell you, i can't tell you exactly, but the old heads died. the old heads were the scurlocks who lived in chatham county. i heard their names but i don't remember them. their children when they died drawed for the slaves and my mother wus brought to raleigh when she wus eight years old. she came from the scurlocks to the busbees. the taylors were relatives of the scurlocks, and were allowed to draw, and julia taylor drawed my mother. it wus fixed so the slaves on this estate could not be sold, but could be drawed for by the family and relatives. she got along just middlin' after her missus died. when her missus died, mother said she had to look after herself. mr. busbee would not allow anyone to whip mother. he married miss lizzie bledsoe the second time. i wus only a child and, of course, i thought as i could get a little something to eat everything wus all right, but we had few comforts. we had prayer meeting and we went to the white people's church. i heard mother say that they had to be very careful what they said in their worship. lots of time dey put us children to bed and went off. about the time of the surrender, i heard a lot about the patterollers, but i did not know what they were. children wus not as wise then as they are now. they didn't know as much about things. yes sir, i remember the yankees coming to raleigh, we had been taken out to moses bledsoe's place on holleman's road to protect mr. bledsoe's things. they said if they put the things out there, and put a family of negroes there the yankees would not bother the things. so they stored a lot of stuff there, and put my mother an' a slave man by the name o' tom gillmore there. two negro families were there. we children watched the yankees march by. the yankees went through everything, and when mother wouldn't tell them where the silver wus hid they threw her things in the well. mother cried, an' when the yankee officers heard of it they sent a guard there to protect us. the colored man, tom gillmore, wus so scared, he and his family moved out at night leaving my mother alone with her family. the yankees ate the preserves and all the meat and other things. they destroyed a lot they could not eat. mother and me stayed on with marster after the surrender, and stayed on his place till he died. after that we moved to peck's place, called peck's place because the property wus sold by louis peck. it wus also called the 'save-rent' section, then in later years oberlin road. i think slavery wus a bad thing, while it had its good points in building good strong men. in some cases where marsters were bad it wus a bad thing. abraham lincoln wus our friend, he set us free. i don't know much about booker t. washington. mr roosevelt is all right. jim young seemed to be all right. jeff davis didn't bother me. i guess he wus all right. eh n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave story story teller: analiza foster. editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] ex-slave story an interview with analiza foster, of south blount street, raleigh, north carolina. i wuz borned in person county ter tom line an' harriet cash. my mammy belonged ter a mr. cash an' pappy belonged ter miss betsy woods. both of dese owners wuz mean ter dere slaves an' dey ain't carin' much if'en dey kills one, case dey's got plenty. dar wuz one woman dat i hyard mammy tell of bein' beat clean ter death. de 'oman wuz pregnant an' she fainted in de fiel' at de plow. de driver said dat she wuz puttin' on, an' dat she ort ter be beat. de master said dat she can be beat but don't ter hurt de baby. de driver says dat he won't, den he digs a hole in de sand an' he puts de 'oman in de hole, which am nigh 'bout ter her arm pits, den he kivers her up an' straps her han's over her haid. he takes de long bull whup an' he cuts long gashes all over her shoulders an' raised arms, den he walks off an' leabes her dar fer a hour in de hot sun. de flies an' de gnats dey worry her, an' de sun hurts too an' she cries a little, den de driver comes out wid a pan full of vinegar, salt an' red pepper an' he washes de gashes. de 'oman faints an' he digs her up, but in a few minutes she am stone dead. dat's de wust case dat i'se eber hyard of but i reckon dar wuz plenty more of dem. ter show yo' de value of slaves i'll tell yo' 'bout my gran'ma. she wuz sold on de block four times, an' eber time she brung a thousand dollars. she wuz valuable case she wuz strong an' could plow day by day, den too she could have twenty chilluns an' wuck right on. de yankees come through our country an' dey makes de slaves draw water fer de horses all night. course dey stold eber'thing dey got dere han's on but dat wuz what ole abraham lincoln tol' dem ter do. mh:eh n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: a slave story story teller: georgianna foster editor: george l. andrews [tr: date stamp "aug "] georgianna foster poole road, route # . raleigh, north carolina. i wus born in . i jes' can 'member de yankees comin' through, but i 'members dere wus a lot of 'em wearin' blue clothes. i wus born at kerney upchurch's plantation twelve miles from raleigh. he wus my marster an' missus enny wus his wife. my father wus named axiom wilder and my mother wus mancy wilder. de most i know 'bout slavery dey tole it to me. i 'members i run when de yankees come close to me. i wus 'fraid of 'em. we lived in a little log houses at marsters. de food wus short an' things in general wus bad, so mother tole me. she said dey wus a whole lot meaner den dey had any business bein'. dey allowed de patterollers to snoop around an' whup de slaves, mother said dey stripped some of de slaves naked an' whupped 'em. she said women had to work all day in de fields an' come home an' do de house work at night while de white folks hardly done a han's turn of work. marse kerney had a sluice of chilluns. i can't think of 'em all, but i 'members calvin, james, allen, emily, helen, an' i jest can't think of de rest of de chilluns names. mother said dey gathered slaves together like dey did horses an' sold 'em on de block. mother said dey carried some to rolesville in wake county an' sold 'em. dey sold henry temples an' lucinda upchurch from marster's plantation, but dey carried 'em to raleigh to sell 'em. we wore homemade clothes an' shoes wid wooden bottoms. dey would not allow us to sing an' pray but dey turned pots down at de door an' sung an' prayed enyhow an' de lord heard dere prayers. dat dey did sing an' pray. mother said dey whupped a slave if dey caught him wid a book in his hand. you wus not 'lowed no books. larnin' among de slaves wus a forbidden thing. dey wus not allowed to cook anything for demselves at de cabins no time 'cept night. dere wus a cook who cooked fur all durin' de day. sometimes de field han's had to work 'round de place at night after comin' in from de fields. mother said livin' at marster's wus hard an' when dey set us free we left as quick as we could an' went to mr. bob perry's plantation an' stayed there many years. he wus a good man an' give us all a chance. mother wus free born at upchurch's but when de war ended, she had been bound to wilder by her mother, an' had married my father who wus a slave belongin' to bob wilder. dey did not like de fare at marster upchurch's or marster wilder's, so when dey wus set free dey lef' an' went to mrs. perry's place. dey had overseers on both plantations in slavery time but some of de niggers would run away before dey would take a whuppin'. fred perry run away to keep from bein' sold. he come back do' an' tole his marster to do what he wanted to wid him. his marster told him to go to work an' he stayed dere till he wus set free. god heard his prayer 'cause he said he axed god not to let him be sold. mother an' father said abraham lincoln come through there on his way to jeff davis. jeff davis wus de southern president. lincoln say, 'turn dem slaves loose, jeff davis,' an' jeff davis said nuthin'. den he come de second time an' say, 'is you gwine to turn dem slaves loose?' an' jeff davis wouldn't do it. den lincoln come a third time an' had a cannon shootin' man wid him an' he axed, 'is you gwine to set dem slaves free jeff davis?' an' jeff davis he say, 'abraham lincoln, you knows i is not goin' to give up my property, an' den lincoln said, 'i jest as well go back an' git up my crowd den.' dey talked down in south carolina an' when jeff davis 'fused to set us free, lincoln went home to the north and got up his crowd, one hundred an' forty thousand men, dey said, an' de war begun. dey fighted an' fighted an' de yankees whupped. dey set us free an' dey say dat dey hung jeff davis on a ole apple tree. eh [hw in margin:--illegible] n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: frank freeman story teller: frank freeman editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] frank freeman tappers lane i was born near rolesville in wake county christmas eve, of december . i am years old. my name is frank freeman and my wife's name is mary freeman. she is years old. we live at tuppers lane, raleigh, wake county, north carolina. i belonged to ole man jim wiggins jus' this side o' roseville, fourteen miles from raleigh. the great house is standin' there now, and a family by the name o' gill, a colored man's family, lives there. the place is owned by ole man jim wiggins's grandson, whose name is o. b. wiggins. my wife belonged to the terrells before the surrender. i married after the war. i was forty years ole when i was married. old man jim wiggins was good to his niggers, and when the slave children were taken off by his children they treated us good. missus dressed mother up in her clothes and let her go to church. we had good, well cooked food, good clothes, and good places to sleep. some of the chimneys which were once attached to the slave houses are standing on the plantation. the home plantation in wake county was acres. marster also owned three and a quarter plantations in franklin county. he kept about ten men at home and would not let his slave boys work until they were years old, except tend to horses and do light jobs around the house. he had slaves on all his plantations but they were under colored overseers who were slaves themselves. marster had three boys and five girls, eight children of his own. one of the girls was siddie wiggins. when she married alfred holland, and they went to smithfield to live she took me with her, when i was two years old. she thought so much o' me mother was willing to let me go. mother loved miss siddie, and it was agreeable in the family. i stayed right on with her after the surrender three years until . my father decided to take me home then and went after me. they never taught us books of any kind. i was about years old when i began to study books. when i was christmas eve , father told me i was my own man and that was all he had to give me. i had decided many years before to save all my nickles. i kept them in a bag. i did not drink, chew, smoke or use tobacco in any way during this time. when he told me i was free i counted up my money and found i had $ . . i had never up to this tasted liquor or tobacco. i don't know anything about it yet. i have never used it. with that money i entered shaw university. i worked eight hours a week in order to help pay my way. later i went into public service, teaching four months a year in the public schools. my salary was $ . per month. i kept going to school at shaw until i could get a first grade teacher's certificate. i never graduated. i taught in the public schools for years. i would be teaching now, but i have high blood pressure. i was at master hollands at smithfield when the yankees came through. they went into my marster's store and began breaking up things and taking what they wanted. they were dressed in blue and i did not know who they were. i asked and someone told me they were the yankees. my father was named burton, and my mother was named queen anne. father was a freeman and mother was a wiggins. there were no churches on the plantation. my father told me a story about his young master, joe freeman and my father's brother soloman. marster got soloman to help whip him. my father went in to see young missus and told her about it, and let her know he was going away. he had got the cradle blade and said he would kill either of them if they bothered him. father had so much indian blood in him that he would fight. he ran away and stayed four years and passed for a free nigger. he stayed in the bancomb settlement in johnson county. when he came home before the war ended, old marster said, 'soloman why didn't you stay?' father said, 'i have been off long enough'. marster said 'go to work', and there was no more to it. father helped build the breastworks in the eastern part of the state down at ft. fisher. he worked on the forts at new bern too. i think abraham lincoln worked hard for our freedom. he was a great man. i think mr. roosevelt is a good man and is doing all he can for the good of all. le n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: addy gill story teller: addy gill editor: g. l. andrews [tr: date stamp "sep "] addy gill "b" st. lincoln park raleigh, north carolina. i am seventy four years of age. i wus born a slave jan. , on a plantation near millburnie, wake county, owned by major wilder, who hired my father's time. his wife wus named sarah wilder. i don't know anything 'bout slavery 'cept what wus tole me by father and mother but i do know that if it had not been for what de southern white folks done for us niggers we'd have perished to death. de north turned us out wid out anything to make a livin' wid. my father wus david gill and, my mother wus emily gill. my father wus a blacksmith an he moved from place to place where dey hired his time. dats why i wus born on major wilders place. marster gill who owned us hired father to major wilder and mother moved wid him. for a longtime atter de war, nine years, we stayed on wid major wilder, de place we wus at when dey set us free. mr. wilder had a large plantation and owned a large number of slaves before de surrender. i only 'members fourteen of de ones i know belonged to him. mr. wilder wus a mighty good man. we had plenty to eat an plenty work to do. dere wus seven in the major's family. three boys, two girls, he an his wife. his boys wus named sam, will and crockett. de girls wus named florence and flora. dey are all dead, every one of 'em. de whole set. i don't know nary one of 'em dats livin. if dey wus livin i could go to 'em an' git a meal any time. yes sir! any time, day or night. i farmed for a long time for myself atter i wus free from my father at years of age. den 'bout twelve years ago i come to raleigh and got a job as butler at st. augustine episcopal college for colored. i worked dere eight years, wus taken sick while workin dere an has been unable to work much since. dat wus four years ago. since den sometimes i ain't able to git up outen my cheer when i is settin down. i tells you, mister, when a nigger leaves de farm an comes to town to live he sho is takin a mighty big chance wid de wolf. he is just a riskin parishin, dats what he is a doin. i married forty five years ago this past november. i wus married on de second thursday night in november to millie ruffin of wake county, north carolina. we had leben chilluns, six boys an five gals. four of the boys an one of de gals is livin now. some of my chilluns went north but dey didn't stay dere but two months. de one dat went north wus sam, dat wus de oldest one. he took a notion to marry so he went up to pennsylvania and worked. just as soon as he got enough money to marry on he come back an got married. he never went back north no more. mother belonged to sam krenshaw before she wus bought by marster gill. her missus when she was a girl growin up wus mrs. louise krenshaw. de missus done de whuppin on mr. krenshaw's plantation an she wus mighty rough at times. she whupped mother an cut her back to pieces so bad dat de scars wus on her when she died. father died in raleigh an mother died out on miss annie ball's farm 'bout seven miles from raleigh. mother an father wus livin there when mother died. father den come to raleigh an died here. i caint read an write but all my chilluns can read and write. mother and father could not read or write. i haint had no chance. i had no larnin. i had to depend on white folks i farmed wid to look atter my business. some of em cheated me out of what i made. i am tellin you de truth 'bout some of de landlords, dey got mighty nigh all i made. mr. richard taylor who owned a farm near raleigh whur i stayed two years wus one of em. he charged de same thing three times an i had it to pay. i stayed two years an made nothin'. dis is de truth from my heart, from here to glory. i members payin' fur a middlin of meat twice. some of de white folks looked out fur me an prospered. mr. dave faulk wus one of 'em. i stayed wid him six years and i prospered. mr. john bushnell wus a man who took up no time wid niggers. i rented from him a long time. he furnished a nigger cash to run his crap on. de nigger made de crap sold it an carried him his part. he figgered 'bout what he should have an de nigger paid in cash. he wus a mighty good man to his nigger tenants. i never owned a farm, i never owned horses or mules to farm with. i worked de landlords stock and farmed his land on shares. farmin' has been my happiest life and i wushes i wus able to farm agin cause i am happiest when on de farm. i had a quiet home weddin' an i wus married by a white magistrate. i got up one night an' wus married at o'clock. atter de weddin she went back home wid me. we have had our ups and downs in life. sometimes de livin' has been mighty hard, but dere has never been a time since i been free when i could not git a handout from de white folks back yard. le n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: , subject: a slave story story teller: robert glenn editor: george l. andrews [tr: date stamp "sep "] robert glenn idlewild avenue raleigh, north carolina. i was a slave before and during the civil war. i am years old. i was born sept. , . i was born in orange county, north carolina near hillsboro. at that time durham was just a platform at the station and no house there whatever. the platform was lighted with a contraption shaped like a basket and burning coal that gave off a blaze. there were holes in this metal basket for the cinders to fall through. i belonged to a man named bob hall, he was a widower. he had three sons, thomas, nelson, and lambert. he died when i was eight years old and i was put on the block and sold in nelson hall's yard by the son of bob hall. i saw my brother and sister sold on this same plantation. my mother belonged to the halls, and father belonged to the glenns. they sold me away from my father and mother and i was carried to the state of kentucky. i was bought by a negro speculator by the name of henry long who lived not far from hurdles mill in person county. i was not allowed to tell my mother and father goodbye. i was bought and sold three times in one day. my father's time was hired out and as he knew a trade he had by working overtime saved up a considerable amount of money. after the speculator, henry long, bought me, mother went to father and pled with him to buy me from him and let the white folks hire me out. no slave could own a slave. father got the consent and help of his owners to buy me and they asked long to put me on the block again. long did so and named his price but when he learned who had bid me off he backed down. later in the day he put me on the block and named another price much higher than the price formerly set. he was asked by the white folks to name his price for his bargain and he did so. i was again put on the auction block and father bought me in, putting up the cash. long then flew into a rage and cursed my father saying, 'you damn black son of a bitch, you think you are white do you? now just to show you are black, i will not let you have your son at any price.' father knew it was all off, mother was frantic but there was nothing they could do about it. they had to stand and see the speculator put me on his horse behind him and ride away without allowing either of them to tell me goodbye. i figure i was sold three times in one day, as the price asked was offered in each instance. mother was told under threat of a whupping not to make any outcry when i was carried away. he took me to his home, but on the way he stopped for refreshments, at a plantation, and while he was eating and drinking, he put me into a room where two white women were spinning flax. i was given a seat across the room from where they were working. after i had sat there awhile wondering where i was going and thinking about mother and home, i went to one of the women and asked, 'missus when will i see my mother again?' she replied, i don't know child, go and sit down. i went back to my seat and as i did so both the women stopped spinning for a moment, looked at each other, and one of them remarked. "almighty god, this slavery business is a horrible thing. chances are this boy will never see his mother again." this remark nearly killed me, as i began to fully realize my situation. long, the negro trader, soon came back, put me on his horse and finished the trip to his home. he kept me at his home awhile and then traded me to a man named william moore who lived in person county. moore at this time was planning to move to kentucky which he soon did, taking me with him. my mother found out by the "grapevine telegraph" that i was going to be carried to kentucky. she got permission and came to see me before they carried me off. when she started home i was allowed to go part of the way with her but they sent two negro girls with us to insure my return. we were allowed to talk privately, but while we were doing so, the two girls stood a short distance away and watched as the marster told them when they left that if i escaped they would be whipped every day until i was caught. when the time of parting came and i had to turn back, i burst out crying loud. i was so weak from sorrow i could not walk, and the two girls who were with me took me by each arm and led me along half carrying me. this man moore carried me and several other slaves to kentucky. we traveled by train by way of nashville, tenn. my thoughts are not familiar with the happenings of this trip but i remember that we walked a long distance at one place on the trip from one depot to another. we finally reached kentucky and moore stopped at his brother's plantation until he could buy one, then we moved on it. my marster was named william moore and my missus was named martha whitfield moore. it was a big plantation and he hired a lot of help and had white tenants besides the land he worked with slaves. there were only six slaves used as regular field hands during his first year in kentucky. the food was generally common. hog meat and cornbread most all the time. slaves got biscuits only on sunday morning. our clothes were poor and i worked barefooted most of the time, winter and summer. no books, papers or anything concerning education was allowed the slaves by his rules and the customs of these times. marster moore had four children among whom was one boy about my age. the girls were named atona, beulah, and minnie, and the boy was named crosby. he was mighty brilliant. we played together. he was the only white boy there, and he took a great liking to me, and we loved each devotedly. once in an undertone he asked me how would i like to have an education. i was overjoyed at the suggestion and he at once began to teach me secretly. i studied hard and he soon had me so i could read and write well. i continued studying and he continued teaching me. he furnished me books and slipped all the papers he could get to me and i was the best educated negro in the community without anyone except the slaves knowing what was going on. all the slaves on marster's plantation lived the first year we spent in kentucky in a one room house with one fireplace. there was a dozen or more who all lived in this one room house. marster built himself a large house having seven rooms. he worked his slaves himself and never had any overseers. we worked from sun to sun in the fields and then worked at the house after getting in from the fields as long as we could see. i have never seen a patteroller but when i left the plantation in slavery time i got a pass. i have never seen a jail for slaves but i have seen slaves whipped and i was whipped myself. i was whipped particularly about a saddle i left out in the night after using it during the day. my flesh was cut up so bad that the scars are on me to this day. we were not allowed to have prayer meetings, but we went to the white folks church to services sometimes. there were no looms, mills, or shops on the plantation at marster moore's. i kept the name of glenn through all the years as marster moore did not change his slaves names to his family name. my mother was named martha glenn and father was named bob glenn. i was in the field when i first heard of the civil war. the woman who looked after henry hall and myself (both slaves) told me she heard marster say old abraham lincoln was trying to free the niggers. marster finally pulled me up and went and joined the confederate army. kentucky split and part joined the north and part the south. the war news kept slipping through of success for first one side then the other. sometimes marster would come home, spend a few days and then go again to the war. it seemed he influenced a lot of men to join the southern army, among them was a man named enoch moorehead. moorehead was killed in a few days after he joined the southern army. marster moore fell out with a lot of his associates in the army and some of them who were from the same community became his bitter enemies. tom foushee was one of them. marster became so alarmed over the threats on his life made by foushee and others that he was afraid to stay in his own home at night, and he built a little camp one and one half miles from his home and he and missus spent their nights there on his visits home. foushee finally came to the great house one night heavily armed, came right on into the house and inquired for marster. we told him marster was away. foushee lay down on the floor and waited a long time for him. marster was at the little camp but we would not tell where he was. foushee left after spending most of the night at marster's. as he went out into the yard, when leaving, marster's bull dog grawled at him and he shot him dead. marster went to henderson, kentucky, the county seat of henderson county, and surrendered to the federal army and took the oath of allegiance. up to that time i had seen a few yankees. they stopped now and then at marster's and got their breakfast. they always asked about buttermilk, they seemed to be very fond of it. they were also fond of ham, but we had the ham meat buried in the ground, this was about the close of the war. a big army of yankees came through a few months later and soon we heard of the surrender. a few days after this marster told me to catch two horses that we had to go to dickenson which was the county seat of webster county. on the way to dickenson he said to me, 'bob, did you know you are free and lincoln has freed you? you are as free as i am.' we went to the freedmen's bureau and went into the office. a yankee officer looked me over and asked marster my name, and informed me i was free, and asked me whether or not i wanted to keep living with moore. i did not know what to do, so i told him yes. a fixed price of seventy-five dollars and board was then set as the salary i should receive per year for my work. the yankees told me to let him know if i was not paid as agreed. i went back home and stayed a year. during the year i hunted a lot at night and thoroughly enjoyed being free. i took my freedom by degrees and remained obedient and respectful, but still wondering and thinking of what the future held for me. after i retired at night i made plan after plan and built aircastles as to what i would do. at this time i formed a great attachment for the white man, mr. atlas chandler, with whom i hunted. he bought my part of the game we caught and favored me in other ways. mr. chandler had a friend, mr. dewitt yarborough, who was an adventurer, and trader, and half brother to my ex-marster, mr. moore, with whom i was then staying. he is responsible for me taking myself into my own hands and getting out of feeling i was still under obligations to ask my marster or missus when i desired to leave the premises. mr. yarborough's son was off at school at a place called kiloh, kentucky, and he wanted to carry a horse to him and also take along some other animals for trading purposes. he offered me a new pair of pants to make the trip for him and i accepted the job. i delivered the horse to his son and started for home. on the way back i ran into uncle squire yarborough who once belonged to dewitt yarborough. he persuaded me to go home with him and go with him to a wedding in union county, kentucky. the wedding was twenty miles away and we walked the entire distance. it was a double wedding, two couples were married. georgianna hawkins was married to george ross and steve carter married a woman whose name i do not remember. this was in the winter during the christmas holidays and i stayed in the community until about the first of january, then i went back home. i had been thinking for several days before i went back home as to just what i must tell mr. moore and as to how he felt about the matter, and what i would get when i got home. in my dilema i almost forgot i was free. i got home at night and my mind and heart was full but i was surprised at the way he treated me. he acted kind and asked me if i was going to stay with him next year. i was pleased. i told him, yes sir! and then i lay down and went to sleep. he had a boss man on his plantation then and next morning he called me, but i just couldn't wake. i seemed to be in a trance or something, i had recently lost so much sleep. he called me the second time and still i di [hw: d] not get up. then he came in and spanked my head. i jumped up and went to work feeding the stock and splitting wood for the day's cooking and fires. i then went in and ate my breakfast. mr. moore told me to hitch a team of horses to a wagon and go to a neighbors five miles away for a load of hogs. i refused to do so. they called me into the house and asked me what i was going to do about it. i said i do not know. as i said that i stepped out of the door and left. i went straight to the county seat and hired to dr. george rasby in webster county for one hundred dollars per year. i stayed there one year. i got uneasy in kentucky. the whites treated the blacks awful bad so i decided to go to illinois as i thought a negro might have a better chance there, it being a northern state. i was kindly treated and soon began to save money, but all through the years there was a thought that haunted me in my dreams and in my waking hours, and this thought was of my mother, whom i had not seen or heard of in many years. finally one cold morning in early december i made a vow that i was going to north carolina and see my mother if she was still living. i had plenty of money for the trip. i wrote the postmaster in roxboro, north carolina, asking him to inform my mother i was still living, and telling him the circumstances, mailing a letter at the same time telling her i was still alive but saying nothing of my intended visit to her. i left illinois bound for north carolina on december th and in a few days i was at my mother's home. i tried to fool them. there were two men with me and they called me by a ficticious name, but when i shook my mother's hand i held it a little too long and she suspicioned something still she held herself until she was more sure. when she got a chance she came to me and said ain't you my child? tell me ain't you my child whom i left on the road near mr. moore's before the war? i broke down and began to cry. mother nor father did not know me, but mother suspicioned i was her child. father had a few days previously remarked that he did not want to die without seeing his son once more. i could not find language to express my feeling. i did not know before i came home whether my parents were dead or alive. this christmas i spent in the county and state of my birth and childhood; with mother, father and freedom was the happiest period of my entire life, because those who were torn apart in bondage and sorrow several years previous were now united in freedom and happiness. eh n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: travis jordan subject: sarah anne green ex-slave, years durham county [tr: no date stamp] sarah anne green ex-slave years my mammy an' pappy wuz anderson an' hannah watson. we fus' belonged to marse billy an' mis roby watson, but when marse billy's daughter, mis' susie ma'ied young marse billy headen, ole marse give her me, an' my mammy an' my pappy for er weddin' gif'. so, i growed up as sarah anne headen. my pappy had blue eyes. dey wuz jus' like marse billy's eyes, kaze ole marse wuz pappy's marster an' his pappy too. ole marse wuz called hickory billy, dey called him dat kaze he chewed hickory bark. he wouldn' touch 'bacca, but he kept er twis' of dis bark in his pocket mos' all de time. he would make us chillun go down whare de niggers wuz splittin' rails an' peel dis bark off de logs befo' dey wuz split. de stuff he chewed come off de log right under de bark. after dey'd skin de logs we'd peel off dis hickory 'bacca in long strips an' make it up in twis's for ole marse. it wuz yellah an' tas' sweet an' sappy, an' he'd chew an' spit, an' chew an' spit. mis' roby wouldn' 'low no chewin' in de house, but ole marse sho done some spittin' outside. he could stan' in de barn door an' spit clear up in de lof'. ole marse an' mis roby lived on er big plantation near goldston an' dey had 'bout three hundred slaves. hannah, my mammy, wuz de head seamstress. she had to 'ten' to de makin' of all de slaves clothes. de niggers had good clothes. de cloth wuz home woven in de weavin' room. ten niggers didn' do nothin' but weave, but every slave had one sunday dress a year made out of store bought cloth. ole marse seed to dat. ole marse made de niggers go to chu'ch too. he had er meetin' house on plantation an' every sunday we wuz ma'ched to meetin'. dey wuz preachin' every other sunday an' sunday school every sunday. marse billy an' mis' roby teached de sunday school, but dey didn' teach us to read an' write, no suh, dey sho didn'. if dey'd see us wid er book dey'd whip us. dey said niggers didn' need no knowledge; dat dey mus' do what dey wuz tole to do. marse billy wuz er doctor too. he doctored de slaves when dey got sick, an' if dey got bad off he sen' for er sho nuff doctor an' paid de bills. every chris'mas marse billy give de niggers er big time. he called dem up to de big house an' give dem er bag of candy, niggertoes, an' sugar plums, den he say: 'who wants er egg nog, boys?' all dem dat wants er dram hol' up dey han's.' yo' never seed such holdin' up of han's. i would hol' up mine too, an' ole marse would look at me an say, 'go 'way from hear, sarah anne, yo' too little to be callin' for nog.' but he fill up de glass jus' de same an' put in er extra spoon of sugar an' give it to me. dat sho wuz good nog. 'twuz all foamy wid whipped cream an' rich wid eggs. marse billy an' mis' roby served it demselves from dey sunday cut glass nog bowl, an' it kept estella an' rosette busy fillin' it up. marse billy wuz er good man. when de war come on marse billy was too ole to go, but young marse billy an' marse gaston went. dey wuz ole marse's two boys. young marse billy headen, mis' susie's husban' went too. de day ole marse heard dat de yankees wuz comin' he took all de meat 'cept two or three pieces out of de smoke house, den he got de silver an' things an' toted dem to de wood pile. he dug er hole an' buried dem, den he covered de place wid chips, but wid dat he wuzn' satisfied, so he made pappy bring er load of wood an' throw it on top of it, so when de yankees come dey didn' fin' it. when de yankees come up in de yard marse billy took mis' roby an' locked her up in dey room, den he walk 'roun' an' watched de yankees, but dey toted off what dey wanted. i wuzn' skeered of de yankees; i thought dey wuz pretty mens in dey blue coats an' brass buttons. i followed dem all 'roun' beggin' for dey coat buttons. i ain't never seed nothin' as pretty as dem buttons. when dey lef' i followed dem way down de road still beggin', 'twell one of dem yankees pull off er button an' give it to me. 'hear, nigger,' he say, 'take dis button. i's givin' it to you kaze yo's got blue eyes. i ain't never seed blue eyes in er black face befo'.' i had blue eyes like pappy an' marse billy, an' i kept dat yankee button 'twell i wuz ma'ied, den i los' it. de wus' thing i know dat happened, in de war wuz when mis' roby foun' de yankee sojer in de ladies back house. down at de back of de garden behin' de row of lilac bushes wuz de two back houses, one for de mens an' one for de ladies. mis' roby went down to dis house one day, an' when she opened de door, dare lay er yankee sojer on de floor. his head wuz tied up wid er bloody rag an' he look like he wuz dead. mammy say she seed mis' roby when she come out. she looked skeered but she didn' scream nor nothin'. when she seed mammy she motioned to her. she tole her 'bout de yankee. 'he's jus' er boy, hannah,' she say, 'he ain't no older den marse gaston, an' he's hurt. we got to do somethin' an' we can't tell nobody.' den she sen' mammy to de house for er pan of hot water, de scissors an' er ole sheet. mis' roby cut off de bloody ran an' wash dat sojer boy's head den she tied up de cut places. den she went to de house an' made mammy slip him er big milk toddy. 'bout dat time she seed some ho'seman comin' down de road. when dey got closer she seed dey wuz 'federate sojers. dey rode up in de yard an' marse billy went out to meet dem. dey tole him dat dey wuz lookin' for er yankee prisoner dat done got away from dey camp. after ole marse tole dem dat he ain't seed no yankee sojer, dey tole him dat dey got to search de place kaze dat wuz orders. when mis roby heard dem say dat she turned an' went through de house to do back yard. she walk 'roun' 'mong de flowers, but all de time she watchin' dem 'federates search de barns, stables, an' everywhare. but, when dey start to de lilac bushes, mis' roby lif' her head an' walk right down de paf to de ladies back house, an' right befo' all dem mens, wid dem lookin' at her, she opened de door an' walk in. she sholy did. dat night when 'twuz dark mis' roby wrap' up er passel of food an' er bottle of brandy an' give it to dat sojer yankee boy. she tole him dey wuz ho'ses in de paster an' dat de yankee camp wuz over near laurinburg or somewhare like dat. nobody ain't seed dat boy since, but somehow dat ho'se come back an' in his mane wuz er piece of paper. marse billy foun' it an' brung it to mis' roby an' ax her what it meant. mis' roby took it an' 'twuz er letter dat sojer boy done wrote tellin' her dat he wuz safe an' thankin' her for what she done for him. mis' roby tole marse billy she couldn' help savin' dat yankee, he too much of er boy. marse billy he look at mis' roby, den he say: 'roby, honey, yo's braver den any sojer i ever seed.' n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: dorcas griffeth person interviewed: dorcas griffeth editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] dorcas griffeth e. south street you know me every time you sees me don't you? who tole you i wus dorcas griffith? i seed you up town de other day. yes, yes, i is old. i is years old. i remember all about dem yankees. the first biscuit i ever et dey give it to me. i wus big enough to nus de babies when de yankees came through. dey carried biscuits on dere horses, i wus jist thinkin' of my young missus de other day. i belonged to doctor clark in chatham county near pittsboro. my father wus named billy dismith, and my mother wus named peggy council. she belonged to the councils. father, belonged to the dismiths and i belonged to the clarks. missus wus named winnie. dey had tolerable fine food for de white folks, but i did not get any of it. de food dey give us wus mighty nigh nuthin'. our clothes wus bad and our sleepin' places wus not nuthin' at all. we had a hard time. we had a hard time then and we are havin' a hard time now. we have a house to live in now, and de chinches eat us up almos, and we have nuthin' to live on now, jist a little from charity. i fares mighty bad. dey gives me a half peck of meal and a pound o' meat, a little oat meal, and canned grape juice, a half pound o' coffee and no sugar or lard and no flour. dey gives us dat for a week's eatin'. de yankees called de niggers who wus plowin' de mules when dey came through an' made 'em bring 'em to 'em an' dey carried de mules on wid em. de niggers called de yankees blue jackets. i had two brothers, both older dan me. george de oldest and jack. let me see i had four sisters , , , ; one wus named annie, one named rosa, annie, and francis and myself dorcas. all de games i played wus de wurk in de field wid a hoe. dere wus no playgrounds like we has now. no, no, if you got your work done you done enough. if i could see how to write like you i could do a lot o' work but i can't see. i kin write. i got a good education acording to readin', spellin, and writin'. i kin say de nd chapter of matthey by heart, the chapter of ezelial by heart, or most of ezekial by heart. i learned it since i got free. i went to school in raleigh to de washington school. dey wouldn't let us have books when i wus a slave. i wus afraid ter be caught wid a book. de patterollers scared us so bad in slavery time and beat so many uv de slaves dat we lef' de plantation jus' as soon as we wus free. dat's de reason father lef' de plantation so quick. i also remember de ku klux. i wus afraid o' dem, and i did not think much of 'em. i saw slaves whupped till de blood run down dere backs. once dey whupped some on de plantation and den put salt on de places and pepper on 'em. i didn't think nuthin in de world o' slavery. i think de it wus wrong. i didn't think a thing o' slavery. all my people are dead, and i am unable to work. i haven't been able to work in six years. i thought abraham lincoln wus a good man. he had a good name. i don't know much about mr. roosevelt but i hopes he will help me, cause i need it mighty bad. [tr: no header page] sarah gudger [ ] ex-slave, years investigation of the almost incredible claim of aunt sarah gudger, ex-slave living in asheville, that she was born on sept. , , discloses some factual information corroborating her statements. aunt sarah's father, smart gudger, belonged to and took his family name from joe gudger, who lived near oteen, about six miles east of asheville in the swannanoa valley, prior to the war between the states. family records show that joe gudger married a miss mcrae in , and that while in a despondent mood he ended his own life by hanging, as vividly recounted by the former slave. john hemphill, member of the family served by aunt sarah until "freedom," is recalled as being "a few y'ars younge' as me," and indeed his birth is recorded for . alexander hemphill, mentioned by aunt sarah as having left to join the confederate army when about years of age, is authentic and his approximate age in tallies with that recalled by the ex-slave. when alexander went off to the war aunt sarah was "gettin' t' be an ol' woman." aunt sarah lives with distant cousins in a two-story frame house, comfortably furnished, at dalton street in south asheville (the negro section lying north of kenilworth). a distant male relative, years of age, said he has known aunt sarah all his life and that she was an old woman when he was a small boy. small in stature, about five feet tall, aunt sarah is rathered rounded in face and body. her milk-chocolate face is surmounted by short, sparse hair, almost milk white. she is somewhat deaf but understands questions asked her, responding with animation. she walks with one crutch, being lame in the right leg. on events of the long ago her mind is quite clear. recalling the confederate "sojers, marchin', marchin'" to the drums, she beat a tempo on the floor with her crutch. as she described how the hands of slaves were tied before they were whipped for infractions she crossed her wrists. owen gudger, asheville postmaster ( - ), member of the buncombe county historical association, now engaged in the real estate business, says he has been acquainted with aunt sarah all his life; that he has, on several occasions, talked to her about her age and early associations, and that her responses concerning members of the gudger and hemphill families coincide with known facts of the two families. interviewed by a member of the federal writers' project, aunt sarah seemed eager to talk, and needed but little prompting. sarah gudger (born september , ) interview with mrs. marjorie jones, may , i wah bo'n 'bout two mile fum ole fo't on de ole mo'ganton road. i sho' has had a ha'd life. jes wok, an' wok, an' wok. i nebbah know nothin' but wok. mah boss he wah ole man andy hemphill. he had a la'ge plantation in de valley. plenty ob ebbathin'. all kine ob stock: hawgs, cows, mules, an' hosses. when marse andy die i go lib wif he son, william hemphill. i nebbah fo'git when marse andy die. he wah a good ole man, and de missie she wah good, too. she usta read de bible t' us chillun afoah she pass away. mah pappy, he lib wif joe gudgah (gudger). he ole an' feeble, i 'membahs. he 'pend on mah pappy t' see aftah ebbathin' foah him. he allus trust mah pappy. one mo'nin' he follah pappy to de field. pappy he stop hes wok and ole marse joe, he say: "well, smart (pappy, he name smart), i's tard, wurried, an' trubble'. all dese yeahs i wok foah mah chillun. dey nevah do de right thing. dey wurries me, smart. i tell yo', smart, i's a good mind t' put mahself away. i's good mind t' drown mahself right heah. i tebble wurried, smart." pappy he take hole ole marse joe an' lead him t' de house. "now marse joe, i wudden talk sich talk effen i's yo'. yo' ben good t' yo' fambly. jest yo' content yo'self an' rest." but a few days aftah dat, ole marse joe wah found ahangin' in de ba'n by de bridle. ole marse had put heself away. no'm, i nebbah knowed whut it wah t' rest. i jes wok all de time f'om mawnin' till late at night. i had t' do ebbathin' dey wah t' do on de outside. wok in de field, chop wood, hoe cawn, till sometime i feels lak mah back sholy break. i done ebbathin' 'cept split rails. yo' know, dey split rails back in dem days. well, i nevah did split no rails. ole marse strop us good effen we did anythin' he didn' lak. sometime he get hes dandah up an' den we dassent look roun' at him. else he tie yo' hands afoah yo' body an' whup yo', jes lak yo' a mule. lawdy, honey, i's tuk a thousand lashins in mah day. sometimes mah poah ole body be soah foah a week. ole boss he send us niggahs out in any kine ob weathah, rain o' snow, it nebbah mattah. we had t' go t' de mountings, cut wood an' drag it down t' de house. many de time we come in wif ouh cloes stuck t' ouh poah ole cold bodies, but 'twarn't no use t' try t' git 'em dry. ef de ole boss o' de ole missie see us dey yell: "git on out ob heah yo' black thin', an' git yo' wok outen de way!" an' lawdy, honey, we knowed t' git, else we git de lash. dey did'n cah how ole o' how young yo' wah, yo' nebbah too big t' git de lash. de rich white folks nebbah did no wok; dey had da'kies t' do it foah dem. in de summah we had t' wok outdoo's, in de wintah in de house. i had t' ceard an' spin till ten o'clock. nebbah git much rest, had t' git up at foah de nex' mawnin' an' sta't agin. didn' get much t' eat, nuthah, jes a lil' cawn bread an' 'lasses. lawdy, honey, yo' caint know whut a time i had. all cold n' hungry. no'm, i aint tellin' no lies. it de gospel truf. it sho is. i 'membah well how i use t' lie 'wake till all de folks wah sleepin', den creep outen de do' and walk barfoot in de snow, 'bout two mile t' mah ole auntie's house. i knowed when i git dar she fix hot cawn pone wif slice o' meat an' some milk foah me t' eat. auntie wah good t' us da'kies. i nebbah sleep on a bedstead till aftah freedom, no'm till [hw: asterisk] aftah freedom. jes' an ole pile o' rags in de conah. ha'dly 'nuf t' keep us from freezin'. law, chile, nobuddy knows how mean da'kies wah treated. wy, dey wah bettah t' de animals den t' us'ns. mah fust ole marse wah a good ole man, but de las'n, he wah rapid--- he sho wah rapid. wy, chile, times aint no mo' lak dey usta be den de day an' night am lak. in mah day an' time all de folks woked. effen dey had no niggahs dey woked demselves. effen de chillun wah too small tuh hoe, dey pull weeds. now de big bottom ob de swannano (swannanoa) dat usta grow hunners bushels ob grain am jest a playgroun'. i lak t' see de chillun in de field. wy, now dey fight yo' lak wilecat effen it ebben talked 'bout. dat's de reason times so ha'd. no fahmin'. wy, i c'n 'membah ole missie she say: "dis gene'ation'll pass away an' a new gene'ation'll cum 'long." dat's jes' it--ebbah gene'ation gits weakah an' weakah. den dey talk 'bout goin' back t' ole times. dat time done gone, dey nebbah meet dat time agin. wahn't none o' de slaves offen ouh plantation ebbah sold, but de ones on de othah plantation ob marse william wah. oh, dat wah a tebble time! all de slaves be in de field, plowin', hoein', singin' in de boilin' sun. ole marse he cum t'ru de field wif a man call de specalater. day walk round jes' lookin', jes'lookin', all de da'kies know whut dis mean. dey didn' dare look up, jes' wok right on. den de specalater he see who he want. he talk to ole marse, den dey slaps de han'cuffs on him an' tak him away to de cotton country. oh, dem wah awful times! when de specalater wah ready to go wif de slaves, effen dey wha enny whu didn' wanta go, he thrash em, den tie em 'hind de waggin an' mek em run till dey fall on de groun', den he thrash em till dey say dey go 'thout no trubble. sometime some of dem run 'way an cum back t' de plantation, den it wah hardah on dem den befoah. when de da'kies wen' t' dinnah de ole niggah mammy she say whar am sich an' sich. none ob de othahs wanna tell huh. but when she see dem look down to de groun' she jes' say: "de specalater, de specalater." den de teahs roll down huh cheeks, cause mebbe it huh son o' husban' an' she know she nebbah see 'em agin. mebbe dey leaves babies t' home, mebbe jes' pappy an' mammy. oh, mah lawdy, mah ole boss wah mean, but he nebbah sen' us to de cotton country. dey wah ve'y few skules back in day day an time, ve'y few. we da'kies didn' dah look at no book, not ebben t' pick it up. ole missie, dat is, mah firs' ole missie, she wah a good ole woman. she read to de niggahs and t' de white chillun. she cum fum cross de watah. she wahn't lak de sma't white folks livin' heah now. when she come ovah heah she brung darky boy wif huh. he wah huh pussonal su'vant. co'se, dey got diffent names foah dem now, but in dat day dey calls 'em ginney niggahs. she wah good ole woman, not lak othah white folks. niggahs lak ole missie. when de da'kies git sick, dey wah put in a lil' ole house close t' de big house, an' one of the othah da'kies waited on 'em. dey wah ve'y few doctahs den. ony three in de whole section. when dey wanted med'cine dey went t' de woods an' gathahed hoahhound, slipperelm foah poltices an' all kinds ba'k foah teas. all dis yarbs bring yo' round. dey wah ve'y few lawyers den too, but lawsy me, yo' cain't turn round fer dem now. i 'membahs when mah ole mammy die. she live on rims (reems) crick with othah hemphills. she sick long time. one day white man cum t' see me. he say: "sarah, did yo' know yo' manmy wah daid?" "no," i say, "but i wants t' see mah mothah afoah dey puts huh away." i went t' de house and say t' ole missie: "mah mothah she die tofay. i wants t' see mah mothah afoah dey puts huh away," but she look at me mean an' say: "git on outen heah, an' git back to yo' wok afoah i wallup yo' good." so i went back t' mah wok, with the tears streamin' down mah face, jest awringin' mah hands, i wanted t' see mah manmy so. 'bout two weeks latah, ole missie she git tebble sick, she jes' lingah 'long foah long time, but she nebbah gits up no mo'. wa'nt long afoah dey puts huh away too, jes' lak mah mammy. i 'membahs de time when mah mammy wah alive, i wah a small chile, afoah dey tuk huh t' rims crick. all us chilluns wah playin' in de ya'd one night. jes' arunnin' an' aplayin' lak chillun will. all a sudden mammy cum to de do' all a'sited. "cum in heah dis minnit," she say. "jes look up at what is ahappenin'", and bless yo' life, honey, de sta's wah fallin' jes' lak rain.[ ] mammy wah tebble skeered, but we chillun wa'nt afeard, no, we wa'nt afeard. but mammy she say evah time a sta' fall, somebuddy gonna die. look lak lotta folks gonna die f'om de looks ob dem sta's. ebbathin' wah jes' as bright as day. yo' cudda pick a pin up. yo' know de sta's don' shine as bright as dey did back den. i wondah wy dey don'. dey jes' don' shine as bright. wa'nt long afoah dey took mah mammy away, and i wah lef' alone. on de plantation wah an ole woman whut de boss bought f'om a drovah up in virginny. de boss he bought huh f'om one ob de specalaters. she laff an' tell us: "some ob dese days yo'all gwine be free, jes' lak de white folks," but we all laff at huh. no, we jes' slaves, we allus hafta wok and nevah be free. den when freedom cum, she say: "i tole yo'all, now yo' got no larnin', yo' got no nothin', got no home; whut yo' gwine do? didn' i tell yo'?" i wah gittin along smartly in yeahs when de wah cum. ah 'membah jes' lak yestiddy jes' afoah de wah. marse william wah atalkin' t' hes brothah. i wah standin' off a piece. marse's brothah, he say: "william, how ole aunt sarah now?" marse william look at me an' he say: "she gittin' nigh onta fifty." dat wah jes' a lil while afoah de wah. dat wah awful time. us da'kies didn' know whut it wah all bout. ony one of de boys f'om de plantation go. he alexander, he 'bout twenty-five den. many de time we git word de yankees comin'. we take ouh food an' stock an' hide it till we sho' dey's gone. we wan't bothahed much. one day, i nebbah fo'git, we look out an' see sojers ma'chin'; look lak de whole valley full ob dem. i thought: "poah helpless crittahs, jes' goin' away t' git kilt." de drums wah beatin' an' de fifes aplayin'. dey wah de foot comp'ny. oh, glory, it wah a sight. sometime dey cum home on furlough. sometime dey git kilt afoah dey gits th'ough. alexander, he cum home a few time afoah freedom. when de wah was ovah, marse william he say: "did yo'all know yo'all's free, yo' free now." i chuckle, 'membahin' whut ole woman tell us 'bout freedom, an' no larnin. lotta men want me t' go t' foreign land, but i tell 'em i go live wif mah pappy, long as he live. i stay wif de white folks 'bout twelve months, den i stay wif mah pappy, long as he live. i had two brothahs, dey went t' califonny, nebbah seed 'em no mo', no' mah sistah, nuther. i cain't 'membah sech a lot 'bout it all. i jes' knows i'se bo'n and bred heah [hw correction: here] in dese pa'ts, nebbah been outten it. i'se well; nebbah take no doctah med'cine. jes' ben sick once; dat aftah freedom. [footnote : (one of the most spectacular meteoric showers on record, visible all over north america, occurred in .)] n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: thomas hall person interviewed: thomas hall editor: g. l. andrews [tr: date stamp "sep "] thomas hall age years tarboro road, raleigh, n. c. my name is thomas hall and i was born in orange county, n. c. on a plantation belonging to jim woods whose wife, our missus, was named polly. i am eighty one years of age as i was born feb. , . my father daniel hall and my mother becke hall and me all belonged to the same man but it was often the case that this wus not true as one man, perhaps a johnson, would own a husband and a smith own the wife, each slave goin' by the name of the slave owners, family. in such cases the children went by the name of the family to which the mother belonged. gettin married an' having a family was a joke in the days of slavery, as the main thing in allowing any form of matrimony among the slaves was to raise more slaves in the same sense and for the same purpose as stock raisers raise horses and mules, that is for work. a woman who could produce fast was in great demand and brought a good price on the auction block in richmond, va., charleston, s. c., and other places. the food in many cases that was given the slaves was not given them for their pleasure or by a cheerful giver, but for the simple and practical reason that children would not grow into a large healthy slave unless they were well fed and clothed; and given good warm places in which to live. conditions and rules were bad and the punishments were severe and barbarous. some marsters acted like savages. in some instances slaves were burned at the stake. families were torn apart by selling. mothers were sold from their children. children were sold from their mothers, and the father was not considered in anyway as a family part. these conditions were here before the civil war and the conditions in a changed sense have been here ever since. the whites have always held the slaves in part slavery and are still practicing the same things on them in a different manner. whites lynch, burn, and persecute the negro race in america yet; and there is little they are doing to help them in anyway. lincoln got the praise for freeing us, but did he do it? he give us freedom without giving us any chance to live to ourselves and we still had to depend on the southern white man for work, food and clothing, and he held us through our necessity and want in a state of servitude but little better than slavery. lincoln done but little for the negro race and from living standpoint nothing. white folks are not going to do nothing for negroes except keep them down. harriet beecher stowe, the writer of uncle tom's cabin, did that for her own good. she had her own interests at heart and i don't like her, lincoln, or none of the crowd. the yankees helped free us, so they say, but they let us be put back in slavery again. when i think of slavery it makes me mad. i do not believe in giving you my story 'cause with all the promises that have been made the negro is still in a bad way in the united states, no matter in what part he lives it's all the same. now you may be all right; there are a few white men who are but the pressure is such from your white friends that you will be compelled to talk against us and give us the cold shoulder when you are around them, even if your heart is right towards us. you are going around to get a story of slavery conditions and the persecusions of negroes before the civil war and the economic conditions concerning them since that war. you should have known before this late day all about that. are you going to help us? no! you are only helping yourself. you say that my story may be put into a book, that you are from the federal writer's project. well, the negro will not get anything out of it, no matter where you are from. harriet beecher stowe wrote uncle tom's cabin. i didn't like her book and i hate her. no matter where you are from i don't want you to write my story cause the white folks have been and are now and always will be against the negro. le n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: travis jordan subject: hecter hamilton ex-slave years. [tr: date stamp "jun "] hecter hamilton ex-slave years dey wuz two general lee's, in de 'federate war. one los' his fight, but de other won his. one of dese generals wuz a white man dat rode a white hoss, an' de other wuz a mean fightin' gander dat i named general lee, though i didn' know den dat he wuz goin' to live up to his name. but when de time come dat long neck gander out fit de whole 'federate army. my white fo'ks lived in virginia. dey wuz marse peter an' mis' laura hamilton. dey lived on de big hamilton plantation dat wuz so big dat wid all de niggers dey had dey couldn' 'ten' half of it. dis lan' done been handed down to marse peter from more den six gran'pappys. dey wuz cotton an' 'bacca fields a mile wide; de wheat fields as far as yo' could see wuz like a big sheet of green water, an' it took half hour to plow one row of cawn, but dey wuz plenty of slaves to do de work. mistah sidney effort, marse peter's overseer, rode all over de fields every day, cussin' an' crackin' his long blacksnake whip. he drove dem niggers like dey wuz cattle, but marse peter wouldn' 'low no beatin' of his niggers. marse peter had acres an' acres of woods dat wuz his huntin' 'zerve. dey wuz every kind of bird an' animal in dem woods in shootin' season. dey wuz snipes, pheasants, patridges, squirrels, rabbits, deers, an' foxes; dey wuz even bears, an' dey wuz wolfs too dat would come an' catch de sheeps at night. dey wuz always a crowd at easy acres huntin' ridin' dancin' an' havin' a good time. marse peter's stables wuz full of hunters an' saddlers for mens an' ladies. de ladies in dem days rode side saddles. mis' laura's saddle wuz all studded wid sho nuff gol' tacks. de fringe wuz tipped wid gol', an' de buckles on de bridle wuz solid gol'. when de ladies went to ride dey wore long skirts of red, blue, an' green velvet, an' dey had plumes on dey hats dat blew in de win'. dey wouldn' be caught wearin' britches an' ridin' straddle like de womens do dese days. in dem times de women wuz ladies. marse peter kept de bes' sideboa'd in princess anne county. his cut glass decanters cos' near 'bout as much as mis' laura's diamon' ear rings i's goin' tell yo' 'bout. de decanters wuz all set out on de sideboard wid de glasses, an' de wine an' brandy wuz so ole dat one good size dram would make yo' willin' to go to de jail house for sixty days. some of dat wine an' likker done been in dat cellar ever since ole marse caleb hamilton's time, an' de done built easy acres befo' mistah george washington done cut down his pappy's cherry tree. dat likker done been down in dat cellar so long dat yo' had to scrape de dus' off wid a knife. i wuz marse peter's main sideboa'd man. when he had shootin' company i didn' do nothin' but shake drams. de mens would come in from de huntin' field col' an' tired, an' marse peter would say: 'hustle up, hecter, fix us a dram of so an' so.' dat mean dat i wuz to mix de special dram dat i done learned from my gran'pappy. so, i pours in a little of dis an' a little of dat, den i shakes it 'twell it foams, den i fills de glasses an' draps in de ice an' de mint. time de mens drink dat so an' so dey done forgot dey's tired; dey 'lax, an' when de ladies come down de stairs all dredd up, dey thinks dey's angels walkin' in gol' shoes. dem wuz good times befo' de war an' befo' marse peter got shot. from de day marse peter rode his big grey hoss off to fight, we never seed him no more. mis' laura never even know if dey buried him or not. after de mens all went to de war dey won't no use for no more drams, so mis' laura took me away from de sideboa'd an' made me a watchman. dat is, i wuz set to watch de commissary to see dat de niggers wuzn' give no more den dey share of eats, den i looked after de chickens an' things, kaze de patter-rollers wuz all 'roun' de country an' dey'd steal everythin' from chickens to sweet taters an cawn, den dey'd sell it to de yankees. dat's when i named dat ole mean fightin' gander general lee. everywhare i went 'roun' de place dat gander wuz right at my heels. he wuz de bigges' gander i ever seed. he weighed near 'bout forty pounds, an' his wings from tip to tip wuz 'bout two yards. he wuz smart too. i teached him to drive de cows an' sheeps, an' i sic'd him on de dogs when dey got 'streperous. i'd say, sic him, general lee, an' dat gander would cha'ge. he wuz a better fighter den de dogs kaze he fit wid his wings, his bill, an wid his feets. i seed him skeer a bull near 'bout to death one day. dat bull got mad an' jump de fence an' run all de niggers in de cabins, so i called general lee an' sic'd him on dat bull. dat bird give one squawk an' lit on dat bull's back, an' yo' never seed such carryin's on. de bull reared an' snorted an' kicked, but dat gander held on. he whipped dat bull wid his wings 'twell he wuz glad to go back in de lot an' 'have hese'f. after dat all i had to do to dat bull wuz show him general lee an' he'd quiet down. now i's goin' to tell yo' 'bout mis' laura's diamon' ear rings. de fus' yankees dat come to de house wuz gentlemens, 'cept dey made us niggers cook dey supper an' shine dey muddy boots, den dey stole everythin' dey foun' to tote away, but de nex ones dat come wuz mean. dey got made kaze de fus' yankees done got de pickin's of what mis' laura hadn' hid. dey cut open de feather beds lookin' for silver; dey ripped open de chair cushings lookin' for money, dey even tore up de carpets, but dey didn' fin' nothin' kaze all de valuables done been buried. even mos' of de wine done been hid, 'twuz' all buried in de ole graves down in de family grave yard wid de tombstones at de head an' foots. no yankee ain't goin' be diggin' in no grave for nothin'. dey wuz one yankee in dis las' bunch dat wuz big an' bustin'. he strut bigoty wid his chist stuck out. he walk 'roun' stickin' his sword in de chair cushions, de pictures on de walls an' things like dat. he got powerful mad kaze he couldn' fin' nothin', den he look out de window an' seed mis' laura. she wuz standin' on de po'ch an' de sun wuz shinin' on de diamon' ear rings in her ears. dey wuz de ear rings dat belonged to marse peter's great-great-gran'mammy. when de sojer seed dem diamon's his eyes 'gun to shine. he went out on de po'ch an' went up to mis' laura. 'gim me dem ear rings,' he say jus' like dat. mis' laura flung her han's up to her ears an' run out in de yard. de sojer followed her, an' all de other sojers come too. dat big yankee tole mis' laura again to give him de ear rings, but she shook her head. i wuz standin' 'side de house near 'bout bustin' wid madness when dat yankee reach up an' snatch mis' laura's hands down an' hold dem in his, den he laugh, an' all de other sojers 'gun to laugh too jus' like dey thought 'twuz funny. 'bout dat time ole general lee done smell a fight. he come waddlin' 'roun' de house, his tail feathers bristled out an' tawkin' to he'sef. i point to dem sojers an say, "sic him, general lee, sic him." dat gander ain't waste no time. he let out his wings an' cha'ged dem yankees an' dey scatter like flies. den he lit on dat big sojer's back an' 'gun to beat him wid his wings. dat man let out a yell an' drap mis' laura's hands; he try to shake dat goose, but general bit into his neck an' held on like a leech. when de other sojers come up an' try to pull him off, dat gander let out a wing an' near about slap dem down. i ain't never seed such fightin! every time i holler, sic him, general lee start 'nother 'tack. 'bout dat time dem yankees took a runnin' nothin. dey forgot de ear rings an' lit out down de road, but dat gander beat dat bigoty yellin' sojer clear down to de branch befo' he turned him loose, den he jump in de water an' wash hese'f off. yes, suh, dat wuz sho some fightin' goose; he near 'bout out fit de sho nuff marse general lee. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: george w. harris story teller: george w. harris editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] george w. harris e. cabarrus street, raleigh, n. c. hey, don't go 'roun' dat post gitting it 'tween you and me, it's bad luck. don't you know it's bad luck? don't want no more bad luck den what i'se already got. my name is george harris. i wuz born november , years ago. i have been living in the city of raleigh onto years. i belonged to john andrews. he died about de time i wuz born. his wife betsy wuz my missus and his son john wuz my marster. deir plantation wuz in jones county. dere were about er dozen slaves on de plantation. we had plenty o' food in slavery days during my boyhood days, plenty of good sound food. we didn't have 'xactly plenty o' clothes, and our places ter sleep needed things, we were in need often in these things. we were treated kindly, and no one abused us. we had as good owners as there were in jones county; they looked out for us. they let us have patches to tend and gave us what we made. we did not have much money. we had no church on the plantation, but there wuz one on marster's brother's plantation next ter his plantation. we had suppers an' socials, generally gatherings for eatin', socials jist to git together an' eat. we had a lot o' game ter eat, such as possums, coons, rabbits and birds. de plantation wuz fenced in wid rails about ft. in length split from pine trees. de cattle, hogs an' hosses run out on de free range. the hosses ran on free range when de crap wuz laid by. there wuz an ole mare dat led de hosses. she led 'em an' when she come home at night dey followed her. de first work i done wuz drappin' tater sprouts, drappin' corn, thinnin' out corn and roundin' up corn an' mindin' the crows out of de field. dey did not teach us to read an' write, but my father could read, and he read de hymn book and testament to us sometimes. i do not remember ever goin' to church durin' slavery days. i have never seen a slave whipped and none ever ran away to the north from our plantation. when i wuz a boy we chillun played marbles, prison base, blind fold and tag, hide an' seek. dey gave us christmas holidays, an' th of july, an' lay-by time. dey also called dis time "crap hillin' time." most o' de time when we got sick our mother doctored us with herbs which she had in de garden. when we had side plurisy, what dey calls pneumonia now, dey sent fer a doctor. doctor hines treated us. we lived near trenton. when de yankees took new bern, our marster had us out in de woods in jones county mindin' hosses an' takin' care o' things he had hid there. we got afraid and ran away to new bern in craven county. we all went in a gang and walked. de yankees took us at deep gully ten miles dis side o' new bern an' carried us inside de lines. dey asked us questions and put us all in jail. dey put my father ter cookin' at de jail and give us boys work 'roun' de yard. dey put de others at work at de horse stables and houses. de smallpox and yaller fever caught us dere and killed us by de hundreds. thirteen doctors died dere in one day. jist 'fore gen. lee surrendered dey carried us to petersburg, va., and i waited on major emory and de others worked fer de yankees. when de surrender came we went back home to craven county, next to jones county, and went to farmin'. sumpin' to eat could not hardly be found. de second year atter de war we went back to old marster's plantation. he wuz glad ter see us, we all et dinner wid him. we looked over de place. i looked over de little log cabin where i wuz born. some of de boys who had been slaves, farmed wid old marster, but i worked at my trade. i wuz a brick moulder. yes, a brick maker. my mother was named jennie andrews and my father was quash harris. my father belonged to de harris family on de nex' plantation in jones county. atter de surrender we all went in his name. we changed from andrews to harris. i do not recollect my grandmother and grandfather. i can't recollect them. marster told us directly after dey declared war dat he expected we would all soon be free. de majority of de slaves did not want to be free. dey were stirred up. dey didn't want it to be. dey didn't want no fightin'. dey didn't know. i married mary boylan first, of johnston county, at wilsons mills, jan. , . here is de family record. ole marster made me copies after de war, and i copied dis. 'george harris was married the year , january the th. george harris was born the year november the th.' i had five brothers, but they are all dead, fur as i know: john nathan, louis, david, jefferson, donald and my name george. my sisters, mary ann, sara, lucy, penny, emaline, lizzie, nancy, leah and one i can't remember. dats all. i thought abraham lincoln wuz a great man. i remember him well. i think he done de best he knowed how to settle de country. mr. roosevelt is a smart man. he is doing de best he can. i think he is goin' to help de country. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: an ex-slave story story teller: sarah harris editor: daisy bailey waitt [hw: good points] [tr: date stamp "jun "] sarah harris interviewed may , . sarah harris is my name. i wuz borned april , on the plantation of master john william walton. my father wuz name frank walton and my mother wuz name flora walton. my brothers wuz name lang and johnny. my sisters: hannah, mary, ellen, violet and annie. my grandmother wuz name ellen walton. she wuz years old when she died. my mother wuz years old when she died; she has been dead years. she died in october, years this pas' october. i 'member seeing the yankees. i wuz not afraid of 'em, i thought dey were the prettiest blue mens i had ever seed. i can see how de chickens and guineas flew and run from 'em. de yankees killed 'em and give part of 'em to the colored folks. most of de white folks had run off and hid. i can't read and write. i nebber had no chance. de yankees had their camps along the fayetteville road. dey called us dinah, sam, and other names. dey later had de place dey call de bureau. when we left de white folks we had nothing to eat. de niggers wait there at de bureau and they give 'em hard tack, white potatoes, and saltpeter meat. our white folks give us good things to eat, and i cried every day at o'clock to go home. yes, i wanted to go back to my white folks; they were good to us. i would say, 'papa le's go home, i want to go home. i don't like this sumptin' to eat.' he would say, 'don't cry, honey, le's stay here, dey will sen' you to school.' we had nothing to eat 'cept what de yankees give us. but mr. bill crawford give my father and mother work. yes, he wuz a southern man, one o' our white folks. daddy wuz his butcher. my mother wuz his cook. we were turned out when dey freed us with no homes and nuthin'. master said he wuz sorry he didn't give us niggers part of his lan'. while i wuz big enough to work i worked for porter steadman. i got cent a week and board. we had a good home then. i just shouted when i got dat cent, and i just run. i couldn't run fas' anuff to git to my mother to give dat money to her. my father died, and my mother bought a home. she got her first money to buy de home by working for de man who give her work after de surrender. the first money she saved to put on de home wuz a dime. some weeks she only saved cents. lan' sold fur $ a acre den. just after de war de white and colored children played together. dey had a tent in our neighborhood. i wuz de cook for de white chilluns parties. we played together fer a long time after de war. i married silas cooper of norfolk va. he worked in the navy yard. i wuz married in raleigh. i had a church wedding. i think abraham lincoln wuz a great man. he would cure or kill. but i like my ole master. the lord put it into abraham lincoln to do as he done. the lord knowed he would be killed. i think slavery wuz wrong. i have a horror of being a slave. you see all dis lan' aroun' here. it belongs to colored folks. dey were cut off wid nothin', but dey is strugglin' an' dey are comin' on fast. de bible say dat de bottom rail will be on top, and it is comin' to pass. sometime de colored race will git up. de bible say so. i think mr. roosevelt is one of the greatest mans in de world. he wants to help everybody. i doan think much of mr. jeff davis. dey used to sing songs uv hanging him to a apple tree. dey say he libed a long time atter de war dressed like a 'oman, he wuz so skeered. tpm:eh n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: daisy whaley subject: cy hart ex-slave, years. durham, n. c. [hw: ] [tr: date stamp: "aug "] cy hart, yrs. ex-slave. ephram hart was my pappy and my mammy's name was nellie. he belonged to marse ephram hart. one day marse hart took some of his niggers to de slave market an' my pappy was took along too. when he was put on de block an' sold marse paul cameron bought him. den marse hart felt so sorry to think he done let my pappy be sold dat he tried to buy him back from marse paul, an' offered him more den marse paul paid for him. but marse paul said, "no, suh. i done bought him an' i want det nigger myself an' i am goin' take him home wid me to snow hill farm." pappy married my mammy an' raised a family on marse paul's plantation. we had to be eight years ole before we 'gun to work. i tended de chickens an' turkeys an' sech. i helped tend de other stock too as i growed older, an' do anythin' else dat i was tole to do. when i got bigger i helped den wid de thrashin' de wheat an' i helped dem push de straw to de stack. we had what wuz den called a 'groun' hog. it wuz a cylinder shaped contraption. we put de wheat straw an all in it an' knock de grain loose from de straw. den we took de pitchforks an' tossed de straw up an' about, an' dat let de wheat go to de bottom on a big cloth. den we fan de wheat, to get de dust an' dirt out, an' we had big curtains hung 'roun' de cloth whar de wheat lay, so de wheat wouldn' get all scattered, on de groun'. dis wheat was sacked an' when wanted 'twus took to de mill an' groun' into flour. de flour wuz made into white bread an' de corn wuz groun' into meal an' grits. when de war started der wuz some bad times. one day some of wheeler's men come an' dey tried to take what dey wanted, but marge paul had de silver money another things hid. dey wanted us niggers to tell dem whar everythin' wuz, but we said we didn' know nuthin'. marse paul wuz hid in de woods wid de horses an' some of de other stock. den wheeler's men saw de yankees comin' an' dey run away. de yankees chased dem to de bridge an' dey done some fightin' an' one or two of wheeler's men wuz killed an' de rest got away. den de captain of de yankees come to mammy's cabin an' axed her whar de meat house an' flour an' sech at. she tole him dat pappy had de keys to go an' ax him. "ax him nothin'", de captain said. he called some of his mens an' dey broke down de door to de meat house. den dey trowed out plenty of dose hams an' dey tole mammy to cook dem somethin' to eat and plenty of it. mammy fried plenty of dat ham an' made lots of bread an' fixed dem coffee. how dey did eat! dey wuz jus' as nice as dey could be to mammy an' when dey wuz through, dey tole mammy dat she could have de rest, an' de captain gave her some money an' he tole her dat she wuz free, dat we didn' belong to marse paul no longer. dey didn' do any harm to de place. dey wuz jus' looking for somethin' to eat. den dey left. we didn' leave marse paul but stayed on an' lived wid him for many years. i lived wid marse paul 'til he died an' he done selected eight of us niggers to tote his coffin to de chapel, an' de buryin' groun'. he said, "i want dese niggers to carry my body to de chapel an' de grave when i die." we did. it wuz a lood [hw correction: load] i would have been glad had der been two or four more to help tote marse paul for he sho wuz heavy. after everythin' wuz ready we lifted him up an' toted him to de chapel an' we sat down on de floor, on each side of de coffin, while de preacher preached de funeral sermon. we didn' make any fuss while sittin' dere on de floor, but we sho wuz full of grief to see our dear ole marse paul lying dere dead. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: the blacksmith person interviewed: alonzo haywood editor: g. l. andrews [tr: date stamp "aug-- "] the blacksmith an interview with alonzo haywood, years old of oberlin road. on east cabarrus street is a blacksmith shop which is a survival of horse and buggy days, and the smiling blacksmith, a negro, although he has hazel eyes, recounts the story of his father's life and his own. my father was willis haywood and in slavery days he belonged to mr. william r. pool. mr. pool liked father because he was quick and obedient so he determined to give him a trade. wilson morgan run the blacksmith shop at falls of neuse and it was him that taught my father the trade at mr. pool's insistence. while father, a young blade, worked and lived at falls of neuse, he fell in love with my mother, mirana denson, who lived in raleigh. he come to see her ever' chance he got and then they were married. when the yankees were crossing the neuse bridge at the falls, near the old paper mill, the bridge broke in. they were carrying the heavy artillery over and a great many men followed, in fact the line extended to raleigh, because when the bridge fell word passed by word of mouth from man to man back to raleigh. father said that the yankees stopped in the shop to make some hoss shoes and nails and that the yankees could do it faster than anybody he ever saw. father told me a story once 'bout de devil traveling and he got sore feet and was awful lame but he went in a blacksmith shop and the blacksmith shoed him. the devil traveled longer and the shoes hurt his feet and made him lamer than ever so he went back and asked the blacksmith to take off de shoes. the blacksmith took them off under the condition that wherever the devil saw a horse shoe over a door he would not enter. that's the reason that people hang up horseshoes over their door. mother died near twenty years ago and father died four years later. he had not cared to live since mother left him. i've heard some of the young people laugh about slave love, but they should envy the love which kept mother and father so close together in life and even held them in death. le n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: aunt barbara's love story story teller: barbara haywood editor: geo. l. andrews [tr: date stamp "aug "] aunt barbara's love story an interview with barbara haywood, years old. address mark street, raleigh, north carolina. anything dat i tells you will near 'bout all be 'bout frank haywood, my husban'. i wus borned on de john walton place seben miles southeast of raleigh. my father, handy sturdivant, belonged to somebody in johnston county but mother an' her chilluns 'longed ter marse john walton. marse john had a corn shuckin' onct an' at dat corn shuckin' i fust saw frank. i wus a little girl, cryin' an' bawlin' an' frank, who wus a big boy said dat he neber wanted ter spank a youngin' so bad, an' i ain't liked him no better dan he did me. he 'longed ter mr. yarborough, what runned de hotel in raleigh, but he wus boun' out ter anybody what'ud hire him, an' i doan know whar he got his name. i seed frank a few times at de holland's methodist church whar we went ter church wid our white folks. you axes iffen our white folks wus good ter us, an' i sez ter yo' dat none of de white folks wus good ter none of de niggers. we done our weavin' at night an' we wurked hard. we had enough ter eat but we was whupped some. jest 'fore de war wus ober we wus sent ter mr. william turner's place down clost ter smithfield an' dats whar we wus when de yankees come. one day i wus settin' on de porch restin' atter my days wurk wus done when i sees de hoss-lot full of men an' i sez ter marse william, who am talkin' ter a soldier named cole, 'de lot am full of men.' marse cole looks up an' he 'lows, 'hits dem damned yankees,' an' wid dat he buckles on his sword an' he ain't been seen since. de yankees takes all de meat outen de smokehouse an' goes 'roun' ter de slave cabins an' takes de meat what de white folkses has put dar. dat wus de fust hams dat has eber been in de nigger house. anyhow de yankees takes all de hams, but dey gibes us de shoulders. atter de war we moved ter raleigh, on davie street an' i went ter school a little at saint paul's. frank wus wurkin' at de city market on fayetteville street an' i'd go seberal blocks out of my way mornin' an' night on my way ter school ter look at him. you see i has been in love with him fer a long time den. atter awhile frank becomes a butcher an' he am makin' pretty good. i is thirteen so he comes ter see me an' fer a year we cou'ts. we wus settin' in de kitchen at de house on davie street when he axes me ter have him an' i has him. i knows dat he tol' me dat he warn't worthy but dat he loved me an' dat he'd do anything he could ter please me, an' dat he'd always be good ter me. when i wus fourteen i got married an' when i wus fifteen my oldes' daughter, eleanor, wus borned. i had three atter her, an' frank wus proud of dem as could be. we wus happy. we libed together fifty-four years an' we wus always happy, havin' a mighty little bit of argument. i hopes young lady, dat you'll be as lucky as i wus wid frank. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mrs. edith s. hibbs no. words: subject: story of isabell henderson, negro interviewed: isabell henderson rankin st., wilmington, n. c. edited: mrs. w. n. harriss [tr: no date stamp] story of isabell henderson, negro * * * * * rankin st., wilmington, n. c. i'll be years old come august . my gran'-daughter can tell you what year it was i was born i don' 'member but we has it down in the bible. i lived near the "clock church" (jewish synagogue)[ ], th and market. we had a big place there. my gran'mother did the cookin'. my mother did the sewin'. i was jus five years old when the men went away. i guess to the war, i don' know. some men came by and conscip' dem. i don' know where they went but i guess dey went to war. i was such a little girl i don't 'member much. but i does know my missus was good to me. i used to play with her little boy. i was jes' one of the family. i played with the little boy around the house' cause i was never 'lowed to run the streets. they was good to me. they kept me in clothes, pretty clothes, and good things to eat. yes'm we was slaves but we had good times. interviewer: "what did you eat?" isabell: "oh i don't 'member 'special but i et jes what the family et." maybe my father was killed in the war maybe he run away i don' know, he jus' neber come back no mo'. yes'm i remember when the soldiers came along and freed us. they went through breakin' down peoples shops and everything. my mother married again. she married edward robertson. he was good to me. yes'm he was better to me than my father was. he was a preacher and a painter. my mother died. when my father, (step-father) went off to preach, me and my sister stayed in the house. i stayed home all my life. i just wasn't 'llowed to run around like most girls. i never been out of wilmington but one year in my life. that year i went to augusta. no'm i don't likes to go away. i don't like the trains, nor the automobiles. but i rides in 'em (meaning the latter). i remember when the th street bridge was built. i was married over there in st. stephen's church, th and red cross. yes m'am my auntie she gib me a big weddin'. i was and my husband was too not quite . not a year older than i was. he was a cooper. yes ma'm i had a big weddin'. the church was all decorated with flowers. i had six attendants. four big ones and two little ones. my husband he had the same number i did four big ones and two little ones. i had on a white dress. carried flowers. had carriages and everything. my husband was good to me. i didn't stay home with my father but about a month. we wanted to go to ourselves. we went in our own home and stayed there until i got a "sickness." (she looked shy) i didn't know what was the matter with me. my father told me i better come home. so i went home to my father and stayed there about two years. i have had five children. three are livin'. two are dead. i never worked until after he died. he left me with five little children to raise. he was the only man i ever 'knowed' in all my life from girlhood up. [footnote : the synagogue has no clock on the exterior, but isabell persisted with her name of "clock church."] n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave story story teller: essex henry editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] essex henry ex-slave story an interview with essex henry of s. east street, raleigh, n. c. i wus borned five miles north of raleigh on de wendell road, years ago. my mammy wus nancy an' my pappy wus louis. i had one sister, mary, an' one bruder, louis. we 'longed ter mr. jake mordecai, an' we lived on his six hundert acres plantation 'bout a mile from millbrook. right atter de war he sold dis lan' ter doctor miller an' bought de betsy hinton tract at milburnie. mr. jake had four or five hundert niggers hyar an' i doan know how many at de edgecombe county place. de wuck wus hard den, i knows case i'se seed my little mammy dig ditches wid de best of 'em. i'se seed her split rails a day many's de time. dat wus her po'tion you knows, an' de mens had ter split . i wus too little ter do much but min' de chickens outen de gyarden, an' so i fared better dan most of 'em. you see miss tempie 'ud see me out at de gate mornin's as dey wus eatin' breakfas' on de ferander, an' she'ud call me ter her an' give me butter toasted lightbread or biscuits. she'd give me a heap in dat way, an' do de rest of de slaves got hungry, i doan think dat i eber did. i know dat miss jenny perry, on a neighborin' plantation, 'ud give my mammy food, fer us chilluns. mo'nin's we sometimes ain't had nothin' ter eat. at dinner time de cook at de big house cooked nuff turnip salet, beans, 'taters, er peas fer all de han's an' long wid a little piece of meat an' a little hunk of co'nbread de dinner wus sont ter de slaves out in de fiel' on a cart. de slaves 'ud set roun' under de trees an' eat an' laugh an' talk till de oberseer, bob gravie, yells at 'em ter git back ter wuck. iffen dey doan git back right den he starts ter frailin' lef' an' right. dar wus a few spirited slaves what won't be whupped an' my uncle wus one. he wus finally sold fer dis. hit wus different wid my gran'mother do'. de oberseer tried ter whup her an' he can't, so he hollers fer mr. jake. mr. jake comes an' he can't, so he hauls off an' kicks granny, mashin' her stomick in. he has her carried ter her cabin an' three days atterward she dies wid nothin' done fer her an' nobody wid her. mr. jake orders de coffinmaker ter make de pine box, an' den he fergits hit. de slaves puts de coffin on de cyart hin' de two black hosses an' wid six or maybe seben hundert niggers follerin' dey goes ter de simms' graveyard an' buries her. all de way ter de graveyard dey sings, 'swing low sweet chariot,' 'de promised lan', 'de road ter jordan,' an' 'ole time religion.' hit's a good thing dat none of de white folkses ain't went to de funerals case iffen dey had de niggers can't sing deir hymns. does you know dat dey warn't no 'ligion 'lowed on dat plantation. ole lady betsy holmes wus whupped time an' ag'in fer talkin' 'ligion er fer singin' hymns. we sometimes had prayermeetin' anyhow in de cabins but we'd turn down de big pot front o' de door ter ketch de noise. dey won't gib us no pass hardly, an' iffen we runs 'way de patterollers will git us. dey did let us have some dances do' now an' den, but not offen. dey let us go possum huntin' too case dat wus gittin' something ter eat widout mr. jake payin' fer hit. mr. henry, mr. jake's bruder an' his uncle moses uster come a-visitin' ter de house fer de day. mr. henry wus little wid a short leg an' a long one, an' he had de wust temper dat eber wus in de worl'; an' he loved ter see slaves suffer, near 'bout much as he loved his brandy. we knowed when we seed him comin' dat dar wus gwine ter be a whuppin' frolic 'fore de day wus gone. dar wus three niggers, john lane, ananias ruffin an' dick rogers what got de blame fer eber'thing what happens on de place. fer instance mr. henry 'ud look in de hawg pen an' 'low dat hit 'peared dat he bruder's stock wus growin' less all de time. den mr. jake sez dat dey done been stold. 'why doan you punish dem thievin' niggers, jake'? jake gits mad an' has dese three niggers brung out, deir shirts am pulled off an' dey am staked down on deir stomichs, an' de oberseer gits wored out, an' leavin' de niggers tied, dar in de sun, dey goes ter de house ter git some brandy. dey more dey drinks from de white crock de better humor dey gits in. dey laughs an' talks an' atter awhile dey think o' de niggers, an' back dey goes an' beats 'em some more. dis usually lasts all de day, case hit am fun ter dem. atter so long dey ketched jack ashe, a free issue, wid one of de pigs, an' dey whups him twixt drinks all de day, an' at night dey carried him ter de raleigh jail. he wus convicted an' sent ter bald head island ter wuck on de breastworks durin' de war an' he ain't neber come back. [hw: asterisk in margin] dar wus a man in raleigh what had two blood houn's an' he made his livin' by ketchin' runaway niggers. his name wus beaver an' he ain't missed but onct. pat norwood took a long grass sythe when he runned away, an' as de fust dog come he clipped off its tail, de second one he clipped off its ear an' dem dawgs ain't run him no more. de war lasted a long time, an' hit wus a mess. some of marster jake's [hw: asterisk] slaves lef' him an' when de yankees got ter raleigh dey come an' tol' 'em 'bout de way mr. jake done. well in a few days hyar comes de yankees a-ridin', an' dey sez dat dey had tentions o' hangin' mr. jake on de big oak in de yard iffen he 'uv been dar, but he ain't. he an' his family had flewed de coop. dem yankees went in de big house an' dey tored an' busted up all dey pleased, dey eben throwed de clothes all ober de yard. dey took two big barns o' corn an' haul hit off an' down devil's jump on morris creek dey buried ever so much molasses an' all. at rattlesnake spring de yankees fin's whar marster jake's still had been, an' dar buried, dey fin's five barrels o' brandy. atter de war we stayed on as servants o' doctor miller fer seberal years. i 'members de only time dat i eber got drunk wus long den. de doctor an' his frien's wus splurgin', an' i went wid another nigger ter git de brandy from de cellar fer de guests. when i tasted hit, hit drunk so good, an' so much lak sweetin water dat i drunk de pitcher full. i wus drunk three days. i married milly, an' sixty years ago we moved ter town. we scuffled along till twenty-eight years ago we buyed dis shack. i hopes dat we can git de ole age pension, case we shore need hit. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks subject: ex-slave story story teller: milly henry editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] ex-slave story an interview with milly henry of south east street, raleigh, n. c. i wus borned a slave ter mr. buck boylan in yazoo city, mississippi. i doan know nothin' 'bout my family 'cept my gran'maw an' she died in mississippi durin' de war. marster buck owned three plantations dar, de mosley place, middle place, an' de hill place. me an' gran'maw lived at de mosley place. one day marster buck comes in, an' we sees dat he am worried stiff; atter awhile he gangs us up, an' sez ter us: de yankees am a-comin' to take my slaves 'way from me an' i don't 'pose dat dey am gwine ter do dat. fer dem reasons we leaves fer no'th carolina day atter termorror an' i ain't gwine ter hyar no jaw 'bout hit.' dat day he goes over de slaves an' picks out 'roun' five hundret ter go. he picks me out, but my gran'maw he sez dat he will leave case she am so old an' feeble. i hates dat, but i don't say nothin' at all. we leaves home in kivered wagons, wid a heap walkin' an' in 'bout three weeks, i reckon, we gits ter raleigh. you should have been 'long on dat trip, honey; when we camps side of de road an' sleeps on de groun' an' cooks our rations at de camp fires. i think dat dat wus one spring 'fore de surrender wus de nex'. marster buck carries us ter boylan avenue dar whar de bridge am now an' we camps fer a few days, but den he sen's us out ter de crabtree plantation. he also buys a place sommers east o' raleigh an' sen's some dar. i misses my gran'maw fer awhile, but at last uncle green comes from mississippi an' he sez dat gran'maw am daid, so i pretty quick stops worrin' over hit. marster' cides ter hire some o' us out, an' so i gits hired out ter miss mary lee, who i wucks fer till she got so pore she can't feed me, den i is hired out ter miss sue blake an' sent ter de company shop up above durham. miss mary wus good, but miss sue she whup me, so i runs away. i went barefooted an' bareheaded ter de train, an' i gits on. atter awhile de conductor comes fer a ticket an' i ain't got none. he axes me whar i'se gwine an' i tells him home, so he brung me on ter raleigh. i went right home an' tol' mr. buck dat miss sue whupped me, an' dat i runned away. he said dat hit wus all right, an' he hired me out ter mis' lee hamilton who lived dar on de fayetteville street. she wus a widder an' run a boardin' house an' dar's whar i seed de first drunk man dat eber i seed. he put de back o' his knife ginst my neck an' said dat he wus gwine ter cut my throat. i tell you dat i is knowed a drunk eber since dat time. i wus drawin' water at de well at de end of fayetteville street when de yankees comed. i seed 'em ridin' up de street wid deir blue coats shinin' an' deir hosses steppin' high. i knowed dat i ought ter be skeered but i ain't, an' so i stands dar an' watches. suddenly as dey passes de bank out rides two mens frum wheeler's calvary an' dey gits in de middle o' de street one of de hosses wheels back an' de man shot right at de yankees, den he flewed frum dar. two of de yankees retracts frum de army an' dey flies atter de rebs. when de rebs git ter de capitol one o' dem flies down morgan street an' one goes out hillsboro street wid de yankees hot in behin' him. dey ketched him out dar at de hillsboro bridge when his hoss what wus already tired, stumbles an' he falls an' hurts his leg. durin' dat time de big man wid de red hair what dey calls kilpatrick brung his men up on de square an' sets under de trees an' a gang o' people comes up. when dey brung de young good lookin' reb up ter de redheaded gen'l he sez 'what you name reb?' de boy sez, 'robert walsh, sir. what for did you done go an' shoot at my army? "case i hates de yankees an' i wush dat dey wus daid in a pile," de reb sez, an' laughs. "de gen'l done got his dander up now, an' he yells," 'carry de reb sommers out'r sight o' de ladies an' hang him.' de reb laughs an' sez, 'kin' o' you sir,' an' he waves goodbye ter de crowd an' dey carried him off a laughin' fit ter kill. dey hanged him on a ole oak tree in de lovejoy grove, whar de governor's mansion am now standin' an' dey buried him under de tree. way atter de war dey moved his skileton ter oakwood cemetery an' put him up a monument. his grave wus kivered wid flowers, an' de young ladies cry. he died brave do', an' he kep' laughin' till his neck broke. i wus dar an' seed hit, furdermore dar wus a gang of white ladies dar, so dey might as well a hanged him on de capitol square. de yankees wus good ter me, but hit shore wus hard ter git a job do', an' so i ain't fared as good as i did' fore de war. mr. buck wus good ter us. sometimes he'd lose his temper an' cuss, den he'd say right quick, 'god forgive me, i pray.' dat man believed in 'ligion. when de oberseer, george harris, 'ud start ter beat a slave dey larned ter yell fer mr. buck an' make lak dey wus gittin' kilt. mr. buck'd come stompin' an' yellin' 'stop beatin' dat nigger. course dis ruint de slaves, case dey could talk lak dey pleased ter mr. harris, an' iffen dey could yell loud nuff dey ain't got no whuppin'. yessum, i'se glad slavery am over; we owns dis home an' some chickens, but we shore does need de ole age pension. i'se got two fine gran'sons, but let me tell you dey needs ter wuck harder, eat less, an' drink less. on de count o' dem boys i wants de abc stores so's dey won't drink box lye. eh n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: chaney hews person interviewed: chaney hews editor: g. l. andrews [tr: no date stamp] chaney hews years old. cotton street, raleigh, north carolina. my age, best of my recollection, is about eighty years. i was 'bout eight years ole when de yankees come through. chillun in dem days wus not paid much mind like dey is now. white chillun nor nigger chillun wus not spiled by tenshun. i got enough to eat to live on an' dat wus 'bout all i keered 'bout. des so i could git a little to eat and could play all de time. i stayed outen de way of de grown folks. no, chillun wus not noticed like dey is now. i heard de grown folks talkin' 'bout de yankees. de niggers called 'em blue jackets. den one mornin', almost 'fore i knowed it, de yard wus full of 'em. dey tried to ride de hosses in de house, dey caught de chickens, killed de shoats and took de horses an' anything else dey wanted. dey give de nigger hardtack an' pickled meat. i 'members eating some of de meat, i didn't like. we had reasonably good food, clothin', and warm log houses wid stick an' dirt chimleys. de houses wus warm enough all de time in winter, and dey didn't leak in rainy weather neither. dere wus a lot of slaves an' marster an' missus wus good to father an' mother. when dey had a cornshuckin' we slaves had a good time, plenty to eat, whiskey for de grown folks and a rastlin' match after de corn wus shucked. a nigger dat shucked a red ear of corn got a extra drink of whiskey. dat wus de custom in dem days. no prayermeetings wus allowed on de plantation but we went to salem to white folks church and also to white folks church at cary. dey whupped mother 'cause she tried to learn to read, no books wus allowed. mother said dat if de blue jackets had not come sooner or later i would have got de lash. mother belonged to sam atkins who owned a plantation about ten miles down de ramkatte road in wake county. father belonged to turner utley and father wus named jacob utley and mother wus named lucy utley. my maiden name wus chaney utley. dey wurked from sun to sun on de plantation. when de surrender come father an' mother come to town an' stayed about a year an' den went back to ole marster's plantation. dey wus fed a long time on hardtack and pickled meat, by de yankees, while in town. dey stayed a long time wid ole marster when dey got back. mother wus his cook. rats got after mother in town an' she went back to marsters an' tole him 'bout it an' tole him she had come back home, dat she wus fraid to stay in town an' marster jes' laughted an' tole us all to come right in. he tole mother to go an' cook us all sumptin to eat an' she did. we wus all glad to git back home. i wus too little to wurk much but i played a lot an' swept yards. we drank water outen gourds an' marster would tell me to bring him a gourd full of cool water when he wus settin' in his arm chair on de porch. i thought big of waitin' on marster, yes, dat i did. dere wus fourteen of us in family, father, mother an' twelve chilluns. dere is three of us livin', two of de boys an' me. slavery wus a good thing from what i knows 'bout it. while i liked de yankees wid dere purty clothes, i didn't like de way dey took marster's stuff an' i tole 'em so. mother made me hush. dey took chickens, meat, hogs an' horses. we finally left ole marster's plantation an' moved jes' a little way over on another plantation. mother an' father died there. i married sam hews in wake county when i wus fifteen years old. i had no children. after we wus married we stayed on de farm a year or two den we moved to raleigh. we have wurked for white folks ever since, an' i am still wurkin' for 'em now all i am able. i washes an' irons clothes. sometimes i can't wash, i ain't able, but i does de bes' i can. de white folks is still good to me an' i likes' em. le district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: joe high person interviewed: joe high editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] [hw: interesting first & last paragraph glad slavery ended but loved missus] joe high [hw:-- years] joe high interviewed may , has long been one of the best independent gardners in raleigh, working variously by the hour or day. my name is joe high. i lives at so. haywood. st. raleigh, n. c. now dere is one thing i want to know, is dis thing goin' to cost me anything. hold on a minute, and le' me see. i want to be square, and i must be square. now le' me see, le' me see sumpin'. sometimes folks come here and dey writes and writes; den dey asts me, is you goin' to pay dis now? what will it cost? well, if it costs nothin' i'll gib you what i knows. let me git my bible. i wants to be on de square, because i got to leave here some of dese days. dis is a record from de slave books. i've been tryin' to git my direct age for years. my cousin got my age. i wuz born april , . my mother's name wuz sarah high. put down when she wuz born, oct. , . this is from the old slave books. we both belonged to green high, the young master. the old master, i nebber seed him; but i saw old missus, mis' laney high. the old master died before i wuz born. we lived two miles north uv zebulon. you know where zebulon is in wake county? i had two brothers, one brother named taylor high, 'nother named ruffin high. my sister died mighty young. she come here wrong; she died. i' member seeing my uncle take her to the grave yard. i don't know whe're there's enny rec'ord o' her or not. my work in slavery times wuz ridin' behin' my missus, clara griffin, who wuz my old missus' sister's daughter. she came to be our missus. when she went visiting i rode behind her. i also looked atter de garden, kept chickens out uv de garden, and minded de table, fanned flies off de table. they were good to us. dey whupped us sometime. i wuz not old enough to do no fiel' work. one time i slep' late. it wuz in the fall uv the year. the other chilluns had lef' when i got up. i went out to look for 'em. when i crossed the tater patch i seen the ground cracked and i dug in to see what cracked it. i found a tater and kept diggin' till i dug it up. i carried it to the house. they had a white woman for a cook that year. i carried the tater and showed it to her. she took me and the tater and told me to come on. we went from the kitchen to the great house and she showed the tater to the old missus sayin', 'look here missus, joe has been stealin' taters. here is the tater he stole'. old missus said, 'joe belongs to me, the tater belongs to me, take it back and cook it for him. when the cook cooked the tater she asked me for half uv it. i gave it to her. if i had known den lak i knows now, she wuz tryin' to git me to git a whoppin' i wouldn't 'er give her none uv dat tater. there were some frame houses, an part log houses, we called 'em the darkey houses. the master's house wuz called 'the great house'. we had very good places to sleep and plenty to eat. i got plenty uv potlicker, peas, and pumpkins. all us little darkies et out uv one bowl. we used mussel shells, got on the branch, for spoons. dey must not er had no spoons or sumpin. the pea fowls roosted on de great house evey night. i didn't know whut money nor matches wuz neither. i 'member seein' henry high, my first cousin, ketch a pike once, but i never done no fishin' or huntin'. i 'member seein' the grown folks start off possum huntin' at night, but i did not go. i wore wooden bottom shoes and i wore only a shirt. i went in my shirt tail until i wuz a great big boy, many years atter slavery. there were or more slaves on the plantation. old women wove cloth on looms. we made syrup, cane syrup, with a cane mill. we carried our corn to foster's mill down on little river to have it ground. it wuz called little river den; i don't know whut it is called in dis day. there wuz a block in de yard, where missus got up on her horse. there were two steps to it. slaves were sold from this block. i 'member seein' them sold from this block. george high wuz one, but they got him back. dey did not teach us anything about books; dey did not teach us anything about readin' and writin'. i went to church at the eppsby church near buffalo, not far from wakefield. we sat in a corner to ourselves. my brother taylor ran away. young master sent him word to come on back home; he won't goin' to whup him, and he come back. yes, he come back. we played the games uv marbles, blind fold, jumpin', and racin', and jumpin' the rope. the doctor looked atter us when we were sick, sometimes, but it wuz mostly done by old women. dey got erbs and dey gib us wormfuge. dey worked us out. i wuz not old enough to pay much attention to de doctor's name. i 'members one day my young master, green high, and me wuz standin' in de front yard when two men come down the avenue from de main road to the house. dey wanted to know how fer it wuz to green high's. master told 'em it wuz about miles away and gave 'em the direction. dey were yankees. dey got on their horses and left. dey didn't know dey wuz talking to green high then. when dey left, master left. i didn't see him no more in a long time. soon next day the yard wuz full uv yankee soldiers. i 'members how de buttons on dere uniforms shined. dey got corn, meat, chickens, and eveything they wanted. day didn't burn the house. old man bert doub or domb kept nigger hounds. when a nigger run away he would ketch him for de master. de master would send atter him and his dogs when a nigger run away. i 'member one overseer, a negro, hamp high and another coff high. nobody told me nothin' about being free and i knowed nothin' 'bout whut it meant. i married rosetta hinton. she belonged to the hintons during slavery. she is dead; she's been dead fourteen years. we were married at her mother's home; the river plantation belonging to the hintons. i wuz married by a preacher at this home. atter the wedding we had good things to eat and we played games. all stayed there that night and next day we went back to whar i wuz workin' on de gen. cox's farm. i wuz workin' dere. we had chillun. two died at birth. all are dead except one in durham named tommie high and one in new york city. tommie high works in a wheat mill. eddie high is a cashermiser, (calciminer) works on walls. i thought slavery wuz right. i felt that this wuz the way things had to go, the way they were fixed to go. i wuz satisfied. the white folks treated me all right. my young missus loved me and i loved her. she whupped me sometimes. i think just for fun sometimes, when i wuz ridin' behind her, she would tell me to put my arms around her and hold to her apron strings. one day she wuz sittin' on the side saddle; i wuz sittin' behind her. she wud try to git old dave, the horse she wuz a ridin to walk; she would say, 'ho dave', den i wud kick de horse in de side and she wud keep walkin' on. she asked me, 'joe, why does dave not want to stop?' i saw a lot of yankees, i wuz afraid of 'em. they called us johnnie, susie, and tole us they wouldn't hurt us. i think abraham lincoln is all right, i guess, the way he saw it. i think he was like i wuz as a boy from what i read, and understand; he wuz like me jest the way he saw things. i liked the rules, and ways o' my old master and missus, while the yankees and abraham lincoln gave me more rest. how did i learn to read? atter de war i studies. i wonts ter read de hymms an' songs. i jis picks up de readin' myself. it's quare to me, i cannot remember one word my mother ever said to me, not nary a word she said can i remember. i remember she brought me hot potlicker and bread down to the house of mornings when i wuz small; but i'se been tryin to 'member some words she spoke to me an' i cain't. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: susan high story teller: susan high editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] susan high haywood street raleigh, n. c. my name is susan high. i wus born in june. i am years old. my mother wus named piety an' she belonged to de ole man giles underhill before de surrender. my father he wus george merritt an' he belonged to ben merritt, ivan proctor's grandfather. dey lived on a plantation near eagle rock, wake county. dey called de creek near by mark's creek. my parents said dat dey had a mighty hard time, an' dat durin' slavery time, de rules wus mighty strict. de hours of work on de farm wus from sun to sun wid no time 'cept at christmas and at lay-by time, th of july for anything but work. dey were not 'lowed no edication, and very little time to go to church. sometimes de went to de white folks church. mother said dey whupped de slaves if dey broke de rules. dey said de overseers were worse den de slave owners. de overseers were ginerally white men hired by de marster. my father said dey had poor white men to overseer, and de slave owner would go on about his business and sometimes didn't know an' didn't eben care how mean de overseer wus to de slaves. dere wus a lot o' things to drink, dey said, cider, made from apples, whiskey, an' brandy. dey said people didn't notice it lak dey do now, not many got drunk, cause dere wus plenty of it. father said it wus ten cents a quart, dat is de whiskey made outen corn, and de brandy wus cheap too. dey said de clothes were wove, an' dat mos' chillun went barefooted, an' in dere shirt tails; great big boys, goin' after de cows, and feedin' de horses, an' doin' work around de house in deir shirt tails. grown slaves got one pair o' shoes a year an' went barefooted de res' o' de time. biscuit wus a thing dey seldom got. women cleared land by rollin' logs into piles and pilin' brush in de new grounds. dey were 'lowed patches, but dey used what dey made to eat. daddy said dey didn't have time to fish and hunt any. dey were too tired for dat. dey had to work so hard. daddy said he wus proud o' freedom, but wus afraid to own it. dey prayed fer freedom secretly. when de yankees come daddy saved a two horse wagon load of meat for marster by takin' it off in de swamp and hidin' it, an' den marster wouldn't give him nary bit uv it. after de surrender, dey turned him out wid a crowd o' little chillun wid out a thing. dey give him nothin'. my mother saved her marster's life, charles underhill. well you see he wus takin' care uv a lot o' meat and whiskey for dick jordon, an' de yankees come an' he treated 'em from whiskey he had in a bottle, an' tole 'em he had no more. dey searched his home an' found it in a shed room, an' den dey said dey were goin' to kill him for tellin' 'em a lie. she herd [hw correction: heard] 'em talkin' and she busted through de crowd and told 'em dat de stuff belonged to anudder man and dat her marster was not lyin', an' not to hurt 'im. de yankees said, 'you have saved dis ole son of a bitch, we won't kill' em den.' dey took all de meat, whiskey, an' everything dey wanted. marster promised mother a cow, and calf, a sow, and pigs for what she had done for him an' to stay on an' finish de crop. when de fall o' de year come he did not give her de wrappin's o' her finger. dat's what my mudder tole me. we wus teached to call 'em mammie and pappie. i is gwine to tell you just zackly like it is we were taught dese things. i wants to be pasidefily right in what i tell you. we lef' dat place an' mammie an' pappie farmed wid solomon morgan a free issue for several years. de family had typhoid fever an' five were down with it at one time. but de lawd will provide. sich as dat makes me say people wont die till deir time comes. dere is some mighty good white people in dis place in america, and also bad. if it hadn't been for 'em we colored folks would have ben in a mighty bad fix. we got our jobs and help from 'em to git us to de place we are at. dr. henry montague doctored us and none died. it wusn't dere time to go. no, no, hit wasn't deir time to go. we then moved back to marster's for a year, and then we moved to rolesville in wake county. i married den and moved to raleigh. i married robert high. he is dead. he been dead 'bout years. i don't know much 'bout abraham lincoln i think he wus a fine man. mr. roosevelt's ideas is fine if he can carry 'em out. ac n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: kitty hill person interviewed: kitty hill editor: g. l. andrews [tr: date stamp "aug "] kitty hill west south street, raleigh, north carolina. i tole you yisterday dat my age wus years old, but my daughter come home, an' i axed her' bout it an' she say i is years old. i don't know exactly the date but i wus born in april. i wus a little girl 'bout five years ole when de surrender come, but i don't' member anything much' bout de yankees. i wus born in virginia, near petersburg, an' mother said de yankees had been hanging' round dere so long dat a soldier wus no sight to nobody. 'bout de time de yankees come i' member hearin' dem talk 'bout de surrender. den a jew man by the name of isaac long come to petersburg, bought us an' brought us to chatham county to a little country town, named pittsboro. ole man isaac long run a store an' kept a boarding house. we stayed on de lot. my mother cooked. we stayed there a long time atter de war. father wus sent to manassas gap at the beginning of de war and i do not 'member ever seein' him. my mother wus named viney jefferson an' my father wus named thomas jefferson. we 'longed to the jeffersons there and we went by the name of jefferson when we wus sold and brought to n. c. i do not 'member my grandparents on my mother's or father's side. mother had one boy an' three girls. the boy wus named robert, an' the girls were kate, rosa and kitty. marster long bought mother an' all de chilluns, but mother never seed father anymore atter he wus sent off to de war. i married green hill in chatham county. i married him at moncure about nine miles from pittsboro. we lived at moncure and mother moved there an' we lived together for a long time. when we left moncure we come ter raleigh. mother had died long time 'fore we left moncure, chatham county. we moved ter raleigh atter de world war. mother used ter tell we chilluns stories of patterollers ketchin' niggers an' whuppin' 'em an' of how some of de men outrun de patterollers an' got away. dere wus a song dey used to sing, it went like dis. yes sir, ha! ha! i wants ter tell you dat song, here it is: 'somefolks say dat a nigger wont steal, i caught two in my corn field, one had a bushel, one had a peck, an' one had rosenears, strung 'round his neck. 'run nigger run, patteroller ketch you, run nigger run like you did de udder day.' my mother said she wus treated good. yes she said dey wus good ter her in virginia. mother said de slave men on de jefferson plantation in virginia would steal de hosses ter ride ter dances at night. one time a hoss dey stole an' rode ter a dance fell dead an' dey tried ter tote him home. mother laughted a lot about dat. i heard my mother say dat de cavalry southern folks was bout de meanest in de war. she talked a lot about wheeler's cavalry. dere wus a lot of stealin' an' takin' meat, silver, stock an' anything. hosses, cows an' chickens jist didn't have no chance if a yankee laid his eyes on 'em. a yankee wus pisen to a yard full of fowls. dey killed turkeys, chickens and geese. now dats de truth. mother said de yankees skinned turkeys, chickens and geese 'fore dey cooked 'em. sometimes dey would shoot a hog an' jist take de hams an' leave de rest dere to spile. dey would kill a cow, cut off de quarters an' leave de rest ter rot. mother said no prayer meetings wus allowed de slaves in virginia where she stayed. dey turned pots down ter kill de noise an' held meetings at night. dey had niggers ter watch an' give de alarm if dey saw de white folks comin'. dey always looked out for patterollers. dey were not allowed any edication an' mother could not read and write nuther. i 'member de ku klux an' how dey beat people. one night a man got away from 'em near whar we lived in chatham county. he lived out in de edge of de woods; and when dey knocked on de door he jumped out at a back window in his night clothes wid his pants in his hands an' outrun 'em. dere wus rocks in de woods whar he run an' dat nigger jist tore his feet up. dey went ter one nigger's house up dere an' de door' wus barred up. dey got a ax an' cut a hole in de door. when de hole got big enough de nigger blammed down on 'em wid a gun an' shot one of dere eyes out. you know de ku klux went disguised an' when dey got ter your house dey would say in a fine voice, ku klux, ku klux, ku klux, ku klux. [hw correction: new paragraph] some people say dey are in slavery now an' dat de niggers never been in nothin' else; but de way some of it wus i believe it wus a bad thing. some slaves fared all right though an' had a good time an' liked slavery. le n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: jerry hinton person interviewed: jerry hinton editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] jerry hinton my full name is jerry hinton. i wus borned in february, . i am not able ter work. i work all i can. i am trying ter do de best i can ter help myself. yes, just tryin' ter do sumpin, ain't able ter work much. i am ruptured, an' old. my old house looks 'bout old as i do, it's 'bout to fall down, ain't able ter fix it up. it needs repairing. i ain't able ter make no repairs. i wus born on a plantation in wake county. my master wus richard seawell, an' missus wus named adelaide. his plantation wus on neuse river. he had two plantations, but i wus a little boy, an' don't remember how many acres in de plantation or how many slaves. there wus a lot of 'em tho'. i would follow master 'round an' look up in his face so he would give me biscuit an' good things ter eat. my mother, before marriage, wus named silvia seawell, an' father wus named andrew hinton. atter they wus married mother went by the name of hinton, my father's family name. i had--i don't know--mos' anything wus good ter me. master brought me biscuit an' i thought that wus the greatest thing at all. yes, i got purty good food. our clothes wus not fine, but warm. i went barefooted mos' o' the time, an' in summer i went in my shirt tail. dey called de slave houses 'quarters', de house where de overseer lived wus de 'overseer's house'. master had a overseer to look atter his men; de overseer wus named bridgers. de house where master lived wus de 'great house'. dey would not allow us any books. i cannot read an' write. i have seen de patterollers, but i neber saw' em whip nobody; but i saw' em lookin' fer somebody ter whup. i've neber seen a slave sold. i've neber seen a jail fer slaves or slaves in chains. i have seen master whup slaves though. i wus neber whupped. dey wrung my ears an' pulled my nose to punish me. dere wus no churches on de plantation, but we had prayer meetin's in our homes. we went to de white folks church. my father used to take me by de hand an' carry me ter church. daddy belonged ter de iron side baptist church. we called our fathers 'daddy' in slavery time. dey would not let slaves call deir fathers 'father'. dey called 'em 'daddy', an' white children called deir father, 'pa'. i didn't work any in slavery time, 'cept feed pigs, an' do things fer my master; waited on him. i went 'round wid him a lot, an' i had rather see him come on de plantation any time dan to see my daddy. i do not remember any possums or other game being eaten at our house. i do not remember eber goin' a-fishin durin' slavery time. master had two boys ter go off ter de war. dey carried 'em off ter de war. i don't know how many children dey had, but i remember two of 'em goin' off ter de war. don't know what became of 'em. i shore remember de yankees. yes sir, ha! ha! i shore remember dem. dem yankees tore down an' drug out ever'thing, dey come across. dey killed hogs, an' chickens. dey took only part of a hog an' lef' de rest. dey shot cows, an' sometimes jest cut off de hind quarters an' lef de rest. dey knocked de heads out o' de barrels o' molasses. dey took horses, cows an' eber'thing, but they did not hurt any o' de children. dey wus folks dat would tear down things. atter de surrender my mother moved over on de plantation where my father stayed. we stayed dere a long time, an' den we moved back to richard seawell's, old master's plantation, stayin' dere a long time. den we moved to jessie taylor's place below raleigh between crabtree creek an' neuse river. when we lef' taylor's we moved ter banner dam northeast of raleigh near boone's pond. mother an' father both died dere. atter leaving dere i come here. i have lived in oberlin ebery since. guess i'll die here; if i can git de money to pay my taxes, i know i will die here. i think slavery wus good because i wus treated all right. i think i am 'bout as much a slave now as ever. i don't think any too much o' abraham lincoln, jeff davis or any o' dem men. don't know much 'bout 'em. guess mr. roosevelt is all right. 'bout half the folks both black an' white is slaves an' don't know it. when i wus a slave i had nothin' on me, no responsibility on any of us, only to work. didn't have no taxes to pay, neber had to think whur de next meal wus comin' from. dis country is in a bad fix. looks like sumptin got to be done someway or people, a lot of 'em, are goin' to parish to death. times are hard, an' dey is gettin' worse. don't know how i am goin' to make it, if i don't git some help. we been prayin' fer rain. crops are done injured, but maybe de lawd will help us. yes, i trust in de lawd. i been married twice. i married henritta nunn first, an' den henritta jones. i had three children by first marriage, an' none b [hw: y] second marriage. my wife is over seventy years old. we have a hard time making enough to git a little sumptin to eat. i wus mighty glad to see you when you come up dis mornin', an' i hopes what i have told you will help some one to know how bad we need help. i feels de lawd will open up de way. yes sir, i do. le n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: martha adeline hinton person interviewed: martha adeline hinton editor: g. l. andrews [tr: hw date " / / "] martha adeline hinton # --star st., route , raleigh, north carolina. i wus born may , at willis thompson's plantation in wake county about fifteen miles from raleigh. he wus my marster an' his wife muriel wus my missus. my father's name wus jack emery an' mother's name was minerva emery. my mother belonged to willis thompson and my father belonged to ephriam emery. mother stayed with my marster's married daughter. she married johnny k. moore. marster had three children, all girls; dere names wus margaret, caroline and nancy. there wus only one slave house dere 'cause dey only had one slave whur my mother stayed. marster thompson had five slaves on his plantation. he wus good to slaves but his wife wus rough. we had a reasonably [hw correction] good place to sleep an' fair sumptin to eat. you sees i wus mighty young an' i members very little 'bout some things in slavery but from what my mother an father tole me since de war it wus just 'bout middlin' livin' at marster's. slaves wore homemade clothes an' shoes. de shoes had wooden bottoms but most slave chilluns went barefooted winter an' summer till dey wus ole 'nough to go to work. de first pair of shoes i wore my daddy made 'em. i 'member it well. i will never furgit it, i wus so pleased wid 'em. all slave chillun i knows anything 'bout wore homemade clothes an' went barefooted most of the time an' bareheaded too. i member de yankees an' how dey had rods searchin' for money an' took things. i members a yankee goin' to mother an' sayin' we was free. when he lef' missus come an' axed her what he say to her an' mother tole missus what he said an' missus says 'no he didn't tell you you is free, you jes axed him wus you free.' father wus hired out to frank page of gary. he wus cuttin cord wood for him, when he heard de yankees wus coming he come home. when he got dere de yankees had done been to de house an' gone. durin' slavery dey tried to sell daddy. de speculator wus dere an 'daddy suspicion sumpin. his marster tole him to go an' shuck some corn. dey aimed to git him in de corn crib an' den tie him an' sell him but when he got to the crib he kept on goin'. he went to mr. henry buffaloe's an' stayed two weeks den he went back home. dere wus nuthin' else said 'bout sellin him. dey wanted to sell him an buy a 'oman so dey could have a lot of slave chilluns cause de 'oman could multiply. dey hired men out by the year to contractors to cut cord wood an' build railroads. father wus hired out dat way. ole man rome harp wus hired out day way. he belonged to john harp. daddy said his marster never did hit him but one blow. daddy said he wurked hard everyday, an' done as near right as he knowed how to do in everything. his marster got mad ah' hit him wid a long switch. den daddy tole him he wus workin' bes' he could for him an' dat he wus not goin' to take a whuppin. his marster walked off an' dat wus de last of it, an' he never tried to whup him again. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: robert hinton story teller: robert hinton editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: no date stamp] robert hinton smith street, raleigh, n. c. my name is robert hinton. i ain't able to work, ain't been able to do any work in five years. my wife, mary hinton, supports me by workin' with the wpa. she was cut off las' may. since she has had no job, we have to live on what she makes with what little washin' she gets from de white folks; an' a little help from charity; dis ain't much. dey give you for one week, one half peck meal, one pound meat, one pound powdered milk, one half pound o' coffee. dis is what we git for one week. i wus borned in on de fayetteville road three miles from raleigh, south. i belonged to lawrence hinton. my missus wus named jane hinton. de hintons had 'bout twenty slaves on de plantation out dere. dey had four chillun, de boy ransom an' three girls: belle, annie an' miss mary. all are dead but one, miss mary is livin' yit. my mother wus named liza hinton an' my father wus named bob hinton. my gran'mother wus named mary hinton an' gran'father harry hinton. we had common food in slavery time, but it wus well fixed up, an' we were well clothed. we had a good place to sleep, yes sir, a good place to sleep. we worked from sunrise to sunset under overseers. dey were good to us. i wus small at dat time. i picked up sticks in de yard an' done some work around de house, but when dey turned deir backs i would be playin' most o' de time. we played shootin' marbles, an' runnin', an' jumpin'. we called de big house de dwelling house an' de slave quarters de slave houses. some of 'em were in marster's yard and some were outside. dey give all de families patches and gardens, but dey did not sell anything. we had prayer meetin' in our houses when we got ready, but dere were no churches for niggers on de plantation. we had dances and other socials durin' christmas times. dey give us de christmas holidays. no sir, dey did not whup me. i wus mighty young. dey didn't work chillun much. i have seen 'em whup de grown ones do'. i never saw a slave sold and never saw any in chains. dey run away from our plantation but dey come back again. william brickell, sidney cook, willis hinton all run away. i don't know why dey all run away but some run away to keep from being whupped. i have lived in north carolina all my life, right here in wake county. we used to set gums and catch rabbits, set traps and caught patridges and doves. yes sir, i went blindin'. i 'members gittin' a big light an' jumpin' 'round de bresh heaps, an' when a bird come out we frailed him down. we went gigging fish too. we found 'em lying on de bottom o' de creeks an' ponds at night, an' stuck de gig in 'em an' pulled 'em out. de white folks, ole missus, teached us de catechism, but dey didn't want you to learn to read and write. i can read and write now; learned since de surrender. sometimes we went to de white folks church. i don't know any songs. when we got sick our boss man sent for a doctor, dr. burke haywood, dr. johnson, or dr. hill. i 'members when de north folks and de southern folks wus fightin'. de northern soldiers come in here on de fayetteville road. i saw 'em by de hundreds. dey had colored folks soldiers in blue clothes too. in de mornin' white soldiers, in de evenin' colored soldiers; dats de way dey come to town. i married first almeta harris. i had six children by her. second, i married mary jones. she is my wife now. we had six children. my wife is now years old and she has to support me. i am done give out too much to work any more. yes sir, that i have seen de patterollers, but my old boss didn't 'low 'em to whup his niggers. marster give his men passes. i know when de ku klux was here, but i don't know much about 'em. i thought slavery wus a bad thing' cause all slaves did not fare alike. it wus all right for some, but bad for some, so it wus a bad thing. i joined the church because i got religion and thought the church might help me keep it. i think abraham lincoln wus a good man, but i likes mr. roosevelt; he is a good man, a good man. ac n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: william george hinton person interviewed: william george hinton editor: g. l. andrews [tr: hw date: " / / "] william george hinton star street, r. f. d. # , box i was born in wake county in de year . august th. i 'members seeing de yankees, it seems like a dream. one come along ridin' a mule. dey sed he wus a yankee bummer, a man dat went out raging on peoples things. he found out whur the things wus located an' carried the rest there. the bummers stole for de army, chickens, hogs, an' anything they could take. atter de bummer come along in a few minutes de whole place wus crowded wid yankees. de blue coats wus everywhere i could look. marster didn't have but five slaves, an' when de yankees come dere wus only me an' my oldest sister dere. all de white folks had left except missus and her chillun. her baby wus only three weeks ole then. a yankee come to my oldest sister an' said, 'whur is dem horses?' he pulled out a large pistol an' sed, 'tell me whur dem horses is or i will take your damn sweet life.' marster hid de horses an' sister didn't know, she stuck to it she didn't know an' de yankees didn't shoot. dey come back, de whole crowd, de next day an' made marster bring in his horses. bey took de horses an' bought some chickens an' paid for 'em, den dey killed an' took de rest. ha! ha! dey shore done dat. paid for some an' took de rest. i seed de yankees atter de surrender. dey wus staying at de ole soldiers home on new bern avenue. one day mother carried me there to sell to 'em. one time she went there an' she had a rooster who wus a game. his eyes wus out from fighting another game rooster belonging to another person near our home, mr. emory sewell. she carried de rooster in where dere wus a sick yankee. de yankee took him in his hands an' de rooster crowed. he give mother thirty-five cents for him. de yankee said if he could crow an' his eyes out he wanted him. he said, he called dat spunk. dere wus a man who wus a slave dat belonged to mr. kerney upchurch come along riding a mule. my oldest sister, de one de yankees threatened, tole him de yankees are up yonder. he said, 'dad lim de yankees.' he went on, when he got near de yankees dey tole him to halt.' instead of haltin' he sold out runnin' the mule fur de ole field. der wus a gang of young fox hounds dere. when he lit out on de mule, dey thought he wus goin' huntin' so dey took out atter him, jest like dey wus atter a fox. some of de yankees shot at him, de others just almost died a laughin'. we didn't git much to eat. mother said it wus missus fault, she was so stingy. we had homemade clothes an' wooden bottom shoes for de grown folks, but chillun did not wear shoes den, dey went barefooted. all de slaves lived in one house built about one hundred yards from the great house, marsters house wus called the great house. my father wus named robin hinton an' my mother wus named dafney hinton. my father belonged to betsy ransom hinton an' mother belonged first to reddin cromb in lenoir county an' then to james thompson of wake county. i wus borned after mother wus brought to wake county. marster had one boy named beuregard, four girls, caroline, alice, lena and nellie. i do not remember my grandparents. i saw a slave named lucinda, sold to ole man askew, a speculator, by kerney upchurch. i seed 'em carry her off. one of de slave men who belonged to ole man burl temples wus sent to wurk for mr. temples' son who had married. his missus put him to totin' water before goin' to wurk in de mornin'. three other slaves toted water also. he refused to tote water an' ran. she set de blood hounds atter him an' caught him near his home, which wus his ole marster's house. ole marster's son come out, an' wouldn't let 'em whup him, an' they wouldn't make him go back. missus harriet temples wus a terrible 'oman, a slave jest couldn't suit her. de slave dat run away from young marster wus finally sent back. his marster give him a shoulder of meat before he left. he hung it in a tree. missus tole him to put it in the smoke house. he refused, sayin' he would see it no more. a slave by the name of sallie temples run away 'cause her missus, mary temples, wus so mean to her. she stuck hot irons to her. made 'em drink milk an' things for punishment is what my mother an' father said. sallie never did come back. nobody never did know what become of her. soon as de war wus over father an' mother left dere marsters. dey went to mr. tom bridgers. we lived on de farm atter dis. mother cooked, sister an' i worked on de farm. sister plowed like a man. de first help my mammy got wus from de yankees, it wus pickle meat an' hardtack. i wus wid her an' dey took me in an' give me some clothes. mother drawed from 'em a long time. we have farmed most our lives. sometimes we worked as hirelings and den as share croppers. i think slavery wus a bad thing. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: eustace hodges story teller: eustace hodges editor: geo. l. andrews [tr: date stamp "aug "] eustace hodges an interview with eustace hodges, years old, of w. lenoir street, raleigh, north carolina. i doan know when i wus borned, ner where but at fust my mammy an' me 'longed ter a mcgee here in wake county. my mammy wurked in de fiel's den, ditchin' an' such, even plowin' while we 'longed ter mcgee, but he sold us ter mr. rufus jones. my daddy still 'longed ter him but at de close of de war he comed ter mr. jones' plantation an' he tuck de name of jones 'long wid us. marse rufus wus gooder dan marse mcgee, dey said. he give us more ter eat an' wear an' he ain't make us wurk so hard nother. we had our wurk ter do, of course, but mammy ain't had ter ditch ner plow no mo'. she wurked in de house den, an' none of de wimmen done men's wurk. course she can't wurk so hard an' have 'leben chilluns too. she had a baby one day an' went ter wurk de nex' while she 'longed ter mcgee, but at marse rufus' she stayed in de bed seberal days an' had a doctor. marse rufus uster let us take sadday evenin' off an' go swimmin' er fishin' er go ter raleigh. i 'members dat somebody in town had a fuss wid marse rufus 'bout lettin' his niggers run loose in town. marse rufus atter dat had a oberseer in town ter see 'bout his niggers. i got a whuppin' once fer punchin' out a frog's eyes. miss sally giv' hit ter me long wid a lecture 'bout bein' kin' ter dumb brutes, but i ain't neber seed whar a frog am a brute yit. yes'um i heard a heap 'bout de yankees but i ain't prepared fer dere takin' eben our bread. miss sally ain't prepared nother an' she tells' em whar ter go, den she goes ter bed sick. i wus sorry fer miss sally, dat i wus. de day dat news of de surrender come miss sally cried some more an' she ain't wanted mammy ter go, so marse rufus said dat we can stay on. dey said dat mister mcgee runned his niggers offen his place wid a bresh broom dat day. atter de war we stayed on marse rufus' place till when pa died. i had married a feller by de name of charlie hodges, what lived on a nearby plantation an' we wus livin' on marse rufus' place wid pa an' ma. we moved ter raleigh den an' atter seberal years mammy moved hear too. you can fin' her on cannon street, but i'll tell you dat she's pretty puny now, since her stroke. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mrs. edith s. hibbs and mrs. w. n. harriss no. words: subject: alex huggins' story interviewed: alex huggins, dawson st, wilmington, n. c. edited: mrs. w. n. harriss [tr: no date stamp] story of alex huggins, ex-slave dawson street, wilmington, n. c. i was born in new bern on july , . my father and mother belonged to mr. l. b. huggins. my father was a carpenter and ship builder an' the first things i remember was down on myrtle grove sound, where mr. huggins had a place. i was a sort of bad boy an' liked to roam 'round. when i was about twelve years old i ran away. it was in when the war was goin' on. nobody was bein' mean to me. no, i was'nt bein' whipped. don't you know all that story 'bout slaves bein' whipped is all _bunk_, (with scornful emphasis). what pusson with any sense is goin' to take his horse or his cow an' beat it up. it's prope'ty. we was prope'ty. val'able prope'ty. no, indeed, mr. luke give the bes' of attention to his colored people, an' mis' huggins was like a mother to my mother. twa'nt anythin' wrong about home that made me run away. i'd heard so much talk 'bout freedom i reckon i jus' wanted to try it, an' i thought i had to get away from home to have it. well, i coaxed two other boys to go with me, an' a grown man he got the boat an' we slipped off to the beach an' put out to sea. yes'm, we sho' was after adventure. but, we did'n get very far out from sho', an' i saw the lan' get dimmer an' dimmer, when i got skeered, an' then i got seasick, an' we was havin' more kinds of adventure than we wanted, an' then we saw some ships. there was two of 'em, an' they took us on board. they was the north star an' the eastern star of the aspinwal line, a mail an' freighter runnin' between aspinwal near the isthmus of panama and new york. we used to put in off charleston. then, in i joined the union navy. went on board our convoy, the nereus. we convoyed to keep the alabama, a confederate privateer, away. the commander of the nereus asked me how's i like to be his cabin boy. so i was nd class cabin boy an' waited on the captain. he was five stripe commander j. c. howell. he was commander of the whole fleet off fort fisher. when the captain wanted somethin' good to eat he used to send me ashore for provisions. he liked me. he was an old man. he didn't take much stock in fun, but he was a real man. i was young an' was'nt serious. i jus' wanted a good time. i don't know much about the war, but i do know two men of our boat was killed on shore while we was at fort fisher. after the battle of fort fisher, we was on our way to aspinwal. layin' off one day at navassa island, the mast head reported a strange sail. 'where away?' 'just ahead'. 'she seems to be a three mast steamer!' 'which way headed?' we decided it was the alabama going to st. nicholas mole, west indies. our captain called the officers together an' held a meetin'. says he: 'we'll go under one bell (slow). lieutenant will go ashore an' get some information.' when we got there she had a coal schooner alongside taking on coal. our captain prepared to capture her when she came out. but she did'n come out 'til night. she dodged. good thing too. she'd a knocked hells pete out o' us. she was close to the water and could have fought us so much better than we could her. we didn't want to fight 'cause we knowed enough to jest natu'ally be skeered. she was a one decker man o' war. we was a two decker with six guns on berth deck, an' five guns on spar deck. i never saw her after that, but i heard she was contacted by the kearsage which sunk her off some island. i stayed in the navy eighteen months. was discharged at the brooklyn navy yard. admiral porter was admiral of the u. s. navy at that time. i stayed in new york five or six years, then i cane home to my mother. i was in the crude drug business in wilmington for twenty years. yes'm i went to church and sunday school when i was a child, when they could ketch me. whilst i was in new york i went to church regular. i married after awhile. my wife died about ten years ago. we had one son. i b'lieve he's in baltimore, but i ain't heard from him in a long time. he don't keer nothin' about me. of co'se i'm comfortable. i gits my pension, $ a month. i give $ of it to my nephew who's a cripple. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: charlie h. hunter story teller: c. h. hunter editor: geo. l. andrews [tr: date stamp "aug "] charlie h. hunter, years old, barker street west raleigh my full name is charlie h. hunter. i wus borned an' reared in wake county, n. c., born may, . my mother wus rosa hunter an' my father wus named jones. i never saw my father. we belonged to a family named jones first, an' then we wus sold to a slave owner seven miles northwest by the name joe hayes an' a terrible man he wus. he would get mad 'bout most anything, take my mother, chain her down to a log and whup her unmercifully while i, a little boy, could do nothing but stan' there an' cry, an' see her whupped. we had fairly good food an' common clothing. we had good sleeping places. my mother wus sold to a man named smith. i married first annie hayes who lived sixteen months. no prayer meetings wus allowed on de plantations an' no books of any kind. i can read an' write, learned in a school taught by northern folks after the surrender, mr. an' mrs. graves who taught in raleigh in the rear of the african methodist episcopal church. the school house wus owned by the church. we played no games in slavery times. i saw slaves sold on the block once in raleigh. i wus to be sold but the surrender stopped it. when the yankees come they asked me where wus my marster. i told them i didn't know. marster told me not to tell where he wus. he had gone off into the woods to hide his silver. in a few minutes the ground wus covered with yankees. the yankees stole my pen knife. i thought a lot of it. knives wus scarce and hard to get. i cried about they taking it. they got my marster's carriage horses, two fine gray horses. his wife had lost a brother, who had been in the army but died at home. he wus buried in the yard. the yankees thought the grave wus a place where valuables wus buried and they had to get a guard to keep them from diggin' him up. they would shoot hogs, cut the hams and shoulders off, stick them on their bayonetts, throw them over the'r shoulders an' go on. we called our houses shanties in slavery time. i never saw any patterollers. i don't remember how many slaves on the plantation wus taken to richmond an' sold. my mother looked after us when we wus sick. i had four brothers an' no sisters. they are all dead. i did house work an' errands in slavery time. i have seen one gang of ku klux. they wus under arrest at raleigh in governor holden's time. i don't remember the overseer. we moved to raleigh at the surrender. marster give us a old mule when we left him, an' i rode him into raleigh. we rented a house on wilmington street, an' lived on hard tack the yankees give us 'til we could git work. mother went to cooking for the white folks, but i worked for mr. jeff fisher. i held a job thirty-five years driving a laundry truck for l. r. wyatt. the laundry wus on the corner of jones an' salisbury street. i married cenoro freeman. we lived together fifty-six years. she wus a good devoted wife. we wus married dec. , . she died in may . [hw: bracket] booker t. washington wus a good man. i have seen him. abraham lincoln wus one of my best friends. he set me free. the lawd is my best friend. i don't know much 'bout jefferson davis. jim young an' myself wus pals. my object in joining the church wus to help myself an' others to live a decent life, a life for good to humanity an' for god. n. c. district: no. [ ] worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave story story teller: elbert hunter editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp "jun "] ex-slave story an interview on may , with elbert hunter of method, n. c., years old. i wuz borned eight miles from raleigh on de plantation of mr. jacob hunter in . my parents were stroud and lucy an' my brothers wuz tom, jeems an' henderson. i had three sisters who wuz named caroline, emiline an' ann. massa hunter wuz good to us, an' young massa knox wuz good too. my mammy wuz de cook an' my pappy wuz a field hand. massa ain't 'lowed no patterollers on his place, but one time when he wuzn't ter home my mammy sent me an' caroline ter de nex' door house fer something an' de patterollers got us. dey carried us home an' 'bout de time dat dey wuz axin' questions young massa knox rid up. he look dem over an' he sez, 'git off dese premises dis minute, yo' dad-limb sorry rascals, if us needs yo' we'll call yo'. 'my pappy patterolls dis place hisself.' dey left den, an' we ain't been bothered wid 'em no more. i toted water 'fore de war, minded de sheeps, cows and de geese; an' i ain't had many whuppin's neither. dar wuz one thing dat massa ain't 'low an' dat wuz drinkin' 'mong his niggers. dar wuz a ole free issue named denson who digged ditches fer massa an' he always brung long his demijohn wid his whiskey. one ebenin' missus tells me an' caroline ter go ter de low groun's an' git up de cows an' on de way we fin' ole man denson's demijohn half full of whiskey. caroline sez ter lets take er drink an' so we does, an' terreckly i gits wobbly in de knees. dis keeps on till i has ter lay down an' when i wakes up i am at home. dey says dat massa jacob totes me, an' dat he fusses wid denson fer leavin' de whiskey whar i can fin' it. he give me a talkin' to, an' i ain't neber drunk no more. when we hyard dat de yankees wuz comin' ole massa an' me takes de cattle an' hosses way down in de swamp an' we stays dar wid dem fer seberal days. one day i comes ter de house an' dar dey am, shootin' chickens an' pigs an' everthing. i'se seed dem cut de hams off'n a live pig or ox an' go off leavin' de animal groanin'. de massa had 'em kilt den, but it wuz awful. dat night dey went away but de nex' day a bigger drove come an' my mammy cooked fer 'em all day long. dey killed an' stold ever'thing, an' at last ole massa went to raleigh an' axed fer a gyard. atter we got de gyard de fuss ceased. one of de officers what spent de night dar lost his pocket book an' in it wuz seven greenback dollars, de fust i eber seed. we wuz glad ter be free even do' we had good white folks. de wuck hours wuz frum daybreak till dark, an' de wimmens had ter card an' spin so much eber night. we had our own chickens an' gyarden an' little ways of makin' money, but not so much fun. we played cat, which wuz like base ball now, only different. de children played a heap but de grown folks wucked hard. de cruelest thing i eber seed wuz in raleigh atter slavery time, an' dat wuz a nigger whuppin'. de pillory wuz whar de co'rthouse am now an' de sheriff, mr. ray whupped dat nigger till he bled. i neber seed a slave sale, an' i neber seed much whuppin's. i larned some long wid de white chilluns, 'specially how ter spell. no mam, i doan know nothin' 'bout witches, but i seed a ghos'. hit wuz near hyar, an' hit wuz a animal as big as a yearlin' wid de look of a dog. i can't tell you de color of it case i done left frum dar. b. n. a tar-heel baron _second edition_ [illustration: "oakwood"] a tar-heel baron _by_ mabell shippie clarke pelton with illustrations by edward stratton holloway philadelphia & london j. b. lippincott company copyright, by j. b. lippincott company published february, _electrotyped and printed by_ _j. b. lippincott company, philadelphia, u.s.a._ to f. a. p. "_one who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake._" contents chapter page i friedrich von rittenheim ii the snare of the fowler iii a weak man's strength iv "thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife" v a strong man's weakness vi "i warrant there's vinegar and pepper in't!" vii in the southern appalachians viii sydney rides against time ix "it needed only this!" x through the mist xi in the corn xii illumination xiii reconciliation xiv the fourth of july xv the gander-pulling xvi on the bridge xvii out of a clear sky xviii business plans xix hilda xx sacrifice xxi a poke party xxii von rittenheim collects his rent xxiii the 'possum-hunt xxiv "fought the fight" xxv carl von sternburg xxvi surrender xxvii dixie list of illustrations page oakwood _frontispiece_ a fence at the top of a sharp ascent to the french broad, where fletcher's bridge crosses the river pink roses and red swung to and fro in the sunshine as they climbed the doctor's whitewashed porch "it is not fitting that a von rittenheim should live in a cabin like that" a tar-heel baron i friedrich von rittenheim the incongruity of his manner of life was patent to all who saw. the mountaineers around him recognized it, but they attributed it to the fact of his being a foreigner. the more cultivated folk realized that a man of the world who bore every mark of good birth and breeding was indeed out of place in the gray jeans of the north carolina farmer, guiding the plough with his own hand. at first no one knew just how to take him, even to the calling of his name. baron friedrich johann ludwig--and a half-dozen more--von rittenheim was a good deal to compass. the farmers and the negroes finally settled upon "mr. baron." as to "taking him," it was he who took them, and by storm. he was as poor as his poorest neighbors, that was evident, so they felt no jealousy, and laid aside the mistrust which is the countryman's shield and buckler. he asked agricultural instruction from the men, was courteously respectful to the women, and played with the children. among those of more gentle birth there was little question of their reception of him after once he had ridden to their doors, making the first visit, as in the old country. to be sure, he had appeared astride a mule, but neither his mount nor his dress could conceal a soldierly bearing that made him the envy of every man who saw him. and he had but to click his heels together and make his queer foreign bow that displayed the top of his fair head, and to kiss the fingers of the "gnädige frau," to win the hearts of all the women. his english, in itself, was no small charm, for, though he had conquered his w's and th's, his use of idiom was ever new. it was of the baron that dr. morgan and his wife were talking as they drove towards home at sunset of a late march day. "hanged if ah know how the fellow gets on," said the doctor. "it was fall when he came here, and that farm he bought from ben frady hadn't any crop on it but a mahty little corn. he did his winter ploughing and killed the pig he took with the place, but how he's pulling through ah don't know." the doctor spat in a practised and far-reaching manner into the red clay mud, and shook the reins over the backs of the horse and mule, which plodded on unheeding. "this is 'starvation time,' too. ah noticed yesterday our bacon was getting low," returned mrs. morgan, with the application to self that a country life induces. "the baron never did tell any one about his money affairs, did he, henry?" it would be hard to say why she asked, unless for the sake of continuing the conversation, for, had there been any such bit of gossip, it would have been the doctor's exclusive property only so long as it took him to drive from the place where he had heard it to his own house. "not a word," he replied. "hi, pete, what are you doing?" always a careless driver, the doctor was more than ever so when the state of the roads precluded travelling faster than a walk. he had not noticed the mud-hole which the mule had tried to jump. in his harnesses, twine, rope, and wire played as prominent a part as leather. in fact, most of the points of responsibility were guarded by those materials rather than by the original. pete's jump and his mate's consequent shy proved too much for long-worn traces, and two of them snapped. "hang those things! that outside one popped just yesterday, sophy," said the doctor, in a tone of grievance, as if the fact of its having broken yesterday ought to have rendered him free from the liability of a similar annoyance to-day. "ah reckon you-all 'll have to get a new harness some time," returned sophy, placidly, holding the reins which her husband transferred to her as, with no great relish, he lowered his long, lean person into the red sea of mud below. "rather juicy down here. got any string, wife?" "not a bit. you'll have to take a piece out of the lines," suggested mrs. morgan, with resource born of long experience. "ah 'low ah will, though they're pretty short now from doing the same thing befo'." he examined them gravely. "they ain't very strong, either," he added. "let's see, where are we at?" he looked about him for landmarks. "oh, there's the road that leads to the baron's over yonder. give me yo' handkerchief fo' this other trace now, and we'll try and get there befo' it pops again." friedrich von rittenheim was standing on the porch in front of his cabin, gazing at the western sky. a royal mantle of purple enwrapped the shoulders of mighty pisgah against a background of lucent gold. the expression of anxiety and of spiritless longing left the man's face as he watched the melting glory. "_wunderschön!_" he murmured. "i wonder if she, too, is seeing it, also." the doctor's buggy came laboring into sight around the corner of the house. "_ach_, here are my so good friends, who are ever welcome. i kiss your hand, gr-racious madam," he cried, as he went to the side of the carriage, and unshrinkingly saluted an old fur glove, from which the gracious madam's every finger was protruding. "ah've broken mah traces, baron. can you-all let me have some wire or string?" "with delight, my dear doctor. and will you not do me the honor to enter herein, dear lady, while the herr doctor and i r-repair the har-rness?" he helped her from the buggy with a courtesy that induced a responsive manner in her, and she sailed ponderously into the cabin, displaying an elegance that caused her husband to chuckle and say to himself,-- "he certainly does fetch the women!" the baron stirred the fire, whose light fell on a scar, the mark of a student duel, that crept out from under his hair. he left mrs. morgan stretching her plump feet and puffy hands to enjoy the flames' warmth, while her keen eyes examined every corner of the bare room, its tidily swept hearth, and the bunch of galax leaves on the table. "you-all keep pretty neat fo' a bachelor," she said, when the two men came in after their task was done. "ah always tell the doctor it's lucky he's married and has some one to look after him. you see he's no great shakes at keeping clean now;" she looked him over with an eye made critical by his proximity to the german, who was a model of soldierly neatness; "and if he wasn't married, ah don't know what he'd be!" von rittenheim didn't know, either, so he said, "that is one advantage of an ar-rmy tr-raining, mrs. mor-rgan." "well, ah don't know as ah agree with you there, baron," she replied. "henry was in the army all through the civil war, and ah don't think his habits were a bit improved at the end of it." henry grinned appreciatively, but the baron's features betrayed only such interest as incited mrs. morgan to further conversation. "where's the rocking-chair you had when ah was here befo'? that was ben frady's mother's chair. ah've seen the old woman sitting out on the po'ch in it many a time." she waited for an answer, and friedrich colored to the roots of his hair. it was on his tongue's tip to say that it was in the next room, but mrs. morgan was quite capable of penetrating there; and, besides, telling the truth was another result of army training. he stammered something about having disposed of it, and hastened to ask if madam would not like a cup of coffee. it was a natural pride that deterred von rittenheim from confessing to these friends of not many months' standing that he had sold the chair, the only thing in the house worth selling, and had sold it from necessity. the doctor was right in his suspicions that the baron was not getting on comfortably. ten days ago he had spent his very last cent, and he was learning the true meaning of the word "poverty." the crop of corn that he had bought with the farm had served him until now as feed for the mule, as meal and hominy, and, by the alchemy of the alembic, as whisky. the end of the bacon from ben frady's pig was on the shelf in the cupboard before which he was standing, and he had just offered to his guest the last of the coffee with which the sale of old mrs. frady's chair had provided him. it was this anxiety that had clouded his brow as he looked at the sunset. he had nothing to send to market, not even wood, for his bit of forest yielded only enough for his own use. he had sold his cow, and had let a man have his mule for its keep. it had not hurt his pride to live on this little mountain farm. he was as independent there as at home; more so, because the social demands upon him were as nothing. but no money and no food meant that he must work for a wage, and that galled him. then, at this season of the year, what work was there to be done? no one needed extra laborers. it looked very much as if he were brought face to face with starvation, and a man of thirty-five does not encounter such a prospect as gayly as a youth. fortunately for his further catechism, the idea of coffee appealed to mrs. morgan, and von rittenheim set about making it, secretly wondering what his breakfast would be like without it, but preparing it none the less cheerfully. "i gr-rieve, dear frau mor-rgan," he said, as he offered her the cup, "that i have not cr-ream for you,--or sugar, either," he added, peering into a bowl that he knew to be empty. he brightened as he picked up a little pitcher. "but molasses; may i give to you molasses?" "yes, indeed," returned mrs. morgan, cordially. "ah like them just as well as sugar. just a few, now," as she held out her cup. "shall it be coffee for you, herr doctor, or whisky? see, i have a jug of corn whisky which i myself made." "no need to ask me, sir. whisky, of course," and the doctor's eyes twinkled under their shaggy brows. "not bad fo' new whisky," he commented, as he swallowed the fiery stuff. "how do you make it, baron? ah didn't know you had a still." "nor have i, except a little affair in a bucket, with a bit of r-rubber hose for a worm. it makes enough for me. it is not a pleasant drink," he added, quaintly. "but better than nothing, eh?" returned the doctor, jovially, and then was sorry that he had said it, for his glance had fallen within the cupboard, and had spied out the emptiness of the larder. to cover his mistake, he added,-- "mind you-all don't sell any. it's against the law, you know." "a very str-range law. if i from my corn make meal or hominy, or what you call 'r-roughness,' for the cattle to eat, i may sell them. but if i make whisky, i must dr-rink it all myself, eh?" "yes, or give it to me! you see they must tax us on something, and while they class whisky as a luxury--" "cor-rn whisky?" interrupted friedrich, incredulous. "--they know it's enough of a necessity with us north carolina mountaineers, at any rate, to return some revenue." "my sympathy is with the moonshiners, i confess, herr doctor; though it is also with men who think such a bever-rage good to dr-rink! you go? ah, dear lady, i hope it will be soon again that you honor my house." the baron looked after the buggy as it disappeared in the dusk, and then turned back into the cabin, once more to face the harsh reality of his thoughts. it grew clear to him that he must seek work in asheville, the nearest large town, a dozen miles away. he must walk there and beg for employment like any tramp. such straits as this he had not anticipated when he had made the sacrifice that had forced him to leave the fatherland, though he did not for a moment regret that sacrifice. what he could not formulate was just how he had been brought to his present pass. it was with stinging honesty that he owned it to be through some lack of foresight or of energy. but how should he have energy when he had no purpose in life? to be sure, there was sydney carroll, who might supply purpose to any man who loved her, if that man were not a broken-spirited craven. the hopeless longing that had been in his eyes while he gazed at the sunset filled them once more. what had he to offer her but devotion,--the one capacity that was mighty within him? no, not even love could endow him with purpose. always he completed the circle of his thoughts. he must work for somebody else. that would be, indeed, a new experience and a bitter. he was fighting with his pride when a call outside summoned him. it was the cry that has brought many a man to his door to be shot to death; but von rittenheim had no feuds, and went forward without hesitation. "can you-all give me some supper?" asked a man who loomed big in the darkness as he sat on his horse. "ah must have taken the wrong turn back yonder and wandered off the county road." "this r-road goes only by my house like a bow of which the county r-road is the str-ring," explained the baron. "dismount, i beg, and with much pleasure will i give you what i can." it was little enough, though to the bit of bacon was added a couple of apples roasted in the ashes. it was to the credit of the visitor's powers of perception that he did not ask for other than was set before him, and compel his host to disclose his poverty. he was a man of middle age, with a shrewd face whose expression was spoiled by an occasional look of slyness or glance of suspicion. "very fair whisky," approved the stranger. "do you get it round here?" "i make it." "you do?" with a sudden contraction of the eyelids. von rittenheim saw nothing but his own regret at his necessarily meagre hospitality, for which he tried to make amends by being increasingly agreeable. "you will like to see my little affair?" he asked, after describing the primitive manufacture of his still. "ah'm afraid ah must be going on; ah'm obliged to get to asheville to-night. but if you'd sell me a quart of yo' whisky to keep me warm on the way, ah'd like it." he opened the door and looked out. "it's right smart cold," he added. friedrich made no reply. he had checked his first impulse, which was to offer to give the fellow all the whisky he wanted, and he looked with a sort of fascination at the coin which the other drew from his pocket and tossed on to the table. undoubtedly he was hungrier than ever he had been in his life, and not only had he seen his supper devoured before his eyes, but there would be nothing to eat in the morning before his long walk to town. with this money he could buy something at the store which he must pass on his way. his recent conversation with dr. morgan went through his mind. he glanced at his guest, who was buttoning his coat and tightening a spur preparatory to starting. "i think he will not tell," thought von rittenheim, and he found an empty bottle and filled it from the jug. then he helped the stranger with his horse, and after his departure returned to look ruefully into the fire. "never before," he mused, "did one of my race commit so petty a wrong." ii the snare of the fowler it was at the early hour when the morning brings to the earth no warmth and but a dim and grudging light, that a sharp rap summoned von rittenheim to his cabin door. three men stood outside in the grayness, their horses tied to trees behind them. to his surprise, friedrich recognized his guest of the previous evening. "_ach_, my good friend, you did not reach asheville last night?" unconsciously he frowned as he realized that if these men wanted breakfast he would have to confess that there was nothing to eat in the house. at the thought his instinct of hospitality and his pride both suffered. "yes, ah got to asheville, and ah've come back--fo' you." the man entered the cabin and motioned to his companions, who stepped one to each side of the baron. "what do you mean?" von rittenheim spoke with amazement born of entire lack of understanding. his mind could not compass the treachery of the man to whom he had given his last mouthful. "ah mean that ah'm a united states deputy-marshal, and that ah 'rest you fo' retailing." von rittenheim started, a motion that caused three hands to seek as many pistol-pockets. "you mean for selling to you last night that whisky to keep the cold from you?" "correct. of co'se you-all took yo' chances, 'n you struck the wrong man." deputy-marshal wilder chuckled complacently. he had made few captures lately, and he counted on this to look well at headquarters. besides, he was having less trouble with the "big dutchy" than he had expected. indeed, he had prepared his assistants for a hard fight. "you mistake--i did not str-rike you--yet," said friedrich, misunderstanding. "but i compr-rehend that you arrest me, and for what." von rittenheim looked at wilder with so much contempt that the man turned away shamefaced. still, the justice of his capture appealed to the german, trained in the soldier's school, for it was true that he had transgressed the law, and knowingly. that he should have yielded to the weakness aroused his irritability. "i am a fool," he ejaculated. "you-all needn't say anything to incriminate yo'self," said the deputy, more from habit than because the remark was appropriate. "i go with you." von rittenheim put on his hat. one of the men tinkled a pair of handcuffs in his jacket-pocket, and raised his brows inquiringly at wilder. the latter nodded, though doubtfully. as he picked himself up from the floor a little later he realized that his doubt was justified. at the mere sight of the irons the baron had flashed into fury. he flung one man across the table with a violence that brought him several minutes' quiet. the other rolled into a corner, and wilder fell altogether too near for comfort to the bricks of the fireplace. as the deputy-marshal rose he felt von rittenheim's grasp on his throat. "you understand not," he cried, his usually good english almost unintelligible in his excitement, "you understand not--how, indeed, should you?--that i am a gentleman. when i say i go with you, i go." giving him a shake as a final relief to his feelings, he added, imperatively,-- "come, pick up your fr-riends and let us start. you have a horse for me?" no one was disposed to make another attempt to handcuff the captive, and the little detachment set out, headed by the prisoner, who had much more the appearance of a leader than did any one of the crestfallen group behind him. the miles passed but slowly, so heavy was the road's deep mud, and it seemed to von rittenheim that he had been travelling for hours when they crossed the six mile branch that measured but half their journey done. the keen air of the early morning, whose cold was accentuated by a drizzling rain, chilled him to the bone, unfortified by food as he was. he experienced the physical misery that forces to submission men of large build more quickly than those of lighter make. his mind suffered in sympathy, and his thoughts were of the bitterest. never had his experience known an act of perfidy like that of wilder. to have betrayed his hospitality was bad enough,--to have lured him on to selling the whisky was the act of a villain. he cursed the chance that had brought the fellow to his door. how had it happened? the scoundrel had said that he had missed the way, but that was not probable. the county road was plain enough. he must have passed dr. morgan, too, who would have set him right. a pang of suspicion came into his mind. one had betrayed him, why not the other? the doctor was aware that he had the whisky. he must have stopped wilder, knowing him to be an officer, and told him about it. as a matter of fact, the deputy's story was true. in the dusk he had turned into the baron's road without noticing that he had left the highway. he had passed the doctor, and had spoken to him, but it was on the state road, before he had found himself to be out of his way. von rittenheim, faint from lack of food, sick at heart over his position, and filled with disgust at his betrayal, was in a mood to accept any suspicion, and the evil thought grew fat within him. he pondered every word of his conversation with the morgans, and fancied that he saw indisputable evidence of the doctor's falseness in his talk about whisky. the course of affairs in asheville was brief. wilder rode beside his prisoner when they came to the town, not because he feared friedrich's escape, but that he might have the appearance of being in command of the troop. von rittenheim was too closely absorbed in his own painful thoughts to pay any attention to this enforced companionship. he dismounted wearily as the squad drew rein before the federal building, and followed the deputy-marshal into the commissioner's office. it was early, but mr. weaver was at his desk, for he happened to be pressed with work. he was a nervous, bustling man, with an expression of acuteness, and a trick of rubbing his head with a circular motion, as if he were trying to effect a tonsure by force of friction. he nodded a recognition of wilder and his men, and sent a look of surprise at von rittenheim, whose appearance was not what was usual in the prisoners brought before him, although his dress seemed to indicate the mountaineer. "what for?" he asked wilder, gruffly, when he was at liberty to attend to them. "retailing," returned the deputy-marshal, and proceeded to tell a story in which the details of his method of purchasing the liquor were meagre, but the account of the german's resistance to the officers was full. baron von rittenheim pleaded guilty to the charge against him, and listened to the exaggerated tale of the arrest without comment, though with a look of disgust that did not escape mr. weaver. perhaps he knew his man in wilder. at any rate, a few trenchant questions brought out the fact that friedrich had resisted only when an attempt was made to handcuff him. "really, wilder," said the commissioner, sharply, "you make me tired. haven't you got good sense? do you suppose a fellow like that is going to run away?" "no knowing what these cussed foreigners won't do," growled wilder, and added something about being blown up before his prisoner, that brought a frown to mr. weaver's brow. he was puzzled about von rittenheim, and he felt sure that there was something in the case that was not in evidence; but the man had pleaded guilty, and there was nothing to do but to hold him for the grand jury. "who'll go on your bond?" he asked, taking up his pen. "bond?" "you must give a justified bond for your appearance before the united states court in may." "oh, i see. i do not know. i have no fr-riends." "it's only two hundred dollars." "it might be only two hundred cents, still would it be the same. yesterday i thought i had fr-riends, but to-day----" he broke off abruptly, and again weaver gave a perplexed rub to the top of his head. he opened a door and spoke to a negro boy who passed a waiting life in the anteroom. "sam, ask mr. gudger to step here, if he's in the building." mr. gudger was a professional bondsman who added this calling to that of real-estate dealer and insurance agent, and interwove the three occupations with some talent and much success. von rittenheim's farm served to secure gudger against loss, while the mention of its existence caused the commissioner again to rub his head. why in the world should a man----? he gave up the conundrum in despair, and applied himself to the necessary business. friedrich took but a passive part in the transaction, whose detail, with its rapid interchange of technicalities, he did not attempt to understand. his courteous dignity and submission to the justice of the legal procedure told nothing of the caldron of feeling boiling within him at the _in_-justice that had brought him to a pass where this thing was right. as he walked away from the federal building, his mind began to leave these thoughts and to dwell on the almost equally disagreeable subject of what he should do next. his immediate need was of something to eat. he was sick with hunger, and he found himself even casting a regretful thought after wilder's quarter of a dollar. his hand had happened to touch it in his pocket during his morning ride, and he had flung it from him as far as he could into the woods beside the road. "but, no," he thought, "rather would i starve than buy food with that." he went up patton avenue, and eyed the signs on the buildings in the hope of seeing one that would suggest to him some way of making money. the early morning's rain had turned into snow, that beat into the open place from the north, and drove the loafers from their accustomed haunts. the pavement was whitening rapidly. "the first of april to-morrow," thought von rittenheim, disgustedly. "what will happen to those pease that i put into the gr-round last week?" as he stood, sheltered from the storm by a projecting building, he reflected that it was useless for him to go back into the country. there was no planting to be done as early as this, except that of a few garden vegetables, and he had no seeds to plant even if he went. he remembered as if it were long ago that he had meant to come to asheville to-day, and thought with grim humor that after all he had not been obliged to walk. yes, he must find some occupation in town that would support him during the month that intervened before the sitting of the court. he knew that the usual sentence for moonshining was "a hundred dollars or three months," and, since he had no money, he must submit to the degradation of imprisonment. may, june, july. that would bring him to august, and it would be time enough then to consider the future. a von rittenheim in prison! a shudder went through him with the thought, and a wild desire to avert the evil. if only he had not pledged his farm to that bondsman! friedrich's life had not been one to promote business knowledge. at home he had known but little of affairs--in america, nothing. he did not realize that he might have raised on his place ten times the amount of his fine without affecting mr. gudger's interests. he thought that his negotiation with that excellent person had put his estate out of his hands for all similar uses. vaguely he thought that the bondsman would be released when his trial came on, and that at that time the land would be free again, and that perhaps it might be arranged then. but he did not see how, for they would not allow him to go out to do it, and he did not know any one who would take a mortgage on it. and, oh, how sleepy he was--and how hungry--and how the cold bit through him! he bestirred himself and walked around the square. he was studying the window of a harness-shop which appealed to him as having to do with the subject he knew most about--horses; and he was pondering in what capacity he would offer his services to the proprietor, when he was accosted by a negro boy. "the boss wants you-all over yonder," he said, grinning affably. "the--who?" asked the baron, to whom the appellation was new. "the boss in the revenue office, mr. weaver. he wants you. ah'm his boy sam." friedrich supposed that some form had been omitted, and returned with docility to the federal building. mr. weaver nodded pleasantly as he entered. "this german was brought in here just after you went out, von rittenheim. i want you to interpret, if you will." friedrich's breakfast seemed now more nebulous than ever, but even this hour's tedium came to an end, and weaver, with a "thank you," pushed a half-dollar along the table towards him. "no, no. it is a pleasure, my dear sir," began the baron, when suddenly he brought his heels together, made his low bow, and took the money. "i thank you, _mein herr_. i need it. i will take it." mr. weaver looked at him with the provincial american's amusement at foreigners' ways, mingled with shrewdness. "by the way, do you mind telling me how you-all got into this scrape?" the german flushed and tossed back his head. then he controlled himself, and said, gently,-- "but perhaps you have a r-right to know. if you will excuse me for a time, however, i will r-return after a breakfast. i left my house very early this morning." weaver noticed the sudden pinched look of faintness that turned von rittenheim's ruddy face ashy. "he's missed more than one meal," he thought, but said aloud only, "any time before two o'clock." it was not much that the commissioner learned from von rittenheim after all, for food brought back self-reliance and courage, and he felt that the whole story of his trouble would be an appeal for sympathy that he could not make. however, he told enough to cause weaver to say under his breath a few condemnatory things about the deputy-marshal, and then he asked,-- "what are you going to do?" "i hope to find some occupation in asheville until the time of my tr-rial." "what do you want to do?" "i care not. i am well, str-rong. i fear not labor." mr. weaver compared with a glance von rittenheim's figure with his own puny proportions, and said,-- "no, i should think not!" then he rubbed his head and asked,-- "can you teach?" "i know not. never have i done such a thing. i am a soldier." "that's easily seen. still, you're a university man." he touched his forehead just where on friedrich's the tip of his scar was visible. "oh, yes. i was at heidelberg." "i suspect you'll do if you-all are willing to try. my boy's fitting for college, and he's getting badly behind in his german. if you'd tackle his instruction for a few weeks, i'm sure it would be of great value to him. will you do it?" "if you will accept a novice, i shall be gr-rateful." and again friedrich made his low bow. "then be at my house at five this afternoon, and here's a week's salary in advance. you'll be wanting it, perhaps." so was baron von rittenheim established as tommy weaver's tutor, and fortunate he thought himself. fortunate he was, in that this engagement secured to him his simple living; but most unlucky in that it left him with too much spare time. had he worked at a task that occupied seven or eight hours a day, his thoughts would have filtered through the weariness of his body, and been purified thereby. but his leisure was abundant, and he spent it in brooding over his troubles. to those that had wrung him before was added his present shame. and his shame was embittered by his suspicion of dr. morgan. he held wilder of no account. he was beneath a gentleman's notice. but dr. morgan had pretended to be his friend. he dwelt on all his intercourse with him, and weighed every conversation that he remembered. there came to him half a hundred trifling circumstances that seemed to substantiate his distrust. the lack of his accustomed exercise told on his health. he grew moody and irritable, and daily the wish for revenge grew stronger. satisfaction was due him, and satisfaction he would have. iii a weak man's strength it was three weeks later. bud yarebrough, going rabbit-hunting, pondered, as he trudged along the road, upon the freaks of an april that had come in with snow, and alternately had warmed and chilled the swelling hopes of bud and blossom, until the end of the month showed trees and shrubs but a trifle farther advanced than at its beginning. "jus' like m'lissy used to treat me!" he made the comparison with a breath of relief that that time of wretchedness and rapture was past. he heard the sound of hoofs approaching from behind, and whistled to heel his three scrawny hounds. when he made sure of the rider's identity, he shifted his gun to his other shoulder, and pulled off his remnant of felt in salutation of miss carroll. as she stopped to speak to him, he stared earnestly at her horse's neck; but kind nature permits even a shy man's vision to take a wide range, and bud by no means was unobservant of the brilliant skin framed by a glory of red hair; of the velvet dark eyes with their darker lashes; and of the corduroy habit, brownly harmonious with the sorrel horse and the clay road, as with its wearer's coloring. "how is melissa, bud?" some of sydney carroll's friends thought her voice her greatest charm. "and the baby? she's a dear baby! i think she looks like melissa, don't you?" "she's tol'able--they's tol'able. yes, miss sydney, they says so," replied the lad, whose condition as the father of a family seemed to cast him into depths of bashfulness. "it's a great responsibility for you, bud. i hope you feel it. and i hope that you won't let _this_ happen often." sydney gravely tapped her eye with her finger, while bud stole a shamed hand over his own visual organ, which was surrounded by the paling glories of a recent contusion. the color mounted to his hair as he stammered,-- "hit wasn't that--that what you think, miss sydney. hit was a stick o' wood----" but his voice trailed off into nothingness before the girl's gaze. "bud, i know--i heard how it happened. don't tell me what isn't true." bud kicked a stone that lay at his feet. "you-all always does find out," he murmured, with unwilling admiration. "you see ah was right smart glad about the baby, 'n 'bout m'lissy bein' so well, 'n ah jus' took a little; 'n pink pressley was awful aggravatin', 'n ah jus' 'lowed ah didn' want nothin' t' interrup' mah joy," he ended, looking up with a humorous twinkle that brought a responsive smile to the severe young face before him. "but ah know hit ain' right to m'lissy," he went on hurriedly, for he realized that the smile was only transitory, "'n ah'm goin' to try, ah sho' am," he added, stepping out of the way of the horse, grown uneasy at this long colloquy. "ah certainly am goin' to get out the tools 'n look 'em over to-morrow," he finished, as sydney gathered up her reins. "i hope so, bud; but why don't you do it _to-day_?" she called back, saying to herself, as johnny broke into a canter, "as if poor bud ever could do anything to-day! he should have been born in the land of _mañana_." the horse lengthened his stride into a sweeping gallop where the condition of the road permitted, slackening his pace and betaking himself to the side, and even to the footpath on the bank, when the mud grew too deep for speed. the girl paid little attention to him, for, like all mountain horses, he was accustomed to pick his way with a sagacity that man cannot assist. on sydney's face rested a shade too heavy to have been brought there by the failings, customary to the country, of melissa's husband. but twenty years are not proof against the joint attack of sunshine and fresh, sweet air and the glorious motion of a horse, and she seemed a happy, care-free girl to bob morgan, sitting in the sun on his father's porch. unlike the carroll house, which was of stone and surrounded by roofed verandas, dr. morgan's dwelling presented an unabashed glare of whitewashed weather-boarding. it needed only green shutters to be a hostage from new england. in summer a rose climbed over the portico and broke the snowy monotony, but at this season the leafless stems served only to enhance the bareness. as he heard sydney's approach bob raised his aching head from his hand and sprang unsteadily to his feet. she was quick to notice his condition, for she knew only too well the weakness that was wringing the heart of the good old doctor and lining "miss sophy's" face. bob was their only son and only child, "'n hit do seem strange," the country women said, "that a man who's done's much good's the ol' doctor shouldn' have better luck with his boy." sydney flushed as bob ran unevenly along the path to take her from the saddle. her experiences seemed to be like history this morning. a little sigh escaped her as she looked about for the doctor, and then resigned herself to be lifted down by bob's strong and eager, though shaking, hands. to him her manner was quite the reverse of her attitude towards the other victim of a weak will from whom she just had parted. if to yarebrough she was straightforward, to this man she was diplomatic. if to bud she was mentor, to bob she was telemachus. if bud stared at her in puzzled surprise at her "always finding out," bob exerted himself to appear before her a man on whom she could rely, because he was sure that she never had thought of him otherwise. "yes, it is a lovely day," she replied, in answer to his salutation. "is your mother at home? and what in the world is the matter with your face?" he was holding open the gate for her to pass, and she saw that it would be absurd any longer to ignore his appearance. "the calf got mixed up in the rose-bush, and while i was getting him out he kicked me," explained bob, glibly, shamelessly loading upon the back of a tiny and unoffending little bull-calf nibbling in front of the door the burden of his scratched and bruise-stained countenance. sydney averted her eyes as he told this unblushing lie, and sighed again as she thought of the poor mother, for she knew how long a carolinian can stay on a horse, and that bob must have been bad, indeed, to have rolled off, as it was evident that he had done. "you must let me do it up for you," she said. "go and get me the witch-hazel and something for a bandage." she sat and waited for him in the living-room, where modern taste had made use of the blue-and-white homespun coverlets of the doctor's grandmother as door curtains and couch covers. she noticed the kettle swung over the fire from the same crane that had balanced its burden thus for a hundred years, and she listened to bob knocking about up-stairs in the room over her head. "now, sit down," she cried, when he returned. "you're so dreadfully tall. towels! that won't do at all! here, i'll wet my handkerchief and put that on first." "may i keep it?" bob's good eye twinkled merrily, and what was visible of the other showed some amusement. "of course not. you'll return it to me as soon as you can." sydney's mouth twitched in appreciation of his audacity. "i'm afraid i can't very soon," he replied, gravely. "i expect to need it for a long, long time." he turned to the mirror and gazed therein at his shock of black hair rising above the linen, and at the one rueful eye visible below. "it makes me look rather a fool, doesn't it? but it's awfully sweet of you to do it, sydney. i say, sydney." suddenly he wheeled about and seized both her hands. "is it always going to be this way? are you never going to care for me? you know i'd give my life for you. you never asked me to do anything yet that i didn't do," he hurried on, yearning for an answer from her, yet knowing well that when she raised those white lids the eyes would not give him the reply that he wanted. "truly, i'll do anything you say, if only you'll care a little, just a little, dear!" he drew her to him, and she raised to his her eyes, warm, brown, swimming in tears. he let fall her hands, realizing that she _knew_--that she always had known--and feeling how empty were his words when he had never tried to do for her sake the one thing that might touch her. letting fall her hands, he sank speechless upon his knees, and buried his head in the blue-and-white coverlet of the couch. with tear-laden eyes sydney walked to the gate, her hands outstretched before her, like a blind man feeling his way. johnny rubbed his nose in sympathy against her shoulder as she unfastened his chain. it was the first time in bob's fond, foolish, generous life that ever he had allowed sydney to do for herself anything that he could do for her. as johnny carried his mistress down the state road, and the "bare, ruined choirs" of the trees became clear to her eyes once again, she realized that a new pain and a new pity had come into her life--and a new responsibility. iv "thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife" it was fortunate that johnny needed no guiding hand, for his mistress was far too absorbed in her thoughts to give him any attention. she did not see the ranks of gray tree-trunks through which peered glimpses of blue as the land fell away against the background of the sky; the heavy bunches of mistletoe in some leafless top failed to attract her attention; and she was blind to the beauty of the coarse green pine-needles against the brown masses of the oak-leaves that cling to the branches all winter to cheat the devil of his bargain, the earth, which is to be his when all the boughs are bare. her whole soul was filled with a longing to help bob morgan,--bob, her dear old playfellow, so lovable and, alas! so weak. already she had tried to foster his self-respect and to encourage his firmness by indirect means. it seemed now as if the chance were given her to act more openly. if only she could do so without rousing in the boy's breast a hope that she could not fulfil, for she knew that never could she love him as he wanted to be loved! it was not that a difference of birth, of rearing, of tradition placed her apart from him. she even had a fondness for him, but love--no! she had been thinking a great deal about love of late. she knew what it was to have men in love with her. her grandmother, with whom she lived at fine old oakwood, had introduced her in baltimore, where she revived many old-time connections; and she had had another season in new orleans. her striking beauty had brought her a success that pleased mrs. carroll more than sydney herself. the haughty old lady approved the girl's coldness, and nodded in agreement with aunt frony, who watched her young mistress's path with proprietary satisfaction. "she cert'nly do favor her paw; 'n she walks along tru all dem gen'lemen like joseph tru dat co'nfiel' wif de sheaves a-bowin' befo' him, 'n he never pay no mo' 'tention to 'em 'n if dey jus' common roughness--'n no mo' do she!" "my son's daughter demeans herself as one of her family should," had been mrs. carroll's reply; but she was really gratified at this aloofness that seemed to excite the attention which she felt to be her granddaughter's due, without inducing a surrender of her heart. sydney's marriage would take from her her only companion, and was an evil that the old lady recognized as necessary, but to be put off as long as possible. sydney regarded the various love-affairs in which she had had a part as the usual incidents in every woman's career. they had touched her little. she was extraordinarily lacking in conceit, and she could not realize, since her sympathy was unquickened by a responsive affection, that a love of short growth could mean much to its possessor. this lack of appreciation of love's intensity was increased by the fact that her own simplicity of thought and straightforwardness of character always had prevented her from taking seriously any man's attentions until they resolved themselves definitely into intentions. none of her experiences had moved her like this with bob morgan. when, in the autumn, she had given up her season in town on account of her grandmother's feebleness, it had been one of her consolations that at least she would be free from that sort of complication. and here was something worse than anything that had gone before, because her real fondness for bob gave her an insight into his pain, and a pity for the sorrow that she knew she must inflict upon him. she felt vaguely into the darkness for a realization of what love was. she had lain awake many a night that winter, waiting for her grandmother's call, listening to the rain as it dripped upon the roof from the twig-tips of the oaks, and dreaming a waking dream of what a love would mean that would make any sacrifice a joy, any pain a rapture. and, like all women from time's beginning, she had cried into the shadow, "oh, that i, too, may have this joy, this sacrifice, this pain!" at the cross-roads johnny fell into a walk until he should learn his rider's wish. _he_ preferred to go home; but if she chose the right-hand road he was willing to carry her over it, mistaken as he felt her decision to be. sydney roused at the change of gait and turned the horse into the homeward way; but, just as he was settling down gleefully to his work, she remembered that she had failed entirely to accomplish the errand upon which her grandmother had sent her; the errand that had clouded her brow with anxiety. mrs. carroll was very fond of baron von rittenheim. he interested her, he amused her, he aroused her curiosity, and his formal manners recalled to her memory the gallants of her youth. he called upon her frequently, and the old lady looked forward to his visits with agreeable anticipation. for three weeks he had not been to oakwood, and she was determined no longer to endure such neglect,--at any rate, to investigate it. to this end she had sent sydney to dr. morgan's to inquire of him news of the recreant german. and sydney had not stayed to see the doctor or mrs. morgan! obedient to the rein, johnny stopped and looked about with an air of inquiring patronage. his mistress was not given to abrupt changes of intention, but he was willing to humor her when they appeared. "i can't go back to the doctor's, of course," thought sydney. "i'll go to melissa yarebrough's,--she'll know." off from the state road, just beyond the cross-roads, a rough trail led into the woods. sydney turned into it, and rode between bushes of laurel and rhododendron, whose glossy leaves shone dark above her head even as she sat upon her horse. patches of vivid green moss crept confidingly to the foot of the oaks, and a bit of arbutus, as pink as the palm of a baby's hand, peered from under its leathery cover. a few daring buds tentatively were opening their tiny leaves to the world, and some stray blades of grass pricked, verdant, through the general brownness. this was but a deserted lane, which sydney had chosen as affording a short cut to melissa's, and, of a sudden, the passage was closed by a snake fence eight rails high. it was beyond johnny's jumping powers, but his rider was undaunted. leaning over the right side of the horse she dexterously pulled apart the top rails where they crossed, and johnny cleverly stepped back in time to avoid their hitting his legs in their fall. pressing forward again, she dislodged the next pair, and then johnny took the breach neatly, and picked his discriminating way through the brush on the other side. though their cabins were a mile apart, the yarebroughs were baron von rittenheim's nearest neighbors, and sydney thought that melissa would know if he were ill, as she feared. but as she rode on in sinuous avoidance of protruding boughs and upstart bushes, she was seized by a shyness quite new to her. it seemed as if she could not bear to question melissa about the baron. she fancied she saw the girl's possible look of amusement. it became suddenly a position which she stigmatized as "horrid!" beside her a big white pine spread an inviting seat of heaped-up tags, and she slipped off the horse and leaned against the broad trunk. johnny, at the bridle's length, nibbled at the enamelled green of the lion's tongue with equine vanity,--for he knew that it would beautify his coat,--and pushed his muzzle down among the dry leaves beyond the radius of the pine-needles, lipping them daintily in search of something more appetizing beneath. the sunshine forced its way through the thick branches of the pine and frolicked gayly with sydney's ruddy hair, as she tossed aside her hat and sat down to recover her composure, so suddenly and extraordinarily lost. perhaps five minutes, perhaps ten, had passed thus in reflection which she called to herself "disgustingly self-conscious," when johnny lifted his head and pointed his ears towards that side where the undergrowth was thickest. sydney sprang to her feet and put on her hat, for she had no desire to be caught day-dreaming. having taken this precaution, however, she stood quite still, and johnny, with satisfied curiosity, renewed his search among the fallen leaves. the approaching sounds betrayed that there was a path on the other side of the thicket. indeed, sydney remembered that one ran from melissa's cabin to a spring not far off, and she realized that she must be nearer to the house than she had appreciated. the voices were those of a man and a woman in no good humor with each other. in fact, a lively quarrel seemed to be in progress. "ah certainly wish you-all wouldn' come here no mo'." it was melissa. "_ah_ don' wan' to see ye; 'n you are so aggravatin' to bud." "ye used to like to have me come, ye know ye did, m'lissy. don' you-all remember the time ah kissed ye behin' the big oak in yo' daddy's pasture? ye liked me well enough then." "you shut up, pink pressley. ah was a silly girl then, 'n ah'm a married woman now, 'n hit's time you-all stopped foolin' roun' here." the voices lessened in the distance, and a jay-bird which had screamed lustily at their approach turned his attention once more to sydney, and found her still standing, bridle in hand. she was shocked at the trouble that seemed to threaten the happiness of bud yarebrough's household, and she stood uncertain whether to turn back from the encounter upon which unwittingly she had intruded, or whether to go on in case melissa needed her help or her comfort. johnny pushed against her invitingly, and she mounted him from a near-by stump, and, breaking through the scrub, turned his head along the path in the direction of the cabin. the house proved, indeed, to be close at hand; it had been hardly worth while to mount the horse, so near it stood to the pine-tree of sydney's ambush. the mud daubing between the logs shone bright through the hazy spring atmosphere, and a thick white smoke, betokening a handful of chips newly tossed upon the fire, ascended slowly into the air as if eager to explore the dulled blue sky above. as sydney came around the corner of the cabin, for the path debouched at the rear, a terrified white rooster came running from the front, his outstretched wings lengthening the stride of his sturdy yellow legs, and his wattles swinging violently from side to side. at the same moment angry voices again struck sydney's ears. "never, never, never!" melissa was tremulously insistent. "ah'll make you-all sorry you ever married bud yarebrough," the man responded, and sydney turned the corner just in time to see him seize melissa by the waist and lean over to kiss her. the girl took advantage of the loosening of his hold as he caught sight of miss carroll, and delivered him a resounding slap upon his cheek, when she turned panting to her opportune visitor. "you-all saw, miss sydney, he didn' do hit! he's that hateful, he won' let me alone,--always pesterin' roun' here when bud ain' to home. ah 'low ah jus' hate him!" stricken still with surprise, sydney sat upon her horse, her face scarlet with distress and stern with disapproval. pink glanced up at her, and began to sidle off, abashed. he could not forbear, however, throwing back a parting threat. "you-all remember what ah said. ah'll make you sorry you ever married bud yarebrough." "what does it mean, melissa?" asked sydney, dropping from the saddle and turning her face, now colorless, upon the weeping little wife crouching in a corner of the doorway. "jus' what you-all heard, miss sydney. he's always comin' here when bud's away; 'n when he meets bud anywheres they's always quar'lin', 'n ah'm jus' wore out with him." sydney hung the horse's bridle over the end of an upturned horseshoe nailed to a tree before the cabin, and sat down on the door-step beside her humble friend. "melissa, tell me,"--she was very grave,--"did he ever before--does he----?" she sought vainly for some phrase less bald than that which seemed so uncompromisingly full of embarrassment. "did he ever try to kiss me, ye mean? no, indeed, miss sydney; he sho' didn'. only one time when ah was a girl we kep' company fo' a right smart bit, 'n one night, when a lot of us was playin' tag in the pasture, he caught me 'n kissed me. that's the only time, hones', miss sydney. he never done a thing like this befo' to-day since ah been married; jus' hung roun' 'n been aggravatin'." sydney took the hard hand between her own soft palms and stroked it gently. "hush, dear, don't sob like that. can't bud keep him away? can't he forbid him to come here?" "ah'd be afraid to tell him about this, he's that fiery-tempered, bud is. he goes along jus' as easy, 'n then some day he jus' natchelly goes rarin'. when ah've tol' him how pink comes botherin' me, he jus' says, 'pore feller, he didn' get ye. ah'm sorry fo' him.' but 'f ah tell him this he might shoot him, 'n ah couldn' bear that!" melissa ended with a shuddering cry, and sydney remembered pityingly how the girl's brother had been brought home dead two years ago, shot in a quarrel whose primary cause was corn whisky. "tell me, melissa, what did he mean by that threat,--that he'd make you sorry you'd married bud? how can he harm him?" "ah don' know, oh, ah don' know," sobbed the poor girl; "only hit's somethin' mahty mean fo' sho'. he's that low-down 'n sneaky hit's sho' to be somethin' mean," she reiterated. "it seems to me, melissa, that if i were married, i shouldn't want to have a secret that my husband didn't know. of course, you understand bud best; but be sure, quite sure, that it is right before you keep anything from him, won't you?" a wail from within the cabin brought both the girls to their feet. the fortunate rule that most women who have to worry over their husbands have children to divert their minds was unbroken in melissa's case. she wiped her eyes, took the morsel from the bed, and kissed it passionately, while sydney looked on with avid gaze. "may i take her for a little while, melissa?" she asked, humbly. "she's so sweet!" v a strong man's weakness through all the year's round of weather, good and bad; through the snow of january and the wind of march; through the glare of the warm april days before the foliage casts its protective shade over the earth; through the heat of midsummer and the glorious wine-clear air of october, round again to the rigors of christmas,--through all the circle of the twelvemonth melissa's door stood open. to all appearance, ventilation is a hobby ridden and overridden in the carolina mountains, but the doors are not left open for hygiene's sake, or even in hospitality's good name. it is to promote the performance of the ordinary duties of life, more comfortably carried on in the light than in the dark; for since the shuttered openings that serve as windows are unglazed, the door must be left open to admit the sun's bright rays. the one room of melissa's cabin was scrupulously clean. pictures of the president and of one of the happy victims of somebody's pleasant pain-killer were tacked upon the walls beside long strings of dried red peppers and of okra. a gourd, cut into the shape of a cup, hung upon a nail by its crooked neck. the bed was covered neatly with a blue-and-white homespun coverlet, and a kettle steamed upon the fire at the opposite end of the room. the sunlight swept across the floor as far as sydney's feet, and glinted upon the silver spur at her left heel. it crept up to her radiant face and glowing hair. as she held the little baby in her strong young arms, she stood transfigured like an angel of old in the eyes of friedrich von rittenheim as he walked up the trail that served as an approach to the cabin. "_himmlisches mädchen_," he whispered, and pulled off his cap with a feeling of guilt that he was bringing into this pure presence his thoughts of hatred and revenge. little miss yarebrough had a narrow escape from a fall as her temporary nurse's eyes fell upon the figure outside the door. "ah, baron, it is you!" cried sydney, tucking the baby into the hollow of one arm and extending her hand. "grandmother has been disturbed about you. have you been away? it is a long time since you were at oakwood." "has it seemed so to you?" he said, tenderly. "i have been to the town, and i am but now r-returned within a pair of minutes. i have come to ask mrs. yare-brough to put into order my house for me." the unexpected sight of sydney was like the sudden breaking out of sunshine through a bank of stormy cloud to the man whose whole mind had been filled for days with poisonous thoughts. he beamed upon melissa and shook hands with her cordially. "yes, sir, ah'll go this mo'nin'. you-all wants yo' flo's mopped up, ah suppose." she took the baby from sydney and laid her on the bed, and began to get together what paraphernalia she needed. "bud ain' comin' home to dinner, so ah c'n stay 'n cook yo's 'f ye want," she called, cheerily, breaking in upon the silence that had fallen between her two guests; a silence fraught with happiness for the man, and with a return of that terrible shyness for the girl. why she, the belle of two seasons, whose composure always had been the envy of the girls of her age, should stand overcome with embarrassment before this jeans-clad german she truly did not know. all power of initiative seemed to have passed from her, and von rittenheim stood before her and feasted his eyes upon her in a way that she had been wont to condemn as "horridly foreign," and she did nothing to relieve the situation. at last the happy idea of flight suggested itself. she pinned her hat more securely and unlooped her skirt. the glow died from von rittenheim's face. "you go? so goes ever-ything from me--love and fr-riendship--and even hope," he added, in a whisper. then, as sydney looked at him curiously, "let me bring yonny for you." sydney kissed a "good-by" upon the fat hand of the baby, now hooded for her journey to the baron's, and murmured to melissa,-- "you will think of what i said? you will be quite sure?" she turned and surrendered her slender, booted foot to the baron's palm, and was tossed deftly into the saddle. she had no realization of the thrill that went through him at the touch; he had no notion of the admiration that his dexterity roused in her. "i came by a path through the woods and tore down some of bud's fence. will you go with me and put it up? it is only a little way." von rittenheim was delighted at the prolongation of his happiness. to walk with his hand on her horse's neck; to do her a trifling service! it was heaven! "you will come soon to oakwood, won't you? grandmother is eager to see you, and we are expecting some guests from new york on this afternoon's train--the wendells; i want them to know you." the words were as sweet as the voice, and he repeated them in a whisper as he put together the rails of bud's fence after johnny's surmounting heels had cleared them. then the chill swept around his heart again. it did seem to him as if he were losing everything that made life good. in the old country he had yielded up the little that was left after happiness had been stolen from him. here he had yearned for friendship, and it had played him a scurvy trick; he had begun to see a faint glimmer of hope at the end of the black cavern--just a point of light that gave promise of a land of sun and cheer beyond. and now he felt that he had no right to travel towards that point of light, to strive to reach it and make that land his own, while shame hung over him, and black and bitter thoughts filled his heart. his was a simple nature, von rittenheim's,--one that yielded easily to the common thralls of love and life. he should have been the happy head of a family with the daily round of duties on a large estate to occupy his thoughts. it was one of the freaks of fate that the kindly outpourings of his heart always had been flung back at him. unkind chance had done her best to ruin a gentle and trusting disposition. he was musing on his wrongs as he tramped along the path between bud's cabin and his own. his high-flung head was bent and his gaze downcast. he struck ruthlessly at the dry stalks of goldenrod on the bank, nodding southward before the prevailing wind. he still was brooding as he approached his cabin; brooding so darkly as to bring over his judgment the dim mists of error and of injustice with their attendant cloud of revenge. a mud-spattered buggy before the door drew his attention. it must be--yet how would he dare? still it _was_ dr. morgan's buggy. that long-haired black mule was unmistakable. the sight of it shook von rittenheim as a breeze drives through pine-boughs. he felt choked, and put his hand to his throat. the old man had come to exult over him, and what could he do in his own house? ah, there was only one thing to be done. everything pushed him towards it. but _now_--he would not be so cowardly as not to face the man he hated, though a step into the brush beside the road would have concealed him. as he approached he saw the doctor's tall figure filling the height of the doorway, though there was plenty of room to spare on each side. he was talking to melissa yarebrough, who was within making a fire as a preliminary to her cleaning and cooking operations. "he sent you-all over, did he? well, ah 'low that means he's coming along in a little bit. he's been away? is that so? ah wonder where. oh, here he is. how are you, baron? pretty day, isn't it? melissa tells me you-all've been away." "yes," curtly. "i have been away, as no one should know better than you." "better'n me? ah never knew it till this minute when melissa told me. ah was at mrs. carroll's this morning, and she commissioned me to find out where you-all were at, and why you hadn't been to see her. she had sent sydney to my house for news, but ah missed her on the road somehow. the old lady put me through mah catechism, and ah couldn't tell her anything about you since the day sophy and ah were here, so ah came by to find out." "do you dare say to me, sir, that you do not know where i have been?" "ah certainly do say it! how in the world should ah know all the movements of people in god-forsaken coves like this?" the german's persistence was beginning to irritate the carolinian, grown autocratic and unaccustomed to question by long years of practice among a country-folk submissive to the dictation of a leader. "you are under my r-roof there where you stand. come you down here where only heaven's blue covers you, and i will tell you some things which it is well that you should know." to keep them out of mischief friedrich thrust his clinched hands into his pockets. morgan did not see the application of von rittenheim's words about the sky, but he felt a threat in his tone, and, being no coward, he came down the steps promptly. he even went so far as to dispense with his quid. a sharp contrast they presented,--the german, erect, well-poised, plainly a soldier in spite of his ill-fitting clothes; the american, lank and stomachless, yet taller than the other in spite of his bent shoulders. his tawny beard was guiltless of care. of all his slack body only his eyes showed alertness as they looked sidewise from under his old felt hat. "ah don't know what you-all are driving at, but ah'm thirsting fo' that information you're advertising to present me with free!" he drawled. von rittenheim now had himself under control, though his feet and hands were cold because of the retreat to his head of the fighting fluid. "let me ask you--after you were here with mrs. morgan--it is now three weeks ago--did you not meet a man who asked you the way?" "asked the way? let me see. yes, ah 'low we did. white horse?" "a white horse. exactly," returned von rittenheim, dryly. "you directed him on his road only too well." "what do you mean? he asked if there was any cut that would shorten the way to asheville, and ah told him the shortest he could do was to stick to the state road." "allow me to tell you, sir, that you lie." dr. morgan flung up his head angrily. but he was loath to think that von rittenheim, whom he liked, was trying to pick a quarrel with him. besides, english spoken with a foreign accent fails to carry conviction to ears unaccustomed to hearing it, and morgan thought the german unfortunate in his choice of a word. "you mean ah'm mistaken, and there is a short cut? if there is, ah don't know it. where do you leave the state road?" "i mean, sir, that you tell not the truth, that you lie, when you say that that was your conversation with that man. you lie, i say!" now there could be no mistake. the doctor's sixty years fell from him like a mantle. he looked a young man, and his face unfurled the banner of wrath that knows no nation, but calls all the earth its own. the two men glared at each other like dogs leaping against their collars, eager to bury their teeth in each other's throats. "by god," growled the elder man, "if you-all weren't a damned foreigner ah'd kill you! but ah suppose you don't know any better, and ah've got to let you alone." he turned and walked to his buggy. he did not forget to pat the noses of the horse and mule that drew his equipage. he clambered into the carriage, which protested, creaking, against his weight, and he jogged slowly out of sight. "oh, my lawd," he whispered to himself, gently rocking from side to side,--"oh, my lawd, why ain't he an american? oh, why ain't he? but a foreigner! he ain't responsible!" friedrich watched the retreating buggy with mingled disgust and surprise. "why did he not r-resent that? if not that, what? he is br-rave, that is clear; then why does he not fight? ah, these americans, i compr-rehend them not!" a furnace of indignation, he walked into the house. he passed through his living-room, where melissa was scrubbing the floor and singing a doleful hymn as an encouragement to exertion, and went into his bedroom. there, in the glass, he suddenly came upon his own face, filled with bitterness, scowling. he paused, shocked that this mask of hatred should be his. abashed, he turned away from the too truthful mirror of his tell-tale features. a gurgling sound fell upon his ear, and he saw, lying contentedly upon his bed, babbling inexplicable nothings, waving meaningless gestures, rosy, happy, a baby--melissa's baby. the soldier looked down upon her solemnly. his face grew less stern and his whole form seemed to relax. glancing guiltily towards the open door of the other room, he leaned over the bed, and, turning the little head to one side with the tip of his forefinger, he kissed the baby's cheek just on the rosiest spot. vi "i warrant there's vinegar and pepper in't!" a heavy rain was beating against the windows with intermittent bursts of fury. dr. morgan, sitting in front of the fire in the room in which sydney and bob had had their painful interview on the previous morning, heard a mandatory whoop from without. thrusting his stockinged feet into his slippers, and laying down the _pickwick papers_ with a sigh for the probability of his having to make a visit in such a storm, he opened the door. a blast of wind brought in a sheet of rain that dampened the ashes swept from the fireplace by the sudden draught. "o-oh, doctor!" came a voice from the rider on the other side of the fence. "hullo! who are you?" "bud yarebrough. ah got a letter fo' you." "well, light, ye fool, and put yo' beast under the shack." the doctor slammed the door and shivered back into the range of the fire's glow. "come in," he shouted, when he heard bud's stamping feet on the porch. "come in and warm. who's sick, melissa or the baby?" bud unwound the scarf that protected his ears, shook the water from his jacket, and began to untie the strings that secured pieces of sacking to his feet. "ne'er one. m'lissy's tol'able, 'n the baby's right smart. doctor, ah don' know's ah ever knew a baby 's was 's lively 's sydney m'lissy." "common failing o' first babies," grunted the doctor. "now mos' babies," pursued bud, spreading out his scarf and the pieces of burlap to dry before the blaze,--"mos' babies ain' overly interestin', but ah 'low ah never saw a baby suck her thumb no prettier'n sydney m'lissy!" "did you-all say something about a letter?" the doctor was torn between a desire to be hospitable and a yearning to return to sam weller. "yes, ah got a letter fo' ye." bud began to hunt in the inner recesses of his apparel. "'n ah 'low he cain't be well." "he? who?" the doctor's hopes of picking up his book again, which had risen when he heard of the admirable physical state of melissa and the baby, sank once more. "mr. baron. he sho' mus' be crazy to go out in such weather's this, 'n what's mo', to expect me to." "he seemed to know the right person to apply to." "that's the trouble with me. ah'm that lackin' in good sense ah do anythin' anybody asts me to 'cos ah'm flattered to be ast!" "does he say he's sick?" "he don' say so, but he looks powerful res'-less 'n wild-like. he came over 'bout noon 'n ast me would ah carry you this letter." here bud's prolonged search resulted in the discovery of the letter's outline under his sweater, and he extracted it by way of the neck of that elastic garment. "ah said, no, ah wa'n' no fool to go out in such weather, 'n then he cut loose 'n talked the most awful language. ah couldn' understan' a word of hit; ah reckon hit's his foreign words or somethin', but ah never heard anythin' like hit befo'. 'n then he ast me again, mahty quiet like, wouldn' ah take this letter to you-all fo' him, 'n ah jus' natchelly thought ah would!" the boy grinned sheepishly. the doctor nodded and ran his finger under the flap of the envelope. "so you think he's sick." "m'lissy does. when ah was puttin' the saddle on the mule she come out to the stable with them bits o' crocus sack fo' mah feet, 'n she said mr. baron'd jus' gone, 'n she 'lowed he had a fever comin' on, he looked so bad." dr. morgan was reading the letter for the second time, frowning heavily over it. "what do you-all think yo'self?" "well, ah don' see how he can be right to walk a mile to our house in this weather, not needin' to, 'n to _in_-sist on mah comin' here. is they e'er an answer?" the older man rose and put a log on the fire, while bud gathered together his primitive panoply and began to arm himself against the elements. "you tell him, bud, that ah'll attend to it when the mud dries after this rain. ah get enough hauling round to do in the mud, without anything extra," he added. bud's curiosity was suffering. "ain' you-all goin' to see him?" "you tell him what ah say." the doctor picked up his book with an air of dismissal. "shut the do' tight," he called, and then read the same page three times over with unthinking mind, until he heard bob's step coming down the stairs. "bob." "sir?" the young man looked out of the window, wondering how soon the rain would stop enough for him to go to see sydney. "read this." bob took the letter. "the baron," he said, studying the small, foreign hand. "read it aloud." bob began obediently: "my dear sir,--it is now more than three weeks that you played upon me a trick most treacherous. what it was i will not relate, for it would be needless. this i do assert, and more, that when you tell me you do not know what i mean, as you told me yesterday, you say not the truth. when i demand that you give to me the satisfaction that a gentleman should offer to another under such circumstances, i feel that i am treating you with a courtesy which you do not deserve. i think a whipping would suit better your contemptibility. still, nevertheless, i conceal my pride, and i beg that you will meet me at whatever place you may appoint, and that you will fight with me with any weapon that you may choose. "my unfriended condition in this country makes it not possible that i should be accompanied by a person who shall be suitable to be my second. but i entreat that my poverty in this respect will not deter you from bringing a friend with you. "i am, sir, "yours with faithfulness, "friedrich johann ludwig v. rittenheim." bob whistled,--a long sibilation of amazement,--and then laughed and laughed again. "what have you-all been doing to the old fellow?" "ah haven't any idea." "he says you talked it over yesterday." "you hardly could say we discussed it," said the doctor, dryly. "he insisted that ah knew the drift o' his remarks, which ah didn't, and rung in something about a man on a white horse." "who was he?" "blamed if ah know. ah begin to think, like bud, the man's sick. he certainly was angry over something, and he used pretty strong language." "swearing?" "no. told me ah lied." bob whistled again. "that warmed you under the collar, i suspect?" "it did wilt mah linen a trifle. however, ah took it that, being a foreigner, he didn't know just how strong a word he was employing, so ah drove off and left him." "i reckon from this," holding up the letter, "he did know, and meant just what he said. it looks as if you'd been too lenient. you ought to have given him a biff or two on the spot." "maybe ah had oughter." morgan pulled his beard thoughtfully. bob read the letter through once more. "quaint english, isn't it? the idea of a regular challenge gets me. i don't know when i've come across anything funnier." "the notion ain't so novel to me, but duels are scarce nowadays. the state ain't so overly encouraging to them. hand me down those statutes and let me see exactly how they fix us." bob took the book from the shelf against the wall, and the doctor turned over the pages. "here it is, in the constitution. 'article xiv., section . penalty for fighting a duel. no person who shall hereafter fight a duel, or assist in the same as a second, or send, accept, or knowingly carry a challenge therefor, or agree to go out of the state to fight a duel, shall hold any office in this state.' h'm," sniffed the doctor. "strikes me that won't prevent a lot of people from fighting. it discriminates against the would-be office-holder, but not against _me_, who wouldn't swallow an office if you put it in mah mouth." "or von rittenheim, who wouldn't know one if he saw it! perhaps it's a delicate tribute to the desire of all north carolinians to serve their state." "what disturbs me," said dr. morgan, shutting the book, "is that ah like the fellow, and ah don't want to shoot him all up fo' nothing. and, as ah said befo', ah sho' do think the fever's coming on him." "what are you going to do?" "blest if ah know!" "what answer did you send?" "ah told bud to tell him ah'd attend to it when the mud dried." "good. that'll give you two or three days to find out what's the matter with him. oh, what a joke, what a joke!" bob subsided into a chair, overcome with joy at the idea of his father as a participant in a formal duel. "let me know how it comes on, won't you, sir? may i be your second?" "no," returned the doctor, hunting his place in the discarded novel. "ah'm laying off to have you governor some day, and ah don't want to have you disqualified this early!" bob grinned appreciatively, and again explored the clouds. "i'm going to see sydney. may i show her this?" bob took his father's "h'm" for an assent, and went out to saddle his horse. von rittenheim, sitting before the fire with _wallenstein's lager_ on his knee, but with eyes bent upon the flames that burst with tiny explosions from the logs, and with mind wandering far from thoughts of schiller,--von rittenheim was waiting with what patience he could command for bud's return. with the falling of the wind at dusk the rain ceased. friedrich lighted his lamp and opened his door to look up the road, a view not commanded by his single window. he prepared his evening meal of coffee and bread and the batter-cakes that he had learned to like and then to make in this land of the frying-pan. still bud did not come. at eleven o'clock he went to bed, for he knew that no countryman, unless he were going for the doctor, would be abroad at that hour, with such mud under foot. the next day's noon brought no news of the recreant messenger, and von rittenheim went to the yarebroughs' cabin in search of him. "he ain' home," melissa said, in the raised voice that she felt to be necessary to the german's understanding of her english. "he's gone to shoot cotton-tails. ah 'low ah'll make you-all a pie, 'f ye like," she added, offering this practical sympathy to the suffering that she saw written on his face. "a pie of cotton-tails! delightful! it will give me pleasure," said von rittenheim, politely, with vague notions of birds floating through his brain. "did he--bud--br-ring no message for me yesterday in the afternoon?" "no. he said the doctor 'lowed he'd 'tend to hit--what yo' letter was about--when the mud dried, 'n bud reckoned that wasn' no message, 'n hit wasn' no use goin' over to tell you jus' that." "when the mud dried," repeated friedrich. "remarkable! good-morning, mrs. yarebrough. most remarkable!" he kept repeating to himself as he walked home. "he is not afraid, of that i am certain. why, then, does he delay? remarkable!" vii in the southern appalachians it was five o'clock, and a pretty girl, katrina wendell, was standing at one of the long windows of the drawing-room at oakwood, looking out upon the storm. she had not sydney's unusual beauty, nor had she her imperious manner, the heritage to southern women from generations of slave-holding ancestors; but she had charm and a certain distinction, and she had the stamp with which new york seals her daughters imprinted upon every tuck and frill of her clever gown. "katrina, it isn't polite to look so bored," said her brother john, who was amusing himself with sydney's help by drawing caricatures of the men of the day. katrina flushed. she _was_ bored, but john was a beast to mention it. she had just brought her first season to an ignominious close by falling in love with the worst match of the year,--tom schuyler, handsome, irrepressible, and penniless. mrs. wendell promptly had refused her consent to the engagement, and, with equal decision and what tom called "disgusting alacrity," had sent her daughter south under her brother's care to accept the hospitality of mrs. carroll, a life-long friend. under the circumstances it was not strange that the prospect from the window did not appeal to katrina. john, on the other hand, was reaping his reward for the self-sacrifice that had made him accept the duty of escorting his sister to north carolina. unlike the martyrs of old who went unprotesting to their doom, he had obeyed his mother's commands in no submissive spirit. it was a relief to the keenness of his martyrdom to kick against the pricks, and kick he did from new york to flora, during all such parts of the twenty-four hours as were not occupied in attending to the wants of his admirable appetite, or in yielding to the refreshment of such repose as a sleeping-car can offer. even he felt that his recompense was undeservedly great when he found himself welcomed at the little flora flag-station by sydney. he was twenty-eight, and at that age a pretty girl still stands far up on the list of diversions. no, decidedly, john was not bored. katrina made no answer to her brother's accusation. "poor katrina," said sydney, going to the window and standing beside her guest. "it is an abominable day for your first one. just look at that!"--she summoned john by a glance over her shoulder; "pouring! and usually we pride ourselves on our view." sheets of rain were driving across the field at the foot of the knoll upon which the house stood. at times the mountains beyond were shut off entirely. again the clouds overhead blew past, and through a leaden light the storms in the distance could be seen, thickening under some canopy of blackness, or ceasing as the upper mist grew thin. "what an advantage it gives you to have such a stretch of open country," said john. "here you can see a storm coming when it is yet twenty miles away, and make your plans accordingly; but in new york, with the horizon line on the roofs of the houses across the street, you may be caught by a shower that was lurking over the battery when you left your own door." "i can't understand the foliage being so little advanced," said katrina. "it's the last of april, and yet the leaves hardly are starting. they aren't much ahead of the park." "you expected a florida climate, perhaps. we never cease to have winter letters from people in the north who lament their cold, and wish they were with us on our 'rose-covered veranda in the sunny south,' and it may be zero when we are reading their flights of imagination." "is it really ever as cold as that?" "not often, but quite often enough. i've known snow as late as the twentieth of april, and i've been to a picnic on buzzard mountain in january." "we're always hearing about this wonderful climate. it sounds as if it were remarkable chiefly for eccentricity." "oh, the average temperature is very even. the summers are delightful, too,--a long warm season instead of a short hot one. though you may have fires now and then, it's not cool enough to close the windows, night or day, from the first of may to the first of october, and yet it seldom goes over eighty-five." "it's the equilibrium between altitude and latitude, showing what it can do, isn't it?" asked john. "the fact that we are half a mile above the booming waters of the deep, my dear katrina, counterbalances the nine hundred miles that lie between us and that large and noisy city to which i have no doubt your heart is turning fondly." "here are some men on horseback, sydney," said katrina, again ignoring her brother. the wind was dying and the rain was lessening with each fitful gust. "are they cavaliers approaching the presence, or hinds of the estate coming to crave an audience?" demanded john, who professed much amusement at what he had seen of the semi-feudal manner of life at oakwood, and at sydney's responsibilities with regard to the work of the farm and to the tenants. the girl peered into the gathering gloom. "it must be bob morgan. yes, it is; and that looks like patton mcrae's black mare." "by their nags ye shall know them," said john. "who are these estimable youths? i look upon them with the eye of jealousy." "bob morgan? oh, he's dr. morgan's son. you passed his house near the post-office. and the mcraes live at cotswold; there's a big family of them. will you ring for tea, mr. wendell?" "i fly to do your bidding, even though it be to succor my rivals, for such i feel they are," and he slapped his chest melodramatically. much stamping of feet and shaking of garments heralded the announcement of the two young men by uncle jimmy, the old colored butler. "how good of you both to come in this weather," said sydney, flashing a greeting at each one in turn. "you are just in time to prevent miss wendell from being bored to death." "delighted to prevent your demise," said patton, promptly, and attached himself at once to katrina's following. "uncle jimmy," said sydney to the old man who was poking the fire with an assiduity born of a desire to stay in the room as long as possible, "tell mrs. carroll that tea is just coming in, and that mr. bob and mr. patton are here." "see what you've brought us, mr. mcrae," katrina was saying, as a ray of sunshine broke the twilight darkness. the mountains stood a deep and penetrable blue against a golden break behind the balsams. fierce black clouds hurried across the upper sky, dragging after them ragged ends of mist, and beneath this roofing the setting sun aimed its luminous shafts across the _rest_ made by pisgah's rugged peak. no one broke the spell of beauty by a word, but wendell saw a glance pass between sydney and bob,--the look of sympathy sure of its fellow. the sound of mrs. carroll's cane brought them all to their feet. she entered, tiny, autocratic, keen, leaning upon uncle jimmy's faithful arm. "good afternoon, bob. good afternoon, patton. you are doubly welcome on this stormy day. put my chair a little more to the side of the fireplace, bob. yes, patton, the footstool, if you please. you may go, james. john, the hook for my cane is on the left of the mantel-piece. katrina, tell sydney to put a shade less cream in my tea than she did yesterday. no cake, thank you, john, but a rusk,--yes, a rusk appeals to me. bob, what wild thing did you do on that horse of yours on your way here?" "not a thing, mrs. carroll. he came along like a shetland pony. gray eagle doesn't like rain. it depresses him." "patton is riding the black mare to-day, grandmother," called sydney from behind her tea equipage. the old lady raised her eyes in comical despair and shook her head mournfully. "you certainly have courage, my dear child." "only the courage of a cotswold lion, i'm afraid. but you mustn't be distressed about her, she's really beginning to do sydney credit." "you see, mr. wendell, black monday was raised on the place here, and she's been the hardest colt to break of any we ever had. patton owns her now, but i feel a personal responsibility for her because he took her out of my hands before she was thoroughly quiet." "i see," nodded john, gravely, in accord with sydney's seriousness. "you fear some burst of girlish exuberance." "did you see her roll in her saddle just as we were coming out of church sunday?" asked patton, turning eagerly to sydney. "how do you dare to use such half-broken creatures?" cried katrina. "my dear," said mrs. carroll, "when you've been with us a little while you'll realize how close we are to primitive conditions. to-day you break the horse you mean to ride next week. to-morrow you kill the steer or the pig or the chickens that were your pets to-day." "i suppose it must be so always in the country, but you can't be very primitive here with a large town near by and a railroad." "in reality we are only as far from the asheville court house as the people on the upper boundary of the bronx are from castle garden; but in point of convenience, owing to the scarcity of trains and their poor arrangement, we are almost as near to washington." "still, the railroad has opened the country and given the farmers new markets," asserted john. "undoubtedly; but that is not an unmixed good, in my opinion," said mrs. carroll, stoutly. "they sell more cabbages and apples, but they buy cheap fabrics and ready-made clothing in place of the stout homespun that the women used to weave." "you'd be surprised," said patton, "to know how little the country people use the railroad. there was an example of it day before yesterday. a man from mcdowell's creek, about six miles from flora, took his first train-ride since the road was put through, fifteen years ago." "how extraordinary that seems! it was the day of his life, i suppose." katrina's eyes were large with amazement. "in a way it was," said bob, dryly, "for in asheville he celebrated his adventures not wisely, but too well, and on the way out he fell from the platform and was killed." "bob, how can you be so flippant?" objected sydney to the crestfallen young man. "it seems a terrible end." "all sudden deaths seem terrible to us who are left behind," said mrs. carroll; "but even such an ending does not give us the shock that it would if we did not live in a community accustomed to the accidents consequent upon every man's carrying a revolver. it's a bad habit. i hope you boys don't do it." "no, indeed, mrs. carroll," they both replied, with suspicious promptness, and they sat up very straight, so that the backs of their coats presented an unbroken line. john smiled at them. "are they often used?" he asked. "quite too often," answered sydney, gravely. "as grandmother says, we do, indeed, live close to nature. if a man is angry with his neighbor, he calls him to his door on some moonless night and shoots him." "in primitive society the primitive wants of man are satisfied in primitive ways," remarked bob. "moses ought to have put the ten commandments on something stronger than stone if he meant them to be unbroken," added patton. mrs. carroll shook her head at him. "i don't see how you can be so very primitive," insisted katrina. "now this----" she glanced expressively about the room, where old portraits surmounted the dark panelling and heavy rugs glowed warmly in the firelight. "oh, we are as composite in our mountains as are the people of any other part of these composite united states," said sydney. "the mountaineers themselves are a mixture. there are men in coves distant from the railroad who are living on land to which their ancestors drove up their cattle from the low country three or four generations ago. these men are a law unto themselves. they have no opportunities for educating their children, and once in a while you hear of a family that never has heard the name of god." "my great-grandfather came here in the early eighteen hundreds," said bob, "and a queer lot he must have found. they say that there was a crop of younger sons of good english families which had been planted here as a good country for the culture of wild oats." "i suppose that in the eighteenth century this was as remote a place as any to lose black sheep in, if losing was their desire," suggested john. "it's quite true, quite true, what bob says," mrs. carroll took up the explanation. "mr. carroll used to tell me that he knew it to be a fact that bud yarebrough's father--bud is a ne'er-do-weel who lives in a cove not many miles from here, katrina, my dear--was a great-grandson of one of the dukes of calverley." "then melissa's baby is the lady sydney melissa something-or-other!" laughed sydney. "there's a legend of a penal colony, too," said patton. "that is disputed," replied mrs. carroll. "if there was one, pink pressley is of its lineage, i am sure," said sydney. "if heredity counts for anything, i should think that a colony of black sheep whose diet had been wild oats would account for all the lawlessness of the community," offered john. "for a great deal of it, undoubtedly, and their life of freedom from restraint for so many years would be responsible for more." "but these people are not close about you here," exclaimed katrina. "indeed, they are. they are our neighbors and our friends. why, there's a tenant on our place who has been tried twice for murder." "bob and i found a deserted still in the woods over the creek the other day," said sydney. "that suggests another of our friends' occupations." "but your influence must be at work among them constantly." "we hope it is, and that is why we lay stress upon the compositeness of our settlement," said mrs. carroll. "there are the country people we've been telling you about, and there's a group of what we call neighborhood people, for distinction's sake. the delaunays at the cliff were originally from new orleans, and the hugers were from charleston, and we came from virginia. before the war we used to come over the mountains every summer in carriages to take refuge from the heat of the lowlands, and after the war we were glad to live here permanently." "it was post-bellum poverty that drove us here from the scotch-presbyterian settlements in the middle of the state," said patton. "we're another element." "and is there really fusion going on as there is in other parts of the country?" asked katrina. "my people have assimilated with the peasantry, as i suppose mrs. carroll calls them, ever since they came," said bob. "this settlement must be unique," said john. "no. i know of two not very far from here, and i've heard of others. the more fortunate people consider themselves as closely allied to the country as do the mountaineers. we are integral parts, and we insist on being so considered." "we aren't a wholly bad lot, we mountaineers," said bob. "i speak as of the soil, you see. too much whisky and tobacco and hog-meat have deprived us of physical beauty, and we are sadly lacking in moral strength, but the life of freedom and lawlessness developed good traits, too. we don't lie,--that is, about important things," he added, hastily, putting his hand under his coat; "and we don't steal, and we are loyal to our friends." "especially when the minions of the law are after them," grinned patton. "ah, you've betrayed yourselves," cried sydney. "i know it was you two boys who hid pink pressley when the revenue men were chasing him the last time." "the last time?" john asked the question. "oh, pink used to be a chronic moonshiner. he seems to be a reformed pirate now," said patton. "he must be in love." "whisky is the curse of this country," said mrs. carroll, vehemently, while bob gazed into the fire and sydney played with the sugar-tongs. "you can't deny lying, bob, when the moonshiners are lying to the revenue men every day, and their friends are lying in their behalf; and you can't say they don't steal, when they are defrauding the government with every quart of blockade they sell. the mountaineers may be loyal to their friends, but it is to conceal crime." "illicit stilling seems to be regarded like smuggling," said john. "the government is fair game." "whisky stunts the growth of children, and blunts the morals of youth, and makes murderers of men," went on the old lady, disregarding john's interruption, and sitting with expressive straightness. a silence fell upon the group that john and katrina felt to be painful without understanding why. patton and sydney were burning with sympathy for bob. it was patton who broke the quiet. "and they drink it from a dipper!" the ensuing laughter snapped the strain of embarrassment. "we have another class of people that we haven't described to katrina," said sidney. "the resident foreigners." "like baron von rittenheim," said bob, absently, staring at the fire. "another title! how in the world did he come here?" asked katrina. "oh, he's one of the footballs of fate," said patton. "usually they're english,--the footballs," said bob. "they come here to mend either health or fortune, stay a few years, and go away." "mended?" "yes, in health, if they--stop drinking." bob brought it out with a jerk. "this climate's great, you know." "but not with improved finances?" "yes, that too. it's a fine place for economy." "for what purpose did this german come?" asked katrina. "he's one of the mysteries," said patton, rising to take his leave. bob called sydney from the drawing-room into the hall, and handed her a letter. "father got it this afternoon," he said. "it's awfully funny." sydney took it from its envelope. bob, bending to buckle on his spurs, did not see her flush at the signature and then grow pale as she read. "bob," she whispered, hoarsely, "promise me,--promise that you'll let me know--if they do it--when it's going to be." and bob, who had no thought but to amuse her, said, heartily, "why, of course." had von rittenheim, sitting before his fire awaiting bud's return, been able to see into the minds of his neighbors, he would have found matter more productive of mental confusion than were english irregular verbs to him. that dr. morgan, after receiving a challenge, could settle back to the perusal of the _pickwick papers_ as placidly as if he had attended to the last minute detail of the conventions attendant upon that process called "giving satisfaction," was a thing that his traditions, his education, and his environment had put it out of his power to understand. that bob could regard the incident as a joke was even farther from his grasp. an indifference caused by a lack of fear,--that was within his range. but that this method of wiping out an insult should be regarded as funny,--of such an emotion under such circumstances he could not conceive. sydney's feeling, could he have known it, was closer to his comprehension, because it is not beyond man's imagination to guess, approximately, the frame of mind into which a woman would be thrown upon hearing of such a prospective meeting. what he could not see was the importance that his own part played in the girl's fear. the thing seemed to her barbaric, mediæval, horrible. she shook to think of harm that might come to her good old friend, the doctor. she became an abject coward when she remembered that the old man was noted throughout the mountains as a perfect shot. she could not understand herself. she had not had this feeling at all when ben frady had cleared the open space before the post-office of all loafers, and she unwittingly had ridden on to the scene, and, grasping the situation, had demanded his revolver from him and had received it. not until afterwards had she had any such sensations as this, when a message had come to the house that the negroes on the farm were cutting each other, and she had walked in upon them and had ordered them to separate. bob had told her that he didn't know what it was all about, and the uncertainty made the situation only more disquieting. like most southern women, it did not occur to her to interfere before the event in any affair that was men's own; but she began to formulate a plan that depended for its success upon bob's keeping her informed as to the course pursued by his father. could she depend on him? her anxiety was cruel. viii sydney rides against time three days later bud brought to von rittenheim the following note: "dear baron,--i say again that i haven't any idea what you are driving at, but i never yet went back on a fight, so if you still want one i'll meet you at twelve o'clock to-morrow on top of buck mountain. i think you went to a picnic there when the chestnuts were ripe last fall, so you know the place. i'll take the weapons along with me, and you can examine them when you get there. i don't want any second. "yours truly, "henry morgan." von rittenheim puzzled over the english of this document, and nodded his head in satisfaction. "at last he performs his duty. buck mountain i know. it is a distant spot, ten miles from here. he is strange not to say what are the weapons; but what can you expect?" with a shrug derogating the social experience of his adopted land, he proceeded to negotiate with bud for the use of his mule on the next day. it was nearly eleven o'clock on the following morning when bob morgan drew rein before the carrolls' door, and asked to see sydney. "beg her to come to the door just a moment, uncle jimmy. no, i'll not send the horse around. and she'll want johnny saddled at once. send word to the stable, please." when she appeared he ran up the steps as far as his bridle would allow, and spoke in a low voice, with a glance at the windows. "it's this morning, sydney, at twelve. will you come? father didn't tell me about it until just as he was leaving the house, and he said he didn't want me, but i'd promised you, and we'll be in time if we hurry, i've ordered johnny." the girl clutched her throat with a feeling that every bit of strength was leaving her body. bob, buckling his curb rein, saw nothing. his only thought was to give her some sport. a fight, more or less, counted but little with him personally; and he did not think that this one actually would take place, else he would not have considered taking a girl to it. sydney spared a thought of wonder at bob's nonchalance, but as swiftly reflected that perhaps men always were cool in such emergencies. to her it meant murder,--the crime of life destroyed. and whose life? perhaps that of her dear old friend. perhaps----! the blood surged back to her brain and she mastered herself. "we have so little time," she panted. "i'll be ready in a minute." before the horse was at the mounting-block she was awaiting him, buttoning her gloves, while she extended her foot for bob to buckle her spur. she had put on her riding-skirt, but otherwise was as she had come to the door. "don't you-all want a coat, sydney?" asked bob, solicitously. "or a hat?" "no, i'm quite warm. where is that boy? hurry, clint," she called to the little negro, who was bringing the horse around with a slowness born of his enjoyment of the brief ride. "off with you, quick, now, boy!" it was bob, who was catching the girl's impatience. "here, take gray eagle." he flung his bridle to the lad, and threw sydney into the saddle as quickly as she could wish. she adjusted herself carefully, for she knew how the discomfort of a twisted skirt may make a difference of a minute in the mile, or may mean real danger at a jump. "there's no time to lose, it's five minutes past eleven now," she said, glancing at a strap watch on her wrist, and touching johnny with her spur. bob's horse was off in pursuit before his master was well on his back. "i declare, she might have given me a fairer start!" he growled, as the sorrel settled down ahead of him into a run that bade fair to keep even the advantage. they had had many a race, bob and sydney, and usually it was the girl who was the more cautious rider of the two. to-day, however, she took risks that amazed even her old-time playmate, who thought he knew her every mood. by the long driveway and the road it was two miles to the doctor's house, and five from there to the foot of buck mountain. by a cut across the sheep-pasture the first part of the way could be reduced nearly a mile. "she certainly is keen for the fun," thought bob, as he saw sydney turn from the avenue and drive johnny at a gate which he knew that she did not care often to take. "too high for johnny. i must tell her not to do that again," he commented, as he noticed during his own flight that the top rail was split from contact with the first horse's heels. [illustration: a fence at the top of a sharp ascent] down the hill and across the field tore the sorrel, leaping the branch, and slackening to allow the gray's approach only when he came to a fence whose position at the top of a sharp ascent forbade his taking it. sydney looked back impatiently as bob covered the dozen lengths between them and swung off to open the gate. "you might wait for a fellow," he grumbled, but already the girl was through, and her white blouse and ruddy hair shone half-way across the unenclosed meadow upon which she had entered. for the first time her pale face impressed bob. "looks like she saw something," he thought, with a remnant of old superstition. "i do believe she thinks there's going to be bloodshed." and with a view to reassuring her, he caught up with her in the path through the belt of woods that led from the field to the road. their horses were nose on tail, and of necessity going slowly. "sydney!" he cried, "o-oh, sydney! you don't think it's serious, do you? because----" here the path debouched into the open road, and johnny was off again before bob could finish, and his question, meant to inspirit sydney, had sounded to her only like a desire for his own reassurance, and had alarmed her more than ever. a mad feeling within pricked her to tear on without slackening. she felt that she could have galloped to the very top of the mountain without fatigue. her horsewoman's intelligence, however, warned her to think of her animal, and she took him along quietly through the open place before the post-office, giving bob a chance to catch up. he was thoroughly out of temper now. never before had sydney been so careless of him. he couldn't understand it; but he was beginning to realize that she was taking the adventure seriously, and, with boyish malice, he resolved to make no further effort to undeceive her. indeed, as they rode on slowly and silently, side by side, for a few hundred yards, he became not so sure himself that the duel was the joke that he had considered it. he knew his father to be a man ready in his own defence, and of a high, though controlled temper; and he had not overlooked the fact that the stocks of two guns were protruding from the holster that projected from under the skirt of the doctor's mcclellan. furthermore, he knew that the german was in deadly earnest. as these suspicions assailed him, he turned to sydney and touched the spur to his gray. the girl responded to his look, and they set into the steady gallop that covers much country with but little effort either to horse or rider. sydney held out her watch for bob to see. it was quarter past eleven. nearly five miles lay before them to the foot of the mountain, and to the summit there was a long, steep mile and a half which was the time-consumer to be reckoned with. a mile beyond the post-office they turned from the state road into a less-travelled, and hence rougher, side road. through a stretch of sandy mud they breathed the horses again, and then on, on, on to the big hill whose vast bulk was beginning to tower mightily before them. past the old school-house they dashed, without a glance for its forlorn state of decay; past one of the farm gates of the cotswold estate; past the baptist bethel, indistinguishable from a school-house except for the white stones in the graveyard, upon which the sun glinted cheerfully. quarter after quarter they left behind them, slowing up only for steep descents or for patches of lengthwise road-mending whose upthrust branch ends are liable to snag a horse's legs. johnny and gray eagle took in their stride the brooks that babbled gayly across the way; they shied at a glare of mica on the red clay of the bank; they dodged ruts, and leaped mud-holes, and pushed for the middle of the road. at the end of the third mile sydney asked, not lifting her eyes from the ground before her, "is the bridle-path open?" it was the first time she had spoken since they left oakwood. "i don't know. it may be washed. we'd better keep to the sled-track." "it's half a mile longer." "but the other might delay us more." sydney did not urge the point, but looked at her watch as they reached the opening where the ascent began. it was twenty minutes of twelve. without a word she held out her hand to bob. she felt sick and faint, and her companion's whistle was not reassuring. "they'll probably be late," he suggested, but he remembered as he said it that his father had left home for the meeting-place before he had started to take the news to sydney. the trail began in a steep acclivity that soon brought the horses to a walk. when it was surmounted the beasts needs must blow, though they pressed on willingly enough at a half-minute's end. a fairly level bit followed along the ridge of the foot-hill they just had climbed. it was not wide enough for them to travel abreast, and johnny led with a sharp trot that made clever avoidance of the stones and roots and stumps that sprang into sight before him as at the summons of a malignant spirit. the next upward stretch was over a ledge of rock from which the winter's rains had washed the soil. a trickling spring kept its surface constantly wet, and its slippery face brought johnny to his knees. sydney uttered a cry which ordinarily would have been one of pity for her favorite's pain. now it was a note of fear lest the fall might mean delay. but the brave sorrel heaved himself up, and turned across the path to pant after the exertion. "are you all right, sydney?" came bob's anxious cry from below, whence he had seen the accident. "it was nothing," she called. "come, johnny, poor old man!" she patted his lowered neck, and he bent his hoofs to catch his toe-calks in the cracks of the rock. another fleeting pause at the top rewarded his endeavor, and then a couple of hundred yards of hardly perceptible upward incline produced again the swift and ready trot. five minutes more of easy climbing brought into view the tobacco barn which was one of the mountain's landmarks. beyond it the grade became much more abrupt, and although it was worn fairly smooth by the sleds of the men who planted aërial cornfields far up on the highest clearings, yet its steepness rendered this last half-mile the truly formidable part of the ascent. johnny glanced up it with regretful eye, stopped an instant, took a long breath, shook himself, and went bravely to his task. sydney's every thought was a passionate longing to press on,--to hurry, to rush, to fly. her lips grew white when she saw that the hands of her watch pointed to four minutes of twelve. "it is not possible to be in time," she agonized. "o god, delay them! o god, stop them!" she bent forward over the horse's withers, and stretched upward, as if to pull him higher by her buoyancy. she was heedless of the stream that gurgled beside the trail among the evergreen sword-fern--a noisy betrayer of the mountain's angle. she did not observe that she was alone, that bob was not following her. she was deaf to his cries as he struggled below with the gray, which was plunging against an attack of yellow jackets, and refused to take the trail. johnny stopped, his sides heaving pitiably. "oh, can i bear it? oh, go on; do go on! o god, give me strength to wait." though she tore off her gloves in nervous impatience, still she left the rein upon the horse's neck, for she knew that the willing beast was doing his best. he stopped again, and still once more, before they came to the foot of the bald, whose slippery, dead grass added another peril to the climb. the trail ended here, for it was not needed where a sled could go anywhere over the clearing. "come, dear boy. come, dear old horse," she urged. "five minutes more will take us there." the watch's cruel face told the hour to be twelve minutes past twelve, but sydney did not feel so keen a pang as when she looked last, although it was later than the fatal hour. the continued silence gave her confidence. only the bay of a hound in some cove below, and the yelp of a puppy, reached her. she was dully dogged. the horse stumbled and scrambled on. "we can't do better than our best, johnny. may god keep them! oh, johnny! my dear, faithful johnny, don't fall! get up--_get up_!" she cried. as he settled on to his side to roll up on to his feet again,--a process that his labored breathing and the weight of his rider made difficult on the sharp incline,--she slipped from his back and struggled on on foot. she was near the crest of the mountain,--the bunch of chestnut-trees on the summit showed their swelling buds against the sky just over her head,--yet how slow was her advance! the sedge-grass caught her feet; the blackberry-vines tore at her skirt; a rolling pebble threw her down upon her hands. in an instant she was up and on again,--she was at the summit at last! and there, just below the crest on the other side, facing each other on their animals, like knights of old, were the two men she sought. ix "it needed only this!" trembling she stood, looking down upon the foes below her. her hands were knotted against her breast, that heaved with nature's cry at her cruelty. the thumping of her heart shook her body mercilessly. the anguish of her soul dried her throat, and filled her eyes with dread, and made her an embodiment of horror. yet a stir of gratitude fought with fear for a place in her. "thank god, i am not too late!" was her voiceless cry. through the clear air came the sound of a voice, sharply articulate. "it is not enough that you eat my bread and go forth from my door to do your treacherous act. you come again to my house to scorn at me after my humiliation, and you have not the courage to own your falseness. and now, when i demand from you the satisfaction that most surely do you owe me, how do you make a mock at me? is that a weapon with which gentlemen do fight? is it a shot-gun that men do carry to a duel?" the hitherto still figure on the doctor's horse stirred uneasily. "and see, i break it." the mule turned back his ears, as upon them fell the click of the opening gun, followed by the drop of a shell into an open palm. "_ach_, yes, i thought so! it needed only this! this so small shot is for the birds!" a thud vibrated on the air--the sound of the flung-down weapon. "now, if you-all were only an american, ah could make you understand right quick that----" the doctor's slow drawl was broken by an exclamation from von rittenheim. morgan followed the german's eyes, and saw above them against the fleckless blue of the heavens the brilliant figure of the girl, her hands straining against her breast, her face a field where anxiety and grief flitted like clouds across the background of the sky. she came down towards them when she saw herself observed, and the two men silently dismounted as she approached, and pulled off their caps, less in salutation than from instinctive respect for deep emotion. it was a poor little appeal she made, as words went. her voice was hardly whisper-high, so labored was her breathing. she held out her hands to them one after the other, in supplication. "you won't do it! oh, please don't! i came---- you mustn't----" her breath came in gasps. von rittenheim mutely took the pleading hands in his, and reverently kissed them. he faced the doctor brokenly. "i thought you had heaped upon me every humiliation. until now this was lacking. you might have spared me this!" mounting his mule he broke into the thicket and disappeared. the two left behind--the tawny, stooping carolinian and the girl, gone white-lipped in spite of the beating of her heart--stared in silence at the copse as long as they could hear the crash of the breaking twigs and resisting branches. sydney still was intent on the lessening sounds when the old man's keen blue eyes withdrew themselves from the wood and scrutinized her face, pitiably drawn and colorless. "h'm," he grunted, and added, mentally, "hard lines for bob." the sound of his ejaculation reached the girl's dulled ears. she turned to him with a touch of distrust, and yet a look of question that seemed to implore her old friend for an explanation that might save him to her as an honest man. the doctor was touched by it. he nodded in the direction in which the baron had disappeared. "crazy, plumb crazy," he averred. sydney's dry lips formed a soundless "why?" "he's got some notion in his head that ah've done him an injury--you heard him?" she nodded. "ah swear to you, sydney, ah haven't any idea what he means, but he harps on it, and he sent me a challenge, as ah suppose you know, or you wouldn't be here." "yes. bob brought me." "ah bluffed him off fo' three days. ah hoped ah might think of something that would get him out of that vein without hurting his foreign feelings, but ah couldn't think of anything, so ah 'lowed to pretend to play up to his game, and in some way turn it into a joke." "the bird-shot was the joke?" the doctor colored dimly under his tan. "well, ah must confess that it seemed to me mo' humorous when ah was loading up the guns at home than when the baron was discoursing about it." "i should think so. i should think----" sydney bit her sentence in two. she felt too uncontrolled to allow herself to comment upon the doctor's conduct. "ah certainly believe he's crazy or going to have a fever, and ah'll find some way of watching him. ah suppose he won't let me on his place now; ah'll have to see bud. where's yo' horse?" he asked, suddenly. sydney pressed her hand to her head confusedly. "i don't know. back there somewhere." "come, we must hunt him. you seem tired to death, child. did you ride hard?" "it was about an hour and ten minutes to the foot of the bald." she was dragging herself wearily up to the chestnut-trees. "an hour and ten minutes to the foot of the bald? from where?" "from home." "from oakwood? holy smoke! what did bob let you do such a fool thing fo'?" he ejaculated, angrily. "where is bob, anyway?" "i don't know. i haven't seen him since--i think it was--i don't know where it was," she ended, weakly, and with distress. the doctor looked at her keenly. "here, never mind him; he can take care of himself well enough; better than he can of you, by the looks of it. sit down, now; yes, right here on the grass, and drink this." he gave her a draught from his flask, standing over her threateningly when she hesitated at the entire contents of the cup cover. "take it all," he insisted, "every drop. it's the only thing on earth that's health to its enemies and death to its friends." sydney leaned back wearily against a jutting rock and closed her eyes. her head swam, and she resigned herself to the doctor's commands with the blessed feeling of relief that a woman has when responsibility falls from her own upon some man's shoulders. a whoop from the chestnuts made her open her eyes. "is it bob?" "yes, leading johnny." doctor morgan raised his voice. "come down here. you're a pretty feller to carry a girl to ride," he continued, as bob tied the horse to one of the chestnuts and sprang down the slope. "no girl in my time ever shook me like that. where did she lose you?" bob answered nothing to his father's gibes, but bent anxiously over sydney. "you are not hurt, de--sydney? just awfully done up? i ought not to have let you come. it's been too hard a ride. it's all my fault," he went on, accusingly, while the doctor nodded his head in agreement, and sydney tried in vain to interrupt. "no, indeed, bob, you were not to blame at all. i made you promise, and i couldn't have forgiven you or myself if i hadn't been here when----" she fell back against the rock, and the doctor broke in, by way of diversion,-- "where's gray eagle?" "down at the tobacco barn. he got wild and balked the steep part of the trail, so i tied him to a tree and left him to kick it out." "you walked up, then?" "yes, and found johnny gluttonously eating blackberry-vines on the other side of the bald. that scared me to death, for i thought he'd made way with sydney in some mysterious fashion,--perhaps eaten her,--and was indulging in dessert! where's your enemy?" the doctor glanced quickly at sydney, and frowned at bob. "gone home," was all he would say. they lifted the girl on to her horse, and bob guided him down to the very foot of the mountain. at the tobacco barn the doctor untied gray eagle, subdued by his enforced loneliness, and led him behind them. "bob will stay to luncheon at oakwood, it's so late," said sydney to him as they parted at his gate. "you'll not forget to find out in some way if the baron is ill, will you?" "no, my dear, i'll watch him like the pinkertons' eye that never sleeps," returned the old man, genially. "mrs. carroll has gone into the dining-room," the servant told them at the door, and sydney assumed much cheerfulness as she made her apologies. "i've brought bob, grandmother. he's been all over everywhere with me this morning. you'll forgive me, katrina, for leaving you, won't you? where's mr. wendell?" "not back from asheville yet." "he went in yesterday," explained mrs. carroll to bob. "i suppose the train is late. it does seem as if they grow more and more uncertain, and when there are only two a day each way, it certainly is annoying, very. you wouldn't know what to make of so meagre an arrangement, would you, katrina dear?" "there's the carriage now," said bob. "the train couldn't have been much over an hour behind time; surely you wouldn't complain of that." "i feel as if i had been journeying for days," said john, sitting down, "and had seen the sights of far-distant worlds." "it's the obelisk in court square that makes you think that," suggested sydney. "or the battlements on the library building," added bob. "are there street-cars?" asked katrina. "street-cars? why, child, there are street-cars to burn--electric ones, too. i felt grievously defrauded. i wanted a mule tram." "the mule is an unfashionable animal," said mrs. carroll. "time was when a handsome pair of mules was considered not unsuitable to draw a gentleman's carriage." "the farmers aren't using them so much, either," said bob. "they're too unreliable. horses are cheaper, too." "i saw some very decent saddle-horses in town--of their kind." "what's their kind?" "long-tailed single-footers, katrina." "the easiest gait in the world," put in bob, combatively, disregarding the tails. "it looks so. and not a derby hat in the whole place except mine." "and not a silk one, except on colored coachmen," added sydney, maliciously. "did you drive about?" "i saw all the sights, dear mrs. carroll. i have done to a brown the vanderbilt place, the sunset drive, and the junction of the swannanoa and the french broad. i flogged a rebellious horse to gold view, and i scaled beaumont and looked down into chunn's cove. i gazed at the--you will excuse me, i hope--faded exterior of a tobacco warehouse----" "the farmers don't grow much now," interpolated bob. "so i was told. and i beheld with rapture the architecture of the federal building. that's the fullest beehive for its size, isn't it? post-office, revenue office,--goodness knows what's in it!" "is the united states court on yet?" asked bob. "not being a victim, i don't know." "you don't have to be a victim to find that out. the whole town is filled with the rural population who are interested in the liquor cases,--and our rural population is unmistakable." "if that's the sign, then it isn't on, for only about half the town looked egregiously rural. now i think of it, though, the court is going to sit day after to-morrow." "of course. it's the first monday in may, isn't it?" "please ask me how i knew it. thank you, mrs. carroll. i see that you are about to oblige me. know then, good people, that this humble worm that you see before you has had the honor of occupying the same seat in the train with a minion of the law,--in fact, a revenue officer." "coming out to-day?" "yes. and, furthermore, he paid the flag-station of flora the distinguished attention of getting out there." "was he after somebody?" "he was about to jog the memories of several people, and i think you'll be surprised to know who one of them is. mrs. carroll, how can you expect the less fortunate part of your community to keep in the straight and narrow way, when the aristocracy--yea, verily, the nobility--sets it so bad an example?" "what do you mean, john?" "i'm going to write a tale to be called 'the titled moonshiner; or, the baron's quart of corn.'" sydney and bob looked at each other with dawning comprehension, yet without the ability entirely to clear away the fog. "john, are you hinting any slur against baron von rittenheim, our neighbor and good friend?" the old lady was radiating dignity and indignation. "i'm not hinting a thing, my dear mrs. carroll. i'm telling you what the affable revenue man told me. about a month ago, it seems, your friend and neighbor entertained a guest who proved to be, not an angel in disguise, but a deputy-marshal on his way to asheville. not knowing the official position of his visitor, von rittenheim sold him a quart of whisky of his own vintage. whereupon, like all other chilled vipers that have been warmed by this or other means, even from the far days of fable, the beast retaliated. he returned the next day and arrested him." mrs. carroll and katrina cried out in surprise and indignation. bob's eyes were fixed upon sydney, and she, ghastly white, was crumbling her bread into bits. "the next day? why, that is why he didn't come here for so long, sydney!" "he's under bond to appear at the next sitting of the united states court, and, as that comes in on monday, you understand the appearance of my friend the enemy on the train." "poor fellow!" murmured katrina. "why in the world should the baron sell any whisky, i should like to have some one tell me," demanded mrs. carroll. "and why didn't we see it in the paper?" "probably the name was put in incorrectly," bob suggested. "the asheville reporters aren't accustomed to german." sydney was silent. but upon bob, for his father's sake, she laid accusing eyes, for she thought she had a clue to the words that had come to her ears through the clear air as she stood upon the top of buck mountain. x through the mist one day in the autumn, a few weeks after he had bought ben frady's farm, von rittenheim had taken his gun, and had whistled to heel one of the hounds that had preferred to stay in his old home with an unknown master rather than endure the precarious temper of the known quantity, and had climbed buzzard, the mountain behind his cabin, in search of squirrel or quail. as the day advanced, fleecy clouds gathered over the sky and obscured the sun, and then thickened and turned leaden. suddenly, as the huntsman tramped across a clearing, a one-time cornfield high on the side of the mountain, he saw a mass of fog rolling towards him, and before he could descend below its level he found himself enveloped in the mist of a passing cloud. heavy as a palpable thing it closed around him, impenetrable to the eye, chilling to the whole physical being, fraught with discouragement and depression to the mind. friedrich tried to regain a path that he remembered to have crossed a few minutes before, but under the trees the gloom was too dense for profitable search. moisture began to collect upon the leaf tips and to drip upon him. the dog did not answer to his whistle. there were no points of the compass; there was no view of the valley below. he was like a ship rudderless. he only knew of a surety that the earth was beneath his feet, and as night drew on, and he could no longer see the soil his boot-soles pressed, he only knew that he was descending. and then of a sudden came the barking of a dog in greeting, and the bray of a hungry mule, and he found himself close upon a cabin, and by a freak of fortune it proved to be his own, and he was at home. vaguely enough, yet insistently, the experience kept recurring to him during the days in asheville, when he was awaiting his trial. he went into the court-room in the federal building and watched, with a languid curiosity born of its foreignness, the easy-going ceremony of the opening of court. a group of lawyers laughed and gossiped at the front. a larger number of men, who proved to be potential jurors, gathered on one side and talked together more quietly, impressed by the novelty of their experience; while the men who had served on the jury before explained the furnishing of the room to them. some ladies were ushered into seats near the bench by a dapper young lawyer. behind a railing, all about von rittenheim, in front of him, beside him, and back of him, were the lean forms and bent shoulders of the mountaineers who were witnesses or principals in the whisky cases that fill so fully the docket of this court. from their appearance it was impossible to tell which were the law-breakers and which the bearers of testimony against them. there were old men and boys. children were clinging to the skirts of their mothers, who had come to town either as witnesses or for the holiday. one woman was quieting a crying baby with the gag that a baby never refuses. she herself was soothed by the snuff-stick that protruded from the space left vacant by the early decay of her two front teeth. the air rapidly grew heavy with the smell of unwashed bodies and of moist tobacco, and with the peculiar oily odor of corn whisky. a short man of important bearing stepped in front of the rail and scanned the mass behind it. he easily singled out von rittenheim, whose cropped head shone fair from among the towsled pows around him. "oh, von rittenheim," he called, "step out here a minute." "my so good friend, mr. weaver?" acknowledged friedrich, looking at him through the squinting eyes that a sharp headache gave him. "you'll be held by the grand jury, of course, von rittenheim, but you needn't stay here all the time. just drop in once or twice a day and see how the list stands. some of these are old cases crowded out of the last term, and we may not get to you until wednesday or thursday. it ain't a right enjoyable place to stay in, and you'd better go out in the fresh air--you look sick." "my head does give me pain," friedrich admitted. "your case can't possibly be called to-day, anyway. you'd better go off until to-morrow." "i thank you. i will when i have seen the honorable judge come in. it is most new to me, these customs of yours." "i reckon they must be," returned weaver, with something like pity in his upward glance at the drawn face above him. he scuttled off as a voice cried,-- "the court! the court!" the lawyers scampered to their places behind the bar, and stood to acknowledge the entrance of the judge. beyond thinking him strangely unjudicial in appearance, friedrich took no interest in him, for he did not regard him as the arbiter of his fate, since he had learned the customary sentence for cases like his, which was pronounced with the regularity of machinery and knew no variety. he waited until another half-hour's observation had made clear to him the method of drawing the jurors. he left this task still in process of being fulfilled, and urged his way out of the press that held him fast. the fresh, cool air was as wine to him, for wine invigorates the body while it clouds the mind. his lungs greedily took in great draughts of its light purity, and his blood raced so merrily that he grew confused. always the pain bit into his eyes, and through his half-closed lids he saw but dimly the people around him and the pavement beneath his feet. he went back to the little room that he had hired, and slept heavily into the afternoon. when he went out to get his supper at a restaurant, the gaunt figures of his fellow-criminals were at every step. they gazed curiously into the lighted shop-windows; they talked in groups that overflowed the curbstone into the gutter. in a vacant lot back of the methodist church the glare of a camp-fire showed the covered wagon that was to give a night's shelter to the family whose shadows were cast large against its canvas side. as he passed each group of them the odor that he had breathed for an hour in the morning assailed his nostrils and seemed to force itself into his lungs. he could not eat his supper, and he spent a restless night, filled with horrid dreams. sydney was selling whisky to mr. weaver. the judge turned into dr. morgan, who grinned triumphantly at his victim as he stood in the crowd behind the rail. he bent to kiss the hand of mrs. carroll, and she held in it a shell filled with bird-shot. always the sickening odor of the overheated court-room choked him, and his head throbbed unceasingly, and the balls of his eyes beat in anguished unison. the first electric-car passing the house in the early dawn crashed into his dream as the bullet that was speeding from his revolver to dr. morgan's heart, and found its resting-place in sydney's breast instead. he woke to find himself soaked with the sweat of exhaustion. the cloud of that day on the mountain still clung around his fancy as he went out upon the street again. a horrible something, as penetrable as mist, as keen as the sting of conscience, as inevitable as the burden of life, seemed to inwrap him. he felt it dully, and wondered how much of it was physical and how much mental, and he didn't care which it was. he ate a little breakfast, though it was odious to him, and went out to meet again the lantern-jawed mountaineers, who, like him,--_like him_,--were drifting towards the federal building. yes, he was going to the court-room to be tried for a criminal offence; he was a criminal, a criminal, a criminal. it buzzed angrily through his head. he stumbled over a child sitting beside his mother on the edge of the sidewalk in front of the post-office. the woman had her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands, and in her eyes was the look of waiting that comes to women with uncertain husbands. she cuffed the child, and then shook him to still the uproar she had created. two more children sat on the curb beyond her, and beyond them, up haywood street, men leaned against the iron fence or squatted in pairs upon the sidewalk. friedrich wondered how they kept their balance, and went on up the stairs, through pools of tobacco-juice, to the court-room, where the day's work already had begun. he secured a seat, and leaned his head against the wall. a negro man, accused of fraudulently obtaining a pension, was explaining volubly how he had received the injury upon which he based his claim. his case was given to the jury, which filed out, and the second set of men made themselves comfortable in the abandoned seats, with much scraping of chairs and of throats, and adjustment of cuspidors to the range of each juror. the case of the next prisoner, tried on a charge of a fraudulent use of the mails, lashed to frenzy the prosecuting attorney. he compared this foul violator of the laws of his country with sextus and benedict arnold and judas iscariot. the national eagle had been insulted in his nest, and his screams were ringing from mountain-peak to mountain-peak. the echoes of mitchell were sending back the cry, and saint elias's snowy top gave forth an answering sound. von rittenheim understood enough of the rapid english to realize its irrelevancy, and wondered idly why the man was such a fool, not knowing that it was the presence of a visiting national senator from the hotel that had inspired this eloquence. the air grew worse as more and more people pushed into the already crowded room. some one opened a window, and some one else immediately begged to have it shut. there was a constant shuffling of feet and a restless moving of hands. friedrich found himself smothered by the evil-smelling clothes of his companions as he sat against the wall, and he stood, to bring his head up into a clearer air. the steam in one of the radiators began to thump and clang, and each crash smote a raw nerve in his beating temple. the feeling of striving against the mist, yielding but inexorable, had him fully in its possession, and through the fog he saw the face of wilder, the deputy-marshal. their eyes met, and the malice in the officer's drove the german mad. how long must he stand here and wait among these swine? yet he remembered many hours of waiting motionless upon his horse, and he rebuked himself for a poor soldier. ah, if only he could tell the whole truth; if only he could stand before the bar of the world--of god himself--and say, "i am guilty. of violating the law i am guilty. i am willing to bear my punishment for what i have done. but if i am guilty, how is he innocent who brake my bread and then tempted me? he who ate my last mouthful, and then offered me an unlawful chance to get more? is the law of hospitality to be held of no account? and how is he innocent who poses as my friend, who drinks from my cup, who holds my hand in his, and who goes forth to betray me? is there no law that binds a friend in honor? i have broken a law--the law of man. those two men of whom i speak have broken the laws of the heart, the ties of honor and of love. i am a criminal in the eyes of men. they are sinners before the face of god." friedrich was trembling as he felt these words flow through his mind. the men on each side of him noticed his agitation, and drew away from the emotion of his tense face. so insistently did the words ring in his ears that it seemed to him that he must have spoken them aloud. yet he was conscious that he had not, and that when the time came for him to face this throng he would never go beyond the first three words, "i am guilty." he found himself speaking quietly to mr. weaver, and looked on at the conversation as if he were a thing apart from himself. "the next case but one after this will begin the moonshine cases, and you-all surely won't come on until to-morrow morning. you might as well go now." "i thank you," said friedrich, and stumbled from the room. in the corridor he leaned for a moment against the wall, that he might be sure to keep his balance as he went down the steep stairs dizzying before him. how he reached the court on the next day he never could remember. he was conscious of feeling very ill, worse than ever he had felt in his life. his spine pulsed painfully up into his brain; his eyes burned back in their sockets until the two shafts of anguish met in one well-nigh unbearable torture. the cloud-mist wrapped about him and hindered him, and yielded only to blind him more. the same evil smells reeked around him, and a wave of nausea surged within him. he heard his name called, and some one guided him to that part of the judge's platform that served as a dock. he raised his hand, and heard afar off some words about the truth and god. he was bidden to kiss the filthy cover of a book. dimly he heard a question and answered it. "i am guilty." a chair was pushed towards him and he sat down, conscious of a strange silence in the usually noisy room. he heard wilder telling his story of his purchase of a quart of whisky, "an' he owned it was blockade," and a long and detailed account of "the dutchy's" resistance to arrest, in which the ferocity of his behavior would have been creditable to a bloodthirsty villain driven to desperate straits. a voice asked him if he had anything to say, and he heard himself repeating once again, "i am guilty." then the voice of the laureate of the eagle's nest soared, and fell to a whisper, and swelled again, and friedrich wondered if "example" would be "_muster_" or "_beispiel_." and "different class,"--what did that mean? how stupid he was about english! by-and-by there was silence, and the judge's voice said,-- "three months or a hundred dollars." and then there was a long, long silence. xi in the corn summer had come. the soft days of spring had gone by, the days when the feeling of growth impresses every sense. the haze-filled april mornings, warming into the forcing ardor of noon, had stirred into life the activity latent in root and twig. may's glowing sun, shining through the scantily covered branches, made dancing motes of heat wave above the surface of red clay. the aspens fluttered into exquisite greenness. the sourwood put forth the satin of its tender leaves. all over the mountain-sides and through the forest thickets the oak-tips blushed faint pink, a delicate velvet against the stout bristles of the yellow pines. birds flew over, bound for the north, each with his instinctive goal; some almost at their journey's end, others with many a long ethereal mile before them. some of them sojourned for a few days, following the ploughman as he overturned the mellow earth. others let this high land be the end of their wanderings, and settled here to the duty of love-making and the pleasures of domestic life. the azalea flamed in yellow and orange and scarlet glory, a note of savage color on spring's soft palette. the delicate clusters of the laurel, and, later, of the rhododendron, crowned the stems of the parent bush, as sometimes a fair girl springs from a rough and ugly father. the germ grew strong within its warm seed-prison, and sent inquiring leaflets into the upper world; and the adventurers never returned, but sent back demands for food and drink, as colonists to a new land rely upon the mother-country for sustenance and support. on the steep mountain-sides, and in the coves that dimple the lower slopes; on the flat lands of the plateau, and in the meadows along the french broad, the slender shafts of the corn-leaves were pushing upward with what success their position fostered. by mid-june the crop in the bottom-land was knee-high, while that nourished by the field over which sydney had stumbled on the top of buck mountain was only half as tall. bud yarebrough and pink pressley were hoeing among stalks half-way between these heights on the upland slopes of the baron's farm, whose cultivable land they had hired for the season. stripped to their shirts, whose open throats showed each a triangle of sunburned skin, they worked rapidly down the adjoining furrows, one keeping a hoe's length behind the other, that their tools might not interfere. conversation was more pithy than voluble. "damn hot," ejaculated pink, stopping to hitch up his trousers, and then to spit on his hands before resuming his hoe. "mos' dinner time," returned bud, looking up at the sun, and then over his shoulder towards the spring-betraying group of trees to which melissa was accustomed to bring his dinner when he was working here. "they's some feller tyin' his horse in front of the cabin. who is hit?" pink leaned on his hoe and squinted across the blazing field to the grove that sheltered von rittenheim's house. "bob morgan, ah reckon. looks like his horse." "come to get somethin' fo' mr. baron. o-oh, bob!" bob looked around his horse's nose, and held up his hand in token of understanding. he unlocked the cabin and disappeared within, coming out again with a bundle, which he tied on to the saddle, and then led his animal towards the trees at the spring. the two laborers tossed down their hoes and moved to the same haven. "what time is hit, bob?" morgan looked at his watch. "five past twelve, pink. working hard?" "yep. tol'able big crop." he sat down at the foot of a tree and opened his dinner-pail. "have some?" he asked, pointing the opening at bob, who was settling into repose with his hat over his face. "no, i thank you. i must be going home in a few minutes. how are you getting on? bought any more stock lately?" bob lay on his back with one long leg balanced on the other knee like a see-saw on a saw-horse. the rowel of his spur rattled as he jerked his foot up and down at the ankle. "no." pink had his mouth full. "how many head have you got now?" "oh, jus' a mule 'n a couple o' cows." "sold your horse?" "'m. here bud, take some o' this. ah jus' natchelly hate to have you-all die o' starvation." "no, she's comin'. ah see her now." and bud ran to meet his wife and to relieve her of the baby. "hungry, ain' he?" sneered pink, as he watched his partner's alacrity, while bob struggled to his feet to greet melissa. "say, you-all wasn' wantin' to buy a cow, was ye, bob?" asked pink. "got one to sell?" "yes, the muley cow." "no, i don't guess i want her." "you seemed so damn curious about my stock, ah 'lowed ye were purchasin'." "oh, no. i just thought you must have an extra lot of cattle to be providing for, or you wouldn't have needed to hire this land and to make an extra big crop of corn." a dull red showed on pink's forehead above the tan-mark, and crowded into his pale-blue eyes, destitute of lashes. the two men looked steadily at each other. then, as melissa drew near, pink broke into an ugly laugh. "give a dog a bad name, eh? you-all needn' be quite so bigoty now yo' fine friends have been at the same business." he waved his hand towards the cabin, and bob, in his turn, flushed as he shook hands with melissa. the girl gave scant greeting to pressley. her husband's new friendship with him was distasteful to her; it filled her with foreboding when she remembered his threats. yet there had been nothing definite of which she could complain to bud since the day when miss carroll had caught pink trying to kiss her. he had never been to the cabin since his rebuff, but she knew that he and bud were constantly together, and this partnership in the hiring of the baron's land was a culmination of their friendly relations. "ah don' see how ye c'n stan' him, nohow, bud," she often said, and bud as often replied,-- "ah never did see anythin' like the prejudice o' women! they certainly ain' no doubt about yo' sex, m'lissy." pink bore his part in the present conversation with no trace of embarrassment. indeed, there was an assertiveness in his bearing that reacted upon melissa to produce extreme shyness. neither cause nor effect escaped morgan's shrewd black eyes. "how's mr. baron?" asked bud, between bites. "doing very well. he gets out on the porch every day now." "great luck he has," growled pressley. "yo' father never paid my fine when ah was given mah choice between 'a hundred dollars or three months.'" "my father likes to choose his friends," replied bob, sternly. melissa looked distressed. "what's sauce fo' the goose ought to be sauce fo' the gander," argued the ex-moonshiner. "it ain' fittin' fo' you-all to say anythin' ag'in' dr. morgan, whatever he may _se_-lect to do," asserted bud, combatively, and pink hastened to hedge. "ah 'low not. he certainly was white to me when ah broke mah laig. 'n as fo' mr. baron, ah always did like him, 'n this is a new tie between us. now we're brothers." he chuckled with a full appreciation of his insolence, for the story of von rittenheim's downfall and its cause was well known throughout the country. melissa went white at the malignity of his tone. she turned to bob with a question: "mrs. carroll 'n miss sydney--are they wore to a frazzle takin' care o' him?" "mrs. carroll's all right. they've had two nurses from asheville all the time, you know. miss sydney's wonderful. there's such a lot to do about a house when there's a serious illness, even for people who aren't doing the actual nursing." "ah s'pose so. wouldn' hit be nice, jus' like a story, 'f they'd fall in love with each other--mr. baron 'n miss sydney?" "now, ain' that jus' like a girl!" ejaculated bud, gulping the last of his coffee. bob sat down and fanned himself with his hat. "hot, ain' hit?" observed pink, dryly. then he turned to melissa. "you-all's fo'gittin' that he might be in prison at this minute. no woman o' his class would marry him now. no woman likes to think her man's guilty o' breakin' the law, eh? you-all wouldn' like yo' husband to be a moonshiner, would ye?" the man's body leaned towards the girl, and he fixed her with a cruel stare from which she seemed unable to move her eyes. seated as he was, he looked like a huge snake upreared to strike. he went on mercilessly. "o' co'se ye wouldn'. ah expect you'd never hol' up yo' haid ag'in. what woman can when her man's that-a-way?" "oh, dry up, pink," cried bud. "you-all make me feel like ah had the constable after me now, 'n lawd knows hit ain' _me_ that's raced 'em through these woods." pink acknowledged the shot with a grunt. melissa rose to go, and bud picked up the baby and handed it to her. "hit's her busy day fo' sleepin', ain' hit?" he said, poking a blunt finger into the soft cheek. "i must go, too," said bob, "or my mother'll jar me up for being late." "good-by," said bud, genially. "stop by ag'in some time." "miss sydney's been so busy she ain' rode over here fo' a long time. will you-all give mah love to her, please?" said melissa, timidly. "'n mine," pink started to add, but a dangerous look in bob's eye induced him to change it to "'n mah _re_-gards to mr. baron," though his grin remained unaltered. xii illumination for the first time since the beginning of his illness, von rittenheim was walking unassisted towards the cluster of trees on the oakwood lawn, beneath whose shelter rugs and low chairs and a tea-table made a summer sitting-room. mrs. carroll, who already was established in the shade, watched anxiously her guest's feeble approach. "you should have let the nurse or james come with you," she called to him. "it's too far for you to walk alone." "ah, dear mrs. carroll, it is so good not to have that admirable nurse or the good uncle yimmy with me." he let himself down carefully into a big chair. "and you see that not yet do i disdain cushions. the down of that pr-rovident bird, the eider duck, makes a substitute for the flesh that ought to pad my poor bones. thank you, uncle yimmy," to the old negro, who had just set down the tea-tray, "thank you, yes, one more pillow behind my shoulders." "you'll have tea?" "may i have tea? is it possible that i r-return in one same day to two examples of independence? i walk abr-road alone, and i say again to my dear mrs. carroll, 'i thank you. it does me pleasure to accept a cup of tea from your hands.'" he held up his own hand against the sun. "a little worse for the wear, my hand, eh? but still of use." a slight change of position brought into view the field at the foot of the knoll upon whose top they were. friedrich sat upright in his chair, while a flush tinged his worn cheeks. "what makes miss sydney down there?" he cried. "sydney? oh, she is breaking some of the colts; teaching them to jump, i think she said, to-day." mrs. carroll adjusted her eye-glasses. two negro grooms were setting up a low hurdle with wings, while two small black boys dangled joyously from the halters of a couple of young horses, and a third bore sydney's saddle upon his head. "is it bob mor-rgan with miss sydney?" asked friedrich, wistfully, as the girl walked across the field beside a man who was leading a tall gray, already saddled. "yes, that's bob. a huge fellow, isn't he?" "and fear you not that miss sydney should ride those so wild colts?" "not now. i used to be frightened to death, but i've seen her and bob down there doing that for so many years that i've learned not to be afraid. she rides really very well, you know, and bob is careful of her." "he would be." von rittenheim sighed, and leaned back with closed eyes. he wished with all his soul that it were he down in the field fitting the saddle--that _dear_ side-saddle--to that dancing creature; that it were he who was responsible for the safety of sydney. "bob gives her a lead over, you see, on his horse, which is a well-trained animal." friedrich opened his eyes in time to see the gray take off neatly. sydney followed, and lifted her mount so cleverly that he had leaped his first hurdle before he knew what he was doing. the watchers on the knoll could see bob, sitting on his horse at one side, clap his hands in approval, while the pickaninnies turned cartwheels in the grass. "she does r-ride most beautifully, miss sydney. it is truly pleasurable to see her," murmured von rittenheim, though his expression was one of approval rather than delight. "do you know, mrs. carroll, have i told you how much this _aussicht--view_, is it not?--and the position of your house make me to think of my home? it is on the edge of the schwarzwald, and we look down from the schloss into a valley, oh, so lovely! with trees and a little r-river." "a much wilder prospect than we have here at oakwood." "but not more beautiful, and the feeling is the same." a vulgar emotion assailed the well-kept precincts of mrs. carroll's mind. curiosity, commonplace curiosity surged within her. she yielded to its force. "how could you bear to leave it?" "it was the old pr-reference of the man in the window of the burning castle,--behind, the flames r-roaring mightily, and below, the spears of his enemies." "a choice between evils." "yes, if you will for-rgive my calling your country an evil. i was unhappy--too unhappy to stay where every day i saw something to make me worse; and that evil was gr-reater than to banish myself, even though i do love my country dearly." "was it necessary for you to come so far? could you not find peace in your own land?" "i thought not. you see--if i do not weary you i will tell you. shall i tell you?" "you never weary me," returned mrs. carroll, heartily. "i shall consider that you do me an honor if you care to speak to me about yourself." "it shall be only a little," began friedrich, repenting of his expansiveness. "perhaps i have told you that i am the older of my family. i have one br-rother four years younger. our parents are dead several years, and maximilian is married two years ago with hilda von arnim." "you spoke of them both when you were ill; in your delirium, you know." "of max and hilda? what did i say?" a sharp note was in friedrich's voice. "my dear baron, i must make the humiliating confession that long disuse has impaired sadly my understanding of german. if you should speak to me very slowly, probably i could comprehend you, but at that time you were not speaking slowly." "my nurses?" "neither of them speaks a word of anything but english." "it is an escape," he murmured. "forgive me, _gnädige frau_. it is a startle to think that perhaps you have given to the world your heart's thoughts." "be reassured. it was only the names, max and hilda, that we understood." "when my tr-rouble came to me, it was unbearable to stay at the schloss, so i must go away. yet maximilian was not able to pr-reserve the estate as it should be kept. he is not r-rich, max, and he is a little what you call swift, eh? he spends much." "i see." "so if i leave him to care for the schloss i must leave him also my incomings, and, if i act so, i cannot live myself in my own country where i have friends of the army and of society; where i have a--what is it?--a stand?" "position?" "yes, yes, a position to hold up. i must go where it concerns nobody if i am changed in purse. so to america i came, it is about two years since, and for one year i tr-ravelled everywhere to see where i liked best, and for the diversion also, for i was most sad. then my money grew down so small that i saw i must stop, so to this lovely land i happened, and i bought my little farm. but, alas! i fear i am not a farmer. still, i shall learn. i am determined of that." "i'm sure you will. you haven't had a chance yet." "and this year, what can i do? i am so misfortunate as to be away and sick at the time of planting." "you won't be without some little return, for when we found that you would be ill so long we let your fields to two men who have planted them, and will pay you one-third of their crop of corn. that's the customary rent here, and it will keep your mule through next winter, at any rate." "now, that is truly kind and thoughtful. it is, indeed, fr-riendly!" "you must thank dr. morgan for that arrangement." von rittenheim sat erect and stared at the little old lady before him. a look of confused and struggling recollection was called into life by her words. "i must thank--whom?" the spirit of the gallant adventurer who had been mrs. carroll's immigrant ancestor to the virginia wilds pushed her on to dare the situation. she also sat upright, and the two faced each other undauntedly. "you must thank dr. morgan for that kindness, and for others even greater." "dr. mor-rgan?" clearer remembrance brought with it the old feeling of suspicion and its accompanying look of hatred, which distorted friedrich's handsome face. "yes, dr. morgan. i want you to listen to what i am going to tell you. you are well enough now to hear the truth." "it is your right, madam, to say to me what you may like." von rittenheim turned his stern face towards the training-field, and kept his eyes upon the moving forms that shifted below him. mrs. carroll was unabashed. "dr. morgan is an old and tried friend of mine and of all my family. he has seen life come and go at oakwood. he rejoiced with us at sydney's birth, and he was my chief help and support when her father and mother left us two here together, alone." with a certain tenderness--the yearning that a man feels to protect the feeble and the helpless--friedrich turned his softened eyes towards her. "i tell you this because i can say truthfully that i know him to be faithful in friendship and incapable of treachery." friedrich turned again with tightened lips to his contemplation of the meadow. "we heard of your being summoned to court and for what purpose." mrs. carroll stopped, for a grayness settled over the young man's face, and the eyes that he turned upon hers were filled with horror. "you had forgotten?" "yes, i had forgotten." all the pride went out of him, as the fading of the sun's flush leaves the evening clouds without illumination and dull. "i had for-rgotten, but now i r-remember. it comes back to me. yes, now i r-remember all--all." he turned away his face both from her and from the field below, and rested his cheek on his hand. mrs. carroll noticed the thinness of his wrist, and her heart misgave her. "shall i go on?" "if it please you." "bob morgan went into asheville to follow your career in behalf of all your friends here." von rittenheim's head fell lower. "he was in the court-room when you were----" the old lady hesitated and watched von rittenheim sharply. she was doubtful of his strength after all. "when i was--yes, continue, please," he said, with muffled voice. "when you were sentenced." she hastened on, pretending not to hear the groan that followed her revelation. "he galloped out here at once as fast as he could, and told us about it--his father and me. he feared an illness for you then--you looked not yourself, he said. we decided that it was best for you to come here to oakwood. we could not bear to think of your going to the hospital." friedrich felt vaguely across the table for the plump little hand of his hostess, and pressed it blindly. "they drove into town that same afternoon, dr. morgan in our carriage, and bob in his buggy, and found you in the--found you very ill." "found me where?" "you were delirious even then." "found me where?" friedrich pushed aside the cups and placed both elbows on the table. he seemed to mrs. carroll to have grown haggard since she had begun her recital. "found me where?" he repeated for the third time. "you insist?" "it is my r-right." "they found you in--in the jail." mrs. carroll turned away from the wretched man before her and sobbed undisguisedly. on them fell a quiet pregnant with emotion. the hush was broken by the crash of a tea-cup upon which friedrich's fingers had happened to fall. "bob secured the nurses and drove one of them out in the buggy, and the doctor and the other one brought you in the carriage." "why did they let me go from the--jail?" "the doctor paid your fine." often during the preceding weeks mrs. carroll had thought of this conversation with von rittenheim, and the statement that she had just made always had figured as the climax of her argument in the doctor's behalf. now she felt no pleasure in it. the man before her was too crushed for her to exult over. he made no comment, merely said, reflectively,-- "yes, there was a fine. it comes to me,--'one hundred dollars or three months.' it is the last thing i r-remember." "you were dangerously ill by the time you reached oakwood, and for three days dr. morgan left you only to visit his other patients. between the attacks of stupor you talked a great deal, usually in german, but occasionally in english. from what you said then, and what dr. morgan remembered of conversations you had had with him, and from what bob learned in asheville, we gathered that you thought that when dr. and mrs. morgan met the marshal on the road after they had been to your house, they betrayed you to him, and your arrest was the consequence. is that so?" von rittenheim nodded. "yes, it is so." "i hope it will come to you as clearly as we see it who are the doctor's friends, that he is incapable of such a thing." "dear lady, even already i think i see it. i r-remember darkly my trial; how the officer told of his trick to entr-rap me into selling. ah, dear mrs. carroll, i was anxious to despair from my so unusual poverty, and i was hungry, and bitten with shame for my weakness--and hopeless." unconsciously his eyes turned to the field below, where sydney's hair gleamed red bronze in the sunset light. she was dismissing the men and horses. a great wall seemed to von rittenheim to spring up between them, a wall made thick by his folly, and high by his disgrace, and strong by his weakness. "though i am shameful to say such things as if they were excuses, nothing excuses me. i am without justification. i say so most humbly to you." weakly he leaned back among his cushions. mrs. carroll glanced at him and hurried on. "when the first fury of the disease was spent, you seemed distressed at the sight of the doctor, though you did not recognize him fully; so, though he has not failed to come here twice each day, it is through the nurses' reports and bob's that he has been treating you. he can do so much better for you now if you will see him." "if i will see him?" he repeated. "yes, i can at least make some little amends for my folly--my distr-rust. but can i win back ever my self-r-respect, so that you and other people can r-respect me? so that----" he stopped as sydney's voice reached him. she was coming up the hill, laughing with bob. von rittenheim looked appealingly at mrs. carroll. "sydney," she called, "go on to the house, dear, with bob, and send james here." she rose and laid her hand tenderly on the bent head. "stay here a while. it is still quite warm enough for you." she went slowly across the lawn and disappeared beneath the veranda's roses. a level ray from the setting sun touched friedrich's fair hair with gold, and went on to be splintered into a thousand tiny shafts against the swelling side of the silver cream-jug. xiii reconciliation the sunshine of a clear june day was beating upon the gravel of the driveway, and a few woolly clouds, the forerunners of the early afternoon's daily shower, clung over the tops of the southern mountains. behind the screen of vines and climbing roses that sheltered the porch von rittenheim sat reading a new york paper of two days before. it was the morning after his explanation with mrs. carroll, and the emotional outcome of the talk had been a state of abasement of soul that had sapped his little store of strength. his thin hands shook weakly, and he continually changed his position, and glanced expectantly at the long window which opened upon the gallery. sydney's voice inside the house made him clutch his paper nervously. she spoke loudly, as in warning. "the baron? you'll find him on the porch, dr. morgan. the nurse says he didn't sleep very well last night." "he didn't? we must mend that." and the doctor stepped from the window and approached his long-unseen patient. von rittenheim looked up into the wrinkled brown face with its shrewd, kind eyes, and covered his own eyes with his hand. "you know?" he asked, brokenly. "mrs. carroll has told you?" he felt his other hand taken into a cordial grasp. "mrs. carroll has told me that she has described to you all the happenings of yo' illness that had escaped yo' attention, so to speak. curious troubles, these brain affairs, aren't they? make you feel as if you'd been on an excursion outside of yo'self for a while, and had to hear all the home news when you got back." von rittenheim grew composed as the doctor rambled on. "she has not told you," he said, insistently, "of my so deep r-regret for the injustice that i made towards you. i can never do atonement for my br-rutal behavior, for my unjust suspiciousness. that you can take my hand shows much par-rdon in you." "now, don't talk about that any more, baron. it ain't worth it," dr. morgan replied, awkwardly. "ah don't guess that circumstances looked very favorable to me. anyway, you-all can please me best now by doing credit to my doctoring skill. quit having the appearance of a skeleton just as quick as you can." "i'll try," answered friedrich, meekly. "and don't worry too much over what's gone by," went on the doctor, clumsily. "breaking the law's breaking the law, ah'm not denying that; but it makes a lot of difference what the motive is, and you've suffered your share of punishment, too. it's the right of every man to begin afresh. avoid mud and give yo' horse a firm take-off, and he'll leap as clean as a whistle for you. lawd, ah'm getting plumb religious," he ejaculated, wiping his face. friedrich's knowledge of english was put to a test, but he listened with his eyes as well as his ears, and nodded slowly. "i think i understand," he said. "but do you think that people--my fr-riends"--his eyes turned towards the house--"that my friends can overlook it--can ever think of me as they used to think of me?" "oh, i reckon she will," replied dr. morgan, with a smile that disconcerted von rittenheim and drove him to a new topic. "you will for-rgive me if i do talk some business with you," he said, hastily. "do you feel well enough?" "oh, yes. i shall feel much better when i have cleared my mind of all these things. i want to say to you that i do much appr-reciate, also, besides your kindness, all the money that you have paid, and--no, let me talk, please, herr doctor--and i must tell you that i shall write to-day to germany for a r-remittance. there is a sum which i can have. yes, i see you look, wondering that i have lived so poor. well, i explain to you that i have sworn that i would not use it for myself--i have another use for it--so long as i am well and can earn enough for living; but now i am not well, and i have expenses in the past weeks, and i must live until i grow str-rong to work in some way; so am i justified to myself to send for the money, you see." "fix it any way you like," said the doctor, cheerily, "only remember that if it ain't convenient to pay up _ever_,--why, just banish it from your mind, and ah'll never think of it again, ah promise you. now, is that all?" he asked, as he leaned towards his patient and put a practised finger on his pulse. "yes? then ah'd like to know where that sydney is with that egg-nog. here, you sydney," he cried, putting his head into the house and letting his cracked voice echo into the darkness. "what kind of a nurse are you? how do you expect to rise in the profession, miss, if you don't have an egg-nog ready the instant yo' patient happens to think of it? oh, here you are! well, sit down here, then, and see that the baron takes every drop of that, and don't tire him out with yo' chatter. do you understand?" after which burst he kissed her, and disappeared into the house. sydney turned blushing to the baron, and laughed at his wistful look. "age has its compensations," he said, as he took the tumbler from her. "but i do not begrudge the good doctor all the happiness that comes to him. he is a most generous man." "he's a darling!" "a darling? ah, yes. i should not have used that word for _him_, but i agree with the sentiment." "you are critical this morning. don't you ever allow yourself any liberty of speech in german? do you always say exactly what you mean, and use exactly the right word?" "oh, miss sydney, you describe to me a pig--no, a pr-rig person. surely i use many picture words in my thinking of--well, just to illustrate what i mean, i will say, in my thinking of _you_!" sydney moved her position so that her face was partly hidden behind the back of the baron's wheeled chair. "now, there is _schatz_," went on friedrich, sipping his egg-nog placidly, but keeping a wary eye upon the bit of pink cheek that was still within his range of vision. "i like to think of you as _schatz_,"--there was a danger-betokening movement of the glowing head,--"because you are such a treasure to your grandmother." he paused a moment, but there was no reply. "and _perle_--it is a pretty word, _perle_--it makes you to think of the r-radiance of the moon, so pure, so soft. yes," he went on, hastily, "_perle_ r-rhymes with _erle_--that means an alder-tree--and that r-reminds me of you." "i must say i fail to see the resemblance," came an injured voice from behind the chair. "not see? oh, miss sydney, surely--with your cleverness! listen to this, then; perhaps you like it better that i call you my--i mean _a_--_rose_." "that's because my hair is red." "it is a white r-rose that always figures in my mind. a beautiful white r-rose with a heart of gold." by a dexterous touch upon one wheel he whirled his chair about so that he saw her downcast face. "a heart full of goodness to others is it, and of courage, and of love." he was leaning eagerly towards her. she lifted her eyes with an effort, and met his. then he remembered. "yes," he continued, hurriedly, "full of love for the poor and the desolate." sydney rose. "your pretty figures do me too much honor," she said, unsteadily, and went into the house with lingering tread and look. friedrich gazed after her. "god knows i would be counted among the poor and the desolate," he cried, softly, to himself. "but i must not speak again of this until i am more worthy to stand before her--if ever that can be!" xiv the fourth of july that the settle-_ment_ celebrated the fourth of july was not due to an exuberance of patriotism, but to the mercantile spirit of uncle jimmy's son, pete. pete was married, and lived in one of the cottages on the oakwood estate, where he worked intermittently, sandwiching between thin slices of manual labor thick layers of less legitimate emprise. independence day, as the anniversary of the birth of our country's liberty, is not celebrated with enthusiasm in the south. it meets with more cordial acceptance when regarded as another opportunity for knocking off work. pete's plan catered to all conditions of conscience, from the seared commodity that asked no excuse for playing to the scrupulous article that considered justification necessary, and found it in the infrequency of such amusement. he advertised far and wide, by placards in the scattered stores and post-offices that cling near the railway stations and dot the haywood road on the other side of the river, a-- gander pulin forth of july at oclock. fradys feild. "i always make a point of going to these outdoor gatherings of the country people," explained mrs. carroll to the baron, as they drove towards the field. "i think they like to have me." von rittenheim had insisted upon going home to his cabin a few days before, since which time the old lady had missed him grievously. he was not yet strong enough to take the five-mile ride to oakwood on his mule, and she had made the gander-pulling an excuse to go to his cabin to see how his housekeeping was progressing, and to take him for a drive. "we don't have gander-pullings often now, since the law requires that the fowl shall be dead," she explained. "it demands less skill to break the poor thing's neck when it isn't writhing wildly." "and it does not r-rouse the br-rutal desire to kill that seems to live in every one of us men. will miss sydney be there?" "yes, she is going on horseback--" "ah!" "--with john wendell." "eh?" "you didn't meet them--john and katrina wendell--when they were here in the spring. they went north again not long after you came to oakwood." "oh, dear madam, i do so earnestly hope that my going to oakwood did not depr-rive you of more welcome guests." "not the least in the world. they went back to new york to put the crown to a pretty romance." "a love-story!" "katrina was sent down here, under her brother's care, to forget a certain tom schuyler, whom her mother considered impossible because he was penniless." "the poor but honest suitor." "a poor but lavish suitor would describe him better. it seems that an aunt of his was moved to give him a present of five hundred dollars. he says that he had just paid his tailor's bill as a concession to his desire to _range_ himself, and he really didn't know what to do with the money. it wasn't enough to get anything really nice with,--he'd been trying to make his father give him an automobile,--unless it were a ring for katrina. he concluded, however, that mrs. wendell would object to her daughter's accepting it, and that he might as well take a little flyer with it." "take--what is that?" "speculate--in stocks." "and he made his for-rtune?" "no, on the contrary. he took his father's advice about his purchase, and lost his five hundred dollars within twenty-four hours." "then wherefr-rom came his good luck? for surely i perceive the pr-resence of good luck." "his father was so remorseful over his poor counsel, and so delighted with tom's apparent desire to 'settle down,' that he made amends for his unfortunate 'tip' by giving his son a very decent sum of money." "it is like a story, is it not? so the brother and sister went up from here to the wedding." "it was only a few days ago, and now tom and katrina have come to us on their _hochzeitreise_." "and the brother?" mrs. carroll glanced amusedly at her companion. "he came to-day on the afternoon train, to continue the visit which katrina insisted on shortening for him in may, he says." "you will enjoy them." friedrich's tone was not enthusiastic, and he pulled his moustache gloomily. "very much. they are charming young people. see, there are tom and katrina now, just turning into the field." von rittenheim raised his hat as mrs. schuyler waved her hand to mrs. carroll, and studied critically the bride's radiant face and pretty gown as the victoria followed the phaeton through the opened fence-rails. he found her charming and acknowledged it reluctantly, not because he begrudged her her beauty, nor because he thought her handsomer than sydney, for he did not, but because he had a secret fear of the attractiveness of the brother of so fascinating a girl. "tom," said mrs. carroll, as mrs. schuyler came to the side of the carriage, "i want you to know my very dear friend, baron von rittenheim--mr. schuyler. now take the baron over to katrina, tom, and then find mrs. morgan,--that's she in the red-wheeled buggy,--and beg her to come and sit with me here. vandeborough," to the coachman, "drive me under that apple-tree, where there is more shade. how do you do, eliza?" she said to a woman by whom the carriage slowly passed; "i'm glad to see you out to-day. and you, mary. jack garren, is that you? you grow too fast for my memory. ah, jane, i hope your rheumatism is better,--and is that mattie's bertha? stop here, vandeborough. this will be comfortable. ah, mrs. morgan, it is kind of you to make me a little visit, but i couldn't possibly climb into that buggy of yours. i don't know how you achieve it." "nor do ah, mrs. carroll. ah thought it was high five years ago, when ah didn't consider mahself overly fat, so you can imagine what the effort is now." and she shook jovially. "is the doctor here?" "yes, indeed. he drove me. he always comes to these things. they generally need him before they get through, and it often saves him a long trip into the mountains if he's on the spot when things happen." "i dare say his presence prevents a good many quarrels." "maybe so; but ah should hate to have any mo' fights than there are. there's always whisky about, you know." "if the chief crop of this country could be changed, what a blessing it would be!" "ah don't know as it would make much difference as long as potatoes were left." "and thirst." "there's bob now. o-oh, bob!" she called, waving a fat hand to her son as he cantered across the open on his gray. bob looked about for the source of the call, and turned his horse towards the tree. "he's growing handsome, mrs. morgan," said mrs. carroll, in an undertone, as the tall fellow leaped to the ground, slipped the bridle over his arm, and pulled off his cap. "he looks as his father did at his age," returned mrs. morgan, fondly, glancing across to where her husband was talking to a group of lank mountaineers from whom he was hardly to be distinguished. "it's right nice of you to come this afternoon, mrs. carroll," bob was saying. "the people always appreciate it. what is it, mother? those boys? oh, they're having a game of ball; and the men you see over yonder are throwing horseshoes over a peg--with mighty poor skill, too. here come patton mcrae and susy. excuse me. i'll help him with his horses," for patton's black mare hated the harness even more than she did the saddle, and was doing her best to demoralize her mate and overturn the buggy. sydney, entering the field from the state road, glanced past the tethered mules and the chair-laden wagons, from which the horses had been taken, to where bob sat in the carriage beside susy, saying something very pretty to her, if downcast lids and a blush are any evidence; in reality, teasing her about an absent sweetheart. wandering farther, her eyes saw the quoit-throwers, and the groups of women and children sitting in the shade, enjoying an interchange of gossip with the zest of infrequent meetings. she saw the clusters of laughing negroes, and the tent where pete and his wife were doing a vigorous business in cakes and ice-cream and lemonade. she waved her hand to her grandmother and mrs. morgan. she noticed the men and boys who strolled with apparent aimlessness towards the thicket on the edge of the field, and returned wiping their lips on their sleeves. and she saw katrina talking animatedly to baron von rittenheim, who sat beside her, while patton mcrae watched her with adoring eyes, and tom wore the conscious smile that indicates the young husband's pride of possession. sydney had been feeling very much without occupation since the baron had gone home, and the anticipation of seeing him again this afternoon had been pleasant to her. he never had made love to her more definitely than on the morning after his interview with dr. morgan, but to herself she acknowledged that he admired her, and while she was not sure of his entertaining a more pronounced feeling, up to this time she had known, at least, that his eyes were only for her. and here he was _revelling_--she underlined the word in her thought--in katrina's vivacity and charm. the sensation of rivalry was new to her and not pleasant. as for bob, she had a feeling of warm affection for dear old bob, and a desire to be useful to him, and she meant to make her influence over him one for good, if that were possible. she was thoroughly glad in the news that had come to her that bob had not been drinking for several months now. but how he could help referring to the passage that had occurred between them she could not understand. she didn't really want him to make love to her,--that was a notion altogether too unmaidenly,--but she did feel as if an expression of affection from _somebody_ would be very comforting. she turned to john wendell, who rode beside her, and gave him a more generous smile than it had been his lot to receive while sydney was the possessor of those agreeable anticipations of the early afternoon. "you like it? all this?" she waved her hand comprehensively. "i love it," he answered, promptly, looking at her clear-cut face with its frame of red hair under her sailor hat, and at the well-made linen habit. "it must be novel to you." "not very." he pulled his moustache to conceal an amused smile. "it depends upon where new ends and old begins, you see. now, i came down here in april, so my feeling is not 'the last cry.'" "but at that time of year you didn't see--oh, how foolish you are!" she cried, and touched johnny with her spur. his response brought him near the phaeton, which seemed a focal point for a general movement. "they're going to have the gander-pulling now," exclaimed bob, who had come with susy to join the group. "the best view will be from this side." "are you going to ride, mr. morgan?" asked katrina. "yes, i think so." "bob never can resist any game that's played with a horse," said sydney, laughing. "you know you'd like right well to try it yourself," he retorted. baron von rittenheim gave his seat beside mrs. schuyler to miss mcrae, and went to sydney's side. "at last the sun begins to shine," he said, in a low voice, smiling up at her and patting johnny's neck. "your universe has many suns, i'm afraid," responded sydney, a trifle pettishly, yet swiftly, scanning his face for signs of returning health. she was not unobservant, either, of his new white summer clothes. friedrich glanced across the horse to mrs. schuyler. "i find agr-reeable the light of the lesser planets," he said, "but--there is only one sun." looking up at her, he laughed again, so heartily and with such genuine pleasure at seeing her that sydney melted. "you look so _well_," she cried. "it is a delight to see you. but it's not a compliment to our care that you grow better so fast when you leave us." "r-rather is it a tr-ribute to your so admirable nursing that has pr-repared me to r-recover with speed, even though i have it no longer." "will you ride, baron?" asked bob. "you're welcome to gray eagle if you will." "i thank you, gr-reatly, but i dare not. the eye of my care-taker is upon me, and your herr father is here somewhere. no, decidedly, i am afraid," and he leaned with every appearance of contentment against johnny's shoulder. "how about you, mr. wendell?" "i think i will, if miss sydney will trust me with the horse." "of course; and i'll give you a lovely prize if you bring me the head." "it's yours," cried john, while friedrich bit his lip, in annoyance, and thought on the _ewigweibliche_. "can you find me something, mr. morgan?" cried schuyler. "i really can't stand here and see you fellows having this fun without me." "what's mr. schuyler driving, sydney? 'possum? she'll do, if you don't mind. i'll swipe a saddle off of one of those mules over there." and he and tom fell to unharnessing the useful 'possum, while the baron held gray eagle and commented on bob's resource. "he is full of device," he said, heartily, "and r-ready, always, to think and to do." and sydney remembered some of the things he had done, and nodded with misty eyes. xv the gander-pulling under all the trees where horses had been hitched, the mountaineers were tightening girths, mending unsound bridles, and pulling down stirrups from the saddles across which they had been flung to be safe from fly-kicking hoofs. some men had switches tucked under their saddle-flaps. others, less provident, swung on to their beasts, and, heavily elastic, trotted across to the brush to cut a "hickory" from a sourwood-tree. pete was testing the strength of a stout oak pole driven into the ground, across whose fork was lashed, like the cross-bar of a "t," a leaf-stripped sapling. to the tip of this rod the negro was tying the legs of a big, white goose, whose extended wings and pendant head betrayed compliance with inexorable law. "hit's a damn shame," pete murmured, as he anointed the creature's neck and head with liberal smearings of lard. "whar de fun o' pullin' on a ole daid t'ing lak dis? but ah hope dey'll tink hit's great!" and he beat vigorously on a pan to attract the attention of all hearers. "gen'lemen. o-oh, gen'lemen!" he cried, at the top of his lungs. "now fo' a great ole gander-pullin'! de only one we've had in dis settle-_ment_ fo' t'ree year. every gen'leman as craves to enter dis gander-pullin' will kin'ly ride up here and _de_-posit a quarter 'f a dollar. only twenty-five cen's fo' de priv'lege o' takin' a pull at dis yer goose,--warranted a tasty goose! one-half dis sum o' money goes to de gen'leman who succeeds in _re_-movin' de haid from dis fowl, an' also de goose hitself, which sho' do look lak good eatin'!" pete's old hat soon sagged with the coins that were tossed into it, while his keen eye noted each entry as surely as if he wrote the name in black and white. it would have been useless for anyone to try to enter the lists without paying the proper fee. two lines of excited onlookers served at once to define a lane, whose ultimate point was the gallows whereon hung the goose, and to rouse to excitement the horses, whose overworked spirits did not respond promptly to the sudden stimulus. they cheered the aspirants with jovial condemnation. "show us what yo' ole plug c'n do, 'gene." "sho', alf, you-all ain' goin' to ride that po' critter!" "he's powerful gaunted up, yo' war-horse, bud." "mighty strength'nin' ploughin' is, but not stimmerlatin'!" "high-strung animal, that clay-bank o' pink's." pink's temper was in that state where he enjoyed hugely gibes at his friends' expense, but was in no mood to receive amiably jests directed against himself. "whar's you-all's horse?" he shouted, in exasperation, to one of his tormentors. "ah reckon no one would len' you anythin' mo' vallyble 'n a billy-goat. now dry up. pete, start this thing." he rode to the end of the passage where the horsemen were gathering. alf lance, melissa's father, whose horses bud and pink were riding, scanned them both to make sure that they were not too drunk to be trusted with his animals. pete fussed about nervously. "which o' you gents will begin dis pullin'?" he called. "now, sahs, come on." pink pushed his horse towards the edge of the crowd, but he was hailed with dissuasive cries. "aw, hold on, pink." "don' be so bigoty." "who you-all think ye are?" "where's bob morgan?" "yes, bob's the feller!" "o-oh, bob!" it was their tribute to the doctor, this giving precedence to his son, and bob so understood it. it was, therefore, irritating to have pink thrust forward his red face and look him over sneeringly. "aw, gwan," he cried, "lessee what you-all c'n do." the bunch of horsemen fell to one side, and bob started gray eagle from well back in the field near the deserted wagons. he passed the mounted men and thundered through the lines of standing howlers. the gray had been his master's coadjutor in so many situations of excitement and even peril, that the cheering mob did not provoke him unduly. he galloped, unswervingly, up to the hanging goose, though his ears were pricked forward, and he shuddered as the instinctive repulsion from death pulsed through him. bob's outstretched hand grasped the long and slippery neck, while the inarticulate yell with which the southern farmer calls his dogs and chases his cows and terrifies his enemies went up from the onlookers. tightly he clutched the greasy thing, and tried to give a sharp twist that should break the vertebræ. but his hand slipped swiftly down to the flat head, which offered no hold for his grasp, the beak ripped through his fingers, and the sapling, which had bent and followed him as gray eagle dashed on, snapped back, waving triumphantly its unharmed burden. "hard lines, old man, but the fun lasts longer so," cried wendell, as bob pulled up beside him after circling the spectators. "who's that?" the new yorker asked, as a lank country horse plunged down the lane, shied violently at the feathered horror, threw his rider into the crowd, and galloped with flapping stirrups over the field. "'gene frady. he never can stay on anything. he's all right, dad," to the doctor, who was moving towards the upper end. "see, he's chasing his horse now." with a drunken whoop, pink pressley rushed his animal towards the prize; but his condition, combined with twitches and jerks of the bridle, and rakings of the spur, had acted upon his mount's usually stolid nerves, and half-way up the alley he whirled about and tore back, carrying his cursing rider far up the road before he calculated the probable results to himself of this outburst, and consented to return. bud yarebrough was more fortunate. he leaned far forward and succeeded in getting a firm grasp of the neck, but he had guided his horse too close to the bird, and his jerk drew it directly over his face, blinding him with grease and feathers. his plight was greeted with howls of derision, which fell into silence as john wendell made the trial. his unpractised hand in some way pulled down the goose, and the rebound of the sapling plucked the booty out of his grasp, and flung it high above his head. tom schuyler was equally unlucky. alf lance forgot that he was left-handed until he was close upon his quarry, when he dropped his reins and pawed vaguely at the air as his horse carried him on. another yell announced pink pressley's return. now his chastened steed bore him straight enough to the goal, but by that time pink was too drunk to distinguish the goose he was after from the flock that swirled and dipped before his eyes, and he never touched a feather. "doctor, you-all'll have to show us how," said alf lance. "come on, doctor." "yes, yo' the feller." "bob, give yo' father yo' horse and let him larn ye what's what." "oh, i hope he'll do it," cried sydney. "he's capital at it!" "fo' the lawd's sake!" ejaculated mrs. morgan, rising to her feet in the carriage and steadying herself by an informal hand on mrs. carroll's shoulder. "fo' the lawd's sake, if that ain't henry morgan! well, did you ever!" and her fat body trembled with pride and excitement. gray eagle took his second turn with the same equanimity as if his own master were on his back. he galloped handsomely towards the goose; there was a quick snatch and a snap, and the old man turned short and came back, holding aloft his trophy. "wah, wah, wah!" yells, whistles, and cat-calls greeted his success. sydney and katrina and mrs. carroll clapped their hands, and the doctor, folding in his handkerchief the somewhat dubious treasure, rode over to the apple-tree and presented it to his wife. during the confusion attendant upon the harnessing of horses and mules, bob, restoring 'possum's saddle to the mule from which he had borrowed it, heard pink pressley's voice on the other side of the big oak by which he was working. "howdy, mr. baron," he was saying. "how_dee_," responded von rittenheim, with an accent that made bob throw back his head and laugh silently. "you had bad fortune with your horse this afternoon." "correct. damn pore horse. some day ah'll have a good horse o' mah own, not a ole borrowed plug. ah'm goin' to be rich some day. you-all know how, eh? say,"--he was wagging his head solemnly to and fro, disgustingly near von rittenheim's face,--"ah reckon you'd like to go into business with me now ye made a start at hit." bob remained behind his shield, hoping that pressley would go away before von rittenheim had the mortification of seeing him. "ah reckon you-all need money mahty bad," drawled the drunken voice. "a feller always does when he wants to get married, 'n hit's clear what yo' after with miss sydney." like bolts from heaven, two blows fell upon him simultaneously, and von rittenheim and bob faced each other over his fallen body. "leave him alone," said bob, hoarsely. "he'll sleep it off." then he strolled over to his father. "dad, i suspect you'd better take a look at pink pressley under the big oak-tree. i've just given him a biff in the solar plexus, or mighty near it." xvi on the bridge all through july the growing heat of summer forced the people of the low country up into the mountains in search of an altitude where humidity is not a factor in the sum total of suffering. every evening's six o'clock train brought families of travellers, glad to escape from the steaming heat of charleston or savannah, or ready to run the risk of the fever-killing frost coming too late for the beginning of the new orleans schools. they emerged dishevelled and weary from the hot cars. the elders counted children, nurses, and luggage; the children sat down at once upon the ground and took off their shoes and stockings. by the first of august the whole asheville plateau was transformed from its winter state. the large towns were filled with pretty, pale girls, gay in muslins and ribbons and big hats, who danced and drank soda-water in the mornings and danced again in the evenings, or went on drag-rides, and flirted at all hours. the small hotels in the country were full of the same girls, chaperoned by gay mammas, who played whist six hours a day, while their charges found temperate amusement in walking to the post-office in the cool, purple dusk, and in dancing--chiefly with each other--after supper. the proportion of men to girls was the usual summer ratio. nice discriminations of extreme age or extreme youth counted for little against ability to dance. the girl with brothers of almost any size was popular among her kind, and the girl who "grabbed" was held in cordial contempt. woe be unto the youth who really fell in love. his courtship was the cynosure of all eyes. its progress was reported hourly. his presence was noted and his absence commented upon. his ardor was gauged by the thermometer of many eyes, and the barometer of hotel partisanship betrayed the storms of love. the neighborhood awoke from its winter sleep. every house had its guests, and there were constant gayeties both by day and evening. the first moon of august, by lighting the dark forest roads, became responsible for nightly festivities. on one of the earliest evenings of the month she looked down upon carriages and horsemen making their way to the french broad, where fletcher's bridge crosses the river. the schuylers, with sydney and john, were in the oakwood surrey, while vandeborough cantered behind to take care of the horses "while de white folkses eats." [illustration: to the french broad, where fletcher's bridge crosses the river] the cotswold party filled a three-seated buckboard and a surrey, and rejoiced further in outriders. baron von rittenheim bestrode his mule. the delaunays brought a carriage-load of girls, who laughed a great deal in the soft, full voices the far south gives her daughters. from the hugers' party came scraps of talk about "the city," and the "isle of palms." there was a wagon-load of people from the buck mountain house, too, friends of the hugers. by sydney's command the picnic fire was built by the river's bank in a large field, whose openness showed the quick march across the heavens of the rising moon. every one brought a stick to lay on the blazing pile. bob and one of the delaunay girls fetched water from a spring that hid its coolness under a shelving rock in the forest across the road. susy mcrae made the coffee, hindered by john's advice, more voluble than useful. tom schuyler was instructed in the proper method of propping up a broiler before the blaze, so that the chicken might cook without exacting a human burnt offering. patton volunteered for the task of getting the potatoes into the ashes. the rest of the girls laid the table-cloths on the ground, and opened the baskets, and the rest of the men hunted up logs for seats, and brought the cushions and rugs from the carriages. sydney dominated the scene, giving a clever suggestion to tom, encouraging susy to disregard john's teasing, which threatened some harm to the coffee, sympathizing with patton over a burn, and showing katrina how to cook bacon on a long forked stick. after the meal was eaten and complacency filled them, she it was who sent their suppers to the coachmen, and who packed up baskets and folded cloths, aided by von rittenheim and bob. "oh, do stop doing that, sydney," cried mildred huger. "you make us all feel so mean not to be helping you, and you know it isn't necessary right now." "yes, come and sit by me, sydney," said john. "i've been saving a place, and it'll be a treat for you." "wait a few minutes, sydney," said tom, "and you shall have my valuable help." "there, it's all done, dear people," cried sydney, "and we can watch the moon with a clear conscience." "will you not come with me to the bridge to see it?" begged friedrich, in a low voice. "ah, do come!" bob, who had been about to ask the same thing, turned away and stretched himself at mildred huger's feet. susy softly touched her guitar, suggesting popular airs, and voices took up the tunes, now stopping to say something funny and to laugh while others carried on the song, now joining in an energetic chorus. on the outskirts of the circle farthest from the dying fire sat the couples in whom the soft night and the moonlight and the music were arousing sentiment. more than one young fellow watched friedrich and sydney as they disappeared behind the willows on the bank, and wished that he had been the first to suggest the bridge, and envied the two their vantage point. they stood side by side upon its hoof-worn planks. under their feet swept the musical flow of the stream, molten silver in the moonlight as it slid towards them, a sparkling, dancing mist of tossing diamonds as it fled away over the stones of the rough bottom. they faced the wonderful glory of the moon. her hand was on the bar at first, and his beside it. after a moment he glanced at the tempting nearness, and put his in the pocket of his jacket. then he turned his back upon the moon, and leaned on the railing by her, facing the lesser splendor that was to him as dazzling. "will you for-rgive me if i spoil the beauty of this per-rfect night by speaking to you a little about--myself?" his voice was serious. sydney looked at him and turned away her head. her lips trembled. "i have not the r-right to force upon you a subject so unwor-rthy. but i think it is just that you should know--that all my friends should know--what work i am going to tr-ry now to do to retr-rieve myself. ah, you make the little gesture that means 'say not that word.' but you will let me say just this one time ever-ything i want to, if you please. when i say 'retr-rieve myself,' i understand well that nothing can destr-roy the fact that my name is wr-ritten on those books over there,"--he waved his hand in the direction of asheville,--"and i know well that for my fault all my life i shall suffer in one way or another. but i can tr-ruly say, in god's sight,"--he stood bareheaded, and faced again the heaven's pomp,--"that i have r-repented my weakness most bitterly, both for what it did lead me to, and because such weakness in itself is shameful." sydney lifted to his her eyes blurred with tears. "don't," she whispered, hoarsely. "_ach_, heaven help me, look not at me like that," he cried; "i cannot bear ever-ything!" silence lay between them after this cry of pain. friedrich began again, very low. "i see now clearly what i saw not at the time,--that my weakness came upon me fr-rom my own lack of str-rength to make an effort. i was cr-rushed by a gr-rief when i left my land to come to america. i allowed it to paralyze my will. i let myself dr-rift, not caring enough about what became of me to exert myself to ward off poverty. poverty never had been mine,--i did not r-realize it, but i did know well the meaning of self-r-respect and honor, and it was base of me to permit my will so to sink." again he paused. "i tire you? you let me go on?" sydney's face looked white in the moonlight. she assented by a motion of the head. "even when i knew--you--" sydney gazed down at the scintillant water. von rittenheim did not turn to her, and went on, steadily,-- "--and admired your beauty and your sweetness--for-rgive me that i say these things so baldly--and wondered at the r-responsibilities you assumed, and at the care you took of every needing person who came near you--even fr-rom you whom i admired and--whom i admired with all my str-rength, i did not learn the lesson that was before my eyes." "how can you say all this to me, baron? you must not." "you will do me the justice to listen just a pair of minutes longer. now i see it all clearly; now i have a purpose in my life. it is to make you look upon me with r-respect,--with so much r-respect that you will for-rget that on one of those turned-over pages of my life there is a blot." "and you have chosen to seek your salvation through work! it is a fine spirit, baron, and the american gospel--though perhaps you may not like it the more on that account." "you are an american." sydney blushed and laughed,--her sweet, rich laugh. she was glad to be a little farther away from tragedy. "shall i tell you my plan? you will see how i am practical! my salvation lies in the unpoetic shape of--cattle." "cattle?" "i have some money for which i sent to germany; some that i felt it r-right to use if i should be in gr-reat need of it, but which i should not have sent for except that i was ill. with this money and my little farm i go into partnership with young mr. mcrae. his father gives to him one-half of his so large estate. on his place and mine we r-raise a cr-rop which we feed to our cr-reatures." "where are they to come from?" "some we do r-raise ourselves, and some we buy here and there, every-where in these mountains where we can find two or three colts--no, calves." "will there be a sufficient market to justify you?" "how wonderful for business are you! yes, we think so. alr-ready have we an or-rder to send a whole carload of steers to r-richmond." "really? you've really begun?" "yes, i take much pr-ride to say that we have begun two days ago. patton is to buy the calves at first, he does so well understand the folk of the mountains; and later, when i talk more accurately english, then i shall help him. until then my part is on the farms." "i think it is admirable! it will give you so much to do and to interest you. you are sure to succeed." she smiled at him generously and with perfect sympathy. her white dress shone cool against the purple sky, and her face rose radiant above. von rittenheim leaned over her as she sat on the bridge's railing. on the road, not far away susy mcrae's guitar betrayed her approach, and john wendell's barytone hummed the air that she was picking. von rittenheim put his foot on the topmost bar and leaned his elbow on his uplifted knee. by his position sydney was screened entirely from the oncomers. "i seem to have a gr-reat deal to say to-night. now i shall tell you a little stor-ry." his tone was gay, but sydney saw that his eyes were grave. "does it begin 'once upon a time'?" she fenced. "_ja. es war einmal_ a knight, who led a happy life in his own country until a gr-rief came to him which he thought the most ter-rible sorrow that could come to anybody. he learned better afterwards, but at the time it seemed to him not to be endured. so he left his home and became a wanderer over the earth. and for many months he r-roamed, and nothing ever made him for-rget his tr-rouble until one day he saw a beautiful pr-rincess. ah, she was a most lovely pr-rincess, with a face like a r-rose, and teeth like pearls, and a heart that was a tr-reasure of goodness." friedrich warmed with his subject. he was looking his fill on the downcast face before him, while sydney pulled at the little handkerchief in her lap, and carefully smoothed out a corner of it on her knee. "as soon as he saw her the knight knew that his old tr-rouble was not what he had thought it. and he knew also at once what would be the gr-reatest happiness that life could give him. he determined to win this happiness if he could, but first he had to pr-rove himself to the pr-rincess that he was a knight of cour-rage and not a weakling. so he told her of his purpose and begged of her a favor that he might wear it on his heart." there was a pause, so long that sydney asked, still with downcast head,-- "how does the story end?" "i know not." "you don't know?" "i never learned it any farther. what do you think comes next?" "i don't--i think----" bravely she raised her eyes to his, and stood before him, blushing divinely. "i think she gave him a token and bade him godspeed." and friedrich found himself with a morsel of cambric in his hand, which he kissed passionately, while sydney was walking towards the bridge's end, answering susy's cry. "here i am. is it time to go?" and john was answering,-- "mrs. carroll warned us to go home early on account of the dance to-morrow night." laughing and singing they went through the moonlight, some with the happy hearts they had brought, others saddened by some of the whimsies of fortune that seem lurking to spoil our joy when most we exult. gladdest of all the blissful ones rode friedrich von rittenheim. at the cross-roads he waved a gay "good-by" to the oakwood surrey as it bore away from him the lady of his love. he stopped his mule and looked long after it, and threw a kiss at its bulky form as it plunged into the wood. he did not put on his cap again, but stuffed it into his pocket, and trotted on towards home with the moonlight shining on his fair hair. the good creature between his knees felt his exhilaration and broke into a short canter as an expression of sympathy with his master's humor. the negroes whose cabins he passed pulled the clothes over their heads, whispering "hants!" as he galloped by, singing "dixie" at the top of his lungs. sydney had taught it to him, the stirring song, and he brought it out roundly,-- "oh, i wees' i was in the land of cotton, the good old times are not for-rgotten, look away, look away, look away, deexie land." xvii out of a clear sky there came to von rittenheim as he stabled his mule, with many a tender pat upon his coarse coat, one of those times of spiritual insight when we see ourselves as after a long absence we look with scrutiny upon once familiar objects. a perception of new growth filled him with surprise, as we look at the seedling under the window, and notice of a sudden that it has grown to be a sapling. with the scrutiny and the perception came a comprehension of new power, such as we feel objectively when our child asserts himself, and we understand in a flash that the man is born within him, and that the days of childhood are past. the remembrance of the months of regret and sorrow that had followed upon his coming to america struck him with nausea. the thought of his long ineptitude for the life which he had adopted voluntarily gave him a feeling of self-contempt. the inertness of his will disgusted him. and then all this disgust and contempt was swept away by a great wave of courage and determination and strength. he tingled with the consciousness that once more there had come to him the intrepidity with which his youth had faced the future, the will-power to take up life again, and the force to work and to win. reverently he thanked god for each increment of might that pulsed through him, as he struck a match and lighted his lamp,--so automatically the commonplace actions of life are performed while the spirit surges within. reverently he thanked god for the love that filled him, and for the hope of return that had come to him. then he stretched his arms upward to their fullest height, merely for the sake of feeling his physical strength, and broke into a torrent of tender german epithets,--_englein geliebte_, _herzenfreude_, _liebling_. he took out the little handkerchief and kissed it again and again, and walked restlessly about his room, too glad and too happy to be quiet. the nickel clock upon the mantel-shelf struck eleven, and at the same time something like the sound of wheels penetrated his exaltation. he stopped in his march and listened. no one could have turned by mistake into his road in such brilliant moonlight, yet he knew no one who would visit him at that hour. he thought it possible that some one was taking the back road to bud's cabin, so he made no move until the vehicle stopped before his house. then he stepped hastily into his bedroom and slipped his revolver into his pocket before he responded to a gentle rap. flinging back the door he saw standing on the porch a woman, a girl, about whom the breeze blew a scarf of thin black stuff. two trembling hands were held out to him as if to implore a greeting, and a white face looked up from its dark inwrapment like the face of a wistful child. the moon, sailing high in the zenith, cast no light beneath the porch's roof, and von rittenheim stood unrecognizing. she spoke in german. "friedrich, you do not know me?" "hilda!" there was dismay in his tone and surprise unspeakable. he made no offer to take her hands, and they sank at her side. the driver seeing that his fare had found whom she sought, deposited her trunk and a valise upon the floor of the porch, with a succession of heavy thumps, and drove off with a relieved "good-night," to which he received no response. "friedrich, your welcome is not cordial. surely you know me? you called me 'hilda.'" "yes, i know you. you are hilda," he repeated, dully. "why are you here?" "won't you ask me in and let me tell you?" "i beg your pardon." he stepped back that she might pass him. "you have surprised me almost out of my senses--entirely out of my manners, as you see." he gave her a splint chair--one of the two which were the room's complement--and stood before her. his arm lay on the mantel-shelf, his fingers clutching its edge until the nails grew white. the girl took off her heavy black bonnet and laid it on the table. the lamp behind her shone through the golden hair that made a halo around her face, the face of a child, unworldly, confiding. the only mark of maturity about her was the straight line of a determined mouth. friedrich spoke first. "you are wearing black. is it max?" the great, innocent blue eyes filled with tears. "yes, it is max." "poor child!" a shiver passed over the girl. "and poor max! when was it?" "five months ago." "five months ago? you can't mean that! five months ago! why wasn't i told?" "i hadn't your address." "max had it." "i looked through all his papers and found nothing." "herr stapfer, my lawyer, had it." "i applied to him, and he gave me an address in texas that you had sent him a year ago." "it is true. i believe i never wrote to him after i settled here until last june." "yes, it was in june that i heard from him again that you were here, and ill. i begged him not to tell you of max's death. i did not know how ill you were, and i feared for you. then i decided to come myself to find you--and care for you if you needed care." "your aunt?" "she is dead. i have no one now--but you." silence fell on them. the little figure with the dark robes of her mourning clinging about her, rose and stood before him, her linked fingers twisting nervously together. "you will let me stay? you told me once--you swore it, do you remember?--that your life was mine; that i had but to tell you of my need. you remember?" "yes, i remember." his eyes were on the ground and never met her steady gaze, but she seemed satisfied with what she saw. her hands stopped their nervous play. she looked curiously about the room. "this is a hunting-lodge, i suppose. but you must not think i care. i shall get on very well. and may i go to my room now?" von rittenheim was startled into activity by the simple request. "i think you must wait until some preparation is made. i will go and fetch a woman who will look after you. you will not be afraid if i leave you alone for a few minutes?" "entirely alone?" "yes. there is no one here. but see, i leave you my pistol, and you can lock the door on the inside, and when i come back i will call in german. no one else near here knows a word of german." "shall i be safe?" "perfectly--even without those precautions. i will hurry." he stood an instant outside the door listening to the noise of the key in the lock. then he turned in the direction of the yarebroughs', and ran feverishly along the path. his knock upon the door was answered by a sleepy "who's that?" and the click of a gun's hammer. von rittenheim explained his identity, and bud responded by opening the door an ungenerous crack. the baron told his necessity,--how his sister-in-law had arrived unexpectedly, and would mrs. yarebrough be so good, so _very_ good, as to go back with him and see if she could make her comfortable, and spend the rest of the night there? bud shut the door, and friedrich heard the sound of discussion. kindness of heart and curiosity to see the strange lady triumphed over the claims of sleep, and bud opened the door again to call through the crevice,-- "she'll go, mr. baron." it was almost midnight when they reached the cabin, friedrich and the whole yarebrough family; for sydney melissa could not be left behind, and bud had a curiosity of his own. von rittenheim spoke in german and the door was unlocked. he made a hasty explanation to hilda concerning the number of his escort. melissa stared with all her eyes at the childish beauty before her. "oh, mr. baron," she cried, with sudden courage, "ah'd like to take care of her, she's so little an' pretty. ah don' min' hit a bit, bud; truly ah'm honin' to," in unconscious confession of her previous timidity. "you-all go long back with bud, mr. baron, 'n ah'll make her comfortable. will ye have yo' trunk in here, ma'am?" to hilda's answer, "yes, if you please," in faltering english, melissa cried, in ecstasy,-- "don' she speak pretty! now, bud, you tote in the lady's trunk, 'n then go. she's tired." and the usually timid country girl entered into her new _rôle_ of care-taker with extraordinary zest. friedrich approached his sister-in-law. "good-night," he said. "you will be quite safe. have no fear." she held out her hand to him. he hesitated a moment, and then took it in a brief clasp. "good-night," was all she said. declining bud's offer of shelter, von rittenheim bade him farewell, and strode into the darkness of the forest. yarebrough looked after him, puzzled and disapproving. "he ain' none so glad to see his sister-in-law," he pondered. "ah wonner what hit all means." friedrich took no heed of his way beyond a numb feeling of pleasure when it grew steeper and rougher. he had left the trail long since, but he was stayed by no obstacle, was arrested by no barrier of nature's make. a lizard asleep on a tiny ledge of rock, jutting from a cliff, scuttled away in fright as a man in sudden onslaught scaled its face. a pair of cotton-tails bobbed from one thicket to another in wildest terror as he came breaking through. a trout, floating in a rocky basin of the brook, fled with a dexterous flip of fin and tail to the protecting shelter of an overhanging root, as the placid pool was agitated by the passage of an enemy, following the course of the stream as the path of least resistance. to all these sights and sounds friedrich was blind and deaf. he spoke no word. it was as if he were deprived of every power but that of motion. he plunged on like a man of old pursued by the erinyes. though he was unconscious of fatigue, the mad pace began to tell on him, and his muscles cried for quarter. at such times he rushed either to the right or left, going along the side of the mountain until he found an easier upward passage, but always ascending, never turning down the slope; always fleeing from the pursuing wretchedness; always subtly conscious of the futility of flight. so mounts a small bird into the air, pursued by a hawk. higher and higher he flies, straight up into the blue, hoping that the wind may blow him far beyond his pursuer's reach, believing that the light atmosphere that suffices to support his frail body may be too tenuous to uphold his heavier enemy. hoping thus and believing; but realizing at last the unequal contests between their strengths, the failing of his own force, the fateful, certain, deadly approach of the antagonist whose power it is useless to oppose. one above the other two shelves of rock arose, like two steps of a giant's staircase. friedrich's exhausted body sank upon the moss of the upper, and the bracken and small shrubs closed over him, as if to shield him in their gentle embrace from the trouble that had driven him to their care. he lay on his back, staring with unseeing eyes at the tree-leaves far above his head, black against the sky's purple. his mind seemed to be exhausted with his body. it moved with painful slowness, and groped vaguely after the things of memory. was it yesterday--when was it that he had seen sydney moving about in the yellow firelight? had he not--yes, he was sure he had--led her under the willow-trees and on to the old bridge, with the glistering glory under their feet, and the moon in splendor above them? and had she given him--no, of course not--but yes, what was this? he pressed to his lips the scrap of lace from his pocket. and there had been one splendid hour of hope and strength and courage--one hour when the past had fallen away from him and the future opened to his sight a not impassable avenue. the moon cast level shadows as the great planet rolled towards the western hills. friedrich fancied himself in germany, far back in the long ago, when he was madly in love with hilda. the story unfolded before him like a panorama of some one else's life. it was, indeed, he who had loved hilda, but he felt not a flutter of the emotion now. _now_ he knew what real love was. yet this ardent, jealous lover was he, and she had jilted him for maximilian. he went over again the old arguments in her behalf. why shouldn't she prefer max--gay, handsome old max? he was nearer her age, and he had just had a legacy from his aunt brigitta, whose favorite he had been. of course, that reason did not count. but he was gay and handsome and younger. surely those three excuses were enough. that wedding day! should he ever forget it? he had thought to go away, but that would have been unkind to max, and perhaps have put hilda in a wrong light in the eyes of those who knew them. no, he was the head of the family. his duty was to sit through the wedding-breakfast which her aunt gave to the bride, and to preside at the feast that welcomed the pair to schloss rittenheim. though the old love could not enter him again, the old torture came back poignantly. after the feast was over and the guests had gone, he had found himself with her in a recessed window, looking down upon a carriage rolling away in the moonlight. he had taken her hands, and had compelled her gaze. she looked so fragile, so helpless, as he thought of his brother's carelessness and love of self, and he swore a solemn oath to stand ready to help her and to care for her, if ever need should be. max, a little uncertain in speech and gait, had called her then, and friedrich had ordered a horse, and had ridden recklessly into the forest--on and on and on. for a whole month he had endured the torture of greeting her calmly every morning, and of lifting her tiny white hand to his lips every night, and then he had decided that there was no reason for such crucifixion, and he had come to america. and in america he had met the princess--the splendid princess! the moon sank behind the mountains, and with its disappearance friedrich slept. xviii business plans through the early morning's shifting mist--the haze that foretells a fine day--two men felt their way up the side of buzzard mountain. they followed no path,--indeed, there are few trails to follow,--but they climbed steadily on, as if they knew well their way, and as if speed were of importance. with all their perseverance they could not cover much ground, for the ascent is sharp enough to clutch the lungs, and the mist covered for them a world of stumbling-blocks. "h'm," grunted the leader, pink pressley. "they oughter be a black oak about here with a varmint hole in hit." he stopped and peered about him through the gloom, while bud, his companion, took the opportunity to lay his burden upon the ground while he wiped his forehead with a blue handkerchief. he made no response to his friend's remarks, but wore the air of one who does what he is bid, and follows where he is led. pink swung himself into motion again. "ah reckon we ain' high enough, yet," he growled, and swore softly as he struck his foot against an unseen stone. "hang ye, don' do that," he cried, angrily, as he heard the breaking of a branch behind him. "why don' ye blaze yo' way right along, or mark yo' path with a rope? do you wan' the whole settle-_ment_ follerin' us up here?" with praiseworthy discretion bud still refrained from speech. a particularly steep bit of climbing silenced his companion as well. yarebrough was the first to discover the landmark. "is that the black oak?" he asked. "where?" he pointed above them and a little to the right, to a veteran whose side had been cut by hunters for the discomfiture of a 'coon or 'possum that had taken refuge within. "yep." they climbed to it, and both men set their heavy loads upon the ground. "much further?" asked bud. "no, come on. sun'll be up soon 'n we'll be late gettin' down." pressley pointed to the east, where a sort of inner glow seemed to illuminate the haze and make it thinner and more penetrable. they shouldered their packs and again pink led the way. he advanced, now, with a certain care. from the tree he counted a hundred paces to the right, and called bud's attention to the number. "that brings ye to this hickory--see?--with a rock under hit. now, then, straight up from this is the place we's after, twenty-five steps, about; but hit's hard to tell, hit's so steep." he deposited his load upon a flat platform of rock, above which, at a height of a dozen feet, the bank overhung. under the bank was a hole, not clear enough to be called a cave, nor of any great size. bud sank down, gratefully, beside his leader, and scrutinized the place. "not overly large," he commented, "but ah 'low hit 'll be right smart bigger when hit's cleaned out." "hit is," returned pressley, laconically. he spoke with so much decision that bud looked at him sharply. "you-all ain' ever----?" he hesitated. "used hit before? not much! ah ain' a plumb fool! but they's nothing like comin' from a fam'ly that's observin' an' contrivin'." a smile of self-appreciation swept over his face. "ah've knowed about this place ever since ah was fryin' size. in fact, mah father--well, never min' him. only you'll fin' they's plenty o' room inside to stow away that rubbish an' all our little do-es beside." "whereaway's the water?" "they's a spring over yonder a little bit." bud stared at the hole sullenly, and slowly scratched his head. pressley, unlashing a mattock and shovel from his pack, did not notice him. "ah swear, pink," broke out yarebrough, in puzzled indecision, "ah swear ah donno's ah like this business." pressley sneered. "don' talk so loud. yo' rather late findin' hit out." "no, ah ain'. ah ain' never been sho'." "sho' 'bout what?" "oh, ah donno. kin' o' hard to say. you-all don' think we'll get caught?" "not 'f you keep that big mouth o' yo's shut." "mr. baron did." "mr. baron's a fool. he trusted a stranger." "hit'll kin'er make ye uneasy 'bout talkin' to fellers on the road, won' hit?" said bud, who was the most sociable man in the settlement. "hit'll sharpen yo' judg-_ment_. the way you-all go on now you ain' fur off mr. baron fo' never suspectin' nobody." it was this very quality in bud that was playing into pink's hands. yarebrough, however, felt properly rebuked. "ah ain' had yo' experience, ye know. ah never see but one marshal to know him." "when ye do see one, an' yo' sho', never forget him. hit's the only way. here, take this mattock 'n pull those small rocks out, 'n pile 'em on this crocus-sack so's they won' make any trash on this-yer platform." bud did as he was bid, and the men worked quietly and steadily for ten minutes. "here she is," pink whispered, at last, and peered excitedly into the cavern. it was, as he had said, not very large, but large enough. "now pick up that sack with me an' tote hit in here. we mus'n' leave anythin' roun'. here, this corner 'll do. now bring me in that pipe 'n the little keg. we c'n leave all the tools here _ex_-ceptin' our axes. axes looks well 'f we meet anybody goin' down." "h'm," grunted yarebrough once more, and scratched his head again. he stepped out of the cave on to the platform that nature's hand had laid. the brightening light indicated the approach of dawn, though the sun had not yet risen. the mist was not dispelled, but it had grown thinner, and trees at some distance down the mountain began to have individual shape through the veil of dry haze that inwrapped them. the air was cool and sweet. the birds were singing, though still sleepily, but one in a tree over his head burst into a glorious heralding of the morning. bud thrust his hands into his pockets and whistled softly. pink roused him roughly from his reverie. "come, boy, we gotter fix up this yer openin' somehow." bud answered irrelevantly: "ah wisht ah was certain about m'lissy." pressley let fly the bush that he was bending across the mouth of the cave. "what about her?" he asked, sharply. "oh, everythin'!" explanation was difficult to his slowness of thought. "she'll be wonderin' what takes me away from home so much at night; an' ah don' much like to leave her alone, neither." "cain' ye trust her?" jeered pink, with an evil scowl, but bud turned on him so fiercely that he added, hastily,--"to keep still if ye tell her?" "tell her? tell m'lissy! ah wouldn' tell her fo' a good deal! you-all don' know m'lissy." "she'd jump ye, ah reckon." "no, ah don' allow she'd say much. the way hit is, ye see, m'lissy,--hit's foolish 'f her,--but m'lissy kinder thinks ah ain' a right bad feller, an' ah sorter hate to disabuse her min' o' that opinion." "she mus' know you-all drinks." "yes, ah 'low she do." "an' ye play craps." "oh, well, that ain' anythin'." "an' ye fight chickens." "of co'se; everybody does that." "'n you've killed paddidges befo' the law was off." "who hasn'?" "if she knows all those things she sho' cain' think yo' a plumb angel." "ah don' s'pose she's lookin' fo' wings. all the same, ah do hate to have her know ah'm about to do this." "oh, this is all right. she don' know yo' in debt an' need the money." "no, she don'." "would that worry her?" "ah reckon hit would, specially if----" "if what?" "you seem powerful eager to know what'll worry m'lissy." "if ye don' know what worries people ye cain' know how to help 'em." pink was suavity itself. "if what?" "ah was goin' to say, specially 'f she knowed it was you-all ah owed hit to." "lemme tell ye somethin' right now, bud: m'lissy wouldn' fin' everybody clever 'nough to len' money to a no-'count feller like you. she better like me 'f she don'." "she don' know hit, ye see. 'n she never shall 'f ah c'n help hit." pressley grunted and seemed to reflect. then he shook his head and muttered to himself. "hit might spoil the other." "what ye say?" asked bud. "nothin'. ah'm studyin' 'bout fixin' a sort o' do' fo' here, so's the light won' shine out none when we-uns is workin'." "where's the smoke goin' to?" "they's a split in that upper rock, fur back, we c'n run a bit o' pipe through. leastways, they was when ah was a kid." "'n 's they ain' been no _con_-vulsion o' nature since that happy time, you 'low hit's still there." "may be filled up; 'twan' overly big. but that's easy fixed." "say, pink, don' you think we'd make any money--jus' as much money--'f we paid the tax, 'n could retail openly?" "paid the tax? paid---- fo' the lawd's sakes! pink pressley payin' the gover'men' tax!" he gave a great burst of laughter, which he quickly strangled, looking about suspiciously, and shook and shook with suppressed mirth. bud stared at him seriously, and with some offence. "ah don' see nothin' e'er so ludicrous about that suggestion." "oh, lawd!" pink was rocking gently from side to side. "you don'? jus' look yere, then. have you-all got twenty-five dollars to pay the federal gover'men' fo' this privilege? 'n fifty to pay the state? 'n fifty to pay the county? 'f you got a hundred 'n twenty-five dollars to spen' so free, ah'd like to see hit!" bud rubbed his head and said nothing. "'n who'd ye get to go on yo' bond? mrs. carroll 'n miss sydney, ah s'pose! oh, dear!" again he laughed, soundlessly. "if ye go into hit so expensive, ye gotter have the plant to do a big business, 'n where'd ye get that? 'n ye'd have to get mo' co'n 'n you 'n me c'n make ourselves, 'n that'd mean ye gotter buy hit, or rent mo' lan' 'n hire niggers to work hit, 'n how'd ye pay fo' that?" bud listened gloomily, chewing the side of his finger. "them gover'men' fellers cain' make nothin'," went on pink. "firs' place they's co'n at fifty cen's a bushel. one bushel o' co'n makes about two gallons o' whisky; they's an _ex_-pense o' nigh twenty-five cen's a gallon to begin with. then the gauger comes 'roun', 'n ye have to pay a tax on all he's smart enough to fin',--a dollar 'n ten cen's a gallon. they's a dollar 'n thirty-five cen's a gallon befo' the stuff's lef' yo' sto'house. 'n what payin' market c'n ye fin' fo' hit when any feller who wan's c'n get all the moonshine he needs fo' a dollar or a dollar 'n a quarter a gallon? oh, ah tell you, 'f ye wan' to make any money with a gover'men' still ye gotter have a switch-off that the gauger cain' fin. 'n 'f ye do that, ye might's well's, far's yo' morals is concerned, do hit all moonshine 'n save those ex-penses ah listed fo' ye right now." "ah s'pose yo' right," assented bud. "blockadin's blockadin', whether ye do hit by moon or day. do you-all 'low calkins might inform on us?" "him's runs the still back o' buck? ah don' guess so. he knows ah could tell the sto'keeper the whereabouts o' a pipe in his still-house that don' run into no sto'house. oh, no, he won' inform on us." "ah hope not," said bud, dismally. "anyway, you-all better come on down now. gimme that axe, will ye?" "we gotter be right careful not to make no path comin' here. we better never come twict the same way." bud nodded his understanding. "come on," he urged. "ah'm's empty 's a gun." xix hilda pink roses and red swung to and fro in the sunshine as they climbed the doctor's whitewashed porch. big bees hummed their sleepy drone from the fragrant hearts of the flowers, and a humming-bird whirred busily in and out in search of the honeysuckle that he loved. up-stairs mrs. morgan was darning stockings in the coolest room in the house,--a bedroom with a northern exposure. a white shirt-waist gave a puffy look to a body that could ill endure such appearance of enlargement, and a black belt accentuated the amplitude of girth that it encircled. the good lady sat in an armless rocking-chair, or rather _on_ it, for she was by no means contained therein, but bulged over and beyond at all points. her feet, shod in heelless black slippers, above which puffed white stockings, rested upon a low footstool, and her widespread knees provided a generous lap for the support of her supply of socks and her implements,--her needle-book' and darning-gourd and balls of cotton. she had that look of comfort that fat people seem to radiate even when it is evident that physical annoyance is their own share. [illustration: "pink roses and red swung to and fro in the sunshine as they climbed the doctor's whitewashed porch"] discomfort had no part in the picture that mrs. morgan presented, however, for a cool breeze gently ruffled her hair, and her eyes, when she lifted them from her work, rested contentedly on the fertile fields of the doctor's farm, which were thriving, under bob's management. she nodded with, pursed-up lips, as she wove her little lattices in heel and toe. "he's doing better than ever ah thought he would," she murmured. "better, even, than ah dared to hope,--thank god!" up and down, over and under, in and out went her needle. "it's such a joy to henry to have him so." the scissors snipped a thread at the end of a darn, and a new hole displayed its ravage over the yellow surface of the gourd. "it's been going on some months now, bless him! ah'd like to know how he started in. ah believe mahself it's sydney." the work sank into her lap for a space, while her shrewd eyes roamed over the fields, and sought buck mountain beyond, thrusting its topmost clump of chestnut-trees against the sky. she nodded to her thoughts as she picked up the unfinished sock. "she's a wise mother who knows where her son ties his horse, and ah confess ah haven't always known, but it strikes me it's mostly the oakwood hitching-post." she smiled at her own sagacity. "not that sydney'd have him. though she might do a great deal worse, a great deal worse," she added, loyally. "but he cares for her enough to want to please her, and it takes the best to satisfy sydney." a step on the stairs outside made itself heard. "come in, dear. ah was just thinking about you." bob flung his cap on the bed, sat down on a cricket beside his mother, and leaned his head against her shoulder. "tired, dear?" "no, just hot. i've been over every field on the farm since breakfast." "in all this sun!" "do you think it ought to cease to shine to shade your boy? there'll be a right smart crop this year." "so your father was telling me yesterday." "i've got better hands than usual." "and they have a better overseer." she let fall the stocking from her left hand and patted the shock of black hair resting on her shoulder. silence fell between them--the embarrassment that comes from the broaching of a delicate subject. "it's hard work," he sighed, and her mother-love knew that he did not refer to the management of the farm. "we all have our dragons to fight, and yours is one of the hardest kind. ah'm sure he's growing weaker, though." "but he's still in the ring," groaned bob, with a comical look, and they laughed in sympathy. "i ought to have begun on him long years ago for your sake, ma dear, but--it wasn't you!" he blurted out, and hastened to kiss her, lest she be offended. she could not help just a little sigh. "it's what happens to most mothers, and we are thankful for the result, and put our vanity into our pocket." "i don't want you to suppose that i'm such a puppy as to believe that she--you know who--cares for me--that way, you know. but i happened to think one day when--well, never mind what happened--i just thought that while she might never care anyway, she was dead sure not to if i went on being the kind of thing i was." "true, dear, and even if she never did,"--how she longed to give him hope, as she had given him every toy he asked for in his baby days! but wisdom came to her now, and love gave her strength,--"even if she never did, the victory would still be a victory." "and you'd care, anyway. oh, mothers are good things! do you mind my telling you-all this?" he was sitting before her now, with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. she leaned forward and kissed him. "you've given me the greatest happiness ah've known for years, dear." he pulled at the stockings in her lap. "i don't think i've had much show lately, do you?" "you mean----?" "oh, well, i reckon i don't mean anything. it's all in the game. there's father," as a cry of "o-oh, sophy!" was heard below. "sophy's up here in the north room, dad," he called, eliciting from his mother the expected-- "you impertinent boy!" the doctor came in, bringing with him an air of excitement that made bob cry,-- "what's up?" mrs. morgan laid down her half-darned sock in anticipation. "you never can guess the latest development." "ah've no desire to, henry. ah'd rather hear it at once." "who do you think's come?" "where?" "to the neighborhood." "henry, don't be so aggravating! why don't you-all tell what you've got to tell, if you _have_ got anything to tell." this sarcasm drove on the doctor to disclosure. "baron von rittenheim's sister-in-law." "his sister-in-law!" cried bob. "what in the world will he do with her in that cabin of his?" ejaculated mrs. morgan. "is she pretty?" this from bob. the doctor was quite satisfied with the sensation he had aroused, and sat down to tell his story comfortably. "ah've just come from oakwood, and sydney told me. it seems she turned up last night after the baron got home from the picnic; drove out from asheville. he had to go and get melissa yarebrough to come and look after her." "he wasn't expecting her, then?" "sydney says no. of course he couldn't ask visitors to that shack of his." "ah suppose she hadn't any idea he was living that-a-way." "ah reckon not. she's his brother maximilian's wife, or widow, rather, for she brought him the news of his brother's death. sydney says he was quite broken up about it when he came over soon this morning to ask mrs. carroll if she would take her in. the old lady'd gone to fetch her when ah got there." "did you wait?" "you bet!" "is she pretty?" bob asked again, with some insistence. perhaps the baron--how could he, though? but there was at least a chance of his falling in love with his own countrywoman. "pretty? i should say so! she looks like a lovely child, or an angel on a christmas card, or something. oh, you needn't grin. she won't look at you!" "saving all her looks for you, i suppose! can she speak english?" "yes; but not enough to hurt anything. you'd ought to have seen her run up to sydney, just like a little girl, and cry out, 'oh, i thank you for that you have been so kind, every one, to my dear friedrich!'" "how did sydney take that?" mrs. morgan could not resist a glance at her son. "oh, sydney always does everything all right." "what did she say to you, dad?" "oh, something about friedrich telling her that mrs. carroll and ah were his best friends." "how long's she going to stay?" "ah don't know. ah came away right off." at oakwood baroness hilda von rittenheim's coming partook of the nature of an event. sydney, who never had happened to hear even her name mentioned, went about during the time of her grandmother's absence in a state of agreeable anticipation. she was curious to see this unexpected arrival, and she took pleasure in arranging flowers in her room, and in shading the windows to produce the most desirable light. "it will please him," she thought, "for us to be nice to her. poor thing, she's lost all she cared for in the world; everybody ought to be nice to her." and she thought how happy she was herself, and resolved to be as kind as she knew how to be to the new-comer. sydney had a strong reluctance to face emotional or spiritual crises, and not even after her conversation on the bridge did she acknowledge to herself that von rittenheim loved her, or that she cared for him. she was content to feel the glow that warmed her when she knew that she was the princess of his fable, and not to analyze her own feeling further, or to posit in him more than admiration. americans usually think of german women as fat and affectionate, or, if they are extremists, as "fit only to propagate their own undesirable race." sydney formulated no idea of hilda's appearance, but she found herself none the less surprised when she and dr. morgan watched from the window the tiny figure in its black robes, descending from the carriage. "why, the baron said she was twenty-five, but she doesn't look any older than i do," she cried, and she flew down the steps to welcome her. hilda's little speech of thanks was natural and pretty, and sydney liked her at once because she liked friedrich. katrina was delighted with her. tom declared that he could listen to that accent forever, and john went into absurd raptures that were more serious than they sounded. even mrs. carroll, usually not enthusiastic, granted her to be "pretty? yes, even lovely. and charming? very." hilda must have felt herself to be under scrutiny during the day, yet she betrayed no knowledge of it. her behavior was perfect. several times she alluded to max. "poor max! the shock of his death was to me severe. have i known friedrich long? oh, yes, indeed. before ever i met maximilian. i was living with my aunt in heidelberg when he was at the university. i was a little girl then. ah, yes, friedrich always was _nett_ to me, even so before max. yes, always shall i love friedrich." it occurred to sydney that there was a shade too much insistence on this mutual affection, but she berated herself for a "jealous piece," and ordered uncle jimmy to bring out on the lawn coffee as well as tea, in deference to her guest's probable predilection. "yes, dear frau carroll," said hilda, in answer to a question. "indeed, have i much to talk with him. he comes this evening to see me. i have much to tell him and to hear from him." over her cup she glanced shrewdly at sydney, who was enraged to feel herself blushing. when baron von rittenheim appeared in the evening, sydney and the schuylers and john were just starting for the hugers' dance. "surely you will go," the little baroness had said, "and you will not think of me one time." "you ask too much," murmured john. she glanced at her mourning with a look that might have meant yearning for max, or a desire to go to the ball. then she raised her eyes to friedrich's, and sydney was surprised to see a look of anger sweep over her childish face. seeking its cause she found von rittenheim's eyes fixed on herself, so full of love and longing and sadness that her one wish was to comfort him. involuntarily she took a step towards him, and held out her hands. then she remembered herself, and swept him a low courtesy, as if in thanks for the admiration of his gaze. "you like my frock, m. le baron?" she asked. von rittenheim's eyes went to the fluffy white mass lying on the floor, and rose again to her face. "he's speechless with rapture, sydney," said john. "i am, indeed," said friedrich, bowing with his hand on his heart. "then come on, sydney, and let language flow once more." and tom dexterously threw her cape over her shoulders. "see that? i've learned to do that really well since i was married. i've been practising in private. mrs. schuyler, allow me." and he repeated his performance and swept his flock before him to the door. xx sacrifice "i know that you two have much to say to each other," said mrs. carroll, when the noise of departing wheels had died away. "ring the bell, baron, please, and tell james to light the lamp in the little sitting-room. and in considering your plans, let me beg both of you to remember that it will be a pleasure to us all if the baroness will stay at oakwood as long as she wishes." hilda ran to the elder woman in her childish, impulsive way, and thanked her with many little german phrases of gratitude. von rittenheim raised her hand to his lips and murmured,-- "you make my decision easier, dear lady." in the little sitting-room hilda established herself in a huge arm-chair, whose high back cast a shadow on her face, and friedrich, at the window, drew in great breaths of sweet summer air. he turned to her when uncle jimmy had gone. "first tell me about max." "yes, i must tell you about max. i am afraid it will be an added grief to you to know that max----" "what is it?" he asked, sharply and apprehensively, as she hesitated. how familiar to him was that feeling of apprehension about his brother. hilda was sitting erect in the big chair, looking at him fixedly. "max--shot himself." "my god! shot himself! poor girl!" the expression on hilda's face changed to one of relief--almost of joy. after all, his first thought had been for her. "why did he--how did it happen?" "he had had troubles----" "money?" she nodded. "i think they distressed him more than usual. and he was--he wasn't quite himself." von rittenheim stared persistently out of the window, his face almost entirely turned away from her. he lost not a word of what she said, and at the same time there ran through his mind memories of their boyhood days together, and of their adventures at the gymnasium and the university. then their rivalry over hilda. with what careless ease maximilian had won her away from his brother, just for the pleasure of victory. he felt again a dash of the old bitterness. "you mean he was drunk?" he asked, bluntly. she raised her tiny hands before her face as if she were warding off a blow. friedrich hardly could hear her "yes." her action suggested an idea to von rittenheim. "tell me, hilda." he stammered over the question. "did he--did max ever strike you?" without a word hilda pushed back the hair that fell over her forehead at one side, and showed, close to the roots, a scar. friedrich gazed at her in horror. "you poor, poor girl!" again the glow of satisfaction warmed her face. "where was he when he--when he died?" "at the schloss--in my dressing-room." "you were there?" "my dress was wet with his blood." over friedrich there rushed man's protective feeling, the desire to shield a woman from pain; his own yearning of not so many months ago, to fend this one fragile creature from the world. he drew nearer to her, and she leaned back in her chair and looked up at him out of the shadow. "i could not bear to live at the schloss any longer--there were horrible memories, and i was alone; i told you my aunt had died. you know she was my only relative." von rittenheim knew. it was at her aunt's house in heidelberg that he had met hilda. "then maximilian had told me that we could not live in the schloss if you did not supply the money to carry it on. after he died i could not feel myself indebted for that to you when i had treated you so badly." she hung her head. von rittenheim made a gesture of polite dissent, and walked again to the window. "you always had enough money, i hope?" "no sum ever was large enough for max." they both smiled. "but a piece of great good fortune came to me just after you went away." von rittenheim turned again to the window and betrayed some embarrassment, but hilda was intent upon her story, and noticed nothing. "some of the investments into which my dowry had been put appreciated enormously in value." so that was the way herr stapfer had explained it. friedrich nodded approvingly. "so i always had enough for my needs, even when----" "when what?" "forgive me. i did not mean to say it." "you were going to say, 'even when maximilian took it?'" she hung her head again, like a sorry child. he noticed how her neck and arms shone white through the thin black of her gown. "after all, you are his brother. perhaps i should tell you. at the end--it was because of that that he shot himself, poor max! he came to me in my room and asked me for money, and i told him i had none. indeed, he had taken the last i had a few days before. he did not believe me, and he threatened to shoot himself if i did not give it to him." "coward!" "of course, i did not think that it was more than--excitement. how could i believe that he was in earnest? but he kept crying, 'give it up, give it up!' the servants heard him. and then----" friedrich crossed quickly to her and leaned over the chair as she sat with her face buried in her handkerchief. "hilda, it seems to me no woman ever needed pity and comfort more than you. you have come many thousands of miles to claim it from me, and i will not fail you. you reminded me last night of my oath to you. i repeat it now. my life is at your service if it can bring you happiness." the words sounded forced and stilted to his ears, even while he pressed the little white hand that she put out blindly towards him. he was not sorry for his pledge; he felt that he could have done no less; but sydney's proud, earnest face flashed before him, and his memory saw it soften and flush with the happy shyness that covered it when she gave him her handkerchief,--and he wondered to what extent hilda would consider that his promise bound him. a few days made it clear that he had committed himself to no mere form of words. she received the admiration of every man in the neighborhood. patton mcrae's elastic heart added another to its list of occupants, and john wendell fell seriously in love with her. but always in the foreground she placed von rittenheim. it was not alone that she looked for his coming, and monopolized him when he arrived; that she deferred to him, and did half a hundred tell-tale things; but in some way, by a hint here and a phrase there, she made every one understand how it had been with them in the past,--how madly he had loved her; how foolish she had been to break the engagement; how worse than foolish, for she had broken his great, noble heart, too. but, now--with a pretty sigh and an appealing look--now was her opportunity to remedy the harm she had done. when one or two of the bolder ones hinted at an engagement, she denied it, with a rebuking glance at her black gown, her fascinating, floating diaphanous black gown. still, it became evident to every one that when a proper time had elapsed after maximilian's death, her consolation would be even more remedial. john haunted her steps, and left her only when the baron came. then he disappeared until his rival's departure. sydney grew distant in manner to von rittenheim, and often he did not see her at all when he went to oakwood. hilda's visit to mrs. carroll was prolonged on the ground that seemed to have place in every one's mind, though no one could trace its origin, that she would stay on near friedrich until it was time to go home to germany to begin her wedding preparations,--say, until after christmas,--and that they would be married as soon as the year of mourning was over. "it would be disgracefully soon if her husband had been a good man, of course, but he was such a beast!" and a shrug made all the necessary condonement for the hastening of the marriage. by september the whole neighborhood was converted to this belief, all except john, who _would_ not believe, and sydney, who had not trusted herself to think. the compulsion of thought seized her in her own room one night, after a day when it had been forced upon her that there could be but one truth, and that the conclusion to which her friends had come. from window to window she walked, dragging her trailing draperies, softly blue in the moonlight. she was fretted into constant motion by the impelling might of a desire to do something that would put off the moment when she must stop and think out the situation. she tried to divert her fancy to the channels of her daily life. she decided what colts should be broken next summer. she devised a new plan for keeping bob employed and happy when the dull days of winter should come. she endeavored to be grateful that her grandmother was less harassed by pain than usual. yet through all wreathed the insistent cry, "face it. you must face it." that compelling threat she knows who recognizes that the one dearest to her on earth must die. it commands the scrutiny of facts, and an end to the glossing of truth. it rings the knell of hope. later comes the sustaining reflection of the future life,--its opportunities for work and its attendant happiness for him who enters upon it. but now is self's confrontment with loneliness, with sorrow, with despair. the cry became insistent in sydney's ears. face it she must. she stepped through the long window upon the balcony which commanded west and south. the moon swam cold in the steel-blue sky. the ribbon of low-lying mist betrayed the devious winding of the creek. on the horizon swung the gray masses of the mountains, their hardness veiled in the tender light of distance. sydney fell on her knees and twisted her hands one within the other. she spoke in a whisper. "i cannot bear it! i cannot bear it! oh, i cannot bear it!" she repeated over and over. then stung to openness by the lash of the constant inward cry-- "i love him! oh, i love him! oh, i cannot bear it!" she moaned yet again. she rocked to and fro upon her knees, and hid her face in her hands to shut out the glory of beauty and calm that lay before and around her. "i never thought that love would be like this. to feel it--to be sure of it--and to have to give him to another woman!" she began to cry weakly. the moon flooded the gallery with its light. a diamond on one of sydney's clasped hands winked as gayly as if a tragedy were not filling the girl's heart. then oft-read words came to her lips: "nothing is sweeter than love, nothing more courageous, nothing higher; nothing wider, nothing more pleasant; nothing fuller nor better in heaven and earth." "for it carries a burden which is no burden, and makes everything that is bitter sweet and savory." "he that loveth flieth, runneth and rejoiceth; he is free and is not bound." "he giveth all for all." "he giveth all for all." she repeated it again and again. she had, indeed, dreamed of a love for which sacrifice should be a joy. but that this should be the kind of sacrifice! even through her wretchedness the humor of it penetrated, and a woe-begone smile fluttered over her lips. the singing words came to her again. "let me be possessed by love, mounting above myself." "let me love thee more than myself, and love myself only for thee." she kneeled upright and rested her folded arms upon the railing. peace seemed to be flowing in upon her, and a purpose grew into form within her mind. with increasing control she rose to her feet. "if my love is worth anything it can do even that." her uplifted face shone strong and beautiful as she left the splendor without, and knelt beside her bed. "o god, i thank thee that thou hast granted me the power to love. help me now, i implore thee, to make use of this, my dearest treasure, for the joy of others." xxi a poke party friedrich was sitting at his solitary breakfast. he had grown expert in the daily preparation of bacon, eggs, cornbread, and coffee; but that is a poor feast which is denied the sauce of companionship, and he dallied with his spoon, while he stared gloomily through the open door. the jaded green of the late september foliage harmonized with his mood of depression. he went to oakwood now only so often as courteous attention to his sister-in-law--poor little girl!--seemed to demand. sydney avoided him; and john, who still lingered, although the schuylers had gone north long before, gave him the black looks of a jealous rival. hilda, though never assuming before him the part of betrothed which every one assigned to her, nevertheless made him feel the bond by which he had engaged himself,--a net as fine as silk and as strong as steel; an enmeshment of chivalry and sympathy and love for his good word. he made his new business the excuse for his infrequent visits. it was no subterfuge, for even in the short period of two months the "mcrae cattle" were earning encomiums, from those who knew stock, for their good condition and the flavor of their beef. both on the baron's place and at cotswold long shelter-sheds were being erected for winter protection; and at cotswold, whose larger size warranted the establishment of a more extensive plant, the firm had put in a small stationary engine to cut the feed, and was building a silo for the preservation of the winter supplies. a dehorning machine, which caused a moment of present torture for the sake of months of future peace, served an additional purpose as an advertisement. farmers came from far back in the mountains to see the inhuman weapon, and incidentally brought along a calf or two to sell as an excuse for their waste of time. their denunciations sent more of the curious, who were not deterred by motives of tenderness from submitting their creatures to the operation, provided they received a good price. when hilda had discovered her brother-in-law's straitened circumstances she had offered to him a part of her income, deploring his evident poverty with real distress of voice and manner. "i don't understand why it is so,--you are not extravagant, like max,--but i can see the fact plainly enough, and i beg you to take it, dear friedrich." friedrich kissed her hand in gratitude, but refused, explaining that he had enough capital for the undertaking of his business venture, and that his personal wants were of the simplest. "but your house, friedrich. it is not fitting that a von rittenheim should live in a cabin like that." [illustration: "it is not fitting that a von rittenheim should live in a cabin like that"] "man makes the house, hilda, and i don't feel that my dignity is hurt. i am comfortable, and that is all that is necessary." he happened to think of this conversation as he drank the last of his coffee, and he realized that hilda's offer was another of the tiny threads that linked him to her. he thought how true it was now that, so long as he could make his living out of his new business, he cared nothing for the roof that sheltered him; while on that golden night of happiness when sydney and he had watched the river flow under the bridge, he had been glad of his new prosperity because he could build for _her_ a house such as she should fancy. he did not allow himself to think often of sydney. he was glad that he had had the strength to refrain from asking her to be his wife until he had something more substantial than his name to offer her. it relieved somewhat the present situation. yet her avoidance of him he could construe only as contempt for a man who had played with her while bound by other ties. sometimes he felt that he must explain to her how intangible were those bonds. yet he was sufficiently conscious of their actual existence to feel that the difficulties of explanation were almost insurmountable. and hilda, poor child, took his devotion entirely for granted. his thoughts were leading him in a circle, and it was a relief when melissa appeared in the doorway. he sprang up to welcome her. "come in, mrs. yare-brough. how do you do?" "ah'm well, thank ye. how are you?" returned melissa, in the polite formula of her kind. "won't you have a cup of coffee?" "no, ah thank you. how's mrs. baron?" "mrs. baron? oh! she was very well the last time i was at oakwood. she asks fr-requently for you and the baby." "mrs. baron's so sweet! ah never 'lowed to like anybody's much's miss sydney, but mrs. baron's jus' splendid." with a woman's care-taking instinct, she began to gather together the dishes on the table and prepare them for washing. "no, let me," she said, in response to von rittenheim's objection. "jus' while ah'm talkin'. ah stopped by to tell ye that ah'm goin' to have a party to-night, an' ah'd be proud to have you-all come to hit." her interest in him was so evident, and her desire to give him pleasure so real, that friedrich responded, heartily,-- "certainly, i shall go. it will give me delight. it is kind of you to ask me." melissa turned away, and rattled the knives and forks in gratified embarrassment. "hit's goin' to be to mother's 'cos her house is larger. you know where hit is?" "yes, indeed. is it a dance?" "hit's a poke party, but there'll be dancin', too." "a poke party! what is that?" "don't you-all know what a poke party is?" "poke? that is what i do with my finger at the baby." melissa laughed aloud. "you wait 'n see, then. ah reckon hit'll be a surprise party fo' you as well as a poke party." it was clear that melissa had imparted to her friends the baron's guess as to the probable nature of a poke party, for he was greeted with broad smiles as he made his way through the crowd of men and boys about mrs. lance's door into the room where dancing was going on. melissa came to him and proposed a seat beside mrs. 'gene frady until the cotillon should be ended, but von rittenheim preferred to go about the room as dexterously as he might in avoidance of the dancers, speaking to his acquaintances among the women and girls who lined its walls. there was space upon the floor for only two sets, and the lookers-on gossiped patiently, until such time as alf lance, the fiddler, should grow weary and let fall his bow. "they's fo' blue waistes here to-night. ollie warson looks mahty sweet in her's." "do you think so? hit seems like she favored her paw too much." "well, bill warson 'lows that if they's any good looks in the family, they come from him." "maw, you-all got a hairpin? give hit to me next time i turn co'ners." "look at evvie williams! she always gets a seat nex' the window, so's she c'n talk to some feller out o' hit." "ah did, too, when ah was that age." "yes, ah remember you did. ah don' guess hamp pinner's goin' to dance with ollie tonight." "yes, he is. he jus' ast her in through the window." "sh, sh, sh. will you hush yo' fuss!" "ah'm well, thank ye, mr. baron. how are you?" "look at drusilla pinner cross her feet, an' her a church-member, too!" "ah been lookin'. she's awful careless about her dancin'." "this child'll have to go to bed in the other room. he's yellin' jus' tur'ble." "ah 'low m'lissy 'll make some money out o' this. they's right smart here." von rittenheim made his rounds and joined the group of men at the door. they received him pleasantly, for he was a favorite among them. indeed, since his misfortune in the spring he had noticed an added warmth in their attitude, and a certain intimacy of approach. as he talked to them the music stopped abruptly, and with its last note he found himself alone, for the youths about him had precipitated themselves into the room to secure their partners for the next cotillon. the enterprising hamp came in through the window, by which port of entry the orchestra departed in search of the reviving pail on the back porch. melissa came timidly to von rittenheim. "won't you-all dance this nex' one, mr. baron? ah'll get ye a partner." "i fear i should make too many mistakes. i do not understand well enough english to know quickly what says the director." "oh, yo' partner 'll tell ye all that." "then, if you will be that partner, will i try." "oh, no. hit looks like ah'd been askin' you." "but no, mrs. yare-brough, for i would not tr-rust myself to the care of anybody whom i knew less well." "truly? then we'll stand here?" and friedrich, looking at her beaming face, did not regret the effort. the other participants in the cotillon gained no praise from the spectators, for every eye was upon their unexpected guest. they applauded his successes and smiled encouragingly upon his mistakes. they admired his good looks in pleased undertones, and secretly urged alf to prolong the dance and their pleasure until it seemed to friedrich that he had been on the floor for hours. when at last the music stopped, bud's voice was heard calling, loudly,-- "come in yere, boys, 'n get yo' pokes." the girls found seats for themselves, while the men crowded into the other room. "hit's supper," said melissa, giving friedrich a little shove towards the door. "you'll see now." "may i have the honor of bringing yours to you?" "no, ah thank ye, mr. baron. ah always eats mine with bud. but you-all go in an' get some, an' you'll fin' somebody to eat hit with when ye come back." in the other room the men crowded before a table upon which were piled paper bags of different sizes. each man was taking two, one for himself and one for his partner. "this size poke is ten cents," insisted bud, in the uproar, "'n this size is fifteen. they's good things in 'em all. the quality's the same, hit's the quantity makes the difference. yes, they's devil ham san'wich. ah know they is, 'cos ah cut mah finger openin' a can fo' m'lissy this mo'nin'. yes, they's cake, too. you, hamp, that size is fifteen!" as friedrich approached, a laugh went up at the expense of 'gene frady, who had taken a bag of each size. "watch out which one 'gene gives his wife," cried bud, sarcastically. the babies on the bed, four of them, were aroused by the noise, and joined their voices thereto. three older children, who were sleeping rosily under the covers, slumbered on peacefully. "one poke, or two, mr. baron? ah'm proud to see you-all here," said bud. "a poke is a bag, eh? give me two pokes, if you please, bud. yes, the large ones." returning to the dancing-room, he made his way to mrs. lance, melissa's mother, who was sitting near the window. she was flattered into silence by the attention of the offered poke, and they ate the contents of their bags with solemnity. a figure moving in the dim light outside attracted friedrich's attention. he put his head out of the window. the man came directly beneath, and looked up. "ah, pink, i thought that was you. i want to see you at some time." "ah'll watch out fo' ye when you-all's unhitchin' yo' mule." "very well. i'm going in a few minutes. you do not come in?" "no. hit's m'lissy's party, 'n she 'n me ain' friends." "here, take this, then." friedrich dropped his partly filled poke into the ready, uplifted hand. "i had my supper very late to-night," he explained to mrs. lance, "and a man outside a party looks so forlorn, don't you think so?" "some of 'em deserves hit," returned mrs. lance, laconically. "he's one." von rittenheim was fumbling with the halter-strap of his mule, when pressley appeared beside him out of the shadow of a pine-tree. "is that you, pr-ressley? do you r-ride or walk?" "ah'm walkin'." "then will i not mount." friedrich slipped the reins over the mule's head, and led him out on to the highway. pressley walked beside him. the stars shone brightly enough to make visible the open road. "are you-all goin' to ask me about the rent, mr. baron? bud 'n me's been pullin' fodder fo' a week. hit's all ready in the upper field, 'n you c'n take yo' choice any time. they's good bundles, fo' han's to the bundle." "thank you. no, it was not of that i was going to speak. i want to tell you that about six weeks ago--it was in august--i was up on buzzard mountain one night, and i fell asleep there." pink looked at him suspiciously in the darkness, and put a piece of the road between them. "i fell asleep on a ledge of r-rock, and when i woke up i heard voices just under me." "the hell ye did!" "it was you and bud." "well, what ye goin' to do about hit? hit ain' befittin' you to squeal on us." von rittenheim turned hot in the darkness, and made an impulsive motion that induced a corresponding disturbance in his companion. "if i had thought of doing that i should not have spoken to you to-night." pressley nodded, and came across the intervening space. "you-all wan' to come into the game, eh?" "no, i do not want to join you, if that is what you mean." "well, what do ye want, anyway?" "i wees' to say a few things to you. i do not ask you to stop moonshining. you are old enough to decide for yourself what kind of life you pr-refer to lead, though you know well that the life of a law-br-reaker is not the r-right sort." "oh, quit preachin', mr. baron. you-all's a law-breaker, yo'self." friedrich clutched the reins with a jerk that made the mule give a disgusted snort. the justice of the retort compelled him to self-control, as well as the knowledge that a giving way to rage would accomplish nothing, whereas coolness might do something. "you know as well as i do the penalty of br-reaking the law. you've suffered it more than once, they tell me." "ah reckon ah've cost 'em right smart mo'n they ever got out o' me," chuckled pink. "so i do not ask you to face the r-results of what you do, because you know well what they are, and you have made your choice. but i do ask you to think carefully before you undertake the r-responsibility of making bud a criminal." pink's eyes shone cruelly in the darkness, but he only said, "seems like you-all been a long time startin' on this yere work o' reform. you said hit was six weeks ago you heard us a-talkin'." "perhaps i have been wrong to delay. but that morning bud seemed not sure and determined about joining you, and i hoped that he might make up his mind to refr-rain." "how do you know he ain'?" "oh, by the grape-vine telegraph. those things always are known. also have i heard the men at the party to-night talking about it." "bud ain' no boy. don' you think he's old enough to decide fo' himself fo' or ag'in' the life of a law-breaker, as you call hit." "no, i do not. bud is several years younger than you in r-real age, and he is a child beside you in deter-rmination. also, he admires you." "ah'm grateful for the compliment!" "you could do anything with him." "ah'm doin' what ah wan' to with him." von rittenheim looked at his opponent in disgust, and fell back upon his last argument. "you know well what are the chances of your getting caught. you've been caught before." "yes, but ah won' be this time. hit was fellers that was mad with me who told on me befo', 'n ah've fixed hit this time so ah ain' got no enemies. they's only one feller that might inform." "who's that?" "you." the baron flung up his head in quick scorn, and pressley noted the gesture shrewdly, and nodded in satisfaction. still he drove in another nail. "a feller who'll listen will tell." friedrich colored angrily. "you mean me? it does not sound well to hear--that! at first when i awoke on the mountain i was sleepy. i r-realized not what it meant. when i did know, i had no wees' to die at once. i was unarmed myself, and a man in your position would shoot deter-rmined to kill." pressley smiled at this tribute to his quickness and resolve. "but it is not a question of me. what i was going to say was that you know there's a chance of your being arrested, and surely you would not care to feel that it was through you that bud had br-rought that shame and disgr-race upon his wife." "his wife?" the ejaculation sounded to von rittenheim like the hiss of a snake, and he drew away from pressley as from a reptile. "you have no r-relatives to suffer; alone you bear the bur-rden of your misdeeds. but if bud goes wr-rong consider of the gr-rief of that poor melissa, and think of the baby gr-rowing up to know that her father is a cr-riminal!" "you-all think you got a mahty strong argyment there, mr. baron, don' you? but let me tell you, that's the weakest one you could bring. m'lissy lance told me 'no' when she was a girl, an' m'lissy yarebrough's never spoke a decent word to me since she's been married, 'n 'f unhappiness comes on her, ah'll be glad of hit; 'n 'f hit comes through mah doin', hit's only what ah'm aimin' at." "'aimin' at?' what mean you by that?" "ah mean ah'll be gladder still 'f she's hurt through me." "know you not that it is a coward who takes pleasure in the pain of women and children?" "so be," returned pink, cheerfully. "a coward ah am, then, fo' that's the way ah feel." "i warn you i shall speak to bud." "talk yo' hatful, ah don' care. ah got a pull on him. talk all you please so long's ye don' talk to the marshal." "an' ah ain' afraid o' yo' doin' that," he continued to himself, as he turned into the side road that led to his cabin. "you-all's had enough o' them folkses; an' you ain' that kind, either." xxii von rittenheim collects his rent it was in the cool of the next day's afternoon that von rittenheim, with 'gene frady, who was working for him, drove up to the field where was piled his rent corn. bud was awaiting him there, and after he had chosen his heap from the three which were as nearly alike as it was possible to make them, he sat on a fallen tree and idly watched the two men loading the wagon. the western sky gave prophecy of a cloudless sunset, and friedrich wished that his own path towards oblivion were as free and clear, and smiled faintly at the triteness of his comparison. he owned to himself as he sat there that he was contented. he had entered upon his business with the desire to retrieve his past, and to make for himself a future that might be worthy for sydney to share. now the latter spur to ambition was gone, but it was replaced by an urgent desire to forget in work the bitter disappointment that had befallen him. pushed by that incentive his venture could not long remain a venture. such energy was bound to bring success. and the victory, which was daily more evident and more substantial, combined with the feeling that he was doing his duty as he saw it, to produce content. but happiness? no. never while---- oh, what was the use of thinking about it? he rose impatiently, and walked through the brush at the top of the field, slapping at the leaves with a switch that he had been stripping. of a sudden he stopped and sat down on a stump. "goin' down with me, mr. baron?" called 'gene from the top of the loaded wagon. "no, i think not. i'll stay and talk with bud a while. come up here, yare-brough," he added, as frady drove off, whistling. bud approached, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "bud, did you know this was here?" von rittenheim reached behind him and tapped something that gave forth a sound of earthenware. "know what was there?" "come and see." yarebrough stepped behind the stump, upon whose top the baron swung around so as to keep his face in view. "whose jug?" asked bud. "i know not. i thought you might know." bud picked it up, disclosing a silver half-dollar upon which it had been resting. he looked at it as if afraid, and then glanced sheepishly at friedrich. "a half a gallon," remarked the german, dryly. the mountaineer reddened and stooped for the coin. "wait!" commanded von rittenheim. "before you touch that, i want to ask you if you would be willing that your wife should know how you ear-rned that money?" yarebrough changed his weight uneasily from one foot to the other, and then sat down suddenly, as if his legs were not equal to his support. "well, ah wasn' fixin' to tell m'lissy," he acknowledged. "know you not that that so good little woman would r-rather be hungr-ry than have you give her money that you gained by br-reaking the law?" "well, ah wasn' fixin' to give hit to her." "you weren't? what are you going to do with it?" unfortunately for the success of friedrich's plan for bud's moral regeneration, yarebrough's affection for the baron made him reticent on the fact of his debt to pressley. "for," he thought, sagely, "if ah tell him ah owe pink, he'll go to lend me the money, 'n ah know he cain' afford hit. would he ever 'a' gone into sellin' blockade himself if he hadn' been as pore as a crow?" his wit not being very ready, however, he offered no excuse, but said,-- "ah reckon ah don' care to tell ye." friedrich laid his hand on the young man's shoulder as he sat beside him on the ground. "think what it means, bud, to do what now you do. you put yourself in the class of wr-rongdoers instead of in the r-ranks of those who do r-right. you will br-reak melissa's heart if she finds it out, as certainly she will. and think of the baby. you want her to have an honest father, don't you?" bud was ground between the upper and the nether millstone. on one side of his weak will was his affection for his wife and child, and his desire to please the baron. on the other was his fear of pressley's sneers and his habit of submission to the older man's domination. and since his inclination towards good was not assisted by the mighty lever of a love of good for virtue's sake, the millstones clung close together, and the grinding still went on. to compromise with a disagreeable present is a desire which it takes a stronger man than bud to shake off. his inner light showed him no reason for making such an effort. "ah s'pose ah hadn' oughter do hit," he admitted, "but hit's mahty temptin'. now that there's the first money ah seen from hit yet. hit's all been hard work up to now, an' nothin' comin' in." he lifted the jug and looked longingly at the coin on the ground. "you don' know what hit is to wan' hit so bad, mr. baron." "do i not know? good god! bud, it was because i wanted half that sum so much that i couldn't r-resist the temptation of it shining in a man's hand, that i did the thing for which never shall i for-rgive myself. you know, bud; you r-recollect----" he hid his face in his hands and gave a sob of tortured remembrance. bud's easy sympathies were strained almost to the point of tears. "ah know," he responded, hastily; "you hadn' oughter 'a' done hit. don', mr. baron, don'! ah'll think about stoppin', ah certainly will. sit up, mr. baron," he cried, agitatedly, "here's folkses comin',--mrs. baron an' miss sydney." von rittenheim raised his head, hardly believing bud's cry to be other than an excuse to rouse him from his emotion. but he saw in the road below him a party of four people on horseback approaching his cabin. even from his elevation he could recognize sydney's erect carriage, and the white habit that it pleased hilda to wear. he rose to his feet. "think of what i say, boy," he said to yarebrough. "i am older than you, and god knows i've earned my experience." bud watched him down the hill. when he was greeting his guests at the door of his cabin, yarebrough picked up the jug and the coin, and disappeared into the woods. wendell was taking the baroness off her horse, and bob was performing the same office for sydney, when von rittenheim reached them. "we are come to beg a welcome fr-rom you for a few minutes, dear friedrich," said hilda, in english. "which surely is yours," returned von rittenheim, kissing her hand. he turned to sydney, but she was busy doing something to her saddle, and greeted him over her shoulder. his hand dropped to his side. "let me help you tie the horses, bob," he insisted, and took sydney's animal from him. "dear yonny," he murmured, in the unresponsive ear, as he fastened him in the shade, and gave him a pat and a lump of sugar from his pocket. "may we go in?" asked hilda. "i want to see the state of your storeroom," she added, with an air of protecting care that sat prettily on her youthful face. "_natürlich_," called friedrich from johnny's side. "the key of the cupboard is in the table-drawer." sydney was alone on the porch when friedrich came up the steps. "your view is lovely," she said. "i think i like pisgah better from this angle than from any other." "then do i, too," he replied, looking at her with his heart in his eyes, for it was long since he had seen her, and to a lover yesterday, when it is passed, is as a thousand years. sydney threw up her chin haughtily, and von rittenheim thought ruefully of the category in which undoubtedly she classed all his remarks of that kind. "will you not enter?" he said. "never have you honored my roof, i think." and sydney was glad to do so to avoid being alone with him. they found hilda leaning against the table opposite the cupboard, while bob recited the contents of the shelves, and wendell wrote them down. "two packages of oatmeal." "oatmeal," echoed john. "one tin of mustard." "mustard." "a sack half-full of cornmeal." "cornmeal." "what in the world are you doing?" cried sydney, in amazement. friedrich looked annoyed. no one likes to have his house-keeping arrangements too closely scrutinized. "friedrich, this list is going to help you ver-ry much to know what you must or-rder from the--how you call him?" she appealed to john and bob in turn. "the grocy?" friedrich smiled to conceal his irritation. "my way, hilda, is to get more of something when i find empty the box that holds it. i'm afr-raid i am not pr-rovident." she returned his smile adorably. "that i must teach you," she said, and sydney and john turned away. sydney walked to the mantel-shelf, which was so high that it was on a level with her eyes. there was an array of pipes and a tin box of tobacco; a volume of schiller, with some matches lying loose upon it; and, flat on the board, a photograph. she picked it up idly, not noticing what she was doing, conscious only of doing something, so that her separation from the others might not be noticeable. her discovery proved to be half of a picture of a neighborhood picnic, taken by an itinerant photographer who had established his tent near the flora post-office. it was that side of the group in which she was standing, and her figure was brought into relief by a frame of card-board slipped over it like a mat. it had become a picture of herself, and of herself alone. her first feeling--the instinct that comes before thought--was one of pleasure; he had cared enough to do that. but quick upon it came the cry of wounded pride. she found von rittenheim at her side, and turned upon him fiercely. "how dare you?" she cried, in an undertone. "how dare you do such a thing? you know i never have given any man my picture,--once i told you so,--and you have made this a picture of me alone. you, who----" she broke off, choking, but she had enough voice to add,-- "but it is like you, it is like you!" as she tore the card into bits and flung it into the fireplace. friedrich stooped involuntarily to catch the falling fragments, but he saw at once the foolishness of his movement, and desisted. he said nothing, and sydney, made ashamed of her tirade by his silence, as she would not have been by any words, at last looked up at him. the expression on his face was so hopeless, so unutterably sad, that she, in her turn, stood silent. "could you not have left me that?" he whispered, hoarsely. sydney was held by the inexplicable bond of his mute pain. a sense of comprehension went through her, and with it a thrill of happiness. it might be that after all--yes, it _must_ be that he had not been trifling with her, that he had cared, that he was suffering as she herself was suffering. and if so, how rewarded was her sacrifice! her love had been strong enough to make her willing that he should love another woman, if his happiness lay in so doing. her reward came in the knowledge that after all his love was hers--that he was sharing her sacrifice. _why_ this was she did not understand; she only felt sure that she was right, and she gloried in it. then, woman-like, she reproached herself for the moments when she had cheapened her renunciation by the suspicion that he had been flirting with her. friedrich stood beside her, his left hand clutching his heart. he felt as if, in destroying that picture, so often gazed at through clouds of meditative smoke, so often kissed, she had done him a physical injury. through his coat he pinched hard her little handkerchief, which always rested over his heart, lest she should divine its presence, and in some way tear that from him, too. his suffering was so great that he did not follow her change of expression, but his fingers felt hers touch them ever so fleetingly, and her whisper came to his ears,-- "forgive me. i think i understand now." across the room came hilda, who never could stay away from friedrich many minutes, in spite of wendell's efforts to interest her; and wendell himself, following her reluctantly only when her progress brought him near von rittenheim; and bob, never truly happy except near sydney. there was laughing and talking, in which friedrich and sydney heard themselves taking part, and wondered how it could be. "also we br-rought you an invitation," said hilda, "as well as our so interesting selves." "yes," said bob, "we're going on a 'possum-hunt to-morrow night, and we want you and your best dog." "you shall have me! i r-remember last year when first i came i heard the dogs on the mountain, but then i had no kind fr-riends to make me the invitation." "it's a little early, but we want to be sure to have one before mr. wendell goes." "you go soon?" von rittenheim's interest was only a courteous expression of concern, but john, fretted by hilda's alternate encouragement and coldness, was tormented by his nerves, and not in command of his judgment. he saw in the baron's question a malicious pleasure in his prospective departure. "yes," he said, "i must go soon, i'm afraid. you're playing in luck these days, old man. you gain what i lose--and the close season for moonshiners is coming on, now that the corn is ripe." hilda, who did not understand a word he said, laughed softly, as if in amusement at his wit. von rittenheim, who had not been able to follow the colloquialisms, frowned at "moonshining," which rang out for his ears above all else. sydney and bob looked with horror at the sneering face before them. "john," said sydney, sternly, "you forget yourself strangely." as they were about to start she leaned from her horse and gave her hand to friedrich. "you have much to forgive me," she said. "for much have i to thank you," he returned. xxiii the 'possum-hunt buzzard mountain, wooded to the top, extends for two miles north and south. its long, gradual slope is like the body of a dormant animal, rising from the sunken haunches over a long and flattened back, and falling again to the nose dropped sleepily between the outstretched paws. the meet for the 'possum-hunt was at its northern end, on the outskirts of the settlement. the run was to be along the crest towards the south, bringing the hunters out at the end of the ridge nearest their homes. the night was lighted by a youthful moon, not brilliant enough to dim the lustre of the stars, shining clear through the air. it was cool with the first touch of autumn; so cool as to invite to exercise, yet so warm as to make it a pleasure to be in the open. the hunters were in high spirits. the men from the hamlet about the post-office,--'gene frady and alf lance, mitchell robertson, the blacksmith, doc pinner, the carpenter, and a half-dozen more, with a boy to drive back the horses, were piled into a wagon. there were much pushing and scrambling for places, and many ejaculations of discomfort. "git off mah feet, 'gene." "hang 'em outside, man. ah gotter sit somewheres." "ouch! what fool put rye-straw in here?" "powerful penetratin', ain' hit?" "now, look here, that dog's gotter run with the rest. they ain' no room for him in this wagon." "cain' you-all make them horses o' yo's git along a little mo' lively, alf? mr. baron'll 'a' cleaned the mountain o' 'possums befo' we git there." "how you-all think they's goin' ter hurry with so many fellers ter haul? some o' you boys gotter light 'n walk up this hill in a minute, so ye better enjoy drivin' while ye can." at a deserted cabin on the road that ran through the northern gap they found bob morgan and john wendell, who had come in a buggy, and the baron on his mule. a small negro was to take the vehicle, with von rittenheim's animal tied behind, around the base of the mountain to the german's house, there to await the end of the hunt. the boy's brown face was twitching with excitement, as the men began to throw their coats into the wagon, and to light their torches, split from the heart of the yellow pine. "oh, lor', missa bob," he cried, rubbing one bare foot up and down the other leg in ecstasy, "lemme go, too. ah'll never ast ye nothin' again, ah swear ah won't. _please_, missa bob." "can't do it, scipio," said bob, kindly. "you're the only man we've got to look after these creatures. here, don't let your eyes pop out of your head. i tell you, you drive to mr. baron's and tie the horse and the mule,--tie 'em strong, mind,--and then you can come up the other side and meet us." scipio's mournful eyes followed the disappearing forms with an appreciation of their purpose rather than of the picturesqueness of their appearance. the flaming lights grew silent as the distance became too great for his ear to catch their sizzling. they danced hither and yon,--now scattered, now flashing in a bunch. he followed the course of a very bright one as it appeared and vanished, but went always on and up. "ah 'low dat's missa bob's," said the loyal little soul. "he sho' would have de bigges'." on the hill-side the men opened their line to cover a wide stretch of the mountain, and plunged upward through the scrub of pines and oaks. there was much running about of the dogs, and desultory barking, corrected by spicy admonitions from their masters, until the ascent's steepness forced silence upon them by the weapon of difficult breathing. once 'gene frady tripped on a root and fell headlong, pitching his torch into the dry duff a man's length before him. there was a rush to stamp out the incipient fire, the autumn terror of the forests, before any one lent a hand to help the fallen. robertson went half-way up his leggings in a spring, and stood swearing fiercely, while the rest jeered at him and ordered him to move on before he muddied up a good drinking-place. bob and friedrich pushed on on adjoining courses, an occasional cry of "_malerisch_," or "_zauberisch_," showing that von rittenheim was regarding the scene as well as the sport. on the other side of bob climbed wendell, sullenly self-reproachful in the baron's presence, yet of too exuberant a nature not to be alive to the excitement of the chase. of a sudden a hound gave voice,--the bay that makes hunters of us all. the other dogs rushed to his standard, yelping, barking, galloping from all directions across their masters' paths, until the forest seemed suddenly alive with them. one after another found, and added his note to the general cry that trailed off into the distance. the men who had started to follow paused, and the rest drew together. "rabbit," suggested bob, disgustedly, and the others nodded, and began to whistle for their retainers. singly they returned, with swinging tongue and pendant ears, and a disposition to sit down and contemplate the scenery. then once more came a cry, the steady bay of a dog at stand. his companions instantly forgot their fatigue, pricked up their ears, pulled in their tongues, and started towards the herald, with all the huntsmen in pursuit. gathered about a veteran oak, whose blasted top betrayed it the lightning's victim, were grouped the dogs, each one shoving to better his place in the bunch, each with tuneful throat and uplifted tail. occasionally one from the outskirts would rush around the crowd of his fellows and try to push in from the other side of the ring. the ones nearest the tree snuffed at a hole in the trunk between the roots, and dug fiercely with their forepaws. "holler, ain' hit?" "yes. he's went in that-a-way." "don' look like hit's holler up fur." "no. reckon we c'n chop him out." lance pushed among the dogs, kicking and cuffing them out of his way, and sounded the tree with the back of a hatchet. "ah 'low hit's gone all the way up," he cried. "well, chop hit 'n fin' out!" returned his friends, impatiently. he began cutting a square and soon broke through the outer shell. "gimme a glove, one o' you fellers," he cried. "ah ain' aimin' to have a finger chewed off this time." some one tossed him the desired protection. he put it on and thrust his arm into the hole, while the crowd pushed up on to the dogs, and they yelped excitedly. "ah tol' ye so. hit's holler clear up's fur's ah c'n reach." "all right. we'll smoke him out, then. git out o' here, you dogs, an' give us a chance at this fireplace." the hole at the base of the tree was quickly enlarged enough to push in a smudge, and the opening which lance had made above was closed with moss and green leaves. "hi, there she comes," cried some one, enthusiastically, as the thick white smoke made its way out of the broken top. "the varmint won' stan' that long." soon, indeed, amid a shower of bark and burning punk, a black and white ball scrambled into the air and dropped from the ragged splinters that offered no sufficient hold for its claws. as swift as sight, 'gene frady dashed close to the bole and caught the falling creature in his hands. high above the leaping dogs he held it, while they snarled, defrauded of their prey. "quick, that crocus sack," he called. "ah promised the kids to bring one home. give him a switch, mitchell." the 'possum, rousing from the semi-stupor into which the smoke and the shock of his fall had thrown him, was beginning to struggle violently. robertson broke a finger-thick stick and thrust it between the snapping jaws, that clamped upon it fiercely. the rat-like tail wound about the other end of the rod, and the bag was drawn over him while he clung to his fancied means of safety. frady flung his burden high on his back to secure it from the dogs, and the others put out the fire in the tree, and again fell into open order to beat the woods. the next 'possum which they discovered, more fortunate than his brother, who had been sighted on the ground where locomotion is slow and awkward for his kind, was aloft in the branches when the dogs spied him. he clambered dexterously about with his hand-like extremities, aiding his progress with his prehensile tail; but he had not calculated upon the added heaviness which his autumn diet had given him. he ventured upon a sapling that bent beneath him. wendell added his weight to bear it to the ground, and the dogs leaped at their victim and tore him into bits. both men and dogs were tired now, and pushed on with less enthusiasm. the dogs, indeed, who had covered many more miles in their wild dashings than had their masters, were not above sitting down occasionally and lapping a memento of the last 'possum's sharp teeth, or passing a rueful paw over a slit and bleeding ear. as they were approaching the southern end of the mountain, and realized that the edge of the excitement was blunted, the men walked nearer to each other, and talked on indifferent themes as they pushed through the brush just below the top of the ridge. one after another fell silent, perhaps through fatigue; possibly impressed with the beauty of the night. through the openings in the tree-tops the stars shone with steady clearness, doing their best to replace the light of the little moon which had gone to rest early, like most young things. under the forest cover the starlight did not penetrate, and the darkness was illumined by the yellow flare of the torches. the fall of feet on crackling twigs, and the slapping of smitten shrub-leaves broke the thick silence that falls on the earth with night. to pink pressley, crouching at the entrance of his cave, the sound of approaching steps was a threat. he had put out his fire as soon as he heard the dogs on the other end of the ridge, and for two hours he had followed the course of the hunt by their barking and the cries of the men. he guessed it to be what it was,--a 'possum-hunt,--yet suspicion born of guilt hinted always at such a hunt as an excuse for a raid upon his still. on the other hand, the party was coming from the north, and might be made up of men from asheville. in that case, since, perhaps, they did not know the mountain, it was quite possible that they would turn back before they reached his hiding-place. at any rate, he determined to stay where he was, and run the risk of detection. if it should prove to be a raid, he was not averse to exchanging shots with the revenue men. the thought of it filled him with a fierce joy. three times they had destroyed his whole plant, and this time he meant to fight for it. he took down the boards that filled the cave's mouth, and pulled the bushes more carefully before it. the dogs would find and reveal him as quickly with one arrangement as the other, and he had no desire to undergo a siege shut up in that hole, when he might burst out and defend himself with some enjoyment. screened by his net-work of bushes, he listened keenly to every sound. a misgiving seized him that bud had betrayed him, and he cursed him in a whisper. yarebrough had told him in the afternoon that his baby was ill, and that he could not leave melissa alone with her that night; but he had confessed at the same time, with his usual lack of reticence, that the baron had "been a-talkin'" to him, and pink suspected that the baby's illness was a fabrication to excuse his non-appearance at the still, and possibly his treachery. pressley's judgment of his partner's honor was based on his own, and he felt in his pocket to make sure of the safety there of a letter whose crackle sounded pleasantly in his ears. "'twon' do to give him too much rope," he muttered. nearer came the soft scampering of dogs and the trampling of men, and the torches' glow warming the unlighted forest. pressley hoped that they might pass along the mountain's side below him, or on top of the ledge that roofed his cavern, but there always was danger from the dogs. even as he thought it, one padded along the shelf of rock that lay like a step before his door, and stopped short with a growl. he was so near that pink struck him with the butt of his revolver, and sent him off with a paw uplifted in pain. the man leaned out from his shelter and stared towards the right, whence the lights were coming. then he looked straight ahead for a moment, down the mountain, under the leafy tops, and wished it were all over and he knew how it had come out. when he looked back the foremost men were in view, a group of three or four, with their dogs following at heel soberly enough. their torches flung grotesque shadows on the trees, and distorted their figures into uncouth semblances. he could not recognize them, yet they seemed familiar. those two in front--was it----? yes, by god! like a fiend he sprang from his lair and rushed at von rittenheim, as if from the very bowels of the rock. his face glared, malignant, in the unsteady light. "so you did squeal on me, you damned german!" he yelled. "take that and that and that." he fired three times full at von rittenheim's face. with the third shot another rang in unison, and pressley fell, twisted and snarling, on the stone before his still. bob morgan's hand, holding the smoking pistol, fell to his side. "are you all right, von rittenheim?" he asked; then added, weakly, "i reckon you'll have to carry me down, boys. he's touched me." and he staggered into friedrich's arms. he had been walking a stride higher up the hill-side than von rittenheim, and, flinging himself from his greater elevation between the german and his assailant, he had received the bullets meant for friedrich's head lower in his own body. xxiv "fought the fight" bob lay white and still upon his bed, breathing painfully. two of pink's bullets had torn their way through his lungs, and the third had splintered his collar-bone. a surgeon had come out from asheville, and, after examining the wounds, had sent for help. when the second physician arrived, they had probed and prodded the inert body, while dr. morgan, with an ever-growing fear clutching at his heart, administered the chloroform with a steady hand. outside the door mrs. morgan had knelt against the wall, tearless, and without a word of prayer. now it was over, and there was no hope, only waiting for the end,--the waiting that saps courage from the heart of the onlooker, and makes endurance seem a thing impossible; the torture of seeing suffering that is not to be relieved; suffering that seems all unnecessary, since death is to be the issue after all. bob had asked for sydney as soon as he came out of the chloroform, and she had responded at once. "you won't leave me, dear?" he had questioned, when he opened his eyes from the drowsiness that the opiate forced upon him, and saw her sitting beside him. "no, bob; i'll stay as long as you want me." he had smiled feebly at her. "it won't be very long." a glimmer in his eyes showed that he understood the possible impertinent interpretation of his speech. "you won't mind letting me hold your hand, sydney, will you?" he had said, in his hoarse, weak voice. "it's one of the perquisites of dying. tuck your fingers in there, dear. those doctors have strapped me up so i can't move my arm." so she sat with her hand in his, and her eyes looking out across the meadows to buck mountain, while bob dozed and woke and dozed again, always smiling happily at her when he found her still beside him, and pressing her fingers in his weak grasp. as the sun sank towards the west he roused from his stupefied slumber, and spoke with growing clearness. "it's mighty good of you to stay here, sydney. i'm selfish to ask you, but i haven't seen you much lately, i've been so busy with the crops." "you've never failed me, bob dear. it's my turn now." "it's just because i'm weak, i suppose, but i want a little flattery. don't you think i've done pretty well about--drinking?" "you've been wonderful, bob. i honor and respect you more than i can say. you feel that, don't you?" "thank you, dear. you know i did it for you? oh, i told her all about it," as sydney glanced towards the corner where mrs. morgan, worn out with grief, was sleeping behind a screen. "i've been a little more hopeful about you lately, since--well----" he paused, not liking to finish his sentence "since the baroness came," for it suggested implications too delicate for utterance. "but i always knew, really, that you couldn't care for me in that way. it was a temporary deceit, the way you can make yourself believe for a few minutes that you haven't a toothache, and then it jumps on you again." "dear old bob." sydney bent forward and kissed him. over his face spread a radiance of unexpected happiness. "oh, sydney, you darling! i say, sydney, if you wouldn't think that i'm taking advantage of my condition--would you mind--_would_ you do that again?" she kissed him again, gladly, willingly, and he sank happily to sleep. when he woke once more he asked for von rittenheim. "he's down-stairs. he's been waiting all day hoping you'd want to see him." sydney summoned friedrich. he uttered an exclamation of sorrow as he saw the big black eyes looking from their hollows, and the white face of the man so suddenly brought to this pass from the full tide of strength. "for-r my sake!" he groaned. "how with all my soul i wish it were i!" he took bob's other hand--sydney had resumed her old position--and tried to command his voice. it was bob who spoke first: "what about pressley?" von rittenheim looked questioningly at sydney, who nodded. "he's dead, bob." a ray from the setting sun found its way to the bed and lighted up the dying man's face. "kind of sudden for him, too," he mused. "did he live any time at all?" "no. your bullet went through his heart. he must have died instantly." "it's a mighty serious thing to do, to kill a man. i never realized before how serious it was. but i'm not sorry." "you saved my life, bob. i can't talk about it. only, i'd give it gladly, gladly, to keep you, old man." he bent his head with a sob. "never mind that, baron. i suspect yarebrough'll be all the better for not having pink to lead him into mischief." "it has saved him from a heavy punishment. they found in pr-ressley's pocket a letter offering to turn state's evidence." "that would have sent bud to jail and freed himself, wouldn't it?" asked sydney. "yes. he must have been afraid of betrayal." "no," cried the girl; "i'm sure he planned the whole thing to spite melissa. i heard him threatening her one day. he said he'd make her sorry she ever married bud." "i think you're right, sydney," said bob. "he was working bud all summer, i'm confident, with the purpose of betraying him at the end." he sank a little into the pillow, and sydney gave von rittenheim a glance of dismissal. "you're tired, dear," she said to bob. "a little. i think i'll take a nap. oh, baron, i almost forgot. i was in asheville a few days ago,--monday, tuesday,--i don't know when," he went on, weakly, "and i met a man who said he thought he knew you. he's at the hotel,--a german." "did he tell you his name?" "i can't remember. something long. he said if you were friedrich von rittenheim from the black forest that he knew you well, and would you look him up? you will, won't you?" "yes, i will." "if you don't, he'll think i've broken my promise." "i will. he shall know that you told me. good-by, bob, good-by." but bob was asleep and did not answer. it was with the ebbing of the night and the coming of the dawn that bob's soul went out,--went out in stress and travail. when the struggle was over, sydney left the old doctor and his wife kneeling side by side at the edge of the bed, and crept down-stairs. von rittenheim was sitting before the fire, his head buried in his hands. he sprang to meet her as she entered. "is he----? has he----?" the girl nodded. "just now." suddenly she threw her arms over her head and broke into stifled sobs. friedrich was torn with distress. he drew her to the fire, and established her in a big chair, wrapping her warmly in a rug from the couch. somewhere he found a glass of wine, and made her take it. then he knelt beside her, rubbing the fingers that were cold and cramped from bob's long clasp, and talking softly to her as to a child. god alone knows the force he put upon himself not to take her in his arms and comfort her on his breast; not to pour into her ears the words that were burning his heart out. drops of moisture stood on his forehead as he resisted the temptation that was the stronger because he felt that she returned his love, and that these forbidden words would be her greatest comfort. but sydney was not insensible of their subtle, unspoken sympathy, and at last yielded to the solace of warmth and the consciousness of being cared for, and, exhausted, closed her eyes in sleep. friedrich stirred the fire and watched its light play on the face of the woman he loved, and gave himself up to wonder and longing and regret. * * * * * unless it had been that of dr. morgan himself, no other death in all the country round could have touched so nearly so many hearts. around the grave, lined with the glistening laurel-leaves of victory, stood old and young, rich and poor, men and women, and even little children. there were those who had come because he was the doctor's son; there were those who had been with him on many a gay excursion; there were those who had experienced his tenderness and loving-kindness. old man johnson, from over the river, who had walked eight painful miles, laid the first shovelful of earth into the grave. patton mcrae helped to cover his life-long friend. the negroes from the farm sobbed audibly as they worked. a tramp came into the graveyard from the road and asked whose buryin' it was. they told him, and he swore softly, and begged to be allowed to help. john wendell yielded his shovel to hamp pinner, and he to colonel huger. then the women came forward and covered the mound with boughs of green, and clusters of flowers, and sprays of bright leaves, and sydney laid about the whole grave a garland of feathery aster and delicate fern. through the quiet came a sweet, sonorous voice reading the words of the hymn,-- "love's redeeming work is done, fought the fight, the victory won." out of the church-yard, side by side, with bowed heads, walked bud yarebrough and friedrich von rittenheim,--the man whose fragile honor had been preserved by bob's act, and the man whose life he had given his own to save. xxv carl von sternburg mrs. morgan and the doctor had insisted upon giving to von rittenheim gray eagle and bob's buggy. they could have done nothing kinder or more tactful, for friedrich was apprehensive even of their seeing him for whom their son had given his life, and their insistence upon his accepting this remembrance of their dead boy proved their feeling towards him more cogently than any words. it was the good gray horse that he was driving towards asheville a few days after the funeral, on his way to fulfil his promise to bob to hunt up the german who had claimed acquaintance with him. as he travelled on, he thought of the two notable journeys which he had made on this same highway,--the heart-chilling ride through the penetrating morning mist at the head of the men who had arrested him, and the wild flight through the darkness to secure the surgeon for poor bob. between the two had intervened a lifetime of experience. he had been branded a criminal, and had rehabilitated himself; he had knocked at the door of death, and been refused; he had lost his confidence in man's honesty, and had regained a fuller faith in his goodness; he had watched the slow blossoming of the tender flower of love's hope within his heart, and he had seen it overshadowed by the stouter growth of loyalty to his word. of his future, in so far as it might have to do with sydney, he did not allow himself to think. there was no shaft of light lying upon that road. but a clear and steady, though not far-reaching flame illumined the present, for he felt sure now that she loved him, and that gave him a certain happiness. it was like having a beautiful secret,--a secret whose delight would be doubled if it might be shared with the world, but nevertheless a secret which gave joy in mere solitary contemplation. _hilda_ was a subject which forced itself with increasing potency upon his mind. after the first shock of her sudden coming had passed, he had been touched by her turning to him in her loneliness. that sydney's withdrawal from him lay at hilda's charge he could not fail to see, and he blamed himself for the occasional repulsion against his sister-in-law with which the situation filled him. she was so sweet, so childlike, so full of trust in him, so regretful for her mistakes of the past, so reticent as to maximilian's ill-behavior. her whole conduct won his respect and confidence, even while he felt himself subtly encompassed by the seine of her entire reliance upon the keeping of his oath. that she expected him to marry her he did not formally concede to himself, but he was quite sure that she did not expect him to marry any one else. his errands done,--a commission for mrs. morgan and some business for the firm,--he betook himself to the hotel and asked for the register. he was running over the names when he heard some one behind him saying, in german,-- "it _is_ my von rittenheim! it is my dear friedrich!" and "dear friedrich" and a somewhat stout young man a few years younger than he flung themselves into each other's arms, and kissed both cheeks after the manner of their race, while the clerk turned to his safe to conceal the grin that inwreathed his countenance. "von sternburg! what in the world brought you here?" "baedeker. this scenery is among the things a globe-trotter has to see." "shall you stay long?" "i go to florida day after to-morrow. come on to the veranda and tell me about yourself." "if i can stop asking questions long enough!" it was while they were talking and smoking in the sunshine with the glorious western range spread before them, that von sternburg said,-- "and poor old max is dead." he knocked the ash from his cigar with his little finger, and glanced at friedrich, who was non-committal. "yes," was all he said. "i suppose they've never found any trace of the she-devil, have they?" friedrich sat up with a jerk and stared at von sternburg. "she-devil? what she-devil?" "what she-devil? why, the baroness, of course. max's wife." "no trace of hilda? she-devil? what are you talking about?" "do you mean to say that you don't know about maximilian's death?" "i know he shot himself." "and you don't know why?" "i had not heard from max for six months before he died. i did not know of his death until several months after it occurred!" "that was strange! your man of business did not write you?" "it was my fault. i hadn't sent him my address for a long time. when i did there was a reason for his not writing at once." "who is he?" "stapfer." "i knew it!" von sternburg slapped his knee. "stapfer was crazy over her, and she had some reason for your not knowing." "_she!_ are you talking about my sister-in-law?" "oh, you needn't put on any dignity over her. she isn't worth it, though i suppose you don't know that as well as you will in a few minutes." friedrich passed his hand over his face. "i can't understand it. you say stapfer was in love with hilda?" "and she made use of him, just as she did of moller and von hatfeldt and everybody else who came near her. she overreached herself about von hillern, though." "it seems treachery to listen to you, von sternburg." "treachery! why, my dear boy----" von sternburg ended his sentence with an expressive gesture. "and max--did he know?" "why, that's what killed him, man! haven't you kept in touch with anybody in the fatherland who would write you any news?" "i haven't received a letter from a soul except max and stapfer since i came to america." von sternburg gave a whistle of surprise. "then you don't even know how max improved? everybody thought when he married hilda von arnim that he did it merely for the pleasure of cutting you out. forgive my speaking so plainly." he laid a deprecating hand on von rittenheim's knee. friedrich nodded silently. "i haven't a doubt in the world that that was his chief motive then. but after you left he fell a victim to the charm that she seems to exert over everybody who doesn't know her tricks--you must let me go on now," he said, quickly, in response to a motion of von rittenheim's, "or i can't establish my case. he fell madly in love with her, and it made another man of him." "there was much good in max." "well hidden all through his youth, you must allow. he gave up drinking----" "not entirely?" "he drank only what a gentleman takes for dinner." "he was not intoxicated when he sh--when he died?" "i know for a fact that he was not drunk once during the whole last year of his life." "you know? how do you know? forgive me, carl," as a look of annoyance clouded von sternburg's face, "but every proof is important to me." "i was living at our schloss--at my father's. i saw maximilian nearly every day. we were together constantly." "extraordinary!" murmured friedrich. "did this wonderful change extend to his money affairs?" "well, you know max could use any amount of money, and you couldn't expect him to become an economist at one shot. then he always spent a great deal on his wife; he was continually sending to paris for something for her." friedrich scowled thoughtfully. "still he paid all his old debts out of his aunt brigitta's legacy, and didn't make any new ones." "that means more for max than it would for most people." "he told me that he could not have afforded to keep up the schloss without your help, but aside from the expenses of the house he had plenty, plenty." "and hilda?" "oh, the baroness is a millionaire. her aunt in heidelberg died more than a year ago and left her all her fortune. max never got a pfennig of it though, even in a christmas-gift." there flashed across friedrich's mental view his cabin, differing in no respect from those of the "mountain whites," his neighbors. then a picture of a little figure with white neck and arms shining through the filmy blackness of her gown, shrinking into an arm-chair, and saying, "i always had enough for my needs, even when----" "was he kind to her?" "kind? i tell you he loved her with the most unselfish devotion. it was his dearest wish to live a life so correct that she might be proud of him. you couldn't expect more than that, could you?" "not from maximilian," admitted von rittenheim. "perhaps the very intensity of his love may have made him exacting towards her?" "my dear fellow, she paid no more attention to him and his wishes than if he were the lowest servant on the estate. she had a constant flock of men hanging about, with whom she flirted desperately, entirely regardless of max's feelings. i must say he bore it like an angel! why, if my wife--well, never mind, i haven't one yet. she made herself conspicuous with moller--colonel moller, you know, before von hatfeldt killed himself on her account." "the graf's son?" friedrich was startled. "the second son. he took poison and told his father why. the old man went to max about it." "poor old max!" "what could he do? when he charged her with it there's nothing so sweet and gentle on earth as that girl! what had she done? nothing at all, but torment a poor fellow until his nerves and will were wrecked. how could she be responsible for that?" friedrich saw before him john wendell, haggard and sneering, saying to him something so insulting that sydney had grown white, and bob had raised a threatening arm. "but, as i said, she overreached herself with von hillern. fortunately for him he was in love with some one else, which was his safeguard, but he was willing enough to singe his wings, and the baroness was determined to make him give up his marriage, as a sign that he loved her." von rittenheim stared at the mountains and thought of sydney. von sternburg continued,-- "maximilian was fully alive to everything that went on, and he was beside himself with distress. apart from the pain of his own unrequited love, he was acutely anxious over the gossip about her." "von hillern is an old friend of our family." "exactly. i think max blamed him very little, but it preyed on his mind." "you think it became unhinged?" "i think so. indeed, i'm almost sure of it. he hadn't the constitution to endure any mental anxiety." "i suppose he shot himself in a fit of alienation." "he shot himself because his wife refused to give up her affair with von hillern. whether it was mania, or a passing craze of jealousy, i don't pretend to say." "how do you know it wasn't on account of financial troubles?" "i was there in the next room at the time." von rittenheim leaned forward and fixed his eyes on von sternburg's face with keen anxiety. "you heard him?" "i had gone to ask max to ride with me. the servant who opened the door said he dared not announce me to the baron; that he was storming about in his dressing-room. i ran up-stairs and into max's room, which was empty, but i heard his voice in the baroness's room, which adjoined it." "you understood what he said?" "perfectly. it seemed to be the end of a long argument. he cried, 'hilda, will you or will you not give up von hillern?'" "and she said?" "'i have told you repeatedly, max, that i will not.' then he seemed to go wild, and cried, 'give him up! give him up!'" von rittenheim paled. he never moved his eyes from his friend's face. "without a word of warning, he fired two shots. i broke open the door instantly, expecting that he had killed hilda, but he had ended his suffering in another way." friedrich's head sank, and carl again laid a hand upon his knee in awkward sympathy. "of course, the whole thing came out," he continued. "the servants knew everything, as they always do, and i had to tell my story at the inquest. the baroness braved public opinion for a time, first playing the innocent and then the martyr; but one day graf von hatfeldt called upon her, and told her a few home truths, and that very night she left the schloss. nobody knows where she went to, unless it's stapfer. if he does, he has kept her secret." friedrich preserved a silence that disturbed von sternburg. carl crossed his knees uneasily and lighted a cigarette, glancing occasionally at his friend. just how deeply this would cut him he had no means of knowing. at last von rittenheim, looking worn but not unhappy, lifted his head. he rose and walked to the edge of the veranda, and stretched himself as if to shake off some trammel of thought. "after we have had luncheon, will you do me a great kindness, carl?" he asked. "will you drive home with me into the country, and spend the night?" "my dear fellow, i shall be delighted to do so," cried von sternburg, surprised and relieved at this unexpected turn of the conversation. xxvi surrender uncle jimmy lighted the room and took away the tea-equipage, while mrs. carroll established herself with a book before the fire. hilda and john arranged the chess-board on a little table near the lamp. the red shade cast a warm glow over the girl's fairness and gave a look of physical vigor to her delicate charm. john made his moves with unthinking swiftness, happy in the sight of her beauty and in the chance touch of her hand. in a large chair sydney lay back languidly, her hands idle upon her lap. the shock of bob's death had exhausted her, and she found herself spent, physically and emotionally. a book lay open upon her knees, but her eyes closed wearily, or stared unseeing into space. she was thinking of all that bob's life had meant to her of companionship and affection; of the pain that his weakness had brought her, and the pride that had watched his redemption. she had yearned over him in maternal tenderness. yet she knew that she could but have brushed the edges of his future; that his death at this time saved him from inevitable sorrow. she sighed as she thought that perhaps he knew now, dear old bob, how completely she was able to sympathize with him in the bitterness of his longing. involuntarily she glanced at hilda, and admired her beauty. hilda caught her look and smiled in return. "_armes kind_," she cried, tossing her a kiss from her finger-tips, "you are so tired." it was astonishing to sydney that she felt no jealousy or envy of hilda. it seemed to her that it was not natural that she should feel so kindly disposed towards the woman who had taken her lover from her. yet it was true. although she could not help an occasional wince at some look or word, yet she had no hard feeling. she did not attribute this lack to any excellence of her own character. it seemed to her but simple justice that a woman who had made so sad a mistake, and who had expiated it so rudely, should have her reward; whereas, what had _she_ done to deserve recompense? did happiness come at any one's whistle? but how she wished it would. mrs. carroll laid down her book and sighed in disgust. "i do wish," she said, "that there was some one here old enough for me to talk to." "try me," said john, as the oldest of the company addressed, while the girls laughed. "i grow so impatient with it," went on the old lady, pursuing aloud her train of thought. "it seems as if the whole body of french fiction writers was in a conspiracy against one's illusions. they are clever enough to see the value of them, you would suppose, yet almost every book you take up teaches that honor is a thing of the external life, and not a part of the very essence of one's being." "do you call that an illusion?" asked sydney. "_i_ call it a truth, and belief in it an article of faith," said mrs. carroll, stoutly, "but these people"--she tapped the book she had laid down--"posit it as an illusion, and then demolish it by all sorts of examples that could occur nowhere outside of gaul!" "do you forget the books that are 'crowned'?" asked john. "when a frenchman attempts to be spiritual, it is an unfortunate fact that he becomes insipid," asserted mrs. carroll, with a finality that made them laugh again. "you keep to this day your illusions!" said hilda, softly admiring. "i am most glad to say that i do. they are worn, but serviceable still," replied mrs. carroll, smiling. "even at my age, i still believe that most husbands cherish their wives, and that most wives love their husbands, and wear their names worthily." "checkmate." "oh, mr. vendell!" hilda was so adorably regretful, and her lack of mastery of her was so captivating, that john was desperately sorry that he had taken advantage of her preoccupation. "it was mrs. car-roll who beat me, not you," she said. "i was listening to her and not thinking." "of me? you never do," he whispered. she was resetting the board, and giving john delicious little thrills from her finger-tips, when uncle jimmy threw open the door. "baron von rittenheim," he announced. sydney rose in greeting, and mrs. carroll gave an exclamation of pleasure at the coming of her favorite, but both were startled into silence by hilda's cry. the chess-board emptied its burden upon the floor with many tinkling crashes, and she was on her feet, one hand pressed against her head, and the other turned palm outward as if to avert a blow. a grayness like the livery of death came over her face, but now so vitally warm. the red lamp-light behind increased her ghastliness. her eyes were fixed on the man who had followed von rittenheim into the room. "you, you!" she whispered, hoarsely. von sternburg gave a cry of amazement. "the baroness--_here_! why didn't you tell me, friedrich?" he demanded, while his mind quickly reviewed the possible relations between von rittenheim and his sister-in-law, and considered the effect upon them of his frank disclosures of the morning. friedrich, whose gaze had been searching keenly first one face and then the other, gave a nod, and without replying to his friend, introduced him to mrs. carroll and sydney. von sternburg bent over each hand and then approached hilda. she was regaining her control, though she trembled so violently as to justify in his precaution wendell, who had sprung to her, fearing that she would fall. "this is an unexpected meeting, baroness," von sternburg said, in english. "why have you come?" she asked, in the same hoarse but articulate whisper. "as i told fr-riedrich, baedeker brought me. i had no idea that i was to have the pleasure of seeing him again among these mountains, much less, you." "you two men must have had an enormous amount to say to each other," said mrs. carroll. "john, give hilda that large chair. the surprise of seeing baron von sternburg has been too much for her." hilda sank into the offered seat, and von sternburg placed himself beside her. he fitted his clothes to the cracking-point, and he had the lack of impressiveness that goes with rotundity. yet it was clear that he felt himself to have the whip-hand of the situation, and hilda's manner acknowledged it. across the room the others were talking together, though von rittenheim was not without preoccupation. "you don't seem glad to see me," von sternburg said, in german. hilda ignored his opening. "i suppose you have told friedrich everything," she said at once, in a tone dull with the chagrin of defeated hope. "yes," replied von sternburg, "i think i have." "then i hate you!" she sat erect, and an angry flush colored her cheeks. "no doubt." "you have destroyed the only chance of happiness i ever expect to have." "do you deserve happiness?" "won't you grant me that mercy?" "have you ever shown mercy?" as her regret over the failure of her plans had been swallowed up in resentment at the doer of the mischief, so her passion was swept away by a wave of self-pity. she turned to him with fierce reproach. "you think i am so heartless as to be outside of the needs of other women, don't you?" "i must confess that you are the only one of your kind in my experience." hilda was maddened at his irony. "can you not believe that i am eager to be happy in the way that other women are? that i _long_ to feel the love that comes to every one but me?" "no,--pardon me,--i cannot believe that." "insolent! i don't know why i try to justify myself to you. but listen. can you imagine what it is to be without a heart? to make men love you for the sport of it, and not to care when they kill themselves for your sake,--truly _not to care_? and at the same time to have another part of yourself wanting to care,--yearning to feel pity?" "is that dual nature yours?" "you are sneering. you always have thought of me as rejoicing in cruelty, i suppose." "certainly as indifferent to suffering." "you have believed that i thought myself normal; that i was unconscious of my want of feeling." "i never observed any recognition of your temperament evidenced in your conduct." "but it is true, baron. i swear to you that i know my need so well, so painfully well, that on the chance of friedrich's saving me from all that it means, i was willing to force him to poverty, and to separate him from all that he held dear." "i don't doubt it, though i don't see how you expected that to help you." "i thought that, if i could have him near me always, perhaps my heart might wake within me. i do not love him, but he is the only man i ever met whose every thought i honor." "yet you were willing to sacrifice him!" "i needed him." von sternburg looked at her in abhorrence. "i suppose you don't know what an abomination of selfishness you are." she did not seem to hear him, but added, bitterly,-- "now you have come, my hope is gone." von sternburg looked across the room. friedrich was leaning over sydney's chair. "it is still in the family, i should say. it merely has changed its abiding-place." a spasm which was the recognition of defeat, not the anguish of loss, went over hilda's face. she crossed the room to mrs. carroll, von sternburg following slowly after. "dear mrs. car-roll," she said, in english, "baron von sternburg has brought news that compels me to leave oakwood soon--yes, to-morrow. i hope you know how gr-rateful i am to you for your hospitality. your kindness alvays vill be a br-right spot in my life!" she looked charmingly young and very lovely as she stooped and kissed the old lady's cheek. "to-morrow? oh, surely not to-morrow!" cried sydney, in hospitable reproach. "sydney dear, you are vonderful! i r-really believe you mean it after everything." and she tapped the taller girl's cheek with her tiny hand. she was entirely self-possessed now, much less agitated than the two men who knew her secret, or than wendell, who had been stricken at the news of her departure; or than sydney, who was overcome by embarrassment as she came to appreciate the meaning of her guest's speech. "i expect never to see you again, friedrich; i should pr-refer not; so i vant to make my confession to you now. oh, any one may hear," she said, in answer to a gesture of friedrich's. "i am quite indifferent--now. did the baron tell you that max shot himself because i r-refused to give up a flirtation? it is quite tr-rue. i lied to you, friedrich, and i did an injustice to a man who had conquered the follies of his life. ah, mrs. car-roll, i did not love my husband or vear his name vorthily. i am one of the lost illusions." she looked from one to another in quick observance of their emotion. "then, my scar," she went on, lightly, "that vas another lie. i've had it ever since i vas a child. and here is something that baron von sternburg could not have disclosed. you see i am r-revealing everything. i am sure he told you that i am rich? yes? but he vas not avare that _i knew_ from herr stapfer that you vere depr-riving yourself for me." "oh, hilda," cried mrs. carroll, in quick censure of the non-restitution that might have averted a life-time's self-reproach from friedrich, "how could you keep it!" "the money itself vas nothing to me, but i hoped that through friedrich's poverty i might gain some power over him, and make him do vhat i vanted. i shall see that it is r-restored to you at once, friedrich." she turned to wendell, and her face changed subtly. she became the tempting woman, alluring in the innocence of her child-like beauty. "do you still mean vhat you said to me yesterday, mr. vendell?" she leaned towards him a trifle--the merest trifle. wendell stood silent. "do you still vant to marry me--john?" the name was but a breath. he stared at her as if fascinated by the spell of her glowing eyes. with an effort he looked away from her to von rittenheim. "tell me," he said, huskily, "i don't understand. her husband? is----?" "she will not dishonor you," answered friedrich to the unspoken question. "she'll merely br-reak your heart," completed von sternburg, brutally. wendell turned to hilda in relief, to find her drawn haughtily erect before him. she did not notice his extended hands. "you doubted me," she flung at him, arrogantly. "i demand from those who love me, all--or nothing." she swept from the room, small, proud, forceful; while john threw himself upon a chair and buried his head in his hands. xxvii dixie gray eagle was trotting briskly along the road over which another hand had guided him so often,--the oakwood carriage-way. on his back sat friedrich, erectly vigorous, singing for the trees' benefit,-- "oh, i wees' i was in deexie, look away, look away! in deexie land i take my stand, to live and die in deexie." the aspen fluttered its yellow leaves in applause, and the sourwood threw at him by the breeze's hand a cluster of its scarlet foliage. the mouse-gray goldenrod nodded approval of his mood, and the oak-trees swung their yet green boughs in sympathy with his light-hearted onward rush. the air was cool and warm, and bright and mellow, and all the contradictions that make october the month of the year's mature perfection; that middle age of the seasons, when the blossoms of folly are past, and the fruits of the will are ripened, and the chill of bare winter is still in the future. occasionally, in sheer exuberance, von rittenheim rose high in his stirrups and gave a whoop of gladness that made gray eagle skip in sympathetic deviation from his usual long stride. it was during one of these upstandings, when his head was brought above its customary level, that friedrich saw a girl running away from the carriage-road down the lane that led to the sheep-farm. the sunshine burned on her brilliant head, and gray eagle found his glad career brought to a sudden close, and his amusement abruptly reduced to the occupation of nibbling the stem of the young tree to which he was tied. he watched his rider's long legs vault over the gate, and pondered wisely on the similarity of interests of his two masters, for he, too, now descried a flash of color in the distance. sydney's race ended beneath a huge oak, against which she leaned, breathless and laughing, and faced her pursuer, who was close upon her. the musical ring of his rowelled spurs ceased as he grasped her hands. "_unartiges mädchen!_ do you intend never to let me see you again? tell me what you mean by it." not a word said sydney--only laughed at him provokingly. "i am of a mind to punish you," he cried, drawing her towards him, and leaning over her. he looked determined, and sydney surrendered her silence with dignified haste. "no, no, don't," she said, in reply to his gesture rather than his words. "i'll tell you anything. what do you want to know?" "first, wherefore you were r-running down here." "to escape from you." "tr-ruly?" he dropped her hands and looked cut to the heart; so hurt that sydney hastened to apply ointment to the wound. "but i was walking on the carriage-road to meet you." "you were?" friedrich's gloomy face was alive again. "then why did you r-run?" "i don't know. for the same reason a kitten won't come when she's called, i suppose." "even though she wants to?" "who knows what a kitten wants?" "it would give me the gr-reatest of pleasure, miss car-roll, to shake you!" "i don't doubt it." "it is such a hard blow to my vanity that you r-ran. see, i tr-ry to comfort myself in this question: perhaps you did not know it was i whose horse you heard?" "of course i knew it was you." "oh, sydney, dear sydney, did your heart tell you that your lover was on the r-road?" the girl blushed hotly at this bold speech, but she declined to be sentimental. "not at all," she said. "there was other evidence. who else could sing like you, 'oh, i wees' i was in deexie'?" her mimicry of his pronunciation was so good, and at the same time so absurd, that they both laughed joyously. they walked slowly towards the gate, behind which gray eagle was waiting with what patience he might. "tell me, my pr-rincess, why have you not allowed me to see you since that evening, though i have come every day?" "that terrible evening! oh, friedrich----" "say that again!" "what? friedrich?" "yes. now just one time more." "how absurd you are, friedrich!" "i thank you. now tell me." "why, for the first day or two there was so much to do in getting them away in their different directions--hilda and john. grandmother has had a letter from john, from palm beach. he has joined baron von sternburg there. and then--oh, friedrich, perhaps it was foolish, but i could not feel as if we ought to be happy, you and i, so soon after _that_." "what a dear, sensitive child you are! and you thought the time of mourning was up to-day, did you?" "no, but--you won't make fun of me if i tell you?" "i have al-ways supposed that it was you who teased me." "but you might think it was funny ever so many years from now!" "ah, now there are going to be _years_ in the future. only a little while ago the future was made up of thousands and thousands and thousands of inter-rminable days." "i know." "you felt it so, too?" "yes. that's the reason why--you won't ever laugh at me, will you?--i wanted the years to begin to-day. i couldn't wait another twenty-four hours." "my dar-rling!" they stopped, and friedrich drew her gently into his arms. "will you let me kiss you?" she lifted her face trustfully to his, and gray eagle watched them gravely over the gate. "i wees' i could make you know what you are to me, my pr-rincess, what it means that you give yourself to me. it is not merely that i love you, my dar-rling, with all the strength that has been gathering in me while the years were adding themselves to my age. and it is not only that i think you are per-rfect, so lovely in the char-racter, and so clever, and so beautiful, my dear white r-rose. it means, besides those things, that you have saved me from the sin of letting my poor powers grow weaker; that you have changed me from a plaything of chance into a man of will and action. i am bor-rn again, my heart's joy, into a world of force and possibility, and you are the queen of the world, most pr-recious." she laid her bright head against his breast. "will you not say something to me, heart's dear-rest?" "i am too happy, dear, to speak." "and i am too happy to keep still!" they released gray eagle from his bondage, and walked along the carriage-road towards the house. "after all, friedrich, it was bob who gave us to each other." "twice over, dear. he sent me to von sternburg, and he saved my life for--us." "poor hilda!" "poor bob!" the end a daughter of the snows. by jack london. a strong and extremely dramatic story. its love interest intense. the book is beautifully illustrated in colors from drawings by f. c. yohn, and is handsomely bound. illustrated in colors. mo. decorated cloth, $ . . the inevitable. by philip verrill mighels. the hero of mr. mighels's book is an exceedingly interesting and good-looking young fellow of twenty-four years, whose parentage is shrouded in mystery. with frontispiece in colors by john wolcott adams. mo. decorated cloth, $ . . woven with the ship. by cyrus townsend brady. mr. brady's thousands of readers will derive fresh pleasure from his new book. it has an intensely interesting plot and something happens on every page. illustrated with stunning drawings by christy, leyendecker, glackens, parkhurst, and crawford, and has a striking cover design in colors. illustrated. mo. decorated cloth, $ . . * * * * * j. b. lippincott company, philadelphia. adam rush. by lynn roby meekins. a new and interesting figure in a love story with the charm of country and village life in every chapter. frontispiece by francis day. mo. decorated cloth, $ . . breachley--black sheep. by louis becke. mr. becke's work is stamped by vigor of expression and an intensely dramatic imagination. breachley is the most capable and in many respects the most interesting of his books. mo. decorated cloth, gilt top, $ . . a blaze of glory. by john strange winter. a new novel by an author whose thousands of readers attest to her continued popularity. this is one of her strongest and brightest stories. mo. cloth, $ . . gentleman garnet. by harry b. vogel. a tale of old tasmania by a popular novelist. _lippincott's series of select novels._ crown vo. decorated cloth, $ . ; paper, cents. * * * * * j. b. lippincott company, philadelphia. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) the master of appleby a novel tale concerning itself in part with the great struggle in the two carolinas; but chiefly with the adventures therein of two gentlemen who loved one and the same lady by francis lynde illustrations by t. de thulstrup new york grosset & dunlap publishers copyright the bowen-merrill company october to mr. edward g. richmond of chattanooga, tennessee, whose kindness and encouragement must always be held in lively remembrance by the author this book is gratefully inscribed [illustration: but now i was fronting death and could be as firm as she] contents chapter page i i whet my father's sword ii knits up some broken ends iii my enemy scores first iv may be passed over lightly v i lost what i had never gained vi red wrath may heal a wound vii my lady hath no part viii i taste the quality of mercy ix a golden key unlocked a door x a forlorn hope came to grief xi a lie was made the very truth xii the news came to unwelcome ears xiii a pilgrimage begins xiv the baronet played rouge-et-noir xv a hatchet sings a man to sleep xvi jennifer threw a main with death xvii love took toll of friendship xviii we hear news from the south xix a stumbling horse brought tidings xx we strive as men to run a race xxi we kept lenten vigils in trinitytide xxii the fates gave largess of despair xxiii we kept the feast of bitter herbs xxiv we found the sunken valley xxv uncanoola trapped the great bear xxvi the charred stick for a guide xxvii a king's trooper became a wastrel xxviii i saddle the black mare xxix having danced, we pay the piper xxx ephraim yates prayed for his enemies xxxi we make a forced march xxxii i am bedded in a garret xxxiii i hear chanceful tidings xxxiv i met a great lord as man to man xxxv i fight the devil with fire xxxvi i rode post on the king's business xxxvii what befell at king's creek xxxviii we find the gun-maker xxxix the thunder of the captains xl vae victis xli i played the host at my own fireside xlii my lord has his marching orders xliii i drink a dish of tea xliv we come to the beginning of the end xlv we find what we never sought xlvi our piece missed fire at harndon acres xlvii arms and the man xlviii we kept tryst at appleby xlix a lawyer hath his fee l richard coverdale's debt was paid li the good cause gains a convert lii brings us to the journey's end chapter i in which i whet my father's sword the summer day was all but spent when richard jennifer, riding express, brought me captain falconnet's challenge. 'twas a dayfall to be marked with a white stone, even in our carolina calendar. the sun, reaching down to the mountain-girt horizon in the west, filled all the upper air with the glory of its departing, and the higher leaf plumes of the great maples before my cabin door wrought lustrous patterns in gilded green upon a zenith background of turquoise shot with crimson, like the figurings of some rich old tapestries i had once seen in my field-marshal's castle in the mark of moravia. beyond the maples a brook tinkled and plashed over the stones on its way to the near-by catawba; and its peaceful brawling, and the evensong of a pair of clear-throated warblers poised on the topmost twigs of one of the trees, should have been sweet music in the ears of a returned exile. but on that matchless bride's-month evening of dainty sunset arabesques and brook and bird songs, i was in little humor for rejoicing. the road made for the river lower down and followed its windings up the valley; but jennifer came by the indian trace through the forest. i can see him now as he rode beneath the maples, bending to the saddle horn where the branches hung lowest; a pretty figure of a handsome young provincial, clad in fashions three years behind those i had seen in london the winter last past. he rode gentleman-wise, in small-clothes of rough gray woolen and with stout leggings over his hose; but he wore his cocked hat atilt like a trooper's, and the sword on his thigh was a good service blade, and no mere hilt and scabbard for show such as our courtier macaronis were just then beginning to affect. now i had known this handsome youngster when he was but a little lad; had taught him how to bend the indian bow and loose the reed-shaft arrow in those happier days before the tyrant governor tryon turned hangman, and the battle of the great alamance had left me fatherless. moreover, i had drunk a cup of wine with him at the mecklenburg arms no longer ago than yesterweek--this to a renewal of our early friendship. hence, i must needs be somewhat taken aback when he drew rein at my door-stone, doffed his hat with a sweeping bow worthy a courtier of the great louis, and said, after the best manner of sir charles grandison: "i have the honor of addressing captain john ireton, sometime of his majesty's royal scots blues, and late of her apostolic majesty's twenty-ninth regiment of hussars?" it was but an euphuism of the time, this formal preamble, declaring that his errand had to do with the preliminaries of a private quarrel between gentlemen. yet i could scarce restrain a smile. for these upcroppings of courtier etiquette have ever seemed to march but mincingly with the free stride of our western backwoods. none the less, you are to suppose that i made shift to match his bow in some fashion, and to say: "at your service, sir." whereupon he bowed again, clapped hat to head and tendered me a sealed packet. "from sir francis falconnet, knight bachelor of beaumaris, volunteer captain in his majesty's german legion," he announced, with stern dignity. having no second to refer him to, i broke the seal of the cartel myself. since my enemy had seen fit to come thus far on the way to his end in some gentlemanly manner, it was not for me to find difficulties among the formalities. in good truth, i was overjoyed to be thus assured that he would fight me fair; that he would not compel me to kill him as one kills a wild beast at bay. for certainly i should have killed him in any event: so much i had promised my poor dick coverdale on that dismal november morning when he had choked out his life in my arms, the victim first of this man's treachery, and, at the last, of his sword. so, as i say, i was nothing loath, and yet i would not seem too eager. "i might say that i have no unsettled quarrel with captain falconnet," i demurred, when i had read the challenge. "he spoke slightingly of a lady, and i did but--" "your answer, captain ireton!" quoth my youngster, curtly. "i am not empowered to give or take in the matter of accommodations." "not so fast, if you please," i rejoined. "i have no wish to disappoint your principal, or his master, the devil. let it be to-morrow morning at sunrise in the oak grove which was once my father's wood field, each man with his own blade. and i give you fair warning, master jennifer; i shall kill your bullyragging captain of light-horse as i would a vermin of any other breed." at this jennifer flung himself from his saddle with a great laugh. "if you can," he qualified. "but enough of these 'by your leave, sirs.' i am near famished, and as dry as king david's bottle in the smoke. will you give me bite and sup before i mount and ride again? 'tis a long gallop back to town on an empty stomach, and with a gullet as dry as mr. gilbert stair's wit." here was my fresh-hearted dick jennifer back again all in a breath; and i made haste to shout for darius, and for tomas to take his horse, and otherwise to bestir myself to do the honors of my poor forest fastness as well as i might. luckily, my haphazard larder was not quite empty, and there were presently a bit of cold deer's meat and some cakes of maize bread baked in the ashes to set before the guest. also there was a cup of sweet wine, home-pressed from the berries of the indian scuppernong, to wash them down. and afterward, though the evening was no more than mountain-breeze cool, we had a handful of fire on the hearth for the cheer of it while we smoked our reed-stemmed pipes. it was over the pipes that jennifer unburdened himself of the gossip of the day in queensborough. "have you heard the newest? but i know you haven't, since the post-riders came only this morning. the war has shifted from the north in good earnest at last, and we are like to have a taste of the harryings the jerseymen have had since ' . my lord cornwallis is come as far as camden, they say; and colonel tarleton has crossed the catawba." "so? then mr. rutherford is like to have his work cut out for him, i take it." jennifer eyed me curiously. "grif rutherford is a stout indian fighter; no west carolinian will gainsay that. but he is never the man to match cornwallis. we'll have help from the north." "de kalb?" i suggested. again the curious eyeshot. "nay, john ireton, you need not fear me, though i am just now this redcoat captain's next friend. you know more about the baron de kalb's doings than anybody else in mecklenburg." "i? what should i know?" "you know a deal--or else the gossips lie most recklessly." "they do lie if they connect me with the baron de kalb, or with any other of the patriot side. what are they saying?" "that you come straight from the baron's camp in virginia--to see what you can see." "a spy, eh? 'tis cut out of whole cloth, dick, my lad. i've never took the oath on either side." he looked vastly disappointed. "but you will, jack? surely, you have not to think twice in such a cause?" "as between king and congress, you mean? 'tis no quarrel of mine." "now god save us, john ireton!" he burst out in a fine fervor of youthful enthusiasm that made him all the handsomer, "i had never thought to hear your father's son say the like!" i shrugged. "and why not, pray? the king's minion, tryon, hanged my father and gave his estate to his minion's minion, gilbert stair. so, in spite of your declarations and your confiscations and your laws against alien landholders, i come back to find myself still the son of the outlawed roger ireton, and this same gilbert stair firmly lodged in my father's seat." jennifer shrugged in his turn. "gilbert stair--for sweet madge's sake i'm loath to say it--gilbert stair blows hot or cold as the wind sets fair or stormy. and i will say this for him: no other tryon legatee of them all has steered so fine a course through these last five upsetting years. how he trims so skilfully no man knows. a short month since, he had general rutherford and colonel sumter as guests at appleby hundred; now it is sir francis falconnet and the british light-horse officers who are honored. but let him rest: the cause of independence is bigger than any man, or any man's private quarrel, friend john; and i had hoped--" i laid a hand on his knee. "spare yourself, dick. my business in queensborough was to learn how best i might reach mr. rutherford's rendezvous." for a moment he sat, pipe in air, staring at me as if to make sure that he had heard aright. then he clipt my hand and wrung it, babbling out some boyish brava that i made haste to put an end to. "softly, my lad," i said; "'tis no great thing the congress will gain by my adhesion. but you, richard; how comes it that i find you taking your ease at jennifer house and hobnobbing with his majesty's officers when the cause you love is still in such desperate straits?" he blushed like a girl at that, and for a little space only puffed the harder at his pipe. "i did go out with the minute men in ' , if you must know, and smelt powder at moore's creek. when my time was done i would have 'listed again; but just at that my father died and the jennifer acres were like to go to the dogs, lacking oversight. so i came home and--and--" he stopped in some embarrassment, and i thought to help him on. "nay, out with it, dick. if i am not thy father, i am near old enough to stand in his stead. 'twas more than husbandry that rusted the sword in its scabbard, i'll be bound." "you are right, jack; 'twas both more and less," he confessed, shamefacedly. "'twas this same margery stair. as i have said, her father blows hot or cold as the wind sets, but not she. she is the fiercest little tory in the two carolinas, bar none. when i had got jennifer in order and began to talk of 'listing again, she flew into a pretty rage and stamped her foot and all but swore that dick jennifer in buff and blue should never look upon her face again with her good will." i had a glimpse of jennifer the lover as he spoke, and the sight went somewhat on the way toward casting out the devil of sullen rage that had possessed me since first i had set returning foot in this my native homeland. 'twas a life lacking naught of hardness, but much of human mellowing, that lay behind the home-coming; and my one sweet friend in all that barren life was dead. what wonder, then, if i set this frank-faced richard in the other richard's stead, wishing him all the happiness that poor dick coverdale had missed? i needed little: would need still less, i thought, before the war should end; and through this love-match my lost estate would come at length to richard jennifer. it was a meliorating thought, and while it held i could be less revengeful. "dost love her, dick?" i asked. "aye, and have ever since she was in pinafores, and i a hobbledehoy in master wytheby's school." "so long? i thought mr. stair was a later comer in mecklenburg." "he came eight years ago, as one of tryon's underlings. madge was even then motherless; the same little wilful prat-a-pace she has ever been. i would you knew her, jack. 'twould make this shiftiness of mine seem less the thing it is." "so you have stayed at home a-courting while others fought to give you leisure," said i, thinking to rally him. but he took it harder than i meant. "'tis just that, jack; and i am fair ashamed. while the fighting kept to the north it did not grind so keen; but now, with the redcoats at our doors, and the tories sacking and burning in every settlement, 'tis enough to flay an honest man alive. god-a-mercy, jack! i'll go; i've got to go, or die of shame!" he sat silent after that, and as there seemed nothing that a curst old campaigner could say at such a pass, i bore him company. by and by he harked back to the matter of his errand, making some apology for his coming to me as the baronet's second. "'twas none of my free offering, you may be sure," he added. "but it so happened that captain falconnet once did me a like turn. i had chanced to run afoul of that captain of hessian pigs, lauswoulter, at cards, and falconnet stood my friend--though now i bethink me, he did seem over-anxious that one or the other of us should be killed." "as how?" i inquired. "when lauswoulter slipped and i might have spitted him, and didn't, falconnet was for having us make the duel _à outrance_. but that's beside the mark. having served me then, he makes the point that i shall serve him now." "'tis a common courtesy, and you could not well refuse. i love you none the less for paying your debts; even to such a villain as this volunteer captain." "true, 'tis a debt, as you say; but i like little enough the manner of its paying. how came you to quarrel with him, jack?" now even so blunt a soldier as i have ever been may have some prickings of delicacy where the truth might breed gossip--gossip about a tale which i had said should die with richard coverdale and be buried in his grave. so i evaded the question, clumsily enough, as has ever been my hap in fencing with words. "the cause was not wanting. if any ask, you may say he trod upon my foot in passing." jennifer laughed. "and for that you struck him? heavens, man! you hold your life carelessly. do you happen to know that this volunteer captain of light-horse is accounted the best blade in the troop?" "who should know that better than--" i was fairly on the brink of betraying the true cause of quarrel, but drew rein in time. "i care not if he were the best in the army. i have crossed steel before--and with a good swordsman now and then." "anan?" said jennifer, as one who makes no doubt. and then: "but this toe-pinching story is but a dry crust to offer a friend. you spoke of a lady; who was she? or was that only another way of telling me to mind my own affairs?" "oh, as to that; the lady was real enough, and falconnet did grossly asperse her. but i know not who she is, nor aught about her, save that she is sweet and fair and good to look upon." "young?" "aye." "and you say you do not know her? let me see her through your eyes and mayhap i can name her for you." "that i can not. mr. peale's best skill would be none too great for the painting of any picture that should do her justice. but she is small, with the airs and graces of a lady of the quality; also, she has witching blue eyes, and hair that has the glint of summer sunshine in it. also, she sits a horse as if bred to the saddle." to my amazement, jennifer leaped up with an oath and flung his pipe into the fire. "curse him!" he cried. "and he dared lay a foul tongue to her, you say? tell me what he said! i have a good right to know!" i shook my head. "nay, richard; i may not repeat it to you, since you are the man's second. truly, there is more than this at the back of our quarrel; but of itself it was enough, and more than enough, inasmuch as the lady had just done him the honor to recognize him." "his words--his very words, jack, if you love me!" "no; the quarrel is mine." "by god! it is not yours!" he stormed, raging back and forth before the fire. "what is margery stair to you, jack ireton?" i smiled, beginning now to see some peephole in this millstone of mystery. "margery stair? she is no more than a name to me, i do assure you; the daughter of the man who sits in my father's seat at appleby hundred." "but you are going to fight for her!" he retorted. "am i? i pledge you my word i did not know it. but in any case i should fight sir francis falconnet; aye, and do my best to kill him, too. sit you down and fill another pipe. whatever the quarrel, it is mine." "mayhap; but it is mine, too," he broke in, angrily. "at all events, i'll see this king's volunteer well hanged before i second him in such a cause." "that as you choose. but you are bound in honor, are you not?" "no." he filled a fresh pipe, lighted it with a coal from the hearth, and puffed away in silence for a time. when he spoke again it was not as falconnet's next friend. "what you have told me puts a new face on the matter, jack. sir francis may find him another second where he can. if he has aught to say, i shall tell him plain he lied to me about the quarrel, as he did. now who is there to see fair play on your side, john ireton?" at the question an overwhelming sense of my own sorry case grappled me. fifteen years before, i had left appleby hundred and my native province as well befriended as the son of roger ireton was sure to be. and now-- "dick, my lad, i am like to fight alone," said i. he swore again at that; and here, lest i should draw my loyal richard as he was not, let me say, once for all, that his oaths were but the outgushings of a warm and impulsive heart, rarely bitter, and never, as i believe, backed by surly rancor or conscious irreverence. "that you shall not, jack," he asserted, stoutly. "i must be a-gallop now to tell this king's captain to look elsewhere for his next friend; but to-morrow morning i'll meet you in the road between this and the stair outlands, and we'll fare on together." after this he would brook no more delay; and when tomas had fetched his horse i saw him mount and ride away under the low-hanging maples--watched him fairly out of sight in the green and gold twilight of the great forest before turning back to my lonely hearth and its somber reminders. i stirred the dying embers, throwing on a pine knot for better light. then i took down my father's sword from its deer-horn brackets over the chimney-piece, and set myself to fine its edge and point with a bit of scotch whinstone. it was a good blade; a true old andrea ferara got in battle in the seventeenth century by one of the nottingham iretons. i whetted it well and carefully. it was not that i feared my enemy's strength of wrist or tricks of fence; but fighting had been my trade, and he is but a poor craftsman who looks not well to see that his tools are in order against their time of using. ii which knits up some broken ends it was in the autumn of the year ' , as i was coming of age, that my father made ready to send me to england. himself a conscience exile from episcopal virginia, and a descendant of those nottingham iretons whose best-known son fought stoutly against church and king under oliver cromwell, he was yet willing to humor my bent and to use the interest of my mother's family to enter me in the king's service. accordingly, i took ship at norfolk for "home," as we called it in those days; and, after a stormy passage and overmuch waiting as my cousins' guest in lincolnshire, had my pair of colors in the scots blues, lately home from garrison duty in the canadas. of the life in barracks of a young ensign with little wit and less wisdom, and with more guineas in his purse than was good for him, the less said the better. but of this you may like to know that, what with a good father's example, and some small heritage of puritan decency come down to me from the sound-hearted old roundhead stock, i won out of that devil's sponging-house, an army in the time of peace, with somewhat less to my score than others had to theirs. it was in this barrack life that i came to know richard coverdale and his evil genius, the man francis falconnet. coverdale was an ensign in my own regiment, and we were sworn friends from the first. his was a clean soul and a brave; and it was to him that i owed escape from many of the grosser chargings on that score above-named. as for falconnet, he was even then a ruffler and a bully, though he was not of the army. he was a younger son, and at that time there were two lives between him and the baronetcy; but with a mother's bequeathings to purchase idleness and to gild his iniquities, he was a fair example of the _jeunesse dorée_ of that england; a libertine, a gamester, a rakehell; brave as the tiger is brave, and to the full as pitiless. he was a boon companion of the officers' mess; and for a time--and purpose--posed as coverdale's friend, and mine. since i would not tell my poor dick's story to richard jennifer, i may not set it down in cold words here for you. it was the age-old tragic comedy of a false friend's treachery and a woman's weakness; a duel, and the wrong man slain. and you may know this; that falconnet's most merciful role in it was the part he played one chill november morning when he put richard coverdale to the wall and ran him through. as you have guessed, i was coverdale's next friend and second in this affair, and but for the upsetting news of the tryon tyranny in carolina,--news which reached me on the very day of the meeting,--i should there and then have called the slayer to his account. how my father who, presbyterian and ireton though he was, had always been of the king's side, came to espouse the cause of the "regulators," as they called themselves, i know not. in my youthful memories of him he figures as the feudal lord of his own domain, more absolute than many of the petty kinglings i came afterward to know in the german marches. but this, too, i remember; that while his rule at appleby hundred was stern and despotic enough, he was ever ready to lend a willing ear to any tale of oppression. and if what men say of the tyrant tryon's tax-gatherers and law-court robbers be no more than half truth, there was need for any honest gentleman to oppose them. what that opposition came to in ' is now a tale twice told. taken in arms against the governor's authority, and with an estate well worth receiving, my father had little justice and less mercy accorded him. with many others he was outlawed; his estates were declared forfeit; and a few days later he, with benjamin merrill and four more captivated at the alamance, was given some farce of a trial and hanged. when the news of this came to me you may well suppose that i had no heart to continue in the service of the king who could sanction and reward such villainies as these of the butcher william tryon. so i threw up my lieutenant's commission in the blues, took ship for the continent, and, after wearing some half-dozen different uniforms in germany, was lucky enough to come at length to serviceable blows under my old field-marshal on the turkish frontier. to you of a younger generation, born in the day of swift mail-coaches and well-kept post-roads, the slowness with which our laggard news traveled in that elder time must needs seem past belief. it was early in the year ' before i began to hear more than vague camp-fire tales of the struggle going on between the colonies and the mother country; and from that to setting foot once more upon the soil of my native carolina was still another year. what i found upon landing at new berne and saw while riding a jog-trot thence to the catawba was a province rent and torn by partizan warfare. though i came not once upon the partizans themselves in all that long faring, there were trampled fields and pillaged houses enough to serve as mile-stones; and in my native mecklenburg a mine full charged, with slow-match well alight for its firing. charleston had fallen, and colonel tarleton's outposts were already widespread on the upper waters of the broad and the catawba. thus it was that the first sight which greeted my eyes when i rode into queensborough was the familiar trappings of my old service, and i was made to know that in spite of mr. jefferson's boldly written declaration of independence, and that earlier casting of the king's yoke by the patriotic mecklenburgers themselves, my boyhood home was for the moment by sword-right a part of his majesty's province of north carolina. you are not to suppose that these things moved me greatly. as yet i was chiefly concerned with my own affair and anxious to learn at first hands the cost to me of my father's connection with the regulators. touching this, i was not long kept in ignorance. of all the vast demesne of appleby hundred there was no roof to shelter the son of the outlawed roger ireton save that of this poor hunting lodge in the mighty forest of the catawba, overlooked, with the few runaway blacks inhabiting it, in the intaking of an estate so large that i think not even my father knew all the metes and bounds of it. i shall not soon forget the interview with the lawyer in which i was told the inhospitable truth. nor shall i forget his truculent leer when he hinted that i had best be gone out of these parts, since it was not yet too late to bring down the sentence of outlawry from the father to the son. it was well for him that i knew not at the time that he was gilbert stair's factor. for i was mad enough to have throttled him where he sat at his writing table, matching his long fingers and smirking at me with his evil smile. but of this man more in his time and place. his name was owen pengarvin. i would have you remember it. for a week and a day i lingered on at queensborough, for what i knew not, save that all the world seemed suddenly to have grown stale and profitless, and my life a thing of small account. one day i would be minded to go back to my old field-marshal and the keeping of the turkish border; the next i would ride over some part of my stolen heritage and swear a great oath to bide till i should come to my own again. and on these alternating days the storm of black rage filled my horizons and i became a derelict to drive on any rock or shoal in this uncharted sea of wrath. on one of these gallops farthest afield i chanced upon the bridle-path that led to our old hunting lodge in the forest depths. tracing the path to its end among the maples i found the cabin, so lightly touched by time that the mere sight of it carried me swiftly back to those happy days when my father and i had stalked the white-tailed deer in the hill glades beyond, with this log-built cabin for a rest-camp. i spurred up under the low-hanging trees. the door stood wide, and a thin wreath of blue smoke curled upward from the mouth of the wattled chimney. then and there i had my first welcome home. old black darius--old when i had last seen him at appleby hundred, and a very grandsire of ancients now--was one of the runaways who made the forest lodge a refuge. he had been my father's body-servant, and, notwithstanding all the years that lay between, he knew me at once. thereupon, as you would guess, i came immediately into some small portion of my kingdom. though darius was the patriarch, the other blacks were also fugitives from appleby hundred; and for the son of roger ireton there was instant vassalage and loyal service. but best of all, on my first evening before the handful of fire in the great fire-place, darius brought me a package swathed in many wrappings of indian-tanned deerskin. it contained my father's sword, and, more precious than this, a message from the dead. my father's farewell was written upon a leaf torn from his journal, and was but a hasty scrawl. i here transcribe it. _my son:_ _i know not if this will ever come into your hands, but it and my sword shall be left in trust with the faithful darius. we have made our ill-timed cast for liberty and it has failed, and to-morrow i and five others are to die at the rope's end. i bequeath you my sword--'tis all the tyrant hath left me to devise--and my blessing to go with it when you, or another ireton, shall once more bare the true old blade in the sacred cause of liberty._ _thy father,_ _roger ireton._ you may be sure i conned these few brave words till i had them well by heart; and later, when my voice was surer and my eyes less dim, i summoned darius and bade him tell me all he knew. and it was thus i learned what i have here set down of my father's end. the next day, all indecision gone, i rode to queensborough to ascertain, if so i might, how best to throw the weight of the good old andrea into the patriot scale, meaning to push on thence to charlotte when i had got the bearings of the nearest patriot force. 'twas none so easy to learn what i needed to know; though, now i sought for information, a curious thing or two developed. one was that this light-horse outpost in our hamlet was far in advance of the army of invasion--so far that it was dangersomely isolated, and beyond support. another was the air of secrecy maintained, and the holding of the troop in instant readiness for fight or flight. why this little handful of british regulars should stick and hang so far from lord cornwallis's main, which was then well down upon the wateree, i could not guess. but for the secrecy and vigilance there were good reasons and sufficient. the patriot militia had been called out, and was embodying under general rutherford but a few miles distant near charlotte. i had this information in guarded whispers from mine host of the tavern, and was but a moment free of the tap-room, when i first saw margery stair and so drank of the cup of trembling with madness in its lees. she was riding, unmasked, down the high road, not on a pillion as most women rode in that day, but upon her own mount with a black groom two lengths in the rear. i can picture her for you no better than i could for richard jennifer; but this i know, that even this first sight of her moved me strangely, though the witching beauty of her face and the proudness of it were more a challenge than a beckoning. a blade's length at my right where i was standing in front of the tavern, three redcoat officers lounged at ease; and to one of them my lady tossed a nod of recognition, half laughing, half defiant. i turned quickly to look at the favored one. he stood with his back to me; a man of about my own bigness, heavy-built and well-muscled. he wore a bob-wig, as did many of the troop officers, but his uniform was tailor-fine, and the hand with which he was resettling his hat was bejeweled--overmuch bejeweled, to my taste. something half familiar in the figure of him made me look again. in the act he turned, and then i saw his face--saw and recognized it though nine years lay between this and my last seeing of it across the body of richard coverdale. "so!" thought i. "my time has come at last." and while i was yet turning over in my mind how best to bait him, the lady passed out of earshot, and i heard him say to the two, his comrades, that foul thing which i would not repeat to jennifer; a vile boast with which i may not soil my page here for you. "oh, come, sir frank! that's too bad!" cried the younger of the twain; and then i took two strides to front him fairly. "sir francis falconnet, you are a foul-lipped blackguard!" i said; and, lest that should not be enough, i smote him in the face so that he fell like an ox in the shambles. iii in which my enemy scores first true to his promise, richard jennifer met me in the cool gray birthlight of the new day at a turn in the river road not above a mile or two from the rendezvous, and thence we jogged on together. after the greetings, which, as you may like to know, were grateful enough on my part, i would fain inquire how the baronet had taken his second's defection; but of this jennifer would say little. he had broken with his principal, whether in anger or not i could only guess; and one of falconnet's brother officers, that younger of the twain who had cried shame at the baronet's vile boast, was to serve in his stead. it was such a daydawn as i have sometimes seen in the carpathians; cool and clear, but with that sweet dewy wetness in the lower air which washes the over-night cobwebs from the brain, and is both meat and drink to one who breathes it. on the left the road was overhung by the bordering forest, and where the branches drooped lowest we brushed the fragrance from the wild-grape bloom in passing. on the right the river, late in flood, eddied softly; and sounds other than the murmuring of the waters, the matin songs of the birds, and the dust-muffled hoof-beats of our horses there were none. peace, deep and abiding, was the key-note of nature's morning hymn; and in all this sylvan byway there was naught remindful of the fierce internecine warfare aflame in all the countryside. some rough forging of this thought i hammered out for jennifer as we rode along, and his laugh was not devoid of bitterness. "old mother nature ruffles her feathers little enough for any teapot tempest of ours," he said. "but speaking of the cruelties, we provincial savages, as my lord cornwallis calls us, have no monopoly. the post-riders from the south bring blood-curdling stories of colonel tarleton's doings. 'tis said he overtook some of mr. lincoln's reinforcements come too late. they gave battle but faint-heartedly, being all unready for an enemy, and presently threw down their arms and begged for quarter--begged, and were cut down as they stood." "faugh!" said i. "that is but hangman's work. and yet in london i heard that this same colonel tarleton was with lord howe in philadelphia and was made much of by the ladies." jennifer's laugh was neither mirthful nor pleasant. "'tis a weakness of the sex," he scoffed. "the women have a fondness for a man with a dash of the brute in him." i laughed also, but without bitterness. "you say it feelingly. do you speak by the book?" "aye, that i do. now here is my lady madge preaching peace and all manner of patience to me in one breath, and upholding in the next this baronet captain who, though i would have seconded him at a pinch, is but a pattern of his brutal colonel." i put two and two together. "so falconnet is on terms at appleby hundred, is he?" "oh, surely. gilbert stair keeps open house for any and all of the winning hand, as i told you." the thought of this unspoiled young maiden having aught to do with such a thrice-accursed despoiler of women made my blood boil afresh; and in the heat of it i let my secret slip, or rather some small part of it. "sir francis had ever a sure hand with the women," i said; and then i could have bitten my masterless tongue. "so?" queried jennifer. "then this is not your first knowing of him?" "no." so much i said and no more. we rode on in silence for a little space, and then my youthling must needs break out again in fresh beseechings. "tell me what you know of him, and what it was he said of madge," he entreated. "you can't deny me now, jack." "i can and shall. it matters not to you or to any what he is or has been." "why?" "because, as god gives me strength and skill, i shall presently run him through, and so his account will be squared once for all with all men--and all women, as well." "god speed you," quoth my loyal ally. "i knew not your quarrel with him was so bitter." "it is to the death." "so it seems. in that case, if by any accident he--" i divined what he would say and broke in upon him. "nay, dick; if he thrusts me out, you must not take up my quarrel. i know not where you learned to twirl the steel, or how, but you may be sure he would spit you like a trussed fowl in the first bout. i have seen him kill a man who was reckoned the best short sword in my old regiment of the blues." "content yourself," said my young hotspur, grandly. "if you spare him he shall answer to me for that thing he said of madge stair; this though i know not what it was he said." i smiled at his fuming ardor, and glancing at the pair of pistols hanging from his saddle-bow, asked if he could shoot. "indifferent well." "then make him challenge you and choose your own weapon. 'tis your only hope, and poor enough at that, i fear. i have heard he can clip a guinea at ten paces." from that we fell silent again, being but a little way from the rendezvous, and so continued until, at a sudden turn in the road, we came in sight of a rude barricade of felled trees barring the way. jennifer saw it first and pulled up short, loosing his pistols in their cases as he drew rein. "'ware the wood!" he said sharply, and none too soon, for even as he spoke the glade at our left filled as by magic with a motley troop deploying into the road as to surround us. "now who are these?" i asked; "friends or foes?" "foes who will hang you in your own halter strap; jan howart's tories--the same that burned the westcotts in their cabin a fortnight since. will your horse take that barricade, think you?" "aye,--standing, if need be." "then at them, in god's name. charge!" it needed but the word and we were in the thick of it. i remembered my old field-marshal's maxim, _von feinden umringt, ist die zeit zu zerschmettern_; and truly, being so plentifully outnumbered, we did strike both first and hard. a line of the ragged horsemen strung itself awkwardly across the road to guard the flimsy barricade, and at this we charged, stirrup to stirrup. in the dash there was a scattering volley from the wood, answered instantly by the bellowings of jennifer's great pistols; and then we came to the steel. it was my first fleshing of the good old andrea, and a better balanced blade i had never swung in hand-to-hand mellay. as we closed with the half-dozen defenders of the barrier, jennifer reined aside to give me room to play to right and left, and in the midst of it went nigh to death because he held his hand to watch a cut and double thrust of mine. "over with you!" i shouted, pricking the man who would have mowed him down with a great scythe handled as a sword. our horses took the barrier in a flying leap, straining themselves for the race beyond. when we had pulled them down to a foot pace we were safely out of rifle shot and there was space to count the cost. there was no cost worth counting. a saddle horn bullet-shattered for me, and the back of jennifer's sword hand scored lightly across by another of the random missiles summed up our woundings. dick whipped out his kerchief to twist about the scored hand, while i glanced back to see if any tory cared to follow. "lord, jack! i owe you one to keep and one to pay back," quoth my youngster, warmly. "i never saw a swordsman till this day!" "mere tricks, dick, my lad; i have had fifteen years in which to learn them. and these were but country yokels armed with farming tools. the two with swords had little wit to use them." "oh, come!" said he. "i know a pretty bit of sword play when i see it. if we come whole out of this adventure with the baronet you shall teach me some of these 'mere tricks' of yours." i promised, glancing back toward the dust-veiled barrier in the distance. "dick, you passed this way an hour ago; was that breastwork in the road then?" "not a stick of it." "then we may dare say our volunteer captain fights unwillingly." "how so?" he demanded, being much too straightforward himself to suspect duplicity in others. "'tis plain enough. this was a trap, meant to stop or delay us, and i'll wager high it was the baronet who set and baited it. it would please him well to be able to say what our failure to come would give him warrant for. let us gallop a bit, lest we be late and so play into his hand." jennifer smiled grimly and gave his horse the rein. "i think you'd charge the fall of man to him if that would give you better leave to kill him. i'd hate to own you for my enemy, john ireton." for all our swift speeding we were yet a little late at the rendezvous under the tall oaks. when we came on the ground the baronet was walking up and down arm in arm with his second, a broad-shouldered young briton, fair of skin and ruddy of face. if falconnet had set the tory trap for us he veiled his disappointment at its failure. his face, dark and inscrutable as it always was, was made more sinister by the plasters knitting up his broken cheek, but i was right glad to make sure that my blow had spared his eyes. richly as he deserved his fate, i thought it would be ill to think on afterward that i had had him at a disadvantage of my own making. there was little time wasted in the preliminaries. when falconnet saw us he dropped his second's arm and began to make ready. i gave my sword to jennifer, and the seconds went apart together. there was some measuring and balancing of weapons, and then richard came back. "the baronet's sword is a good inch longer than yours in the blade, and is somewhat heavier. tybee has brought a pair of french short-swords which he offers. will you change your terms?" "no; i am content to fight with my own weapon." jennifer nodded. "so i told him." and then: "there was no surgeon to be had in town, dr. carew having gone with the minute men to join mr. rutherford. tybee says 'tis scarce in accordance with the later rulings to fight without one." "to the devil with their hairsplittings!" said i. "let us have done with them and be at it." falconnet was removing his coat, and i stripped mine. the seconds chose the ground where the turf was short and firm, and yet yielding enough to give good footing. we faced each other, my antagonist baring an arm which, despite the bejeweled hand, was to the full as big-muscled as my own. my glance went from his weapon, a rather heavy german blade, straight and slender-pointed, to his face. he was smiling as one who strives to make the outer man a mask to cover all emotion, and the plasters on his cheek drew the smile into a grimace that was all but devilish. the seconds fell back, but when jennifer would have given the signal i stopped him. "one moment, if you please. sir francis falconnet, you know me?" the thin-lidded eyes were veiled for an instant, and then he lied smoothly. "your pardon, captain ireton; i have not that honor." "'tis a small matter, but you do lie this morning as basely as you lied to richard coverdale nine years agone," said i; and then i signed jennifer to give the word. "attention, gentlemen! on guard!" my enemy's sword leaped to meet mine, and at the same instant i heard another click of steel betokening that the seconds had fallen to in a bit of by-play between themselves, as was then the fashion. after that i heard nothing for a time save the sibilant whisperings of the ferara and the german long-sword, and saw nothing save the fierce eyes glaring at me out of the midst of the plaster-marred smile. recreant though he was, i must do my adversary the justice to say that he was a skilful master of fence, agile as a french dancer, and withal well-breathed and persevering. twice, nay, thrice, before i found my advantage he had pricked me lightly with that extra inch of slender point. but when i had fairly felt his wrist i knew that his heavier weapon would shortly prove his undoing; knew that the quick parry and lightning-like thrust would presently lag a little, and then i should have him. something of this prophecy of triumph he must have read in my eyes, for on the instant he was up and at me like a madman, and i had my work well cut out to hold him at the blade's length. i was so holding him; was, in my turn, beginning to press him slowly, when there came a drumming of hoofbeats on the soft turf, and then a woman's cry. i looked aside, and to my dying day i shall swear that my antagonist did likewise. what i saw was mistress margery stair riding down upon us at a hand-gallop, and i lowered my point, as any gentleman would. in the very act--'twas while jennifer was clutching at her bridle rein to stay her from riding fair between us--i felt the hot-wire prick of the steel in my shoulder and knew that my enemy had run me through as i stood. of what befell afterward i have but dim memories. there were more hoof-tramplings, and then i felt the dewy turf under my hands and soft fingers tremblingly busy at my neckerchief. then i saw swimmingly, as through a veil of mist, a woman's face just above my own, and it was full of horror; and i heard my enemy say: "'twas most unfortunate and i do heartily regret it, mr. jennifer. i saw not why he had lowered his point. can i say more?" how richard jennifer made answer to this lie i know not; nor do i know aught else, save by hear-say, of any further happening in that grassy glade beneath my father's oaks. for the big german blade was a shrewd blood-letter, and i fell asleep what time my lady was trying to stanch with her kerchief the ebbing tide of life. iv which may be passed over lightly when i came back to some clearer sensing of things, i found myself abed in a room which was strange and yet strangely familiar. barring a great oaken clothes-press in one corner, a raree-show of curious china on the shelves where the books should have been, and the face of an armored soldier staring down at me from its frame over the chimney piece, where i should have looked to see my mother's portrait, the room was a counterpart of my old bedchamber at appleby hundred. there was even a faint odor of lavender in the bed-linen; and the sense of smell, which hath ever a better memory than any other, carried me swiftly back to my boyhood, and to the remembrance that my mother had always kept a spray or two of that sweet herb in her linen closet. at the bedside there was a claw-footed table, which also had the look of an old friend; and on it a dainty porringer, filled with cuttings of fragrant sweetbriar. this was some womanly conceit, i said to myself; and then i laughed, though the laugh set a pair of wolf's jaws at work on my shoulder. for you must know that i had lived the full half of king david's span of three-score and ten years, and more, and what womanly softness had fallen to my lot had been well got and paid for. i closed my eyes the better to remember what had befallen, and when i opened them again was fain to wonder if the moment of back-reaching stood not for some longer time. in the deep bay of the window was a great chair of indian wickerwork, and i could have sworn it had but now been empty. yet when i looked again a woman sat in it. now of a truth i had seen this woman's face but twice; and once it wore a smile of teasing mockery and once was full of terror; but i thought i should live long and suffer much before the winsome challenging beauty of it would let me be as i had been before i had looked upon it. she knew not that i was awake and slaking the thirst of my eyes upon the sweetness of her, and so i saw her then as few ever saw her, i think, with the womanly barriers of defense all down. 'tis a hard test, and one that makes a blank at rest of many a face beautiful enough in action; but though this lady's face was to the full as changeful as any april sky, it was never less than triumphantly beautiful. i had said her eyes were blue, but now they were deep wells reflecting the soft gray of the clouded sky beyond the window-panes. i had made sure that her lips lent themselves most readily to mocking smiles scornful of any wit less trenchant than her own; but now these mocking lips were pensive, and with the rounded cheek and chin gave her the look of a sweet child wanting to be kissed. i had said her hair was bright in the sunlight, and so, indeed, it was; but lacking the sun it still held the dull luster of burnished copper in its masses, and her simple, care-free dressing of it at a time when _les grandes dames_ were frizzing and powdering and adding art to art to mar the woman's crown of glory, gave her yet more the look of a child. lastly, i had called her small, and certainly her figure was girlish beside those grenadier dames of maria theresa's court to whom my old field-marshal had once presented me. but when she rose and went to stand in the window-bay i marked this; that not any duchess or margravine of them all had a more queenly bearing, or, with all their stays and furbelows, could match her supple grace and lissom figure. what with the blood-lettings and the wound fever, coupled with the subtle witchery of her presence thus in my sick room, it is little to be wondered at that a curious madness came over me, or that i forgot for the moment the loyalty due to my dear lad. could i have stood before her and, reading but half consent in the deep-welled eyes, have clipt her in my arms and laid my lips to hers, i would have run to pay the price, in earth or heaven or hell, i thought, deeming the fierce joy of it well worth any penalty. at this i should have stirred, i suppose, for she came quickly and stood beside me. "you have slept long and well, captain ireton," she said; and in all the thrilling joy of her nearer presence i found space to mark that her voice had in it that sweet quality of sympathy which is all womanly. "they say i am good only to fetch and carry--may i fetch you anything?" i fear the madness of the moment must still have been upon me, for i said: "since you are here yourself, dear lady, i need naught else." at a flash i had my whipping in a low dipped curtsy and a mocking smile like that she had flung to falconnet. "_merci! mon capitaine_," she said; and for all my wincings under the sharp lash of her sarcasm i was moved to wonder how she had the french of it. and then she added: "is it the custom for her apostolic majesty's officers to come out of a death-swound only to pay pretty compliments?" "'twas no compliment," i denied; and, indeed, i meant it. then i asked where i was, and to whom indebted, though i had long since guessed the answer to both questions. in a trice the mocking mood was gone and she became my lady hostess, steeped to her finger-tips in gracious dignity. "you are at appleby hundred, sir. 'twas here they fetched you because there was no other house so near, and you were sorely hurt. richard jennifer and my black boy made a litter of the saddle-cloths, and with sir francis and mr. tybee to help--" i think she must have seen that this thrust was sharper than that of the german long-sword, for she stopped in mid-sentence and looked away from me. and, surely, i thought it was the very irony of fate that i should thus be brought half dead to the house that was my father's, with my enemy and his second to share the burden of me. "but your father?" i queried, when the silence had grown over-long. "my father is away at queensborough, so you must e'en trust yourself to my tender mercies, captain ireton. are you strong enough to have your wound dressed?" she asked, but waited for no answer of mine. summoning a black boy to hold the basin of water, she fell to upon the wound-dressing with as little ado as if she had been a surgeon's apprentice on a battle-field, and i a bloodless ancient too old to thrill at the touch of a woman's hands. "dear heart! 'tis a monstrous ugly hurt," she declared, replacing the wrappings with deft fingers. "how came you to go about picking a quarrel with sir francis?" "'twas not of my seeking," i returned, and then i could have cursed my foolish tongue. "is that generous, captain ireton? we hear something of the talk of the town, and that says--" "that says i struck him without sufficient cause. i am content to let it stand so." "nay, but you should not be content. is there not strife enough in this unhappy land without these causeless bickerings?" here was my lady turned preacher all in a breath and i with no words to answer her. but i could not let it go thus. "i knew sir francis falconnet in england," said i, hoping by this to turn her safe aside. "ah; then there was a cause. tell it me." "nay, that i may not." though she was hurting me sorely in the wound-dressing, and knew it, she laughed. "'tis most ungallant to deny a lady, sir. but i shall know without the telling; 'twas about a woman. tell me, captain ireton, is she fair?" seeing that her mood had changed again, i tried to give her quip for jest; but what with the pain of the sword-thrust and the sweet agony of her touches i could only set my teeth against a groan. she went on drawing the bandagings, little heedful how she racked me, i thought; and yet when all was done she stood beside me all of a tremble, as any tender-hearted woman might. "there," she said; "'tis over for a time, and i make no doubt you are glad enough. now you have nothing to do save to lie quiet till it heals." "and how long will that be, think you?" "we shall see; a long time, i hope. you shall be punished properly for your hot temper, i promise you, captain ireton." with that she left me and went to stand in the window-bay; and from lying mouse-still and watching her over-steadily i fell asleep again. when i awoke the day was in its gloaming and she was gone. after this i saw her no more for six full circlings of the clock-hands, and grew fair famished for a sight of her sweet face. but to atone, she, or some messenger of richard jennifer's, brought me my faithful darius, and he it was who fetched me my food and drink and dressed my wound. from him i gleaned that the master of appleby hundred had returned from queensborough, and that there were officers in red coats continually going back and forth, always with a hearty welcome from gilbert stair. now, though the master of my stolen heritage had little cause to love me, i thought he had still less to fear me; so it seemed passing strange that he came not once to my bedchamber to pass the time of day with his unbidden guest, or to ask how he fared. but in this, as in many other things, i reckoned without my enemy, though i might have known that sir francis would be oftenest among the red-coated officers coming and going. but stranger than this, or than my lady's continued avoidance of me, was the lack of a visit from richard jennifer. knowing well my dear lad's loyalty to the patriot cause, i could only conjecture that he had finally broken margery's enforced truce to go and join mr. rutherford's militia, which, as darius told me, was rallying to attack a tory stronghold at ramsour's mill. with this surmise i was striving to content myself on that evening of the third day, when mistress margery burst in upon me, bright-eyed and with her cheeks aflame. "captain ireton, i will know the true cause of this quarrel which, failing in yourself, you pass on to richard jennifer!" she cried. "was it not enough that you should get yourself half slain, without sending this headstrong boy to his death?" now in all my surmisings i had not thought of this, and truly if she had sought far and wide for a whip to scourge me with she could have found no thong to cut so deep. "god help me!" i groaned. "has this fiend incarnate killed my poor lad?" "no, he is not dead," she confessed, relenting a little. "but he has the baronet's bullet through his sword-arm for the sake of your over-seas disagreement with sir francis." i could not tell her that though my quarrel with this villain was but the avenging of poor dick coverdale's wrongs, richard jennifer's was for the baronet's affront to her. so i bore the blame in silence, glad enough to be assured that my dear lad was only wounded. "why don't you speak, sir?" she snapped, flying out at me in a passion for my lack of words. "what should i say? i have not forgot that once you called me ungenerous." "you should defend yourself, if you can. and you should ask my pardon for calling my father's guest hard names." "the last i will do right heartily. 'twas but the simple truth, but it was ill-spoken in your presence, mistress stair." at this she laughed merrily; and in all my world-wanderings i had never heard a sound so gladsome as this sweet laugh of hers when she would be on the forgiving hand. "surely any one would know you are a soldier, captain ireton. no other could make an apology and renew the offense so innocently in the same breath." then her mood changed again in the dropping of an eyelid, and she sighed and said: "poor dick!" as ever when she was with me, my eyes were devouring her; and at the sigh and the trembling of the sweet lips in sympathy i found that curious love-madness coming upon me again. then i saw that i must straightway dig some chasm impassable between this woman and me, as i should hope to be loyal to my friend. so i said: "he loves you well, mistress margery." she glanced up quickly with a smile which might have been mocking or loving; i could not tell which it was. "did he make you his deputy to tell me so, captain ireton?" now i might have known that she was only luring me on to some pitfall of mockery, but i did not, and must needs burst out in some clumsy disclaimer meant to shield my dear lad. and in the midst of it she laughed again. "oh, you do amuse me mightily, _mon capitaine_," she cried. "i do protest i shall come to see you oftener. tis as good as any play!" "saw you ever a play in this backwoods wilderness?" i asked, glad of any excuse to change the talk and keep her by me. "no, indeed. but you are not to think that no one has seen the great world save only yourself, captain ireton. what would you say if i should tell you that i, too, have seen your london, and even your paris?" here i must blunder again and say that i had been wondering how else she came by the parisian french; but at this her jesting mood vanished suddenly and she spoke softly. "i had it of my mother, who came of the huguenots. she spoke it always to me. but my father speaks it not, and now i am losing it for want of practice." how is it that love transforms the once contemptible into a thing most highly to be prized? my eight years of campaigning on the continent had given me the french speech, or so much of it as the clumsy tongue of me could master, and i had always held it in hearty english scorn. yet now i was eager enough to speak it with her, and to take as my very own the little cry of joy wherewith she welcomed my hesitant mouthing of it. from that we fell to talking in her mother's tongue of the hardships of those same huguenot _émigrés_; and when i looked not at her i could speak in terms dispassionate and cool of this or aught else; and when i looked upon her my heart beat faster and my blood leaped quickly, and i knew not always what it was i said. after a time--'twas when darius fetched me my supper and the candles--she went away; and so ended a day which saw the beginning of a struggle fiercer than any the turbaned turk had ever given me. for when i had eaten, and was alone with time to think, i knew well that i loved this woman and should always love her; this in spite of honor, or loyalty to richard jennifer, or any other thing in heaven or earth. v how i lost what i had never gained though i dared not hope she would keep her promise and was sometimes so sorely beset as to tremble at her coming, margery looked in upon me oftener, and soon there grew up between us a comradeship the like of which, i think, had never been between a woman loved and a man who, loving her, was yet constrained to play the part of her true lover's friend. if i played this part but stumblingly; if at times the madness of my passion would not be denied the look or word or hand-clasp not of poor cool friendship; i have this to comfort me: that in after time, when my dear lad came to know, he forgave me freely--nay, held me altogether blameless, as i was not. of what these looks and words and hand-clasps meant to margery i had no hint. but in my hours of sanity, when i would pass these slippings in review, i could recall no answering flash of hers to salt the woundings of the conscience-whip. so far from it, it seemed, as this sweet comradeship budded and blossomed on the stock of a better acquaintance, she came to hold me more as if i were some cross between a father or an elder brother, and some closer confidant of her own sex. you are not to understand that she was always thus, nor over-often. more frequently that side of her which i soon came to call the mother's was turned to me, and i was made to stand a target for her wit and raillery. but she was ever changeful as a child, and in the midst of some light jesting mood would sober instantly and give my age its due. in some of these, her soberer times, i felt her lean upon me as my sister might, had i had one; at others she would frankly set me in her father's place, declaring i must tell her what to say or do in this or that entanglement. again, and this came oftener as our friendship grew, she would talk to me as surely woman never talked to any but a kinsman, telling me naïvely of her conquests, and sparing no gallant of them all save only richard jennifer. and of dick and his devotion she spoke now and then, as well, though never mockingly, as of the others. nay, once when i pressed her on this point, asking her plainly if my dear lad had not good cause to hope, she would only smile and turn her face away, and say that of all the men she knew the hopeful ones pleased her best. so i was thus assured that if it were a scale for love to tip, my lady's heart would fall to richard. now i took this to be a hopeful sign, that she would tell me freely of these her little heart affairs; and seeing her so safe upon the side of friendship, held the looser rein upon my own unchartered passion. so long as i could keep my love well masked and hidden what harm could come to her or any if i should give it leave to live in prison? none, i thought; and yet at times was made a very coward by the thought. for love, like other living things, will grow by what it feeds upon, and once full-grown, may haply come to laugh at bonds, however strong or cunningly devised. with such a fever in my veins it was little wonder that my wound healed slowly. as time passed by, with never a word of news from the world without--if margery knew aught of the fighting she would never lisp a syllable to me--and with gilbert stair still keeping churlishly beyond the sight or sound of me, i fretted sorely and would be gone. yet this was but a passing mood. when margery was with me i was not ill-content to eat the bread of sufferance in her father's house, and angry pride had scanty footing. but when she was away this same pride took sharp revenges, getting me out of bed to bully darius into dressing me that i might foot it up and down the room while i was still unfit for any useful thing. one morning in the summer third of june my lady came early and surprised me at this business of pacing back and forth. whereat she scolded me as was her wont when i grew restive. "what weighty thing have you to do that you should be so fierce to be about it, monsieur impetuous?" she cried. "_fi donc!_ you'd try the patience of a saint!" "which you are not," i ventured. "but truly, margery, i am growing stronger now, and the bed does irk me desperately, if you must know. besides--" "well, what is there else besides? do i not pamper you enough?" i laughed. "i'll say whatever you would have me say--so it be not the truth." "i'll have you say nothing until you sit down." she pushed the great chair of indian wickerwork into place before the window-bay, and when i was at rest she drew up a low hassock and sat at my feet. "now you may go on," she said. "you have not told me what you would have me say." "the truth," she commanded. "'"what is truth," said jesting pilate,'" i quoted. "why do you suppose my lord bacon thought the roman procurator jested at such a time and place?" "you are quibbling, monsieur john. i want to know why you are so impatient to be gone." "saw you ever a man worthy the name who could be content to bide inactive when duty calls?" "that is not the whole truth," she said, half absently. "you think you are unwelcome here." "'twas you said that; not i. but i must needs know your father will be relieved when he is safely quit of me." "'twas you said that, not i, monsieur john," she retorted, giving me back my own words. "has ever word been brought you that he would speed your parting?" "surely not, since i am still here. but you must know that i have never seen his face, as yet." "and is that strange? you must not forget that he is gilbert stair, and you are roger ireton's son." "i am not likely to forget it. but still a word of welcome to the unbidden guest would not have come amiss. and it was none of my seeking--this asylum in his house." "true; but that has naught to do with any coolness of my father's." "what is it, then?--besides the fact that i am roger ireton's son?" "i think 'twas what you said to mr. pengarvin." "that little smirking wretch? what has he to say or do in this?" she looked away from me and said: "he is my father's factor and man of affairs." "ah, i have always to be craving your pardon, margery. but i said naught to this parchment-faced--to this mr. pengarvin, that might offend your father, or any." "how, then, will you explain this, that you swore to drive my father from appleby hundred as soon as ever you had raised a following among the rebels?" "'tis easily explained: this thrice-accursed--oh, pardon me again, i pray you; i will not name him any name at all. what i meant to say was that he lied. i made no threats to him; to tell the plain truth, i was too fiercely mad to bandy words with him." "what made you mad, monsieur john?" "'twas his threat to me--to taint me with my father's outlawry. do you greatly blame me, margery?" "no." thereat a silence came and sat between us, and i fell to loving her the more because of it; but when she spoke i always loved her more for speaking. "my father has had little peace since coming here," she said, at length. "he is old and none too well; and as for king and congress, asks nothing but his right to hold aloof. and this they will not give him." remembering what jennifer had told me of gilbert stair's trimming, i smiled within. "that is the way of all the world in war-time, _ma petite_. a partizan may suffer once for all, but both sides hold a neutral lawful prey." 'twas as the spark to tinder; my word the spark and in her eyes the answering flash. "i tell him so!" she cried. "i tell him always that the king will have his own again. but still he halts and hesitates; and when these rebels come and quarter on us--" i fear she must have seen my inward smile this time, for she broke off in the midst, and i made haste to forestall her flying out at me. "oh, come, my dear; you should not be so fierce with him when you yourself have brought a rebel to his house to nurse alive." she looked me fairly in the eye. "you should be the last to remind me of my treason, monsieur john." "then you are free to call it treason, are you, margery?" i said. she looked away from me again. "how can it well be less than treason?" then suddenly she turned and clasped her hands upon my knee. "you must not be too hard upon me, monsieur john. i've tried to do my duty as i saw it, and i have asked no questions. and yet i know much more than you have told me." "what do you know?" "i know your wound has been your safety. if you should leave this room and house to-day you would never wear the buff and blue again, captain ireton." "you mean they would hang me for a spy. will you believe me, margery, if i say i have not yet worn the buff and blue at all?" "_oh_!" the little exclamation was of pure delight. "then they were all mistaken? you are no rebel, after all?" was ever man so tempted since the fall of adam? as i have writ it down for you in measured words, i was no more than half a patriot at this time. and love has made more traitors than its opposites of lust or greed. in no uncertain sense i was a man without a country; and this fair maiden on the hassock at my feet was all the world to me. i saw in briefer time than any clock hands ever measured how much a yielding word might do for me; and then i thought of richard jennifer and was myself again. "nay, little one," i said; "there has been no mistake. for their own purposes my enemies have passed the word that i am here as the baron de kalb's paid spy. that is no mistake; 'tis a lie cut out of whole cloth. i came here straight from new berne, and back of that from london and the continent, and scarcely know the buff and blue by sight. but i am carolina born, dear lady; and this king george's governor hanged my father. so, when god gives me strength to mount and ride--" "now who is fierce?" she cried. and then, like lightning: "will you raise a band of rebels and come and take your own again?" "you know i will not," i protested, so gravely that she laughed again, though now there were tears, from what well-spring of emotion i knew not, in her eyes. "oh, mercy me! have you never one little grain of imagination, monsieur john? you are too monstrous literal for our poor jesting age." then she sobered quickly and added this: "and yet i fear that this is what my father fears." i did not tell her that he might have feared it once with reason, or that now the houseless dog she petted should have life of me though mine enemy should sick him on. but i did say her father had no present cause to dread me. "he thinks he has. and surely there is cause enough," she added. i smiled, and, loving her the more for her fairness, must smile again. "nay, you have changed all that, dear lady. truly, i did at first fly out at him and all concerned for what has made me a poor pensioner in my father's house--or rather in the house that was my father's. but that was while the hurt was new. i have been a soldier of fortune too long to think overmuch of the loss of appleby hundred. 'twas my father's, certainly; but 'twas never mine." "and yet--and yet it should be yours, john ireton." she said it bravely, with uplifted face and eloquent eyes that one who ran might read. "'tis good and true of you to say so, little one; but there be two sides to that, as well. so my father's acres come at last to you and richard jennifer, i shall be well content, i do assure you, margery." she sprang up from her low seat and went to stand in the window-bay. after a time she turned and faced me once again, and the warm blood was in cheek and neck, and there was a soft light in her eyes to make them shine like stars. "then you would have me marry richard jennifer?" she asked. 'twas but a little word that honor bade me say, and yet it choked me and i could not say it. "dick would have you, margery; and dick is my dear friend--as i am his." "but you?" she queried. "were you my friend, as well, is this as you would have it?" my look went past her through the lead-rimmed window-panes to the great oaks and hickories on the lawn; to these and to the white road winding in and out among them. while yet i sought for words in which to give her unreservedly to my dear lad, two horsemen trotted into view. one of them was a king's man; the other a civilian in sober black. the redcoat rode as english troopers do, with a firm seat, as if the man were master of his mount; but the smaller man in black seemed little to the manner born, and daylight shuttled in and out beneath him, keeping time to the jog-trot of his beast. i thought it passing strange that with all good will to answer her, these coming horsemen seemed to hold me silent. and, indeed, i did not speak until they came so near that i could make them out. "i am your friend, margery mine; as good a friend as you will let me be. and as between richard jennifer and another, i should be a sorry friend to dick did i not--" she heard the clink of horseshoes on the gravel and turned, signing to me for silence while she looked below. the window overhung the entrance on that side, and through the opened air-casement i heard some babblement of voices, though not the words. "i must go down," she said. "'tis company come, and my father is away." she passed behind my chair, and, hearing her hand upon the latch, i had thought her gone--gone down to welcome my enemy and his riding mate, the factor. but while i was cursing my unready tongue and repenting that i had not given her some small word of warning, she spoke again. "you say 'richard jennifer or another.' what know you of any other, monsieur john?" "nay, i know nothing save what you have told me; and from that i have been hoping there was no other." "but if i say there may be?" my heart went sick at that. true, i had thought to give her generously to dick, whose right was paramount; but to another-- "margery, come hither where i may see you." and when she stood before me like a bidden child: "tell me, little comrade, who is that other?" but now her mood was changed again, and from standing sweet and pensive she fell a-laughing. "what impudence!" she cried. "_ma foi_! you should borrow père matthieu's cassock and breviary; then, mayhap, i might confess to you. but not before." but still i pressed her. "tell me, margery." she tossed her head and would not look at me. "dick jennifer is but a boy; suppose this other were a man full-grown." "yes?" "and a soldier." the sickness in my heart became a fire. "o margery! don't tell me it is this fiend who came just now!" all in a flash the jesting mood was gone, but that which took its place was strange to me. tears came; her bosom heaved. and then she would have passed me but i caught her hands and held them fast. "margery, one moment: for your own sweet sake, if not for dick's or mine, have naught to do with this devil's emissary of a man. if you only knew--if i dared tell you--" but for once, it seemed, i had stretched my privilege beyond the limit. she whipped her hands from my hold and faced me coldly. "sir francis says you are a brave gentleman, captain ireton, and though he knows well what you would be about, he has not sent a file of men to put you in arrest. and in return you call him names behind his back. i shall not stay to listen, sir." with that she passed again behind my chair, and once again i heard her hand upon the latch. but i would say my say. "forgive me, margery, i pray you; 'twas only what you said that made me mad. 'tis less than naught if you'll deny it." i waited long and patiently, and thought she must have gone before her answer came. and this is what she said: "if i must tell you then;'tis now two weeks and more since sir francis falconnet asked me to marry him. i--i hope you do feel better, captain ireton." and with these bitterest of all words to her leave-taking, she left me to endure as best i might the hell of torment they had lighted for me. vi showing how red wrath may heal a wound it was full two days after the coming of the baronet and the factor-lawyer pengarvin before i saw my lady's face near-hand again, and sometimes i was glad for richard jennifer's sake, but oftener would curse and swear because i was bound hand and foot and could not balk my enemy. i knew sir francis and the lawyer still lingered on at appleby hundred--indeed, i saw them daily from my window--and darius would be telling me that they waited upon the coming of some courier from the south. but this i disbelieved. some such-like lie the baronet might have told, i thought; but when i saw him walk abroad with margery on his arm, pacing back and forth beneath the oaks and bending low to catch her lightest word with grave and courtly deference that none knew better how to feign, i knew wherefore he stayed--knew and raged afresh at my own impotence, and for the thought that margery was wholly at the mercy of this devil. yours is a colder century than was ours, my dears. your art has tempered love and passion into sentiment, and hate you have learned to call aversion or dislike. but we of that simple-hearted elder time were more downright; and i have writ the word i mean in saying that my love was at the mercy of this fiend. i know not how it is or why, but there are men who have this gift--some winning way to turn a woman's head or touch her heart; and i knew well this gift was his. 'twas not his face, for that was something less than handsome, to my fancy; nor yet his figure, though that was big and soldierly enough. it was rather in some subtlety of manner, some power of simulation whereby in any womanly heart he seemed to stand at will for that which he was not. as i have said, i knew him well enough; knew him incapable of love apart from passion, and that to him there was no sacredness in maiden chastity or wifely vows. so he but gained his end he cared no whit what followed after; ruin, broken hearts, lost souls, a man slain now and then to keep the scale from tipping--all were as one to him, or to the francis falconnet i knew. and touching marriage, with margery or any other, i feared that love would have no word to say. passion there might be, and that fierce desire to have and wear which burns like any miser's fever in the blood; but never love as lovers measure it. why, then, had he proposed to margery? the answer did not tarry. since he was now but a gentleman volunteer it was plain that he had squandered his estate, and so might brook the marriage chain if it were linked up with my father's acres. it was a bait to lure such a gamester strongly. as matters stood with us in that wan summer of exhaustion and defeat, the king's cause waxed and grew more hopeful day by day. and in event of final victory a landless baronet, marrying margery's dower of appleby hundred, might snap his fingers at the jews who, haply, had driven him forth from england. and as for margery? truly, she had told me, or as good as told me, that her maiden love had pledged itself a pawn for jennifer's redeeming. but there be other things than love to sway a woman's will. this volunteer captain with the winning way was of the _haute noblesse_, and he could make her lady falconnet. moreover, he was with her day by day; and you may mark this as you will; that a present suitor hath ever the trump cards to play against the absent lover. so, brooding over this, i wore out two most dismal days--the first in many i had had to pass alone. but on the morning of the third the sky was lightened, though then the light was but a flash and darkness followed quickly after. she came again and brought me a visitor; it was this same father matthieu with whom she had jestingly compared me, and lest i should take my punishment too lightly, stayed but to make the good priest known to me. now i was born and bred an heretic, by any papist's reckoning, but i have ever held it witless in that man who lets a creed obstruct a friendship. moreover, this sweet-faced cleric was the friendliest of men; friendly, and yet the wiliest jesuit of them all, since he read me at a glance and fell straightway to praising margery. "a truly sweet young demoiselle," he said, by way of foreword, no sooner was the door closed behind her, and while he preached a sermon on this text i grew to know and love him. he was a little man, as bone and muscle go, with deep-set eyes, and features kind and mild and fine as any woman's; some such face as leonardo gave st. john, could that have been less youthful. i could not tell his order, though from his well-worn cassock girded at the waist with a frayed bit of hempen cord he might have been a little brother of the poor. but this i noted; that he was not tonsured, and his white hair, soft and fine as margery's, was like an aureole to the finely chiseled features. as missionary men of any creed are apt, he looked far older than he really was; and when he came to tell me of his life among the indians, it was patent how the years had multiplied upon him. i listened, well enough content to learn him better by his own report. "but you must find it thankless work; this gospeling in the wilderness," i ventured, when all was said. "'tis but a hermit's life for any man of parts; and after all, when you have done your utmost, your converts are but savages, as they were." at this he smiled and shook his head. _"non, monsieur_, not so. you are a soldier and can not see beyond your point of sword. _mais, mon ami_, they have souls to save, these poor children of the forest, and they are far more sinned against than sinning. i find them kind and true and faithful; and some of them are noble, in their way." i laughed. "i've read about those noble ones," i said. "'twas in a book called 'hakluyt's voyages.' truly, i know them not as you do, for in my youth i knew them most in war. we called them brave but cruel then; and when i was a boy i could have shown you where, within a mile of this, they burned poor davie davidson at the stake." "ah, yes; there has been much of that," he sighed. "but you must confess, captain ireton, that you english carry fire and sword among them, too." from that he would have told me more about the savages, but i was interested nearer home. as i have said, i was like any prisoner in a dungeon for lack of news, and so by degrees i fetched him round to telling me of what was going on beyond my window-sight of lawn and forest. brave deeds were to the fore, it seemed. at ramsour's mill, a few miles north and west, some little handful of determined patriots had bested thrice their number of the king's partizans, and that without a leader bigger than a county colonel. lord rawdon, in command of lord cornwallis's van, had come as far as waxhaw creek, but, being unsupported, had withdrawn to hanging rock. our mr. rutherford was on his way to the forks of yadkin to engage the tories gathering under colonel bryan. as yet, it seemed, we had no force of any consequence to take the field against cornwallis, though there were flying rumors of an army marching from virginia, with a new-appointed general at its head. on the whole it was the king's cause that prospered, and the rising wave of invasion bade fair to inundate the land. so thought my kindly gossip; and, having naught to gain or lose in the great war, or rather having naught to lose and everything to gain, whichever way these worldly cards might run, he was a fair, impartial witness. as you may well suppose, this news awoke in me the lust of battle, and i must chafe the more for having it. and while my visitor talked on, and i was listening with the outward ear, my brain was busy putting two and two together. how came it that the british outpost still remained at queensborough, with my lord rawdon withdrawn and the patriot home guard well down upon its rear? some urgent reason for the stay there must be; and at that i remembered what darius had told me of its captain's waiting for some messenger from the south. i scored this matter with a question mark, putting it aside to think on more when i should be alone. and when the priest had told me all the news at large, we came again to speak of margery. "i go and come through all this borderland," he said, when i had asked him how and why he came to appleby hundred, "but it was mam'selle's message brought me here. she is my one ewe lamb in all this region, and i would journey far to see her." i wondered pointedly at this, for in that day the west was fiercely protestant and the mother church had scanty footing in the borderland. "but mistress margery is not a catholic!" said i. his look forgave the protest in the words. "indeed, she is, my son. has she not told you?" now truly she had not told me so in any measured word or phrase; and yet i might have guessed it, since she had often spoken lovingly of this same father matthieu. and yet it was incredible to me. "but how--i do not understand how that can be," i stammered. "surely, she told me she was of huguenot blood on the mother's side, and that is--" the missionary's smile was lenient still, but full of meaning. "not all who wander from the catholic fold are lost forever, captain ireton. the mother of this demoiselle lived all her life a protestant, i think, but when she came to die she sent for me. and that is how her child was sent to france and grew up convent-bred. monsieur stair gave his promise at the mother's death-bed, and though he liked it not, he kept it." "aha, i see. and for this single lamb of your scant fold you brave the terrors of our heretic backwoods? it does you credit, father matthieu. the war fills all horizons now, mayhap, but i have seen the time in mecklenburg when your cassock would have been a challenge to the mob." his smile was quite devoid of bitterness. "the time has not yet passed," he said, gently. "i have been six weeks on the way from maryland hither, hiding in the forest by day and faring on at night. indeed, i was in hiding on a neighboring plantation when our demoiselle's messenger found me." this put me keen upon remembering what had gone before; how he had said at first that she had sent for him. i thought it strange, knowing how perilous the time and place must be for such as he. but not until he rose and, bidding me good day, left me to myself, did i so much as guess the thing his coming meant. when i had guessed it; when i put this to that--her telling me sir francis had proposed for her, and this her sending for the priest--the madness of my love for her was as naught compared to that anger which seized and racked me. i know not how the hours of this black day were made to come and go, grinding me to dust and ashes in their passage, yet leaving me alive and keen to suffer at the end. a thousand times that day i lived in torment through the scene in which the priest had doubtless come to play his part of joiner. the stage for it would be the great room fronting south; the room my father used to call our castle hall. for guests i thought there would be space enough and some to spare, for, as you know, our mecklenburg was patriot to the core. but as to this, the bridegroom's troopers might fill out the tale, and in my heated fancy i could see them grouped beneath the candle-sconces with belts and baldrics fresh pipe-clayed, and shakos doffed, and _sabretaches_ well in front. "a man full-grown--a soldier," she had said; and trooper-guests were fitting in such case. from serving in a catholic land i knew the customs of the mother church. so i could see the priest in cassock, alb and stole as he would stand before some makeshift altar lit with candles. and as he stands they come to kneel before him; my winsome margery in all her royal beauty, a child to love, and yet an empress peerless in her woman's realm; and at her side, with his knee touching hers, this man who was a devil! what wonder if i cursed and choked and cursed again when the maddening thought of what all this should mean for my poor wounded richard--and later on, for margery herself--possessed me? in which of these hot fever-gusts of rage the thought of interference came, i know not. but that it came at length--a thought and plan full-grown at birth--i do know. the pointing of the plan was desperate and simple. it was neither more nor less than this: i knew the house and every turn and passage in it, and when the hour should strike i said i should go down and skulk among the guests, and at the crucial moment find or seize a weapon and fling myself upon this bridegroom as he should kneel before the altar. with strength to bend him back and strike one blow, i saw not why it might not win. and as for strength, i have learned this in war: that so the rage be hot enough 'twill nerve a dying man to hack and hew and stab as with the strength of ten. although it was most terribly over-long in coming, the end of that black day did come at last, and with it darius to fetch my supper and the candles. you may be sure i questioned him, and, if you know the blacks, you'll smile and say i had my labor for my pains--the which i had. his place was at the quarters, and of what went on within the house he knew no more than i. but this he told me; that company surely was expected, and that some air of mystery was abroad. when he was gone i ate a soldier's portion, knowing of old how ill a thing it is to take an empty stomach into battle. for the same cause i drank a second cup of wine,--'twas old madeira of my father's laying-in,--and would have drunk a third but that the bottle would not yield it. it was fully dark when i had finished, and, thinking ever on my plan, would strive afresh to weld its weakest link. this was the hazard of the weapon-getting. with full-blood health and strength i might have gone bare-handed; but as it was, i feared to take the chance. so with a candle i went a-prowling in the deep drawers of the old oaken clothes-press and in the escritoire which once had been my mother's, and found no weapon bigger than a hairpin. it was no great disappointment, for i had looked before with daylight in the room. besides, the wine was mounting, and when the search was done the hazard seemed the less. so i could rush upon him unawares and put my knee against his back, i thought the lord of battles would give me strength to break his neck across it. at that i capped the candles, and, taking post in the deep bay of the window, set myself to watch for the lighting of the great room at the front. this had two windows on my side, and while i could not see them, i knew that i should see the sheen of light upon the lawn. the night was clear but moonless, and the thick-leafed masses of the oaks and hickories rose a wall of black to curtain half the hemisphere of starry sky. as always in our forest land, the hour was shrilly vocal, though to me the chirping din of frogs and insects hath ever stood for silence. somewhere beyond the thicket-wall an owl was calling mournfully, and i bethought me of that superstition--old as man, for aught i know--of how the hooting of an owl betokens death. and then i laughed, for surely death would come to one or more of those beneath my father's roof within the compass of the night. behind the close-drawn curtain, though i could see it not, the virgin forest darkened all the land; and from afar within its secret depths i heard, or thought i heard, the dismal howling of the timber wolves. below, the house was silent as the grave, and this seemed strange to me. for in the time of my youth a wedding was a joyous thing. yet i would remember that these present times were perilous; and also that my bridegroom captained but a little band of troopers in a land but now become fiercely debatable. it must have been an hour or more before the sound of distance-muffled hoofbeats on the road broke in upon the chirping silence of the night. i looked and listened, straining eye and ear, hearing but little and seeing less until three shadowy horsemen issued from the curtain-wall of black beneath my window. it was plain that others watched as well as i, for at their coming a sheen of light burst from the opened door below, at which there were sword-clankings as of armed men dismounting, and then a few low-voiced words of welcome. followed quickly the closing of the door and silence; and when my eyes grew once again accustomed to the gloom, i saw below the horses standing head to head, and in the midst a man to hold them. "so!" i thought; "but three in all, and one of them a servant. 'twill be a scantly guested wedding." and then i raged within again to think of how my love should be thus dishonored in a corner when she should have the world to clap its hands and praise her beauty. at that, and while i looked, the lawn was banded farther on by two broad beams of light; and then i knew my time was come. feeling my way across the darkened chamber i softly tried the door-latch. it yielded at the touch, but not the door. i pulled and braced myself and pulled again. 'twas but a waste of strength. the door was fast with that contrivance wherewith my father used to bar me in what time i was a boy and would go raccooning with our negro hunters. my enemy was no fool. he had been shrewd enough to lock me in against the chance of interruption. i wish you might conceive the helpless horror grappling with me there behind that fastened door; but this, indeed, you may not, having felt it not. for one dazed moment i was sick as death with fear and frenzy and i know not what besides, and all the blackness of the night swam sudden red before my eyes. then, in the twinkling of an eye, the madness left me cool and sane, as if the fit had been the travail-pain of some new birth of soul. and after that, as i remember, i knew not rage nor haste nor weakness--knew no other thing save this; that i had set myself a task to do and i would do it. my window was in shape like half a cell of honeycomb, and close beside it on the outer wall there grew an ancient ivy-vine which more than once had held my weight when i was younger and would evade my father's vigilance. i swung the casement noiselessly and clambered out, with hand and foot in proper hold as if those youthful flittings of my boyhood days had been but yesternight. a breathless minute later i was down and afoot on solid ground; and then a thing chanced which i would had not. the man whom i had called a servant turned and saw me. "halt! who goes there?" he cried. "a friend," said i, between my wishings for a weapon. for this servant of my prefigurings proved to be a trooper, booted, spurred and armed. "by god, i think you lie," he said; and after that he said no more, for he was down among the horses' hoofs and i upon him, kneeling hard to scant his breath for shoutings. it grieves me now through all these years to think that i did kneel too hard upon this man. he was no enemy of mine, and did but do--or seek to do--his duty. but he would fight or die, and i must fight or die; and so it ended as such strivings will, with some grim crackling of ribs--and when i rose he rose not with me. with all the fierce excitement of the struggle yet upon me, i stayed to knot the bridle reins upon his arm to make it plain that he had fallen at his post. that done, i took his sword as surer for my purpose than a pistol; and hugging the deepest shadow of the wall, approached the nearer window. it was open wide, for the night was sultry warm, and from within there came the clink of glass and now a toast and now a trooper's oath. i drew myself by inches to the casement, which was high, finding some foothold in the wall; and when i looked within i saw no wedding guests, no priest, no altar; only this: a table in the midst with bottles on it, and round it five men lounging at their ease and drinking to the king. of these five two, the baronet and the lawyer, were known to me, and i have made them known to you. a third i guessed for gilbert stair. the other two were strangers. vii in which my lady hath no part seeing that i had taken a man's life for this, the chance of looking in upon a drinking bout, you will not wonder that i went aghast and would have fled for very shame had not a sudden weakness seized me. but in the midst i heard a mention of my name and so had leave, i thought, to stay and listen. it was one of the late-comers who gave me this leave; a man well on in years, grizzled and weather-beaten; a seasoned soldier by his look and garb. though his frayed shoulder-knot was only that of a captain of foot,'twas plain enough he ranked his comrade, and the knight as well. "you say you've bagged this captain ireton? who may he be? surely not old roger's son?" "the same," said the baronet, shortly, and would be filling his glass again. he could always drink more and feel it less than any sot i ever knew. "but how the devil came he here? the last i knew of him--'twas some half-score years ago, though, come to think--he was a lieutenant in the royal scots." mine enemy nodded. "so he was. but afterward he cut the service and levanted to the continent." the questioner fell into a muse; then he laughed and clapped his leg. "ecod! i do remember now. there was a damned good mess-room joke about him. when he was in the blues they used to say his solemn face would stop a merry-making. well, after he had been in austria a while they told this on him; that his field-marshal had him listed for a majority, and so he was presented to the empress. but when maria theresa saw him she shrieked and cried out, '_il est le père aux têtes rondes, lui-même! le portez-vous dehors!_' so he got but a captaincy after all; ha! ha! ha!" now this was but a mess-room gibe, as he had said, cut out of unmarred cloth, at that. our austrian maria ever had a better word than "roundhead" for her soldiers. but yet it stung, and stung the more because i had and have the ireton face, and that is unbeloved of women, and glum and curst and solemn even when the man behind it would be kindly. so when they laughed and chuckled at this jest, i lingered on and listened with the better grace. "what brought him over-seas, sir francis?" 'twas not the grizzled jester who asked, but the younger officer, his comrade. falconnet smiled as one who knows a thing and will not tell, and turned to gilbert stair. "what was it, think you, mr. stair?" he said, passing the question on. at this they all looked to the master of appleby hundred, and i looked, too. he was not the man i should have hit upon in any throng as the reaver of my father's estate; still less the man who might be margery's father. he had the face of all the stairs of ballantrae without its simple scottish ruggedness; a sort of weasel face it was, with pale-gray eyes that had a trick of shifty dodging, and deep-furrowed about the mouth and chin with lines that spoke of indecision. it was not of him that margery got her firm round chin, or her steadfast eyes that knew not how to quail, nor aught of anything she owed a father save only her paternity, you'd say. and when he spoke the thin falsetto voice matched the weak chin to a hair. "i? damme, sir francis, i know not why he came--how should i know?" he quavered. "appleby hundred is mine--mine, i tell you! his title was well hanged on a tree with his damned rebel father!" a laugh uproarious from the three soldiers greeted his petulant outburst; after which the baronet enlightened the others. "as you know, captain john, appleby hundred once belonged to the rebel roger ireton, and mr. stair here holds but a confiscator's title. 'tis likely the son heard of the war and thought he stood some chance to come into his own again." "oh, aye; sure enough," quoth the elder officer, tilting his bottle afresh. and then: "of course he promptly 'listed with the rebels when he came? trust roger ireton's son for that." my baronet wagged his head assentingly to this; then clinched the lie in words. "of course; we have his commission. he is on de kalb's staff, 'detached for special duty.'" "a spy!" roared the jester. "and yet you haven't hanged him?" sir francis shrugged like any frenchman. "all in good time, my dear captain. there were reasons why i did not care to knot the rope myself. besides, we had a little disagreement years agone across the water; 'twas about a woman--oh, she was no mistress of his, i do assure you!"--this to quench my jester's laugh incredulous. "he was keen upon me for satisfaction in this old quarrel, and i gave it him, thinking he'd hang the easier for a little blooding first." here the factor-lawyer cut in anxiously. "but you will hang him, sir francis? you've promised that, you know." i did not hate my enemy the more because he turned a shoulder to this little bloodhound and quite ignored the interruption. "so we fought it out one morning in mr. stair's wood-field, and he had what he came for. not to give him a chance to escape, we brought him here, and as soon as he is fit to ride i'll send him to the colonel. tarleton will give him a short shrift, i promise you, and then"--this to the master of appleby hundred--"then your title will be well quieted, mr. stair." at this the weather-beaten captain roared again and smote the table till the bottles reeled. "i say, sir frank, that's good--damned good! so you have him crimped here in his own house, stuffing him like a penned capon before you wring his neck. ah! ha! ha! but 'tis to be hoped you have his legs well tied. if he be any son of my old mad-bull roger ireton, you'll hardly hang him peacefully like a trussed fowl before the fire." the baronet smiled and said: "i'll be your warrant for his safety! we've had him well guarded from the first, and to-night he is behind a barred door with mr. stair's overseer standing sentry before it. but as for that, he's barely out of bed from my pin-prick." having thus disposed of me, they let me be and came to the graver business of the moment, with a toast to lay the dust before it. it was falconnet who gave the toast. "here's to our bully redskins and their king--how do you call him, captain stuart? ocon--ocona--" "oconostota is the chelakee of it, though on the border they know him better as 'old hop.' fill up, gentlemen, fill up; 'tis a dry business, this. allow me, mr. stair; and you, mr.--er--ah--pengarden. this same old heathen is the king's friend now, but, gentlemen all, i do assure you he's the very devil himself in a copper-colored skin. 'twas he who ambushed us in ' , and but for attakullakulla--" "oh, lord!" groaned falconnet. "i say, captain, drown the names in the wine and we'll drink them so. 'tis by far the easiest way to swallow them." by this, the grizzled captain's mention of the old fort loudon massacre, i knew him for that same john stuart of the highlanders who, with captain damaré, had so stoutly defended the frontier fort against the savages twenty years before; knew him and wondered i had not sooner placed him. when i was but a boy, as i could well remember, he had been king's man to the cherokees; a sort of go-between in times of peace, and in the border wars a man the indians feared. but now, as i was soon to learn, he was a man for us to fear. "'tis carried through at last," he went on, when the toast was drunk. and then he stopped and held up a warning finger. "this business will not brook unfriendly ears. are we safe to talk it here, mr. stair?" it was falconnet who answered. "safe as the clock. you passed my sentry in the road?" "yes." "he is the padlock of a chain that reaches round the house. let's have your news, captain." "as i was saying, the indians are at one with us. 'twas all fair sailing in the council at echota; the chelakees being to a man fierce enough to dig the hatchet up. but i did have the devil's own teapot tempest with my lord charles. he says we have more friends than enemies in the border settlements, and these our redskins will tomahawk them all alike." i made a mental note of this and wondered if my lord cornwallis had met with some new change of heart. he was not over-squeamish as i had known him. then i heard the baronet say: "but yet the thing is done?" "as good as done. the indians are to have powder and lead of us, after which they make a sudden onfall on the over-mountain settlements. and that fetches us to your part in it, sir frank; and to yours, mr. stair. your troop, captain, will be the convoy for this powder; and you, mr. stair, are requisitioned to provide the commissary." there was silence while a cat might wink, and then gilbert stair broke in upon it shrilly. "i can not, captain stuart; that i can not!" he protested, starting from his chair. "'twill ruin me outright! the place is stripped,--you know it well, sir francis,--stripped bare and clean by these thieving rebel militia-men; bare as the back of your hand, i tell you! i--" but the captain put him down in brief. "enough, mr. stair; we'll not constrain you against your will. but 'tis hinted at headquarters that you are but a fair-weather royalist at best--nay, that for some years back you have been as rebel as the rest in this nesting-place of traitors. as a friend--mind you, as a friend--i would advise you to find the wherewithal to carry out my lord's commands. do you take me, mr. stair?" the trembling old man fell back in his chair, nodding his "yes" dumbly like a marionette when the string has been jerked a thought too violently, and his weasel face was moist and clammy. i know not what double-dealing he would have been at before this, but it was surely something with the promise of a rope at the publishing of it. so he and his factor fell to ciphering on a bit of paper, reckoning ways and means, as i took it, while falconnet was asking for more particular orders. "you'll have them from headquarters direct," said stuart. "oconostota will furnish carriers, a cherokee escort, and guides. the rendezvous will be hereabouts, and your route will be the great trace." "then we are to hold on all and wait still longer?" "that's the word: wait for the indians and your cargo." falconnet's oath was of impatience. "we've waited now a month and more like men with halters round their necks. the country is alive with rebels." whereupon captain stuart began to explain at large how the northern route had been chosen for its very hazards, the better to throw the partizans off the scent. i listened, eager for every word, but when the horses stirred behind me i was set back upon the oft-recurrent under-thought of how the gloom did also hide a silent figure lying prone, with the three bridle reins knotted round its wrist. but though the unnerving under-thought would not begone, the scene within the great room held me fast by eye and ear. the master and his factor sat apart, their heads together over the knotty problem of subsistence for the convoy troop. at the table-end, with the bottle gurgling now at one right hand and now at another, the three king's men drank confusion to the rebels, and in the intervals discussed the powder-convoy's route across the mountains. the senior plotter had some map or chart of his own making, and he was pricking out on it for falconnet the route agreed upon in council with the cherokees. at this cool outlaying of the working plan, some proper sense of what this plot of savage-arming meant to every undefended cabin on the frontier seized and thrilled me. i knew, as every border-born among us knew, the dismal horrors of an indian massacre; and this these men were planning was treacherous murder on an unwarned people. all was to be done in midnight secrecy. supplied with ammunition, the cherokees, led by this captain stuart or some other, were first to fall upon the over-mountain settlements. these laid waste, the indians were to form a junction with the army of invasion, and so to add the torch and tomahawk and scalping knife to british swords and muskets. it was a plot to make the blood run cold in my veins, or in the veins of any man who knew the cruel temper of these savages; and when i thought upon the fate of my poor countrymen beyond the mountains, i saw what lay before me. the settlers must be warned in time to fight or fly. but while i listened, with every faculty alert to reckon with the task of rescue, i take no shame in saying that the problem balked me. lacking the strength to mount and ride in my own proper person, there was nothing for it but to find a messenger; and who would he be in a region at the moment distraught with war's alarums, and needing every man for self-defense? at that, i thought of jennifer. true, he was wounded, too; but he would know how best to pass the word to those in peril. i made full sure he'd find a way if i could reach him; and when i had it simmered down to this, the problem simplified itself. i must have speech with dick before the night was out, though i should have to crawl on hands and knees the half-score miles to jennifer house. having decided, i was keen to be about it while the night should last--the friendly darkness, and some fine flush of excitement which again had come at need to take the place of healthful vigor. but when i would have quit the window to begone upon my errand a sober second thought delayed me. if my simple counterplot should fail, some knowledge of the powder-convoy's route would be of prime importance. lacking the time to warn the over-mountain men, the next best thing would be to set some band of patriot troopers upon the trail and so to overtake the convoy. nay, on this second thought's rehearsing the last expedient seemed the better of the two, since thus the plot would come to naught and we would be the gainers by the capture of the powder. so now you know why i should stick and hang by toe and finger-tip and glare across the little space that gaped between my itching fingers and the bit of parchment passed from hand to hand around the table's end. if i could make a shift to rob them of this map-- it was a desperate chance, but in the frenzy of the moment i resolved to take it. their placings round the table favored me. gilbert stair and the lawyer sat fair across from me, but they were still intent upon their figurings. of the trio at the table's end, the baronet and the captain had their backs to me. the younger officer sat across, and he was staring broadly at my window, though with wine-fogged eyes that saw not far beyond the bottle-neck, i thought. my one hope hinged upon the boldness of a dash. if i could spring within and sweep the two candlesticks from the table, there was a chance that i might snatch the parchment in the darkness and confusion and escape as i had come. so i began by inches to draw me up and feel for some better launching hold. but in the midst, for all my care and caution, i slipped and lost my grip upon the casement; lost that and got another on the wooden shutter opened back against the outer wall, and then went down, pulling the shutter from its rusted hinges in crashing clamor fit to rouse the dead. as if they were quick echoes, other crashings followed as of chairs flung back; and then the window just above me filled with crowding figures. i marvel that i had the wit to lie quiet as i had fallen, but i had; and those above, looking from a lighted room into the belly of the night, saw nothing. then captain stuart shouted to his dragoon horse-holder. "ho! tom garget; this way, man!" he cried; and when he had no answer, put a leg across the window seat to clamber out. 'twas in the very act, while i was watching catlike every movement, that i saw the precious scrap of parchment in his hand. here was the chance i had prayed for. tom garget's sword had clattered down beside me, and with it i sprang afoot and cut a whizzing circle by my doughty captain's ear that made him cringe and gasp and all but tumble out upon me. the bit of parchment fluttered down and in a trice i had it safe. you may think small of me, if so you must, my dears, when i confess what followed after. no man is braver than his opportunity, and i had little stomach for a fight with three unwounded men. hence it was narrowed now to a bold sortie for the horses, and this i made while yet the captain hung in air and sought his foothold. with all my breathless haste it was not done too soon, nor soon enough. when i had quickly freed a horse from the dead hand that held it tethered, and was making shift to climb into the saddle, they thronged upon me; the captain from his window, the others pouring hotly through the gaping doorway. i made shift to get astride the horse, to prick the poor beast with the point of sword, and so to break away in some brief dash beneath the oaks. but it was a chase soon ended. as i remember, i was reeling in the saddle what time the foremost of them overtook me. i held on grimly till the horse pursuing lapped the one i rode by head, by neck and presently by withers. then i turned and would be making frantic-feeble passes with the sword at the man upon his back. it was my plotting captain who rode me thus to earth; and when i thrust he laughed and swore, and turned the blade aside with his bare hand. then, pressing closer, he struck me with his fist, and thereupon the night and all its happenings went blank as if the blow had been a cannon shot to crush my skull. viii in which i taste the quality of mercy two ways there be to fetch a stunned man to his senses, as they will tell you who have seen the rack applied: one is to slack the tension on the cracking joints and minister cordials to the victim; the other to give the straining winch a crueller twist. it was not the gentler way my captors took, as you would guess; and when i came to know and see and feel again a pair of them were kicking me alive, and i was sore and aching from their buffetings. how long a time came in between my futile dash for liberty and this harsh preface to their dragging of me back to the manor house, i could not tell. it must have been an hour or more, for now a gibbous moon hung pale above the tree-tops, and all around were bivouac fires and horses tethered to show that in the interval a troop had come and camped. the scene within the great fore-room of the house had been shifted, too. a sentry was pacing back and forth before the door--a hessian grenadier by the size and shako of him; and when the two trooper bailiffs thrust me in, and i had winked and blinked my eyes accustomed to the candle-light, i saw the table had been swept of its bottles and glasses, and around it, sitting as in council, were some half-score officers of the british light-horse with their colonel at the head. as it chanced, this was my first sight near at hand of that british commander whose name in after years the patriot mothers spoke to fright their children. he did not look a monster. as i recall him now, he was a short, square-bodied man, younger by some years than myself, and yet with an old campaigner's head well set upon aggressive shoulders. his eyes were black and ferrety; and his face, well seasoned by the carolina sun, was swart as any arab's. a man, i thought, who could be gentle-harsh or harsh-revengeful, as the mood should prompt; who could make well-turned courtier compliments to a lady and damn a trooper in the self-same breath. this was that colonel banastre tarleton who gave no quarter to surrendered men; and when i looked into the sloe-black eyes i saw in them for me a waiting gibbet. "so!" he rapped out, when i was haled before him. "you're the spying rebel captain, eh? are you alive enough to hang?" his lack of courtesy rasped so sorely that i must needs give place to wrath and answer sharply that there was small doubt of it, since i could stand and curse him. he scowled at that and cursed me back again as heartily as any fishwife. then suddenly he changed his tune. "they tell me you were in the service once and left it honorably. i am loath to hang a man who has worn the colors. would it please you best to die a soldier's death, captain ireton?" i said it would, most surely. he said i should have the boon if i would tell him what an officer on the baron de kalb's staff should know: the strength of the continentals, the general's designs and dispositions, and i know not what besides. i think it was my laugh that made him stop short and damn me roundly in the midst. "by god, i'll make you laugh another tune!" he swore. "you rebels are all of a piece, and clemency is wasted on you!" "your mercy comes too dear; you set too high a price upon it, colonel tarleton. if, for the mere swapping of a rope for a bullet, i could be the poor caitiff your offer implies, hanging would be too good for me." "if that is your last word--but stay; i'll give you an hour to think it over." "it needs not an hour nor a minute," i replied. "if i knew aught about the continental army--which i do not--i'd see you hanged in your own stirrup-leather before i'd tell you, colonel tarleton. moreover, i marvel greatly--" "at what?" he cut in rudely. "at your informant's lack of invention. he might have brought me straight from general washington's headquarters while he was about it. 'twould be no greater lie than that he told you." he heard me through, then fell to cursing me afresh, and would be sending an aide-de-camp hot-foot for falconnet. while the messenger was going and coming there was a chance for me to look around like a poor trapped animal in a pitfall, loath to die without a struggle, yet seeing not how any less inglorious end should offer. the eye-search went for little of encouragement; there was no chance either to fight or fly. but apart from this, the probing of the shadows revealed a thing that set me suddenly in a fever, first of rage, and then of apprehension. as i have said, this gathering-room of our old house was in size like an ancient banquet hall. it had a gable to itself in breadth and height, and at the farther end there was a flight of some few steps to reach the older portion of the house beyond. the upper end of this low stair pierced the thick wall of the older house, and in the shadows of the niche thus formed i saw my lady margery. she was standing as one who looks and listens; and my rage-fit blazed out upon the descrying of a shadowy figure of a man behind her; a man i guessed in jealous wrath to be the baronet--a reasonless suspicion, since the volunteer captain would certainly have made his presence known when his colonel had called for him. but while my heart was yet afire my lady moved aside as if to have a better sight of us below; and then i saw it was the priest behind her. while i was watching her, and we were waiting yet upon the aide-de-camp's return, there was a stir without, and when it reached the door the sentry challenged. some confab followed, and i overheard enough to tell me that a scouting party had come in, bringing a prisoner. the colonel bade me stand aside, and passed the word to fetch the prisoner before him. when the thing was done i set my teeth upon a groan. for it was richard jennifer. luckily, he did not single me out among the bystanders, being fresh come from the night without to the glare of candle-light within; and while the swart-faced colonel plied him with questions i had a chance to look him up and down. though his arm was still in its sling, he was seemingly the better of his wound. there was a glow of health and strength returning in cheek and eye, and i thought him handsomer than ever what time he stood forth boldly and fronted down the bullying colonel. knowing the jennifer stock and its fine scorn of subterfuge, i feared it would go hard with richard; and so, indeed, it had gone, lacking a word in season from an enemy. when tarleton would have made him choose between the taking of the king's oath and captivity in the hulks at charleston, a burly hessian captain at the table spoke the word in season. "_verdammt!_ mine colonel; i vill know dis mr. yennifer. he is a prave yoong schalavags, and he is not gone out mit der rebels. give him to me for mine plunders." the colonel laughed and showed his teeth. having one man to hang he could afford to be lenient with another. "what will you do with him, captain lauswoulter? by the look of him he'd make but indifferent sausage-meat." "vat shall i do mit him? i shall make him mine best bows and send him home, py gott! ve did had some liddle troubles mit der cards, and ven mine foot was slipped on dis _verdammt_ grease-grass, he did not run me t'rough so like he might." "oh; an affair of honor? well, we'll count that in his favor. take him away, trelawny, and quarter yourself and twenty men upon him at jennifer house. you have your parole, mr. jennifer; but by the lord, if you break it by so much as a wink or a nod, trelawny will hang you to your own ridge-pole." given a hearing, jennifer would have spoiled it all by swearing hotly he had given no parole, but at the word the colonel roared him down like a bull of bashan, and in the hubbub my brave lad was hustled out. though i was full to bursting with my news there was nothing i could do; and when it was fairly over and he was gone, i was right glad he had not seen me. for i knew well his steel-true loyalty, and that at sight of me in trouble he would have lost his slender chance of guarded liberty, and with it my last hope of sending word across the mountains; though, as for that, the hope was well-nigh dead at any rate. while jennifer's guard and quota were mounting at the door the aide-de-camp returned, and that without the baronet. i caught but here and there a word of his report; enough to gather that the captain-knight was not yet in from posting out the sentries. i made no doubt his absence was designed. he would have margery believe that he had spared me honorably as an enemy wounded, and so had left me to the tender mercies of his colonel, well assured that tarleton would not spare me. and this the colonel did not mean to do, as i was now to hear in brief. "you put a bold front on, captain ireton, but 'tis to no purpose, this time," he began. "'tis charged against you that you rode here from the baron's camp with your commission in your pocket, and came and went within our lines like any other spy. you are a soldier, sir, and you know that's hanging. yet i will hear you if you've anything to say." i made so sure that i should hang in any case that it seemed foolish to answer, and so i saved my breath. withal he was the terror of our southland, this tyrant colonel gave me time to consider; and while he waited, grim and silent, the candles on the table guttered and ran down, and the dim light failed till i could no longer see the face of her i loved framed in the archway of the stair. i thought it hard that i had seen my last of her sweet face thus through thickening shadows, as a dream might fade. nevertheless, i would be glad that i had seen her thus, since otherwise, i thought, i must have gone without this last or any other sight of her. it was while i was still straining my eyes for one more glimpse of her, and while the court room silence deepened dense upon us like the shadows, that colonel tarleton signed to those who guarded me. a hand was laid upon my shoulder, but when i would have turned to go with them a woman's cry cut sharp into the stillness. then, before any one could say a word or think a thought, my dauntless little lady stood beside me, her eyes alight and all her glorious beauty heightened in a blaze of generous emotion. "for shame! colonel tarleton," she cried. "do you come thus into my father's house and take a wounded guest and hang him? you say he is a spy, but that he can not be, for he has lain abed in this same house a month or more. you shall not hang him!" at this there was a mighty stir about the table, as you may guess; and some would smile, and some would snuff the candles for a better sight of her sweet face. and through it all, the while my heart went near to bursting at this fresh proof of her most fearless loyalty, i ground my teeth in wrath that all those men should look their fill and say by wink and nod and covert smile that this were somewhat more than hostess loyalty. but it was the colonel's mocking smile that lashed me sharpest; his smile and what he said; and yet not that so much as what he left to be inferred. "ha! how is this, mistress margery? do you keep open house for the king's enemies? that spells treason, my dear young lady, and hath an ugly look for you, besides." "it should have no look at all, save that of hospitality, sir," she countered, bravely. "surely i may plead for justice to a wounded man who was, and is, my father's guest?" "and yet he is a spy, and spies must hang." "he is no spy." the colonel's bow made but a mock of true politeness. "you should not make me contradict a lady, mistress margery. 'tis evident you have not all his confidence. he was captured red-handed in the act at yonder window, listening to that which he may never know and live to prate about. besides, he killed a sentry for his chance to listen, and for that i'd hang him if he were my own father's guest." so much he said as mild as if he had not left his reading of the law to figure in our annals as king george's butcher. then in a sudden gust of rage he turned upon the priest, cursing him brutally and threatening vengeance for his bringing of the lady to the court room. my brave one stood a moment, shocked as she had warrant for. then, before the priest or i or any one could stop her, she ran to throw herself upon her knees at colonel tarleton's feet--to kneel and plead for me as i would gladly have died a thousand deaths rather than have her plead; for life for me, or if not that, at least for some brief respite that the priest might shrive me. and in the end she won the respite, though i did think it far too dearly bought. when he granted it the colonel lifted her and took her hand, bowing low over it with courtly deference. "for your sake, mistress margery, it shall be put off till morning," he said; then gave the order: at dawn they would march me out and hang me, and i would best be ready. for later than the sunrise of a new day the king himself might not delay my taking off. "you know too much, my cursing captain," was his parting word. "were it not for mistress margery and my promise, you should not keep the breath to tell it over night." ix how a golden key unlocked a door having my dismissal and reprieve i was remanded to the custody of that young lieutenant tybee whom you have met and known as falconnet's second in the duel. interpreting his orders liberally, he suffered me to keep my own room for the night. i had expected manacles and a roommate guard at the least, but my gentlemanly jailer spared me both. when he had me safe above-stairs, he barred the door upon me, set a sentry pacing back and forth in the corridor without, and another to keep an eye upon the window from below, and so left me. there was no great need for either sentry, or for bolts and bars. what with the night's adventures and my scarce-healed wound, i was far sped on that road which ends against the blind wall of exhaustion, as you may well suppose. for while a man may borrow strength of wine or rage or passion, these lenders are but pitiless usurers and will demand their pound of flesh; aye, and have it, too, when all the principal is spent. so, when tybee barred the door and left me with a single candle to my lighting, i was fain to fall upon the bed in utter weariness, thinking that the respite bought by my sweet lady's humbling was more dearly bought than ever, and that the truest mercy would have been the rope and tree without this interval of waiting. to me in this grim doubting castle of despair the priest came. he was a good man and a true, this low-voiced missioner to the savages, and he would be a curster man than i who failed to give him his due meed of praise and love. for in this dismal interval of waiting, with death so sure and near that all the air was growing chill and lifeless at its presence, he was a ready help in time of need. if i were "heretic" to him, i swear i knew it not for aught he said or did; and though i trusted that when my time was come i should stand forth with some small simple-hearted show of courage, yet when he went away i felt i was the stronger for his coming. and this, mark you, though i was still unshriven, and he had never named the churchly rite to me. when he was gone i fell to wearing out the time afoot; and, lest you think me harder than i was, it may be said that while i did not make confession to the kindly priest, i hope i tried to make my peace with god in some such simpler fashion as our forebears did. 'twas none so great a matter, for one who lives a soldier's life must needs be ripe for plucking hastily. but in the final casting of accounts there was an item written down in red, and one in black, and these would not be scored across for all the travail of a soul departing. the one in black was bitter sorrow for the fate from which i might not live to save my loved one; the one in red was this; that i should die and carry hence the knowledge that might else nip the indian onfall in the bud. no sooner was the priest away than i began to upbraid myself because i had not told him of this british-indian murder plan. and yet on second thought 'twas clear that it had been but a poor shifting of the burden to weaker shoulders; and thankless, too, for tarleton would be sure to put him on the question-rack to make him tell of all that passed between us. as i had let him go, he would have naught to tell, and so was safe, where otherwise he might be hanged or buried in the hulks for knowing what i knew. no, it were best he knew it not; but how was i to rid me of this burden?--of this and of that other laid upon me for my love? the question asked itself a many a time, and was as often answerless, before there came a stir without and voices in the corridor. it was the changing of the guard, i guessed, and so it proved, since presently i heard the clanking of the officer's sword, and double footfalls minishing into silence. the sentry newly come paced back and forth to a low-hummed quick-step of his own, bestirring himself as one who, roused but now from sleep, would wake himself and be alert. he made more noise than did the other, and that is why i marked it when the footfalls ceased abruptly. a moment afterward the bar was lifted cautiously from its socket, the latch clicked gently, and the door swung open. i looked, and must needs look again to make assurance sure. for on the threshold stood my lady margery, and just behind her some broad figure of a woman whom i knew for her stout norman tiring-maid. she gave me little time for any word of welcome or of deprecation. while still i stood amazed she dragged the woman in with her and closed the door. at that i found my tongue. "margery! why have you come?" i spoke in french, and she was quick to lay a finger on her lip. "speak to me in english, if you please," she whispered. "jeanne knows nothing, and she need not know. but you ask why i come: could i do less than come, dear friend?" i had always marveled that she could be so mocking hard at times, and at other times--as now--so soft and gentle. and though i thought it cruel that i should have to fight my battle for the losing of her over again, i had not the heart to chide her. "you could have done much less, dear lady," i said, taking her hands in mine; "much less, and still be blameless. you have done too much for me already. i would you had not done so much, i would to god i had been hanged before you went upon your knees to that--" she freed one hand and laid a finger on my lip--nay, it was her palm, and if i took a dying man's fair leave and kissed it softly, i think she knew it not. "hush!" she commanded. "is this a time to harbor bitter thoughts? i thought you might have other things to say to me, monsieur john." "there is no other thing that i may say." "not anything at all?" "naught but a parting hope for you. i hope you will be true and loyal to yourself, margery _mia_." "to myself? i do not understand." "i think you do--i think you must." "but i do not." i turned it over more than once in my mind if i should tell her all i had feared; should tell her how i came to kill a man and was fair set to kill another had i found a wedding afoot in the great fore-room. i could not bring myself to do it, and yet i thought it would go hard with me if i should leave her still unwarned. "if i should try to make you understand, you will be angry, as you were before." the wicker chair was close beside the table and she sat down. and when she spoke she had her hands tight-clasped across her knee and would not look at me. "is it--about--sir francis?" "it is," said i, pausing once more upon the brink of full confession. she waited patiently for me to speak further; waited and let me fight it out in slow pacings up and down before her chair. without, the night was calm and still, and through the opened casement came the measured beat of footfalls on the gravel where the outer sentry kept his watch beneath the window. within, the single candle battled feebly with the gloom and lighted naught for me save my dear lady's face, pensive now and saintly sweet as it had been that morning when i had dwelt upon it the while she knew it not. and in the background stood the sleepy tire-woman, giving no sign of life save now and then a tortured yawn behind her hand. i think my lady must have known how hard it was for me to speak, for, when the silence had grown overlong, she said, gently: "i bought these flying minutes of the sentry, monsieur john. will you not use them?" "if i should say the thing i ought to say, you'll think the minutes dearly bought, i fear." "no, that i shall not, if it will ease your mind." "then tell me why you sent for father matthieu." the light was dim, as i have said, yet i could see the faint flush spread from neck to cheek. "you are not of the church, monsieur john. you would not understand if i should tell you." "i think i understand without your telling. you said sir francis falconnet had asked for you." "'twas you who drove me to say it." "because i tried to warn you?" "because you would be vengeful when you should have been forgiving." "'twas not revenge, just then, though while i live i shall have ample cause to hate this man." "what was it, then?" "it was love; love for you, and--and richard jennifer." she rose, and i could see her eyes ashine for all the half-gloom of the candle-light. "you are a loyal friend!" she said, and there was that within the words to make me glad, whatever fate the dawn should have in store for me. "you always think of others first; you think of others now, when--when death--oh, monsieur john! what can i do for you? say quick! the man is coming to the door!" "now i have told you this, there is but one other thing, margery dear; one little thing that will not let me die in peace. if i might have ten words with richard jennifer--" she left me in a fever-flutter of excitement, whipped to the door, and had a word with him who stood without. i heard the chink of coin, and then she hastened back to me, all eagerness and tremulous impatience. "tell me--tell me instantly what i must do. i am not afraid. shall i ride down to jennifer house and fetch dick here?" "he is a prisoner, and if he were not, they would not let him see me. besides, i would not let you go on such an errand. and yet--god help me, margery! there is many an innocent life hanging on this; the lives of helpless women and little children. have you ever a messenger to send, a man who will risk his life and can be trusted fully?" "yes, yes!" she cried. "write it down for me and dick shall have it. quick; for our lady's sake, be quick about it! _o sancta maria, mater. dei_--" the low impassioned chant of the roman litany was ringing in my ears as i sat down to the table to write my message to richard jennifer. there were quills and an ink-pot at hand, but no paper. i felt mechanically in my pocket and found, not some old letter, as i hoped, but the crumpled parchment map snatched and hidden when captain stuart had winced and dropped it at the bidding of the whistling sword about his ears. how it was they had not searched me for it, i know not; though haply the captain did not guess how he had lost it. be that as it might, i had it safe, and dick should have it safe, and use it, too, to some good purpose, as i fondly hoped. you'd hardly think from the slow and clumsy spinning of this tale that i could crowd the narrative of all that i had seen and heard into a niggard three-score words or less. but this i did, writing them upon the margin of the captain's map, and noting in an added line the pricking out of the powder convoy's route. and while my pen was looping on the flourish to my name, my eager little lady seized the pounce-box, sanded me the heavy trailings of the quill, snatched and hid the parchment in her bosom, and was gone. and but for this; that i heard the door-latch click behind her, and then the heavy wooden bar fall into place, i might have thought the happenings of the hour the unsubstantial fancies of a dream. x how a forlorn hope came to grief although i could not hope to know the outcome of this desperate cast to speed the warning to the over-mountain settlements--could never live to know it, as i thought--i screened the candle and stood beside the open window, not to see or hear, but rather from the lack of sight or sound to gather some encouragement. for sure, i reasoned, if margery's messenger should fail to pass the sentries there would be clamor enough to tell me of it. so while the minutes of this safety-silence multiplied and there was space for sober after-thought, i fell to casting up the chances of success. now that margery was gone, and with her all the fine enthusiasm that such devoted souls as hers do always radiate, it was plain enough that nothing less than a miracle could bring success. tarleton's legion was made up of veterans schooled well in border warfare, and though the bivouac seemed but a camp of motionless figures fast manacled in sleep--i could see them strewn like dead men round the smoldering fires--i made no doubt the sentries were alert and wakeful. how then was any messenger of margery's to pass the lines, or, passing them, to come at jennifer, who by this time would be at jennifer house, a prisoner in all but name? chewing such wormwood thoughts as these, i watched and listened while the measured minutes, circling slow on leaden wings, pecked at my heart in passing, and despair, cold like a winter fog, had chilled me to the bone. for now it came to me that while i would be saving life, mayhap i had been periling it again. there was small doubt that if the messenger were taken with my letter, his life would pay the forfeit. and if the fear of death should make him tell who sent him and to whom he was sent,--i had been careful so to word the letter as to shield my correspondent,--both margery and dick would be involved. 'tis worthy of remark how, building on the simplest supposition, we seldom prophesy aright. for all my fine-spun theories the manner of the thing that happened was all unlike the forecast. suddenly, and in silence, out of the ghostly shadows of the trees and into the wan moonlight of the open space beneath my window, with neither shout nor crash of sentry-gun to give me warning, came three figures riding abreast--a man in trooper trappings on either hand, and on the led horse sandwiched in between, a woman. you may believe my heart went cold at the sight. i knew at once what she had done--this fearless maid who would be loyal to her friend at any cost. having no messenger she could trust--she knew it well when she had promised me--she had taken the errand upon herself, braving a hazard that would have daunted many a man. i thought the worst had surely now befallen, and wished a hundred times that i had died before it came to this. but there was worse in store. her captors passed the word while yet i looked and choked with rage and grief; and then the bivouac buzzed alive, and men came running, some with arms and some with torches, these last to flash the light upon her and to jeer and laugh. at length--it seemed an age to me--an officer appeared to flog the rabble into order; then she was taken from her horse and led into the house. anon the windows of the great fore-room flung bands of yellow torchlight out upon the lawn, and i knew that tarleton's court was set again. at that the pains of hell gat hold upon me and i did pray as i had never prayed before that god would grant me this one boon--to stand beside her in this time of trial; to give me tongue of eloquence to tell them all that she was innocent; to give me breath to swear she knew not why she went, or what the message was she carried. yours is a skeptic age, my dears, and you have learned to scoff at things you do not understand. but, so long as i shall live, i must believe that agonizing plea was answered. while yet the anguish of it wrung my soul there came a hasty trampling in the corridor, the sentry's challenge, and then a quick unbarring of the door. i turned upon my heel to face a young ensign come with two men at his back to take me to the colonel. they bound me well and strongly with many wrappings of stout cord before they led me down. nor must you think me broken-spirited because i let them. in any other cause but this i hope i should have fought to die unmanacled; but now i suffered gladly this little, seeing i had made my dear lady suffer so greatly. when we were come into the room below they let me stand beside her, as i had prayed god they might; and when i stole a glance at her i was fain to think my coming gave her courage and support. for you must know the place was fair alive with men, and flaring light with torches; and they had never offered her a chair. the colonel stood apart, the center of a group of officers, and falconnet was with him. hovering on the edges of the group, as if afraid to show themselves too boldly in such a coil, were gilbert stair and that smooth parchment-visaged knave, his factor. the while they thrust me forth to take my place at margery's side, the good old priest came and would have joined us; but they would not suffer him. [illustration] so we two stood alone together as we had stood before; but now my lady's eyes were downcast, and her lips and cheeks were pale. yet she was more beautiful than i had ever seen her--so beautiful that i would swear the sum of all the precious gifts in god's great universe might be expressed for me in this; that i might die to save her from this shame and agony. when my guards had thrust me forward, the colonel made short work of our fresh offense. "'twas a dastard's trick, my captain--this tangling of the lady in your treason," he began. "how did you get your speech with her?" "that is none of your affair, colonel tarleton," i retorted boldly, thinking that with such a man the shortest word were ever the best. "yet i may say that the lady knew not what she did, nor why. as for my getting speech with her, she was not any way to blame. i tampered with your sentry." "by god, you lie!" was his comment on this. "she might have tampered with the guard and so got leave to keep a midnight tryst with you, but not you." and then to my poor frighted love: "have you no shame, mistress margery stair?" now i have said that she was changeful as any child or april sky, but never had i seen her pass from mood to mood as she did then. one moment she stood a woman tremulous and tearful as any woman caught in desperate deed; the next she became a goddess vilified, and if her look had been a dagger i think her flashing eyes had killed him where he stood. "you've found a way to make me speak, sir, and i wish you joy of it. 'twas i who bribed your sentry, and i did go to captain ireton's room." the colonel laughed and shot a gibe sharp at my enemy. "how is this, sir francis. did i not tell you you had thrust an inch or so too high? by god, sir, i think you will come over-late, if ever you do come at all. this captain-emeritus hath forestalled you beautifully." as more than once before in this eventful night, the air went flaming red before my eyes and helpless wrath came uppermost. i saw no way to clear her, and had there been the plainest way, dumb rage would still have held me tongue-tied. so i could only mop and mow and stammer, and, when the words were found, make shift to blunder out that such an accusation did the lady grievous wrong; that she had come attended and at my beseeching, to take a message from a dying man to one who was his friend. for my pains i had a brutal laugh in payment; a laugh that, starting with the colonel, went the rounds in jeering grins of incredulity. and on the heels of it the colonel swore afresh, cursing me for a clumsy liar. "a likely story, that!" he scoffed. "next you will say she knew not what this message was." "i said it once. she knew not what the message was, nor why i sent it." i felt her eyes upon me as i spoke, and turned to find them full of tearful pleading. "oh, tell the truth!" she whispered. "don't you see? he has the letter!" i looked, and sure enough he held it in his hand; and then i understood the flash of irony in the sloe-black eyes of him. "you lie clumsily, captain ireton, though it is a gentlemanly lie and does you honor. but we have trapped you fairly and you may as well make a clean breast of it. your mistress knew very well what you would have her do, and since she is your mistress, went to do it." while he was speaking i had a thought white-hot from some forge-fire of inspiration--a thought to tip an arrow of conviction and set it quivering in the mark. i would not stop to measure it; to look aside at her or any other lest one brief glance apart should send the arrow wavering from its course. so i looked the colonel boldly in the eye and drew the bow and sped the shaft. "you think no other than a mistress would have done this, colonel tarleton--that it was done for love? well, so it was; but with the love there went a duty." "a duty, say you? how is that?" i bowed as best i might, being so tightly bound; then fixed his eye again. "you had forgot that honor is not wholly dead, sir. this lady is my wife." xi how a lie was made the very truth for some small instant i dared not loose my eye-grip on the colonel, to glance aside at falconnet, or gilbert stair, or at the woman close beside me. if i had flinched or wavered, or let an eyelid droop but by the thickness of a hair, this keen-eyed colonel would have been upon me to cut the ground beneath my feet and leave me dangling by the lie. but as it was, i faced him down; and winning him, won all. there was a muttered oath from falconnet, a tremulous cry of rage from where her father stood; and then i sought my lady's eyes to read my sentence in them. she gave me but a glance, and though i tried as i had never tried before to read her meaning it was hid from me. but this i marked; that she did draw aside from me, and that her face was cold and still, and that her lips were pressed together as if not all nor any should ever make her speak again. at this sharp crisis, when a look or word would cost me more than death and my dear lady her honor, it was the colonel who, all unwittingly, stood my friend. a breath of doubt upon my lie and we were lost; and once i thought he would have breathed it. but he did not. instead, he broke out in a laugh, with a gibe flung first at gilbert stair and then at falconnet. "god save us! i give you joy, mr. stair, and you, sir francis. these two have duped you bravely. by heavens! sir frank; 'twas you who should have had the sword thrust in the duel. in that event you might have stood in captain ireton's shoes, and so had the priest fetched for your benefit." then he turned to margery with a bow that had no touch of mockery in it. "i crave your pardon, madam; i knew not you were pleading for your husband's life an hour ago. it grieves me that i may not spare him to you longer than the night, but war is cruel at its best." she stood like any statue done in cold carrara while he spoke; and when she made no sign he gave the word to recommit me. "take him away, lieutenant tybee, and see he has a bribe-proof man this time to keep him company. madam ireton, i'll put you on your honor: you may have access to him, but there must be no messages carried in or out. to your quarters, gentlemen. we must ride far and hard to-morrow." when his final word had set her free, my frozen maiden came to life and ran to throw herself in helpless sobbings, not upon her father, as you would think, but upon the good priest. and it was father matthieu who led her, still crying softly, out of the throng and up the low stair; and now i marked that all the rough soldiery stood aside and made way for her with never a man among them to scoff or sneer or point a gibe. at her going, tybee drew his sword and cut the cord that bound me. "these youngling cubs are over-cautious, captain ireton. we shall not make it harder for each other than we must," he said, with bluff good nature. and then: "will you lead the way to your room, sir?"--this to give the youngling cub another lesson, i suppose. i walked beside him to the stair, and when i stumbled, being weak and spent, he took my arm and steadied me, and i did think it kindly done. at my own door he gave me precedence again, saying, with a touch of the grateful old world courtesy, "after you, sir," and standing aside to let me enter first. when we were both within he touched upon the colonel's mandate. "i must obey my orders, captain ireton, but by your good leave i shall not lock you up with any trooper; i'll stay with you myself." i thought this still more kindly than aught he had done before, and so i told him. but he put it off lightly. "'tis little enough any one can do for you, my friend, but i will do that little as i can. you are like to have a visitor, i take it; if you have, i'm sure 'twill be a comfort if your body-guard can be stone blind and deaf." so saying, he dragged the big wicker chair into the window-bay, planted himself deep within it with his back to all the room, and so left me to my own devices. being spent enough to sleep beneath the shadow of a gibbet, i threw myself full-length upon the bed and was, i think, adrift upon the ebb tide of exhaustion and forgetfulness when once again the shifting of the wooden door-bar roused me. i rose up quickly, but tybee was before me. there was some low-voiced conference at the door; then tybee came to me. "'tis mr. gilbert stair," he said. "he has permission from the colonel and insists that he must see you _solus_. i'll take your word and leave you, if you like." at first i hung reluctant, wanting little of the host who came so late to see his guest. then, as if a sudden flash of lightning had revealed it, i realized, as i had not before, how i had set the feet of my dear lady in a most hideous labyrinth of deception; how this lie that i had told to bridge a momentary gap must leave her neither maid nor widow in the morning. "yes, yes; for god's sake let him in, mr. tybee!" i burst out. "i am fair crazed with weariness, and had forgot. 'tis most important, i do assure you." the thing was done at once, and before i knew it i was alone with the old man who, though he was my supplanter, was also margery's father. he entered cautiously, shielding his bedroom candle with his hand and peering over it to make me out, as if his venturing in were not unperilous. and i marked that when he put the candle down upon the table, he edged away and felt behind him for the door as if to make sure of his retreat in case of need. "sit down, captain ireton; sit down, i beg of you," he said, in his thin, rasping treble. and when i had obeyed: "i think you must know what i've come for, captain ireton?" i said i could guess; and he began again, volubly now, as if to have it over in the shortest space. "'twas not a gentlemanly thing for you to do, captain ireton--this marrying of a foolish girl out of hand while you were here a guest; and as for the priest that did it, i--i'll have him hanged before the army leaves, i promise you. but now 'tis done, i hope ye're prepared to make the best of it?" i saw at once that his daughter had not yet confided in him; that he was still entangled in my lie. so i thought it well to probe him deeper while i might. "what would you call 'the best' if i may ask?" said i, growing the cooler with some better seeing of the way ahead. "the marriage settlements!" he cried shrilly, coming to the point at once, as any miser would. "'tis the merest matter of form, as ye may say, for your title to appleby hundred is well burnt out, i promise you. but for the decent look of it you might make over your quitclaim to your wife." "aye, truly; so i might." "and so you should, sir; that you should, ye miserable, spying runag"--he choked and coughed behind his hand and then began again without the epithets. "'tis the very least ye can do for her now, when you have the rope fair around your curs--ahem--your--your rebel neck. only for the form's sake, to be sure, ye understand, for she'd inherit after you in any case." i saw his drift at last, and, not caring to spare him, sped the shaft of truth and let it find the joint in his harness. "'tis as you say, mr. stair. but as it chances, mistress margery is not my wife." if i had flung the candle at him where he stood fumbling behind him for the door-latch,'twould not have made him shrink or dodge the more. "wha--what's that ye say?" he piped in shrillest cadence. "not married? then you--you--" "i lied to save her honor--that was all. a wife might do the thing she did and go scot free of any scandal; but not a maid, as you could see and hear." for some brief time it smote him speechless, and in the depth of his astoundment he forgot his foolish fear of me and fell to pacing up and down, though always with the table cannily between us. and as he shuffled back and forth the thin lips muttered foolish nothings, with here and there a tremulous oath. when all was done he dropped into a chair and stared across at me with leaden eyes; and truly he had the look of one struck with a mortal sickness. "i think--i think you owe me something now beyond your keeping, captain ireton," he quavered, at length, mumbling the words as do the palsied. "since you are margery's father, i owe you anything a dying man can pay," said i. "words; empty words," he fumed. "if it were a thing to do, now--" "you need but name the thing and i will do it willingly." instead of naming it he shot a question at me, driving it home with certain random thrustings of the shifty eyes. "who is your next of kin, captain ireton?" "septimus, of the same name, master of iretondene, on the james river, and a major in the virginia line," i answered, wondering how my cousin once removed should figure in the present coil. but gilbert stair's next question dispelled the mystery. "if you should die intestate, this septimus would be your heir?" "as next of kin, i should suppose he would. but i have nothing to devise." "true; and yet"--he paused again as if the wording of it were not easy. "be free to speak your mind, mr. stair," said i. "'tis this," he cried, gathering himself as with an effort. "you've claimed my daughter as your wife before them all, and when you die to-morrow morning you'll leave her neither wife nor maid. i think--i think you'd best make that lie of yours the truth." if one of his thin hands that clutched the chair arms had pressed a secret spring and loosed a trap to send me gasping down an oubliette, i should have been the less astounded. indeed, for some short space i thought him mad; yet, on second thought, i saw the method in his madness. could margery be brought to view it calmly, this was a sword to cut the knot of all entanglements. as matters stood, the world would call her widow at my death; and since a woman is first of all the keeper of her own good name, she would never dare aver the truth. so in common justice she should own the name the world would call her by. again, as matters stood, no wrong could come of it to her, or richard jennifer, or any. dick would love her none the less because a dying man had given her his name for some few hours. and if, at any future time, the ireton title should revive and this poor double-dealing miser should be forced to quit his hold on appleby hundred, my father's acres would be hers in her own right. one breach in all this sudden-builded wall i saw, but could not mend it. with the ireton acres hers by double right, the baronet would press his suit with greater vigor than before. but as to this, no further act of mine could help or hinder; and if i died her husband she would in decency delay a while. so summing up in far less time than it has cost to write it out for you, i gave my host his answer. "i told you you might name the deed, and i would do it, mr. stair. if you can make your daughter understand--" "the jade will do as she is bid," he cut in wrathfully. "if she will drag my good name in the mire, i'm damned if she sha'n't pay the scot. and now about the settlements, captain ireton; you'll be making her legatee residuary?" at this i saw his drift again, most clearly; that he would never stickle for his daughter's honor, but for the quieting of his title to my father's lands--a title that my cousin septimus might dispute. it was enough to set me obstinate against him; but i constrained myself to think of margery and richard jennifer, and not at all of this poor petty miser. "i'll sign a quitclaim in her favor, if that is what you mean," i said. "but 'tis a mere pen-scratch for the lawyers to haggle over. as you said a while ago, the wife will be the husband's heir-at-law, in any event." "true; but we'd best be at it in due and proper form." he rose and hobbled to the door and was so set upon haste that his shaking hand played a rattling tattoo on the latch. "i--i'll go and have the papers drawn, and you will sign them, captain ireton; i have your passed word that you will sign them?" "aye; they shall be signed." he went away at that, and tybee entered. much to my comfort, the lieutenant asked no questions; so far from it, he crossed the room without a word, flung himself into the great chair and left me to my own communings. these were not altogether of assurance. though i had promised readily enough to make my lie a truth, i saw that all was yet contingent upon my lady's viewing of the proposal. that i could win her over i had some hope, if only they would leave the task for me. but there was room to fear that this poor miser father would make it all a thing of property and so provoke her to resistance. and, notwithstanding what he said--that she would do as she was bid--i thought i knew her temper well enough to prophesy a hitch. for i made sure of one thing, that if she put her will against the world, the world would never move her. 'twas past midnight, with tybee dozing in his chair, when next i heard some stirrings in the corridor. as before, it was the lifting of the wooden bar that roused my friendly guard, and when he went to parley at the door i stood apart and turned my back. when i looked again my company was come. at the table, busied with a parchment that might have been a ducal title deed for size, stood gilbert stair and the factor-lawyer, owen pengarvin. a little back of them the good old father matthieu had margery on his arm. and in the corner tybee stood to keep the door. i grouped them all in one swift eye-sweep, and having listed them, strove to read some lessoning of my part in my dear lady's face. she gave me nothing of encouragement, nor yet a cue of any kind to lead to what it was that she would have me say or do. as i had seen it last, under the light of the flaring torches in the room below, her face was cold and still; and she was standing motionless beside the priest, looking straight at me, it seemed, with eyes that saw nothing. it was the factor-lawyer who broke the silence, saying, with his predetermined smirk, that the parchment was ready for my signature. thinking it well beneath me to measure words with this knavish pettifogger, i looked beyond him and spoke to his master. "i would have a word or two in private with your daughter before this matter ripens further, mr. stair," i said. my lady dropped the priest's arm and came to stand beside me in the window-bay. i offered her a chair but she refused to sit. there was so little time to spare that i must needs begin without preliminary. "what has your father told you, margery?" i asked. "he tells me nothing that i care to know." "but he has told you what you must do?" "yes." she looked with eyes that saw me not. "and you are here to do it of your own free will?" "no." "yet it must be done." "so he says, and so you say. but i had rather die." "'tis not a pleasing thing, i grant you, margery; notwithstanding, of our two evils it is by far the less. bethink you a moment: 'tis but the saying of a few words by the priest, and the bearing of my name for some short while till you can change it for a better." her deep-welled eyes met mine, and in them was a flash of anger. "is that what marriage means to you, captain ireton?" "no, truly. but we have no choice. 'tis this, or i must leave you in the morning to worse things than the bearing of my name. i would it had not thus been thrust upon us, but i could see no other way." "see what comes of tampering with the truth," she said, and i could see her short lip curl with scorn. "why should you lie and lie again, when any one could see that it must come to this--or worse?" "i saw it not," i said. "but had i stopped to look beyond the moment's need and seen the end from the beginning, i fear i should have lied yet other times. your honor was at stake, dear lady." "my honor!"--this in bitterest irony. "what is a woman's honor, sir, when you or any man has patched and sewed and sought to make it whole again? i will not say the word you'd have me say!" "but you must say it, margery. 'tis but the merest form; you forget that you will be a wife only in name. i shall not live to make you rue it." "you make me rue it now, beforehand. _mon dieu!_ is a woman but a thing, to stand before the priest and plight her troth for 'merest form'? you'll make me hate you while i live--and after!" "you'd hate me worse, margery dear, if i should leave you drowning in this ditch. and i can bear your hatred for some few hours, knowing that if i sinned and robbed you, i did make restitution as i could." she heard me through with eyelids down and some fierce storm of passion shaking her. and when she answered her voice was low and soft; yet it cut me like a knife. "you drive me to it--listen, sir, _you drive me to it_! and i have said that i shall hate you for it. come; 'tis but a mockery, as you say; and they are waiting." i sought to take her hand and lead her forth, but this she would not suffer. she walked beside me, proud and cold and scornful; stood beside me while i sat and read the parchment over. it was no marriage settlement; it was a will, drawn out in legal form. and in it i bequeathed to margery ireton as her true jointure, not any claim of mine to appleby hundred, _but the estate itself_. i read it through as i have said, and, looking across to these two plotters, the miser-master and his henchman, smiled as i had never thought to smile again. "so," said i; "the truth is out at last. i wondered if the confiscation act had left you wholly scatheless, mr. stair. well, i am content. i shall die the easier for knowing that i have lain a guest in my own house. give me the pen." 'twas given quickly, and i signed the will, with tybee and the lawyer for the witnesses; margery standing by the while and looking on; though not, i made sure, with any realizing of the business matter. when all was done the priest found his book, and we stood before him; the woman who had sworn to hate, and the man who, loving her to full forgetfulness of death itself, must yet be cold and formal, masking his love for her dear sake, and for the sake of loyalty to his friend. and here again 'twas tybee and the lawyer who were the witnesses; the one well hated, and the other loved if but for this; that when the time came for the giving of the ring, he drew a gold band from his little finger and made me take and use it. and so that deed was done in some such sorry fashion as the time and place constrained; and had you stood within the four walls of that upper room you would have thought the chill of death had touched us, and that the low-voiced priest was shriving us the while we knelt to take his benediction. all through this farce--which was in truth the grimmest of all tragedies--my lady played her part as one who walks in sleep; and at the end she let her father lead her out with not a word or look or sign to me. you'd guess that i would take it hard--her leaving of me thus, as i made sure, for all eternity; and i did take it hard. for when the strain was off, and there was no one by to see or hear save my good-hearted death-watch, i must needs go down upon my knees beside the bed in childish weakness, and sob and choke and let the hot tears come as i had not since at this same bedside i had knelt a little lad to take my mother's dying love. xii how the news came to unwelcome ears though all the western quarter of the sky was night-black and spangled yet with stars, the dawn was graying slowly in the east when tybee roused me. "they have not come for you as yet," he said; "so i took time by the forelock and passed the word for breakfast. it heartens a man to eat a bite and drink a cup of wine just on the battle's edge. will you sit and let me serve you, captain ireton?" "that i will not," said i; adding that i would blithely share the breakfast with him. whereat he laughed and clipt my hand, and swore i was a true soldier and a brave gentleman to boot. so we sat and hobnobbed at the table; and tybee lighted all the remnant candle-ends, and broached the wine and pledged me in a bumper before we fell to upon the cold haunch of venison. my summons came when we had shared the heel-tap of the bottle. it was my toast to this kind-hearted youngster, and we drained it standing what time the stair gave back the tread of marching men. tybee crashed his glass upon the floor and wrung my hand across the table. "good by, my captain; they have come. god damn me, sir, i'll swear they might do worse than let you go, for all your spying. you've carried off this matter with the lady as a gentleman should, and whilst i live, she shall not lack a friend. if you have any word to leave for her--" i shook my head. "no," said i; then, on second thought: "and yet there is a word. you saw how i must see the matter through to shield the lady?" "surely; 'twas plain enough for any one to see." "then i shall die the easier if you will undertake to make it plain to richard jennifer. he must be made to know that i supplanted him only in a formal way, and that to save the lady's honor." the lieutenant promised heartily, and as he spoke, the oaken bar was lifted and my reprieve was at an end. having the thing to despatch before they broke their fast, my soldier hangmen marched me off without ado. the house and all within it seemed yet asleep, but out of doors the legion vanguard was astir, and newly kindled camp-fires smoked and blazed among the trees. in shortest space we left these signs of life behind, and i began to think toward the end. 'tis curious how sweet this troubled life of ours becomes when that day wakes wherein it must be shuffled off! as a soldier must, i thought i had held life lightly enough; nay, this i know; i had often worn it upon my sleeve in battle. but now, when i was marching forth to this cold-blooded end without the battle-chance to make it welcome, all nature cried aloud to me. the dawn was not unlike that other dawn a month past when i had ridden down the river road with jennifer; a morning fair and fine, its cup abrim and running over with the wine of life. i thought the cool, moist air had never seemed so sweet and fragrant; that nature's garb had never seemed so blithe. there was no hint nor sign of death in all the wooded prospect. the birds were singing joyously; the squirrels, scarce alarmed enough to scamper out of sight, sat each upon his bough to chatter at us as we passed. and once, when we were filing through a bosky dell with softest turf to muffle all our treadings, a fox ran out and stood with one uplifted foot, and was as still as any stock or stone until he had the scent of us. a mile beyond the outfields of appleby hundred we passed the legion picket line, and i began to wonder why we went so far; wondered and made bold to ask the ensign in command, turning it into a grim jest and saying i misliked to come too weary to my end. the ensign, a curst young popinjay, as little officer cubs are like to be, answered flippantly that the colonel had commuted my sentence; that i was to be shot like a soldier, and that far enough afield so the volleying would not wake the house. so we fared on, and a hundred yards beyond this point of question and reply came out into an open grove of oaks: then i knew where they had brought me--and why. 'twas the glade where i had fought my losing battle with the baronet. on its farther confines two horses nibbled rein's-length at the grass, with falconnet's trooper serving-man to hold them; and, standing on the very spot where he had thrust me out, my enemy was waiting. 'twas all prearranged; for when the ensign had saluted he marched his men a little way apart and drew them up in line with muskets ported. but at a sign from falconnet, two of the men broke ranks and came to strap me helpless with their belts. i smiled at that, and would not miss the chance to jeer. "you are a sorry coward, captain falconnet, as bullies ever are," i said. "would not your sword suffice against a man with empty hands?" he passed the taunt in silence, and when the men had left me, said: "i have come to speed your parting, captain ireton. you are a thick-headed, witless fool, as you have always been; yet since you've blundered into serving me, i would not grudge the time to come and thank you." "i serve you?" i cried. "god knows i'd serve you up in collops at the table of your master, the devil, could i but stand before you with a carving tool!" he laughed softly. "always vengeful and vindictive, and always because you must ever mess and meddle with other men's concerns," he retorted. "and yet i say you've served me." "tell me how, in god's name, that i may not die with that sin unrepented of." "oh, in many small ways, but chiefly in this affair with the little lady of appleby." "never!" i denied. "so far as decent speech could compass it, i have ever sought to tell her what a conscienceless villain you are." he laughed again at that. "you know women but indifferently, my captain, if you think to breach a love affair by a cannonade of hard words. but i am in no humor to dispute with you. you have lost, and i have won; and, were i not here to come between, you'd look your last upon the things of earth in shortest order, i do assure you." "you?--you come between?" i scoffed. "you are all kinds of a knave, sir francis, but your worst enemy never accused you of being a fool!" there was a look in his eyes that i could never fathom. "you are bitter hard, john ireton--bitter and savage and unforgiving. you knew the wild blade of a half-score years ago, and now you'd make the grown man pay scot and lot for that same youngster's misdeeds. have you never a touch of human kindliness in you?" to know how this affected me you must turn back to that place where i have tried to picture out this man for you. i said he had a gift to turn a woman's head or touch her heart. i should have said that he could use this gift at will on any one. for the moment i forgot his cool disposal of me in the talk with captain stuart; forgot how he had lied to make me out a spy and so had brought me to this pass. so i could only say: "you killed my friend, frank falconnet, and--" "tush!" said he. "that quarrel died nine years ago. your reviving of it now is but a mask." "for what?" i asked. "for your just resentment in sweet margery's behalf. believe it or not, as you like, but i could love you for that blow you gave me, john ireton. i had been losing cursedly at cards that day, and mine host's wine had a dash of usquebaugh in it, i dare swear. at any rate, i knew not what it was i said till tybee said it over for me." "but the next morning you took a cur's advantage of me on this very spot and ran me through," i countered. "name it what you will and let it go at that. there was murder in your eye, and you are the better swordsman. you put me upon it for my life, and when you gave me leave, i did not kill you, as i might." "no; you reserved me for this." he took a step nearer and seemed strangely agitated. "you forced my hand, john ireton," he said, speaking low that the others might not hear. "you had her ear from day to day and used your privilege against me. as an enemy who merely sought my life for vengeance's sake i could spare you; but as a rival--" i laughed, and sanity began to come again. "make an end of it," i said. "i'd rather hear the muskets speak than you." for reply he took a folded paper from his pocket and spread and held it so that i might read. it was a letter from my lord cornwallis, directing captain falconnet to send his prisoner, captain john ireton, sometime lieutenant in the royal scots blues, under guard to his lordship's headquarters in south carolina. "can you read it?" he asked. i nodded. "well, this supersedes the colonel's sentence. if i say the word to ensign farquharson you will be remanded." "to be shot or hanged a little later, i suppose?" "no. have you any notion why my lord charles is sending for you?" "no," said i, in my turn; and, indeed, i had not. "he knows your record as an officer, and would give you a chance to 'list in your old service." "i would not take it--at your hands or his." "you'd best take it. but in any event, you'll have your life and honorable safe-conduct beyond the lines." "make an end," i said again. "i understand you will obey his lordship's order, or disregard it, as your own interest directs. what would you have me do?" "a very little thing to weigh against a life. mr. gilbert stair is my very good friend." i let that go uncontradicted. "his title to the estate is secure enough, as you know, but you can make it better," he went on. this saying of his told me what i had only guessed: that as yet he had not been admitted into gilbert stair's full confidence; also, that he had no hint of what had taken place in my chamber some hour or two past midnight. at that, a joy fierce like pain came to thrill me. "go on," said i. "your route to camden lies through charlotte. your guard will give you time and opportunity to execute a quitclaim in mr. stair's favor." "is that all?" i asked. "no; after that our ways must lie apart--or yours and margery's, at all events. give me your word of honor that you relinquish any claim you have, or think you have, upon her, and i pass this letter on to the ensign." "and if i refuse?" he came so near that i could see the lurking devil in his eyes. "if you refuse? harken, john ireton; if you had a hundred lives to thrust between me and the thing i crave, i'd take them all." so much he said calmly; then a sudden gust of passion seized him, and for once, i think, he spoke the simple truth. "god! i'd sink my soul in calvin's hell to have her!" i could not wholly mask the smile of triumph that his words evoked. this fox of maiden vineyards was entrapped at last. i saw the fire of such a passion as such a man may know burning in his eyes; and then i knew why he was come upon this errand. "so?" said i. "then mistress margery sent you here to save me?" 'twas but a guess, but i made sure it hit the truth. he swore a sneering oath. "so the priest carried tales, did he? well, make the most of it; she would not have her father's guest taken from his bed and hanged like a dog." i smiled again. "'twas more than that: she would even go so far as to beg her husband's life a boon from that same husband's mortal enemy." "bah!" he scoffed. "that lie of yours imposed upon the colonel, but i had better information." "a lie, you say? true, 'twas a lie when it was uttered. but afterward, some hour or so past midnight, by the good help of father matthieu, and with your lieutenant tybee for one witness and the lawyer for another, we made a sober truth of it." i hope, for your own peace of mind, my dears, that you may never see a fellow human turn devil in a breath as i did then. his man's face fell away from him like a vanishing mask, and in the place of it a hideous demon, malignant and murderous, glared upon me. twice his hand sought the sword-hilt, and once the blade was half unsheathed. then he thrust his devil-face in mine and hissed his parting word at me so like a snake it made me shudder with abhorrence. "you've signed your own death warrant, you witless fool! you'd play the spoil-sport here as you did once before, would you? curse you! i wish you had a hundred lives that i might take them one by one!" then he wheeled sharp upon his heel and gave the order to the ensign. "belt him to the tree, farquharson, and make an end of him. i've kept you waiting over-long." they strapped me to a tree with other belts, and when all was ready the ensign stepped aside to give the word. just here there came a little pause prolonged beyond the moment of completed preparation. i knew not why they waited, having other things to think of. i saw the firing line drawn up with muskets leveled. i marked the row of weather-beaten faces pillowed on the gun-stocks with eyes asquint to sight the pieces. i remember counting up the pointing muzzles; remember wondering which would be the first to belch its fire at me, and if, at that short range, a man might live to see the flash and hear the roar before the bullets killed the senses. but while i screwed my courage to the sticking place and sought to hold it there, the pause became a keen-edged agony. a glance aside--a glance that cost a mightier effort than it takes to break a nightmare--showed me the ensign standing ear a-cock, as one who listens. what he heard i know not, for all the earth seemed hushed to silence waiting on his word. but on the instant the early morning stillness of the forest crashed alive, and pandemonium was come. a savage yell to set the very leaves a-tremble; a crackling volley from the underwood that left a heap of writhing, dying men where but now the firing squad had stood; then a headlong charge of rough-clad horsemen--all this befell in less than any time the written words can measure. i sensed it all but vaguely at the first, but when a passing horseman slashed me free i came alive, and life and all it meant to me was centered in a single fierce desire. falconnet had escaped the fusillade; was making swiftly for his horse, safe as yet from any touch of lead or steel. so i might reach and pull him down, i cared no groat what followed after. it was not so to be. in the swift dash across the glade i went too near the shambles in the midst. the corporal of the firing squad, a bearded saxon giant, whose face, hideously distorted, will haunt me while i live, lay fairly in the way, his heels drumming in the death agony, and his great hands clutching at the empty air. i leaped to clear him. in the act the clutching hands laid hold of me and i was tripped and thrown upon the heap of dead and dying men, and could not free myself in time to stop the baronet. i saw him gain his horse and mount; saw the flash of his sword and the skilful parry that in a single parade warded death on either hand; saw him drive home the spurs and vanish among the trees, with his horse-holding trooper at his heels. and then my rescuers, or else my newer captors, picked me up hastily; and i was hoisted behind the saddle of the nearest, and so was borne away in all the hue and cry of a most unsoldierly retreat. xiii in which a pilgrimage begins as you have guessed before you turned this page, the men who charged so opportunely to cut me out of peril were my captors only in the saving sense. their overnight bivouac was not above a mile beyond the glade of ambushment. it was in a little dell, cunningly hid; and the embers of the camp-fires were still alive when we of the horse came first to this agreed-on rallying point. here at this rendezvous in the forest's heart i had my first sight of any fighting fragment of that undisciplined and yet unconquerable patriot home-guard that even in defeat proved too tough a morsel for british jaws to masticate. they promised little to the eye of a trained soldier, these border levies. in fancy i could see my old field-marshal,--he was the father of all the martinets,--turn up his nose and dismiss them with a contemptuous "_ach! mein gott!_" and, truly, there was little outward show among them of the sterling metal underneath. they came singly and in couples, straggling like a routed band of brigands; some loading their pieces as they ran. there was no hint of soldier discipline, and they might have been leaderless for aught i saw of deference to their captain. indeed, at first i could not pick the captain out by any sign, since all were clad in coarsest homespun and well-worn leather, and all wore the long, fringed hunting shirt and raccoon-skin cap of the free borderers. yet these were a handful of the men who had fought so stoutly against the tory odds at ramsour's mill, their captain being that abram forney of whom you may read in the histories; and though they made no military show, they lacked neither hardihood nor courage, of a certain persevering sort. "ever come any closter to your amen than that, stranger?" drawled one of them, a grizzled borderer, lank, lean and weather-tanned, with a face that might have been a leathern mask for any hint it gave of what went on behind it. "i'll swear that little whip'-snap' officer cub had the word 'fire' sticking in his teeth when i gave him old sukey's mouthful o' lead to chaw on." i said i had come as near my exit a time or two before, though always in fair fight; and thereupon was whelmed in an avalanche of questions such as only simple-hearted folk know how to ask. when i had sufficiently accounted for myself, captain forney--he was the limber-backed young fellow i had ridden behind--gripped my hand and gave me a hearty welcome and congratulation. "my father and yours were handfast friends, captain ireton. more than that, i've heard my father say he owed yours somewhat on the score of good turns. i'm master glad i've had a chance to even up a little; though as for that, we should both thank the indian." at which he looked around as one who calls an eye-muster and marks a missing man. "where is the chief, ephraim?"--this to the grizzled hunter who was methodically reloading his long rifle. "he's back yonder, gathering in the hair-crop, i reckon. never you mind about him, cap'n. he'll turn up when he smells the meat a-cooking, immejitly, _if_ not sooner." here, as i imagine, i looked all the questions that lacked answers; for captain forney took it in hand to fit them out with explications. "'tis uncanoola, the catawba," he said; "one of the friendlies. he was out a-scouting last night and came in an hour before daybreak with the news that colonel tarleton was set upon hanging a spy of ours. from that to our little ambushment--" "i see," said i, wanting space to turn the memory leaves. "this catawba: is he a man about my age?" captain forney laughed. "god he only knows an indian's age. but uncanoola has been a man grown these fifteen years or more. i can recall his coming to my father's house when i was but a little cadger." at that, i remembered, too; remembered a tall, straight young savage, as handsome as a figure done in bronze, who used sometimes to meet me in the lonelier forest wilds when i was out a-hunting; remembered how at first i was afraid of him; how once i would have shot him in a fit of boyish race antipathy and sudden fright had he not flung away his firelock and stood before me defenseless. also, i recalled a little incident of the terrible scourge in ' when the black pox bade fair to blot out this tribe of the catawbas; how when my father had found this young savage lying in the forest, plague-stricken and deserted by all his tribesmen, he had saved his life and earned an indian friendship. "i know this uncanoola," i said. "my father befriended him in the plague of ' , and was never sorry for it, as i believe." then i would ask if these catawbas had ranged themselves on the patriot side, a question which led the young militia captain to give me the news at large while his borderers were breaking camp and making their hasty preparations for the day's march. "'tis liberty or death with us now; we've burnt our bridges behind us," he said, when he had confirmed the tidings i had had the day before from father matthieu. "and since here in carolina we have to fight each man against his neighbor, 'tis like to go hard with us, lacking help from the north." "measured by this morning's work, captain forney, these irregulars of yours seem well able to give a good account of themselves," i ventured. he shook his head doubtfully. he was but a boy in years, but war is a shrewd schoolmaster, and this youth, like many another on the fighting frontier, had matriculated early. "you've seen us at our best," he amended. "we can ambush like the indians, fire a volley, yell, charge--and run away." "what's that ye're saying, youngster?" the grizzled hunter had finished reloading his rifle, and, lounging in earshot with all the freedom of the border, would take the captain up sharply on this last. "you heard me, eph yeates," replied my young captain, curtly. the old man leaned his rifle against a tree, spat on his hands, cut a clumsy caper in air, and gave tongue in a yell that should have been heard by tarleton's men at appleby. "by the eternal 'coonskins! i can gouge the eye out of ary man that says eph yeates carn't stand up fair and square and whop his weight in wildcats; and i can do it now, _if_ not sooner!" he shrilled. "come on, you pap-eating, apron-stringed, french-daddied--" where the blast of vituperative insult would have spent itself in natural course we were not to know, for in the midst another of the borderers, a wiry little man in greasy deerskin, came up behind the capering ancient, whipped an arm around his neck, and in a trice the two went down, kicking, scratching, buffeting and mauling, as like to a pair of battling bobcats as was ever seen. for a moment i thought my youngster would let them have it out to the finish, but he did not. at his order some of the others pulled the twain apart, reluctantly, i fancied; and when the thing was done the old man caught up his rifle and strode away in blackest wrath without a look behind him. captain forney shrugged and spread his hands as his french father might have done. "now you know wherein our weakness lies, captain ireton," he said. "there goes as true a man and as keen a shot as ever pulled trigger. let him fight in his own way, and he'll take cover and name his man for every bullet in his pouch. but as for yielding to decent authority, or standing against trained troops in open field--" he shrugged again and turned to tighten his saddle-girth. "i see," said i. then i asked him of his plans and intendings, and was told that he and his handful were a-march to join general rutherford, who was gone to the forks of yadkin to break up some tory embodiment thereabouts. "you have your work cut out to dodge the british light-horse, captain forney," said i; capping the venture by telling him what little i knew of tarleton's dispositions, and also of the indian-arming plot i had overheard. "we'll dodge the redcoats, never you fear; we're at our best in that," he rejoined, carelessly. "and as to the cherokee upstirring, that's an old story. the king's men have tried it twice and they have not yet caught jack sevier or jimmie robertson a-napping. ease your mind on that score, captain ireton, and come along with us, if you have nothing better to do. i can promise you hard living, and hard fighting enough to keep it in countenance." at this i was brought down to some consideration of the present and its demands. as fortune's wheel had twirled, i had my life, to be sure; but by the having of it was made the basest traitor to my friend--to jennifer, and no whit less to margery. 'twas out of any thought that i should take the field against the common enemy, leaving this tangled web of mystery and misery behind. in sheerest decency i owed it first to jennifer to make a swift and frank confession of the ill-concluded tale of happenings. that done, i owed it equally to him and margery to find some way to set aside the midnight marriage. so i fell back upon my wound for an excuse, telling the captain that i was not yet fit to take the field--which was true enough. whereupon he and his men set me well beyond the danger of immediate pursuit and we parted company. when i was left alone i had no plan that reached beyond the day's end. since to go to jennifer house by daylight would be to run my neck afresh into the noose, i saw nothing for it but to lie in hiding till nightfall. the hiding place that promised best was the old hunting lodge in the forest, and thitherward i turned my face. it was a wise man who said that he who goes with heavy heart drags heavy feet as well; but while i live i shall remember how that saying clogged the path for me that morning, making the shrub-sweet summer air grow thick and lifeless as i toiled along. for sober second thought, and the unnerving reaction which comes upon the heels of some sharp peril overpast, left me aghast at the coil in which a tricky fate had entangled me. the second thought made plain the dispiteous hardness of it all, showing me how i had reasoned like a boy in planning for retrieval. would jennifer believe my tale, though i should swear it out word for word on the holy evangelists? i doubted it; and striving to see it through his eyes, was made to doubt it more. for death should have been my justifier, and death had played me false. as for setting the midnight marriage aside, i made sure the lawyer tribe could find a way, if that were all. but here there was a loyal daughter of the church to reckon with. loathing her bonds, as any true-hearted maiden must, would margery consent to have them broken by the law? i knew well she would not. though our poor knotting of the tie had been little better than a tragic farce, it lacked nothing of force to bind the tender conscience of a woman bred to look upon the churchly rite as final. so, twist and turn it as i might, the coil was desperate; and as i strode on gloomily, measuring this the first stage in a pilgrimage i had never thought to make, a fire of sullen anger began to smoke and smolder within me, and i could find it in my heart to curse the cruel kindness of my rescuers; to sorrow in my inmost soul that they had come between to make a living recreant of one who would fain have died an honest man. xiv how the baronet played rouge-et-noir the sun was well above the tree-tops, and the morning was abroad for all the furred and feathered wood-folk, when i forsook the indian path to make a prudent circle of reconnaissance around the cabin in the maple grove. happily, there was no need for the cautionary measure. the hunting lodge was undiscovered as yet by any enemy; and when i showed myself my poor black vassals ran to do my bidding, weeping with childish joy to have me back again. since old darius was still at appleby hundred, tomas ranked as majordomo; and i bade him post the blacks in a loosely drawn sentry line about the cabin, this against the chance that falconnet might stumble on the place in searching for me. for i made no doubt his tory spies would quickly pass the word that i was not with abram forney's band, and hence must be in hiding. when all was done i flung myself upon the couch of panther-skins, hoping against hope that sleep might come to help me through the hours of waiting. 'twas a vain hope. there was never a wink of forgetfulness for me in all the long watches of the summer day, and i must lie wide-eyed and haggard, thinking night would never come, and making sure that fate had never before walled a man in such a dungeon of despair. there was no loophole of escape with honor; the heavens were brass, with all the horizons narrowed to a bounding wall to hem me in on every side. there was no sally-port in all this wall save one--the one that death had promised to open at the dawn. the promise had been broken. true, death had thrust the key within the lock, and i had heard the grating of the bolts; and yet the key had been withdrawn and i was left a prisoner of life. there was no hope of other outlet. now there was space to view it calmly, i saw how foolish was the thought that margery would connive at any breaking of the marriage bond. she would bear my name, and hate me for the giving of it; would go on hating me, i thought, to all eternity; but she would never take her freedom back again, save at a dead man's hands. it was thus that each fresh scanning of the prison wall that shut me in this dungeon of dishonor fetched me once and again to this one sally-port of death. and when it came to this; that i had searched in vain for other outlet, you will not think it strange that i sat down in spirit at this postern to see if i might open it with my own hands. it was not love of life that made me hesitate. at two-score years he who has lived at all has lived his best; and if he live beyond the turning point of youthful ardor he must beg the grace of younger men to linger yet a little longer on the stage which once was his and now is theirs. no, it was not any love of life for life's own sake that held me back. 'twas rather that the ireton blood is linked up with that thing we call a conscience, a heritage from those simple-hearted ancestors to whom the suicide was a soul accurst--a soul impenitent, whose very outer husk of flesh and bones they used to bury at the crossing of the ways, with a sharpened stake to pinion it. 'twas this ancestral conscience made me cowardly; and when the sight of my father's sword--darius had rescued and restored it to its place upon the chimney-breast--would set me thinking of the israelitish king, and how, when all was lost, he fell upon his blade and died, this horror of the suicide came to give me pause. besides, that way to right the double wrong was not so clear as it might seem. as matters stood, my living for the present was margery's best safeguard. till she became my widow and my heir-at-law, the mercenary baronet would play his cards to win her honorably. i doubted not he'd make hot love to her; but while she stayed a wife, and was not yet a widow, he'd keep his passion decently in bounds, if only for the better compassing of his end. but from this horn of the dilemma i slipped to fall upon the other. if my living on as margery's husband was her safety for the time, it was an offering of idol-meats upon the altar of my dear lad's friendship. what would he think of me? how could i go about to make it plain that i had robbed him for his own honor's sake?--that it was not i but fate that was to blame? these questions came up answerless, like deep-sea plummets where no bottom is. i saw the way no farther on than this; that i must go straightway to jennifer and tell him all. beyond that point the darkness was egyptian, and i could only hope that tricky fate would turn again and blot me out, and make it plain to richard, and to my dear lady, that love, and not base treachery, had set me on to do as i had done. in some such dismal grindings of the mill of thought the hours of waiting were outworn at length; and when the sun was dipping to the mountains in the west i rose and washed me in the brook, and afterward constrained myself to eat what tomas had prepared for me. the sunset glow was fading in the upper air, and underneath the canopy of leaves the wood was darkening on to twilight, when i made ready to be gone. because i thought i might have need of it before the night was done, i buckled on the heirloom sword; and telling tomas and the other blacks for their own safety to keep an alarm guard waking through the night, i sallied forth upon my errand. i've wished a thousand times, as i sit here before the fire and jot these memories down in crabbed black on white, that i could conjure up for you some speaking picture of this scene primeval in which the story moves. true, its hills and valleys are the same; the river keeps its course; and in the west the mountain sky-line is unchanged. but here similitude is at an end. you've hacked the virgin forest into shapes and fringes where once it was an ample mantle seamed only by the rivers, and frayed here and there at distant intervals by the settler's ax. beneath this mantle lay a world unlike the world you know. plunged in its furtive depths you felt the spell of nature's mystery upon you; the mystery of the hoary wood, age-old, steeped in the nepenthe of the centuries. in brightest summer day, which, in these forest aisles, became a misty green translucence, the silence, the vastness, the solitude laid each a finger on you, bidding you go softly all the way. but in the twilight hour the real held still more aloof, and all the shadows bristled with dim fantastic shapes to awe and affright the alien-born. i was not alien-born. from earliest childhood i had known and loved these forest solitudes. yet now, as when i was a little lad, the twilight shadows awed me. here it was a gnarled and twisted tree-trunk so like a crouching panther that i sprang aside and had the steel half out before the clearer vision came. there it was the figure of a man gliding stealthily from tree to tree, it seemed; keeping even pace with me as if with sinister intent. i pushed on faster, drawing the sword to keep me better company, though inwardly i scoffed and jeered at this new twittering of the nerves. what threat was there for me in silent shadows in the wood? the dogs i had to fear were bred in british kennels, and there was never any lack of clamor when they were beating up a cover. yet this persistent shadow clung upon my footsteps until from casting furtive glances sidewise i came to holding it craftily in the tail of my eye. 'twas surely moving as i moved, and surely drawing nearer. i picked a time and place, measured my distance, and darting suddenly aside, sent home a thrust which should have pinned the phantom to a tree. "ugh! what for captain long-knife want kill the tree?" the voice came from behind, and when i wheeled again my shadow was become incarnated in flesh and blood; a stalwart indian, naked to the belt, standing so near he could have pricked me with his scalping knife. it was god's mercy that by some swift intuition i knew him for the friendly catawba. it is an ill thing to take a frighted man unawares. "uncanoola?" said i. he nodded. "where 'bouts captain long-knife going?" i told him briefly; whereat he shook his head. "no find captain jennif' this way; find him _that_ way," pointing back along the path. "how does the chief know that? has he seen him?" though my long exile had well-nigh cost me the trick of it, i made shift to drop into the stately indian hyperbole. "wah! uncanoola has seen the great water: that make him have long eyes--see heap things." "will the catawba tell the friend whose life he saved what he has seen?" "uncanoola see heap things," he repeated. "see captain jennif' so"--he threw himself flat upon the ground and pictured me a fugitive crawling snake-like through the underwood. "bime-by, come to river and find canoe--jump in and paddle fas'; bime-by, 'gain, stop paddling and laugh and shake fist this way, and say 'god-damn.'" by this i knew that jennifer had escaped; nay, more; had somehow learned of my escape and was seeking me. "is that all the chief saw?" i asked. "ugh! see heap more things: see one thing white squaw no let him tell captain long-knife. maybe some time tell, anyhow." "the white squaw?" said i. "who is she?" the catawba laughed, an indian laugh, silent and suppressed; a mere shaking of the ribs. "no can tell that, neither, too," he said. then, with a swift dart aside from the subject: "captain long-knife care much 'bout black dogs yonder?" i knew he meant the negroes at the hunting lodge. "the white man cares for the black as a kind master should," i returned. the indian spat upon the ground in token of his hatred and contempt for all the black skins in his fatherland. i never understood this bitter race antipathy between the red and black, but 'tis a tale well written out in many a bloody massacre of that earlier day. "the wolves will kill all the black dogs and drink their blood before the moon is awake. uncanoola has spoken." i sheathed my sword and turned to take the backward trace. "captain long-knife will go and fight for his black dogs with wool on their heads?" he queried. "if need be," i asserted. "wah!" he ejaculated, and at the word was gone as if the earth had swallowed him. i lost no time in indecision. since jennifer was abroad, i had no business at the plantations; and if tomas and the other refugees were like to come to harm, i could do no less than hasten back to warn or help them. so i retraced my steps, hurriedly, as the business urged; and saw no more shadows in the ancient wood--in truth, had much ado to see the single step ahead, so thickly did the darkness gather in those skyless depths. i was breasting the last low hill, was come so near that i could hear the murmur of the river, when in the farthest hazy vista of the tree-tops a softened glow appeared, changing the black to green and then to red. 'twas like the childish africans, i said, to draw a secret sentry line for safety's sake, and then to build a fire to advertise it far and wide. truly, the catawba's wolves might find an easy-- a chattering scream of agony sent shrill and sharp upon the stillness of the night halted me and broke the gibing comment in the midst. i stood and listened. the cry rang out again; then i loosed the andrea in its scabbard and fell a-running, though the half-healed wound scanted me sorely of the breath i wanted. the cabin clearing, or rather the thinned-out grove which stood in lieu thereof, was but a niggard acre hemmed in on every side, save that toward the river, by the virgin forest. for cover there were holly thickets here and there, and into one of these i plunged, creeping on hands and knees to gain a hidden view-point. the scene in the little clearing was one to brand itself in lasting shapes upon the memory. a brush heap newly kindled gave out a dusky glow flaring in waves of smoky red against the over-arching foliage. the open space around the cabin was alive with half-naked savages running to and fro; and in the gloom beyond the fire i saw a shadowy horseman backed by others still more phantom-like. there was no mystery about it. my enemy had come with sleuth-hound indians at his back to run me down. the savages were, no doubt, that band of over-mountain cherokees pledged by their chief to pilot the powder convoy; and by their help the baronet had tracked me. this was the first thought, caught at in passing; but when i came to look again i saw what had been done. sprawled on the ground before the burning brush pile, his wrinkled face a hideous mask of suffering, with the eyeballs starting from their sockets in the death-wrench, lay my faithful darius. by what inhuman tortures they had made him point the way, or how or why they slew him at the last, i know not, but i made sure it was his death-scream that had halted me and set the stillness of the forest alive with ghastly echoes. at sight of the stiffening body of the faithful slave you may suppose my blood ran cold and hot by turns, and that his blood cried out for vengeance from the sod that soaked it up. with ten years more of youth and less of age i might have tried to hew my way to falconnet's stirrup, and so to square accounts with him. but had i been a-mind to rush upon the stage without my cue, another climax in the ghastly tragedy forbade it. this climax turned upon the capture of my horse-boy, tomas. the other blacks, it seemed, had made good their escape; but tomas, lagging behind through fear or foolishness, had given these copper-colored devils leave to run him down and drag him back into the fire light, with yells of savage triumph. they flung him down upon his knees beside the captain's horse, and though i caught but here and there a word above the frenzied yipping of the indians, it was plain the baronet was asking him of me. i could not hear the black boy's gibbering answers, but that he would not tell them what they wished to know--could not, indeed, since i had left no word behind to track me by--was quickly evident. a cord was found, and while i crouched behind the holly screen, aghast and helpless as one against two-score or more, they looped him by the thumbs and swung him up to dangle from a maple bough a musket's length or such a matter before the cabin door. he bore the torture patiently, as some poor dumb beast suffering at the hand of man, and would not part his lips for all the captain's curses. but this was only the merciful beginning. with yells of savage fury the indians carried brands to make a slow fire at his feet; and, lest that should not be enough, a brace of them climbed to the roof, tore off the splits for kindling, and set the cabin wall alight behind him. you may thank god, my dears, that you are living in a kindlier age. mayhap the savage, now a-march toward the setting sun, is still as pitiless as he was; but not in any corner of the world, i think, would anglo-saxon men, wearing the king's or any other uniform, be witnesses unmoved of such a devil's carnival of torment as this that made me nauseate with horror. as with the stretching of the cord the wretched black spun slowly round and round before the growing blaze, his cries were something terrible to hear. and when the fire light played upon his face it was a sight to freeze the blood: the eyes shut tight against the shriveling heat, the cracking lips drawn back, the black skin changing to a dry and sickly brown. and ever and anon between the shrieks the parched lips shaped a plea: "o massa! massa cap'm! shoot po' nigga and let um die!" this plea for cruel kindness cut me to the marrow of my bones; and lacking means to save his life, i thought i might at least make shift to try to put him out of misery. the enemy's dispositions favored me. the savages, drunk with lust of blood, leaped and danced around their victim. falconnet sat his horse apart beneath the maples, and with his bodyguard of troopers, was well within the borderland of lurid shadow where the fire light mingled with the night. i crept away and made a swift detour to the right to come behind the rearmost horseman of the troop. as his ill luck would have it, his horse, affrighted at the firelit pandemonium, was in the act of wheeling to run away. being cumbered with a musket, the man made clumsy work of handling his mount, and when the beast came down in a snorting tremble to rear afresh at sight of me, the man flung away the musket and drew his sword. in cooler blood i might have given him his soldier's chance, but here again it was another's life or mine. even so, i might have fought him fair, had he but held his tongue and fought in silence. but this he would not, so i had to quiet him or have the others about my ears upon his shoutings. that done, i snatched the musket that had cost the man his life, and, staying not to see what should befall, ran back to cover. in the interval of weapon-getting the fire against the cabin wall had gnawed its way from log to log and now was lapping with its yellow tongues beneath the eaves. but lest the victim should not suffer long enough, the indians were at work in yelling frenzy, flogging the blaze with green branches broken from the trees so that the fire itself should not be merciful. i waited till the slowly spinning figure of the black should turn and make a mark i could not miss. the pause gave space for some swift steadying of the nerves, but with the colder thought it also brought a fierce and terrible temptation. the finger on the musket's trigger held a life in pawn, and i might pick and choose and say what life i'd take. i glanced aside at falconnet. he was a fairer mark than my poor tomas, and by the laws of god and man had earned his death. the tortured slave had little time to suffer at the worst, and with the bullet that would give him surcease i could well avenge him. more than this; that bullet planted in my enemy's heart would save my lady margery harmless, leaving me free to go to my own place and so to right the wrong that i had done. all in the pivoting instant of the pause the musket swung slowly round as of its own volition, and through its sights i saw the slashings, gold on red, across the breasting of his captain's riding coat. one little crooking of the trigger-finger and the lead had gone upon its errand. but at the balancing instant that piteous cry was lifted once again: "o massa! massa cap'm! god 'a' mussy--shoot po' nigga and let 'um die!" i did as any other man would do, as you have guessed. the great king's musket swept another arc, and roared and belched and spat its messenger of death; and my poor tomas had the boon he prayed for. and then, as if the musket flash and roar had been a lodestone and these fierce cherokees so many bits of steel to cluster thick upon it, i was surrounded in the twinkling of an eye, and whizzing hatchets and rifle bullets whining sibilant were but an earnest of the fate i had invited. xv in which a hatchet sings a man to sleep in such a coil as this i'd looped about me there was nothing for it, as it seemed, but to draw the steel and die as a soldier should. so i broke cover on the forest side of the holly thicket with a yell as fierce as theirs, and picked a tree to set my back against, and ran for it. i never reached the tree. in mid career, when all the cherokee wolf pack was bursting through the holly tangle at my heels, two men, a white man and an indian, ran in ahead, as i supposed to cut me off. just then the dry roof of the hunting lodge roared aflame, reddening the forest far and near. the light was at my back and on the faces of the two who ran to meet me. a great sob swelled in my throat and choked me, but i ran the faster. for these were my dear lad and the friendly catawba, charging gallantly to cover my retreat. it was a ready help in time of need. they ran in bravely, the chief ahead, twirling his tomahawk for the throw, with dick a pace to right and rear, his two great pistols brandished and the grandsire of all the broadswords dangling by a thong at his wrist. "follow the chief!" he shouted in passing; and at the word the catawba stopped short, sent his hatchet whistling into the yapping pack behind me, and swerved to run aside and point the way for me. left to myself, i hope i should have had the grace to stand with jennifer. but at the turning point of indecision the quick-witted indian read my thought, and snatching the sword from my hand, gave me no choice but to follow him. so i ran with him; but as i fled i looked behind and saw a sight to put the ancient hero tales to the blush. one man against two-score my brave dick stood, while through the underwood the mounted soldiery came to make the odds still greater. he never flinched for all the hurtling missiles sent on ahead to cut him down, nor gave a glance aside to where the horsemen were deploying to surround him. as i looked, the two great pistols belched in the very faces of the nearest cherokees; and in the momentary check the firearms made, the basket-hilted claymore went to work, rising and falling like a weaver's beam. i saw no more; but some heart-bursting minutes later, when jennifer came racing on behind to share the flight his heroic stand had made a possibility, the swelling sob choked me once again; and when i thought of what this his rescue of me meant to him, i could have blubbered like a boy. but there was little time or space to give remorse an inning. the cherokees, checked but for the moment, were storming hotly at our heels. and as we ran i heard the shouted command of falconnet to his mounted men: "a rescue! right oblique, and head them in the road! gallop, you devils!" we ran in indian file, i at the chief's heels and jennifer at mine. i followed the catawba blindly; and being as yet little better than half a man in breath and muscle, was well-nigh spent before we crashed down through a tangled briar thicket into the river road. we were in time, but with no fraction of a minute to spare. we could hear the _pad-pad-pad_ of the light-footed runners close upon us, following now by the noise we made; and on our left the air was trembling to the thunder of the mounted men coming at a break-neck gallop down the road. "thank god!" says richard, with a quick eyeshot to right and left in the lesser gloom of the open. "i was afeard even the chief might miss the place in the dark. down the bank to the river!--quick, man, and cautious! if they smell us out now, we're no better than buzzard-meat!" and when we reached the water's edge: "you taught me how to paddle a pirogue, jack; i hope you haven't lost the knack of it yourself." "no," said i; and the three of us slid the hollowed log into the stream. we were afloat in shortest order, holding the canoe against the current by clinging to the overhanging trees that fringed the bank; yet with paddles poised for a second dash for freedom should the need arise. i should have dipped forthwith to save the precious minutes, but jennifer stayed me. "hist!" he whispered. "hold steady and listen. they can not see us from above; mayhap we've thrown them off the scent." i thought it most unlikely; but his guess was right and mine was wrong. though any of these savages could lift a trail in daylight, following it at top speed like a trained blood-hound, yet now the darkness baffled them. so there was some running to and fro in the road above our heads, and then the troopers galloped down. followed hastily a labored confab through the linguister, broken in the midst by a fury of hot oaths from falconnet; and then the chase swept on toward the plantations, and we were left to make their losing of us sure by whatsoever means we chose. we paddled slowly up stream in silence, keeping well within the blacker shadow of the tree fringe. when we came opposite the glowing ruins of the hunting lodge, jennifer backed upon his paddle. "you'll go ashore?" said he. i said i would, adding: "they have slaughtered poor old darius, and i am loath to leave his bones for the buzzards to pick." he made no comment other than to swear in sympathy. when the pirogue grounded, the indian was out like a cat, to vanish phantom-wise among the trees. i followed in some clumsier fashion, leaving jennifer to keep the canoe; but half way up the hill he joined me, and would not turn back for all my urging. "no; hang me if i'll let you out of eye-grip again," was all he would say; and so we went together, and were together at the seeing of what the glowing ember-heap would show us. poor tomas had his sepulture already. his cord had burned in two and let him down so close beside the cabin wall that all the blazing debris from the overhanging eaves had made his funeral pile. darius lay as i had last seen him; and him we buried in the maize clearing at the back, with the ember glow for funeral lights. it was a chanceful thing to do. since the cherokees had left their dead and wounded, and falconnet the body of his trooper who had yielded me the musket, there was small doubt they would return. yet we had time to dig a shallow grave for my old henchman; to dig and fill it up again; and afterward to make a circuit round the burning pile to reach the river side once more. when we had launched the canoe, and were afloat and ready for the start, the catawba was still missing. "where is the chief, think you?" i asked; but dick's answer, if, indeed, he gave me any, was lost in a chorus of ear splitting yells rending the silence of the night like demon cries. then a single ululation, long drawn and fair blood chilling, answered back, and jennifer swept the pirogue stern to strand with a quick paddle stroke. "that last was uncanoola's war cry; they've doubled back in time to catch him at it!" he cried. "stand by to drive her when i give the word! here he comes!" down the sloping hillside, looking, in the red glow of the ember heap, more like a flying demon than a man, came the catawba, one hand gripping the scalping-knife, the other flung aloft to flaunt his terrible trophies in sight of his pursuers. they were so close upon him that waiting promised death for all of us; so jennifer dipped again to send the canoe a broad jump from the bank. "ready!" he cried. "he'll take the water like a fish, and we can pick him up afterward--_now_!" i heard the clean-cut dive of the indian, and struck the paddle deep to balance jennifer's stroke. but as i bent to put my back into it, some flying missile caught me fair behind the ear, and but for jennifer's quick wit i should have swamped the crazy shallop. in a flash he jerked me flat between his knees and sent the pirogue with a mighty thrust beyond the zone of fire light. at that, though all the sense was beaten out of me, i was alive enough to hear the savage yells of disappointed rage behind us; these and the spitting crackle of a dozen rifles fired at random in the darkness. but afterward all sounds, save the rhythmic dip and drip of jennifer's paddle, faded on the sense of hearing till, as it would seem, this gentle monody of dipping blade and tinkling drops became a crooning lullaby to blot out all the years that lay between, and make me once again a little child sinking asleep in my young mother's arms. xvi how jennifer threw a main with death 'tis a sure mark of healthful sleep that it never makes account of time. no odds how long the night, 'tis but a moment from the lapse of consciousness to its recovery in the morning. but this deep sleep that crept upon me as i lay in the pirogue, listening to the tinkling drip from jennifer's paddle, was not of healthful weariness; and when i came awake from it there was a dim and troubled vista of vague and broken dreams to measure off the longest night i could ever remember. the place of this awakening was a burrow in the earth. my bed of bearskins over fragrant pine-tufts was spread upon the ground, and by the flickering light of a handful of fire i could see the earth walls of the burrow, which were worn smooth as if the place had been the well-used den of some wild creature. but overhead there was the mark of human occupancy, since the earth-arch was sooted and blackened with the reek of many fires. when i stirred there was another stir beyond the handful of fire, and jennifer came to kneel beside me, taking my hand and chafing it as a tender-hearted woman might, and asking if i knew him. "know you? why should i not?" i said, wondering why the words took so many breaths between. "o jack!" was all i had in answer; but when he had found a tongue to babble out his joy, i learned the why and wherefore. once more grim death had reached for me, lying await in the twirled tomahawk that set me dreaming of my mother's lap and lullaby. for a week i had lain here upon the bed of pine-tufts, poised upon the brink of the death pit with only my dear lad to hold and draw me back. "a week?" i queried, when he had named the interval. "and you have been here all the time?" "i've never left you, save to forage for the pot," he admitted. "i dared not leave you, jack." "but where are we?" i would ask. "in a den on the river's edge, a mile or more above your sacked cabin. 'tis some dodge-hole hollowed out by the catawbas long ago and shared since by them and the bears, judging from the stinking reek of it. uncanoola steered me hither the night of the raid." "then the chief came off safely?" i said, falling into a dumb and impotent rage that the saying of two words should scant me so of strength to say a third. "right as a trivet--scalps and all," laughed jennifer. "he'll be the envy of every warrior in the tribe when he vaunts himself at the catawbas' council fire." i let it rest a while at that, casting about for words to shape a hungrier question. "have you no news?" i asked, at length. "little or none," he answered shortly. "but you have had some word--some news--from appleby hundred?" i stammered feebly. "nothing you'd care to hear," he rejoined, evasively, i thought. "'tis as you left it, save that tarleton whipped away to the south again as suddenly as he came, and our cursing baronet has made the manor house his headquarters in fact, lodging himself and all his troop on mr. stair. from his lying quiet and keeping the cherokees in tow, there will be some deviltry afoot, i'll warrant." i knew that falconnet was waiting for the powder cargo, but another matter crowded this aside. "but--but margery?" i queried, on sharpest tenter-hooks to know how much or little he had heard. i thought his brow darkened at the question, but mayhap it was only a shadow cast by the flickering fire. at any rate, he laughed hardily. "she is well--and well content, i dare swear. 'twas only yesterday i saw her taking the air on the river road, with falconnet for an escort. you told me once he had a sure hand with the women and it made me mad; but, truly, i have come to think you drew it mild, jack." now though i could ply a decent ready blade, or keep a firing line from lurching at a pinch, i had not learned to put a snaffle on a blundering tongue, as i have said before. "damn him as you please, dick, and he'll warrant it. but you must not judge the lady over harshly, nor always by appearances. she may have flouted you as a boyish lover, and yet i think--" i stopped in sheer bewilderment, shot through and through with keenest agonies of remorseful recollection. for at the moment i had clean forgot the gulf impassable i had set between these two. so i would have lapsed into shamed silence, but jennifer would not suffer it. "well, what is it that you think?" he demanded. "i think--nay, i may say i know that she thinks well of you, dick," i blundered on, seeing no way to put him off. he gripped my hand, and in his eyes there was the light of the old love reawakening. "don't lift me up to fling me down again, jack! how can you know what she thinks of me?" he broke in, eagerly. i should have told him then all there was to tell. he had been thrice my savior, and his heart was soft and malleable on the side of friendship. i knew it--knew that the pregnant moment for full confession had arrived; and yet i could not force my tongue to shape the words. indeed, i saw more clearly than before that never any word of mine could make him understand that i was not a faithless traitor in intention. so i paltered with the truth, like any wretched coward of them all. "you forget that i have come to know her well," i said. "i was a month or more under the same roof with her, and in that time she told me many things." now, this witless speech was no better than a whip to flog him on. "what things?" he questioned, promptly. "oh, many things. she spoke often of you." "what did she say of me, jack? tell me what she said," he begged. "it can make no difference now; she is less than nothing to me--nay,'tis even worse than that, since she would play delilah if she could. but oh, jack, i love her!--i should love her if i stood on the gallows and she stood by to spring the drop and turn me off!" truly, if the lash of remorse had lacked its keenest thong, this passionate outburst of his would have added it. none the less, i must needs be weaker than water and fall back another step and put him off. "another time, richard. i am strangely unnerved and dizzy-headed now. by and by, when i am stronger, i will tell you all." taking a reproach where none was meant, he sprang up with a self-aimed malison upon his lack of care for me, stirred the fire alive and brewed me a most delicious-smelling cup of broth. and afterward, when i had drunk the broth with some small beckonings of returning appetite, he spread his coat to screen me from the fire light and would have driven me to sleep again. "at any rate, you shall not talk," he promised. "if you are wakeful i will talk to you and tell you what little i have gleaned about the fighting." his news was chiefly a later repetition of father matthieu's and captain abram forney's, but there was this to add: the congress had appointed the englishman, horatio gates, chief of the army in the south, and this new leader was on his way to take command. de kalb, with the maryland and delaware lines and colonel armand's legion, was encamped on deep river, waiting for the newly-appointed general; and caswell and griffith rutherford, with the militia, were already pressing forward to some handgrips with my lord cornwallis in the south. nearer at hand, the partizan war-fire flamed afresh wherever a tory company met a patriot, and there were wicked doings, more like savage massacres than fair-fought battles of the soldier sort. when he had made an end of his small war budget, i set him on to tell me how he came to be at hand to help me so in the nick of time on the night of the cabin sack. "'twas partly chance," he said. "a redcoat troop had me in durance at jennifer house, and while they affected to hold me at parole, i never gave consent to that, and so was kept a prisoner. they shut me in the wine-bin with a guard, and when the fellow was well soaked and silly, i bound and gagged him and broke jail. i took the river for it, meaning to outlie until the hue and cry was over; and just at dusk uncanoola dropped upon me and told me of your need. from that to helping him cut you out of your raffle with the cherokees was but a hand's turn in the day's work." "a lucky turn for me," i said; and then at second thought i would deny the saying, though not for him to hear. but this was dangerous ground again, and i clawed off from it like a desperate mariner tempest-driven on a lee shore; asking him how he had learned the broadsword play, and where he got the antique claymore. he laughed heartily, and more like my care-free dick, this time. "thereby hangs a tale. i told you how i was out with the minute men in ' at moore's creek, where we fought the scotchmen. it was our first pitched battle, and i opine it smelled somewhat of severity on both sides--no quarter was asked, and the tory macdonalds fought like fiends for king george, small cause as they had to love the house of hanover." "how was that?" i would ask, being as little familiar with the low country settlements as any native-born carolinian could be. "they were expatriates for the pretender's sake, many of them. mistress flora's husband was one of the prisoners we took. but, as i was saying, they were tories to a man, and they fought wickedly. when it was over, the prisoners would have fared hardly but for a woman. in the thick of the fight, mistress mary slocumb, of dobbs, whose husband was with us, came storming down upon the field, having rode a-gallop some forty-odd miles because she dreamed her goodman was killed. she begged for the prisoners, and so caswell hanged only those who were blood guilty--these and the house burners. a raw-boned piper named m'gillicuddy fell to my lot, and he is now my majordomo at jennifer house; as honest a fellow as ever skirled a pibroch." "that was like you," i said; "to make a friend and retainer out of your prisoner. and so this highland piper has been your fencing master, has he?" "'twas he taught me what little i know of the claymore play; and this stout old blade is his. 'tis as good as a woodman's ax when you have the knack of swinging it." "truly," said i. "also, you seemed to have the knack, and the strength as well, in spite of the crippled arm you were carrying in a sling the night before when they haled you into colonel tarleton's court at appleby." "a little ruse of war," he said, laughing and making a fist to show me his arm was strong and sound again. "'twas m'gillicuddy put me up to it, saying they would be like to deal the gentler with a wounded man. but how came you to know?" here was another chance to tell him what he should be told, but the words would not say themselves. "i stood within arm's reach of you that night," said i; and from that i hastened swiftly through the story of my trial as a spy and what it came to in the morning, and never mentioned margery's part in it at all. "you have a bitter enemy in frank falconnet," was his comment, when i had made an end of this recounting of my adventures. "he knows you are in hiding hereabouts, and has been scouring the neighborhood well for you--or, more belike, for both of us." "how do you know this?" i asked. "i have both seen and heard. this den of ours opens on the river's edge, and, two days since, his indians came within an ace of nabbing me. 'twas just at dusk, and i made out to dodge them by doubling past in the canoe." "but you say you have heard, as well?" "yes." "how?" "don't ask me, jack." i said i had no right to ask more than he chose to tell; and at this he blurted out an oath and let me have the sharp-edged truth. "falconnet has an ally whose wit is shrewder than his. can you guess who it is?" "no." "'tis this same madge stair you have been defending, jack," he said, bitterly. "it seems that falconnet made sure we had both gone to join the army, which was but natural. if she were less than the spiteful little tory vixen that she is, she would have been content to let it rest so. but she would not let it rest so. with her own lips she assured falconnet he still had us to reckon with; nay, more--she made a boast of it that we would never go so far away from her." weak and fever-shaken as i was, i yet made shift to get upon my elbow feebly fierce, denouncing it hotly for a lie. "who slandered her like this, dick? put a name to the cur, and as i live and get my strength again, i'll hunt him down and choke him with that lie!" "nay," he objected soberly; "that would be my quarrel, were there ever a peg to hang a quarrel on. but it came by a sure hand, and one that is friendly enough to all concerned. an old free borderer, ephraim yeates by name, brought me the tale. he had been spying round at appleby hundred, wanting to know, for some purpose of his own, why the redcoats and cherokees were hanging on so long; and this much he overheard one night when he was outlying under the window of the withdrawing-room. he says she was in a pretty passion at the baronet's slackness, stamping her foot at him and lashing him with the taunt that he was afeard of one or both of us." i fell back on the bearskins to shut my eyes and call up all the might of love to grapple with this fresh misery. it was in this fierce conflict of faith against apparent fact that i descried the parting of the ways for the lover and the husband. jennifer believed this most incredible thing, and yet he loved her--would go on loving her, as he had said, in spite of all. that was the lover's road, and i could never bear him company on it. could i believe her so pitiless cruel as this, i made sure no husband-love could live beyond that moment of conviction. but at this perilous pass the husband's road ran truer than the lover's. richard believed her capable of this hard-hearted thing and went on loving her blindly in spite of it. but as for me, i said i would never give belief an inch of standing-room; that had i stood in ephraim yeates's shoes, having the witness of my own eyes and ears, i would still have found excuse and exculpation for her. i stole a glance at jennifer. he was sitting with his face in his hands, a silent figure of a strong man humbled. he had called her a delilah, and the green withes of her binding cut sore into the flesh. "you say you love her, dick; can you believe her capable of this, and yet go on loving her?" i asked. he let me see his face. it was haggard and grief-marred. "i'd pay the devil's own price could i say 'no' to that, jack. but i can not." "then i swear i love her better than you do, richard jennifer. she hates me well--god knows she has good cause to hate me fiercely; yet i would trust her with my life." i looked to see him pin me down at this; and though the words had fairly shaped and said themselves, i laid fast hold of my courage and was prepared to make them good. but he would only smile and draw the bearskin cover over me, tucking me in as tenderly as a mother, and saying very gently: "so she has bewitched you, too; and now there are two poor fools of love instead of one. but you are stronger than i, jack. you will break the spell and put it down and live beyond it, and that i never shall--god help me!" and with that, he went to his own bed beside the fire, telling me i must lie quiet and try to sleep. i did lie quiet, but sleep came not, nor did i woo it. for long past the time when i could hear his measured breathing, i lay awake to plan how i might draw the baronet's man-hunt to myself, and so free my loyal richard of the peril that by rights was mine. xvii showing how love took toll of friendship for some few days after jennifer's narrow escape at the entrance to our hiding place, the cherokees were hot upon our scent, quartering the forest on both banks of the river, determined, as it seemed, to hunt or starve us out. it was in this time of siege that i came to know, as i had not known before, the depth and tenderness of my dear lad's love for me. while the life-tide was at its ebb and i was querulous and helpless weak, he was my leech and nurse and heartening friend in one. and later, when the tide was fairly turned and i had found my soldier's appetite again, he spent many of the nights abroad and never let me guess what risks he ran to fetch me dainties from the outer world. in this night raiding no danger was too great to hold him back from serving me. once, when we were washing down our evening meal of meat and maize cake with plain cold water, i mourned the good wine idling in its bin at jennifer house. at that, without a word to me, he took the whole night for a perilous adventure and fetched a dozen bottles of the jennifer port to make me choke and strangle at the thought of what its bringing had cost in toil and hazard. another time i spoke of english beef, saying how it would rebuild a man at need--how it had made the english soldier what he is. whereupon, as before, my loving forager took a hint where none was intended; was gone the night long, and slaughtered me some tory yearling,--'twas mr. gilbert stair's, i mistrusted, though dick would never name the owner, and so i had a sirloin to my breakfast. in these and many other ways he spent himself freely for love of me. if he had been a younger brother of my own blood the common parentage could not have made him tenderer. 'twas not the mere outgushing of a nature open-armed to make a bosom friend of all the world; nor any feminine softness on his part. if i have drawn him thus my pen is but a clumsy quill, for he was manly-rough and masterful, with all the native strength and vigor of the border-born. but on the side of love and friendship no woman ever had a truer heart, a keener eye or a lighter hand. and in a service for friend or mistress he would spend himself as recklessly as those old knights you read about who made a business of their chivalry. with his daily offerings of unselfishness to shame me, you may be sure that i was flayed alive; self-flogged like a miserable monk, with all the woundings of the whip well salted by remorse. as you have guessed, i had not yet summoned up the courage to tell him how i had staked his chance of happiness upon a casting of the die of fate--staked and lost it. now that it was gone, i saw how i had missed the golden opportunity; how i had weakly hesitated when delay could only make the telling harder. by tacit consent we never spoke of margery. richard's silence hung upon despair, i thought; and as for mine, since the husband's road and the lover's lay so far apart, i could not bring myself to speak of her. but she was always first in my thoughts in that time of convalescence, as i made sure she was in his; and at the last the hidden thing between us was brought to light. it was on a night some three weeks or more after my fever turn. our larder had run low again, and jennifer had spent the earlier hours of the night abroad--to little purpose, as it chanced. 'twas midnight or thereabouts when he came swearing in to tell me that the tories were out again to harry our side of the river afresh, and to make a refugee's begging of a bag of meal a thing of peril. "they'll starve us out in shortest measure at this rate," he prophesied. "they have trampled down all the standing corn for miles around, and this morning they burned the mill. 'tis our notice to quit, and we'd best take it. there has been fighting to the south of us--a plenty of it--at rocky mount and hanging rock, and elsewhere, and every man is needed. if you are strong enough to stand the march, we'll run the gantlet down the river in the pirogue and cut across from the lower ford to join major davie or mr. gates." i said i was fit enough, and would do whatever he thought best. and then i took a step upon the forbidden ground. "falconnet is still at appleby hundred?" i said. he nodded. "and you will join the army at the front and leave margery to his tender mercies?" his laugh was bitter; so bitter that i scarce knew it for richard jennifer's. "mistress margery stair is well, and well content, as i told you once before. she has no wish for you or me, unless it be to see us well hanged." "nay, richard; you judge her over-harshly. i fear you do not love her as her lover should." "say you so? listen: to-night i got as far as the manor house, being fool enough to risk my neck for another sight of her. god help me, jack! i had it. they have scraped together all the tory riff-raff this side of the river--falconnet and the others--and are holding high revel at appleby. since it is still our true-blue borderland, they are scant enough of women of their own kidney, and i saw madge dancing like any light o' love with every jackanapes that offered." "in her father's house she could not well do less," i averred, cut to the heart, as he was, and yet without his younger lover's jealousy to make me unjust. "or more," he added, savagely. "'tis as i say; she lacks nothing we can give her, and we'd as well be off about our business." i think he never had it in his heart to leave her in any threat of danger. but from his point of view there was no danger threatening her save that which she seemed willing enough to rush upon--a life of titled misery as lady falconnet. i saw how he would see it; saw, too, that his was the saner summing of it up. and yet-- he broke into my musings with a pointed question. "what say you, jack? 'tis but a little whiffet of a tory jade who cares not the snap of her finger for either of us. the night is fine and dark. shall we float the canoe and give them all the slip?" this was how it came to turn upon a "yes" or "no" of mine. i hesitated, i know not why. in the little pause the fire burned low between us, and the shadows deepened in the burrow cavern until they strangled the eye as mephitic vapors scant a man of breath. the silence, too, was stifling. there was no sound to breach it save the gurgling murmur of the river, and this was subdued and intermittent like the death-rattle in the throat of the dying. i've always made a scoff of superstition, and yet, my dears, a thousand questions in this life of ours must hang answerless to the crack of doom if you deny it standing-room. i knew no more than i have set down here of margery's besetment; nay, i had every reason richard jennifer had to believe that she was well and well content, lacking nothing, save, mayhap, the freedom to marry where she chose. and yet, out of the stifling silence there came a sudden cry for help; a cry voiceless to the outward ear, but sharp and piercing to that finer inward sense; a cry so real that i would start and listen, marveling that jennifer made no sign of having heard it. in the harkening instant there was a faint twang like the thrumming of a distant harp string, and then the grave-like silence was rent smartly by the whistling hiss of an arrow, the shaft passing evenly between us and scattering the handful of fire where it struck. jennifer came alive with a start, leaping up with a malediction between his teeth upon our dallying. "too late, by god!" he cried. "they've trapped us like a pair of blind moles!" and with that he caught up the ancient broadsword, only to swear again when he found no room to swing it in. having the handier weapon, i slipped out before him, creeping on hands and knees till i could see the leafy screen at the den's mouth, and the shimmering reflection of the stars upon the water beyond it. there was no sight nor sound of any enemy, and the canoe lay safe as jennifer had left it. to make assurance sure, i would have scrambled to the bank above; but at the moment jennifer hallooed softly to me, and so i crept back into the burrow. "see here," he said, excitedly. "what a devil will you make of this?" he had drawn the scattered embers together, fanning them ablaze again, and had sought and found the arrow. it was a blunt-head reed and no war shaft. and around the middle of it, tightly wrapped and tied with silken threads, was a little scroll of parchment. "'tis the catawba's arrow," said jennifer, though how he knew i could not guess; and then he cut the threads to free the scroll. unrolled and spread at large, the parchment proved to be that map of captain stuart's that i had found and lost again. and on the margin of it was my note to jennifer, written in that trying moment when the bribed sentry waited at the door and my sweet lady stood trembling beside me, murmuring her "holy marys." "read it," said i. "it explains itself. tarleton had laid me by the heels to wait for the hangman, and i would have passed the word about the indian-arming on to you. but my messenger was overhauled, and--" "yes, yes," he broke in; "i've spelled it out. but this line added at the bottom--surely, that is never your crabbed fist. by heaven! 'tis in madge's hand!" he knelt to hold it closer to the flickering firelight, and we deciphered it together. it was but a line, as he had said, with neither greeting nor leave-taking, address nor signature. "if this should come into the hands of any true-hearted gentleman"--here was a blot as if the pen had slipped from the fingers holding it; and then, in french, the very wording of the inarticulate cry that had come to me out of the darkness and silence: "_a moi! pour l'amour de dieu!_" we fell apart, each to his own side of the handful of embers. "you make it out?" said i, after a moment of strained silence. he nodded. "she has prattled the parlez-vous to me ever since we were boy and maid together." a full minute more of the threatening silence, and at the end of it we were glaring at each other like two wild creatures crouching for the spring. it was jennifer who spoke first. "'twas meant for me," he said; and his voice had the warning of a mastiff's growl in it. "no!" said i, curtly. "i say it was!" "then you say the thing which is not." had i been richard jennifer, i know not what bitter reproach i should have found to hurl at the man who had thrice owed his life to me. but he said no word of what had gone before. "you may give me the lie, if you like, john ireton; i shall not strike you." he said it slowly, but his face was gray with anger. then he added, hotly: "you know well that word was meant for me!" at this--god forgive me!--my jealous wrath broke bounds and i cursed him for a beardless coxcomb who must needs think he stood alone in the eye of every woman he should meet. "she needs a man!" i raged, lost now to every sense of decent justice, "a man, i say! and to whom would she send if not to her--" i choked upon the word. he had risen with me, and we stood face to face in that grim earth-womb, snarling fiercely at each other across the narrow firelit space; two men with every tie to knit us close together, and yet--god save us all!--a pair of wild beasts strung up to the killing pitch because, forsooth, we must needs front each other across a deadline drawn by the finger of a woman! god knows what would have come of all this had my dear lad been as fierce a fool as i. 'twas his good common sense that saved us both, i think, for when the savage rival madness was at its height he turned away, swearing we were the very pick and choice of a world of asses to stand thus feeling for each other's throats when, mayhap, the lady needed both of us. this brought me to my senses at a gallop, as you would guess; to them and to the lighting of the conscience fire within whereon to grill the wicked heart that but now had thirsted for a brother's blood. "now god have mercy on us both!" i groaned. "forgive me, dick, if you can; i was as mad as any bedlamite. if i have any claim on her, 'tis not of her good will, you may be sure. you have the baronet to fear--not me." he shook his head and pointed to the parchment--to the line in french. "francis falconnet was under the same roof with her--or at least in easy call--when she wrote that, jack. he is no longer my rival--nor yours." his word set me thinking, and i would fall to picking out the strands that jealous wrath had woven for me into the web of happenings. setting aside the story brought by ephraim yeates, there was no certain proof that she had ever favored the englishman; nay, more, till i had come to be madly jealous of falconnet, i had made sure that jennifer was the favored one. at this, as one sees a landscape struck out clear and vivid by the lightning's flash, i saw the true meaning of the word the hunter had brought--saw it and went upon my knees to grope blindly for the sword i had let fall when dick had found the arrow. "what is it, jack?" he asked, gently. "my sword!" i gasped. "we should have been half-way there by this. yeates was misled. 'tis falconnet she fears. she was at bay--hark you, at bay and fair desperate. that word of hers to the baronet was her poor pitiful defiance built on her trust in us, and we have lain here--" he found the sword and thrust it into my hand, crying: "come on! you can strew the dust and ashes on me later. you said you loved her the better, and i do believe it now, jack! you trusted her, as i did not. we'll fight as one man to cut her out of this coil, whatever it may be; and after that is done i'll make my bow and leave you a fair field." "nay, nay; that you shall not, dick," i began; but he was half-way through the narrow passage to the open, trailing the ancient broadsword and the bearskin from his bed; and i was fain to follow quickly, leaving the protest all unfinished. xviii in which we hear news from the south as near as might be guessed, it wanted yet an hour or two of daybreak when we made a landing within the boundaries of appleby hundred, and beached and hid the pirogue in the bushes. of the down-stream flitting through the small hours of the warm midsummer night there is no sharp-etched picture on the memory page. as i recall it, no spoken word of jennifer's or mine came in to break the rhythm of the hasting voyage. our paddles rose and fell, dipping and sweeping in unison as if we two, kneeling in bow and stern, were separate halves of some relentless mechanism driven by a single impulse. overhead the starlit dome circled solemnly to the right or left to match the windings of the stream. on each hand the tree-fringed shores sped backward in the gloom; and beneath the light shell of poplar wood that barely kissed the ripples in passing, the river lapped and gurgled, chuckling weirdly at the paddle plungings, and swirling aft in the longer reaches to point at us down the lengthening wake with a wavering finger silver-tipped in the wan starlight. with the canoe safely hidden at the landing place, which was some little distance from that oak grove where i had twice kept tryst with death, we set out for the manor house, skulking indian fashion through the wood; and, when we reached the in-fields, looking momently to come upon a sentry. thinking the approaches from the road and river would be better guarded than that from the wood, we skirted a widespread thicket tangle, spared by my father twenty years before to be a grouse and pheasant cover, and fetching a compass of half a mile or more across the maize fields, came in among the oaks and hickories of the manor grounds. still there was no sight nor sound of any enemy; no light of candles at the house, or of camp-fires beneath the trees. a little way within the grove, where the interlacing tree-tops made the darkness like egyptian night, jennifer went on all fours to feel around as if in search of something on the sward. whereat i called softly to know what he would be at. he rose, muttering, half as to himself: "i thought i'd never be so far out of reckoning." then to me: "a few hours since, the cherokees were encamped just here. you are standing in the ashes of their fire." "so?" said i. "then they have gone?" "gone from this safely enough, to be sure. they have been gone some hours; the cinders are cold and dew wet." "so much the better," i would say, thinking only that now there would be the fewer enemies to fight. he clipt my arm suddenly, putting the value of an oath into his gripping of it. "come awake, man; this is no time to be a-daze!" his whisper was a sharp behest, with a shake of the gripped arm for emphasis. "if the indians are gone, it means that the powder train has come and gone, too." "well?" said i. i was still thinking, with less than a clod's wit, that this would send the baronet captain about his master's business, and so margery would have surcease of him for a time, at least. but jennifer fetched me awake with another whip-lash word or two. "jack! has the night's work gone to your head? if falconnet has got his marching orders you may be sure he's tried by hook or crook to play 'safe bind, safe find,' with madge. by heaven! 'twas that she was afeard of, and we are here too late! come on!" with that he faced about and ran; and forgetting to loose his grip on my arm, took me with him till i broke away to have my sword hand free. so running, we came presently to the open space before the house, and, truly, it was well for us that the place was clean deserted; for by this we had both forgot the very name of prudence. jennifer outran me to the door by half a length, and fell to hammering fiercely on the panel with the pommel of his broadsword. "open! mr. stair; open!" he shouted, between the batterings; but it was five full minutes before the fan-light overhead began to show some faint glimmerings of a candle coming from the rooms beyond. richard rested at that, and in the pause a thin voice shrilled from within. "be off, you runagates! off, i say! or i fire upon ye through the door!" giving no heed to the threat, dick set up his clamor again, calling out his name, and bidding the old man open to a friend. in some notching of the hubbub i heard the unmistakable click of a gun-flint on steel. there was barely time to trip my reckless batterer and to fall flat with him on the door-stone when a gun went off within, and a handful of slugs, breaching the oaken panel at the height of a man's middle, went screeching over us. before i knew what he would be at, richard was up with an oath, backing off to hurl himself, shoulder on, against the door. it gave with a splintering crash, letting him in headlong. i followed less hastily. it was as black as a setter's mouth within, the gun fire having snuffed the old man's candle out. but we had flint and steel and tinder-box, and when the punk was alight, jennifer found the candle under foot and gave it me. it took fire with a fizzing like a rocket fuse, and was well blackened with gunpowder. when the flint had failed to bring the firing spark, the old man had set his piece off with the candle flame. we found him in the nook made by the turn of the stair, flung thither, as it seemed, by the recoil of the great bell-mouthed blunderbuss which he was still clutching. the fall had partly stunned him, but he was alive enough to protest feebly that he would take a dozen oaths upon his loyalty to the cause; that he had mistook us for some thieving marauders of the other side; craftily leaving cause and party without a name till he should have his cue from us. whereupon richard loosed his neckcloth to give him better breathing space, and bidding me see if the revelers had left a heel-tap of wine in any bottle nearer than the wine cellar, lifted the old man and propped him in the corner of the high-backed hall settle. the wine quest led me to the banqueting-room. here disorder reigned supreme. the table stood as the roisterers had left it; the very wreck and litter of a bacchanalian feast. bottles, some with the necks struck off, were scattered all about, and the floor was stained and sticky with spilt wine and well sanded with shattered glass. i found a remnant draining in one of the broken bottles, and a cup to pour it in; and with this salvage from the wreck returned to jennifer and his charge. the old man had come to some better sensing of things,--he had been vastly more frightened than hurt, as i suspected,--and to richard's eager questionings was able to give some feebly querulous replies. "yes, they're gone--all gone, curse 'em; and they've taken every plack and bawbee they could lay their thieving hands upon," he mumbled. "'tis like the dogs; to stay on here and eat and drink me out of house and home, and then to scurry off when i'm most like to need protection." "but madge?" says richard. "is she safe in bed?" "she's a jade!" was all the answer he got. then the old man sat up and peered around the end of the settle to where i stood, cup and bottle in hand. "'tis a christian thought," he quavered. "give me a sup of the wine, man." i served him and had a scottish blessing for my wastefulness, because, forsooth, the broken bottle spilt a thimbleful in the pouring. i saw he did not recognize me, and was well enough content to let it rest thus. richard suffered him to drink in peace, but when the cup was empty he renewed his asking for margery. at this the master of the house, heartened somewhat by my father's good madeira, made shift to get upon his feet in some tremulous fashion. "madge, d'ye say? she's gone; gone where neither you nor that dour-faced deevil that befooled us all will find her soon, i promise you, dickie jennifer!" he snapped; and i gave them my back and stumbled blindly to the door, making sure his next word would tell my poor wronged lad all that he should have learned from never any other lips but mine own. but richard himself parried the impending stroke of truth, saying: "so she is safe and well, mr. stair, 'tis all i ask to know." "she is safe enough; safer by far than you are at this minute, my young cock-a-hoop rebel, now that the king--god save him!--has his own again." i turned quickly on the broad door-stone to look within. out of doors the early august dawn was graying mistily overhead, but in the house the sputtering tallow dip still struggled feebly with the gloom. they stood facing each other, these two, my handsome lad, the pick and choice of a comely race, looking, for all his toils and vigils, fresh and fit; and the old man in his woolen dressing-gown, his wig awry, and his lean face yellow in the candle-light. "how is that you say, mr. stair?" says dick. "the king--but that is only the old tory cry. there will never be a king again this side of the water." the old man reached out and hooked a lean finger in the lad's buttonhole. "say you so, richard jennifer? then you will never have heard the glorious news?" this with a leer that might have been of triumph or the mere whetting of gossip eagerness--i could not tell. "no," says richard, with much indifference. "hear it, then. 'twas at camden, four days since. they came together in the murk of the wednesday morning, my lord cornwallis and that poor fool gates. de kalb is dead; your blethering irishman, rutherford, is captured; and your rag-tag rebel army is scattered to the four winds. and that's not all. on the friday, colonel tarleton came up with sumter at fishing creek and caught him napping. whereupon, charlie mcdowell and the over-mountain men, seeing all was lost, broke their camp on the broad and took to their heels, every man jack of them for himself. so ye see, dickie jennifer, there's never a cursed corporal's guard left in either carolina to stand in the king's way." he rattled all this off glibly, like a child repeating some lesson got by heart; but when i would have found a grain of comfort in the hope that it was a farrago of falconnet's lies, jennifer made the truth appear in answer to a curt question. "'tis beyond doubt?--all this, mr. stair?" the old loyalist--loyalist now, if never certainly before--sat down on the settle and laughed; a dry wizened cackle of a laugh that sounded like the crumpling of new parchment. "you'd best be off, light foot and tight foot, master richard, lest you learn shrewdly for yourself. 'tis in everybody's mouth by this. there were some five-and-forty of the king's friends come together here no longer ago than yestere'en to drink his majesty's health, and eh, man! but it will cost me a pretty penny! will that satisfy ye?" "yes," said jennifer, thinking, mayhap, as i did, that nothing short of gospel-true news would have sufficed to unlock this poor old miser's wine cellar. "well, then; you'd best be off while you may; d'ye hear? i bear ye no ill-will, richard jennifer; and if mr. tarleton lays hold of you, you'll hang higher than haman for evading your parole, i promise you. we'll say naught about this rape of the door-lock, though 'tis actionable, sir, and i'll warn you the law would make you smart finely for it. but we'll enter a _nolle prosequi_ on that till you're amnestied and back, then you can pay me the damage of the broken lock and we'll cry quits." at this my straightforward richard snorted in wrathful derision. however much he loved the daughter, 'twas clear he had small regard for the father. "seeing we came to do you a service, mr. stair, i think we may set the blunderbuss and the handful of slugs over against the smashed door. and that fetches me back to our errand here. you say madge is safe. does that mean that you have spirited her away since last night?" "dinna fash yoursel' about madge, richard jennifer. she's meat for your betters, sir!" rasped the old man, lapsing into the mother tongue, as he did now and then in fear or anger. "still i would know what you mean when you say she is safe," says richard, whose determination to crack a nut was always proportioned to the hardness of the shell. gilbert stair cursed him roundly for an impertinent jackanapes, and then gave him his answer. "'tis none of your business, dickie jennifer, but you may know and be hanged to you! she rode home with the witherbys last night after the rout, and will be by this safe away in t'other carolina where your cursed whiggeries darena lift head or hand." "of her own free will?" dick persisted. "damme! yes; bag, baggage, serving wench and all. now will you be off about your business before some spying rascal lays an information against me for harboring you?" richard joined me on the door-stone. the dawn was in its twilight now, and the great trees on the lawn were taking gray and ghostly shapes in the dim perspective. "you heard what he had to say?" said he. i nodded. "it seems we have missed our cue on all sides," he went on, not without bitterness. "i would we might have had a chance to fire a shot or two before the ship went down." "at camden, you mean? that's but the beginning; the real battles are all to be fought yet, i should say." he shook his head despondently. "you are a newcomer, jack, and you know not how near outworn the country is. gilbert stair has the right of it when he says there will be nothing to stop the redcoats now." i called to mind the resolute little handful under captain abram forney, one of many such, he had told me, and would not yield the point. "there will be plenty of fighting yet, and we must go to bear a hand where it is needed most," said i. "where will that be, think you? at charlotte?" he looked at me reproachfully. "this time 'tis you who are the laggard in love, john ireton. will you go and leave mistress margery wanting an answer to her poor little cry for help?" i shrugged. "what would you? has she not taken her affair into her own hands?" "god knows how much or little she has had to say about it," said he. "but i mean to know, too, before i put my name on any company roll." we were among the trees by this, moving off for safety's sake, since the day was coming; and he broke off short to wheel and face me as one who would throttle a growling cur before it has a chance to bite. "we know the worst of each other now, jack, and we must stand to our compact. let us see her safe beyond peradventure of a doubt; then i'm with you to fight the redcoats single-handed, if you like. i know what you will say--that the country calls us now more than ever; but there must needs be some little rallying interval after all this disaster, and--" "have done, richard," said i. "set the pace and mayhap i can keep step with you. what do you propose?" "this; that we go to witherby hall and get speech with mistress madge, if so be--" "stay a moment; who are these witherbys?" "a dyed-in-the-wool tory family seated some ten miles across the line in york district. true, 'tis a rank tory hotbed over there, and we shall run some risk." "never name risk to me if you love me, richard jennifer!" i broke in. "what is your plan?" his answer was prompt and to the point. "to press on afoot through the forest till we come to the york settlement; then to borrow a pair of tory horses and ride like gentlemen. are you game for it?" i hesitated. "i see no great risk in all this, and whatever the hazard, 'tis less for one than for two. you'd best go alone, richard." he saw my meaning; that i would stand aside and let him be her succor if she needed help. but he would not have it so. "no," he said, doggedly. "we'll go together, and she shall choose between us for a champion, if she is in the humor to honor either of us. that is what 'twill come to in the end; and i warn you fairly, john ireton, i shall neither give nor take advantage in this strife. i said last night that i would stand aside, but that i can not--not till she herself says the killing word with her own lips." "and that word will be--?" "that she loves another man. come; let us be at it; we should be well out of this before the plantation people are astir." xix how a stumbling horse brought tidings having a definite thing to do, we set about it forthwith, taking to the fields and making a wide circuit around the manor house and the quarters where the blacks were already stirring, to come out to the river and so to cross in our canoe. the morning, soft and warm enough, threatened now to break the fair weather promise of the starlit night. away in the east a heavy cloud bank curtained off the sunrise, and in the fields the few dry maize blades left by the partizan harriers were whispering to the gusts. in the great forest all was yet dim and shadowy, and silent as the grave but for the whispering murmur of the rising wind in the higher tree-tops; a sound so like the babbling of brooks as most cunningly to deceive the ear and make it set the eye at work to look for water where there was none. not to take a certain hazard for the sake of better speed, we shunned the road, and for the first hour or so were not greatly hindered by keeping to the forest paths. in vast areas this virgin wood was free of undergrowth, open and park-like as a well-kept grove. fireside tradition on the border tells how the indians kept the forest clear by yearly burnings of the smaller growth; this for the better hunting of the deer. i vouch, not for the truth of this accounting for the fact, but for the fact itself. for endless miles between the watercourses these park-like stretches covered hill and dale; a vast mysterious temple of god's own building, its naves and choirs and transepts columned by the countless trees, with all their leafy crowns to interlace and form the groined arches overhead. through these pillared aisles we tramped abreast, shunning the road, as i have said, yet holding it parallel with our course where its direction served. in the open vistas we had frequent glimpses of it, winding, at feud with all the points of the compass, among the trees. but farther on we came into the lower land of a creek bottom, and here a thickset undergrowth robbed us of any view and made the march a toilsome struggle with the bushes. it was in the densest of this underwood, when we could hear the purring of the stream ahead, that jennifer stopped suddenly and began to sniff the air. "smoke," he said, briefly, in answer to my query. "a camp-fire, with meat abroil. never tell me you can't smell it." i said i could not--did not, at all events. "then you are not as sharp set for breakfast as i am. call up your woodcraft and we'll stalk it." and, suiting the action to the word, he dropped noiselessly on hands and knees to inch his way cautiously out of the thicket. i followed at his heels, marveling at his skill in threading the maze with never a snapped twig to betray him. for though i have called him a youthling, he came of great, square-shouldered english stock, and was well upon fourteen stone for weight. yet upon occasion, as now, he could be as lithe and cat-like as an indian, stealthy in approach and tiger-strong to spring. in due time our creeping progress brought us out of the thicket on the brink of the higher creek bank. just here the stream ran in a shallow ravine with shelving banks of clay, and on its hither margin was a bit of grassy intervale big enough for a horse to roll upon. though it was sadly out of season, the carcass of a deer, fresh killed, hung upon a branch of the nearest tree, with a rifle leaning against the trunk as if to guard it. in the middle of the bit of sward a tiny camp-fire burned; and at the fire, squatting with their backs to us and each toasting a cut of the deer's meat on a forked stick, were two men. one of these men would pass by courtesy as a white. his hunting-shirt and leggings were of deer skin, well grimed and greasy, with leather fringes at the seams of leg and sleeve. for all the summer heat, he wore a cap fashioned of raccoon-skin with the fur on; and for this great cap his iron-gray hair, matted and unkempt, served as a fringe to keep the other tasselings in countenance. the hunting-shirt was belted at the waist, and in the belt was thrust a sheathless knife huge enough to serve a butcher's purpose. from two leather thongs crossed upon his shoulders hung the powder-horn and bullet-pouch; and these, with the knife and rifle, summed up his accoutrements. the other was a red man, and his attire was simpler. like all our southern indians, he went naked to the waist; but the savage's love of ornament showed forth in the fringe of colored porcupine quills on his leggings and in his raven hair bestuck with feathers. for arms he had an arsenal in his belt; two great pistols, a tomahawk, and the scalping-knife, this last smaller than the white man's carving tool, but far more vicious looking. for a moment or two we crouched irresolute on the brink of the ravine, neither of us recognizing the two below. then my young rashling must needs let out a yell. "now, by all that's lucky!" he cried, and would have leaped to his feet. but at the instant the earth-edge gave way under him, and he was sent tumbling with the small landslide of clay down upon the twain at the fire. it went within a trembling hair's-breadth of a tragedy. the two at the fire sprang up as one man; and the bound that set the hunter afoot brought his long rifle to his shoulder. but that the indian was the quicker, richard's life would have paid the penalty of his slip, i think. at the trigger-pulling instant the catawba thrust the thick of his hand between stone and steel, and the flint bit, harmless for jennifer, into the palm of the indian. "wah!" he ejaculated, in his soft guttural. "no want kill captain jennif', hey?" ephraim yeates lowered his weapon and released the pinched hand held fast by the gun-flint. "well, i'm daddled, fair and square, cap'n dick!" he declared. "jest one more shake of a dead lamb's tail, and i'd 'a' had ye on my mind, sartain sure! i allowed ye knowed better than to come whammling down that-away behint a man whilst he's a-cooking his ven'son." dick laughed and called to me to follow as i could. and his answer to the old borderer was no answer at all. "'tis to be hoped you and the chief don't mean to be niddering with that deer's meat. we were guessing but a half-hour back, captain ireton and i, whether or no we'd have to take up belt-slack for our breakfast." at the word the catawba whipped out his knife and fell to work hospitably on the meat supply. meanwhile i came upon the scene, something less hurriedly than richard. ephraim yeates looked me up and down with a sniff for my foreign-cut coat, another for my queue, and a third for the german ritter-boots i wore. "umph!" said he. "now if here ain't that there dad-blame' turkey-fighter again! what almighty cur'is things the good lord do let loose on a stiff-necked and rebellious gineration!" then to me, most pointedly: "say, cap'n; the big woods ain't no fitting place for such as you, ez i allow. ye mought be getting them purty boots o' your'n all tore up on the briars." he ended with a dry little laugh not unlike mr. gilbert stair's parchment crackle; and, being his guest for the nonce, i laughed with him. "have your joke and welcome, mr. yeates," said i. "i am too near famished to quarrel with my chance of breakfast." much to my astoundment he flung his raccoon-skin cap into the air, spat upon his hands and began that insane war-dance of his. "whoop!" he yelled. "no band-box dandy from the settlemints ever sot out to call me 'mister' and got away alive to brag on't! ketch hold, you infergotten, turkey-fighting, silver-buttoned jack-a-dandy till i dip ye in the creek and soak a flour-ration 'r two out 'n that there pig-tail top-knot o' your'n! _yip-pee!_" by this jennifer was trying, as well as a man bent double with laughter might, to interpose in the interest of peace and amity; and even the stoical catawba was all a-grin. so, seeing i was like to lose countenance with all of them, i watched my chance, and closing with my capering ancient, gave him a hearty wrestler's hug. for all he was so gaunt and thin, and full twenty years or more my senior, he was a pretty handful. 'twas much like trying to catch a fall out of some piece of steel-wired mechanism. none the less, after some wild stampings and strivings in which the old man all but made good his promise to put me in the creek, i took him unawares with a cornishman's trick--a cross-buttock shifted suddenly to a shoulder-lift--which sent him flying overhead to land all abroad in the soft clay of the landslide. the effect of this little triumph was magical and wholly unlooked for. when he had gathered himself and set his limbs in order, ephraim yeates sat up and thrust out a claw-like hand. "put it there, stranger," he said. "i reckon ez how that settles it. old eph yeates'll share fair, powder and lead, parched corn _and_ pan-meat with the man that can flop him that-away. whilst ye're a-needing a friend in the big woods--a raw-meat-eating injun-skinner that can jest or'narily whop his weight in wildcats--why, old eph's your man; from now on, _if_ not sooner." and in this wise began an alliance the like of which, for true-blue loyalty on this old borderer's part, these colder-hearted times of yours, my dears, will never see. as you would guess, i gripped the hand of pledging most heartily, pulling the old man to his feet and protesting it was but a trick he would never let another play on him. and then we four fell upon the deer's meat which was by this time--not cooked, to be sure, but seared a little on the outside in true hunter fashion. while we ate, richard spoke freely of our intendings; and in return ephraim yeates was able to confirm mr. gilbert stair's war news to the letter. for all his tory bias and prejudice, it seemed that margery's father had spoken by the book. gates' army was crushed and scattered to the four winds; thomas sumter's free-lances had been attacked, worsted and driven, with the leader himself so sorely wounded that he was carried from the field in a blanket slung between the horses of two of his men; and, as was to be expected, the tories were up and arming in all the north country. truly, the prospect was most gloomy and the outlook for the patriot cause was to the full as desperate as king george himself could wish. "but you, ephraim, and the chief, here; are you two running away like all the others?" richard would ask. the old hunter growled his denial between the mouthfuls of scarce-warmed meat. "i reckon ez how 'tis t'other way 'round; we're sort o' camping on the redcoats' trail, ez i allow. ain't we, chief, hey?" the catawba's assent was a guttural "wah!" and ephraim yeates went on to explain. "ye see, 'tis this-away. you took a laugh out'n me, cap'n dick, for spying 'round on that there britisher hoss-captain and his redskins; but 'long to'ards the last i met up with a thing 'r two wo'th knowing. 'twas a powder and lead cargo they was a-waiting for; and they're allowing to sneak it through the mountings to the overhill cherokees." "well?" says dick. the old man cut another slice of the venison and took his time to impale it on the forked toasting stick. "well, then i says to the chief, here, says i, 'chief, this here's our a-number-one chance to spile the 'gyptians; get heap gun, heap powder, heap lead, heap scalp.' the chief, he says, 'wah!'--which is good injun-talk for anything ye like,--and so here we are, hot-foot on the trail o' that there hoss-captain and his powder varmints." "alone?" said i, in sheer amazement at the brazen effrontery of this chase of half a hundred well-armed men by two. the old hunter chuckled his dry little laugh. "we ain't sich tarnation big fools ez we look, cap'n john. there's a good plenty of 'em to wallop us, ez i'll allow, if it come to fighting 'em fair and square. but there'll be some dark night 'r other whenst we can slip up on 'em and raise a scalp 'r two and lift what plunder we can tote; hey, chief?" but now richard would inquire what time in the night the powder convoy left appleby hundred, and if gilbert stair's york district guests had traveled with it. to these askings yeates made answer that falconnet and his troop, with the cherokee contingent, had taken the road at midnight, or thereabouts; and that the witherbys, with mistress margery riding her own black mare, and her maid on a pillion behind a negro groom, had passed some two hours later. this was as we had hoped it might be; but when dick's satisfaction would have set itself in words, the old hunter made a sudden sign for silence and quickly flung himself full length to lay his ear to the ground. whereat we all began likewise to listen, but i, for one, heard nothing till yeates said: "a hoss; a-taking the back track like old jehu the son of nimshi was a-giving him the whip and spur," and then we all marked the distant drumming of hoofbeats. the old borderer sprang afoot, kicked the fire into the stream, and caught up his rifle. "let's be a-moving," he said. "we must make out to stop that there hoss-galloper at the ford and find out what-all he's a rip-snorting that-away for." the road crossing of the stream was but a little way above our breakfast camp; and we were out of the thicket in time to see the horseman, a negro clinging with locked arms to the neck of his mount, come tearing down to the ford. at sight of us, or else because he would not take the water at full speed, the horse reared, pawed the air, and fell clumsily, carrying his skilless rider with him. we picked the black up and soused him in the stream till he found his tongue; and the first wagging of that useful member gave us news to fire the blood in our veins--in jennifer's and mine, at any rate. "yah!" he screamed, choking out the muddy creek water that had well-nigh strangled him. "yah! red debbil injins kill ebberybody and tote off mistis marg'y and dat jeanne 'ooman! dat's what dey done!" xx in which we strive as men to run a race it was some time before the affrighted black could give us any connected account of what had befallen; and when at length the story was told, all save the principal fact of the carrying off of mistress margery and her maid was hazy enough. pruned down to the simple statement of the fact, and with all the foolish terror chatterings weeded out, his news came to this: the party of homing revelers had been ambushed and waylaid at the fording of a creek some miles to the southward, and in the mellay the young mistress and her tire-woman had been captured. so far as any actual witness of the eye went, the negro had seen nothing. there had been a volley fire from the thicket-belly of black darkness, a swarming attack to a chorus of indian yells, shouts from the men, shrieks from the women, confusion worse confounded in which the newsbearer himself had been unhorsed and trodden under foot. after which he knew no more till some one--his master, as he thought--kicked him alive and bade him mount and ride post-haste on the backward track to appleby hundred, crying the news as he went that mistress margery stair and her maid had been kidnapped by the indians. pinned to the mark and questioned afresh, the slave could not affirm of his own knowledge that any one had been killed outright. pinned again, it proved to be only a guess of his that the one who had given him his orders was his master. in the darkness and confusion he could make sure of nothing; had made sure of nothing save his own frenzy of terror and the wording of the message he carried. when we had quizzed him empty we hoisted him upon his beast and sent him once more a-gallop on the road to appleby hundred. that done, a hurried council of war was held in which we four fell apart, three against one. jennifer was for instant pursuit, afoot and at top speed; and ephraim yeates and the catawba, abandoning their own emprise apparently without a second thought, sided indifferently with him. for my part, i was for going back to prepare in decent order for a campaign which should promise something more hopeful than the probability of speedy exhaustion, starvation and failure. we grew hot upon it, richard and i; he with a young lover's unrecking rashness, and i with an old campaigner's foresight to make me stubborn; and ephraim yeates and the catawba drew aside and let us have it out. dick argued angrily that time was the all-important item, and was not above taunting me bitterly, flinging the reproach of cold-blooded age in my face and swearing hotly that i knew not so much as the alphabet of love. the taunts were passed in silence, since i would set them over against the irrevocable wrong i had done him, saying in my heart that nothing he could say or do should again tempt me to give place to the devil of jealous wrath. but when he would give me space i set the hopelessness of pursuit, all unprepared as we were, in plainest speech. the chase might well be a long one, and we were but scantily armed and without provisions. the hunter's rifle must be our sole dependence for food, and in the summer heat we would be forced to kill daily. on the other hand, with horses, a bag of corn apiece, firearms and ammunition, we should be in some more hopeful case; and, notwithstanding the delay in starting, could make far better speed. for all the good it did i might have spared my pains and saved my breath. jennifer broke me in the midst, crying out that i was even now killing the precious minutes; and so our ill-starred venture had its launching in the frenzied haste that seldom makes for speed. one small concession i wrung out of his impatience--this with the help of yeates and the catawba. we went back to the breakfast camp, rekindled the fire, and cooked what we could keep and carry of the venison. in spite of this delay it was yet early in the forenoon of that memorable sunday, the twentieth of august, when we set our faces southward and took up the line of march to the ford of the ambushment. by now the sky was wholly overcast, and the wind was blowing fresher in the tree-tops; but though as yet the storm held off, the air was the cooler for the threatened rain and this was truly a blessing, since the old hunter put us keen upon our mettle to keep pace with him. we marched in indian file, ephraim yeates in the lead, uncanoola at his heels, and the two of us heavier-footed ones bringing up the rear. knowing the wooded wilderness by length and breadth, the old man held on through thick and thin, straight as an arrow to the mark; and so we had never a sight of the road again till we came out upon it suddenly at the ford of violence. here i should have been in despair for the lack of any intelligible hint to point the way; and i think not even jennifer, with all his woodcraft, could have read the record of the onfall as yeates and the catawba did. but for all the overlapping tangle of moccasin and hoof prints neither of these men of the forest was at fault, though ten minutes later even their skill must have been baffled, inasmuch as the first few spitting raindrops were pattering in the tree-tops when we came upon the ground. "that's jest about what i was most afeard of," said the borderer, with a hasty glance skyward. "down on your hunkers, chief, and help me read this sign afore the good lord takes to sending his rain on the jest and the unjest," and therewith these two fell to quartering all the ground like trained dogs nosing for a scent. we stood aside and watched them, richard and i, realizing that we were of small account and should be until, perchance, it should come to the laying on of hearty blows. after the closest scrutiny, which took account of every broken twig and trampled blade of grass, this prolonged until the rain was falling smartly to wash out all the foot-prints in the dusty road, yeates and the indian gave over and came to join us under the sheltering branches of an oak. "'tis a mighty cur'is sign; most mighty cur'is," quoth the hunter, slinging the rain-drops from his fur cap and emptying the pan of his rifle, not upon the ground, as a soldier would, but saving every precious grain. "ez i allow, i never heerd tell of any injuns a-doing that-away afore; have you, chief? hey?" the catawba's negative was his guttural "wah," and ephraim yeates, having carefully restored the final grain of the priming to his powder-horn, proceeded to enlighten us at some length. "mighty cur'is, ez i was a-saying. them injuns fixed up an ambush_ment_, blazed in a volley at the clostest sort o' range, and followed it up with a tomahawk and knife rush,--lessen that there afrikin was too plumb daddled to tell any truth, whatsomedever. and, spite of all this here rampaging, they never drawed a single drop o' blood in the whole enduring scrimmage! mighty cur'is, that; ain't it, now? and that ain't all: some o' them same injuns, or leastwise one of 'em, was a-wearing boots with spurs onto 'em. what say, chief?" uncanoola held up all the fingers of one hand and two of the other. "sebben injun; one pale-face," he said, in confirmation. i looked at richard, and he gave me back the eyeshot, with a hearty curse to speed it. "falconnet!" said he, by way of tail-piece to the oath; and i nodded. "'twas that there same hoss-captain, sure enough, ez i reckon," drawled yeates. "maybe one o' you two can tell what-all he mought be a-driving at." jennifer shook his head, and i, too, was silent. 'twas out of all reason to suppose that the baronet would resort to sheer violence and make a terrified captive of the woman he wanted to marry. it was a curious mystery, and the hunter's next word involved it still more. "and yit that ain't all. whilst some o' the injuns was a-whooping it up acrost the creek, a-chasing the folks that was making tracks for their city o' refuge, t'others run the two gals off into the big woods at the side o' the road. then mister hoss-captain picks up the afrikin, chucks him on a hoss and sends him a-kiting with his flea in his ear; after which he climbs _his_ hoss and makes tracks hisself--not to ketch up with the gals, ez you mought reckon, but off yon way," pointing across the creek and down the road to the southward. jennifer heard him through, had him set it all out again in plainest fashion, and after all could only say: "you are sure you have the straight of it, eph?" the borderer appealed to uncanoola. "come, chief; give us the wo'th of your jedgment. has the old gray wolf gone stun-blind? or did he read them sign like they'd ort to be read?" "wah! the gray wolf has sharp eye--sharp nose--sharp tongue, sometime. sign no can lie when he read 'um." jennifer turned to me. "what say you, jack? 'tis all far enough beyond me, i'll confess." i was as much at sea touching the mystery as he was; yet the thing to do seemed plain enough. "never mind the baronet's mystery; 'tis mistress margery's hazard that concerns us," i would say. and then to ephraim yeates: "will this rain kill the trail, think you?" he shook his head dubiously. "i dunno for sartain; 'twill make a heap o' differ' if they was anyways anxious to hide it. ez it starts out, with the women a-hossback, 'tis plain enough for a blind man to lift on the run." "then let us be at it," said i. "we can very well afford to let the mystery untangle itself as we go." and with this the pursuit began in relentless earnest. the trail of the two horses ridden by margery and her woman cut a right angle with the road, turning northwest along the left bank of the stream; and, despite the rain, which was now pouring steadily even in the thick wood, the hoof-prints were so plainly marked that we could follow at a smart dog-trot. in this speeding the old hunter and the indian easily outwearied jennifer and me. they both ran with a slow swinging leap, like the racking gait, half pace, half gallop, of a well-trained troop horse. mile after mile they put behind them in these swinging bounds; and when, well on in the afternoon, we stopped to eat a snack of the cold meat and to slake our thirst at one of the many rain pools, i was fain to follow jennifer's lead, throwing myself flat on the soaking mold to pant and gasp and pay off the arrears of breathlessness. this breathing halt was of the briefest; but before the race began again, ephraim yeates took time to make a careful scrutiny of the trail, measuring the stride of the horses, and looking sharply on the briars for some bit of cloth or other token of assurance. when we came up with him he was mumbling to himself. "um-hm; jes' so. they was a-making tracks along hereaway, sartain, sure; larruping them hosses to a keen jump, lickity-split. now, says i to myself, what's the tarnation hurry? ain't they got all the time there is to get where they're a-going, immejitly, _if_ not sooner?" then he turned upon me. "cap'n john, can't you and the youngster lay your heads side and side and make out what-all this here hoss-captain mought be up to? it do look like he had some sort o' hatchet to grind, a-sending that afrikin back to raise a hue and cry, and then a-letting his injuns leave a trail like this here that any tow-head boy from the settlemints could follow at a canter." richard said he could never guess the meaning of it all; and my mind was to the full as blank as his. i made sure some deep-laid plot was at the bottom of the mystery; but we had measured many weary miles in the wilderness, and the plotter's trap had been fairly baited, set and sprung, before the lightning flash of explication came to show us all its devilish ingenuity. but now "forward," was the word, and we fell in line again, and again the tireless running of the two guides stretched and held us on the rack of weariness. happily for us two who were out of training, the rainy-day dusk came early; and though yeates and the indian, running now with their bodies bent double and their noses to the ground, held on long after richard jennifer and i were bat-blind for any seeing of the hoof-prints, the end came at length and we bivouacked as we were, fireless, and with the last of the cooked ration of deer's meat for a scanty supper. after the meal, which was swallowed hastily in the silence of utter fatigue, we scooped a hollow in a last year's leaf bed and lay down to sleep, wet to the skin as any four half-drowned water rats, and to the full as miserable. fagged as i was, 'twas a long time before sleep came to make me forget; a weary interval fraught with dismal mental miseries to march step and step with the treadmill rackings of the aching muscles. what grievous hap had befallen my dear lady? and how much or how little was i to blame for this kidnapping of her by my relentless enemy? was it a sharp foreboding of some such resort to savage violence that had tortured her into sending the appeal for help? with this, i fell to dwelling afresh upon the wording of her message, hungering avidly for some hint to give me leave to claim it for my own. though i made sure she did not love me,--had never loved me as other than a make-shift confidant, whose face and age would set him far beyond the pale of sentiment,--yet i had hoped this friendship-love would give her leave to call upon me in her hour of need. was i the one to whom her message had been sped? suddenly i remembered what richard had said; that the arrow was the catawba's. if uncanoola were the bearer of the parchment, he would surely know to whom he had been sent. his burrow in the leaf bed chanced to be next to mine, and i could hear his steady breathing, light and long-drawn, like that of some wild creature--as, truly, he was--sleeping with all the senses alert to spring awake at a touch or the snapping of a twig. a word would arouse him, and a single question might resolve the doubt. i thought of all this, and yet, when i would have wakened the indian, a shaking ague-fit of poltroon cowardice gave me pause. for while the doubt remained there was a chance to hope that she had sent to me, making the little cry for help a token, not of love, perchance, but of some dawning of forgiveness for my desperate wronging of her. and in that hesitant moment it was borne in upon me that without this slender chance for hope i should go mad and become a wretched witling at a time when every faculty should be superhuman sharp and strong for spending in her service. so i forebore to wake the indian; and following out this thought of service fitness, would force myself to go to sleep and so to gather fresh strength for the new day's measure. xxi how we kept lenten vigils in trinitytide 'twould weary you beyond the limit of good-nature were i to try to picture out at large the varied haps and hazards of our wanderings in the savage wilderness. for the actors in any play the trivial details have their place and meaning momentous enough, it may be; yet these are often wearisome to the box or stall yawning impatiently for the climax. so, if you please, you are to conceive us four, the strangest ill-assorted company on the footstool, pushing on from day to day deeper and ever deeper into the pathless forest solitudes, yet always with the plain-marked trail to guide us. at times the march measured a full day's length amid the columned aisles of the forest temple through lush green glades dank and steaming in the august heat, or over hillsides slippery with the fallen leaves of the pine-trees. anon it traced the crooked windings of some brawling mountain stream through thicket tangles where, you would think, no woman-ridden horse could penetrate. one day the sun would shine resplendent and all the columned distances would fill with soft suffusings of the gray and green and gold, with here and there a dusky flame where the sweet-gum heralded the autumn, whilst overhead the leafy arches were fine-lined traceries and arabesques against the blue. but in the night, mayhap, a dismal rain would come, chill with the breath of the nearing mountains; and then the trees turned into dripping sprinkling-pots to drench us where we lay, sodden already with the heaviness of exhaustion. since the hasting pursuit was a thing to tap the very fountain-head of fortitude and endurance, we fared on silent for the better part; and in a little time the hush of the solitudes laid fast hold of us, scanting us of speech and bidding us go softly. and after this the march became a soundless shadow-flitting, and we a straggling file of voiceless mechanisms wound up and set to measure off the miles till famine or exhaustion should thrust a finger in among the wheels and bid them stop forever. this was the loom on which we wove the backward-reaching web of strenuous onpressing. but through that web the scarlet thread of famine shuttled in and out, and hunger came and marched with us till all the days and nights were filled with cravings, and we recked little of fair skies or dripping clouds, or aught besides save this ever-present specter of starvation. you will not think it strange that i should have but dim and misty memories of this fainting time. of all privations famine soonest blunts the senses, making a man oblivious of all save that which drives him onward. the happenings that i remember clearest are those which turned upon some temporary bridging of the hunger gulf. one was yeates's killing of a milch doe which, with her fawn, ran across our path when we had fasted two whole days. by this, a capital crime in any hunter's code, you may guess how cruelly we were nipped in the hunger vise. also, i remember this: as if to mock us all the glades and openings on the hillsides were thicketed with berry bushes, long past bearing. and, being too late for these, we were as much too early for the nuts of the hickory and chestnut and black walnut that pelted us in passing. the doe's meat, coming at a time of sharpest need, set us two days farther on the march; and when that was spent or spoiled we did as we could, being never comfortably filled, i think, and oftener haggard and enfeebled for the want of food. since we dared not stop to go aside for game, the catawba would set over-night snares for rabbits; and for another shift we cut knobbed sticks for throwing and ran keen-eyed along the trace, alert to murder anything alive and fit to eat. in this haphazard hunting nothing ever fell to jennifer's skilless clubbing, or to mine; but the old borderer and the indian were better marksmen, and now and then some bird or squirrel or rabbit sitting on its form came to the pot, though never enough of all or any to more than sharpen the famine edge of hunger. for all the sharp privations of the forced march there was no hint on any lip of turning back. with margery's desperate need to key us to the unflinching pitch, richard and i would go on while there was strength to set one foot before the other. but for the old borderer and the indian there was no such bellows to blow the fire of perseverance. none the less, these two did more than second us; they set the strenuous pace and held us to it; the catawba spartan-proud and uncomplaining; the old hunter no whit less tireless and enduring. at this far-distant day i can close my eyes and see the gaunt, leather-clad figure of ephraim yeates, striding on always in the lead and ever pressing forward, tough, wiry and iron to endure, and yet withal so elastic that the shrewdest discouragement served only to make him rebound and strike the harder. good stuff and true there was in that old man; and had richard or i been less determined, his fine and noble heroism in a cause which was not his own would have shamed us into following where he led. we had been ten days in this starving wilderness, driving onward at the pace that kills and making the most of every hour of daylight, before yeates and the indian began to give us hope that we were finally closing in upon our quarry. the dragging length of the chase grew upon two conditions. from the beginning the kidnappers were able to increase their lead by stretching out the days and borrowing from the nights; also, they were doubtless well provisioned, and they had horses for the captives and their impedimenta. but as for us, we could follow only while the daylight let us see the trail; and though we ran well at first, the lack of proper food soon took toll of speed. so now, though the hoof prints grew hourly fresher, and we were at last so close upon the heels of the kidnappers that their night camp-fires were scarcely cold when we came upon them, we ran no longer--could hardly keep a dogged foot-pace for the hunger pains that griped and bent us double. the tenth day, as i well remember, was furnace-hot, as were all the fair-weather days of that never-to-be-forgotten summer, with a still air in the forest that hung thick and lifeless like the atmosphere of an oven; this though we were well among the mountains and rising higher with every added mile of westering. the sun had passed the meridian, and we were toiling, sweaty-weak, up a rock-strewn mountain side, when a thing occurred to rouse us roughly from the famine stupor and set us watchfully alert. in the steepest part of the ascent where the wood, scanted of rooting ground by the thickly sown strewing of boulders, was open and free of undergrowth, ephraim yeates halted suddenly, signed to us with upflung hand, and dropped behind a tree as one shot; and in the same breath the catawba, running at yeates's heels, lurched aside and vanished as if the earth had gaped and swallowed him. a moment later the twang of a bow-string buzzed upon the breathless noontide stillness, and jennifer clutched and dragged me down in good time to let the arrow whistle harmless over us. then, like a distorted echo of the buzzing bow-string, the sharp crack of the old borderer's rifle rang out smartly, setting the cliff-crowned mountain side all a-clamor with mocking repetitions. "missed him, slick and clean, by the eternal coon-skin!" growled the marksman, sitting up behind his tree to reload. "that there's what comes o' being so dad-blame' hongry that ye can't squinch fair atween the gun-sights. i reckon ez how ye'd better hunker down and lie clost, you two. 'twouldn't s'prise me none if that redskin had a wheen more o' them sharp-p'inted sticks in his--the lord be praised for all his marcies! the chief's got him!" but uncanoola had not. he came in presently, his black eyes snapping with disappointment, saying in answer to yeates's question that the yell had been his own; that his tomahawk had sped no truer than the old borderer's bullet. "chelakee snake heap slick: heap quick dodge," was all we could get out of him; and when that was said he squatted calmly on a flat stone and fell to work grinding the nick out of the edge of the mis-sped hatchet. this incident told us plainly enough that the kidnappers were now but a little way ahead, and that their rear-guard scouts were holding us well in hand. so from that on we went as men whose lives are held in pawn by a hidden foe, looking at every turn for an ambushment. nevertheless, we were not waylaid again; and when at length the long hot afternoon drew to its close with the mountain of peril well behind us, we had neither seen nor heard aught else of the cherokees. that night we camped, fireless and foodless, on the banks of a swift-flowing stream in a valley between two great mountains. we reached this stream a little before dark, and since the trail led straight into the water, we would have put this obstacle behind us if we could. but though the little river was not above five or six poles in width it was exceeding swift and deep; so impassable, in truth, that we were moved to wonder how the captive party had made shift to cross. we guessed at it a while, richard and i, and then gave it up until we might have the help of better daylight. but the old borderer's curiosity was not so readily postponed. cutting a slim pole from a sapling thicket, he waded in cautiously, anchoring himself by the drooping branches of the willows whilst he prodded and sounded and proved beyond a doubt that the current was over man-head deep, and far too rapid for swimming. satisfied of this, he came out, dripping, and with a monitory word to us to keep a sharp lookout, disappeared up-stream in the growing dusk, his long rifle at the trail, and his body bent to bring his keen old eyes the nearer to the ground. xxii how the fates gave largess of despair ephraim yeates was gone a full hour. when he returned he gave us cause to wonder at his lack of caution, since he filled his earthen indian pipe and coolly struck a light wherewith to fire it. but when the pipe was aglow he told us of his findings. "'twas about ez i reckoned; them varmints waded in the shallows a spell to throw us off, and then came out and forded higher up." "that will be a shrewd guess of yours, i take it, ephraim?" said i; for the night was black as erebus. "ne'er a guess at all; i've had 'em fair at eyeholts," this as calmly as if we had not been for ten long days pinning our faith to an ill-defined trace of foot-prints. "ez i was a-going on to say, they're incamped on t'other bank ruther eenside o' two sights and a horn-blow from this. i saw 'em and counted 'em: seven redskins and the two gals." "thank god!" says richard, as fervently as if our rescue of the women were already a thing accomplished. then he fell upon the scout with an eager question: "how does she look, ephraim?--tell me how she looks!" "listen at him!" said the old man, cackling his dry little laugh. "how in tarnation am i going to know which 'she' he's a-stewing about? there's a pair of 'em, and they both look like wimmin ez have been dragged hilter-skilter through the big woods for some better 'n a week. natheless, they're fitting to set up and take their nourishment, both on 'em. they was perching on a log afore the fire, with ever' last idintical one o' them redskins a-waiting on 'em like they was a couple of injun queens. i reckon ez how the hoss-captain gave them varmints their orders, partic'lar." dick was upon his feet, lugging out the great broadsword. "show us the way, eph yeates!" he burst out impatiently. "we are wasting a deal of precious time!" but the old man only puffed the more placidly at his pipe, making no move to head a sortie. "fair and easy, cap'n dick; fair and easy. there ain't no manner o' hurry, ez i allow. whenst i've got to tussle with a wheen o' full redskins, and me with my stummick growed fast to my backbone, i jest ez soon wait till them same redskins are asleep. bime-by they'll settle down for the night, and then we'll go up yonder and pizen 'em immejitly, _if_ not sooner. but there ain't no kind o' use to spile it all by rampaging 'round too soon." there was wisdom undeniable in this, and, accordingly, we waited, taking turns at the hunter's terrible pipe in lieu of supper, and laying our plan of attack. this last was simple enough, as our resources, or rather our lack of them, would make it. at midnight we would move upon the enemy, feeling our way along the river till we should discover the ford by which the captive party had crossed. the stream safely passed, we would deploy and surround the camp of the indians, and at the signal, which was to be the report of yeates's rifle, we were to close in and smite, giving no quarter. the old borderer dwelt at length upon the need for this severity, saying that a single cherokee escaping would bring the warriors of the erati tribe down upon us to cut off all chance of our retreat with the women. "onless i'm mightily out o' my reckoning, this here spot we're a-setting on ain't more than a day's injun-running from the tuckasege towns. with them gals to hender us we ain't a-going to be in no fettle for a skimper-scamper race with a fresh wheen o' the redskins. therefore and wherefore, says i, make them chopping-knives o' your'n cut and come again, even to the dividing erpart of soul and marrer." dick laughed, and, speaking for both of us, said between his teeth that we were not like to be over-merciful. but now the old wolf of the border gave us a glimpse of an unsuspected side of him, taking jennifer sharply to task and reading him a homily on the sin of vengeance for vengeance's sake. in this harangue he evinced a most astonishing tongue-grasp of scripture, and for a good half-hour the air was thick with texts. and to cap the climax, when the sermon paused he laid his pipe aside, doffed his cap, and went upon his knees to pour forth such a militant prayer as brought my father's stories of the grim old fighting roundheads most vividly to mind. here, being as good a place as any, i may say frankly that i never fully understood this side of ephraim yeates. like all the hardy borderers, he was a fighter by instinct and inclination; and i can bear him witness that when he smote the "amalekites," as he would call them--red skin or red coat--he smote them hip and thigh, and was as ruthless as that british captain turnbull who slew the wounded. yet withal, on the very edge of battle, or mayhap fair in the midst of it, he was like to fall upon his knees to pray most fervently; though, as i have hinted, his prayers were like his blows--of the biting sort, full of scriptural anathema upon the enemy. richard jennifer, carelessly profane as all men were in that most godless day, would say 'twas the old borderer's way of swearing; that since he left out the oaths in common speech,--as, truly, he did,--he would fetch up the arrears and wipe out the score in one fell blast upon his knees. be this as it may, he was a good man and a true, as i have said; and his warlike supplication that our blades should be as the sword of the lord and of gideon in the coming onfall was no whit out of place. it wanted yet a full hour of midnight when richard began again to plead piteously for instant action. yeates thought it still over-early; but when jennifer pressed him hard the old borderer left the casting vote to me. "what say ye, cap'n john? your'n will be the next oldest head, and i reckon it hain't been turned plumb foolish rampaging crazy by this here purty gal o' gilbert stair's." now you have read thus far in my poor tale to little purpose if you have not yet discovered the major weakness of an old campaigner, which is to weigh and measure all the chances, holding it to the full as culpable to strike too soon as too late. this weakness was mine, and in that evil moment i gave my vote for further waiting, arguing sapiently that my old field-marshal would never set a night assault afoot till well on toward the dawn. jennifer heard me through and yielded, perforce, though with little good-will. "i can not compass it alone, or, by the gods, i'd go!" he asserted, angrily. "mark you, john ireton, this delay is a thing you'll rue whilst you live. your cold-cut pros and cons mouth well enough, and i'm no soldier-lawyer to argue them down. but something better than your damnable reasons tells me that the hour has struck--that these very present seconds are priceless." whereupon he flung himself face down in the grass and would not speak again until the waiting time was fully over and yeates gave the word to fall in line for the advance. having learned the lay of the land in his earlier reconnaissance, the old borderer shortened the distance for us by guiding us across the neck of a horseshoe bend in the stream; and a half-hour's blind groping through the forest fetched us out upon the river bank again, this time precisely opposite the indians' lodge fire on the other side. here there was a little pause for three of us while ephraim yeates crept down the bank to try with his sounding-pole what chance we had of crossing. measured by what could be seen from our covert, the narrow width of quick water seemed the last of the many obstacles. lulled to security, as we guessed, by the apparent success of their ruse to throw us off the scent, six of the cherokees were lying feet to fire like the spokes of a wheel for which the fitful blaze was the hub. the seventh man was squatted before a small tepee-lodge of dressed skins, which, as we took it, would be the sleeping quarters of the captives. whilst all the others lay stiff and stark as if wrapped in soundest sleep, this sentry guard, too, it seemed, was scarcely more than half awake, for as we looked, his gun was slipping from the hollow of his arm and he was nodding to forgetfulness. richard was a-crouch beside me in this peeping reconnaissance, and i could feel him trembling in impatient eagerness. "it should be easy enough--what think you?" he whispered; and then, with a sudden grasp upon my wrist: "you are cool and steady-nerved, john ireton; i swear you do not love her as i do!" "nay, i grant you that, dick," said i, making sure that his excitement would obscure the double meaning in the admission. and then i added, sincerely enough: "she has never given me the right to love her at all." "god help her at this pass!" he said, more to himself than to me; and then he would go in a breath from blessing margery to cursing ephraim yeates for this fresh delay. it was uncanoola who broke in upon the muttered malediction. "wah! captain jennif' cuss plenty heap, like missionary medicine-man. look-see! uncanoola no can find white squaw horse yonder. mebbe captain jennif' see 'um, hey?" at his word we both looked for the horses, marking now that they were nowhere to be seen within the circle lighted by the lodge fire. the catawba grunted his doubt that the enemy was as inalert as he appeared to be; then he set the doubt in words. "chelakee heap slick. sleep only one eye, mebbe, hey? injun warrior no hide horse and go sleep _both_ eye on war-path!" here our scout came gliding back, so noiselessly that he was within arm's reach before we heard him. dick had said i was over-cool, but the old man's ghostlike reappearance gave me such a start as made me prinkle to my fingers' ends. "how will it be, eph?" dick queried, hotly eager to be at work. "we can make it across? never say we can't pass that bit of still water, man!" but ephraim yeates did say so in set terms. "i reckon ez how we've got to cross, but not jest here-away, cap'n dick. she ain't making any fuss about it, but she's a-slipping along like greased lightning, deep and mighty powerful. i ain't saying we mought n't swim her and come out somewheres this side o' dan'l boone's country; but we'll make it a heap quicker by projec'ing 'round till we find the ford where them varmints made out to cross." "god!" said dick, deep in his throat; "more time to be killed! by--" the old man was parting the bushes to have a better sight of the encampment opposite, but at dick's outbreak he fell back quickly and clapped a hand on the lips of cursing. "hist! lookee over yonder, will ye!" he cut in. and then in a whisper meant for no ear but mine: "the lord be marciful to that little gal, cap'n john; we've fooled our chance away--the game's afoot, and we ain't in it!" i looked and saw nothing save that the sentry guard had risen to throw a handful of dry branches on the dying fire. but on the instant the dry wood blazed up, and in the wider circle of firelight i saw what the keener eyes of ephraim yeates had descried the sooner. in the shadowy background of the surrounding forest a dozen horsemen were converging in orderly array upon the encampment, and at the blazing up of the dry branches their leader gave the command to charge. what sham battle there was, or was meant to be, was over in the briefest space. the troopers galloped in with shouts and aimless pistolings, raising a clamor that was instantly doubled by the yells of the indians. as for resistance, the charging troop met with nothing worse than the yellings and a scattering fusillade in air. then the ring of horsemen narrowed in to closer quarters and there was some flashing of bare steel in the firelight, at which the cherokee kidnappers melted away and vanished as if by magic. with the shouts and the firing margery and her maid had burst out of the sleeping-lodge to find themselves in the thick of the sham battle; and it was but womanlike that they should add their shrieks to the din, being as well terrified as they had a right to be. but now the leader of the attacking troop speedily brought order with a word of command; and when his men fell back to post themselves as vedettes among the trees, the officer dismounted to uncover courteously and to bow low to the lady. "the hoss-captain!" muttered ephraim yeates, under his breath; but we did not need his word for it. 'twas but a child's pebble-toss across the barrier stream, and we could both see and hear. "i give you joy of your escape, mistress margery," said the baronet, mouthing his words like a player who had long since conned his lines and got them well by heart and letter-perfect. "these slippery savages have given us a pretty chase, i do assure you. but you are trembling yet, calm yourself, dear lady; you are quite safe now." i was watching her intently as he spoke. 'twas now hard upon two months since i had seen her last in that fateful upper room at appleby hundred, and the interval--or mayhap it was only the hardships and distresses of the captive flight--had changed her woefully. yet now, as when we had stood together at the bar of colonel tarleton's court, i saw her pass from mood to mood in the turning of a leaf, her natural terror slipping from her like a cast-off garment, and a sweet dignity coming to clothe her in a queenlier robe, making her, as i would think, more beautiful than ever. "i thank you, sir francis--for myself and for poor jeanne," she said. "you have come to take us back to my father?" he bowed again and spread his hands as a friend willing but helpless. "upon my honor, my dear lady, nothing would give me greater pleasure. but what can i say? we are upon the king's business, as you well know, and our mission will not brook an hour's delay--indeed, we are here only by the good chance which led your captors to choose our route for theirs. i have no alternative but to take you and your woman with us to the west; but i do assure you--" she stopped him with an impassioned gesture of dissent, and darting a despairing glance around that minded me of some poor hunted thing hopelessly enmeshed in the net of the fowler, she clasped her hands and wrung them, breaking down piteously at the last, and begging him by all that men hold sacred to send her and her maid back to her father, if only with a single soldier for a guard. 'twas then we had to drag my dear lad down and hold him fast, else he had flung himself into the torrent in some mad endeavor to spend his life for her. so i know not in what false phrase the baronet refused her, but when i looked again she was no longer pleading as his suppliant; she was standing before him in the martyr steadfastness of a true, clean-hearted woman at bay. "then you will not by so much undo the wrong you have done me, captain falconnet?" she said. "a wrong? how then; do you call it a wrong to rescue you from these brutal savages, mistress margery?" she took a step nearer, and though the dry-stick blaze was dying down and i could no longer see her face distinctly, i knew well how the scornful eyes were whipping him. "listen!" she said. "when you set tallachama and his braves upon us in the road that night, you were not cautious enough, captain falconnet. i saw and heard you. more than that, tallachama and the others have spoken freely of your plans in their own tongue, not knowing that my poor jeanne had been three years a captive among the telliquos." the attack was so sudden-sharp and so completely a surprise that he was taken off his guard, else i made sure he would not at such a time have dropped the gentlemanly mask to stand forth the confessed ravisher. "so ho? then you have been playing fast and loose with me as you did with the handsome young planter and that beggarly captain of austrians? 'twas a bold game, _ma petite_, but you have lost and i have won, for my game was still bolder than yours. what i need, i take, mistress madge, be it the body of a woman or the life of a man. _savez-vous un homme désespéré, ma chérie?_ i am that man. you pique me, and i need the dowry you will bring. if i could have killed your lover out of hand, i might have been content to leave you for a time. since i could not, you go where i go; and when we return i shall do you the honor to make you lady falconnet!" the effect of this fierce tirade, poured out in a torrent of hot words, was less marked upon his helpless captive than it was upon her four would-be defenders. it moved us variously, each after his kind; nevertheless, i think the same thought lighted instantly upon each of us. though we might not reach and rescue her, her sharpest peril would be blunted upon the quieting of this fiend-in-chief. so ephraim yeates stretched himself face downward in the damp grass and brought his long rifle to bear, while the indian sprang up and poised his hatchet for the throw; but neither lead nor steel was loosed because the light was poor, and a hair's-breadth swerving of the aim might spare the man and slay the woman. as for the two of us who must needs come within stabbing distance, the same thought set us both to stripping coats and foot-clogs for a plunge into the barrier torrent. but when we would have broken cover, the old borderer dropped his weapon and gripped us with a hand for each. "no, no; none o' that!" he whispered, hoarsely. "ye'd drown like rats, and we can't afford no sech foolish sakerfices on the altar o' baal. hunker down and lie clost; if there's any dying to be done, ye've got a good half o' the night ahead of ye, and there's all o' to-morrow that ain't teched yet." it takes a pitiless avalanche of words to spread these interlinear doings out for you; but you are to conceive that the pause is mine and not the action's. while the old man was yet pulling us down, my fearless little lady had drawn back a pace and was giving the villain his answer. "i am glad i know you now for what you are, captain falconnet," she said, coldly. and then: "you can take me with you, if you choose, having the brute strength to make good so much of your threat. but that is all. you can not take for yourself what i have given to another." "can not, you say?" he clapped his hat on smartly and whistled for his horse-holder; and when the man was gone to fetch the mounts for the women, he finished out the sentence. "listen you, in your turn, mistress spitfire. i shall take what i list, and before you see your father's house again, you'll beg me on your knees, as other women have, to marry you for very shame's sake!" it was then that uncanoola did the skilfulest bit of jugglery it has ever been my lot to witness. posturing like one of those old grecian discus-throwers, he sent his scalping-knife handle foremost to glide snake-like through the grass to stop at margery's feet. though i think she knew not how it got there, she saw it, and the courage of the sight helped her to say, quickly: "when it comes to that, sir, i shall know how to keep faith with honor." his laugh was the harshest mockery of mirth. "you will keep faith with me, dear lady; do you hear? otherwise--" he turned to take the black mare from his man. at this my brave one set her foot upon the weapon in the grass. "i have no faith to keep with you, captain falconnet," she said. [illustration] he struck back viciously. "then, by heaven, you'd best make the occasion. it has happened, ere this, that a lady as dainty as you are has become a plaything for an indian camp. it lies with me to save you from that, my mistress." she stooped to gather her skirts for mounting, and in the act secured and hid the knife. so her answer had in it the fine steadfastness of one who may make desperate terms with death for honor's sake. "i thank you for the warning, captain falconnet," she said, facing him bravely to the last. "when the time comes, mayhap the dear god will give me leave to die as my mother's daughter should." "bah!" said he; and with that he whistled for his troopers; and while we looked, my dear lady and her tirewoman were helped upon their horses, and at the leader's word of command the escort formed upon the captives as a center. a moment later the little glade, with the smoldering embers of the lodge fire to prick out its limits in dusky red, was empty, and on the midnight stillness of the forest the minishing hoofbeats of the horses came fainter and fainter till the distance swallowed them. then it was that my poor lad, famine-mad and frenzied, rose up to curse me bitterly. "now may all the devils in hell drag you down to everlasting torments, john ireton, for your cold-hearted caution that made us lose when we had good hope to win!" he cried. "one little hour i begged for, and that hour had fought her battle and set her free. but now--" he broke off in the midst, choking with what miserable despair i knew, and shared as well; and throwing himself down in the wet grass, he would eke out the bitter words with such ravings and sobbings as bubble up in sheer abandonment of rage and misery. xxiii how we kept the feast of bitter herbs you may be sure that richard jennifer's bitter reproachings came home to me in sharpest fashion, the more since now i saw how we had lost our chance by neglecting the commonest precautions. having determined to attack, the merest novice of a general would have moved his forces to the nearest point; would have had his scouts search out the ford beforehand; and, above all, would never have delayed the blow beyond the earliest moment of the enemy's unwatchfulness. so now, when all was lost, i fell to kneading out this sodden dough of afterwit with ephraim yeates; but when i sought to carry off the blame as mine by right, the old borderer would not give me leave. "fair and easy, cap'n john; fair _and_ easy," he protested. "let's give that old sarpent, which is the devil and satan, his dues. ez i allow, there was the whole enduring passel of us to ricollact all them things. to be sure, we had our warnings, mistrusting all along that this here dad-blame' hoss-captain had his finger in the pie. but, lawzee! we had ne'er a man o' god 'mongst us to rise up and prophesy what was a-going to happen if we didn't get up and scratch gravel immejitly, _if_ not sooner; though i won't deny that cap'n dick did try his hand that-away." "true; and i would now we had listened to him," said i, gloomily enough. "we have lost our chance, and god knows if we shall ever have another. falconnet must have half a hundred men, red and white, in the powder train; and by this time he has learned from the indian who reconnoitered us on the mountain that we are within striking distance. with the enemy forewarned, as he is, we might as well try to cut the women out of my lord cornwallis's headquarters." the old man chuckled his dry little laugh, though what food for merriment he could find in the hopeless prospect was more than i could understand. "ho! ho! cap'n john; i reckon ez how ye're a-taking that word from yonder down-hearted boy of our'n. wait a spell till ye're ez old ez i be; then you'll never say die till ye're plumb dead." now, truly, though i was dismally disheartened, i could reassure him on the point of perseverance. 'tis an ireton failing to lose heart and hope when the skies are dark; but this is counterbalanced in some of us by a certain quality of unreasoning persistence which will go on running long after the race is well lost. my father had this stubborn virtue to the full; and so had that old ironside ireton from whom we are descended. "that's the kind o' talk!" was the old man's comment. "now we'll set to work in sure-enough arnest. ez i said a spell back, my stummick is crying cupboard till i can't make out to hear my brain a-sizzling. maybe you took notice o' me a-praying down yonder that the good lord'd vouchsafe to give us scalps _and_ provender. for our onfaithfulness he's seed fit to withhold the one; but maybe we'll find a raven 'r two, or a widder's mite 'r meal-bar'l, somewheres in this howling wilderness, yit." so saying, he summoned the catawba with a low whistle, and when uncanoola joined us, told him to stay with jennifer whilst we should make another effort to find the ford. "there's nobody like an injun for a nuss when a man's chin-deep into trouble," quoth this wise old woodsman, when we were feeling our way cautiously along the margin of the swift little river. "if cap'n dick rips and tears and pulls the grass up by the roots, the chief'll only say, 'wah!' if he sits up and cusses till he's black in the face, the chief'll say, 'ugh!' and that's just about all a man hankers for when his sore's a-running in the night season, and all thy waters have gone over his head. selah!" now you are to remember the sky was overcast and the night was pitchy dark, and how the old borderer could read a sign of any sort was far beyond my comprehension. yet when we had gone a scant half-mile along the river brink he stopped short, sniffed the air and stooped to feel and grope on the ground like a blind man seeking for something he had lost. "right about here-away is where they made out to cross," he announced; "the whole enduring passel of 'em, ez i reckon--our seven varmints and the hoss-captain's powder train. give me the heft o' your shoulder till we take the water and projec' 'round a spell on t'other side." we squared ourselves, wholly by the sense of touch, with the river's edge, locked arms for the better bracing against the swift current, and so essayed the ford. it was no more than thigh deep, and though the water lashed and foamed over the shoal like a torrent in flood, there was a clean bottom and good footing. once safe across, we turned our faces down-stream, and in a little time came to the deserted glade with the embers of the kidnappers' fire glowing dully in the midst. here a sign of some later visitants than falconnet's horsemen set us warily on our guard. the tepee-lodge of dressed skins, which had been left undisturbed by the sham rescuers, had vanished. "umph! the redskins have been back to make sure o' what they left behind," said yeates, in a whisper. "i jing! that's jest the one thing i was a-hoping they'd forget to do. i reckon ez how that spiles our last living chance o' finding anything that mought help slack off on the belly-pinch." so he said, but for this once his wisdom was at fault and tricky fortune favored us. when we had found the covert in the bushes where the two horses had been concealed we lighted upon a precious prize. 'twas a bag of parched corn in the grain; some share of the provision of the captive party overlooked by those who had returned to gather up the leavings. with this treasure-trove we made all haste to rejoin our companions. and now behold what a miracle of reanimation may be wrought by a few handfuls of bread grain! in a trice the catawba had found a water-worn stone to serve for a mortar, and another for a pestle. these and the bag of corn were carried back to a sheltered ravine which we had crossed on our late advance; and here the indian fell to work to grind the corn into coarse meal, whilst yeates and i kindled a fire to heat the baking-stones. in these preparations for the breaking of our long fast even richard bestirred himself to help; and when the cakes were baked and eaten--with what zestful sharp-sauce of appetite none but the famished may ever know--we were all in better heart, and better able to face the new and far more desperate plight in which our lack of common foresight had entangled us. for now, since we knew the full measure of the peril menacing our dear lady, there was need for swift determination and a blow as swift and sure; a _coup de main_ which should atone in one shrewd push for the sleeveless failure of the night. so we would grip hands around, even to the stolid indian, and swear a solemn oath to cut the women out or else to leave our bones to whiten in the forest wilderness. you'll laugh at all these vowings and handstrikings, i dare say, and protest there was a deal of such fustian heroics in your doddering old chronicler's day. mayhap there was. but, my dears, i would you might remember as you laugh that we of that simple-hearted elder time lived by some half-century nearer to that age of chivalry you dote on--in the story-books. also, i would you might mingle with your merriment a little of the saving grace of charity; letting it hint that, perchance, these you call "heroics" were but the free, untrammeled folk-speech of that sincerer natural heart which you have learned to silence and suppress. for i dare affirm that now, as then and always, there will be some spark of the promethean fire in every heart of man or maid, else this would indeed be a sorry world to live in. so, as i say, we four struck hands anew on the desperate venture; and, after carefully burying the fire to the end that it might not betray us while we slept, we burrowed in the nearest leaf bed to snatch an hour or two of rest before the toils and hazards of the chase should begin afresh. in the thick darkness following hard upon the douting of the fire, i saw not who my nearest bed-fellow might be. but ere i slept a hand was laid on my shoulder, and a voice that i knew well, said: "are you waking yet, jack?" i said i was; and at that my poor lad would blurt out all his sorrow and shame for the mad fit of despair that had set him on to rail and curse me. "you will say with good reason that i am but a sorry jockey for a friend--to fly out at you like a madman as i did," he added, by way of fitting epilogue; and to this i gave him the answer he wished, bidding him never let a thought of it spoil him of the rest he needed. "the debt of obligation and forgiveness is all upon the other side, as you will some day know, dick, my lad," said i, hovering, as a coward always will, upon the innuendo-edge of the confession he will never make. he mistook the pointing of this protest, as he was bound to. "never say that, jack. 'twould be a dog-in-the-manger trick in me to blame you for loving her. and since you speak of debts, i do protest i owe you somewhat, too. with so fair a chance to cut a clean swath in that fair-weather month at appleby hundred, another man would have left me scant gleanings in the field, i'll be bound; whereas--" "damn you!" i broke in roughly, "will you never have done and go to sleep?" and so, taking surly harshness for a mask when my heart was nigh bursting with shame and grief, i turned my back and cut him off. xxiv how we found the sunken valley looking back upon the hazards and chance-takings of our adventure in the wilderness, i recall no more promising risk than that we ran by sleeping unsentried within rifle-shot, for aught we knew, of the camp of the enemy. but touching this, 'tis only on the mimic stage of the romances that the players rise to the plane of superhuman sagacity and angel-wit, never faltering in their lines nor betraying by slip or tongue-trip their kinship with common humankind. being mere mortals we were not so endowed; we were but four outwearied men, well spent in the long chase, with never a leg among us fit to pace a sentry beat nor a decent wakeful eye to keep it company. so, as i have said, we took the risk and slept; would have slept as soundly, i dare say, had the risk been twice as great. we were astir at the earliest graying of the dawn, richard and i, and were the laggards of the company at that, since the old hunter was already out and away, and the indian had kindled a fire and was grinding more of the parched corn for the morning meal. dick sat up in his leaf litter, yawning like a sleepy giant. "lord, jack," said he; "if ever we win out of this coil with a full day to spare, i mean to sleep the clock hands twice around at a stretch, i promise you. 'twas but a catch, this cat-nap; no more than enough to leave a bad taste in the mouth." "aye; but the taste may be washed out," said i. "i am for a dip in the river; what say you?" he took me at the word, and we had an eye-opening plunge in the spring-cold flood of the swift little river at the mouth of our ravine. 'twas most marvelous refreshing; and with appetites sharp set and whetted by the stripping and plunging we were back at the fire in time to give good day to ephraim yeates, at that moment returned with the hindquarters of a fine yearling buck, fresh-killed, across his shoulders. seeing the deer's meat, we would think the old hunter's thrift of the dawn sufficiently accounted for; but when the cuts were a-broil, we were made to know that the buck was merely a lucky incident in the early morning scouting. taking time by the forelock, the old borderer had swept a circle of reconnaissance around our halting place, "to get the p'ints of the compass," as he would say. his first discovery was that the ford we had found in the darkness served as the river crossing of an ancient and well-used indian trace. along this trace from the eastward the powder train had come, no longer ago than mid-afternoon of yesterday; and arguing from this that the night camp of the band would be but a short march to the westward, yeates had pushed on to feel out the enemy's position. for a mile or more beyond the ford he had trailed the convoy easily. the indian trace or path, well-trampled by the numerous horses of the cavalcade, followed the up-stream windings of the swift river straight into the eye of the western mountains. but in the eye itself, a rocky defile where the slopes on each hand became frowning battlements to narrow valley and stream, the one to a darkling gorge, the other to a thundering torrent, the trail was lost as completely as if the powder convoy had vanished into thin air. here was a fresh complication, and one that called for instant action. we had counted upon a battle royal in any attempt to rescue the women; but that falconnet, impeded as he was by the slow movements of the powder cargo, could slip away, was a contingency for which we were wholly unprepared. so, as you would guess, the hunter breakfast was hurriedly despatched; and by the time the sun was shoulder high over the eastern hills we had broken camp and crossed the river, and were pressing forward to the gorge of disappearance. on each hand the mountains rose precipitous, the one on the left swelling unbroken to a bald and rounded summit, forest covered save for its tonsured head high in air, while that on the right was steeper and lower, with a line of cliffs at the top. as we fared on, the valley narrowed to a mere chasm, with the river thundering along the base of the tonsured mountain, and the indian path hugging the cliff on the right. in the gloomiest depths of this defile we came upon the hunter's stumbling-block. a tributary stream, issuing from a low cavern in the right-hand cliff, crossed the indian path and the chasm at a bound and plunged noisily into the flood of the larger river. on the hither side of this barrier stream the trail of the powder convoy led plainly down into the water; and, so far as one might see, that was the end of it. as we made sure, we left no stone unturned in the effort to solve the mystery. no horse, ridden or led, could have lived to cross the pouring torrent of the main river, or to wade up or down its bed; and if the cavalcade had turned up the barrier stream its progress must have ended abruptly against the sheer wall of the cliff at the entrance to the low-arched cavern whence the tributary came into being. but if falconnet and his following had ridden neither up nor down the bed of the barrier stream, it seemed equally certain that no horse of the troop had crossed it. the indian trace, which held straight on up the gorge and presently came out above into a high upland valley, was unmarked by any hoof print, new or old. "well, now; i'll be daddled if this here ain't about the beatin'est thing i ever chugged up ag'inst," was the old borderer's comment, when we had flogged our wits to small purpose in the search for some clue to the mystery. "what's your mind about it, hey, chief?" uncanoola shook his head. "heap plenty slick. no go up-stream, no go down, no cross over, no go back. mebbe go up like smoke--w'at?" the hunter shook his head and would by no means admit the alternative. "ez i allow, that would ax for a merricle; and i reckon ez how when the good lord sends a chariot o' fire after sech a clanjamfrey as this'n o' the hoss-captain's, it'll be mighty dad-blame' apt to go down 'stead of up." we were standing on the brink of the barrier stream no more than a fisherman's cast from the black rock-mouth that spewed it up from its underground maw. while the hunter was speaking, the catawba had lapsed into statue-like listlessness, his gaze fixed upon the eddying flood which held the secret of the vanished cavalcade. suddenly he came alive with a bound and made a quick dash into the water. what he retrieved was only a small piece of wood, charred at one end. but ephraim yeates caught at it eagerly. "now the lord be praised for all his marcies!" he exclaimed. "it do take an injun to come a-running whenst ever'body else is plumb beat out! ne'er another one of us had an eye sharp enough to ketch that bit o' sign a-floating past. what say, cap'n john?" i shook my head, seeing no special significance in the token; and dick asked: "what will it be, ephraim, now that it is caught?" the old man looked his pity for our dullard wit, and then set a moiety of it in words. "well, well, now; i'm fair ashamed of ye! what all d'ye reckon blackened the end o' this bit o' pine-branch?" "why, fire," says richard, beginning, as i did, to see some glimmering of light. "in course. and it come from yonder, didn't it?" pointing to the cavern under the cliff. "more than that, 'twas cut wi' a hatchet--this fresh end of it--no longer ago than last night, at the furdest; the pitch that the fire fried out'n it is all soft and gummy, yit. gentlemen all: whenst we find where this here creek comes out into daylight again we're a-going to find the hoss-captain and the whole enduring passel o' redskins and redcoats, immejitly, _if_ not sooner!" what comment this startling announcement would have evoked i know not, for at the moment of its utterance the catawba went flat upon the ground, making most urgent signs for us to do likewise. what he had seen we all saw a flitting instant later; the painted face of a cherokee warrior as a setting for a pair of fierce basilisk eyes peering out of the low-arched cavern whence the stream issued, an apparition looking for all the world like a dismembered head floating on the surface of the outgushing flood. 'twas the old borderer who took the initiative in the swift retreat, and we followed his lead like well-drilled soldiers. a crook in the stream, and the thickset underwood, screened us for the moment from the basilisk eyes; and in a twinkling we had rolled one after another into the mimic torrent and were quickly swept down to its mouth. here death lay in wait for us in the mad plungings of the main river; but we made shift to catch at the overhanging branches of the willows in passing, to draw ourselves out, to scramble up the gorge and to gain a great boulder on the mountain side whence we could look down upon the scene of our late surprisal. by this we saw, from the wings, as it were, the setting of the stage for a tragedy which might have been ours. one by one a score of heads with painted faces floated silently out of the spewing rock-mouth. one by one the glistening, bronze-red bodies appertaining thereto emerged from the water, each to take its place in an ambuscade enclosing the stream-crossing of the indian path in a pocket-like line of crouching figures, with the mouth of the pocket open toward the lower valley. ephraim yeates chuckled under his breath and smote softly upon his thigh. "they tell ez how the good lord has a mighty tender care for chillern and simples," he whispered. "whenst we was a-coming a-rampaging up the trace a hour 'r two ago, i saw the moccasin track o' that there spy, and was too dad-blame' biggity in my own consate to ax what it mought mean." "what spy?" says dick, matching the hunter's low whisper. "why, the varmint that tracked me back from here 'twixt dawn and daybreak, _to_ be sure. he waited till we broke camp and then took out up here ahead of us to tell his chief 'twas e'ena'most time to set the trap for three white simples and a red one. friends, i'm a-telling ye plain that the sperrit's a-moving me mighty powerful to get down on my hunkers and--" "for heaven's sake, don't do it here and now!" gasped dick. "let's get out of this spider's-web while we may." the old hunter postponed his prayerful motion, most reluctantly, as it would seem, and led the way in a silent withdrawal from the dangerous neighborhood of the ambushment. when we had pushed on somewhat higher up the gorge and stood on the confines of the upland valley for which it served as the approach, there was a halt for a council of war. since it was now evident that the powder convoy was encamped in some hidden gorge or valley to which the cavern of the underground stream was one of the approaches, 'twas plain that we must climb to some height whence we could command a wider view. we were all agreed that the cavern entrance could not have been used by the entire company: this though the conclusion left the vanishing trail an unsolved riddle. for if the women could have been dragged through the low-springing arch of the waterway, we knew the horses could not--to say nothing of the certain destruction of the powder cargo in such a passage. so we addressed ourselves to the ascent of the northern mountain; though richard and i would first beg a little space in which to drain the water from our boots, and to wring some pounds' weight of it from our clothes. that done, we fell in line once more; and being so fortunate as to hit upon a ravine which led to the cliff-crowned summit, the climb was shorn of half its toil and difficulty. nevertheless, by the sun's height it was well on in the forenoon before we came out, perspiring, like sappers in a steam bath, upon the mountain top. as yeates had guessed, this northern mountain proved to be a lofty table-land. so far as could be seen, the summit was an undulating plain, less densely forested than the valley, but with a thick sprinkling of pines to make the still, hot air heavy with their resinous fragrance. as it chanced, our ravine of ascent headed well back from the cliff edge, so we must needs fetch a compass through the pine groves before we could win out to any commanding point of view. the old borderer took his bearings by the sun and laid the course quartering to bring us out as near as might be on the heights above the gorge. but when we had gone a little way, a thinning of the wood ahead warned us that we were approaching some nearer break in the table-land. five minutes later we four stood on the brink of a precipice, looking abroad upon one of nature's most singular caprices. conceive if you can a segment of the table-land, in shape like a broad-bilged man o' war, sunk to a depth of, mayhap, six or seven hundred feet below the general level of the plateau. give this ship-shaped chasm a longer dimension of two miles or more, and a breadth of somewhat less than half its length; bound it with a wall-like line of cliffs falling sheer to steep, forested slopes below; prick out a silver ribbon of a stream winding through grassy savannas and well-set groves of lordly trees from end to end of the sunken valley; and you will have some picture of the scene we looked upon. but what concerned us most was a sight to make us crouch quickly lest sharp eyes below should descry us on the sky-line of the cliff. pitched on one of the grassy savannas by the stream, so fairly beneath us that the smallest cannon planted on our cliff could have dropped a shot into it, was the camp of the powder train. xxv how uncanoola trapped the great bear 'twas richard jennifer who first broke the noontide silence of the mountain top, voicing the query which was thrusting sharp at all of us. "now how in the name of all the fiends did they make shift to burrow from yonder bag-bottom into this?" he would say. "ez i allow, that's jest what the good lord fotched us here for--to find out," was yeates's rejoinder. "do you and the chief, cap'n john, circumambylate this here pitfall yon way, whilst cap'n dick and i go t'other way 'round. by time we've made the circuit and j'ined company again, i reckon we'll know for sartain whether 'r no they climm' the mounting to get in." so when we had breathed us a little the circuiting was begun, ephraim yeates and jennifer going toward the lower end of the sink, and the catawba and i in the opposite direction. since we must examine closely every rift and crevice in the boundary cliff, it was a most tedious undertaking; and i do remember how my great trooper boots, sun-drying on my feet, made every step a wincing agony. they say an army goes upon its belly, but an old campaigner will tell you that you can march a soldier till he be too thin to cast a shadow if only he hath ease of his footgear. taking it all in all, it proved a slow business, this looping of the sunken valley; and when we had worked around to the eastern cliff and to a meeting point with the old hunter and richard jennifer, the sun was level in our faces and the day was waning. coming together again, we made haste to compare notes. there was little enough to add to the common fund of information, and the mystery of the lost trail remained a mystery. true, we, the indian and i, had found a ravine at the extreme upper end of the valley through which, we thought, a sure-footed horse might be led at a pinch, up or down; but this ravine had not been used by the powder train, and apart from it there was no practicable horse path leading down from the plateau. as for the hunter and richard, they had made a discovery which might stand for what it was worth. at its lower extremity the sunken valley was separated from the great gorge without only by a ridge which was no more than a huge dam; and this diking ridge was evidently tunneled by the stream, since the latter had no visible outlet. inasmuch as the most favorable point of espial upon the camp below was the cliff whence we had first looked down into the sink, we harked back thither, passing around the lower end of the valley and along the barrier ridge. plan we had none as yet, for the preliminary to any attempt at a rescue must be some better knowledge of the way into and out of falconnet's cunningly chosen stronghold. true, we might win in and out again by the ravine which the chief and i had explored at the upper end, and dick was for trying this when the night should give us the curtain of darkness for a shield. but the old hunter would hold this forlorn hope in reserve as a last resort. "sort it out for yourself, cap'n dick," he argued. "whatsomedever we make out to do--four on us ag'inst that there whole enduring army o' their'n--has got to be done on the keen jump, with a toler'ble plain hoss-road for the skimper-scamper race when it _is_ done. for, looking it up and down and side to side, we've got to have hosses--some o' their hosses, at that. i jing! if we could jest make out somehow 'r other to lay our claws on the beasteses aforehand--" we had reached the cliff and were once more peering down at the enemy's camp. though for the cliff-shadowed valley it was long past sunset and all the depths were blue and purple in the changing half-lights of the hour, the shadow veil was but a gauze of color, softening the details without obscuring them. so we could mark well the metes and bounds of the camp and prick in all the items. the camp field was the largest of the savannas or natural clearings. on the margin of the stream the indian lodges were pitched in a semicircle to face the water. farther back, falconnet's troop was hutted in rough-and-ready shelters made of pine boughs--these disposed to stand between the camp of the cherokees and the tepee-lodge of the captive women which stood among the trees in that edge of the forest hemming the slope which buttressed our cliff of observation. at first we sought in vain for the storing-place of the powder. it was the sharp eyes of the catawba that finally descried it. a rude housing of pine boughs, like the huts of the troopers, had been built at the base of a great boulder on the opposite bank of the stream; and here was the lading of the powder train. from what could be seen 'twas clear that the camp was no mere bivouac for the day; indeed, the englishmen were still working upon their pine-bough shelters, building themselves in as if for a stay indefinite. "'tis a rest camp," quoth dick; "though why they should break the march here is more than i can guess." "no," said ephraim yeates. "'tain't jest rightly a rest camp, ez i take it. ez i was a-saying last night, this here is tuckasege country, and we ain't no furder than a day's running from the cowee towns. now the tuckaseges and the over-mounting cherokees ain't always on the best o' tarms, and i was a wondering if the hoss-captain hadn't sot down here to wait whilst he could send a peace-offer' o' powder and lead on to the cowee chiefs to sort o' smooth the way." "no send him yet; going to send," was uncanoola's amendment. "look-see, chelakee braves make haste for load horses down yonder now!" again the sharp eyes of the catawba had come in play. at the foot of the great boulder some half dozen of the cherokees were busy with the powder cargo, lashing pack-loads of it upon two horses. one of the group, who appeared to be directing the labor of the others, stood apart, holding the bridle reins of three other horses caparisoned as for a journey. when the loading was accomplished to the satisfaction of the horse-holding chieftain, he and two others mounted, took the burdened animals in tow, and the small cavalcade filed off down the stream toward the apparent _cul de sac_ at the lower end of the valley. ephraim yeates was up in a twinkling, dragging us back from the cliff edge. "up with ye!" he cried. "now's our chance to kill two pa'tridges with one stone! if we can make out to get down into t'other valley in time to see how them varmints come out, we'll know the way in. more'n that, we can ambush 'em and so make sartain sure o' five o' the six hosses we're a-going to need, come night. but we've got to leg for it like ahimaaz the son of zadok!" thus the old borderer; and being only too eager to come to handgrips with the enemy, we were up and running faster than ever joab's messenger ran, long before the old man finished with his scriptural simile. not to take the risk of delay on any unexplored short cut, we made straight for the ravine of our ascent, found it as by unerring instinct, and were presently racing down to the indian trace in the little upland valley above the gorge. for all the helter-skelter haste i found time to remember that the gorge as we had last seen it had been well besprinkled with armed cherokees lying in wait for us. if they were still there we should be like to have a hot welcome; and some reminder of this i gasped out to yeates in mid flight. "ne'm mind that; if we run up ag'inst 'em anywhere, 'twon't be there-away. they've took the hint and quit; scattered out to hunt us long ago," was his answer, jerked out between bounds. and after that i loosed the ferara in its sheath and saved my breath as i might for the killing business of the moment. 'twas a sharp disappointment that, for all the haste of our mad scramble down the mountain, we were too late to surprise the secret of the enemy's stronghold. the catawba was leading when we dashed down into the valley, and one glance sent him flying back to stop us short with a dumb show purporting that the quarry was already out of the defile and coming up the indian path. richard swore grievously, but the old backwoodsman took the checkmate placidly and began to set the pieces for the second game in which the horses were the stake, hiding his useless rifle in a hollow tree,--his powder had been soaked and spoiled in the early morning plunge for life,--and drawing his hunting-knife to feel its edge and point. "ez i allow, that fotches us to the hoss-lifting," he said, in his slow drawl. then he laid his commands upon us. "ord'ly, and in sojer-fashion, now; no whooping and yelling. if the hoss-captain's got scouts out a-s'arching for us, one good screech from these here varmints we're a-going to put out'n their mis'ry 'u'd fix our flints for kingdom come. i ain't none afeard o' your nerve,"--this to richard and me--"leastwise, not when it comes to fair and square sojer-fighting. but this here onfall has got to be like the smiting o' the 'malekites--root _and_ branch; and if ye're tempted to be anywise marciful, jest ricollect that for the sake o' them wimmen-folks _we've got to have these hosses_!" you are not to suppose that he was holding us inactive while he thus exhorted us. on the contrary, he was posting us skilfully beside the trace like the shrewd old indian fighter that he was, with a rare and practised eye to the maximum of cover with the minimum of thicket tangle to impede the rush or to shorten the sword-swing. but when all was done we were at this disadvantage; that since the enemy was close at hand we dared not cross the path to give our trap a jaw on either side. to offset this, the catawba dropped out of line and disappeared; and when the cherokees were no more than a hundred yards away, uncanoola came in sight a like distance in the opposite direction, running easily down the path to meet the up-coming riders. richard let slip an admiration-oath under his breath. "there's a fine bit of strategy for you!" he whispered. "that wily jack-at-a-pinch of ours will befool them into believing that he is a runner from the cowee towns. 'tis our cue to lie close; he will halt them just here, and there will be roving eyes in the heads of the two who have not to talk." we had not long to wait. our cunning ally timed his halting of the emissaries to a nicety, and when the three cherokees drew rein they were within easy blade's reach. the powwow, lengthened by uncanoola till we were near bursting with impatience, was spun out wordily, and presently we saw the pointing of it. the catawba was affecting to doubt the protests of the emissaries and would have them dismount and prove their good faith by smoking the peace-pipe with him. i give you fair warning, my dears, that you may turn the page here and skip what follows if you are fain to be tender-hearted on the score of these savage enemies of ours. it was in the very summer solstice of the year of violence; a time when he who took the sword was like to perish with the sword; and we thought of little save that margery and her handmaiden were in deadliest peril, and that these indians had five horses which we must have. and as for my own part in the fray, when i recognized in the five-feathered chieftain of the three that copper-hued imp of satan who had been the merciless master of ceremonies at the torturing of my poor black tomas, the decent meed of mercy which even a seasoned soldier may cherish died within me, and i made sure the steel would find its mark. so, when uncanoola drew forth his tobacco pipe and made the three doomed ones sit with him in the path to smoke the peace-whiff all around, we picked out each his man and smote to slay. the scythe-like sweep of jennifer's mighty claymore left the five-feathered chieftain the shorter by a head in the same pulse-beat that the ferara scanted a second of the breath to yell with; though now i recall it, the gurgling death-cry of the poor wretch with the steel in his throat was more terrible to hear than any war-whoop. as for the old borderer, he was more deliberate. being fair behind and within arm's reach of his man, he seized him by the scalp-lock, bent the head backward across his knee--but, faugh! these are the merest butcher details, and i would spare you--and myself, as well. while yet this most merciless deed was a-doing, the catawba bounded to his feet and made sure of the horses which were rearing and snorting with affright. that done, he must needs gloat, indian-wise, over his fallen adversary, turning the headless body with his foot and gibing at it. "wah! call hisself the great bear, hey? heap lie; heap no bear; heap nothing, now. papoose bear no let hisself be trap' that way. no smoke peace-pipe--" but now ephraim yeates, standing ear a-cock and motionless, like some grim old statue done in leather, cut him short with a sudden, "hist, will ye!" and a twinkling instant later we had other work to do. "onto the hosses with this here injun-meat, ez quick ez the loving lord'll let ye!" was the sharp command. "there's a whole clanjamfrey o' the varmints a-coming down the trace, and i reckon ez how we'd better scratch gravel immejitly, _if_ not sooner!" xxvi we take the charred stick for a guide luckily for us the new danger was approaching from the westward. so, by dint of the maddest hurryings we got the bodies of the three cherokees hoist upon the horses, and were able to efface in part the signs of the late encounter before the band of riders coming down the indian path was upon us. but there was no time to make an orderly retreat. at most we could only withdraw a little way into the wood, halting when we were well in cover, and hastily stripping coats and waistcoats to muffle the heads of the horses. so you are to conceive us waiting with nerves upstrung, ready for fight or flight as the event should decide, stifling in such pent-up suspense as any or all of us would gladly have exchanged for the fiercest battle. happily, the breath-scanting interval was short. from behind our thicket screen we presently saw a file of indian horsemen riding at a leisurely footpace down the path. ephraim yeates quickly named these new-comers for us. "'tis about ez i allowed--some o' the tuckaseges a-scouting down to hold a powwow with the hoss-captain. now, then; if them sharp-nosed ponies o' their'n don't happen to sniff the blood--" the hope was dashed on the instant by the sudden snorting and shying of two or three of the horses in passing, and we laid hold of our weapons, keying ourselves to the fighting pitch. but, curiously enough, the riders made no move to pry into the cause. so far from it, they flogged the shying ponies into line and rode on stolidly; and thus in a little time that danger was overpast and the evening silence of the mighty forest was ours to keep or break as we chose. the old frontiersman was the first to speak. "well, friends, i reckon ez how we mought ez well thank the good lord for all his marcies afore we go any furder," he would say; and he doffed his cap and did it forthwith. it was as grim a picture as any limner of the weird could wish to look upon. the twilight shadows were empurpling the mountains and gathering in dusky pools here and there where the trees stood thickest in the valley. the hush of nature's mystic hour was abroad, and even the swiftly flowing river, rushing sullenly along its rocky bed no more than a stone's cast beyond the indian path, seemed to pretermit its low thunderings. there was never a breath of air astir in all the wood, and the leaves of the silver poplar that will twinkle and ripple in the lightest zephyr hung stark and motionless. barring the old borderer, who had gone upon his knees, we stood as we were; the catawba holding the pack horses, and jennifer and i the three that bore the ghastly burdens of mortality. the bodies of the slain had been flung across the saddles to balance as they might; and to the pommel of that saddle which bore the trunk of the five-feathered chieftain, uncanoola had knotted the grisly head by its scalp-lock to dangle and roll about with every restless movement of the horse--a hideous death-mask that seemed to mop and mow and stare fearsomely at us with its wide-open glassy eyes. with this background fit for the staging of a scene in dante alighieri's tragic comedy, the looming mountains, the upper air graying on to dusk, and the solemn forest aisles full of lurking shadows, you are to picture the old frontiersman, bareheaded and on his knees, pouring forth his soul in all the sonorous phrase of holy writ, now in thanksgiving, and now in most terrible beseechings that all the vials of heaven's wrath might be poured out upon our enemies. his face, commonly a leather mask to hide the man behind it, was now ablaze with the fire of zealotry; and, truly, in these his spasm-fits of supplication he stood for all that is most awe-inspiring and unnerving, asking but a little stretch of the imagination to figure him as one of those old iron-hard prophets of denunciation come back to earth to be the herald of the wrath of god. 'twas close upon actual nightfall when the old man rose from his knees and, with the rising, put off the beadsman and put on the shrewd old indian fighter. followed some hurried counselings as to how we should proceed, and in these the hunter set the pace for us as his age and vast experience in woodcraft gave him leave. his plan had all the merit of simplicity. now that we had the horses, richard's notion of an approach from the head of the sunken valley became at once the most hopeful of any. so ephraim yeates proposed that we betake ourselves to the mountain top and to the head of that ravine which the catawba and i had discovered. here we should leave the horses well hidden and secured, make our way down the ravine, and, with the stream for a guide, follow the sunken valley to the camp at its lower end. once on the ground without having given the alarm, we might hope to free the captives under cover of the darkness; and our retreat up the valley would be far less hazardous than any open flight by way of the unexplored road the powder train had used. so said the old backwoodsman; but neither dick nor i would agree to this _in toto_. dick argued that while we were killing time in the roundabout advance we should be leaving margery wholly at the mercy of the baronet, and that every hour of delay was full of hideous menace to her. hence he proposed that three of us should carry out the hunter's plan, leaving the fourth to take the hint given by the charred stick and the swimming ambush crew, and so penetrating to the valley by the stream cavern, be at hand to strike a blow for our dear lady's honor in case of need. "'tis a thing to be done, and i am with you, dick," said i. this before ephraim yeates could object. "should there be need for any, two blades will be better than one. if it come to blows and we are killed or taken, yeates and the chief must make the shift to do without our help." as you would guess, the old hunter demurred to this halving of our slender force, but we over-persuaded him. if all went well, we were to rendezvous on the scene of action to carry out the plan of rescue. but if our adventure should prove disastrous, yeates and uncanoola were to bide their time, striking in when and how they might. touching this contingency, i drew the old man aside for a word in private. "if aught befall us, ephraim,--if we should be nabbed as we are like to be,--you are not to let any hope of helping us lessen by a feather's weight the rescue chance of the women. you'll promise me this?" "sartain sure; ye can rest easy on that, cap'n john. but don't ye go for to let that rampaging boy of our'n upsot the fat in the fire with any o' his foolishness. he's love-sick, he is; and there ain't nothing in this world so ridic'lous foolish ez a love-sick boy--less'n 'tis a love-sick gal." i promised on my part and so we went our separate ways in the gathering darkness; though not until the lashings of the packs had been cut and the powder and lead, save such spoil of both as ephraim yeates and uncanoola would reserve, had been spilled into the river. as for the bodies of the dead indians, the old hunter said he would let them ride till he should come to some convenient chasm for a sepulcher; but i mistrusted that he and the catawba would scalp and leave them once we were safely out of sight. at the parting we took the river's edge for it, richard and i, keeping well under the bank and working our way cautiously down the gorge until we were stopped by the pouring cross-torrent of the underground tributary. here we turned short to the left along the margin of the barrier stream, and tracing its course across the gorge came presently to the northern cliff at the lip of the spewing cavern mouth. by now the night was fully come and in the wooded defile we could place ourselves only by the sense of touch. "are you ready, dick?" said i. "as ready as a man with a shaking ague can be," he gritted out. "this dog's work we have been doing of late has brought my old curse upon me and i am like to rattle my teeth loose." "let me go alone then. another cold plunge may be the death of you." "no," said he, stubbornly. "wait but a minute and the fever will be on me; then i shall be fighting-fit for anything that comes." so we waited, and i could hear his teeth clicking like castanets. having had a tertian fever more than once in the turkish campaigning, i had a fellow-feeling for the poor lad, knowing well how the thought of a plunge into cold water would make him shrink. in a little time he felt for my hand and grasped it. "i'm warm enough now, in all conscience," he said; and with that we slipped into the stream. 'twas a disappointment of the grateful sort to find the water no more than mid-thigh deep. the current was swift and strong, but with the pebbly bottom to give good footing 'twas possible to stem it slowly. laying hold of each other for the better breasting of the flood we felt our way warily to the middle of the pool; felt for the low-sprung cavern arch, and for that scanty lifting of it where we hoped to find head room between stone above and stream below. we found the highest part of the arch after some blind groping, and making lowly obeisance to the gods of the underworld began a snail-like progress into the gurgling throat of the spewing rock-monster. i here confess to you, my dears, that, had i loved my sweet lady less, no earthly power could have driven me into that dismal stifling place. all my life long i have had a most unspeakable horror of low-roofed caverns and squeezing passages that cramp a man for breath and for the room to draw it in; and when the suffocating madness came upon me, as it did when we were well jammed in this cursed horror-hole, i was right glad to have my love for margery to make an outward-seeming man of me; glad, too, that my dear lad was close behind to shame me into going on. yet, after all, the passage through the throat of the rock dragon was vastly more terrifying than difficult. once well within the closely drawn upper lip we could brace our backs against the roof and so have a purchase for the foothold. better still, when we had passed a pike's-length beyond the lip the breathing space above the water grew wider and higher till at length we could stand erect and come abreast to lock arms and push on side by side. from that the stream broadened and grew shallower with every step, and presently we could hear it on ahead babbling over the stones like any peaceful woodland brook. then suddenly the dank and noisome air of the cavern gave place to the pine-scented breath of the forest; and, looking straight up, we could see the twinkling stars shining down upon us from a narrow breadth of sky. xxvii how a king's trooper became a wastrel dick pressed closer to me, and i could feel him drinking in deep drafts of the grateful outer air. "what new wonder is this?" he would ask, with something akin to awe in his voice; but we must needs grope this way and that to feel out the answer with our finger-tips. when the answer was found, the mystery of the lost trail was solved most simply. as we made out, we were in a deep crevice cut crosswise by the stream which, issuing from a yawning cavern in the farther wall, was quickly engulfed again by that lower archway we had just traversed. in some upheaval of the earthquake age a huge slice of the mountain's face had split off and settled away from the parent cliff to leave a deep cleft open to the sky. one end of this crevice chasm--that toward the upland valley--was choked and filled by the debris of later landslides; but the lower end was open. through this lower end, as we made no doubt, the powder train had come, turning from the indian path in the gorge up the bed of the barrier stream, turning again at the outer cavern mouth to squeeze in single file between the thickly matted undergrowth and the cliff's face, and so to pass around the split-off mass and come into the crevice rift. how the sharp eyes of the old hunter, and those of the catawba as well, had missed the finding of this squeezing place where the cavalcade had left the stream-bed, we could never guess; but on the chance that we might yet need to know all the crooks and turnings of this outlet, we felt our way quite around the masking cliff and down to the stream's edge in the gorge. that done we were ready for a farther advance, and clambering back into the crevice we once more took the stream for our guide and were presently deep in the natural tunnel piercing the mountain proper. this extension of the subterranean waterway proved to be a noble cavern, wide and high enough to pass a loaded wain, as we determined by tossing pebbles against the arching roof. none the less, 'twas full of crooks and windings; and in the sharpest elbow of them all, where we were like to lose our way by blundering into one of the many branching side passages, richard stopped me with a hand thrust back. "softly!" he cautioned; "here are their vedettes!" just beyond the crooking elbow the dull red glow from a tiny fire gone to coals showed us two indian sentries set to keep the pass. dick drew his claymore, but he was chilling again and the hand that grasped the great blade was shaking as with a palsy. yet he would mutter, as the teeth-chattering suffered him: "what say you, jack? shall we rush them? there's naught else for it." and then, with a gritting oath: "oh, damn this cursed chilling!" i whispered back that we would wait till he was better fit. he was loath to admit the necessity, but, as it chanced, the momentary delay saved our lives in that strait. while we paused, hugging the shadows in the crooking elbow, the gloomy depths beyond the sentries were suddenly starred with flaring flambeaux lighting the way for a hasting rabble of savages; and had we been entangled in the struggle with the two sentinels we should have been taken red-handed. as it was, we had to make the quickest play to save ourselves. in the same breath we both remembered the narrow side passage just behind in which we were nigh to losing our way, and into this we plunged, reckless of possible pitfalls. we were no more than safely out of the main corridor when the runners, some score of them, as we guessed, trooped past our covert in full cry, leaving us half smothered in the smoky trail of their pitch-pine flambeaux. "now what a-devil has set this hornet's nest of theirs abuzz so suddenly?" i whispered, when the smoke-choke gave us liberty to speak without coughing to betray ourselves. "our pony-riding tuckaseges, doubtless," was richard's ready answer. "by all the chances, they should have met the great bear and his peace-offering out yonder on the trace--which same they did not. so when they bring this tale to camp there is the devil to pay and no pitch hot. god help our tough old ephraim and the catawba if these bloodhounds win out in time to overtake them!" "aye," said i; and then we crept out of our dodge-hole and made ready to go about our business with the sentries. but when we came to peer again around the crooking elbow it would seem that the hurrying search party had fought our battle for us. the watch-fire was there to light a little circle in the gloom, but the watchers were gone. we chanced a guess that they had joined the hue and cry, and so we pressed forward, past the handful of embers and into the pit-black depths beyond. twenty paces farther on it came to playing blind man's buff with the rocky walls again, and measured by the trippings and stumblings 'twas a long sabbath day's journey to that final turn in the great earth-burrow whence we could see the glimmering of the enemy's camp-fires in the sunken valley. "now god be praised!" quoth richard most fervently. "another hour in this cursed kennel with the fever on me and i should be a yammering loose-wit." and i, too, was glad enough to see the stars again, and to be at large beneath them. emerging from the subterranean way, we held to the camp side of the stream, making an ample circuit to the left to come down upon the enemy's position from the wooded slope behind the encampment. we met no let or hindrance in this approach. secure in their stronghold, the indians had no patrols out; and as for the englishmen, every mother's son of them, it seemed, was basking in the light of a great fire built before the pine-bough shelters. favored by a dense thicketing of laurel we made a near-hand reconnaissance of the little wigwam which held our dear lady. as i have said, this was pitched in the thinning of the forest which covered the steep slope behind the encampment, and so was the farthest removed from the stream, and from the indian lodges disposed in a half-moon at the water's edge. here all was quiet as the grave, and the clamor of the indian camp came softened by the distance to a low monotonous humming like the buzzing of a bee-hive. the flap of the tepee-lodge was closely drawn, and the bit of fire before it had burned out to a heap of white-ashed embers. "they are safe as yet, thank god!" says richard, heaving a most palpable sigh of relief. then, with the fever in his veins to whip his natural ardor into hasty action: "'twill be hours before eph and the catawba can come in by your upper ravine, jack, and we shall never have a better chance than this. hold you quiet here, whilst i--" but i laid fast hold of him and would not hear to any such a foolhardy marring of ephraim yeates's plan. "heavens, boy! are you gone clean mad?" i would say. "'twill be risky enough with midnight in our favor; with the camp well asleep, and that great fire burned down to give us something less than broad daylight to work in!" he turned upon me like a pettish child. "oh, to the devil with your stumbling-blocks, john ireton! you are always for holding back. by heaven! i'll swear you have no drop of lover's blood in your veins!" "so you have said before. but let that pass, we must bide by our promise to yeates, which was not to interfere unless margery stood in present peril. moreover, we should learn the lay of the land better while we have the firelight to help. when the time for action comes we must be able to make the play with our eyes shut, if need be. come." 'twas like pulling sound teeth to get him away, but he yielded at length and we crept on to have some better sight of the troop camp. we had it; had also a glimpse of the baronet-captain playing loo with his lieutenant and another. the tableau at the fire gave us better courage. the men had laid their arms aside and were sprawling at their ease; and while the arch scoundrel was in the gaming mood, margery had less to fear from him. i said as much to dick, and for answer he pointed to the flask of usquebaugh which was at that moment making the round of the loo players. "i know frank falconnet better than you do, jack, for i have known him later. he is all kinds of a villain sober, but he is a fiend incarnate with the liquor in him. 'tis lucky we are here. if he do but drink deep enough, margery is like to have need--" "hist!" said i; "some of these lounging rascals may not be so drowsy as they look." he nodded, and we backed away to make another circuit which fetched us out on the up-valley side of the encampment. here we could look down into a smaller glade or bottom meadow on the stream where the horses of the band were cropping the lush grass. it was the sight of these, and of margery's black mare among them, that set me thinking of a pickeering venture to the full as harebrained as that from which i had but now dissuaded richard jennifer. "we shall need another mount, and mistress margery's saddle," i said. "lie you close here whilst i play the horse-thief on these reavers." but my dear lad was rash only for himself. "now who is daft?" he retorted. "the catawba himself could never run that gantlet and come through alive." "mayhap," i admitted. "but yet--" he cut me off in the midst, winding an arm about my head by way of an extinguisher. one of the redcoat troopers lounging before the great fire had risen and was coming straight for our hiding place. i saw not what to do; should have done nothing, i dare say, till the man had walked fair upon us. but richard was quicker witted. "give me your sword!" he muttered; "mine will be too long to shorten upon," and when the englishman's next stride would have kicked us out of hiding, dick rose up before him like the devil in a play, gripped him by the collar and laid his sword's point at his throat. "follow me, step for step, or you are a dead man!" he commanded; and so, pacing backward, he led the fellow, with the hulking body of him for a shield and mask, out of the circle of firelight and into the safer shadows of the forest. when i had made a creeping detour to join him, he still had his man by the collar and was emphasizing the need for silence by sundry prickings with the ferara. "say, quick! what to do with him, jack?" he demanded, when i came up; and now my slower wit came into play. "out of this to some safer dressing-room, and i'll show you," said i; and forthwith we marched our prize up the valley a long musket-shot or more. when the soldier had leave to speak he begged right lustily for his life, as you would guess; but we gave him a short shrift. if the plan i had in mind should have a fighting chance for success it must be set in train before this trooper should be missed. so, having first gagged the poor devil with his own neckerchief, we stripped him quickly; and i as quickly donned the borrowed uniform and became, at least in outward semblance, a light-horse trooper of that king whose service i had once forsworn. the items of small-clothes, waistcoat and head-gear fitted me passing well, but when it came to the boots we stuck fast, and i was forced to wear my own foot-coverings. the change made,--and you may believe no play-house actor of them all ever doffed or donned a costume quicker,--we bound our luckless captive hand and foot, pinned him face downward in the sward, and so leaving him with only his boots for a memento,--happily for him the night was no more than goose-flesh cool,--we raced back to our peeping-place on the skirting of the camp ground. here dick wrung my hand, calling himself all the knaves unspeakable for letting me take a risk which he was pleased to call his own; and with that i stepped out into the firelight and was fair afoot in the enemy's camp. xxviii in which i saddle the black mare having so good a disguise, the thing i had set myself to do would seem to ask for little more than peaceful boldness held in check by common caution. the point where i had broken cover to step into the circle of fire light was nearly equidistant from the englishmen's camp on the right and the horse meadow on the left, so i had not to pass within recognition range of the great fire; indeed, i might have skulked in the laurel cover all the way, thus coming to the horses unseen by any, but that i was afraid falconnet might miss his trooper. so i thought it best to show myself discreetly. copying our captive's lounging stride, i first held a sauntering course down to the stream's edge, keeping the great camp-fire and the droning indian hive well to the right and far enough aloof to baffle any over-curious eye at either. coming to the stream without mishap, i stopped and made a feint of drinking; after which i crossed and climbed slowly toward the makeshift powder magazine. as i have said, the camp was pitched in a small savanna or natural clearing on the right bank of the little river. this clearing was hedged about by the forest on three sides, and backed by the densely wooded steeps and crags of the western cliff. i guessed the compass of it to be something more than an acre; not greatly more, since the fire at the troop camp lighted all its boundaries. on the left or opposite bank of the stream there was no intervale at all. the ground rose sharply from the water's edge in a rough hillside thickly studded and bestrewn with boulders great and small; fallen cleavings and hewings from the crags of the eastern cliff. 'twas at the foot of one of the boulders, a huge overhanging mass of weather-riven rock facing the camp, that the powder cargo was sheltered; so isolated to be out of danger from the camp-fires. from the hillside just below this powder rock i could look back upon the camp _en enfilade_, as an artilleryman would say. nearest at hand was the half-moon of indian lodges with the hollow of the crescent facing the stream, and a caldron fire burning in the midst. around the fire a ring of warriors naked to the breech-clout kept time in a slow shuffling dance to a monotonous chanting; and for onlookers there was an outer ring of squatting figures--the visiting tuckaseges, as i supposed. beyond the indian lodges, and a little higher up the gentle slope of the savanna, were the troop shelters; and beyond these, half concealed in the fringing of the boundary forest, was the tepee-lodge of the women. on the bare hillside beneath the powder magazine i made no doubt i was in plainest view from the great fire, and the proof of this conclusion came shortly in a bellowing hail from falconnet. "ho, jack warden!" he called, making a speaking-trumpet of his hands to lift the hail above the chanting of the indian dancers. "have a look at that shelter whilst you are over there and make sure 'twill shed rain if the weather shifts." now some such long-range marking down as this was what i had been angling for. so i came to attention and saluted in soldierly fashion, thereby raising a great laugh among my pseudo-comrades around the trooper fire--a laugh that pointed shrewdly to the baronet-captain's lack of proper discipline. but that is neither here nor there. having my master's order for it, i climbed to the foot of the powder rock. here the bare sight of all the stored-up devastation set me athirst with a fierce longing for leave to snap a pistol in the well-laid mine. for if these enemies of ours had planned their own undoing they could never have given a desperate foeman a better chance. to hold the pine boughs of the rude shelter in place they had piled a great loose wall of stones around and over the cargo; and the firing of the powder, heaped as it was against the backing cliff of the boulder, would hurl these weighting stones in a murderous broadside upon the camp across the stream. but since my dear lady would also share the hazard of such a broadside, i had no leave to blow myself and the powder convoy to kingdom come, as i thirsted to--could not, you will say, having neither pistol to snap nor flint and steel to fire a train. nay, nay, my dears, i would not have you think so lightly of my invention. had this been the only obstacle, you may be sure i should have found a way to grind a firing spark out of two bits of stone. but being otherwise enjoined, as i say, i turned my back upon the temptation and held to the business in hand, which was to reach and recross the stream higher up and so to come among the horses. as i had hoped to find them, the saddles were hung upon the branches of the nearest trees, margery's horse-furnishings among them. at first the black mare was shy of me, but a gentling word or two won her over, and she let me take her by the forelock and lead her deeper into the herd where i could saddle and bridle her in greater safety. my plan to cut her out was simple enough. trusting to the darkness--the horse meadow was far enough from the fires to make a murky twilight of the ruddy glow--i thought to lead the mare quietly away up the stream and thus on to the foot of that ravine by which we hoped to climb to the old borderer's rendezvous on the plateau. but when all was ready and i sought to set this plan in action, an unforeseen obstacle barred the way. to keep the horses from straying up the valley an indian sentry line was strung above the grazing meadow, and into this i blundered like any unlicked knave of a raw recruit. had i been armed, the warrior who rose before me phantom-like in the laurel edging of the meadow would have had a most sharp-pointed answer to his challenge. as it was,--i had left my sword with jennifer because the captured trooper whose understudy i was had left his sword in camp,--i tried to parley with the sentry. he knew no word of english, nor i of cherokee; but that deadlock was speedily broken. a guttural call summoned others of the horse-keepers, and among them one who spoke a little english. "ugh! what for take white squaw horse?" he demanded. "'tis the captain's order," i replied, lying boldly to fit the crisis. at that they gave me room; and had i hastened, i had doubtless gone at large without more ado. but at this very apex point of hazard i must needs play out the part of unalarm to the fool's _envoi_, taking time to part the mare's forelock under the head-stall, and looking leisurely to the lacings of the saddle-girth. this foolhardy delay cost me all, and more than all. i was still fiddle-faddling with the girth strap, the better to impose upon my indian horse-guards, when suddenly there arose a yelling hubbub of laughter in the camp behind. i turned to look and beheld a thing laughable enough, no doubt, and yet it broke no bubble of mirth in me. half-way from the nearest forest fringe to the great fire a man, white of skin, and clothed only in a pair of trooper boots, was running swiftly for cover to the nearest pine-bough shelter, shouting like an escaped bedlamite as he fled. it asked for no second glance, this apparition of the yelling madman; 'twas our captive soldier, foot-loose and racing in to raise the hue and cry. now you may always count upon this failing in a cautious man, that at a crisis he is like to do the unwisest thing that offers. this cutting out of margery's mare was none so vital a matter that i should have risked the marring of ephraim yeates's plan upon it. yet having done this very thing, i must needs make a bad matter infinitely worse. instead of mounting to ride a charge through the camp, and so to draw the pursuit after me toward the cavern entrance, as i should, i slapped the mare to send her bounding through the guard line, snatched a saddle from its oak-branch peg to hurl it in the faces of the sentry group, and darting aside, plunged into the laurel thicket to come by running where i could and creeping where i must to that place where i had left richard jennifer. all hot and exasperated as i was, 'twas something less than cooling to find dick a-double on the ground, holding his sides and laughing like a yokel at his first pantomime. "oh, ho, ho! did you--did you twig him, jack?" he gasped. "saw you ever such a mincing puss-in-boots since the lord made you? ah! ha! ha!" "the devil take your ill-timed humor!" i cried. "up with you, man, and let us vanish while we may!" by this the camp was in a pretty ferment, as you would guess--our late captive having had space enough to tell his tale. drunk or sober, falconnet was afoot and alert, shouting his orders to the englishmen who were scrambling for their arms, and to the indians who came swarming up from the lodges. whilst we looked, the cherokees scattered like a company of trained gillies to beat us out of cover; and when the hunt was fairly up, the baronet-captain set his men in marching order to surround the wigwam of the captives. as yet there was time for a swift retreat up the valley, or at least for the choosing of some battle-field of our own where the enemy need not outnumber us twenty to one; and again i urged richard to bestir himself. but it was the sight of falconnet's troopers deploying to surround the tepee-lodge, and not any word of mine, that broke his merriment in the midst. at a bound he was up and handing me my sword. "good by, jack; go you whilst you can. you'll be like to meet eph and the catawba coming in; turn them back and tell them to bide their time." "but you?" i would say. "my place is inside of that soldier-cordon our friend is drawing about his dove-cote. i shall be at hand when she needs me, as i promised." "aye, so you may be; but not alone," said i; and with that we fell to running like a pair of doubling foxes through the wood on the steep slope behind the lodge, striving with might and main to gain the laurel thicket whence we had made our first reconnaissance before the converging lines of the redcoat cordon should close and shut us out. we did it by the skin of our teeth, diving to cover through the closing gap not a second too soon. when we were in and hugging the bare ground under the scanty leafing of the laurel, i take no shame in saying that i would have given a king's ransom to be at large again. had there been but one of us the covert would have been cramped enough; and i was painfully conscious that my borrowed coat of scarlet was but a poor thing to hide in. to make it worse, falconnet, who had lagged behind at the fire, was now heaping fresh fuel on, and this reviving of the blaze made the place as light as day. with the nearest links in the redcoat chain no more than a pike's-length at our backs, we dared not stir or breathe a word; and, all in all, we might have been taken like rats in a trap had any one of the sentries on our side of the circle chanced to look behind him. having repaired the fire to his liking, the troop-captain came up to pass a word or two with his lieutenant. they spoke guardedly, but we could hear--could not help hearing. "you have seen nothing, gordon?" "nothing, as yet." "make the round again and tell the men 'twill be ten gold joes and a double allowance of liquor to the man who first claps eyes on any one of the four." the subaltern went to carry out the order, and falconnet fell to pacing back and forth before the little wigwam. i could see his face at the turn where the firelight fell upon him; 'twas the face of a villain at his worst, namely, a villain half in liquor. there was a lurking devil of passion peering out of the sensuous eyes; and ever and anon he stopped as if to listen for some sound within the captives' lodge. when the lieutenant returned to make his report, he was given another order to cap the first. "your line is too close-drawn and too conspicuous," said the captain, shortly. "move the men out fifty paces in advance, and bid them take cover." "they will scarce be within hail of each other at that," says the lieutenant. "near enough, with ten gold pieces to sharpen their eyesight. go you with them and hold them to their work." the line was presently extended as the order ran, each link in the cordon chain advancing fifty paces on its front into the forest. dick fetched a deep sigh of relief; and i thought less of the thin-leafed cover and the scarlet coat of me. falconnet had resumed the pacing of his sentry beat before the lodge, but when his men were out of sight and hearing he stopped short and stole on tiptoe to lay his ear to the flap. "so, you are awake, mistress margery? send your woman out. i would speak with you--alone." there was no reply, but we could both hear the low anguished voice of our dear lady praying for help in this her hour of trial. dick inched aside to give me room, freeing his weapon, as i did mine. we were not over-quiet about it, but the captain of horse was too hot upon his own devil's business to look behind him. having no answer from within, he stooped to loose the flap. it was pegged down on the inside. he rose and whipped out his sword; the firelight fell upon his face again and we saw it as it had been the face of a foul fiend from the pit. "open!" he commanded; and when there was neither reply nor obedience, he cut the flap free with his sword and flung it back. the two women within the wigwam were on their knees before a little crucifix hanging on the lodge wall. so much we saw as we broke cover and ran in upon the despoiler. then the battle-madness came upon us and i, for one, saw naught but the tense-drawn face of a swordsman fighting for his life--a face in which the hot flush of evil passion had given place to the ashen graying of fear. we drove at him together, dick and i, and so must needs fall afoul of each other clumsily, giving him time to spring back and so to miss the claymore stroke which else would have shorn him to the middle. then ensued as pretty a bit of blade work as any master of the old cut-and-thrust school could wish to see; and through it all this king's captain of horse seemed to bear a charmed life. there was no punctilio of the code of honor in this duel _à outrance_. knowing our time was short, we fought as men who fight with halters round their necks; not to decide a nice point at issue, but to kill this accursed villain as we would kill a mad dog or a venomous reptile whose living on imperiled the life and honor of the woman we loved. thrice, whilst i held him in play, dick rushed in to end it with a scythe-sweep of the broadsword; and thrice the scottish death was turned aside by the flashing circle of steel wherewith the man striving shrewdly to gain time made shift to shield himself. yet it was not in flesh and blood to fend the double onslaught for more than some brief minute or two. play as he would--and no _schlägermeister_, of my old field-marshal's picked troop could best him at this game of parry and defense--he must give ground step by step; slowly at the pressing of the ferara, and in quick backward leaps when the great broadsword bit at him. for the first few bouts he withstood us in grim silence. but now richard cut in again and the claymore stroke, less skilfully turned aside, brought him to his knees. this broke his bull courage somewhat, and though he was afoot and on guard before my point could reach him, he began to bellow lustily for help. as you would suppose, the call was all unneeded. at the first clash of steel the outlying troopers were up and swarming to the rescue; and now on all sides came the trampling rush of the in-closing cordon line. had falconnet held his ground a moment longer he would have had us fast in the jaws of the trooper-trap; but 'tis the fatal flaw in mere brute courage that it will break at the pinch. no sooner did the volunteer captain catch a glimpse of his up-coming reinforcements than he must needs show us a clean pair of heels, running like a craven coward and shouting madly to his men to close with us and cut us down. "after him!" roared dick, who was by now as rage-mad as any berserker; and with a cut and thrust to right and left for the nipping trap-jaws we were out and away in chase. now you may mark this as you will; that whilst the devil hath need of his bond-servant he will come between with a miracle if need be to keep the villain breath of life in his vassal. three bounds beyond the closing trap-jaws fetched us, pursued and pursuers, to the open camp field; and here the devil's miracle was wrought. out of the forest fringe, out of the skirting of undergrowth, out of the very earth, as it seemed, uprose a yelling mob of cherokees--the detachment we had met in the cavern returned in the very nick of time to cut us off from the pursuit and to ring us in a whooping circle of death. "back to back, lad!" i shouted; and 'twas thus we met their onslaught. in such a fray as that which followed 'tis the trivial things that leave their mark upon the memory. for one, i recall the curious thrill of master-might it gave me to feel the play of jennifer's great shoulder muscles against my back in his plying of the heavy claymore. for another, i remember the sickening qualm i had when the warm blood of my second--or mayhap 'twas the third--gushed out upon my sword hand, and i remember, too, how the impaled one, driven in upon the blade by the pressure of his fellows behind, would lay hold of the sharp steel and try in the death throe to withdraw it. but after that sickening qualm i recall only this; that i could not free the sword for another thrust, and whilst i tugged and fought for space they dragged me down and buried me, these fierce tribesmen, piling so thick upon me that sight and sound and breath went out together, and i was but an atom crushed to earth beneath the human avalanche. xxix in which, having danced, we pay the piper measured by the sense which takes cognizance of pauses it seemed no more than a moment between the stamping out of breath and its gasping recovery. but in the interval the scene had shifted from the open savanna to a thinly set grove of oaks with the stream brawling through the midst. to the biggest of the trees i was tightly bound; and a little way apart a fire, newly kindled, smoked and blazed up fitfully. by the light of the fire a good score of the cherokees were gathering deadfalls and dry branches to heap beside me; and from the camp below, the indian lodges of which were in plain view beyond the intervening horse meadow, other savages were hurrying to join the wood carriers. so far as these hasting preliminaries applied to me, their meaning was not difficult to read. i was to be burned at the stake in proper savage fashion. but richard jennifer--what had become of him? a sound, half sigh, half groan, told me where to look. hard by, bound to a tree as i was, and so near that with a free hand i could have touched him, was my poor lad. "dick!" i cried. he turned his head as the close-drawn thongs permitted and gave me a smile as loving-tender as a woman's. "aye, jack; they have us hard and fast this time. i have been praying you'd never come alive enough to feel the fire." "we were taken together?" so much i dared ask. "in the same onset. 'twas but a question of clock ticks in that back-to-back business. but they paid scot and lot," this with an inching nod toward a row of naked bodies propped sitting against a fallen tree; nine of them in all, one with its severed head between its knees, and three others showing the gaping hacks and hewings of the great broadsword. "they've fetched them here to see us burn," he went on. "but by the gods, we have the warrant of two good blades and ephraim yeates's hunting-knife that the only fires they'll ever see are those of hell." "yeates?" i queried. "then they have taken him and the catawba, as well?" "not alive, you may be sure, else we should have them for company. but it has a black look for our friends that the flying column we met in the stream-cave came back so soon. moreover, the bodies of the three peace-pipe smokers were found and brought in; that will be the great bear holding his head in his hands at the end of yonder bloody masquerade." "i guessed as much. god rest our poor comrades!" "aye; and god help madge! 'tis no time for reproaches, but amongst us we have signed her death warrant with our bunglings." "if it were only death!" i groaned. "'tis just that, jack," said he; "no better, mayhap, but no worse. when we were downed by that screeching mob, she was out and on her knees to falconnet, beseeching him to spare us. he put her off smoothly at first, saying 'twas the indians' affair--that they would not be balked of their vengeance by any interference of his. but when she only begged the more piteously, he showed his true colors, rapping out that we should have as swift a quittance as we had meant to give him, and that within the hour she should be the mistress of appleby and free to marry an english gentleman." "well?" said i, making sure that now at last he must know all. "at that she stood before him bravely, and i saw that all the time she had had the catawba's knife hidden in the folds of her gown. 'you have spoken truth for once, captain falconnet; i shall be free,' she said. 'come and tell me when you have added these to your other murders.'" "and then?" "then she went back to her prison wigwam, walking through the rabble of redcoats and redskins as proudly as the scottish mary went to the block." "she will do it, think you?" i queried, fearful lest she would, but more fearful lest her courage should fail at the pinch. "never doubt it. good catholic as she is, there is martyr blood in her on the mother's side, and that will help her to die unsullied. and god nerve her to it, say i." i said "amen" to that; and thereupon we both fell silent, watching as condemned men on the gallows the busy preparations for our taking off. again, as in the late battle, it was the trivial things that moved me most. chief among them the grinning row of dead indians propped against the fallen tree is the constant background for all the memory pictures of that waiting interval, and i can see those stiffening corpses now, some erect, as if defying us; some lopping this way or that, as if their bones had gone to water at the touch of the steel. i know not why these poor relics of mortality should have held me fascinated as they did. yet when i would look away, through the vista to where the light of the great fire in the savanna camp played luridly upon the indian lodges, or, nearer at hand, upon the savages gathering the wood to burn us with, this ghastly file of the dead drew me irresistibly, and i must needs pass the fearsome figures in review again, marking the staring eyes and unnatural postures, and the circular blood-black patches on the heads of the three peace-men whom yeates and the catawba had scalped. while they were making ready for the burning, our executioners were strangely silent; but when the work was done they formed in a semicircle to front the row of corpses and set up a howling chant that would have put a band of mohammedan dervishes to the blush. "'tis the death song for the slain," said richard; and while it lasted, this moving tableau of naked figures, keeping time in a weird stamping dance to the rising and falling ululation of the chant, held us spellbound. but we were not long suffered to be mere curious onlookers. in its dismalest flight the death song ended in a shrill hubbub, and the dancers turned as one man to face us. i hope it may never be your lot, my dears, to meet and endure such a horrid glare of human ferocity as that these wrought-up avengers of blood bent upon us. 'twas more unnerving than aught that had gone before; more terrible, i thought, than aught that could come after. yet, as to this, you shall judge for yourselves. the pause was brief, and when a lad ran up to cut the thongs that bound us from the middle up, the torture-play began in deadly earnest. whilst the indian youth was slashing at the deerskin, richard gave me my cue. "'tis the knife and hatchet play; they are loosing us to give us freedom to shrink and dodge. look straight before you and never flinch a hair, as you would keep the life in you from one minute to the next!" "trust me," said i. "we must eke it out as long as we can, if only to give our dear lady time for another prayer or two. mayhap she will name us in them; god knows, our need is sore enough." the lad ran back, and a warrior stood out, juggling his tomahawk in air. he made a feint to cast it at richard, but instead sent it whizzing at me. that first missile was harder to face unflinching than were all the others. i saw it leave the thrower's hand; saw it coming straight, as i would think, to split my skull. the prompting to dodge was well-nigh masterful enough to override the strongest will. yet i did make shift to hold fast, and in mid flight the twirling ax veered aside to miss me by a hair's-breadth, gashing the tree at my ear when it struck. "bravo! well met!" cried richard; and then, betwixt his teeth: "here comes mine." as he spoke, a second tomahawk was sped. i heard it strike with a dull crash that might have been on flesh and bone, or on oak-bark--i could not tell. i dared not look aside till richard's taunting laugh gave me leave to breathe again. the indians answered the laugh with a yell; and now the marksmen stood out quickly one after another and for a little space the air was full of hurtling missiles. you will read in the romances of the wondrous skill of these savages in such diversions as these; how they will pin the victim to a tree and never miss of sticking knife or hatchet within the thickness of the blade where they will. but you must take these tales with a dash of allowance for the romancers' fancy. truly, these indians of ours threw well and skilfully; 'tis a part of the only trade they know--the trade of war--to send a weapon true to the mark. none the less, some of the missiles flew wide; and now and then one would nip the cloth of sleeve or body covering--and the flesh beneath it, as well. dick had more of the nippings than i; and though he kept up a running fire of taunts and gibing flings at the marksmen, i could hear the gritting oaths aside when they pinked him. notwithstanding, the worst of these miscasts fell to my lot. a hatchet, sped by the clumsiest hand of all, missed its curving, turned, and the helve of it struck me fair in the stomach. not all the parting pangs of death, as i fondly believe, will lay a heavier toll on fortitude than did this griping-stroke which i must endure standing erect. 'tis no figure of speech to say that i would have given the reversion of a kingdom, and a crown to boot, for leave to double over and groan out the agony of it. happily for us, there were no women with the band, so we were spared the crueler refinements of these ante-burning torments; the flaying alive by inch-bits, and the sticking of blazing splints of pitchwood in the flesh to make death a thing to be prayed for. there was naught of this; and tiring finally of the marksman play, the indians made ready to burn us. some ran to recover the spent weapons; others made haste to heap the wood in a broad circle about our trees; and the chief, with three or four to help, renewed the deer-thong lashings. 'twas in the rebinding that this headman, a right kingly-looking savage as these barbarians go, thrust a bit of paper into my hand, and gave me time to glance its message out by the light of the fire. 'twas a line from margery; and this is what she said: _dear heart: though you must needs believe my love is pledged to your good friend and mine, 'tis yours, and yours alone, my lion-hearted one. i am praying the good god to give you dying grace, and me the courage to follow you quickly. margery. this by the hand of tallachama._ for one brief instant a wave of joy caught and flung me upon its highest crest, and all these savage tormentors could do to me became as naught. then the true meaning of this her brave _ave atque vale_ smote me like a space-flung meteor, and the joy-wave became an ocean of despair to engulf me in its blackest depths. the letter was never meant for me; 'twas for richard jennifer, who, as she would think, must know the story of her marriage to his friend and must believe her love went with the giving of her hand. and she named him lion-heart because he was brave, and true, and strong, like that first english richard of the kingly line. i thrust the message back upon the bearer of it, begging him in dumb show to give it quickly to my companion. i knew not at the time if he did it, being so crushed and blinded by this fresh misery. but when the indians drew off to ring us in a chanting circle for the final act, i would not let the lad see my face for fear he might fathom the heart-break in me and know the cause of it. 'twas at this crisis, when all was ready and one had run to fetch the fire, that i heard a smothered oath from dick and saw the indian who was coming up to fire the wood heaps drop his brand and tread upon it. "ecod!" said a voice, courtier-like and smoothly modulated. "'tis most devilish lucky i came, captain ireton. another moment and they would have grilled you in the king's uniform--a rank treason, to say naught of poor jack warden left without a clout to cover him." it needed not the glance aside to name mine enemy. but i would not pleasure him with an answer. neither would richard jennifer. he stood silent for a little space, smiling and nursing his chin in one hand, as his habit was. then he spoke again. "i came to bid you god-speed, gentlemen. you tumbled bravely into my little trap. i made no doubt you'd follow where the lady led, and so you did. but you'll turn back from this, i do assure you, if there be any virtue in an indian barbecue." at this richard could hold in no longer. "curse you!" he gritted. "do you mean that you kidnapped mistress stair to draw us out of hiding?" "truly," said this arch-fiend, smiling again. "most unluckily for you, you both stood in my way,--you see i am speaking of it now as a thing past,--and i chanced upon this thought of killing two birds with the one stone; nay, three, i should say, if you count the lady in." "have done!" choked richard, in a voice thick with impotent rage. "give place, you hound, and let your savages to their work!" "at your pleasure, mr. jennifer. i have no fancy for funeral baked meats, hot or cold, though they be made, as now, to furnish forth a marriage supper. i bid you good night, gentlemen. i'll go and make that call upon the lady which you were so rude as to interrupt a little while ago." and with that he turned his back upon us and strode away, forgetting to tell his redskinned myrmidons to strip me of that king's uniform he was so loath to have me burned in. the cherokees waited till the master-executioner was out of sight among the trees. then they set up their infernal howling again, and the fire-lighter ran to fetch a fresh brand. "courage, lad! 'twill soon be over now," said i, hearing a groan from my poor dick. his reply was a chattering curse, not upon falconnet or the indians, but upon his malady, the tertian fever. "now, by all the fiends! i'm chilling again, jack!" he gasped. "if these cursed wood-wolves mark it, they'll set it down to woman cowardice and that will break my heart!" again i bade him be of good courage, assuring him, not derisively, as it looks when 'tis written out, that the fire would presently medicine the chilling. in the middle of the saying the lighted brand was fetched and thrust among our fagotings, and the upward-curling smoke wreaths made me gasp and strangle at the finish. for a little time after the sucking in of that first smoke-breath--nature's anodyne for any of her poor creatures doomed to die by fire--i saw and heard less clearly and suffered only by anticipation. but to this day the smell of burning pine-wood is like a sleeping potion to me; and the sleep it brings is full of dreams vaguely troubled. so, while the indians danced and leaped about us, brandishing their weapons and chanting the captives' death song, and while the blue and yellow tongues of flame mounted from twig to twig, climbing stealthily to flick at us like little vanishing demon whips, i saw and heard and felt as one remote from all the torture turmoil of the moment. through the dimming haze of sleeping sensibility the dancing savages became as marionettes in some cunning puppet show; and the blood stained figures stiffening against their log took shapes less horrifying. 'twas dick's voice, coming, as it seemed, from a mighty distance, that broke the spell and brought me back to quickened agonies. he spoke in panting gasps, as the smoke would let him. "one word, jack, before we go--go to our own place. he said--he said she would be free to--to marry him. tell me ... o god in heaven!" his agony was a lash to cut me deeper than any flicking demon whip of flame, yet i must needs add to it. "aye, richard, i have wronged you, wronged you desperately; can you hear me yet? i say i have wronged you, and i shall die the easier if you'll forgive--" once more the smoke, rising again in denser clouds, cut me off, and through the blinding blue haze of it i saw the indians running up with green branches to beat it down lest it should spoil their sport oversoon by smothering us out of hand. with the chance to gasp and breathe again i would have confessed in full to richard jennifer and had him shrive me if he would. but when i called, he did not answer. his head was rolling from side to side, and his handsome young face was all drawn and distorted as in the awful grimaces of the death throe. you will not wonder that i could not look at him; that i looked away for very pity's sake, praying that i might quickly breathe the flames, as i made sure he had, and so be the sooner past the anguish crisis. there was good hope that the prayer would have a speedy answer. the fires were burning clearer now, leaping up in broad dragon's tongues of flame from the outer edges of the fagot piles to curtain off all that lay beyond. through the luminous flame-veil the capering savages took on shapes the most weird and grotesque; and when i had a glimpse of the dead men's row, each hideous face in it seemed to wear a grin of leering triumph. thus far there had been never a puff of wind to fan the blaze. but now above the shrilling of the indian chant and the crackling of the flames a low growl of thunder trembled in the upper air, and a gentle breeze swept through the tree-tops. so now i would commend my soul to god, making sure that the breath he gave would go out on the wings of the first gust that should come to drive the fiery veil inward. but when the gust came it was from behind; a sweeping besom to beat down the leaping dragons' tongues; a pouring flood of blessed coolness to turn the ebbing life-tide and to set the dulled senses once more keenly alert. with the wind came the rain, a passing summer-night's shower of great drops spattering on the leaves above and dripping thence to fall hissing in the fires. then the thunder growled again; and into the monotonous droning of the indian chant, or rather rising sharp and clear above it, came a sudden rattling fire of musketry from the camp in the savanna--this, and the sharp skirling of the troop captain's whistle shrilling the assembly. while yet the flames lay flattened in the wind, i saw the indians wheel and bound away to the rescue of their camp like a pack of hounds in full cry. in a trice they were wallowing through the stream at the foot of the powder boulder; and then, as the flames leaped up again, a dark form burst through the fiery barrier, my bonds were cut, and a strong hand plucked me out of the scorching hell-pit. if i did aught to help it was all mechanical. i do remember dimly some fierce struggle to free my legs from the blazing tangle; this, and the swelling sob of joy at the sight of the faithful catawba hacking at dick's lashings and dragging him also free of the fire. and you may believe the welcome tears came to ease the pain of my seared eyes when my poor lad--i had thought him gone past human help--took two staggering steps and flung his arms about my neck. uncanoola gave us no time to come by easy stages to full-wit sanity. in a twinkling he had pounced upon us to crush us one upon the other behind the larger tree. and now i come upon another of those flitting instants so crowded with happenings that the swiftest pen must seem to make them lag. 'twas all in a heart-beat, as it were: the catawba's freeing of us; his flinging us to earth behind the tree; a spurt of blinding yellow flame from the foot of the powder-cliff, and a booming, jarring shock like that of an earthquake. the momentary glare of the yellow flash lit up a scene most awe-inspiring. the spouting fountain of fire at the base of the great powder-rock was thick with flying missiles; and on high the very cliff itself was tottering and crumbling. so much i saw; then the catawba sprang up to haul us afoot by main strength, and to rush us, with an arm for each, headlong through the wood toward the valley head. but dick hung back, and when the dull thunder of the falling rocks, the crash of the tumbling cliff and the shrill death yells of the doomed ones came to our ears, he fought loose from the indian and flung himself down, crying as if his heart would break. "o god! she's lost, she's lost!--and i have missed the chance to die with her or for her!" xxx how ephraim yeates prayed for his enemies however much or little the catawba understood of richard jennifer's grief or its cause, the faithful indian had a thing to do and he did it, loosing his grasp of me to turn and fall upon dick with pullings and haulings and buffetings, fit to bring a man alive out of a very stiffening rigor of despair. so, in a hand-space he had him up, and we were pressing on again, in midnight darkness once we had passed beyond the light of our grilling fires. no word was spoken; under the impatient urging of the indian there was little breath to spare for speech. but when richard's afterthought had set its fangs in him, he called a halt and would not be denied. "go on, you two, if you are set upon it," he said. "i must go back. bethink you, jack; what if she be only maimed and not killed outright. 'tis too horrible! i'm going back, i say." the catawba grunted his disgust. "captain jennif' talk fas'; no run fas'. what think? white squaw _yonder_--no yonder," pointing first forward and then back in the direction of the stricken camp. richard spun around and gripped the indian by the shoulders. "then she is alive and safe?" he burst out. "speak, friend, whilst i leave the breath in you to do it!" "ugh!" said the chief, in nowise moved either by jennifer's vehemence or by the dog-like shake. "what for captain jennif' think papoose thinks 'bout the gray wolf and poor injun? catch um white squaw _firs'_; _then_ blow um up chelakee camp and catch um captain jennif' and captain long-knife if can. heap do firs' thing _firs'_, and las' thing _las'_. wah!" it was the longest speech this devoted ally of ours was ever known to make; and having made it he went dumb again save for his urgings of us forward. but presently both he and i had our hands full with the poor lad. the swift transition from despair to joy proved too much for dick; and, besides, the fever was in his blood and he was grievously burned. so we went stumbling on through the cloud-darkened wood, locked arm in arm like three drunken men, tripping over root snares and bramble nets spread for our feet, and getting well sprinkled by the dripping foliage. and at the last, when we reached the ravine at the valley's head, dick was muttering in the fever delirium and we were well-nigh carrying him a dead weight between us. 'twas a most heart-breaking business, getting the poor lad up that rock-ladder of escape in the darkness; for though i had come out of the fire with fewer burns than the roasting of me warranted, the battle preceding it had opened the old sword wound in my shoulder. so, taking it all in all, i was but a short-breathed second to the faithful catawba. none the less, we tugged it through after some laborious fashion, and were glad enough when the steep ascent gave place to leveler going, and we could sniff the fragrance of the plateau pines and feel their wire-like needles under foot. by this the shower cloud had passed and the stars were coming out, but it was still pitch black under the pines; so dark that i started like a nervous woman and went near to panic when a horse snorted at my very ear, and a voice, bodiless, as it seemed, said; "well, now; the lord be praised! if here ain't the whole enduring--" what ephraim yeates would have said, or did say, was lost upon me. for now my poor dick's strength was quite spent, and when the chief and i were easing him to lie full length upon the ground, there was a quick little cry out of the darkness, a swish of petticoats, and my lady darted in to fall upon richard in a very transport of pity. "oh, my poor dick! they have killed you!" she sobbed; "oh, cruel, cruel!" then she lashed out at us. "why don't you strike a light? how can i find and dress his hurts in the dark?" "your pardon, mistress margery," i said; "'tis only that the fever has overcome him. he has no sore hurts, as i believe, save the fire-scorching." "a light!" she commanded; "i must have a light and see for myself." we had to humor her, though it was something against prudence. ephraim found dry punk in a rotten log, and firing it with the flint and steel of a great king's musket--one of his reavings from the enemy--soon had a pine-knot torch for her. she gave it to the catawba to hold; and while she was cooing over her patient and binding up his burns in some simples gathered near at hand by the indian, i had the story of the double rescue from the old hunter. set forth in brief, that which had come as a miracle to dick and me figured as a daring bit of strategy made possible by the emptying of the indian camp at our torture spectacle. yeates and the catawba, following out the plan agreed upon, had come within spying distance while yet we were in the midst of that hopeless back-to-back battle, and had most wisely held aloof. but later, when every indian of the cherokee band was busy at our torture trees, they set to work. with no watch to give the alarm, 'twas easy to rifle the indian wigwams of the firearms and ammunition. the latter they threw into the stream; the muskets they loaded and trained over a fallen tree at the northern edge of the savanna, bringing them to bear pointblank upon the light-horse guard gathered again around the great fire. the next step was the cutting out of the women; this was effected whilst the baronet-captain was paying his courtesy call on us. like the looting of the indian camp, 'twas quickly planned and daringly done; it asked but the quieting of the two trooper guards on the forest side of the tepee-lodge, a warning word to margery and her woman, and a shadow-like flitting with them over the dead bodies of their late jailers to the shelter of the wood. once free of the camp, yeates had hurried his charges to a place of temporary safety farther up the valley, leaving the catawba to cross the stream to lay a train of dampened powder to the makeshift magazine. when he had led the women to a place of safety, the old man left them and ran back to his masked battery of loaded muskets. here, at an owl-cry signal from uncanoola, he opened fire upon the redcoats. the outworking of the _coup de main_ was a triumph for the old borderer's shrewd generalship. at the death-dealing volley the englishmen were thrown into confusion; whilst the indians, summoned by the firing and the shrilling of the captain's whistle, dashed blindly into the trap. at the right moment uncanoola touched off his powder train and cut in with a clear field for his rescue of dick and me. of the complete success of these various climaxings, ephraim yeates had his first assurance when we three came safely to the rendezvous; for, after firing his masked battery, the old hunter lost no time in rejoining the women and in hastening with them out of the valley. had these three been afoot we might have overtaken them; but yeates had been lucky enough to stumble upon the black mare peacefully cropping the grass in a little glade; and with this mount for margery and her tire-woman he had easily outpaced us. all this i had from yeates what time margery was pouring the wine and oil of womanly sympathy into richard's woundings; and i may confess that whilst the ear was listening to the hunter's tale, the eye was taking note of these her tender ministrations, and the heart was setting them down to the score of a great love which would not be denied. 'twas altogether as i would have had it; and yet the thought came unbidden that she might spare a niggard moment and the breath to ask me how i did. and because she would not, i do think my burns smarted the crueler. it was to have surcease of these extra smartings that i turned my back upon the trio under the flaring torch and took up with ephraim yeates the pressing question of the moment. "as i take it, we may not linger here," i said. "have you marked out a line of retreat?" the old borderer was busied with his loot of the indian camp--'twas not in his nature to come off empty-handed, however hard pressed he had been for time. in the raffle of it, guns and pistols, dressed skins and warrior finery, he came upon my good old blade and richard's great claymore--trophies claimed by the head men of the cherokees after our taking, as we made no doubt. "found 'em hanging in the lodge that usen to belong to the great bear," said the hunter, and then with grim humor: "'lowed to keep 'em to ricollect ye by if so be ye was foreordained and predestinated to go up in a fiery chariot, like the good old elijah." the weapons disposed of, he made answer to my query. "ez for making tracks immejitly, _if_ not sooner, i allow there ain't no two notions about that. but i'm dad-daddled if i know which-a-way to put out, cap'n john, and that's the gospil fact." "why not strike for the great trace, and so go back the way the powder convoy came?" i asked. it could be done, he said, but the hazard was great. 'twas out of all reason to hope that there were no survivors left in the sunken valley to carry the news of the earthquake massacre. that news once cried abroad in the near-by cowee towns, the entire tuckasege nation would turn out to run us down. moreover, the avengers would look to find us in the only practicable horse-path leading eastward. "ez i'm telling you right now, cap'n john, we made one more blunder in this here onfall of our'n, owin' to our having ne'er a seventh son of a seventh son amongst us to look a little ways ahead. where we flashed in the pan was in not making our rendyvoo down yonder where you and cap'n dick got in. ever' last one of 'em able to crawl is a-making straight for that crivvis dodge-hole right now, and if we was there we could do 'em like the gileadites did the men o' ephraim at the passages o' the jordan." fresh as i was from the torture fire, i could not forbear a shudder at this old man's savagery. "kill them in cold blood?" i would say. "anan?" he queried, as not understanding my point of view; and i let the matter rest. he was of those who slay and spare not where an enemy is concerned. but when we came to consider of it there seemed to be no alternative to the eastward flitting by way of the great trace. to the west and south there was only the trackless wilderness; and to the north no white settlement nearer than that of the over-mountain folk on the watauga. i asked if we might hope to reach this. "'tis a long fifty mile ez the crow flies, over e'enabout the mountainousest patch o' land that ever laid out o' doors," was the hunter's reply. "and there ain't ne'er a deer-track, ez i knows on, to p'int the way." "then we must ride eastward and run the risk of pursuit by the tuckaseges," said i. "ez i reckon, that's about the long and short of it. and i do everlastedly despise to make that poor little gal jump her hoss and ride skimper-scamper again, when she's been fair living a-horseback for a fortnight." "she will not fail you," i ventured to say, adding: "but jennifer is in poor fettle for making speed." "it's ride or be skulped for him, and i allow he'll ride," quoth the old hunter, hastening his preparations for the start. "reckon we can get him on a hoss right now." i went to see. margery rose at my approach, and even in the poor light i could see her draw herself up as if she would hold me at my proper distance. "your patient, mistress margery,--we must mount and ride at once. is he fit?" "no." "but we must be far to the eastward before daybreak." "i can not help it. if you make him ride to-night you will finish what those cruel savages began, captain ireton." "we have little choice--none, i should say." "oh, you are bitter hard!" she cried, though wherein my offending lay just then i was wholly at a loss to know. "'tis your privilege to say so," i rejoined. "but as for making dick ride, that will be but the kindest cruelty. we are only a little way from the nearest indian towns, and if the daylight find us here--" "spare me," she broke in; and with that she turned shortly and asked ephraim yeates to put her in her saddle. richard was still in the fever stupor, but he roused himself at my urging and let us set him upon his beast. once safe in the saddle, we lashed him fast like a prisoner, with a forked tree-branch at his back to hold him erect. this last was the old hunter's invention and 'twas most ingenious. the forked limb, in shape like a y, was set astride the cantle, with the lower ends thonged stoutly to dick's legs and to the girths. thus the upright stem of the inverted y became an easy back-rest for the sick man; and when he was securely lashed thereto there was little danger for him save in some stumbling of the beast he rode. when all was ready we had first to find our way down from the mountain top; and now even the old borderer and the indian confessed their inability to do aught but retrace their steps by the only route they knew: namely, by that ravine which we had twice traversed in daylight, and up which they had led the captured horses in the dusk. this route promised all the perils of a gantlet-running, since by it we must take the risk of meeting the fleeing fugitives from the convoy camp, if the explosion had spared any fit to lift and carry the vengeance-cry. but here again there was no alternative, and we set us in order for the descent, with yeates and the catawba ahead, the women and dick in the midst, and her apostolic majesty's late captain of hussars, masquerading as a british trooper, to bring on the rear. once in motion beneath the blue-black shadows of the pines, i quickly lost all sense of direction. after we had ridden in wordless silence a short half hour or less, and i supposed we should be nearing the head of our descending ravine, our little cavalcade was halted suddenly in a thickset grove of the pines, and ephraim yeates appeared at my stirrup to say: "h'ist ye off your nag, cap'n john, and let's take a far'well squinch at the inimy whilst we can." "where? what enemy?" i would ask, slipping from the saddle at his word. "why, the hoss-captain's varmints, to be sure; or what-all the abomination o' desolation has left of 'em. we ain't more than a cat's jump from the edge o' the big rock where we first sot eyes on 'em this morning." i saw not what was to be gained by any such long-range espial in the darkness. none the less, i followed the old man to the cliff's edge. he was wiser in his forecastings than i was in mine. there was a thing to look at, and light enough to see it by. one of the missile stones, it seems, had crashed into the great fire, scattering the brands in all directions. the pine-bough troop shelters were ablaze, and creeping serpents of fire were worming their way hither and yon over the year-old leaf beds in the wood. ever and anon some pine sapling in the path of these fiery serpents would go up in a torch-like flare; and so, as i say, there was light enough. what we looked down upon was not inaptly pictured out by ephraim yeates's scripture phrase, the abomination of desolation. every vestige of the camp save the glowing skeletons of the troop shelters had disappeared, and the swarded savanna was become a blackened chaos-blot on the fair woodland scene. i have said that the powder-sheltering boulder was a cliff for size; the mighty upheaval of the explosion had toppled it in ruins into the stream, and huge fragments the bigness of a wine-butt had been hurled with the storm of lighter debris broadcast upon the camp. at first we saw no sign of life in all the firelit space. but a moment later, when three or four of the sapling torches blazed up together, we made out some half dozen figures of human beings--whether red or white we could not tell--stumbling and reeling about among the rocks like blind men drunken. at sight of these the old hunter doffed his cap and fell upon his knees with hands uplifted to pour out his zealot's soul in the awful sentences of the psalmist's imprecation. "'let god arise, and let his inimies be scattered; let them also that hate him flee before him. like as the smoke vanisheth, so shalt thou drive them away; and like as the wax melteth at the fire, so let the ungodly perish at the presence of god....'" xxxi in which we make a forced march it could have been but little short of midnight when we came down into the great trace near the ambush ground where we had set our trap for the peace men. the night had cleared most beautifully, and overhead the stars were burning like points of white fire in the black dome of the heavens. as often happens after a shower, the night shrillings of the forest were in fullest tide; and a whip-will's-widow, disturbed by our approach, fluttered to a higher perch and set up his plaintive protest. at our turning eastward on the trace, the old hunter massed our little company as compactly as the path allowed, and giving us the word to follow cautiously, tossed his bridle rein to the catawba and went on ahead to feel out the way. this rearrangement set me to ride abreast with margery; and for the first time since that fateful night in the upper room at appleby hundred we were together and measurably alone. since death might be lying in wait for us at any turn in the winding bridle-path, i had no mind to break the strained silence. but, womanlike, she would not miss the chance to thrust at me. "are you not afire with shame, captain ireton?" she said, bitterly; and then: "how you must despise me!" i knew not what she meant; but being most anxious for her safety, i begged her not to talk, putting it all upon the risk we ran in passing the outlet of the sunken valley. now, as you have long since learned, my tongue was but a skilless servant; and though i sought to make the command the gentlest plea, she took instant umbrage and struck back smartly. "you need not make the danger an excuse. i will be still; and when i speak to you again, you will be willing enough to hear me, i promise you!" "nay, then, dear lady; you must not take it so!" i protested. "'tis my misfortune to be ever blundering." but to this she gave me no answer at all; and barring a word or two of heartening for her serving woman, she never opened her lips again throughout the passage perilous. by good hap we came to the crossing of the cavern stream without meeting any foeman; and on the farther side of the shallow ford we found the old borderer awaiting us. "ez i allow, we've smelt the bait in the trap and come off with whole bones, like shadrach, meshach and abednego," he said, mixing metaphor, scripture phrase and frontier idiom as was his wont. then he put a leg over his horse and gave the stirrup-word: "from now on, old jehu, the son o' nimshi, is the hoss-whipper we've got to beat. get ye behind, cap'n john, and give the hoss that lags a half inch 'r so of your sword-p'int." then and there began a night flight long to be remembered. down the valley of the swift river to the ford where yeates and i had crossed after the mock rescue of margery the night before, we let the horses pick the way as they could. but once beyond the ford, where the trace was wider and the footing less precarious, we plied whip and spur, pushing the saddle-beasts for every stride we could get out of them in the blind race. i have marveled often that we came not once to grief in all this long night-gallop through the darkness. there was every chance for it. the over-arching trees of the great forest shut out all the starlight, and the trace was no more than a bridle-path, rougher than any cart road. yet we held the breakneck pace steadily, save for the time it took to thread some steep defile to a stream crossing, or to scramble up its fellow on the opposite side; and when the dawn began to gray in the sky ahead, we were well out of the broken mountain region and into the opener forest of the hill country. the sun was yet below the eastern horizon when we came to the fording of a larger stream than any we had crossed in the night. its course was toward the sunrise, hence i took it for some tributary of the catawba or the broad. "'tis the broad itself," said ephraim yeates, in answer to my asking; "and yit it ain't; leastwise, it ain't the one you know. 'tis the one the parley-voos claimed in the old war, and they call it the frinch broad." "but that flows north and westward, if i remember aright," said i. "so it do, so it do--in gineral. but hereabouts 'twill run all ways for sunday, by spells." "if this be the french broad we are not yet out of the tuckasege country, as i take it." "mighty nigh to it; nigh enough to make camp for a resting spell. i reckon ye're a-needing that same pretty toler'ble bad, ain't ye, little gal?" this last to margery. weary as she was she smiled upon him brightly, as though he had been her grandsire and so free to name her how he pleased. "i shall sleep well when we are out of danger. but you must not stop for me, or for jeanne, till 'tis safe to do so." "safe? lord love ye, child! 'safe' is a word beyond us yit, and will be till we sot ye down on your daddy's door-stone. but we'll make out to give ye a bite and sup and forty winks o' sleep immejitly, _if_ not sooner, now." so, on the farther side of the stream the hunter led the way aside, and when we were come to a small meadow glade with good grazing for the horses, he called a halt, lifted the women from their saddles and came to help me ease dick down. the poor lad was stiff and sore, having no more use of his joints than if he were a bandaged mummy; but the fever delirium had passed and he was able to laugh feebly at the tree-limb contrivance rigged to hold him in the saddle. "how did we come out of it, jack?" he asked, when we had let him feel the comfort of lying flat upon his back on the soft sward. "as you see. we are all here, and all in fair fettle, saving yourself. you're the heaviest loser." he smiled, and his eyes languid with the fever sought out margery, who would not come anigh whilst i was with him. "that remains to be seen, jack. if my dream comes true, i shall be the richest gainer." "what did you dream?" he beckoned me to bend lower over him. "i dreamed i was sore hurt, and that she was binding up my bruises and crying over me." "'twas no dream," i said; and with that i went to help yeates make a bough shelter for the women while uncanoola was grinding the maize for the breakfast cakes. 'tis not my purpose to weary you with a day-by-day accounting for all that befell us on the way back to mecklenburg. suffice it to say that we ate and slept and rose to mount and ride again; this for five days and nights, during which jennifer's fever grew upon him steadily. at the close of the fifth day our night halt was in a deserted log cabin at the edge of an unfinished clearing in the heart of the forest. here richard's sickness anchored us, and for three full weeks the journey paused. we nursed the lad as best we could for a fortnight, dosing him with stewings of such roots and herbs as the catawba could find in the wood. then, when we were at our wits' ends, and yeates and i were casting about how we could compass the bringing of a doctor from the settlements, the fever took a turn for the better,--of its own accord, or for uncanoola's physickings, we knew not which,--and at the end of the third week dick was up and able to ride again, this time without the forked stick to hold him in the saddle. after this we went on without mishap, and with no hardship greater than that of living solely upon the meat victual provided by the hunter's rifle; and you who know this plough-dressed region at this later day will wonder when i write it down that in all that long faring, or rather to the last day's stage of it, we saw never a face of any of our kind, or of the catawba's. you may be sure the month or more we spent thus in the heart of the wildwood was but a sorry time for me. while the excitement of the pursuit and rescue lasted, and later, when anxiety for richard filled the hours of the long days and nights, i was held a little back from slipping into that pit of despair which i had digged for myself. but when the strain was off and dick was up and fit again, the misery of it all came back with added goadings. i had never dreamed how cutting sharp 'twould be to see these two together day by day; to see her loving, tender care of him, and to hear him babble of his love for her in his feverish vaporings. yet all this i must endure, and with it a thing even harder. for, to make it worse, if worse could be, the shadow of complete estrangement had fallen between margery and me. true to her word, given in that moment when i had besought her not to speak aloud for her own safety's sake, she had never opened her lips to me; and for aught she said or did i might have been a deaf-mute slave beneath her notice. and as she drew away from me, she seemed to draw the closer to richard jennifer, nursing him alive when he was at his worst, and giving him all the womanly care and sympathy a sick man longs for. and later, when he was fit to ride again, she had him always at her side in the onward faring. as i have said before, this was all as i would have it. yet it made me sick in my soul's soul; and at times i must needs fall behind to rave it out in solitude, cursing the day that i was born, and that other more misfortunate day when i had reared the barrier impassable between these two. what wonder, then, that, as we neared the fighting field of the great war, i grew more set upon seizing the first chance that might offer an honorable escape from all these heartburnings? 'twas a weakness, if you choose; i set down here naught but the simple fact, which had by now gone as far beyond excusings as the underlying cause of it was beyond forgiveness. 'twas on the final day, the day when we were riding tantivy to reach queensborough by evening, that my deliverance came. i say deliverance because at the moment it had the look of a short shrift and a ready halter. we had crossed our own catawba and were putting our horses at the steep bank on the outcoming side, when my saddle slipped. dismounting to tighten the girth, i called to the others to press on, saying i should overtake them shortly. the promise was never kept. i scarce had my head under the saddle flap before a couple of stout knaves in homespun, appearing from i know not where, had me fast gripped by the arms, whilst a third made sure of the horse. "a despatch rider," said the bigger of the two who pinioned me. "search him, martin, lad, whilst i hold him; then we'll pay him out for tarleton's hanging of poor sandy m'guire." i held my peace and let them search, taking the threat for a bit of soldier bullyragging meant to keep me quiet. but when they had turned the pockets of my borrowed coat inside out and ripped the lining and made it otherwise as much the worse for their mishandling as it was for wear, the third man fetched a rope. "did you mean that, friend?--about the hanging?" i asked, wondering if this should be my loophole of escape from the life grown hateful. "sure enough," said the big man, coolly. "you'd best be saying your prayers." i laughed. "were you wearing my coat and i yours, you might hang me and welcome; in truth, you may as it is. which tree will you have me at?" the man stared at me as at one demented. then he burst out in a guffaw. "damme, if you bean't a cool plucked one! i've a mind to take you to the colonel." "don't do it, my friend. though i am something loath to be snuffed out by the men of my own side, we need not haggle over the niceties. point out your tree." "no, by god! you're too willing. what's at the back of all this?" "nothing, save a decent reluctance to spoil your sport. have at it, man, and let's be done with it." "not if you beg me on your knees. you'll go to the colonel, i say, and he may hang you if he sees fit. you must be a most damnable villain to want to die by the first rope you lay eyes on." "that is as it may be. who is your colonel?" "nay, rather, who are you?" i gave my name and circumstance and was loosed of the hand-grip, though the third man dropped the cord and stepped back to hold me covered with his rifle. "an ireton, you say? not little jock, surely!" "no, big jock; big enough to lay you on your back, though you do have a hand as thick as a ham." he ignored the challenge and stuck to his text. "i never thought to see the son of old mad-bull roger wearing a red coat," he said. "that is nothing. many as good a whig as i am has been forced to wear a red coat ere this, or go barebacked. but why don't you knot the halter? in common justice you should either hang me or feed me. 'tis hard upon noon, and i breakfasted early." "fall in!" said the big man; and so i was marched quickly aside from the road and into the denser thicketing of the wood. here my captors blindfolded me, and after spinning me around to make me lose the compass points, hurried me away to their encampment which was inland from the stream, though not far, for i could still hear the distance-minished splashing of the water. when the kerchief was pulled from my eyes i was standing in the midst of a mounted riflemen's halt-camp, face to face with a young officer wearing the uniform of the colonelcy in the north carolina home troops. he was a handsome young fellow, with curling hair and trim side-whiskers to frame a face fine-lined and eager--the face of a gentleman well-born and well-bred. "captain ireton?" he said; by which i guessed that one of my capturers had run on ahead to make report. "the same," i replied. "and you are the son of mr. justice roger ireton, of appleby hundred?" "i have that honor." he gave me his hand most cordially. "you are very welcome, captain; davie is my name. i trust we may come to know each other better. you are in disguise, as i take it; do you bring news of the army?" "on the contrary, i am thirsting for news," i rejoined. "i and three others have but now returned from pursuing a british and indian powder convoy into the mountains to the westward. we have been out five weeks and more." he looked at me curiously. "you and three others?" he queried. "come apart and tell me about it whilst pompey is broiling the venison. i scent a whole iliad in that word of yours, captain ireton." "one thing first, if you please, colonel davie," i begged. "my companions are faring forward on the road to queensborough. they know naught of my detention. will you send a man to overtake them with a note from me?" the colonel indulged me in the most gentlemanly manner; and when my note to jennifer was despatched we sat together at the roots of a great oak and i told him all that had befallen our little rescue party. he heard me through patiently, and when the tale was ended was good enough to say that i had earned a commission for my part in the affair. i laughed and promptly shifted that burden to ephraim yeates's shoulders. "the old hunter was our general, colonel davie. he did all of the planning and the greater part of the executing. but for him and the friendly catawba, it would have gone hard with jennifer and me." "i fear you are over-modest, captain," was all the reply i got; and then my kindly host fell amuse. when he spoke again 'twas to give me a résumé in brief of the military operations north and south. at the north, as his news ran, affairs remained as they had been, save that now the french king had sent an army to supplement the fleet, and count rochambeau and the allies were encamped on rhode island ready to take the field. in the south the distressful situation we had left behind us on that august sunday following the disastrous battle of camden was but little changed. general gates, with the scantiest following, had hastened first to salisbury and later to hillsborough, and had since been busy striving to reassemble his scattered forces. a few military partizans, like my host, had kept the field, doing what the few might against the many to retard my lord cornwallis's northward march; and a week earlier the colonel with his handful of mounted riflemen had dared to oppose his entry into charlotte. "'twas no more than a hint to his lordship that we were not afraid of him," said my doughty colonel. "you know the town, i take it?" "very well, indeed." "well, we had harassed him all the way from blair's mill, and 'twas midnight when we reached charlotte. there we determined to make a stand and give him a taste of our mettle. we dismounted, took post behind the stone wall of the court house green and under cover of the fences along the road." "good! an ambush," said i. "hardly that, since they were looking to have resistance. tarleton was sick, and major hanger commanded the british van. he charged, and we peppered them smartly. they tried it again, and this time their infantry outflanked us. we abandoned the court house and formed again in the eastern edge of the town; and now, bless you! 'twas my lord charles himself who had to ride forward and flout at his men for their want of enterprise." "but you could never hope to hold on against such odds!" i exclaimed. "oh, no; but we held them for a third charge, and beat them back, too. then they brought up two more regiments and we mounted and got off in tolerably good order, losing only six men killed. but colonel francis locke was one of these; and my brave joe graham was all but cut to pieces--a sore blow to us just now." the colonel sighed and a silence fell upon us. 'twas i who broke it to say: "then we are still playing a losing hand in the south, as i take it?" "'tis worse than that. as the game stands we have played all our trumps and have not so much as a long suit left. cornwallis will go on as he pleases and overrun the state, and the militia will never stand to front him again under horatio gates. worse still, ferguson is off to the westward, embodying the tories by the hundred, and we shall have burnings and hangings and harryings to the king's taste." i nursed my knee a moment and then said: "what may one man do to help, colonel davie?" he looked up quickly. "much, if you are that man, and you do not value your life too highly, captain ireton." "you may leave that out of the question," said i. "i shall count it the happiest moment of my life when i shall have done something worth their killing me for." again he gave me that curious look i had noted before. then he laughed. "if you were as young as major joe graham, and had been well crossed in love, i could understand you better, captain. but, jesting aside, there is a thing to do, and you are the man to do it. our spies are thick in cornwallis's camp, but what is needed is some master spirit who can plot as well as spy for us. major ferguson moves as cornwallis pulls the strings. could we know the major's instructions and designs, we might cut him off, bring the tory uprising to the ground, and so hearten the country beyond measure. i say we might cut him off, though i know not where the men would come from to do it." "well?" said i, when he paused. "the preliminary is some better information than our spies can give us. now you have been an officer in the british service, and--" i smiled. "truly; and i have the honor, if you please to call it so, of his lordship's acquaintance. also, i have that of colonel tarleton and the members of his staff, the same having tried and condemned me as a spy at appleby hundred some few weeks before this chase i have told you of." his face fell. "then, of course, it is out of the question for you to show yourself in cornwallis's headquarters." i rose and buttoned my borrowed coat. "on the contrary, colonel davie, i am more than ever at your service. let me have a cut of your venison and a feed for my horse, and i shall be at my lord's headquarters as soon as the nag can carry me there." xxxii in which i am bedded in a garret "tis a very pretty hazard, captain ireton. but can it be brought off successfully, think you?" "as i have said, it hangs somewhat upon the safety of my portmanteau. if that has come through unseized to mr. pettigrew at charlotte, and i can lay hands on it, 'twill be half the battle." "you say you left it behind you at new berne?" "yes; mr. carey was to forward it as he could." colonel davie had given me bite and sup, and i was ready to take the road. my plan, such as it was, had been determined upon, and to the furthering of it, the colonel had written me a letter to a friend in the town who might shelter me for a night and make the needed inquiry for my belongings. also, he had given me another letter, of which more anon, and had pressed upon me a small purse of gold pieces--a treasure rare enough in patriot hands in that impoverished time. when all was done, two of my late captors were ordered to set me straight in the road; and some half-hour past noon i had shaken hands with the big fellow in homespun who had been so bent upon hanging me without benefit of clergy, had crossed the river, and was making the first looping in a detour which should bring me into charlotte from the westward. 'twas drawing on toward evening, and i had recrossed the river a mile or more below appleby hundred, when i began to meet the outposts of the british army. i was promptly halted by the first of these; but my borrowed uniform and a ready word or two passed me within the lines as a courier riding post to headquarters from major ferguson in the west. the lieutenant in command of the first vedette line was not over-curious. he asked me a few questions about the major's plans and dispositions,--questions which, thanks to colonel davie's information, i was able to answer glibly enough, swallowed my tale whole, and was so obliging as to give me the password for the night to help me through the inner sentry lines. thus fortified, i rode on boldly, and having the countersign the difficulties vanished. when i was come to town it was well past candle-lighting; and the patrol was out in force. but by dint of using the password freely i made my way unhindered to the house of the gentleman to whom colonel davie's letter accredited me. here, however, the difficulties began. though the camp of the army lay just without the town to the southward, the officers were quartered in every house, and that of colonel davie's friend was full to overflowing. what was to be done we knew not, but at the last moment my friend's friend thought of an expedient and wrote a note for me whilst i waited, half in hiding, in the outer hall. "'tis a desperate chance, but these are desperate times," said my would-be helper. "i am sending you to the town house of one of our plantation seigneurs--a man who is fish, flesh or fowl, as his interest demands. i hear he came in to-day to take protection, and there is a chance that he will shelter you for the sake of your red coat and a gold piece or two. but i warn you, you must be what you appear to be--a soldier of the king--and not what this note of colonel davie's says you are." seeing a wide field of danger-chances in this haphazarding, i would have asked more about this trimming gentleman to whom i was to be handed on; but at that moment there came a thundering at the door, and my anxious host was fain to hustle me out through the kitchen as he could, catching up a black boy on the way to be my guide. "god speed you," he said at parting. "make your footing good for the night, if you can, and we'll see what can be done to-morrow. i'll send your portmanteau around in the morning, if so be mr. pettigrew has it." with that i was out in the night again, turning and doubling after my guide, who seemed to be greatly afeard lest i should come nigh enough to cast an evil eye upon him. 'twas but a little distance we had to go, and i had no word out of my black rascal till we reached the door-stone of a familiar mansion but one remove from the corner of the court house green. here, with a stuttering "d-d-dis de house, massa," he fled and left me to enter as i could. since the street was busily astir with redcoat officers and men coming and going, and any squad of these might be the questioners to doubt my threadbare courier tale, i lost no time in running up the steps and hammering a peal with the heavy knocker. through the side-lights i could see that the wide entrance hall was for the moment unoccupied; but at the knocker-lifting i had a flitting glimpse of some one--a little man all in sober black--coming down the stair. there was no immediate answer to my peal, but when i would have knocked again the door was swung back and i stepped quickly within to find myself face to face with--margery. i know not which of the two of us was the more dumbfounded; but this i do know; that i was still speechless and fair witless when she swept me a low-dipped curtsy and gave me my greeting. "i bid you good evening, captain ireton," she said, coldly; and then with still more of the frost of unwelcome in her voice: "to what may we be indebted for this honor?" now, chilling as these words were, they thrilled me to my finger-tips, for they were the first she had spoken to me since the night of my offending in the black gorge of the far-off western mountains. none the less, they were blankly unanswerable, and had the door been open i should doubtless have vanished as i had come. of all the houses in the town this was surely the last i should have run to for refuge had i known the name of its master; and it was some upflashing of this thought that helped me find my tongue. "i never guessed this was your father's house," i stammered, bowing low to match her curtsy. "i beg you will pardon me, and let me go as i came." she laid a hand on the door-knob. "is--is there any one here whom you would see?" she asked; and now her eyes did not meet mine, and i would think the chill had melted a little. "no. i was begging a night's lodging of a friend whose house is full. he sent me here with a note to--ah--to your father, as i suppose, though in his haste he did not mention the name." she held out her hand. "give me the letter." "nay," said i; "that would be but thankless work. knowing me, your father must needs conceive it his duty to denounce me." "give it me!" she insisted; this with an impatient little stamp of the foot and an upglance of the compelling eyes that would have constrained me to do a far foolisher thing, had she asked it. so i gave her the letter and stood aside, hat in hand, while she read it. there were candles in their sconces over the mantel and she moved nearer to have the better light. the soft glow of the candles fell upon her shining hair, and upon cheek and brow; and i could see her bosom rise and fall with the quick-coming breath, and the pulse throbbing in her fair white neck. and with the seeing i became a fool of love again in very earnest, and was within a hair's breadth of sinking honor and all else in an outpouring of such words as a man may say once to one woman in all the world--and having said them may never unsay them. 'twas a most practical little thing she did that saved me from falling headlong into this last ditch of dishonor. twisting the letter into a spill she stood on tiptoe to light it at one of the candles, saying: "'twas a foolish thing to put on paper, and might well hang the writer in such times as these. he says you are a king's man and well known to him, and you are neither." but when the letter was a crisp of blackened paper-ash she turned upon me, and once again the changeful eyes were cold and her words were stranger-formal. "what is it you would have me do, captain ireton?" "nothing," i made haste to say; "nothing save to believe that i came here unwittingly--and to let me go." "where will you go? the town is alive with those who would--who would--" "who would show me scant mercy, you would say. true; and yet i came hither--to the town, i mean--of my own free will." her mood changed in the pivoting fraction of an instant, and now the beautiful eyes were alight and warm and pleadingly eloquent. "oh, why did you come? are you--are you what they said you were?" "a spy? if i am, you would scarce expect me to confess it, even to you." "'tis dishonorable--most dishonorable!" she cried. "i could respect a brave soldier enemy; but a spy--" there was a clattering of hoofs in the street and a jingle of sword-scabbards on the door-stone. i wheeled to face the newcomers, determined now to front it boldly as a desperate man at bay. but before the fumbling hands without could find the door-knob margery was beside me, all a-flutter in a trembling-fit of excitement. "up the stair, quickly, _pour l'amour de dieu!_" she whispered; and we were at the clock landing when the great door opened and some half-dozen king's officers came in. we crouched together behind the balustrade till they should pass beyond the sight of us, and in the group i marked a man stout and heavy built, walking full solidly for his two-and-forty years. he wore his own hair dressed high in front in the fashion first set for the women by the grand monarque's loose-wife; and as he passed under the candles i saw that it was graying slightly. his face, high-browed, long-nosed, double-chinned, with the eyes womanish for bigness and marked with brows that might have been penciled by the hair-dresser, i had seen before; but lacking this present sight of it, the orders on his breast would have named him the ranking general of the army in the field--lord charles cornwallis. with all the houses in the town to choose among, i had blundered into this--my lord's own headquarters. i had but a passing glimpse of the incoming group, for when it was well beneath the turn of the stair, my lady had me up and running again, driving me on before her to the chamber floor above, along a dimly lighted corridor with many turnings, and so to a _cul-de-sac_ in the same--a doorless passage with a high dormer window in the end and no other apparent means of egress. margery had snatched a candle from one of the corridor holders in the flight, and now she bade me sit on the floor and draw my boots. i did it, shamefacedly enough, being but a foul and ragged vagabond unfit to have her come anigh me. but i might have spared my blushings for she had turned her back and was opening a secret door in the high wainscot. beyond the door lay a raftered garret half filled with cast-off house lumber and lighted and aired by two high roof windows. into this she led me, with a finger on her lip for silence. a hum of voices, the clinking of glass, and now and again a hearty soldier laugh told me that my garret was above some living-room of the house. while i stood, boots in hand, she found a makeshift candlestick and in a trice had spread me a pallet on an ancient oaken settle big enough to serve for a choir stall in a cathedral. "you'll be safe here for the night, if so be you will make no more noise than a rat might make," she whispered. "_mais, mon dieu!_ 'tis a terrible risk. how you will get off in the morning i do not know." "leave that to me," i rejoined. then i remembered the portmanteau and the promise that it should be sent hither. here was a further complication, and i must needs beg a boon of her. "a black boy will bring my portmanteau in the morning. i have a decent desire to be hanged in clean clothing; may i beg you to--" she made a quick little gesture of impatience; at the further complication, or at my boldness in asking, i knew not which. but her whispered reply was of assent, and then she turned to leave me. at that a sudden fierce desire to know why she had thus befriended me came to throttle prudence. "one more word before you go, mistress margery. will you tell me why you have done this for the man who can serve you only by thrusting his neck into the hangman's noose?" she was silent for a little space, and i knew not what emotion it was that moved her to turn away and cover her face with her hands. but when she spoke her voice was low and tremulous with pent-up anger, as i thought. "truly, captain ireton, you have done a thing to make me hate you--and myself, as well. but i may not forget my duty, sir." and with this cruel word she was gone. xxxiii in which i hear chanceful tidings you are not to suppose that the hazards of this hiding place in my lord cornwallis's headquarters would keep me from sleeping well and soundly. one of the things a soldier learns soonest is to take his rest when and as he can; and after peering curiously into the nooks and corners of my garret to make sure i was alone, i flung myself a-sprawl on the broad settle and was dropping off into forgetfulness when i heard a tapping at the wainscot. it fetched me wide awake with a start, and i was up and weaponed instantly--having taken the precaution to lay my sword in easy reach before blowing out the candle. groping my way cautiously to the secret door, i crouched and listened. all was silent save for the intermittent clamor of the wassailers in the room beneath. after waiting a full minute i opened the door and looked without. the high dormer window in the end of the corridor made the darkness something less than visible, and i could see that the passage was empty. but on the floor at my feet was my supper; a roasted fowl on a server, hot from the spit, with maize bread and garnishings fit for an epicure. since, as an appanage of appleby hundred, this was mine own house, and, by consequence, the fowl was mine, i ate as a hungry man should, making no scruple on the score of pride. nor did i forget to be grateful to my lady; though when i remembered that this was doubtless but another leaf out of her duty-book, the meat was like to choke me. and it was this thought that made me resolve thrice over to loose her from the onerous burden of me so soon as ever the morning light should come to help me find the way out of my covert prison. none the less, for all my fine resolves to be astir and off by daybreak, the sun was shining broadly in at my garret window when i awoke. seeing the sun, i tumbled out of my settle-bed, with a malediction on the sloth that had bound me so fast, and made for the door. but some one had been before me, entering whilst i slept. on a broken chair were a basin and ewer, with soap and towels; beside the chair was my portmanteau; and on a deal box, neatly covered with a linen cloth, was my breakfast. you, my dears, who have your maid or man to tell you when your bath is ready, and to lay out the fresh, clean garments sweet from the laundering, may wonder that i put away the thought of flight and let the breakfast cool whilst i shaved and washed and scrubbed, and doffed the vagabond and donned the gentleman. i did it; did it leisurely, rolling the privilege as a sweet morsel under my tongue. they say the raiment never makes the man; 'tis a half-truth only. for in his own regard, at least, the man is vagabond or gentleman as he may dress the one part or the other. and i am sure of this; that when i drew up another of the cast-off chairs to sit at meat, freshly groomed, and clad in the field uniform of a captain of her apostolic majesty's hussars, i was the fitter by many transmigrations to cope with fate or any other adversary. and now, the claims of decency paid in full, and the keen edge of hunger somewhat dulled, i was free to think of my sweet lady's loving-kindness to one she hated--and to wonder what she would do and be for one she loved. as you would guess, there were dregs of bitterness in that cup; and i was once again set sharp upon relieving her of the burden of me. having my austrian uniform, i was now ready to move in that venture outlined in part to colonel davie; but to set my plan in action i must first get free of the house unseen by my lord or any of his suite. how to do this unaided i could not determine; and, since any fresh blundering would surely breed new trouble for margery, i was forced to wait for her return. i made sure she would come, if only to be the sooner quit of me; and so she did, tapping at the wainscot door whilst i was dallying with the breakfast leavings. 'twas worth something to see her start of surprise when i opened to her; but she was far too true a lady to be one thing to the unwashed vagabond and another to the gentleman-clad. i gave her good morning, and was beginning in some formal fashion to thank her for her thoughtful care, when she cut me short. "'tis my bounden duty, sir," she said, twanging once again upon that frayed string. "you are my guest and my--husband; though god knows i would you were neither." "_merci, madame_," said i; stung so sharply that the retort would out in spite of everything. "as once before, i am your poor misfortunate pensioner; but this time you are not less willing to give than i am to receive." she gave me a look that i could not fathom, and for a flitting instant i could have sworn there was a mocking smile a-lurk at the back of the beautiful eyes. then she went straight to the subject-matter of her errand, brushing aside the small passage at arms as if it had not been. "you are in a most perilous situation, captain ireton; do you know it? news of your presence in charlotte has got abroad, and at this very moment tarleton's dragoons are making a house-to-house search for you." "so; some one has betrayed me?" she nodded. "do you know who it was?" she nodded again. i considered of it for a little time, and then said: "i must not be taken here. will your--ah--_duty_ stretch the length of showing me an unwatched door?" "there are no doors unwatched. you must stay here till nightfall." "nay, that i will not. will you tell me who it was set them on?" "'twas a man you hate--and who hates you heartily in return. he saw you come here last night; he knows you are here now--or guesses it." i had no right to pry into her confidence as a thief would break into a house. but i was loath to fight my battle in the dark if she, or any one, could give me light. "his name, if you may give it, mistress margery. it may point the way out of this coil." "'tis owen pengarvin. he was here last night when you came." now i remembered the little man in black whom i had seen coming down the stair whilst i knocked at the door. but this left me in a greater maze than ever. "if he knows i am here, why does he let them search elsewhere?" at this she looked away from me, and i made sure i saw the sweet chin quiver when she spoke. "he has reasons of his own; reasons of--of--" but instead of telling me what they were she broke off to say: "but now you know why all the doors of this house are under guard." "truly," said i; and therewith i fell to pacing up and down the narrow clear-way in the garret, striving to see how i might come off with nothing worse than the loss of my burdensome life. 'twas easy to guess how this shaveling lawyer had discomfited me. forewarned is forearmed in any soldier camp; and through his blabbing, the plan by which i had hoped to lull resentment and forestall suspicion was nipped in the bud. i saw the far-reaching consequences, and was made to know how a trapped rat will turn and fight in sheer desperation whilst the terrier is shaking him to death. when that leaven began to work in me i was fit for the daringest thing that offered; so i paused to ask if my lord cornwallis were yet in the house. "he is writing letters in his bed-room," was her answer. "if you will show me the way thither i shall be your poor debtor by that much more." "i will not--unless you first tell me what you mean to do." she said it firmly, but now i was fronting death and could be as firm as she. "if you will not show me the way, i shall find it for myself." so much i said; but as for telling her that i meant to save his lordship and all the others the trouble of running me down, i could not do that. "you are going to give yourself up," she said; and when i would not deny it, she darted before me and set her back against the wainscot door. "'tis folly, folly!" she cried. "he would but pull the bell-cord and--" "and give the order that colonel tarleton's sentence be executed upon me, you would say. be it so. but in that event i can at least clear you and your father of any complicity in my hiding." "i say you shall not go!" what touch of savagery is it in a man that will not suffer him to let a woman, loved or unloved, stand in the last resort against his will? at any other time i would have pleaded with her; would have ended, mayhap, by weakly deferring to her wish. but now--well, you must remember, my dears, that i was the trapped rat. i took her gently in my arms, set her aside, and stepped out into the corridor. i looked for nothing less than a volcano-burst of righteous indignation to pay me out for this piece of tyranny. but now, as twice or thrice before, my lady showed me how little a man may know of a woman's moods. "you need not be so masterful rough with me," she said, with a pouting of the sweet lips that set me back upon that thought of a wayward child wanting to be kissed. "if you say i must, i am in duty bound to show you the way." and so she led on and i followed, in a deeper maze than any she had ever set me in. arrived at a pair of doors in the main passage, she showed me the one that opened to my lord's bed-chamber and ran away; ran with her hands to her face as if to shut out a sight which would not bear looking upon. i turned my back stiffly upon this newer wonder, pulled myself together and rapped on the door. a voice within bade me enter; the door opened under my hand and i stood in the presence of the man who, as i made no doubt, would shortly summon his guards and have me out to my rope and tree. xxxiv how i met a great lord as man to man the room in which i found myself was the guest-chamber, furnished luxuriously, for that day and place, in french-fashioned mahogany and gilt. the bed was high and richly canopied, as befitted a peer's resting place; there was a square of turkish drugget on the floor, a cheerful fire burning in the chimney arch, and on the small table whereat the occupant of the guest-room had lately breakfasted, a goodly display of the ireton silver. my lord was busy at his writing-desk when i entered; but when he looked up i saw the light of instant recognition in his eye. never, i think, did another prisoner at the bar strive harder to read his sentence in his judge's eyes than i did in that moment of suspense. i liked not much the look he gave me; but his greeting was affable and kindly enough. "ah, captain ireton; 'tis you, is it? we are well met, at last. they told me you were gone to join the rebels, did they not?" here was an opening for a bold man, and in a flash i came to the right-about, choked down the defiance i had meant to hurl at him, and took quick counsel of cool audacity. "indeed, my lord, i know not what they have told you. in times past, the king had no truer soldier than i; and when i came across seas 'twas not to fight against him. but that i have not joined the rebels is no fault of certain of your lordship's officers." "say you so? but how is this? surely i am not mistaken. i could be certain colonel tarleton reported your taking as a spy, and his trying of you. and was there not something about a rescue at the last moment by a band of these border bravos? but stay; let us have the colonel's story at first hands. have the goodness to ring the bell for me, will you, captain?" the crisis was come. a pull at the bell-cord would summon the guard, and the guard would be sent after colonel tarleton. well, said the demon despair, 'tis time you were gone to make room for richard jennifer; and i laid a hand upon the tasseled rope. but when i would have rung, all the man-pride, of race and of soldier training, rose up to bid me fight for space to strike one good blow in freedom's cause by way of leave-taking. so, as it had been an afterthought, i said: "a word further with you first, my lord, and then, if you please, i will call the guard. all you remember is true, save as to the principal fact. so far from being a spy in intent, or even a partizan of either side, i was at the time but newly come into the province, knowing little of the cause of quarrel and caring still less. but captain falconnet and colonel tarleton did their earnest best to make a rebel of me out of hand." "ah? but the proof of all this, captain ireton." "the best i can offer is the present fact of my coming to place myself at your lordship's disposal, being moved thereto by your lordship's own desire expressed in an order sent some weeks since to sir francis falconnet." "so?--then you knew of that order?" "captain falconnet showed it to me after i was condemned and the firing squad was drawn up to snuff me out." my lord charles gave me the courtier smile that so endeared him to his soldiers,--he was well-loved of his men,--and bade me sit. "the plot thickens, as mr. richardson would say. let me have your story, captain ireton. i would rejoice to know why captain sir francis falconnet saw fit to disobey his orders." i was clear of the lee shore and the breakers at last, but i was fain to believe that not machiavelli himself could hope to weather the storm in the open. how much or how little did lord cornwallis remember of colonel tarleton's report? how explicit had that report been?--was there any mention in it of my eavesdropping at the conference between captain john stuart and the baronet; of my attempt to warn the over-mountain men against the indian-arming? could i hope to tell his lordship a tale so near the truth as to be unassailable by tarleton and his officers, by gilbert stair and the spiteful little pettifogger, and yet so deftly garbled as to keep my neck out of the halter for the time being? all these questions thronged upon me as a mob to pull cool reason from her seat, and i could only play the part of the trapped rat and snap back at them. yet my lord cornwallis was waiting for his answer, and a single moment's hesitation might breed suspicion. you must forgive me, my dears, if i confess it beyond me to set down here in measured words the tale i told his lordship. a lie is a lie, be it told in never so good a cause; a thing deplorable and not to be glozed over or boasted of after the fact. so i beg you to let these quibblings to which i was driven rest in oblivion, figuring to yourselves that i used all the truth i dared, and that i strove through it all not wholly to sink the gentleman and the man of honor in the spy. 'twas but a bridge of glass when all was said; a bridge that carried me safely over for the moment into my lord's confidence, yet one which a pebble flung by any one of a dozen hands might shiver in the dropping of an eyelid. "truly, you have had a most romantic experience," said his lordship, when i had made an end. then he lay back in his chair and laughed till the stout body of him shook again. "and all about a little wench of the provincials. well, well; sir francis was always a sad dog with the women. but all this was in the early summer, you say; where have you been since?" here was a chance for more romancing, this time of a sort less dangerous. so i drew breath and plunged again, telling how i had been carried off by my captor-rescuers; how i had fallen into the hands of the indians--not all of whom, i would remind his lordship, were friendly to the king; and lastly how i had but lately escaped from the mountain fastnesses back of major ferguson's camp at gilbert town. at this point my lord interrupted the tale-telling. "so you know of the major and his doings? i would you had brought me late news of him. 'tis a week since his last courier reached us." this was the moment for the playing of my trump card--the only one i held. i rose, bowed, took from my pocket that other letter given me by colonel davie and handed it to his lordship. 'twas major ferguson's last report, intercepted by one of davie's vigilant scouting parties. "ah!" said my lord; and i strolled to the window whilst he read the letter. when i turned to front him again he was all affability; and i knew i was safe--for the time, at least. "the major commends you highly as a good man and a true, captain ireton," he said, and truly the letter did contain a warm-hearted commendation of "the bearer," whose name, for safety's sake, was omitted; and not only this, but the writer desired to have his man back again. then my lord added: "you are here to take your old service again, i assume?" i hesitated. there be things that even a spy may balk at; and the taking of the oath of allegiance to the other side i conceived to be one of them. so i said: "i have worn many uniforms since i doffed that of king george, my lord, and--" he laughed cheerily. "'but me no buts,' captain ireton; once an englishman, always an englishman, you know. i shall assign you to duty in my own family." at this i made a bold stroke. "let it be then as an officer of her apostolic majesty's service, and your lordship's guest for the time. believe me, it is thus i may best serve your--ah--the cause." "as how?" he would ask. i smiled and touched the braided jacket of my hussar uniform. "as an austrian officer on a tour of observation in the campaign i may go and come where others may not, and see and hear things which your lordship may wish to know. does your lordship take me?" he laughed and rose and clapped me on the shoulder. "you may call the guard now, captain, and i will turn you over--not to a firing squad, but to the tender mercies of our old rascal host who is a 'trimmer' of the devil's own school. if he tries to screw a penny's pay out of you, as he is like to, put him in arrest." "it is your lordship's meaning that i should be quartered here?--in this house?" i gasped. "and why not? ah, my good captain of hussars, i have made you my honorary aide-de-camp and a member of my family so that i may keep an eye on you. _comprenez-vous?_" he said it with a laugh and another hearty hand-clap on my shoulder, and i would fain take it for a jest. yet there be playful gibes that hint at gibbets; and i may confess to you here, my dears, that i left my lord's presence with the conviction that my acquittal was but a reprieve conditioned upon the best of future good behavior. so it took another turn of the audacity screw to tune me up for the battle royal with gilbert stair and the pettifogger, owen pengarvin. xxxv in which i fight the devil with fire with the house guard for a guide i found my host in a box-like den below stairs; a room with a writing-table, two chairs and a great iron strong-box for its scanty furnishings. the old man was sitting at the table when i looked in, his long nose buried in a musty parchment deed. the light from the single small window was none too good, but it sufficed to help him recognize me at a glance, despite the hussar uniform. in a twinkling he put the breadth of the oaken table between us, hurled the parchment deed into the open strong-box, slammed to the cover and gave a shrill alarm. "ho! you devils without, there! here he is--i have him! help! murder!" the guard, a burly, bearded darmstädter, turned on his heel and stood at attention in the doorway, looking stolidly for his orders, not to the shrilling master of the house, but to the man who wore a uniform. "'tis naught," i said, speaking in german. "he mistakes me for a _rittmeister_ of the rebels. _verstehen sie?_" the soldier saluted, wheeled and vanished; and i sat down to wait till the old man's outcry should pause for lack of breath. when my chance came, i said: "calm yourself, mr. stair. you are in no present danger greater than that which you may bring upon yourself. blot out all the past, if you please, and consider me now as a member of lord cornwallis's military family seeking quarters in your house by my lord's express command." "quarters in my house?--ye're a damned rebel spy!" he cried. "i'll denounce ye to my lord for what ye are. ho! ye rascals, i say!" "peace!" i commanded, sternly; "this is but child's folly. no man in the british army would arrest me at your behest. ring the bell and summon your factor lawyer. i would have a word or two in private with both of you." he dropped into a chair, and i could see the sweat standing in great beads on his wrinkled forehead. "d' ye--d' ye mean to kill us both?" he gasped. "not if i can help it. but some better understanding is needful, and we will have it here and now, once for all. will you ring, or shall i?" he made no move to reach the bell-cord, and i rang for him. a grinning black boy came to the door, and seeing that mr. gilbert stair was beyond giving the order, i gave it myself. "find master pengarvin and send him here quickly. tell him mr. stair wants him." there was a short interval of waiting and then the lawyer came. being but a little wisp of a man, all malignance and no courage, he would have fled when he saw me. but i caught him by the collar and sent him scurrying around the table to keep his master company. "now, then; how much or how little have you two blabbed of the doings at appleby hundred some weeks since?" i demanded. "speak out, and quickly." 'twas the lawyer who obeyed, and now he was the trapped rat to snap blindly in despair. "you will hang higher than haman when the dragoons find you," he gritted out. "on your information?" "on mine and mr. stair's." "ye lie!" shrieked the miser. "i tell't ye to keep hands off, ye bletherin' little deevil, ye!" "never mind," said i; "what's done is done. but it must be undone, and that swiftly and thoroughly. lie out of it to colonel tarleton and the others as you will; captain john stuart and the baronet are not here to contradict you, and you are the only witnesses. knock together some story that will hold water and lose no time about it. do you understand?" seeing he was not to be put to the wall and spitted on the spot, the lawyer recovered himself. "'tis not the criminal at the bar who dictates terms, captain ireton," he said, with his hateful smirk. "you are under sentence of death, and that by a court lawful enough in war time." "you refuse?" i said. he shrugged. "speaking for myself, i shall leave no stone unturned to bring you to book, captain,--when it suits my purpose." i was loath to go to extremities with either of them; but my bridge of glass must be defended at all hazards. "you would best reconsider, mr. pengarvin. at this present moment i am of my lord cornwallis's military family and i have his confidence. a word from me will put you both in arrest as persons whose loyalty in times past has been somewhat more than blown upon." "bah!" said the pettifogger. "bluster is a good dog, but holdfast is the better. you can prove nothing, as you well know. moreover, with your own neck in a noose you dare not mess and meddle with other men's affairs." "dare not, you say? i'll tell you what i may dare, master attorney. if you are not disposed to meet me half way in this matter, i shall go to my lord, tell him how i have been cheated out of my estate, declare the marriage with mistress margery, and see that you get your just deserts. and you may rest assured that this soldier-earl will right me, come what may." 'twas a bold stroke, the boldest of any i had made that morning; but i was wholly unprepared for its effect upon the lawyer. his rage was like that of some venomous little animal, a thing to make an onlooker shudder and draw back. "never!" he hissed; "never, i say! i'll kill her first--i'll--" he choked in the very exuberance of his malignance, and his face was like the face of a man in a fit. 'twas then that i saw the pointing of his villainy and knew what margery had meant when she said that for reasons of his own he was holding my betrayal in abeyance. he was falconnet's successor and my rival. this little reptile aspired to be the master of my father's acres and the husband of my dear lady! and his holding off from denouncing me at once was also explained. taking it for granted that the wife would bargain for the husband's life, he had made a whip of his leniency to flog margery into subjection. my determination was taken upon the instant. there was no safety for margery whilst this plotting pettifogger was at large, and i stepped to the door and called the sentry. the darmstädter came back and i pointed to the lawyer. then, indeed, the furious little madman found his tongue and shrilled out his defiance. "curse you!" he yelled. "i'll be quits with you for this, master spy! 'tis your hearing now, but mine will come, and you shall hang like a dog! i'll follow you to the ends of the earth--i'll--" i made a sign and the soldier brought his musket into play and pricked his prisoner with the bayonet in token that time pressed. so we were rid of the lawyer in bodily presence, though i could hear his snarlings and spittings as the big darmstädter ran him out at the bayonet's point. during this tilt between his factor and me, mr. gilbert stair had stood apart, watchful but trembling. when we were alone i said: "now, mr. stair, i shall trouble you to billet me somewhere in your house, as a member of my lord's family. lead on, if you please, and i'll follow." he went before me without a word, out of the little den and up the broad stair, doddering like a man grown ten years older in a breath, and catching at the balustrade to steady himself as we ascended. the room he gave me was at an angle in one of the crookings of the corridor, and pointing me to the door he went pottering away, still without a word or a look behind him. the door was on the latch, but it gave reluctantly, letting me in suddenly when i set my shoulder to it. there was a quick little cry, half of anger, half of affright, from within. i drew back hastily, with a muttered curse upon the old man's spite, and in the act my spur caught the door and slammed it shut behind me. for reasons known only to omniscience and to himself, gilbert stair had shown me to my lady's chamber; she was standing, with her bodice off, before the oval mirror on the high dressing case. xxxvi how i rode post on the king's business if a look might be a leven-stroke to do a man to death, i warrant you my lady's flashing eyes would have crisped me to a cinder where i stood fumbling with one hand behind me for the latch of the slammed door. scorn, indignation, outraged maiden modesty, all these thrust at me like air-drawn daggers; and it needed not her, "fie, for shame, captain ireton!--and you would call yourself a gentleman!" to set me afire with prinklings of abashment. what could i say or do? the accursed door-latch would not find itself to let me fly; and as for excusings, i could not tell her that her own father had thrust me thus upon her. yet, had she let me be, i hope i should have had the wit to find the door fastening and the grace to run away; in truth, i had the latch in hand when she lashed out at me again, and my tingling shame began to give place to that master-devil of passion which is never more than half whipped into subjection in the best of us. "how are you better than the man you warned me of?" she cried. and then, in a tempest of grief: "oh! you would not leave me the respect i bore you; you must even rob me of that to fling it down and trample it under foot!" figure to yourselves, my dears, that i was wholly blameless in this unhappy breaking and entering, and so, mayhap, you may find excuse for me. for now, though i could have gone, i would not. her glorious beauty, heightened beyond compare by the passionate outburst, held me spellbound. and at my ear the master-devil whispered: she is your wedded wife; yours for better or worse, till death part you. who has a better right to look upon her thus? so it was that the love-madness came upon me again, and that thin veneering wherewith the christian centuries have so painfully overlaid the natural man in us was cracked and riven, and the barbarian which lies but skin-deep underneath bestirred himself and winked and blinked himself awake in giant might, as did the primal man when he rose up to look about him for his mate. before i knew what i would do, i was beside her, and honor, or what may stand therefor betwixt a man and his friend, was flung away. but when i would have crushed her sweetness in my arms she went upon her knees to me.... ah, god! she knelt to me as she had knelt to that other would-be ravisher and begged me for mine own honor's sake to bethink me of what i would do. "oh, monsieur john! be merciful as you are strong!" she pleaded. "think what it will mean to you, and how you will loathe me and yourself as well when this madness is overpast! oh, go; go quickly, lest i, too, forget--" and so it was that i found sudden strength to turn and leave her kneeling there; turned to grope blindly for the door with all the pains of hell aflame within me. for now i had put honor under foot; now i knew that i had truly earned her scorn and loathing. i could no longer plead that i was the puppet of fate flung against my will between this maiden and my dear lad. i was the wilful offender; false to my love, false to my friend, a recreant to every oath wherewith i had bound myself to be true and loyal to these two. with such a flaming sword to drive me forth, i stumbled from the room, thinking only how i should quickest rid me of myself. hastening to my garret sleeping-place i buckled on my sword, found my shako, and went straight to my lord's bed-chamber. my rap at the door went unanswered, and a broad-shouldered young fellow in a lieutenant's uniform, lounging on a settle in the clock landing of the stair, told me lord cornwallis was gone out. i was face to face with this young lieutenant before i recognized him; being so bent upon haste i should have passed him on the landing without a second glance had he not risen to grip me by the shoulders. "by the lord harry!" he cried, "is it thus you pass an old friend without a word, captain ireton?" 'twas my good death-watch; that lieutenant tybee of the light-horse who had sunk the british officer in the man in that trying night at appleby hundred. i returned his hearty greeting as well as i might, and would have explained my present state and standing but that i was loath to lie to him. but as to this, he saved me the shame of it. "i could have sworn you were no rebel, captain ireton; indeed, i made bold to say as much to our colonel, after it was all over. i told him a soft word or two would have won you back to your old service. you see i knew better than the others what lay beneath all your madnesses that night." "you knew somewhat, but not all," i said; and thereupon, lest he should involve me deeper and detain me longer when i was athirst to be gone, i hastened to ask where i might hope to find his lordship and colonel tarleton. "'tis the hour for parade; you will find them at the camp," he replied. and then, out of the honest english heart of him: "have you made your peace, captain? do you need a friend to go with you?" i said i had been granted a hearing by lord cornwallis but a little while before; that by my lord's appointment i was now a sort of honorary aide-de-camp. "good!" said the lieutenant, gripping my hand in a way to make me wince for the lie-in-effect hidden in the simple statement of fact. then he roared at the soldier standing guard at the house door below: "a mount for captain ireton--and be swift about it!" he held me in talk till the horse was fetched, happily doing most of the talking himself, and when i was in the saddle gave me a hearty god-speed. being so sick with self-despisings, i fear i made but a poor return for all this good comradeship; but at the time i could think of nothing but the hell that flamed within me, and of how i could soonest quench the fires of it. the town, which i had not seen since early summer, was but little changed by the british occupation, save in the livening of it by the near-at-hand camp of an armed host. being but a halt-point _en route_ in the northward march, it was not fortified; indeed, for the matter of that, the camp proper was a little way without the town, as i have said. i rode slowly across the common, skirting the commissary's quarters and making mental notes of all i saw; this from soldier habit solely, for at the time i had little thought of living on to make a spy's use of them. arrived at the parade ground, i found my lord galloping through the lines on inspection, and so i must draw rein in the background and wait my opportunity. the pause gave space for some eye-sweep of the scene, and all the soldier blood in me was stirred by the sight, the first i had had in many a day, of a well-ordered army, fit, disciplined, machine-drilled to move like the parts of a wondrous mechanism. at the back of lord cornwallis and his galloping suite, tarleton's famous light-horse legion was drawn up; and fronting it was the infantry, rank on rank, the glittering bayonets slanting in the october sunlight as the regiments moved into place, or standing in rigid groves of steel at the command to halt and port arms. what was there in all our poor raw land to stand against this well-trained host, armed--as we were not--with the deadly bayonet, and moving as one man at the word of command? not the bravest home guard or militia troop, i thought; and this seeing of what he had had to front on the field of camden made me think less scornfully of horatio gates. riding presently around the field to be the nearer to the general when my time should come, i missed the mark completely. it so chanced that as the parade was ended my lord and his suite were at the extreme right; and when the regiments broke ranks i was forced to skirt the entire camp to come into the road. by this time those i sought were gone into the town, so i must needs turn about and follow, with the thing i had to say still unspoken. i need not drag you back and forth with me on the search i made to find lord cornwallis again. 'tis enough to say that after missing him here and there, i ran him to earth at the court house, where, it was told me, my lord was sitting in council with his staff officers. thinking it worse than useless to try to force my way into the council chamber, i waited in the raff of soldiery without, cursing the delay which gave my despairing resolution time to cool. when i had closed the door of my dear lady's chamber behind me i was resolved to fling myself upon that fate which needed but a word from me to make my calling and election to a gibbet swift and sure. had i found my lord cornwallis in his bed-room the word would have been spoken; but now the iron of resolution cooled in spite of me. 'twas not that i was less willing to pay the price of expiation; that must be done in any case. but i had seen the enemy, and all the soldier in me rebelled at the thought of dying like a noosed bullock in the shambles. could i but strike that one good blow. the old court house of our greater mecklenburg was such as some of you may remember; a stout wooden building raised upon brick pillars to leave a story underneath. in the time of the british occupation this lower story served as a market house, and the public entrance to the court room above was reached by steps on the outside. in my boyhood days this outer stair was the only one; but now in wandering aimlessly through the market-place beneath i found another flight in a corner; the "jury stair," they called it, since it provided the means of egress from the jury box above. the sight of this inner stair set me plotting. could i make use of it to come unseen into the council chamber of lord cornwallis and his officers? the market-place was well thronged with venders and soldier buyers; the patriotic mecklenburgers were not averse to the turning of an honest penny upon the needs of their oppressors, as it seemed. i watched my chance, and when there were no prying eyes to mark it, made the dash up the steps. happily for the success of the adventure there was an angle in the narrow stair to hide me whilst i lifted the trap door in the court-room floor a scant half-inch and got my bearings. as i had hoped, the trap opened behind the jury box, and i was able to raise it cautiously and so to draw myself up into the room above, unseen and unheard. a peep around the corner of the high jury stalls showed me my lord and his suite gathered about the lawyers' table in front of the bar. of the staff i recognized only stedman, the commissary-general; tarleton, looking something the worse for his late illness; major hanger, his second in command, and the young irishman, lord rawdon. at the moment of my espial, cornwallis was speaking, and i drew back to listen, well enough content to be in earshot. for if my good angel had timed my coming i could not have arrived at a more opportune moment. "what we have to consider now is how best to reach ferguson with an express instantly," his lordship was saying. "this rising of the over-mountain men is likely to prove a serious matter--not only for the major, but for the king's cause in the two provinces. lacking positive orders to the contrary, ferguson will fight--we all know that; and if he should be defeated 'twill hopelessly undo his work among the border loyalists and set us back another twelvemonth." "then your lordship will order him to come in with what he has?" said a voice which i knew for colonel tarleton's. "instanter, had i a sure man to send." "pshaw! i can find you a hundred amongst the late royalist recruits." 'twas young lord rawdon who said this. "damn them!" said his lordship shortly; "i would sooner trust this new aide of mine. he comes straight from the major and can find his way back again." tarleton laughed. "i fear we shall never agree upon him, my lord. i know not how he has made his peace with you, but i do assure you he is as great a rascal as ever went unhung. 'tis true, as you say, i did not go into the particulars; but were captain stuart or sir francis falconnet here, either of them would convince your lordship in a twinkling." there was silence for a little space following the colonel's denunciation of me, and then my lord broke it to say: "i may not be so credulous as you think, colonel. rebel spy or true-blue loyalist, he is safe enough for the present. in the meantime in this matter of reaching ferguson we may make good use of him." "in what manner, your lordship?" asked one whose voice i did not recognize. "he has come straight from major ferguson, as i say; and, loyalist or rebel, he can find his way back to gilbert town." "but you'll never be trusting him with despatches!" said lord rawdon. "there is no need to trust him. he can be given the despatches with some hint of their purport, and of how much the king's cause will profit by their safe delivery." again a silence fell upon the group around the lawyers' table, and then some one--'twas major hanger, as i thought--said: "'tis an unread riddle for me as yet, my lord." cornwallis laughed. "where are your wits this morning, gentlemen? if he be loyal and true, the despatches will go safe enough. if, on the other hand, he be a rebel and a spy, he will doubtless tamper with them; but in that case he will none the less ride straight enough to major ferguson's headquarters in the west." "h'm; your lordship is still too deep for me," said tarleton's second in command. "if he be a rebel and a spy, why, in god's name, should he carry your lordship's letters to any but some rag-tag colonel of his own kidney?" my lord laughed again. "truly, major, you should go to a dame's school and learn diplomacy. if we tell him beforehand what our object is, how could any rebel of them all defeat it more surely than by going to ferguson with a garbled message that would make him stand and fight a losing battle?" "but, my lord--the risk!" cut in the commissary-general. "there need be none. an hour after he sets out we shall send a mounted detail after him with an indian tracker to nose out his trail. the lieutenant in command will carry duplicate despatches. at the worst, ireton will guide these followers to ferguson's rendezvous; and, so far as we know, he is the only man who knows exactly where to find the major." i had heard enough. under cover of the chorus of bravos raised by lord cornwallis's explication of his plot within a plot, i lifted the trap-door and made my exit as noiselessly as i had come. guessing that no time would be lost in putting the plan into action, i made haste to be found inquiring hither and yon for the commander-in-chief when my lord and his suite came down the outer stair; and when we were met i was quickly told of my assignment to courier duty. "make your preparations to take the road within the hour, and report to me at friend stair's," said my lord, most affably. "we shall put your new-found loyalty to the test, captain ireton, by entrusting you with a most important mission. go with the commissary-general and he will find you your mount and equipment." thus dismissed, i went with stedman, and was accorded a more gentlemanly welcome than my overhearings had given me leave to expect. on the way to the horse paddock the commissary-general told me of his plan to write a history of the campaign; a bit of confidence which set me laughing inwardly and wondering if he would put one john ireton, sometime of the scots blues, and late captain in her apostolic majesty's hussars, between the covers of his book. 'tis small wonder that he did not. i have since had the pleasure of reading his history of the great war, and i find it curiously lacking in those incidents which did not redound to the honor and glory of the king's cause and army in the field. not to digress, however, my makeshift mount was soon exchanged for a better; i was allowed to draw what i would of accoutrements and provender from the king's stores; and so, to cut it short, i was presently at the door of my lord's headquarters fully equipped and ready for the road. i did hope in those last few moments that i might have a chance to exchange a word with my dear lady; might ask her forgiveness, or, failing so much grace of her, might at least have another sight of her sweet face. but even this poor boon was denied me. i was scarce out of the saddle when an aide came to conduct me to the general, and i saw no one in the house save my lord himself. as you would guess, my instructions conformed exactly to the plan outlined by lord cornwallis in the council. i was entrusted with a sealed packet for delivery to major ferguson, and, for safety's sake, as my lord explained, i was given the meat of the message to deliver verbally should the need arise. ferguson was to be ordered to come in instantly by forced marches, if necessary, and he was on no account to risk a battle with the over-mountain men. you may be sure, my dears, that i scarce drew breath till i was a-horse and out of the town and galloping hard on the road to that ford of master macgowan's which afterward became famous in our history under the misspelling "cowan's ford." 'twas too good to be true that i should be thrust thus into the very gaping mouth of opportunity, and now and again i would feel the packet buttoned tight beneath my hussar jacket to make sure 'twas not a dream to vanish at a touch. in the mad joy of it the spirit of prophecy came upon me, and i saw as if the thing were done, how at last i held the fate of the patriot cause in all our west country in the hollow of my hand. xxxvii of what befell at king's creek skipping lightly over the happenings of the two days following my departure from charlotte on the king's errand, i may say that after passing the british outposts at the crossing of the catawba, i met neither friend nor foe; and from noon on i rode to the westward through a pitiless drizzling rain, splashed to the belt with the mire of the road, and having little chance to inquire my way. this last lack grew with the passing hours to the size of a threatening hazard. as you may have guessed, i knew no more than a blind man the route i should take; knew no more of the whereabouts of gilbert town and major ferguson's rendezvous than that both were some eighty miles to the westward. at the outset i had thought to feel out the way in general by cautious inquiry along the road; but when i came to consider of this, the risk of betraying my ignorance to those who followed me was too great to let me turn aside to any of the wayside houses; and as for chance passers-by, there were none--the rain kept all within doors. so i was constrained to gallop on without pause; and throughout that comfortless afternoon and the scarce less miserable day which followed, there were no incidents to break the dull monotony of the blind race save these two; that once the clouds lifted enough to give me a glimpse of my pursuers in a far reach to the eastward; and once again i had a sight of an awkward horseman in the road before me--saw him and tried to overtake him, and could not, for all his clumsy riding. now i was curious about this lone horseman ahead for more reasons than one, but chiefly because my glimpse of him seemed to show me the back of a man whom i made sure i had left safe behind in the british guard-house in charlotte, to wit: the scoundrelly little pettifogger. at first i scoffed at the idea. saying he were free to leave charlotte, how should he be riding post on my haphazard road to the westward? 'twas against all reason, and yet the tittuping figure of which i had but a rain-veiled glimpse named itself owen pengarvin in spite of all the reasons i could bring to bear. 'twas close on eventide of the second day, the early evening gloaming of a chill autumnal rain-day, and i had been since morning dubiously lost in the somber trackless forest, when an elfish cry rose, as it would seem, from beneath the very hoofs of my horse. "god save the king!" the bay shied suddenly, standing with nostrils a-quiver; and i had to look closely to make out the little brown dot of humanity clad in russet homespun crouching in the path, its childish eyes wide with fear and its lips parted to shrill again: "god save the king!" i threw a stiff leg over the cantle and swung down to go on one knee to my stout challenger. i can never make you understand, my dears, how the sight of this helpless waif appearing thus unaccountably in the heart of the great forest mellowed and softened me. 'twas a little maid, not above three or four years old, and with a face that master raphael might have taken as a pattern for one of his seraphs. "what know you of the king, little one?" i asked. "gran'dad told me," she lisped. "if i was to see a soldier-man i must say, quick, 'god save the king,' or 'haps he'd eat me. is--is you hungry, mister soldier-man?" "truly i am that, sweetheart; but i don't eat little maids. where is your grandfather?" "ain't got any gran'favver; i said 'gran'_dad_.'" "well, your gran'dad, then; can you take me to him?" "i don't know. 'haps you'd eat _him_." "no fear of that, my dear. do i look as if i ate people?" she gave me a long scrutiny out of the innocent eyes and then put up two little brown hands to be taken. "i tired" she said; and my sore heart went warm within me when i took her in my arms and cuddled her. after a long-drawn sigh of contentment, she said: "my name polly; what's yours?" "you may call me jack, if you please--captain jack, if that comes the easier. and now will you let me take you to your gran'dad?" she nodded, and i spoke to the bay and mounted, still holding her closely in my arms. "tell me quickly which way to go, polly," i said; for besides being, as i would fear, far out of the way to gilbert town, the last hilltop to the rear had given me another sight of my shadowing pursuers riding hard as if they meant to overtake me. the little maid sat up straight on the saddle horn and looked about her as if to get her bearings. "that way," she said, pointing short to the right; and i wheeled the horse into a blind path that wound in and out among the trees for a long half mile, to end at a little clearing on the banks of a small stream. in the midst of the clearing was a rude log cabin; and in the open doorway stood a man bent and aged, a patriarchal figure with white hair falling to his shoulders and a snowy beard such as aaron might have worn. at sight of me the old watcher disappeared within the house, but a moment later he was out again, fingering the lock of an ancient queen's-arm. i drew rein quickly, and the little maid sat up and saw the musket. "don't shoot, gran'dad!" she cried. "he's cappy jack, and he doesn't eat folkses." at this the old man came to meet us, though still with the clumsy musket held at the ready. "these be parlous times, sir," he said, half in apology, i thought. and then: "you have made friends with my little maid, and i owe you somewhat for bringing her safe home." "nay," said i; "the debt is mine, inasmuch as i have the little one for my friend. 'tis long since i have held a trusting child in my arms, i do assure you, sir." he bowed as grandly as any courtier. "i hope her trust is not misplaced, sir; though for the matter of that, we have little enough now to take or leave." "you have given it all to the king?" said i, feeling my way as i had need to. his eyes flashed and he drew himself up proudly. "the king has taken all, sir, as you see," this with a wave of the hand to point me to the forlorn homestead. "there is naught left me save this poor hut and my little maid." "'taken,' you say? then you are not of the king's side?" he came a step nearer and faced me boldly. "listen, sir: two of my sons were left on the bloody field of camden, and the butcher banastre tarleton slew the other two at fishing creek. a month since a band of roving savages, armed with king george's muskets, mind you, sir, came down upon us at northby, and this little maid's mother--" he stopped and choked; and the child looked up into my face with her blue eyes full of nameless terror. "oh, i want my mammy!" she said. "won't you find her for me, cappy jack?" i slipped from the saddle, still clasping the little one tightly in my arms. "enough, sir," i said, when i could trust myself to speak. "this same king george's minions have made me a homeless outcast, too. i live but to give some counter stroke, if i may." "ha!" said the old man, starting back; "then you are for our side? but your uniform--" "is that of an austrian officer, my good sir, which i should right gladly exchange for the buff and blue, but that i can serve the cause better in this." he dropped the queen's-arm, took the child from me and bade me welcome to his cabin and all it held. but i was not minded to make him a sharer in my private peril. "no," said i. "tell me how i may find gilbert town and major ferguson's rendezvous, and i will ride whilst i can see the way." he looked at me narrowly. "ferguson left gilbert town some days since. if 'tis the place you seek, you are gone far out of your way; if 'tis the man--" "'tis the man," i cut in hastily. the patriarch shook his head. "if you be of our side, as you say, he will hang you out of hand." "so i can make my errand good, i care little how soon he hangs me." "and what may your errand be? mayhap i can help you." "it is to bring him to a stand till the mountain men can overtake him." the old man trembled with excitement like a boy going into his first battle. "ah, if you could--if you could!" he cried. "but 'tis too late, now. listen: his present camp is but three miles to the westward on buffalo creek. i was there no longer ago than the wednesday. i--i made my submission to him--curse him--so that i might mayhap learn of his plans. he told me all; how that now he was safe; that the mountaineers were gone off from the fording of the broad on a false scent; that tarleton with four hundred of the legion would soon be marching to his relief. "i stole away when i could, and that night took horse and rode twenty miles to tom sumter's camp at flint hill--all to little purpose, i fear. poor tom is still desperately sick of his fishing creek wounds, and colonel lacey was the only officer fit to go after shelby and the mountain men to set them straight. i should have gone myself, but--" "stay, my good friend," said i; "you go too fast for me. if ferguson is still out of communication with the main at charlotte, we may halt him yet." the old man made a gesture of impatience. "'tis a thing done because it is as good as done. the major will break camp and march to-morrow morning, and he can reach charlotte at ease in two days. what with their losing of his trail, the mountain men are those same two days behind him." "none the less, we shall halt him," said i. "have you ever an inkhorn and a quill in your cabin?" "both; at your service, sir. but i can not understand--" "we may call it the little maid's judgment on those who have made her fatherless. but for her stopping of me i should have come unprepared into the camp of the enemy. i am the bearer of a letter from lord cornwallis to this same major ferguson." "you?--a bearer of lord cornwallis's despatches?" the old man put a blade's length between us and held the little one aloft as if he feared i might do her a mischief. i laughed and bade him be comforted. "'tis a long story, and i may not take the time to tell it now. but a word will suffice. like yourself, i made my submission--and for the same purpose. my lord accepted it and made me his despatch-bearer because he thought i knew the way to ferguson when no one else knew it. but enough of this; time presses. let me have ink and the quill." the old man led the way into the cabin and put his writing tools at my disposal. left to myself, i should have broken the seal of the packet; but my wise old ally, cool and collected now, showed me how to split the paper beneath the wax. opened and spread before us on the rude slab table, the letter proved to be the briefest of military commands: a peremptory order to ferguson to rejoin the main body at once, proceeding by forced marches if needful, and on no account to risk engagement with the over-mountain men. how to change such an order to reverse it in effect, i knew no more than a yokel; but here again my ancient ally showed himself a man of parts. dressing the pen to make it the fellow of that used by my lord cornwallis, he scanned the handwriting of the letter closely, made a few practice pot-hooks to get the imitative hang of it, and wrote this _postscriptum_ at the bottom of the sheet. _since writing the foregoing i have your courier, and his despatches. lieutenant-colonel tarleton, with four hundred of the legion, will take the road for you to-night. if battle is forced upon you, make a stand and hold the enemy in check till reinforcements come. cornwallis._ the old man sanded the wet penstrokes and bade me say if it would serve. 'twas a most beautiful forgery. my lord's crabbed handwriting was copied to a nicety, and of the two signatures i doubt if the earl himself could have told which was his own; 'twas the same circle "c," the same printing "r," the same heavy precision throughout. "capital!" said i. "now, if the lightning would but strike these pursuers of mine, we should have the scotsman at bay in a hand's turn." "how?" said the patriarch; "are you followed?" i told him i was; told him of my lord's plot within a plot--that three light-horse riders, one of them a lieutenant bearing duplicate despatches, had been hard upon my heels all the way from charlotte. at this the old warhorse--i learned afterward that he had fought through the french and indian war--wagged his beard and his eye flashed. "we must stop them," he said. "three of them, do you say?" "three white men and an indian trailer." "ha! if it were not for the little maid.... let me think." he fell to pacing up and down before the fire on the hearth, and i took the small one on my knee to let her chatter to me. 'twas five full minutes before my ancient gave me the worth of his cogitations, but when he did speak it was much to the purpose. "these marplot rear-guards of yours will spoil it all if they come to ferguson's camp either before or after you. do they know the major's present whereabouts?" "no more than i did an hour ago. as i take it, they are depending on me to show them the way." "well, then; dead men tell no tales." "but, my good friend, you forget there are four of them and only two of us! we should stand little chance with them in fair fight." again the old man's eyes snapped and glowed as if pent-fires were behind them. "was it fair fight when tarleton's men rode in upon tom sumter's rest camp at fishing creek and cut down this little maid's father whilst he was naked and bathing in the stream? was it fair fight when king george's indian devils came down in the dead of night upon our defenseless house at northby? never talk to me of fairness, sir, whilst all this bloody tyranny is afoot!" i thought upon it for a little space. 'twas none so easy to decide. on one hand, stern loyalty to the cause i had espoused passed instant sentence on these four men whose lives stood in the way; on the other, common humanity cried out and called it murder. never smile, my dears, and hint that i had found me a new heart of mercy since that ambush-killing of the three cherokee peace-men in the lone valley of the western mountains. we did but give the savages a dole out of their own store of cruel cunning and ferocity. but as for these my trackers, three of them, at least, were soldiers and men of my own race. i could not do it. "no," said i, firmly. "these followers of mine must be stopped, as you say, else there is no need of my going on. but there must be no butcher's work." the patriarch frowned and wagged his beard again. "a true patriot should hold himself ready to give his own life or take another's," quoth he. "truly; and i am most willing on both heads. but we have had enough and more than enough of midnight massacre." where this argument would have led us in the end, i know not, since we were both waxing warm upon it. but in the midst the little maid came running from the open door, her blue eyes wide in childish terror. "injun man!" was all she could say; but that was enough. at a bound i reached the door. an indian was at my horse's head, loosing the halter, as i thought. before he could twist to face me the point of the ferara was at his back. luckily, he had the wit not to move. "no kill uncanoola," he muttered, this without the stirring of a muscle. then, as if he were talking to the horse: "white squaw, she send 'um word; say 'good by.'" my point dropped as if another blade had parried the thrust. "mistress margery, you mean? do you come from her?" "she send 'um word; say 'good by,'" he repeated. "what else did she say?" i demanded. "no say anyt'ing else: say 'good by.'" he turned upon me at that and i saw why he had kept his face averted. he had on the war paint of a cherokee chief. "uncanoola good chelakee now," he grinned. "help redcoat soldier find captain long-knife. wah!" i saw his drift, and though i knew his courage well, the boldness of the thing staggered me. he, too, had penetrated to the inner lines of the british encampment at charlotte; and when they had sought an indian tracker to lift my trail, 'twas he who had volunteered. but now my spirits rose. with this unexpected ally we might hope to deal forcefully and yet fairly with my rear-guard. "where are your masters now?" i asked. he spat upon the ground. "catawba chief has no master," he said, proudly. "redcoat pale-faces yonder," pointing back the way i had come. "make fire, boil tea, sing song, heap smoke pipe." "we must take them," said i. he nodded. "kill 'um all; take scalp. wah!" the bloodthirstiness of my two allies was appalling. but i undertook to cool the indian's ardor, explaining that the redcoat soldiers were the long-knife's brothers, in a way, not to be slain save in honorable battle. i am not sure whether i earned the catawba's contempt, or his pity for my weakness; but since he was loyal to the son of his old benefactor first, and a savage afterward, he yielded the point. so now i made him known to my patriarchal host, who all this time had been standing guard at the cabin door with the old queen's-arm for a weapon. so we three sat on the door-stone and planned it out. when the night was far enough advanced, we would stalk the soldiers in their camp, sparing life as we could. when all was settled, the old man gave us a supper of his humble fare, after which we went into the open again to sit out the hours of waiting. the rain had ceased, but the night was cloudy and the darkness a soft black veil to shroud the nearest objects. high overhead the autumn wind was sighing in the tree-tops, and now and again a sharper gust would bring down a pattering volley of lodged rain-drops on the fallen leaves. uncanoola sat apart in stoical silence, smoking his long-stemmed pipe. the old man and i talked in low tones, or rather he would tell me of his past whilst i sat and listened, holding the little maid in my arms. after a time the child fell asleep, and i craved permission to put her in the little crib bed in the chimney corner. the flickering light of the fire fell upon her innocent face when i loosed the clasp of the tiny hands about my neck and laid her down. again the wave of softness submerged me and i bent to leave a kiss upon the sweet unconscious lips. ah, my dears, you may smile again, if you will; but at that moment i had a far-off glimpse of the beatitude of fatherhood; i was no longer the hard old soldier i have drawn for you; i was but a man, hungering and thirsting for the love of a wife and trusting, clinging little children like this sweet maid. i rose, turning my back upon the chimney corner and its holdings with a sigh. for now the time was come for action, and i must needs be a man of blood and iron again. lacking the catawba to guide us, i doubt if either the old man or i could have found my rearguard's bivouac near the trail i had left. but uncanoola led us straight through the pitchy darkness; and when we were come upon the three soldiers we found them all asleep around the handful of camp-fire. 'twould have been murder outright to kill them thus; and now i think the old patriarch forgot his wrongs and was as merciful as i. but not so the catawba. he had armed himself with a stout war-club, and before i was free to stop him he had knocked two of the three sleepers senseless, and would have battered out their brains but for the old man's intervention. as for the officer, i had flung myself upon him in the rush and was having a pretty handful of him. but though he was broad in the shoulders, and as agile as a cat, he was taken at a sleeping man's disadvantage, and so i presently had the better of him. "enough, man! 'tis as good as a feast!" he cried, when i had him fast pinioned; and thereupon i let him have breath and freedom to sit up. in the act he had his first good sight of me, as i had mine of him. 'twas tybee and no other. "gad! my captain," he said, feeling his throat. "if you have a grip like that for your friends, i'm damned glad i'm not your enemy." "but you are," i rejoined, rather shamefacedly, yet thankful to the finger-tips that i had not consented to a massacre. "i am for the congress and the commonwealth, lieutenant, and you are my prisoner. may i trouble you for the despatches you carry?" he looked up at me with a queer grimace on his boyish face. "the devil! but you're a cool hand, captain ireton! whatever you were in that coil at appleby, you've led the spy's long suit this time. and i'm not sure whether i like you any the worse for it, if so be you must be a rebel." and with that, he gave me the sealed packet and asked what i would do with him. his query set me thinking. as for the two stunned troopers, i meant to turn them over to the old man for safe keeping; but i was loath to make it harder than need be for this good-natured youngster. so i put him upon his honor. "do you know what this packet contains?" i asked. he laughed. "my lord did not honor me with his confidence. i was to follow you in to major ferguson's camp, deliver the despatches, and vanish." "good; then you need tell no lies. when the indian has fetched my horse, i shall ride to ferguson's camp, and you may ride with me. i shall ask no more than this; that you do not fight again till you are exchanged; and that you will not tell major ferguson whose prisoner you are. do you accept the terms?" "gad! i'd be a fool not to. but what's in the wind, captain? surely you can tell me, now that i am safely out of the running." "you will know in a day or two; and in the meantime ignorance is your best safety. you can tell major ferguson that you were waylaid on the road by a party of the enemy, and that you were paroled and fell in with me." he looked a little rueful, as a good soldier would, but was disposed to make the best of a bad bargain. "here's my hand on it," he said; and a little later we had dragged the two troopers to the cabin, where the old man became surety for their safe keeping, and were feeling our way cautiously westward at the heels of the catawba who had taken his directions from our patriarch. we pressed forward in silence through the shadowy labyrinth of the wood for a time, but at the crossing of a small runlet where we would stop to let the horses drink, tybee burst out a-laughing. "'tis as good as a play," he said. "three several times i've had to change my mind about you, captain ireton, and i'm not cock-sure i have your measure yet. but i'll say this: if you've strung my lord successfully, you'll be the first to do it and come off alive in the end." "the end is not yet, my good friend; and i may not come off better than the others," i rejoined. and with that we fared on again till we could see the camp-fires of ferguson's little army twinkling between the tree trunks. xxxviii in which we find the gun-maker as you may be sure, major patrick ferguson was far too good a soldier to leave his camp unguarded on any side, and whilst we were yet a far cannon-shot from the glimmering fires a sentry's challenge halted us. to the man's "halt! who goes there?" i gave the word "friends," salving my conscience for the needful lie as i might. "advance, friends, and give the countersign." i confessed my ignorance of the night-word, saying that we were a paroled prisoner and a bearer of despatches, and asking that we be taken to major ferguson's headquarters. there was some little cautious demurring on the part of the sentry, but finally he passed the word for the guard-captain and we were escorted to the tent of the field commander. i marked the encampment as i could in passing through it. the little army was three-fourths made up of tory militia; and there was drinking and song-singing and a plentiful lack of discipline around the camp-fires of these auxiliaries. but a different air was abroad in the camp of the regulars; you would see a soldierly alertness on the part of the men, and there was no roistering in that quarter. major ferguson's tent was on a hillock some distance back from the stream, and thither we were conducted; we, i say, meaning tybee and myself, for uncanoola had disappeared like a whiff of smoke at our challenging on the sentry line. late as it was, the major was up and hard at work. his tent table, transformed for the time into a mechanic's work-bench, was littered with gun-barrels and tools and screws and odd-shaped pieces of mechanism--the disjointed parts of that breech-loading musket of which the ingenious scotchman was the inventor. being deep in the creative trance when we came upon him, the major gave us but an absent-minded greeting, listening with the outward ear only when tybee reported his mission, and his capture and parole. "from my lord, ye say? i hope ye left him well," was all the answer the lieutenant got, the inventor fitting away at his gun-puzzle the while. tybee made proper rejoinder and stood aside to give me room. i drew a sealed inclosure from my pocket and laid it on the work-bench table. "i also have the honor to come from my lord cornwallis, bringing despatches"--so far i got in my cut-and-dried speech, and then my tongue clave to the roof of my mouth and i could no more finish the sentence than could a man suddenly nipped in a vise. instead of the carefully doctored original, i had given the major the duplicate despatch taken from tybee. ah, my dears, that was a moment for swift thought and still swifter action; and 'tis the ireton genius to be slow and sure and no wise "gleg at the uptak'," as a scot would say. yet for this once my good angel gave me a prompting and the wit to use it. in that clock-tick of benumbing despair when the success of the hazardous venture, and much more that i wist not of, hung suspended by a hair over the abyss of failure, i minded me of a boyish trick wherewith i used to fright the timid blacks in the old days at appleby hundred. so whilst the major was reaching for the packet--nay, when he had it in his hand--i started back with a warning cry, giving that imitation of the ominous _skir-r-r_ of a rattlesnake which had more than once got me a cuffing from my father. in any crisis less tremendous i should have roared a-laughing to see the doughty major and my good friend the lieutenant vie with each other in their skippings to escape the unseen enemy. but it was no laughing moment for me. at a flash my sword was out and i was hacking hither and yon at the imaginary foe. in the hurly-burly i contrived to sprawl all across the work-bench table, and the packet which would have killed my plot--and, belike, the plotter as well--was secured and quickly juggled into hiding. "damme! see now what you've done; you've spilt my breech-charger all about the place!" rasped the major, when all was over. and then: "who the devil are ye, anyway; and what do ye want wi' me?" i clicked my heels, saluted, and gave him the express from my lord--the right one, this time. he tore off the wrapping, swore a hearty soldier oath when he read the fore part of the letter and clapped his leg joyfully, like the brave gentleman that he was, when he came to the _postscriptum_. "ye're a fine fellow, captain; ye've brought me good news," he said; then he bade an aide call captain de peyster, his second in command, and in the same breath gave tybee and me in charge to an ensign for our billeting for the night. you will conceive that i was overjoyed at this seemingly safe and easy planting of the petard which was to blow my lord cornwallis's plans into the air; and in anticipation i saw the tide-turning battle and heard the huzzas of the mountaineer victors. but 'tis a good old saw that cautions against hallooing before you are out of the wood. captain de peyster was come, and tybee and i were taking our leave of the major, when there was a sudden commotion among the guards without, and a little man in black, his wig awry and his clothing torn by the rough man-handling of the sentries, burst into the tent. "seize him! seize him! he is a rebel spy!" he shrieked, pointing at me. as you would guess, all talk paused at this dramatic interruption, and all eyes were turned upon me. had the little viper been content to rest his charge upon the simple accusation, i know not what might have happened. but when he got his breath he burst out in a tirade of the foulest abuse, cursing me up one side and down the other, and ending in a gibbering fit of rage that left him pallid and foaming at the lips--and gave me my cue. "'tis the little madman of queensborough," i said, coolly, explaining to the bluff major. "his mania takes the form of a curious hatred for me, though i know not why. two days since, he was put in arrest by my lord's authority for threatening my life and that of his master's daughter. now, it would seem, he has broken jail and followed me hither." "a lunatic, eh? he looks it, every inch," said the major; and the blackguard lawyer, hearing my counter accusation, was doing his best to give it a savor of likelihood by fighting frantically with the two soldiers who had followed him into the tent. "out wi' him!" commanded the major. "we've no time to foolish away wi' a bedlamite. take him away and peg him out, and gi' him a dash o' water to cool his head." pengarvin fought like a fury, and his venomous rage defeated all his attempts to say calmly the words which might have got him a hearing. so he was haled away, spitting and struggling like a trapped wildcat; and when we were rid of him the major bade us good night again. tybee held his peace like a good fellow till we had rolled us in our blankets before one of the camp-fires. but just as i was dropping asleep he broke out with, "i would you might tell me what piece of rebel villainy this is that i've been a winking accomplice to." i laughed. "'tis a thing to make major ferguson rejoice, as you saw. and surely, it can be no great villainy to give a man what he's thirsting for. bide your time, lieutenant, and you shall see the outcome." xxxix the thunder of the captains and the shouting the camp was astir early the next morning, and it soon became noised about that we were to fall back, but only so far as might be needful to find a strong position. from this it was evident that a battle was imminent, though as yet there were no signs of the approach of the patriots. from the camp talk we, tybee and i, gleaned some better information of the situation. a fortnight earlier major ferguson had captured two of the over-mountain men of clark's party and had sent them to the settlement on the watauga with a challenge in due form--or rather with the threat to come and lay the over-mountain region waste in default of an instant return of the pioneers to their allegiance to the king. this challenge, so our scouts told us, had been immediately accepted. sevier and shelby had embodied some two hundred men each from the watauga and the holston settlements, and colonel william campbell, the stout old presbyterian indian fighter, had joined them with as many more virginians. crossing the mountain these three troops had fallen in with other scattered parties of the border patriots under benjamin cleaveland, major chronicle and colonel williams, of south carolina, until now, as the scouts reported, the challenged outnumbered the challengers. learning this, ferguson, who was as prudent as he was brave, thought it best to make his stand at some point nearer the main body of the army; and so the withdrawal from gilbert town had fallen into a retreat and a pursuit. from what captain de peyster has since told me, there would seem to be little doubt that the major meant to fight when he had manoeuvered himself into a favorable position; this in spite of lord cornwallis's commands to the contrary. in his despatches he was continually urging the need for a bold push in his quarter, and asking for tarleton and a sufficient number of the legion to enable him to cope with a mounted enemy. but be this as it may, the garbled letter i had brought him turned whatever scale there was to turn. he had now with him some eleven hundred regulars and tories, the latter decently well drilled; he had every reason to expect the needed help from cornwallis; and, on the night of my arrival, he had word that another tory force under major gibbs would join him in a day or two, at farthest. for his battle-ground major ferguson chose the top of a forest-covered hill, the last and lowest elevation in the spur named that day king's mountain. in some respects the position was all that could be desired. there was room on the flat hilltop for an orderly disposition of the fighting force; and the slopes in front and rear were steep enough to give an attacking enemy a sharp climb. moreover, there was a plentiful outcropping of stone on the summit, scantiest on the broad or outer end of the hill, and this was so disposed as to form a natural breastwork for the defenders. but there were disadvantages also, the chief of these being the heavy wooding of the slopes to screen the advance of the assaulting party; and while the major was busy making his dispositions for the fight, i was on tenter-hooks for fear he would have the trees felled to belt the breastwork with a clear space. he did not do it, being restrained, as i afterward learned, by his uncertainty as to whether or no the mountain men had cannon. against artillery posted on the neighboring hillocks the trees were his best defense, and so he left them standing. as you would suppose, my situation was now become most trying, and poor tybee's was scarcely less so. knowing my name and circumstance, and having, moreover, a high regard for my old field-marshal's genius, major ferguson was very willing to make use of my experience. these askings from one whom i knew for a brave and honorable gentleman let me fall between two stools. as a patriot spy, it was my duty to turn the major's confidence as a weapon against him. but as an officer and a gentleman i could by no means descend to such depths of perfidy. in this dilemma i sought to steer a middle course, saying that i must beg exemption because my long hard ride had re-opened my old sword wound--as indeed it had. so the major generously let me be, thus heaping coals of fire upon my head; and i kept out of his way, consorting with tybee, who, like myself, must be an onlooker in the coming fray. as for the lieutenant, he was all agog to learn more than i dared tell him, and it irked him most nettlesomely to have a fight in prospect in the which he was in honor bound not to take a hand. time and again he begged me to release him from his parole; and when i would not, he was for fighting me a duel with his freedom for a stake. "consider of it, captain ireton," he pleaded. "for god's sake, put yourself in my place. here am i, in the camp of my friends, gagged and bound by my word to you whilst your infernal plot, whatever it may be, works out to the _coup de grâce_. ye gods! it would have been far more merciful had you run me through in our wrestling match last night!" "mayhap," said i, curtly. "'twas but the choice between two evils. nevertheless, in time to come i hope you may conclude that this is the lesser of the two." "no, i'm damned if i shall!" he retorted, fuming like a disappointed boy, and minding me most forcibly of my hot-headed richard jennifer. and then he would repeat: "i thought you were my friend." "so i am, as man to man. but this matter concerns the welfare of a cause to which i have sworn fealty. take your own words back, my lad, and put yourself in my place. can i do less than hold you to your pledge?" "no, i suppose not," he would say, grumpily. "yet 'tis hard; most devilish hard!" "'tis the fortune of war. another day the shoe may be upon the other foot." the baggage wagons had been massed across the broad end of the hill to eke out the stone breastwork, and the last of these arguing colloquies took place beneath one of the wagons whither we had crept for shelter from the rain, which was now pouring again. in the midst of our talk, major ferguson dived to share our shelter, dripping like a water spaniel. "ha! ye're carpet soldiers, both of ye!" he snorted, and then he began to swear piteously at the rain. "'twill be worse for the enemy than for us," said tybee. "we can at least keep our powder dry." "damn the enemy!" quoth the major, cheerfully. "so the weather does not put the creeks up and hold tarleton and major gibbs back from us, 'tis a small matter whether the rebels' powder be dry or soaked." "you have made all your dispositions, major?" tybee asked. the major nodded. "all in apple-pie order, no thanks to either of ye. 'tis a strong position, this, eh, captain ireton? i'm thinking not all the rebel banditti out of hell will drive us from it." "'tis good enough," i agreed; and here the talk was broken off by the major's diving out to berate some of his tory militiamen who were preparing to make a night of it with a jug of their vile country liquor. the rain continued all that friday night and well on into the forenoon of the saturday. during this interval we waited with scouts out for the upcoming of the mountain men. at noon major ferguson sent a final express to lord cornwallis, urging the hurrying on of the reinforcements, not knowing that his former despatch had been intercepted, nor that tarleton had not as yet started to the rescue. a little later the scouts began to come in one by one with news of the approaching riflemen. there was but a small body of them, not above a thousand men in all, so the spies said, and my heart misgave me. they were without cannon and they lacked bayonets; and moreover, when all was said, they were but militia, all untried save in border warfare with the indians. could they successfully assault the fortified camp whose defenders--thanks to the major's ingenuity--had fitted butcher-knives to the muzzles of their guns in lieu of bayonets? nay, rather would they have the courage to try? 'twas late in the afternoon before these questions were answered. the rain had ceased, and the chill october sunlight filtered aslant through the trees. with the clearing skies a cold wind had sprung up, and on the hilltop the men cowered behind the rock breastwork and waited in strained silence. at the last moment major ferguson sent captain de peyster to me with the request that i take command of the tory force set apart to defend the wagon barricade--this if my weariness would permit. i went with the captain to make my excuses in person. "say no more, captain," said this generous soldier, when i began some lame plea for further exemption; "i had forgot your sword-cut. take shelter for yourself, and look on whilst we skin this riffraff alive." and so he let me off; a favor which will make me think kindly of patrick ferguson so long as i shall live. for now my work was done; and had he insisted, i should have told him flatly who and what i was--and paid the penalty. i had scarce rejoined tybee at the wagons when the long roll of the drums broke the silence of the hilltop, and a volley fire of musketry from the rock breastwork on the right told us the battle was on. tybee gave me one last reproachful look and stood out to see what could be seen, and i stood with him. "your friends are running," he said, when there was no reply to the opening volley; and truly, i feared he was right. at the bottom of the slope, scattering groups of the riflemen could be seen hastening to right and left. but i would not admit the charge to tybee. "i think not," i objected, denying the apparent fact. "they have come too far and too fast to turn back now for a single overshot volley." "but they'll never face the fire up the hill with the bayonet to cap it at the top," he insisted. "that remains to be seen; we shall know presently. ah, i thought so; here they come!" at the word the forest-covered steep at our end of the hill sprang alive with dun-clad figures darting upward from tree to tree. volley after volley thundered down upon them as they climbed, but not once did the dodging charge up the slope pause or falter. unlike all other irregulars i had ever seen, whose idea of a battle is to let off the piece and run, these mountain men held their fire like veterans, closing in upon the hilltop steadily and in a grim silence broken only by the shouting encouragements of the leaders--this until their circling line was completed. then suddenly from all sides of the beleaguered camp arose a yell to shake the stoutest courage, and with that the wood-covered slopes began to spit fire, not in volleys, but here and there in irregular snappings and cracklings as the sure-shot riflemen saw a mark to pull trigger on. the effect of this fine-bead target practice--for it was naught else--was most terrific. all along the breastwork, front and rear, crouching men sprang up at the rifle crackings to fling their arms all abroad and to fall writhing and wrestling in the death throe. at our end of the hill, where the rock barrier was thinnest, the slaughter was appalling; and above the din of the firearms we could hear the bellowed commands of the sturdy old indian fighter, benjamin cleaveland, urging his men up to still closer quarters. "a little nearer, my brave boys; a little nearer and we have them! press on up to the rocks. they'll be as good a breastwork from our side as from theirs!" you will read in the histories that the tory helpers of ferguson fought as men with halters round their necks; and so, indeed, a-many of them did. but though they were most pitiless enemies of ours, i bear them witness that they did fight well and bravely, and not as men who fight for fear's sake. and they were most bravely officered. major ferguson, boldly conspicuous in a white linen hunting-shirt drawn on over his uniform, was here and there and everywhere, and always in the place where the bullets flew thickest. his left hand had been hurt at the first patriot gun fire, but it still held the silver whistle to his lips, and the shrill skirling of the little pipe was the loyalist rallying signal. captain de peyster, too, did ample justice to the uniform he wore; and when campbell's virginians gained the summit at the far end of the hilltop, 'twas de peyster who led the bayonet charge that forced the patriot riflemen some little way down the slope. but these are digressions. no man sees more of a battle than that little circle of which he is the center; and the fighting was hot enough at the wagon barricade to keep both tybee and me from knowing at the time what was going on beyond our narrow range of sight or hearing. you must picture, therefore, for yourselves, a very devils' pandemonium let loose upon the little hilltop so soon as the mountain men gained their vantage ground at the fronting of the rock breastwork; cries; frantic shouts of "god save the king!" yells fierce and wordless; men in red and men in homespun rushing madly hither and yon in a vain attempt to repel a front and rear attack at the same instant. 'twas a hell set free, with no quarter asked or given, and where we stood, the tory defenders of the wagon barrier were presently dropping around us in heaps and windrows of dead and dying, like men suddenly plague-smitten. in such a time of asking you must not think we stood aloof and looked on coldly. at the first fire tybee stripped off his coat and fell to work with the wounded, and i quickly followed his lead, praying that now my work was done, some one of the flying missiles would find its mark in me and let me die a soldier's death. so it was that i saw little more of the battle detail, and of that fierce frenzy-time i have memory pictures only of the dead and dying; of the torn and wounded and bleeding men with whom we wrought, striving as we might to stanch the ebbing life-tide or to ease the dying gently down into the valley of shadows. and as for my prayer, it went all unanswered. once when i had a dying tory's head pillowed on my knee i saw a rifleman thrust his weapon between the wheel-spokes of the outer wagon and draw a bead on me. i heard the crack of the deckard, the _zip_ of the bullet singing at my ear, and the man's angry oath at his missing of me. once again a rifle-ball passed through my hair at the braiding of the queue and i felt the hot touch of it on my scalp like a breath of flame. another time a mountaineer leaped the rock barrier to beat me down with the butt of his rifle--and in the very act tybee rose up and throttled him. i saw the grapple, sprang to my feet and whipped out my sword. "stop!" i commanded; "you have broken your parole, lieutenant!" the freed borderer glared from one to the other of us. "loonies!" he yelled; "i'll slaughter the both of ye!" and so he would have done, i make no doubt, had we not laid hold of him together and heaved him back over the breastwork. these are but incidents, points of contact where the fray touched us two at the wagon barricade. i pass them by with the mention, as i have passed by the sterner horrors of that furious killing-time. these last are too large for my poor pen. as we could gather in the din and tumult, the mountain men rushed again and again to the attack, and as often the brave major, or de peyster, led the bayonet charges that pushed them back. yet in the end the unerring bullet outpressed the bayonet; there came a time when flesh and blood could no longer endure the death-dealing cross-fire from front and rear. i saw the end was near when the major ordered the final charge, and captain de peyster formed his line and led it forward at a double-quick. the mountaineers held more than half the hilltop now, and this forlorn hope was to try to drive them down the farther slopes. on it went, and i could see the men pitch and tumble out of the line until at bayonet-reach of the riflemen there were less than a dozen afoot and fit to make the push. de peyster fought his way back to the wagons, gasping and bloody. some of the tories crowding around us raised a white flag. the major, sorely wounded now and all but disabled, swore a great oath and rode rough-shod into the ruck of cowering militiamen to pull down the flag. again the white token of surrender was raised, and again the major rode in to beat it down with his sword. at this captain de peyster put in his word. "'tis no use, major; there is no more fight left in us! five minutes more of this and we'll be shot down to a man!" ferguson's reply was a raging oath broad enough to cover all the enemy and his own beaten remnant as well; and then, before a hand could be lifted to stay him, he had wheeled his horse and was galloping straight for the patriot line at the farther extremity of the hilltop. what he meant to do will never be known till that great day when all secrets shall be revealed. for that furious oath was this brave gentleman's last word to us or to any. a dozen bounds, it may be, the good charger carried him; then the storm of rifle-bullets beat him from the saddle. and so died one of the gallantest officers that ever did an unworthy king's work on the field of battle. i would i might forget the terrible scene which followed this killing of the british commander. 'twas little to our credit, but i may not pass it over in silence. de peyster quickly sent a man to the front with a white flag, and the answer was a murderous volley which killed the flag-bearer and many others. again the flag was raised on a rifle-barrel, and once more the answer was a storm of the leaden death poured into the panic-stricken crowd huddled like sheep at the wagons. "god!" said de peyster; and with that he began to beat his men into line with the flat of his sword in a frenzy of desperation, being minded, as he afterward told me, to give them the poor chance to die a-fighting. [illustration] i saw not what followed upon this last despairing effort, for now tybee was down and i was kneeling beside him to search for the wound. but when i looked again, the crackling crashes of the rifle-firing had ceased. a stout, gray-headed man, whom i afterward knew as isaac shelby's father, was riding up from the patriot line to receive captain de peyster's sword, and the battle was ended. xl vae victis if my hand were not sure enough to draw you some speaking picture of this our epoch-marking battle of king's mountain, it falters still more on coming to the task of setting forth the tragic horrors of the dreadful after-night. wherefore i pray you will hold me excused, my dears, if i hasten over the events tripping upon the heels of the victory, touching upon them only as they touch upon my tale. but as for the stage-setting of the after-scene you may hold in your mind's eye the stony hilltop strewn with the dead and dying; the huddle of cowed prisoners at the wagon barricade; the mountaineers, mad with the victor's frenzy, swarming to surround us. 'twas a clipping from chaos and night gone blood-crazed till sevier and isaac shelby brought somewhat of order out of it; and then came the reckoning. of the seven hundred-odd prisoners the greater number were tories, many of them red-handed from scenes of rapine in which their present captors had suffered the loss of all that men hold dear. so you will not wonder that there were knives and rifles shaken aloft, and fierce and vengeful counsels in which it was proposed to put the captives one and all to the cord and tree. but now again sevier and shelby, seconded by the fiery presbyterian, william campbell, flung themselves into the breach, pleading for delay and a fair trial for such as were blood guilty. and so the dismal night, made chill and comfortless by the cold wind and most doleful by the groans and cries of the wounded, wore away, and the dawn of the sunday found us lying as we were in the bloody shambles of the hilltop. with the earliest morning light the burial parties were at work; and since the stony battle-ground would not lend itself for the trenching, the graves were dug in the vales below. captain de peyster begged hard for leave to bury the brave ferguson on the spot where he fell, but 'twas impossible; and now, i am told, the stout old scotsman lies side by side with our major will chronicle, of mecklenburg, who fell just before the ending of the battle. the dead buried and the wounded cared for in some rough and ready fashion, preparations were made in all haste for a speedy withdrawal from the neighborhood of the battle-field. rumor had it that tarleton with his invincible legion was within a few hours' march; and the mountain men, sodden weary with the toils of the flying advance and the hard-fought conflict, were in no fettle to cope with a fresh foe. as yet i had not made myself known to the patriot commanders, having my hands and heart full with the care of poor tybee, who was grievously hurt, and being in a measure indifferent to what should befall me. but now as we were about to march i was dragged before the committee of colonels and put to the question. "your uniform is a strange one to us, sir," said isaac shelby, looking me up and down with that heavy-lidded right eye of his. "explain your rank and standing, if you please." i told my story simply, and, as i thought, effectively; and had only black looks for my pains. "'tis a strange tale, surely, sir,--too strange to be believable," quoth shelby. "you are a traitor, captain ireton--of the kind we need not cumber ourselves with on a march." "who says that word of me?" i demanded, caring not much for that to which his threat pointed, but something for my good name. shelby turned and beckoned to a man in the group behind him. "stand out, john whittlesey," he directed; and i found myself face to face with that rifleman of colonel davie's party who had been so fierce to hang me at the fording of the catawba. this man gave his testimony briefly, telling but the bare truth. a week earlier i had passed in davie's camp for a true-blue patriot, this though i was wearing a ragged british uniform at the moment. as for the witness himself, he had misdoubted me all along, but the colonel had trusted me and had sent me on some secret mission, the inwardness of which he, john whittlesey, had been unable to come at, though he confessed that he had tried to worm it out of me before parting company with me on the road to charlotte. i looked from one to another of my judges. "if this be all, gentlemen, the man does but confirm my story," i said. "it is not all," said shelby. "mr. pengarvin, stand forth." there was another stir in the backgrounding group and the pettifogger edged his way into the circle, keeping well out of hand-reach of me. how he had made shift to escape from ferguson's men, to change sides, and to turn up thus serenely in the ranks of the over-mountain men, i know not to this day, nor ever shall know. "tell these gentlemen what you have told me," said shelby, briefly; and the factor, cool and collected now, rehearsed the undeniable facts: how in charlotte i had figured as a member of lord cornwallis's military family; how i had carried my malignancy to the patriot cause to the length of throwing a stanch friend to the commonwealth, to wit, one owen pengarvin, into the common jail; how, as lord cornwallis's trusted aide-de-camp, i had been sent with an express to major ferguson. also, he suggested that if i should be searched some proof of my duplicity might be found upon me. at this william campbell nodded to two of his virginians, and i was searched forthwith, and that none too gently. in the breast pocket of my hussar jacket they found that accursed duplicate despatch; the one i had taken from tybee and which had so nearly proved my undoing in the interview with major ferguson. isaac shelby opened and read the accusing letter and passed it around among his colleagues. "i shall not ask you why this was undelivered, sir," he said to me, sternly. "'tis enough that it was found upon your person, and it sufficiently proves the truth of this gentleman's accusation. have you aught further to say, captain ireton?--aught that may excuse us for not leaving you behind us in a halter?" do you wonder, my dears, that i lost my head when i saw how completely the toils of this little black-clothed fiend had closed around me? twice, nay, thrice i tried to speak calmly as the crisis demanded. then mad rage ran away with me, and i burst out in yelling curses so hot they would surely dry the ink in the pen were i to seek to set them down here. 'twas a silly thing to do, you will say, and much beneath the dignity of a grown man who cared not a bodle for his life, and not greatly for the manner of its losing. i grant you this; and yet it was that same bull-bellow of soldier profanity that saved my life. whilst i was in the storm of it, cursing the lawyer by every shouted epithet i could lay tongue to, a miracle was wrought and richard jennifer and ephraim yeates pushed their way through the ever-thickening ring of onlookers; the latter to range himself beside me with his brown-barreled rifle in the hollow of his arm, and my dear lad to fling himself upon me in a bear's hug of joyous recognition and greeting. "score one for me, jack!" he cried. "we were fair at t'other end of the mountain, and 'twas i told eph there was only one man in the two carolinas who could swear the match of that." then he whirled upon my judges. "what is this, gentlemen?--a court martial? captain ireton is my friend, and as true a patriot as ever drew breath. what is your charge?" colonel sevier, in whose command richard and the old borderer had fought in the hilltop battle, undertook to explain. i stood self-confessed as the bearer of despatches from lord cornwallis to major ferguson, he said, and i had claimed that the orders had been so altered as to delay the major's retreat and so to bring on the battle. but they had just found lord cornwallis's letter in my pocket, still sealed and undelivered. and the tenor of it was precisely opposite to that of an order calculated to delay the major's march, as mr. jennifer could see if he would read it. while sevier was talking, the old borderer was fumbling in the breast of his hunting-shirt, and now he produced a packet of papers tied about with red tape. "'pears to me like you injun-killers from t'other side o' the mounting is in a mighty hot sweat to hang somebody," he said, as coolly as if he were addressing a mob of underlings. "here's a mess o' billy-doos with lord cornwallis's name to 'em that i found 'mongst major ferguson's leavings. if you'll look 'em over, maybe you'll find out, immejitly _if_ not sooner, that cap'n john here is telling ye the plumb truth." the papers were examined hastily, and presently john sevier lighted upon the despatch i had carried and delivered. thereat the colonels put their heads together; and then my case was re-opened, with sevier as spokesman. "we have a letter here which appears to be the original order to ferguson, captain ireton. can you repeat from memory the _postscriptum_ which you say was added to it?" i gave the gist of my old patriarch's addendum as well as i could; and thereupon suspicion fled away and my late judges would vie with one another in hearty frontier hand-grasps and apologies, whilst the throng that ringed us in forgot caution and weariness and gave me a cheer to wake the echoes. 'twas while this burst of gratulation was abuzz that ephraim yeates raised a cry of his own. "stop that there black-legged imp o' the law!" he shouted, pushing his way out of the circle. "he's the one that ought to hang!" there was a rush for the wagon barricade, a clatter of horse-hoofs on the hillside below, and yeates's rifle went to his face. but the bullet flew wide, and the black-garbed figure clinging to the horse's mane was soon out of sight among the trees. "ez i allow, ye'd better look out for that yaller-skinned little varmint, cap'n john," quoth the old man, carefully wiping his rifle preparatory to reloading it. "he's rank pizen, he is, and ye'll have to break his neck sooner 'r later. i 'lowed to save ye the trouble, but old bess got mighty foul yestiddy, with all the shootings and goings on, and i hain't got no lead-brush to clean her out." now that i was fully exonerated i was free to go and come as i chose; nay, more, i was urged to cast in my lot with the over-mountain partizans. as to this, i took counsel with richard jennifer whilst the colonels were setting their commands in order for the march and loading the prisoners with the captured guns and ammunition. "what is to the fore, dick?" i asked; "more fighting?" the lad shook his head. "never another blow, i fear, jack. these fellows crossed the mountain to whip ferguson. having done it they will go home." i could not forego a hearty curse upon this worst of all militia weaknesses, the disposition to disperse as soon as ever a battle was fought. "'tis nigh on to a crime," said i. "this victory, smartly followed up, might well be the turning of the tide for us." but the lad would not admit the qualifying condition. "'twill be no less as it is," he declared. "mark you, jack; 'twill put new life into the cause and nerve every man of ours afresh. and as for the redcoats, if my lord cornwallis gets the news of it in a lump, as he should, gates will have plenty of time to set himself in motion, slow as he is." 'twas then i had an inspiration, and i thought upon it for a moment. "what are your plans, richard?" he shook his head. "i have none worth the name." "then you are not committed to colonel sevier for a term of service?" "no; nor to cleaveland, nor mcdowell, nor any. we heard there was to be fighting hereaway,--ephraim yeates and i,--and we came as volunteers." "good! then i have a thought which may stand for what it is worth. to make the most of this victory over major ferguson, gates should be apprised at once and by a sure tongue; and his lordship should have the news quickly, too, and in a lump, as you say. let us take horse and ride post, we two; you to gates at hillsborough, and i to charlotte." "i had thought of my part of that," he said in a muse. then he came alive to the risk i should run. "but you can't well go back to cornwallis now, jack: 'tis playing with death. there will be other news-carriers--there are sure to be; and a single breath to whisper what you have done will hang you higher than haman." i shrugged at this. "'tis but a war hazard." he looked at me curiously. i saw a shrewd question in his eyes and set instant action as a barrier in the way of its asking. "let us find colonel sevier and beg us the loan of a pair of horses," said i; and so we were kept from coming upon the dangerous ground of pointed questions and evasive answers. somewhat to my surprise, both sevier and shelby fell in at once with our project, commending it heartily; and i learned from the lips of that courtliest of frontiersmen, "nolichucky jack," the real reason for the proposed hurried return of the over-mountain men. the cherokees, never to be trusted, had, as it seemed, procured war supplies from the british posts to the southward, and were even now on the verge of an uprising. by forced marches these hardy borderers hoped to reach their homes in time to defend them. otherwise, as both commanders assured us, they would take the field with gates. "we have done what we could, captain ireton, and not altogether what we would," said sevier in the summing-up. "it remains now for general gates to drive home the wedge we have entered." then he looked me full in the eyes and asked if i thought horatio gates would be the man to beetle that wedge well into the log. i made haste to say that i knew little of the general; that i was but a prejudiced witness at best, since my father had known and misliked the man in braddock's ill-fated campaign against the french in ' . but richard spoke his mind more freely. "'tis not in the man at this pass, colonel sevier," he would say; "not after camden. i know our carolinians as well as any, and they will never stand a second time under a defeated leader. if general washington would send us some one else; or, best of all, if he would but come himself--" "george washington; ah, there is a man, indeed," said sevier, his dark-blue eyes lighting up. "whilst he lives, there is always a good hope. but we must be doing, gentlemen, and so must you. god speed you both. our compliments to general gates, mr. jennifer; and you may tell him what i have told you--that but for our redskin threateners we should right gladly join him. as for lord cornwallis, you, captain ireton, will know best what to say to him. i pray god you may say it and come off alive to tell us how he took it." we made our acknowledgments; and when i had bespoken good care for tybee, we took leave of these stout fighters, and of old ephraim as well, since the borderer was to serve as a guide for the over-mountain men, at least till they were come upon familiar ground to the westward. 'twas now hard upon ten of the clock in the forenoon, and we had our last sight of the brave little army whilst it was wending its way slowly down the slopes of king's mountain. of what became of it; how its weary march dragged on from day to day; how it was hampered by the train of captives, halted by rain-swollen torrents, and was well-nigh starved withal; of all these things you may read elsewhere. but now you must ride with richard jennifer and me, and our way lay to the eastward. all that sunday we pressed forward, hasting as we could through the stark columned aisles of the autumn-stripped forest, and looking hourly to come upon tarleton's legion marching out to ferguson's relief. since richard jennifer had ridden to the hounds in all this middle ground from boyhood, we were able to take my blind wanderings in reverse as the arrow flies; and by nightfall we were well down upon the main traveled road leading to beattie's fording of the catawba. as your map will show you, this was taking me somewhat out of my way to the northward; but it was richard's most direct route to salisbury and beyond, and by veering thus we made the surer of missing colonel tarleton, who, as we thought, would likely cross the river at the lower ford. once in the high road we pushed on briskly for the river, nor did we draw rein until the sweating beasts were picking their way in the darkness down the last of the hills which sentinel the catawba to the westward. at the foot of this hill a by-road led to macgowan's ford some six miles farther down the river, and here, as i supposed, our ways would lie apart. but when we came to the forking of the road, richard pulled his mount into the by-path, clapping the spurs to the tired horse so that we were a good mile beyond the forking before i could overtake him. "how now, lad?" said i, when i had run him down. "would you take a fighting hazard when you need not? there is sure to be a british patrol at the lower ford." he jerked his beast down to a walk and we rode in silence side by side for a full minute before he said gruffly: "you'd never find the way alone." i laughed. "barring myself, you are the clumsiest of evaders, dick. i am on my own ground here, and that you know as well as i." "damn you!" he gritted between his teeth. "when we are coming near appleby hundred you are fierce enough to be rid of me." i saw his drift at that: how he would take all the chance of capture and a spy's rope for the sake of passing within a mile of mistress margery, or of the house he thought she was in. "go back, dick, whilst you may," said i. "she is not at appleby hundred." he turned upon me like a lion at bay. "what have you done with her?" "peace, you foolish boy. i am not her keeper. her father took her to charlotte on the very day you saw her safe at home." he reined up short in the narrow way. "so?" he said, most bitingly. "and that is why you take the embassy to lord cornwallis and fub me off with the one to gates. by heaven, captain ireton, we shall change rôles here and now!" ah, my dears, the love-madness is a curious thing. here was a man who had saved my life so many times i had lost the count of them, feeling for my throat in the murk of that october night as my bitterest foeman might. and surely it was the love-demon in me that made me say: "you think i am standing in your way, richard jennifer? well, so i am; for whilst i live you may not have her. why don't you draw and cut me down?" 'twas then satan marked my dear lad for his very own. "on guard!" he cried; "draw and defend yourself!" and with that the great claymore leaped from its sheath to flash in the starlight. what with his reining back for space to whirl the steel i had the time to parry the descending blow. but at the balancing instant the brother-hating devil had the upper hand, whispering me that here was the death i coveted; that margery might have her lover, if so she would, with her husband's blood upon his head. so i sat motionless while the broadsword cut its circle in air and came down; and then i knew no more till i came to with a bees' hive buzzing in my ears, to find myself lying in the dank grass at the path side. my head was on richard's knee, and he was dabbling it with water in his soaked kerchief. xli how i played the host at my own fireside you may be sure that by now the anger gale had blown itself out, that the madness had passed for both of us; and when i stirred, richard broke out in a tremulous babblement of thanksgiving for that he had not slain me outright. "i was mad, jack; as mad as any bedlamite," he would say. "the devil whispered me that you would fight; that you wanted but a decent excuse to thrust me out of the way. and when i saw you would not stir, 'twas too late to do aught but turn the flat of the blade. oh, god help me! i'll never let a second thought of that little tory prat-a-pace send me to hell again." "nay," said i; "no such rash promises, i pray you, richard. we are but two poor fools, with the love of a woman set fair between us. but you need not fight me for it. the love is yours--not mine." "don't say that, jack; i'm selfish enough to wish it were true; as it is not. i know whereof i speak." "no," i denied, struggling to my feet; "it has been yours from the first, dick. i am but a sorry interloper." for a moment he was all solicitude to know if my head would let me stand; but when i showed him i was no more than clumsily dizzy from the effects of the blow, he went on. "i say i know, and i do, jack. she has refused me again." i groaned in spirit. i knew it must have come to that. yet i would ask when and where. "'twas on our last day's riding," he went on; "after we had had your note saying you would undertake a mission for colonel davie." i took two steps and groped for the horse's bridle rein. "did she tell you why she must refuse you?" he helped me find the rein for my hand and the stirrup for my foot. "there was no 'why' but the one--she does not love me." "but i say she does, dick; and i, too, know whereof i speak." he flung me into the saddle as a strong man might toss a boy, and i understood how that saying of mine had gone into his blood. "then there must be some barrier that i know not of," he said. whereupon he put hand to head as one who tries to remember. "stay; did you not say there was a barrier, jack?--when we were wrestling with death in the indian fires? or did i dream it?" "you did not dream it. but you were telling me what she said." "oh, yes; 'twas little enough. she cut me off at the first word as if my speaking were a mortal sin. and when i would have tried again, she gave me a look to make me wince and broke out crying as if her heart would burst." i steadied myself as i could by the saddle horn and waited till he was up and we were moving on. then i would say: "truly, there is a barrier, richard; if i promise you that i am going to charlotte to remove it once for all, will you trust me and go about your affair with general gates?" "trust you, jack? who am i that i should do aught else? when i am cool and sane, i'm none so cursed selfish; i could even give her over to you with a free hand, could i but hear her say she loves you as i would have her love me. but when i am mad.... ah, god only knows the black blood there is in the heart at such times." we rode on together in silence after that, and were come to the bank of the river before we spoke again. but here dick went back to my warning, saying, whilst we let the horses drink: "'tis patrolled on the other bank, you say?" "it was when i passed it a few days agone." "then i will turn back and cross at beattie's. 'twill make you a risk you need not take--to have me with you." but i thought now that the upper ford might be guarded as well; and if there must be a cutting of a road through the enemy's outpost line for dick, two could do it better than one. so i said: "no; we are here now, and if need be i can lend you the weight of a second blade to see you safe through." "and you with your head humming like a basket of bees, as i make no doubt it will?" i laughed. "i should be but a sorry soldier and a sorrier friend if i should let a love-tap with the flat of a blade make me fail you at the pinch." he reached across the little gap that parted us and grasped my hand. "by god!" he swore, most feelingly, "you are as true as the steel you carry, jack ireton!" "nay," said i, in honest shame; "i do confess i was thinking less of my friend than of the importance of the errand he rides on." "but if there should be a fight, you will spoil your chance of coming peaceably to charlotte and my lord's headquarters." "if i am recognized--yes. but the night is dark, and a brush with the outpost need not betray me." at this he consented grudgingly, and we pushed on to the crossing. now since this fording place of master macgowan's has marched into our history, you will like to know what the historians do not tell you: namely, how it was but a makeshift wading place, armpit deep over a muddy bottom from the western bank to the bar above an island in mid-stream, and deflecting thence through rocky shallows to a point on the eastern bank some distance below the island. 'twas here that lord cornwallis got entangled some months later--but i must not anticipate. we made the crossing of the main current in safety and were a-splash in the rocky shallows beyond the island when we sighted the camp-fires of the outpost. to ride straight upon the patrol was to invite disaster, and though jennifer was for a charging dash, a hurly-burly with the steel, and so on to freedom beyond, he listened when i pointed out that our beasts were too nearly outworn to charge, and that the noise we must make would rouse the camp and draw the fire of every piece in it long before we could reach the bank and come to blade work. "what for it, then?" he asked, impatiently. "my courage is freezing whilst we wait." "there is nothing for it but to hold straight on across," i said. "that we can not; 'twill be over the horses' ears. the beasts will drown themselves and us as well." how we should have argued it out i do not know, for just then jennifer's horse, scenting the troop mounts on the farther shore, cocked tail and ears, let out a squealing neigh, and fell to curveting and plunging in a racket that might have stood for the splashings of an advancing army. in a twinkling the outpost camp was astir and a bellowing hail came to us across the water. having no answer, the troopers began to let off their pieces haphazard in the darkness; and with the singing _zip_ of the first musket ball, richard went battle-mad, as he always did in the face of danger. "at them!" he thundered, clapping spurs to his jaded beast and whipping out the great claymore; and so we charged, the forlornest hope that ever fell upon an enemy. how we came ashore alive through the gun-fire is one of those mysteries to which every battle adds its quota; but the poor beasts we rode were not so lucky. jennifer's horse went down while we were yet some yards from the bank; and mine fell a moment later. to face a score of waiting enemies afoot was too much for even richard's rash courage; so when we were free of the struggling horses we promptly dove for shelter under the up-stream bank. here the darkness stood our friend; and when the redcoat troopers came down to the river's edge with torches to see what had become of us, we took advantage of the noise they made and stole away up-stream till a shelving beach gave us leave to climb to the valley level above. richard shook himself like a water-soaked spaniel and laughed grimly. "well, here we are, safe across, horseless, and well belike to freeze to death," he commented. "what next?" i made him a bow. "you are on my demesne of appleby hundred, captain jennifer, and it shall go hard with us if we can not find a fire to warm a guest and a horse to mount him withal. let us go to the manor house and see what we can discover." he entered at once into the spirit of the jest, and together we trudged the scant mile through the stubble-fields to my old roof-tree. as you would guess, we looked to find the manor house turned into an outpost headquarters; but now we were desperate enough to face anything. howbeit, not to rush blindly into the jaws of a trap, we first routed out the old black majordomo at the negro quarters; and when we learned from him that the great house was quite deserted, we took possession and had the black make us a rousing fire in the kitchen-arch. nay, more; when we had steamed ourselves a little dry, we had old anthony stew and grill for us, and fetch us a bottle of that madeira of my father's laying in. "a toast!" cried richard, when the bottle came, springing to his feet with the glass held high. "to the dear lady of appleby hundred, and may she forgather with the man she loves best, be it you, or i, or another, jack ireton!" we drank it standing; and after would sit before the fire, havering like two love-sick school-boys over the charms of that dear lady to whom one of us was less than naught, and to whom the other could be but naught whilst that first one lived. you will smile, my dears, that we should come to this when, but a short hour before, one of us had been bent upon slaying the other for mistress margery's sake. but the human heart is many-sided; notably that heart the soldier carries. and though i looked not to live beyond the setting of another sun, i was glad to my finger-tips to have this last loving-cup with my dear lad. i thought it would nerve me bravely for what must come--and so it did, though not as i prefigured. we were still sitting thus before the kitchen-arch when the dawn began to dim the firelight, and the work of the new day confronted us. pinned down, old anthony confessed that some two or three horses of the appleby hundred stables had escaped the hands of the foragers of both sides; and two of these he fetched for us. of the twain one chanced to be blackstar, the good beast which had carried me from new berne in the spring; and so i had my own horse betwixt my knees when i set dick a mile on the road to salisbury, and bade him farewell. his last word to me was one of generous caution. "remember, jack; 'haste, haste, post haste' is your watchword. there will be other couriers in from the battle-field at king's mountain; and you must hang and fire your news-petard and vanish before they come to betray you." "trust me," said i, evasively; and so we parted, he to gallop eastward, and i to charge down peaceably upon that british outpost we had set abuzz in the small hours of the night. xlii in which my lord has his marching orders though i had passed out of the british lines less than a week before in decent good odor, save for colonel tarleton's ill word, i met with nothing like the welcome at the outpost camp that a king's courier had a right to expect. the captain in command was not the one who had passed me out. he was a surly brute of the yorkshire breed; and when he had heard that i was an express rider from major ferguson, he was pleased to demand my papers. to this i must needs make answer that i carried no written despatches; that my news was for the commander-in-chief's private ear. this i told my yorkshire pig, demanding to be sent, under guard if he chose, to the headquarters in charlotte. but captain nobbut would hear to no such reasonable proposal. on the contrary, he would hold me in arrest till he could report me and have instructions from his colonel. knowing what a stake it was i rode for, you may imagine how this day in durance ate into me like a canker. with ordinary diligence the trooper who carried the news of me should have gone to charlotte by way of queensborough and returned by noon. but being of the same surly breed with his captain, 'twas full three of the clock before he came ambling back with an order to set me forthwith upon the road to headquarters. once free of the camp of detention you may be sure i put blackstar to his best paces; but hasten as i would it was coming on to evening when i passed the inner safety line and galloped down the high street of the town. as luck would have it, the first familiar face i saw was that of charles stedman, the commissary-general. on my inquiry he directed me straight. "my lord is at supper at mr. stair's. have you news, captain?" i drew breath of relief. happily the loss of the day had not made me the bearer of stale tidings. so i made answer with proper reticence, saying that i had news, but it was for lord cornwallis's ear first of all. none the less, if the commissary-general were pleased to come with me-- he took the hint at once; and he it was who procured me instant admittance to the house, and who took on himself the responsibility of breaking in upon the party in the supper-room. i shall not soon forget the scene that fronted us when we came into my lord's presence. the supper was in some sort a gala feast held in honor of my lord's accession to his earldom. the table, lighted by great silver candelabra which i recognized as ireton heirlooms, was well filled around by the members of the commander-in-chief's military family, with the earl at the head, and mistress margery, bedight as befitted a lady of the quality, behind the tea-urn at the foot. at our incoming all eyes were turned upon us, but it required my lord's sharp question to make me leave off dwelling upon my sweet lady's radiant beauty. "how now, captain ireton? do you bring us news from the major?" i broke the fascinating eyehold and turned slowly to face my fate. "i do, my lord." "well, what of him? you left him hastening to rejoin with his new loyalist levies, i hope?" i drew my sword, reversed it and laid it upon the table. "may all the enemies of the commonwealth be even as he is, my lord," i said, quietly. now, truly, i had hanged my petard well and 'twas plain the shock of it had gone far to shatter the wall of confidence our enemies had builded on the field of camden and elsewhere. had a hand-grenade with the fuse alight been dropped upon the table, the consternation could scarce have been greater. to a man the tableful was up and thronging round me; but above all the hubbub i heard a little cry of misery from the table-foot where my lady sat. "how is this, sir?--explain yourself!" thundered my lord, forgetting for once his mild suavity. "'tis but a brief tale, and i will make it as crisp as may be in the telling," i replied. "i came upon the major some miles this side of the crossing of the broad. he was marching to rejoin you, in accordance with his orders. but when he had your lordship's command to stand and fight, he obeyed." "my command?--but i gave him no such order!" "nay, truly, you did not--neither in the original nor in the duplicate, my lord. but when we had waylaid lieutenant tybee and quenched the duplicate, and had so amended the original as to make it fit our purpose, the brave major thanked you for what you had not done and made his stand to await the upcoming of the over-mountain men." for a moment i thought they would hew me limb from limb, but my lord quelled the fierce outburst with a word. "put up your swords, gentlemen. we shall know how to deal with this traitor," he said. and then to me: "go on, sir, if you please; there has been a battle, as i take it?" "there has, indeed. the mountain men came up with us in the afternoon of the saturday. in an hour one-third of the major's force was dead or dying, the major himself was slain, and every living man left on the field was a prisoner." again a dozen swords hissed from their scabbards, and again i heard the little cry of misery from the table-foot. i bowed my head, looking momently to pay the penalty; but once more my lord put the swords aside. "let us have a clean breast of it this time, captain ireton," he said. "you know well what you have earned, and nothing you can say will make it better or worse for you. was this your purpose in making your submission to me?" "it was." "and you have been a rebel from the first?" i met the cold anger in the womanish eyes as a condemned man might. "i have, my lord--since the day nine years agone when i learned that your king's minions had hanged my father in the regulation." "then it was a farrago of lies you told me about your adventures in the western mountains?" "not wholly. it was your lordship's good pleasure to send succors of powder and lead to your allies, the western savages. i and three others followed captain falconnet and his indians, and i have the honor to report that we overtook and exploded them with their own powder cargo." "and captain sir francis falconnet with them?" "i do so hope and trust, my lord." he turned short on his heel, and for a moment a silence as of death fell upon the room. then he took the ferara from the table and sought to break it over his knee; but the good blade, like the cause it stood for, bent like a withe and would not snap. "put this spy in irons and clear the room," he ordered sharply. and this is how the little drama ended: with the supper guests crowding to the door; with my lord pacing back and forth at the table-head; with two sergeants bearing me away to await, where and how i knew not, the word which should efface me. xliii in which i drink a dish of tea being without specific orders what to do with me, my two sergeant bailiffs thrust me into that little den of a strong-room below stairs where i had once found the master of the house, and one of them mounted guard whilst the other fetched the camp armorer to iron me. the shackles securely on, i was left to content me as i could, with the door ajar and my two jailers hobnobbing before it. having done all i had hoped to do, there was nothing for it now but to wait upon the consequences. so, hitching my chair up to the oaken table, i made a pillow of my fettered wrists and presently fell adoze. i know not what hour of the night it was when the half-blood scipio, who was mr. gilbert stair's body-servant, came in and roused me. i started up suddenly at his touch, making no doubt it was my summons. but the mulatto brought me nothing worse than a cold fowl and a loaf, with a candle-end to see to eat them by, and a dish of hot tea to wash them down. i knew well enough whom i had to thank for this, and was set wondering that my lady's charity was broad enough to mantle even by this little my latest sins against the king's cause. none the less, i ate and drank gratefully, draining the tea-dish to the dregs--which, by the by, were strangely bitter. i had scarce finished picking the bones of the capon before sleep came again to drag at my eyelids, a drowsiness so masterful that i could make no head against it. and so, with the bitter taste of the tea still on my tongue, i fell away a second time into the pit of forgetfulness. when i awakened from what seemed in the memory of it the most unresting sleep i ever had, it was no longer night, and i was stretched upon the oaken settle in that same lumber garret where i had been bedded through that other night of hiding. so much i saw at the waking glance; and then i realized, vaguely at first, but presently with startling emphasis, that it was the westering sun which was shining in at the high roof windows, that the shackles were still on, and that my temples were throbbing with a most skull-splitting headache. being fair agasp with astoundment at this new spinning of fate's wheel, i sprang up quickly--and was as quickly glad to fall back upon the pallet. for with the upstart a heaving nausea came to supplement the headache, and for a long time i lay bat-blind and sick as any landsman in his first gale at sea. the sunlight was fading from the high windows, and i was deep sunk in a sick man's megrims, before aught came to disturb the silence of the cobwebbed garret. from nausea and racking pains i had come to the stage of querulous self-pity. 'twas monstrous, this burying a man alive, ill, fettered, uncared-for, to live or die in utter solitude as might happen. i could not remotely guess to whom i owed this dismal fate, and was too petulant to speculate upon it. but the meddler, friend or foe, who had bereft me of my chance to die whilst i was fit and ready, came in for a turkish cursing--the curse that calls down in all the osmanli variants the same pangs in duplicate upon the banned one. it was in the midst of one of these impotent fits of malediction that the wainscot door was opened and closed softly, and light footsteps tiptoed to my bedside. i shut my eyes wilfully when a voice low and tender asked: "are you awake, monsieur john?" i hope you will hold me forgiven, my dears, if i confess that what with the nausea and the headache, the fetters and the solitude, i was rabid enough to rail at her. 'twas so near dusk in the ill-lighted garret that i could not see how she took it; but she let me know by word of mouth. "_merci, monsieur_," she said, icily. and then: "gratitude does not seem to be amongst your gifts." at this i broke out in all a sick man's pettishness. "gratitude! mayhap you will tell me what it is i have to be grateful for. all i craved was the chance to die as a soldier should, and some one must needs spoil me of that!" "selfish--selfish always and to the last," she murmured. "do you never give a moment's thought to the feelings of others, captain ireton?" this was past all endurance. "if i had not, should i be here this moment?" i raved. "you do make me sicker than i was, my lady." "yet i say you are selfish," she insisted. "what have i done that you should come here to have yourself hanged for a spy?" "let us have plain speech, in god's name," i retorted. "you know well enough there was no better way in which i could serve you." "do i, indeed, _mon ami_?" she flashed out. "let me tell you, sir, had she ever a blush of saving pride, margery stair--or margery ireton, if you like that better--would kill you with her own hand rather than have it said her husband died upon a gallows!" a sudden light broke in upon me and i went blind in the horror of it. "god in heaven!" i gasped; "'twas you, then? i do believe you poisoned me in that dish of tea you sent me last night!" she laughed, a bitter little laugh that i hated to think on afterward. "you have a most chivalrous soul, captain ireton. i do not wonder you are so fierce to shake it free of the poor body of clay." "but you do not deny it!" i cried. "of what use would it be? i have said that i would not have you die shamefully on the gallows; so i may as well confess to the poppy-juice in the tea. tell me, monsieur john; was it nasty bitter?" "good lord!" i groaned; "are you a woman, or a fiend?" "either, or both, as you like to hold me, sir. but come what might, i said you should not die a felon's death. and you have not, as yet." "better a thousand times the rope and tree than that i should rot by inches here with you to sit by and gird at me. ah, my lady, you are having your revenge of me." "_merci, encore._ shall i go away and leave you?" "no, not that." a cold sweat broke out upon me in a sudden childish horror of the solitude and the darkness and the fetters. and then i added: "but 'twould be angel kindness if you would leave off torturing me. i am but a man, dear lady, and a sick man at that." all in a flash her mood changed and she bent to lay a cool palm on my throbbing temples. "poor monsieur john!" she said softly; "i meant not to make you suffer more, but rather less." then she found water and a napkin to wring out and bind upon my aching head. at the touch and the word of womanly sympathy i forgot all, and the love-madness came again to blot out the very present memory of how she had brought me to this. "ah, that is better--better," i sighed, when the pounding hammers in my temples gave me some surcease of the agony. "then you forgive me?" she asked, whether jestingly or in earnest i could not tell. "there is none so much to forgive," i replied. "one hopeless day last summer i put my life in pledge to you; and you--in common justice you have the right to do what you will with it." "ah; now you talk more like my old-time monsieur john with the healing sword-thrust. but that day you speak of was not more hopeless for you than for me." "i know it," said i, thinking only of how the loveless marriage must grind upon her. "but it must needs be hopeless for both till death steps in to break the bond." again she laughed, that same bitter little laugh. "indeed, it was a great wrong you did that night, sir. i could wish, as heartily as you, that it might be undone. but this is idle talk. let me see if this key will fit your manacles. i have been all day finding out who had it, and i am not sure it will be the right one, after all." but it did prove to be the right one; and when the irons were off i felt more like a man and less like a baited bear. "that is better," said i, drawing breath of unfeigned relief. "i bear my lord charles no malice, but 'twas a needless precaution, this ironing of a man who was never minded to run away." "but you are going to run away," she said, decisively; "and that as soon as ever you are able to hold a horse between your knees. shall i bring you another dish of tea? nay, never look so horrified; i shall not poison you this time." "stay," i cried. "you mean that you are going to help me escape? 'tis a needless prolonging of the agony. go and tell the guards where they can find me." she stopped midway to the wainscot door and turned to give me my answer. "no; you are a soldier, and--and i will not be a gallows-widow. do you hear, sir? if you are so eager to die, there is always the battle-field." and with that she left me. i may pass over the two succeeding days in the silence i was condemned to endure through the major part of them. after that first visit, margery came only at stated intervals to bring me food and drink, and my nurse was an old black beldame, either deaf and dumb, or else so newly from the guinea coast as to be unable to twist her tongue to the english. and in the food-bringings i could neither make my lady stay nor answer any question; this though i was hungering to know what was going on beyond the walls of my garret prison. indeed, she would not even tell me how i had been spirited away from the two sergeants keeping watch over me in her father's strong-room below stairs. "that is scipio's secret," she would say, laughing at me, "and he shall keep it." but in the evening of the third day the mystery bubble was burst, and i learned from margery's lips the thing i longed to know. lord cornwallis had decided to abandon north carolina, and in an hour or two the army would be in motion for withdrawal to the southward. "now, thanks be to god!" i said, most fervently. "king's mountain has begun the good work, and we shall show farmer george a thing or two he had not guessed." on this, my lady drew herself up most proudly and her lip curled. "you forget, sir, you are speaking to mr. gilbert stair's daughter." "true," said i; "i did forget. we are at cross purposes in this, as in all things else. i crave your pardon, madam." her eyes were snapping by now. never tell me, my dears, that eyes of the blue-gray can not flash fire when they will. "how painstakingly you will go about to make me hate you!" she burst out. and then, all in the same breath: "but you will be rid of me presently, for good and all." "nay, then, mistress margery, you are always taking an ell of meaning for my inch of speech. 'tis i who should do the ridding." "_mon dieu!_" she cried, in a sudden burst of petulance; "i am sick to death of all this! is there no way out of this coil that is strangling us both, captain ireton?" "i had thought to make a way three days ago; did so make it, but you kept me from walking in it. yet that way is still open--if you will but drop a word in my lord's ear when you go below stairs." "oh, yes--a fine thing; the wife betray the husband!" this with another lip-curl of scorn. "i have some shreds and patches of pride left, sir, if you have not." "then free me of my obligation to you and let me do it myself. i am well enough to hang." "and so make me a consenting accomplice? truly, as i have said before, you have a most knightly soul, captain ireton." i closed my eyes in very weariness. "you are hard to please, my lady." "you have not to try to please me, sir. i am going away--to-night." "going away?" i echoed. "whither, if i may ask?" "my father has taken protection and we shall go south with the army. as lord cornwallis says, mecklenburg is a hornets' nest of rebellion, and in an hour or two after we are gone you will be amongst your friends." she made to leave me now, but i would not let her go without trying the last blunt-pointed arrow in the quiver of expedients. "stay a moment," i begged. "you are leaving the untangling of this coil you speak of to a chance bullet on a battle-field. had you ever thought that the church can undo what the church has done?" again i had that bitter laugh which was to rankle afterward in memory. "you are a most desperate, pertinacious man, captain ireton. failing all else, you would even storm heaven itself to gain your end," she scoffed; then, at the very pitch-point of the scornful outburst she put her face in her hands and fell a-sobbing as if her heart would break. i knew not what to say or do, and ended, man-like, by saying and doing nothing. and so, still crying softly, she let herself out at the wainscot door, and this was our leave-taking. xliv how we came to the beginning of the end it was on the third day of december, a cheerless and comfortless day at the close of the most inclement autumn i ever remember, that the patriot army of the south was paraded on the court-house common in charlotte to listen to the reading of general gates's final order, the order announcing the arrival of major-general greene from washington's headquarters to take over the command of the field forces in the carolinas. as members of colonel william washington's light-horse, richard jennifer and i were both present at this installation of the new field commander; and it was here that we both had our first sight of nathaniel greene, the "hickory quaker." now the historians, as is their wont, have pictured greene the general to the complete effacement of greene the man, and it is in my mind that you may like to see the new commander as we saw him, making his first inspection of horatio gates's poor "shadow of an army" on that dismal december day in charlotte. in years he was rising forty; and as weight goes he was a heavy man, pressing hard upon fifteen stone with the knuckle of it under his waistcoat. none the less, though his great bulk made him sit his horse more like a farmer than a soldier, he had the muscular shoulders and arms of the anchor-smiths, to which trade he had been bred. the hint of grossness which his figure gave was not borne out by his face. like my lord cornwallis's, his eyes were womanish large, and nose and mouth and the lift of the brow were cast in a mold to match; yet there was that in his face which made it the mask of a soul thoughtful and serene; and his ruddy complexion and fair hair gave him a look of openness that a dark man is like to miss. a skilled soldier, with a good promise of strenuous patience, was my summing up of him, and dick saw him as i did, though with a more prophetic eye. "he will make his mark, jack, look you; not in stubborn in-fighting at the barrier, mayhap, like dan morgan, nor in a brilliant dash, like our colonel, but in his own anchor-smith's way--a heat at a time, and a blow at a time," said jennifer; and i nodded. stirrup to stirrup with the new commander as he passed down the line rode daniel morgan, big, strong, masterful, handsome, the very pick and choice of leaders for his rough and ready riflemen. like most of his men, he scorned to wear a uniform, appearing on parade, as in the field, in a neat-fitting hunting-shirt of indian-tanned buckskin with fringings of the same--a costume that set off his gigantic figure as no tailor-fine coat could have set it off. when he pulled his horse down to make it keep step with the sedater pacings of the general's, we could hear him declaring, with an oath, that his eleventh virginia alone would give a good account of all the tories between the catawba and the broad; and when the cavalcade passed the rifle corps, the men flung their hats and cheered their leader in open defiance of all discipline. ah me! they tell me that in after years this stout daniel, the "lion-bearder," as we used to dub him, became a doddering old man, even as thy old tale-teller is now; that he put off all his roistering ways and might be found any lord's day shouting, not curses, as of yore, but psalm tunes, in the church whereof he was a pillar! but 'twas the other daniel we knew; the bluff, hearty man of his two hands, who could pummel the best boxer in his own regiment of fisticuffers; who could out-curse, out-buffet and out-drink the hardiest frontiersman on the border. next conspicuous in the general's suite was our colonel, the pink of light-horse commanders, with only harry lee in all the patriot rank and file for his peer. 'tis a thousand pities that william washington, "the marcellus of the army," has had to suffer the eclipse which must dim the luster of all who walk in the shadow of a greater of the same name. for surely there never was a finer gentleman, a truer friend, a nobler patriot, or, according to his opportunities, an abler officer than was our beloved colonel of the light dragoons. but this is all beside the mark, you will say; and you will be chafing restively to know how dick and i had come together in this troop of colonel washington's; to know this in a word and to pass on at a gallop to the happenings which followed. nay, in fancy's eye i can see you turning the page impatiently, wondering where and when and how this tiresome old word-spinner will make an end. as margery had promised, i passed out of my garret prison and out of door on that memorable evening of october fourteenth to find the british gone from charlotte and the town jubilant with patriotic joy. having nothing to detain me, and being bound in honor by the wish of my dear lady not to follow and give myself up to the retreating british general, i took horse and rode to salisbury, where i had the great good fortune to find dick, already breveted a captain in colonel washington's command, hurrying his troop southward to whip on the british withdrawal. here was my chance to drown heartburnings in an onsweeping tide of action, and then and there i became a gentleman volunteer in dick's company, asking nothing of my dear lad save that i might ride at his stirrup and share his hazards. touching the hazards, there were plenty of them in the seven weeks preceding and the month or more following our new general's coming to take the field, as you may know in detail if you care to follow the gallopings of colonel washington's light-horse troop through the pages of the histories. but these have little or naught to do with my tale, and i pass them by with the word you will anticipate; that in all the dashes and forays and brushes with the enemy's foraging parties and outposts, no british or tory bullet could find its billet in the man who was enamored of death. as for my most miserable entanglement, the lapse of time made it neither better nor worse, nor greatly different; and there was little in all the skirmishings and gallopings to beat off the bandog of conscience, or that other and still fiercer wild beast of starved love, that gnawed at me day and night. though the hope for some easement would now and then lift its head, i was reminded daily that hope itself was hopeless; and when the days lengthened into weeks and the weeks into months, bringing no salving for the double hurt, i knew that time could only make me love margery the more; that there be wounds that heal, and others that open afresh at each remembrance of the hand that gave them. one grain of comfort i had in all these dreary weeks. 'twas whilst we were quartering in charlotte, and i had chanced to fall upon the half-blood scipio who had been left by gilbert stair to be the caretaker of the deserted town house. as you will remember, 'twas he who had brought me the drugged tea, and the word i had from him made me hot with shame for the cruel imputation i had put upon my dear lady. "yas, sar; gib um sleep-drop to make buckra massa hol' still twell we could tote 'im froo de window an' 'roun' de house an' up de sta'r. soljah gyards watch um mighty close dat night; yes, sar!" and thus this nightmare thought of mine was turned into another thorn to prick me on the self-accusing side. 'twas her keen woman's wit, and no cold-blooded plan to cheat the gallows, that made her give me the sleeping draft. having the object-lesson of my late surrender before her, she had no mind to let me mar the rescue by waking to forbid it. and when i taxed her, 'twas natural pride that drove her to let me go on thinking the unworthy thought, if so i would. i did penance for my disloyalty as a despairing lover might, and i do think it made me tenderer of dick, whose bearing to me through all these tempestuous weeks was most nobly generous and forgiving. i say forgiving because i was often but the curstest of companions, as you would guess. for when i was not bent upon finding that wicket gate of death which would let me from the path of these two, i was in a wicked tertian of the mind whose chill was of despair, and whose fever was a hot desire to look once more into the eyes of my dear lady before the wicket gate should open for me. 'twas this desire that finally drew me to her--the desire and another thing which shall have mention in its place. the new year was now come, and the southern army, as yet too weak to cope with the enemy, was cut into two wings of observation; one under general greene himself at cheraw hill, the other and lesser in the knoll forests of the broad with daniel morgan for its chief; both watching hawk-like the down-sitting of my lord cornwallis, who seemed to have taken root at winnsborough. as you will know, washington's light-horse was with morgan; and we ate, drank and well-nigh slept in the saddle. but for all our scoutings and outridings, and all dan morgan's hearty cursings at the ill success of them, we could come by no sure inkling of lord cornwallis's designs. as i have said, the british commander seemed to have taken root and was now waiting to sprout and grow. it was at this lack-knowledge crisis that i volunteered to go to the british camp at winnsborough in my old quality of spy; did this and had my leave and orders before dick learned of it. left to my own devices, i fear i should have slipped away without telling jennifer. but, as so many times before, fate intervened to drive me where i had not meant to go. on the morning set for my departure i woke to find a letter pinned to the ground beside me with an indian scalping-knife thrust through it. dick was sitting by the newly-kindled fire, nursing his knees and most palpably waiting for me to wake and find my missive. "what is it?" i asked, eying the ominous thing distrustfully. "'tis a letter, as you see. uncanoola left it." then, most surlily: "'tis from madge, and to you. there is your name on the back of it." at this i must needs read the letter, with the lad looking on as if he would eat me. 'twas dated at winnsborough, and was brief and to the point. _monsieur: "when last we met you said the church might undo what the church had done. i have spoken to the good père matthieu, and he has consented to write to the holy father at rome. but it is necessary that he should have your declaration. since the matter is of your own seeking, mayhap you can devise a way to communicate with père matthieu, who is at present with us under our borrowed roof here."_ that was all, and it was signed only with her initial. i read it through twice and then again to gain time. for dick was waiting. "'tis a mere formal matter of business," said i, when i could put him off no longer. "business?" he queried, the red light of suspicion coming and going in his eye. "what business can you have with mistress madge stair, pray?" "'tis about--it touches the title to appleby hundred," said i, equivocating as clumsily as a schoolboy caught in a fault. "of course you know that the confiscation act of the north carolina congress re-established my right and title to the estate?" "no," said he; "you never told me." then: "she writes you about this?" "about a matter touching it, as i say." "as you did not say," he growled; after which a silence came and sat between us, i holding the open letter in my hand and he staring gloomily at the back of it. when the silence grew portentous i told him of my design to go a-spying. he looked me in the eye and his smile was not pleasant to see. "you are lying most clumsily, jack; or at best you are telling me but half the truth. you are going to see mistress margery." "that is altogether as it may happen," i retorted, striving hard to keep down the flame of insensate rivalry which his accusings always kindled in me. "it is not. winnsborough is neither london nor yet philadelphia, that you may miss her in the crowd. and you do not mean to miss her." "well? and if i do chance to see her--what then?" "don't mad me, jack. you should know by this what a fool she has made of me." "'tis your own folly," i rejoined hotly. "you should blame neither the lady nor the man to whom she has given nothing save--" "save what?" he broke in savagely. i recoiled on the brink as i had so many times before. the months of waiting for the death i craved had hardened me. "save a thing you would value lightly enough without her love. let us have done with this bickering; find the colonel and ask his leave to go with me, if you like. then you may do the love-making whilst i do the spying." "no," said he; "not while you stand it upon such a leg as that." i reached across and gripped his hand and wrung it. "shall we never have the better of these senseless vaporings?" i cried. "'tis as you say; i can neither live sane nor die mad without another sight of her, dick, and that is the plain truth. and yet, mark me, this next seeing of her will surely set a thing in train that will make her yours and not mine. get your leave and come with me on your own terms. mayhap she will show you how little she cares for me, and how much she cares for you." so this is how it came about that we two, garbed as decent planters and mounted upon the sleekest cobs the regiment afforded, took the road for winnsborough together on a certain summer-fine morning in january in the year of battles, seventeen hundred and eighty-one. xlv in which we find what we never sought 'tis fifty miles as a bird would fly it from the grazing uplands of the broad known as the cowpens to the lower plantation region lying between that stream and the farther catawba or wateree; and richard jennifer and i ambled the distance leisurely, as befitted our mission and disguise, cutting the journey evenly in half for the first night's lodging, which we had at the house of one philbrick--as hot a tory as we pretended to be. from our host of the night we learned that within two days the british outposts on the wateree and the broad had been advanced; and there were rumors in the air that lord cornwallis, who was hourly expecting general leslie with two thousand of sir henry clinton's men from new york, would presently move on to the long-deferred conquest of north carolina. "has cornwallis lost his wits?" dick would say, when we were a-jog on the southward road again. "'tis a braver lordling than i gave him credit for being--if he will put his head in a trap that will close behind him and cut him off from his line and base." i laughed. "you may wager jennifer house against an acre of the cowpens that lord charles will do no such unsoldierly thing. if this rumor be true, we have heard only the half of it." "and the other half will be?--" "that my lord cornwallis will do his prettiest to pull the teeth of one or the other of the trap-jaws before he trusts himself within them." jennifer was silent for an ambling minute or two. then he said: "'twill be our teeth he'll try to pull, then. the broad is nearer than the pedee; and ours is the weaker of the two jaws." "right you are," said i. "and now we know what we have to discover." "anan?" he queried. "we must learn by hook or crook who is to be sent against dan morgan, and when." "that should be easy--if the use of it afterward be not choked out of us at a rope's end." "we can divide the rope's-end chance of failure by two. we may work together as the opportunity offers, but once within the lines we must pass as strangers to each other, or at most as chance acquaintances of the road." "good," said he; and then his jaw dropped. "but what if one of us be taken? never ask me to stand by stranger-wise and see you hanged, jack!" "i shall both ask it and promise to do the same by you. your hand on it before we go a step farther, if you please." "'tis out of all reason," he demurred. "'tis the only reasonable course. bethink you, this is no knight-errant venture; we are two of dan morgan's soldiers bent upon doing a thing most needful for the welfare of the country and its cause. 'tis a duty higher than any obligation friendship lays on richard jennifer or john ireton." at this he yielded the point, though i could see that the proposal jumped little with the promptings of his generous heart. "'tis a scurvy trap you have set for me," he grumbled. "the risk is chiefly yours, and you know it. you are known to lord cornwallis, and to god knows how many more of them, and belike--" the interruption came in the shape of a troop of redcoat horsemen galloping in the road to meet us, and we were shortly surrounded and put sharply to the question. we answered each for himself. dick was a loyalist from yorkville way, eager to be set in arms against the bandit daniel morgan. i was a refugee from "hornets'-nest" mecklenburg, also bent upon revenge. the troop officer passed us on, something doubting, as i suspected. but we were riding in the right direction, and he was unwilling to clog himself with a pair of plain country gentlemen held in leash as prisoners. a few miles farther down the road the same brace of lies got us safely through the loosely drawn vedette line, and by evening we were in sight of our goal. viewing it from the rising ground of approach, winnsborough appeared less as a town than as a partly fortified camp. the few houses of the village were lost in the field of tents, huts and troop shelters, and measuring by the spread of these, it would seem that my lord cornwallis's army had been considerably augmented since i had last seen it in charlotte. i spoke of this, but dick was intent upon the business of the moment. "aye; there are enough of them, god knows. but tell me, jack--i'm new to this game--what's to do first when we are among them?" i laughed at him. "you are my troop commander, captain jennifer. 'tis for you to make the dispositions." "have your joke and be hanged to you. there are no captains here." "if you leave it to me, we shall ride boldly to the tavern, put up as travelers, and listen to the gossips, each for himself," i replied; and this is what we did. the village tavern, servilely bearing the king's arms thinly painted over the palmetto tree of south carolina on its swinging sign-board, was a miserable doggery, full to overflowing with a riffraff of carousing soldiery. separating by mutual consent in the public tap-room, richard and i presently drifted together again at a small table in a corner, with a black boy in attendance to set before us such poor entertainment as the hostelry afforded. "well, what luck?" asked dick, mumbling it behind his hand, though he might safely have shouted it aloud in the din and clamor of the place. i shook my head. "nothing as yet, save that i overheard a tipsy corporal telling his tipsier sergeant that the officers would be holding a revel to-night at a tory manor house situate somewhere beyond the camp confines to the northward; the house of one master marmaduke harndon, if i heard the name aright." then i added: "this rabble is too drunken to serve our purpose. 'tis only the common soldiery, and we shall learn nothing here." "there was at least one who was not a ranker," said dick, and there was something akin to awe in his voice. then he leaned across the table to whisper. "jack, i've fair had a fright!" i smiled. fear, of god, man or the devil, was not one of the lad's weaknesses. "you may grin as you please," he went on; "but answer me this; do the dead come back to life?" "not this side of the resurrection reveille, if we may believe the dominies." "then i have seen a ghost--a most horrible mask of a man we both know to our cost." "name him and i will tell you whether he be a ghost or no." "'tis the ghost of frank falconnet; or else it is what of the man himself the fire hath left," said dick, and i marked his shiver at the word. "no!" said i. "i tell you yes." i sprang up, but the lad reached across the table and smote me back into the chair. "softly, old firebrand; 'twas you who said the public matter must take precedence of the private. moreover, if this be francis falconnet whom i have seen, your sweetest revenge on him will be to let him live--as he is." "i will kill him as i would a wild beast," i raged, thinking of that midnight scene in the great forest when my sweet lady had gone on her knees to this fiend in human guise. "and so should you," i added, "if you care aught for the honor of the woman who loves you." but now it was this hot-headed richard i have drawn for you who saw farthest and clearest. "all in good time," he said, coolly. "at this present we have dan morgan's fish to fry, and sitting here saucing this devil's mess of a supper with thoughts of private revenge will never fry it. set your wits at work; falconnet's ghost has put mine hopelessly out of gear. ye gods! but 'twas a most fearsome thing to look at!" i did not answer him at once, and whilst i plied knife and fork for the sake of appearances, i would think upon what he had discovered. this reappearance of francis falconnet was not to be passed over lightly. what would he do, or seek to do? nay, what devilish thing was it he might not do? if the fire had burned his passion out, it had doubtless kindled a feller blaze of revenge. and if his thirst was for vengeance, how could he quench it in a deeper draft than by harrying the woman we both loved? 'twas only by a mighty effort that i could drag myself back to dick's urging and the needs of the hour. "to have some chance of hearing gossip to our purpose, we must make shift to gain admittance to this officers' rout at the manor house," i said. "the devil!" quoth dick, "i venture that's easier said than done--for two plain country gentlemen." "never fear; there will be others there lacking fine clothes, and so the throng be great enough, we may pass current in it." richard pushed his plate back with a grimace of disgust. "let us be at it, then. another grapple with this pig-bait will finish me outright." a half-hour later we were tethering our cobs at the already crowded hitching-rail in front of a goodly mansion some mile or more beyond the camp limits on the northward road; a rambling manor house to the full as large as appleby hundred, with a shaven lawn in front, and within, lights and music and sounds of revelry. "by the lord harry! but this master harndon would seem to be a man of substance," says dick. and then: "can you pick out a good horse in the dark, jack? it may come to a race for our necks, by and by, and these cobs of ours are too broad-backed for speed." i said i could, and so we went deeper into the cavalcade at the hitch-rail and marked out two clean-limbed chargers, a gray and a sorrel; this before we gave the final touches to our plan of action and passed up the broad avenue to the manor house. xlvi how our piece missed fire at harndon acres for a doorkeeper some one or another of the officer guests had set a sergeant on guard; but though the night was yet young the man passed us into the great entrance hall with a hiccough and a wink that spoke thus early of an open house and freely flowing good cheer. as we had hoped to find it, this rout at master harndon's was a stifling jam, and a good half of the guests were in civilian plain clothes, neither paris nor london having as yet reached so far into the carolina plantations to proscribe homespun and to prescribe the gay toggeries of the courts. this for the men, i hasten to add; for then, as now, our american dames and maids would put a year's cropping of a plantation on their backs, thinking nothing of it; and there was no lack of shimmering silks and stiff brocades, of high-piled _coiffures_, paint, patches and powder at this merrymaking at harndon acres. lacking an introducer, and wanting, moreover, nothing save the leave to have standing-room in the throng as lookers-on, we gave mr. marmaduke harndon, a sleek, rotund little gentleman, smirking and bowing and tapping the lid of his silver snuff-box, a wide berth; and with an agreement to meet later for the comparing of notes, jennifer and i went apart at the door of the ball-room, each to lose himself in the assembled company as an otter slips into a pool, namely, without ruffling it. 'twas easily done. winnsborough had by this time become a refuge camp for all the loyalists in the region roundabout, and there were many in the present company who were strangers one to another, uneasy, shifting figures in the gay throng, beneath the notice alike of haughty dames and prinking dandy officers. beneath the notice, i say; yet i would qualify this, for more than one of the epauletted macaronis trod upon my toes or bustled me rudely in the crush till i trembled, not for my own self-control, but for richard's, making sure that the lad was having no more gentlemanly welcome than i. 'twas with some notion of finding ampler room for my feet that i edged away through the fringing wall-crowd in the dancing-room toward a curtained archway at the back. as yet i had overheard naught save the silly persiflage of the belles and beaux--a word here and another there--and i was beginning to fear that this was as poor a place to look for information as was the pothouse, when a thing befell to set me a-quiver with all the thrillings the human heart-strings can thrum to in one and the same instant of time. i had shouldered my way out of the ball-room medley and into the less crowded room at the back. this proved to be a rear withdrawing-room serving for the nonce as a refectory. there were little groups and knots of chatterers standing about; fair maids, each with her ring of redcoated courtiers, laughing and jesting or picking daintily at the viands on the great oaken table in the midst. rounding the promontory of the table's-end to come to anchor in some quiet eddy where i could listen unnoticed for the word i was thirsting for, i must needs entangle the button of my coat-cuff in the delicate lace of a lady's sleeve in passing. the wearer of the sleeve had her back to me, and i saw the white shoulders go up in a little shrug of petulance whilst i sought to disentangle the button. then she turned to face me and the words of apology froze on my lips. 'twas mistress margery, standing at ease with--good heavens! with richard jennifer and colonel banastre tarleton for her company! here was a halter, with a double snaffle at the end of it, was the thought that flashed upon me; and i was gathering my wits to brazen it out in some such manner as to leave jennifer unattainted, when my lady give a little start and a shriek. "la, mr. septimus; how you startled me!" she cried. then, without a tremor of the lip or a pause for breath-taking, she presented me: "colonel tarleton; mr. septimus ireton, of iretondene in virginia." and next to dick: "mr. richard; my very good friend, mr. ireton." 'twas done so cleverly and with such an air that even dick, who had known her from childhood, was struck dumb with admiration, as his face sufficiently advertised. and, indeed, i had much ado to play my own part with any decent self-possession, though i did make shift to bow stiffly, and to say: "i see i should have brought the iretondene title deeds with me to make you sure that i am not my rebel cousin john, mistress margery. your servant, colonel tarleton; and yours, mr. richard." dick's bow was an elaborate hiding of his tell-tale face; but the colonel's was the slightest of nods, and i could feel the sloe-black eyes of him boring into my very soul. had my lady given him but a moment's time i make no doubt he would have come instantly at the truth and the little farce would have been turned into a tragedy on the spot. but she gave him no time. the spinet in the ball-room alcove was tinkling out the overture to a minuet, and she laid the tips of her dainty fingers on the colonel's arm. "this will be ours to walk through, will it not, colonel tarleton?" she said, playing the sprightly minx to the very climax of perfection. then she dipped us a curtsy. "_au revoir_, gentlemen. 'tis a thousand pities you had not joined sooner and so had the red coat and small-sword to grace you here." when they were gone, dick laughed sardonically. "saw you ever such a cool-blood little jade in all your life? 'twas with me as it was with you; i, too, stumbled upon them, and the colonel bustled me and set his heel on my foot. i daresay i should have had myself in irons in another moment but for madge. she slipped in between and introduced us as sweetly as you please." "nevertheless," said i, "the colonel recognized us both." "no! think you so?" "'tis certain enough to play upon. what we do now must be done quickly or not at all. what have you overheard?" he swore softly. "never a cursed word; less than nothing of any interest to dan morgan." "we must try again. 'twill surely be talked of here if the army is about to move. do you take a turn in the anteroom and meet me in a quarter of an hour at the outer door." at the word, dick promptly lost himself in the throng whilst i made a slow circuit of the refreshment table. once i thought i had the clue when a girl hanging on the arm of an infantry lieutenant said: "will it be true that you will presently go out to hunt the rebels down, mr. thornicroft?" but the prudent lieutenant smiled and put her off cleverly, leaving his fair questioner--and me--none the wiser. i went on, drifting aimlessly from group to group and dallying of set purpose. if i had read colonel tarleton's glance aright, the moments were growing diamond-precious; but as yet neither half of my errand was done. come what might, i must see margery again and have her tell me where and how to find the priest; and 'twas borne in upon me that she would come back to seek me as soon as she could be free of her partner in the dance. the forecast as to my lady had its fulfilment while yet the spinetter was striking out the final chords of the minuet. a lady dropped her kerchief, and i was before her swain in stooping to pick it up. as i bowed low in returning the bit of lace to its owner, a voice that i had learned to know and love whispered in my ear. "make your way to the clock landing of the stair; i must have speech with you," it said; and for a wonder i was cool enough to obey with no more than a sidelong glance at my lady passing on the arm of another epauletted dangler. she was before me at the meeting place, and there was no laughing welcome in the deep-welled eyes. instead, they flashed me a look that made me wince. "what folly is this, sir?" she demanded. "will you never have done taking my honor and your own life into your reckless hands?" i bowed my head to the storm. with the dagger of my miserable errand sticking in my heart there was no fight in me. "i am but come to do your bidding," i said, slowly, for the words cost me sorely in the coin of anguish. "i had your letter, and if you will say how i may find father matthieu--" she broke me in the midst. "_mon dieu!_" she cried. "could i guess that you would come here, into the very noose of the gallows? oh, how you do heap scorn on scorn upon me! once you made me give silent consent to a falsehood you told; twice, nay, thrice, you have made me disloyal to the king; and now you come again to make me look the world in the face and tell a smiling lie to shield you! o holy mother, pity me!" and with this she put her face in her hands and began to sob. now we were only measurably isolated on the stair, and some sense of the hazard we took--a hazard involving her as well as richard and myself--steadied me with a sudden shock. "control yourself," i whispered. "what is done, is done; and the misery is not all yours to suffer. tell me how i may find the priest, and i will do my errand and begone." "you can not stay to find him now--you must not," she insisted, coming out of the fit of despair with a rebound. "he is in the town--indeed, i know not where he is just now. can you not endure it a little longer, captain ireton?" "no," said i, sullenly. "i have been living a lie all these months to the friend i love best, and i will not do it more." could i be mistaken? surely there was a flash not of anger in the eyes that were lifted to mine, and a tremulous note of eagerness in the voice that said: "then dick does not know?--you have not told him?" "no; i have told no one." "poor dick!" she said softly. "i thought he knew, and i--" she paused, and in the pause it flashed upon me how she had wronged my dear lad; how she had thought he would make brazen love to her knowing she was the wife of another. i thanked god in my heart that i had been able to right him thus far. after a time she said: "why did you make me marry you, monsieur john? oh, i have racked my brain so for the answer to that question. i know you said it was to save my honor. but surely we have paid a heavier penalty than any that could have been laid upon me had you left me as i was." "i was but a short-sighted fool, and no prophet," i rejoined, striving hard to keep the bitterness of soul out of my words. "at the moment it seemed the only way out of the pit of doubt into which my word to colonel tarleton had plunged you. but there was another motive. you saw the paper i signed that night, with lieutenant tybee and your father's factor for the witnesses?" "yes." "do you know what it was?" "no." "'twas the last will and testament of one john ireton, gentleman, in which he bequeathed to margery, his wife, his estate of appleby hundred." "appleby hundred?" she echoed. "but my father--" "your father holds but a confiscator's title, and it, with many others, has been voided by the congress of north carolina. richard jennifer is my dear friend, and you--" "i begin to understand--a little," she said, and now her voice was low and she would not look at me. then, in the same low tone: "but now--now you would be free again?" "how can you ask? as matters stand, i have marred your life and dick's most hopelessly. do you wonder that i have been reckless of the hangman? that i care no jot for my interfering life at this moment, save as the taking of it may involve you and richard?" "no, surely," she said, still speaking softly. and now she gave me her eyes to look into, and the hardness was all melted out of them. "did you come here, under the shadow of the gallows, to tell me this, monsieur john?" "there shall be no more half-confidences between us, dear lady. i had my leave of general morgan on the score of our need for better information of lord cornwallis's designs; but i should have come in any case--wanting the leave, my commission as a spy, or any other excuse." "to tell me this?" "to do the bidding of your letter, and to say that whilst i live i shall be shamed for the bitter words i gave you when i was sick." "i mind them not; i had forgotten them," she said. "but i have not forgotten, nor ever shall. will you say you forgive me, margery?" "for thinking i had poisoned you? how do you know i did not?" "i have seen scipio. will you shrive me for that disloyalty, dear lady?" "did i not say i had forgotten it?" "thank you," i said, meaning it from the bottom of my heart. "now one thing more, and you shall send me to father matthieu. 'tis a shameful thing to speak of, but the thought of it rankles and will rankle till i have begged you to add it to the things forgotten. that morning in your dressing-room--" she put up her hands as if she would push the words back. "spare me, sir," she begged. "there are some things that must always be unspeakable between us, and that is one of them. but if it will help you to know--that i know--how--how you came there--" she was flushing most painfully, and i was scarce more at ease. but having gone thus far, i must needs let the thought consequent slip into words. "your father's motives have ever been misunderstandable to me. what could he hope to gain by such a thing?" i had no sooner said it than i could have bitten my masterless tongue. for in the very voicing of the wonder i saw, or thought i saw, gilbert stair's purpose. since i had not made good my promise to die and leave the estate to margery, he would at least make sure of his daughter's dowry in it by putting it beyond us to set the marriage aside as a thing begun but not completed. so, having this behind-time flash of after-wit, i made haste to efface the question i had asked. "your pardon, i pray you; i see now 'tis a thing we must both bury out of sight. but to the other--the matter which has brought me hither; will you put me in the way of finding father matthieu?" we had talked on through the measures of a cotillion, and the dancers, warm and wearied, were beginning to fill the entrance hall below. our poor excuse for privacy would be gone in a minute or two, and she spoke quickly. "you shall see father matthieu, and i will help you. but you must not linger here. in a few days the army will be moving northward--oh, heavens! what have i said!" "nothing," i cut in swiftly; "you are speaking now to your husband--not to the spy. go on, if you please." "we shall return to appleby hundred within the fortnight. there, if you are still--if you desire it, you may meet the good _curé_, and--" a much-bepowdered captain of cavalry was coming up the stair to claim her, and i was fain to let her go. but at my passing of her to the step below, i whispered: "i shall keep the tryst--my first and last with you, dear lady. adieu." so soon as she was gone i made haste to find richard, having, as i feared, greatly overstayed my appointment to meet him at the door. he was not among the promenaders in the hall, so i began to drift again, through the ball-room and so on to where the spread table stood ringed with its groups of nibblers. i had made no more than half the round of the refectory when i saw margery standing in the curtained arch, looking this way and that, with anxious terror written plainly in her face. "what is it?" i asked, when she had found me out. "'tis the worst that could happen," she whispered. "you are discovered, both of you. colonel tarleton was too shrewd for us. he has let it be known among the officers that there are two spies in the house, and now--hark! what is that?" we were standing in a deep window-bay and i drew the curtain an inch or two. the air without was filled with the trampling of hoofbeats on greensward. a light-horse troop was surrounding the manor house. i drew her arm in mine and led her back to the ball-room; 'twas now come to this, that open publicity was our best safeguard. "we must find dick," said i. "have you seen him?" "no." together we made the slow circuit of the dancing-room, but jennifer was not to be found. out of the tail of my eye i saw a soldier slipping in here and there to stand statue-like against the wall. this brought it to a matter of minutes, of seconds, mayhap, and still we looked in vain for dick. "oh, why did you bring him here? he will surely be taken!" her voice was tremulous with fear, and i answered as i could, being sore at heart, in spite of all, that her chief concern should be for richard. but by now my purpose was well taken, and though it appeared that richard jennifer was more than ever my successful rival, i pledge you, my dears, i had no thought of leaving him behind. so we made another slow round of the rooms, and whilst we were looking for dick i spoke in guarded whispers to warn my lady of falconnet's return. but the warning was not needed. her shudder of loathing shook the hand on my arm. "that man! oh, monsieur john! i fear him day and night! if i could but run away; but we are not finding dick--we _must_ find him quickly!" there was no other place to look save in the entrance hall, and at the door one of the statue-like soldiers took two steps aside and barred the way. i faced about and we plunged once again into the throng, but not before i had had a glimpse of richard in the hall beyond. when the chance offered, i bent to whisper. "dick is in the hall, looking for me, go you to him and warn him. i may not pass the door, as you have seen." "he will not escape without you," she demurred. "tell him he must. tell him i say he must!" she glanced over her shoulder with a look in her eyes that made me think of a wounded bird fluttering in the net of the fowler. "oh, 'tis hard, hard!" she murmured. i snatched the word from her lips. "to choose between love and wifely duty? then i make it a command. go, quickly!" she went at that, and i made my way slowly to the far side of the ball-room, taking post in a deep-recessed window giving upon the lawn. though it was january and the night was chill and raw, the rooms were summer warm with the breath of the crush, and some one had swung the casement. without, i could hear the horses of the waiting troop champing restlessly at their bits, and now and again the low gentling words of the riders. why the colonel did not spring his trap at once i could not guess; though i learned later that he had magnified our two-man spying venture into a patriot foray meant to capture the whole houseful of british officers at a swoop, and was taking his measures accordingly. 'twas while i was listening to the champing horses that i heard my name whispered in the darkness beyond the open casement; i turned slowly, and the nearest of the soldier watchers began to edge his way toward my window. "'tis i--dick jennifer," whispered the voice without. "swing the casement a little wider and out with you. be swift about it, for god's sake!" "i am fair trapped," i whispered back. "make off as you can." "and leave you behind?" so much i heard; and then came sounds of a struggle; the breath-catchings of two men locked in a strangler's hold, a smothered oath or two, a fall on the turf under the window, followed by the soft thudding of fist blows. i could bear it no longer. the edging soldier had come within arm's reach, and when i swung the casement a little wider, he laid a hand on my shoulder. "in the name of the king!" he said; and this was all he had time or leave to say. for at the summons i drove my fist against the point of his wagging jaw, to send him plunging among the dancers, and the recoil of the blow carried me clear of the window-seat with what a din and clamor of a hue and cry to speed the parting guest as you may figure for yourselves. the alighting ground of the leap was the body of dick's late antagonist lying prone beneath the window ledge; but the lad himself was up and ready to catch me when i stumbled over the vanquished one. "'tis legs for it now," he cried. "make for the avenue and the horses at the hitch-rail!" at rising twenty a man may run fast and far; at rising forty he may still run far if the first hundred yards do not burst his bellows. so when we had darted through the thin line of encircling horsemen and were flying down the broad avenue with all the troopers who had caught sight of us thundering at our heels, dick was the pace-setter, whilst i made but a shifty second, gasping and panting and dying a thousand deaths in the effort to catch my second wind. "courage!" shouted dick, flinging the word back over his shoulder as he ran. "there is help ahead if we can live to reach the gate!" but, luckily for me, the help was nearer at hand. half way down the box-bordered drive, when i was at my last gasp, the shrill yell of the border partizans rose from the shrubbery on the right, and a voice that i shall know and welcome in another world cried out: "stiddy, boys! stiddy till ye can see the whites o' their eyes! now, then; give it to 'em hot _and_ heavy!" a haphazard banging of guns followed and the pursuit drew rein in some confusion, giving us time to reach the great gate and the horse-rail, and to loose and mount the gray and the sorrel we had marked out. whilst we were about this last, ephraim yeates came loping down the avenue and through the gate to vault into the saddle of the first horse he could lay hands on; and so it was that we three took the northward road in the silver starlight, with the pursuit now in order again and in full cry behind us. 'twas not until we had safely run the gantlet of the vedette lines by a by-path known to the old hunter, and had shaken off the troopers that were following, that i found time to ask what had become of the men who had formed the ambush in the shrubbery. the old man gave me his dry chuckle of a laugh. "'twas the same old roose de geer, as the down-country frenchers 'u'd say. i stole the drunken sergeant's gun and two others, and let 'em off one to a time. as for the screechin', one bazoo's as good as a dozen, if so be ye blow it fierce enough." "'twas cut and dried beforehand," dick explained. "i had an inkling of what was afoot from ephraim, here, whom i stumbled on when i dropped from the stair window that madge opened for me. he went to set his one-man ambush whilst i was trying to warn you." "so," said i. "our skins are whole, but after all we have come off with never a word to take back to dan morgan--unless you have the word." "not i," dick said, ruefully. the old man chuckled again. "ye ain't old enough, neither one o' ye, ez i allow. it takes a right old person to fish out the innards of an inimy's secrets. colonel tarleton, hoss, foot and dragoons, with the seventh rigiment and a part o' the seventy-first, will take the big road for dan morgan's camp to-morrow at sun-up. and right soon atterwards, gin'ral cornwallis'll foller on. is that what you youngsters was trying to find out?" xlvii arms and the man in that book he wrote--the book in which he never so much as names the name of ireton--my lord cornwallis's commissary-general, charles stedman, damns colonel tarleton in a most gentlemanly manner for his ill-success at the cowpens, and would charge to his account personal the failure of cornwallis's plan to crush in detail the patriot army of the south. now little as i love, or have cause to love, sir banastre tarleton,--they tell me he has been knighted and now wears a major-general's sword-knot,--'tis but the part of outspoken honest enmity to say that we owed the victory at the cowpens to no remissness on the part of the young legion commander who, if he were indeed the most brutal, was also the most active and enterprising of lord cornwallis's field officers. no, it was no remissness nor lack of bravery on the part of the enemy. 'twas only that the tide had turned. king's mountain had been fought and won, and there were to be no more camdens for us. in the affair at the cow pastures, which followed hard upon richard's and my return from our flying visit to winnsborough, the very elements fought for us and against the british. as for instance: tarleton, with his famous legion of horse, and infantry enough to make his numbers exceed ours, began his march on the eleventh and was rained on and mired for four long days before he had crossed the broad and had come within scouting distance of us. left to himself, dan morgan would have locked horns with the enemy at the fording of the pacolet; but in the council of war, our colonel and john howard of the marylanders were for drawing tarleton still deeper into the wilderness, and farther from the british main, which was by this moved up as far as turkey creek. so we broke camp hastily and fell back into the hill country; and on the night of the sixteenth took post on the northern slope of a low ridge between two running streams. for its backbone our force had some three hundred men of the maryland line and two companies of virginians. these formed our main, and were posted on the rising ground with john howard for their commander. a hundred and fifty paces in their front, partly screened in the open pine, oak and chestnut wooding of the ground, were pickens's carolinians and the georgians; militiamen, it is true, but skilled riflemen, and every man of them burning hot to be avenged on tarleton's pillagers. still farther to the front, disposed as right and left wings of outliers, were yeates and his fellow borderers and some sixty of the georgians set to feel the enemy's approach; and in the reserve, posted well to the rear of the marylanders and virginians, was our own colonel's troop guarding the horses of the dismounted georgians. 'twas when we were all set in order to await the sun's rising and the enemy's approach that dan morgan rode the lines and harangued us. he was better at giving and taking shrewd blows than at speech-making; but we all knew his mettle well by now, and i think there was never a man of us to laugh at his unwonted grandiloquence and solemn periods. in the harangue the two battle lines had their orders: to be steady; to aim low; and above all to hold their fire till the enemy was within sure killing distance. "'tis a brave old daniel," said dick, whilst the general was sawing the air for the benefit of the south carolinians. "'twill not be his fault if we fail. but you are older at this business than any of us, jack; what think you of our chances?" i laughed, and the laugh was meant to be grim. i knew the temper of the british regulars, and how, when well led, they could play the hammer to anybody's anvil. "any raw recruit can prophesy before the fact," said i. "we have tarleton, his legion, the seventh, a good third of the seventy-first, and two pieces of artillery in our front. if they do not give a good account of themselves, 'twill be because tarleton has marched them leg-stiff to overtake us." dick fell silent for the moment, and when he spoke again some of dan morgan's solemnity seemed to have got into his blood. "i have a sort of coward inpricking that i sha'n't come out of this with a whole skin, jack; and there's a thing on my mind that mayhap you can take off. you have had madge to yourself a dozen times since that day last autumn when i asked her for the hundredth time to put me out of misery. as i have said, she would not hear me through; but she gave me a look as i had struck her with a whip. can you tell me why?" the morning breeze heralding the sunrise was whispering to the leafless branches overhead, and there was nothing in all dame nature's peaceful setting of the scene to hint at the impending war-clash. yet the war portent was abroad in all the peaceful morning, and my mood marched with the lad's when i gave him his answer. "truly, i could tell you, richard; and it is your due to know it from no other lips than mine. mayhap, a little later, when restitution can go hand in hand with repentance and confession--" "no, no;" he cut in quickly. "tell me now, jack; your 'little later' may be all too late--for me. does she love you?--has she said she loves you?" "nay, dear lad; she despises me well and truly, and has never missed the chance of saying so. wait but a little longer and i pledge you on the honor of a gentleman you shall have her for your very own. will that content you?" at my assurance his mood changed and in a twinkling he became the dauntless soldier who fights, not to die, but to win and live. "with that word to keep me i shall not be killed to-day, i promise you, jack; and that in spite of this damned queasiness that was showing me the burying trench." and then he added softly: "god bless her!" i could say amen to that most heartily; did it, and would have gone on to add a benison of my own, but at the moment there were sounds of galloping horses on our front, and presently three red-coated officers, one of them the redoubtable colonel tarleton himself, rode out to reconnoitre us most coolly. i doubt if he would have been so rash had he known that yeates and his borderers were concealed in easy pistol-shot; but the simultaneous cracking of a dozen rifles warned and sent the trio scuttling back to cover. dick swore piteously, with the snap-shot skirmishers for a target. "the fumblers!" he raged. "'twas the chance of a life-time, and they all missed like a lot of boys at their first deer stalking!" "they will have another chance, and that speedily," i ventured; and, truly, the chance did not tarry. from our view point on the rising ground we could see the enemy forming under cover of the wood; and as we looked, the two pieces of cannon were thrust to the front to bellow out the signal for the assault. 'twas a sight to stir the blood when the enemy broke cover into the opener wooding of the field to the tune of the roaring cannon, the volleyings of small arms and the defiant huzzaings of the men. the sun was just peering over the summit of thicketty mountain, and his level rays fell first upon the charging line sweeping in like a tidal wave of red death to crumple our skirmishers before it. "lord!" says richard; "if yeates and the indian come alive out of that--" but the outliers closed upon our first line in decent good order, firing as they could; and in less time than it takes to write it down the onsweeping wave of red was upon the carolinians. we looked to see the militia fire and run, home-guard fashion; but these men of pickens's were made of more soldierly stuff. they took the fire of the assaulting line like veterans, giving ground only when it came to the bayonet push. "that fetches it to us," said richard, most coolly; drawing his claymore when the carolinians began to come home like spindrift ahead of the wave of red. then he had a steadying word for the men of his company, and a hearty shout and a curse for some of the georgians who had cut around the flanks of our main to come at their horses in the rear. but the lad's assertion that our time was come was only a half prophecy. the marylanders, with the virginians on either flank, stood firm, giving the onrushing wave a shock that went near to breaking it. but the british were better bayoneted than we, and when it came to the iron our lads must needs give ground sullenly, fighting their way backward as a stubborn assault fights its way inch by inch forward. "here come their reserves," said dick, pointing with his blade to a second red line forming in the farther vistas of the wood. "lord! shall we never get into it?" 'twas just here that an order sent by colonel howard to his first company, directing it to charge by the flank, came near costing us a rout. the order was misunderstood,--'twas received at the precise moment of the upcoming of the british reserves,--and the marylanders fell back. in the turning of a leaf our entire fighting front gave way, and what of the georgians there were left in the mellay made a frantic dash for the horses. at this crisis john howard saved the day for us by shrewdly executing the most difficult manoeuver that is ever essayed by a field officer in the heat of battle. suffering his men to drift backward until the enemy, sure now of success, were rushing on in disorder to give the _coup de grâce_, he gave the quick command: "about face! fire! charge!" i saw the volley delivered in the faces of the redcoats at pike's length range; saw the virginians on the flanks bend to encircle the enemy; saw the rout transfer itself at the roar of the muskets from our side to the recoiling british. then i heard dick's shouted command. "charge them, lads! they're sabering the georgians!" a section of tarleton's horse had hewed its way past our flank and was at work on the militiamen scrambling for their mounts. at it we went, with our brave colonel a horse's length ahead of the best rider in the troop, pistols banging and sword blades whistling, and that other curious sound you will hear only when the cavalry engages--the heavy dunch of the horses coming together like huge living missiles hurled from catapults. 'twas soon over, and the enemy, horse and foot, was flying in hopeless confusion through the open wood. our troop led the pursuit; and this brings me to an incident in which thy old chronicler--figuring in the histories as an unnamed sergeant--had his share. it was in the hot part of the chase, and colonel tarleton--a true briton in this, that he would be first in the charge and last in the retreat--was galloping with two of his aides in rear of the dragoons. since many of us knew the british commander by sight, there was a great clapping-to of spurs to overtake and cut him off. in this race three horses outdistanced all the others; the great bay ridden by colonel washington, a snappy little gray bestridden by the colonel's boy bugler, and my own mount. when the crisis came, our colonel had the wind of the boy and me and was calling on colonel tarleton to surrender at discretion. for answer the three british officers wheeled and fell upon him. never was a man nearer his death. in a whiff, tarleton was foining at him in front whilst the two aides were rising in their stirrups on either hand to cut him down. 'twas the little bugler boy who saved his colonel's life, and not the unnamed "sergeant," as the histories have it. having neither a sword nor the strength to wield one, the boy reined sharp to the left and pistoled his man as neatly as you please. seeing his fellow _sabreur_ drop his weapon and clap his hand to the pistol-wound, my man hesitated just long enough to let me in with the clumsiest of upcuts to spoil the muscles of his sword arm. this transferred the duel to the two principals, who were now at it, hammer and tongs. both were good swordsmen, but of the twain our colonel was far the cooler. so when tarleton made to end it with a savage thrust in tierce, washington parried deftly and his point found his antagonist's sword hand. at this, tarleton dropped his blade,--it hangs now over the chimney-piece in mr. washington's town house in charleston,--gave the signal for flight, and the three britons, each with a wound to nurse, wheeled and galloped on. but in the act tarleton snatched a pistol from his holster and let drive at our colonel, wounding him in the knee, so we did not come off scatheless. this pistoling of colonel washington by the british commander skimmed a little of the cream from our great and glorious victory. 'twas no serious hurt, but wanting it i make no doubt we should have ridden down the flying dragoons, adding them, and their doughty colonel to boot, to the five-hundred-odd prisoners we took. the battle fought and won,--'twas over and done with two full hours before noon,--dan morgan knew well what must befall, lacking the swiftest after-doing on our part. with greene near a hundred miles away, and my lord cornwallis less than three hours' gallop to the southward on turkey creek, the time was come for the hastiest welding of our little army with that of the general-in-command; if, indeed, the promptest running would take us to the upper fords of the catawba before cornwallis should intervene and cut us off. accordingly, jennifer and i were detailed to carry the news of the victory to greene's camp at cheraw hill; and when we rode away on the warm trail of the flying british, we left dan morgan's men hard at it, burning the heavy impedimenta of the capture, and otherwise making ready for the swiftest of forced marches to the north. 'twould be a thankless task to take you with us stage by stage on our cross-country gallop to advertise general greene of the victory at the cow pastures. suffice it to say that we made shift to turn the head of the advancing british main, now in motion and hastening with all speed to cut dan morgan off; that we were by turns well soaked by rain and stream, deep mired in bogs, chased times without number by the enemy's outriders, and hardshipped freely for food and horse provender before we saw the camp on the pedee. all this you may figure for yourselves, the main point being that we came at length to the goal, weary, mire-splashed and belted to the last buckle-hole to pinch down the hunger pains, but sound of skin, wind and limb. having our news, which set the camp in a pretty furor of rejoicing, i promise you, general greene lost not an hour in making his dispositions. leaving isaac huger and colonel otho williams in command at cheraw, the general sent edward stevens with the virginians by way of charlotte to morgan's aid, and himself took horse, with a handful of dragoons in which dick and i were volunteers, to ride post haste to a meeting with morgan at the upper fords. again i may pass lightly over an interval of three days spent hardily in the saddle, coming at once to that rain-drenched thirty-first of january, cold, raw and dismal, when we drew rein at sherrard's ford and found dan morgan and his men safe across the catawba with his prisoners, and my lord cornwallis quite as safely flood-checked on the western bank of the stream. having done our errand, dick and i reported at once to our colonel. 'twas of a piece with william washington's goodness of heart to offer us leave to rest. "you have had weary work of it, i doubt not, gentlemen," he would say. "your time is your own until general greene sets us in order for what he has in mind to do." i looked at dick, and he looked at me. "may we count upon twenty-four hours, think you, colonel?" i asked. "safely, i should say." "then i shall ask leave of absence for captain jennifer and myself till this time to-morrow," i went on. "this is our home neighborhood, as you know, and we have a little matter of private business which may be despatched in a day." "will this business take you without the lines?" "that is as it may be, sir. i do not know the bounds of the outposting." the colonel wrote us passes to come and go at will past the sentries, and i drew dick away. "what is it, jack?" he asked, when we were by ourselves. "'tis the fulfilling of my promise to you, richard. get your horse and we will ride together." "but whither?" he queried. "to appleby hundred--and mistress margery." xlviii how we kept tryst at appleby hundred 'twas late in the afternoon of the last day of january when we set out together, jennifer and i, from the camp of conference at sherrard's ford. the military situation, lately so critical for us, had reached and passed one of its many subclimaxes. morgan's little army, with its prisoners still safe in hand, was on its way northward to charlottesville in virginia, and only the officers remained behind to confer with general greene. for the others, huger and williams were hurrying up from cheraw to meet the general at salisbury; and general davidson, with a regiment of north carolina volunteers, was set to keep the fords of the catawba. as for the british commander's intendings, we had conflicting reports. two days earlier, lord cornwallis had burned his heavy baggage at ramsour's mill, and so we had assurance that the pursuit was only delayed. but whether, when he should break his camp at forney's plantation, he would go northward after morgan and the prisoners, or cross the river at some nearhand ford to chase our main, none of our scouts could tell us. we were guessing at this, richard and i, as we jogged on together down the river road, and were agreed that could my lord cross the flooded river without loss of time, his better chance would be to fall upon our main at salisbury or thereabouts. but as to the possibility of his crossing, we fell apart. "lacking another drop of rain, we are safe for forty-eight hours yet," dick would say, pointing to the brimming river rolling its brown flood at our right as we fared on. "and with two days' start we shall have him burning more than his camp wagons to overtake us." "have it so, if you will," said i, to end the argument. "but this i know: were dan morgan or general greene, or you or i, in lord cornwallis's shoes, the two days would not be lost." jennifer laughed. "leave the rest of us out, sir hannibal ireton, and tell what you would do," he said, mocking me. we were at that bend in the road where jan howart and his tories had sought to waylay us in the cool gray dawn of a certain june morning when we were galloping this same road to keep my appointment with sir francis falconnet. a huge rock makes a promontory in the stream just here, and i pointed to a water-worn cavity in it where the flood lapped in and out in gurgling eddies. "you've been sharp to take me up on my forgetting of the landmarks, but there is one i've not forgot," said i. "one day, about the time you were getting yourself born, i was passing this way with my father and a company of the county gentlemen. 'twas in the seven years' war, and the cherokees were threatening us from the other side. the river was in flood as it is now; and i mind my father saying that when you could see that hole in the rock, macgowan's ford would be no more than armpit deep." "so?" said richard; "then it behooves us to--" he stopped in mid sentence, drew rein and shifted his sword hilt to the front. "what is it?" i asked. for reply he pointed me to a canoe half hidden in the bushes where roadside and river-edge came together. i laughed. "an empty pirogue. shall we charge and run it through?" "hist!" said he; "that canoe was afloat a minute since. mark the paddle--'tis dripping yet." as he spoke an indian stood up in the bushes beside the pirogue, holding out his empty hands in token of amity. we rode up and were presently shaking hands with our old-time ally, the catawba. "how!" said he; "heap how! chief harris glad; wah! make think have to go to sal'bury to find captain long-knife and captain jennif'. heap much glad!" "chief harris?" i queried. "who may he be?" the catawba drew himself up and drummed upon his breast. "chief harris here," he answered, proudly. "the great war chief," by which we understood he meant general greene, "say all catawba take war-path 'gainst redcoat; make uncanoola headman; give um new name. wah!" at this we shook hands with him again, well pleased that our stanch ally should have recognition at the hands of the general. then i would ask if he were on the way to raise his tribesmen to fight with us. "bimeby; no have time now; big thing over yonder," pointing across the river. "manitou cornwally fool great war chief, mebbe, hey?" "how is that?" said dick; and the query elicited a bit of news to make us prick our ears. the catawba had been in the british camp at forney's, posturing again as a cherokee friendly to the king's side. some sudden movement had been determined upon, though what it was to be he could not learn. at the end of his own resources he had crossed the river in a stolen pirogue to find and warn us. "what say you, dick?" i asked, when we had heard the catawba through. the lad was holding his lip in his hand and scowling as one who pits duty against inclination. "'tis our cursed luck!" he gloomed. then he swore it out by length and breadth, and, when the air was cleared, let me have what was in his mind. "after all, 'tis like enough we should find appleby house deserted. gilbert stair will cling to lord cornwallis's coat-skirt as long as he can for sheer safety's sake. at all events, our business must wait; the country's weal comes first." then to the indian: "if we can make the beasts take the water, will you ferry us across, chief?" the catawba nodded, and made the nod good by setting us dry-shod on the farther bank of the brown flood. by the time we had the horses rubbed down and resaddled 'twas twilight in the open and night dark in the wood; but we were on our own ground and knew every by-path through the forest. so, when we had sent the indian back to carry news of us to general davidson at the lower ford, and to advertise him of our purpose, we mounted to begin a scouting jaunt, keeping to the wood paths and bearing cautiously northward toward the enemy's camp at forney's plantation. at times we were close upon the british sentries, with every nerve strained tense for fight or flight; anon we would be making wide detours through bog and fen, or beneath the black network of wet branches with the rain-soaked leaf beds under foot to make the horses' treadings as noiseless as a cat's. none the less, in the fullness of time--'twas near about midnight as we guessed it--we had our patience well rewarded. hovering on the confines of the camp we heard the muffled drum-tap of the reveille, and soon there was the stir of an army making ready for the march. "which way will it be, north or south?" whispered dick, when we had dismounted to cloak the heads of the horses. "we shall know shortly," said i; and truly, we did, being well-nigh enveloped and ridden down by the fringe of light-horse deploying to pioneer the way. when we had sheered off to let this skirmish cloud blow by, dick struck a spark into his tinder-box to have a sight of his compass needle. "south and by east," he announced; "that will mean beattie's ford, i take it." "not unless they swim, horse and foot," i objected. "'twill be macgowan's, more likely." having this uncertainty to resolve, we must hang upon the skirts of the british advance till we could make sure, and this proved to be a most perilous business. yet by riding abreast of the moving main we did resolve the uncertainty; heard the orders passed from man to man, and later saw a small feinting detachment split off to take the road for beattie's, whilst the main body held on for macgowan's; all this before we were discovered in the gloaming of the dawn by some of tarleton's men. then, i promise you, my dears, it was neck or nothing, with the devil to take the hindmost. away we sped toward the near-by river, spurring our wearied beasts as men who ride for life, with a dozen troopers so close upon us that when i glanced over my shoulder the foremost of the redcoat riders was having his face well bespattered with the mud from my horse's heels. 'twas touch and go, but happily, as i have said, the river was at hand. we came to the high bank some hundred yards above the fording place, and lacking dick's example to shame me to the braver course, i fear i should have recoiled at the brink. but when the lad sent his horse without the missing of a bound far out over the eddying flood, i shook the reins on the sorrel's neck, gave him the word and shut my eyes. after all, it was nothing worse than a cold plunge, with a few pistol bullets to spatter harmlessly around us when we came up for air. moreover, there were the camp-fires of davidson's men on the farther bank to encourage us; and so swimming and wading by turns we got across in time to give the alarum. as you would guess, there was a mighty stir on our side of the river when we had splashed ashore and got our news well born. as it turned out, general davidson's main camp was a good half-mile back from the river in one of the outfields of appleby hundred. so it chanced there were upon the spot only brave joe graham and his fifty riflemen to dispute the passage of an army. what was done at macgowan's ford in the gray of the morning of february first, , has become a page in our history. but i protest that not any of the chroniclers do even-handed justice to the little band of patriot riflemen doing their utmost to hold a hundred-to-one outnumbering host in check. 'twas a fine sight, be the onlooker whig or tory. the guards, led by the fiery irishman, o'hara, took the water first, the men crowding shoulder to shoulder to brace against the sweep of the current which, on the western side of the stream, was little less than a mill-tail for swiftness. after them came the foot and horse in solid squares, and always with more to follow. none the less, our little handful did not blanch; and when the guards in midstream held straight across instead of bearing to the right as the ford ran, a shout went up on our side and the fifty hastened up from the ford-head as one man to face the enemy squarely. now it was that the brown-barreled rifles began to crack and spit fire; and i do think if we had had our other two hundred and fifty out of that back field on the manor lands, we might at least have made the wading redcoats hurry a little. indeed, as it was, the van of the guards broke here and there, and we could hear o'hara berating his men as only a battle-mad irishman can, with blarneyings and curses intermingled. having no firearms save our wetted pistols, jennifer and i crouched in cover, waiting to do what two swordsmen might when the blade's length should bridge the fast-narrowing distance between us and the advancing host. 'twas in this little interval of forced inaction that we heard a most familiar voice issuing from a clump of holly just below our covert; a voice lifted now in fervent prayer and again in scriptural anathema on the foe. "'let god arise and let his inimies be scattered.... let them be as the chaff upon a threshing-floor'--" the sharp crack of the old borderer's rifle filled the momentary pause, and a british officer in a colonel's uniform swayed drunkenly in his saddle and plunged headlong in the stream. "'let them be as the children of amalek before the mighty one of israel: make them and their princes like oreb and zeeb; yea, make all their princes like as zebah and zalmunna.... o my god, make them like unto a wheel, and as the stubble before the wind; like as the fire that burneth up the wood, and as the flame that consumeth the mountains.'" crack! went the long-barreled piece again, and again an officer hallooing on his floundering battalion bent to his saddle horn and slipped into the turbid flood. my gorge rose. this picking off of officers has always seemed to me the savagest of war's barbarities. how richard divined my thought and purpose, i know not; but when i would have slipped down to yeates's holly bush he laid a detaining hand on my arm. "let be," he said; "'tis murder, if you like, but all war is that. when old eph's turn comes, they will kill him as relentlessly as he is killing them." by this time the british vanguard was storming ashore through the shallows below the tree fringe which served as cover for graham's men, and the king's muskets, silent hitherto, began to roar and belch by platoon and volley fire. jennifer craned his neck and took a swift view of the situation. "by the lord harry!" he cried, "'tis high time joe graham was getting his lads in order for a foot race. once those fellows come ashore they'll play hare and hounds with us to the king's taste. keep your eye on the nags, jack. it may chance us to do what two men can to cover a belated retreat." we had tethered our horses in a thicket of scrub oak where they would be out of bullet-reach until the enemy gained the bank. as i looked to make sure of them, the sorrel gave a shrill neigh to welcome the pounding of hoofs on the appleby road. i made sure this would be general davidson bringing in the reserves; and so, indeed, it was; but he came too late. o'hara's men were already climbing the bank; and joe graham was rallying his little company for flight in the face of an onset that made the tree fringe sing with musket balls. "'tis our cue to run away!" dick shouted, dragging me to my feet. "to the horses!" but now we were too late. davidson's men were between us and the scrub oak thicket, and we must wait till the column swept by. dick swore fervently and put his face to the foe and his back to a tree. whereupon i dragged him down as promptly as he had just now dragged me up, telling him his broadsword would make but a poor shift parrying musket-balls. what followed after was over and done with in a dozen fluttering heart-beats. seeing the case was desperate, general davidson gathered graham's fifty into his flying column, flogged his rear into the retreat, and was pitched out of his saddle by a tory rifle-bullet whilst he was doing it. and when the way to our horses was clear of the galloping carolinians, and we would have run to mount and ride after them, the swarming redcoat van was upon us. "up with you and out of this!" cried jennifer, setting me the example. "we must e'en gallop as we can. quick, man!" but in the gathering and the retreat our old sharpshooter under his holly bush had been left behind; and now we heard him again, chanting his terrible imprecations on the enemy. dick saw the meaning in my look, and together we pounced to drag the old man out of hiding. when we burst down upon him, yeates had his piece to his face and was drawing a bead on a stout man in cocked hat and plain regimentals whose horse was curveting and sidling in the nearer shallows; no less a figure, in truth, than my lord cornwallis himself, cheering his men on to the attack. we had scarce made out the old hunter's target when the rifle spat fire, the curveting charger reared in its death plunge, and the british commander-in-chief, unhurt, as it seemed, was dragged from the entanglement of his stirrups by his aides. the old marksman sprang up in a fury of wrath. "dad blast ye for a pair of aim-sp'ilin'--" a roar of musketry cut the rebuke in half, and a storm of bullets smote through the branches overhead. a falling bough knocked my hat off, and i stooped to recover it. when i rose, dick was clipping the old man tightly in his arms. yeates's belt was cut, and a little oozing well-spring of red was slowly soaking the fringe of his hunting-shirt. "ease me down, cap'n dick; ease me down. the old man's done for, this time, ez i allow--spang in the innards. ease me down and get off for yerselves, if so be ye can, im--me--jit--" the wagging jaw dropped and the keen old eyes went dim and sightless. dick's oath was more a sob than an imprecation; and now it was i who said: "come on--the living before the dead!" and so we made the well-nigh hopeless dash for the horses. how we rode free out of that hurly-burly at the ford-head you must figure for yourselves, if you can. the men of the british vanguard were all about us when we got to the scrub oak thicket and mounted, but no one of them raised a hand to stay us. i have thought since that mayhap they took us for a pair of their own tory allies who were not above wearing the stolen uniforms of the dead. be that as it may, we rode away unhindered, dick in all the bravery of his captain's slashings, and i in light-horse buff and blue, taking the road toward the manor house because that was the only one open to us, and ambling leisurely till we were beyond the sight and sound of the victors at the ford. but once at large, we put spurs to our horses in true _ritter_ fashion; and we had galloped half way to appleby house before dick said: "now we are well out of that, what next? we can not go to margery with the whole british army at our heels." "nay, but we shall, if only for a short half-hour," i asserted. then, as once before, i gave him my best bow. "for the last time, it may be, let me play the lord of the manor. you are very welcome to my father's demesne, richard, and to all of its holdings." "all?" said he, giving me a quick eye-shot as we pressed on side by side. "yes, all," said i; and i meant it in good faith. he should have the lady, too; that precious holding of the old manse without whom my father's acres would be but a bauble to be lost or won indifferently. "then you do not love madge more?" he queried, his eye kindling. "nay, i did not say that. but i did say the other; that you should have the house and all its holdings." we were cantering up the oak-sentried avenue to that door which gilbert stair had once sought to keep against us with his bell-mouthed blunderbuss. there was no sign of any living thing about the place; and when we had no answer to our sword-hilt knockings on the door, the lad turned upon me with a flash of anger in his eyes and his lip a-curl. "you knew full well what you were promising, john ireton!" he said. "she is not here." xlix in which a lawyer hath his fee what richard's most natural resentment would have led to, in what new tangle of the net of bitterness we might have been enmeshed, we were spared the knowing. for when he said, "she is not here," two happenings intervened to give us both other things to think of. the first was the advent, at the far end of the oak-lined avenue, of a troop of british light-horse, trotting leisurely; the second was the swinging inward of the door of unwelcome, with old anthony grinning and bowing behind it. now when you have fairly surprised a fox in the open, he asks nothing more than a hole to hide him in. there were the hunters coming up the avenue; and here was our dodge-hole gaping before us. so, as hunted things will, we took earth quickly; though, truly, 'twas an ostrich-trick rather than a fox's, since we left the horses standing without to advertise our presence to all and sundry. it was richard who first found the wit to realize the ostrich-play. "the horses!--we may as well have left the town crier outside to ring his bell and tell the redcoats we are here," he would say; and before i knew what he would be at he had snatched the door open and was whistling softly to the big gray. hearing his master's call, the gray pricked his ears and came obediently, with the sorrel tagging at his heels. a moment later, when the up-coming troop was hidden by a turn in the avenue, we had the pair of them in the hall with the door shut and barred behind them. "so far, so good," quoth dick. then to the old black, who had stood by, saucer-eyed and speechless, the while: "anthony, do you be as big a numbskull as you were born to be, and hold these redcoat gentlemen in palaver till we can win out at the back." the old majordomo nodded his good-will, but now my slow wit came in play. "we've done it now," said i. "the horses will go out as they came in, or not at all. had you forgotten the stair at the back?" judge for yourselves, my dears, if this were the time, place or crisis for a man to fling himself upon the hall settle, grip his ribs and laugh like any lack-wit. yet this is what richard jennifer did. it was in the very midst of his gust of ill-timed merriment, while the horses were nosing niftily at their strange surroundings, and the hoof-strokes of the redcoat troop could be plainly heard on the gravel of the avenue, that i chanced to lift my eyes to the stair. there, looking down upon us with speechless astoundment in the blue-gray eyes, stood our dear lady. another instant and she was with us, stamping her foot and crying: "_mon dieu!_ what is this? are you gone mad, both of you?" dick's answer was another burst of laughter, loud enough, you would think, to be heard by those beyond the door. "behold four witless brute beasts, mistress madge--two horses and two asses," he said. and then to old anthony: "open the door, tony, and invite the gentlemen in." but margery was before him. ah, my dears, a man's wit is like a matchlock, fizzing and sputtering its way noisily to find the powder whilst the enemy hath time to ride up and saber the musketeer; but a woman's is like the spark in a tinder-box--a quick snip of flint and steel and you have your fire. in a flash my lady had torn down the heavy curtains from an inner doorway and was carpeting a horse path for us to the rear. "quick!" she cried; "lead them gently, for the love of heaven!" she went before us, padding the way with whatever came first to hand, rugs, curtains, table-coverings, and i know not what besides; and by the time the british troopers were hammering at the outer door, we were deep within the old mansion and had made shift to drag the unwilling horses by one and two-step descents to a room half under and half out of ground, which served as a sort of ante-dungeon to the wine cellar. here i thought we might be safe for the moment, but not so my lady. calling dick to help her--in all the fierce haste of it i marked that she called to dick and not to me--she unlocked and opened the door to the wine vault, and in a trice we two and the luckless horses were safely jailed in pitchy darkness, with the stout oaken door slammed behind us, the bolt shot in the lock, and the key withdrawn, as we could see by the spot of light which came through the keyhole. richard was the first to break the grave-like silence of our dungeon. "lord!" said he; "did ever you see such sharp-wit work in all your adventures? what a soldier's wife she'd make!" i smiled at that, being safe to smile in the darkness. for was she not a soldier's wife? i hugged that saying as we cling to the thing that is slipping from us. true, i was here to give her freely over to another and a better soldier; but while she was mine i would claim her, in my heart, at least. the excitement of the narrow escape somewhat overpast, we sat long on the edge of a wine-bin, speculating in whispers as to what would befall, and listening vainly for the footsteps which would forecast our release or our capture by the enemy. but when no sounds, threatening or encouraging, came from the upper world, we groped about till we found the cellar candle, lighted it with flint and steel and tinder-box, and took a survey of our jail. 'twas the same old cavernous wine vault of my youthful remembrance, such an one as has not its mate in all carolina to this good day, as i firmly believe. my father's hobby was to build for all eternity; and this stone-arched cellarage was more like a cathedral crypt than a store-room for a country gentleman's table-stock of wines. dick held the candle aloft and scanned the bottle racks, none so greatly depleted as they might have been, had any hand but that close-fisted one of gilbert stair's taken the key in charge after my father. "there is no lack of potables," says my candle-bearer; "but, unhappily, there is never so much as a dry crust to soak in them. and as for the horses, i'll venture they'd give it all, pint for pint, for a good feeding of oats." "truly," said i; and then we fell to stripping the straw casings from the bottles of madeira to give the poor beasts a feed of rye-stalks which had grown and ripened their grain many a year before either the sorrel or the gray was foaled. having no time-measure save our own impatience, it seemed a weary while before we heard the key rasping in the lock of our prison door. "'tis madge," said dick, with a true lover's gift of second sight; and 'twas he who went to help her swing the thick-slabbed oak. what passed between them i did not hear, nor want to hear. but when the door was swung to and locked again i knew we were not free to go abroad. richard came back to me in the inner vault bearing gifts; the better part of a boiled ham with bread to match, a jug of water from the well, and more candles. "we are not to starve, but that is our best news, thus far," he said. "of all the houses on our side of the river, lord cornwallis must needs pitch upon this manor of appleby for his rallying headquarters. madge can not guess when he and the army will be gone, and she is frighted stiff for our sakes." this was sober news, indeed, but we could do naught but make the best of it. as for me, i was most anxious to know if the good priest were at appleby, and what of my chance for seeing him; but of this i could say no word to richard. so, when we had done full justice to my lady's bounty, we stowed the horses in the deepest of the vaults and stripped more of the bottle coverings for them. but having only the jug of water, we could do no more than swab their mouths out with a wetted kerchief in lieu of giving them a drink. when all was done we sat ourselves down to wait as we must; and when the silence and solitude had wrought their perfect work, we fell to talking in low tones to match the place and circumstance; and i do think in those quiet hours, walled in as we were from all the disturbments of the outer world, we came closer than we had come for many months. and while we sat and talked the long day wore on to evening and a storm came on, as we could determine, though no otherwise than by the muffled rolling of the thunder which, since we could not see the lightning nor hear the rain, we took at first for the booming of distant cannon. i can not tell you all we spoke of in that day-long immurement. there was some talk of the great struggle for independence, now, though we knew it not, drawing near to its close; and there was much of reminiscence, harking back to the exciting and tragic scenes in which we two had had our entrances and our exits. also, there was a tribute paid to the memory of our true old friend and trusted comrade in arms, ephraim yeates, so lately gone to his own place. 'twas at this time i learned what of the old man's gifts and peculiarities i have hereinbefore set down; for richard had known him long and well. from speaking of old ephraim and his sudden taking-off we came to things more nearly present; and at length dick would lay a finger gently upon the mystery in which he was as yet walking as one blindfolded. "'tis not a shameful thing; don't tell me it is that, jack," he would say; and i gave him speedy assurance upon that head. "no,'tis never shameful; so much i may lay an oath to." "yet you said once--in that black night when i went mad and would have killed you--that your life lay between madge and me." "so it did--and does. and god will bear me witness, dear lad, that i have worn that life upon my sleeve." "nay," he said, very gently; "you need not go so high for a witness; have i not seen?" we fell silent upon that, and there, in the candle-yellowed gloom of our dungeon harbor, i fought the fellest battle of my life; fought it and won it, too, my dears, once and for all. there was a cold sweat on my brow when i began in low tones to tell him the story of that fateful night in june. at rising forty 'tis no light thing to lose a friend--nay, to turn a friend's love into scorn and loathing and bitter hatred. he heard me through without a word; and at the end, when i looked to see him spring up and bid me draw and let him have his one poor chance for satisfaction, he still sat motionless, winking and staring at the guttering candle. and when he spoke 'twas with a quivering of the lip that was not of anger. "dear god," said he; "'tis i who stand in the way." "no; for she loves you, richard, as dearly as she hates me. and 'tis not so hopeless now, else i had never screwed together the courage to tell you all this. she has at last consented to the church's undoing of the incomplete marriage--'twas this she wrote me about when we were at the cowpens, and 'twas her letter that set me upon going to winnsborough to see the priest. i missed him there, as you know; but i am here now by her own appointment to meet him in her father's house." he shook his head slowly. "you've killed the hope in me, jack. i do think you are all at sea; 'tis you she loves--not me." i could afford to smile at that. "if you could see how she has ever gone about to prove that she did not love me, you would rest easy on that score, dear lad." but he would only shake his head again. "'twas to save your life she rode in on us that morning under the oaks in the glade." "'twas a womanly horror of a duel and bloodshed, more belike," said i. "but she has saved your life thrice since then, as you confess." "yes; from a strained sense of wifely duty, as she took good care to tell me." "none the less--ah, jack, you do not know her as i do; she would never have consented to stand before the priest with you had there not been something warmer than hatred in her heart." "'twas a bitter necessity, fairly forced upon her. tell me; had there been a spark of love for me in her heart, would she have treated me as the dust beneath her feet on that long infaring from the western mountains? she never spoke a word to me, dick, in all those weeks." "which may prove no more than that you said or did something to cut her to the quick. 'twould be well in your way, jack. she is as sensitive as she should be, and you are blunter than i--which is the worst i could say of you." "no, no; you are far beside the mark. you forget that the breaking of the marriage is of her own proposing--at least, i should say i only hinted at it." "there may be two sides to that, as well. have you ever told her that you love her, jack?" "surely not! i have been all kinds of a poltroon in this matter, as i have confessed, but this one thing i have not done." "well," said he, speaking slowly, as one who thinks the path out word by word, "what if she believes 'tis you who want your freedom? what if you have made her that bitterest thing in all the world--a woman scorned?" i would not listen to him more. "this is all the merest folly, richard, as i will prove to you beyond the question of a doubt. do you mind that little interval in the cherokees' torture-play when they came to bind us afresh for the burning?" "i mind no more of that horror-night than i can help." "well, in that hour, when death was waiting for all three of us, she wrote a little farewell note to the man she loved. 'twas for you, dick, but her indian messenger blundered and gave it me." he got upon his feet at that and began to pace slowly back and forth under the gloomy archings. but ere long he paused to grasp and wring my hand most lovingly, saying, "who am i, jack, to buy my happiness at such a price?" "nay, lad; 'tis neither you nor i who should figure greatly in the matter; 'tis our dear lady. she must e'en have what she longs for, if you, or i, or both of us, should have to go above stairs and put our necks into my lord cornwallis's noose." "now, by heaven, jack ireton, 'tis you who are the true lover and the gentleman; and i am naught but a selfish churl with my face in my own trencher!" he burst out, wringing my hand yet again. "'tis as you say; yet i will not be driven from this; for aught you have told me to prove it otherwise, madge has yet to choose between us, and she shall have that choice, fairly and squarely, and knowing that you love her, before we three go apart again." i smiled, and tried hard to keep the heart-soreness out of my reply. "as for that, my lad, i have had my stirrup-cup long since, and have drained it to the dregs with a wry face, as an old man must when a young man brews for him. but if the priest--" jennifer had resumed his pacing sentry beat, and at this juncture a most singular thing happened. though we were sealed in, as i have said, from all the outer world with no crack nor cranny for a peephole, a blinding flash of lightning, blue and ghastly, came suddenly to fill the whole cellar with its vivid glare. "good lord!" says richard, clapping his hands to his eyes; "where did that come from?" i was wholly at a loss for a moment. then i remembered that there was, or had been in my boyhood days, a narrow, iron-barred window in the farther end of the wine cellar, opening beneath that other window of the great south room where i had climbed to spy upon the conspirators on the night of captain john stuart's visit to appleby. so it chanced that when another flash came i was looking straight over dick's head at the place in the farther arching of the vault where the little window should be. the momentary glare showed me the low square of the window opening, and framed for a flitting instant therein a face of most devilish malignity peering in upon me with foxy-fierce eyes; the face, to wit, of gilbert stair's lawyer-factor. in a twinkling the vision was gone, and in the space between the flash and the crash there was a sound as of a wooden shutter slamming in place. dick heard the noise without knowing the cause of it, being so far beneath the window as to see nothing but the lighting of the glare. "what was that?" he demanded, when the thunder gave him leave. "'twas our trapper clapping the shutter on the window over your head," said i. "he was looking in to see if we were ripe for hanging." "'tis no time for riddles; what mean you?" "i mean that we shall have a file of redcoats down upon us as soon as ever mr. owen pengarvin can give the alarm." "oho!" said dick; and then he pulled his sword from its scabbard, and i could see the battle-veins swelling in his forehead. "they can hang me when i am too dead to cut and thrust more--not sooner." i got me up and went to find the sword which i had laid aside in the horse-baiting. 'twas a poor blade--one of our captures at the cowpens; and when i tried its temper it snapped in my hand. "never mind," said i; "give me the broadsword scabbard and i will play it as a cudgel, 'tis long enough and full heavy enough." he laughed and clapped me on the shoulder, swearing out his love for me as if i had said something moving. "you are every inch a soldier, jack; you would put heart into a worse craven than i am ever like to be." and he loosed the iron scabbard and gave it me. now ensued a most painful time of waiting and listening for the tramp of our takers. we posted us near the door, a little to the side, so that its inswing might not catch us; and so, bracing for the onset, we waited till the strain of suspense grew so great that we both started like frighted children, when finally the key was thrust into the lock and the bolt shot back. but when the heavy door gave inward, as at the pushing of a weak or timid hand, we saw our dear lady standing in the half gloom of the ante-dungeon, breathless and trembling with excitement. "come!" she panted; "come quickly--there is not an instant to spare. the factor has betrayed you; he will be here directly with the dragoons!" i cut in swiftly. "he has not seen dick; does he know we are both here?" she had one hand on her heart to still its tumultuous beating, and the other held behind her, and she could scarce speak more for her eagerness to have us out and away. "no; it was you he saw; and my father heard colonel tarleton give the order. lieutenant tybee is to take a file of his troopers and hang without grace the man he will find hiding in the wine cellar; those were his very words. oh, merciful heaven! will you never stir?" richard gave a low whistle. "so tybee has come alive in good time to square the old account with us," he would say; but my wonder was greater on the other head. "your father?" i gasped. "and he sent you to save me?" "surely," she said. "are you not once again his guest, captain ireton?" then she stamped her foot, and though the candle-light was of the poorest, i could see her eyes flash. "will you squander the last moment in silly questions?" she burst out. "come, i say!" i smiled. "give me that sword you are hiding behind you and i will keep the door whilst you spirit dick away. he is not to be in this." she gave me the weapon, though not, as i made sure, in any consenting to my proposal. i could have cried out in sheer joy when i found the sword to be my own good blade of proof--the ancient ferara willed me by my father. sharp as the crisis was, i make no doubt i should have asked her then and there how she came by the blade i had last seen when my lord cornwallis tried to break it over his knee; but the march of events suddenly became too swift for me. there was a sound of cautious footsteps in the inclined passage leading from the butler's pantry above, and our chance for escape that way was gone. "too late!" said dick; and with an arm about margery he whipped behind the great oaken door opened back against the cellar wall, whispering me to follow. we were scarce in hiding, with the door well drawn back to screen us, when the cautious footsteps came slowly into the out-cellar. peeping through the crack behind the door we saw pengarvin--alone. what brought him there without his tale of armed men at his back no man will ever know; but since his ways were always crooked and devious, i guessed he would not wish to appear in the matter in his own proper person, and yet could not deny himself a 'forehand peep to see if the trap were still safe shut and secure. 'twas evident he was much disconcerted at finding the door open and the wine vault apparently empty. at first he would start and dodge as if to run away; then his rage got the better of his caution and he had one of those senseless cursing fits i have before told you of, raving and swearing and promising all manner of fiendish recompense to mistress margery when he should have her in his power. a little longer dwelling upon this variation of the cursing theme--ravings in which dick learned for the first time of the factor's design to marry my widow and the estate--and i do think the lad would have gone out to make him sing another tune. but now the factor left off suddenly to cock his ear and listen, and afterward to come tiptoeing into the cellar, all eyes to spy and legs to run if a mouse should but squeak at him. he was muttering to himself as he passed our hiding place. "by all the devils, he must be here, some gait. the little jade would have warned him if she had known; but it is known only to the doddering old miser and me, and the girl is safe in her bed-room. happen this devil of an austrian captain has drunken himself sodden; ah, that would be a rare jest--to wake with the rope around his neck! if those cursed, slow-footed dragoons would but come! damme! i'll have that bull-necked lieutenant cashiered if his high and mighty loitering balks me in this." he stopped before the wine cask whereon the flickering candle stood and craned his neck to look beyond it. the candle was guttering smokily, and he reached a shaking thumb and finger to pluck the "dead man" from the wick. at that we heard him muttering again. "'twas a play to make the very devil envious; and to have it marred by that pig of a lieutenant! no one knew me in it save the legion colonel, and could we have sprung the trap fair and softly, not even mistress margery herself could have laid this swashbuckler's death at my door. but now he's gone--vanished like a straw bailee, and all because that damned understrapper of colonel tarleton's must needs turn up his nose at a bit of sheriff's work. curse him!" the candle was burning brightly now, and he crept catlike around the cask to peer into the bin beyond it. just then the shutter to the little window of espial fell open with a shrill creaking of its rusty hinges, and a blue glare of lightning came to prick out every nook and corner of the cellar. being almost within a blade's length of the factor, i saw him plainly; saw him start back and put his hands to his face and drop down all of a tremble on the bin's edge, where i had been sitting when he discovered me. to second the flash a prolonged drum-roll of thunder dinned upon the still air of the vault, and mingled with the thunder came other flashes, searing the eye and making the candle flame appear as a sickly orange halo in the blue-white glare. what with the play of the storm artillery we could neither see nor hear for the moment; but when the candle-light came to its own again the scene had changed as if by magic. under cover of the thunder din a squad of dragoons had come to ring the factor in where he sat upon the edge of the wine bin. "so-ho!" said my good friend tybee, with a little strident laugh, "'tis you i am to take out and hang, is it, master lawyer? i thought mayhap you'd double on your track once too often, and so it seems you have. up with you and come along." all in a flash pengarvin was up and bursting out in a trembling frenzy-fit of protestation. "oh, 'tis all a mistake, my good sir--a devil's own trap! i--i am not the man; i pledge you my sacred word! i--hands off, you cursed villains, or i'll have the law on you!" this last when one of the men cast the noose of a rope over his head whilst a second drew his arms to his sides in the looping of another cord. "by god! you shall all smart for this; all, i say! take me to colonel tarleton. the king has no stancher friend in all the province than i. why, damme,'twas i who--" a trooper came behind and gagged him with the loose end of the rope; and tybee held the candle to light the knotting of it. and so they marched him out, with tybee muttering between his teeth that it was rat-catcher's work, and no soldier's, this killing of vermin, and bidding his men make haste. l how richard coverdale's debt was paid for some breathless moments after we three were left alone in the stygian darkness of the wine cellar, no word was spoken. the rolling of the thunder drum was muffled now, as it were booming out the dirge of the man who had digged a pit and had himself fallen therein; and the lightning flashes coming at longer intervals served but to intensify the gloom they lit up for the instant. it was a minced oath from richard that first broke the spell that bound us. "'twas too much for madge," said he, "she has fainted. swing the door, and light another candle." i did both as quickly as might be, and we bedded her on the floor, stripping our coats to soften the stone flagging for her and trying by all the means known to two unskilled soldier leeches to bring her to. "water!" said dick; but when we had laved her face with that, and with wine as well, without effect, we were well dismayed, i do assure you. for all our efforts she lay as one dead; and neither of us could be cold enough to pry her lips apart to play the drenching doctor with the wine. "lord!" cried dick, the sweat standing out upon his face in great drops; "this is terrible! what shall we do?" "jeanne will know what to do," i asserted. "we must get her out of this and up to her chamber." richard started to his feet and stooped to gather the dear body of her in his arms. but in the act he paused and straightened himself to look fixedly at me. "do you take her, jack; she is--she is--your wife." "nay," said i, drawing back. "you are her own true lover; and could she choose her bearer--" "a murrain on your finickings!" he burst out. "she may die whilst we are haggling over the right to help her. take her up quick, man, and begone!" "but bethink you, dick," i urged; "if you are taken, you have one chance in ten of faring as an officer and a prisoner of war. for me 'tis a spy's death as swift as they can drag me to it." now you will know, my dears, how much i loved these two when i could twist a cord of such mean fiber to bind them closer together. richard's eyes flashed and his lip curled. "overlook it in me, if you can," he said, with fine scorn. "i had not thought upon the peril of it." and with that he took her in his arms as she had been a child to be carried, and i swung the door for him. but on the threshold he gave me back my sorry little subterfuge. "once more, your forgiveness, jack. i knew well you were but lying to give me precedence. can you trust me with her?" "aye, dear lad; now and ever," said i; and so i pushed him out. after he was gone i made shift to lead the horses through the narrow passage and out by a rear door, giving them a friendly slap to point them toward the stables. this done i went back to my immurement, and i know not how long it was that i paced a weary sentry beat up and down the narrow limits of the wine cellar, alone with such thoughts as go to make the sum of that despair which follows hard upon the heels of some climaxing catastrophe. but i do know that, as the hours dragged on leadenshod, a slow fever of impatience came to dry the blood in my veins; to make me hunger and thirst for leave to say the final word to father matthieu, and so to be set at liberty to find the bottom of the pit into which a mocking fate had plunged me. 'twas all over now. my dear lad was told, and he had forgiven me; the persecuting, plotting factor was effaced, and he could never trouble my sweet lady more. between the two i loved there stood only the shadow of the marriage, and this the good priest would presently help me to dispel. and after that ... i dared not look beyond. there is a way beset with lions, and any man who bears the name of man in honor may draw his sword and fix his eye upon the goal and hew his path to it, joying in the conflict. but there is also another way, a desert trail owning no peril more affrighting than its own dread waste and limitless monotony; and when his eyes behold the dismal prospect, and his feet have pressed the hitherward sands of this desert of despair, a man may well pause to gird his loins, to cross himself and patter such a prayer for strength and fortitude as his creed hath taught him. to such a faring through all the days and nights of this grim desert of a future these lonely hours in the wine vault were a fitting vigil, as i conceived; and when i had hugged my misery close, and a sort of monstrous self-pity had come to make a seeming virtue of the hard necessity, i was best pleased to be alone. in such a frame of mind the sound of footsteps in the out-cellar, warning me that more company was coming, sent a wave of sullen anger to submerge me, and i do think 'twas in me to turn my back upon a friend who should come to tell me i was free to go at large. since i had led forth the good horses the great oaken door had stood ajar. so i wondered why my visitor made so much ado rattling the key in the lock. then it came to me suddenly that the noise and delay were meant to give me timely warning; and at the scent of threatening peril--a peril i might cope with and grapple soldierwise--i became a man again. a sweep of my hat sent the sputtering candle flying from its barrel head to the farther corner of the vault, and i dropped quickly behind a row of empty wine-butts to await what should befall. had she been a ghost, mistress margery would scarce have startled me more when she swung the door to let me see her. she was gowned in her best; there was a heightened color in her cheek; her eyes were like stars. truly, i do think i never saw her so beautiful as she appeared at that moment, standing under the massive arch of the doorway with her candle held high to light the inner gloom. "this way, scipio," she said, tripping ahead of the mulatto to point out the madeira bin. "we shall give my lord and his gentlemen the best the appleby cellar holds to speed their parting." wherewith she stood aside to wait whilst he filled his basket with the straw-cased bottles. at this i saw why she had come. lord cornwallis and his gentlemen were about to take the road, and the wine was wanted for the stirrup-cup. trusting my fate to no hand less loyal than her own, she had come herself with scipio to stand betwixt me and possible discovery. and her word to the serving man was also a word to me to let me know my prisonment was near an end. i thought it a most generous thing in her; the last of all her many wifely loyalties; and i would have given much for leave to stand forth and tell her so. indeed, when the mulatto had poised his basket upon his head and vanished, and she was lingering to take a last look around before she followed him, i was upon the point of speaking. but whilst i hesitated i saw her start back with a little cry of terror. standing in the arched doorway through which the mulatto had but now passed was a man cloaked, hatted, booted and spurred as for the road. at her cry he doffed his hat and ... my dears, i shall never be able to draw for you the hideous death-mask this man was wearing for a face. seamed and scarred, shriveled and livid in purple and crimson welts, you would think a nine-thonged whip of fire had scourged out every semblance of comeliness, leaving only the skeleton frame on which to hang this ghastly caricature of a human face. fearing him not at all, i could scarce forbear a shudder at the sight of this walking death-mask of the libertine, sir francis falconnet. and if his face were terrifying in repose, 'twas fair demoniac when he laughed. "ha!" he said, bowing again in a mockery of politeness. "you are surprised, mistress margery; you heard my lord's order and thought i would be by now some miles on the road to salisbury?" "if you were the loyal soldier you should be, sir," she said, drawing herself up proudly, "you would be at the head of your troop, as his lordship directed." and then, with a gesture that was most queenly: "stand aside, sir--libertine, and let me pass." his answer was another mocking laugh, and he stepped within to close the door and lock it. when he turned to front her again his face was the face of a tormented devil. "by god! you think too lightly of me, mistress margery. before ever this day dawned i owed you much, but like a spiteful little hellicat you must needs add to the score by making me a target for your wit at the supper-table. 'twill cost a life to more than one of them who laughed with you, my lady, but 'twill cost you dearer still." he came nearer as he spoke, thrusting that horrible face farther into the circle of candle-light; but she would not draw back nor flinch a hair, and i marked that the hand that held the candlestick was as steady as a rock. but when he made an end she flung a quick glance over her shoulder and my heart leaped for joy. for then i knew she was leaning upon me. "once more, captain falconnet, will you let me pass?" she said. "no!" he snarled, adding a horrid blasphemy. "'twas passion in me once, and i am none so sure there was not a time when you could have cooled it into love. but now 'tis hatred and revenge." he snapped his fingers in her face. "the thing they'll find here in the morning--" he fell face downward at her feet and i set my heel in the small of his back to hold him whilst i could drive the point of the ferara between his ribs. but my dear lady would not have it so. "no, no! for the love of heaven, not that, monsieur john!" she cried; and for the moment her fine courage was all swallowed up of pity and she became a compassionate woman pleading for a life. but now my blood was up. "you are my wife," i said, coldly. "if he had a dozen lives i should take them all for that which he said to you." "but not that way--oh, not that way, i do beseech you!" she begged. "think of what it will mean to you--and--and to me. for your own sake, monsieur john." i took my heel from the man's back. "your wish is law to me, dear lady. but your way is clear now; you may go." she took a step toward the door. "you will not kill him when i am gone, monsieur john?" "by the name he bears he was doubtless born a gentlemen; since you wish it, he shall die like one." i saw she did not take my meaning; that when she was gone i should let him have his chance to die sword in hand. "remember, i have your promise," she said, turning to go. "the army is on the march for salisbury, and in a little while your friends will be here to--" the sentence ended in a very womanly shriek of terror. watching his chance, my dastard enemy had bounded to his feet to make a quick lunge, not at me, but at her. of course i came between to parry the murderous thrust, and after that it was life for one of us and death for the other. i looked to see my lady run, shrieking; indeed, i called to her to go; but she stood fast as if her terror had frozen her; and so it was her candle that lighted the grim vault for the duel. as you will know full well, i was not minded to give this thrice-accursed fiend more than the gentleman's chance i had promised to give him. but now, as twice before, he fought most desperately, trying by every trick of fence to come between me and the silent little figure holding the candle aloft. as i have often said, he was a pretty swordsman, and at this crisis, with life at stake, and all the fury of the seven devils of disappointed vengeance to nerve his arm, his sword play was most masterly. yet twice in his stamping rushes i found my opening; once the ferara's point passed his blade, and but for the ringed guard of the german long-sword that stopped it when his parry failed, the steel would have passed through him. after this he grew warier, having in mind, as i supposed, that other time when i had shown him that my wrist and arm could outweary his. yet his savage onset never flagged for an instant; and when the light fell upon his hideous face, i could see the fierce eyes glinting like a basilisk's, with no sign in them that my time was come to press him home. none the less, i did press him, inch by inch, driving him at each new clash of the steel a little deeper into the gloom that crowded close upon the narrow circle of candle-light. he saw my object--to push him to unfamiliar ground where he might trip and stumble in the darkness--and he strove furiously to defeat it. yet he had no choice, and presently i had him among the empty wine-butts, foining and parrying for his life and pouring out such blasphemies as would make your blood run cold. here the end came quickly. being entangled among the broached butts he had no room to play skilfully. so presently it chanced that he caught his point in the chine of a cask and his blade snapped short at the hilt. with a yelling oath, hissing hot from the devil's thumb-book, he snatched up the broken blade to fling and stick it javelin-wise in my shoulder; and then i saw the dull gleam of the candle-light on the barrel of a pistol. had he aimed the pistol at me, i trust i should still have given him his gentleman's chance. but when i saw him level the weapon at my dear lady ... they came in one and the same heart-beat; the sword-thrust that found his life and took it; the crash of the pistol-shot echoing like a clap of thunder in the close vault, and pitchy darkness to draw its curtain over all. i know not how i reached her, pulling the broken sword-blade from my shoulder as i ran; nor can i tell you how an upgushing spring of thankfulness choked me when i found her unharmed by the bullet which had snuffed the candle out. she was in a most piteous state, now it was all over; and though i charged it all where i supposed it should belong--to the account of a natural womanly passion to cling to something in her moment of weakness--yet the blood ran quick in my veins when she suffered me to lead her out of that dismal, smoking death-pit, she clinging to me the while so close that i could feel the warmth of her and the fluttering of her dear heart beneath my hand. she said no word, nor did i, till we were come above stairs. we found the rooms on the main floor deserted by all save the blacks, who were clearing away the debris of the feast of leave-taking. in the hall we came upon old anthony, putting on the chain of the outer door. here my lady drew apart from me. "is my lord gone?" she asked. "yis, missa. he say tell yo' he gwine tek it mighty hawd yo' no come ter gib him de sti'up-cup." "and my father?" "gone to de lib'ry to wait fo' massa pengarbin; yis, missa." she turned away, shuddering at this mention of the factor for whose coming the master would wait long and in vain, and i heard her murmur: "oh, the horror of this night!" but in a moment she came back to me, and was her cool, calm self again. "for that i am here, alive and well, i thank you, captain ireton. need i say more?" i can not tell you what was in the words to make me hot with anger, as i had but now been hot with love. but the new wound in my shoulder was bleeding freely, and i would not let her see i was hurt; and if aught will stanch a wound, 'tis anger. "you need not say so much," i retorted, bowing low. "you have spoken now and then of certain duties binding upon those who are knotted up, ever so loosely, in the marriage bond; i have my part in these as well as you, mistress margery." she bit her lip and was upon the edge of tears. i saw what i had done and would curse the masterless tongue that must needs add its word-thong to the night's whip of scourgings. when she spoke again it was to say: "this is your own house, captain ireton; what will you do?" "one question first, is richard jennifer safe?" "he is." "then, by your good leave, i shall do what i came to do." she bent her head in acquiescence. "you will find the--the person whom you wish to see in your old room in the north gable. shall i have anthony light you up?" "no; i can find the way." my hand was on the stair rail when the cruel irony of it struck me like a blow. she had planned the loosing of the bond in the very room where we had knelt to take the good father's blessing upon it. i stepped back, stumbled, i should say, for a curious weakness had come upon me, and drew her arm in mine. "we will go together, if you please, my lady. 'tis only just to me that you should hear what i must say to father matthieu." and so, dear heart! she bore with me to the last; and together we climbed the stair to come into the upper corridor with the room of destiny at its farther end. we came as far as the door; i mind it perfectly, for i remember marking that the wooden bar my father had put upon it was gone, and the iron brackets as well. but whilst i was groping for the latch there came a taste of blood in my mouth, and i heard my dear lady's voice as if she were calling to me across the eternal abysses. "monsieur john!--you are hurt!" and then, from a still remoter distance: "oh, father matthieu--dick! come quickly! he is dying!" li in which the good cause gains a convert which one of you, my dears, faring across the frontier of the shadow land of dreams into the no less mysterious country of the real, can not recall the struggle of the waking senses to knot up the gossamer filament of the night's fantasies with the coarser web of reality? for a time, longer or shorter as the dream thread holds, the vagaries of the night are shuttled into the warp of life. but presently comes the master-weaver reason to point out this or that fantastic pattern; to bid the ear listen to the measured clacking of the day-loom, and the eye to mark that the web of reality has grown never an inch for all the shuttlings of the sleeping-time. whereupon, full-blood consciousness regains her sway, and you sigh, gladly or sorrowfully, and say, "dear god, 'twas but a dream i dreamed!" some such awakening came to me on a day whereof i knew not the name or its number in the calendar. i was lying in bed in my old room at appleby hundred. the armored soldier was glowering down upon me from his frame over the chimney piece; the great blackened clothes-press loomed darkly in its corner; the show of curious china filled the shelves where my boyhood books had rested; and there was the same faint smell of lavender in the bed linen that once--was it yesterday or months ago?--had minded me of my mother. when i sought to move me on the pillows the dream seemed more than ever dream-sure. the pain of a sword wound was grinding at my shoulder, and i was bandaged stiff as i had been that other day. so i said, as you have said in like awakenings, "dear god,'twas but a dream!" and saying it, would turn my head to see if mistress margery were sitting where i last remembered her. she was there, in very deed and truth, deep in the hollow of the great chair of indian wickerwork; and as before, the soft graying of the evening sky was mirrored in her eyes. i sighed, and there was a catching of the breath at the bottom of it. truly, the wondrous dream had had its agonies, but there were also beatitudes to tip the scale the other way. for i had dreamed this sweet-faced watcher was my wife--in name, at least. 'twas while i looked, minding not the eye-ache the effort cost, that she rose and came softly to the bedside. she said no word, but, as once in the dream-time, she laid a cool palm on my forehead. weak as i was--and surely king david was not weaker when he wrote his bones were gone to water--the old love-madness of that other day came to thrill me at her touch, and i made as if i would take her hand and press it to my lips. "nay, sir," she said, with a swift return to sick-room discipline, "you must not stir; you have been sorely hurt." "aye," said i; "i do remember; 'twas in a duel with one francis falconnet. he said he would make you his--" now the soft palm was laid on my lips, and i kissed it till she snatched it away. "_ma foi!_" she cried; "i think you are in a hopeful way to recover now, captain ireton. i do protest i shall go and send old anthony to sit with you." "anthony?" said i; "he was in the dream, too, putting up the chain on the hall door." "ah, _mon dieu_!" she said softly, as if to herself, "he is wandering yet." at which, as if to try to help me: "'twas no dream; you did see him putting on the chain." "did i? i made sure i dreamed it. but tell me another thing; was it not yesterday that i met sir francis falconnet under the oaks in the wood field and got this pair of redhot pincers in my shoulder?" she turned away, and if i ever saw a tear there was one trembling in her eyelashes. "'twas three full weeks ago," she said. "and it was not in the wood field--'twas in the wine cellar. never tell me you do not remember; i--i could never--ah, mother of sorrows! that would be worse than all." here was a curious coil, but i could break one strand of it, at least, and so i did. "i remember well enough," i hastened to say. "but being here, and seeing you there in the great chair, carried me back to that other time, making all the interval stand as a dream. have i been ailing?" "you have been terribly near to death, monsieur john; so near that doctor carew has twice given you over." "no," said i; "there was no fear of that. i am like that man in the old german folk tale who made a compact with the evil one, selling thereby his chance to die. death would not take me as a gift, mistress margery; i have tried him too often." "hush!" she said; "'tis an ill thing to jest about. why should you want to die?" "rather ask why i should choose to live. but this is beside the mark. you should have let me die, dear lady; but since you did not, we must e'en make the best of it." she faced me with a smile that struggled with some deeper stirring of the heart; i knew not what. "'tis a monstrous doleful alternative, _n'est-ce pas_? and i must not let you talk of doleful things; indeed, i must not let you talk at all--'tis doctor carew's order." so saying, she smoothed the counterpane and straightened my pillows; and after giving me a great spoonful of some cordial that first set a pleasant glow alight in me and afterward made me drowsy, she took post again in the hollow of the big chair and was so sitting when i fell asleep. this day's awakening was the first of many so nearly of a piece that i lost the count of them; and sleep, deep and dreamless for the better part, stole away the hours till the memory of that inch-by-inch return to health and strength is itself like the memory of the vaguest of dreams. by times when i awoke it was the bluff doctor carew bending over me to dress my wound; at other times it was margery come to tempt me with a bowl of broth or some other kickshaw from the kitchen. now and again i awoke to find scipio or old anthony standing watch at my bedside; and once--but that was after i was up and in my clothes and able to sit and drowse in the great chair--i opened my eyes to find that my company was the master of the house. he was sitting as i had seen him sit once before, behind a lighted candle at the little table with a parchment spread out under his bony hands. he was mumbling over the written words of it when i looked, but at my stirring he gave over and sat back in his chair to cross his thin legs and match his long fingers by the ends, and wink and blink at me as though he had but now discovered that he was not alone. "i give ye good even, captain ireton," he said, finally, rasping the greeting out at me as it had been a curse. "i hope ye've slept well." i said i had, and thanked him, once for the wish, and again for his coming to see me. i know not how it was, but if there had been rancor in my former thoughts of him 'twas something abated now. "ye've had a nearhand escape this time, sir," he said, after a longish pause. "one more or less of a good many since we were last met together in this room, mr. stair," i would say. he muttered something to himself about the devil taking precious good care of his own; and i laughed. "that is as it may be; but my being here this second time a pensioner on your bounty is by no good will of mine, i do assure you, sir." he sat nodding at me as if i had said a thing to be most heartily agreed to. but his spoken word belied the nods. "the ways of providence are inscrutable--something inscrutable, captain ireton. i make no doubt ye are sufficiently thankfu' for all your mercies." "why, as to that, there may be two ways of looking at it. as a soldier, i may justly repine at a fate which ties me here when i should be in the field." "well said, sir; brawly said; 'tis the part of a good soldier to be ay wanting to be in the thick o' the fighting. but now that ye're a man of substance, captain ireton, ye will be owing other debts to our country than the one ye can pay with a hantle o' steel." "'our country,' did you say, mr. stair?" i asked, feigning a surprise which no one knowing him could feel in very truth. "and what for no? 'tis the birthland of some--yourself, for example, and the leal land of adoption for others--your humble servant, to wit. i've taken the solemn oath of allegiance to the congress, i'd have ye to know." at this i must needs laugh outright. "have you taken it one more time than you have forsworn it, mr. stair?" "laugh and ye will," he said, quite placably; "ye shall never laugh the peetriotism out o' me. 'tis little enough an old man can do, but the precious cause o' liberty will never have to ask that little twice, captain ireton." since he would ever be on the winning side, this foreshadowed good tidings, indeed. so i would ask him straight what news there was. "have they not told ye? 'tis braw news," he chuckled. "whilst ye were on your back, general greene led lord cornwallis a fine dance all across the prov--the state, i mean, crooking his finger at him and saying, 'come on, ye led-captain of a tyrant king, and when i'm ready i'll turn and rend ye.' and by the same token, that is juist what he did the other day at guilford court house." "a victory?" i would ask. "well, not precisely that, maybe; they're calling it a drawn battle. but i'm thinking 'tis lord cornwallis that's drawn. he's off to wilmington, they say, and i'm fain to hope we've seen the last o' him and his reaving redcoats in these parts." his words set me in a muse. i could never make out what he would be at, telling me all this. but he had an object, well-defined, and presently it showed its head. "ye're the laird o' the manor, now, captain ireton, with none to gainsay ye," he went on. "so i've come to give ye an account o' my stewardship. i made no doubt, all along, ye'd come back to your own when ye'd had your fling wi' the old worldies, and so i've kept tab o' the poor bit land for ye." "oh, you have?" said i, being so far out-brazened as to be incapable of saying more. "i have that--every plack and bawbee. 'tis ten years come michaelmas since i took over the charge o' appleby hundred, and i'm ready to account to ye for every season's crop--when ye'll pay down the bit steward's fee." "truly," said i; "you are an honest man, mr. stair." then, to humor him to the top of his bent: "haphazarding a guess, now; would this accounting leave a balance in my favor, or in yours?" he gave me a look like that of a costermonger weighing and measuring the gullibility of his customer. "oh, aye; i'm no saying there mightn't be a bit siller coming to me; a few hundred pounds, more or less--sterling, man, sterling; not scots," he added hastily. and then, as if it were best to leave this nail as it was driven, he changed the subject abruptly. "i've brought ye that last will and testament ye signed," handing me the parchment. "no doubt you'll let it stand; but when the bairns come, ye'll want to be adding a codicil or two." leaving the matter of the estate, i thought it high time to cut to the marrow of the bigger bone. so i said: "let us be frank with each other in this, mr. stair. how much has your daughter told you of the matter between us?" "she's a jade!" he rasped, lapsing for a moment into his real self. but he recovered his self-control instantly. "ye'd no expect a romantic bit lassie wi' french blood in her veins to be confidencing wi' her old dried-up wisp of a father, now, would ye? she's no tell't me everything, i daresay." "then i will tell you the plain truth of it," i said. "this marriage was never anything more than the form we all agreed it should be at the time; a makeshift to serve a purpose. if you think i would hold your daughter to it--" "hut, tut, man! what will ye be havering about! ye'll never cast the poor bit lassie off that way! ye canna, if ye would; her church will have a word to say to that." for all his aping the manner of the ignored father, i shrewdly suspected that he knew more about the ins and outs of our affair than he owned to. nevertheless, i was forced to meet him on his own ground. "there is no 'casting off' about it, mr. stair; and as to the church, there is good ground for an appeal to rome. the marriage as it stands is little more than a formal betrothal, as you well know, sound enough legally to make mistress margery my heir-at-law, mayhap, but still lacking everything of--" he could not wait to let me finish. "lacking, d'ye say?" he rapped out, wrathfully. "and whose fault is that, ye cold-blooded stick? tell me this; did i no bundle ye neck and heels into your own wife's bed-room? and how do you thank me? i'm to suppose ye quarrel wi' her like the dour-faced imp o' sawtan that ye are, and presently ye come raging out, swearing most shamefully at a man old enough to be your father!" 'twas far enough in the retrospect now so that i could smile at it. yet i would not suffer him to bluster me aside. "it was an ill thing for you to do, none the less, mr. stair; the more as you must have known that mistress margery's faith was plighted to richard jennifer long before all this came to pass." "did i know it?" he shrilled. "that lang-legged jackanapes of a dickie jennifer? light o' love jade that she is, she never cared the snap of a finger for him." "you are talking far enough beside the mark now," i retorted. "your daughter loves richard jennifer well and truly; and with this entanglement brushed aside she will marry him when he comes back from the wars." "she will, ye say? and what will become o' the braw acres of appleby that gait, i'd like to know? but ye're daft, man; clean daft. didn't i speir her giving him his quittance once for all that night when he rode away after they had pitten ye to bed? she tell't him flat she loved another man." "another man?" i echoed. "i--explain yourself, if you please, mr. stair. what other man--" he was at the door by this, and he broke out upon me in such a blast of cursing as i hope never to hear from the lips of such an old man again. "ye cold-blooded, crusty devil!" he quavered, when all his breath was spent upon the bigger malisons. "has it never come intil your thick numbskull that the poor fule lassie is sick wi' love for ye, ye dour-faced loon?" and with that he let himself out and slammed the door behind him, and i heard him go pottering down the corridor, still cursing me by all the choice phrases he could lay tongue to. lii which brings us to the journey's end i may confess to you, my dears, that mr. gilbert stair's parting tirade did not move me greatly, since i would set down everything he had said to the one account--the miser's. yet when i came to second thoughts upon it, this account balanced but indifferently. why should he be so eager to make me think small of margery's love for richard jennifer? and why, misliking me, as i made sure he did, should he be so hot to make the shadow marriage a thing of substance? from the miser-father's point of view, richard, with his goodly heritage of jennifer house, was a match to be angled for; yet here was the man in whose eye house and lands loomed largest flying into rage because i sought to put his daughter in the way of marrying them. i was pondering thoughtfully on this, giving the pinching old man credit for any and every motive save that which he had so cursingly avowed, to wit, the furthering of his daughter's happiness, when there came a tap at the door and mistress margery entered. "dear heart! do they limit you to a single candle when my back is turned?" she said, in mock pity; and saying it, went to light the candles in the mantel sconces. the sight of her standing a-tiptoe to touch off the candles on the chimney breast set the old lovespell at work to make my heart beat faster. what if there were a hint of truth in gilbert stair's wrathful protest? what if, after all, she cared less for richard and more for me? do not, i pray you, my dears, think too hardly of the man who thus lays bare the secret thoughts of his heart for you. 'twas but a passing gust of the tempest of disloyalty, and i was not swept wholly from my moorings. nay, when she came to sit on the hassock at my feet, as she used to do in that other halcyon-time of convalescence, i was myself again and could look upon her sweet face with eyes that saw beyond her to the camp or battle-field where my dear lad was spending himself. for a time we sat in silence, and 'twas she who spoke first. "my father has been with you," she said. "i hope you did not quarrel with him." "no," i denied, salving my conscience with the remembering that it takes two to make a quarrel; and i had done none of the cursing. "he came to give me this," i added, handing her the will. she opened the folded parchment, reading a line of it here and there softly to herself. --"'being of sound mind, doth bequeath and devise to his loving wife, margery--' ah, had you been writing it you would not have written it so, would you, monsieur john?" "'tis but a form," i would say. "all wives are 'loving' in lawyers' speech." she smiled up at me so like an innocent and fearless child that for the moment i could figure her no otherwise. yet her rejoinder was a woman's. "i say you would not have written it so; is not that the truth?" i would not let her pin me down. "if i should write it now, it should be written in great letters, dear lady. though it is but a form, though that which followed was but another form, you have not failed in any wifely duty, mistress margery." "not once?" "no, not once. three times you have done what the lovingest wife could do to save a husband's life; and i do greatly suspect there was a fourth and earlier time. tell me, little one; was it not you who sent the indian to captain forney to tell him a patriot spy was to be executed at day-dawn in the oak glade?" she would not answer me direct. "'twas i who brought you to that pass," she said, speaking soft and low. "but for my riding down upon you one other morning in that same oak glade, you would not have had sir francis falconnet's sword in your shoulder. and but for that sword wound, nothing that followed would have followed." saying this she fell silent for a space, and when she spoke again she was become by some subtle transmutation my trusting little maid of the by-gone halcyon-time. "do you remember how you used to make a comrade of me in the old days, monsieur john, telling me things my elder brother might have told me, had i had one?" i said i remembered; that i was not likely to forget. "are you strong enough to stand in that elder brother's place again to-night?" "try me and see, dear lady." "not whilst you say 'dear lady,'" she pouted. "'twas 'margery' and 'monsieur john' a year agone." "have it as you will; i will even call you 'madge' if it pleases you better." "no," she said; "that is dick's name for me; and--and it is of dick that i would speak. you love him well, do you not, monsieur john?" i said i could never make her, or any woman, fully understand the bond there was between us. "truly?" there was the merest flavor of playful sarcasm in the uptilt of the word, but it was gone when she went on. "being so good a friend to dick, then, you can advise me the better. tell me, if you please, must i marry him--when--" "when you are free to do it?" i finished for her. "why should you not, my dear?" she was pulling the threads from the lace edging of her kerchief and would not for a king's ransom let her eyes meet mine. "you used to say--in that other time--that love should go before a marriage; did you not? or do i remember badly?" "you remember well. i said it then, and i say it again at this present. but dick loves you well and truly, sweetheart; and you--" she looked up quickly with the little laugh that used to mind me of happy children at play. "and i?--now you will read a woman's heart for me, monsieur john. tell me; do i love him as his mistress should?" "nay, surely," said i, gravely, for somehow her laugh jarred upon me, "surely that is for you to say. but you have said it, long since." "have i?" she queried, with an arch lifting of the penciled brows that came straight from her french mother. "mayhap you overheard me say it, monsieur eavesdropper?" "god help me, little one--so i did," said i. all in a flash her laughing mood was gone and she stood before me like an accusing goddess. "you told me once the past was like a dream to you; you must have dreamed that part of it, sir. and yet you said a little while ago that i had not failed in any wifely duty!" "the time and circumstance were their own best excuse. sure i am far from blaming you, my dear. but let it pass, 'tis enough that i know you love him as he loves you." again her mood changed in the twinkling of an eye. she sank down upon the hassock, laughing merrily. "o wise monsieur john! how well you read a woman's heart! 'tis you should be the lover, instead of dick. he rides a-courting as he would charge a legion on a battle-field. but nothing would ever tempt you to be so masterful rough, would it, monsieur john? you would look deep into your sweetheart's eyes and say--tell me what you would say, _mon ami_?" ah, my dears, i hope no one of you will ever be tempted as i was tempted then. i forgot my dear lad, forgot honor, forgot everything save that i had leave to tell her how i had loved her from the first; how i should go on loving her to the end. so for a moment i hung trembling on the brink; and then she pushed me over. "is this how you would do, monsieur--monsieur ogre?--sit stock still and glower at the poor thing as if you were between two minds as to loving her or eating her?" i bent quickly, took her face between my hands and kissed her twice--thrice. "that is what i should do. now that you have made me what i was not before, are you satisfied?" 'twas long before she gave me a word. and when she spoke it was only to say: "are you not most monstrous ashamed, monsieur john?" "no!" said i. "i am but a man, and you have roused that part of me that knows neither shame nor remorse. i love you, mistress margery; do you hear? i have loved you since that day in june when i came back from death's door to find you sitting here to bear me company." she locked her fingers across her knee and would not look at me. "but by your own showing you should be ashamed, sir," she insisted. "what of the dear friend to whom you would give up even the love of your mistress?" "you may flay me as you will; i shall neither flinch nor go back from my word. you are mine, and i shall give you up to no man. i know i have not your love--shall never have it. also, i know that i have gained an enemy where once i had a loving friend. richard jennifer may kill me if he please--he shall have the chance to do it; but you are mine and shall be whilst i live to claim and hold you." there was something less than anger in the blue-gray eyes when she let me see them; nay, i could have sworn there was a flash of playful mockery in them when she said: "dear heart! how masterful rough you have grown, all in a moment, my lord." and then the beautiful eyes filled and she said, "poor dick!" in a way to make me suffer all the torments of that old myth-king who could never quaff the water that was ever rising to his lips. "aye, you may love him, if you must and will," i gloomed. "god pity me! i know you do love him." she looked up quickly. "so you have said a dozen times before. tell me, monsieur oracle, how do you know it?" "if i tell you, you will hate me more than you do now." "that would be hard, indeed," she murmured. "yet i would hear you say it." "listen, then: once, when we three were at the very door and threshold of death, you wrote the cry of your heart out on a bit of paper for a leave-taking and sent it to the man you loved. you said, 'though you must needs believe my love is pledged to your dear friend and mine, 'tis yours, and yours alone.' were not these your very words?" her "yes" was but the lightest whisper, but i heard it and went on. "that is all, save this; the indian bearer of your letter blundered and gave it me instead of dick." she looked me full in the eyes and my soul went all afire. then she laid her cheek against my knee and i heard her dear voice as it had been a chime of sweet-toned joy-bells: "ah, monsieur john; how blind this thing called love can make us all. suppose--suppose the indian did not blunder, dear lord and master of me?" the jucklins +--------------------------------------+ | opie read's select works | | | | old ebenezer | | the jucklins | | my young master | | a kentucky colonel | | on the suwanee river | | a tennessee judge | | | |works of strange power and fascination| | | | uniformly bound in extra cloth, gold | | tops, ornamental covers, uncut edges,| | six volumes in a box, | | $ . | | sold separately, $ . each. | +--------------------------------------+ [illustration] opie read's select works the jucklins a novel by opie read author of "old ebenezer," "my young master," "on the suwanee river," "a kentucky colonel," "a tennessee judge," "the colossus," "emmett bonlore," "len gansett," "the tear in the cup, and other stories," "the wives of the prophet." illustrated chicago laird & lee, publishers entered according to act of congress in the year eighteen hundred and ninety-six, by william h. lee, in the office of the librarian of congress at washington. (all rights reserved.) [illustration] the jucklins chapter i. the neighbors and our family began to laugh at me about as far back as i can remember, and i think that the first serious remark my father ever addressed to me was, "bill, you are too lazy to amount to anything in this life, so i reckon we'll have to make a school teacher of you." i don't know why he should have called me lazy; i suppose it must have been on account of my awkwardness. lazy, why, i could sit all day and fish in one place and not get a bite, while my more industrious companions would, out of sheer exhaustion of patience, be compelled to move about; and i hold that patience is the very perfection of industry. in the belief that i could never amount to anything i gradually approached my awkward manhood. i grew fast, and i admit that i was always tired; and who is more weary than a sprout of a boy? my brothers were active of body and quick of judgment, and i know that ed, my oldest brother, won the admiration of the neighborhood when he swapped horses with a stranger and cheated him unmercifully. how my father did laugh, and mother laughed, too, but she told ed that he must never do such a thing again. with what envy did i look upon this applause. i knew that ed's brain was no better than mine; and as i lay in bed one night i formed a strong resolve and fondly hugged it unto myself. i owned a horse, a good one; and i would swap him off for two horses--i would cheat some one and thereby win the respect of my fellows. my secret was sweet and i said nothing. by good chance a band of gypsies came our way; i would swindle the rascals. i went to their camp, leading my horse, and after much haggling, i came home with two horses. it was night when i reached home, and i put my team into the stable, and barred up my secret until the sun of a new day could fall upon it. well, the next morning one of the horses was dead, and the other one was so stiff that we had to shove him out of the stall. my father snorted, my poor mother wept, and for nights afterward i slipped out and slept in the barn, burrowed under the hay that i might not hear the derisive titter of my brother ed. we lived in northern alabama, in a part of the country that boasted of the refinement and intelligence of its society. when i was alone with boys much younger than myself i could say smart things, and i had a hope that when i should go into formal "company" i would, with one evening's achievement, place myself high above the numbskulls who had giggled at me. the time came. there was to be a "party" at the house of a neighbor, and i was invited. i had a suit of new clothes, and after dressing myself with exceeding care, i set out, strong of heart, for the field of victory. but i weakened when i saw the array of blooded horses hitched without, and heard the gay laughter within, a merriment rippling and merciless; and i stood on the porch, sick with the sense of my awkwardness. i was too big, and i knew that i was straining my clothes. through the window i could see a trim fellow laughing with a girl, and i said to myself, "if i can catch you out somewhere i will maul you." i was not acquainted with him, but i hated him, for i knew that he was my enemy. to an overgrown young fellow, ashamed of his uncouth, steer-like strength, all graceful youths are hateful; and he feels, too, that a handsome girl is his foe, for girls with pretty mouths are nearly always laughing, and why should they laugh if they are not laughing at him? long i stood there, stretching the seams of my clothes, angry, wishing that the house might catch fire. i heard footsteps, and looking about, recognized a member of the household, an old and neglected girl. i was not afraid of her, and i bowed. and i felt a sudden looseness, a giving away of a part of my gear. she called me mr. hawes, the very first time that any one had called me anything but bill; she opened the door and bade me go in. i had to duck my head as i stepped forward, and there i was inside the room with the light pouring over me. i took one step forward, and stumbled over something, and then a tittering fool named bentley, exclaimed: "hello, here comes little willie." i don't know how i got out. i heard a roar of laughter, i saw grinning faces jumbled together, and then i was outside, standing with my hot hand resting in the frost on the top rail of a fence. some one was urging me to come back--the neglected girl--but i stood there silent, with my hot hand melting the frost. i went out into the moon-lighted woods, seized a sapling and almost wrenched it from the ground. down the road i went toward home, but i turned aside and sat on a log. i felt a sense of pain and i opened my hands--i had been cutting my palms with my nails. but in this senseless fury i had made up my mind. i would waylay bentley and beat him. hour after hour i sat there. horses began to canter by; up and down the road there was laughter and merry chatting. the moon was full, and i could plainly see the passers-by. suddenly i sprang from the log and seized a bridle rein. a girl shrieked and a man cut my hand with a whip, and i jerked the horse to his knees. bentley shouted that he would kill me if i did not let go, but i heeded not; i jerked him off his horse, kicked his pistol across the road, mashed his mouth, slammed him against the ground. the shrieking girl cried out that i was a brute, and i told her that i could whip her whole family, a charming bit of repartee, i thought, but afterward i remembered that her family consisted of herself and an aged grandmother, and i sent her an abject apology. bentley's horse cantered away, and i left the fellow lying in the road, with the girl standing over him, shrieking for help. it was all done in a minute, and with jolting tread i stalked away before any one came up. of course there was a great scandal. my poor mother was grieved and humiliated, ashamed to meet any of the neighbors; and my father swore that instead of becoming a school teacher i ought to turn out as a highwayman. my brothers thought to have some fun with me, but i frightened them with a roar, and for a time they were afraid to smile in my presence. i was almost heartbroken over my disgrace. without undue praise i can say that i was generous and kindhearted; even as a child i had shown almost a censurable unselfishness; i had given away my playthings, and my sensibilities were so tender that i could not bear the sight of a suffering animal, and i remember that an old man laughed at me because i could not cut the throat of a sheep when the poor thing had been hung up by the heels. and now i was put down as a heartless brute. bentley's face constantly haunted me. i was afraid that he might die, and once when i heard that he was not likely to get well, i was resolved to go to him, to beg his pardon. two weeks had passed; it was night and rain was pouring down, but i cared naught for the wetting. i found bentley sitting up with his face bandaged. his mother frowned at me when she opened the door and saw me standing there under the drip, and it was some time before she asked me to come in, and i have thought that she would have driven me off had not the sight of me, wet and debased, aroused her pity. bentley held out his hand when i entered the room, and he said, "i don't blame you, bill. it was mean of me, but i wanted to be smart." i was so full, so choked with emotion, that it was some time before i could say a word. but after a time i spoke of the rain, and told him that i thought that i had heard a wildcat as i came along, which was a lie, for i had heard nothing save the wind and the rain falling on the dead leaves. he laughed and said that he did not suppose that i would have been very much frightened had the cat jumped at me. then i told him that i was the biggest coward on earth, and sought to prove it by offering to let him kick me as long as he might find it amusing. i told him that everybody despised me for the way i had beaten him, everybody, including my own family, and that i deserved the censure of all good people. we talked a long time, and he laughed a great deal, but when i told him that i was coming over to work for him three weeks, his eyes grew brighter with tears. this filled me up again and i could do nothing but blubber. after a long time i asked him if he would do me a favor, and he said that he would. then i took out a watch that i had brought in a buckskin bag, and i said, "here is a thing that used to belong to my grandfather, and it was given me by mother when i was ten years old. it is a fine time-piece and is solid. now, i want you to take it as a present from me. you said you would do me a favor." but he declared that he could not take it. "why, i would despise myself if i did," said he. i told him that i would despise myself if he did not. his mother, who had left us alone, came in, smiling, and said that i must not think of parting with so valuable a watch, the mark of my grandfather's gentility, but i put the watch on the table and plunged out into the rain and was gone. bentley's mother returned the watch the next day, and then there went about the neighborhood a report that i was so much afraid of bentley's revenge that i had tried to buy him off with a watch. bentley had said that i should not work for him, but when the time for breaking up the land came, i went over and began to plow the field. his mother came out and compelled me to quit, but i went back at night and plowed while other people slept; and thus i worked until much of his corn-land was broken up. the neighbors said that i had gone insane, and a few days afterward, when i met a woman in the road, she jerked her old mare in an effort to get away, and piteously begged me not to hurt her. i made no further attempt to get into "company," and thus, forced back upon myself, i began to form the habits of a student; and to aid me in my determination to study law, i decided to teach school. so, when i was almost grown--or, rather, about twenty-three years old, for i appeared to keep on growing--i went over into another neighborhood and took up a school. and they called me "lazy bill." i couldn't understand why, for i am sure that i attended to my duties, that i played town ball with the boys, that i even cut wood all day one saturday; but confound them, they called me lazy. i spoke to one of the trustees; i called his attention to the fact that i worked hard, and he replied that the hardest working man he had ever seen was a lazy fellow who worked merely as a "blind." to sleep after the sun rises is a great crime in the country, and sometimes i sat up so late with my books that i had to be called twice for breakfast. and no amount of work could have offset this ignominy. i taught school during three years, and found at the end of that time that i was no nearer a lawyer's office. once i called on an old judge, the leading lawyer in a neighboring village, and told him that if he would take me i would work for my clothes, and the humorous old rascal, surveying me, replied: "i have not contemplated the starting of a woolen mill. why don't you go to work?" he asked. i told him that i was at work, that i taught school, but that i wanted to be a lawyer. he laughed and said that teaching school was not work--declared it to be the refuge of the lazy and the shiftless. i then ventured to remark that the south would continue to be backward as long as the educator was put down as a piece of worthless rubbish. i went away, and a few days later one of the trustees called on me and said that i had declared their children to be ignorant rubbish, and that therefore they wanted my services no longer. i returned home. my brothers were gone, and my parents were in feeble health. my father died within a year, and soon my mother followed him. the farm was poor and was mortgaged, and empty-handed i turned away. i heard that a school teacher was wanted up in north carolina, near the tennessee line, and i decided to apply for the place. i walked to the railway station, twenty miles distant. i have said that i went away empty-handed. i did not; i carried a trunk, light with clothes and heavy with books. i had put my trunk on the railway platform and was striding up and down when i saw two men, well-dressed, rich-looking, standing near. this amounted to nothing, and i would not mention it but for the fact that it was at this moment that i received my first encouragement. one of the men, speaking to his companion, remarked: "devilish fine-looking fellow. i'd give a great deal to be in his shoes, to have his strength and his youth." i turned away, eager to hear more, yet afraid lest the other man might say something to spoil it all. but he did not. "yes," he replied, "but he doesn't know how fortunate he is. gad, he looks like an imported bull." the train came and i was whirred away, over streams, below great hanging rocks; but i thought not of the grandeur of the rocks nor of the beauty of the streams, for through my mind was running the delicious music of the first compliment that had ever been paid me. and i realized that i had outgrown the age of my awkwardness, that strength was of itself a grace to be admired, that i should feel thankful rather than remember with bitterness the days of my humiliation. i observed a woman looking at me, and there was interest in her eyes, and i knew that she did not take kindly to me simply because she was an old and neglected girl, for she was handsome. beside her sat a man, and i could see that he was eager to win her smile. he hated me, i could see that, but he couldn't laugh at me. i noticed that my hands and feet were not over large, and this was a sort of surprise, for i recalled hearing a boy say that my foot was the biggest thing he ever saw without a liver in it. i reached back and wiped out the past; i looked out at a radiant cloud hanging low in the west, and called it the future. fool? oh, of course. i had been a fool when a boy, and was a fool now, but how much wiser it was to be a happy fool. i was to leave the train at nagle station, and then to go some distance into the country, which direction i knew not. i made so bold as to ask the handsome lady if she knew anything of the country about nagle, and she smiled sweetly, and said that she did not, that she was a stranger going south. i had surmised as much, and i spoke to her merely to see what effect it would have on the man who sat beside her. was my new-found pride making me malicious? i thought it was, and i censured myself. the lady showed a disposition to continue the talk, but the man drove me into silence by remarking: "i suppose there is something novel about one's first ride on the cars." how i did want to reach out and take hold of his ear, but i thought of bentley and subsided. when i arose to get off at my station, i thought that the lady, as i passed her, made a motion as if she would like to give me her hand. this might simply have been the prompting of my long famished but now over-fed conceit, my bloating egotism, but i gave the woman a grateful thought as i stood on the platform gazing at the train as it faded away in the dusk that appeared to come down the road to meet it. i had expected to alight at a town, but the station was a lonely place, a wagon-maker's shop, the company's building and a few shanties. i asked the station master if he knew where the school teacher was wanted, and he answered that from the people thereabouts one must be needed in every household. "and i should think," i replied, giving him what i conceived to be a look of severe rebuke, "that a teacher of common decency and politeness is most needed of all." "i reckon you are right," he rejoined. "is he the man you are looking for?" "i don't want to get into trouble here," said i, "but i insist upon fair treatment and i'm going to have it." "all right, sir. now, what is it you want to know?" "why, i was told that there was an opening for a school teacher in this neighborhood." "and so there is, but don't you know that no neighborhood could be proud of such a fact? therefore, you ought to be more careful as to how you make your inquiries." i saw that he wanted to joke with me and i joked with him. and i soon found that this was the right course, for he invited me into his office and insisted upon my sharing his luncheon, cold bread and meat and a tin bucket of boiling coffee. i soon learned that he was newly graduated from a school of telegraphy, and that this was his first position. he had come from a city and he gave me the impression that he was buried alive; he said that he had entered an oath in his book that if some one didn't get off at his station pretty soon he would set the whole thing on fire and turn train robber. "don't you think that would be a pretty good idea?" he asked, laughing. "it would be a pretty dangerous one, at least," i answered. "yes, but without danger there is never any fun. my old man insisted upon my taking that night-school course; and the professor of the institution held out the idea that i could be a great man within a short time after graduating; led me to believe i could get charge of a big office in town, but here i am stuck up here in these hills. no rags about here at all." "no what?" "rags, calico, women--catch on?" "you mean no society, to speak of." "that's it. oh, away off in the country it's all right, but i can never go more than three miles from this miserable place. you'll have to go about fifteen miles." "how do you know?" "why, an old fellow from a neighborhood about that far away came out here the other day and sent off a dispatch, telling some man off, i don't remember where, to send a teacher out there." "and one might have come by this time," i suggested, with a sense of fear. "no, you are the only one that has put in an appearance, and the only one that is likely to come. i understand that they don't treat teachers very well out there." "how so?" "the boys have a habit of ducking them in the creek, i hear." "oh, is that all? be fun for me." "you won't think so after you see those roosters. let me see. take the purdy road out there, and go straight ahead to the east, and when you think you have gone about fifteen miles, ask for the house of lim jucklin. the last teacher, i understand, boarded at his house." "you appear to know a good deal about it." "well, the truth of it is, i do, for the last teacher came and went this way. and he told me like this: 'the thing opened up all right, plenty of rags, but that evening some of the young fellows came to me and said that unless i brought some sort of treat the next morning they would put me in the creek; said that they hated to do it, but that time-honored customs must be observed. i didn't bring any treat and i went into the creek. then i left.' yes, that's what he said, and i concluded that as for me i would rather be here. it isn't so lively, but it is a good deal dryer. but you can't get there to-night. better take a shake-down here with me till morning, and then you may catch some farmer going that way with a wagon." i thanked him for this courtesy, and readily accepted it. and the next morning, with my trunk on my shoulder, i set out upon what i conceived to be my career in life. chapter ii. the month was april, and the day was blithe, with no blotch in the sky. the country was rough, the road was pebbly in the bottoms and flinty on the hills, but there was a leaping joy everywhere; in the woods where the blue-jays were shouting, down the branch where the woodpecker tapped in an oak tree's sounding board. it must have been a low-hanging ambition to be thrilled with the prospect of teaching school, or was it buoyant health that made me happy? i eased down my trunk, and boyishly threw stones away off into an echoing hollow. a rabbit ran out into the road and stopped, and with a stone i knocked it over. tenderly i picked it up, felt its fluttering heart, and groaned inwardly when the little heart was stilled. i called myself a murderer, an anglo-saxon brute, to kill a harmless creature merely upon a devilish impulse, and in the gravelly ground i began to dig a grave with my knife, and i was so much taken up with this work and with my grief, that i heeded not the approach of a wagon. "what are you doing there?" some one called. i looked up. a farmer had stopped his blowing horses and was looking at me. "i'm digging a grave," i answered. "diggin' a grave? why, who's dead?" "a rabbit." he moved uneasily, and gave me a searching look. and i saw that he took me to be insane. "i killed the poor thing," i explained, "killed it out of mere wantonness, and i am so grief-stricken that i am going to do the best i can for the poor thing--going to give it a christian burial." the man laughed. "i wish you would kill the last one of them," he said. "set out as nice a young orchard as you ever saw last winter, and the devilish rabbits killed every one of the trees." "then i am not so much of a murderer after all," i replied. "i might have known that rabbits are not altogether harmless. how far do you go on this road?" "about ten miles." "will you let me ride with you?" "yes, be glad to have you." i put the rabbit into his grave, raked the dirt on him with my foot--hardly a christian-like way, i admit--placed my trunk into the body of the wagon, and took a seat beside the man. and there was something about him that at once interested me. his hat was off and the breeze was stirring his grizzly hair. his nose was large and thin, and when he turned his face square upon me, i saw that his eyes were gray and clear. he wore no coat, his shirt sleeves were rolled back, and though he must have been more than fifty years old, i could see that he had enormous strength in his arms. and he was looking at me admiringly, for he said, "you must be pretty much of a man." "i am not a child except in my lack of wisdom," i answered. "gad, you talk like a preacher. which way are you going?" "over to lim jucklin's house." he gave me another square look and remarked, "that's my name." "you don't tell me so?" "didn't you hear me tell you so?" "yes, but----" "well, then, i did tell you so." "i am delighted to meet you, sir. i am a school teacher, and i hear that one is wanted in your neighborhood." he looked at me from head to foot, and replied: "i shouldn't wonder but you are the right man. what's your name?" i told him and after a few moments of silence he asked, "any kin to the luke hawes that fought in the creek war?" "he was my grandfather." "ah, hah, and my daddy fit with him--was a lieutenant in his company. let's shake hands. whoa, boys." he stopped his horses, got up, shook down the wrinkled legs of his trousers and reached forth his hand. "you are a stranger in north caroliny," he said when he had clucked to his horses. "yes, i am a stranger everywhere you might put it," i answered. "i am from alabama, but the people made so much fun of me in the community where i was brought up that i am even a stranger there." "what did they make fun of you about?" "because i was overgrown and awkward." "whoa, boys! let's shake hands again. i got it the same way when i was a boy, and i come in one of never gettin' over it." we drove on and had gone some distance when he asked: "do you know all about 'rithmetic?" "i at least know the multiplication table." "it's more than i do. get up there, boys. and down in my country they think that a man that don't know all about 'rithmetic is a fool. i have often told them that there wan't no record of the fact that the saviour was good at figgers, except figgers of speech, but they won't have it that a man is smart unless he can go up to a barn and cover one side of it with eights and sevens and nines and all that sort of thing. i've got a daughter that's quicker than a flash--took it from her mother, i reckon--and i have a son that's tolerable, but i have always been left in the lurch right there. but i can read all right, and i know the book about as well as the most of them, but that makes no difference down in our neighborhood. the pace down there is set by old general lundsford. he knows all about figgers and everything else, for that matter, but figgers is his strong holt. he owns nearly everything; is a mighty 'ristocrat and don't bend very often; lives in the house that his grandfather built, great big brick, and never had no respect for me at all until i wallowed him in the road one day about thirty odd years ago. and along about ten years after that he found out that he had a good deal of respect for me. what do you know about game chickens?" "not very much; i simply know that they are about the bravest things that live." he gave me another one of his square looks and replied: "there is more wisdom in such talk as that than there could be crowded into a wheat bin. but, do you know that people make fun of me because i admire a game rooster? they do. i don't want to fight 'em for money, you know; i'm a good church member and all that sort of thing; i believe the book from one end to the other; believe that the whale swallowed jonah, i don't care if its throat ain't bigger than a hoe-handle; believe that the vine growed up in one night, and withered at mornin'; believe that old samson killed all them fellers with the jaw-bone--believe everything as i tell you from start to finish, but i'll be blamed if i can keep from fightin' chickens to save my life. and i always keep two beauties, i tell you. not long ago my wife ups and kills sam and fed him to a preacher. preacher was there, hungry, and the other chickens were parading around summers on the other side of the hill, but my wife she ups and kills sam, a black beauty, with a pedigree as long as a plow-line. and, sir, while that man was chawin' of my chicken he gave me a lecture on fightin' roosters." "you spoke of your son and daughter. do they attend school?" "oh, no; they are grown long ago." "then how is it that the teacher usually boards at your house?" "i don't know; but they do. reckon they jest fell into the habit. my house is handy, for one thing; ain't more than three miles from the school--jest a nice, exercisin' sort of walk. whoa, boys! sorter have to scotch 'em back goin' down here. saw a man get killed down there one day; horse kicked him, and do you see that knob over there where them hickory trees are? i had a hard time there one night. a lot of foot-burners come to my house one night durin' the war and took me out and told me that if i didn't give them my money they would roast my shanks. i didn't have any money and i told them so, but they didn't believe me; and so they brought me right over there where them hickories are, tied me, took off my shoes and built up a fire at my feet; but about the time they had got me well blistered, along come some yankee soldiers and nabbed 'em. and a few minutes after that there wasn't anything agin their feet, i tell you, not even the ground. well, we are gettin' pretty close to home now." "but we haven't come fifteen miles from the station, have we?" "well, you had come about five mile before i overtook you and we have come nearly ten since then. these hosses are travelers. oh, i reckon we've got about three more miles to go yet." the country was old, with here and there a worn-out and neglected field. a creek wound its way among the hills, deep and dark in places, but babbling out into a broad and shiny ford where we crossed. one moment the scene was desolate, with gullied hill-sides, but further on and off to the right i could see poetic strips of meadow land, and further yet, upon a hill-top, stood a grim old house of brick and stone. we turned off to the right before coming abreast of this place, and pursued a winding course along a deep-shaded ravine, not rough with broken ground, but graceful with grassy slopes and with here and there a rock. my companion pointed out his house, what is known as a double log building, with a broad passage way between the two sections. a path, so hard and smooth that it shone in the sun, ran down obliquely into the ravine, and at the end of it i saw a large iron kettle overturned, and i knew that this marked the spring. i liked the place, the forest back of it, the steep hills far away, the fields lying near and the meadow down the ravine. i hate a new house, a new field, a wood that looks new; to me there must be the impress of fond association, and here i found it, the spring-house with moss on its roof, the path, a great oak upon which death had placed its beautiful mark--a bough of misletoe. "you hop right out and go in and make yourself at home, while i take care of the horses," said the old man. "go right on," he added, for he saw that i was hesitating. "you don't need an introduction. jest say that you are whut'sname and that you are the new school teacher." "but i don't know yet that i am to be the teacher." "well, then, tell 'em that you are whut'sname and that you don't know whether you are to be the teacher or not." "but won't you stop long enough to introduce me?" "oh, i reckon i mout. come on. there is wife in the door, now." he did not go as far as the door; he simply shouted: "here's a man, susan. he can tell you his name, for blamed if i ain't dun forgot." chapter iii. into this household i was received with open-handed graciousness. nothing can be more charming than the unconscious generosity of simple folk. to this family i applied the word simple and cut myself with a cool smile at my own vanity. was i not a countryman and as rustic-minded as they? but i had come from another community, had crossed a state line and the lines of several counties, and besides i took to myself the credit of having read many a cunning book, and therefore these people were surely more simple than i. traveling unquestionably gathers knowledge, but the man who reads has ever a feeling that he is the proper critic of the man who has simply observed. mrs. jucklin gave me a strong grasp of welcome, apologized for the lack of order that i must surely find in the house and conducted me to the sitting-room, a large apartment, with a home-woven carpet on the floor. a turkey wing, used for a fan, hung beside the enormous fire-place, and on the broad mantelpiece, trimmed with paper cut in scollops, an old yankee clock was ticking. the woman shook a cat out of a hickory rocking chair and urged me to sit down. she knew that i must be tired after my long ride, and she said that if i would only excuse her for a moment she would go down to the spring-house and get me a glass of milk, to give me strength wherewith to wait until she could stir about and get something to eat. and above all, i must pardon limuel's abruptness of manner. but really he meant nothing by it, as i would find out when i should become better acquainted with him. she was a little, black-eyed woman, doubtless a descendant of a dutch family that had come to the colony at an early date, for she reminded me of my mother, and i know that mother's grandfather was a dutchman. i begged mrs. jucklin not to go after the milk, but she ran away almost with the lightness of a girl. in truth, to think of the milk made me shudder; i couldn't bear the thought of it. during the hard times at the close of the war, when i was a child, we had to drink rye coffee, and i remember that once the cows got into the rye field and gave rye milk. the coffee and the milk together had made me sick, and ever since then i had looked upon milk with a reminiscent horror. but there she came with it. "my dear madam," i pleaded, "i would much rather not drink it." "oh, but you must, for i know you are tired out." "but i don't drink milk." "and it is because you can't find any like this. just taste it, then." the old man came stalking into the room and i gave him an appealing look. "i gad, susan," said he, "let him alone. don't you reckon he's got sense enough to know what he wants? take the stuff away." with a sigh of disappointment she placed the tumbler upon the mantelpiece. "where's alf?" the old man asked. "gone over to the general's to help about something." "where's guinea?" "she's about somewhere. that's her in the passage, i think. guinea?" there was no reply, save of hastening footsteps, and a moment later a young woman entered the room. she was not very tall, but she was graceful, and her dark eyes were dashed with mischief. she reminded me of the woman whom i had seen on the train; her smile was the same, but her eyes were brighter. she had a peculiar laugh, a musical cluck, and at first sight i was glad that i had met her, but a moment later i was afraid that she was going to laugh at me. the old man did not introduce me; his wife did not know my name, and i sought to speak my name, but had lost it just at that moment and could merely splutter something. i was not much embarrassed, though; i recalled what i had heard the two men say, and behind me was the strong brace of a woman's kindly regard. "we are glad to see you," said the girl, looking straight at me. i replied that i was glad to see her, and then we both laughed; she with her musical cluck and i with a goat-like rasp, it seemed to me. we all drew up about the fire-place, a habit in the country, and it was then that i thought of the open-handed graciousness of the household. had i correctly caught this girl's name, guinea? and with a countryman's frankness i asked if that were her name. "well, no," said mrs. jucklin, speaking for her, "it ain't her sure enough name, but it's all that she goes by. and it came about in this way: a long time ago, when she was a little bit of a girl, she was toddlin' about the yard with a checked dress on, and one of the neighbors lookin' at her said that she looked exactly like a little guinea chicken, and ever since then we have called her guinea. her right name is angeline." "her right name is what?" the old man asked, looking up. "angeline," i said. "well, it's the first time i ever heard of it." "now, limuel, why do you want to act that way? a body would think that you don't know anything about your own family." "never heard of it before," said the old man. "you are surely the most provokin' man i ever saw, limuel. you know the very day we named the child, and now you pretend----" "pretend? i don't pretend nothin'. can't blame a man for never hearin' of the name, can you?" "mister," she said, turning to me, "please don't pay any attention to him. he'd pester me nearly to death if i'd let him. but come, guinea, we must stir about and get something to eat." the mother and the daughter went out into a kitchen detached from the main part of the house, and the old man looked at me and laughed. and after a moment of chuckling he said: "i reckon that i've got two of the finest in the world." "children?" i asked. "no, game roosters. one's named sam and the other's named bob." "i thought you said that sam had been eaten by the preacher." "oh, that sam was, but i've got another one. i always have a sam and a bob. when a sam dies i get another sam, and likewise with a bob. but you know what's a fact? i never allow 'em to fight to a finish. if i did the sport would be gone. you must never let one rooster know that the other one can whip him, for if you do there won't be any fight after that--you must always keep each one believin' that he is the best man. i reckon i've had more than a hundred, but i never let 'em fight to a finish. my folks here don't care nothin' about fun--they even frown on it, alf with the rest, and i hold that he ought to know better, bein' a man, but so it is. i've got a chicken house back here, with a high picket fence around it, and i keep it locked, i tell you. have to, or the preachers would eat up my sport, and this ain't findin' no fault with their doctrine, for i believe the book from kiver to kiver. after we get a snack we'll slip off and have a set-to. what do you say?" i hardly knew what to say. i was afraid to decline, lest i might lose his good opinion, and i was loth to accept the invitation, fearing that i might lower myself in the estimation of the women; but while i was casting about the old man relieved me by saying: "however, we've got plenty of time before us. it's always well to hold a good thing in reserve, you know. after dinner we'll go over and see old perdue and find out if you can arrange with him about the school. he's got the whole thing in charge. general lundsford has charge of nearly everything else, but he don't take much stock in free schools. he argues that nothin' that's free is any good, and in the main he's about right; but we've had some pretty good schools here, the only trouble bein' to keep the teachers out of the creek. what education my son alf has he picked up about home, here, but guinea was sent off to school, way over at raleigh." "i am glad to see that you thought so much of the importance of training her mind," i remarked. he gave me a troubled look, moved uneasily, as i had seen him move when i told him that i was burying a rabbit, ran his fingers through his upright, bristling hair and for a long time was silent. and as i looked at him i fancied that he was trying to think of something to say, something to lead my mind away from what he had already said. i had seen the quaint, half-comical side of his nature, and now i saw that he could be thoughtful, and in his serious mood his face was strong and rugged. his beard, cropped close, reminded me of scraps of wire, some of them rusted; and when he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand i wondered that he did not scratch the skin off. guinea came to the door and told us that the meal was ready. the old man got up, with a return of his comical air, and told me to follow him. the girl continued to stand near the threshold and as i drew near unto her she said: "this door wasn't cut quite high enough for you, was it? look, father, he has to duck his head. the boys may have a time putting him into the creek." she was now talking to her father, but was looking at me, so i took it upon myself to answer her. "yes, for you have called attention to the fact that my legs are long and the rascals may have hard running with trying to catch me." "oh," she replied, "but i was thinking of your strength rather than your swiftness. come this way. father has run off and left you." the old man had stepped down out of the passage and had gone some distance toward a small house surrounded by a picket fence. "you go with her," he called, looking back, "and i'll be there pretty soon." "no telling when he will come now," the girl remarked, walking close beside me. "he's got two of the most spiteful chickens out there you ever saw, and whenever anything goes wrong with him he bolts right out there, no matter who is here, and makes those vicious things peck at each other. mother and i try hard to reform him, but we can't." it was mrs. jucklin's time-grayed privilege to apologize for the scantiness of her fare, and this she did with becoming modesty and regret. she had not expected company; the regular dinner hour was over long ago, and somehow she never could understand why she couldn't get a meal out of the regular time. but if i would only give her a chance she would reclaim herself. she called my attention to the corn bread; declared that it was not fit to be eaten, and she didn't know what made the stove act that way. but the milk she knew was good. oh, she had forgotten that i didn't drink milk. guinea smiled at me and clucked at her mother. "don't pretend that you like anything just to please her," she said, when mrs. jucklin had turned about to keep a hoe-cake from burning. "all you've got to do is to say nothing until she gets through--that, and simply to remember that she enjoys it." while we were eating we heard a voice crying: "hike, there, sam; get him down, bob! hike there!" "they are warming up to their work," guinea remarked, and her mother sighed; and then she began to talk louder than was her wont, striving to drown the old man's voice. "it isn't any use, mother," said the girl. "the gentleman will find it out sooner or later." "and i suppose," said i, "that you think that you may find out my name sooner or later. please pardon me for not introducing myself. my name is----" "hike, there, bob! get him down, sam! now you are at it! hike, there!" "my name is hawes, william hawes, and i am from alabama." "and you have come to teach the school?" said the girl. "yes, if i can make the arrangements." "but is there anything very satisfying in such an occupation?" she asked. i felt then that she placed no very high estimate upon my worth, and on her part this was but natural, for among country people school-teaching is looked upon as a lazy calling. "i have not chosen teaching as my real vocation," i answered. "hike, there, i tell you! hike!" "it is my aim to be a lawyer, to be eloquent, to stir emotions, to be strong in the presence of men. my earlier advantages, no matter how i sought to turn them about, gave me no promise of reaching the bar; i had good primary training, but in reality i had to educate myself, and in the work of a teacher i saw a hope to lead me onward." "came within one of letting them fight to a finish," said the old man, stepping into the room. "limuel, why will you always humiliate me?" his wife asked, placing a chair for him. "humiliate you! bless your life, i wouldn't humiliate you. the only trouble is that you are tryin' to make me fit a garment you've got, ruther than to make the garment fit me. i ain't doin' no harm, susan, and it's my way, and you can't very well knock the spots off'en a leopard nur skin an etheopian. here comes alf." the son was a young fellow of good size, shapely, and with his mother's black eyes. guinea introduced me to him, and at once i felt that i should like to win his friendship. the old man explained my presence there. "and now," said he, "i want you to go over to old perdue's with him after dinner and see if any arrangements can be made. he's goin' to board with us, and i want to tell you right now that he is from good stock; his grandaddy was the captain of the company that my daddy fit in durin' the creek war, and from what i learn i don't reckon there was ever sich fightin' before nor since. what are they doin' over at the general's?" "nothing much," alf answered. "they started to plow this morning, but it is still most too wet." "was millie at home?" guinea asked. "i think so, but i suppose you know that chid isn't." "never mind that," the old man spoke up. "leave all cuttin' and slashin' to folks that ain't no kin to each other. you've been to dinner, have you, alf? well, hitch the mare to the buckboard and go with this gentleman over to old perdue's." chapter iv. at the end of the passage, facing the ravine, i stood and talked to guinea, while alf was hitching the mare to the buck-board. the sun was well over to the west, pouring upon us, and in the strong light i noted the clear, health-hue of her complexion. a guinea chicken, swift and graceful, ran round the corner of the house, and, nodding toward the fowl, i said: "i am talking to her namesake and she is jealous." i thought that the shadow of a pout crossed her lips, but she smiled and replied: "if my real name were not so ugly i'd insist upon people calling me by it. i hate nicknames." "but sometimes they are appropriate," i rejoined. "but when they are," she said, laughing, "they never stick. it's the disagreeable nickname that remains with us." "is that the philosophy you learned at raleigh?" i asked. she shrugged her shapely shoulders, laughed low in her throat and answered: "i haven't learned philosophy at all. it doesn't take much of a stock of learning for a girl who lives away out here." "but she might strive to learn in order to be fitted for a better life, believing that it will surely come." "how encouraging you are, mr. hawes. after a while you may persuade me that i am really glad that you came." "you have already made me glad," i replied. "have i? then mind that i don't make you sorry. alf's waiting for you." as we drove toward perdue's i wondered what could have caused old man jucklin's change of manner at the time he had spoken of sending his daughter away to be educated. surely, he could not deplore the grace and refinement which this schooling had given her. would it be well to ask alf? no; he could but regard such a question as a direct impertinence. the mare trotted briskly and the rush of cool air was delicious. the road was crooked, holding in its elbows bits of scenery unsuspected until we were upon them, moss growing under great rocks, weeping in eternal shade, a bit of water blazing in the sun, a hickory bottom, where squirrels were barking; and from everywhere came the thrilling incense of spring. alf, though a farmer, had not the stoop of overwork, nor that sullenness that often comes from a life-long and close association with the soil; he was chatty, talked to his mare, talked to me and whistled to himself. he pointed out a cave wherein british soldiers had been forced to take refuge to save themselves from the pursuit of victorious patriots, but what they had supposed was a refuge was, indeed, a trap, for the patriots smoked them out and took them to general green's camp. we drove upon a hill top, and, looking across a valley, i saw a large brick house on a hill not far beyond. and i recognized it as a place that i had seen earlier in the day. "it's where general lundsford lives," said alf, following my eyes with his own. "we go by there. he used to own a good many negroes and some of them still hang about him. most of his land is poor, but enough of it is rich to make him well off. and proud! he's proud as a blooded horse. most of the very few old-timers that are left in this part of the country. we are getting somewhat yankeefied, especially away over to the east where so many northern people come of a winter. but he doesn't take much to it--still cuts his wheat with a cradle." we drove down into the valley, crossed a rude stone bridge, and slowly went up the other side. the mare, brisk from having been pent up, showed a disposition to quicken her pace, but alf held her back, searching with his strong eyes the yard, the summer house in the garden hard by and the orchard off to the left. i looked at him and his face was eager and hard set, but his eyes, though strained, were soft and glowing. i spoke to him, but he heeded me not, but just at that moment he drew himself straighter and gazed toward the house. and i saw a woman crossing the yard. the road ran close to the low, rough stone wall, and when we had come opposite the gate alf stopped the mare and got out to buckle a strap. but i noticed that he was looking more at the house than at the strap. a broad porch, or gallery, as we term it, ran nearly half way round the house, and out upon this a girl stepped and stood looking over us at the hills far away. i saw alf blush, and the next moment he had sprung upon the buck-board and was driving off almost furiously. i wondered why he should be afraid of her. he was not overgrown, not awkward, but lithe, and i knew that he loved her and that his own emotion had frightened him. perdue lived but a short distance beyond the general's place, and soon we were there, talking to the old fellow out at the fence. when i told him my business he looked sharply at me, appearing to measure me from head to foot; and he said i was, no doubt, the man he had been longing to see. "and now," said he, after we had talked for a time, "if you are willing to take this school and go ahead with it, all right. i am determined that the boys and girls of this community shall get an education even if they choke the creek with teachers. if i had full swing i'd raise a lot of men and go around and club the big boys. oh, it hasn't been this way very long. we've had first-rate schools here, but those devilish aimes boys are so full of the old harry--but we'll fix 'em. the ground will be all right for plowin' to-morrow, and the big boys will have to work until the corn is laid by, but i reckon you'll get a pretty fair turn-out. there's enough money appropriated to have a rattlin' good school, and if you'll stick by me we'll have it." i told him that i would stick by him. "all right," said he, "see that you do. let me see. this is friday. you hold yourself in readiness to begin monday mornin', and to-morrow i will ride around the neighborhood and spread the news." so that was settled. briskly we drove away, and again upon nearing the house of the old general, alf pulled the mare back into a walk. this time, though, he did not stop, but as we slowly passed he swept the house and the yard with his eager glance. the sun was down when we reached home. how long the day had been, what a stretch of time lay between the going down of the sun now and its rising, when i had shouldered my trunk at the railway station! as i was getting down in front of the door i heard mr. jucklin calling me, and when i answered he came forward out of the passage and said that he wanted to see me a moment. he led the way and i followed him into the dark shadow of a tree. "i forgot to tell you not to say anything about that," said he. "about what?" i asked. "about wallowin' him--the old general. he requested me not to mention it, bein' so proud, and i told him that i wouldn't, and i don't know what made me speak of it to-day, but i did." "oh, i won't mention it," i spoke up rather sharply, for i was disappointed that he had not told me something of importance. "all right. and i am much obleeged to you. he is one of the proudest men in the world and he don't want anybody to suspect that any feller ever wallowed him; but i want to tell you right now that i have wallowed a good many of 'em in my time. are you goin' to teach the school?" "yes, the arrangements have been made, and i am to begin work monday morning." "good enough. well, we'll go on in now and eat a snack, for i reckon the women folks have got it about ready." we went early to bed. the house was but a story and a half high, and i was to room with alf, up close to the clap-board roof. i could not stand straight, except in the middle of the apartment, but i was comfortable, for i had a good bed, and there was plenty of air coming in through two large windows, one on each side of the chimney at the end, toward the south. while the dawn was drowsiest, just at the time when it seems that one moment of dreamy dozing is worth a whole night of soundest sleep, alf got up to go afield to his plow, and as the joints of the stairway were creaking under him as he went down i turned over for another nap, thankful that after all the teaching of a school was not the hardest lot in life. and i was deliciously dreaming when guinea called me to breakfast. i spent the most of the day in my room, getting ready for my coming work. against the chimney i built a shelf and put my books upon it; i turned a large box into a writing table, and of a barrel i fashioned an easy-chair. my surroundings were rude, but i was pleased with them; indeed, i had never found myself so pleasantly placed. and when alf came up at night he looked about him and with a smile remarked: "you must own that lamp that we read about. wish you would rub it again and get my corn out of the grass." he looked tired and i wondered why he did not go to bed, but he strode up and down the room, smoking his pipe. he was silent and thoughtful, refilling his pipe as soon as the tobacco was burned out; but sometimes he would talk, though what he said i felt was aimless. "i've some heavier tobacco than that," i said. "this will do, though it is pretty light. raised on an old hill." he sat down and continued to pull at his pipe, though the fire was out. he leaned with his elbow on the table; he moved as if his position were uncomfortable; he got up, went to the window, looked out, came back, resumed his seat and after looking at the floor for a few moments said that he thought that it must be going to rain. "perhaps so," i replied, "but that's not what you wanted to say." he gave me a sharp glance, looked down and then asked: "how do you know?" "i know because i can see and because i'm not a fool." "anybody ever call you a fool?" he asked, with a sad laugh. he leaned far back and looked up at the clapboards. "that has nothing to do with it, alf. pardon me. mr. jucklin, i should have said. the truth is, it seems that i have known you a long time." "and when you feel that way about a man," he quickly spoke up, "you make no mistake in accepting him as a friend. call me alf. what's your first name?" i told him, and he added: "and i'll call you bill. no; the truth is i didn't care to say that i thought it was going to rain; i don't give a snap for rain, except the rain that is pouring on my heart. you remember that girl that came out upon the gallery. i know you do, for no man could forget her. you know that guinea asked me if millie was at home. well, that was millie lundsford, the old general's daughter. we have lived close together all our lives, but i have never known her very well, and even now i wouldn't go there on a dead-set visit. she and guinea went off to school together and are good friends. guinea tries to plague me about her at times, not knowing that i really love her. i couldn't go off to school, didn't care any too much for education, but since that girl came home and i got better acquainted with her i have felt that i would give half my life to know books, so that i could talk to her; and since then i have been studying, with guinea to help me. and you don't know how glad i was when i heard that you had come here to teach school, for i want to study under you. but secretly," he added. "i can't go to the school-house; i don't want her to know that i am so ignorant." i reached over and took hold of his hand. "alf, to teach you shall be one of my duties. but don't put yourself down as ignorant, for you are not." he grasped my hand, and, looking straight into my eyes, said: "i wish i knew as much and was as good-looking as you. then i wouldn't be afraid to go to her and ask her to let me win her love, if i could. to-morrow you go over to the general's, pretending that you want to get his advice about the school, and i will go with you. hang it, bill, you may be in love one of these days." "why, alf, i don't see why either of us should be afraid to go to the general's house. go? of course, we will. but you make me laugh when you say that if you were only as good-looking as i am. let me tell you something." i briefly told him the uneventful story of my life, that ridicule had found me while yet i was a toddler and had held me up as its target. "you might have grown too fast," he remarked when i had concluded, "but you have caught up with yourself. to tell you the truth, you would be picked out from among a thousand men. where did you get all those books? i don't see how you brought them with you in that trunk, and with your other things." "the other things didn't take up much room," i answered, and, turning to the books, i began to tell him something about them, but i soon saw that his mind was far away. "yes, we will go over there to-morrow," said i, and his mind flew back. "and walk right in as if we owned half the earth," said he, but i knew that he felt not this lordly courage, knew that already he was quaking. "oh, i'll go right in with you," he said. "you lead the way and i'll be with you." when i had gone to bed a remark that he had made was sweeping like a wind through my mind: "hang it, bill, you may be in love one of these days." i was already in love--in love with guinea. chapter v. alf was still asleep when i arose from my bed the next morning. i stood at the head of the stairs and looked back at his handsome, though sun-browned face, and i felt a strange and strong sympathy for him, but i had not begun to agonize in my love; it was so new that i was dazzled. when i went down stairs guinea was feeding the chickens from the kitchen window, and the old man was walking about the yard, with his slouch hat pulled down to shut out the slanting glare of the sun. but he saw me and, calling me, said that he would now show me his beauties. and just then i heard guinea's voice: "if he starts to make them fight you come right away and leave him, mr. hawes," she said. "we don't allow him to fight them on sunday." "miss smartjacket," the old man spoke up, "i hadn't said a word about makin' 'em fight. hawes, these women folks don't want a man to have no fun at all. as long as a man is at work it's all right with the women; they can stand to see him delve till he drops, but the minit he wants to have a little fun, why, they begin to mowl about it. of course, i'm not goin' to let 'em fight on sunday. but a preacher would eat one of 'em on sunday. all days belong to 'em. it's die dog or eat the hatchet when they come round. and yet, as i tell you, i believe in the book from kiver to kiver. step out here, hawes." i thought that i received from guinea a smile of assent, and i followed him. the enclosure wherein he kept his chickens was almost as strong as a "stockade." the old man unfastened a padlock and bade me enter. i stepped inside, and when the master had followed me he was greeted with many a cluck and scratching, the welcome of two game cocks in a wire coop, divided into two apartments by a solid board partition. "i jest wanted you to look at 'em and size 'em merely for your own satisfaction," said the old man, fondly looking upon his shimmering pets. "this red one over here is sam, and that dominecker rascal is bob. ah, lord, you don't know what comfort there is in a chicken, and how a preacher can eat a game rooster is beyond my understandin'. but i'm with him, you understand, from kiver to kiver. keep quiet there, boys; no fight to-day. must have some respect, you know." he took a grain of corn from his pocket, placed it between his teeth, and with a grin on his face got down on his knees and held his mouth near the bars of sam's cage. the rooster plucked out the grain of corn, and bob, watching the performance, began to prance about in jealous rage. "never you mind, bob," said the old man, getting up and dusting his knees. "i know your tricks. held one out to you that way not long ago, and i wish i may never stir agin if you didn't take a crack at my eye, and if i hadn't ducked i'd be one-eyed right now. but they are callin' us to breakfust. bound to interfere with a man one way or another." it was with great care that alf prepared himself to go with me to the general's house. out under a tree in the yard he placed a mirror on a chair and there he sat and shaved himself. then he went upstairs to put on a suit of clothes which never had been worn, and anon i heard him calling his mother to help him find buttons and neckwear that had been misplaced. and he shouted to me not to be impatient, that he was doing the best he could. impatient! i was sitting in the passage, leaning back against the wall, and near the steps guinea stood, looking far out over the ravine. she had donned a garb of bright calico, with long, green-stemmed flowers stamped upon it, and i thought that of all the dresses i had ever beheld this was the most beautiful and becoming. she hummed a tune and looking about pretended to be surprised to see me sitting there, and for aught i know the astonishment might have been real, for i had made no noise in placing my chair against the wall. "i ought not to be humming a dance tune on sunday," she said, stepping back and standing against the opposite wall, with her hands behind her. "i don't see how the day can make music harmful," i replied. "the day can't make music harmful," she rejoined. "but i can't sing. sometimes when i can't express what i am thinking about i hum it. how long are you and alf going to be away?" "as long as it suits him," i answered. "i have decided to have no voice as to the length of our stay." "then you are simply going to accommodate him. how kind of you. and have you always so much consideration for others? if you have you may find your patience strained if you stay here." "to stand any strain that may be placed upon our patience is a virtue," i remarked--sententious pedagogue--and she lifted her hands, clasped them behind her head, looked at me and laughed, a music sweet and low. just then alf came out upon the passage, looking down at himself, first one side and then the other; and it was with a feeling of close kinship to envy that i regarded his new clothes. he apologized for having kept me waiting so long, but in truth i could have told him that i should have liked to wait there for hours, looking at the graceful figure of that girl, standing with her hands clasped behind her brown head. the distance was not great and we had decided to walk, and across a meadow, purpling with coming bloom, we took a nearer way. i said to alf that one might think that he was a stranger at the general's house, and he replied: "in one way i am. i have been there many a time, it is true, but always to help do something." "is the family so exclusive, then?" i asked. "oh, they are as friendly as any people you ever saw, but, of course, i naturally place them high above me. the old general doesn't appear to know that i have grown to be a man; always talks to me as if i were a boy--wants to know what father's doing and all that sort of thing. he doesn't give a snap what father's doing." "and the girl. how does she talk to you?" it was several moments before he answered me. "i was just trying to think," he said. "to tell you the truth, i don't know how she talks to me. i can't recall anything she has ever said to me. she calls me alf and i call her miss millie, and we laugh at some fool thing and that's about all there is to it. but i know that the old man would never be willing for me to marry her. he is looking pretty high for her or he wouldn't have spent so much money on her education." "but, of course, the girl will have something to say," i suggested. "i don't know as to that," he replied; "but, of course, i hope so. you can't tell about girls--at least, i can't. the old general married rather late in life and has but two children. his wife died several years ago. chydister, the boy, or, rather, the man--for he's about my age--is off at a medical college. he doesn't strike me as being so alfired smart, but they say that he's got learning away up in g. the old man says that he is going to make him the best doctor in the whole country, if colleges can do it, and i reckon they can. he and i have always got along pretty well; he used to stay at our house a good deal." we crossed the creek, by leaping from one stone to another, and pursued a course along a rotting rail fence, covered with vines. and from over in the low ground came the "sqush" of the cows as they strode through the rank and sappy clover. we crossed a hill whereon stood a deserted negro "quarter"--the moldering mark of a life that is now dreamy and afar off--and after crossing another valley slowly ascended the rounding bulge of ground, capped by the home of the general. alf had begun to falter and hang back, and when i sought gently to encourage him he remarked: "but you must remember that this is the first time that i have ever been here with new clothes on, and i want to tell you that this makes a big difference." "it has been some time since i went anywhere with new clothes on," i replied, which set him laughing; but his merriment was shut off when i opened the gate. behind the house, where the ground sloped toward the orchard, there were a number of cabins, old, but not deserted, for negro children were playing about the doors and from somewhere within came the low drone of a half-religious, half-cornshucking melody. an old dog got up from under a tree, but, repenting of the exertion, lay down again; a turkey loudly gobbled, a peacock croaked, and a tall, bulky, old man came out upon the porch. "walk right in," he called, and shouting back into the hallway he commanded some one to bring out three chairs. and even before we had ascended the stone steps the command had been obeyed by a negro boy. "glad to meet you, sir," he said when alf had introduced me. "you have come to teach the school, i believe. old man perdue was over and told me about it. sit down. what's your father doing, alf?" "can't do anything to-day," alf answered, glancing at me. "i suppose not. all the folks well? glad to hear it," he added before alf could answer him. "it's been pretty wet, but it's drying up all right." he wore a dressing gown, befigured with purple gourds, was bare-headed and i thought that he wore a wig, for his hair was thick and was curled under at the back of his neck. his face, closely shaved, was full and red; his lips were thick and his mouth was large. i could see that he was of immense importance, a dominant spirit of the old south, and my reading told me that his leading ancestor had come to america as the master of a virginia plantation. "henry!" the old general called. "fetch me my pipe. henry!" "comin'," a voice cried from within. his pipe was brought and when it had been lighted with a coal which henry carried in the palm of his hand, rolling it about from side to side, the general puffed for a few moments and then, looking at me, asked if i found school-teaching to be a very profitable employment. "the money part of it has been but of minor consideration," i answered. "my aim is to become a lawyer, and i am teaching school to help me toward that end." he cleared his throat with a loud rasp. "i remember," said he, "that a man came here once from the north with pretty much the same idea. it was before the war. we got him up a school, and by the black ooze in the veins of old satan, it wasn't long before he was trying to persuade the negroes to run away from us. i had a feather bed that wasn't in use at the time, and old mills over here had a first-rate article of tar on hand, and when we got through with the gentleman he looked like an arctic explorer. where are you from, sir?" i told him, and then he asked: "the name is all right, and the location is good. my oldest brother knew a captain hawes in the creek war." "he was my grandfather," i replied. he looked at me, still pulling at his pipe, and said: "then, sir, i am, indeed, glad to see you. alf, what's your father doing?" "nothing, sir; it's sunday," alf answered, blushing. the old general looked at him, cleared his throat and said: "yes, yes. folks all well?" i heard the door open and close and i saw alf move, even as his father had moved when he came upon me in the road. i heard light foot-falls in the hall, and then out stepped a girl. she smiled and nodded at alf and the general introduced me to her. alf got up, almost tumbled out of his chair and asked her to sit down. "oh, no, keep your seat," she said. "i'm not going to stay but a minute." she walked over to a post and, leaning against it, turned and looked back at us. she wore a flower in her hair, and in her hand she held a calacanthus bud. she was rather small, with a petulant sort of beauty, but i did not think that she could be compared with guinea, for all of alf's raving over her. her cheeks were dimpled, and well she knew it, for she smiled whenever anything was said, and when no word had been spoken she smiled at the silence. "alf, what has become of guinea?" she asked. "it seems an age since i saw her." "she was over here last, i think," alf answered. "ahem--m--" came from the general. "you'll be counting meals on each other, like the yankees, after a while," he said. "why don't you quit your foolishness; and if you want to see each other, go and see. i don't know what your feelings are in the matter, sir," he added, turning to me, "but i don't see much good in this so-called public school system. and of all worthless things under heaven it is a negro that has caught up a smattering of education. god knows he's trifling enough at best, but teach him to read and he's utterly worthless. i sent a negro to the postoffice some time ago, and he came along back with my newspaper spread out before him, reading it on the horse. and if it hadn't been for millie i would have ripped the hide off him." "he didn't know any better," the girl spoke up. "poor thing, you scared him nearly to death." "yes, and i immediately gave him the best coat i had to square myself, not with him, but with myself," said the old man. "but i hold that if the negro, or anyone else, for that matter, is to be a servant, let him be a servant. i don't want a man to plow for me simply because he can read. confound him, i don't care whether he can read or not. i want him to plow. when i choose my friends it is another matter. your father go to church to-day, alf?" "i don't know, sir," alf answered, moving about in his chair, and then in his embarrassment he got up and stammeringly begged the girl to sit down. "why, what's all this trouble and nonsense about," the general asked, looking first at the girl and then at alf. "'od zounds, there oughtn't to be any trouble about a chair. fifty of them back in there." alf dropped back and the girl laughed with such genuine heartiness that i thought much better of her, but still i did not think that she was at all to be compared with guinea. the general yelled for henry to bring him another coal, and when his pipe had been relighted he turned to me and said: "you don't find the old north state as she once was, sir. ah, lord, the ruin that has gone on in this world since i can remember. and yet they say we are becoming more civilized. zounds, sir, do you call it civilization to see hundreds of fields turned out to persimmon bushes and broom sedge? look over there," he added, waving his hand. "i have seen the time when that was almost a garden. what do you want?" the last remark was addressed to the negro boy who had suddenly appeared. "dinner? yes, yes. come, mr. hawes, and you, alf. this way. get out!" a dog had come between him and the door. "devilish dogs are about to take the place, but they are no account, not one of them. lie around here and let the rabbits eat up the pea vines. even the dogs have degenerated along with everything else." i walked with the general, and, looking back, i was pleased to see that alf had summoned courage enough to follow along beside the girl. we were shown into a long dining-room, with a great height of ceiling. the house had been built in a proud old day, and all about me i noted a dim and faded elegance. the general bade us sit down, and i noticed that his tone was softened. he mumbled a blessing over a great hunk of mutton and, broadly smiling upon me, told me that he was glad to welcome me to his board. "the school-teacher," said he, "modifies and refines our native crudeness. yes, sir, you have a great work, a work that you may be proud of. had education more broadly prevailed, had the people north and south better understood one another, there would have been no bloody disruption. now, gentlemen, i must request you to help yourselves, remembering that such as i have is freely yours. when age comes on apace there is nothing more inspiring than to see the young and the vigorous gathered about us. and it is thus that the evening of live is brightened. henry, pass the bread to mr. jucklin, and the peas, the very first of this backward season, i assure you. mr. hawes, can you recall the face of your noble grandfather?" "no, general; he died many years before i can remember." "a pity, i assure you, for what is more spurring to our ambition than to recall the features of a noted relative. some of this lettuce, mr. hawes? a sleepy, but withal a soothing, dish. my daughter, i must request you to help yourself. charming weather we have, mr. hawes, with the essence of youth and hope in the air." how completely had his manner changed. his eyes, which had seemed hard and cold when he had waved his hand and looked out over the yellow sedge grass, were beaming now with kindly light, and his voice, which i had thought was coarse and gruff, was vibrant with notes of stirring sympathy. alf, heartened by the old gentleman's streaming courtesy, spoke a low word to the girl who sat beside him, and she nodded, smiling, but with one ear politely lent to the familiar talk of her father. after dinner we were shown into the library, wherein were many law books, and the general, catching the longing glance that i shot at them, turned with bewitching patronage, bowed and said: "you have expressed your determination to become acquainted with the law and to practice the wiles of its logic; and so, if you can make no better arrangements, i pray, sir, that you make this room your office." alf's eyes bulged out at this, doubtless looking upon me as the most fortunate man alive, and in my country bluntness i blurted: "you are the kindest man i ever saw." in this room we talked for two hours or more, and the afternoon--or the evening, as we say in the south--was well pronounced when i declared that it was time for us to go. alf looked up surprised, and in a voice sad with appeal, he asked if it were very late. i could have given him the exact time, but was afraid to take out my grandfather's watch--afraid that the general and his daughter might think that i was seeking to make a display, so i simply said: "yes, time that we were going." "don't be in a hurry, gentlemen," the general protested; "don't let a trivial matter rob us of your society." alf pulled back, but i insisted, and so we took our leave. the old gentleman came out upon the porch with us. "henry!" he yelled, turning about, "who the devil left that gate open? go and shut it, you lazy scoundrel. those infamous new-comers over on the creek take my place for a public highway. and i hope to be hung up by the heels if i don't fill the last one of them full of shot." "i'll never forget you," alf remarked as we walked along, down through the meadow. "you have stood by me, and you bet your life i don't forget such things. of course, i have known the old man ever since i can remember, but he never treated me so well before. and when the time comes, if i can get him in that dining-room i don't believe he'll refuse me. it's a blamed big pity that i can't talk as you can, but you just stick to me and i will talk all right after a while." "oh, i'll stick to you," i replied, "but i didn't notice that i talked in a way to amount to anything. i felt as stupid as an ass looks. what did the girl say? you were talking to her very earnestly over by the window." "to save my life, i can't recall anything she said, bill, but i know that every word she spoke was dripped honey. i'd almost give my life to take her in my arms and hug her just once. ever feel that way about a girl?" i was beginning to feel just exactly that way, but i told him no, whereupon he said: "but you may one of these days, and whenever you do, you call on me to help you, and i'll do it, i don't care who the girl is or how high up she may stand. many a night i have lain in bed and wished that millie might be going along the road by herself and that about three men would come up and say something out of the way to her, just so i could spring out and wipe the face of the earth with them. i'm not as big as you are, but for her i'll bet i can whip any three men you ever saw. by the way, don't even speak millie's name at home. the folks don't know that i'm in love with her. there's one thing that stands in my favor." "what is it?" i asked. he looked up at me, but was silent, and becoming interested by his manner i was about to repeat the question, when he said: "i'm not at liberty to speak of it yet. you've noticed that guinea has more education than i have. well, her education has something to do with the point that's in my favor, but i've said too much already and we'd better drop the subject." i was burning to know more, for i recalled the change of manner that had come over mr. jucklin at the time he spoke of having sent his daughter away to school, and i was turning this over and over in my mind, when alf said: "a young fellow named dan stuart often goes to see millie, and i don't know how much she thinks of him, but some of his people are high flyers, and that may have an influence in his favor. doc etheredge, out here, is his cousin, and old man etheredge owned nearly a hundred and fifty negroes at one time. but when that girl stands up at the altar to marry some one else, they will find me there putting in my protest." when we reached home i found guinea sitting under a tree, reading, and i had joined her when the old man called me. looking about i saw him standing at the end of the house, beckoning to me. "i want to see you a minute," he said, as i approached him. i wondered whether he was again going to show me his chickens, and it was a relief when he conducted me in an opposite direction. he looked back to see if we were far enough away, and then, coming closer to me, he said: "this is the way i came to do it." "do what?" i asked, not over pleased that he should have called upon me to leave the girl. "wallow him, the old general. he claimed that my hogs had been gettin' into his field, and i told him that i didn't feel disposed to keep my hogs up when everybody else's were runnin' at large, and then he called me a scoundrel and we clinched. i took him so quick that he wasn't prepared for me, and i give a sort of a hem stich and down he went, right in the middle of the road. and there i was right on top of him. he didn't say a word, while i was wallowin' him, but when i let him up, he looked all round and then said: 'lim jucklin, if i thought anybody was lookin' i'd kill you right here. you are the first man that ever wallowed a lundsford and lived, and the novelty of the thing sorter appeals to me. you know that i'm not afraid of the devil, and keep your mouth shut about this affair, and we'll let it drap.' and he meant just what he said, and i did keep my mouth shut, not because i was afraid of his hurtin' me, but because i was sorry to humiliate him. ever hear of john mortimer lacey? well, shortly after that him and lundsford fit a duel and lacey went to new orleans and died there. so, don't say anything about it." "about what? lacey's going to new orleans and dying there?" "no, cadfound it all, about my wallerin' the general." "i won't," i answered, and then i thought to touch upon a question that had taken a fast hold upon me. "by the way, you spoke of having sent your daughter to school at raleigh----" "the devil i did! well, what's that got to do with you or with anyone else, for that matter? i'll be--you must excuse me, sir," he quickly added, bowing. "i'm not right bright in my mind at times. pecked right at my eye, and if i hadn't dodged i'd be one-eyed this minute--yes, i would, as sure as you are born. but here, let us drop that wallowin' business and that other affair with it, and not mention it again. don't know why i done it in the first place, but i reckon it was because i'm not right bright in my mind at times. you'll excuse my snap and snarl, won't you? go on back there, now, and talk about your books." "i am the one to ask pardon, mr. jucklin. i ought to have had better sense than to touch upon something that didn't concern me. i guess there must be a good deal of the brute in me, and it seems to me that i spend nearly half my time regretting what i did the other half." "why, lord love your soul, man, you haven't done nothin'. but you draw me close to you when you talk of regrettin' things. i have spent nearly all my life in putty much that fix. after you've lived in this neighborhood a while you'll hear that old lim has been in many a fight, but you'll never hear that anybody has ever whupped him. you may hear, though, that he has rid twenty mile of a cold night to beg the pardon of a man that he had thrashed. we'll shake hands right here, and if you say the word we'll go right now and make them chickens fight. no, it's sunday. kiver to kiver, you understand. go on back there, now." with guinea i sat and saw the sun go down behind a yellow gullied hill. from afar up and down the valley came the lonesome "pig-oo-ee!" of the farmers, calling their hogs for the evening's feed. we heard the flutter of the chickens, flying to roost, and the night hawk heard them, too, for his eager, hungry scream pierced the still air. on a smooth old rock at the verge of the ravine the girl's brother stood, arms folded, looking out over the darkening low land, and from within the house, where mrs. jucklin sat alone, there came a sad melody: "come, thou fount of every blessing." the girl's eyes were upward turned. "every evening comes with a new mystery," she said. "we think we know what to expect, but when the evening comes it is different from what it was yesterday." "and it is thus that we are enabled to live without growing tired of the world and of ourselves," i replied. "and i wish that i had come like the evening--with a mystery," i added. i heard her musical cluck and even in the dusk i could see the light of her smile. "but why should you want to come with a mystery?" she asked. "to inspire those about me with an interest regarding me. even the stray dog is more interesting than the dog that is vouched for by the appearance of his master. i never saw a pack-peddler that i did not long to know something of his life, his emotions, the causes that sent him adrift, but i can't find this interest in a man whom i understand." she laughed again. "but haven't you some little mystery connected with your life?" she asked. "none. i have read myself into a position a few degrees above the clod-hopper, but that's all. if there were a war, i would be a soldier, but as there is no war, i am going to be a lawyer." "it would be nice, i should think, to stand up and make speeches," she said. "but wouldn't you rather be a doctor?" i don't know why i said it, but i replied that i hated doctors, and she did not laugh at this, but was silent. i waited for her to say something, but she uttered not a word. it was now dark, and i could just discern alf's figure, standing on the rock. the song in the house was hushed. "i don't really mean that i hate doctors," i said, seeking to right myself, if, indeed, i had made a mistake; and she simply replied: "oh." "i mean that i should not like to practice medicine," i added, and again she said: "oh." a lamp had been lighted in the sitting-room, and thither we went, to join old lim and his wife, who were warm in the discussion of a religious question. the book said that whatever a man's hands found to do he must do, and, therefore, he held that it was right to do almost anything on sunday. "even unto the fighting of chickens?" his wife asked. "oh, i knowed what you was a-gittin' at. knowed it while you was a-beatin' the bush all round. when a woman begins to beat the bush, it's time to look out, mr. hawes. i came in here just now, and i knowed in a minute that wife, there, was goin' to accuse me of havin' a round with sam and bob, but i pledge you my word that i didn't. just went in and exchanged a few words with 'em. man's got a right to talk to his friends, i reckon; but if he ain't, w'y, it's time to shut up shop." alf came in and, with guinea, sang an old song, and their father sat there with the tears shining in his eyes. he leaned over, and i heard him whisper to his wife: "did have just a mild bit of a round, susan, and i hope that you and the lord will forgive me for it. if you do i know the lord will. i'm an old liar, susan." "no, you are not, lemuel," she answered, in a low voice. "you are the best man in the world, and everybody loves you." i saw him squeeze her wrinkled hand. i could not sleep, but in a strange disturbance tossed about. alf was talking in a dream. i got up and sat for a time at the window, looking out toward the gullied hill that had turned out the light of the sun. on the morrow my work was to begin. and what was to be the result? was it intended that i should reach the bar and win renown, or had i been listed for the life of a pedagogue? was my love for the girl so new that it dazzled me? no, it was now a passion, wounded and sore. but why? by that little word, "oh." i put on my clothes, tip-toed down stairs and walked about the yard. the moon was full, low above the scrub oaks. a streak of shimmering light ran down toward the spring, and over it i slowly strode. i heard the water gurgling from under the moss-covered spring-house, and i saw the leaf-shadow patch-work moving to and fro over the smooth slabs of stone. long i stood there, looking at the pictures, listening to the music; and turning back toward the house, i had gone some distance when i chanced to look up, and then, thrilled, i slowly sank upon my knees. at one of the large windows, in the northeast end of the house, stood guinea, in a loose, white robe, the light of the full moon falling upon her. behind her head her hands were clasped, and she stood there like a marble cross. her face was upward turned, and the low yellow moon was bronzing her brown hair--a glorified marble cross, with a crown of gold, i thought, as i bowed in my worship. my forehead touched the path, and when i lifted my head--the cross was gone. chapter vi. we ate breakfast early the next morning, while the game cocks were yet crowing in their coop. when i went down i heard the jingling of trace chains, and i knew that the old man was making ready to plow the young corn. i had insisted upon walking to the school-house, telling alf that all i wanted was to know the direction, but he declared that it was no more than just that i should be driven over the first morning of the session. so, together we went on the buck-board. guinea had laughingly told me not to be afraid of the creek, that the large boys were at home, plowing, and as we were skirting the gullied hill i glanced back and saw her standing in the yard, looking after us. the road lay mostly through the woods, with many a turn and dip down among thick bushes to cross a crooked stream. sometimes we came upon small clearings, where tired-looking men were grubbing new-land for tobacco, and i remember that a half-grown boy, with a sullen look, threw a chunk at us and viciously shouted that if we would stop a minute he would whip both of us. i imagined that he was kept from school by the imperious demand of the tobacco patch, and i sympathized with him in his wrath against mankind. a little further along we came within sight of an old log house, and then the laughter of children reached our ears. we had arrived at the place where my work was to begin. alf put me down, and, saying that he must get back home, drove away; and a hush fell upon the children as i turned toward the house. inside i found a cow-bell, and when i had rung the youngsters to their duties, i made them a short speech, telling them that i was sure we should become close friends. i had some difficulty in arranging them into classes, for it appeared that each child had brought an individual book. but i was glad to see that old mcguffy's readers prevailed, for in many parts of the south they had been supplanted by books of flimsy text, and now to see them cropping up gave me great pleasure. there they were, with the same old lessons that had fired me with ambition, the words of shakspeare and the speeches of great americans. by evening my work was well laid out, and as i took my way homeward, with guinea in my mind, there was a strong surge within my breast, the leaping of a determination to win her. as i neared home, coming round by the spring, i saw the girl running down the path, the picture of a young deer, and how that picture did remain with me, and how on an occasion held by the future, it was to be vivified. "oh, you have got back safe and dry," she cried, halting upon seeing me. "why, i thought you would come back dripping. no, i didn't," she quickly added. "don't you know i told you that all the large boys were at work? wait until i get the jar of butter and i'll go to the house with you." "let me get it for you," i replied, turning back with her. "you can't get it," she said, laughing; "you'll fall into the spring. but, then, you might hold it as a remembrance to temper the severity of the ducking yet to come." "miss guinea," i made bold to say, standing at the door of the spring-house, "do you know that you talk with exceeding readiness?" "oh, do you mean that i am always ready to talk? i didn't think that of you." i reached out and took the jar from her. "you know i didn't mean that," i said; and, looking up, with her eyes full of mischief, she asked: "what did you mean, then?" "i mean that you talk easily and brightly--like a book." "you'd better let me have the jar," she said, holding out her hands. "i'm afraid that you'll fall and break it, after that. you know that a man is never so likely to slip as he is when he's trying to compliment a woman." "no, i don't know that, but i do know that a southern woman ought to know the difference between flattery and a real compliment." "why a southern woman?" she asked. she looked to me as if she were really in earnest and i strove to answer her earnestly. "because southern women are not given to flirting; because they place more reliance in what a man says, and----" "i think you've got yourself tangled up," she said, laughing at me, and i could but acknowledge that i had; and then it was, in the sweetest of tones, that she said: "but if i had thought you really were tangled i would not have spoken of it. now tell me what you were going to say, and i promise to listen like a mouse in a corner." "no, i'm afraid to attempt it again." i was in advance of her, for the path was narrow and the dew was now gathering on the grass, but she shot past me, and, looking back, said beseechingly: "won't you, please?" the sun was long since down and the twilight was darkening, but i could see the eagerness on her face. "do, please, for i like to hear such things. i'm nothing but the simplest sort of a girl, as easy to amuse as a child, and you must remember that you are a great big man, from out in the world." "come on with that butter!" the old man shouted, and with a laugh the girl ran away from me. i wondered whether she were playing with me, but i could not believe that she was. in those eyes there might be mischief, but there could not be deceit. bed time came immediately after supper. the old man did not go out to look after his chickens, so tired was he, and there was no song in the sitting-room. i sat in the passage, where the moonlight fell, and hoped that the girl might join me, but she did not, and i went to my room, where i found alf, half undressed, sitting on the edge of the bed. i had sat down and had filled my pipe before he took notice of me, but when i began to search about for a light he looked up and remarked: "matches on the corner of your library." "here's one," i replied, and had lighted the pipe when he said: "saw her to-day, bill--saw her riding along the road with dan stuart. she didn't even look over in the field toward me, but he waved his hand, and i saw more hatred than friendship in it. blame it all, bill, i'm not going to follow a plow through the dirt all the time. i can do something better, and after this crop's laid by i'm going to do it. i don't think that she wants to marry a farmer." "what does stuart do?" i asked. "how can he afford to be riding about when other men are at work?" "oh, i guess he's pretty well fixed. he's got a lot of negroes working for him and he raises a good deal of tobacco. no, sir, she didn't even look toward me." "but haven't you passed her house when you were almost afraid to look toward the porch when you knew that she was standing there?" "of course i have!" he cried. "yes, sir, i've done that many a time--just pretended that i had business everywhere else but on that porch. ain't it strange how love does take hold of a fellow? it gets into his heart and his heart shoots it to the very ends of his fingers; it gets into his eyes, and he can't see anything but love, love everywhere. it may catch you one of these days, bill, and when it does, you'll know just how i feel." i looked at this strong and honest man, this man idolizing an image that he had enshrined in his soul, and i thought to tell him that, with my forehead touching the ground, i had worshiped his sister, but no, it was too delicate a confidence--i would keep it to myself. we were astir in the dawn the next day, ate breakfast by the light of a lamp, but guinea was not at the table, and i loitered there after the others were gone out, hoping to see her, but she did not come, and then i remembered that mrs. jucklin was also absent, and that the services of the meal had been performed by a negro woman. when i returned at evening, with the droning of the children's voices echoing in my ears, it seemed to me that i had been gone an age. i came again by the spring, but guinea was not there, but i heard her singing as i drew near to the house. she was in the passage, gleefully dancing, with a broom for a partner. when she saw me she threw down the broom and ran away, laughing; but she came back when she found that i had really discovered her. "you must think that i am the silliest creature in the world," she said, "and i don't know that i can dispute you. millie lundsford has just gone home. she and i have been going through with our old-time play, when, with window curtains wound about us to represent long dresses, and with brooms to personate the brave knights who had rescued us from the merciless turks, we danced in the castle. and i was just taking a turn with a duke when you came. what a knight you would have been." "and what an inspiration i should have had to drive me onward and to set my soul aflame with ambition," i replied, looking into her eyes. it must have been my look rather than my words that threw a change over her; my manner must have told her that i was becoming too serious for one who had known her so short a time, but be that as it may, a change had come upon her. she was no longer a girl, gay and airy, with a romping spirit, but a woman, dignified. "has your work been hard to-day?" she asked. "it has been more or less stupid, as it always is," i answered, slowly walking with her toward the dining-room. when we had sat down to the table alf came in with his new clothes on, and whispering to me when his sister had turned to say something to her mother, he said: "got something to tell you when we go up stairs." mrs. jucklin was afraid that i did not eat enough; she had heard that brain workers required much food; her uncle, who had been a justice of the peace, had told her that it made but small difference what he ate while engaged in getting out saw logs, but that when he began to meditate over a case in court he required the most stimulating provender. "and now," she said, "if there's anything that i can fix for you, do, please, let me know what it is. now, guinea, what are you titterin' at? and that negro woman doesn't half do her work, either. i declare to goodness i'd rather do everything on the place than to see her foolin' round as if she's afraid to take hold of anything; and her fingers full of brass rings, too. i jest told her that she'd have to take 'em off, that i didn't want to eat any brass. laws a massy, niggers are jest as different from what they was as day is from night. talk to me about freedom helpin' 'em. but the lord knows best," she added, with a sigh of resignation. "if he wants 'em to be free, why, no one ought to complain, and goodness knows i don't. yes, they ought to be free," she went on after a moment of reflection. "oh, it was a sin and a shame to sell 'em away from their children. but it's all over now, thank god. now, i wonder where your father is, alf. never saw sich a man in my life. looks jest like he begrudges time enough to eat. there he comes now." the old man came in, covered with dirt. "alf, is the shot gun loaded?" he asked, brushing himself. "yes, sir. why?" we looked at the old fellow, wondering what he meant, but he made no explanation. alf repeated his question. "why?" and the old man exclaimed: "oh, nothin'. jest goin' to blow that red steer's head off, that's all. confound his hide. i wish i may die this minute if i ever had sich a jolt in my life. went along by him, not sayin' a word to him, and if he didn't up and let me have both heels i'm the biggest liar that ever walked a log. hadn't done a thing to him, mind you; walkin' along 'tendin' to my own business, when both of his heels flew at me. and i'll eat a bite and then go and blow his head off." "oh, limuel," his wife protested; "a body to hear you talk would think that you don't do anything at all but thirst for blood. if the lord puts it in the mind of a steer to kick you, why, it ain't the poor creeter's fault." the old man snorted. "and if the lord puts it in my mind to kill the steer it ain't my fault, muther. conscience alive, what are we all dressed up so about?" he added, looking at alf. "so much stile goin' on that a body don't know whuther he's a shuckin' corn or is at a picnic. blow his head off as soon as i eat a bite." i could see that alf was anxious to tell me something, and immediately after supper i went up stairs with him. he took off his coat, and after dusting it carefully hung it up and sat down. he looked at me as if he were delighted with the curiosity that i was showing, and then as he reached for his pipe he began: "i was a-plowing out in the field about three hours by sun, when i saw millie come out of the valley like a larkspur straightening up in the spring of the year, and after waiting a while, but always with my eye on the house, i quit work, slipped up here and dressed myself so as to be ready to walk home with her. i was rather afraid to ask her at first, knowing that this was breaking away from all my former strings and announcing my determination of keeping company with her, out and out, and i don't know exactly how i got at it, but i did, and the first thing i knew i was walking down the road with her. and this time i do remember what she said, but there wasn't anything so encouraging in it. the fact is she had something to tell me about you." "about me? what can she know about me? probably she was giving you her father's estimate of me." "no, but somebody else's estimate," he replied. "you recollect a fellow named bentley?" "bentley? of course, i do. we lived on adjoining farms, and i have a sore cause to remember him. but how could she have heard anything about him?" "well, i'll tell you. mrs. bentley is old man aimes' sister, and she's over here now on a visit, and when she heard that you were teaching school in the neighborhood she declared that it would be a mercy if you didn't kill somebody before you got through. and then she told that you had waylaid her son one night and come mighty nigh killing him. she said that she was perfectly willing to forgive you until she saw the scar left on her son's forehead, and a woman can't very well forgive a scar, you know. old aimes and all his sons are slaughter-house dogs, and they appeared to take up a hatred against you at once. don't you remember as we drove to the school a boy threw a chunk at us as we were passing a clearing and swore that he could whip us both? well, that was the youngest aimes, and the trick now is, as i understand it, to send him to school with instructions to do pretty much as he pleases and to take revenge on you in case you whip him. millie said that her father swore that it was a shame and that if you wanted any help from him you could get it. nobody likes the aimes family. came in here several years ago, and have been kicking up disturbances ever since." i told alf why i had snatched bentley off his horse, nor in the least did i shield myself. i even called myself a brute. but i told him of the season of sorrow and humiliation through which i had passed, that i had insisted upon giving bentley the only valuable thing i possessed, that against his mother's command i had striven to work for him during the time he was laid up, and that i had even plowed his field at night. "i don't know that you were so far wrong in beating him in the first place," said alf, "but if you were, your course afterward should have more than atoned for it. by gracious, i feel that if some one would plow for me i'd let him maul me until he got tired. millie said that she was afraid that something might happen to get you into trouble. she seemed a good deal concerned about it, for i reckon she's got the noblest and purest heart of any human being now in the world, and she said that she thought that if you were to give up the school her father could make some arrangements for you to study law in purdy, the county seat. i told her that you would be delighted to quit teaching under ordinary circumstances, but that just at present you'd teach or die. was i right?" "surely, and i thank you for having defined my position. i wonder if we can commit an innocent error, an error that will lie asleep and never rise up to confront us? now, i shall have a fine reputation in this neighborhood." "oh, don't let that worry you, bill. it'll come out all right. i'd be willing to have almost any sort of name if it would influence that girl to talk in my favor as she did in yours. i don't know what to think; somehow i can't find out her opinion of me. i slily spoke about that fellow, dan stuart, but she didn't say a word. confound it, bill, can't a woman see that she's got a fellow on the gridiron? they can't even bear to see a hog suffer, but they can smile and look unconcerned while a man is writhing over the coals. i don't understand it." "nor do i, alf, but i've been over the coals--i mean that i can well imagine what it is to be there." he lay down, and with his head far back on the pillow, looked upward as if with his gaze he would bore through the roof and reach the stars. he was silent for a long time, but when i had blown out the light and had gone to bed, thinking that he was asleep, i heard him muttering. "talking to me, alf?" he turned over with a sigh and answered: "no, not particularly. i was just wondering whether a man ought to try to outlive a disappointment in love or kill himself and end the matter. we are told that god is love, and if god is denied to a man, what's the use of trying to struggle on? i suppose the advantage of knowledge is that it enables a man to settle such questions at once, but as i am not learned, having grabbed but a little here and there, i have to worry along with a thing that another man might dismiss at once. what's your idea, bill?" "my idea is that a man ought never to give up; but, of course, there are times when he is so completely beaten that to fight longer is worse than useless. but learning cannot settle questions wherein the heart is involved. the philosopher may kill himself in despair, while the ignorant man may continue to fight and may finally win. the other day you spoke of something that was in your favor--something that has to do with your sister's education. would you think it impertinent if i ask you what that something is?" "no, i'd not think that," he answered. i had risen up in bed and was straining my eyes, trying to find his face, to study his expression, but darkness lay between us. "not impertinent in the least, but i can't tell you just now. after a while, if you stay here long enough, you'll know all about it. bill, if that young aimes comes to school and begins any of his pranks, take him down and i'll stand by you, and people that know me well will tell you that i mean what i say. the old man has never been whipped yet, i mean my father, and nobody ever saw his son knock under." chapter vii. the next morning, when with quick stride, to make up for an anxious lingering in the passage way, i hastened toward the school, i heard the gallop of a horse, and turning about, saw old general lundsford coming like a dragoon. upon seeing me he drew in his horse and had sobered him to a walk by the time he reached a brook, on the brink of which i halted to let him pass. "why, good morning, mr. hawes. beautiful day, sir. i am going your way a short distance, and if you'll get up here behind me, sir, you shall ride." i thanked him, telling him that i much preferred to walk. "all right, sir, and i will get down and walk with you until duty, sir," he said sonorously, with a bow; "until duty, sir, shall call us apart." i urged him not to get down, telling him that i could easily keep pace with his horse, but he dismounted even before crossing the stream, preferring, he said, with another bow, to take his chances with me. and thus we walked onward, the horse following close, now and then "nosing" his master's shoulder to show his preference and his loyalty. the season was mellowing and the old gentleman was airily dressed in white, low shoes neatly polished and a panama hat. he was delighted, he said, to hear that i was getting along so well with the school, and he knew that i would be of vast good to the community. "i have heard of the aimes conspiracy," said he, "and i am glad that i met you, for i wanted to talk to you about it. the truth of it all is, not that you once larruped that fellow bentley, but that old aimes wishes to put a sly indignity upon me by misusing one who has been entertained at my house. that's the point, sir. he heard that i had given you countenance at my board, and what his sister afterward told him was an excuse for the exercise, sir, of his distemper. but, by--i came within one of swearing, sir. i used to curse like an overseer, but i joined the church not long ago, and i've been walking a tight rope ever since. but as i was about to say, you are not going to let those people humiliate you." "i am going to do my duty," i answered, "and my duty does not tell me to be humiliated." "good, sir; first-rate. as a general thing, we do not look for the highest spirit in a school-teacher--pardon my frankness, for, as you know, one who is dependent upon a whole community, one who seeks to please many and varied persons, is not as likely to exhibit that independence and vigor of action which is characteristic of the man who stands solely upon honor, with nothing to appease save his own idea of right. but i forgot. the grandson of captain hawes needs no such homily. the aimes family is a hard lot, sir, but a gentleman can at all times stand in smiling conquest above a tough. scott aimes, a burly scoundrel, and, therefore, the pet of his father, at one time threatened to chastize my son chydister, who is now off at college. and i said not a word in reply, when my son told me of the threat. i merely pointed to a shot-gun above the library door and went on with my reading of the death notices in the newspaper. that gun is there now, sir, and whenever you want it, speak the word and it shall be yours." i laughed to myself and thought that i must be getting on well with the old general--first the offer of his library and now of his gun--and i thanked him for the interest which he had shown in me, a mere stranger. "a well-bred southerner is never a stranger in the south," said he. "we are held together by an affection stronger than any tie that runs from heart to heart in any other branch of the human family. but," he added, sadly shaking his head, "i fear that this affection is weakening. our young men are becoming steeped in the strong commercial spirit of the north. i should like to continue this pleasant and elevating conversation, but here's where i am compelled to leave you." "can i assist you to mount?" i asked, hardly knowing what else to say. he shoved his hat back and looked at me in astonishment. "you are kind, sir, but i am not yet on the lift." but he instantly recognized that this was harsh, and with a broad smile he added: "pardon me for my shortness of speech, but the truth is that a man who has spent much of his life in the saddle contemplates with horror the time when he must be helped to his seat." "general, i am the one to ask pardon," i replied, bowing in my turn. "oh, no, i assure you!" he exclaimed, mounting his horse with more ease than i had expected to see. "it was your kindness of heart, sir; a courtesy, and though a courtesy may be a mistake, it is still a virtue. look at that old field out there," he broke off. "do you call that an advancement of civilization. by--the tight rope, again--it is desolation." it seemed that while walking he had regarded me as his guest, but that now, astride his horse and i on foot, he looked upon me as a man whom he had simply met in the road. "a return of prosperity," he said, gathering up his bridle rein, "a fine return, indeed. about another such a return and this infernal world won't be fit to live in. i wish you good morning, sir." that very day there came to school the sullen-looking boy whom i had seen in the tobacco patch. i asked him his name and he answered that he had forgotten to bring it with him. "perhaps," said i, "it would be well to go back and get it." "if you want it wus'n i do i reckon you better go atter it." this set the children to laughing. my humiliation was begun. "i understand why you have come," said i, "and i must tell you that you must obey the rules if you stay here. what is your name?" "gibblits," he answered. the children laughed and he stood regarding me with a leer lurking in the corners of his evil-looking mouth. "all right, mr. gibblits, where are your books?" he grinned at me and answered: "ain't got none." "well, sit down over there and i'll attend to you after a while." "won't set down and won't be attended to." "well, then, i'll attend to you right now." i grabbed him by the collar, jerked him to me and boxed his jaws. he ran out howling when i turned him loose, and for a time he stood off in the woods, throwing stones at the house. the war was begun. and i expected to encounter the aimes forces on my way home, but saw nothing of them as i passed within sight of the house. i hoped to see a look of sweet alarm on guinea's face, when i should tell her of the danger that threatened me, and there was sweetness in her countenance, when i told her, though not a look of alarm, but a smile of amusement. was it that she felt no interest in me? the other members of the family were much concerned, but that was no recompense for the girl's apparent indifference. the old man snorted, mrs. jucklin was so wrought upon that she strove to prepare me a soothing dish at supper, but guinea remained undisturbed. i could not help but speak to alf about it when we had gone up to our room. "oh, you never can tell anything about her," he said. "it's not because she isn't scared, but because she hates to show a thing of that sort. i'm mighty sorry it has come about. but there's only one way out--fight out if they jump on you. i don't know how soon they intend to do anything, but i'll nose around and come over to the school this evening if i hear anything. don't let it worry you; just put it down as a thing that couldn't be helped." it did not worry me--the fact that i might be on the verge of serious trouble, did not; but the thought of guinea's careless smile lay cold upon my heart, and all night i was restless under it. and when i went down stairs at dawn i met her in the passage way, carrying a light. she looked up at me, shielding the light with her hand to keep the breeze from blowing it out, and smiled, and in her smile there was no coolness, and yet there was naught to show me that she had passed an anxious night. ah, love, we demand that you shall not only be happy, but miserable at our wish. we would dim your eye when our own is blurred; we would smother your heart when our own is heavy, and would pierce it with a pain. upon her children this old world has poured the wisdom of her gathered ages, and could we look from another sphere we might see the minds of great men twinkling like the stars, but the human heart is yet unschooled, yet has no range of vision, but chokes and sobs in its own emotion, as it did when the first poet stood upon a hill and cried aloud to an unknown god. away across the valley and over the hills the peeping sun was a glaring scollop when i came out to take my course through the woods toward the school. i knew that the girl stood in the door behind me. alf and the old man were already in the field; i could hear them talking to their horses; and mrs. jucklin was up stairs--guinea and i were alone. i turned and looked at her and again she smiled. "the world seems to be holding its breath, waiting for something to happen," she said. "to me it always appears so when there is a lull in the air just at sunrise." "what a fanciful little creature you are," i replied. "little! oh, you mustn't call me little. i'm taller than mother. i don't want to be little, although it is more appealing. i want to be commanding." "but what can be more commanding than an appeal?" i asked. "yes, when the appeal is pitiful, but i don't want any one to pity me," she said, laughing. "you big folks have such a patronizing way. you don't look well this morning, mr. hawes. is it because you have been worrying over those wretched aimes boys? won't you please forgive me?" she quickly added. "i don't know why i said that, for i ought to know that you are not afraid of them." "i didn't sleep very well," i answered, "but i was not thinking of the aimes boys. shall i tell you what worried me?" "yes, surely." "it may require almost an unwarranted frankness on my part, but i will tell you. it seemed to me that----" i hesitated. "go on," she said. "well, it seemed that you were strangely unconcerned when i told you that i was likely to have trouble with those people." she stood with her head resting against the door-facing. i looked hard at her, striving to catch some sign of emotion, but i saw no evidence of feeling; she was cool and reserved. "i don't know why you should have thought that," she said. "why should i be so uncharitable. i was very sorry that anything was likely to interrupt the school." "oh," i replied, and perhaps with some bitterness, "it really amounts to but little--the threat of those ruffians, i mean--and to speak about it almost puts me down as a fool. i hope you will forgive me." i hastened away, with a senseless anger in my heart, and i think that it is well that i saw no member of the aimes family that morning on my way to school. everything went forward as usual; play-time came, and the children shouted in the woods, and the hour for dismissal had nearly arrived when in stalked alf with a shot-gun. he nodded at me and took a seat far to the rear of the room, as if careful lest he might interrupt the closing ceremonies. and when the last child was gone my friend came forward, shaking his head. "what's the trouble now?" i asked, taking down my hat. "put your hat right back there, unless you want to wear it in the house," he said. "i have found out that those fellows are laying for you, and it won't be safe to start home now; we'll have to wait until dark. oh, they'll get you sure if you go now. they have been to town, i understand, and have come back pretty well loaded up with whisky. oh, they are as bold as lions now. but we'll fix them all right. we'll wait until dark and not go by the road, and to-morrow morning we'll go over and see what they've got to say." "alf, i don't know how to express my thanks to you. you are running a great risk----" "don't mention that, bill. you stood by me, you understand--walked right into the general's house with me, and i said to myself that if you ever got into a pinch that i'd be on hand and stand with you. did you bring a pistol?" "yes, and i am very glad that i didn't meet one of those fellows as i came along. however, i should not know one of them if i were to meet him in the road." "but you'll know them after a while. do these doors lock?" "i think not, or, at least, they could be easily forced open. do you think they are likely----" "they are likely to do anything now," he broke in. "and there are just four of them big enough to fight--of the boys, i mean, for the old man has sense enough to keep out of it." "it is a wonder, then," said i, "that he hasn't sense enough to keep his sons out of it, as he must know that no good can be the result." "that's all true enough," alf replied, "but i have heard that you can't argue with the instinct of a brute, and i know that it is useless to argue with red liquor. here, let's shove the writing desk against this door," he added. "once more, shove again. that's it. now we'll pile benches against the other one. we can't do anything with the windows, but must simply keep out of the way of them." "do you think they will shoot through them?" i asked. he halted, with the end of a bench in his grasp, and looked at me. "bill, if i didn't know better i'd swear that you are not of the south. don't you know that if you enrage white trash it is likely to do anything? don't you know that consequences are never counted?" "i know all that," i replied, "but i was considering the incentive. i know that if you give the cracker a cause he will do most anything, but have i given him a cause?" "you have given him all the excuse he wants. one more bench. that's it. and now the fury of their fight will depend upon the quantity of liquor they have with them. i didn't tell any of the home folks that i was coming here--told them that i might meet you and that we might not be home until late. i wouldn't be surprised----" out in the woods there was the blunt bark of a short gun, the window glass was splintered in a circle, a sharp zip and a piece of the clay "chinking" flew from the opposite wall. "what did i tell you?" said alf, looking at me as if pleased with the proof of his forecast. "you get over on that side and i'll stay here. get down on the floor and look through between the logs if you can find a place, and if you can't punch out the dirt, but be easy; they might see you. there he is again." the glass in the other window was shattered. "that's all right," said alf. "they may charge on us after a while, and then we'll let them have it. have you found a place?" "i have made one," i answered, lying flat on the floor, gazing out. no shot had been fired from my side, and i had begun to think that the entire force was confronting alf when in the sobering light i saw a man standing beside a tree not more than fifty yards distant. he appeared to be talking to some one, for i saw him look round and nod his head. i did not want to kill him, although the law was plainly on my side, but a man may stand shoulder to shoulder with the law and yet wound his own conscience. another figure came within sight, among the bushes, appearing to rise out of the leafy darkness, and then there came a loud shout: "come out of there, you coward!" "don't say a word," said alf. "they are trying to locate you. i don't see anybody yet, and it's getting most too dark now. but i reckon we'd both better fire to let them know that there is more than one of us. we don't want to take any advantage of them, you know," he added, laughing. "it doesn't look as if we were," i answered. "i could kill one of them, alf." "the devil you could! then do it. here, let me get at him." "no," i replied, waving him off from my peep-hole. "it is better not to kill him until we are forced to." "but we are forced to now, don't you see? they've shot at us. there you are!" they had fired a volley, it seemed. "let me get at him," said alf. "i'll try him," i replied. and i poked the barrel of my pistol through the crack, pretended to take a careful aim and fired. "did you get him?" alf asked. "don't know; can't see very well." "well, if i find one of them he's gone," he replied, returning to his own look-out. and a moment later the almost simultaneous discharge of both barrels of his gun jarred the house. "don't know whether i got him or not," he said, as he drew back and began to reload, "for i couldn't see very well, but i'll bet he thinks a hurricane came along through the bushes. it's too dark now to see anything and all we can do is to wait." "wait for what?" i asked. "wait for them to try to break in. they'll try it after they have had a few more pulls at the bottle, i think. now let's keep perfectly quiet and watch." the moon had not yet risen and the woods stood about us like a black wall. no wind was abroad, the air in the house was close, and i could hear my own heart beating against the floor. there was scarcely any use to look out now, for nothing could be seen, and i arose and sat with my back against the wall, taking care to keep clear of the small opening which i had made. it was so dark in the room that i could not see alf, but i could hear him, for softly he was humming a tune: "hi, bettie martin, tip-toe fine." for days he had been heavy with the melancholy of his love, but now in this hour of danger his heart seemed to be light and attuned to a rollicking air. i have known many a man to breathe a delicious thrill in an atmosphere of peril, to feel a leap of the blood, a gladness, but it was at a time of intense excitement, a sort of epic joy; but how could a man, lying in the dark, waiting for he knew not what--how could he put down a weighty care and take up a lightsome tune? down in the hollow a screech owl was crying, and his mate on the hill-top replied to his call, while in the room near me was the whif of a bat. and alf was now so silent that i thought he must have fallen asleep, but soon i heard him softly whistling: "hi, bettie martin, tip-tip-toe fine." "you seem to be enjoying yourself," said i. "if you had brought a fiddle we might have a dance." i heard him titter as he wallowed on the floor. "this is fun," he said, "the only real fun i've had since--i was going to say since the war, but i was too young to go into society at that time." "what do you think they are up to now, alf?" i asked. "blamed if i know. getting tired?" "well, i don't want to stay here all night. what are we waiting for?" "it's hard to tell just at present, and if we don't get a more encouraging report pretty soon we'll break the engagement and go home. what's that?" i listened and at first heard nothing, and was just about to say that it must be the screech-owl come closer, when from a corner of the house there came a distant and sharp crackle. i heard alf scuffle to his feet. "we are in for it!" it was true, for now we could see the light glaring on the bushes and a moment later a spear of light shot inward, revealing my friend standing there with his hands buried deep in his pockets. "those old logs are as dry as a powder horn," he carelessly remarked. "won't take long to burn the thing down." "but what are we going to do?" i cried. and now the room was aglow, and shadows were dancing on the wall. "i was just thinking," said he, looking about. "they'll begin shooting in here as soon as that end is burned out. wish i had seen that rascal when he slipped up here to kindle this fire. helloa, it's spread to the roof." i strove to show him that i could be as calm and as careless as he, but now i was startled, and excitedly exclaimed: "we shall be burned up like rats in a barn!" "oh, i reckon not. here, let's pull up a plank out of the floor and crawl under and if we can get into the bushes we'll be all right. here's a crack. but i can't move it," he added, after straining at the board. "see if you can get your fingers through here." i dropped upon my knees and thrust my fingers through the crack. the fire had now gained such headway that the air was hot and a glare danced on the wall where the shadow had crept; and we heard the aimes boys yell in the woods a short distance off. with all my strength i pulled at the board; i got off my knees and braced myself, and with a quick jerk the board came up with a loud rip and i fell backward on the floor. "go ahead," said alf, quietly standing there, with his gun under his arm. "get down through and work your way toward the other end." "you go first, alf." "i'm in no hurry. but may be i know of an opening where the sheep come under in winter. follow me, then." down we went into the fine and suffocating dust. here and there the sheep and the hogs had dug deep beds in their restlessness, when nights had been cold, but in places the floor was so close to the ground that i could scarcely crawl through. we heard one end of the roof fall in, and then a volley was fired from the woods. "what did i tell you?" said alf. "we understand their tactics, any way. don't believe you can get through here, bill. wait, i can dig down this lump with my gun. wish i had a hatchet. ever notice how handy a hatchet is?" "for god's sake, let me get at it, alf. i can feel the heat. the whole thing will fall down on us in a minute. that'll do; i can squeeze through." alf crawled into one of the deep beds and reached back to help pull me through. "bill, looks like this place was made for you, only i wish they had made it a trifle bigger. once more." and there i struggled and there he pulled. "i am gone, alf; i can't get out. save yourself if you can." "if you can't get out i know you are not gone, bill," he replied with a laugh, but it was a laugh of despair rather than of merriment. "don't give up. once more. you are coming. what did i tell you?" and again he laughed, but not in despair. we were now at the wall, at the very hole through which the sheep were wont to come in. "you first, this time, bill. sheer off to the left. the bushes are not more than fifteen feet away." with but little difficulty i squeezed through the opening. and now i was in a hot and dazzling glare. a breeze had sprung up with the flames, and behind me was a roar, and a crash of the falling beams. i looked not about me, but straight ahead toward the thicket, now waving as if swept by a strong wind; and within a minute after reaching the outer air i was crawling through a thick clump of blackberry briars, with alf close upon my heels. we soon came upon a sheep-walk covered with briars, and now we could make faster time. the aimes boys were still firing into the burning house, and it was evident that they had not discovered our escape. "we can walk now," alf whispered. "turn down here to the right and keep the shumac bushes between us and them. now we are all right." not another word was spoken until we had reached a knoll, some distance away. then we halted and looked back. and now the old house was but a blazing heap. alf was peeping about through the trees, and suddenly his gaze was set. he cocked his gun and brought it to his shoulder. "no," i said. "you will only regret it." i grasped the gun and both hammers fell upon my hand. "get back!" he commanded. "no," i said, my hand still under the hammers. "you must not." he looked hard at me for a moment and then suffered me to take the gun. the fire was now dying, and, looking to the left, whence the firing had come, i saw two of the aimes boys standing under a tree. "bill, i could kill both of them," alf said, in a sorrowful voice. "i know, my dear boy, but you must not. you would always regret it. we will let the law take charge of them to-morrow." "not to-morrow, bill, but to-night. to-morrow they will be gone." "all right; just as you say. where is the nearest officer?" "a deputy sheriff lives about two miles from here, off to the right of our road home. come on." we came into the road after making a circuit through the woods, and hastened onward. and we must have gone nearly half the distance to the deputy's house when we heard the aimes boys coming behind us, drunk and whooping. "they think we are burnt up," said alf; "but we'll show them. let's get aside into the bushes, and when they come along we'll let them have it." "we will get aside into the bushes," said i, "but we will not let them have it. come over this side. let me have your gun." he let me take the gun, and as he stood near me, waiting for the ruffians to pass, i thought that he made an unseemly degree of noise, merely to attract their attention so that he might have an opportunity to fire at them. "keep still, alf," i whispered. they came down the road, singing a bawdy song. for a moment i was half inclined to give alf his gun, but that early lesson, the waylaying of bentley, restrained me. we heard the scoundrels talking between their outbursts of song. "piece of roast hog wouldn't go bad jest about now, scott. i feel sorter gnawish after my excitement of the evenin'." "wall, if you air hongry and hanker atter hog, why don't you go back yander and git a piece that we've jest roasted?" alf's hand closed about the barrels of his gun, and strongly he pulled, but i loosened his grip and whispered: "let them go. there is no honor and very little revenge in shooting a brute." "i reckon you are right," he replied, but he did not whisper, and out in the road there was a quick scuffling of feet and then a halt. i threw one arm about alf and pressed one hand over his mouth. "what was that, scott?" "i didn't hear nothin'." "thought i heared somebody a-talkin'." "yes, you thought like young's niggers--thought buck-eyes was biscuits. come on, boys. we'll go over and wake old josh up and git more licker." they passed on, and when i had given alf the opportunity to speak he said: "good. they are going over to a negro's house and we'll get there about the time they do, and if we can't get anybody but the deputy to help us we'll have to kill one or two of them. now keep up with me." off through the woods he went at a trot, leaping logs and splashing through a brook where it was broad; and i kept well up with him. already my mind had ceased to dwell upon the narrowness of our escape; i was thinking of guinea as she had stood, shielding the light with her hand. chapter viii. we were not long in reaching the house of the deputy sheriff. a loud call brought him out to the fence. and when we had quickly told him what was wanted, he whistled to express his gratification or his surprise and i fancied that i saw his hair bristling in the moonlight, for he had come out bareheaded. "now let me think a minute, boys," said he. "i have been an officer long enough to know that it ain't much credit to take a fellow after he's dead--most anybody can do that. what we want is to capture them and to do that we've got to have more men. alf, i tell you what you do. you and your friend slip over to old josh's and keep watch to see that they don't get away, and i'll ride as fast as i can and get general lundsford and your daddy. what do you say?" "i say it's a first-rate plan," alf answered. "i don't think the general would like to be left out and i know that father wouldn't. come on, bill." the negro's house was not far away, and hastening silently through the woods we soon came within sight of it, on the side of a hill, at the edge of a worn-out field. we softened our foot-steps as we drew near unto the cabin, and we could hear the ruffians within, singing, swearing, dancing. we halted at the edge of the woods, within ten feet of the door, and listened. "let us slip up and take a peep at them," said alf; and carefully we climbed over the old fence, taking care not to break any of the rotting rails lest we might sound an alarm. we made not the slightest noise, but just as we were within touching distance of the cabin, a dog sprang from behind a box in the chimney corner. i don't know how much noise it might have been his intention to make or whether he belonged to the stealthy breed of curs whose delight it is to make a silent lunge at the legs of a visitor, but i do know that he made not a sound, for i grabbed him by the throat and the first thing he knew his eyes were popping out between their fuzzy lids. i choked him until i thought he must be dead, and then, with a swing, i threw him far over the fence into the woods. we listened and heard him scrambling in the dried leaves and then he was still. the cabin was built of poles and was old. many a rain had beaten against the "chinking" and we had no trouble in finding openings through which we could plainly see all that went forward within. just as i looked in i heard the twang of a banjo, and i saw the old negro sitting on the edge of a bed, picking the instrument, while two white men were patting a break-down and two others were trying to dance. at the fire-place a negro woman was frying meat and baking a hoe-cake. "generman," said the negro, twanging his strings and measuring his words to suit his tune, "don't want right now to be so pertinence--be so pertinence; but, yes, i'd like to know, hi, hi, hi, yes, like to know whut you gwine gimme fur dis yere, yes, whut you gwine gimme fur all dis yere?" the patting ceased instantly, and the two men danced not another shuffle, and one of them, scott, i afterward learned, cried out: "what, you old scoundrel, air you dunnin' us already?" "oh, naw, sah, skuze me," said the old negro, "i ain't doin' dat, fur i dun tole you dat i didn' want ter be pertinence, but dar's some things, you know, dat er pusson would like ter un'erstan', an' whut i gwine git fur all dis yere is one o' 'em. i has gib you licker an' i has gib you music, an' wife, dar, is cookin' supper fur you, an' it ain' no mo' den reason dat i'd wanter know whut we gwine git fur it." "well, we'll pay you all right enough," replied scott aimes. "you've always treated us white, and you are about the only man in this neighborhood that has." "i thankee, sah," the negro rejoined; "yas, i thankee, sah, fur i jest wanted ter be satisfied in my mine, an' i tell you dat when er pusson is troubled in his mine he's outen fix sho nuff. hurry up dar, tildy, wid you snack, fur deze genermen is a-haungry." "i hope she won't get it ready any too soon," i whispered to alf, and he, with his face close to mine, replied: "you can trust an old negro woman for that. it won't take parker very long to ride over to the general's house, and they can pick up father on the way back." "won't your mother and--and guinea be frightened?" "not much. they've seen the old man go out on the war path more than once. let's see what they are doing now." scott had taken the banjo and was turning it over, looking at it. we saw him take out a knife and then with a twang he cut the strings. "good lawd!" exclaimed the negro, and his wife turned from the fire with a look of sorrow and reproach, for the distressful sound had told her accustomed ear that a calamity had befallen the instrument. "now jest look whut you done!" the negro cried, and his wife, wiping her hands on her apron, looked at scott aimes and said: "ef dat's de way you gwine ack, i'll burn dis yere braid an' fling dis yere meat in de fire. er body workin' fur you ez hard ez i is, an' yere you come er doin' dat way. it's er shame, sah, dat's whut it is. it's er plum shame, i doan kere ef you is white an me black." scott roughly tossed the banjo into a corner and laughed. "sounds a blamed sight better in death than in life," said he. "but who gwine pay fur dat death music?" the negro asked. "pay for it!" scott turned fiercely upon the negro and alf caught up his gun. "wait!" i whispered. "pay for it!" scott raved. "why you infernal old scoundrel, do we have to pay every time we turn round? but we'll make it all right with you," he added, turning away; and alf lowered his gun. "i hopes ter de lawd you will," said the woman, "fur we needs it bad enough." "you do?" scott replied. "well, you'd better be thankful that we don't blow on you for sellin' whisky without license." "dar ain' no proof o' de fack dat i has sol' none ter-night," said the old negro, shaking his head. "what's that?" scott demanded, wheeling round. "skuze me, sah, nothin' er tall. jest er passin' de time o' de day, sah." "didn't i tell you that we would pay you for everything we got?" "yas, sah, an' you's er generman, sah; yas, i thanks you fur gwinter pay me." "yo' supper is done an' ef you'll jest gib me room i'll fix de table," the woman remarked, taking the bread off the griddle. "i hear them coming!" alf whispered. i looked round and saw them at the fence. they had tied their horses in the woods. we stepped out from the shadow and held up our hands to enjoin care. "i'll go first, and you boys follow me," said the general, cocking his pistol and letting the hammer down to see if it worked well. "oh, i reckon not," lim jucklin replied. "i'm older than you are and you know it. come on, boys." "older!" the general exclaimed, with such force that we had to tell him to make less noise. "i am eight months older than you are, and you know it. come on, boys." old lim took hold of him. "this ain't altogether your picnic; the invertations come from my house, and----" "what the devil difference does it make?" the deputy spoke up. "i'm the only officer present and i'll go first." i thought that it was my time to act, and, telling them to follow me, i reached the door almost at a stride and threw my full weight against it. the door flew off its hinges and fell on the floor broad-side, and the aimes brothers, now seated at a table, were "covered" with guns and pistols before they had time to stir in their chairs. they appeared to be horror-stricken at seeing alf and me, and in a moment their hands were in the air. "josh," the deputy commanded, "bring us a plow line. never mind, you haven't time for that. take off that bed cord." the woman had squeezed herself into a corner, between a "cubbord" and the wall, but she came out and protested against the use of her bed cord. "get that cord!" the deputy commanded. "move that hand again, scott aimes, and i'll kill you. here we are," he added, when the negro had tumbled off the bed-clothes and unfastened the cord. "now cut it in four pieces." "fur de lawd's sake!" the woman shouted, "you ain' gwine treat er pusson datter way, is you? fust da cuts de banjo strings an' den yere come de law an' cuts de bed cawd. laws er massy whut got inter dis worl' no how." "keep quiet," said the deputy. "here, big man, tie their wrists and don't be afraid of hurting them. i've had my eye on you gentlemen for some time. that's it, give it to them hard. tie their ankles, too. but we have only four pieces of rope. go now and get a plow-line, josh." we put back the table and the chairs and stood our prisoners in the center of the room, sullen and coarse-featured brutes, and waited for the negro to come with the plow-line, and presently he appeared with a new grass rope. "that's just exactly what we want," said the deputy. "cut it in four pieces, and, big man," he continued, speaking to me, "i must again call on you. tight around the shank and no feelings considered. that's it; you go at it in the right way--must have tied chickens for the market. i must really beg pardon of these gentlemen for not getting a warrant; we were pushed for time and, therefore, we are a trifle irregular, but my dear sirs, i promise you that you shall have a warrant just as soon as we get into purdy. you should be satisfied with my admitting that i am irregular." the general roared with a great laugh. "your apology is of the finest feather, the most gracious down," said he, "but our friends must remember that in an irregularity often lie some of the most precious merits of this life." "if we hadn't been huddled round this here table you wouldn't be havin' sich fun," said scott aimes, quivering under my strong pull at the rope. "we never did ask nothin' but a fair show, but we didn't git it this time, by a long shot." "silence, brute," the general commanded. "as low as you are, you should know better than to break in upon the high spirits of a gentleman. oh, i have understood you all along. you were working your courage toward me. hush, don't you speak a word." "got them all strung?" the deputy asked, examining the ropes. "good. now, josh, you run over to my house as fast as you can and tell my wife that you want the two-horse wagon. and hitch it up and come back here as fast as you can. go on; i'll pay you for everything." "thankee, sah, i'm gone. it loosens er ole pusson's feet, sah, ter know dat he gwine be paid. hard times allus comin' down de big road, er kickin' up er dust." "are you going?" the deputy stormed. "confound you; i'll put you in jail for selling whisky if you are not back here in fifteen minutes." "gone now!" exclaimed the negro, bounding from the door and striking a trot. "gone!" we heard him repeat, as he leaped over the fence. "mr. parker," said scott aimes, stretching his neck toward the officer, "i've jest got one favor to ask of you. git that bottle over thar an' give us fellers a drink. it was licker that got us into this here muss, an' you ought to let licker help us a little now." "old fellow used to keep a grocery over at blue lick," the deputy remarked, looking at me rather than at the prisoner, "and when a man's money was all gone he used to say: 'lord love you, honey, i couldn't think of letting you take another drop; i'm so much interested in your welfare that i don't want to see you hurt yourself.' no, scottfield"--and now he looked at the prisoner--"i am too much interested in you to see you throw yourself away. don't be impatient. 'just wait for the wagon,' says the old song." the old general had sat down, but old lim continued to stand there, his arms bare and his teeth hard-set. on his countenance lay the shadow of a regret, and i have thought that he was grieved at the spoiling of the fight that he thought should have taken place to reward him for the trouble of leaving home. the prisoners winced under his gaze, as his eyes leaped about from one to another. but he said not a word; just stood there, with his teeth hard-set. soon we heard the wagon, rumbling along the road that skirted the old field, and we began to set our prisoners near the door, picking them up and putting them down like upright sticks. the wagon drew up near the door, the woman held a light for us and we began our work of loading. and i was glad when the deputy said that he no longer needed our assistance; i was afraid that he would ask me to drive to town with him. "well," he said, gathering up the lines and glancing back at his load, "a pretty good haul for these hard times. whoa, wait a minute. say, general, i suppose you have heard some talk of my candidacy for the office of sheriff, and i reckon you have seen to-night whether or not i am worthy of the trust. it's always well to put in a word in time, you know. i reckon i've got you all right, alf, and, big man, wish you could vote with us this time. well, i'll let you gentlemen know when you are wanted at court." old lim and the general led their horses and walked with alf and me; and we heard many a grunt and snort as we told of the burning of the school-house. old lim swore that i ought to have let alf kill scott aimes, but the general sided with me. "that would have done no good, lim," said he. "it's far better as we now have it. i am glad to see, mr. hawes, that you have so much discretion, a most noble quality, sir. now as to the loss of the house, that amounts to nothing. it ought to have been set afire long ago. and i'll tell you what shall be done: a new building shall be put up at once, not of logs, but of frame, and it shall be neatly painted to show people that we are keeping up with the times. every neighborhood about us has a fine school-house; the old log huts have disappeared, and we are going to march right in the van, sir. but i want to tell you right now that it was in those log school-houses that the greatest men in the nation have been taught; and when i see a pile of logs out in the woods i fancy that i can hear the classics lowly hummed." "gentlemen," said old lim, "if it was day time instead of night i would invite you to see some of the finest sport you ever run across, for i'm in the humor for it right now. but chickens have a prejudice agin fightin' at night. many a time when i had trouble on my mind and couldn't sleep i've got up and tried to stir their blood, but they want to nod; that's what they want to do at night--nothin' but nod, unless you've got light enough, and then if you stir 'em up they'll git so mad that they'll go it smack to a finish." "talking about those chickens?" the general asked. "confound them, they'd have no attraction for me if it were mid-day. but pardon me. i mean simply that i take no interest in such things." old lim grunted. "right here is where i git on my horse," said he. and he mounted and rode on ahead in moody silence. i was now walking beside the general and alf was just behind me. several times the young man sighed distressfully and i knew that something heavy had fallen upon his mind. presently he pulled at my coat and as i dropped back he took my place. "general, you said just now that bill was right in not letting me shoot that fellow, scott aimes." he hesitated and was silent for a few moments, striding beside the general, and the general said nothing--was waiting for him to continue. "said that i was wrong," alf repeated, "and i reckon i was, but i hope you won't say anything about it--at home." "why not at home, sir? hah, why not at home? 'od zounds, can't a gentleman talk in his own house?" alf began to drop back. "what he means, general," said i, taking his place, "is that he has so much respect for you that he does not want you to think ill of him when you are alone, meditating in your own house." "ha, now, a fine whim, but it's a respectful whim and shall be honored, sir. i don't understand the young men of this day and generation, but i know what respect means. i don't know that i condemned you, alf; i spoke for the most part of the discretion of your friend. well, gentlemen, here is where i leave you." he threw the bridle reins over the horse's neck and was preparing to mount, when alf started forward as if to help him, but i clutched him so vigorously that he turned upon me and asked what i meant. "keep still," i whispered. "i'll tell you after a while." by this time the old gentleman was astride his horse. he took off his hat, bowed with the air of a cavalier, and, bidding us good-night, galloped off down the road. then i told alf why i had held him back, that i had almost insulted the old man by offering to assist him in mounting his horse; and alf stood there actually trembling at the narrowness of his escape. i know that we should have been burned up had he been half so badly frightened while we were in the school-house. the nights were shortened by the season's approach to the first of may. it seemed a long time since the twilight had glimmered on the leaves, and it was past midnight when we reached home. old lim had put up his horse and was standing at the draw-bars, waiting for us. "for a smart man," said he, "i reckon the general's got about as little sense as any human now alive. by jings, he's a crank; that's what's the matter with him; and the first thing he knows people will be keepin' out of his way." a light flashed from the passage and we saw guinea and her mother standing on the log step, gazing toward us. "it's all right!" the old man cried. "go on to bed, and don't be standing around this time of night." alf and i, leaving the old man at the bars, went to the house. "oh, i'm so glad you've all got back," said mrs. jucklin, striving to be calm, but whimpering. "are you sure that you are all safe and sound?" guinea began to laugh. "of course, they are, mother, don't you see?" "but what's your father still standin' out yonder for? i jest know he's crippled. limuel, are you hurt?" she cried. "yes, i am hurt, and by a man that prefers to be a crank. said that he wouldn't care anything about 'em even if it was daylight." "oh, but you are not shot, are you?" his wife exclaimed, starting toward him. "go in now, susan, and don't come foolin' with me. who said i was shot? go on to bed, everybody, and i'll come when i git ready." "but you must be hungry, limuel?" "hungry, the devil--excuse me, ma'm. i'll eat a snack mebby between now and mornin'." "it's no use to talk to him," she said, with a sigh, and, turning to me, she added: "you and alf must be nearly starved. we've kept the coffee warm. guinea, go and pour it out for 'em." "will you tell me all about the fight?" the girl asked when we entered the dining-room. "i like to hear about such things." i strove to make light of it, but, seeing that this would not satisfy her, i told of the burning of the house and of the capture of the aimes brothers, colored our danger in the house, to see her lips whiten and her eyes stare; pictured myself as i must have looked when i seized the dog, to choke him, and to throw him far into the woods--told her all, except that i had caught the hammers of alf's gun. "i don't see how you kept from killing them when you got the chance," she said, leaning with her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, musing: "i don't understand how you could keep from it." alf threw down his knife and fork and struck the table with his fist. "i wanted to kill scott--had a bead on him, but bill grabbed my gun. guinea, i'm glad you stand by me, you and father; but the general thinks i was wrong, and i was just about to think that everybody's heart was right but mine. i am glad you are with me, guinea." i looked at her as she sat there, musing; her hair was tangled as if a storm of thought had swept through her head, and sorely i wondered whether a care for me had been borne through the storm. i forgot the presence of alf; i forgot everything except that i would have given my blood and my soul to please her, and with bitterness i said: "oh, if i had known that you wanted him killed i would not only have let alf kill him--i would have killed him myself." she looked up from her attitude of musing and met my outbreak with a quiet laugh. "the bigger a man is the sillier he is," she said, still laughing. "why, i don't want him dead. i wouldn't like to have anyone killed. i merely wondered how, having come so close to being burned up, you could keep from killing him. i thought that i understood most men, but i don't understand you, mr. hawes." "yes, you do!" i cried; "you understand me too well, and that is why you torture me." "what!" exclaimed alf, springing to his feet, "are you on the gridiron? has she got you where somebody has got me? by--there comes mother." i looked back as i passed out of the room, and guinea sat there, musing. alf put his arm about me as we went up the stairs. we did not light the lamp, but sat down in the dark, sat there and for a long time were silent. "bill, oh, bill." "yes," i answered. "bill, don't ask me anything. father may tell you something to-morrow. god bless you, bill. you have stood by me. good-night." chapter ix. it must have been daylight before i worried my way into a sleep that seemed jagged and sharp-cornered with many an evil turn; and when i awoke the sun was shining. i looked out, and far across the field i saw alf, walking behind his plow. the hour was late for one to rise in the country, for the sun was far above the tops of the trees. but i cared not for any impression that might be made by my apparent laziness; my head was heavy and my heart was crushed. no sound came from below, and after dressing--and how mean my clothes did look--i sat down at my writing desk--sat and mused, just as i had seen guinea sitting, with her elbows on the table and with her chin in her hands. and alf would ask the old man to tell me something. tell me what? i went down stairs. mrs. jucklin was sweeping the yard. she put down her broom upon seeing me and came forward, wiping her hands. i began to apologize for being so late. "oh, that makes no difference," she said. "alf told us not to wake you. i will go in and fix you something to eat." "now, don't put yourself to any trouble, for, really, i couldn't eat a bite; i'm not very well. where is mr. jucklin?" "why, you must eat something. he's gone to the blacksmith shop broke the point off his plow against a rock and had to go and get it fixed. he ought to be back by now. it ain't but a little ways down the road. are you goin' over there? well, if you see him tell him that guinea and i are goin' to see mrs. parker and won't be back till evenin'. tell him that we'll leave everything on the table." down the road i went, looking for the blacksmith shop, and i had not gone far before i saw the old man coming, with his plow on his shoulder. he was talking to himself and did not see me until i spoke to him. "let me take that plow," i said. "give it to me. i'm stronger than you." "i reckon you are right," he replied, looking up at me with a grin, "but i can tote it all right enough." but i took the plow from him, and walked along with it on my shoulder, waiting for him to say something. "you haven't seen alf this mornin', have you?" he asked. "no; i was asleep when he got up. why?" "well, jest wanted to know. alf takes some strange notions into his head once in a long while, and he had one this mornin'. told me to tell you suthin' that very few folks know. don't know why, unless he thinks more of you than he does of any other young man. never saw him take to a person as he has to you. and i reckon i better tell you. but i hate to talk about it." we walked on in silence, and in my impatience i shifted the plow from one shoulder to the other. "i'll take it when you git tired of it," he said. "now, it may be putty hard for you to understand the situation, and i'm free to say that i can't make it so very plain, but i'll do the best i can. one day, a long time ago, old general lundsford came to me--long after i had wallowed him, you understand. and now as to that wallowin', why, he could have killed me if he had wanted to. he's game. well, he came to me, and about as nearly as i can ricollect said this: 'my son chydister, strong-headed little rascal that he is, vows an' declares that when he grows up he is goin' to marry your daughter guinea. i'll be frank with you and tell you that i didn't approve of it, and i scouted the idea, not that your daughter ain't as good as any girl, but because i don't mind tellin' you, i've got a family name to keep up. i told him this, but he was so young and so headstrong that he swore that it made no difference to him. you know they have played together, up and down the branch, and he thinks there aint nobody like her. well, sir, he kept on talkin about it until i knowed that he was set, and that there wasn't any use to try to turn him, so i began to think it over seriously. that boy is my life's blood, and i want to please him in every way i can, and i don't want him to marry beneath him. i'm goin' to make a doctor out of him, the very best that can be made, and his companion must be an educated woman. they are goin' to marry when they grow up in spite of anything we can do, and now i've got a request to make of you. i know that you wouldn't let me give you a cent of money, but as an honest man you can't refuse to let me lend you enough money to send your daughter to school along with my own daughter; and whenever you think that you are able to pay me back, all right, and if you never are able, it will still be all right.'" the old man paused, and now i walked, along carrying the plow in front of me, stumbling, seeing no road, caring not whither my feet might wander. "i'll take it now," he said, reaching for the plow. "you don't know how to tote it, nohow." i pushed him back and said: "go on with your story." i was walking so fast that he was almost trotting to keep up with me. "right there i was weak," he said. "i thought of what a bright creature my girl was, thought of what education would do for her, thought that i could soon pay back the money, and i agreed. and i want to tell you that it has been hot ashes on me ever since. they are goin' to marry all right enough, but it galls me to think that i had to send her out to have her educated at another man's expense--cuts me to think that she wasn't good enough for any man just as i could give her to him. and i'm goin' to pay back that money if i have to sell this strip of poor dirt, that's what i'm goin' to do. yes, sir, even if it's ten years after they are married. chyd is off at school now, and has been for a long time; only comes home for a while at vacation, and it seems to me that if he's goin' to be a doctor it's time he was at it. but i understand that they are goin' to send him to another place after he gits through with this one. i don't know much about him, but they say that he's a first-rate sort of a fellow. oh, i knowed him well enough when he was little, but i haven't seen so very much of him since he growed up. guinea thinks all the world of him, of course, and says that they were born for each other. gimme that plow here. you don't know how to tote it nohow. i'm not goin' right straight back to the field; i'm goin' to the house. them hot ashes is on me an inch thick." i let him take the plow; i left him at the draw bars, and with heavy and dragging feet i climbed up to my room. i sat down to my desk, but not with elbows resting on the board, not with my chin in my hands; i couldn't bear to think of that attitude. now, i understood why she had said "oh" with such coolness when i had declared that i hated doctors. my heart was freezing, my head was hot, and in a fevered fancy i saw guinea and that boy playing up and down the rivulet. i saw them wading in the water; heard him tell her that when they grew up she must be his wife, and i saw her, holding her dress about her ankles, look up at him and smile. i knew that he had never been awkward, i knew that he looked like bentley, knew that he would have made fun of me, and down in my heart there was a poisonous hatred, yellow, green, venomous. i am seeking to hide nothing; i cannot paint myself as a generous and high-minded man. when stirred, i seem to have more rank sap than other men--less reason, more senseless passion. i roared at the picture, sitting there gripping the desk, and frightened it away; and to myself i acknowledged the faults which i now set forth, but an acknowledgment of a fault is not within itself virtue. the fool's recourse is to call himself a fool, to upbraid himself, curse himself and then in graciousness to pardon himself. you might as well reason with a rattlesnake, striking at you--might as well seek to temporize and argue with a dog drooling hydrophobic foam, as to tell the human heart what it ought to do. reason is a business matter and it can make matches, but it cannot make love. long i sat there, gripping the desk, gazing at the rafters overhead, groaning in the lover's conscious luxury of despair. should i go away? no; i would stay and see it out. i would be light and gay--a bear's waltz. i would laugh and rebuke fate; i would punish guinea for having played with that boy up and down the brook; i would be all sorts of a fool. the old man's voice came ringing through the air. "hike, there, sam; hike, there, bob. get him down. hike, there!" he was having a round with his chickens, to fan off the atmosphere of humiliation, to blow away the hot ashes that were so thick upon him. i remembered that i had not delivered mrs. jucklin's message, and i hastened out to the "stockade," and knocked at the gate. "hike, there, boys! who's that? whoa, boys, that'll do! go in there, sam! ho, it's you, eh?" he said, opening the gate. "sorry, but you didn't git here quite in time. you had the opportunity, but you flung it away. what, gone over to parker's? that's all right. well, i must be gettin' back to the field. looks like the grass will take me in spite of everything i can do. you'll help until they get the school-house built? now, i'm much obleeged to you, but we can't rig up another outfit. why, yander you go already," he added, pointing to a wagon load of lumber drawn along the road. "it's perdue's wagon. yander comes another one, with ren bowles, the carpenter, on board. oh, they are goin' to rush things. i've heard that already this mornin'. you never saw a neighborhood stirred up much worse than this one is over that affair, and there is strong talk of lynchin' them fellers; and this mornin' a party went over to see old aimes and told him that if he wan't gone by o'clock they would string him up, and i reckon he's gone by this time. they are makin' great heroes oute'n you and alf, i tell you. a number of 'em wanted to see you, but alf wouldn't let 'em wake you up. i saw parker while i was down at the shop; he'd jest got back from town; and he told me that the grand jury that's now in session would indict them fellers to-day, and as court is already set they may be brought to trial for murderous assault and arson right away, and i want to tell you that they'll do well if they save their necks. parker said that he reckoned you and alf better go over to purdy to-morrow. well, i must git back, for that grass is musterin' its forces every minute i'm away." i worried through the day, saw guinea in a haze, heard her voice afar off, and at night i went to bed worn out and limp. alf did not come up until some time after i lay down. he came softly whistling a doleful air to prove that his sympathies were with me, sat down upon the edge of my bed and remained there a long time motionless and silent. i knew not what to say to him and he was evidently puzzled as to what he ought to say to me. out of the fullness of the heart the mouth may speak, but out of the heart's fullness there also flows a silence. "bill," he said, reaching over and turning down the light which i had left brightly burning, "i killed a snake to-day that i reckon must be six feet long. came crawling across the field as if he had important business over in the woods, but he didn't get there. ever kill many big snakes?" "not very many," i answered, "but i am well acquainted with them and i have been bitten by a big snake that lies coiled about the universe, striking at a heart whenever he sees it." he got up, blew out the low blaze of the lamp, and sat down on his own bed, i could tell from the creaking of the slats; and after a time he said something about the gridiron on which a man was compelled to wallow. ordinarily i would have laughed, hot ashes on the father and hot coals under the son, but now i sighed deeply. "bill, you know, the other day i said that there was something in my favor, an outgrowth of my sister's education. a family union, don't you see? but i had no idea when i said it that this very thing would put the fire under a man that has stood by me. i'm awfully sorry that things had to be shaped that way. you know what i mean; father told you all about it. is it bad, bill? i won't say a word about it and the old folks don't suspect a thing, but do you love her much? tell me just as if she wasn't any kin to me." "did the martyrs who stood in the fire love their god?" i asked. he sighed. "she's got you, bill. the time has been so short that i didn't think it could be so bad, but love doesn't look at the clock nor keep a calendar. are you going to try to keep on living, bill?" "yes, i'm going to study law when i get through with this school, and i'm going to make the law of divorce a specialty. if i can't do i may undo; i'm going to be a wolf, and whenever i see a man aiming a gun at another man, i'm not going to catch the hammers. why, yesterday my heart was tender because it thought to please her. discretion! i've got no discretion. i'm a brute. i murdered an innocent rabbit on my way to your home--killed it just because i could; and what man is as innocent as a rabbit? yes, alf, i am going to live." "but you won't hate guinea, will you? she couldn't help it." "oh, i couldn't hate her. no, i won't hate her; i'm going to stand by, ready to give her my life whenever i think she needs it." and thus we talked, senseless creatures, sighing in the dark. but so it is with human life everywhere--a foolish chatter and in the dark a sighing. several days passed and yet we were not summoned to appear at court. i did not avoid guinea, neither did i seek her. but often we were together, sometimes alone, on the oak bench under the tree, at the spring, on the old and smooth rock at the brink of the ravine; and her smile none the less bright, was warmer with sympathy. a sunday had gone by and alf had seen millie, but she was riding to church with dan stuart. one evening parker sent us word to be in purdy early the next day. and at dawn the next morning the buck-board stood ready for the journey. mrs. jucklin had worked nearly the night through, baking bread and roasting chickens to tide us over the trip. alf complained at the load we were expected to carry, and this grieved her. "you know there's nothin' fitten to eat there," she said. "you know that lum smith stayed there three days year before last and come home and was sick for a month. mr. hawes, i appeal to you--make him take it." and off we drove with our bread and roasted chickens. the women stood on the step and shouted at us, and we waved our hands at them as we turned a bend in the road. ours was an important journey, and many of the neighbors came out as we passed along and cried words of encouragement. on a hill-top we heard the gallop of a horse, and out of a lane dashed a girl--millie. she smiled at us, nodded as her horse jumped, and gave us a gleam of her white hand as she sped off down into the woods. "they tell us that the savior rode an ass," said alf, "but we have seen heaven gallop by on a horse." he stood up and gazed toward the woods. our horse gradually came to a standstill, but alf stood there, gazing, shading his eyes with his hand. "it ain't the sun that dazzles," he said. "it's her smile." "she'll make a poet of you, alf." "she could do more than that; she could make a man of me." i don't know of a more dingy and desolate-looking town than purdy. the houses are old, and the streets are rutted. the court-house, in the center of the square--my temple of fame--is mean and rain-streaked. and this is what i saw at a glance: an enormous wooden watch, with its paint cracking off, hanging in front of a jeweler's; the mortar and pestle of a druggist on top of a post; a brick jail, with a pale face at the bars; lawyers' signs; doctors' signs; a livery stable, with a negro in front, pouring water on the wheels of a buggy; a red-looking negro, with a string of shuck horse collars; a dog in front of the court-house sniffing at a hog; the tavern, with its bell outside on a pole; men pitching horse-shoes in the shade; a woman, with her arms on a gate; a girl trying to pull a dirty child into a yard; a man in front of a store stuffing straw into a box; horses tied to racks about the square; men lolling about the court-house--these features made the face of purdy. we had put up the horse, alf had gone to see a friend of his and i was walking past a vacant lot when some one shouted at me, and, turning round, i saw a man coming toward me. "helloa, there," he said, coming up, smiling. "you ought not to forget your old friends." "oh," i replied, recalling his face, "you are the agent at the station where i got off the train." "yes, used to be," he said, shaking hands with me, "but i'm over here now, but not as a railroad agent, for there's no road here. i am the honored and distinguished telegraph operator of this commercial emporium. couldn't stay over yonder any longer. no calico--not a rag there. got to see the flirt of calico. see that?" a woman was passing. "you can stand here and see it going along all the time, and you've got to be mighty respectful toward it, i tell you, for there's a shot-gun in every house and a father or a brother more than ready to pull both triggers at once. that's right, i suppose; but it does hamper a fellow mightily. ever in st. louis? that's the place. muslin and soft goods everywhere and nine chances to one there ain't a gun in the house. might be, you know, but there is so much mull and moriantique and all that sort of thing that there ain't guns enough to go round, so you can smile and nod on the street; but you can't do it here. here you've got to have a three-ply, doubled and twisted introduction before you can smile even at cottonade. i've been here a week, and hold about the most responsible position in the town, and society hasn't taken me up yet, but i reckon it will after a while. i reckon you could get in all right. they have heard all about your fight--know that you are game, and nothing counts more than that, for they have an idea that a game fellow is always a gentleman." just then a boy came up and told him that there was a call. "i'll be there after a while," the operator replied. "go on back. i've been pitching horse-shoes with some fellows," he continued, speaking to me, "and ain't quite through yet. i'll have to teach him so that he will be able to tell them that i'm busy when i'm not there. i've found out that what we want in this life is leisure. people are getting too swift. there's no need of half the telegraphing that's done. why don't they write and save trouble and expense? there goes a nice piece of calico. i must get acquainted with it, too, i tell you. well, believe i'll stroll on back. come in while you're here. the trial won't take up much of your time. it's all pretty much cut and dried, anyway." at o'clock the aimes brothers were brought before the bar. the jury was already selected and the trial was at once taken up. i was put upon the stand and instructed to tell my story without any fear of reflecting too much credit upon myself. i could see that they wanted a thrilling recital and i gave it to them. and when alf followed, he found them eager for more. the prosecuting attorney made a speech, as red as the fire that had burned the school-house; the lawyer appointed for the defence made a few cool remarks, and the case was closed. we were anxious to take the verdict home with us, and we had made preparations to remain over night, but the jury came to an agreement without leaving the box, so we had nothing to do but to return home. the aimes brothers were given a term of fifteen years each in the penitentiary. the sun was down when we got upon the buck-board, and over the road we drove, under the stars, our stars, for in sympathy they looked down upon us. the moon was late, but we preferred the dark--it was sadder. "i wonder how it's all going to end," said alf. "if we could only rip apart that black thing down the road and look into the future." "and if you could rip it," i replied, "if you could and were about to do so, i would grab your hand with a harder grip than i gave the gun when i caught the hammers." "then you don't want to know? you'd rather continue to writhe on the gridiron than to turn over and fall into the fire and end the matter?" "alf," said i, "does it strike you that we are a couple of as big fools as ever drove along a county road?" "whoa!" he shouted, pulling upon the reins and stopping the horse. and then he laughed. "fools; why, two idiots are two solomons compared with us. let's stop it; let's be sensible; let's be men." "i'm with you, alf. shake hands." we drove along in silence. after a long time he said: "here's where she crossed the road; and do you see that?" he asked, pointing to the milky way. "that was done by the waving of her hand. i wish to the lord i knew just how much she thinks of dan stuart." "ah, but that wouldn't relieve you," i replied, "for i know how much guinea thinks of chyd lundsford and feel all the worse for it. there are always two hopes, walking with a doubt, one on each side, but a certainty walks alone." "i reckon you are right," he rejoined with a sigh. "how many strange things love will make a man say, things that an unpoisoned man would never think of. poisoned is the word, bill; and i'll bet that if i'd bite a man it would kill him in a minute." "what sort of a fellow is young lundsford?" i asked, with my teeth set and my feet braced against the dashboard. "oh, he ain't a bad fellow; he ain't our sort exactly, but he's all right." "smart and full of poetry, isn't he?" "i never heard him say anything that had poetry in it. don't think he knows half as much about books as you do. oh, about certain sorts of books he does, books with skeletons in them, but knowing all about skeletons don't make a man interesting to a woman. i have read enough to find that out. why, i have more than held my own with men that are well up in special books--have held my own with all except that fellow stuart. now there's etheredge, that i told you about one day--kin to dan stuart. he's a doctor, and they tell me that he is well educated, but i never heard him say a thing worth remembering. i reckon old mrs. nature has a good deal to do with it after all." they were sitting up waiting for us at home, although it was past the midnight hour when we drove into the yard. old lim snorted when he learned that the aimes boys were not to be hanged, but his wife, merciful creature, was saddened to think that even more mercy had not been shown them. and then she anxiously inquired whether we had found ourselves short in the matter of provisions. we told her that we had brought back nearly all the load which her kindness had imposed upon us, and then with disappointment she said: "goodness alive, why didn't you give it to those poor fellows to take to the penitentiary with 'em, for i know that there's nothin' there fitten to eat." the old man stood looking at her, with his coat off and with his shirt-sleeves rolled up. "susan," said he, "i don't want to git mad, i don't want to go out yander, snatch them chickens out of the coop an' make 'em nod at each other in the dark, but when you talk that way you almost drive me--by jings, you almost drive me out there agin that tree, hard enough to butt the bark off. do you reckon they are takin' them fellers down there to feed 'em, to fatten 'em up and then turn 'em loose? hah, is that your idee? 'zounds, madam, they are lucky to get there with their necks. and here you are lamentin' that there's nothin' at the penitentiary fitten to eat. go on to bed, susan, for if you don't i'm afeered that i'll have to say somethin' to hurt your feelin's, and then i'd worry about it all night." "now limuel, what is the use in snortin' round that way? can't a body say a word?" "it do look like a body can," he rejoined; "and i'm afeered that a body will, and that's the reason i want you to go to bed." old lim sat down and the subject was dropped. i noticed his wife looking anxiously at me, and just as i was about to leave the room she said: "mr. hawes, you'll please pardon me for mentionin' it, but there's a button off your coat, and i'll be glad to sew it on if you will be so kind as to leave it down here." "no, i will sew it on," guinea spoke up. "give me your coat, mr. hawes." "i will not be the means of keeping you up any longer," i replied, looking into her eyes, and feeling the thrill of their sweet poison; "i will do it myself." "and rob me of a pleasure?" she asked. "no, relieve you of a drudgery. come on, alf." two fools went to bed in the dark and sighed themselves to sleep, and two fools dreamed; i know that one did--dreamed of eyes and smiles and a laugh like a musical cluck. chapter x. more than a month passed and they were still working on the school-house. the simple plan had been drawn with but a few strokes of a pencil, the sills had been placed without delay, but they had to plane the boards by hand and that had taken time. alf and i had again sat at the old general's table, had listened to his words so rounded out with kindliness, and upon returning to the porch had heard him storm at something that had gone amiss. millie showed her dimples and her pretty teeth, smiling at alf and at me, too, but i saw no evidence that she loved him. indeed, she had been so much petted that i thought she must be a flirt, and yet she said nothing to give me that impression. guinea was just the same, good-humored, rarely serious. one sunday i went to church with her, walked, though the distance was two miles; stood near the cave wherein the british soldiers had hidden themselves, and talked of everything save love. i cannot say that i had a sacred respect for her feelings; i think that i should have liked to torture her, but something closed my heart against an utterance of its heavy fullness. one saturday afternoon i was told that the school-house would be ready on the following monday. i had been out many times to view the work, but i decided to go again to see that everything was complete. i expected that alf would go with me, for the corn was laid by, but i could not find him. his mother told me that he had put on his sunday clothes and that she had seen him going down the road. and so i went alone. the house was done, and what a change from the pile of old logs! the walls were painted white and the blinds were green. the bushes were cleared off, and the scorched trees had been cut down, split up and hauled away. i have never seen a neater picture, and in it i saw not only the progress of the people, but the respect in which they held me. i had come out of the woods on my way home and was on a high piece of grazing land not far from the house when i saw a man ride up to the yard fence, dismount, tie his horse and go into the house. this within itself was nothing, for i had seen many of the neighbors come and go, but a sudden chill seized upon me now, and there i shook, though the heat of june lay upon the land; and it was some time before i could go forward, stumbling, quaking, with my eyes fixed upon the horse tied at the fence. in the yard behind the house i came upon mrs. jucklin, gathering up white garments that had been spread to dry upon the althea bushes. "chyd lundsford has come," she said, and i replied: "yes, i know it." i stepped upon the passage and passed the sitting-room door without looking in; i sat down in a rocking chair that had been placed near the stair-way, sat there and listened to a girl's laugh and the low mumble of a man's voice. "let us go out where it's cooler," i heard guinea say, and i got up with my head in a whirl. "mr. hawes, this is mr. lundsford." "glad to meet you, sir," i said, taking hold of something--his hand, i suppose. i was urged to sit down again; guinea said that she would bring two more chairs, and when i had dropped back between the arms of the rocker i looked at the man standing there, and a sort of glad disappointment cleared my vision and placed him before me in a strong light. he was short, almost fat, and in his thin, whitish hair there was a hint at coming baldness. the close attention that he had been compelled to give practical things, the sawing of bones, the tracing of nerves, the undoing of man's machinery, had given him the cynical look of a hard materialist. but when he stepped back to take the chair which guinea had brought i saw that he moved easily, that he was cool and knew well how to handle himself. and this drove away the meager joy of my glad disappointment. "i hear you are going to take up school monday," he said. "rather late to begin school just now, i should think." "under ordinary circumstances it would be regarded as late in the season," i answered, "but we have been so interrupted that we now decide to have no vacation." "i guess you are right. had a pretty close shave with those fellows, didn't you? ought to have killed them right there. i've seen scott. thought he was a pretty bright fellow, naturally; rather witty. would make a first-rate subject on the slab." "because you thought him witty, sir?" i asked. "of course not; but because he is a good specimen--big fellow." he looked at me and i thought that he was measuring my chest. "yes," he continued, "ought to have killed them. man's got to take care of himself, you know, and he can't make it his business to show mercy. most all the virtues now are back-woods qualities." "i don't believe that," guinea spoke up. "every day we read of the generosity of the world." "oh," he said, passing his short fingers through his thin hair, "you read about it, and people who want to shine as generous creatures take particular pains that you shall read about it. you've a great deal to learn, my dear little woman." "and perhaps there is a great deal that she doesn't care to learn," i ventured to suggest; and i quickly looked at her to see whether i had made another mistake. i had not, her quiet smile told me, and i felt bold enough to have thrown him over the fence. "what we wish to know and what we ought to know are two different matters," he said. "but i hold that we ought to know the truth, no difference what the truth may be. i want facts; i don't want paint. i don't want to believe that the gilt on the dome goes all the way through." "but," said i, "the gilt on the dome doesn't prove that the dome is rotten; it may be strong with seasoned wood and ribs of iron." "yes," he drawled, "that's all very good, very well put, but it means nothing. by the way, before we get into a discussion let me invite you over to our house to-night. quite a number of young people will drop in. not exactly the night, you know; but the old idea that white people shouldn't go out of a saturday night, the night reserved for negroes, is all nonsense. so, i have asked them to come. alf will come, i suppose, and so will our little spring branch nymph." "i didn't suppose that you believed in nymphs, now that you have gone out and learned that everything is false," guinea spoke up. "i don't believe in painted ones," he replied, "but you are not painted." "i shall be pleased to come," i remarked, and then i asked him how long he expected to remain at home. "oh, about a month, i should think. i am gradually getting along and i don't want to go to school all my life. i want to begin practice next year." "in this neighborhood?" i asked, and he gave me a contemptuous look. "well, not if i have any sense left," he answered. "i might ride around here a thousand years and not win anything of a name. look at dr. etheredge, fine physician, but what has he done? no, i'm going to a city, north, i think." he stayed to supper and this angered me, for i had set my heart on walking to the general's house with guinea. alf had not returned and we wondered whither he could have gone. and when the time came to go, that impudent sprig of a doctor asked me if i would ride his horse around by the road, said that he wanted to walk across the meadows with guinea. how i should have enjoyed knocking him on the head, but i thought that guinea supplemented his request with a look, and i consented. there were many horses tied at the general's fence, and there was laughter within, when i rode up, and i was reminded of the night when i had stood with my hot hand melting the frost on the fence. but i thought of what the men had said on the railway platform, of the woman whom i had seen on the train, and boldly i walked in. the general met me with a warm grasp, and was asking me if i had seen his son, when in walked the young fellow himself, with guinea beside him. the parlor and the library, opening one into the other, were well filled with good-humored young folk, and among them were old people, none the less good-humored. i was surprised to find myself so much in demand, for every one asked for an introduction, but with bitterness i knew that it was because i had come near being burned up in an old house. they played games, but of this they soon tired; they sang and one of the ladies plucked a sparkling fandango, and then chydister lundsford was called upon for a speech. he was not at all embarrassed and he talked fairly well; and when he was done they called upon me. i got up with one hand resting on the piano, and stood there, nervous at first, but strangely steady later on. i told them that i could not make a speech, but that with their permission i would tell them a story, one of my own. they cried out that they would rather have a story than a speech, and i gave them a half humorous, half pathetic sketch, something that had long been running in my head and which i intended to write. what a strong confidence came upon me as i noted the effect of my words! i was drawing a picture and they were eager to see it; i was playing on a strange, rude instrument, and how they bent to catch every vibration. i was astonished at myself, thrilled with myself. and when the climax came, chairs were tipped over as if in a scramble, and a wild applause broke out. every hand was stretched out toward me, every eye was bright with a tear. the old general grabbed me and, throwing back his great head, almost bellowed a compliment; and through it all i saw guinea sweetly smiling. they urged me to give them another story, were almost frantic in their entreaty; they had heard the heart-beat of their own life and they must hear it again. i told another story, one over which i had fondly mused, and again the hands came out toward me, and again the general bellowed a compliment. i can scarcely recall anything else that passed that evening. yes, i remember that as i was taking my leave, to walk across the meadows with guinea and chyd, millie stood in front of me. once or twice i thought that she had something that she would tell me, for her lips moved, but she said nothing except to bid me good-night. and where was alf all this time? no one had spoken his name; millie had not asked me about him. i walked briskly in advance, half happy, but, of course, with my mind on guinea, whose low voice reached my ears through the quiet that lay on the grass-land. "why don't you wait for us?" she cried. i turned about and waited, and as she came up, holding chyd's arm, she said: "i hope your success to-night hasn't turned your head." "and i hope that i don't deserve such a suspicion," i answered, not with bitterness, but with joy to think that she had felt my apparent indifference. "oh, i don't see anything to cause a spat," said chyd, straining himself to take long steps. "good stuff, of course, but nothing to turn a man's head--a mere bit of fancy paint. but you ought to write it. good many people like nonsense. i mean something light, you know. two-thirds of the human family make it their business to dodge the truth. but it is a good thing for a school-teacher to make himself felt in that way." "perhaps mr. hawes doesn't intend to be a teacher all his life," guinea replied, speaking in kindliness, but with no interest, as to whether or not i was to remain a pedagogue. "god forbid," i replied. and the young doctor gave me a sarcastic cough. "man ought to do what he's best fitted for," said he. "trouble is that a man generally thinks that he's fitted for something that he isn't--hates the thing that he can do best." "your knowledge of the practical fortifies you against any advance that i might make," i replied. "i don't pretend to be practical." "hum, i should think not," he rejoined. "good deal of a dreamer, i take it. and you are in the right place. everything dreams here, the farmers and even the cattle. going to pull down the fence, eh? guinea'll be over by the time you get it down. what did i tell you? regular fawn, eh?" we had passed out of the meadow. they waited in the road until i replaced the rails which i had let down. the road ran along the ravine and home was in sight. i looked across toward the smooth old rock and saw a dark object upon it. we went down into the ravine and as we were coming out, a voice cried: "is that you, bill?" and instantly guinea answered for me. "yes, alf. and here's chyd." "how are you, chyd?" he shouted, and then he added: "bill, i want to see you a minute. stay where you are and i'll come down." i halted to wait for him. he stopped a moment to shake hands with chyd, and then he hastened to me. "old man, i've got something to tell you," he said. "let's walk down this way--no, not over in the road, but up the hollow." he gripped my arm tightly, walked fast, then slowly and then stopped. "let's sit down here, bill." we seated ourselves on a rock. "you have been over to the general's, along with chyd and guinea, haven't you? of course, you have--what's the use of asking that? do you know what i did to-day? not long after dinner i went over there determined to find out how i stood. i was brave until i got nearly to the house and then my courage failed. i stood by the fence in the blackberry briars and gazed at the house. after a while i saw her come out and start down the ebeneezer road. and then i whipped round and met her. and as i stood beside the road, waiting for her to come up i noticed for the first time that the sun was nearly down. for hours i had been standing in the briars. i pretended not to see her; let on like i was hunting for a squirrel up in a tree, until she came up. then i spoke to her and she started as if she was scared. she said that she was going over to lum smith's to tell the young people to come over at night, and i asked her if i might walk along with her. she said with a laugh that i might go part of the way, and then i knew that she was ashamed for any one to see her with me. this cut me to the red, but i walked along with her. i felt that i had nothing to say that would interest her, but i kept on talking, and once in a while she would look up at me and laugh. at last, and it was just as we came within sight of smith's place, i asked her what she really thought of dan stuart. i knew that this was a fool's break, and if it hadn't been i don't suppose i would have made it. she looked up at me, but she didn't laugh this time. i begged her pardon for my rudeness, and she reminded me that i was only to come a part of the way with her. i then told her that i would wait for her to come back. she said that she might not come back that way. i replied that no matter which way she came back i would see her. she went on, laughing now, and i waited, but i didn't have to wait long before i saw her coming. as she came up i asked her if she was ready to grant my pardon and she wanted to know what about. we walked along together and she began to tell me about her brother, how smart he was and all that, and i said that i didn't think that he was as smart as you, bill; i wanted to take credit for a friendship i had formed, you see? but a moment later i was sorry, for i was afraid that she might say something against you, but she didn't. she said that you were a smart man--a distinguished-looking man, and that she liked you ever so much. at first i was pleased, but a second afterward i was jealous of you, bill. did you ever see as blamed a fool as i am? but i didn't hate you, bill. no, my heart was warm toward you even while she was praising you--even while i was jealous. i again asked her what she thought of dan stuart, and she looked up at me and wanted to know if i knew what he thought of her. i told her that everybody loved her, and that i didn't suppose he was mean enough not to love her. she said that she knew people who didn't love her, and i told her that if she would show them to me i would butt their heads together for being such idiots. we were now almost within sight of the general's home and i was not getting along very fast. i was determined to make a break. we were on a hill, where the trees were tall, almost over-lapping the road. to the right ran a path through the briars, a nearer way home. i asked her to wait and she stopped. the sun was down and it was now almost dark. and it was then that i told her that i loved her. i don't know how i acted or what i said, but i know that i was down in the dust at her feet. she stood there, pale and trembling, looking around as if she would call for help. i asked her to marry me, and she laughed, bill--laughed at me and darted down the path. then i went into the woods and roamed about i don't know where; and that is the reason i wasn't at the gathering to-night. i'm bruised and crippled, bill--my heart is sore, but i want to tell you that when she's standing on the floor with that fellow stuart, with the preacher in front of her, i'll be there, putting in my plea. i won't give up as long as there is a fighting chance left. don't say a word about it. forgive me for dragging you off down here. god knows you've got a deep trouble of your own. and i wish my word could settle it--i'd speak it, though it might hurt my chances at the general's. well, let's go to the house." chapter xi. guinea and chyd, old lim and his wife went to church the next day, leaving alf and me alone. alf held himself in reasonable restraint until the old people were gone, and then he broke out so violently that i really feared for his reason. and it was mainly my fault for i read him a passionate poem, the outcry of a maddened soul, and he swore that it had been written for him, that it was his, and i caught his spirit and fancied that he might have written it, for i believed then, as i believe now, that great things do not come from a quiet heart, that quiet hearts may criticise, but that they do not create, that genius is a condition, an agony, a tortured john bunyan. i went to the spring to get a bucket of fresh water, and when i returned alf was nowhere to be found. i went out and shouted his name, but no answer came back. i went out into the woods, walked up and down the road, but could see nothing of him. the shadows fell short and the old people and guinea and chyd returned from church, and the noon-tide meal was spread, but alf came not. but save with me there was no anxiety, as he was wont to poke about alone they said. evening, bed-time came. chyd went home, and i went up to my room. i heard the old man locking the smoke-house door--heard his wife singing a hymn, heard guinea's faint foot-steps as she returned from the gate, whither she went to bid her lover good-night, and her little feet fell not upon the path, but upon my heart. i went to bed, leaving the lamp burning low, and was almost asleep when i heard alf on the stairs. he ran into the room with both hands pressed against his head. i sprang up. he ran to me and dropped upon his knees at the bed-side, dropped and clutched the covering and buried his face in it. i put my arm about him, knelt beside him, heard his smothered muttering, and put my face against his. "bill!" he gasped in a shivering whisper, "bill, i have killed him!" "merciful god!" i cried, springing back. he reached round, as if to draw me down beside him. "hush, don't let them hear down stairs. come here, bill." i lifted him to his feet, turned him round so that i could see his face. it was horror-stricken. "i have killed dan stuart." he stood with both hands on my shoulders looking into my eyes. "wait a minute and i'll tell you. it wasn't altogether my fault. he ought to be dead. he tried to kill me. i left here without any thought of seeing him; didn't want to see him. i went away over yonder into the woods. i heard you calling me. later in the day i came out near the wagon-maker's shop, and several fellows were sitting there, and i stopped to answer a question somebody asked me, and pretty soon here came stuart. he grinned at me, but this didn't make me want to kill him. do they hear me down stairs?" "go on, for god's sake!" i urged. "why did you kill him? didn't you know----" "i knew everything, bill. but i didn't want to kill him. i turned away, and walked up the road, and he came along after me on his horse. and when we were some distance away he made a slighting remark about millie. i wheeled around and he snatched out a pistol and pointed it at me. i hadn't a thing, and there he was on a horse and with a pistol pointed at me. there was not a stone, nothing within reach. i was cool, i had sense, and i told him that he might have his fun, but that i would see him again. and when he had cursed me and abused me as much as he liked he rode away, leaving me standing there. i ran over to parker's and told him that i wanted a pistol to shoot a dog with, and he gave it to me. then i went back to the road and waited. he had gone over to the general's, i thought, and i knew that he would come back that way. i would make him swallow his words--i knew that he didn't mean what he said about millie--knew that he simply wanted to stir me up and have an excuse to kill me. so i waited in the road not far from doc etheredge's, waited a long time and at last i heard some one coming on a horse. i didn't hide; i stood in the middle of the road. a man came up, but it wasn't him; it was etheredge. he spoke to me, asked me good-naturedly why i was standing there, and i told him that i was waiting for a dog that i wanted to kill. he turned into his gate, a short distance off, and i stood there. after a while i heard another horse, and i knew his gait--single-foot. it was stuart. he was singing and he didn't appear to see me until he was almost on me. his horse shied. 'who is that?' he asked, and i told him. 'and you are going to take back what you said,' i remarked as quietly as i could, 'or i'm going to kill you right here.' he didn't say a word--he snatched at his pistol and then i fired, and he fell forward on his horse's neck. the horse jumped and i sprang forward and caught the body and eased it to the ground--stretched it in the road and left it. but i went up to etheredge's house and hallooed, and when he answered i told him that the dog had come and that his name was dan stuart, and that he would find him lying in the road. i heard him shout something, but i didn't wait for him to come out, but went into the woods and came on home. and now i've got to go." "go where?" i asked, facing him round as he strove to turn from me. "to town to give myself up. don't tell the old folks to-night. tell them in the morning--tell them that they'll find me in jail." i strove to restrain him; i could scarcely believe what he had told me. i asked him if he had not been dreaming. he shook his head, pulling away from me. "if you are my friend, bill, do as i tell you. it's all over with me now, and all i can do is to answer to the law." he caught up his hat. "tell them at morning; make it as soft as you can--tell them how i love that girl--tell them that i am crazy. don't hold me, bill. i must go. god bless you." he pulled away from me and went down stairs so easily that he made scarcely a sound. i followed him, begged him to let me go with him, but, creeping back half way up the stairs, he said: "you can be of more service to me here. tell them and to-morrow you can see me in jail. i don't want them to come and take me there. do as i tell you, bill. don't let the folks see me in jail. go on back." i went back to the room and sat there all night, and at morning i heard the old man unlock the smoke-house, heard his wife singing a hymn. i knew that they expected me at early breakfast, so that i could reach the school-house in time, for my new session was to begin that morning. so the sun was not risen when i went down stairs. but nature held up a pink rose in the east, and the hilltops were glowing, while the valleys were yet dark. guinea came out of the sitting-room, and seeing me in the passage, walking as if i were afraid of disturbing some one, laughed at me. "why, what makes you slip along that way? you act as if you were the first one up. why, i have already gathered you some flowers to take to school. and you won't even thank me. why, mr. hawes, what on earth is the matter?" i held up my hand. "there will be no school to-day," i said. "don't say a word, please." "but what's the matter?" she asked, with a look of fright. "come out here under the tree. will you promise not to scream if i tell you something?" "but what can you tell me to make me scream? oh----" "i'm not going to speak of myself," i broke in, fearing that she might think that i was going to tell her of my love. "come out here, please." she followed me to the bench under the tree and she stood there nervously gazing at me as i sat down, waiting for me to speak and yet afraid to hear me. "what is it, please? but don't tell me anything bad--i don't want to hear anything bad." "but you must hear this. alf--alf has had a quarrel with dan stuart. it was worse than a quarrel, and has----" "killed him?" she said, gazing at me. "don't tell me anything." she sat down beside me and hid her face. "alf has gone to town to give himself up, and we must tell your father and mother. it wasn't murder--it was self-defence. you go and tell your mother, tell her as quietly as you can. i see your father out yonder. i will tell him. tell her that they got into a quarrel last night." she went away without looking back at me, without letting me see her face, and as i passed the corner of the house i heard her talking and before i reached the old man i heard a cry from that poor old woman. old lim was at the door of his "stockade," oiling the lock. "devilish thing don't work well," he said. "a padlock is generally the best lock or the worst; you never can tell which. if i could jest git a drap of the grease into the key-hole i'd soon fix it. but it won't go in, you see. by jings, the devil has his own way about half the time, and his influence is mighty powerful the other half. now, we're gittin' at it. i reckon we'd better go on to breakfast, though. i almost forgot that you had to go to your school. why, man, what the deuce is the matter with you this mornin'?" he dropped the chain to which the lock was fastened and looked steadily at me. "what's gone wrong, man?" "i'm not going to school to-day," i answered, endeavoring to be calm. "what's the matter? house burnt down again?" "worse than that, mr. jucklin. alf----" "what about him?" he broke in, nervously grabbing the chain. "did you know that he was in love with millie lundsford?" i asked, now determined to be calm. "well, what of it? young folks are in and out of love with each other mighty nigh every day in this neighborhood. is that susan callin' me? be there in a minute!" he shouted. "hasn't had a row with the old general, has he?" "no, but with dan stuart. they quarreled last night and fought and dan was killed." his shoulders drooped; he spoke not, but he jerked the chain, the gate flew open and he stepped inside and shut it with a slam; and i heard him fumbling with the fastening that held the door of the coop. i strode away as fast as i could, went to the school-house to dismiss the children and to tell them that i knew not when the session would be resumed. and when i returned everything was quiet. the old man was slowly walking up and down the spring-house path, evidently waiting for me. "tell me all about it," he said, when i came up; "tell me from beginnin' to end." and i told him just as alf had told me. he listened with his mouth half open, rolling up his shirt-sleeves and then rolling them down again, as if he knew not what to do with himself. "well," he said, when i was done, "i don't know that i can blame him, poor feller, but they'll hang him." "do you think so?" i cried, with a start, for i had not dwelt upon that possibility; it had not occurred to me, so wrapt had i been in thinking of his own mental distress and the heart-breaking grief of his mother. "do you really think so?" "i know it--just as clear to me as that sunshine. stuart's kin folks have got money and they'll spend every cent of it to put alf on the gallows. etheredge don't like alf and will spend every cent he's got; and here we are without money. yes, they'll hang him." "but general lundsford--won't he stand as alf's friend?" the old man shook his head. "he can't, and i don't know that he would if he could. i mean that he can't and still be true to himself. ever since our agreement, the one i told you about, he has been putty open in talkin' to me, and i know that he wanted millie to marry stuart. no, he's too proud to help us." "but can he for family reasons afford not to help us? his son----" "don't speak of that now, if you please, sir. are you goin' to the house?" "i don't know. i am almost afraid to meet his mother." "don't be afraid of that. she won't reproach you; she knows that you had nothing to do with it--knows that he never would have killed him if he had asked your advice and followed it." "i don't mean that--i mean that i cannot bear to look upon her grief." "she is a christian, sir. she is praying to her god, and whatever comes she will trust in him. the stock that she is from has stood at the stake, sir." we were slowly walking toward the house. suddenly he clutched my arm with a grip that reminded me of alf, and in a voice betraying more emotion than i had known him to show, asked whether i intended to leave him. i put my arm about him and pressed him to me, just as if he were alf telling me of the love-trouble that lay upon his heart. "i understand you, god bless you," he said. "don't say a word; i understand you. git on the mare and go to town and find out all you can. i won't go jest now--can't stand to see my son in jail. but don't say a word, for i understand you. i reckon the neighborhood is pretty well alive over it by this time. see if they'll let him go about on bail, but i don't reckon they will, even if he did give himself up. they'll think that he done it because he must have knowed that they were bound to catch him. go on and do whatever your jedgment tells you, and i know it will be all right." over the road i went, toward purdy, and the people who had come out of their houses to speak words of encouragement to alf and me when we were on our way to see the aimes boys tried, now stood about their doors, gazing stupidly. at the wagon-maker's shop a crowd was gathered, and i was recognized as i drew near by young men who had met me at the general's house the night before--now so long ago, it seemed--and they came out into the road and urged me to tell them all i knew. i felt that etheredge had already stirred in his own coloring, but i told the story of the tragedy just as i had told it to the old man; and i had gathered rein to resume my journey when a man rode up. "i'm going back to town!" he shouted, waving his hand to a man who stood in the door of the wagon-maker's shop. i rode on and he came up beside me. "are you mr. hawes?" he asked, and when i had answered him he said: "i am dr. etheredge." i bowed and he nodded with distinct coolness. he was not of happy appearance; he was lean and angular, gray beyond the demand of his years, and it struck me that he must be given to drink, not because he was gray, but because there were puffs under his eyes and broken veins where his skin was stretched over his high cheek-bones. "a devil of an affair, this," he said. "man met in the public highway and murdered." "don't put it that way," i spoke up, "for perhaps you are not yet acquainted with the causes that led to it." "no cause, sir, should lead to murder." "i agree with you there, but many a man has been compelled to kill in order to save his own life." he sneered at me. "but has many a man been compelled to stand for hours in a public road, and in order to save his own life shoot down an innocent person? i always held that alf jucklin was a dangerous and a desperate man, and everybody knows that he comes of that breed. i never did like him; and he took a dislike to me without cause. stood near a church in a crowd of men one day when i seemed to be under discussion and declared that a man to be a doctor ought to be smart and to be smart a man must say something to prove the thought within him; and then he asked if any one had ever heard me say anything worth remembering." i felt that he wanted to quarrel with me, and i was in the humor to gratify him. "and did anyone ever hear you say a thing worth remembering?" i asked. "sir!" he snarled. "you heard what i said. and i take a degree of cool pleasure in telling you before we go further that you can't ride a high horse over me." "a pedagogue's pedantry," he muttered. "a man's truth," i replied. "and by the way," i added, "you appear to be well horsed. suppose you ride on ahead." "does this road belong to you, sir?" he demanded, turning a severe brow upon me. "a part of it does, and i am going to ride over that part without annoyance. do you understand?" "sir, i can understand impudence even if i can't say a thing worth remembering. but rather than have words with you i will ride on, not to accommodate you, but to preserve my own dignity and self-respect." "good!" i mockingly cried, "and if you continue to improve in expression i shall after a while be forced to believe that alf's estimate of you was placed too low." "i thank you, sir, for giving me the opportunity to say that a jury's estimate will hereafter most influence your friend, and that he will be placed high enough." "you continue to improve, doctor, and i believe that your last remark is worth remembering. at least, i shall remember it, and when this trouble is over, no matter what the result may be, i will hold you to account for it. and to prove that i am in earnest i'll lend you the weight of this." and with that i cut at his face with a switch. his horse shied and the apple tree sprout whistled in the air. he said something about hoping to meet me again and rode off at a brisk canter. i knew that i had acted unwisely, felt it even while the impulse was rising fresh and strong within me, but i was in no humor to bear with him. i rode along more slowly than i was disposed, to let him pass out of my sight, for every time i looked up and saw him i felt a new anger. and i was relieved when a turn in the road placed him beyond my view. i heard a galloping behind, and, looking round, i saw the old general coming with a cavalryman's recklessness. he dashed up and did not draw rein until he was almost upon me. "whoa! i have been trying to overtake you, hawes. what did i tell you? didn't i say that the country was gone? i'll swear i don't know what we are coming to when a man is shot down in the road like that." "general, did you overtake me to ride to town with me?" "i did; yes, sir." "then you mustn't talk that way." "i beg your pardon, sir. perhaps i should not have expressed myself in that manner. let us ride along and discuss it quietly. tell me what you know." "it were better, general----" "never mind about your grammar and your bookish phrasing. tell me what led up to it." "must i tell you that your daughter is----" "by g----, sir, what do you mean?" "you needn't turn on me, sir." "surely not. pardon me. what about it?" "i don't know that i ought to tell you--a man of more judgment wouldn't--but i suppose i must now that i have gone so far. alf is in love with your daughter, and on that account stuart insulted him, abused him at the point of a pistol." then i told him all that i could, all but the fact that stuart had spoken slightingly of the girl, for i knew that this would only enrage him and, indeed, set him harder against alf, as he would doubtless believe that my friend had simply forged a mean excuse. for some distance after i had told him the story, he rode along in silence, troubled of countenance and with his head hanging low. but just before we came into the town he looked up and said: "poor fool, i can't help him." "but you can see that justice is done." "mr. hawes, in this instance we may take different views of justice. pardon me, but your friendship--and, indeed, i can but honor you for it--your friendship may cry out against justice." "i admit, general, that my friendship is strong, although i have known the young man but a short time, yet i think that i respect justice." "we all think so until justice pinches us," he replied, placing himself in firm opposition to me, yet doing it kindly. "i am more concerned in this, mr. hawes, than you can well conceive. i can say this, but i cannot follow it up with an explanation. but the fact that he stood waiting there in the road is what will tell most against him. had he met him at another time, under almost any other conditions, it would have been different, would have taken away the aspect of calculated murder. yes, i am deeply concerned and on two accounts. but i cannot mention them. dan stuart was near to me; i had known him all his life and he was a young man of promise, was popular throughout the community--more popular than alf, and this will have its effect." "but wasn't he more popular because he had more money?" i asked, and the old general gave me a look of reproof. "money does not make so much difference in the south, sir. you have been filling your head with northern books. it is refinement, sir, real worth that weighs in the south." "i hope not to antagonize you, general, but i am of the south and i have cause to hold an opposite opinion. have i not seen the most vulgar of men held in high favor because they were rich? the mere existence of a state line does not change human nature. man is not changed even by the lines drawn about empires." "i admit, sir, that the south has undergone a change, but in my day a man was measured according to his real worth, not in gold, but in honorable qualities." "it is but natural to look back with the prejudiced eye of affection, general, and it is respectful that i should not argue with you. i turn here to the livery-stable. good-morning." "i honor you for your consideration, sir," he replied, bowing. "let us hope for the best, but i must stand by justice." when i had put up my horse i went directly to the jail. a crowd hung about the doors, eager to see the prisoner. when i told the jailer who i was he admitted me without a word. alf sprang from a bench, seeing me enter the corridor, and came forward to the bars of his cell. "not much room for shaking hands here, bill," he said, smiling sadly. "it is already an age since i left home. how are you, old man? tell me how they took it. no, don't. i know. well, i gave myself up and the sheriff wouldn't believe me at first, but he got it through his head after a while. he was very kind and when he had locked me in here he went to see whether i could be let out on bail, but i understand that i can't. it's all right; i might as well be in here. bill, i have tried to feel sorry for killing him, but i can't. i reckon i must be about as mean as they make them. and it will all come out pretty soon, for court is still in session and all they've got to do is to rig up their jury after the inquest and go ahead. i'm going to make the best of it. the worst feature is the disgrace and suffering at home, and, of course, that almost tears my heart out when i let it. but to tell you the truth, i'd rather be hanged than to be on the grid-iron all the time. who's that?" etheredge came into the corridor. he leered at alf and alf sneered at him. "i suppose you found the dog that i told you was lying in the road--the dog that tried to bite me," said alf, with a cold smile. "jucklin, i didn't come in here to be insulted." "all right, there's the door. say, there, jailer, you have just let in a gray rat and i wish you'd come and drive him out." i turned to etheredge and pointed to the door. "i must respect your wish," he said, speaking to me. "i've an engagement with you--you are to be my guest," and without another word he strode away. i remained with alf as long as the jailer thought it prudent to let me stay, and then i went about the town to gather its sentiment. and i was grieved to find that every one declared it to be cold-blooded murder. my heart was heavy as i rode toward home, for the old people were looking to me for encouragement. guinea met me at the gate. she tried to smile, but failed. "don't try to look pleased at seeing me," i said. "it is too much of an effort." and if she could not smile she could give me a look of gratitude. she went with me to the stable, saying not a word; and when i had turned the horse loose she followed me to the sitting-room. at the door i faltered, but mrs. jucklin's voice bade me enter. she was sitting in a rocking-chair, with the bible in her lap, and placing her hand upon the book, she thus spoke to me: "don't hesitate to talk, for his rod and his staff shall comfort me." i had not noticed the old man, so bent were my eyes upon his wife, but now he arose into view, and, coming to me, he whispered: "from the stock that stood at the stake." i told them all i knew, which was not much; and then knelt down and prayed with them. chapter xii. stuart was buried the next day, and the mourners passed our house. mrs. jucklin was sitting at the window when the hearse and the buggies came within sight, and her chin was unsteady as she reached for her book. and there she sat, holding the old leather-covered bible in her lap. i had thought that chyd lundsford would come, with words of encouragement, but we saw him not, neither that day nor the next. but four days later i came upon him as i was going to town. he had a gun, was followed by a number of squirrel-dogs and came out of the woods near the spot where alf had eased stuart from his horse to the ground. i stopped and bluntly asked him why he had not been over, and he answered that he was busy preparing for a rigid examination. i asked if they were going to examine him on the art of killing game, and he laughed and replied: "no, on the science of killing men. by the way," he added, looking up into the top of a tree, "how is alf getting along? does he appear to be hopeful?" "he is more desperate than hopeful," i answered. "yes, i should think so. is that a squirrel's nest? i have heard it hinted that a love-affair had something to do with it--an affair pretty close, at that. well, i've got nothing to do with it. can't drive out of my mind what i have had so hard a time driving into it. sorry, and all that sort of thing. that's no squirrel's nest. but if people persist in being romantic they must expect to have trouble. i'm sorry for the old folks--must take it rather hard. good-hearted and simple enough to worry over it, surely. well, if you happen to think of it, give alf my regards." the coroner's jury had returned an expected verdict, influenced largely by what etheredge had to say. i had given my testimony, but i could not make it sound as i wanted it--alf's own words were against him, as i repeated them that day. the preliminary trial, the mummery before a justice of the peace, also went against alf; the grand jury had brought in its finding, and the next step was the formal arraignment before the circuit judge. and i was now on my way to town to engage additional legal help, as the lawyer whom we had retained appeared to be luke-warm and half-hearted. i had heard many stories relating to the great force and ability of an old ex-judge named conkwright, and i called at his office, though i had been warned that his price was exceedingly high. he met me gruffly, i thought, but i soon discovered that he had a heart. i told alf's story, now so familiar to my own ears that i fancied that i could give it with effect, and i must have touched him, for he said: "oh, well, i'll go into it and we'll say nothing about the price. i've been working for nothing all my life, and i don't see why i should change now. why, of course, he ought to have killed him," and his old eyes shone as he said it. "had to kill him. it strikes me that they are rushing things pretty fast, especially as the docket is covered with murder cases that have been put over from time to time. that stuart set has lots of influence. beat me for re-election, i know that. but we'll show them a few things that are not put down in the books. and you don't want the young lady's name mentioned. of course, not. wouldn't be gallant, eh? well, i'll go down and see the young fellow some time to-day. they'll take it up in about a week from now, that is, if we are ready, and we'll be there. tell old jucklin not to fret. he's an old lion-tamer, i tell you, and if i had any interest in that fellow etheredge i'd advise him to walk pretty straight. but the old man has quieted down mightily of late years." alf had undergone no change. he was glad to know that conkwright took an interest in him, but he shook his head when i told him that we were sure to win. "i don't believe it, bill; don't believe it because i don't feel it. but don't tell the old folks that i'm not hopeful. have you seen millie?" "no, and have seen chyd but once, and then i came upon him in the road." "what, hasn't he been to the house? a fine husband he'll make for guinea. tell her that i say she must forbid his coming near her again. no, don't," he added. "it's better to wait. i wish she loved you, bill, but i'm afraid she doesn't." "i know she doesn't," i replied. "has she said so?" "no, but she seems always afraid that i may tell her of my love." "and i would if i were you, bill. no, not yet. tell father not to come near me yet a while. he couldn't stand it." he had written home, begging his parents and his sister not to think of seeing him, had actually commanded them not to come near the jail. "mother can stand more than he can, for she's more religious. how about your school?" "oh, it's all right. the people know that i couldn't teach now, even if i should try ever so hard, and they are very considerate. they say that they are willing to wait." "god bless them for that, any way. and this reminds me of a preacher that came in yesterday to pray for me. i thanked him for his kindness, but told him that some one was at home praying, and that one of her words had more influence in my behalf than all the prayers he could utter in a life-time. i merely mention this to show what sort of an atmosphere i'm in. i didn't like the fellow's looks--understand that he hasn't been a preacher but a week. still on suspicion, as they say, bill. i was almost crazy, but my mind has cooled wonderfully. a fellow's mind generally does after he's done the worst he can." "i hope that my reading of the poem didn't start you off." "oh, no, that had nothing to do with it--relieved me, if anything; set me to thinking that some one else had been in the same fix. by the way, a telegraph operator here brings me something nearly every day. says that he's a life-long friend of yours. told me to tell you that he was about to pick up a piece of calico and take it home with him--said that you would understand. now, you go on home and stay there until the trial. you have almost worn yourself out. you and the general are still on good terms, i suppose. wish you could slip over there and see millie. do you know what chyd's waiting for? he's waiting to see how the trial goes. bill, i'm beginning to feel sorry for stuart. but his face doesn't come up before me at night with a death-look. there's a good deal of nonsense about that sort of thing. when i see him he's always sitting on his horse, cursing me. and that's not very pleasant. go on, bill. i have kept you too long. it's nearly night." old man jucklin was smartly encouraged when i told him what the ex-judge had said, and he related a number of anecdotes of the old fellow's early days on the circuit. "oh, help is comin' our way," old limuel said, and his wife, pointing to her book, replied: "it has always been with us." "at the stake," he whispered. i did not speak of having seen chyd. i had no right to do so, for i knew that he was now an additional distress. but the next morning when guinea and i were alone at the breakfast table she asked me if i had not met him down the road--said that she had seen him crossing the meadows with his dogs. i began to quibble and she spoke up spiritedly: "oh, you shouldn't hesitate to tell me. it amounts to nothing, i'm sure." "i must manage some way to see millie," i remarked, determined to say no more about chyd lest i should lose my temper. "i hope you won't go to the house," she replied, her face coloring. "i won't, but i didn't know but that i might see her going to a neighbor's house and then----" "no," she broke in, "i hope you won't even do that. she must know how we feel, and if she had any interest in us she would come over here. no, i won't say that. i don't know what she may have to contend with. but her brother could come if he wanted to, but it makes no difference, i'm sure." "suppose i meet millie in the road; shall i speak to her?" "surely, but don't ask her why she hasn't been to see us. what did chyd say?" "not much of anything--said that so long as people were romantic they must expect trouble." she frowned and thus replied: "a good authority on the evils of romance." "why not an expert on the thrills of romance?" i asked. "hasn't he played up and down the brook?" "so have the ducks," she answered, with a return of her smile. "but let us not talk about him--i would rather not think about him." i could not play the part of a hero; i was not of the stock that had stood at the stake glorifying the deed with a hymn. i had wanted to drop the subject, not because it was painful to her, but because it pressed a spike into my own flesh; but her wish to dismiss him from her mind urged me to keep him there, to torture her with him. brute? surely; i have never denied it, but i loved her, and in love there is no generosity. the lover who seeks to be liberal is a hypocrite, a sneak-thief robbing his own heart. "but how can you put him out of your mind if he is worthy of your love?" i asked. "you did not place him therein, nor can you take him away." she looked at me a long time, looked at me and read me; she did not frown, she smiled not, but searched me with her eyes until i felt that my motive lay bare under her gaze. "you would help alf in his trouble," she said, "but you would throw a trouble at me." how sadly she spoke those words, and my heart fell under them and lay at her feet in sorrow and in humiliation. i strove to beg for pardon, but i stammered and my words were almost meaningless. "oh, you have my forgiveness, if that is what you are trying to ask for. now, please don't say anything more. i know you didn't mean to make me feel bad." "i think i'd better cut my throat!" i replied, taking up a table knife. she laughed at me. "how can a big man be so silly? cut your throat, indeed. why, what have you done to deserve it?" "what have i done?" i cried, leaning over the table and making a fumble, as if i would take her hand--"what have i done? i have wantonly wounded the divinest creature----" she was on her feet in an instant; she put her hands to her ears and shook her head at me. "no, you must not say that. don't you see i can't hear what you say? so, what is the use of saying anything? think you are a brute? no, i don't; but you must not talk like that. i can't hear you--i won't hear you. oh, don't worry about mr. lundsford. he will kneel at my feet." chapter xiii. the next day i took a "turn" of corn to the water-mill, far down the stream. the old man had not been off the place since alf went to jail, and the office of attending to all outside affairs was conferred upon me. guinea came out to the corn-crib and stood at the door, looking in upon me as i tied the mouth of the bag. the old man was not far off, calling his hogs; a sad cry at any time, but growing sadder, it seemed to me, as the days wore along. "old moll will have a load," the girl said; "you and that bag." "yes, if i were to ride on the bag like a boy, but i'm going to walk and lead her." "oh, that will be nice," she cried. "nice for moll. i wish i could go with you. it's beautiful all down that way; high rocks and pools with fish in them. it isn't so awfully far, either. i have walked it many a time." "alone?" i asked, tugging at the string. "that doesn't matter. it's the distance i'm talking about. why, you haven't asked me to go." "but i ask you now," i said, dragging the bag toward the door. "no, i won't go now," she replied, making way for me to come out. "won't you, please?" "no, not since i have come to think about it. i'd have to walk along all the time with my hands to my ears, for i just know you'd say something i don't want to hear. you are as cruel as you can be, lately." i had taken up the bag to throw it across the mare, but i dropped it upon the log step. "you'll burst it if you don't mind, mr. hawes." "but i handle it more tenderly than you do my heart!" i cried. "you have thrown my heart down in the dust and are trying to burst it." her hands flew to her ears. "oh, i knew you were going to say something mean. but i can't hear you now. isn't it an advantage to say what you please and not hear a word? you can do this way if you want to. no, i won't go--really, i can't. i mustn't leave mother." she ran away toward the house, and i stood watching her until she was hidden behind the old man's "stockade." torturer she was, sometimes with her dignity, but worse with her whimsical, childish ways, when she seemed to dance on the outer edge of my life, daring me to catch her in my arms. but was it not my size that made her feel like a child? it must have been, for whenever she spoke of chyd she was deeply serious. i was resentful as i led the old mare toward the mill. oh, i understood it all. she had seen that i sought to punish her, had read me as we sat together at the table, and now she was torturing me. well, i would give her no further opportunity; i would let her lead young lundsford into her mind and out again, just as it suited her fancy. the coves and nooks and quiet pools that lay along the stream were dreamful; there was not a mighty rock nor bold surprising bluff to startle one with its grandeur, but at the end of every view was the promise of a resting place and never was the fancy led to disappointment. now gurgle and drip, now perfect calm, the elm leaf motionless, the bird dreaming. and had history marched down that quiet vale a thousand years ago and tinged the water with the blood of man, how sweetly verse would sing its beauty, from what distances would come the poet and the artist, the rich man seeking rest--all would flock to marvel and to praise. ah, we care but little for what nature has done, until man has placed his stamp upon it. i loitered and mused upon going to the mill and upon returning home. and when i came within sight of the house i halted suddenly, wondering whether i had forgotten something. yes, i had. i had forgotten my resolve to be cool and dignified under the reading eyes of that girl. i led the mare to the rear end of the passage and had taken off the bag of meal when guinea came out. "mr. hawes," she said, "i wish you would forgive me for the way i acted last night and this morning. now let us be good friends, friends in trouble, and let us hereafter talk with sense and without restraint. i am going to be frank with you, for i don't see why i should be cramped. i am not going to pretend not to know--know something, and you must wait; we must all wait for--for anything that is to come. i hardly know what i am saying, but you understand me." she held out her hand, and i took it, tremulously at first, but i held it with a firm and manly honesty as i looked into her eyes. "yes, i understand you, and it shall be as you say. i have been strong with every one but you, and i am going to show you that i can be your friend. wait a moment. you know what i think, but i will not hint at it again. it was mean of me--yes, i must say it--it was mean of me to jibe you. but i'll not do it again. if you only knew what my early life was. i was the victim of size, an awkward boy, the jest of a neighborhood; and while i might have outlived some of my awkwardness, i am still sensitive, for i carry scars." "awkward," she laughed. "why, i don't see how you could have been called awkward. everybody at the general's spoke of how graceful you were, and really it would make you vain if i were to tell you all that was said." the old man came round the house, and guinea sprang back. i was still holding her hand. "hah," he grunted. "got home all right, eh? parker was over here just now and said that the trial had been set for next thursday, not quite a week from now, you understand. he seems to think we are goin' to pull through all right; said that you've made friends with everybody in the town. that's good, both for now and also for after a while, when you set in as a lawyer. i tell you, parker's visit helped us mightily, and susan has eat a right smart snack, and i didn't know how hungry i was till right then. you better go to town to-morrow." i went in early the next morning and found nothing to serve as a basis for the hopefulness that parker had given the old people. conkwright was busy with the case, frowning over his papers, but he had no words of encouragement, except to say that he was going to do the best he could. but after a while he flashed a gleam of hope by remarking that there was one important factor in our favor. and eagerly i asked him what it was. "it won't do to talk it around," said he, "but we can count on the judge doing the square thing. he is comparatively new in our district, and the stuart influence hasn't taken hold on him--has had no cause to. his favor, or, at least, his lack of a cause to be directly against us, will mean a good deal; it will enable us to secure a new trial at any rate." as i entered the corridor of the jail i saw alf's face brighten behind the bars. "have you seen millie?" he asked. "no, your sister commanded me not to go near the general's house." his countenance fell, but he said: "i reckon she's right. and i didn't mean that you should make a dead-set call, you know--didn't know but you might happen to meet her. that preacher, the one i told you about, has been round again, and he declares that i must come into his church. they do pull and haul a fellow when they get him into a corner, don't they? well, i don't see what else can be done now except to go into court and have the thing over with. i know as well as i know my name that he would have killed me if i hadn't killed him; not that night, of course, but some time. i am sorry, though, that i stood there in the road, waiting for him, for that does look like murder, bill. but look how he had drawn his sight between my eyes and abused me for everything he could think of. and whenever i see him now, there he sits on his horse, with one eye half shut and the other one looking down the barrel of his revolver at me. i can see his lips moving and can hear every word he says." i went home that day earlier than usual, resolved to keep the old people in the atmosphere of encouragement which the deputy sheriff had breathed about them, and i told them that the presiding judge was our friend, and that old woman put her worn hands in mine and gave me a look of trustful gratitude. "god rewards the man that seeks to ease an old mother's heart," she said; and the old man, standing there, with his sleeves rolled up, threw the droop out of his shoulders, the droop that had remained with him since that early morning when he stood at the gate of his "stockade," fumbling with the chain. "and, susan," he spoke up, "if we've got two judges on our side we're all right. let him set down there, now. let him set down, i tell you. when a woman gets hold of a man she never knows when to turn him loose. i'm tempted now to go and see him. no," he added, shaking his head, "can't do it--couldn't bear to see a son of mine locked up like a thief. but it won't be for long. that judge will say, 'turn that boy loose,' and then--oh, it's all right, susan, and a year from now we'll almost forget that it ever took place." his wife began to cry, for in this trouble her heart demanded that he should lean upon her for support, and it appeared to me that whenever he straightened up to stand alone, she felt that her office was gone. "susan, don't take on that way. jest as we see our way clear of the woods, you act like you are lost. smile, till you find the path, and then you want to cry. act like you want the lord to do it all--don't want the circuit jedge to do nothin'. that's it, brighten up there now, and, guinea, you go out and tell that nigger woman to cook enough for a dozen folks. hawes, i've got them chickens down to a p'int that would make your eyes bulge out." "i believe that bob came very near making one of yours bulge out," i replied. "ah, didn't he, the old scoundrel. but sam pecked a grain of corn out of my mouth this mornin' and never teched a tooth. that's what they call art, ain't it? come out with me." "limuel, let him stay with me, won't you?" his wife pleaded. "of course, susan, but don't you reckon a man wants to unstring himself once in a while? they can't understand us, hawes. women know all about the heart, but they are sometimes off on the soul." "you think more of those old chickens than you do of me, anyhow," his wife whimpered, still resentful that he was not leaning upon her for support. "did you hear that, hawes? by jings, sir, you've got to be foolish or a woman will think you've ceased to love her. the minute you are strong she thinks you have forgotten her. about the happiest woman i ever saw was one that had to support a bed-ridden husband. fact, as sure as i'm standin' right here. she was the kindest and sweetest thing you ever saw, but when the feller got up finally and got strong enough to go about, blamed if she didn't jump on him every time he come in sight." "now, limuel, you know you are makin' up every word of that." "it's the truth, i tell you--knowed the man well." "well, who was he?" "oh, he lived away over yonder on the branch, out of your range." "he didn't live anywhere; that's the truth of it." "but, susan, he might have lived anywhere. his name is man and his wife's name is woman. what, you goin' to cry about it? now, there, it's all right. no, there never was such a man. i'm an old liar, that's what's the matter with me. never was a man fitten to live with a good woman. why, bless your life, what would i be without you? why, you've been the makin' of me. and a long time ago, when i used to drink licker and fight, you'd set up and wait for me and you never scolded me, and that very fact turned me agin licker, for i jest nachully thought that it was too much work for you to keep up a show of good humor all the time. yes, it's all right, and that boy's comin' out of there without a scar on him, and i'll pay back the money that i owe the general----" he hastened out of the room, and we heard him yelling at his chickens. chapter xiv. i went to town every day, and every night i returned, self-charged with hope; and now the trial was at hand. when the work of impaneling the jury was begun, old conkwright was there with his challenges. how shrewd he was, how sharp were his eyes. and when night came the panel was far from complete. "it will take a long time at this rate," i said, as we were leaving the court-room. "i don't care if it takes a thousand years; they sha'n't ring in a stuffed toad on me," replied the ex-judge. "did you notice that fellow with a long neck? they've fixed him all right and i knew it. i am not altogether easy about that short fellow we've got, but i hope he is man enough to be honest. there is no more trickery anywhere than there is in a murder trial in this country. well, they've put their worst men forward, and i think we shall have better material to-morrow." and it appeared that we had, for the jury was sworn in the next afternoon. the testimony was so short and so direct, the witnesses were so few that the trial could not last long; and when at home i gave this as an opinion, the old people were glad, for they declared that it shortened the time of their son's absence. on the day set for the opening of the argument hundreds of the farmers gave over their work and rode to town, for the southerner loves a passionate speech, and the court-house is still his theater. the old man walked down the road with me, but he stopped before we reached the place where stuart had been stretched upon the ground. "well," he said, turning back, "i reckon to-day'll finish it. at least they'll give it to the jury and it oughten't to take 'em long after what the judge says in his charge to 'em. i feel that it's goin' to be all right. don't you?" the truth was that i did not, but kindness is not always the truth; so i said: "everything looks that way. conkwright is as sharp as a thorn and he'll be in their flesh from the beginning to the end." "by jings, jest say that again. that ought to settle it right now, hah? stay with 'em till they git through, and you'll find us waitin' for you when you git back." i nodded, waved my hand at him and galloped away, and from a hill-top i looked back and saw him still standing there in the road. parker caught up with me and we in turn overtook a man whom i did not care to encounter--etheredge. i had seen him every day during the trial, had caught his blurred eye as i was giving my testimony on the stand, had heard him tell his damaging story. "ho, there," he said, as i was about to pass him. "haven't forgotten me, have you?" "my memory is unfortunately so good that it retains many objectionable things," i answered. "glad to hear it; pleased to know that you haven't forgotten our little engagement." he rode along with me. the way was just broad enough for two horses abreast, and the deputy dropped back. "we need not wait for the termination of the trial," i replied. "that so? strikes me that you are pretty keen, especially as there is an officer right behind you. say, you seem to blame me for the interest i am taking in this affair. have you stopped to think of the interest you are taking in it? jucklin's no relation of yours and probably never will be. did you hear what i said? probably never will be." "unfortunately i haven't an apple tree sprout with me to-day, mr. etheredge." "and it's a good thing for you that you haven't. do you reckon i'd let you lash at me while so many people are riding along the road?" "i don't suppose you would let me do so at any time if you could help yourself." "oh, i don't know. might let you amuse yourself if there were no one in sight. but i've got nothing against you, young man. i've lived long enough to forgive an over-grown boy's impulses." he could not have cut me deeper; and his sleepy old eyes saw the blood and he laughed. "got under your hide a little that time, eh? we've all got a thin place somewhere in our skin, you know. you needn't look back; the officer is right behind us." "i wish he were not in sight," i replied. "you don't like him, eh? why, i always thought, he was a pretty good fellow. but, of course, i am willing to accept your judgment of him. but if you don't like him why do you wait for him to come up?" "i am waiting for you to go on, sir," i replied. "and if you don't i will knock you off that horse." "very well. i see a man on ahead who is doubtless better company. i trust, though, that i shall have the pleasure of a closer association with you at some future time. good-morning." i waited until parker came up. "did you get enough of him?" he asked, laughing. "i knew you would--nearly everybody does. under the circumstances it was an insult for him to offer to ride with you." "and he and i will have a trouble as soon as this one is settled," i replied. "oh, i reckon not. i don't see why any man of sense should want to have trouble with you. just look how they are flocking to town. hope they'll turn out this way and vote for me at the next election for sheriff. women, too. see them coming out of that gate?" when we rode into the town the streets were thronged and horsemen, wagons and buggies were thick on the public square. the ginger cake and cider vender was there, with his stand near the court-house steps, and the neigh of the colt and the distressful answer of his mother, tied to the rack, echoed throughout the town. dogs, meeting one another for the first time, decided in their knowing way that they were enemies, but suddenly became allies in a yelping chase after one of their kind that came down the street with a tin can tied to his tail. i went at once to conkwright's office and found him with his feet on a table, contentedly smoking a cob pipe. "i was just thinking over some points that i want to make," he remarked as i entered. "and i hope, sir, that you are in the proper humor to make them." "can't tell about that. oratory is as stealthy and as illusive as a weazel at night. you never know when he's coming." "but do you feel well?" i anxiously inquired. "oh, feel first-rate, but that doesn't make any particular difference. sometimes a man may think that he feels well, but when he gets up to speak he finds that he is simply sluggish. reckon i'll get through all right. do the best i can, any way, and if i fail it can't be helped. guess we'd better go over." an anxious day that was for me. i looked at alf, now beginning to grow pale under his imprisonment, and i saw his resentment rise and fall as the state's attorney pictured him, waiting, listening with eagerness for the sound of a horse's hoofs. i was to be a lawyer, to defend men and to prosecute them for money, and yet i wondered how that bright young fellow, with the seeming passion of an honest outcry, could stand there and tell the jury that my friend had committed the foulest murder that had ever reddened the criminal annals of his state. old man conkwright sat, twirling his thumbs, and occasionally he would nod at the jurymen as if to call their attention to a rank absurdity. but i did not see how he could offset the evidence and the blazing sentences of that impassioned prosecutor. at last conkwright's time had come, and when he arose and uttered his first word i felt the chill of a disappointment creeping over me. he was slow and his utterance was as cold as if it had issued from a frost-bitten mouth. i went out and walked round the town, to the livery-stable, where a negro was humming a tune as he washed a horse's back; to the drug-store, where a doctor was dressing a brick-bat wound in a drunken man's scalp--i walked out to the edge of the town, where the farming land lay, and then i turned back. i was thinking of my return home, of the sorrow that i should take with me, of those old people--of guinea. some one called me, and facing about i recognized the telegraph operator coming across a lot. "glad to see you," he said, coming up and holding out his hand. "didn't hear about her, did you?" "hear about whom?" i asked, not pleased that he should have broken in upon my sorrowful meditation. "mrs. mchenry." "no, i've heard nothing. what about her?" "why, there's everything about her. she's my wife--married night before last. know that piece of calico i pointed out that day, the time i said i had to be mighty careful? well, she's it. i'll walk on up with you. run it down--run in panting, you might say. said i had to have her and she shied at first, but that didn't make any difference, for i was there three times a day till she saw it wasn't any use to shy any longer; so she gave in and i caught the first preacher that happened to be hanging around and he soon pronounced us one and the same kind--something of the same sort. go right down that street and you'll see calico on my clothes line most any time. say, it will be a pity if they hang that young fellow. and i'll tell you what i'll do. if they send anything off to any of the newspapers i'll spell his name wrong. get even with them some way, won't we? yonder comes my boy and i reckon there's a call for me at the office. they are rushing me now--seems to be the busy season. i've been to the office twice already to-day." long before i reached the court-house i heard old conkwright bellowing at the jury. the windows were full of people and outside men were standing upon boxes, straining to see the old fellow in his mighty tirade. i could not get into the room, but i squeezed my way to the door and stood there, with my blood leaping. now i could see why they had called him powerful. his face was aglow, his gray hair was upon end and his eyes were shooting darts at the jury. i know not how long he spoke, but i know that suddenly he was silent, looking upward, and then, spreading his hands over the jury, said: "may god in his infinite mercy influence your decision." he sat down, and i noticed then that the air was cooler with a breeze that sprang up when the sun had set. the state's attorney made a few remarks, and then the judge delivered his charge to the jury, an address short, but earnest. now there was a shoving and a crush--the jurymen were filing out. i saw them leading alf back to the jail, but i did not go to him, so pulled and hauled i was by hope and fear. but i made my way to the old lawyer, and asked him what he thought. "i don't know," he answered. "don't you see the disposition there is to rush everything? i don't think they will be out long." "you made a great speech, sir." "wasn't bad, considering the material. we were at a disadvantage. he stood there in the road, you know, and that is a hard thing to get round." "but the judge must have felt your speech." "why, my son, i don't suppose he heard it." i went away and again i walked about the town. it was dusk and the tavern bell was ringing. on the court-house steps and on the public square men were discussing the trial and venturing their opinions as to the result. i heard one man say: "the old soldier made a great fight, but the odds were against him. bet ten dollars they find him guilty." "there's his friend over there," another man spoke up. "don't talk so loud." "can't help who's there listening; money's here talkin'. any takers?" not far away there was a wooden bridge over a small stream and thither i went and leaned upon the rail, listening to the murmur of the water. i thought that this must be the brook that rippled past our house, and i went down to the water's edge and bathed my aching head. then i remembered that i had eaten nothing since early morning, and i thought that i would better go to the tavern, and was turning away when i heard some one cry: "the jury is in and court has met again!" i scrambled up and hastened toward the court-house, and at the steps i met a number of men coming out. "it's all over," one of them said to me. "imprisonment for life. conkwright has moved for a new trial and the judge has granted it." i hastened to the jail, whither they had taken alf. i found him seated on his bed. he got up when he saw me. "bill," he said, in a voice low and steady, "i am not going to the penitentiary if you are my friend." "and you know that i am, alf." "then you will lend me your knife." "no, alf, i can't do that--not now. remember that we have another chance." "i don't mean now--i mean if that last chance fails. now i want you to do something for me. you tell father that he must sell his farm immediately and leave here. tell him that i'll hate him if he doesn't do as i say. you can stay here and write to him, and if i don't come out at the next trial, all right, and if i do, i can go to him. it may seem hard, but he's got to do it. he wouldn't live here, any way. will you do it?" "i will, for i don't know but it is a good plan. no, he wouldn't live here. he will do as you request." "well, go on home now and rest. hanged if you don't look as if you've been on trial for your life," he added, laughing. "tell him that i'm not crushed--that it has come out better than i expected." the night was dark, the road was desolate, and i heard the lonesome lowing of the cattle. and now and then a horseman passed me, for i was not eager to get home. at a gate near the road-side some one was standing with a lantern, and just behind me came the rattle of an old vehicle. i turned aside to let it pass, and as i did the light of the lantern fell upon me and a voice asked: "that you, mr. hawes?" "yes," i answered, turning back into the road and following a buggy. "i 'lowed so," said a man in the buggy, "for we don't grow many of your size about here. i have heard that they used to, but they don't now. good many things have happened since that day you come over to see me about the school. i'm perdue. and, by the way, there's a hundred dollars at my house waitin' for you, and if you don't come after it i'll send it over." "but you don't owe me anything yet," i replied. "yes, the money's there and it's yourn. you couldn't help not bein' in a fix to teach. as i say, it's there for you, and you might as well have it. sorry for the old folks, tell 'em, but it can't be helped." on he drove, shouting back that he would send the money the next day, and my protest, if, indeed, i entered one, was weak and faltering, for of all men in that neighborhood i thought that i stood most in need of a hundred dollars. now i was nearing the house. the hour was late, but a light was burning in the sitting-room. no one came out, though my horse's hoofs fell hard enough upon the stones to tell them of my coming; and when i got down at the gate i found a horse tied to the fence. some person, eager to bear evil tidings, had forestalled me. i led my horse to the stable, went to the house, and had just stepped into the passage when parker, the deputy sheriff, came out of the sitting-room. "i thought you'd go on back to the jail to stay a while, so i came on over to tell them. no trouble, you know--only a short distance out of my way." all within was silent. i stepped inside. the old man was standing with his back to the fire-place; the old woman sat with her book in her lap and guinea stood at the window, looking out into the darkness. i sat down in silence, for i knew not what to say, and in silence for a time we remained. the old woman sobbed, clutching more tightly her book, and the old man looked at her sharply and then almost flung himself out of the room. and a few moments later i heard him shouting: "hike, there, sam! hike, there, bob! there's plenty of light; you've got three lanterns. hike, there! to a finish, to a finish!" "mrs. jucklin, it is no time for despair," i said, and guinea turned from the window. "we have already secured a new trial, and the next time it will surely go in our favor. that is the history of nearly all such cases. be strong just a little while longer. you have been our prop, and now you must not let us fall." she arose and with an old-time courtesy bowed to me, and guinea came forward and held out her hand, and she must have seen a sudden light leap into my eyes, for she said: "i am alf's sister and yours, too." this came as a repulse to my heart's eager yearning; no sister's confidences could answer the call that my nature was shouting to her. but i gulped down a rising soreness of the heart and i said: "i thank you." the old man, with heavy tread, strode into the room. "it was to a finish," he whispered. his hands were covered with blood. "it was to a finish, and they are both dead." there was a sharp rap at the door. guinea opened it and in came the old general. "mr. jucklin, can i speak to you in private?" he asked, bowing to the women. "no. what you've got to say, out with it here." "i would rather say it in private. why, what's the matter with your hands?" "it was to a finish, sir, and let what you say be to a finish, even if it is three times as bloody." "oh, i have come out of no hard feelings, sir. ladies, would you and our friend, mr. hawes, mind retiring?" "they are goin' to stay here, sir," the old man replied, rolling up his sleeves. "all right, just as you will, sir. mr. jucklin, years ago we entered into an arrangement----" "and i have cursed myself ever since!" the old man exclaimed. "just wait until i get through, if you please. we entered into an arrangement, prompted by a boy's fancy and warmed by a father's over indulgence. i know that this is a sore time to come to you, and i don't want to appear unkind, for my aim is tender, though my determination is just. young hearts may whisper to each other, and that whispering may be music, sir; but in this life there are duties too stern to be melted and turned aside by a melody. and, sir, one of the most sacred duties that can fall to the trust of a man is to see that the family name, which is to survive after he has folded his hands in eternal stillness--pardon my devious methods, for i assure you that my windings proceed from a kindness of heart--i say that my duty now is to those who may bear my name in the future. i trust that i am now sufficiently started to speak plainly. i don't doubt the real worth and sterling integrity of your stock, mr. jucklin, but an agreement that we once made must be set aside." he stood with his broad hat in his hand and out of it he grabbled a handkerchief and wiped his face. old lim gazed steadily at him. "my words sound cold and formal," the general continued, "and i wish that they might be warmer and more at ease, but in vain have i tempered with them. the short of it all is, and i have striven not to say it bluntly--is that the engagement which has held us in prospective relationship is hereby broken; but by this i do not mean that your son is guilty of murder, for in his heart he may see himself justified, but a decision of court has--and i wish i could find a softer means of saying it--court has pronounced him guilty, and that places the marriage out of the question. bear with me just a moment more, for i assure you that i am suffering keenly with you, that my heart is in sorrowful unison with your own. family pride may be regarded a hobby in this day when refinement and respectability are sneered at, but it is a virtuous hobby, and i have held it so long that i cannot put it down. and now, in so far as there is any question of a financial obligation, we will turn our backs upon it and forget that it ever existed." he put his handkerchief into his hat, changed his hat to his other hand and stood looking at jucklin; and i had expected to see the old man leap off the floor in a rage, but i cannot recall ever having seen a cooler show of indifference. "i put gaffs on 'em early this mornin' an' kept 'em waitin' for the finish, and when it come it come soon," he said. "mr. jucklin, i had hoped to make myself sufficiently clear. i have come, sir, to break the engagement that was foolishly arranged by us to bind your daughter and my son." "bob died first, but sam could jest stagger, and he fluttered against me and covered my hands with his blood; and i must apologize for not washin' 'em, but it is not too late to make some sort of amends. i will wipe 'em on your jaws, sir!" he sprang forward, but i caught him. "you must be perfectly cool and perfectly sensible, mr. jucklin," i said, as quickly as i could, holding him. "remember that he is in your house." and this quieted him. even the most pronounced backwoodsman in the south is sometimes graced with a sudden and almost marvelous courtesy, the unconscious revival of a long lost dignity; and this came upon the old man, and, bowing low, he said: "i humbly beg your pardon, sir." "and i should be a brute not to grant it," the general replied, bowing in turn. "but i hope that reason rather than the fact of my being under your roof will govern your conduct." during this time, and, indeed, from the moment when the general had entered the room, guinea stood beside the rocking-chair in which her mother was seated; no change had come over her countenance, but with one hand resting on the back of the chair she had remained motionless, with the exception that she placed her hand on her mother's head at the moment when i caught the old man in my arms. i saw this, though her motion was swift, for i was looking at her rather than at her father. and now the general turned to the girl. "my dear," he said. she frowned slightly, but her lips parted with a cold smile that came out of her heart. "my dear child, it is hard for me to say this to you, for i feel that you can but regard me a feelingless monster that would rend an innocent and loving heart, and god knows that i now beg your forgiveness, but in this life cruel things must be done, done that those who come after us may feel no sting of reproach cast by an exacting society. i am an old man, my dear, and shall soon be taken to the burial ground where my fathers sleep in honor. they left me a proud name and i must not soil it. the oldest stone there is above a breast that braved old cromwell's pikemen--the noble heart of a cavalier beat in that bosom--and can you ask----" "i have asked nothing, general." "you are a noble young woman." "but your son will come to me and kneel at my feet." a flush flew over the general's face. "no, it is with his full consent that i have come. indeed, i would have put off my coming until a more befitting day, but he knew his duty and bade me do mine." "he will kneel at my feet," she said; and he had not replied when we heard footsteps in the passage--wild footsteps. there was a moment of sharp clicking at the door latch, as if a nervous hand had touched it, and then millie broke into the room. her face was white, her hair hung about her shoulders. "you have kept me away!" she cried, stamping her feet and frowning at her father. "yes, you have kept me away, but i have come and i hate you." the old general was stupefied. "you may tell your cold-blooded son what to do," she went on, "but my heart is my own. he asked me to marry him and i will--i will break into the penitentiary and marry him. and you would have had me marry dan stuart. just before he was killed he told me he would kill alf if i said i loved him. i will go to the jail and marry him there." she ran to guinea, and they put their arms about each other and wept; and the old woman pressed her book to her bosom and sobbed over it. through old lim's wire-like beard a smile, hard and cynical, was creeping out, and the general was fiercely struggling with himself. he had bitten his lip until his mouth was reddening with blood. "come, you are going home with me," he said. "i am not!" his daughter cried, with her arms tight about guinea. "i am not; i am going to the jail." "then i will take you home." "don't touch me!" she cried, shrinking back into a corner. "don't touch me, for i am almost mad. what do i care for your pride? what do i care for the old graveyard? you have tried to break my heart, but i will marry him. he is worth ten thousand such men as your cold-blooded son. don't you touch me, father. mr. hawes!" she screamed, "don't let him touch me." the old general had stepped forward as if to lay hands upon her, but he stepped back, bowed and said: "you are a lady and i am a gentleman, and these facts protect you from violence at my hands, but i here denounce you--no, i don't, my daughter. i cannot denounce my own flesh and blood. i will leave you here to-night, hoping that when this fit of passion is over reason will lead you home. good-night." chapter xv. long we sat there in a calm, after the general left us; and the two girls, on a bench in a corner, whispered to each other. how wild had been my guessing at the character of millie! how could one so shy, so gentle, so fond of showing her dimples, cast off all timidity and set herself in opposition to her father's authority and pride? i could but argue that she was wrong, that she had forgotten her duty, thus to stand out and violently defy him, and yet i admired her for the spirit she had shown. and i believed that guinea was just as determined, just as passionate. but she was wiser. i told the old man what alf had requested me to tell him, that he must sell his farm and go away, and he replied that he would. "i don't think, though, that i can get very much for it. parker's land joins mine, and may be i can strike a trade with him. of course, i don't want to live here any longer, for no matter what may come now we've got the name. susan, i never saw a woman behave better than you have to-night. the old stock--and i'm with the book from kiver to kiver. and now, millie, let me say a word to you. of course, i know exactly how you feel, and all that--how that you couldn't help yourself--but to-morrow mornin' after breakfast i would, if i was in your place, go right home and ask my father's forgiveness. i say if i was in your place, for if you do you won't have half so much to be sorry for, and in this life i hold that we're doin' our best when we do the fewest things to regret. what do you think?" "i'm sorry i talked that way, and he's getting old, too. but i had a cause. he made me stay in the house, and he ought to remember that i am of the same blood he is and that it's awful to be humiliated. but there's one thing i'm going to do. when alf's tried again, i'm going to tell them what stuart said. i would have done it this time, but i was ashamed to say anything about it. i have been nearly crazy, but i'm awfully sorry that i talked that way. and, oh, suppose he were to die to-night? i never could forgive myself. i must go home now, mr. jucklin. yes, i can't stay another minute. you'll go with me, won't you, mr. hawes?" "i will gladly do so," i answered. "and i will go, too," said guinea. we took a lantern, but the night was so dark that we went round by the road, rather than over the meadows. millie said that she scarcely remembered how she had come, but she thought that she had run the most of the way. and over and over as we walked along she repeated: "i'm awfully sorry." as we came out of the woods, where the road bent in toward the big gate, we saw a light burning in the library. millie stopped suddenly and clutched my arm. "suppose he won't let me come back?" she said. "i don't know in what sort of a humor i may find him. mr. hawes, you go on and see him first, please?" "and i will wait out here," guinea spoke up, and her voice trembled. "of course, i can't go into the house after what has happened. nobody must know that i am here." i left them standing in the dark, and when i stepped upon the porch i heard some one walking heavily and slowly up and down the library. on the door was a brass knocker, and when i raised it and let it fall, the foot-steps came hastily to the door. a hanging lamp was burning in the hall, and i saw that the old general himself had opened the door. "oh, it's you mr. hawes. i couldn't tell at first. my old eyes are getting flat, sir. step into the library." "no, i thank you. i have but a moment to stay." "step in, sir," he insisted, almost commanded, and i obeyed. chyd was under a lamp, reading a sheep-skin covered book. he looked up as i entered, nodded, and then resumed his reading. "sit down," said the general. "no, i thank you, for, as i say, i have but a moment to remain. your daughter is exceedingly sorry that she acted----" "where is she, sir?" "she has come with me, but fearing that your resentment----" "what, is she out there waiting in the dark? what, my child out there waiting to know whether she can come into her father's house? i will go to her, sir. come, chyd, let us both go." i stepped to the door and stood confronting the old man and his son. "you can go, general, if you will, but your son must remain where he is." "what, i don't understand you, sir. how dare you--what do you mean, sir?" "your son must not come with us. that is what i mean." "not go to welcome his sister home. get out of my way, sir!" "wait, general. he should not go out there, for the reason that some one else, out of kindness, has accompanied your daughter and me." "ah, i beg your pardon," said the old man, bowing. "chyd, stay where you are." millie was inside the yard, but guinea was in the road, standing at the gate. "come, my child!" the old man called. millie ran to him and he took her in his arms. and he lifted her off the ground, slight creature that she was, and carried her up the steps. guinea took my arm and homeward we went, and not a word was spoken until we entered the dark woods. "you saw chyd?" she said. "yes, and the old gentleman wanted him to come out." "to kneel at my feet so soon?" "no, to welcome his sister. are you so anxious for the time to come?" "yes," she answered, without hesitation. "and is it because you love him?" i asked bitterly. "you and i are to be the best of friends, mr. hawes, and you must not reproach me." "forgive me if i have hurt you," i said, stupidly. "but you must not keep on wounding me merely to be forgiven. i said that he would kneel at my feet, and this may sound foolish to you, but he will. how do i know? i feel it; i don't know why, but i do. and we are to leave the old home if father can sell the land. it's better to go, but it will be still better to come back, and we will. do you think that i am merely a simple girl without ambition? i am not; i dream." "i know that you are a noble woman." "oh, don't flatter me now. it's first reproach, and then flattery. but have you thought of the real nobility of some one else--yourself?" i strove to laugh, but i know that it must have been a miserable croak. "i have done nothing to merit that opinion," i replied. "oh, it is a part of your nature to suppress yourself. do you know that i expect great things of you? i do." "i know one thing that i'm going to do--i am going to buy the old house and a narrow strip of land--the path and the spring. that's all i want--the house, the path and the spring, with just a little strip running a short distance down the brook where the moss is so thick. i have the promise of money from perdue, and i think that i can borrow some of conkwright. yes, i must have the house and the path and the spring and the strip of moss-land that lies along the branch. it will be merely a poetic possession, but such possessions are the richest to one who has a soul; and no one with a soul will bid against me. it is a mean man that would bid against a sentiment." "you must be nearly worn out," she said, when for some distance we had walked in silence. "i may be, but i don't know it yet. and so long as i don't know it, why, of course, i don't care." for a long time we said nothing. her hand was on my arm, but i scarcely felt its weight, except when we came upon places where the road was rough; and i wished that the way were rougher, that i might feel her dependence upon me. once she stepped into a deep rut, and i caught her about the waist, but when i had lifted her out, she gently released herself. she said that the road was rougher than she had ever before found it, and i was ready to swear that it was the most delightful highway that my feet had trod; indeed, i did swear it, but she warned me not to use such strong language when i meant to convey but a weak compliment. "let us walk faster," she said. "it is away past midnight. i do believe it's nearly day. can you see your watch?" "yes, but i can't see the time." "nobody can see time, mr. teacher of children." "but i could not tell the time even if i were to hold the lantern to the watch." "oh, of course you could. why do you talk that way?" "i am moved to talk that way because i know that the watch, being in sympathy with me, refuses to record time when i am with you--it frightens off the minutes in an ecstasy." "nonsense, mr. hawes. i do believe daylight is coming. what a night we have passed, and here i am unable to realize it, and mother is heart-broken over our disgrace. but i suppose it will fall upon me and crush me when we have gone away. my brother sentenced to the penitentiary! to myself i have repeated these words over and over and yet they don't strike me." "perhaps it is because your mind is on some one else," i replied, with a return of my feeling of bitterness. with a pressure gentle and yet forgetful her hand had been resting on my arm, but in an instant the pressure was gone like a bird fluttering from a bough, and out in the road she was walking alone. "i earnestly beg your pardon. i scarcely knew what i was saying. won't you please take my arm?" "to be compelled to drop it again before we have gone a hundred yards?" "no, to drop it when we have reached the gate. won't you, please? i don't deny that i am a fool. i have always been a fool. my father said so and he was right. everybody made fun of me because i was so easily cheated; and you ought to be willing to forgive a man who was born a failure. whenever there has been a mistake to be made i have made it. once i was caught in a storm and when i came in dripping, my father said that i hadn't sense enough to come in out of the rain. but i am stronger with every one else than i am with you, and----" she was laughing at me; but it was a laugh of sympathy, of forgiveness, and i caught her hand and placed it upon my arm. and so we walked along in silence, she pressing my arm when the road was rough. daylight was coming and we could see the house, dark and lonesome beyond the black ravine. "what a peculiar man the general is," i said, feeling the growing heaviness of the silence. "i can hardly place him; but i believe he has a kind heart." "yes," she replied, "he is kind and brave and generous, but over it all is a weakness." "and he is of a type that is fast disappearing," said i. "a few years more and his class will be but a memory, and then will come almost a forgetfulness, but later on he will reappear as a caricature from the pen of some careless and unsympathetic writer." we had crossed the ravine and were now at the gate, and here i halted. "what, aren't you going in?" she asked, looking up at me, and in the dim light i could see her face, pale and sad. "no," i answered, "i am going to town." "at this hour, and when you are so tired?" "the horse is rested, and as for myself, my duty must give me vigor." "i don't understand you. what can you do in town?" "i can bear the divinest of tidings--i can tell alf that millie loves him." she stood looking down, and, bending over her, i kissed her hair, and oh, the heaven of that moment, at the gate, in the dawn; and oh, the thrilling perfume of her hair, damp with the dew brushed from the vine and the leaf of the spice-wood bush. and there, without a word, i left her, her white hands clasped on her bosom; and over the roadway i galloped with a message on my lips and incense in my soul. chapter xvi. the sun was an hour above the tree-tops when i rode up to the livery-stable, and the town was lazily astir. merchants were sprinkling the brick pavements in front of their stores, and on the public square was a bon-fire of trash swept from the court-house. i hastened to the jail, and for the first time the jailer hesitated when i applied for admission. my eagerness, apparent to every one, appeared to be mistrusted by him, and he shook his head. i told him that he might go in with me, that my mission was simply to deliver a message. "the man has been sentenced," said he, "and i don't know what good a message can do him. i am ordered to be very strict. some time ago a man was in this jail, sentenced to the penitentiary, but he didn't go--a friend came in and left him some pizen. and are you sure you ain't got no pizen about you." "you may search me." "but i don't know pizen when i see it. man's got a right to kill himself, i reckon, but he ain't got no right to rob me of my position as jailer, and that's what it would do. write down your message and i'll take it to him." "that would take too long. the judge has granted him a new trial and surely he wouldn't want to kill himself now." "well, i reckon you're right, but still we have to be mighty particular. i don't know, either but you might be taking him some whisky. man's got a right to drink whisky, it's true, but it don't speak well for the morals and religious standin' of a jailer if he's got a lot of drunken prisoners on hand; so, if you've got a bottle about you anywhere you'd better let me take it." "i've got no bottle." "that so? didn't know but you might have one. prohibition has struck this town putty hard, you know. search yourself and see if you hain't got a bottle." "don't you suppose i know whether i've got one or not? but if you want one you shall have it." "s-h-e-e! don't talk so loud. there's nothin' that sharpens a man's ears like prohibition. say," he whispered, "a good bottle costs about a dollar." "here's your dollar. it's my last cent, but you shall have it." "oh, it ain't my principle to rob a man," he said as he took the money. "but i do need a little licker this mornin'. why, i'm so dry i couldn't whistle to a dog. no pizen, you understand," he added, with a wink, as he opened the door. the drawing of the bolts must have aroused alf from sleep, for when i stepped into the corridor he was sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing his eyes. "helloa, is that you, bill? what are you doing here this time of day? why, i haven't had breakfast yet." "i have come to tell you something, and i want you to be quiet while i tell it." "that's all right, old man. go ahead. i can stand anything now." i told him of the scene in the sitting-room, of the walk to the general's house--told him all except that kiss at the gate. he uttered not a word; he had taken hold of the bars and was standing with his head resting upon his arms--had gradually found this position, and now i could not see his face. long i stood there, waiting, but he spoke not. suddenly he wheeled about, fell upon his bed and sobbed aloud. and so i left him, and ere i reached the door i knew that his sobbing was a prayer, that his heart had found peace and rest. upon a pardon from the governor he could have looked with cool indifference, for without that girl's love he cared not to live; but now to know that through the dark she had fled from her home, rebellious against her father's pride, wild with love--it was a mercy granted by the governor of governors. i went to see conkwright and told him of the threat that stuart had made, and the old man's eyes glistened. "we ought to have had that girl on the stand in the first place," he said. "but it was a delicate matter and, of course, we didn't know that she could bear so strongly upon the case. it's all right--better as it is, and that boy will get off as sure as you are sitting there. that threat was worse than his standing in the road, waiting. yes, sir, it's all right, and you may take up your school again and go ahead with your work." "i don't want to go ahead with it, mr. conkwright. i want to study law with you. the school was only a makeshift, any way. you are getting old and you need some one to do the drudgery of your office. i will come in and work faithfully." "don't know but you are right, billy." "i wish, sir, that you wouldn't call me billy." "all right, colonel." "and i don't care to be called colonel. you may call me bill, if you want to, but billy----" "a little too soft, eh? all right. i don't know but you are the very man i want. you are faithful and you've got a good head. call again in a day or two. it has been a long time since i had a partner. yes, come in again, and i think we can arrange it." "there is something else that i want to speak about, and to me it is of more importance than----" "love!" the old man broke in, winking at me. "i'll tell you, if you'll wait a moment. then you may place your own estimate upon it." i told him of the broken engagement, of chyd's indifference, of the old couple's plan to leave the community, and i unfolded my sentimental resolve to buy the old house. "and now i must ask a favor," i continued. "old man perdue told me that he would pay me for the time--time i have not taught, but as i am not going to fill out the term it wouldn't be right to take the money." "ah, and it is law you want to study?" "why, of course. didn't i make that plain?" "oh, yes. and you don't think it would be right to take the money? go ahead, though." "i know it wouldn't be right. and what i want to ask of you is this: the investment will require about two hundred dollars. won't you lend me that amount?" he scratched his head, scratched his chin, bit off a chew of tobacco, stretched himself and said: "well, i have been lending money all my life, and i don't see why i should stop now. did you ever hear of anybody paying back borrowed money except in a poker game? i never did. do people really pay back? i don't know what the custom is over in the part of the country you came from, but the rules are very strict here, and they are not violated very often--they rarely pay back. and they never violate the rule with me." "my dear sir, i will pay you----" "yes, i know. oh, you've got the formula down pretty fine. make a good lawyer. i've got some money in that safe, that is, if nobody has robbed me. let me see if i've been robbed." he opened the safe and took out a package of banknotes. "don't believe i've been robbed. rather singular, too," he went on, counting the money. "two hundred, you said. better take two-fifty--you need some clothes. pardon me for being so keen an observer. it really escaped my notice until this moment. but what you want with the old house is more than i can understand. no, billy--bill, i mean--no, i understand it and it is a noble quality." he rolled up the money, handed it to me and continued to talk. "after all, sentiment is the only thing in life, but you'd better not tell this about town--i'd never get another case. yes, sir, and the poet is the only man who really lives. now go on and buy your acre of sentiment, and when you have closed the bargain, lie down upon your possessions and go to sleep. tell the old man that he is a fool for going away, but tell him also that i don't blame him for being a fool. yes, sir, i love a fool, for it's the wise man that puts me to trouble. give my warmest regards to that old woman. let me tell you something: many years ago i was a poor young fellow working about the court-house. and the clothes you've got on now are wedding garments compared with what mine were. well, one day i stopped at jucklin's house to get out of the rain--he hadn't been married long--and soon after i went into the sitting-room, the wife began to whisper to the husband, and when she went out, which she did a moment later, jucklin turned to me and said: 'go up stairs, take off your britches and throw 'em down here, and i'll bring 'em back to you after a while.' i was actually out at the knees, sir, and i did as he told me, and when he brought my trousers back they were neatly patched. yes, sir, give my warmest regards to that old woman, for if she isn't a christian there never was one. well, what are you hanging around here for? trying to thank me? is that it? well, just go on, my boy, and we'll attend to that some other time." "you know what i feel, mr. conkwright, and i will not attempt to thank you, but i must say that i was never more surprised in a man. i was told that you were hard and unsympathetic." "sorry you found me out, sir. let a lawyer get the name of being kind and they say that he is emotional, but has no logic. blackstone had to give up poetry. well, good-day. i'm busy." i ate breakfast at the tavern, nodding over the table; and i was so sleepy that i could scarcely sit my horse as i rode toward home. the day was hot and drowsy was the air, in the road and on the hill-side, where a boy, weary and heavy with the leg-pains of adolescence, was dragging himself after a plow. once i dozed off to sleep and awoke under a tree, the wise old horse knowing that he could take advantage of my sleepiness to bat his eyes in the shade, and when i spoke to him he started off at a trot as if surprised to find that he had turned aside from his duty. i was nearly home and was riding along half asleep when the frightful squealing of a pig drew my attention down a lane that opened into the road. the animal was caught under a rail fence and his companions were running up to him, one after another, and were raking him with their sharp teeth. i got down and fought off the excited beasts, knocked one of them down for his cruelty, and lifted the fence to liberate the prisoner; and when he was free his companions, the ones that had been ripping his hide, ran up to congratulate him upon his good fortune; and in the whole performance i saw a heartless phase of human life, musing as i rearranged the rails that had been lifted away, and when i straightened up there stood etheredge looking at me. "these are my hogs," he said. "i didn't know that," i replied, "but i might have known that they were members of your family." "yes, you might have known a great many things that you have never been wise enough to find out. but i don't want to lash words with you, mr. hawes. i simply stopped to tell you that a man who would go out of his way to lift a heavy fence to help a hog is not a bad fellow; and i want to apologize for anything that i have said to anger you. i have nothing against you and i don't blame you for sticking to a friend. one of these days you'll find that i'm not half as bad a fellow as you have had cause to think me. let us call off our engagement. is it a go?" "doctor, i have no desire to kill you, and i think that your death would be the result of our keeping that engagement." "pretty confident sort of a man, i take it. and after all, bravery is nothing but a sort of over-confidence. but i don't believe that you would kill me; i believe that it would be the other way, and it is not out of fear that i propose a setting aside of our indefinite agreement to meet each other. but be that as it may, we will call it off unless you insist, and if you do, why, as a gentleman i shall be compelled to meet you. i am brave enough to confess that i can't help but admire you morally and physically. in a small way, i was once a demonstrator of anatomy, and from an outside estimate i must pronounce you as fine a specimen of manhood as i ever saw. and if you'll come over to the house we'll take a long drink on the strength of it." "the spirit of your hospitality is not lost upon me, doctor, but the truth is, i never drink. but with a cheerful willingness i accept your other proposition--to set aside our engagement. it was no more your fault than mine." "yes, it was, mr. hawes--i wantonly nagged at you. but we will let it drop. under present conditions we can't be very good friends, but there will come a time when you must acknowledge that malice may know what it is to be honest, if not generous." "don't go now, doctor; you have interested me. tell me what you mean." "i wish you good-day, mr. hawes," was his reply, as he strode off down the lane. and he left me holding him in a strange sort of regard; he had flattered me and had hinted at a future generosity. could it be that he intended to modify his evidence when again he should appear against alf? a demonstrator of anatomy--and he could soothe a nerve as well as expose a muscle. i felt kindly toward him as i rode along, though blaming myself for my weakness. but i have never known a very large man who had not some vital weakness--of vanity, egotism, over-generosity, foolish tenderness--something in ill-keeping with a well-poised morality. with old sir john we have more flesh, and, therefore, more of frailty. as i came within sight of the house i saw three men slowly walking about in the yard, and, upon reaching the gate, i recognized them as parker, jucklin and perdue. i turned the horse into a lot and joined them. "well," said jucklin, "it's all over and i have sold out to parker." "not the house, too!" i cried in alarm. the old man smiled and winked at parker. "well, not quite," he said. "guinea told me what you wanted, and sir, you can have it, though i tell you right now that it ain't worth much." "will you take two hundred dollars?" "not from you, bill. you may have the house and the path and the spring and the strip of moss, for if you haven't earned that and more----" "hold on, mr. jucklin. i want the property made over to me in regular form when i have paid you for it. i will accept of no concession; want to pay as much as mr. parker would have paid, and i have borrowed money enough to close the deal. you are going away and you will need every cent you can possibly raise; and i demand that you take the two hundred dollars that i have collected for you. it will be of no use to say that you will not, for i am determined, and, although you have been very kind, you will find me a hard man to fight. and remember that there is a debt to be paid." he held out his hand and looked over toward the general's house as i gripped his rough palm. "i have buried 'em over by the edge of the woods," he said; "buried 'em with their gaffs on. i couldn't help it--they had to fight to a finish. yes, it shall be as you say. i will pay what i owe and still have money enough to get away off somewhere. we'll draw up the papers in town and have it over with at once." "mr. hawes, i've got a hundred dollars that's yours," said old man perdue. "i have brought the money, and here it is." "i can't take it, mr. perdue. i haven't earned it, and shall not earn it. i am not going to teach your school." "the deuce you say! why, my grandson thinks there ain't nobody in the world like you--says you can whip any livin' man. you must teach that school." "no, i am going to study law with judge conkwright." "what, with him? don't you do it. why, there ain't a harder hearted man on the face of the earth than he is. smart as a whip, but he don't go to church once in five years. oh, you needn't smile, for it's a fact. not once in five years, and what can you expect from a man like that? oh, he'll grind you into the very ground. ain't got a particle of feelin'." "i expect him to teach me the law and i can get along with my present stock of religion. but even if he were to offer me his religion, i would accept it. i know him better than you can ever know him. but we have no cause to discuss him. no, i can't take your money." "but you have earned some of it. twenty-five dollars, at least." "well, i will take that much." "take it all," said parker. "no, twenty-five," i replied. "you are your own boss," perdue observed; "you know best. here's your twenty-five, and i'll make it fifty if you'll send out word that the new man, whoever he may be, mustn't go into the creek. you are the sort of a reformer that this community has needed. well, gentlemen, i've got to get home. issue your proclamation, sir, and send for the other twenty-five." parker said that it was time for him to go, and, adding that he would meet jucklin in town, left us at the door. mrs. jucklin was brighter than i had expected to find her, and when i told her what conkwright had said, that alf would surely be acquitted, the light of a new hope leaped into her eyes. "i told limuel that god would not permit such a wrong," she said. "didn't i, limuel?" "you said something about it, susan; i have forgot exactly what it was. it's all right if the judge says he knows it. yes, sir, it's all right. but we'll leave here all the same. don't reckon we'll ever come back; can't stand to be p'inted at. fight a man in a minit if he p'ints at me." "oh, limuel, don't talk about fighting when we are in so much trouble." "fight a man in a minit if he p'ints at me. knock down a sign-post if it p'ints at me. well, we want a little bite to eat. been about six weeks since i eat anything, it seems like." all this time i was wondering where guinea could be, and was startled by every sound. the mother asked me how alf looked and how he had acted when i had pictured millie's leaving home; and i told her mechanically, wondering, listening; and i broke off suddenly, for i thought there was a footstep at the door. no, it was a chicken in the passage. they asked me many questions and i answered without hearing my own words. mrs. jucklin went out to the dining-room and the old man began to talk about his chickens. he had found them bloody and stiff, and had buried them in a box lined with an old window curtain. and now there was a step at the door. i looked up and guinea stood there, looking back, listening to her mother. and thus she stood a long time, i thought, and yet she must have known that i was in the room. mr. jucklin spoke to her and she came in, walking very slowly. her face was pale, with a sadness that smote my heart. she sat down and looked out of the window. mrs. jucklin called the old man, and when he was gone i told guinea that i had left alf in a convulsive joy; and, still looking out of the window, she said: "you are the noblest man i ever met." i sprang to my feet, but quickly she lifted her hand and motioned me back, though she still looked away. "sit down, please. don't you remember our agreement to be frank with each other?" "yes, i remember it, but frankness means the opposite of restraint." "yes, but frankness should always have judgment behind it." "guinea!" she looked at me. "guinea, you say that after a while he will kneel at your feet." "yes, after a while, mr. hawes." "but let me--let me kneel at your feet now!" slowly she shook her head. "no, mr. hawes, you must never do that. sometime we may kneel together, but you must never kneel to me. now we are frank, aren't we? we may go to church together and hear some one pray a beautiful prayer, a prayer that may seem the echo of our own heart-throbs. sweet is confidence, and i ask you to have confidence in me. let me have my way, and when the time is ripe, i will come to you with my hands held out. yes, when the time is ripe. and then there will be no reproaches and nothing to forgive, but everything to worship and to bless. oh, i am a great talker when once i am started, mr. hawes, and i think all the time. i thought this morning as i stood at the gate, just as you left me standing; i heard you galloping down the road. and do you know what i thought of? it was almost profane, but i thought of the baptizing at the river of jordan, when the spirit came down like a dove; and i knew what must have been the thrilling touch of that spirit, for the holiness of love had touched my hair. no, mr. hawes, not now. there, sit down again and let me talk, for i am started now. oh, and you thought that i was dumb and feelingless? you mustn't weep; but as for me, why, i am a woman and tears are a woman's inheritance. there, i have said enough, and after this we must speak to each other as friends--until the time when i shall come to you with my hands held out; and then i am going to tell you of a woman who loved a man, not with a halting, half-hearted love, but with a love as broad as god's smile when the earth is in bloom. you didn't know that i was so persistent, did you? isn't it time for a woman to be persistent? no woman has ever kept silence, they tell us, but women have been constrained to talk around the subject, festooning it with their insinuating fancies. but women are more outspoken now and are permitted to be truer to themselves. yes, you must have confidence in me; let me indulge my dream a while longer, and then i will come to you, but until then let us be friends." "but won't you let me tell you something now? won't you let me tell you that in the moonlight i bowed until my head touched the dust, worshiping you as you stood----" "no, not now; not until i come. and won't you respect my wishes, even if they are foolish?" "now and forever, angel, your word shall be a divine law unto me." "they are calling us," she said. "come on." chapter xvii. in the afternoon i went to town with the old man, to attend upon the transfer of the property, and i slept in the wagon, conscious of guinea when the road was rough, and sweetly dreaming of her when there was no jolt to disturb my slumber. it was long after midnight when we returned. i was resolved to go early to bed, for guinea and her mother were sadly engaged packing a box with the bric-a-brac upon which time and association had placed the seal of endearment. "now, i wonder what has become of that old lace curtain," said mrs. jucklin. "i have looked everywhere and can't find it, and i know it was in the chest up stairs." the old man began to scratch his head. "i don't know who could have taken it," mrs. jucklin went on. "it couldn't have walked off, i'm sure. limuel?" "yes, ma'm." "do you know what has become of that old curtain?" "what, that ragged old thing that wan't worth nothin'?" "worth nothin'! why, it belonged to my grandmother." "i never heard of that before." "oh, yes, you have, and what's the use of talkin' that way? you've known it all the time." "news to me," said the old man. "it's not news to you, anything of the sort; but the question is, do you know what has become of it?" "susan, in this here life many things happen, things that we wish hadn't happened. i am not sorry that they fit to a finish, for that had to be; but i am sorry that i wrapped 'em in that curtain when i buried 'em." "gracious alive, what has possessed the man! oh, you do distress me so. how could you do such a thing, limuel? i do believe you have gone daft. but you go right out there now and dig up them good-for-nothin' chickens and bring me that curtain. go right on this minit." "what, susan, and rob the dead and the brave? you wouldn't have me do that." "go on, i tell you, or i'll go myself, and throw the fetchtaked things over to the hogs. the idee of wrappin' up them cruel, good-for-nothin' things in a curtain like that. oh, i never was so provoked in my life." the old man got up and stretched himself. "bill," said he, "i am sometimes forced to believe that the women folks are lackin' in human sympathy. ma'm, i'll fetch your curtain, but i've got to have somethin' to wrap around the dead and the brave." "don't you take that apron. why, if he wouldn't take the best apron i've got, right out from under my very eyes. and you can't have that stand cover, either." "well, but, by jings, what can i have? am i a traveler that has jest stopped here to stay all night? there's no use in talkin'; i'm goin' to have 'em put away decent. take me for a barbarian?" he went out, and just as i was going up to bed i met him in the passage way, with a roll of white stuff in his bare arms, and as he stepped into the room i heard his wife exclaim: "mercy on me, if he hasn't taken his best shirt. and what he is goin' to do for somethin' to wear the lord only knows." i heard guinea laughing, and then i heard the old man say that what a man happened to wear would make but little difference with the lord. i was so worn that my sleep that night was dreamless, but when early at morning they called me to breakfast i knew that during the hours of that deep oblivion i had been vaguely conscious of a dim and shadowy happiness; and a vivid truth came upon me with the first glimpse of sunlight. the old man was waiting at the foot of the stairs. "bill, we are goin' over to the station right after we eat a bite," he said. "we can't take but a few things, and we'll leave the most of our trumpery till we git settled somewhere. take care of that horse you've been ridin'--he don't belong to us; was left here by a man some time ago, feller that had to go away off somewhere to see his folks. so, you jest keep him till he's called for; and i've left you plenty of corn out there to feed him on. you can study your books here about as well as you can in town, and i wish you'd sorter look after the things. parker will drive us over to the station." "and am i to go also?" i asked. "no, i believe not. it's guinea's arrangement and not mine. let her have her own way. all women have got their whims, the whole kit an' b'ilin' of 'em, and you might as well reason with a weather cock. wait a minit before we go in. as soon as we git half way settled guinea will write to you. i have no idee where i'm goin', but it will be away off somewhere. it makes me shudder every time i meet a man that i know, and i'd bet a horse that if i was to meet a cross-eyed feller i'd fight him. if alf gits clear he can come to us. and you--i'm sorry you have decided to go in with conkwright, for i wanted you to come with alf." "i will come. nothing shall stand in the way. mr. jucklin, have you noticed----" "yes, i've noticed everything. and it's all right. and susan has noticed everything and it's all right with her. there never was a prouder human than guinea, sir; the old general's pride is rain water compared to her'n. and she's got an idee in her head--i don't exactly understand it, but she's got it there and we'll have to let her keep it till she wants to throw it aside. i was over to the general's before sun up this mornin'. he swore that he wouldn't take the money, but i left it under a brick-bat on the gate post and come away. well, everything is settled, and all i can say now is, god bless you." we were silent at breakfast, and we dared not look at one another. a wagon came rattling through the gate, and parker shouted that he was ready. no one had said a word, but the old man struck the table with his fist and exclaimed: "i insist on everybody showin' common sense. i don't want anybody to speak to me. i'll fight in a minit. git in that wagon without a word. hush, now." i wanted to lead guinea to the wagon, to feel again her dependence upon me, but she pretended to be looking away when i attempted to take her hand, and so she walked on alone; but i helped her into the vehicle, and i kissed her hand when she took hold of the seat. she gave me a quick look and a smile; and the wagon rolled away. i stood on the log step, watching it, and as it was slowly sinking beyond the hill i saw the flutter of a handkerchief. i went up to my room and sat down, sad that i had seen her going away from me, yet happy to know that she had left her heart in my keeping. but the foolishness of this separation struck me with a force that had been lacking until now, and for a time i felt toward the old man a hardness that not even a keen appreciation of his kindness and his drollery could soften. gradually, however, the truth came to me that alf had drawn the plan, and with my arms stretched out toward the hill-top that had slowly arisen between me and the fluttering handkerchief i foolishly apologized to the old man. i did more foolish things than that; i improvised a hymn and sang it to guinea--a chant that, no doubt, would have been immeasurably funny to the cold-hearted and the sane, but it brought the tears to my eyes and rendered the rafters just above my head a work of lace, far away. and at these devotions i might have remained for hours had not a sharp footfall smote upon my ear. i hastened down stairs, and at the entrance of the passage stood chyd lundsford, looking about, slowly lashing his leg with a switch. "helloa! where are all the folks?" "they are gone, sir," i answered, stiffly bowing to him. "gone? i don't know that i quite catch your meaning." "if it be illusive you have made it so. i said that they were gone, which means, of course, that they are not here." "i understand that all right enough, but do you mean that they are not in at present or that they have really left home?" "they have no home, sir." he gave himself a sharp cut with the switch. "it can't have been so very long since they left, for the old man was over to see father this morning. which way did they go? i may overtake them." "that would be greatly against their wish, sir." "i am not asking for an opinion. i want to know which way they went." "i am not at liberty to tell you that. they have gone out into a world that is as strange to them as america was to columbus." "rot. there isn't a smarter woman anywhere than guinea. she has read everything and she knows the world as well as i do. but why are you not privileged to tell me which way they went? i have something to say that concerns them closely. did they go toward town?" "do you suppose that they would go away without first seeing their son?" "then you mean that they went to town. why the devil can't you speak out? why should you stand as a stumbling block?" "why should i stand as a sign post?" "now here, you needn't show your selfishness in this matter. she wouldn't wipe her feet on you." "no, but she would wipe them on you." "what!" he took a step forward, but he stepped back again and stood there, lashing himself with the switch. "my father tells me that you are a gentleman," he said. "and you may safely accept your father's opinion of me," i answered. "but you are not striving, sir, to make that opinion good." "a good opinion needs no bolstering up." "this bantering is all nonsense. i've got nothing against you; i have simply asked you a civil question." "and i hope to be as civil as you are, but out of regard for the feelings of those old people and their daughter i cannot tell you which way they went. you couldn't overtake them, any way." "but i can try." "yes, you could have tried yesterday and the day before, and a week ago, when they needed your sympathy." he dropped his switch, but he caught it up again, and his face was red. "i might say, sir, that what i have done and that which i have failed to do is no business of yours, but i feel that there is a measure of justice in what you say, and i acknowledge that i have been wrong. that is why i am here now--to set myself right." "in matters of business we may correct an error, mr. lundsford; we may rub out one figure and put down another, but a mark made upon the heart is likely to remain there." "i will not attempt to bandy sentimentalities with you, sir. i am a practical man, a scientist, if you wish; and i came here to tell that girl that my breaking off the engagement--you must know all about it--was wrong. i told my father to come, for just at that time i didn't feel that as a man who looks forward to something a little more than a name i could afford to marry her. but i was wrong; any living man could afford to marry her. i was wrong, and that ought to settle it." "and i think, sir, that it does settle it as far as you are concerned." "do you mean that she won't marry me? oh, yes, she will, not out of any foolish love, but because she would be proud of my success. well, i may not overtake her, but i will write to her. yes, that will do as well. she will want to know how things are getting along here, and will write to you, and when she does i wish you would show me her letter. what are you laughing at? haven't you got any sense at all?" "i hope so, but i am not so much of a scientist that i am a fool." "no, but you are so much of a fool that you are not a scientist, by a d----d sight." he had me there, and it was his time to laugh, and he did. he was so tickled that he roared, walking up and down the passage; and he was so pleased that he held out his hand to shake upon the merit of his joke. i was not disposed to be surly and i shook hands with him, and he clapped me on the shoulder, still laughing, and declared that it was a piece of wit worthy of the dissecting-room, and that he would jolt his fellows with it. "i am glad you are so much pleased," i remarked. "why, don't you think it's good, eh? of course, you do. well, it's better to part laughing, anyway." "you are not too much of a scientist to be a philosopher," i said. and i expected him to continue his line of deduction and to say that i was too much of a philosopher to be a scientist, but he did not; he sobered and gravely remarked: "yes, i am devilish sorry that this thing came about, and i hope that guinea will not take a romantic view of it. i guess they'll be back after a while, if alf is cleared, and from what i hear i suppose he will be." "may i ask how your sister is?" "certainly. she's all right; doesn't eat much, but her pulse is normal--little excited, but hardly noticeable. loves that fellow, doesn't she? strong, good-looking boy, but not very practical. hope he'll come out all right. ah, i was going to say something, but it has escaped me. oh, yes, you are in love with guinea. be frank, now." "yes, i worship her." "hardly the word, but it will do, on an impulse. i think a good deal of her myself. i said just now that she wouldn't wipe her feet on you, and i beg your pardon. she may wipe them on you. you are going to stay here, eh? well, come over to the house. no reason why there should be any ill-will between us. good-day." i sat down on the step and watched him until he had ridden out of sight, and i was pleased that he went toward his home, not that i was afraid of a renewal of the engagement; i knew that it was forever set aside. but i felt that his overtaking the wagon would bring an additional trouble to the father and the mother; indeed, i was afraid that the old man might kill him. strange fellow chyd was, and i liked him as an oddity, as something wholly different from myself or from any impulsive being. he was not cruel--he simply had no heart. chapter xviii. i walked about the old place until nearly noon, and then i went to town. the jailer met me with a doubtful shaking of his scheming head, and i knew that again he had received orders to be rigid in his discipline, but i was resolved that the old rascal's appetite for liquor should not play a second prank upon me; so when he hinted at another bottle i told him that i had spent so much of my life as a temperance lecturer that it was against my conscience to buy a favor with whisky. i looked steadily at him, and he began to wince. "why, to be sure," said he, "but, my dear sir, i didn't buy whisky with that dollar--bought a ham with it. if i didn't i'm the biggest liar in the world; and i don't reckon there's a family in this town that needs another ham right now worse than mine does." "that may be, but i can't afford to pay so heavy a price every time i enter this place. you know that i am associated with the prisoner's lawyer, but we'll waive that right--i'll go to the sheriff and get an order from him." "why, my dear sir, that's unnecessary. walk right in; but remember your promise not to say anything about that ham. there are a lot of vegetarians in this town, and if they hear of my eating meat they'll hold it against me. walk in, sir." i found alf in high spirits. conkwright had called and had assured him that his day of liberty was not far off. i told him that the old house was deserted, and he stood musing, looking at me dreamily, as if his mind were hovering over the scenes of his boyhood. i let him dream, for i knew the sweetness of a melancholy reverie. sometimes the soul is impatient of the body's dogged hold on life, and steals away to view its future domain, to draw in advance upon its coming freedom--now lingering, now swifter than a hawk--and then it comes back and we say that we have been absent-minded. alf started--his soul had returned. "and weren't you surprised to see them drive toward town?" he asked. "who, your parents and guinea? they didn't; they drove toward the railway station." "but they came to town, my dear boy--were here in this jail. they must have driven round to deceive you, for they knew that you would want to come with them, and they deceived you to spare you the pain of seeing us together. and i'm glad you were spared, though mother stood it much better than i expected. but this was because she firmly believes i'll be cleared. they haven't been gone a great while--there's a station not far from this town. father played another trick on you. yesterday, when he came to town to deed over the land, he left you dozing in the wagon and slipped off round here. i was surprised, for i had positively ordered him not to come. but he set me to laughing before he got in. 'open that door by the order of the sheriff!' he cried at the jailer. 'here's the order; look at it, but don't you look at me. fight you in a minit.' and then he came in, and the first thing he told me was that they had gaffs on. he said that he had fought hard to keep mother from coming, at night when the rest were asleep; and i swore that she must not come, but she did. bill, you brought me a message that sent me to heaven; and now let me ask if you know that guinea loves you? there, don't say a word--you know it. she told me, standing where you are now--told me everything, and what a talker she is when once she is started. but you must let her have her way, and she will come to you, holding out her hands. have you seen millie?" "no, not since that night. but i am going to see her." then i told him that chyd had come to the house--i reproduced the scene, and alf's merriment rang throughout the jail. "yes," he said, "you can go over there all right enough. the general likes you, anyway. i don't know what he thinks of me--still sizes me as a boy, i suppose; and if he were to come in here now i believe he would ask me what father was doing. but it makes no difference what he thinks. the judge tells me that you are going to study law with him. jumped into an interesting case right at once, didn't you?" we talked a long time and we laughed a great deal, for we were in a paradise, although in a jail. and i left him with a promise that i would soon bring him a direct word from millie. i found conkwright in his office, with his slippered feet on a table. he bade me come in, and he said nothing more, but sat there pressing his closed eye-lids with his thumb and fore-finger. how square a chin he had and how rugged was his face, trenched with the deep ruts of many a combat. his had been a life of turmoil and of fight. he was not born of the aristocracy. i had heard that he was the son of a yankee clock peddler. but to success he had fought his way, over many an aristocratic failure. "judge, have you finally decided that i may come into your office?" "thought we settled that at first," he replied, without opening his eyes. "yes, you may come in; glad to have you, and, by the way, i've got some work i want you to do right now. a woman was in here to-day to see if i could get her husband out of the penitentiary. i don't know but i helped put him there--believe i did. i was busy when she came in, and when she went away i remembered how poorly she was dressed, and i am afraid that i didn't speak to her as kindly as i should have. she lives at the south end of the street behind the jail, left hand side, i believe. look in that vest hanging up there and you'll find twenty dollars in the pocket, right hand side, i think. take the money and slip down to that woman's house and give it to her. but don't let anyone see you and don't tell her who sent it. might tell her that the state sent it as wages due for overtime put in by her husband. and you needn't come back this evening, for it's time to close up." i looked back at him as i stepped out. he had not changed his position and his eyes were still closed. and this was my first work as a student of the law--a brave beginning, the agent of a noble design. i found the place without having to make inquiry, and a wretched hut it was. the woman was shabby and two ragged children were lying on the floor. i gave her the twenty dollars--i did more, i gave her a part of the money which perdue had given me. i explained that her husband had worked overtime and that the state, following an old custom, had sent her the wages of his extra labor. she was not a very good-natured woman; she said that the state and the rest of us ought to be ashamed of ourselves for having robbed her of her husband, and she declared that if she ever got money enough she would sue old conkwright and the sheriff and everybody else. i was glad enough to quit that wretched and depressing scene; and in the cool of the evening i strolled about the town. the business part of the place was mean, but further out there were handsome old residences, pillared and vine-clad. and in front of the most attractive one i halted to gaze at the trees and the shrubbery, dim in the twilight. a boy came along and i asked him who lived there and he answered: "judge conkwright." "he deserves to live in even a better house," i mused, as i turned away; and just then i was clapped upon the shoulder with a "helloa, my old friend"--the telegraph operator. i shook hands with him, and at once he began to tell me of his affairs. "getting along all right," he said. "haven't got quite as much freedom as i used to have, but i reckon it's better for me. wife thinks so much of me that she's jealous of the boys--don't want me to stay out with them at night. don't reckon there's anything more exacting than a rag. but i had to have one. without calico there ain't much real fun in this life. but enough of calico's society is about the enoughest enough a man can fetch up in his mind. tell you what--i'll run on home and come back, and then you can go with me." "no, i couldn't think of putting you to so much trouble." "won't be any trouble. simply don't want to surprise her, you know." "i'll call on you before long, but now i must go to the tavern." "all right, and if i can get off i'll come over to see you. and i'll tell you what we'll do along about o'clock. we'll go over to atcherson's store with a lot of fellers and cook some eggs in the top of a paste-board hat box. ever cook them that way? it's a world beater. just break the eggs in the lid of the box and put it on the stove and there you are. finest stuff you ever eat. but while you're eating you mustn't let them tell that jug story. couldn't eat a bite after that. well, i leave you here." fearing that the operator's "rag" might fail in the strict enforcement of the regulations that had been thrown about the night-time movements of her husband, that he might break out of the circle of his wife's fondness and call on me at the tavern, i left that place soon after supper and resumed my walk about the town. in some distant place where the land was dry a shower of rain had fallen, for the air was quickened with the coming of that dusty, delicious smell, that reminiscent incense which more than the perfume of flower or shrub takes us back to the lanes and the sweet loitering places of youth. happiness will not bear a close inspection; to be flawless it must be viewed from a distance--we must look forward to something longed for, or backward to some time remembered; and my happiness on this night was not perfect, for a sense of loneliness curdled it with regret, but here and there, as i walked along, i found myself in an ecstasy--my nerves thrilled one another like crossed wires, electrified. i knew that it might be a long time before i should hear from guinea, but i was still drunk with the newness of the feeling that she loved me. prayer-meeting bells were ringing, and old men and old women came out of the dark shadow of the trees, into the light that burned in front of a church--hearts that with age were slow and heavy, praying for the blessing of an infinite mystery. i entered the church and knelt down to pray, for i am not so advanced a thinker as the man who questions the existence of god; but i must admit that my thoughts were far away from the mumblings that i heard about me, far, indeed, from the mutterings of my own lips; and so i went out and sniffed the prayer of nature, the smell of rain that came from far off down the dusty road. early the next morning i went to conkwright's office, to tell him that for a time i preferred to study in the country. the old man was walking up and down the room, with his hands behind him. "did you find that woman?" he asked. "yes, and i let no one see me." "good. you gave her the twenty dollars, and--is that all you gave her?" "why, that was all you told me to give her." "yes, i know, but didn't you give her some of your own money? speak out now. no shilly-shallying with me." "well, she was so wretched that i gave her five dollars of my own money." "you did, eh? the money you borrowed from me, you mean?" "no, money that old perdue thinks i earned. he insisted upon my taking twenty-five dollars." "it's all right, my boy. yes, it's all right, but you'll have to be more careful. it is noble to give, but it is not wise to look for an opportunity. it is better to give to the young than to the old, for the good we do the youth grows with him into a hallowed memory--stimulates him to help others--while the memory of the aged is fitful. whenever you see a boy trying to amount to something, help him, for that is a direct good, done to mankind. now to business. have you read blackstone?" "yes, but not thoroughly. i have never owned his book." "there he is on my desk. i keep him near me. the lawyer who outgrows that book--well, i may be an old fogy on the subject, so i'll say nothing more except to commend the treatise to a lawyer as i would the multiplication table to a student of mathematics. and now let me say that when you have been with me one year we will begin to talk about other matters, the question of money, for instance. don't be extravagant--don't give money because you don't know what else to do with it--and i will see that you shall not want for anything. oh, yes, i know you are thinking of getting married, but it won't cost much to keep your wife. we'll fix all that, and if i don't make a lawyer out of you i am much fooled. you are in love and are mighty sappy just at present, but you'll come round all right; yes, sir, all right after a while." "i think, judge, that i can study much better out at the old house, and if you have nothing for me to do i should like to spend several days at a time out there." "why, is that the way to assist me? what good can you do me by poking off out there in the woods? well, you may for a while. three days a week for a time, eh? all right. you are as hard to break in as a steer. what about those stories you told at the general's house. i hear that they were great. but don't let people put you down as a story teller, for when a lawyer gets that reputation, no matter how profound he may be, the public looks upon him as a yarn-spinner, rather than a thinker. you might put them in print, but not under your own name. bill--came within one of calling you billy--a great many men succeed in law not because they are bright, but because they are stupid. i never see a jackass that i don't think of a judge--some judges that i know. well, now, the first and one of the most important things to do is to go over to that tailor and have yourself measured for a suit of clothes. did i say measured? surveyed is the word," he added, looking at me from head to foot and then laughing. "yes, i think that's the word. well, go on now." when the tailor had completed his "survey" i went to the jail, talked for a few moments with alf and then straightway rode to the general's house. the old man was sitting on the porch, with one foot resting on a pillow, placed upon a chair. "get down and come right in!" he shouted; and as i came up the steps he motioned me away from him and said: "don't touch that hoof, if you please. buttermilk gout, sir. look out, you'll tip something over on me. it's a fact--every time i drink buttermilk it goes to my foot. too much acid. how are you, anyway?" he cautiously reached out his hand and jerked it away when i had merely touched it. "didn't sleep a wink last night; and every dog in the county came over here to bark. i am very glad you have called; glad that you are too liberal to hold a foolish resentment. and the old folks are gone. 'od 'zounds, the way things do turn out. the first thing i know i'll swear myself out of the church. it was my pride, sir--but by all the virtues that man has grouped, must we apologize for our pride? hah, sir! must i grovel and beg pardon because i honor my own name? i'll see myself blistered first. it wasn't old lim's fault. confound it all, it wasn't anybody's fault. then, sir, must i go crawling around on my belly like a--like a--like an infernal lizard, sir? i hope not. but it will come out all right, i think. after alf is cleared the old people will come back and all will be well again. what do you want?" a negro boy had poked his head out of the hall door and was looking on with a broad grin. "dinner!" cried the old man. "but is that the way to announce it--grinning like a cat? come back here. now what do you want?" "dinner is ready, sah," said the boy. "well, that's all right. but don't come round here grinning at me. hand me that stick. oh, i'm not going to hit you with it. come, mr. hawes. no, i don't want you to help me. i can hobble along best by myself." millie was in the dining-room, and she turned to run when she saw me, but the old man hobbled into her way, so she came toward me with reddening face, and held out her hand. "i am glad to see you," she said. "sit over here, please. that's chyd's seat and he's so particular." the son came in, said that he was pleased to see me, sat down, opened a pamphlet that looked like a medical journal and began to read. "mr. hawes," said the general, "i understand that you have made arrangements to study law with judge conkwright. and a most fortunate arrangement, i should think. smart old fellow, sir; smart, and a good man to have on your side, but a mighty bad man to have against you--half yankee by parentage and whole yankee by instinct. millie, is that cat under the table?" "i think not, father," the girl answered, after looking to see if the cat were there; but this did not satisfy the old man. "you must know, not think," he said. "there should be no doubt about the matter, for i must tell you that if he touches my foot i'll kill him. a cat would travel ten miles and swim a river--and a cat hates water--to claw a gouty foot. chyd, just put that book aside if you please." the young man folded the pamphlet and shoved it into his pocket. "i've struck a new germ theory," he said. "yes," replied the general, "and you'll strike a good many more of them as you go on. i should think that you want facts, not theories." "but theories lead to facts," the young man rejoined. "the theory of to-day may become the scientific truth of to-morrow." "and it may also be the scientific error of the day after to-morrow," i remarked. he looked at me, spoke a word which i did not catch and then was silent, seeming to have forgotten what he had intended to say. i think that the word he uttered was "hah," or something to indicate that he had paid but slight heed to my remark. i did not repeat it, and the talk fell away from the germ theory. "now, mr. hawes," said the general, "i want you to help yourself just as if you were alone at your own board. it is a pleasure to have you with us, and an additional pleasure to know, sir, that you are to become a permanent citizen of this county. men may think themselves wise when they apprentice their sons to a trade, averring that the professions are overcrowded, but that has always been the case, and yet, professional men have ever been the happiest, for they achieve the most, not in the gathering of money, but in the uplifting of mankind. my daughter, you don't appear to be eating anything. i hope that you have not permitted the timely, though unexpected, visit of mr. hawes to affect your appetite. chydister, another piece of this mutton? most nutritious, i assure you; a fact, however, which is, no doubt, well known to you. mr. hawes, i should think that you would prefer to sleep here at night, rather than to stay alone in that old house. you are more than welcome to a room here, sir. and i should like to hear anecdotes of your grandfather, the captain." "i shall be in the country but a part of the time during the week, and my coming and going will be irregular. but for this i should gladly accept your generous offer. as to my grandfather, i must admit that i know but little regarding his life." "a sad error in your bringing up, sir. in that one particular we americans are shamefully at fault. a buncombe democracy has insisted that it is not essential to look back, but simply to place stress upon our present force and consequence. that is a self-depreciation, a half-slander of one's self. of course, it is not just to despise a man who has no ancestry, but it is a crime not to honor him if he has a worthy lineage." and thus he talked until the rest of us sat back from the table, and then, gripping his cane and getting up, he said that he would like to talk to me privately in the library. upon entering the room he filled a clay pipe, handed it to me, gave me a lighted match, filled a pipe for himself, and then lay down upon an old horse-hair sofa. i placed a cushion for his foot and he raised up and bowed to me. "i thank you, sir," he said. "i don't believe that chyd would have thought of that. i believe that he will make of himself one of the finest of physicians, but a man may be a successful doctor and yet a thoughtless and an indifferent companion. you will please put the right construction upon what may appear as an over-frankness on my part, for the fact is i have never regarded you as a stranger; and i feel that what i say to you will go no further." he was silent and i nodded to him, waiting for him to continue. he moved his shoulders as if to work himself into an easier position, and then he resumed his talk. "of my own volition i would not have gone over to jucklin's house to break that engagement--i would have waited--but my son told me to go, and after i had gone, why, of course, i had to act my part. but it was simply acting, for my heart was not in it. and i tell you, sir, that if old lim had wiped his bloody hands in my face i would not have struck him. chydister is proud, but his pride and mine are not of the same sort. with him everything must bear upon his future standing as a physician, and to me that has too much the color of business. i admit that i was grieved to discover that my daughter was in love with alf. i don't say that he is not morally worthy of her or of any young woman, but he is poor and is indifferently educated, with no prospects save a life of hard work. and i don't believe that i need to apologize for desiring to see my daughter well situated. now, my son regrets the step which he took and which he urged me to take, and at the earliest moment he will renew the engagement. i think almost as much of guinea as i do of my own daughter. although she is a country girl, who has led a most simple life, i hold her a remarkable woman--an original and a thinking woman, sir. and now what i request you to do is this--soften her resentment, if you can. there are matches at the corner of the mantelpiece." my pipe was out. i lighted it, and did not resume my seat, but stood looking at him. "general," said i, "guinea will never marry your son." "the devil you say! pardon me. i didn't mean to be so abrupt. but why do you think she will not marry him?" "general, it is now your turn to pardon me, sir. she is to be married by a man who worships her, not a scientist, but a man with a heart--she is going to be my wife." the old man sprang up and in a moment he stood facing me. there was a footstep at the door and chydister entered the room. "go ahead with your emotional oratory, but pardon me while i look for my stethoscope," he said. "i want to see what effect an hour's run will have on the hearts of a hound and an ordinary cur." "sir!" cried his father, turning upon him, "this is no time to talk of the hearts of hounds and curs. the hearts of men are at stake." "that so? what's up?" "what's up, indeed, sir? this man says that guinea jucklin will not marry you." "yes, so he told me. now i almost know that i put that thing right up here." "'zounds, man, will you listen to me!" "yes, sir, go ahead. he says she won't marry me. that's his opinion, undemonstrated--a mere assertion; he has given me no proof." "ah, have you any proof, mr. hawes?" the old man asked. "i have, but it cannot very well be set forth in words; and with much respect for you, general, i must say that i prefer not to illustrate it." "you see it's rather vague, father. let me ask if she has said positively that she will be your wife?" "her lips may have made no promise beyond a figure of speech, and yet her heart----" "ah, more vague than ever," the young man broke in, looking at his father as if he were impatient to get away. "i must have left it somewhere else," he added, and the old general frowned upon him. "chydister, if you lose that woman it is your own fault." "well, no, i can hardly agree with you there, father. if i lose her it will be the fault of circumstances. are you done with me?" "yes, you can go," said the general. he stooped, reached back for the lounge and laboriously stretched himself upon it. chyd went out and i remarked that it was time for me to go. the old man made no reply, seeming not to have heard me, but as i turned toward the door he raised up and said: "i would be a fool, sir, to blame you; and i trust that you will not blame me for hoping that you are mistaken." he lay down again, and i left him. millie was standing at the gate when i went out, and she pretended not to see me until i had passed into the road, and then, with the manner of a surprise, she said: "oh, i didn't think you were going so soon--thought you and father were having an argument. do you see--see him very often?" there was a tremulous tenderness in her voice, and i knew that there were tears in her eyes, and i looked far away down the road, as i stood there with the gate between us. "i have seen him every day," i answered. "and does he look wretched and heart-broken?" "no, he is happy, for he knows that you love him." she caught her breath with a sob and i looked far away down the road. "you told him--told him that i did. and i am so thankful to you; i would do anything for you. i dream of him all the time, and i see you with him. how terrible it is, shut up there and the sun is so bright for everyone else. sometimes i go into the closet and stay there in the dark, for then i am nearer him. when will you see him again?" "i am going back to town to-morrow." "will you please give him this?" i reached forth my hand and upon my palm she placed a locket. "i know that if you study law, mr. hawes, you will get him out. you are so strong that you can do most anything. good-bye, and when you write to guinea, send her my love." chapter xix. four weeks passed and heavy were the days with anxiety, for i had received no word from guinea. i thought of a hundred causes that must have kept her from writing, but, worst of all, i feared that she had written and that the letter had gone astray. one afternoon, having thrown my book aside, weary of causes, reasonings and developments of law, i sat on a rock near the spring, musing, wondering, when suddenly i sprang to my feet, with guinea in my mind, with guinea before me, i thought. but this was only for an instant. a young deer came down the path, gracefully leaping, and my mind flew back to the time when i had first seen her running down that shining strip of hard-beat earth. yes, it was a deer, and it ran down the brook, and presently i heard the hounds yelping in the woods. i returned to my room and again i strove to study, but the logical phrasing was harsh to me, and i threw down the book. i would fish in the pools that lay along the stream toward the mill. the ground in the yard and about the barn was so dry that i could find no angle worms, and i decided to dig in the damp moss-land near the spring. the hoe struck a hard substance and out came something bright. i stooped to examine it, and at first i thought that it was silver, but it was not--it was mica. i scraped off the moss and the thin strata of earth, and there i found a great bed of the ore. i dug deeper and it came up in chunks, and it was fine and flawless. my reading taught me that it was valuable, and i was rejoiced to find that it was on my own land. i got out as much as i could carry--indeed, i filled a trunk with it, and then carefully replaced the moss, smoothed it down and made it look as if it had not been displaced. my blood tingled with excitement and i was afraid that some one might have seen me. i took the trunk to my room and split off thin sheets of the mica, and the more i looked at it the more i was thrilled at the prospect that now lay, not in the future, but under my touch. and i was not long in resolving upon a course to pursue. i remembered that into our neighborhood had come from nashville, tenn., a large stove with mica in the doors, and i thought it would be wise to take my trunk to that city and by exhibiting its contents induce some one to buy the mine. i hastened to town, after hiding the trunk, and told conkwright and alf that unexpected business called me away for a few days, and then i returned home and hired a man to drive me to the railway station. i was afraid to trust the trunk out of my sight, but i had to let the baggage man take it, but i charged him to be particular with it, telling him that it was full of iron ore. he gave it a jerk and declared that it must be full of lead. when i had come into that community i fancied that the train was on wings, but now it appeared to be crawling. night came and i was afraid that robbers might assail the train and expose my secret; but at last i reached nashville, and then came a worry. how was i to find the man who had made the stove? i took my trunk to a hotel, wrapped a chunk of the mica in a handkerchief and set out to look for a stove dealer. i soon found a hardware establishment, and in i walked with the hardened air of business, and asked for the proprietor. a pleasant-looking man came forward, and i asked him what mica was worth. he looked at me sharply and answered that he was not thoroughly informed as to the state of the market, but that he thought it was worth all the way from five to twenty-five dollars a pound. "but mica of the first quality is scarce," said he, and then he asked if i wanted to buy mica. "no, sir, i want to sell it. is this of good quality?" i unwrapped the handkerchief and his eyes stuck out in astonishment. "where did you get it?" he asked. "off my land in north carolina." "have you very much of it?" he asked, scaling off thin sheets with his knife. "tons of it." "you don't say so! then you've got a fortune. we are not very large manufacturers and don't use a great deal. how much did you bring with you?" "only a trunk full." "well, i guess we can take that much. bring it around." i did so, and i could scarcely believe that i had correctly caught his words when he offered me five hundred dollars, though now i know that he paid me much less than it was worth. he talked a long time with his partner, and then came back to me with the money, asked my name and a number of other questions. "young man," said he, "if we had the ready means we would buy that mine, but we haven't. now, i tell you what you do: take a sample--this piece--and go at once to chicago. i know of some capitalists there who are making large investments in the south, and i have no doubt that they will be pleased to make you an offer for your property. here, i'll write their names on a card. to tell you the truth, we are to some extent interested with them. now, don't show this sample to anyone else, but go straight to clarm & ging, rookery building, chicago. anybody can tell you where it is. here's the card. we'll telegraph them that you are coming, so you are somewhat in honor bound, you understand, not to go elsewhere--we have in some degree sealed the transaction with a part purchase, you see." i walked out of that house, dazed, bewildered with my own luck. and i took passage on the first train for chicago. if money could clear alf, he would now be cleared, and proudly i mused over the great difference that i would make between his first and his last trial. but during all this time i was conscious of a heaviness--the silence of guinea. the train reached chicago at morning. and now i was in the midst of a whirl and a roar--a confused babbling at the base of babel's tower. and as i walked up a street i thought that a tornado had broken loose and that i was in the center of it. i called a hackman, for my reading taught me what to do, and i told him to drive me to the rookery. he rattled away and came within one of being upset by other vehicles, and i yelled at him to be more particular, but on he went, paying no attention to me. after a while he drew up in front of a building as big as a lopped-off spur of a mountain range; and when i got out i found that the vitals of the hurricane had shifted with me, for the roar and the confusion was worse, was gathering new forces. but no one laughed at me, no one pointed me out, and i really felt quite pleased with myself--a school-teacher, a lawyer's assistant, expected by a capitalist! i went under a marble arch-way, and asked a man if he knew clarm & ging, and he pointed to an elevator--i knew what it was--and shouted a number. i got in and was shot to the eighth floor. i knocked at a door, but no one opened it. there was no bell to ring, so i knocked louder and still no one opened the door. this was hardly the courtesy that i expected. but while i was standing there a man came along and went in without knocking. i thought that he must be one of the men i was looking for, and i followed him, but he simply looked round after going in and then went out again without saying anything. i saw a man sitting at a desk, and i handed him the card which the hardware dealer had given me. he looked at it and said: "yes, you are hawes, eh? where's your mica." i gave it to him, and he looked at it closely through a microscope. "how deep have you gone?" "not more than six inches." "that so? much of this size?" "train loads, i should think." "ah, hah. how much land does it cover?" "don't know exactly. haven't investigated." and this question set me to thinking. the mine was well on my land, but it might spread out beyond my lines. it was important that i should buy several acres surrounding the stretch of moss, and i decided to do this immediately upon my return home. "let's see," said the capitalist. "this is friday. mr. clarm is out of town and will not be back until monday--has a summer home in st. jo, mich., and is over there. it's just across the lake. suppose we go over there to-morrow morning. boat leaves at nine. be a pleasant trip. all right." he resumed his work as if my acceptance of his proposition was a foreshadowed necessity. "how did you happen to find it?" he asked, without looking up from his work. "i was digging for angle worms." he grunted. "didn't find any worms, did you?" "no, i don't think i did." "i know you didn't. worms and mica don't exist in the same soil. very rugged?" "rocks on each side." i was determined to be business-like, not to give him information unless he asked for it; and i sat there, studying him. he was direct and this pleased me, for it bespoke a quick decision. but after a time i grew tired of looking upon his absorption, for his mood was unvarying, and he held one position almost without change, so i began to walk about, looking at the pictures of factories and of mines, hung on the walls. the day was hot and the windows were up, and i looked down on the ant-working industry in the street. how different from the view that lay out of my window in the old log house; but i was resolved to draw no long bow of astonishment, for in a man's surprise is a reflex of his ignorance. "what business?" the capitalist asked, still without looking up. "none, you might say. have taught school, but of late i have employed my time with studying law." he looked round at me and then resumed his work. a long time passed. i heard his watch snap and then he got up. "we'll go out and get a bite to eat," he said. "any particular place?" "no," i answered, pleased that he should presume that i was acquainted with the eating houses of the town. we stepped out into the hall and he yelled: "down!" he shoved me into an elevator among a number of men and women, and though we were all jammed together no one appeared to notice me; but when we got out a boy whistled at a companion and yelled: "hi, samson!" mr. ging darted out under the arch, and i almost ran over him, when he halted on the sidewalk to talk to a man. they walked along together for quite a distance, nodding and making gestures, and when they separated ging said to me that he had just bought a subdivision of real estate. at this i appeared to be pleased, but i was not; i was afraid that before the close of the deal he might entangle himself in so many transactions that he could not afford to pay cash for the mica mine. the further we went the faster he walked, and suddenly he darted through a wall, and the swinging doors came back and slapped me in the face. we sat down to a table and mr. ging said that i might take whatever i desired, but that he wanted only a cup of coffee and a piece of apple pie. i was hungry, had eaten no breakfast and felt as if i could devour a beef steak as big as a saddle skirt, but i said that coffee and apple pie would do me. he asked me a number of questions concerning the mine, its distance from a railway, condition of the wagon roads, and especially did he want to know whether the local tax assessor made it a point to discriminate against the non-resident property owner. i caught the spirit of his quick utterances, and blew out my words in a splutter, striving to be business-like, but before i could cover all his points he had eaten his pie and was impatiently waiting for me. "want to go round to-night?" he asked, and before i could tell him that i did want to go round, having but a vague idea as to what he meant, he added: "and if i can get off this afternoon i'll take you out to the stock-yards." "i would much rather see your finest library," i replied. "i guess you've got me there; don't know where it is, but i suppose we can find it in the directory." "i have read of the art institute here. you know where that is, i presume." "y-e-s--low building over on the lake front. but i've never had time to go into it. well, suppose we get back to the office." i raced with him, but he beat me by a neck, being more accustomed to the track; and he shouted "up!" as he darted under the marble arch. i grabbed him and held him for a moment, told him that i did not care to go up again so soon, that i would stroll about for a time and see him after a while. "yes, but you'll come back, eh? i guess we'll take that mine if we can agree upon terms. we own one in colorado. don't fail to come back. up!" i went out into the center of the maelstrom and laughed at him--a capitalist keeping pace with indigestion, racing against time. little wonder that he was bald and pinched. i thought that i would find a leisurely place and slowly eat a dinner, and i did find many places, but none of them was leisurely. i went to a hotel, and there i ate a meal without running the risk of having my chair thrown over, and then i returned to the rookery. mr. ging was lost in his work, and in a room which opened into his apartment two girls were hammering a race on writing machines. i walked into this room, and the girls went on with their work as if i were at home looking over toward the general's house instead of looking down at them. a bell tinkled in ging's room. one of the girls went to him and i heard him talking rapidly to her, and presently she came back with a pad of paper in her hand, and furiously attacked her machine. ging rushed out into the hall and both machines stopped, and the girls began to nibble at bon-bons, but a moment later they dashed at their work, for ging had returned. i went back into his room, and, glancing round, i saw one of the girls look up at the ceiling and then down at the floor. i knew that she was making fun of me, and in my heart i confessed myself her enemy. "i'm sorry," said ging, "but i don't believe i can get off this afternoon. clarm's being out of town puts double work on me. but we'll go round to-night. you've been here quite often, i suppose." "well, not lately," i replied. "no? then we can find a good many things to interest you." i went out again and walked about, but i did not venture far beyond the shadow of the rookery, for i knew that should i get turned round i would be ashamed to inquire the way back. i saw a man standing on a box selling pens. he had a most fluent use of words, though i could see that he was not educated. he interested his hearers with humorous stories, as if his business were first to entertain the public and then to pick up a living, and for the first time it struck me that book-knowledge did not embrace everything, that people who simply read get but a second-hand experience. we must observe form and recognize the rules which good taste has drawn, but after all the finest form and the most nearly perfect rule is an inborn judgment. the merest accident may thrill a dull man with genius. i knew a young man who was commonplace until he was taken down with a fever, and when he got up his business sense was gone, but he wrote a parody that made this country shout with laughter. thus i mused as i looked at that fellow selling pens. he was a rascal, no doubt, but i was forced to admire his vivid fancy, his genius. when i returned to the rookery i found ging waiting for me. "now," said he, "we'll go out for a while and then eat dinner. would you mind going out about twelve miles? train every few minutes. i've got some real estate that i'd like to show you--might cut an important figure in our transaction." "i don't want it to cut any figure in our transaction," i replied. "i want to sell the mine for money." "yes, of course, but you might double your money on the real estate." "that may be true, but i am not a speculator; and if you are not prepared to pay money, why, it is useless to waste further time." "of course. no time has been wasted and none shall be. you may trust me when it comes to the question of wasting time. i didn't know but you might like a home out at sweet myrtle. beautiful place--gas, water, side-walks, sewers. but if you don't want to go, it's all right. let me tell you right now that we are prepared to pay cash for your mine. we represent millions in the east. well, we'll go." that night we went to a theater, and to me mr. ging was a dull companion. he yawned and stretched through shakspeare's mighty play, while i was in a tingling ecstasy. he said that the fellow could not act, and that may have been true, but to me there was no actor, but a real hamlet; no stage, but the court at elsinore. he said that he would call at the hotel in time to catch the boat, and i was glad when he left me to my own thoughts. at o'clock the next morning we went on board a great white boat, so fresh, so full of interest to me that i was in a state of delight, of new expectancy, and when we steamed out into the lake i could scarcely repress a cry of joy so thrilling was the view. i had never seen a large body of water, had striven to picture the majesty of a wave, and now i stood with poetry rolling about me--now a deep-blue elegy, now a limpid lyric, varying in hue with the shifting of a luminous fleece-work, far above. to have been born and brought up amid great scenes were surely a privilege, but to come upon them for the first time when the mind is ripe, when the senses are yearning for a new impression, is indeed a blessing. short were the sixty miles of our journey, it seemed to me, but ging was bored and impatiently he snapped his watch, and said that we were at least fifteen minutes late. after having lost all view of the land, how strangely novel was the sight of the shore, and to fancy myself in a foreign harbor was the most natural of conceits. at the wharf we took a carriage and were driven through the town, out by many a dreamy orchard side, up a bluff-banked river to a large frame house, high on a hill. clarm was walking about in the yard, and with an ease and politeness which i had not expected--having permitted ging to influence my preconception of his partner's character--he shook hands with me and invited me into the house. the sample of mica was closely inspected, numerous questions were asked, and after a time mr. clarm said that it would be well for mr. ging to go home with me. i had kept in mind the determination to buy a few more acres of land, and i knew that this might not be an easy transaction if ging should accompany me, thereby exciting a suspicion in parker's mind, so i replied that i was not going straightway home, being compelled by other business to stop for a day in kentucky. "but it is, of course, necessary for mr. ging to see the mine, and he can start the day after i leave and reach purdy on the day i arrive," i added. they agreed to this, as ging was the principal in another deal that must be brought to a close; and after declining an invitation to dinner, i took my leave, feeling that i was a liar, it is true, but i thought that my deception was not only pardonable, but, indeed, a commendable piece of fore-sight. i am free to say that a man, in order to protect his commercial interests, must be an easy and a nimble liar; and i do not hold that a man who permits himself to be cheated simply that he may snatch the chance to tell a truth--i say that i could not regard him a prudent husband or a wise father. divide the last cent with a friend, harden not thy heart against the distressed, but in the warfare of business seek to steal an enemy's advantage. it was with this argument that i sought to appease my conscience as i strolled about the town, but more than once i halted, thinking to tell them the truth. but judgment--permit me to term it judgment--finally influenced me to let the false statement stand. out from the town were numerous lanes, soft with turf, and with orchards on every side. amid the darkened green i saw the yellowing pear, the red flash of the apple; and from amid the bushes blackberries peeped like the eyes of a deer. at the end of a lane was a deep ravine, one side a grassy slope, the other a terraced vineyard, and up this romantic rent i walked, in a switzerland, a france. on the green slope was a cottage, with a high fence behind it, and as i drew near i thought that it would be a soothing privilege to enter the house and talk with the humble people who lived therein. suddenly there came a shout that sent a spurt of blood to my heart---- "hike, there, sam! hike, there, bob--hike, there!" i ran to the fence, grasped the top, drew myself up and looked over into the small inclosure; and there was old lim jucklin, down on his knees, beating the ground with his hat. i let myself drop and ran round the gate, opened it without noise and stepped inside. the old man now held one of the chickens by the neck and was putting him into a coop. "oh, it would suit you to fight to a finish, wouldn't it? and you may, one of these days, as soon as i hear from down yander. git in there. come here, bob. you've got to go in, too. caught you on the top-knot, didn't he? well, you must learn to dodge better. ain't quite as peart as one of the other bobs i could tell you about. now, boys, you are all right, but i want you to understand---well, since moses hit the rock!" he cried, scrambling to his feet. "hold on, now, don't you tech me--don't know whether you are bill or bill's ghost. by jings, if it ain't bill, i'm a calf's rennet. since moses hit the rock!" he grabbed me and hung upon me, and i put my arm about him. "don't tell me nuthin' now, bill. don't want to hear a word, for i'm deefer than a horse block." "you have nothing to fear, mr. jucklin. i bring good news. alf isn't out yet, but he will be. i have other news----" "but don't tell me. deefer than a horse-block. what did i do with that d----d handkerchief? take that back--kiver to kiver. had it in my hat a minit ago. sand from this here lake shore gits in a feller's eyes. ain't got used to it yet. hope the lord will excuse me for cussin' like a sailor. must have got it from them fellers down on the lake shore. kiver to kiver. now let us go into the house. door's round there facin' the holler. let me go in first; you stand outside. sand's blowin' up from the lake and gits in their eyes, too. ain't used to it yet. come on." there were hollyhocks in front of the house and among them i stood waiting for the old man to open the door. "susan," he said, as he stepped into the room, "this here world--this one right here--is as full of surprises as a chicken is with--with--i don't know what. now, don't you take on none, but--come in, bill." the old woman started forward with a cry and threw her arms about me. "there now," old lim protested, wiping his eyes, "don't take on that way. everything's all right. set down here now and let's be sensible. that's it. oh, she's all right, bill--her folks stood at the stake. guinea's comin' down stairs." toward the stairway i looked, and guinea stepped down into the room. and oh, the smile on her lips as she came toward me! but she did not hold out her hands--she came close to me, and her bended head almost touched me, but her hands were held behind her, clasped, i could see. "not yet," she said, looking up with a smile. "but you must not think ill of me, must not be provoked. let me have my whimsical way until my whole life shall be yours." "she's talkin' like a book!" the old man cried. "let her talk like one, bill. don't exactly grab her drift as i'd like to, but i know it's all right. gracious alive, why don't you women folks git him something to eat? and, me, too, for i'm as hungry as the she bear that eat up the children. i wish you'd all set down. turn him loose, susan. ain't nothin' the matter with him--hungry as a wolf, that's all. now we are gettin' at it." with the door open and with a cool breeze blowing, with the sweetness of ripening fruit in the air, with the hollyhocks nodding at us, we sat in that modest room, at home in a strange place. i told them all that had befallen me. i gradually led up to the discovery of the mine. "and now," i added, "we go back there, not poor, but rich. there is no telling how many dollars they may give us." "not us, bill," the old man interposed, slowly shaking his head; "not us, but you. it's yours, all yours. you bought the land and all that's on it or under it belongs to you." "no, mr. jucklin, it belongs to you, to alf and to me. there will be enough for us all, but no matter how little, you and alf shall share it. i am just beginning fully to realize it--but i know that we are rich. it is necessary for me to get back at once," i added. "i'll have to buy some land from parker, but i told clarm & ging that i was going to stop for a day in kentucky. i didn't want them to know that i intended to buy more land. it's none of their business, anyway. so i must be in purdy one day ahead of ging. i've got money with me and we'll all start this evening." the old man sadly shook his head. "i can't do it, bill; can't go back yet. if he comes clear, without a scratch on him, i'll go back, but if he don't i'll never see that state again. so we'll wait right here till after the next trial. won't settle on anything until then. you go ahead and attend to everything and let me know how it all comes out. i've been scared ever since i left there, afraid that i'd hear something by some chance or other; and i wouldn't let guinea write to you. every day i'd tell her 'not yet.' she wanted to, but i wouldn't let her." "you shall have your own way, for i know that everything will come out right. conkwright says so, and he knows. how did you happen to find this place?" the old man laughed. "well, sir, we got on the train, and when the man asked where we wanted to go i told him we'd go just as far as he did, it made no difference how far that might happen to be; and every time we'd change cars i'd tell the other man the same thing. but finally they got so stuck up that they wouldn't let us get on without tickets, and at louisville i bought tickets for chicago. i didn't know what to do when i got to chicago--didn't know what to do when i got to any place, for that matter; but we poked around, gettin' a bite to eat every once in a while, and slept in the slambangin'est place i ever saw. the lake caught me, and i found out how soon the first boat went out, and we got on her and here we are. when i told these here folks where i was from i braced myself, expectin' to have a fight right there, but i want to tell you that i was never better treated in my life. all the good folks ain't huddled together in one community, i tell you; and this knockin' round has opened my eyes mightily. why, i rickollect when they sorter looked down on conkwright because his father wa'n't born in the south. yes, sir, and they gave me work right off--that is, they call it work, but i call it play--gatherin' fruit. why, with us, when a feller wanted to rest he'd go out and gather fruit, if he could find any. yes, sir, and i'm goin' to stay right here till the cat makes her final jump one way or another." how fondly they listened as i talked about the old place, of well-known trees, of the big rock on the brink of the ravine. i even told them that the general lamented the breaking of the engagement, that he had come as an agent, that his son was at fault. guinea smiled at this, and i thought that her eyes grew darker. i learned that my train was not to leave until night. i was glad of this, for it gave me a sweet lingering time; and in the afternoon guinea and i went down to the river. "we will get a boat and row up past the island, away up to the beautiful hills," she said. "but can you row?" she asked, with a look of concern. "i have pulled a boat against a swifter current than this." i answered. "i lived near the bank of a rapid stream." we got into a graceful boat and skimmed easily over the water. now it was my time to wonder and to muse over the changes that had come--to dream as i looked at her, as she sat, trailing her hand in the water, her hand, my hand, though she had not let me take it to help her into the boat. with her a swamp would have been attractive, but here we were in a paradise. boats up and down the river; lovers went by, singing. on one shore the scene was quiet, with easy slopes and with houses here and there; but the other shore was wild with bluffs, with tangled vines and monstrous trees that storms had gnarled and twisted. here a spring gushed out with a gleeful laugh, and lovers paused to listen, and in its flow the city oarsman cooled his blistered hands. "guinea, do you see that high bluff up there among the pine trees?" "yes, and isn't it a charming place?" "i'm glad you think so?" "why are you glad of that?" "because you--i mean a woman who has had her way--because she may live there. when at last she is tired of that way, and when she has gone to a man with her hands held out, he will take her to a house built on that bluff, a summer home. i'm not joking. next year there will be a beautiful home up there. don't you see, the land is for sale? and in the house a man is going to write a history of a woman who had her way and of a man who--well, i hardly know what to say about him, but i am not going to hide his faults nor cover up his weaknesses." "are you really in earnest, mr. hawes?" "yes, i mean every word of it. wouldn't you--i mean, wouldn't the woman who had persisted in having her way--wouldn't she like a home up there?" in her voice was the musical cluck that so often had charmed me. "she would be happy anywhere with the man who had permitted her to have her way, and i know that she would be delighted to live up there. and you--i mean the man---wouldn't have any of the trees cut down, would he?" "not one. he would build the house in that open place." "charming," she said. "how sweet a religion could be made of a life up there, with the river and the hills and the island--beautiful." "guinea, i wish you would tell me something. did you ever really love--him?" "when i have come to you as i told you i would come, you will not have to ask me anything." "but can you give me some idea as to how long i may have to wait? my confidence in you is complete, but you must know that to wait is painful. suppose that a certain something that you are waiting for--suppose that nothing should come of it? what then?" "no matter what takes place, i will come to you. i know that it must appear foolish, i know that i am but vague in what i try to make you understand, but--you will wait a while longer, won't you?" her voice was so pleading, her manner was so full of distress, that i hastened to tell her that i would wait no matter how long she might deign to hold me off, and that never again could she find cause to reprove my impatience. she thanked me with a smile and with many an endearing word, and onward we went, the boats passing us, the songs of lovers reaching us from above and below. we landed and climbed the bluff, and i selected the exact spot whereon the house was to be; we loitered in the shade and counted the minutes as they flew away like pigeons from a trap, but we could not shoot them and bring them back; so they were gone, and it was soon time for us to go, for the light of the sun was weakening. down the river we went, singing "juanita," she rippling the water with her hand, i half-hearted in my rowing, dreamily wishing that the train might leave me. close to me at the door she stood. the old man was outside, waiting to go with me to the railway station. she bowed her head and i kissed her hair. chapter xx. the sun had just gone down, and a man was beating a triangle to announce that it was lodge-night, when i stepped upon the sidewalk in front of conkwright's office. the old man was locking his door. i spoke to him and he turned about, and, seeing me, merely nodded, threw open the door and bade me go in. "mighty glad you've got back," he said. "they are going to bring that trial on right away, and it will be none too soon for us, i assure you. let me open this window. been about as hot a day as i ever felt. well, what have you got to say?" "so much that i scarcely know how to begin." he grunted. "the prelude to an unimportant story. but, go on." long before i was done with my recital he sat with his eyes wide open, seeming to wonder whether my reason had slipped a cog. "wonderful," he said. "no, it is not wonderful, nothing is wonderful. the mere fact that a thing happens proves that there is about it no element of the marvelous. it is the strange thing that does not occur. when it does occur it ceases to be strange. and you say he will be here to-morrow? now, you let me take charge of him as soon as he arrives. if you don't he will not only get the mine for nothing, but will go away with your eye teeth. i'll go home to-night and study up this question, and by to-morrow night i'll know more about it than he does. yes, sir, a good deal more, or at least make him think so. you were long-headed in deciding to slip out there and buy more land, and by the way, parker is in town. no, sir, there is no telling what may happen. see parker to-night and meet me here to-morrow morning." i found alf reading a letter which millie had contrived to send him. under the light of the smoky lamp his face looked sallow and thin, but his eyes were full of happiness. "she's got the noblest spirit that ever suffered, and noble spirits must suffer," he said as he handed me the letter. "see, she begs my forgiveness for having kept me on the gridiron. but doesn't one letter atone for a whole year of broiling? ah, and you have been broiled, too, haven't you, bill? now let them put the balm on us. the judge tells me that i am soon to be turned out, and i'll come out wiser than i was when i came in, for i have improved my time with reading. have you heard from the folks?" i told him my story, and i told it quietly, but it greatly excited him, and time and again he thrust his hands through the iron lattice to grasp me. "so you will go out not only wiser, but a richer man," i said. "you will not have to go into a field and plow in the blistering heat while other men are sitting in the shade. all our trouble has been for the best, and with deep reverence we must acknowledge it. and soon we will go together out to the old place and peacefully smoke our pipes up under the rafters. well, i have left you the subject for a pleasant dream, and i must go now to look for parker. as i said to your father, there is no telling how much money we may get, but whatever comes we share." "not if it's very much, bill. i don't need much; i wouldn't know what to do with it. but if you could only do one thing it would make me the happiest man that ever lived." "tell me what it is. it can surely be done." "why, if i could only get the old morton place. it's about three miles from the general's, and it used to belong to his grandfather. one of his aims in life has been to get it back into the family, and if you could get it for me----" "you shall have it." "don't say so, bill, unless you think there's a chance." "it's not a chance, but a certainty. you shall have the place. and what a delight it will be to the general to visit his daughter there. now, don't speculate--let it be settled. well, i'll see you to-morrow and tell you how it's all to turn out, but have no fears about getting the farm." i found parker at the tavern. he told me that i might have a few acres of land down about the spring, but that i would have to pay a little more for it than he had paid. "we can't afford to trade for the mere fun of it," he said. "my father used to do such things and they came mighty nigh having to haul him to the poor house." i offered him a sum that pleased him, that must, indeed, have delighted him, for he offered to go out and set up a feast of cove oysters and crackers, a great and liberal ceremony in the country; and over the tin plates in a grocery store the transaction was celebrated. i met him again early at morning, and before the day was half-grown i saw our transaction spread upon the records. and at night ging arrived. i introduced him to conkwright. "the judge will represent me," said i, "and i will stand by any agreement he may enter into with you." "all right," ging replied. "how far is it out to the mine?" "about five miles." "better go out to-night. haven't any time to lose. get a rig and we'll go out." "might as well wait until morning," said the judge. "we can't do anything to-night." "i know, but by staying there to-night we'll be there right early in the morning. get a rig." they drove away and i went round to the jail to tell alf that the old morton place was rapidly coming his way. i slept but little that night and i was nervous the next day, as i sat in the judge's office waiting for him to return. at o'clock he drove up alone. "where is ging?" i asked as the old man got out of the buggy. "gone to the telegraph office. come in and i'll tell you all about it." we entered the office and i stood there impatient at his delay, for instead of telling me, he was silent, walking up and down the room with his hands under his coat behind him. "did you say he had gone to the telegraph office?" "yes; said he had to communicate with his partner. think he must have been somewhat startled at my knowledge of mica; but if he should spring the subject on me a week from now he would be still more startled--at my ignorance. in this instance i have been what is termed a case lawyer." and still i waited and still he continued to walk up and down the room, his hands behind him. "communicate with his partner. did he make an offer?" "well, he hunted around in that neighborhood, but his gun hung fire. the truth is i set the price myself. there is no doubt as to the value of the mine--finest in the world, i should think." "what did you tell him he could have it for?" "well, i suppose we could get more for it, but i told him that he might have it for six hundred thousand dollars. i--why, what's wrong with that offer? isn't it enough?" "enough! it is more than i dared to dream!" i cried. "ah, hah. and because you don't know anything about mica. it didn't startle him; simply remarked that he would telegraph to his partner. he'll take it. he'll give you a check and i'll send it over to knoxville, tenn.--don't want this little bank to handle that amount. what are you going to do with the money?" "i'm going to buy the old morton place for alf, give the old man as much as i can compel him to take, and i'm going to build a home on a high bluff overlooking the st. jo river, in michigan. and i don't know yet what else i may do. it is so overwhelming that my mind is in a tangle. but i am going to give you----" "i don't charge you anything for my services," he broke in, humorously winking his old eyes. "you are to be my law partner, you know." "ah, that was reserved for time to bring about, in the event that i should ever become a lawyer, but that possibility is now removed. i'm not going to study law. the law is very forcible and very logical, but it is too dry for me. i don't believe that i am practical enough for a lawyer. i would rather read poetry and luminous prose than to study rules of civil conduct. i am going to bejewel my house with books and then i am going to live. i heard you say that the poet was the only man who really lives, but he is not--those who worship with him live with him. yes, i am going to buy old books--i don't like new ones--and in my library i will rule over the kingdoms of the earth. but i am going to give you ten thousand dollars." "you wouldn't make a very good lawyer, bill. i suspected it, and now you prove it. my dear fellow, i have no children, and am getting old, therefore i have no use for money. wait a minute. i believe there is a five thousand dollar mortgage on my house. well, you may lend me ten thousand, but i don't believe i'll ever pay it back. i can't afford to violate the rule. when a man lends me money it's gone. and that's right, for if i thought i had to pay it back i might dodge you. yes, sir. as i was driving back to town i came within one of permitting myself to look upon this happening as a strange affair, but it is not; it's perfectly natural. yes, sir. and as soon as the news spreads around, nearly every man in the community will turn out to hunt for mica, and not a speck of it will be found. a reminder of the imitators that clamor when the clear voice of a genius has been heard. if i keep on fooling with this subject i will regard it as strange, after all. just think of the ten thousand things that led to the discovery of that mine. suppose we could trace any occurrence back to its source. take my sitting here, for instance. caused, we will say, by a dead cat. my father, a very young fellow at the time, found a dead cat lying on his father's door-steps, and he threw it over into a neighbor's yard. the neighbor saw him, came over and demanded that he be whipped. he was whipped, according to the good, old religious custom, and he ran away from home, went to many places, came into this state as a clock peddler, fell in love, married, and here i am, sitting here--all caused by a dead cat. my mother was the daughter of a very proud old fellow. she ran away with my father and never again was she received at home. i may have dreamed it, but it seems that i remember my mother holding me in her arms, pointing to an old brick house and telling me that my grandfather lived there. yes, sir, if we permit our minds to drift that way, everything is strange. here comes our man." ging stepped in, mopping his face with a handkerchief. "i'll take it," he said, and it seemed to me that the room began to turn round. "let us fix it up at once," he added. "i have engaged a man to drive me to the station and i want to take the next train." evening came. the day had been filled with tremors and whirls, so dazed was i, dreamily listening to details, now startled, now seeming to be far away--shaking hands, signing papers; and now it was all settled, and i, on a horse, rode toward home to seek a night of rest in the country. the moon was full. i heard the sharp clack of hoofs, and, looking back, i saw a man riding as if it were his aim to overtake me. i jogged along slowly and etheredge came up. "how are you, mr. hawes? i have heard of your wonderful luck and i congratulate you. i intended to see you in town to-night, but learned that you had come out here, so i rode fast to overtake you. i have sold out and will leave here to-morrow morning." "what! then you won't be here at the trial?" "i shall not be needed, sir. now i am going to tell you something and i hope that in your mind, and in the mind of the public, the good which it will do may in some measure atone for the wrong----" his horse stumbled, and he did not complete the sentence. i was afraid to say anything, was afraid that eagerness on my part might stir the vagaries of his peculiar mind and drive him into stubborn silence. so i said nothing. he rode close to me, reached over and put his hand on my arm. "mr. hawes," he said, leaning toward me, and in the moonlight his face was ghastly, "mr. hawes, alf jucklin did not kill dan stuart." "what!" i cried, bringing my horse to a stand-still and seizing his bridle-rein. "let us be perfectly calm now, and i'll tell you all about it. turn loose my bridle-rein and let us ride on slowly." down the moon-whitened road the horses slowly walked. i waited for him to continue. "no, sir, alf didn't kill him. i found him in the road, after alf had called me, and i took him into my house and there was not a mark on him, not one. i stripped him and nowhere was his skin broken. dan was born with organic disease of the heart, and for years i had been treating him. he was sensitive and never spoke of his ailment and i was the only one who knew the extent of it. two years ago i told him that he was likely to die at any minute, and i repeatedly warned him against fatigue or any sort of agitation. and it was rage that killed him when alf's pistol fired. the hammer of dan's pistol caught in his pocket and his failure to get it out threw him into a rage and he died. i told the coroner that he was shot through the breast, and i slyly contrived not to be placed upon my oath. they had alf's confession, and that was enough. and no one cared to strip the dead man to examine the wound. it was a piece of humbuggery, as all coroners' inquests are, and so the verdict was given. i am a mean man; i acknowledge it--i am narrow and vindictive, but i would have made a confession of the manner of dan's death rather than to see alf hanged. i knew that there would be a new trial; i intended to leave the community and i resolved to defer my statement until just before going. that about covers the case, i think." "will you go with me to a justice of the peace, write out your statement and swear to it?" i asked, striving to be calm. "certainly. old perdue is a justice. we'll go over there." the moon was still high as i galloped toward town with the statement in my pocket. i went straightway to conkwright's house and with the door-knocker set every dog in the town to barking. "why, what on earth is the matter?" the judge asked as he opened the door. "oh, it's you, is it, bill? i've got a negro here somewhere, but gabriel might blow a blast in his ear and never stir his wool. come into the library." he lighted a lamp, and i handed him the doctor's statement. he read it without the least show of surprise; and, putting the paper into his pocket, he sat down, closed his eyes, and with his thumb and forefinger pressed his eye-lids. "etheredge is going to leave in the morning," i said. "he ought to be sent to the penitentiary. but let him go. penitentiary is better off without him. in the morning we will have several of our leading doctors exhume the body to verify the statement. i'll attend to it. yes, sir. a certain form must be observed. a jury will be impaneled, the statement will be read, and the judge will, in a sort of a charge, declare that the prisoner is innocent. some things are strange after all. a venomous scoundrel, but let him go. yes, i'll attend to everything in the morning. you'd better sleep here." "no, i'm going to the jail and then to the telegraph office." chapter xxi. conclusion. how soft had been the day, how tender the tone of every voice. the road under the moon was white and from a persimmon tree in an old field came the trill of a mockingbird. two happy men were riding toward an old home. "and here is where he fell," said alf. "i am tempted to get down and pray. bill, you don't know what it is to be freed from the conviction that you have killed a man. he might not have died then if it had not been for me, but, thank god, i didn't kill him. yes, here is where i eased him down. i remembered afterward that i had not seen a drop of his blood and i was deeply thankful for it. we can almost see the general's house from here. you saw the old man to-day when he came up and shook hands with me. he hardly knew what he was about, and he said, 'alf, what's your father doing?' but his eyes were full of tears and he had to wipe them when i told him that i was going to buy the old morton place. he thinks you are a great man, bill, and i honor him for it. to-night we will sleep in our room and early to-morrow morning i'm going over to see millie. do you think i ought to go to-night? no, i will wait and dream over it." in the old room we sat and peacefully smoked our pipes. and after i had gone to bed, and when i thought alf was asleep, i heard him talking to himself. no, it was not talk, it was a chant, and it reminded me of his mother. i said nothing and i sank to sleep, and strange, mystic words were in my ears, soothing me down to forgetful slumber. we were aroused early at morning by the rattle of a wagon at the door. the old people--guinea had come back. alf dressed quickly and ran down stairs, and i stuffed my ears that i might hear no sound from below. after a long time, and while i sat looking out of the window, the old man came up. "by jings, i must have got that dispatch of yourn before you sent it. mighty glad to see you again. but don't go down stairs yet. everybody down there is as foolish as a chicken with his neck wrung. i tell you the lord works things out in his own way. sometimes we may think that we could run things better, but i don't believe we could! and, thurfore, i say, kiver to kiver. ah, lord, what a time we have had. yes, sir, a time if there ever was one. alf has jest told me what you intend to do, but if you think that you are goin' to crowd a lot of money off on me you are wrong. give us this old house and see that we don't need nothin'--but, of course, you'll do that. i thought i'd let 'em fight to a finish up yander, but i didn't. they looked at me so pitiful that i called an old feller that happened to be passin' along and told him that he might have 'em. i've got to have a sam and a bob. old craighead, that lives about ten miles from here, has some of the finest in the world. always wanted 'em, but they were so high that i couldn't tip-toe and reach 'em. reckon you could fix it so i could git a couple?" "you shall have as many as you want--all of them." "i'm a thousand times obleeged to you. yes, sir; sometimes we think we could run things better than he does, but i don't reckon we could. we seen young lundsford as we driv along jest now. and i think he'll be over here putty soon, but don't you worry. no, sir, we ain't got nothin' to worry about now. believe it would push us to scratch up a worry, don't you? by jings, though, i hardly know what to do; i step around here like a blind sheep in a barn, as the feller says. well, it's gettin' pretty quiet down there now. alf got away as soon as he could, and has gone over to the general's. hush a minit. thought i heard chyd's voice. well, i'm going to poke round a little, and it's not worth while to tell you to make yourself at home." he went out, and i heard him humming a tune as he tramped slowly down the stairs. i took a seat near the window. voices reached me, and, looking down through the branches of a mulberry tree, i saw guinea sitting on a bench, and near her stood chyd lundsford. in his hand he held a switch and with it he was slowly cutting at a bloom on a vine that grew about the tree. he was talking. guinea's face was turned upward and her hands were clasped behind her head. i could look down into her eyes, but she did not see me, and i felt a sense of self-reproach at thus watching her, listening for her to speak, and i thought to get up, but my legs refused to move, and i sat there, looking down into her eyes. her face was pale and her lips, which had seemed to me in bloom with the rich juice of life, were now drawn thin. "of course, i was wrong," he said, "but i'm not the first man that ever did a wrong. and i should think that as a broad-minded and generous woman you could forgive me. i don't think that you can find any man who would take any better care of you than i would. i've got no romance about me, and why should i have? i can just remember seeing the trail of that monster called advancement--that mighty thing called progress, though in the guise of war, and that thing swallowed the romance of this country. i say that i can remember seeing the fading trail, but i know its history and i know that if it did not swallow romance it should have done so. i don't suppose i could ever think as much of any woman as i do of you, and i know that no woman could make my house so bright and cheerful. i was afraid of any complication that might hurt my prospects as a physician, my standing in the opinion of a careful and discriminating public; so, influenced by that sense of self-protection, i broke our engagement. but now i beg of you to renew it." "on your knees!" she said, without looking at him. "now, guinea, that's ridiculous. i am willing to make all sorts of amends----" "on your knees!" she said. "i see that there is no use to appeal to your reason. i suppose, however, that the way to reason with a woman is to gratify her whim and then appeal to her sense. it is a foolish thing to do, but in order to secure a hearing i will do as you say." he sank upon his knees. she glanced down at him and then looked up at the sky. he began to talk, but she stopped him with a motion of her hand. "you have heard the preacher say that we must be born again," she said. "i have been born again--born into the kingdom of love, and i find myself in a rapturous heaven. get up." he obeyed, and she continued. "and you are so far from this kingdom that i cannot see you--you are off somewhere in the dark, and to me your words are cold. but there is one who stands in the light and i must go to him." i sprang from my seat and hastened down the stairs. my heart beat fast, and i trembled. i was frightened like a child, like a timid overgrown boy, who is called to the table to sit beside a girl whom he slyly worships; and i ran away--down the path to the spring. i heard her calling me, and i stood there trembling, waiting for a holy spirit that was searching for me; and worship made me dumb. she came down the path, and, seeing me, hastened toward me with her head bent forward and her hands held out. and i caught her in my arms, swept her off the ground and held her to my beating heart. and over the stones the water was laughing, and the strip of green moss-land flashed in the sun. i saw the old man walking up the ravine, with his hands behind him, and i caught the faint sound of a tune he was humming. slowly her arms came from about my neck, and hand in hand we walked toward the house, she in the shining path, i on the green sward; and as we drew near we saw alf and millie, standing under a tree, waiting for us. the end. +--------------------------------------------------+ |transcriber's note: | | | |variations in hyphenated words and inconsistencies| |in dialect have been retained as they appear in | |the original publication. | +--------------------------------------------------+ made from images produced by the north carolina history and fiction digital library.) plantation sketches by margaret devereux privately printed at the riverside press, cambridge mdccccvi [illustration: mammy] copyright by margaret devereux all rights reserved editor's preface the descriptions of southern life in this little book, as well as the accompanying stories, were written by mrs. devereux during the past fifteen years, in large part after she had passed her sixty-fifth year. they are essentially reminiscent, and were prepared originally with no thought of publication, but merely to be read to her grandchildren, so that there might be preserved in their minds some conception of the old-time lives of their grandparents. the sketches thus came to be read by me to my own children, who are of the third generation. they brought to my mind so simply, yet so vividly and in so attractive a manner, a picture of the old plantation life, they showed such remarkable memory of interesting details, that they seemed to me to merit publication. the charm of the descriptions will impress all readers, and the truthfulness of the illustrations of negro character and habits will be recognized by all who are familiar with the south. the sketches are simple, homely little tales prepared for children, and they must be read with this fact in mind; but they have nevertheless an interest and a lesson for maturer readers, to whom they are now offered. arthur winslow chestnut st., boston, mass. april , contents _letter to my grandchildren_ ix _plantation life_ _going to the plantation_ _my own early home_ _two bob whites_ _little dave_ _the hog-feeder's day_ _the junior reserve_ _mammy_ _war reminiscences_ to my grandchildren as the "new south," with all its changes and improvements, rises above the horizon, those whose hearts still cling to the "old south" look sadly backward and sigh to see it fade away into dimness, to be soon lost to sight and to live only in the memory of the few. hoping to rescue from oblivion a few of the habits, thoughts, and feelings of the people who made our south what it was, i have drawn from memory a few pen sketches of plantation life, based upon actual events, in which are recorded some of the good and even noble traits of character which were brought forth under the yoke of slavery. for you, my dear grandchildren, i have tried to fix, before they fade entirely, these already faint reflections from the "light of other days." margaret devereux. raleigh, north carolina. december, . plantation life i am going to try to describe to you something of the lives and homes of your dear grandfather and of your great-grandfather, because i want you to know something of them, because their mode of life was one of which scarcely a vestige is left now, and because, finally, i don't want you to be led into the misconception held by some that southern planters and slaveholders were cruel despots, and that the life of the negro slaves on the plantation was one of misery and sorrow. before i enter upon my brief narrative i want you to realize that it is all strictly true, being based upon my knowledge of facts; very simple and homely in its details, but with the merit of entire truthfulness. your great-grandfather, thomas pollock devereux, and your grandfather, john devereux, were planters upon an unusually large scale in north carolina; together they owned eight large plantations and between fifteen and sixteen hundred negroes. their lands, situated in the rich river bottoms of halifax and bertie counties, were very fertile, the sale crops being corn, cotton, and droves of hogs, which were sent to southampton county, virginia, for sale. the names of your great-grandfather's plantations were conacanarra, feltons, looking glass, montrose, polenta, and barrows, besides a large body of land in the counties of jones and hyde. his residence was at conacanarra, where the dwelling stood upon a bluff commanding a fine view of the roanoke river, and, with the pretty house of the head overseer, the small church, and other minor buildings, looked like a small village beneath the great elms and oaks. your grandfather's principal plantation, and our winter home, was runiroi, in bertie county. the others were "the lower plantation" and "over the swamp." at runiroi we lived and called ourselves at home, and of it i have preserved the clearest recollection and the fondest memories. from kehukee bluff, which we usually visited while waiting for the ferryman on our return journey after the summer's absence, the plantation could be seen stretching away into the distance, hemmed in by the flat-topped cypresses. from there we had a view of our distant dwelling, gleaming white in the sunlight and standing in a green oasis of trees and grass, all looking wonderfully small amid the expanse of flat fields around it. apart as i now am from the restless, never-ending push of life, when neither men nor women have time for leisure, when even pleasure and amusement are reduced to a business calculation as to how much may be squeezed into a given time, i think it might perhaps calm down some of the nervous restlessness that i perceive in my dear children and grandchildren if they could, for once, stand there in the soft november sunshine. the splendor of the light is veiled in a golden haze, the brown fields bask in the soft radiance and seem to quiver in the heat, while the ceaseless murmur of the great river is like a cradle song to a sleepy child; the rattle of the old ferryman's chain and the drowsy squeak of his long sweeps seem even to augment the stillness. the trees along the banks appear to lack the energy to hang out the brilliant reds and purples of autumn, but tint their leaves with the soft shades of palest yellow, and these keep dropping and floating away, while the long gray moss waves dreamily in the stillness. the house at runiroi was a comfortable, old, rambling structure, in a green yard and flower garden, not ugly, but quite innocent of any pretensions at comeliness. neither was there, to many, a bit of picturesque beauty in the flat surroundings; and yet this very flatness _did_ lend a charm peculiar to itself. my eyes ever found a delight in its purple distances and in the great, broad-armed trees marking the graceful curves of the river. the approach from the public road, which followed the bank of the river, was through the "willow lane," between deep-cut ditches, which kept the roadway well drained unless the river overspread its banks, when the lane was often impassable for days. in the springtime, when the tender green boughs of the willows were swayed by the breeze, it was a lovely spot, and a favorite resort of the children. i was so young a bride, only seventeen, when i was taken to our winter home, and so inexperienced, that i felt no dread whatever of my new duties as mistress. the household comforts of my childhood's home had seemed to come so spontaneously that i never thought of _processes_, and naturally felt rather nonplussed when brought into contact with realities. the place had for years been merely a sort of camping-out place for your great-grandfather, who liked to spend a part of the winter there; so the house was given over to servants who made him comfortable, but who took little heed of anything else. i recollect my antipathy to a certain old press which stood in the back hall. the upper part was filled with books. in the under cupboard, minerva kept pies, gingerbread, plates of butter, etc. the outside looked very dim and dusty. i could not bear to look at it, but knew not how to remedy its defects. i know now that it was a handsome old piece, which a furniture-lover would delight in. however, my youthful appetite did not scorn minerva's gingerbread, and, as i had many lonely hours to get through with as best i could, i would mount the highest chair that i could find, and ransack the old musty volumes in search of amusement. the collection consisted chiefly of antiquated medical works, some tracts, etc., but once, to my delight, i unearthed two of mrs. radcliffe's novels, which were indeed a treasure trove; one of them was "gaston de blondeville," which i thought beautiful. i have regretted that i did not take care of it, for i have never seen another copy. minerva was a woman of pretty good sense, but of slatternly habits. she had been so long without a lady to guide her that her original training was either forgotten or entirely disregarded. once, when starting to conacanarra for christmas, i charged her to take advantage of the fine weather to give the passage floors a thorough scrubbing; they were bare and showed every footprint of black mud from the outside. when it came time to return, in spite of our pleasant christmas week, we were glad to think of our own home and were rather dismayed when the morning fixed for our departure broke dark and very cold, with little spits of snow beginning to fall. i was much afraid that we should be compelled to yield to the hospitable objections to our going, but at last we succeeded in getting off. we crossed at pollock's (your great-grandfather's ferry), so that should the storm increase we need not leave our comfortable carriage until we should be at home. it was a lonely drive; the snow fell steadily but so gently that i enjoyed seeing the earth and the trees, the fences and the few lonely houses that we passed all draped in white; though we were warmly wrapped, the anticipation of the crackling fires in our great old fireplaces was delightful. when we got home, the first sound that greeted our ears, as we stepped upon the piazza, was a mournful, long-drawn hymn. shivering and damp from our walk up the yard, we opened the door, to see minerva, with kilted skirts, standing in an expanse of frozen slush and singing at the top of her voice, while she sluiced fresh deluges of water from her shuck brush. i was too disgusted for words, but resolved that this should not occur again. as soon as i could communicate with the outside world i had the hall floors covered with oilcloth (then the fashionable covering). also, minerva was displaced, and phyllis reigned in her stead, but minerva, nevertheless, always indulged in the belief that she was indispensable to our happiness and comfort. in honor of my advent as mistress, the floors had been freshly carpeted with very pretty bright carpets, which were in danger of being utterly ruined by the muddy shoes of the raw plantation servants, recently brought in to be trained for the house. although the soil generally was a soft, sandy loam, i observed in my horseback rides numbers of round stones scattered about in the fields. they were curious stones, and looked perfectly accidental and quite out of place. their presence excited my interest, and aroused my curiosity as to their origin, which has never been gratified. they seemed so out of place in those flat fields! however, i determined to utilize them and had a number collected and brought into the yard, and with them i had a pretty paved walk made from the house to the kitchen. our house stood upon what was known as the "second land," which meant a slight rise above the wide, low grounds, which were formerly, i believe, the bed of the sluggish stream now known as the roanoke. all along the edge of these second lands, just where they joined the low grounds, there was a bed of beautiful small gravel. i was delighted when i discovered this and at once interested myself in having a gravel walk made up to the front of the house, and this was, when completed, all that i had hoped, and served as a perfect protection against the offending mud. there was one evil, though, which i could not guard against, and this was the clumsy though well-meaning stupidity of a plantation negro. one afternoon the house became offensive with the odor of burning wool. i followed up the scent and, after opening several doors, i finally traced it to the dining-room. it was filled with smoke, and there, in front of an enormous fire, squatted abby. in a fit of most unaccountable industry she had undertaken to clean the brass andirons, and had drawn them red hot from the fire and placed them upon the carpet. of course, four great holes were the result and, as the carpets had been made in new york, there were no pieces with which the holes could be mended. as i had already decided her to be too stupid to be worth the trouble of training, i felt no desire to find fault with her, so i merely told her to put them back, or rather stood by to see it done. i did not keep her in the house after that, but do not suppose that she ever at all realized the mischief that she had done. one of my amusements was to watch the birds; they were so numerous, and appeared to be so tame. i set traps for them. this was childish, but i was very young and often rather at a loss to find something to do; so i used to take with me my small house boy, "minor," whom i was training to be a grand butler; he would carry the trap and, after it had been set and baited, i would make him guide me to the trees where the sweetest persimmons grew; there i would while away the morning and on the next we would find one or more birds fluttering in the trap, which, to minor's silent disgust, i would set free. the squirrels, too, were a pleasure to me in my horseback rides toward vine ridge, especially. your grandfather and i would pause to watch them playing hide and seek just like children, scampering round and round, their pretty gray tails waving, until some noise would send them out of sight, and the silent forest would seem as if no living thing were near. it was upon one of these rides that your grandfather told me how, when he was about twelve years old, and spending his christmas holidays at runiroi with his grandfather, he once said that he could shoot one hundred squirrels between sunrise and sunset. his uncle, george pollock devereux, happened to hear him and rebuked him sharply for so idle a boast, and when your dear grandfather manfully stood his ground, saying that it was not an idle boast, his uncle called him a vain braggart, which so offended your grandfather that he told his uncle that he would prove the truth of his assertion. and so, upon the following morning, he rose early and was at vine ridge gun in hand, ready to make his first shot, as soon as the sun should appear. the squirrels were very numerous at first, and he made great havoc among them. many a mile he tramped that day, scanning with eager eyes the trees above him, in search of the little gray noses, hidden behind the branches, and thus it happened that he got many a fall and tumble among the cypress knees; but what did that matter to his young limbs? he had only to pick himself up again and tramp on. as the day advanced, fewer little bright eyes peeped from the tree-tops and his number was not made up; he was getting tired too, and very hungry, for he had eaten nothing since his early breakfast. he stumbled wearily on, however, determined not to fail, for he dreaded his uncle's triumphant sarcasm should he do so. a few more shots brought his number to ninety-nine, but where was the one-hundredth to be found? the sun was sinking to the horizon; he had come out from the swamp and was tramping homeward; the gun, so light in the morning, now weighed like lead upon his shoulder. as he looked into every tree for that hundredth squirrel which could not be found, the sun's disk was resting upon the horizon when he turned into the willow lane leading to the house. just at the entrance there stood a great chestnut oak. this was his last chance. he paused to take one hopeless look, when, to his unspeakable joy, he beheld a fox squirrel seated up among the branches. now he knew that the fox squirrel was the slyest, as well as the shyest of all his kind; no creature so expert as he in slipping out of range; there would be no chance for a second shot, for now only a rim of the sun was left. with a wildly beating heart he raised his gun, took time to aim well,--fired,--and down came his hundredth squirrel. his wager was won; fatigue and hunger all gone, he hastened gayly home and with pride emptied his bag before his uncle and his delighted old grandfather, who loved him above everything, and who finally made him his heir, so that your grandfather was quite independent of his own father. when i first became acquainted with the plantation, the sale crop was taken down to plymouth in a great old scow, but this was afterward superseded by the introduction of freight steamers, which took the produce direct to norfolk. these steamers proved to be a great comfort and convenience to us. by them we might receive anything that we desired from norfolk, of which the things most enjoyed were packages of books,--vickry and griffiths, booksellers, having standing orders to send at their discretion what they thought desirable, besides the special orders for what we wished to see. the advent of a steamer at the landing would cause much pleasurable excitement. if anything of special interest was expected, the first puff of steam from down the river would be eagerly examined through the spy-glass. then would follow several days of busy life down at the different barns from which the corn was to be shipped. before the introduction of the corn-sheller, the corn was beaten from the cob by men wielding great sticks, or flails; others raked the grain into an immense pile; from this pile it was measured by select hands and put into bags, which were carried to the steamer lying at the landing. the men who measured and kept the tally maintained a constant song or chant, and designated the _tally_, or fifth bushel, by a sort of yell. the overseer stood by with pencil and book and scored down each tally by a peculiar mark. the constant stream of men running back and forth, with bags empty or full, made a very busy scene. after the corn had been shipped, the boat had steamed down the river, and the place, lately so full of busy life, had returned to its accustomed quiet seclusion, the redbirds came to peck up the corn left upon the ground. i remember how once, upon a cold, gray afternoon, i put on my wraps and ran down to the sycamore barn, on purpose to watch the shy, beautiful things. snowflakes were beginning to fall and whisper about the great bamboo vines; twisted around the trees upon the river banks, the long gray moss hung motionless and a thick grayness seemed to shut out the whole world; all about me was gray,--earth, sky, trees, barn, everything, except the redbirds and the red berries of a great holly tree under whose shelter i stood, listening to the whispering snowflakes. the sycamore barn derived its name from a great sycamore tree near which it stood. this tree was by far the largest that i ever saw; a wagon with a four-horse team might be on one side, and quite concealed from any one standing upon the other. when i knew it, it was a ruin, the great trunk a mere shell, though the two giant forks,--themselves immense in girth--still had life in them. in one side of the trunk was an opening, about as large as an ordinary door; through this we used to enter, and i have danced a quadrille of eight within with perfect ease. this tree gave its name to the field in which it grew, which formed part of the tract known as the silver wedge. it was about the silver wedge that an acrimonious lawsuit was carried on during the lives of your great-great-grandparents, john and frances devereux. she was a pollock, and the dispute arose through a mr. williams, the son or grandson of a certain widow pollock, who had, after the death of her first husband, major pollock, married a mr. williams. she may possibly have dowered in this silver wedge tract. at any rate, her williams descendants set up a claim to it, although it was in possession of the real pollock descendant, frances devereux. it was a large body of very rich land, and intersected the plantation in the form of a wedge, beginning near the sycamore barn, and running up far into the second lands, widening and embracing the dwelling-house and plantation buildings. i have heard your great-great-grandfather laugh and tell how williams once came to the house, and, with a sweeping bow and great assumption of courtesy, made your great-great-grandmother welcome to remain in _his_ house. after the suit had been settled, williams had occasion to come again to the house, feeling, no doubt, rather crestfallen. mrs. devereux met him at the door and, making him a sweeping curtsy, quoted his exact words, making him welcome to _her_ house. one of my pleasant memories is connected with our fishing porch. this was a porch, or balcony, built upon piles driven into the river upon one side, and the other resting upon the banks. it was raised some eight or ten feet above the water and protected by a strong railing or balustrade and shaded by the overhanging branches of a large and beautiful hackberry tree. it made an ideal lounging-place, upon a soft spring afternoon, when all the river banks were a mass of tender green, and the soft cooing of doves filled the air. we usually took minor with us to bait our hooks and assist generally, and often went home by starlight with a glorious string of fish. the drawback to the plantations upon the lower roanoke lay in their liability to being flooded by the freshets to which the roanoke was exposed. these were especially to be dreaded in early spring, when the snow in the mountains was melting. i have known freshets in march to inundate the country for miles. at one time there was not a foot of dry land upon one of the runiroi plantations. it was upon a mild night in that month that i sat upon the porch nearly all through the night, feeling too anxious to sleep, for your grandfather, the overseer, and every man on the plantation were at the river, working upon the embankments. the back waters from the swamp had already spread over everything. this gentle and slow submersion did no great damage, when there was no growing crop to be injured; the thing to be guarded against was the breaking of the river dam and the consequent rushing in of such a flood as would wash the land into enormous holes, or "breakovers," of several acres in extent in some places, or make great sand ledges in others, to say nothing of the destruction of fences, the drowning of stock, etc. on the night that i speak of, the moon was at its full and glittered upon the water, rippling all around where dry land should have been. i sat listening anxiously and occasionally shuddering at a sharp cracking noise, like a pistol shot, and, following upon it, the rushing of water into some plantation up the river. once in the night i heard a noise and, upon my calling to know who it was, a man replied that they had come up in a canoe to get some water. i could not help laughing; it struck me that water was rather too plentiful just then. they worked upon the dam until there was no more material to work with, water being level with the top on both sides and only a foot of standing-room at the top, so, having done all that they could, all hands took to canoes and went to their homes. that "march freshet" did incalculable damage to the whole region, but still fine crops were made that season. your grandfather was indefatigable while anything could be done, but, having done all that human energy could, he would resign himself cheerfully to the inevitable, and his family never were saddened by depression on his part. this wonderful elasticity was most noticeable at the fearful period of the surrender and, indeed, through all the succeeding years, when this power of his, despite all of our losses and anxieties, made our life one of great happiness. when, during the winter months, a moderate freshet meant nothing more serious than the flooding of the low grounds, it was considered rather a benefit, owing to the rich deposit left upon the land, besides the advantages gained in floating out lumber from the swamps. this march freshet caused great pecuniary loss; new dams had to be constructed at a heavy expense, and many miles of repairing had to be done to those left standing. the few days before the water had reached its height were most trying to the nerves (that is, my nerves). i believe my fears culminated upon the night that i saw the water rippling over our own doorstep and realized that there was not a foot of dry land visible for miles; by morning, though, the river was "at a stand," and by evening little spots of green were showing themselves in the yard and garden. the word garden recalls to my memory our pretty garden, a most beautiful continuation of the smooth green yard, its many alleys bordered with flowers and flowering shrubs. it was, i own, laid out in a stiff, old-fashioned manner, very different from the present and far more picturesque style; still, it was charming,--the profusion of flowers, fed by that wonderful river loam, exceeded anything that i have ever seen elsewhere. in the springtime, what with the flowers, the beautiful butterflies, and the humming-birds, the sunny air would actually seem to quiver with color and life. every plantation had a set of buildings which included generally the overseer's house, ginhouse, screw, barn, stable, porkhouse, smokehouse, storehouse, carpenter's shop, blacksmith shop, and loomhouse, where the material for clothing for each plantation was woven,--white cloth for the underclothes, and very pretty striped or checked for outer garments. at runiroi, the weaver, scip, was a first-class workman, and very proud of his work. i often had sets of very pretty towels woven in a damask pattern of mixed flax and cotton. the winter clothing was of wool, taken from our own sheep. the carpenters at runiroi were jim, the head carpenter, austin, and bill, who were all good workmen. frank, "boat frank," as he was called, from having formerly served as captain of the old flat-bottomed scow which carried the sale crop to plymouth, was also in the shop and did beautiful work. i was fond of visiting jim's shop and ordering all sorts of wooden ware, pails, piggins, trays, etc.; these last, dug out of bowl-gum, were so white that they looked like ivory. boat frank was very proud of the smoothness and polish of his trays. our children, with their mammy, were fond of visiting "uncle jim's" shop and playing with such tools as he considered safe for them to handle, while mammy, seated upon a box by the small fire, would indulge in long talks about religion or plantation gossip. that shop was indeed a typical spot; its sides were lined to the eaves with choice lumber, arranged systematically so that the green was out of reach, while that which was seasoned was close at hand. uncle jim would have felt disgraced had a piece of work made of unseasoned wood left his shop. the smoke from the small fire which burned in the middle of the big shop, upon the dirt floor, escaped in faint blue wreaths through the roof, leaving behind it a sweet, pungent odor. the sun streamed in at the wide-open door, while jim and frank tinkered away leisurely upon plough handles and other implements or household articles. uncle jim was a preacher as well as a carpenter. he was quite superior to most of his race, both in sense and principle and was highly thought of by both white and black. upon two sundays in each month he preached in the church and his sermons were quite remarkable, teaching in his homely way the necessity of honesty and obedience. his companion in the shop, boat frank, was of a more worldly nature, and wore great golden hoops in his ears and a red woolen cap upon his head, and resembled an elderly and crafty ape, as he sat chipping away at his work. next came the blacksmith shop, where bob wielded the great hammer and grinned with childish delight at seeing the children's enjoyment when the sparks flew. after the blacksmith's shop came the loomhouse, where scip, the little fat weaver, threw the shuttles and beat up the homespun cloth from morning till night; there, too, were the warping-bars, the winding-blades, and the little quilling-wheel, at which a boy or girl would fill the quills to be in readiness for the shuttles. scip was an odd figure, with his short legs, and his woolly hair combed out until his head looked as big as a bushel. the dwellings of the negroes were quite a distance from the "great house," as that of the master was called, and were built in two or more long rows with a street between. this was the plan upon every plantation. each house had a front and back piazza, and a garden, which was cultivated or allowed to run wild according to the thrift of the residents. it generally was stocked with peach and apple trees, and presented a pretty picture in spring, when the blue smoke from the houses curled up to the sky amid the pink blossoms, while the drowsy hum of a spinning-wheel seemed to enhance the quiet of the peaceful surroundings. the church at runiroi was large and comfortably furnished with seats; colored texts were upon the walls, and the bell, which summoned the people on sunday mornings, swung amid the branches of a giant oak. both your great-grandfather and grandfather employed a chaplain. at runiroi, he officiated only upon alternate sundays, as the people liked best to listen to carpenter jim. it used to be a pretty sight upon a sunday morning to see the people, all dressed in their clean homespun clothes, trooping to church, laughing and chattering until they reached the door, when they immediately would assume the deepest gravity and proceed at once to groan and shake themselves more and more at every prayer. the singing would often sound very sweet at a distance, although i must confess that i never sympathized in the admiration of the negro's voice. of course, like all other laboring classes, the negroes had to work, and of course, as they had not the incentive of poverty, discipline was necessary. they knew that they would be housed, clothed and well fed whether they earned these comforts or not; so, in order to insure diligence, reliable men were chosen from among them as assistants to the white overseers; these were called "foremen," and were looked up to with respect by their fellows. upon every large plantation there was also a foreman plower, his business being to take the lead and see that the plowing was well done and that the plow horses were not maltreated. with the settled men this was unnecessary, but it was very needful with the younger hands. these colored foremen were, in their turn, subject to the overseers, who, in turn, if not found to be temperate and reliable, were dismissed. upon well-ordered plantations punishments were rare, i may say unknown, except to the half-grown youths. negroes, being somewhat lacking in moral sense or fixed principles, are singularly open to the influence of example; and thus it was that a few well-ordered elders would give a tone to the whole plantation, while the evil influences of one ill-disposed character would be equally pronounced. the plantations of which i am speaking were singularly remote, being so surrounded by other large plantations that they were exempt from all outside and pernicious influences. the one or two country stores at which the negroes traded might have furnished whiskey, had not those who kept them stood too much in awe of the planters to incur the risk of their displeasure. as the town of halifax could boast of several little stores, and was the trading post of feltons, conacanara, and montrose, your great-grandfather, in order to prevent the evils of promiscuous trading, caused certain coins to be struck off, of no value except to the one merchant with whom his people were allowed to trade. perhaps you will be surprised to know how important to the country merchants was the trade of a plantation, so i will explain to you of what it consisted. of course, a few of the careless, content with the abundance provided for them, did not care to accumulate, while others, naturally thrifty, amassed a good deal from the sale of otter, coon, mink, and other skins of animals trapped. then, some owned as many as thirty beehives. one old woman, known as "honey beck," once hauled thirty or more gallons of honey to halifax and back again, the whole distance (twenty-five miles), rather than take a low price for it. besides skins, honey, and beeswax, eggs and poultry were always salable. one of my necessities in housekeeping was a bag of small change, and, as i never refused to take what was brought to me, my pantry was often so overstocked with eggs and my coops with ducks and chickens, that it was a hard matter to know how to consume them. the beautiful white shad, now so highly prized in our markets, were then a drug. it was the prettiest sight in the early dawn of a spring morning to see the fishermen skimming down the broad river with their dip-nets poised for a catch. my opportunities for seeing them at that early hour were from my bedroom window, when i happened to be visiting the family at conacanara. our home at runiroi stood some distance from the river, but the dwelling at conacanara was upon a bluff just over the stream. beside the sale crops of cotton and corn, sweet potatoes were raised in large quantities for the negroes, to which they were allowed to help themselves without stint, also a summer patch of coarse vegetables such as they liked. the regular food furnished consisted of corn meal, bacon or pickled pork, varied with beef in the autumn, when the beeves were fat, salt fish with less meat when desired, molasses, dried peas and pumpkins without stint (i mean the peas and pumpkins). i don't suppose any laboring class ever lived in such plenty. a woman with a family of children always had the use of a cow, the only proviso being that she should look after the calf and see that it did not suffer, for your grandfather was particular about his ox teams; they were the finest that i ever saw, and were well blooded,--holstein for size and devon for speed and activity. our dairy was very pretty; it was built of immense square logs, with a paved brick floor, and great broad shelves all around. the roof was shaded by hackberry trees, and the grass around it was like velvet, so thick and green. old aunt betty, who was the dairy woman until she grew too infirm, was the neatest creature imaginable; she wore the highest of turbans, and her clothes were spotless. she took the greatest pride in her dairy; for milk vessels she used great calibashes with wooden covers, and, as they naturally were absorbent, it was necessary to sun one set while another was in use. she kept them beautifully, and the milk and butter were delicious. there was a man upon the plantation called "shoe joe," or "gentleman joe." he had, when a young man, been body-servant to his young master george, your great-grandfather's brother. i never in my life have seen finer manners than joe's, so deeply respectful, and so full of courtesy. notwithstanding his really fine deportment, joe's nature was low and mean, and something that he did so offended his young master that, to joe's great disgust, he was remanded back to the plantation and field work. in consequence of this, he always bore his young master a grudge, which, of course, he kept to himself. once, however, he made some disrespectful speech before old betty, who was devoted to her master george, and this so offended her that she never again spoke to joe, nor allowed him to make her shoes, though this last was more from fear than vindictiveness. for shoe joe was suspected of being a trick negro, and of possessing the power so to trick his work as to cause the death of any one wearing his products. nothing was productive of more evil upon a plantation than was the existence upon it of a "trick" or "goomer" negro; and so insidious was their influence, and so secret their machinations, that, though suspected, it was impossible to prove anything, for, although detested by their fellows, fear kept the latter silent. nothing would cause such abject terror as the discovery of an odd-looking bundle, wrapped and wrapped with strands of horse-hair, secreted beneath the steps, or laid in an accustomed path. instantly after such a discovery the person for whom it was meant would begin to pine away, and, unless some counter spell were discovered, death would ensue. these occurrences, fortunately, were rare, but if the thing once took root upon a plantation, it wrought much evil in various ways. joe was suspected of these evil practices, and, though a wonderfully capable man at all kinds of work, and a most accomplished courtier, was always looked upon with suspicion. his death was sudden, and the people firmly believed that he had made a compact with the devil, that the term had expired, and that satan had met him in the woods and broken his neck. he was a tall, finely formed man, as black as ebony, and his movements always reminded me of a serpent. negroes, even in these days of school education, retain many of their superstitions, though ashamed to own it. one of their beliefs was that the word _you_ meant the devil's wife, and it was insulting to address any one by that word. to one another it was always _yinna_. so marked was this custom that the negroes of that section were known as the yinna negroes. this word, though, was never used toward their superiors, who were invariably addressed in the third person. manuel was rather a common name among them; there were always two or three manuels upon every plantation, and one was always called "hoodie manuel." no one could ever discover what this meant; perhaps they did not know themselves, though i am rather inclined to think that it was a superstitious observance, understood, perhaps, only by a select few. i think it must have had some sort of significance, as it was never omitted. as soon as one hoodie manuel died, another manuel assumed the title, though not always the oldest. it was not required of a woman with a large family to do field work. such women had their regular tasks of spinning allotted to them, sufficiently light to allow ample time to take care of their houses and children. the younger women (unless delicate) left their children in a day nursery in charge of an elderly woman who was caretaker. usually they preferred field work, as being more lively; but if one disliked it, she usually soon contrived to be classed among the spinners. when, occasionally, i happened to go to any of the houses, often quite unexpectedly, i can assert truthfully that i never, in a single instance, saw dirt or squalor in one of them. the floors were clean, the beds comfortable, with white and wonderfully clean blankets. everything, though very homely, with clumsy benches and tables, looked white and thoroughly clean. i remember hearing your grandfather speak of once going at breakfast time to a house to visit a sick child. the man of the house was seated at a small table while his wife served him. the table was covered with an immaculately clean homespun cloth, and coffee, in a tin pot shining with scrubbing, either sugar or molasses, i forget which, a dish of beautifully fried bacon and hoe-cakes, fresh from the fire, constituted his plain but most abundant meal. separation of families has ever been a favorite plea for the abolition of slavery, and i admit that in theory it was a plausible argument; and justice compels me to say that such instances, though rare, were not unknown. as a rule, however, family ties were respected, and when, through the settlement of an estate, such separations seemed impending, they were usually prevented by some agreement between the parties; for instance, if a negro man had married a woman belonging to another planter, a compromise was generally effected by the purchase of one of the parties, regardless of self-interest on the part of the owners. thus families were kept together without regard to any pecuniary loss. public sentiment was against the severing of family ties. before i close this little sketch i will tell you as well as i can the outline of plantation work. with the beginning of a new year, the crop being all housed, the sale corn being stored in large barns or cribs on the river banks, and the cotton either being sold or kept for better prices, the plowing, ditching, and, when the swamps were full, the floating out of timber, were all carried on with great diligence. at christmas, when all the clothing, shoes, and kilmarnock caps had been given out to the ditchers, high waterproof boots were distributed. it was the custom to allow to every man who desired it a bit of land, upon which, in his spare time, to cultivate a small crop, for which he was paid the market price. christmas was the usual day chosen for settling these accounts, and the broad piazza was full of happy, grinning black faces gathered around the table at which the master sat, with his account-book and bags of specie. a deep obeisance and a scrape of the foot accompanied each payment, and many a giggle was given to the lazy one whose small payment testified to his indolence. what a contrast between those happy, sleek, laughing faces and the sullen, careworn, ill-fed ones of now! in the early springtime, what was known as the "trash-gang," that is, boys and girls who had never worked, were set to clearing up fences, knocking down cotton stalks, and burning small trash piles. i pause here to say that, the woodlands being a long distance from the quarters, the supply of fuel was a serious question, and when there was a threat of snow or increasing cold, every man would be employed in cutting or hauling a supply of fuel to the houses. planting time began with the middle of march. in august the crops were "laid by." the three days' holiday began with the slaughter of pigs and beeves, in preparation for the annual dinner upon every plantation. after holiday came the fodder-pulling, a job hated by all, especially by overseer and master, as the drenching dews and the hot sun combined to make much sickness. this work was never begun until late in the morning, but even after the sun had shone upon the fields, the people would be drenched in dew to their waists. next, the whitening fields told that cotton-picking must begin, and, later on, a killing frost upon the already browning shucks sent the great wagons to the fields, where the corn-gatherers, with sharp needles tied to their wrists, ripped open the tough shucks and let loose the well-hardened ears of grain. as each field became stripped, stock would be turned in to feast upon the peas and pumpkins. with winter came that period of bliss to the soul of cuffee, namely, the hog-killing, when even the smallest urchin might revel in grease and fresh meat. if eyesight permitted, i might tell you some tales of plantation doings which might perhaps amuse you, but i have said enough to give you some idea of the old southern life. all that i have said is within bounds, but, after all, i fear i have not been able to give you an adequate idea of the peacefulness and abundance of life upon a great plantation. going to the plantation summer is over; the nights grow chill, and the autumnal tints, beginning to glow upon the hillsides, tell the low-country folk that the time draws near for the yearly flitting to their plantation homes. the planter, who passes the hot season amid the breezy uplands, begins to think of his whitening cotton fields, and grows impatient for the frost, which must fall ere the family may venture into the land of swamps and agues. he looks out upon the flower-beds, glowing with life and quivering in the sunshine, and listens to the incessant shrill-voiced cicada piping from the tree-tops, while the insect-drone, in the heated, languid air, seems to speak of an unending summer; but as "all things come to him who waits," so at length come the frosts to the planter. the week preceding the departure is a busy one, embracing, along with the numberless good-byes, many important afterthoughts in the way of providing the necessities required in the isolated home, where shops are unknown. at length, however, the great boxes are closed, and stand ready for the daylight start of the wagon; the bird-cage, the basket of kittens, and the puppy are also committed by the children to "ung jack," the teamster, who, with the broadest of smiles, promises "little missis" and the "little masters" to take the best of care of them. giving the baggage a day's start, the family's departure takes place on the day following. after an early breakfast, mammy and the younger children bundle into the big carriage, mother and the rest of the little mob follow in the _barouche_, while papa, who abhors the confinement of a carriage, follows on horseback. although the animal which he bestrides is a noble specimen of his kind, still it must be confessed that papa does not present a jaunty appearance as he jogs soberly along; and yet, as he sits easily swaying in the saddle, there is about him a careless grace which marks the natural horseman. three days are consumed upon the journey. it might be made in less time; but the party prefer to take it easily, and at midday make a halt by a running stream, where, seated upon a fallen log or mossy bank, they open their well-stored baskets, and dine. the horses utter impatient whinnies as their drivers dip their buckets into the sparkling water of the little stream, and, when these are lifted to their heads, thirstily thrust their muzzles into the cool depths, and drink long and deeply of the refreshing draughts. at sunset, the tired little ones begin to look out for the white chimneys of old john tayler's wayside inn, where they are to pass the night. this house has, for generations, been the halting-place for planters' families. tayler's grandfather and his father have entertained bygone generations; and so it is not strange that when the little cortège draw up before the old piazza, and the red light from the pine blaze streams out from the open door, not only old john, but his wife and two elderly daughters stand with beaming faces to give the travelers a hearty greeting, kindly to usher them into the carpetless room and seat them upon the stiff "split-bottomed" chairs. while the women busy themselves in getting supper, old john talks crops and politics to his guests, who, on their part, calmly accept the discomforts of the little inn as one of the unalterable laws of nature, without any idea of the possibility of improvement, swallow without complaint the nauseous coffee, and rest philosophically under the home-made sheets and blankets, feebly wondering that so much weight should contain so little warmth. when supper is over, the women throw a fresh torch upon the fire, and, as it crackles up the wide chimney, and sends its red light and sweet odors over the room, they set themselves to their tasks of picking the seeds from the "raw cotton," for, being famous spinners and weavers, they disdain that which has had its staples torn by the teeth of the gin. upon the second day, the party leave the hills, now gorgeous in their autumnal brilliancy, the rocky roads, and the swiftly running streams of the up-country, and enter the lonely region where the great turpentine trees rear their lofty crests, and interminable sandy roads stretch away into dimness between columns of stately pines whose lofty tops make solemn music to the sighing wind. the third day finds them in "the slashes," a desolate region inhabited by squatters. as they jolt over corduroy roads between pools of stagnant waters, the travelers look out wearily upon a sparse growth of gallberry and scrub-pine. now and then they pass the solitary hut of a charcoal-burner, surrounded by its little patch of meagre corn; a pack of cur dogs rush out and bark fiercely, within the safe limits of the wattle fence surrounding the premises; white-headed children gaze from the doorways at the passing carriages. at the last settlement which they pass, a woman and a small, pale-faced boy are gathering in their corn crop. they are the wife and son of bolin brazle, an idle but good-natured vagabond, who spends his days scraping upon his fiddle up at the store, or occasionally, upon the promise of a drink, lending a hand in rafting tar-barrels. in consequence of the presentation of a worn-out mule, bolin swears by the planter, wants to run him for the presidency, and obstinately refuses to receive pay for his charcoal. the matter is finally arranged by a barrel of corn being sent as a present whenever a load of charcoal is needed. soon after leaving the "slashes," a huddle of houses standing irregularly in a grove of magnificent oaks comes into view. in passing the one which does double duty as store and post-office, the travellers look at it with the realization that it is the connecting link with the outside world, as from it the bi-weekly mail is dispensed. inside, some one (brazle, no doubt) is scraping a lively jig upon his fiddle; on the long piazza men, lounging in chairs tilted against the wall, take off their hats to the carriages as they roll by. the planter draws his rein for a little friendly greeting, and the men, squirting tobacco juice, stand around and lazily report the country-side news as to the opening of the cotton, the state of the river, etc. even the screech of the fiddle has died away. the long descents of the ferry hill commence, and the carriages roll pleasantly between deeply wooded banks. the approach to the river is marked by long rows of tar-barrels awaiting shipment, or rather rafting. from this point the road has become a sort of concrete from years of leakage from the tar-barrels. the children shriek with joy as the carriages come to a stop, and, craning their heads out, they behold the great tawny river in all its majesty. the repeated hallooings for the ferryman are at length responded to from far upstream. the old scamp is off fishing, and the party seek the shade, where a spring of clear water bubbles from a bank. while the children are drinking copious draughts, the parents stroll off and take a woodland path, which, after many a twist and turn amid thickets of sweet myrtle and purple-berried bermuda shrub, brings them to the summit of "the bluff." standing there, they look down upon the river, two hundred feet below. upon the further side lie fields, all brown and golden in the sunshine, level and limitless; they stretch into the purple dimness where cypress trees loom upon the horizon, their flat tops mingling dreamily with the soft autumnal hazes. far away, amid the sun-bathed fields, stand the trees which shelter the plantation home, whose chimneys and white gables are scarce visible save where a stray sunbeam falls upon them. "so to the jews fair canaan stood, while jordan rolled between," murmured the mother, as she glanced at her husband, to whom she knew the lands spread before them were, by inheritance and long association, far dearer than could be measured by the mere money value. descending again to the ferry, they find the carriage already in the flat, and the children scarce restrained by mammy from crossing without their elders. they draw deep breaths of delight as they watch old bartley, with active limp, loosen the chain, and, planting his iron-shod pole deep into the grating sands, send the flat upstream; then, at a given point, they watch with intense admiration his skill in taking the sweeps and shooting swiftly to the other side. the horses know that they are near home, and prick up their ears, and go briskly onward. scarcely a quarter of a mile is gone before the buildings of the "lower plantation" come into view,--a row of cabins built irregularly upon the highest points straggle along the river banks. each cabin has its little garden with its row of coleworts and its beehives, or perhaps a pumpkin or two shows its yellow sides amid the withered vines. outside the cabins, fish-nets are hung to dry, and from within comes the sleepy drone of a spinning-wheel; about the doorstep hens are scratching, while from around the corner a cluster of little woolly heads peep out shyly. standing in the mellow sunlight, amid fields of ripening corn, with the river gently flowing between levees of such strength as to set floods at defiance, these cabins seem the very embodiment of peaceful security; the high piles, though, upon which they stand, are rather suggestive, and give a hint of what the now peacefully flowing stream is capable of when roused. a story is told of an old negro who obstinately refused to leave his house at a time when the unusually high water made it necessary to remove the people to a place of greater security. the rafts were ready, and the people, scared and anxious, had left their houses, and now only wailed for old todge, who, with mulish persistence, refused to be moved. at length, unable to persuade him, and afraid to wait longer, they poled the rafts away. for the first few hours todge got on very well. he had plenty of provisions, and, as for the isolation, he did not care for it. by and by the water began to make its appearance upon his hearth, and, before long, his little bank of coal, upon which his bread was baking, began to sizzle, and soon became a moist and blackened heap. todge, however, was not imaginative, and when night fell, he lay down upon his bed and slept without fear; that is, he slept until his bed began to float, then he awoke and groped his way neck deep in water until he found his ladder and managed by it to climb up into his loft, where he sat shivering, till suddenly he felt the cabin give a lurch, and the water rushed in. it had been lifted clear off the piles, and when it should settle down poor todge would be caught like a rat in a hole. it was settling fast, and the water was gurgling into poor todge's ears, when, in desperation, he made a bolt at the roof, and, using his head as a battering ram, succeeded in knocking a hole in it, through which he contrived to creep out. luckily, the point of the chimney was not quite submerged, and todge was rescued in the course of the following day. the road, following the winding of the river, is bordered by giant trees from whose branches the gray moss waves dreamily, while leaves of palest yellow drop and silently float through the still air until they fall into the stream. in the fields, the corn-gatherers pause to doff their hats and smile their welcome. ere long the barns and workshops of the upper plantation become visible. the tall gables and chimneys of the great house glisten in the sunlight. they pass the little church, with its bell half hidden amid the brown leaves of the great oak from which it dangles; from cabin chimneys, half hidden in trees, thin columns of smoke ascend and mingle with the soft blue sky. at the open gate, a broadly smiling dusky group stands with welcome depicted upon every face. hearty handshakes of real affection are exchanged, while the children are being hugged, caressed, laughed over, and extolled for their growth and beauty. the master and mistress pass under the trees, whose long shadows rest upon the soft, green grass between streams of sunshine. the old piazza, gilded into brightness, smiles a welcome home. my own early home i was born at the old home in raleigh, upon the land originally held by my great-grandfather, colonel lane, from the crown. it had been the home of my grandfather, harry lane, and of his wife, mary, and it was there that their children and grandchildren were born. when my oldest brother attained his majority, he took possession of this place, while my mother settled at wills forest, which was also part of the lane land. this, wills forest, became our beloved summer home, which i inherited at the death of my dear mother. at the breaking out of the war between the states, your grandfather left to his subordinates his plantation interests in the eastern part of the state, and wills forest became our permanent home. although you never saw this place in its palmy days, still, you are too well acquainted with its situation to need a description. in spite of neglect, wills forest is still beautiful; to it my heart is ever turning with regret and longing for that which can never return. it was for many years the brightest and happiest of homes, and as such it is still remembered by many besides its former inmates. hospitality has ever been a marked characteristic of the lane blood. colonel lane's doors were ever open, not only to his friends, but to every wayfarer, and as the small settlement, originally called bloomsbury, became raleigh, and the state capital, he found it necessary to build an "ornery" for the accommodation of strangers; this building stood upon hillsborough street, and was torn down only a short time ago. these "orneries" were a very common adjunct to gentlemen's residences in country neighborhoods, where there were no inns for the accommodation of travelers. we once stopped at one belonging to the littles, near littleton. it was kept by two servants, a man and his wife, belonging to the family, and they made us very comfortable. my grandfather, harry lane, inherited his father's liberal and open-hearted nature, and the old home, even since the death of my brother, still maintains its character for genial hospitality. nor was wills forest inferior to it in that respect. my mother, accustomed from earliest youth to lavish housekeeping, kept it up after her removal to wills forest, and, so long as her health permitted, ever took delight in making her home all that a kindly, open-handed hospitality could. nor do i think its character deteriorated after your grandfather became its master. both he and i were fond of society, and few strangers ever came to town who were not entertained at wills forest. this could not be possible now, but previous to the war it was not at all impossible, and, during the war, at times, we received whole families of refugees. i do not mention these facts in a boastful spirit, but only as a sample of the old customs of the south. during the winter of , we had the pleasure of entertaining the family of colonel norris of baltimore, and early in march we had an unexpected visit from a large party of south carolinians, who had been wounded in an attack made by general kilpatrick upon gen. joseph e. johnston's command at fayetteville. your grandfather met them in the street seeking for shelter; and, compassionating their forlorn condition, he directed them to wills forest. when we first caught sight of the cortège surrounding two ambulances, we were alarmed, thinking that it must be the yankees coming to deprive us of house and home. you may, perhaps, imagine the relief when i saw the dear confederate gray. i met the cavalcade at the front steps, and bade them welcome; the wounded were brought in and laid upon beds in the nursery, after which i directed one of our men, frank, the carriage-driver, i think it was, to conduct the horsemen to the stable, to give the horses a plentiful feed, and then to bring the men up to the house to get their dinners. in ordinary times, this unlooked-for addition of more than twenty guests would, no doubt, have been an unwelcome tax, but in those days preceding the sad termination of the war there were so many poor, half-starved stragglers from the different commands passing to and fro, that we were never unprepared to feed as many as called upon us. at this time, two cooks were kept continually at work in the kitchen preparing such plain food as we could command: such as boiled hams, biscuit, loaf bread, corn bread, and wheat coffee. the milk and butter, all that we had, were joyfully given to our soldiers. the gray jacket was, indeed, a passport to every southern heart. i have fed many a poor, footsore "boy in gray," but never in a single instance heard a despondent word from one of them. most grateful they were for their good, abundant meals, but often too modest to carry any away in their haversacks. in times of peace, both before and after the war, the social life at the table, with family and always welcome friends, was a source of much pleasure. for a dinner of ten or twelve persons, including ourselves, there would be a ham at the head, a large roast turkey at the foot, a quarter of boiled mutton, a round of beef _à la mode_, and a boiled turkey stuffed with oysters. in the middle of the table would be celery in tall cut-glass stands, on the sides cranberries in moulds and various kinds of pickles. with these would be served either four or six dishes of vegetables and scalloped oysters, handed hot from the plate-warmer. the dessert would be a plum pudding, clear stewed apples with cream, with a waiter in the centre filled with calf's-foot jelly, syllabub in glasses, and cocoanut or cheesecake puddings at the corners. the first cloth was removed with the meats. for a larger entertainment a roast pig would be added, ice-cream would take the place of stewed apples. the dessert cloth would be removed with the dessert, and the decanters and fruit set upon the bare mahogany, with the decanters in coasters; cigars would follow, after the ladies had left, of course. at the time of the surrender, general logan borrowed, or asked to borrow, my tables and cut-glass tumblers and wine-glasses; as such a request meant an order, i, of course, allowed them to be taken; to my surprise all were returned. generals grant and sherman were entertained by logan at this time, the tables being set before his tent in the grove. when my two little girls went to day school at st. mary's, their dinners were sent to them by a negro boy or man. he carried the basket of hot dinner, while another carried the ice for their water, while another often walked behind bearing a large watermelon. as the other day-pupils dined in a similar way, the road at this time of day would be full of negroes carrying dinners. since these bygone days, knowledge has increased, and men go to and fro with ease between the far corners of the earth; but i do not think that either virtue or happiness has kept pace with this increase of knowledge, nor has there ever been or will there ever be again such a country as the old south, nor a people so good, so brave, or so true-hearted as the dear, primitive people of that good old time. two bob whites two bob whites were standing beneath the old thorn-bush at the far end of the orchard; indeed, they had been standing there for some time, with their heads held close, just as though they were talking together. in fact, that is just what they were doing. they were talking about the nest that they were going to build. and it was high time, for already there was a nice little brood in that nest beyond the brook. but our bob whites were a prudent couple; they did not approve of those early broods which came off barely in time to miss the chilly may rains. but the may spell was over now, the sun shone hot upon the waving wheat, and over the fence, there in the old field, the dewberries were ripe. already the little boys who live in the house over yonder had been after the berries, regardless of briers and bare feet. yes, it was high time that nest was built; but, somehow, they could not fix upon an altogether suitable location. true, the old thorn-bush, with its wide-spreading branches, was most attractive; but there the cart tracks ran too close by. as they stood thus in the clover, all undecided, they were startled by a loud cry from robin redbreast, whose nest was high up in that apple tree. turning to ascertain the cause of the outcry, they espied a great, evil-looking, yellow cat, creeping through the long grass. this decided them, and without waiting another moment, they abandoned the thorn-bush and flew away to seek a safer abode. this they finally found over toward the wheat field, far away from cats and all the nuisances which attend the abodes of men. the nest was built back of the old gray, lichen-covered fence, just above the brook where the hazels and alders grow. all around was a blackberry thicket, and a great tussock of brown sedges sheltered the nest like a roof. just beyond the fence was the wheat field. no one ever came there, excepting that now and then on a saturday the little boys who lived over yonder would pass by with their fishing-poles, jump the fence, and disappear in the hazel thickets. the bob whites didn't mind the boys, unless nip happened to be along, nosing about in search of some mischief to get into. but as yet no little white egg lay in the nest, and when nip cocked his impudent little ears at them, they were off with a whirr that sent him, scampering, startled and scared, after the boys. from the trees to which they had flown, the bob whites watched the movements of the boys with some anxiety. "they might, you know," whispered mrs. bob, "be after that brood of our cousin's beyond the brook; but no, they've stopped--they are throwing something into the water, and there's that good-for-nothing nip with them, so we may go back to the nest." but they did not go, for there was that pert jennie wren fluttering about, as bold as anything, actually peeping into the bait gourd, and, goodness gracious! she has stolen a worm and flown off with it; what impudence! and listen, there's cardinal grosbeak singing to them,-- "boys, boys, boys, do, do, do fish a little deeper." there he is, just a little above them, upon the hackberry; now he's flown to that willow; he looks like a coal of fire, there among the green leaves. now he begins again with his-- "boys, boys, boys, do, do, do." "the song may do well enough, but we don't approve of such forward ways," sighed mrs. bob. "no," chimed in mrs. mate hare, limping from her home in the broom sedge. "it's not safe, with that horrid little nip so near; to be sure, they've got wings, but as for me, he just frightens the life out of me, with his nosing and sniffing; forever nosing and sniffing after some mischief." and she wiggled her nose and ears and looked so funny that the bob whites almost laughed in her face. before long there was a little white egg in the nest, and bob white was so proud of it that he just stood upon the fences and called, "bob white, bob white, bob white," all day long. and the boys who lived over yonder at the farmhouse said, "listen to the bob white, he's got a nest over there in the wheat." "let him alone," said the farmer; "there'll be good shooting over there by and by." but bob white had no thoughts to spare for by-and-bys. the blue june sky and the rustling wheat, the wild roses, and that little egg lying there in the nest were enough for him. so he just turned his round breast to the sunshine, and called "bob white" louder than ever. after a while, when the nest was full of eggs, the bob whites would creep through the wheat and whisper of the little ones that would soon be coming. "they'll be here by the time the wheat is ripe," says bob. "it'll be fine feeding for them," replies mrs. bob. they never thought of the reapers with their sharp scythes, and of the noise and tramping, where all was now so peaceful. while mrs. bob sat upon her eggs, it amused her to see the mate hares come limping out at sunset, very timidly at first, pausing, startled, at every sound. soon, however, they forgot their fears and began their dances, hopping and running round and round like mad, and cutting such capers as quite scandalized the bob whites. "how very odd!" said mrs. bob, as she settled herself over her eggs. "i have heard that the march hares have a bee in their bonnets." "same family," bob white replied drowsily. then mrs. bob, pressing her soft feathers gently upon her eggs, tucked her head under her wing and slept. their dance over, the mate hares skipped down to the meadow, where the dew lay thick upon the clover. "how good!" they said, as they nibbled and munched. "so sweet and tender, with the dew upon it!" "who would eat dry seeds like the bob whites?" said one. "and go to sleep at dusk!" snickered another. "and whistle all day!" said a third. "as much as to say to all men and dogs, 'here i am, come and shoot me;' so silly! oh, there's no family like the mate hares for sense; come, let's have another dance." so they skipped and hopped and munched clover until the dawn sent them scudding away to their homes. well, at last, upon a sunny june morning, the lonely field was no longer lonely, neither was it quiet; for the grain was ripe and the reapers had come. yes, the reapers had come, and with them came nip. yes, there he was, showing that ugly little red tongue of his, and poking his black nose into every hole and bush; no place was safe from those inquisitive eyes and sharp little cruel teeth. mr. bob watched him with a fluttering heart, as he ran sniffing about; suddenly, there came a sharp yelp, and then mrs. mate hare's cotton tail went flying over rock and brier, followed by nip, with his short, inadequate legs. soon, however, he tired of this fun, and, trotting back, cocked his ears at the brier patch, sniffed about it, and crept in. bob white, with an anxious call, flew into a tree. "he's got a nest somewhere about there," said one of the reapers. "i bet it's full of eggs," he added. "yes, but the boss has give orders that they ain't to be tetched," said another. then there came from the thicket a growl and a yelp, and mrs. bob, with a loud whirr, flew to her mate. "nip's got 'em!" cried one of the men, and, picking up a stone, he ran to the thicket, from whence now issued yelps of anguish. "he'll not trouble them again, i reckon," the man said, with a grin, as he picked up his scythe. nip trotted home with a crestfallen and dejected air, but the bob whites, still agitated, remained in the tree, with necks craned anxiously toward the nest. when, at length, mrs. bob found courage to return, the melancholy sight met her eyes of three broken eggs, some more scattered ones, and a generally disordered nest. bob now came to her assistance, the scattered eggs were put back, the nest repaired, and mrs. bob contentedly seated herself upon it. the hatching time was drawing near, and it was a most exciting period. mrs. bob sat very still, but, as for bob, he just fidgeted from nest to tree and back again, stopping around and asking questions. yes, one egg is pipped; they'll all be out by to-morrow. and so they were,--thirteen little puff-balls, upon tiny coral feet. "there would have been sixteen, but for that horrid nip," sighed mrs. bob. but she was very proud and happy, as she led the little brood through the brush, showed them how to pick up ants' eggs, and tore up the soft mould for grubs and other dainties. when the nimble little feet grew tired, she took them to the alder thicket, where, hidden away beneath her feathers, they piped themselves to rest. it was very quiet now: the reapers had gone; there was no rustling of waving wheat, only the shocks stood up silent; there was only the soft clang, clang from the bell-cow, as the herd went home. then the sun went down, and grayness followed, and from the thicket came the sad cry of the chuck will's widow. but the bob whites were fast asleep. at dawn, bob white stood upon the topmost rail, and whistled and whistled as loud as he could; he felt so happy that he had to repeat, "bob white, bob white" to everything that he saw,--to the bell-cow, as she passed by on her way to the meadow; then to the boy, who popped his whip and whistled back; then to the trees, which nodded in return. when the sun came glinting through the leaves and set the dewdrops to glistening and the whole world to laughing, he whistled louder than ever, just for joy. but presently the reapers came again. then bob white slipped away and hid himself far down amid the alders, where mrs. bob was showing the puff-balls how to pick up grubs and how to use their little nimble legs in running after gnats and other good things. "don't try to catch that great bee, but come and pick up these ants' eggs," she called, as she threw aside the earth with her strong claws. "you must attend to what i say, for you are very ignorant little things, and if you are not careful to mind what i say you may be caught up by a hawk at any moment. so, listen: when i say 'tuk,' you must hide yourselves immediately; don't try to run away, but just get under a rock, or even a leaf, or just flatten yourselves upon the ground, if you can't do better; you are so nearly the color of the ground that a boy will never see you, and you can even escape a hawk's keen eye." after a while, mother and brood left the alder thicket, and, as the reapers were now in a distant part of the field. mrs. bob led them all to a sunny spot where they might pick upon the fallen grains and wallow in the dry, hot sand. it was very nice to do this, and they were having a charming time, when suddenly voices were heard, and at once two boys were upon them. but not so much as one little brown head or one little pink toe was visible; the sign had been given, and now only a poor, wounded bob white lay in the path before them. "she's dead," said one of the boys. "no, she ain't, her wing's broke," cried the other, as he made a dive at her. but somehow, mrs. bob continued to flop the broken wing, and to elude them. another futile dive, and the two tin buckets containing the reapers' dinners were thrown down and forgotten in the keen interest of chasing the wounded bob white, who managed to flop and flutter just beyond their reach until she had led them quite across the field,--then, with a whirr, she bounded into the air and safely perched herself upon a distant tree. the astonished small boys gazed blankly after her, wiped their hot faces upon their sleeves, and turned, reluctantly, to pick up their buckets. as they went along, hot and crestfallen, one of them suddenly exclaimed: "she's got young ones hid yonder, i bet," and with that they set off at a run. mrs. bob white, who knew boy-nature well, craned her neck to watch, and fluttered nearer. then bob white came, and both continued to watch with anxiously beating hearts, for those little boys were evidently bent upon mischief. would the poor little puff-balls outwit them? one little piping cry, one brown head raised, and all would be lost. but, as they watched, their fears began to subside. the boys are again wiping their hot faces, they look discouraged, they have evidently found nothing; yes, certainly not, for, see, they are picking up their buckets, and now they are going across the field to where the reapers are calling them to hurry along with their dinners. such daily annoyances as this now determined the bob whites to take refuge in the alder thicket, in whose deep seclusion they soon regained tranquillity of spirits. the dampness of the situation, however, proving most unfavorable to their brood, they anxiously awaited the time when the departure of the reapers would restore quiet and enable them to return to their haunts. at length the wished-for time arrived; from the topmost boughs of the big maple bob white could see neither man, boy, or dog, in the whole length and breadth of the field. summoning the family together, they joyfully crept through the brush to bask in the broad stretches of sunshine and to pick up the scattered grain amid the stubble. here they remained through all the long summer days, their solitude broken only by the yellow butterflies and by the big brown grasshoppers bumping about in the stubble, the silence broken only by the occasional jangle from the bell-cow, as she shook the deerflies from her sleek sides. by and by, when the goldenrod was yellow upon the hillside, the young ones, in their new brown coats, began to try their wings, and felt very proud if they could make them whirr, when they rose to the fence or to a low brush. had they been boys, they would have been called hobbledehoys; but, being bob whites, they were known as squealers, and as such they felt very mannish and ambitious to be independent; but, nevertheless, they still liked to huddle together at nightfall and talk over the day's doings, close to, if not under, the mother's wing. by and by, again, when goldenrod stood brown and sere upon the hillside and the sumach glowed red in the fence corners and thickets, when the fall crickets were chiming their dirge down amid the grass roots and the air was growing frosty at nights, then the bob whites grew restless and took flight for a far-off pea field, noted as a feeding-ground. here they met other families of kinsfolks, and then began a right royal time, running nimbly through the rich pea vines or scratching in sassafras or sumach thickets for insects, growing fat and growing lazy all the time. the gourmand of the autumn was in manner quite a contrast to the bob whites of the days of young wheat and wild roses. no blithe, good music now issued from that throat so intent upon good cheer. true, some unpleasant rumors are afloat. the mate hares, scudding frantically away, reported an advance of men, with guns and dogs; but the mate hares were always silly and unreliable. so our bob whites just keep on eating and making merry. fortune may favor them,--who knows? let us hope, and listen out next year for the cheery "bob white, bob white," from the old nesting-place. little dave the cool fogginess of an august morning has melted under the fierce sun. the level fields, like a waveless ocean, stretch away into the dim, green distance. the hot air quivers above cotton-fields, heavy with bolls and gay with blossoms, which give out a half-sickening fragrance. a languid air rustles low amid the corn, from whose dense growth arises a damp, hot breath. out in the pasture, work-horses leisurely crop the sunburnt grass, or stand under the trees, lazily switching away the swarming gnats. a restful quiet broods over the big plantation, for the plow and the hoe have finished their task; sun and showers must do the rest. the crop is "laid by," and the summer holidays have begun. three days of rest before the gathering in begins. over at the quarter, the young people fill the long, lazy day with patting and dancing, banjo-playing and watermelon-eating. the elders, for the most part, are absorbed in preparations for the big holiday dinner. by dawn, holes have been dug in the ground and heated for the barbecuing of various meats, and those who hold the honorable posts of cooks are busily engaged in basting, tasting, and sending the small urchins after fuel. some of the women are kneading flour hoe-cakes; others, gathered about a table under a great mulberry tree, are peeling fruit for pies, while now and then they raise their voices with blood-curdling threats to hasten the lagging steps of a little gang, which, looking like a string of black beetles, troop slowly along from the orchard, each holding in the skirt of his solitary garment the small store of fruit which he has not been able to eat. a row of tables spread in the shade stands ready for the feast, and, along the pathway, the guests from neighboring plantations are already approaching. up at the great house an unnatural quiet prevails, for upon this day all work is laid aside and all are off to the barbecue; even old aunt sylvie has forgotten the "misery" in her back, has donned her sunday garments, and stepped briskly off to the quarter; cook, too, has closed the ever-open kitchen door and departed, along with nurse, over whose toilet her little charges have presided with so much zeal that they have emptied their mother's cologne flask in order to bedew their mammy's pocket-handkerchief to their satisfaction. tiny curly-headed jack feels rather disconsolate without his mammy, but is partially consoled by flattering visions of what her pockets will bring home at the end of the day.[ ] away down upon the creek the little gristmill stands silent; the old mossy wheel has for to-day ceased its splash and clatter, and, like all else upon the plantation, is resting from its labor; to-day no sacks stand open-mouthed, awaiting their turn; no little creaking carts, no mill boys mounted astride their grists are seen upon the path, and wat, the miller, in the lazy content of dirt and idleness, lies basking in the sun. within the wattle fence on the other side of the path, his three children, little dave, emma jane, and a fat baby, are sprawling upon the ground, along with the house pig, two puppies, and the chickens. little dave, who is perhaps somewhat dwarfed by toting first emma jane in her infancy, and now the fat baby, looks not unlike a careworn little ape, as he sits flat upon the ground, spreading his bony toes for the baby to claw at. emma jane, with her stout little body buttoned into a homespun frock, is also seated in the sand, solemnly munching upon a hunk of corn bread, while the chickens, with easy familiarity, peck at the crumbs which fall upon her black shins. within the cabin, polly, the miller's wife, has tied a string of beads about her sleek black throat, and now, in all the bravery of her flowered calico, is ready to set off for the quarter; first, though, she pauses at the gate to speak to little dave. "when de chile git hongry, you git dat sweeten water off de shelf and gie it to him long wid his bread;" then adds, with a suspicion of tenderness upon her comely face; "i gwine fetch you some pie." then, calling to wat, that he had better "fix his sef and come along, ef he speck to git any of de dinner," she steps briskly along the narrow pathway, mounts the zigzag fence, and disappears amid the high corn. some miles below, where the little creek which turns the mill-wheel steals from out the swamp to join the river, a clumsy, flat-bottomed scow lies grounded upon a sand-bar. this is no evil to boat jim, who, sprawled upon the deck, snores away the hours, regardless of the blistering sun beating down upon his uncovered head, and all unconscious of the departure of his chance passenger, an itinerant organ-grinder. this fellow, having had the ill luck to lose the respectable member of the firm, his monkey, and finding difficulty without the aid of his little partner to attract an audience, had, while idling about the docks, encountered boat jim, and persuaded the latter to give him a lift up the river, the condition being that he was to grind as much music as jim should desire. but, disgusted with three days of slow progress upon the boat, he had, after viciously kicking the unconscious jim, stolen the small boat and put himself ashore. following the windings of the creek, he came to the little mill, where, attracted by the shade, he seated himself close to the wattle fence of polly's little yard. hearing voices, he peeped through the fence, and his eyes were soon fixed upon little dave, who, with the fat baby and emma jane for spectators, is performing various tricks with infinite delight to himself. he stands upon his head, he turns somersaults, he dances, he pats, and finally he swings himself into a tree, where he skips about with the agility of a monkey. a thought comes into the organ-grinder's head; he glances at the silent mill and at the cabin: evidently both are deserted; here is a chance to replace the dead monkey. the sun is sending long shafts of crimson light into the swamp and glinting upon the millhouse; the high corn, awakening from its midday torpor, rustles softly to the evening breeze, as wat and polly wend their way homeward. a bucket, lightly poised upon polly's head, holds scraps of barbecue and little dave's promised pie, and, as she draws near the wattle fence, she thinks, with a pleased smile, of how she will set it before "de chilluns," when a prolonged howl falls upon her ears. recognizing the voice of emma jane, she says to herself: "she hongry, i spek," and trudges on, in nowise disturbed by this familiar sound. but, when they enter the yard, there is only emma jane, bawling, open-mouthed, beside the baby, who, with the house pig, lies asleep on the warm sand. the chickens are daintily picking their way to the house, the old muscovy duck has tucked her head under her wing for the night, old keep, the stump-tailed coon dog, crawls from under the cabin to greet them. but where is dave? the miller carries the sleeping child indoors, followed by the still bawling emma jane, while the wrathful polly goes to the back of the house. stripping the twigs from a switch, she mutters: "i knows what you's arter; you tuck yoursef to dat watermillion patch, dat whar you gone; but ne' mine, boy, you jest le' me git hold o' you." then, after a time given to unsuccessful search, calls of "da-a-vie--oh, oh, dave!" fall upon the stillness, to be answered only by weird echo from the lonely swamp. returning from her search, she finds wat seated upon the doorstep. "dave done took hissel off to de quarter," he says; "but no mind, i gwine fill him full o' licks in de mornin'." but, when morning comes and brings no little dave, wrath gives place to fear. the plantation is aroused; finally the mill-pond is dragged, and, although the body is not found, the conclusion is that the boy has been drowned. after a time polly's smile beams as broadly as ever, but her heart still yearns for her boy, and amid the sleepy drone of her spinning-wheel, she pauses to listen; or, standing in her door, she looks ever wistfully along the crooked path. across the way, the little mill clatters on as merrily as of yore; wat heaves the great sacks upon his brawny shoulder, metes out the grist, and faithfully feeds the hopper; but, when a chance shadow falls athwart the sunny doorway, he looks up with a gleam of hope upon his stupid, honest face, then brushes his hand across his eyes, and goes on in stolid patience with his work. so the summer and the autumn pass, without change, save that emma jane substitutes sweet potatoes for corn bread, and the fat baby has learned to balance himself upon his bowlegs. upon a winter evening wat enters the cabin at the usual hour. polly has laid a bit of clean homespun upon the table; his bowl of coffee, his fried meat, and his hoe-cake stand ready; but, instead of falling to, as his custom is, he sits silent and despondent, with his face buried in his hands, until polly asks:-- "what de matter; is you po'ly?" "i dunno as i 'se, to say, po'ly," wat replies, "but dat boy's been a-pesterin' me dis livelong day, a-callin' 'daddy, daddy!' jes' like i talkin' now, till seem like i 'se most beat out along o' him." "dat mighty curous," polly answered, "'cause ole keep, he's been a-howlin' dis blessed day. i 'lowed dat ung silas were gwine be tuck." "'t ain't dat," the miller interrupted. "ung silas, he done got better; he howlin' arter sompen nother, but 't ain't arter ung silas." upon that identical winter's day, in a back alley of new york, a small crowd of idlers had gathered to witness the performance of the "man monkey." a little creature, dressed in tinsel, leaped and capered, keeping time to the grinding of an organ. when the spectators were silent, he would glance timidly at his ill-favored keeper, but when they cheered, the poor little figure would strive to outdo itself, in spite of laboring breath and trembling limbs. then a rope was stretched, and "the man monkey," seizing an end, swung himself up, and, amid the acclamations of the admiring mob, began a new act of his performance. the day was cold, and at that dizzy height the wind struck bitterly through the starved little overtaxed body; he lost his footing, caught wildly at the rope, missed it, and--fell. in that brief second did he see the old mill and the little cabin standing in the sunshine? did he hear his mother's voice? god knows. when a pitying hand gently turned the little heap of quivering humanity, a happy smile lit up the pinched face, and the dying lips murmured, "daddy." footnote: [ ] little jack is now a grave and reverend bishop, but i doubt if he has altogether forgotten the deliciousness of the flabby pie, eaten with such content at the close that day. the hog-feeder's day i the cold gray light of early dawn had given place to saffron, and the first drowsy challenge from the henroost had been shrilly answered from far and near, when old man jerry awoke from his nap in the chimney corner, and, finding himself chilled through all his old, rheumatic bones, bent over the dying embers, pushed together the blackened and half-burned "chunks," and blew them until they glowed. then, hitching his stool close into the ashes, he spread his horny palms to the blaze, and basked in its genial warmth as it crackled up the wide chimney. reaching his pipe from its nook, he filled it, dipped it skillfully in the coals so as to ignite without wasting the precious weed, and drew a long whiff by way of a start; then, bending still closer to the blaze, he pulled away, now and then rubbing his shins in slow content, as though to emphasize his comfort. all things, though, must come to an end. the "chunks" became a heap of white ashes, the pipe was finished, and broad shafts of light stealing down the chimney and under the door told "ung jerry" that it was time to be stirring. he had, according to his usual custom, risen from his bed long before cockcrow, and, having cooked and eaten his "morning bread," had unlatched his door in order to throw a morsel to his old hog-hound, "drive," who had already crept from under the house, and stood wagging his stump of a tail in eager expectancy. the morsel being thrown, the old man had cast a knowing look towards the heavens, and, judging by the seven stars that it yet lacked an hour to dawn, had returned to the smoky warmth and comfort of his hovel, where, seated in the chimney nook, he had nodded till roused by the crowings from all the neighboring henroosts--for his cabin was one of many. the pipe being smoked, ung jerry rose stiffly, and, shuffling to his bed, fumbled underneath it, and, taking care not to disturb the setting hen, brought out two bits of old blanket, with which he proceeded to wrap his feet before putting on his shoes.[ ] the hog-horn was now slung over the old coat, a bucket of cold victuals was reached from the shelf, and the old hog-feeder, equipped for his day's work, lifted the latch, and, stepping out into the sharp frostiness of the november morning, plodded with heavy steps toward the barnyard, drive following closely at his heels. the frosty fields were glittering in the slant rays of the newly risen sun, and sounds of busy life came floating through the crisp air, telling the old man that the day's labor had begun. the sharp crack of the teamster's whip told that the great ox wagons were already afield. the plow-boys whistled as they led out their mules; men and short-skirted, heavily shod women went trooping to the cotton fields; the milkwomen stepped briskly by, with the foaming pails balanced upon their well-poised heads. then came the cowboys, with noisy whoop, driving before them the crowding, clumsy, sweet-breathed herd, while, fearlessly amid all, pigeons fluttered, greedily picking up the refuse grain, heedless of the hoofs among which they pecked and fluttered. one small, grizzled mule, of great age and much cunning, had contrived to slip into the feedroom, and was there enjoying a stolen bait of oats when ung jerry found her. "you 'speck i wan't gwine fine you, i reckon, but you 'se wrong dis time," he said, taking her by one of the long ears and leading her off to the barnyard, where the little cart awaited her. drive, meanwhile, had crept under the barn, where, nosing about, he had come upon a hen's nest, and was feasting upon the warm, fresh eggs. the hitching-up was done with great deliberation. ung jerry plodded to and from the harness-room many times, bringing out first a chuck collar, then a bit of leather, finally, after a long search, an end of rope. at length, when all seemed to be adjusted, the old man again retired to the harness-room, where he remained so long that drive was contemplating another raid upon the hens, when he reappeared, bringing with him an old piece of bagging, with which he proceeded with careful adjustment to protect the old mule's back from the friction of the cart-saddle. she, meanwhile, had stood with closed eyes and flopped ears, immovable save for an occasional twitching of her small, rat-like tail; but when the loading began, her manner changed from its quiescent indifference; watchful glances followed each basketful that was dumped in, and an ominous backing of the ears gave warning of what would happen should the load be heavier than she liked. at length, all being ready for the start, ung jerry climbed slowly to his perch on the cart's edge, gave a jerk to the rope bridle, and rachel moved off, closely followed by drive, who, conscious of egg-sucking and fearful of its consequences, had prudently ensconced himself beneath the cart, from whence he eyed, suspiciously, all passers-by. slowly the little cart crept along the narrow plantation lanes, crept past the level cornfields and into the wide pasture, where sunburnt mares were grazing with their wild-eyed, unkempt colts; crept past the marsh, where the heron, disturbed in her solitary vigil, rose upon silent wing and sought some more secluded haunt amid the dim recesses of the swamp. turning at length into the forest, where the gray moss hanging from the trees almost obscured the deep blue autumnal sky, the cart slowly creaked through the rustling leaves until it came upon a cross fence which barred the way. here, as rachel came to a full stop, ung jerry awoke from his nap, descended from his perch, and, unslinging his horn, blew one long blast. one was enough. in a moment the deep stillness of the forest was broken by the pattering of many little feet; from the thickets the hogs came; each hurrying with might and main to be foremost, they rushed, grunting, squealing, crowding to the fence, where, standing with upturned faces and small covetous eyes, they awaited the feast of golden grain which the old man hastened to scatter amongst them. then, leaning upon the fence, he noted each greedy grunter as he wriggled his small tail in keenest enjoyment and cracked the sweet corn. no need was there to count; to the hog-feeder each animal possessed an individuality so marked that in all the drove the absence of the most insignificant was at once detected. so now, as he leaned upon the fence, he cast anxious glances into the dimness beyond. evidently some were missing. drive, too, divining his master's thoughts, stood with look intent and anxious yelp, impatient for the search to begin. then the word came, "seek, boy!" scrambling through the fence, he dashed into every covert or tangle wherein a hog might lurk, but without result; there came no rush of feet, no shaking of the brown leaves, no startled grunt. all was still, save for the quick panting of the old hound. the old man then turned his eyes again upon the greedy mob, still hoping to discover the missing ones amongst them. 't was all in vain. "de listed sow, _she_ done gone, an' de big white _hogue_, _he_ done gone, an' seben head o' shotes!" he at length murmured, still, however, casting expectant glances toward the thickets, in which drive was still sniffing with uneasy yelpings. "seem like dem creturs is clean gone, sho' nuf," he exclaimed, with an air of unwilling conviction; then adding, "well, ef dey's gone, i 'se got 'em to fine, dat's de trufe." he called in the dog, and, taking his dinner bucket, climbed the fence and struck off into the woods. now and again he would pause, put his horn to his lips, and give a long blast, then stand listening with anxious expectancy. every thicket was searched. it was a weary tramp,--through bogs and sloshes, where the cypress knees stood up like sugar-loaves in the shallow water, or sometimes his steps were bent to some open glade, where the great oaks dropped sweet mast among the brown leaves. the day was no longer young when a low fence came into view; beyond it stretched a levee, and at its base a glint of water showed itself through the great trees, which stretched their mighty arms as though they would embrace it. ung jerry, after climbing the fence, mounted the levee and stood upon the brink of a wide and muddy river. taking off his hat, the old man wiped the sweat from his face, then turned an observant eye upon the river, whose muddy waters were already lapping the boughs of the overhanging trees, and with a long-drawn breath exclaimed, "bank an' bank!" then, as his experienced eye noted the angry swirls near the shore and the débris borne rapidly upon the turbid current, "an' still on de rise. she gwine be out in de low groun's befo' mornin', bless de lord; i's been 'spectin' she gwine play dis trick eber since de win' set like et did." then, looking at the field of standing corn upon the further shore, protected by a low levee, and seeming to be upon a lower level than the red waters of the flood, he soliloquized:-- "i's skeared de fresh gwine 'stroy a sight o' mars jones's corn. it raly do 'pear like dat corn mout a been housed befo' now." the old man's thoughts were interrupted at this point by loud and animated barkings from drive, and, hurrying to the spot whence they proceeded, he discovered the old hound standing in a broken gap in the fence, in a state of excitement over the numerous footprints which told that the truants had broken through and made for the river, evidently with designs upon "mars jones's" cornfield. "here's wha' dey tuck de watah," the old man remarked to the dog, as together they followed the footprints to the water's edge. "dat 'ere listed sow, she got mo' sense un folks! she know 'bout mars jones's corn, an' dey ain't no fence gwine stop dat cretur when she take a notion for to go. "well, well, well, de listed sow, an' de big white hogue, an' seben head o' shotes done tore down de fence, an' took deyselves 'cross de riber for to steal mars jones's corn; i 'clare 't is a disgrace. i reckon mars jones gwine cuss a plenty when he fine it out. it certinly is a pity for master's creturs to do sich a low-life trick as dat. but bless de lord," and a look of crafty triumph came into his face, "dey's got dey bellies full, anyhow." with this pleasing reflection, and the conviction that nothing more could be done for the present, the old man seated himself upon a log, opened his bucket, took out his jack-knife, and proceeded to eat his dinner, while drive sat by, in eager readiness to snatch the morsels flung to him, ere they could reach the ground. when the meal was finished, dog and man each took comfort in his own way. the dog stretched himself in the sunshine. the old man sat with bent head "a-studyin'," then nodded, then fell into a deep sleep, soothed by the silence, which reigned unbroken save for the distant cawing of a crow. the long gray moss swayed dreamily upon the motionless boughs of the giant trees. where the sycamore lifted its gaunt, white arms, the great bald eagle sat immovable, watching with fierce, intent gaze for its prey in the waters below. ii the shadows were growing long upon wood and river when the light dip of a paddle broke upon the stillness, and old jerry, rousing from his nap, spied a canoe gliding down stream, guided by two youths who, with their guns lying crosswise upon their knees, were making for the bank. "mars harry an' mars phil," he murmured, eying them with lazy curiosity, as they brought their little craft to land, and after making it fast, picked up their guns, crossed the levee, and struck off into the swamp. "dey's after turkey, i 'speck; mars harry an' me, we's killed many a varmint in dese here woods. dey want no mars phil 'bout here in dem days befo' ole mars were tuck down." thus soliloquizing, the old man continued to gaze wistfully after the retreating figures; for their appearance had seemed to bring a disturbing element into his peaceful dreams, and a look of helpless trouble overspread his face as, taking off his hat and slowly scratching his head, he murmured:-- "seem like it mos' a pity mars phil trouble hisself for to come here, anyhow. well, well, well! we folks all gwine be 'vided up 'twix mars harry an' mars phil, 'cause ole mars, he not long for dis world! bless de lord, whinsoever it please him for to teck ole mars to hisself, i trus' he gwine 'vide off jerry to mars harry's shere, 'cause i nachally ain't got no use for t'other one--he too outlondesh." so saying, he rose and reached his bucket from the bough where it hung. drive, who had for some moments been watching him out of the corner of one red eye, rose also, and the two set out upon their tramp back to the cart. the old man had climbed the fence, the dog had scrambled through, and both were threading their way across the swamp, when the report of a gun close by caused the dog to beat a retreat from the thicket into which he had thrust his nose, and, with tail tucked in, to creep to his master's side; while the old man, exclaiming, "good gor-a-mighty! whot dat?" pushed aside the bushes in order to see what game the boys had brought down. the sight that met his eyes froze him with horror. philip's lifeless body lay upon the ground, while harry, with scared white face, bent over it. for a brief space the old man stood as if petrified, then muttered: "jerry ain't gwine know nothin' bout dis here. when ole mars say, 'jerry, what you seen in de vine ridge swash?' jerry, he gwine say, 'nothin', marster, fo' de lord. i seen nothin' 't all!' an' i ain't gwine tell no lie, nuther, 'cause i ain't gwine look!" thus thinking, he cautiously drew back, and, with ashen face and limbs that through trembling almost failed to support him, he stealthily crept away until out of earshot; then took to his heels and fled. when, however, he was forced to pause for breath, he considered if he had done well to desert his young master, and turned reluctantly to retrace his steps, when, as he did so, the air was suddenly rent with ear-piercing shrieks for half a second, and jerry's heart quailed. "it's boun' to be de debil," he whispered. then, a light seeming to break upon him, he exclaimed: "bless god! 't ain't nothin' but de ole chieftain a-blowin'." the chieftain, a small freight steamer, had recently taken the place of the old flat-bottomed scows, and, as the steam whistle was still a novelty, it is not surprising that ung jerry, in his terror, should for the moment have mistaken it for some unearthly sound. after many irresolute pauses, the old man at length reached the scene of the disaster, and with shaking hands thrust aside the bushes. except for the small birds silently flitting to their roosts, the place was utterly deserted. the level sunbeams glinted through the gray moss, gilded the tree trunks, and glowed crimson upon the brown leaves; the solitary peace of nature seemed unbroken; only the pool of blood at ung jerry's feet told him that what he had witnessed had not been a vision. after a moment's survey he was turning away, when his eyes fell upon the two guns: here, at least, was something tangible, and the old man proceeded to secrete them in the fallen leaves. squatted upon the ground, he was too busily engaged to note the sound of approaching footsteps, and started violently when a rough voice accosted him. he mustered courage, however, to quaver:-- "dat you, mars jones?" "me? of course it's me! who did you reckon it was?" "i dunno, mars jones." "well, you'll know next time, if you don't keep them hogs o' yourn out of my corn. why, that confounded old sow can destroy more corn in one night than you are worth." "yes, mars jones, dat de trufe," meekly assented the old man. mars jones, warming to the subject, now waxed more and more eloquent over his grievances, until, having exhausted his pent up wrath, he had leisure to observe old jerry's ashen face and shaking limbs, and he exclaimed:-- "why, what's the matter with you? are you sick?" "yes, mars jones, i's been po'ly dis liblong day, an' i's gittin' sassifrax for to make me a little drap o' tea, i's got sich a mis'ry." "sassafras!" here broke in mars jones; and, good-natured, despite his roughness, he took from his pocket a _tickler_, and handing jerry a dram, said: "drink this, you old blockhead. _sassifrax_, indeed!--what good you reckon sassifrax goin' do you?" with a scrape and a bow and a "thank ye, marster," the old man gulped down the dram, and mars jones, replacing his _tickler_, was turning away, when his foot slipped in something, and looking down he saw that it was blood. the dram had put so much heart into the old man that he was able to reply glibly to mars jones's questions. "its jes' wha' i's been markin' hogs, marster." "i don't believe you; i believe you've been killin' one of your master's hogs--that's what you've been at." but as this did not concern him, he did not wait to inquire further, and so, turning on his heel, he strode off. the hog-feeder, too, hastening away, took the shortest path back to his cart. the deserted barnyard lay silent in the white moonlight when the little cart creaked through the gate; but up at the "great house" there were lights and movements where the family watched the coming of the boys. thursday, friday, and saturday passed without tidings, and the hope that they had been caught by the rising water and imprisoned upon some isolated knoll had been abandoned after the swamps had been searched in every direction. to add to the grief of the household, the master, already enfeebled, now lay prostrated in a condition that almost forbade hope. upon sunday the waters began to abate, fences again appeared, and patches of drowned corn showed themselves above the wastes of water, to the no small joy of the flocks of blackbirds which chattered and fluttered amongst them. mr. jones, tired of the loneliness of his water-girt home, made his way to the meeting-house, more for the sake of a gossip with some of the neighbors than for the day's preaching, and it was there that he first heard the startling news of the unaccountable disappearance of squire brace's nephews. in the excitement, each man was eager to advance his own theory. the discussion ended, however, in the general opinion that their canoe had been swamped in the freshet and the boys drowned, until a newcomer asserted that the canoe, with phil's overcoat still in it, had been found tied up at the vine ridge landing, and that their guns had been discovered hidden in the leaves at no great distance in the swamp. upon hearing this, mr. jones could but call to mind his meeting with the hog-feeder, his strange behavior, and the blood upon the ground, and he at once jumped to the conclusion that old jerry had been at least a party to some foul deed. his suspicions, once made known, became certainties, and the whole party, hastily mounting their horses, rode off to the nearest justice, their convictions gaining ground so rapidly that, ere the house of the justice was reached, poor, simple old jerry, the most harmless of god's creatures, had become in their estimation a villain of the deepest dye. upon this identical sunday morning the old hog-feeder betook himself to the little plantation church, whose bell, with cracked clamor, gave warning that preaching was about to begin. the frosty brightness of the past week had given place to a soft mist, through whose dimness the pale sunbeams looked sadly upon the autumnal world; and as the old man, dressed in his sunday clothes, plodded along the path, the tiny crickets from beneath the grass sent up their sad, perpetual dirge. men and women, all shining with sabbath cleanness, came straggling toward the church, silently and soberly, without the usual light-hearted laughter, for the trouble at the "great house" was felt by all the little band. yet their feelings were not without a mixture of pleasurable excitement, for all were anticipating with gloomy satisfaction the lengthy prayers, the groanings, and the head-shakings upon this mournful day. the congregation had taken their seats, old jethro had taken his place in the pulpit, the long-drawn cadence of the funeral hymn had floated sadly up to the "great house," when a noise at the door startled the congregation, who, turning, beheld standing in the door a group of white men. among them was the overseer, who, coming forward, announced that hog-feeder jerry was to be arrested upon a charge of murder. "not that i believe it, men," he said, "but the law must take its course." in the meantime two others had approached the old man, who had already stumbled to his feet, and, while bowing in a dazed kind of way, kept murmuring, "sarvent, marsters." handcuffs were put upon him, and amid a profound silence he was led forth and lifted into a cart. the two sheriffs took their places upon each side of him, and the cortège moved off. the people, having sufficiently recovered from their shock to jostle one another out of the building, stood huddled together like a flock of frightened sheep; but when the cavalcade had driven off, a subdued clamor of voices arose, all unanimous in contempt for "dese here po' white, who'd ha' knowed better 'n to come meddlin' long o' marster's folks ef marster wan't down on de bed an' mos' like to die!" that the dull and simple brain of the old man should have been capable of any formulated plan is not to be imagined, and when upon the following day he was taken before the justice for examination, he merely acted from an instinct of affection in shielding his young master, even at the risk of his own life. when questioned, he preserved an obstinate silence; then, when forced to speak, denied having seen either of the boys upon the day of their disappearance, but, when cross-questioned, admitted that he had seen mars phil in the vine ridge woods; and finally, when taxed with the blood upon the ground and with having hidden the guns, he reluctantly admitted that "ef mars phil had been hurted" he had done it. "what did you do with the body?" questioned the justice; "throw it in the river?" a murmur from the prisoner, which passed for assent, concluded the examination, and the justice, sorely puzzled, committed him to jail to await his trial. with the early morning, the country people had begun to gather around the courthouse, and when told that the old miscreant had actually confessed to the murder, their innate love of justice gave place to fierce anger; and when the prisoner, gray with terror, bent and tottering, was led forth, he was surrounded by a silent but determined crowd, who, thrusting the sheriffs aside, seized and drove him before them, and had already slipped the noose about his neck, when an inarticulate shout caused the crowd to sway,--a horseman dashed into their midst and proclaimed that both boys were alive. their disappearance had been explained on that morning by a letter forwarded by hand, which ran as follows:-- on board the chieftain. dear uncle,--this afternoon, while hunting in the vine ridge woods, phil's gun went off and wounded him in the side. i was at my wit's end what to do, when i heard the chieftain blow up the river; so i tore off to the levee, where i was lucky enough to succeed in attracting captain smith's attention, who sent off a boat, and we managed to get phil on board. i wanted smith to put back to our landing, but he thought the current too strong; and on the whole, i believe it is better for phil to keep on to hilton, as it would be impossible to get a doctor at home in this high water. phil's hurt is not very serious, i hope. your dutiful nephew, harry brace. * * * * * on the day succeeding harry's homecoming, he entered the room designated the "study," in which the squire was usually to be found when indoors. the room probably owed the name of "study" to a set of _farmer's magazines_ which, in all the dignity of expensive bindings, divided the shelf with a rather damaged edition of "the turf register," a "farrier's manual," a brace of antiquated medical works, and a stack of newspapers. fishing tackle, a cupping apparatus, a set of engineering instruments, half a dozen ears of extra fine seed corn, medicine scales, and a huge cotton stock filled the rest of the bookcase. the squire, seated before a blazing fire, in the lazy comforts of convalescence, with pipe and tobacco at his elbow, presented a not unenviable picture when contrasted with the wintry grayness outside. harry, who had been greatly touched by the old hog-feeder's affectionate fidelity, now sought his uncle in order to beg that as a recompense he might be given his freedom. "freedom!" exclaimed the squire; "why, confound it, my dear boy, what would he do with freedom, if he had it?" "i think he would like it," harry murmured, a little sheepishly. "why, he's as free as air now; a deuced sight freer than i am." nevertheless harry gained his point, and though the squire growled, "you young jackanapes, you've robbed me of the best hog-feeder on the river," still he was evidently pleased, and in the evening old jerry was sent for. when, in answer to the summons, jerry presented himself at the study door, his master said to him, with a stateliness fitted to the occasion:-- "jerry, i have sent for you to tell you that your young master here, as a reward for your fidelity, desires to give you your freedom." here the squire paused, and jerry, not knowing what else to say, said, "yes, marster." harry, standing by, was feeling rather wrought up, while the squire, also somewhat excited, continued:-- "i will give you a house in the free settlement, out in the slashes, and your young master will always take care of you." another rather disconcerting pause was broken by a second "yes, marster;" and the old man, picking up his hat, shuffled out. the squire glanced at harry with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, but the boy's face expressed such blank disappointment that he took pity upon him, and, picking up a newspaper, dismissed the matter. upon the following evening a low knock was heard at the study door, then a fumbling at the latch, and old jerry once more stood upon the threshold. "well, old man, what is it now?" his master asked kindly. "come, out with it!" he repeated, as the old man, with a feeble grin, stood helplessly fingering his hat. "what's the matter?" and old jerry, slowly scratching his head, made answer:-- "thank, marster; i's come to ax marster what i done to 'splease mars?" "displease me! why, what has put that notion into your head?" "i dunno, mars, what i's done, but i's skeared mars mout be set agin me, 'cause he say he gwine sen' me offen de plantation." then harry explained that he was to be set free, and eagerly enlarged upon the delights of liberty. the hog-feeder listened, but was unmoved: he obstinately declined to accept his freedom, his plea being that "the varments" would "'stroy up his creeturs" if he were not there to look after them. "de black sow, she got a fine litter o' pigs now, an' de foxes is a'ter 'em de blessed time." after this no more could be urged, and jerry, scraping his foot, went out with a mind full of content. footnote: [ ] as this is a true tale of an old-time plantation negro, i think it but fair to state that he had a "chist" full of good clothes; but, with a parsimony not uncommon among his race, he preferred to protect his feet with old bits of blanket, instead of using the excellent home-knit woollen socks which lay snugly hidden away in his "chist;" and it was the same feeling which caused him to wrap himself now into an old garment made up of patches, although three good ones lay snugly folded away in the same chest. the junior reserve it was in the early summer of that the family at swan manor was thrown off its balance by the calling out of "the junior reserves." that unfledged boys, and among them their own little smooth-cheeked billy, should be called upon to fill up the thinned and broken ranks of the southern army filled their hearts with dismay. the old squire, with bushy brows beetling over his eyes, sat in grief too deep for words, a prey to the darkest forebodings. miss jemima had wept until her eyes were mere nothings, while her nose, coming gallantly to the front, had assumed an undue prominence. kate, with her pretty lips drawn to keep down the rising sobs, tried all in vain to bestow upon her twin brother bright looks and smiles, ever before so ready and spontaneous. in the early secession days it had seemed such fun to ride to dress parade and toss bouquets to the laughing "boys in gray," while all the world played dixie! "away down south in dixie." how she and billy had whispered and plotted, and how great the triumph when together they climbed the gate-post and, after much toil, successfully planted their little red and white flag! but now, alas! all was changed,--they were fast getting to be grown-up people, and now her own dear billy must go to help drive the yankees out of dixie. as for billy himself, a suppressed but exultant grin shone upon his face, a trifle deprecating when in the presence of his grandfather or his tearful aunt jemima, but very jubilant despite these drawbacks. in truth this junior reserve was only too pleased to exchange the latin grammar for the musket, and little cared he for prospective hardships, provided school were not among them. in the few busy days before the departure, kate followed billy's footsteps, trying in vain to share his elation. "good gracious, kate," he would exclaim, when he discovered her furtively wiping her eyes with her little damp ball of a pocket handkerchief, "don't be such a little goose; why, what would you have a fellow do? i had no idea that you were that sort of a girl." then, as between laughing and crying her face contorted itself into a sort of spasmodic grin, he would say: "now that's right, that's the way to do, if you'll just cheer up, i'll be all right; the yankees'll not bother me much, you bet." at the request of serena (billy's former nurse) her boy cy was chosen to accompany his young master as body servant, one of his chief recommendations being that, naturally "skeary," he would be a safe companion; also, as his mother proudly averred, he was the fastest runner upon the plantation. it was upon a golden evening in june that little billy bade farewell to his home, miss jemima and kate going with him to the little wayside station. cy, gotten up in great style, followed, while the rear was brought up by a motley procession,--all eager for the honor of carrying some of the belongings. the squire, with don the old irish setter, stood in the doorway until billy passed out of sight; then the two together, the old man and the old dog, went back into the silent house. the path to the station wound its way through a field of ripening wheat, from whence the clear whistle of a partridge smote sharply though the fervid air. billy paused, and, pointing to a tangle of blackberry, exclaimed: "there's a nest there as sure as shooting, and i'll go there to-mor--" a quick catching of the breath cut short the unfinished words, and the boy, with lips slightly drawn, quickened his pace. kate, choking down her sobs, held his hand in her tight clasp, as she kept pace with his hurried step. miss jemima, steadying her voice, remarked with a sprightly air that there would be fine shooting when he should come back in the autumn. then the little station came into view, looking very empty and deserted; two men loading a flat car were the only living objects to be seen. they paused in their work to greet billy, and ask where he was off to. it seemed so strange a thing to kate that all the world did not know. the train was not on time, and the waiting became so painful that it was almost with gladness that they heard the warning whistle far down the track. a small crowd had gradually collected, and some one remarked: "she's blowin' for the bridge. it'll be ten minutes before she's here." to the tumultuously throbbing hearts of the little party it was a positive relief when a puff of smoke was seen and the engine came rushing around the bend. then there were hurried kisses; the bell clanged, a voice called out, "all aboard," and the train was off. "gone, gone, gone," kate repeated over and over to herself, as she gazed with tearless eyes into the dim distance of the now silent track. as the party retraced their steps homeward the partridge was still calling his cheerful "bob white" from amid the wheat, while from the shadowy depth of a laurel thicket came the sweet gurgle of the wood-thrush. in the late summer, news--glorious news--came that the foe had been driven back, and their boy was unhurt. later, a man from the front at home on furlough was heard to say that "billy swan was a regular trump, and had borne himself like a veteran." kate walked elate, saying the words over and over, with a proud smile, "a hero, a regular trump,"--he, her own dear billy. the old squire, too, with ill-concealed pride in his boy, was once more like his former self. happy days--brief, hopeful days! alas, alas! many junes have come and gone since little billy was laid to rest in the old burying-ground, close to the wheat-field where the partridge calls, calls, the long day through. june roses scatter their leaves above him, and when the sun drops low, with long golden shafts upon the green mound which covers him, from far down in the laurel thicket comes the liquid gurgle of the wood-thrush. kate looks into faces, once frank and bright, and full of youth and hope, now grown old and seamed with care, and she tells herself that "whom the gods love, die young." mammy two little snub noses were flattening themselves against the nursery window pane, while the four eager eyes watched the soft flakes whirling through the air and silently descending upon the whitening earth. "sposen we was to steal out," whispered the boy, "an' hide, so mammy couldn't never find us no more." an excited chuckle interrupted the further development of this deliciously lawless scheme; but, though the little sister caught the infection, she prudently turned from the tempting prospect, saying, "no, sed, i's 'fraid you might git the croups an' die." the other occupants of the room were a little roly-poly cherub of a girl, seated in a tiny chair, holding in her arms a rag baby, which she rocked and dangled in servile imitation of her mammy, who, with bumpings peculiar to the nursery chair, was rocking to sleep a still younger babe. a fair little maiden, curled up comfortably upon a cushion, the firelight glistening upon her yellow locks, bent over a book, from which she read, in high-pitched, childish voice, to her mammy, the story of "ellen lynn." mammy was very proud that her nursling could read, and would cast admiring looks upon the child as she bent over her book, with finger pointing to each word. both were absorbed in the story, and every picture was examined with scrupulous care. another occupant of the nursery was "chany," the under nursemaid. gawky, sleek, and black, she sat flat upon the floor, her large, well-shod feet turned to the fire, a picture of lazy, vacant content. "ch-ch-chany," stuttered mammy, "look in de top drawer an' git a hankcher and blow dat chile's nose. go on wid yo book, honey; mammy ain't goin' 'sturb you no mo." "mr. lynn left the sleigh, and turning from the island"--piped little caroline. then there came another prolonged snuffle from sedley. "you ch-ch-chany, why'n't you git dat hankcher?" caused that languid maiden to bestir herself. having fumbled in the drawer for the handkerchief, she approached the window, but no sooner did the little boy become aware of her intention than, with a rebellious shake of his curly head, he buried his nose in his little chapped fists, and, regardless of sibyl's advice, that he had better be good, he firmly stood his ground, determined to resist chany to the death. "he ain't gwine let me tetch him," said chany, feebly dabbing at him with the handkerchief. "do, pray, gal, don't be so no-'count," mammy answered. then chany, stung by the imputation, made another helpless dive; a scuffle ensued, in which she was utterly routed, and the victorious sedley threw himself upon mammy's lap. "gi' me de hankcher," said mammy, with an air of withering contempt. "there, now, you done woke up your little brother," she said, when, the nose being blown, she again returned to trying to jolt baby joe to sleep. "he jest had drapped off into a doze." "oh, chilluns, le's pop some corn!" chany now exclaimed. "here's a whole sight of it," she went on, as she searched a basket, which she had unearthed from the closet. "oh! pop corn!" shouted sedley and sibyl, running, and each seizing an ear. "oh! pop torn!" echoed the cherub, throwing down her rag baby. so the shovel was run into the ashes, and chany and the three little ones set to work to shell the corn. quiet was again restored, and caroline, who, all through the hubbub, had kept her finger faithfully upon "island," continued her reading. mammy now substituted a sideways movement of the knees for the more vigorous bumping of the chair, and baby joe--lying luxuriously upon her wide lap--gazed dreamily into the glowing coals upon the hearth, until gradually the white lids drooped over the blue eyes, and he slept. the nursery was very quiet now. the corn-poppers were intent upon their work, and mammy, soothed by the unwonted stillness, listened drowsily to the little reader until fresh interest was excited by the following words. "the men were now still more alarmed," read caroline. "farmer lynn said that he would go with them and see what had become of mr. lynn and annie. the whole party accordingly went back to the river. after searching about for some time, one of the men espied something black on the surface of the snow, at a great distance down the river. they all proceeded to the spot, and were dreadfully shocked on arriving there to find that the black spot was a part of mr. lynn's arm and that his body was beneath, frozen, and buried up in the snow." when mammy heard these words, she threw up her arms, and exclaimed, "lord, have mercy 'pon my soul! what! mr. lynn hisself?" to her imagination mr. lynn was a most real person. the book was now brought to her and she, with little caroline, looked with deep and mournful interest at the picture of the empty sleigh. "it certainly is a awful country to live in; seem like it ain't fitten for a dog, much less white folks. to think o' mr. lynn hisself bein' froze to death. well! well! well! it certainly was onexpected." the children's story books furnished mammy with many thoughts. among them was a set of german nursery tales, full of quaint colored pictures, in which she took especial pleasure. seated by the nursery fire, the baby asleep in his crib and the others out at play, she would turn the leaves feeling that each picture was a living portrait. slovenly peter, rocking phillip, and greedy jacob were her favorites. once when shown a pretzel, she exclaimed, "ef it ain't the very thing what jacob had in his hand when he busted," and, taking the pretzel in her hand, she contemplated it with a thoughtful and sentimental air. the nursery door was now burst open, and in rushed harry, bringing with him a blast of fresh cold air; black ned came too, and both brought upon their feet enough snow to cover the carpet with moist tracks. "you ne-ne-ned, ain't you got no mo' manners than to be a-tracking up de house dis way? go 'long out and clean your feet;" but the hubbub was too great for mammy's words to be heeded; pig-tails were being brandished aloft, and the children all clustered round harry and ned, asking questions and clamoring for pig-tails. "look!" said harry. "here's somefin better'n pig-tails," and he drew from his pocket the mangled remains of a dozen or more snow-birds. a scramble now ensued, and sibyl--having secured as many as she wanted--retired to a corner, and silently fell to plucking them, while sedley, who was as vainglorious as a comanche, capered about on his short legs, and boasted of imaginary exploits with trap and dead-fall. caroline looked on, half pleased and half disgusted, keeping herself clear of contact. "miss calline she too proud to tetch pig-tails," grinned chany. "'f cose she is," mammy answered, bridling. she was very vain of miss caroline's daintiness. the baby was now laid in his crib. chany was dispatched for salt and pepper; the shovel was again run into the ashes, pig-tails were placed delicately upon the coals, and the nursery, pervaded with the various odors of wet shoes, burnt corn, fried grease, etc., was given up to disorder and cooking, into which mammy threw herself with as much zest as did the children. the pig-tails were broiled to a turn, and the small birds were frizzling away upon the shovel, when sedley, taking advantage of his opportunity, made a rush for the door, opened it, and was outside, with mouth and hands full of snow. before mammy's vigilant eye had noted his escape, he was flying back in triumph, with a big ball in his fist, when she met him and, with dexterous grasp, wrenched it from him. "di-di-did anybody ever see your match!" she exclaimed as she hurled the ball into the fire. "i clar i's got a good mind to take you right straight to your ma." but sedley knew the value of such threats and soon wiggled himself out of her grasp. "da now, go 'long an' 'have yourself," she said, with admiring fondness, as he laughed and capered away from her. "honey, what is you a-doin'?" she now inquired of sibyl, who, with hot cheeks, was bending over a pile of coals. "cookin' a bird? let me do it,--you's a-burnin' your little face clean to a cracklin'." "no, mammy, i'm cookin' my bird for grandma," the child answered, rejecting all help, "an' i'm goin' to do it all by myself." "wh', baby honey, your gran'ma ain't comin' before christmas eve, an' dat's a week off. your bird ain't goin' keep all dat time, but ne' mine, i'll make ned ketch you another one." * * * * * upon christmas eve, the children might have been seen at the big gate, straining their eyes down the road, each hoping to be the first to see their grandmother's carriage. visions of waxen dolls, sugar-plums, and other vague delights imparted a double zest to her arrival,--to say nothing of uncle robin (the driver) who, in the estimation of the little boys, was of far greater importance than was their grandmother. to them he was an oracle of wisdom, and their delight was to follow him about the stable lot or to sit in the sunshine and hang upon his words; for his imagination was fertile, and the boys would listen with wonder to the tales of his prowess and skill with horses. something was now observed to be moving far down the road, which soon proved to be the carriage. yes, there were "phoenix" and "peacock," which no one but uncle robin could handle, and there sat uncle robin upon the box, and there was grandma inside, smiling and waving her handkerchief, and there, too, sat aunt polly, grandma's maid. the carriage stopped, and uncle robin, bowing and smiling, descended and opened the door, and they all scrambled in and were hugged and kissed, and polly admired their beauty and exclaimed at their growth. then the door was clapped to again, but not before harry had managed to slip out and clamber to the box beside uncle robin, who, having driven through the gate, handed him the reins, with a caution to keep his eye upon peacock. in the estimation of the boy, this sleek and overfed peacock seemed little less than a raging lion whom only uncle robin could quell. "he'll run in a minute, if he gits a chance," said the guileful uncle robin. so harry clutched the reins and drove proudly past the lot, in full view of some of the men, turned in at the yard gate, and drew up before the door. grandma could not wait for the hanging of the christmas stockings, but insisted upon opening her trunk at once, and displaying her gifts to the children's delighted eyes. the wax babies exceeded their wildest hopes. the house was made horrible with horns and drums. mammy laughed and showed her dimples and courtesied over her own gorgeous present, and all felt that christmas had really come. for several days, indeed, throughout the holidays, harry felt that he had left childhood far behind him, and, as he strutted about the stable yard, he now and then expectorated, in imitation of uncle robin, as though he had a quid in his mouth. aunt polly, though far inferior to uncle robin in the children's estimation, was yet a person of distinction, and no naughtiness was ever displayed when she was by to witness it. mammy usually enjoyed a gossip with aunt polly over the nursery fire. but, sometimes feelings of coolness would arise. polly belonged to the family of the mother of the children, while mammy came from that of the father, and between the two a slight rivalry had always existed as to the superiority of her own white children. "'t is a pity miss calline's back's so round," said polly one night as the children were being undressed. now, if there was a feature in which mammy took a pride, it was in the straightness of the children's limbs and the flatness of their backs, above all the limbs and backs in the other branches of the family; so, firing up at once, she replied that she would like to see a flatter back than "this here one," laying her hand upon caroline's. "miss emmaline's is a sight flatter," polly stoutly maintained. "she's got as pretty shape as ever i see,--all our people's got good shapes from old missis down. i reckon this chile's got her back from her pa's fambly." when polly said this, mammy felt that the gauntlet had been flung down, and, at once, with an eloquence all her own, so defended the "shapes" of her "fambly" that polly was fairly beaten in the war of words, and was forced to admit, with many apologies, that miss caroline's back was as flat as miss emmaline's. mammy accepted the apology with some hauteur, and it was several days before entire cordiality was reëstablished; in fact, in all her after life, mammy would, when in certain moods, hark back to "dat time when dat long-mouthed polly had de imperdence to say dat our folks' backs weren't as straight as hern." full of peaceful content were the lives of both whites and blacks. merrily the christmas went by, to be followed by others as merry, and the winters and summers came and went, turning childhood into maturity and maturity into old age. mammy's glory reached its zenith when, at "miss calline's" grand wedding, she herself rustled about in all the grandeur of a new black silk and polly was forever squelched. the whole world seemed full of prosperity, abundance, and careless happiness, when suddenly, like a thunderbolt, the war came. the plantation home was abandoned very carelessly, and with light hearts the family drove away, expecting nothing but to return with the frosts of winter. they refugeed to a farmhouse upon the outskirts of a little up-country village. sedley, though still a beardless youth, shouldered his musket, and took his place in the ranks. sibyl and her mother, in the little rude farmhouse, thought not of their lost splendor, but cheerfully looked for the good days sure to come when, the war over, the dear ones would come back, and the old times. every southern woman knows how it was when the great battles were fought and a trembling, white-lipped group of women and aged men would stand huddled together to hear what the midnight dispatches might have in store for them. in the little upland village the refugees were closely knit together by hopes and fears in common. when sorrow fell upon one household the little community all mourned. but if the wires brought glad words that all at the front were unharmed, there would come a period of happy reaction; the little society would be wildly gay, especially if one or more young heroes from the front had come home with a slight wound,--just enough to make a demigod of him. such was sedley's happy fate one never-to-be-forgotten summer, when every girl in the village fell madly in love with his blue eyes and his gray coat and his mustache and his lovely voice, as he strummed the guitar in the moonlight,--and most of all with his merry laugh. did time permit, i might tell of such odd costumes, such make-ups of homespun and lace, fine old silks and calicoes, in which the dixie girls danced so merrily. it was just upon the heels of one of these happy seasons that a rumor was whispered that the army was about to fall back and that the offices and stores would be removed in consequence. at first the rumor was rejected,--no good confederate would listen to such treason; but finally the croakers were proved to be right. the government stores were hastily removed. the office-holders took a sad farewell of those whom they left behind them, and the little town was abandoned to its fate, outside the confederate lines. sibyl and her mother were among the tearful group who watched the little band of departing friends, as it passed out of the town, waved a last adieu, and strained their dimmed eyes for a last sight of the confederate gray, ere they went sadly back to their homes. when sibyl and her mother reached home, they found mammy already at work. she had ripped open a feather bed, and amid its downy depths she was burying whatever she could lay her hands upon. clothing, jewelry, even a china ornament or two,--all went in. it was a day or two after that rita complained of a great knot in her bed, which had bruised her back and prevented her sleeping. mammy heard her, but, waiting until they were alone, said in a half whisper, "honey, i knows what dat knot is, 't ain't nothin' but your brother's cavalry boots that i hid in the bed. i reckon the feathers has got shuck down. don't say nothin', an' i'll turn your bed over, and then you won't feel 'em. an', honey, do pray be kereful how you talks before jim. i ain't got no 'pinion o' jim, an' it'll never do in de world to let him speck where the things is hid." no one knew how soon the yankees might come, and all were busily engaged in concealing whatever they had of value. people may smile now at some of the recollections of that day, but they were earnest enough then, and as much importance was attached to the concealment of a ham or a pound of black sugar as to that of a casket of diamonds. clothing and provisions were hidden in various strange and out-of-the-way places, and, when night came, mammy and her mistress were glad to rest their tired bodies, although too much excited to sleep. at last, however, a deep sleep fell upon them, from which they were awakened by the distant roar of cannon. the village, though no longer a depot for confederate stores, was not to be given up without a struggle. it now became a sort of debatable ground, and cannonading, more or less distant, told the anxious listeners of almost daily skirmishes. awakened by the cannon's roar, sibyl opened the window and listened. a pale glory to the eastward, a low rustle of leaves, a drowsy chirp from tiny nests, all merging into one inarticulate murmur of awakening nature, told that night was over. sibyl and her mother hastily dressed themselves, called rita from her fearless young sleep, roused up the baby, as they still called little joe; then asked themselves why they did it. there was nothing to do but to sit on the porch or to wander aimlessly, listening with beating hearts to the faint and more faint boom of the artillery. and the roses glowed in the may sunshine, and the honeysuckle wafted its perfume in at the open windows, and the bees droned among the flowers, and all was so peaceful, but for the incessant dull roar of the battle. the confederates were finally driven back, the federals entered the town, and then the bummers came streaming through the country, leaving desolation behind them. cattle, poultry, everything eatable was driven off or carried away in the great army wagons that came crashing along, regardless of all obstacles in their cruel course. cut off from all news from the army, sibyl and her mother dragged wearily through the long, sad summer, and the two children grew gaunt for want of nourishing food. it was a morning in the early autumn that sibyl, sitting at work by an open window, became suddenly conscious of an unusual presence near her, and, looking up, beheld a man gazing fixedly upon her. a party of federals had that very morning visited the house upon a pretended search for concealed weapons, and the girl, with nerves still vibrating with terror, uttered a little shriek, and, starting up, was about to close the window, when the figure leaped over the low sill, a pair of strong arms encircled her, kisses fell upon her lips, and, ere the shriek of terror could find voice, she recognized, under the rough countryman's hat, the laughing eyes of her brother sedley. such meetings can be better imagined than described; seconds had become minutes ere sibyl or her mother could begin to realize their joy, which, in its first intensity, was almost pain. then came the breathless questionings as to the well-being of the other dear ones, then the deep sigh of thankfulness from the long-burdened hearts. at the sound of a strange voice. mammy, peeping in at the open door, had fallen prostrate with joy, and, while hugging her boy to her faithful bosom, had called upon her maker to testify that upon this very morning the scissors had stuck up twice. "an' i knowed when dey done dat, dat somebody was a-comin'." then dinah, the cook, came in, courtesying and laughing and loyal as though no emancipating army had set foot in dixie. when the joyful tidings had reached the children, rita's thin legs might have been seen flying through the high grass. the more practical joe toiled behind, bending under the burden of (their treasure trove) a big pumpkin, a basket of persimmons, and a few stalks of sorghum, for, like the scriptural colts of the wild ass, they passed their time in searching after every green thing. in the magnetism of the bright presence of the young soldier, all the sad forebodings seemed to vanish into thin air. while listening to his brave words of hope, they forgot that the sunny hours of this most happy day were hastening by. already the shadows lay long upon the grass, and there remained yet so much to be said and so little time wherein to say it! by set of sun sedley must be on his way to rejoin his command. his brief and daring visit had been achieved by his assuming a disguise before venturing inside the enemy's lines. "how did you ever manage it?" asked the mother. "i tremble when i think of it." "oh," he answered, "it was easy enough. i came in with a fellow who was driving cattle into town." "oh, sed!" his sister whispered; "you ran an awful risk; how will you manage to get back without being discovered?" "there'll be no trouble about that," he answered. "don't you and mother go and worry yourselves about me. i'll be all right, so cheer up and don't look so doleful." urged on by fear, they now almost hurried him away, and mammy, while filling his haversack with provisions, entreated him to be careful. "de ain't no tellin' what dem yankees would do ef dey once clapt hands on you." sedley might guess shrewdly enough what his fate would be in such case, but he replied, with his old boyish laugh, that it was his trade to outrun the yankees. "never fear, mammy," he said at parting. "trust me to beat 'em at that game." then the sad good-byes were said, and manfully he strode down the little path, turning only once to wave a last good-by to the sorrowful group on the broad front porch, who watched till he passed out of sight. the night was spent in anxious watching, but confidence returned with the morning, and all again settled back to their employments and amusements. sybil wandered into the parlor, and, sitting down to the piano, sang in a low, sweet voice some of the pathetic war melodies. the "colts of the wild ass seeking after every green thing" had sought the sorghum patch, and mammy had taken a basket into the garden for a final gathering of sage leaves. the day was dreamy, as only an october day of the south can be. the tempered sunlight, streaming softly through the filmy autumnal mist, threw a veil of loveliness over the homeliest objects; the old gray fences, the russet fields, the lonely pastures, where from beneath the grass roots the tiny crickets chanted their low, sweet dirge the long day through, the cawing of the crows from a distant tree-top, all told in notes of most harmonious pathos that "the fashion of this world passeth away." as mammy, with back stiffened from stooping, raised herself for a moment's rest, she saw jim lounge into the backyard and speak to dinah. mammy had but little use for jim in general, but now she felt anxious to know what had been going on in the village, and for that reason she left her basket among the sage and went near to hear what he was saying. as she drew near, dinah suddenly threw up her hands, and, starting from the hencoop on which she had been leaning, came towards her, stuttering and stammering in a manner so excited as to be unintelligible. "what's dat you say? for gods sake, ooman, say what yere got to say, an' be done wid it!" said mammy, too frightened to be patient. jim then drew near to her and, glancing cautiously towards the not very distant piazza, upon which his mistress happened at the moment to be standing, he whispered, "dey's done ketched him." "k-k-ketched who?" stammered mammy fiercely. "mas' sedley, dat's who," jim answered doggedly. "how you know? i don't b'lieve a word on it." "anyhow, dey's done done it." "ho' come you know so much 'bout it?" "'cause i seen 'em when dey done it." "y-y-you have de face to stan' da an' tell me dat you seen 'em a-troublin' dat chile an' you not lif' a han' to help him?" "how i gwine help him? g'long, you don't know what you talkin' 'bout." "whar'bouts did dey come across him?" mammy inquired. "right down yonder at de mill," jim answered, nodding his head in the direction. "good lord," exclaimed mammy, "dey must 'a' ketched him directly after he went away!" this conversation was carried on in such low murmurings that even a listener at a short distance could not have distinguished what was said; the three were very intent, but did not omit occasional cautious glances in the direction of the house. "dat's so," jim replied; "an' den dey shet him up in de mill house, and den i never seed no mo', 'cause i was skeered an' runned away." then, after an uneasy pause, he added, "i come 'long dat-a-way soon dis mornin'," and here he murmured so low into mammy's ear that dinah, though she stretched her neck, could not catch the word, which turned mammy's brown face to ashen gray. she stood for a minute like one turned to stone, then staggered to her own doorstep. sitting down, she buried her head in her apron, and so sat motionless for half an hour, while jim and dinah continued their guarded murmurings by the hencoop. at the end of half an hour she rose, took a bunch of keys from her pocket, went into her house and, closing the door behind her, unlocked her chest. drawing from it a little workbox, which had, in years gone by, been one of caroline's cherished christmas gifts, she opened it. from beneath her sunday pocket handkerchief, and a few other articles of special value, she produced another and smaller box which she opened, and, taking from it a gold coin, looked at it tenderly. "po' little fellow! god bless him! he give me this that fus' time he come home from school. i never 'spected to part with it, but ef it's de lord's will, it may help him now." with these thoughts, mammy quickly replaced the things in her chest, put the coin into her pocket, and, taking up the man's hat, which upon week days she always wore, she strode off towards the mill. as she passed by the piazza, she paused one moment irresolute, but murmuring to herself, "'t ain't no use upsettin' mistis, po' cretur, and i can do it better by myself anyhow," she walked briskly forward, revolving in her mind her plan. the mill house consisted of two rooms, and in the one in which jim had reported sedley to be confined there was a small trap-door. it had been used for regulating the working of the machinery, and led from beneath the house directly to the creek, which ran close to the walls of the house. this trap mammy had once happened to see opened, and in that way knew of its existence, otherwise she would never have suspected it, as, from its infrequent use, it was usually covered with dust and dirt and could not be distinguished from the rest of the floor. her plan was to endeavor to get speech with sedley, tell him of the trap-door, and leave the rest to him. her great fear had been that she might be refused admittance to him, and hence it was that she had thought of her gold piece, as she hoped by its potent influence to be given a few minutes alone with the prisoner. there would be no great difficulty for sedley to lift the trap without noise and, when it was lifted, to swing himself through to the ground, to creep until he came to the thick tangle upon the creek banks, then to swim across and escape into the shelter of the woods beyond. that would be simple enough, and mammy, full of hopeful thoughts, was walking briskly forward, when suddenly a turn in the path brought into view a small body of federals, all mounted, and evidently coming from the direction of the mill. they seemed in haste, and she could hear the rattle of their sabres as they cantered by. standing amid the broom-sedge, mammy watched them, casting eager, anxious looks upon them, fearing, dreading to see her boy in their midst, a poor, defenseless captive. finally, as the last horseman disappeared, she heaved a sigh of infinite relief. "bless de good lord, dey ain't took de po' chile wid 'em," and so went on her way. at length the gray gables of the little mill house came into view, and mammy, feeling in her pocket to assure herself that the gold piece was safe at hand, went boldly forward, telling herself that, if she spoke politely, the yankee guard would not shoot her. so she went on until the little mill came into full view, but with no guard or any other object to inspire fear. all seemed quiet, and the place quite deserted. there were footprints about the door, and broken bushes showed the trampling of both men and horses, but now all was very quiet. the old mill house looked very peaceful, with the yellow autumnal sun shining upon its moss-grown roof, with no sound to break the deep silence, save the low, continuous warbling of a solitary mockingbird which, perched upon an overhanging bough, seemed to review its past joys in low, sweet notes of retrospection. upon seeing that the place was quite deserted, mammy paused, and, after looking around to satisfy herself that this was really the case, ascended the steps and, lifting the latch of the door, looked into the outer room. "thank god!" she murmured, upon finding it empty. "thank god! dey's all took deyselves off to town an' lef' him here, locked up by hisself. it raly is 'stonishin' to think how foolish dem creturs is; dey mout ha' knowed as someon' would ha' come an' let him loose." while thus thinking, she had crossed the room, and was now endeavoring to open the door, which gave admittance to the inner and larger apartment. finding, as she had anticipated, that this door was fastened, she first called to the prisoner within, and, when no answer was returned, she shook the door until at length the crazy old lock gave way and the door creaked slowly back upon its rusty hinges. "honey, whar'bouts is you?" mammy questioned, as, pausing upon the threshold, she peered into the obscurity beyond. the windowless room was dark, and mammy, after again calling, groped her way in, straining her eyes into the gloom, but unable to discern any object. then, suddenly, the deep silence and the gloom smote upon her senses, and a great horror came over her. she turned to rush from the room, when her eyes, grown more accustomed to the darkness, fell upon an object which froze the lifeblood in her veins. it lay almost at her feet. she stooped and bent over it, with thick, laboring breath. very still it lay, with set white face and wide-open, unseeing eyes. war reminiscences i remember when wheeler's cavalry passed through town that the men, when halted, just dropped in the streets and slept, so that passers-by were forced to step over them, but in spite of starvation and weariness the old indomitable spirit would assert itself. one of the poor fellows, while the column was passing by christ church, looked up at the weathercock and remarked to a comrade that it was the first and only instance of wheeler's boys seeing a chicken which they could not get at. we were singularly fortunate in the neighborhood of raleigh in having no lack of wholesome food, and in being able to send boxes of provisions to the army around petersburg. we, in particular, were plentifully supplied from the plantation, a four-horse wagon being constantly engaged in hauling supplies. one of the greatest taxes upon our resources, and the event that brought the war very closely home to us, was the advent of the cavalcade and ambulances referred to in my notes concerning my own early home. most of the horsemen who had come with the ambulances returned to the front the next morning, leaving behind them six or more sick and wounded, with their surgeon and friends to look after them. fortunately, the office in the yard (a house with two comfortable rooms) was easily made ready and the wounded men were installed in the quarters which they kept for a month. the wound which afterwards deprived one of the wounded, a young man by the name of nat butler, of his arm, was by far the most serious. the attempt to save the arm came very near costing him his life. instead of healing, the wound constantly sloughed, with great loss of blood. as the wound was between the elbow and the shoulder, the danger attending amputation increased with each sloughing, but the poor boy was deaf to all that his doctor could urge, positively refusing to have the arm amputated, and he grew weaker and weaker with every hemorrhage. meantime several of the sick and wounded were so far cured as to be able to return to duty. captain butler (an older brother of nat butler), dr. thompson, mr. taylor, and several others whose names i have forgotten, and the bugler, named glanton, still remained. one morning, while i was in the mealroom getting out dinner, i heard captain butler's voice calling loudly that young butler was bleeding to death. i just took time to call out to my daughters, annie and kate, who were just starting to town, to drive as quickly as they could to dr. johnson's and to ask him to come. then i ran down to the office, where i found the poor old captain frantic with terror and quite unable to do anything for the patient, who lay senseless and bleeding upon the bed. i can never forget his ghastly appearance; i never saw so bloodless a face. the mouth, partly open, showed a tongue bluish like new flannel. i went to the bedside and pressed the arm above the wound, as hard as i could, and i held it so until the arrival of dr. johnson. i had thus succeeded in partially arresting the hemorrhage, and possibly may have saved young butler's life. i started to leave as soon as the doctor came, and when i arose from my knees, i realized for the first time that i was covered with blood. the amputation could no longer be deferred, and the operation took place as soon as the patient's strength permitted, which was, i think, two days after the hemorrhage. there was then barely a chance that he could survive in his weak condition. i shall never forget how the girls and i sat upon the front steps and watched the silent men standing before the office,--it seemed as though the suspense would never end. after the amputation, butler lay for twenty-four hours like one dead. finally, when he did rally sufficiently to be given something, i sent our excellent nurse, caroline, to take care of him, for i could not trust him to the ignorant though kindly meant attentions of his friends. at this time general galbraith butler was our guest, and, as the norrises had now left for richmond, i gave him a room in the house. he was quite ill there for several days, during which time the house was thronged with messengers from the front. it gives me pleasure to say that they conducted themselves like polished gentlemen, who appreciated the comforts which they received. under caroline's devoted nursing nat butler slowly returned to life and to a degree of strength. when it became evident that raleigh would soon be in possession of the enemy, nat butler declared that he preferred the risk of dying by exposure to that of being captured. it was with the saddest forebodings that we prepared for his departure. the ambulance was made comfortable with pillows, blankets, etc., and nothing was omitted that could contribute to the well-being of the poor sufferer. it was a painful parting, as we all knew that we were on the eve of horrors that we dared not contemplate. the moon shone upon the sorrowful little cortège, as it passed beneath the trees, and we were too sad for tears, as we watched it go slowly out of sight. nat butler lived, and visited us a year later, but his life was a brief one. we were up late that night, bidding adieu to many friends. indeed, the past few days had been days of varied and intense excitement. people who under ordinary circumstances would have scarcely recognized each other as acquaintances now met and parted as old and dear friends. mounted officers would come cantering up just for a handshake and a god-keep-you. we were admonished to take off rings or any little bits of jewelry which we might wear. a gentleman sitting by me had concealed my watch in my ball of knitting cotton. people everywhere were wildly seeking places wherein to conceal their valuables. we had no reason to imagine that our house was safer than others, but we could not refuse to receive the trunks and boxes brought to us in desperation, by refugees chiefly, who were leaving town in a panic, and going they knew not whither. all that we could promise was that they should be as well cared for as were our own; and so the garret was packed with all sorts of trunks and boxes, many of which were not claimed until the next autumn. i cannot pretend to give you an idea of the excitement and turmoil of that last week of the confederacy. every minute of your grandfather's time was taken up with his duties as a state officer, until he, in company with governor graham and dr. warren, were despatched by governor vance to meet sherman with a flag of truce and to surrender the town. he was absent upon this mission upon a night that i happened to go into the dining-room and found several rough-looking men, whom i took to be confederates, seated at supper. robert was waiting upon them, and adelaide talking, while one of my little children was seated cosily upon the knee of a particularly dirty-looking man. this did not please me, for there was a freedom of manner about them which i had never seen in one of our men before. still, i had no suspicion that they were not what they seemed, and, being called off, i left them, although a certain uncomfortable feeling caused me to do so unwillingly. just as i left, a clatter of horses' feet was heard outside, and adelaide (always loquacious), exclaimed, "here comes the general and his staff!" the words were scarcely uttered before the men jumped from their seats and dashed from the room. we were afterwards convinced that they were some of the scum of sherman's army, and while we (myself and daughters) were sitting quite unsuspectingly, they were lurking near us. i omitted to mention that, at our urgent invitation, our dear friends the burgwyns had come to us, and, in the midst of other distractions, i was occupied in disposing of their numerous boxes, barrels, and pictures. there was a universal feeling that there would be a degree of safety in numbers, and we could not possibly have enjoyed more congenial companionship than that of our cousins, the burgwyns. upon that day we prepared twenty lunches, which were most thankfully received. i recollect that towards evening some hot tea was made for our old friend, mr. john robinson. he had been at work all day, shipping freight and provisions, and transferring engines to greensboro, to which place he was now going. he had had nothing to eat, and was, as you may imagine, very tired, and so hungry that his lunch of cold ham, bread, and butter, with many cups of tea, was so much enjoyed that in after life he often spoke of it with real gratitude. when he said good-by, he gave into my keeping a little box of trinkets, requesting me to keep them for him, as he had no idea what his destination might be. i, of course, said that i would try to keep them safely; and i did, returning them just as i had received them, some months later. upon that day, our dinner was but a meagre one, consisting chiefly of soup, and, as the very last of the silver had been hidden out of sight, we were compelled to take it from teacups. upon that night, after the stir and bustle of the day had subsided, after the last good-by had been uttered, and the last horseman had galloped away, a most intense stillness followed, which, if possible, increased our melancholy, and magnified our fearful apprehensions of what was to come. on the following morning, i saw three odd, rough-looking men come galloping up from the barn. they were mounted upon mules, were seated far forward upon the withers, and had their knees drawn up after a most ungainly fashion. i saw at a glance that they were not our countrymen. they rode furiously into the yard, where they halted abruptly. the servants stood gaping at them in stupid bewilderment. i went forward and asked them the meaning of this intrusion. their reply was an insolent demand for my keys. then i knew that they were bummers. during the whole of this period your grandfather had had more than his hands full at his office, taking care of and sending off government stores, and doing a thousand other things, so that all the domestic offices rested with me. i told the bummers, with a great show of courage, that i had no idea of giving them my keys, and as i walked off, feeling quite triumphant, i had the mortification of seeing them dismount and swagger to the doors of the mealroom, smokehouse, and storeroom, slip their miserable, dastardly swords into the locks, and open the doors, with the most perfect ease. conscious now of my own weakness, i would not condescend to parley with them, and watched them at their insolent and thievish game, until their mules were almost hidden beneath the load of hams, sausages, and other plunder. then they remounted, and dashed off at the same furious pace as they had come. in a little time after others came and played the same game, only adding to their abominable thievishness by driving off our mules and all our cattle. our horses, i am glad to say, had been sent away. it was towards noon upon that fatal day that we espied a long blue line crawling serpent-like around a distant hill. silently we watched, as it uncoiled itself, ever drawing nearer and still nearer, until the one great reptile developed into many reptiles and took the form of men. men in blue tramping everywhere, horsemen careering about us with no apparent object, wagons crashing through fences as though they had been made of paper. the negroes stood like dumb things, in stupid dismay. it was at a later period that their time of joy came (in many instances it never came); then the only feeling was one of awe. in an incredibly short time tents were pitched, the flag run up, and the yankees were here. the crowd grew more dense. a large column was passing through the grove at almost a run, when, to my horror, i saw adelaide and lizzie, each with one of my little girls in her arms, rushing along in their midst in a state of such wild excitement that they had almost lost their reason. almost in despair, i rushed after them, sometimes seeing them, only to lose them again in the moving mass. as i passed a soldier i signed to him for help; i do not think i could have spoken. he saw the danger that threatened my children, and, overtaking the two nurses, took the children and brought them to me. the women had meant no harm, and did not realize the risk. as i before remarked, every one during this period of panic entertained an idea that he must commit his valuables to the keeping of some one else; for instance, my sister gave her set of pearls to her maid sally for safe keeping, and sally, in her turn, brought them to caroline (her mother). caroline, not knowing a safe place of concealment, lifted a stone from her hearth, placed the casket in the cavity, and replaced the stone; this, however, caused the stone to fit loosely in the hole from which it had been displaced, and caroline, in her fear lest this should lead to the discovery of the pearls, sat all night with her feet resting upon it. she came to me in the morning, looking perfectly haggard, and told me that she had never before passed through such a night of horror, for her house had been crowded with federals, prying into every corner and taking whatever they fancied. with my sister's casket, she handed me a red cotton handkerchief tied up and full of silver coins, belonging to herself and her husband. she had no place in which to keep it, and asked me to take care of it. i, of course, took charge of it and kept it for her until the last bluecoat had left the place, which was not until august; for, after the departure of the army, a regiment was left in our grove. one day general logan came to the door and said that he had reason to believe that a confederate officer was concealed in the house, and, if i kept his presence a secret, he threatened me with the consequences. the federals, while searching for buried treasure, had discovered the amputated arm of poor young butler, and had jumped to the conclusion that he was concealed in the house. at all events, it served as a plea for them to claim that he was there. when i assured him that this rumor was quite false, his manner was so utterly incredulous that i requested him to satisfy himself of the truth of my assertion by making a search of the entire house and outbuildings. i entreated him to do this, for his threats had so alarmed me that i felt that in that alone lay our preservation. his reply, with an insolent, jeering laugh, was: "i will not take that trouble, for my boys will settle that question." the safeguards stationed both at the back and front protected the house. for, whatever might have been their feelings, they dared not relax in their vigilance. the discipline in that army was perfect. not long after the above-mentioned interview with logan, we were told (by a servant, i think), that the whole division was going to leave that night. this was true. it was before the articles of the surrender had been signed, and logan was in pursuit of general johnston. it was a night of such commotion that not one of the family retired to rest. it was discovered, when too late for redress, that logan had withdrawn our safeguards, taken every commanding officer with him, and had left us to the mercy of his wagon train of bummers and of negroes. that night of terror terminated in a violent storm, in the midst of which your grandfather set out for the headquarters in town for the purpose of demanding a safeguard. with daylight came a greater feeling of safety, so we separated, the girls going to their rooms, and i to mine, in order to refresh ourselves and make a fresh toilet. while so engaged, i kept hearing the bells ringing and tinkling incessantly, and, while i was hurrying to put on my dress in order to inquire the meaning of this, caroline and adelaide rushed in, exclaiming that men were climbing the walls of the house, and the tinkling of the bells was caused by their twisting them off the wires. these women, whose natural color was bright mulatto, now looked ashy. i do not think that i spoke a word, but just flew into the nursery, took the children, and ran up the stairs. as i passed by the sitting, room, i met kate, all disheveled, running out and saying that men were climbing into her window. i just took time to lock the door between her room and the sitting-room, and then we all ran upstairs, where the burgwyns and my other girls were quietly dressing, in entire ignorance of what was taking place. it seems strange that i should recollect every trifle so vividly; i remember, even now, that, as i ran up the stair, my throat and mouth became so dry that i could not speak. from the window at the head of the stair nothing was visible but a sea of upturned faces; not just by the house, but away down the slope, as far as the eye could reach, were men's upturned faces. i can never forget the look upon mrs. burgwyn's face as she whispered, "we can throw ourselves from the window." my poor, craven heart might have failed me, but i am convinced that she could have done it. while we thus stood, a poor, cowering, terror-stricken group, steps were heard approaching, and a tall figure slowly ascended the stairs, and a grim, saturnine-faced man stood before us, and said, "i don't know that i can save you, but for the sake of my mother and sisters i will do all that i can do." i do not remember whether any one made a reply or not, i only recollect that he went as deliberately as he had come. when your grandfather returned, having with difficulty succeeded in procuring the permit for a safeguard, the mob had begun to disperse. our deliverer was a man named fort. he was division quartermaster, and had been left in charge of the wagon trains. he was from one of the western states, iowa, i believe. he was a good man, and was god's instrument to save us from destruction. he remained near the house all through the day, and at first said that he would sleep that night inside the dwelling, but afterwards told your grandfather that, upon further consideration, he thought it best that he should stay outside, so his tent was pitched close to the house, and there he remained until his command left. he was forbidding in manner, and would accept no thanks. i think that he hated us as southerners, but acted from humanity. mr. burgwyn was suffering from an apoplectic stroke, and was lying insensible. my son had not returned from appomattox. had any man been with us, he would have been utterly helpless, and would probably have been murdered. one day, either immediately preceding or following the incident just related, our ever-faithful man, frank, stealthily entered the house. he was evidently afraid of being observed, for he slipped in, and, closing the door after him, asked to speak a word to his master. when your grandfather came, frank almost whispered his communication, as though afraid of being overheard. "master," he said, "i come to ask you, please, sir, don't go out of the house to-day;" he would not say why he gave this warning, and it was not until afterwards that we found that the federals had intended to hang your grandfather up until he told them where our silver was hidden. i rejoice to say that they did not get one piece of it, although a part of it was buried in the branch that runs at the foot of the grove, and, in digging out a place for watering their horses, they had actually thrown the sand upon the box, thus burying it deeper. i could relate many other incidents of this period, some of them rather amusing; but it is time to bring my reminiscences to a close. but before doing so, i must say a word about our last safeguard, monhagan. he was irish, and possessed all of the best attributes of the irish character. after the departure of logan's division, with the rest of sherman's army, this man was deputed to guard the place, as a regiment was still quartered in the grove. he stayed until august, and, besides faithfully discharging his duties, he exerted himself in other and various ways to ameliorate the inconveniences to which we were subjected. our servants, lounging in idleness, contented themselves with professions as idle. frank, acting upon his master's advice, had taken his family to the plantation. adelaide was ill the greater part of the summer with brain fever. monhagan worked the garden, gathered fruit and vegetables, and performed many other services. i felt a little amused when he one day brought me all his money and asked me to take care of it for him. at first i positively refused to take upon myself this responsibility, but yielded at last, and made him count it, and kept it as long as he remained. every saturday afternoon he would come and ask me to let him have one dollar and allow him to go to town for a little while. he left with the regiment in august, and he wrote once to your uncle tom from new york, but omitted to give his address, which we regretted, as we would have liked to have him as a gardener. transcriber's note minor typographic errors have been corrected without note. however, variation in spelling, particularly in the speech, but also in other words, has been left as printed. produced from images generously made available by the library of congress, manuscript division) slave narratives _a folk history of slavery in the united states from interviews with former slaves_ typewritten records prepared by the federal writers' project - assembled by the library of congress project work projects administration for the district of columbia sponsored by the library of congress _illustrated with photographs_ washington volume xi north carolina narratives part prepared by the federal writers' project of the works progress administration for the state of north carolina [hw:] = handwritten notes by original editor. [tr:] = inline transcriber notes. see end of document for additional notes. informants jackson, john h. johnson, ben johnson, isaac johnson, tina jones, bob jones, clara , jordon, abner lassiter, jane lawson, dave lee, jane littlejohn, chana mcallister, charity mccoy, clara cotton mccullers, henrietta mccullough, willie mclean, james turner magwood, frank manson, jacob manson, roberta markham, millie mials, maggie mitchel, anna mitchner, patsy moore, emeline moore, fannie moring, richard c. nelson, julius nichols, lila organ, martha parker, ann penny, amy perry, lily perry, valley pitts, tempe plummer, hannah pool, parker raines, rena ransome, anthony richardson, caroline riddick, charity riddick, simuel rienshaw, adora robinson, celia rogers, george rogers, hattie rountree, henry scales, anderson scales, catherine scales, porter scott, william shaw, tiney smith, john smith, john smith, josephine smith, nellie smith, sarah ann smith, william sorrell, laura sorrell, ria spell, chaney spikes, tanner stephenson, annie stewart, sam t. stone, emma sykes, william taylor, annie taylor, r.s. thomas, elias thomas, jacob thornton, margaret tillie trell, ellen trentham, henry james upperman, jane anne privette whitley, ophelia wilcox, tom williams, catharine williams, rev. handy williams, john thomas williams, lizzie williams, penny williams, plaz williamson, melissa woods, alex wright, anna yellady, dilly yellerday, hilliard illustrations tina johnson fannie moore julius nelson lila nichols tempe pitts adora rienshaw william scott tiney shaw john smith josephine smith sam t. stewart william sykes n.c. district: no. worker: mrs. w.n. harriss no. words: subject: memories of uncle jackson interviewed: john h. jackson s. sixth st. wilmington, n.c. [tr: date stamp: jun ] memories of uncle jackson "i was born in , in the yard where my owner lived next door to the city hall. i remember when they was finishin' up the city hall. i also remember the foreman, mr. james walker, he was general manager. the overseen (overseer) was mr. keen. i remember all the bricklayers; they all was colored. the man that plastered the city hall was named george price, he plastered it inside. the men that plastered the city hall outside and put those colum's up in the front, their names was robert finey and william finey, they both was colored. jim artis now was a contractor an' builder. he done a lot of work 'round wilmin'ton. "yes'm, they was slaves, mos' all the fine work 'round wilmin'ton was done by slaves. they called 'em artisans. none of 'em could read, but give 'em any plan an' they could foller it to the las' line." interviewer: "did the owner collect the pay for the labor, uncle jackson?" "no, ma'm. that they did'n. we had a lot of them artisans 'mongst our folks. they all lived on our place with they fam'lies. they hired theyselves where they pleased. they colle'ted they pay, an' the onliest thing the owner took was enough to support they fam'lies. they all lived in our yard, it was a great big place, an' they wimmen cooked for 'em and raised the chilluns. "you know, they lays a heap o' stress on edication these days. but edication is one thing an' fireside trainin' is another. we had fireside trainin'. "we went to church regular. all our people marched behind our owners, an' sat up in the galle'y of the white folks church. now, them that went to st. james church behind their white folks didn' dare look at nobody else. 'twant allowed. they were taught they were better than anybody else. that was called the 'silk stockin' church. nobody else was fitten to look at. "my mother was the laund'ess for the white folks. in those days ladies wore clo'es, an' plenty of 'em. my daddy was one of the part indian folks. my mammy was brought here from washin'ton city, an' when her owner went back home he sold her to my folks. you know, round washin'ton an' up that way they was ginny (guinea) niggers, an' that's what my mammy was. we had a lot of these malatto negroes round here, they was called 'shuffer tonies', they was free issues and part indian. the leader of 'em was james sampson. we child'en was told to play in our own yard and not have nothin' to do with free issue chil'en or the common chil'en 'cross the street, white or colored, because they was'nt fitten to 'sociate with us. you see our owners was rich folks. our big house is the one where the ladies of sokosis (sorosis) has their club house, an' our yard spread all round there, an' our house servants, an' some of the bes' artisans in wilmin'ton lived in our yard. "you know, i'm not tellin' you things what have been _told_ me, but i'm tellin' you things i _knows_. "i remember when the zoabbes company came from georgia here to wilmin'ton an' they had all ladies as officers.[ ] "i remember when the confederates captured part of the union army at fort sumter, s.c., and they brought them here to wilmin'ton and put them out under fourth street bridge, and the white ladies of wilmin'ton, n.c. cooked food and carried it by baskets full to them. we all had plenty of food. a warehouse full of everything down there by the river nigh red cross street, an' none of us ever went hungry 'till the war was over. "i remember when gen'ral grant's army came to the river. they mounted guns to boombar the city. mr. john dawson an' mr. silas martin, they went on the corner of second an' nun streets on the top of ben berry's house an' run up a white sheet for a flag, an' the yankees did'n' boombar us. an' mr. martin gave his house up to the progro marshells, and my mother cleaned up the house an' washed for them. her name was caroline west. "i remember when that provo marshell told the colored people that any house in wilmin'ton they liked, that was empty, they could go take it, an' the first one they took was the fine bellamy mansion on market an' fifth street." "uncle jackson", asked the interviewer, "don't you remember that house was headquarters of the federal army? how could colored people occupy it?" uncle jackson: "i don't remember nothin' about federal soldiers bein' in that house, but i'm tellin' you i _knows_ a lot of common colored folks was in it because i seen 'em sittin' on the piazza an' all up an' down those big front steps. i _seen_ 'em. nice colored people wouldn't 'a gone there. they had respec' for theirselves an' their white folks. but dr. bellamy came home soon with his fam'ly an' those colored people got out. they wan't there long. "endurin' of slavery i toted water for the fam'ly to drink. i remember when there was springs under where the new court house is now, and all the white folks livin' 'round there drank water from those springs. they called it jacob spring. there was also a spring on market street between second and third streets, that was called mccrayer (mccrary) spring. they didn't 'low nobody but rich folks to get water from that spring. of co'se i got _mine_ there whenever i chose to tote it that far. we did'n' work so hard in those days. i don't know nothin' about field han's an' workmen on the river, but so far as i knows the carpenters an' people like that started work at o'clock a.m. and stopped at o'clock p.m. of course 'round the house it was different. our folks done pretty much what the white folks did because we was all pretty much one an' other. "did i ever know of any slaves bein' whipped? i seen plenty of 'em whipped over at the jail, but them was _bad_ niggers, (this with a grimace of disgust, and shaking of the head), they needed whippin'. but (with a chuckle) i sho' would have hated to see anybody put they han's on one of my owner's people. we was all 'spectable an' did'n know nothin' about whippen. our mammy's spanked us aplenty, _yes mam_ they did. "i remember when they didn't have no trussels 'cross either river, an' they had a passages boat by the name of walker moore, an' the warf was up there by the charlotte railroad (s.a.l.) the boat would take you from there to the bluff an' then you would have to catch the train to go to greensboro, and other places in no'th carolina. "i remember when the fourth street fire department bell was in front of the city hall. an' mr. maginny had his school right back of the city hall. "i believe we was all happy as slaves because we had the best of kere (care). i don't believe none of us was sold off because i never heard tell of it. i have always served nice folks an' never 'sociated with any other kind. i brought up mis ----'s chil'ren an' now she gives me a life intrust in this place i lives in. i hav'nt never to say really wanted for anything. i hav'nt never bothered with wimmen, an' had nothin' to bother me. "i mus' tell you' bout gov'ner dudley's election, an' the free issue niggers. they say mr. dudley told 'em if they'd vote for him he'd do more for 'em than any man ever had. so they voted for him an' he was elected. then he ups an' calls a const'utional convention in raleigh an' had all the voting taken away from 'em. an' that the big thing he done for em."[ ] footnotes: [footnote : note: have not been able to verify this memory, and think perhaps the unusual uniforms of the zoaves caused the small boy to think they were women, or some adult may have amused themselves by telling him so.] [footnote : note: governor dudley was elected before uncle jackson was born, but he enjoyed thoroughly telling this joke on the 'free issue niggers'.] n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave story story teller: ben johnson editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp: jun ] ex-slave story an interview with ben johnson of hecktown, durham, durham county, may , . uncle ben, who is nearly blind and who walks with a stick, was assisted to the porch by his wife who sat down near him in a protecting attitude. he is much less striking than his wife who is small and dainty with perfect features and snow white hair worn in two long braids down her back. she wore enormous heart shaped earrings, apparently of heavy gold; while uncle ben talked she occasionally prompted him in a soft voice. "i wuz borned in orange county and i belonged ter mr. gilbert gregg near hillsboro. i doan know nothin' 'bout my mammy an' daddy, but i had a brother jim who wuz sold ter dress young missus fer her weddin'. de tree am still standin' whar i set under an' watch 'em sell jim. i set dar an' i cry an' cry, 'specially when dey puts de chains on him an' carries him off, an' i ain't neber felt so lonesome in my whole life. i ain't neber hyar from jim since an' i wonder now sometimes if'en he's still livin'. "i knows dat de marster wuz good ter us an' he fed an' clothed us good. we had our own gyarden an' we wuz gittin' long all right. "i seed a whole heap of yankees when dey comed ter hillsboro an' most of 'em ain't got no respeck fer god, man, nor de debil. i can't 'member so much 'bout 'em do' cause we lives in town an' we has a gyard. "de most dat i can tell yo' 'bout am de ku klux. i neber will fergit when dey hung cy guy. dey hung him fer a scandelous insult ter a white 'oman an' dey comed atter him a hundert strong. "dey tries him dar in de woods, an' dey scratches cy's arm ter git some blood, an' wid dat blood dey writes dat he shall hang 'tween de heavens an' de yearth till he am daid, daid, daid, an' dat any nigger what takes down de body shall be hunged too. "well sar, de nex' mornin' dar he hung, right ober de road an' de sentence hangin' ober his haid. nobody'ud bother wid dat body fer four days an' dar hit hung, swingin' in de wind, but de fou'th day de sheriff comes an' takes hit down. "dar wuz ed an' cindy, who 'fore de war belonged ter mr. lynch an' atter de war he told 'em ter move. he gives 'em a month an' dey ain't gone, so de ku kluxes gits 'em. "hit wuz on a cold night when dey comed an' drugged de niggers out'n bed. dey carried 'em down in de woods an' whup dem, den dey throws 'em in de pond, dere bodies breakin' de ice. ed come out an' come ter our house, but cindy ain't been seed since. "sam allen in caswell county wuz tol' ter move an' atter a month de hundret ku klux come a-totin' his casket an' dey tells him dat his time has come an' if'en he want ter tell his wife good bye an' say his prayers hurry up. "dey set de coffin on two cheers an' sam kisses his ole oman who am a-cryin', den he kneels down side of his bed wid his haid on de piller an' his arms throwed out front of him. "he sets dar fer a minute an' when he riz he had a long knife in his hand. 'fore he could be grabbed he done kill two of de ku kluxes wid de knife, an' he done gone out'n de do'. dey ain't ketch him nother, an' de nex' night when dey comed back, 'termined ter git him dey shot ano'her nigger by accident. "i imembers [tr: 'members] seein' joe turner, another nigger hung at hillsboro in ' but i plumb fergot why it wuz. "i know one time miss hendon inherits a thousand dollars from her pappy's 'state an' dat night she goes wid her sweetheart ter de gate, an' on her way back ter de house she gits knocked in de haid wid a axe. she screams an' her two nigger sarvants, jim an' sam runs an' saves her but she am robbed. "den she tells de folkses dat jim an' sam am de guilty parties, but her little sister swears dat dey ain't so dey gits out of it. "atter dat dey fin's out dat it am five mens, atwater, edwards, andrews, davis an' markham. de preacher comes down to whar dey am hangin' ter preach dar funeral an' he stan's dar while lightnin' plays roun' de dead mens haids an' de win' blows de trees, an he preaches sich a sermon as i ain't neber hyard before. "bob boylan falls in love wid another oman so he burns his wife an' four youngins up in dere house. "de ku kluxes gits him, of course, an' dey hangs him high on de old red oak on de hillsboro road. atter dey hunged him his lawyer says ter us boys, 'bury him good, boys, jist as good as you'd bury me if'en i wuz daid.' "i shuck han's wid bob 'fore dey hunged him an' i he'ped ter bury him too an' we bury him nice an' we all hopes dat he done gone ter glory." n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: isaac johnson story teller: isaac johnson editor: daisy bailey waitt isaac johnson lillington, north carolina, route , harnett county. "i am feelin' very well this mornin', while i don't feel like i used to. i done so much hard work, i'm 'bout all in. dey didn't have all dese new fangled things to do work an' go 'bout on when i wus a boy. no, no, you jes' had to git out an' do all de work, most all de work by hand. i wus ten years old when de yankees come through. i wus born feb. , . "i belonged to jack johnson. my missus' name wus nancy. my father wus bunch matthews; he belonged to old man drew matthews, a slave owner. my mother wus named tilla johnson. she belonged to jack johnson, my marster. de plantation wus near lillington, on the north side o' de cape fear river and ran down to near de lillington cross roads one mile from de river. i had one brother and six sisters. my brother wus named phil and my sisters name mary, caroline, francis and i don't remember de others names right now. been so long since i saw any of 'em. dey are all dead. yes sir, dey are all dead. i do not remember my grandpa and grandma. no sir, i don't. "i wus too small to work, dey had me to do little things like feedin' de chickens, an' mindin' de table sometimes; but i wus too small to work. dey didn't let children work much in dem days till dey were thirteen or fourteen years old. i had plenty to eat, good clothes, a nice place to sleep an' a good time. marster loved his slaves an' other white folks said he loved a nigger more den he did white folks. our food wus fixed up fine. it wus fixed by a regular cook who didn't do anything but cook. we had gardens, a plenty o' meat, a plenty, an' mo' biscuit den a lot o' white folks had. i kin remember de biscuit. i never hunted any, but i went bird blindin' an' set bird traps. i caught lots o' birds. "jack johnson, my marster never had no children of his own. he had a boy with him by the name of stephen, a nephew of his, from one of his brothers. marster jack had three brothers willis, billy, and matthew. i don' remember any of his sisters. there was 'bout four thousand acres in de plantation an' 'bout slaves. marster would not have an overseer. "no sir, de slaves worked very much as they pleased. he whupped a slave now an' then, but not much. i have seen him whup 'em. he had some unruly niggers. some of 'em were part indian, an' mean. dey all loved him doe. i never saw a slave sold. he kept his slaves together. he didn't want to git rid of any of 'em. we went to de white folks church at neill's creek a missionary baptis' church. "we played during the christmas holidays, an' we got 'bout two weeks th of july, and lay by time, which wus 'bout the fourth. we had great times at corn shuckin's, log rollin's and cotton pickin's. we had dances. marster lowed his slaves lots o' freedom. my mother used to say he wus better den other folks. yes, she said her marster wus better than other folks. "the white folks didn't teach us to read an' write. i cannot read an' write, but de white folks, only 'bout half or less den half, could read an' write den. dere were very few pore white folks who could read an' write. i remember de baptizin's at de reuben matthews mill pond. sometimes after a big meeting dey would baptize twenty four at one time. no slaves run away from marster. dey didn't have any scuse to do so, cause whites and colored fared alike at marster's. we played base, cat, rolly hole, and a kind of base ball called 'round town. "dr. john mcneill looked after us when we were sick. we used a lot of herbs an' things. drank sassafras tea an' mullen tea. we also used sheep tea for measles, you knows dat. you know how it wus made. called sheep pill tea. it shore would cuore de measles. 'bout all dat would cuore measles den. dey were bad den. wus den dey is now. "i saw wheeler's cavalry. dey come through ahead of de yankees. i saw colored people in de yankee uniforms. dey wore blue and had brass buttons on 'em. de yankees an' wheeler's cavalry took everything dey wanted, meat, chickens, an' stock. we stayed on wid marster after de war. i've never lived out of de state. we lived in de same place ontill old marster an' missus died. den we lived wid deir relations right on an' here. i am now on a place deir heirs own. "ole marster loved his dram, an' he gave it to all his slaves. it sold for ten cents a quart. he made brandy by de barrels, an' at holidays all drank together an' had a good time. i never saw any of 'em drunk. people wan't mean when dey were drinking den. it wus so plentiful nobody notices it much. marster would tell de children 'bout raw head and bloody bones an' other things to skeer us. he would call us to de barn to git apples an' run an' hide, an' we would have a time findin' him. he give de one who found him a apple. sometimes he didn't give de others no apple. "i married ellen johnson may , de year de war went up, an' my wife is livin' as you see, an' able to be about. i'm not able to work, not able to go out anywhere by myself. i know i cain't las' much longer but i'm thankful to de lord for sparin' me dis long." ac n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: tina johnson story teller: tina johnson editor: daisy bailey waitt [illustration: tina johnson [tr: man named tina, or wrong photo.]] tina johnson ex-slave story an interview with tina johnson , s. bloodworth street, raleigh. "i wuz bawned in richmon', georgia 'round eighty-five years ago. my mammy wuz named cass an' my father, dat is my step-father wuz named john curtis. i got de name of johnson frum gen'l johnson, i doan know who my real daddy wuz. "my mammy belonged ter a mis' berry who wuz pretty good ter her, but we ain't had nothin' but de coarsest food an' clothes. i had one brother name dennis an' me an' him wucked wid de others in de cotton patch. "we had done moved nigh augusta when sherman come, an' sherman's sister wuz a-livin' in augusta. dat's de reason dat sherman missed us, case he ain't wantin' ter 'sturb his sister none. "i ain't seed nary a yankee, but fer two days an' nights i hyard de guns roarin' an' felt de earth shakin' lak a earthquake wuz hittin' it. de air wuz dark an' de clouds hunged low, de whole earth seemed ter be full of powder an' yo' nostrils seemed lak dey would bust wid de sting of it. "atter de surrender we stayed on an' went through de ku klux scare. i know dat de ku kluxes went ter a nigger dance one night an' whupped all of de dancers. ole marster berry wuz mad, case he ain't sont fer' em at all an' he doan want dem. "seberal year's atter de war mammy married john curtis in de baptist church at augusta, an' me an' dennis seed de ceremony. i pulled a good one on a white feller 'bout dat onct. he axed me if i knowed dat my pappy an' mammy wuz married 'fore i wuz borned. i sez ter him dat i wonder if he knows whar his mammy an' pappy wuz married when he wuz borned. "we comed ter raleigh 'fore things wuz settled atter de war, an' i watches de niggers livin' on kush, co'nbread, 'lasses an' what dey can beg an' steal frum de white folkses. dem days shore wuz bad." n.c. district: no. worker: mary hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave story story teller: bob jones editor: george l. andrews [tr: date stamp: aug ] ex-slave story bob jones an interview with bob jones, years of age, county home, raleigh, north carolina. "i wus borned in warren county on de plantation 'longin' ter mister logie rudd. my mammy wus frankie. my pappy wus named [tr: illegible] [h]arry jones. him an' my oldes' brother burton 'longed ter a mister jones dar in de neighborhood. "marster logie an' young marster joe wus nice as dey could be, but mis' betsy wus crabbed an' hard ter git along wid. she whupped de servants what done de house work an' she fussed so bad dat she moughty nigh run all us crazy. hit wus her what sold my aunt sissy ann an' hit wus her what whupped my sister mary so bad. dar warn't but six of us slaves but dem six run a race ter see who can stay outen her sight. "young marster joe wus one of de fust ter go ter de war an' i wanted ter go wid him but i bein' only fourteen dey 'cided ter sen' sidney instead. i hated dat, 'case i shorely wanted ter go. "we neber seed marse joe but twice atter he left, de time when his daddy wus buried an' when dey brung his body home frum de war. "one day about seben or eight yankees comed 'roun' our place lookin' fer reb. scouts, dey said, but dey ain't fin' none so dey goes on 'bout dere business. de nex' day a few of our soldiers brings marse joe's body home frum de war. "i doan 'member whar he wus killed but he had been dead so long dat he had turned dark, an' sambo, a little nigger, sez ter me, 'i thought, bob, dat i'ud turn white when i went ter heaben but hit 'pears ter me lak de white folkses am gwine ter turn black.' "we buried young marse joe under de trees in de family buryin' groun' an' we niggers sung swing low sweet chariot an' nearer my god to thee an' some others. de ole missus wus right nice ter ever'body dat day an' she let de young missus take charge of all de business frum dat time. "we stayed on de rudd plantation fer two years atter de war, den we moves ter method whar i met edna crowder. we courted fer seberal months an' at las' i jist puts my arm 'roun' her waist an' i axes her ter have me. she ain't got no mammy ter ax so she kisses me an' tells me dat she will. "durin' de course of our married life we had five chilluns but only one of dem lived ter be named, dat wus hyacinth, an' he died 'fore he was a month old. "edna died too, six years ago, an' lef' me ter de mercies of de worl'. all my brudders an' sisters dead, my parents dead, my chilluns dead, an' my wife dead, but i has got a niece. "till lately i been livin' at de wake county home, but my niece what lives on person street says dat iffen i can git de pension dat she can afford ter let me stay ter her house. i hope i does, 'case i doan want ter go back ter de county home." eh n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: clara jones story teller: clara jones editor: daisy bailey waitt clara jones cannon street "i been unable ter work fer years; i am blind. i been in bed helpless fer four years. i eats all i can get, and takes what i am told ter take. de lord helps me, i am depending on him. he put me into de world and he can take me out. i was years old at de surrender. my missus wus dillie scott. i wus a scott before i married william jones. my marster wus aaron scott. i loved my white folks. hain't got no word ter say against 'em. don't think de government goin' to help me any; i have been fooled so many times. we all should fix our salvation right that's the thing that counts now. my time is 'bout spent here. "de white folks went off to de war; dey said dey could whup, but de lord said, 'no', and dey didn't whup. dey went off laffin', an' many were soon cryin', and many did not come back. de yankees come through, dey took what dey wanted; killed de stock; stole de horses; poured out de lasses and cut up a lot of meaness, but most of 'em is dead and gone now. no matter whether dey were southern white folks, or northern white folks, dey is dead now. "i am helpless, my son, de baby, who is de only livin' chile i has, takes care o' me. my son is a baptis' minister, but he has no church. he stays here, and looks after me. he is forty years old. he has heart disease, and his lungs are bad. he has no regular job, so some times we have very little ter eat. our water is cut off now. we never have money to buy any ice. we have had only one ten cent piece of ice this summer. sometimes my son sets up wid me all night. "maybe de lawd will help us sometime. i trusts him anyway. yes, i trusts de lawd." ac n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: clara jones story teller: clara jones editor: geo. l. andrews [tr: date stamp: aug ] clara jones an interview with clara jones of cannon street, raleigh, north carolina. "i doan know how old i is but i wus borned long time ago case i wus a married 'oman way 'fore de war. we lived on mr. felton mcgee's place hear in wake county. i wurked lak a man dar an' de hours wus from sunup till dark mostly. he ain't had but about fifty slaves but he makes dem do de wurk of a hundret an' fifty. we ain't had no fun dar, case hit takes all of our strength ter do our daily task. yes'um we had our tasks set out ever' day. "one day, right atter my fifth chile wus borned, i fell out in de fiel'. marster come out an' looked at me, den he kicks me an' 'lows, 'a youngin' ever' ten months an' never able ter wurk, i'll sell her'. "a few days atter dat he tuck me an' my two younges' chilluns ter raleigh an' he sells us ter marse rufus jones. "marse rufus am a good man in ever' way. he fed us good an' he give us good clothes an' we ain't had much wurk ter do, dat is, not much side of what we had ter do on mcgee's plantation. "we had some fun on marse rufus' plantation, watermillion slicin's, candy pullin's, dances, prayer meetin's an' sich. yes mam, we had er heap of fun an' in dat time i had eleben chilluns. "my husband, william, still stayed on ter mister mcgee's. we got married in , de year 'fore de war started, i think. i can't tell yo' much 'bout our courtin' case hit went on fer years an' de marster wanted us ter git married so's dat i'd have chilluns. when de slaves on de mcgee place got married de marster always said dat dere duty wus ter have a houseful of chilluns fer him. "when de yankees come mis' sally, marse rufus' wife cried an' ordered de scalawags outen de house but dey jist laughs at her an' takes all we got. dey eben takes de stand of lard dat we has got buried in de ole fiel' an' de hams hangin' up in de trees in de pasture. atter dey is gone we fin's a sick yankee in de barn an' mis' sally nurses him. way atter de war mis' sally gits a letter an' a gol' ring from him. "when de news of de surrender comes mis' sally cries an' sez dat she can't do widout her niggers, so marse rufus comes in an' tells us dat we can stay on. "william moves ober dar, takes de name of jones an' goes ter farmin' wid a purpose an' believe me we makes our livin'. we stay dar through all of de construction days an' through de time when de ku kluxes wus goin' wild an' whuppin's all de niggers. we raise our eleben chilluns dar an' dar's whar my husban' died in an' den i comes ter raleigh. "i wurked till four years ago when i had a stroke now i ain't able ter wurk an' i sho' does want my pension. will yo' tell dem ter sen' hit in de nex' mail." n.c. district: no. writer: daisy whaley no. words: subject: abner jordan, ex-slave of durham county. interviewed: abner jordan durham county home. abner jordan ex-slave, years. "i wus bawn about an' i wus bawn at staggsville, marse paul cameron's place. i belonged to marse paul. my pappy's name wus obed an' my mammy wus ella jordan an' dey wus thirteen chillun on our family. "i wus de same age of young marse benehan, i played wid him an' wus his body guard. yes, suh, whare ever young marse benehan went i went too. i waited on him. young marse benny run away an' 'listed in de war, but marse paul done went an' brung him back kaze he wus too young to go and fight de yankees. "marse paul had a heap of niggahs; he had five thousan'. when he meet dem in de road he wouldn' know dem an' when he azed dem who dey wus an' who dey belonged to, dey' tell him dey belonged to marse paul cameron an' den he would say dat wus all right for dem to go right on. "my pappy wus de blacksmith an' foreman for marse paul, an' he blew de horn for de other niggahs to come in from de fiel' at night. dey couldn' leave de plantation without marse say dey could. "when de war come de yankees come to de house an' axed my mammy whare de folks done hid de silver an' gol', an' dey say dey gwine to kill mammy if she didn' tell dem. but mammy say she didn' know whare dey put it, an' dey would jus' have to kill her for she didn' know an' wouldn' lie to keep dem from hurting her. "de sojers stole seven or eight of de ho'ses an' foun' de meat an' stole dat, but dey didn' burn none of de buildin's nor hurt any of us slaves. "my pappy an' his family stayed wid marse paul five years after de surrender den we moved to hillsboro an' i's always lived 'roun' dese parts. i ain' never been out of north carolina eighteen months in my life. north carolina is good enough for me." n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: jane lassiter story teller: jane lassiter editor: geo. l. andrews [tr: date stamp: aug ] jane lassiter about years old. battle street raleigh, n.c. "i am 'bout years old. i am somewhere in my seventies, don't zackly know my age. i wus here when de yankees come an' i 'member seein' dem dressed in blue. i wus a nurse at dat time not big enough to hold a baby but dey let me set by de cradle an' rock it. "all my white folks dead an' all my people am dead an' i haint got no one to ax 'bout my age. dey had my age an' my mother's age in de bible but dey am all dead out now an' i don't know whur it is. "my mother an' me belonged to the councils. dr. kit council who lived on a plantation in de lower edge of chatham county, 'bout three miles from new hill.[ ] my father belonged to de lamberts. their plantation wus near pittsboro in chatham county. my father wus named macon lambert an' his marster wus named at lambert. our missus wus named caroline an' father's missus wus named beckie. my grandfather wus phil bell. he belonged to the bells. they lived in chatham county. my grandmother wus named peggy an' she belonged to de same family. "we lived in little ole log houses. we called 'em cabins. they had stick an' dirt chimleys wid one door to de house an' one window. it shet to lak a door. "we did not have any gardens an' we never had any money of our own. we jest wurked fer de white folks. "we had plenty sumptin to eat an' it wus cooked good. my mother wus de cook an' she done it right. our clothes wus homemade but we had plenty shiftin' clothes. course our shoes wus given out at christmas. we got one pair a year an' when dey wore out we got no more an' had to go barefooted de rest of de time. you had to take care of dat pair uv shoes bekase dey wus all you got a year. the slaves caught game sometime an' et it in de cabins, but dere wus not much time fer huntin' dere wus so much wurk to do. "dere wus 'bout fifty slaves on de plantation, an' dey wurked from light till dark. i 'member dey wurkin' till dark. course i wus too small to 'member all 'bout it an' i don't 'member 'bout de overseers. i never seen a slave whupped, but i 'members seein' dem carryin' slaves in droves like cows. de white men who wus guardin' 'em walked in front an' some behind. i did not see any chains. i never seen a slave sold an' i don't 'member ever seein' a jail fer slaves. "dere wus no books, or larnin' uv any kind allowed. you better not be ketched wid a book in yore han's. dat wus sumptin dey would git you fer. i ken read an' write a little but i learned since de surrender. my mother tole me 'bout dat bein' 'ginst de rules of de white folks. i 'members it while i wus only a little gal. when de yankees come thro'. "dere wus no churches on de plantation an' we wus not 'lowed to have prayer meetings in de cabins, but we went to preachin' at de white folks church. i 'member dat. we set on de back seat. i 'member dat. "no slaves ever run away from our plantation cause marster wus good to us. i never heard of him bein' 'bout to whup any of his niggers. mother loved her white folks as long as she lived an' i loved 'em too. no mister, we wus not mistreated. mother tole me a lot 'bout raw head an' bloody bones an' when i done mean, she say, 'better not do dat any more raw head an' bloody bones gwine ter git yo'.' ha! ha! dey jest talked 'bout ghosts till i could hardly sleep at nite, but de biggest thing in ghosts is somebody 'guised up tryin' to skeer you. ain't no sich thing as ghosts. lot of niggers believe dere is do'. "we stayed on at marsters when de surrender come cause when we wus freed we had nothin' an' nowhere to go. dats de truth. mister, dats de truth. we stayed with marster a long time an' den jest moved from one plantation to another. it wus like dis, a crowd of tenants would get dissatisfied on a certain plantation, dey would move, an' another gang of niggers move in. dat wus all any of us could do. we wus free but we had nothin' 'cept what de marsters give us. "when we got sick, you sees we stayed wid a doctor, he looked after us, but we had our herbs too. we took sassafras tea, catnip an' horehound tea an' flag. flag wus good to ease pain. jest make a tea of de flagroots an' drink it hot. "i married kit lassiter in chatham county an' i had seven chilluns. three boys an' four girls. all am dead but two. two girls are livin'. one named louie finch, her husband dead. she stays wid me an' supports me. she cooks an' supports me. my other livin' daughter is venira mclean. she lives across de street wid her husband. her husband had a stroke an' ain't able to wurk no more. dey live on five dollars a week. dey ain't able to help me now. i moved ter raleigh years ago. my husband died here. "i heard 'bout de ku klux but dey never give our family no trouble cause we didn't give 'em no cause to bother us. i don't know all 'bout slavery but i 'members dere wus a lot of big fat greasy niggers goin' around, an' i reckin dey fared good or dey wouldn't a been so fat. dey got plenty to eat even if dey did wurk 'em. "i believe slavery wus all rite whur slaves wus treated right. i haint got nuff edication to tell you nothin' 'bout lincoln an' dem udder men. heard 'em say he come thro', reckon he did too. i belong to the 'united holiness church'." footnotes: [footnote : hw: new hill (newhill p.o.), wake county.] n.c. district: no. worker: travis jordan subject: dave lawson ex-slave story lived at blue wing, n.c. [tr: date stamp: aug ] dave lawson ex-slave my father who knew the principle characters told me this story years ago "yes, suh, de wus' i knows 'bout slavery times is what dey tols me 'bout how come dey hung my gran'mammy an' gran'pappy. dey hung dem bof at de same time an' from de same lim' of de tree, but dat was way back yonder befo' mistah lincoln come down here to set de niggers free. my mammy wuzn' but six months ole den an' i wuzn' even bawn, but aunt becky tole me 'bout it when i was ole enough to lissen. "dis ain' no nice tale you gwine hear. it's de truf, but 'tain't nice. de fus' time i heard it i didn' sleep none for a week. everytime i shut my eyes i seed marse drew norwood wid dat funnel in his mouf an' de hot steam blowin' up like a cloud 'roun' his wicked face an' skeered eyes. "dey say my gran'pappy's ole marse was de meanes' white man de lawd ever let breath de breaf of life. his name was marse drew norwood. he was de riches' lan' owner anywhare 'roun'. he owned more lan' an' more niggers den anybody in person or granville counties. but he didn' make his money wid no farm, no suh, he sho didn', he made his money buyin' an' sellin' niggers. he bought dem cheap an' sold dem high. he would catch all de niggers dat run away from other plantations an' keep dem in his lockup 'twell he fatten dem, den he would take dem way off down in georgia, alabama or some place like dat an' sell dem for a big price. he would come back wid his pockets runnin' over wid money. some folks say he stold niggers to sell, but nobody never could catch him. "marse drew lived over here on de virginia line 'tween red bank an' blue wing. he owned lan' 'cross de no'th carolina line too an' lived close to blue wing. he treated his niggers so mean dey was all de time runnin' off. if he caught dem he beat dem near 'bout to death. he did beat cindy norwood to death one time kaze she run off to marse reuben jones place an' axed him to keep her. she got pizen in de cut places on her back an' had fits three days befo' de lawd took her. but marse drew jus' laugh an' say he didn' keer; dat she wuzn' no 'count nohow. "i ain't never seed marse drew kaze i was bawn way after de niggers was freed, but dey tole me he looked like a mad bull. he was short wid a big head set forward on his big shoulders. his neck was so short dat he couldn' wear no collar; he jus' kept de neck bindin' of his shirt pinned wid a diaper pin. de debil done lit a lamp an' set it burnin' in his eyes; his mouf was a wicked slash cut 'cross his face, an' when he got mad his lips curled back from his teef like a mad dog's. when he cracked his whip de niggers swinged an' de chillun screamed wid pain when dat plaited thong bit in dey flesh. he beat mistis too. mis' cary wuzn' no bigger den a minute an' she skeered as a kildee of marse drew. she didn' live long dey say kaze marse drew whipped her jus' befo' dey fus' baby wuz bawn. "marse drew done whip luzanne kaze she burnt de biscuits, an' mis' cary give her some salve to rub on de cut places on her back. when marse drew foun' it out he got so mad dat he come back to de big house an' tole mis' cary dat he gwine touch her up wid his whip kaze she give luzanne de salve, dat when he want his niggers doctored he gwine doctor dem hese'f, so he got to use his lash a little bit to make her remember. "mis' cary got so skeered dat she run 'roun' an' 'roun' de house, but marse drew run after her, an' every now an' den he th'ow out dat plaited whip an' curl it 'roun' her shoulders. every time it hit it cut clean through her clothes. mis' cary got so skeered dat de baby come dat night befo' 'twuz time. de baby wuz bawn dead an' mis' cary went on to glory wid it. dey say she was glad to go. yes, suh, everything on dat plantation, animal an' man was skeered of dat whip--dat whip dat never lef' marse drew's wris'. it was made of home-tanned leather plaited in a roun' cord big as a man's thum'. all day it swung from a leather strop tied to his wris' an' at night it lay on a chair 'side de bed whare he could reach it easy. "it was jus' befo' de yankees come over here to fight dat marse drew bought cleve an' lissa lawson. dey was my gran'mammy an' gran'pappy. my mammy den was a baby. marse drew bought dem for fo' hundred an' fifty dollars. dat was cheap kaze de niggers was young wid hard farm trainin'. ole marse didn' buy mammy. he said a nigger brat wuzn' no good, dey wouldn' sell an' dey might die befo' dey growed up, 'sides dey was a strain on de mammy what breas' nussed it. lissa cut up powerful kaze he made her leave de baby behin', but marse drew jus' laughed an' tole her dat he would give her a puppy; dat dey was plenty of houn's on de plantation. den he snapped de chains on dey wris' an' led dem off. lissa an' cleve never seed dat baby no more. aunt beck lawson took an' raised her an' when she got grown she was my mammy. "yes, suh, marse drew bought dem niggers like he was buyin' a pair of mules. dey wuzn' no more den mules to him. it was early summer when he brung dem to de plantation, but when wheat cuttin' time come lissa an' cleve was sent to de wheat fiel's. dey was smart niggers, dey worked hard--too hard for dey own good. in dem times 'twuz de smart, hard workin' niggers dat brought de bes' price, an' nobody didn' know dat better den marse drew. "one day cleve seed marse drew watchin' lissa. she was gleamin' de wheat. her skin was de color of warm brown velvet; her eyes was dark an' bright an' shinin' like muscadines under de frosty sun, an' her body was slender like a young tree dat bends easy. as she stooped an' picked up de wheat, flingin' it 'cross her arm, she swayed back an' fo'th jus' like dem saplins down yonder by de creek sways in de win'. "cleve watched marse drew on de sly. he seed him watchin' lissa. he seed de lustful look in his eyes, but 'twuzn' lissa he lustin' after; 'twuz money he seed in her slender swayin' body, in de smooth warm brown skin, an' de quick, clean way she gleam de wheat. stripped to de wais' on de alabama auction block she would bring near 'bout a thousan' dollars. cleve 'gun to sweat. he turned so sick an' skeered dat he could hardly swing de scythe through de wheat. marse drew done took his baby away, an' now sumpin' way down in his heart told him dat he was gwine take lissa. he didn' keer if he parted dem, 'twuz dollars he seed swingin' 'roun' his head--gol' dollars shinin' brighter den stars. "'twuz de nex' day dat marse drew went to cleve's cabin. he walk up whistlin' an' knock on de door wid de butt of his whip. "cleve opened de door. "ole marse tole him to pack lissa's clothes, dat he was takin' her to souf boston de nex' day to sell her on de block. "cleve fell on his knees an' 'gun to plead. he knew ole marse wuzn' gwine take lissa to no souf boston; he was gwine take her way off an' he wouldn' never see her no more. he beg an' promise marse drew to be good an' do anything he say [hw: to] do if he jus' leave him lissa, dat she was his wife an' he love her. but marse drew hit him 'cross de face wid his whip, cuttin' his lip in half, den he went over an' felt of lissa's arms an' legs like she might have been a hoss. "when he done gone cleve went over an' set down by lissa an' took her han'. lissa 'gun to cry, den she jumped up an' 'menced to take down her clothes hangin' on de wall. "cleve watched her for a while, den he made up his min' he gwine do sumpin', dat she ain't gwine be took away from him. he say: 'quit dat, lissa, leave dem clothes alone. you ain't gwine leave me, you ain't gwine nowhare, hear me?' den he tole her to make up a hot fire while he brung in de wash pot. he brung in de big iron pot an' set it on de hearth an' raked de' red coals all 'roun' it, den he filled it wid water. while it was heatin' he went to de door an' looked out. de sun done gone down an' night was crowdin' de hills, pushin' dem out of sight. by daylight dat white man would be comin' after lissa. "cleve turned 'roun' an' looked at lissa. she was standin' by de wash pot lookin' down in de water, an' de firelight from de burnin' lightwood knots showed de tears droppin' off her cheeks. cleve went outside. 'bout dat time a scritch owl come an' set on de roof an' scritched. lissa run out to skeer it away, but cleve caught her arm. he say, 'don't do dat, lissa, leave him alone. dat's de death bird, he knows what he's doin'. so lissa didn' do nothin', she let de bird keep on scritchin'. "when 'twuz good an' dark cleve took a long rope an' went out, tellin' lissa to keep de water boilin'. when, he come back he had marse drew all tied up wid de rope an gagged so he couldn' holler; he had him th'owed over his shoulder like a sack of meal. he brung him in de cabin an' laid him on de floor, den he tole him if he wouldn' sell lissa dat he wouldn' hurt him. but marse drew shook his head an' cussed in his th'oat. den cleve took off de gag, but befo' de white man could holler out, cleve stuffed de spout of a funnel in his big mouf way down his th'oat, holdin' down his tongue. he ax him one more time to save lissa from de block, but marse drew look at him wid hate in his eyes shook his head again. cleve didn' say nothin' else to him; he call lissa an' tole her to bring him a pitcher of boilin' water. "by den lissa seed what cleve was gwine do. she didn' tell cleve not to do it nor nothin'; she jus' filled de pitcher wid hot water, den she went over an' set down on de floor an' hol' marse drew's head so he couldn' move. "when ole marse seed what dey was fixin' to do to him, his eyes near 'bout busted out of his head, but when dey ax him again 'bout lissa he wouldn' promise nothin', so cleve set on him to hol' him down, den took de pitcher an' 'gun to pour dat boilin' water right in dat funnel stickin' in marse drew's mouf. "dat man kicked an' struggled, but dat water scalded its way down his th'oat, burnin' up his insides. lissa brung another pitcher full an' dey wuzn' no pity in her eyes as she watched marse drew fightin' his way to torment, cussin' all niggers an' abraham lincoln. "after dat lissa an' cleve set down to wait for de sheriff. dey knew 'twuzn' no use to run, dey couldn' get nowhare. 'bout sunup de folks come an' foun' marse drew, an' dey foun' lissa an' cleve settin' by de door han' in han' waitin'. when dem niggers tole what dey done an' how come dey done it dem white folks was hard. de sheriff took de rope from' roun' marse drew an' cut it in two pieces. he tied one rope 'roun' cleve's neck an' one rope 'roun' lissa's neck an' hung dem up in de big oak tree in de yard. "yes, suh, dat's what happened to my gran'mammy an' gran'pappy in slavery times. dis here cabin we's settin' in is de same cabin whare cleve an' lissa scalded marse drew, an' dat oak tree 'side de paf is de same tree dey was hung on. sometimes now in de fall of de year when i'se settin' in de door after de sun done gone down; an' de wheat am ripe an' bendin' in de win', an' de moon am roun' an' yeller like a mush melon, seems like i sees two shadows swingin' from de big lim' of dat tree--i sees dem swingin' low side by side wid dey feets near 'bout touchin' de groun'." n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: jane lee person interviewed: jane lee editor: g.l. andrews [tr: date stamp: sep ] jane lee an interview with jane lee, years old, selma, north carolina. "i wus borned de slave of marse henry mccullers down here at clayton on de wake an' johnston line. my daddy wus named addison an' my mammy wus named caroline. daddy 'longed to mr. john ellington who also lived near clayton. i doan know de number of mr. ellington's slaves, but i know dat marse henry had six or seben. "marse henry ain't had no oberseer ner no patterollers nother. he managed his business hisself an' ain't needed nobody. he whupped dem when dey needed hit but dat ain't often, not dat he ain't put de whuppin' on dem what did need hit. "i 'members de yankees comin' good as iffen hit wus yesterday. dey comed wid a big noise, chasin' our white folks what wus in de army clean away. dey chase dem to raleigh an' den dey kotch 'em, but dey ain't had much time, ter do us any damage case dey wus too busy atter de rebs. "de woods wus full of runaway slaves an' rebs who deserted de army so hit wus dangerous to walk out. marse henry give us a speech about hit an' atter i seed one rag-a-muffin nigger man dat wus so hongry dat his eyes pop out, i ain't took no more walks. "atter de war we moved on mr. ellington's place wid daddy an' dar i stayed till i married wyatt lee. wyatt wus a bad proposition an' he got shot in fayetteville atter we had five chilluns. wyatt tuck a woman to fayetteville an' a man named frank mattiner killed him about her. den my oldest boy went to wurk in virginia an' a man named rudolphus killed him 'bout a yaller gal. both of de murderers runaway an' ain't never been ketched. "all five of my chilluns am daid now, an' fer de past ten years i'se done ever'thing but cut cord wood. "how does i live? well i lives now an' den. de county gives me two dollars a month an' de house am mine durin' my life time. mr. parrish sold hit to judge brooks wid de understandin' dat hit am mine long as i live. i don't know why, none of us never 'longed ter de parrish's ner nothin' dat i knows of." n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: chana littlejohn person interviewed: chana littlejohn editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp: jun ] chana littlejohn state street [hw marginal note: to p. ] "i remember when de yankees come. i remember when de soldiers come an' had tents in marster's yard before dey went off to de breastworks. my mother wus hired out before de surrender an' had to leave her two chilluns at home on marster's plantation. when she come home christmas he told her she would not have to go back any more. she could stay at home. this wus de las' year o' de war and he tol' her she would soon be free. "my eyes are mighty bad. de doctor said he would work on 'em if somebody in de agriculture building would pay it.[ ] i can't see at all out of one eye and the other is bad. "i doan reckon i wus ten years old when de yankees come, but i wus runnin' around an' can remember all dis. guess i wus 'bout eight years old. i wus born in warren county, near warrenton. i belonged to peter mitchell, a long, tall man. there were 'bout a hundred slaves on de plantation. my missus wus named laura. mother always called me 'ole betsy' when she wus mad at me. betsy wus marster peter's mother. i remember seein' her. she wus a big fat 'oman wid white hair. she give biscuits to all de chillun on saturdays. she also looked out for de slave chilluns on sunday. my father wus named marcillus littlejohn and my mother wus named susan littlejohn. "we had gardens and patches and plenty to eat. we also got de holidays. marster bought charcoal from de men which dey burnt at night an' on holidays. dey worked an' made de stuff, an' marster would let dem have de steer-carts an' wagons to carry deir corn an' charcoal to sell it in town. yes sir, dis wus mighty nice. we had plank houses. dere wus not but one log house on de plantation. marster lived in de big house. it had eight porches on it. "dere wus no churches on de plantation, an' i doan remember any prayer meetin's. when we sang we turned de wash-pots an' tubs in de doors, so dey would take up de noise so de white folks could not hear us. i do remember de gatherin's at our home to pray fur de yankees to come. all de niggers thought de yankees had blue bellies. the old house cook got so happy at one of dese meetin's she run out in de yard an' called, 'blue bellies come on, blue bellies come on.' dey caught her an' carried her back into de house. "when de overseer whupped one o' de niggers he made all de slaves sing, 'sho' pity lawd, oh! lawd forgive!. when dey sang awhile he would call out one an' whup him. he had a sing fur everyone he whupped. marster growed up wid de niggers an' he did not like to whup 'em. if dey sassed him he would put spit in their eyes and say 'now i recon you will mind how you sass me.' "we had a lot o' game and 'possums. when we had game marster left de big house, and come down an' et wid us. when marster wan't off drunk on a spree he spent a lot of time wid de slaves. he treated all alike. his slaves were all niggers. dere were no half-white chilluns dere. "marster would not let us work until we were thirteen years old. den he put us to plowin' in soft lan', an' de men in rough lan'. some of de women played off sick an' went home an' washed an' ironed an' got by wid it. de oberseer tried to make two of 'em go back to work. dey flew at him an' whupped him. he told de marster when he come home, marster said, 'did you 'low dem women to whup you?' 'yes', he replied, den marster tole him if women could whup him he didn't want him. but he let him stay on. his name wus jack rivers. he wus hired by marster. marster rivers did not have any slaves. dere wus no jail on de plantation, case when er overseer whupped er nigger he did not need any jail. "de black folks better not be caught wid a book but one o' de chilluns at our plantation, marster peter mitchell's sister had taught aunt isabella to read and write, an' durin' de war she would read, an' tell us how everythin' wus goin'. tom mitchell, a slave, sassed marster. marster tole him he would not whup him, but he would sell him. tom's brother, henry, tol' him if he wus left he would run away, so marster sold both. he carried 'em to richmond to sell 'em. he sold 'em on de auction block dere way down on broad street. when dey put tom on de auction block dey found tom had a broken leg and marster didn't git much fer him. he wanted to git enough fer these two grown settled men to buy two young men. tom wus married. he wus sold from his wife and chilluns. marster did not git enough fer 'em to pay for dese two young boys. he had to pay de difference in money. de boys were 'bout or years ole. when marster got back wid 'em de overseer tole him he had ruined his plantation. de boys soon become sick wid yeller fever an' both died. dey strowed it 'round, an' many died. marster shore made a mess o' things dat time. "dr. ben wilson, of warren county wus marster mitchell's brother-in-law. he 'tended de sick folks an' he made many trips. sometimes as soon as he got home dey sent fer him again. "we played mumble-peg an' hop-scotch when i wus a child, we played jumpin' de rope a lot. "i have never been married. i had only one brother. he has been dead six years. since he died i have had a hard time makin' a livin'. brother john lived wid me until he died. i had only one sister. she died many years ago. i think slavery wus mighty hard an' wrong. i joined de church 'cause i had religion an' de church would help me to keep it. people should be religious so dey will have a place in de beyond. "abraham lincoln wus a good man. i have his picture. i think mr. roosevelt is a good god-fearin' man. when he gits sick i prays fer him. when he is sick i is jist as scared as i kin be. i prays fer him ter stay well." le footnotes: [footnote : the office of the state board of welfare is in the agriculture building.] n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: charity mcallister story teller: charity mcallister editor: daisy bailey waitt charity mcallister south street "my name is charity mcallister. i wus here a long time before de yankees come here. i wus 'bout grown when dey come through. i ain't hardly able to cook my little sumptin' to eat now. i ain't able to work out. no sir, not able to work. done and worked my time out. i wus a grown gal when de yankees come. i wus 'bout years old. i loves to give you de truth and i knows i wus dat old. i wus a grown gal. "my father wus named robert blalock. he 'longed to de blalocks o' harnett county. my mother wus annie mcallister. she 'longed to jennett mcallister in harnett county. i 'longed to john greene at lillington, harnett county. my mother first 'longed to john greene. she got in de family way by a white man, and john greene sold her to a speculator named bill avery of raleigh, a speculator. dey sold my brother. he wus as white as you is. when de surrender come mother went back to miss jennett mcallister in harnett county. dat's how dey got back dere. i wants to tell de truth and dats what i is goin' to do. "i tell you i wus whupped durin' slavery time. dey whupped us wid horsehair whups. dey put a stick under our legs an' tied our hands to de stick and we could not do nuthin' but turn and twist. dey would sure work on your back end. every time you turned dey would hit it. i been whupped dat way and scarred up. we slept on mattresses made o' tow sacks. our clothes were poor. one-piece-dress made o' carpet stuff, part of de time. one pair o' shoes a year after christmas. dey give 'em to us on january first; no shoes till after christmas. dey did not give us any holidays christmas in harnett county. dat wus 'ginst de rules. no prayer nor nuthin' on de plantation in our houses. dey did not 'low us to go to de white folks church. dey did not 'low de slaves to hunt, so we did not have any game. dey did not 'low us any patches. no sirree, we did not have any money. "de slaves slep' a lot on pallets durin' slavery days. a pallet wus a quilt or tow carpet spread on de floor. we used a cotton pillow sometimes. dere wus about slaves on de plantation. we had no overseer on master's plantation, and no books and schools o' any kind for niggers. i cannot read and write. no sir, i wish i could read and write. "i split rails and worked in de cape fear river low grounds. we fenced de fields wid rails split from trees, pine trees. dey were eleven feet long. "yes sir, i seed de patterollers. i seed a plenty of dem scoundrels. oh! ho, de ku klux, ha!, ha! dey were real scandals, and i jest caint tell you all de mean things dey done right after de war. reubin matthew's slave, george matthews, killed two ku klux. dey double teamed him and shot him, and he cut 'em wid de ax, and dey died. "i wus married right after de war. de second year after de war, i married richard rogers, but i kep' de name o' mcallister right on. my husband been dead a good long time. lawd, i don't know how long. i been married one time, and dat wus one time too much. i have two sons, one name clarence, and one named john, two daughters, one in newport news, one in washington, d.c., one named lovie, and one named lula." bn district no.: worker: travis jordan subject: clara cotton mccoy ex-slave years durham, n.c. rfd # clara cotton mc-coy ex-slave years "yes'm, i was bawn eighty-two years ago. my mammy died den an' my gran'mammy raised me. i sho do 'member when dat man sherman an' his mens marched through orange county, but, it didn' take no army of yankees to ruin my white folks home, it took jus' one yankee, but even dat didn' bow my mistis' head. "i ain't never seed nobody as proud as my mis' 'riah cotton. she never bowed her head to trouble nor nobody; she never even bowed her head in chu'ch. when de preacher prayed she jus' folded her hands an' set up straight, facin' de lawd wid no fear. no, suh, my mistis ain't gwine bow her head no time. young mis' laughter broke her mammy's heart, but she ain't make her bend her head. "mis' laughter's sho nuff name was mis' clorena cotton. she wasn' tall an' dark like mis' 'riah; she was little an' roun' an' pretty as a thorn flower, all pink an' gol'. she was jus' like a butterfly, never still a minute, skippin' here an' yonder, laughin' wid everybody. dat's whare she got her name. us niggers 'gun to call her mis' laughter kaze she was so happy. she was de only one dat could make mis' 'riah smile. she would run up to mis' 'riah an' ruffle her hair dat she done comb back so slick an' smooth, den she would stick a red rose behin' her ear, an' say: 'now, pretty mammy, you look like you did when pappy come cou'tin'.' marse ned would lay down his paper an' look fus' at mis' 'riah den at mis' laughter, an' for a minute mis' 'riah would smile, den she would look firm an' say to mis' laughter, 'don't you know dat rightousness an' virtue am more 'ceptable to de lawd den beauty? you's worldly, clorena, you's too worldly.' "mis' laughter would throw back her head an' laugh, an' her eyes would shine bright as blue glass marbles. she tole mis' 'riah dat she 'specs dat when her man come he gwine see her face befo' he seed her rightousness, so she gwine wear roses an' curls den he would know her when he seed her. den befo' mis' 'riah could speak her mind, mis' laughter done gone skippin' down de hall, her little feets in de gol' slippers twinklin' from de ruffles of her pantalets. everybody on de place love dat chile an' de house wasn' never de same after she done gone away. "my gran'mammy, rowena, say dat mis' 'riah was bawn for trouble. she was bawn de las' day of march 'tween midnight an' day. de moon was on de wane, an' jus 'as mistis was bawn de wind come down de chimbley an' blew de ashes out on de hearth. gran'mammy say dat mean trouble an' death; dat new bawn baby ain't never gwine keep long de things she love de mos', an' she better never love nobody too well, if she do dey gwine be took away from her, an' trouble sho did follow mis' 'riah after she growed up. "when de war come marse ned went off to fight. he was marse general cotton den. dat didn't leave nobody at home 'cept mis' 'riah, her mammy, mis' roberta davis, but we called her ole mistis, den dare was mis' laughter an' young marse jerome. young marse wasn' but fifteen when de war started, but dey got him in de las' call an' he didn' never come back no more. "de plantation was big, but mis' 'riah 'tended to things an' handled de niggers same as a man. de fus' year of de war she rode a hoss 'bout de fields like an overseer, seein' after de cotton an' cawn an' taters. but de yankees come an' set fire to de cotton; dey took de cawn to dey camp for dey hosses, an' dey toted off de taters to eat. de nex year mis' 'riah didn' plant no cotton a tall kaze de seeds an' gin done been burned up, but she had de niggers plant cawn, taters an' a good garden. dat fall de wind blew de hickory leaves to de no'th an' by spring trouble done come sho nuff. dey was a drouth an' de cawn didn' come up; de garden burned to pa'chment, but de taters done all right. wid all dat mis' 'riah held up her head an' kep' goin'. den one day a buzzard flew over de house top an' his wings spread a shadow out on de roof. dat night death come an' got ole mistis. she passed on to glory in her sleep. ''twas de lawd's will,' mis' 'riah tole gran'mammy, an' she still held up her head. but gran'mammy said dat if somebody had shot dat buzzard an' wiped his shadow off de roof ole mistis wouldn' have gone nowhare. "de nex' spring dey wasn' much to plant. de yankees done kep' totin' off everything, hosses an' all, 'twell dey wasn' much lef'. but de niggers, gran'mammy an' pappy along wid dem, dug up de garden wid de grubbin hoe an' planted what seeds dey had. mis' 'riah's an' mis' laughter's clothes 'gun to look ole, but gran'mammy kep' dem washed an' sta'ched stiff. 'twas mis' laughter dat kep' us from frettin' too much. she would look at mis' riah an' say, 'we'll be all right, mammy, when marse ned comes home.' sometime she call her pappy marse ned jus' like dat. one day marse ned did come home. dey brung him home. 'twas 'bout sunset. i 'members kaze 'twas de same day dat my ole black hen hatched de duck eggs i done set her on, an' de apple trees wus bloomin'. de blooms look jus' like droves of pink butterflies flyin' on de sky. dey brought marse ned in de house an' laid him out in de parlor. mis' 'riah stood straight 'side him wid her head up. 'twas de lawd's will, she tole gran'mammy, but gran'mammy shook her head an 'gun to cry, an' say: 'you can't put dat on de lawd, mis' 'riah, you sho can't. 'twasn' de lawd's will a tall, 'twas de will of de cussed yankees.' den she turn 'roun' an' took mis' laughter's hand an' led her up stairs an' put her to bed. "after dat things got worse. dat wind dat blew trouble down de chimbley for mis' 'riah when she was bawn 'gun to blow harder. de war got young marse jerome an' shot him down. dey won't much to eat, de coffee was made out of parched cawn an' de sweetnin' was cane lasses, an' de ham an' white bread done been gone a long time. dey won't no eggs an' chickens, an' dey won't but one fresh cow, but nobody ain't never seed mis' 'riah bow her head nor shed a tear. "when de surrender come dey was yankees camped all 'roun' de plantation an' hillsboro was full of dem. one day a yankee mans come to de house. he was young. he come to see if mis' 'riah didn' want to sell her place. mis' 'riah stood in de door an' talked to him, she wouldn' let him come on de po'ch. she tole him she would starve befo' she would sell one foot of her lan' to a yankee, an' dat he shouldn' darken de door of her house. "'bout dat time mis' laughter come down de hall an' stood behin' her mammy. her hair curled 'bout her head yellow as a dandylion an' she had on a blue dress. when dat sojer seed her he stopped an' dey looked an' looked at each other 'twell mis' 'riah turned 'roun'. when she done dat mis' laughter turned an' run up de stairs. "after dat mis' 'riah wouldn' let dat chile go no place by hersef. i was her bodyguard, everywhare she went i had to go too. we would go to walk down in de pine woods back of de paster, an' somehow dat yankee would go to walk in dem woods too. every time we seed him he would give me a piece of money, an' when i got back to de house i didn' tell nothin'. den one day i heard dat sojer tell mis' laughter dat he was gwine away. mis' laughter 'gun to cry an' i didn' hear what else dey said kaze dey sent me down de path. but dat night mis' laughter put her clothes in her box an' made me tote it down to de paster an' hide it in de blackberry patch. den she give me a note an' tole me to go to bed an' go to sleep, but when mornin' come to give de note to mis' 'riah. "de nex' mornin' i give de note to mis' 'riah, but by den mis' laughter done gone off wid dat yankee. mis' 'riah called all us niggers in de big room. she took down de family bible from de stand an' marked out mis' laughter's name. 'i ain't got no daughter,' she say. ''member, de chile dat i had am dead an' her name mustn' never be called in dis house no more.' "we all went out 'cept gran'mammy, but mis' 'riah wouldn' let her talk to her 'bout forgivin' mis' laughter, an' when de letters 'gun to come dey was sent back unopened. "mis' 'riah's niece, mis' betty an' marse john davis, hur husban', come to live wid mis' 'riah to help her 'ten' to things, but nobody was 'lowed to call mis' laughter's name. even though dey was free, gran'mammy an' pappy an' some more of us niggers stayed on at de plantation helpin' on de farm, but in 'bout a year mis' 'riah took sick. mis' betty wanted to sen' for mis' laughter, but mis' 'riah wouldn' even answer, but mis' betty sent for her anyhow an' kept her down stairs. den one day de sun turned black an' de chickens went to roost in de day time. gran'mammy flung her apron over her face an' 'gun to pray kase she knew de death angel was comin' after mis' 'riah. mis' betty got mis' laughter an' when she come up de stairs all us house niggers stood in de hall watchin' her go in to see mis' 'riah. she was layin' on de bed wid her eyes shut like she was sleep. "mis' laughter went in an' kneel down by de bed. 'mammy, mammy,' she say soft jus' like dat. "mis' 'riah's hands caught hold of de quilt tight, but she ain't opened her eyes. gran'mammy went up an' laid her hand on her head, but she shook it off. "de tears was runnin' down mis' laughter's cheeks. 'mammy,' she say, 'i'se sorry--i loves you, mammy.' "mis' 'riah turned her face to de wall an' her back on mis' laughter. she ain't never opened her eyes. 'bout dat time de sun come out from behin' dem black wings of shadow an' mis' 'riah's soul went on to glory to meet marse ned. "yes'm, mis' 'riah sho was proud, but gran'mammy say 'twon' no war dat brung all dat trouble on her, she say 'twas de wind dat come down de chimbley de night she was bawn--de no'th wind dat blowed de ashes 'bout de hearth." n.c. district: no. worker: mary hicks no. words: subject: a good mistress teller: henrietta mccullers editor: daisy bailey waitt a good mistress an interview with henrietta mccullers, eighty-seven years old, of e. davie street, raleigh, north carolina. "i wus borned roun' eighty-seben years ago in wake county. me an' my mammy 'longed ter mis' betsy adams an' my pappy 'longed ter mr. nat jones. i think dat marse nat had a whole passel o' slaves, but mis' betsy ain't had more'n six or seben. "yo' ax me iffen mis' betsy was good ter us? she wus so good dat i loved her all her life an' now dat she's daid i loves her in her grave. "we et de same rations what she et an' we slept in de same kind o' bed she slept in. i knows dat sometimes she'd have company an' she'd do a heap o' extra fixin'; but she ain't neber fix better fer de company dan fer us. "she'd let us have a co'n shuckin' onct a year, an' of course, we had a heap of prayer meetin's an' a few socials. she ain't wanted her niggers ter dance case she am such a good christian, but she let us have candy pullin's an' sich. "when de wuck warn't pushin' she'd let us go fishin' an' swimmin' an' all, only we jist waded, case we ain't used enough ter de water. yo' know dat niggers am natu'lly skeerd o' water anyhow. "iffen de wuck wus pushin' we wucked from sunup till dark an' mis' betsy wucked too. man, she wus a wuckin' woman, an' she made us wuck too; but i loves her better dan i does my own chilluns now, an' dat's one reason dat i wants ter go ter heaben. all my life when i done a bad thing i think 'bout mis' betsy's teachin's an' i repents. "i plowed an' dug ditches an' cleaned new groun'; an' hard wuck ain't neber hurted me yit. de master wus too puny to wuck, an' i often thinks dat maybe he married mis' betsy to look atter him. dey only had one man, uncle mose, an' so, of course, he had to have some help ter ten' 'bout a hundert acres. "most of our lan' wus planted in feed stuff fer us an' de cattle. an' so we raised ever'thing but de coffee. sometimes we drunk japonica tea, an' done without de coffee. "on sunday's yo' should o' seen us in our sunday bes' goin' ter church 'hind de missus coach, wid ole uncle mose high on de box. we can't read de hymns eben iffen we had a book 'cause we ain't 'lowed ter have no books, but we sung jist de same. "at christmas time we had a party at de big house. mis' betsy had sabed a bushel er so o' de lates' apples an' she made a big dish of lasses candy an' we popped pop corn an' wus happy. mis' betsy always give us some clothes an' we had a feas' all through de week of holidays. "when de yankees comed dey jist about cleaned us out. dey kills pigs, turkeys, calves an' hens all over de place, dey gits de beserves an' a heap o' de lasses an' dey sass mis' betsy. all dis wus dem bad-mannered soldiers' fault, case abraham lincoln ain't mean't fer it ter be dis way, i know. i reckon dat most o' dem soldiers wus pore white trash. dey doan keer 'bout de niggers, but dey ain't wanted our white folks ter be rich. "de yankees ain't stayed long in our neighborhood case dey am a-lookin' fer our soldiers, so dey goes away. "did i leave atter de war wus ober? naw sir, i ain't, an' all de rest stayed on too. uncle mose stayed on too. uncle mose stayed de rest o' his life, but i left two years atterwards when i got married. "my memory am gittin' so short dat i doan 'member my daddy's name, ner my brothers an' sisters names. i 'member dat my mammy wus named piety do' an' i 'members my fust lesson from mis' betsy, 'doan lie, an' doan steal, ax fer what you needs, needs, mind you, not what you wants.'" "niggers ort ter be back in slavery now, dey'd be better an' happier dan dey is. i ain't neber had a whuppin' in my life an' dat's more dan most of dese free niggers can say." eh n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: willie mccullough person interviewed: willie mccullough editor: g.l. andrews [tr: date stamp: oct (unclear)] willie mccullough mckee street, raleigh, north carolina. age years. "i was born in darlington county, south carolina, the th of june . my mother was named rilla mccullough and my father was named marion mccullough. i remember them very well and many things they told me that happened during the civil war. they belonged to a slave owner named billy cannon who owned a large plantation near marion, south carolina. the number of slaves on the plantation from what they told me was about fifty. slaves were quartered in small houses built of logs. they had plenty of rough food and clothing. they were looked after very well in regard to their health, because the success of the master depended on the health of his slaves. a man can't work a sick horse or mule. a slave occupied the same place on the plantation as a mule or horse did, that is a male slave. some of the slave women were looked upon by the slave owners as a stock raiser looks upon his brood sows, that is from the standpoint of production. if a slave woman had children fast she was considered very valuable because slaves were valuable property. "there was classes of slavery. some of the half-white and beautiful young women who were used by the marster and his men friends or who was the sweetheart of the marster only, were given special privileges. some of 'em worked very little. they had private quarters well fixed up and had a great influence over the marster. some of these slave girls broke up families by getting the marster so enmeshed in their net that his wife, perhaps an older woman, was greatly neglected. mother and grandmother tole me that they were not allowed to pick their husbands. "mother tole me that when she became a woman at the age of sixteen years her marster went to a slave owner near by and got a six-foot nigger man, almost an entire stranger to her, and told her she must marry him. her marster read a paper to them, told them they were man and wife and told this negro he could take her to a certain cabin and go to bed. this was done without getting her consent or even asking her about it. grandmother said that several different men were put to her just about the same as if she had been a cow or sow. the slave owners treated them as if they had been common animals in this respect. "mother said she loved my father before the surrender and just as soon as they were free they married. grandmother was named luna williams. she belonged to a planter who owned a large plantation and forty slaves adjoining mr. cannon's plantation where mother and father stayed. my grandmother on my mother's side lived to be years old, so they have tole me. "i ran away from home at the age of twelve years and went to charleston, south carolina. i worked with a family there as waitin' boy for one year. i then went to savannah, ga. i had no particular job and i hoboed everywhere i went. i would wait all day by the side of the railroad to catch a train at night. i rode freight trains and passenger trains. i rode the blind baggage on passenger trains and the rods on freight trains. the blind baggage is the car between the mail car and the engine. the doors are on the side and none at the end. i hoboed on to miami over the florida east coast railroad. i next went from miami to memphis, tenn. after staying there a few days and working with a contractor, i again visited charleston, s.c. i had been there only two days when i met some yankees from minnesota. they prevailed on me to go home with them, promising if i would do so they would teach me a trade. i went with them. we all hoboed. we were halted at the blue ridge mountains but we got by without going to jail. we then went to n.j. from n.j. to chicago, ill., then into milwaukee, wis., then on into minneapolis, minn. many towns and cities i visited on this trip, i did not know where i was. my yankee companions looked out for me. they taught me the trade of making chairs and other rustic furniture. they taught me ways of making different pieces of furniture. i spent years in minnesota but during that time i visited the south once every three years, spending several days in the county of my birth. mother and father farmed all their lives and they often begged me to settle down but the wanderlust had me and for years i travelled from place to place. even while in minnesota i did not stay in minneapolis all the time. i visited most every town in the state during the eleven years i stayed there and made hobo trips into most of the adjoining states. "the main yankee who taught me the trade was joe burton. he and the gang helped me to get food until i learned the trade well enough so i could make a living working at it. "i have made a lot of money making and selling rustic furniture, but now i am getting old. i am not able to work as i used too. not long ago i made a trip from raleigh to charleston, s.c., but the trip was different from the old days. i hitch-hiked the entire distance. i rode with white folks. on one leg of the trip of over miles i rode with a rich young man and his two pals. they had a fruit jar full of bad whiskey. he got about drunk, ran into a stretch of bad road at a high rate of speed, threw me against the top of his car and injured my head. i am not over it yet. "i quit the road in . my last trip was from raleigh, n.c. to harrisburg, penn. and return. i have made my home in raleigh ever since. done settled down, too ole to ramble anymore." le n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: , subject: james turner mclean storyteller: james turner mclean editor: daisy bailey waitt james turner mclean lillington, n.c. route "my name is james turner mclean. i was born in harnett county near cape fear river in the buies creek section, feb. , . i belonged to taylor hugh mclean, and he never was married. the plantation was between buies creek and the cape fear river; the edge of it is about yards from where i now live. the place where i live belongs to me. 'way back it belonged to the bolden's. "the boldens came from scotland, and so did the mcleans. there were about five hundred acres in this plantation and marster hugh mclean had about fifty slaves. the slaves lived in quarters and marster lived in the big house which was his home. marster took good care o' his darkies. he did not allow anybody to whip 'em either. we had good food, clothes and places to sleep. my father was jim mclean and my mother was named charlotta mclean. my grandmother was named jane. i called my mother 'sissie' and called my grandmother 'mammy' in slavery time. they did not have me to do any heavy work just tending to the calves, colts, and goin' to the post office. "the post office was at mr. sexton's and we called it sexton's post office, on the raleigh and fayetteville road. the stage run on this road and brought mail to this place. this post in my yard is part of a stage coach axle. you see it? yes sir, that's what it is. i got it at fayetteville when they were selling the old stage coach. we bought the axle and wheels and made a cart. we got that stuff about ; my father bought it. he gave twelve dollars for jes' the wheels and axle. this was after we had taken the iron clad oath and become more civilized. "we were daresome to be caught with a paper book or anything if we were tryin' to learn to read and write. we had to have a pass to go around on, or the patterollers would work on us. i saw a lot of patterollers. marster gave his negroes a pass for twelve months. he sent his timber to wilmington, and worked timber at other places so he gave his slaves yearly passes. then when the war was about up me and him went to the post office, and he got the paper. all the niggers were free. we stopped on the way home at a large sassafras tree by the side o' the road where he always stopped to read, and he read, and told me i was free. "i did not know what it was or what it meant. we came on to the house where my mother was and i said, 'sissie, we is free.' she said, 'hush, or i will put the hickory on you.' i then went to grandma, the one i called mammy and threw my arms around her neck and said, 'mammy we are free, what does it mean?' and mammy, who was grandma, said, 'you hush sich talk, or i will knock you down wid a loom stick.' "marster was comin' then, and he had the paper in his hand and was cryin'. he came to the door and called grandma and said, 'you are free, free as i am, but i want you to stay on. if you go off you will perish. if you stay on now the crop is planted and work it, we will divide.' marster was cryin' and said, 'i do not own you any longer.' he told her to get the horn and blow it. it was a ram's horn. she blew twice for the hands to come to the house. "they were workin' in the river lowground about a mile or more away. she blew a long blow, then another. marster told her to keep blowin! after awhile all the slaves come home; she had called them all in. marster met them at the gate, and told them to put all the mules up, all the hoes and plows, that they were all free. he invited all to eat dinner. he had five women cooking. he told them all he did not want them to leave, but if they were going they must eat before they left. he said he wanted everybody to eat all he wanted, and i remember the ham, eggs, chicken, and other good things we had at that dinner. then after the dinner he spoke to all of us and said, 'you have nowhere to go, nothin' to live on, but go out on my other plantation and build you some shacks.' "he gave them homes and did not charge any rent. he bought nails and lumber for them, but he would not build the houses. some stayed with him for fifteen years; some left. he gave them cows to milk. he said the children must not perish. "marster was a mighty good man, a feelin' man. he cried when some of his slaves finally left him. mother and father stayed till they got a place of their own. i waited on him as long as he lived. i loved him as well as i did my daddy. i drove for him and he kept me in his house with him. he taught me to be honest, to tell the truth, and not to steal anything. "when freedom came marster gave us a place for a school building and furnished nails and gave the lumber for the floors. he instructed them in building the windows. he was goin' to put his sister jenette mcallister in as teacher. she had married jim mcallister at the bluff church, right at the lower part of the averysboro battleground where some of the last fightin' between the north and south was done, but a man by the name of george miller of harnett county told him he knew a nigger who could teach the school. he employed the nigger, whose name was isaac brantley, to teach the school. he came from anderson's creek in the lower part of harnett county. we learned very little, as the nigger read, and let us repeat it after him. he would hold the book, and spell and let us repeat the words after him without lettin' us see in the book. he stayed there two months, then a man by the name of matthews, haywood matthews, son of henderson matthews came. they were white folks, but went for negroes. haywood teached there. he got the children started and most of 'em learned to read and write. "i saw the yankees come through. also wheeler's cavalry. the yankees took chickens and things, and they gave us some things, but wheeler's cavalry gave us nothin'. they took what they wanted and went on. marster hid his horses and things in the pecosin. "when the yankees came marster was hid. they rode up to my mother and asked her where he was. she said, 'i do not know.' they then asked her where was de silver, his money, an' de brandy, an' wine. they got one demijohn full o' brandy. they went into the house, tore up things got his china pipe, fixed for four people to smoke at one time. you could turn a piece and shett off all de holes but one, when one man wanted to smoke. they threw away his old beaver hat, but before they left they got it and left it in the house. wheeler's cavalry stomped things and broke up more den de yankees. "daddy hid marster's money, a lot of it, in the jam o' de fence. he covered it with sand that he threw out of a ditch that ran along near the fence. the yankees stopped and sat on the sand to eat their dinner and never found the money. "i have never seen a slave sold, and none never ran away from marster's plantation. when any of his men went to visit their wives he let them ride the stock, and give them rations to carry. there was a jail for slaves at summerville. i saw it. "we went to the white folks church at neill's creek. mother used herbs to give us when we were sick. dr. turner, dr. john turner, looked after us. we were bled every year in the spring and in the fall. he had a little lance. he corded your arm and popped it in, and the blood would fly. he took nearly a quart of blood from grandma. he bled according to size and age. "we ought to think a lot o' abraham lincoln and the other great men such as booker t. washington. lincoln set us free. slavery was a bad thing and unjust." ac n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: frank magwood person interviewed: frank magwood editor: g.l. andrews frank magwood "i was born in fairfield county, south carolina, near the town of ridgeway. ridgeway was on the southern railroad from charlotte, n.c. to columbia, south carolina. i was born oct. , . i belonged to nora rines whose wife was named emma. he had four girls frances, ann, cynthia, and emma and one son named george. there was about one thousand acres of land inside the fences with about two hundred acres cleared. there were about seventy slaves on the place. my mother and father told me these things. father belonged to a man by the name of john gosey and mother belonged to ole man rines. my father was named lisbon magwood and my mother was named margaret magwood. they were sold and resold on the slave auction block at charleston, south carolina, but the families to whom they belonged did not change their names until mother's name was changed when she married father in . "there were twelve children in the family, three boys and nine girls. only two boys of this family are living, walter and myself. "mother and father said at the beginning of the war that the white folks said it would not last long and that in the first years of the war they said one southern soldier could whup three yankee soldiers, but after awhile they quit their braggin. most everything to eat and wear got scarce. sometimes you couldn't git salt to go in the vegetables and meat that was cooked. people dug up the salty earth under their smoke houses, put water with it, drained it off and used it to salt rations. "there came stories that the yankees had taken this place and that they were marching through georgia into south carolina. they burned columbia, the capitol of south carolina, and had both whites and black scared, they were so rough. the yankees stole, burned, and plundered. mother said they hated south carolina cause they started the war there. they burned a lot of the farm houses. the army, so my father and mother said, was stretched out over a distance of sixty-two miles. jest think of a scope of country sixty two miles wide with most of the buildings burned, the stock killed, and nothing to eat. the southern army and the northern army had marched back and forth through the territory until there was nothing much left. where sherman's army stopped and ate and fed their horses the negroes went and picked up the grains of corn they strowed there and parched and ate them. people also parched and ate acorns in south carolina. "father and mother got together after the war and they moved to a widow lady's place by the name of ann hunter, near ridgeway. she was good to us and we stayed there sixteen years. ann hunter had three sons, abraham, george and henry. abraham went to south america on a rambling trip. he decided to stay there. he was a young man then and he married a spaniard. when he came home to see his mother it was the year of the earthquake in . he was a grown man then and he brought his wife and children with him. he had three children, all of them spoke spanish and could not understand their grandmother's talk to them. his wife was a beautiful woman, dark with black hair and blue eyes. she just worshipped her husband. they stayed over a month and then returned to south america. i have never seen 'em since or had any straight news of them. "mother and father lived on the farm until they died, with first one ex-slave owner and another. they said they had nothing when the war ended and that there was nothing to do. "i stayed with my mother and father near ridgeway until i was years of age. i left the farm then and went to work on the railroad. i thought i was the only man then. i was so strong. i worked on the railroad one year then i went to the stone mountain rock quarry in georgia. "i got my hand injured with a dynamite cap after i had worked there a year and i came home again. i went back to working on the farm as a day hand. i worked this way for one year then i began share croppin'. "i farmed ever since i came to wake county years ago. i farmed on mr. simpkins place one year then mr. dillon bought the place and i stayed there nine more years then i became so near blind i could not farm. i came to raleigh to this house four years ago. i have been totally blind since the fifteenth of last december. "i married alice praylor near ridgeway when i was years of age. we had nine children. "my last marriage was to mamie williams. i married her in south carolina. we had four children. they are all living, grown and married off. my chief worry over being blind is the fact that it makes me unable to farm anymore." le n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: jacob manson person interviewed: jacob manson editor: g.l. andrews jacob manson n. haywood st. raleigh, n.c. years of age. "it has been a long time since i wus born--bout all my people am dead 'cept my wife an one son an two daughters. de son an' one daughter live in n.c. an de other daughter lives in richmond, va. "i belonged to col. bun eden. his plantation wus in warren county an' he owned 'bout fifty slaves or more. dere wus so many of 'em dere he did not know all his own slaves. we got mighty bad treatment an' i jest wants to tell you a nigger didn't stan' as much show dere as a dog did. dey whupped fur mos' any little trifle. dey whupped me, so dey said, jes to help me git a quicker gait. de patterollers come sneakin' round often an' whupped niggers on marster's place. dey nearly killed my uncle. dey broke his collar bone when dey wus beatin him an marster made 'em pay for it 'cause uncle never did git over it. "marster would not have any white overseers. he had nigger foremen. ha! ha! he liked some of de nigger 'omans too good to have any udder white man playin' aroun' 'em. "we wurked all day an some of de night an' a slave who made a week, even atter doin dat, wus lucky if he got off widout gettin' a beatin. we had poor food an' de young slaves wus fed outen troughs. de food wus put in a trough an de little niggers gathered round an' et. our cabins wus built of poles an had stick an dirt chimleys one door an one little winder at de back end of de cabin. some of de houses had dirt floors. our clothin' was poor an homemade. "many of de slaves went bareheaded an barefooted. some wore rags roun dere heads an some wore bonnets. marster lived in de great house. he did not do any work but drank a lot of whiskey, went dressed up all de time an had niggers to wash his feet an comb his hair. he made me scratch his head when he lay down so he could go to sleep. when he got to sleep i would slip out. if he waked up when i started to leave i would have to go back an' scratch his head till he went to sleep agin. sometimes i had to fan de flies way from him while he slept. no prayer-meetings wus allowed, but we sometimes went to de white folks church. dey tole us to obey our marsters an be obedient at all times. when bad storms come dey let us rest but dey kept us in de fields so long sometimes dat de storm caught us 'fore we could git to de cabins. niggers watched de wedder in slavery time an de ole ones wus good at prophesyin' de wedder. "marster had no chilluns by white women. he had his sweethearts 'mong his slave women. i ain't no man for tellin false stories. i tells de truth an dat is de truth. at dat time it wus a hard job to find a marster dat didn't have women 'mong his slaves. dat wus a ginerel thing 'mong de slave owners. "one of de slave girls on a plantation near us went to her missus an tole her 'bout her marster forcing her to let him have sumthin to do wid her an her missus tole her, 'well go on you belong to him.' "another marster named jimmie shaw owned a purty slave gal nearly white an he kept her. his wife caught 'im in a cabin in bed wid her. his wife said sumthin to him 'bout it an' he cussed his wife. she tole him she had caught him in de act. she went back to de great house an got a gun. when de marster come in de great house she tole 'im he must let de slave girls alone dat he belonged to her. he cussed her agin an sed she would have to tend to her own dam business an' he would tend to his. dey had a big fuss an den marster shaw started towards her. she grabbed de gun an let him have it. she shot 'im dead in de hall. dey had three chillun, two sons an one married daughter. missus shaw took her two sons an' left. de married daughter an her husband took charge of de place. missus an her sons never come back as i knows of. "a lot of de slave owners had certain strong healthy slave men to serve de slave women. ginerally dey give one man four women an' dat man better not have nuthin' to do wid de udder women an' de women better not have nuthin to do wid udder men. de chillun wus looked atter by de ole slave women who were unable to work in de fields while de mothers of de babies worked. de women plowed an done udder work as de men did. no books or larnin' of any kind wus allowed. "one mornin' de dogs begun to bark an' in a few minutes the plantation wus kivered wid yankees. dey tole us we wus free. dey axed me whur marster's things wus hid. i tole 'em i could not give up marster's things. dey tole me i had no marster dat dey had fighted four years to free us an' dat marster would not whup me no more. marster sent to de fields an' had all de slaves to come home. he told me to tell 'em not to run but to fly to de house at once. all plow hands an' women come running home. de yankees tole all of 'em dey wus free. "marster offered some of de yankees sumtin to eat in his house but dey would not eat cooked food, dey said dey wanted to cook dere own food. "i saw slaves sold in slavery time. i saw 'em whupped an many ran away. some never come back. when we wus sick we took lots of erbs an roots. i married roberta edwards fifty-one years ago. we had six sons and three daughters. atter the war i farmed around from one plantation to another. i have never owned a home of my own. when i got too ole to work i come an' lived wid my married daughter in raleigh. i been here four years. i think slavery wus a mighty bad thing, though it's been no bed of roses since, but den no one could whup me no mo." le n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: roberta manson person interviewed: roberta manson editor: g.l. andrews roberta manson n. haywood street, raleigh, n.c. age . "i wus borned de second year of de war an' de mos' i know 'bout slavery wus tole to me by other colored folks. my marster wus weldon edwards and my missus wus missus lucy. the plantation wus in warren county near ridgeway. my father wus named lanis edwards and my mother wus named ellen edwards. they both 'longed to weldon edwards. father and mother said he wus mighty rough to 'em. i heard my mother say dat marster whupped father so bad dat she had to grease his back to git his shirt off. "marster allowed de overseers to whup de slaves. de overseers wus named caesar norfeir, jim trissel, and david porter. "dere wus a ole man dere by de name of harris edwards who fed up the hogs an' things. he wus sick an' he kept him sick. well after awhile de ole marster tried to make him work. de overseers den took him out way down in the plum orchard. dey pulled his tongue out an whupped him. he died an' wus found by de buzzards. de overseers wus named jim trissel an david porter dat did dat. dis ole slave 'longed to missus; and when she found it out dere wus a awful fuss. one of de white overseers tried to put it off on de udder. it finally fell on jim trissel and dey soon got rid of him. missus tole him, 'you have killed my poor ole sick servant.' mr. jim trissel killed several slaves an dey wus shore 'fraid of him. he knocked my father down wid a stick an when he fell my father knocked his hip out of place. dey whupped father 'cause he looked at a slave dey killed an cried. "dey didn't allow no prayermeetings or parties in de houses. no books in de houses. no books or papers, no edication. "some of de owners when dey knowed freedom wus commin' dey treated de slaves wusser den ever before. de ole men an women dat wus unable to work wus neglected till dey died or was killed by beatin' or burnin'. col. skipper did dat thing. he lived near clarksville, va. he put a lot of ole men an women on a island in the roanoke river. de river rose an stayed up eighteen days an dey parished to death. dey were sent dere when sick and dey died. mr. skipper had over two hundred slaves. he wus one of the richest men in the south and mr. nick long wus another rich man. nick long owned de plantation now known as the caledonia state's prison farm. gen. ransom's plantation wus a part of de land 'longing to the caledonia state prison farm now. it joined nick long's plantation. "father and mother had bad fare, poor food, clothes an shoes. dey didn't sift slave meal. dey had no sifters. sometimes de collards and peas was not cleaned 'fore cookin'. dey said de more slaves a man had de wusser he wus to slaves. marster had dirt floors in de cabins. dey slept on straw bunks made outen baggin' and straw. some slept on wheat, straw an' shucks an' covered wid baggin. "ole man mat bullock, a negro slave, an' his mother ella an' grandmother susan, also slaves, froze to death. mat bullock the son of ole man mat bullock tole me this. dese slaves 'longed to jim bullock who's plantation wus near townsville, n.c. "weldon edwards who owned father and mother had a whuppin post an dey said dey whupped ole man jack edwards to death 'cause he went to see his sick wife. he crawled from de whuppin post to de house atter bein whupped and died. dey tole him 'fore dey whupped him dat dey wus goin to stop him from runnin' away. families wus broken up by sellin'. dey couldn't sell a slave dat wus skinned up. aunt millie, agie, gracy and lima wus sold from the edwards family. aunt millie cried so much cause she had to leave her young baby dat dey talked of whuppin her, ut den dey say 'we cannot sell her if we whup her an' so dey carried her on. mother sed marster weldon edwards sole four women away from dere young chilluns at one time. "we lived in log cabins with dirt floors, one door, and one small winder at de back. de cabins had stick an dirt chimbleys. "when freedom come mother and father stayed on wid marster cause dey didn't have nuthin. dey couldn't leave. dey farmed for shares. next year the overseer who had beat father so bad come atter him to go an work with him. it wus mr. david porter. i axed pa ain't dat de man who beat you so when you wus a slave? an pa say, 'you shet your mouth.' he stayed with mr. porter two years den we went to mr. william paschal's. we stayed there four years. endurin' the next fifteen years we moved a good many times. we farmed round and round an' finally went to mr. peter wyms' place near where i wus borned. "i wus married there to jack manson, years ago in january. i had eight chilluns five girls an' three boys. three are living now. one boy and two girls. two of the chilluns are in n.c. and one, a girl, is in virginia. "i think slavery wus a bad thing but when freedom come there wus nuthin' else we could do but stay on wid some of de white folks 'cause we had nuthin to farm wid an nuthin to eat an wear. "de men who owned de plantations had to have somebody to farm dere lan' an' de slaves had to have somewhur to stay. dats de way it wus, so if dere wus a lot of movin' about de exslaves kept doin de wurk cause dat's de only way dey had to keep from perishin'. de marsters needed 'em to farm dere lan' an' de exslaves just had to have somewhur to live so both parties kept stayin' an' wurkin together. "de nigger made mos' dey has out of workin' fer white folks since de war 'cause dey didn't have nuthin' when set free an dat is all dere is to it." n.c. district: worker: travis jordan no. words: subject: millie markham's story interviewed: millie markham st. joseph st., durham, n.c. [tr: date stamp: jun ] ex-slave story as told by millie markham of st. joseph st., durham, n.c. "i was never a slave. although i was born somewhere about , i was not born in slavery, but my father was. i'm afraid this story will be more about my father and mother than it will be about myself. "my mother was a white woman. her name was tempie james. she lived on her father's big plantation on the roanoke river at rich square, north carolina. her father owned acres of land and many slaves. his stables were the best anywhere around; they were filled with horses, and the head coachman was named squire james. squire was a good looking, well behaved negro who had a white father. he was tall and light colored. tempie james fell in love with this negro coachman. nobody knows how long they had been in love before tempie's father found it out, but when he did he locked tempie in her room. for days he and miss charlottie, his wife, raved, begged and pleaded, but tempie just said she loved squire. 'why will you act so?' miss charlottie was crying. 'haven't we done everything for you and given you everything you wanted?' "tempie shook her head and said: 'you haven't given me squire. he's all i do want.' "then it was that in the dark of the night mr. james sent squire away; he sent him to another state and sold him. "but tempie found it out. she took what money she could find and ran away. she went to the owner of squire and bought him, then she set him free and changed his name to walden squire walden. but then it was against the law for a white woman to marry a negro unless they had a strain of negro blood, so tempie cut squire's finger and drained out some blood. she mixed this with some whiskey and drank it, then she got on the stand and swore she had negro blood in her, so they were married. she never went back home and her people disowned her. "tempie james walden, my mother, was a beautiful woman. she was tall and fair with long light hair. she had fifteen children, seven boys and eight girls, and all of them lived to be old enough to see their great-grandchildren. i am the youngest and only one living now. most of us came back to north carolina. two of my sisters married and came back to rich square to live. they lived not far from the james plantation on roanoke river. once when we were children my sister and i were visiting in rich square. one day we went out to pick huckleberries. a woman came riding down the road on a horse. she was a tall woman in a long grey riding habit. she had grey hair and grey eyes. she stopped and looked at us. 'my,' she said, 'whose pretty little girls are you?' "'we're squire walden's children,' i said. "she looked at me so long and hard that i thought she was going to hit me with her whip, but she didn't, she hit the horse. he jumped and ran so fast i thought she was going to fall off, but she went around the curve and i never saw her again. i never knew until later that she was mis' charlottie james, my grandmother. "i don't know anything about slavery times, for i was born free of free parents and raised on my father's own plantation. i've been living in durham over sixty-five years." n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: a slavery story story teller: maggie mials editor: george l. andrews [tr: date stamp: sep ] maggie mials years old, of maple street, raleigh, north carolina. "i'll never forgit de day when de yankees come through johnston county. "i belonged to tom demaye an' ole missus in slavery time wus named liza. "de demayes lived in raleigh when i wus born, so mother tole me, but dey moved to a place near smithfield. he had 'bout a dozen slaves. we had little cabins to live in, but marster had a big house to live in that set in a grove. de food i got wus good because i was a pet in de family. my mother was a cook an' a pet. my marster wus good to all of us an' i fared better den dan i do now. ole marster thought de world of me and i loved him. marster allowed his slaves to visit, have prayer meetings, hunt, fish, an' sing and have a good time when de work wus done. some of de slave owners did not like marster cause he wus so good to his slaves. they called us 'ole man demayes damn free niggers.' i don't know my age zackly but i was a big gal, big enough to drag a youngin roun' when de yankees come through. i wus six years old if no older. "when de yankees come dey called us to de wagons an' tole us we wus free. dey give each of us a cap full of hard-tack. dey took clothes an' provisions an' give us nothin'. one crowd of yankees would come on an' give us something an' another would come along an' take it away from us. dey tole us to call marster an' missus johnny rebs, that we wus free an' had no marsters. dat wus a day for me. some of de yankees wus ridin', some walkin', an' some runnin'. dey took de feather beds in marsters house to de windows, cut dem open an' let de feathers blow away. it wus a sad time to me 'cause dey destroyed so much of marster's stuff. "after de yankees left we stayed right on with marster a long time, den we moved away to other members of de family. mother would not give up de family an' she an' daddy stayed wid dem as long as dey lived. i love de family now an' i rather be livin' wid 'em den like i is. dere is only a few of de younger set of de demayes livin'. ole marster an' missus' had three boys, sye, lee, zoa; girls, vick, correna and phidelia, six chilluns in all. dey is all dead but i can't never forgit 'em if i live to be a hundred years ole. "i tries to live right before god an' man cause i knows i haint got much longer on dis earth. i knows i got to lay down sometime to rise no more till judgment day, den i wants to meet ole marster, missus an' de family in dat country where dere'll be no more goodbyes. "i was married at twenty years ole to theodore miles at de ole mack powell place near de neuse river, in wake county. i wus hired as a house girl at dis place wid mr. alango miles family. dey wus some of de demaye family. i had ten chillun, four boys an' six girls. six of my chillun are livin' now. two boys an' four girls. my husband been dead 'bout years. he died in oct. . buried on de third sunday in october. "i have farmed most of my life an' have raised a big family. sometimes we wus hongry an' sometimes we had plenty. none of my chilluns wus never arrested an' none ever went to prison. i thinks dats something to knock on wood about. "slavery was a good thing by all niggers who happened to have good marsters. de owners wus to blame for slavery gettin' such a bad reputation. some of 'em jus' done a little too much an' sich caused de war an' give de niggers freedom. slavery wus good for some an' bad for others." eh n.c. district: no. worker: mary hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave story teller: anna mitchel editor: daisy bailey waitt anna mitchel ex-slave story. an interview with anna mitchel, of s. person street, raleigh, north carolina. "i wus borned in vance county an' i 'longed ter mr. joseph hargrove, de same man what owned emily an' rufus hargrove, my mammy an' pappy. he also owned joseph an' cora, my bruder an' sister. my mammy uster 'long ter 'nother man what lived in virginia, but mr. hargrove buyed her when she wus sold on de choppin' block at richmon'. he already had my pappy so dey got married dar on his plantation. "marster ain't neber whup nobody, case he am too much de gentleman, but de oberseer done nuff fer 'em all. "dar wasn't no sadday evenin's off 'cept fer de wimen what had eight or ten chilluns an' dey got off ter wash 'em up. in de rush time, dat is, when de fodder wus burnin' up in de fiel's or de grass wus eatin' up de cotton dey had ter wuck on sunday same as on monday. "my mammy wus a seamstress, an' i'se knowed her ter wuck all night an' half de day ter make clothes fer de slaves. "we ain't had but two meals a day an' dey wus scant. we had a few frolicks, dances an' sich lak onct in a while an' onct a year we all went ter a show, sorter lak a circus. "i 'members dat we sung 'swing low sweet chariot,' 'de promised lan',' 'ole time religion,' an' one dat goes: "'dark wus de night an' col' de groun' on which my saviour lay, an' sweat lak drops of blood run down while ter de god he pray.' "dar wus a few mo' but i done fergit. "does you know dat i can't 'member much 'bout de slave days? i doan recoleck when de yankees comed, mebbe dey ain't come ter our part o' de country. i 'members when marse joseph comed out ter de slave cabins an' tells us dat we can leave case we am free. i think dat dat wus de las' of august, case de fodder wus in. "i still knows a lady an' gentleman do'. a lady or gentleman speaks nice ter you, case dey wus borned wid a silver spoon in dey mouth, but de other kin' what talks biggety shows plain dat de spoons which dey am borned wid am brass." eh n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: , subject: a slave story reference: patsy mitchner editor: george l. andrews [tr: date stamp: jul ] patsy mitchner years old, of mckee street, raleigh, n.c. "come right in, honey, i been expectin' some of you white folks a long time from what i dreampt an' i wants to tell you my story. you see i is umble an' perlite 'cause my white folks teached me dat way. "come right in, i'm not feelin' well. my husban' has been dead a long time. i cannot stan' up to talk to you so have a seat. "i belonged to alex gorman, a paper man. he printed the 'spirit of the age,' a newspaper. i reckon you can find it in the museum. i reckons dey keeps all way back yonder things in dere jest to remember by. he had a lot of printers both black an' white. de slaves turned de wheels de most of de time, an' de white mens done de printin'. dere wus a big place dug out at each side of de machine. one man pulled it to him an' de other pulled it to him. dey wurked it wid de han's. it wus a big wheel. dey didn't have no printers den like dey got now. "de ole printin' place is standin' now. it stands in front of de laundry on dawson street, where a lot of red wagons stan's goin' up towards the bus station. de ole buildin' wid stairsteps to go up. dey sot de type upstairs an' de machine wus on de groun' floor. "marster married gormans twice an' dey wus both named mary. don't know whether dey wus sisters or not, but dey wus both virginia women. so my missus name wus mary gorman. "i do not know my age, but i wus 'bout years old when wheeler's cavalry come through. dey skeered me so much i squatted like a rat. dey pulled clothes off de line an' stole clothes from stores an' went down to de depot an' changed clothes. dey stole de womens drawers an' filled 'em wid things. dey stole meat, corn an' other things an' put 'em in womens drawers, throwed 'em across dere horses backs an' went on. you know women den wore long drawers open in front, ha! ha! "wheeler's cavalry tied up de legs an' front of 'em an' filled de legs an' seat full of things dey stole. dey jest grabbed everything an' went on. dey had a reason for leavin'; de yankees wus at dere heels. "jest as soon as dey lef' de yankees come. you know, dere wus a man here by de name of governor holden an' de flag wus a red an' white flag, an' when de yankees come dere wus another flag run up. "i want to try to tell de truth 'cause i wus teached dat way by marster an' missus. "de flag brought peace 'cause de yankees did not tear up de town. dey had guards out around de houses an' dey marched back an' forth day an' night to keep everybody from robbin' de houses. "de yankees wid dere blue uniforms on jest kivered de town. dey wus jest like ants. dey played purty music on de ban' an' i liked dat. i wus fraid of 'em dough 'cause marster an' missus said dey were goin' to give us to 'em when dey come. i stayed hid mos' of de time right after de surrender 'cause i didn't want de yankees to ketch me. when de others lef' after de surrender i run away an' went to rev. louis edwards, a nigger preacher. he sent me to my aunt at rolesville. my aunt wus named patsy lewis. i stayed dere bout three weeks when my uncle rented whur cameron park is now an' tended it dat year. we all come to raleigh an' i have lived here all my life, but the three weeks i stayed at rolesville. "i have wurked for white folks, washin', cookin', an' wurkin' at a laundry ever since freedom come. "i never seed my father in my life. my mother wus named tempe gorman. dey would not talk to me 'bout who my father wus nor where he wus at. mother would laf sometime when i axed her 'bout him. "marster treated his niggers mean sometimes. he beat my mother till de scars wus on her back, so i could see 'em. "dey sold my mother, sister an' brother to ole man askew, a slave speculator, an' dey were shipped to de mississippi bottoms in a box-car. i never heard from mother anymore. i neber seed my brother agin, but my sister come back to charlotte. she come to see me. she married an' lived dere till she died. "in slavery time de food wus bad at marsters. it wus cooked one day for de nex', dat is de corn bread wus baked an' de meat wus biled an' you et it col' fer breakfas'. de meat wus as fat as butter an' you got one rashen an' a hunk of corn bread fer a meal. no biscuit wus seen in de slave houses. no sir, dat dey wus not. no biscuit for niggers at marsters. "our clothes wus bad an' our sleepin' places wus jest bunks. our shoes had wooden bottoms on 'em. "i heard 'em talk about patterollers so much i wus skeered so i could hardly sleep at night sometimes. i wus 'fraid dey would come an' catch me but i neber seed one in my life. "i neber seed any slaves sold, in chains, or a jail for slaves. i neber seed a slave whupped. marster took 'em in de back shed room to whup 'em. "we was not teached to read an' write. you better not be caught wid no paper in yore han' if you was, you got de cowhide. i darsent to talk back to 'em no matter what happen'd dey would git you if you talked back to 'em. "i married tom mitchner after de war. i went by de name of patsy gorman till i wus married. now i goes by de name of patsy mitchner. my husban', tom mitchner, was born a slave. my marster lived whar de bus station now is on de corner of martin an' mcdowell streets in dat ole house dat stan's near dere now. i wus born an' bred in raleigh an' have neber libed out of wake county. "ole dr. jim mckee, who is dead an' gone, looked atter us when we wus sick. he give us medicine an' kep us clean out better en people is clean out now. dr. john mckee at de city hall is his son. dey pays no 'tention to me now; guess dey has forgotten me. "did you say ghosts, lawsy, no i neber seed one but our spirits is always wonderin' aroun' eben before we dies. spirits is wonderin' eberywhere an' you has to look out for 'em. "witches is folks. i neber had a spell put on me by one, but i knowed a woman once who had a spell put on 'er, an' it hurt her feet, but a ole white man witch doctor helped take de spell off, but i think it wus de lord who took it off. i is a christain an' i believes eberythin' is in his han's. "de people is worser now den dey was in slavery time. we need patterollers right now. 'twould stop some uv dis stealin' an' keep a lot of folks out of de penetentiary. we need 'em right now. "slavery wus better for us den things is now in some cases. niggers den didn't have no responsibility, jest wurk, obey an' eat. now dey got to shuffle around an' live on jest what de white folks min' to give 'em. "slaves prayed for freedom. den dey got it dey didn't know what to do wid it. dey wus turned out wid nowhere to go an' nothin' to live on. dey had no 'sperence in lookin' out for demselves an' nothin' to wurk wid an' no lan'. "dey made me think of de crowd onetime who prayed for rain when it wus dry in crap time. de rain fell in torrents an' kept fallin' till it was 'bout a flood. de rain frogs 'gin to holler an' callin' mo' rain an' it rained an' rained. den de raincrow got up in a high tree an' he holler an' axed de lord for rain. it rained till ebery little rack of cloud dat come ober brought a big shower of large drops. de fiel's wus so wet an' miry you could not go in 'em an' water wus standin' in de fiel's middle of ebery row, while de ditches in de fiel's looked like little rivers, dey wus so full of water. it begun to thunder agin in de southwest, right whar we call de 'chub hole' of de sky, whar so much rain comes from an' de clouds growed blacker an' blacker back dere. "den one of de mens who had been prayin' for rain up an' said, 'i tell you brothers if it don't quit rainin' eberything goin' to be washed away.' dey all looked at de black rain cloud in de west wid sor'ful faces as if dey felt dey didn't know what use dey had for rain after dey got it. den one of de brothers said to de other brothers kinder easy an' shameful like, 'brothers don't you think we overdone dis thing?' dats what many a slave thought 'bout prayin' for freedom. "before two years had passed after de surrender dere wus two out of every three slaves who wushed dey wus back wid dere marsters. "de marsters kindness to de niggers after de war is de cause of de nigger havin' things today. dere wus a lot of love between marster an' slave en dar is few of us dat don't love de white folks today. "slavery wus a bad thing an' freedom, of de kin' we got wid nothin' to live on wus bad. two snakes full of pisen. one lyin' wid his head pintin' north, de other wid his head pintin' south. dere names wus slavery an' freedom. de snake called slavery lay wid his head pinted south an' de snake called freedom lay wid his head pinted north. both bit de nigger, an' dey wus both bad." eh. n.c. district: ii worker: mrs. w.n. harriss no. words: subject: emeline moore, ex-slave. interviewed: emeline moore. hanover street, wilmington, n.c. edited: mrs. w.n. harriss emeline moore, ex-slave hanover street, wilmington, n.c. "i don' exac'ly know how ole i is, but dey say i mus' be eighty. no mam, i ain' got nothin' in no fam'ly bible. where'd i git a fam'ly bible? my mammy (with a chuckle) had too many chillun to look after to be puttin' 'em down in no bible, she did'n have time, an' she did'n have no learnin' nohow. but i reckon i is eighty because i 'members so much i's jes' about forgotten it all. "my folks belonged to colonel taylor. he an' mis' kitty lived in that big place on market street where the soldiers lives now, (the w.l.i. armory) but we was on the plantation across the river mos' of the time. "of co'se i was born in slavery, but i don' remember nothin' much excep' feedin' chickens. an' up on market street mis' kitty had chickens an' things, an' a cow. the house had more lan' around it than it got now. i do remember when they thought eve'ybody 'roun' here was goin' to die an' i got skeered. no'm t'want no war it was the yaller fever. we was kept on the plantation but we knowed folks jes died an' died an' died. we thought t'would'nt be nobody left. i don't remember nothin' about lincoln travelin' aroun'. i always heard he was president of the lunited states, an' lived in washington, an' gave us freedom, an' got shot. of co'se i knows all about booker washington, a lot of our folks went to his school, an' he been here in wilmington. i'd know a lot about slave times only i was so little. i have heard my mammy say she had a heap easier time in slavery than after she was turn' loose with a pa'cel of chilluns to feed. i married as soon as i could an' that's how i got this house. but i can't work, an' i disremembers so much. the welfare gives me regerlar pay, an' now an' then my friends give me a nickel or a dime. "i lives alone now, until i can git a decent 'ooman to live with me. i tells you missus these womens an' young girls today are sumpin else. after you had 'em aroun' awhile you wish you never knowed 'em. "sometimes when i jes sets alone an rocks i wonder if my mammy didn't have it lots easier than i does." n.c. district: asheville worker: marjorie jones no. words: , subject: interview with fannie moore, ex-slave. story teller: fannie moore editor: marjorie jones date: september , [tr: cover page is in a format labeled "state editorial identification form".] [illustration: fannie moore] interviewer: marjorie jones, date: sept. , . interview with: fannie moore, ex-slave, valley street, asheville, n.c. "nowadays when i heah folks a'growlin an' a'grumblin bout not habbin this an' that i jes think what would they done effen they be brought up on de moore plantation. de moore plantation b'long to marse jim moore, in moore, south carolina. de moores had own de same plantation and de same niggers and dey children for yeahs back. when marse jim's pappy die he leave de whole thing to marse jim, effen he take care of his mammy. she shore was a rip-jack. she say niggers didn't need nothin' to eat. dey jes like animals, not like other folks. she whip me, many time wif a cow hide, til i was black and blue. "marse jim's wife war mary anderson. she war the sweetest woman i ebber saw. she was allus good to evah nigger on de plantation. her mother was harriet anderson and she visit de missus for long time on de farm. all de little niggers like to work fo' her. she nebber talk mean. jes smile dat sweet smile and talk in de soffes' tone. an when she laugh, she soun' jes like de little stream back ob de spring house gurglin' past de rocks. an' her hair all white and curly, i can 'member her always. "marse jim own de bigges' plantation in de whole country. jes thousands acres ob lan'. an de ole tiger ribber a runnin' right through de middle ob de plantation. on one side ob de ribber stood de big house, whar de white folks lib and on the other side stood de quarters. de big house was a purty thing all painted white, a standin' in a patch o' oak trees. i can't remember how many rooms in dat house but powerful many. o'corse it was built when de moores had sech large families. marse jim he only hab five children, not twelve like his mammy had. dey was andrew and tom, den harriet, nan, and nettie sue. harriett was jes like her granny anderson. she was good to ebberbody. she git de little niggers down an' teach em dey sunday school lesson. effen ole marse jim's mammy ketch her she sho' raise torment. she make life jes as hard for de niggers as she can. "de quarters jes long row o' cabins daubed wif dirt. ever one in de family lib in one big room. in one end was a big fireplace. dis had to heat de cabin and do de cookin too. we cooked in a big pot hung on a rod over de fire and bake de co'n pone in de ashes or else put it in de skillet and cover de lid wif coals. we allus hab plenty wood to keep us warm. dat is ef we hab time to get it outen de woods. "my granny she cook for us chillens while our mammy away in de fiel. dey wasn't much cookin to do. jes make co'n pone and bring in de milk. she hab big wooden bowl wif enough wooden spoons to go 'roun'. she put de milk in de bowl and break it up. den she put de bowl in de middle of de flo' an' all de chillun grab a spoon. "my mammy she work in de fiel' all day and piece and quilt all night. den she hab to spin enough thread to make four cuts for de white fo'ks ebber night. why sometime i nebber go to bed. hab to hold de light for her to see by. she hab to piece quilts for de white folks too. why dey is a scar on my arm yet where my brother let de pine drip on me. rich pine war all de light we ebber hab. my brother was a holdin' de pine so's i can help mammy tack de quilt and he go to sleep and let it drop. "i never see how my mammy stan' sech ha'd work. she stan' up fo' her chillun tho'. de ol' overseeah he hate my mammy, case she fight him for beatin' her chillun. why she git more whuppins for dat den anythin' else. she hab twelve chillun. i member i see de three oldes' stan' in de snow up to dey knees to split rails, while de overseeah stan off an' grin. "my mammy she trouble in her heart bout de way they treated. ever night she pray for de lawd to git her an' her chillun out ob de place. one day she plowin' in de cotton fiel. all sudden like she let out big yell. den she sta't singin' an' a shoutin', an' a whoopin' an' a hollowin'. den it seem she plow all de harder. when she come home, marse jim's mammy say: 'what all dat goin' on in de fiel? yo' think we sen' you out there jes to whoop and yell? no siree, we put you out there to work and you sho' bettah work, else we git de overseeah to cowhide you ole black back.' my mammy jes grin all over her black wrinkled face and say: 'i's saved. de lawd done tell me i's saved. now i know de lawd will show me de way, i ain't gwine a grieve no more. no matter how much yo' all done beat me an' my chillun de lawd will show me de way. an' some day we nevah be slaves.' ole granny moore grab de cowhide and slash mammy cross de back but mammy nebber yell. she jes go back to de fiel a singin'. "my mammy grieve lots over brothah george, who die wif de fever. granny she doctah him as bes' she could, evah time she git way from de white folks kitchen. my mammy nevah git chance to see him, 'cept when she git home in de evenin'. george he jes lie. one day i look at him an' he had sech a peaceful look on his face, i think he sleep and jes let him lone. long in de evenin i think i try to wake him. i touch him on de face, but he was dead. mammy nebber know til she come at night. pore mammy she kneel by de bed an' cry her heart out. ol' uncle allen, he make pine box for him an' carry him to de graveyard over on de hill. my mammy jes plow and cry as she watch em' put george in de groun'. "my pappy he was a blacksmith. he shoe all de horses on de plantation. he wo'k so hard he hab no time to go to de fiel'. his name war stephen moore. mars jim call him stephen andrew. he was sold to de moores, and his mammy too. she war brought over from africa. she never could speak plain. all her life she been a slave. white folks never recognize 'em any more than effen dey was a dog. "it was a tubble sight to see de speculators come to de plantation. dey would go through de fields and buy de slaves dey wanted. marse jim nebber sell pappy or mammy or any ob dey chillun. he allus like pappy. when de speculator come all de slaves start a shakin'. no one know who is a goin'. den sometime dey take 'em an' sell 'em on de block. de 'breed woman' always bring mo' money den de res', ebben de men. when dey put her on de block dey put all her chillun aroun her to show folks how fas she can hab chillun. when she sold her family nebber see her agin. she nebber know [hw: how] many chillun she hab. some time she hab colored children an' sometime white. taint no use to say anything case effen she do she jes git whipped. why on de moore plantation aunt cheney, everbody call her aunt cheney, have two chillun by de overseeah. de overseeah name war hill. he war as mean as de devil. when aunt cheney not do what he ask he tell granny moore. ole granny call aunt cheney to de kitchen and make her take her clothes off den she beat her til she jest black an' blue. many boys and girls marry dey own brothers and sisters an' nebber know de difference lest they get to talkin' bout dey parents and where dey uster lib. "de niggers allus hab to get pass to go anywhere offen de plantation. dey git de pass from de massa or de missus. den when de paddyrollers come dey had to show de pass to dem, if you had no pass dey strip you an' beat you. "i remember one time dey was a dance at one ob de houses in de quarters. all de niggers was a laughin an' a pattin' dey feet an' a singin', but dey was a few dat didn't. de paddyrollers shove de do' open and sta't grabbin' us. uncle joe's son he decide dey was one time to die and he sta't to fight. he say he tired standin' so many beatin's, he jes can't stan' no mo. de paddyrollers start beatin' him an' he sta't fightin'. oh, lawdy it war tubble. dey whip him wif a cowhide for a long time den one of dem take a stick an' hit him over de head, an' jes bus his head wide open. de pore boy fell on de flo' jes a moanin' an' a groanin. de paddyrollers jes whip bout half dozen other niggers an' sen' em home and leve us wif de dead boy. "none o' the niggers have any learnin', warn't never 'lowed to as much as pick up a piece o' paper. my daddy slip an' get a webster book and den he take it outen de fiel and he larn to read. de white folks 'fraid to let de children learn anythin'. they fraid dey get too sma't and be harder to manage. dey nebber let em know anything about anythin'. never have any church. effen you go you set in de back of de white folks chu'ch. but de niggers slip off an' pray an' hold prayer-meetin' in de woods den dey tu'n down a big wash pot and prop it up wif a stick to drown out de soun' ob de singin'. i 'member some of de songs we uster sing. one of dem went somethin' like dis: "'hark from de tomb a doleful soun' my ears hear a tender cry. a livin' man come through the groun' whar we may shortly lie. heah in dis clay may be you bed in spite ob all you toil let all de wise bow revrant head mus' lie as low as ours.' "then dey sing one i can hardly remember but dis is some of de words: "'jesus can make you die in bed he sof' as downs in pillow there on my bres' i'll lean my head grieve my life sweetly there. in dis life of heaby load let us share de weary traveler along de heabenly road.' "back in dose time dey wasn't no way to put away fruit and things fo' winter like dey is today. in de fall of de yeah it certainly was a busy time. we peel bushels of apples and peaches to dry. dey put up lots o' brandied peaches too. de way dey done dey peel de peaches and cut em up. then dey put a layer ob peaches in a crock den a layer ob sugar den another layer ob peaches until de crock was full. den dey seel de jar by puttin' a cloth over de top then a layer o' paste then another cloth then another layer ob paste. dey keep dey meat bout de same way foks do today 'cept dey had to smoke it more since salt was so sca'ce back in dat day. dey can mos' ob de other fruit and put it in de same kin' o' jars dat dey put de peaches in. dey string up long strings o' beans an' let 'em dry and cook em wif fat back in de winter. "folks back den never heah tell of all de ailments de folks hab now. dey war no doctahs. jes use roots and bark for teas of all kinds. my ole granny uster make tea out o' dogwood bark an' give it to us chillun when we have a cold, else she make a tea outen wild cherry bark, pennyroil, or hoarhound. my goodness but dey was bitter. we do mos' enythin' to git out a takin' de tea, but twarnt no use granny jes git you by de collar hol' yo' nose and you jes swallow it or get strangled. when de baby hab de colic she git rats vein and make a syrup an' put a little sugar in it an' boil it. den soon [hw: as] it cold she give it to de baby. for stomach ache she give us snake root. sometime she make tea, other time she jes cut it up in little pieces an' make you eat one or two ob dem. when you hab fever she wrap you up in cabbage leaves or ginsang leaves, dis made de fever go. when de fever got too bad she take the hoofs offen de hog dat had been killed and parch em' in de ashes and den she beat em' up and make a tea. dis was de most tubble of all. "de yeah fore de war started marse jim died. he war out in de pasture pickin' up cow loads a throwin' em in de garden an' he jes drop over. i hate to see marse jim go, he not sech a bad man. ater he die his boys, tom an' andrew take cha'ge of de plantation. dey think dey run things diffe'nt from dey daddy, but dey jes git sta'ted when de war come. marse tom and marse andrew both hab to go. my pappy he go long wif dem to do der cookin. my pappy he say dat some day he run four or five miles wif de yankees ahind him afore he can stop to do any cookin. den when he stop he cook wif de bullets a fallin all roun de kettles. he say he walk on ded men jes like he walkin on de groun'. some of de men be dead, some moanin' an' some a groanin', but nobody pay no tention, case de yankees keep a comin. one day de yankees come awful close marse andrew hab de confed'rate flag in his han'. he raise it high in de air. pappy say he yell for him to put de flag down case de yankees was a comin' closer an' was agoin' to capture him anyway. but marse andrew jes hol' de flag up an run 'hind a tree. de yankee sojers jes take one shot at him an' dat was de las' of him. my pappy bring him home. de fambly put him in alcohol. one day i went to see him and there he was a swimmin' round in de water. mos' ob his hair done come off tho. he buried at nazereth. i could go right back to de graveyard effen i was there. den my pappy go back to [hw: stay] with marse tom. marse tom was jes wounded. effen he hadn't had a bible in his pocket de bullet go clear through his heart. but yo' all kno' no bullet ain't goin' through de bible. no, you can't shoot through god's word. pappy he bring marse tom home an' take care of him til he well. marse tom give pappy a horse an' wagon case he say he save his life. "many time de sojers come through de plantation an' dey load up dey wagons wif ebberthing dey fin', lasses, hams, chickens. sometime dey gib part of it to de niggers but de white folks take it way when dey git gone. de white folks hide all de silverware from de soldiers. dey fraid dey take it when dey come. some time dey make us tell effen dey think we know. "after de war pappy go back to work on de plantation. he make his own crop, on de plantation. but de money was no good den. i played wif many a confed'rate dollar. he sho was happy dat he was free. mammy she shout fo' joy an' say her prayers war answered. pappy git pretty feeble, but he work til jest fore he die. he made patch of cotton wif a hoe. dey was enough cotton in de patch to make a bale. pappy die when he years old. mammy she live to be . "after de war de ku klux broke out. oh, miss dey was mean. in dey long white robes dey scare de niggers to death. dey keep close watch on dem afeared dey try to do somethin'. dey have long horns an' big eyes an' mouth. dey never go roun' much in de day. jes night. dey take de pore niggers away in de woods and beat 'em and hang 'em. de niggers was afraid to move, much les try to do anything. dey never kno' what to do, dey hab no larnin. hab no money. all dey can do was stay on de same plantation til dey can do better. we lib on de same plantation till de chillun all grown an' mammy an' pappy both die then we leave. i don' know where any of my people are now. i knows i was bo'n in . i was years old de fust of september." n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: richard c. moring story teller: richard c. moring editor: daisy bailey waitt richard c. moring ex-slave story an interview with richard c. moring of e. south street, raleigh, n.c. "my mammy wus cherry, an' my pappy wus jacob. mr. anderson clemmons owned mammy, an' mr. fielding moring owned pappy. "i doan know much 'bout mr. moring, case we stayed wid mr. clemmons near apex, in dis same county. "mr. clemmons owned less'n a dozen slaves, but he wus good ter 'em. de oberseer, mr. upchurch, whupped de slaves some, but not very much. "we had nuff ter eat an' w'ar an' we wuck hard, but no harder dan we has since dat time. marster 'lowed us our own gyarden an' tater patch, we also had our own hawgs. "dey 'lowed us some fun lak dancin', wrestlin' matches, swimmin', fishin', huntin' an' games. we also had prayer meetin's at our cabins. "when dere wus a weddin' dar wus fun fer all, case hit wus a big affair. dey wus all dressed up in new clothes, an' marster's dinin' room wus decorated wid flowers fer de 'casion. de ban' which wus banjoes, an' fiddles 'ud play an' de neighborin' folks 'ud come. "de preacher married 'em up good an' tight jist lak he done de white folks, an' atter hit wus ober an' de songs wus sung marster's dinin' table wus set an' dar was a weddin' supper fer all. "i doan 'member so much 'fore de war but i 'members dat de rebs go by an' dat de yankees chase 'em. (i is on mr. morings' place den clost ter morrisville.) "de yankees am so busy chasin' de rebs dat dey doan stop ter bodder us much, 'cept ter kill de chickens an' so on. "dar's a place out from morrisville whar de yankees an' de rebels had er little skirmish on dat trip. we could hyar de guns go boomin', an' atter hit wus ober we chilluns went dar an' pick up de balls an' boxes of dese hardtacks whar de soldiers had fit. "i fergit ter tell you 'bout de fust gang o' yankees what come by. dey wus lookin' fer food an' when dey got ter our place dey comes in an' he'ps dereselbes ter marster's stuff. dey kilt all de live things, took all de hams an' sich, an' dey foun' 'bout a bushel o' aigs. dey put 'em in de big wash pot an' biled 'em an' dey goes ter de spring house an' gits seben er eight poun's o' butter. when de aigs am biled dey splits 'em open an' puts de butter on 'em an' eats 'em dat way. dat's de fust aigs dat eber i tasted, an' dey shore give me all i wants. "we went back ter mr. clemmons' 'fore de surrender, case when dat happen mis' jane clemmons tells us'n herself dat we am free. all o' we chilluns, duncan, candice, mariah, len, willis, william, sidney, lindy, mary, rilda, an' me, all of mammy's chilluns was dar at de en' of de war. "we stayed on at mr. clemmons fer seberal years, in fac' till de ole folks died. my young missus mis' katy ellis lives on hillsboro street, an' i often goes ter see her an' she sometimes gives me money, so you sees de feelin' dat 'zists twixt me an' my white folkses. "i'll tell you de story 'bout de witch at de mill iffen you wants ter hyar hit, i hyard my grandmammy tell hit when i wus a little feller." the witch at the mill "onct dar wus a free nigger what ownes a mill an' he am makin' a heap o' money. he married a han'some nigger wench an' hit 'peared lak his luck all went bad. de folkses quit bringin' dere co'n ter be groun' an' he 'gan ter git pore. "'long in dem times de slaves sometimes runned away from deir cruel marsters an' dey'd go ter dis nigger at de mill. he'ud put 'em ter sleep in de mill, but dey can't sleep on de 'count of fusses an' scratchin'. "'last one night a nigger what has runned away comed ter spen' de night, an' he sez dat he am not skeerd o' nothin' de owner can put him ter sleep in de house if he wants ter, case his wife am spendin' de night wid a friend of hern, but he 'sides ter put him in de mill. "he tells de runaway nigger 'bout de witch, but atter de nigger gits hisself a butcher knife he ain't skeered no mo' an' he goes on ter de mill. "'way in de night de nigger sees somethin', an' de whites o' his eyes shines lak lamps. de things comes nearer an' nearer an' he sees dat hit am a big black cat wid de savage notion o' eatin' him. "de nigger swings his knife an' off comes one of de ole cat's feets. she gives a awful screech an' goes outen de winder. "de nex' mornin' de owner's wife am sick in de bed an' she' fuses ter git up. de man tells her ter git up an' cook his breakfas', but she 'fuses ter stir. "'you better git up, you lazy trollop', de man shouts an' wid dat he drags de 'oman outen de bed. he am 'mazed when he sees dat her han' am cut off, an' he yells fer de neighbors. "when de neighbors gits dar dey makes a big bresh pile an' dey ties her on hit an' burns her up. atter dat de man had good luck, eben atter he married ag'in." note: this witch story is a variant of _the old brownrigg mill_ by doctor richard dillard. n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: julius nelson story teller: julius nelson editor: daisy bailey waitt [illustration: julius nelson] julius nelson ex-slave story an interview with julius nelson, of state prison, raleigh, n.c. "i doan 'member no slavery, of course, so 'taint no use ter ax me no questions. i does know dat my mammy wus named ann an' my pappy wus named alex. dey 'longed ter a mr. nelson in anson county. dere wus 'leben o' us youngins but dey am all daid now 'cept me. "i doan reckon dat i is but roun' sebenty, case i wus jist five years old at de close o' de war. what's dat, i'se sebenty seben? lan' how de time do fly! "anyhow i jist barely does 'member how de ho'n blowed 'fore de light o' de day an' how we got up an' had our breakfast an' when de ho'n blowed at sunrise we went ter de fiel's in a gallop. at dinner time de plantation bell rung an' we'd fly fer home. "one big fat nigger 'oman cooked de dinner fer us fifty er sixty slaves an' in er hour or so we'd go back ter de fiel's fer mo' wuck. i sez us, but i means dem what could wuck. i did pull weeds an' pick up apples, an' dem things. "dese dinners hyar 'min's me o' de plantation dinners somehow. maybe case it am 'bout de same quantity. great big pots o' turnip salet, collards, peas, beans, cabbages, potatoes or other vege'ables, an' a oben full o' sweet' taters in de winter. dar wus a heap o' pies in de summertime, an' honey, an' 'lasses, an' lasses cake in de winter time. dar wus big pones o' co'n bread all de year roun' an' whole sides o' meat, an' on new years' day hogshead an' peas. "fur supper we gine'ly had pot licker, lef' from dinner, 'taters maybe an' some sweetnin'. dar wus ash cakes fur supper an' breakfas' most o' de time an' hominy, which de marster had grown hisself. de smart nigger et a heap o' possums an' coons, dar bein' plenty o' dem an' rabbits an' squirrels in abundance. "did yo' eber eat any kush? well dat wus made outin meal, onions, salt, pepper, grease an' water. hit made a good supper dish. sometimes in de heat o' de day marster let us pick blackberries on de hedgerow fer our supper. we little' uns often picks de berries, an' den we have a big pan pie fer supper. "on holidays we sometimes had chicken pie an' ham an' a lot o' other food. dem wus de happy times, 'specially on christmas mornin' when we all goes ter de big house ter celebrate an' ter git our gif's. dey give us clothes, food, an' fruit. one christmas we had a big tub of candy, i reckolicts. 'bout twict a year we had a sociable when de niggers from de neighborin' plantations 'ud be invited an' dey'd come wid deir banjoes an' fiddles an' we'd dance, all o' us, an' have a swell time. "we little'uns 'ud play fox-on-de-wall, tag, mulberry bush, drap handerchief, stealin' sticks an' a whole heap of others dat i disremembers right now. "we shucked our co'n on rainy days mostly, but de marster lets us have one big co'n shuckin' eber' year an' de person what fin's a red year can kiss who dey pleases. hit wus gran' times dat we had den. "we also had regular weddin's wid a preacher an' all de fixin's an' de marster usually give us a big supper case he knowed dat he wuz gwine ter soon habe more slaves from de union. "iffen de yankees comed ter our part o' de country i don't 'member seein' dem but i does know dat de ku kluxes done give us a heap of trouble. "i'se libed a long time, 'specially de fifteen years dat i'se spent hyar, but i knows how ter treat white folkses, an' i knows dat de wuck an' de healthy rations dat de niggers got 'fore de war am why dey am stronger dan de young niggers o' dis day." n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: plantation life teller: lila nichols editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp: jun ] [illustration: lila nichols] plantation life an interview with lila nichols of cary, wake county, n.c. may , . "we belonged ter mr. nat whitaker atter his marriage. his daddy, mr. willis, give us to him. we lived near rhamkatte wid mr. willis, an' we wuz happy. my pappy wuz named yancey an' my mammy wuz named sabra. dar wuz two brothers named yancey an' add, an' five sisters: alice, sally, martha, betty an' helia. "ole massa wuz good ter his slaves, but young massa nat wuzn't. we ain't had half nuff ter eat most o' de time, an' we ain't had no shoes till we wuz twenty-one. we had jist a few pieces of clothes an' dey wuz of de wust kind. our cabins wuz shacks, an' we got seberal whuppin's near 'bout ever' day. fer example i had de job of gittin' up de aigs in de ebenin', an' if de ain't de right number of dem missus mae whupped me. i also looked atter de bitties, an' iffen one of' em died i got a whuppin' too. "once missus wuz sick, an' a slave gal named alice brung her some water an' somethin' ter eat. missus got sick on her stomick, an' she sez dat alice done try ter pizen her. ter show yo' how sick she wuz, she gits out of de bed, strips dat gal ter de waist an' whups her wid a cowhide till de blood runs down her back. dat gal's back wuz cut in gashes an' de blood run down ter 'er heels. atter dat she wuz chained down by de arms an' laigs till she got well; den she wuz carried off ter richmond in chains an' sold. "we wucked all de week, my mammy plowin' wid a two-horse plow, all de year when she warn't cleanin' new ground or diggin' ditches; an' she got two days off when her chilluns wuz borned. we ain't had no passes ter go nowhar, an' we ain't allowed offe'n de groun's. "i know one time do' missus 'cides ter whup a 'oman fer somethin' an' de 'oman sez ter her, 'no sir, missus, 'ain't 'lowin' nobody what wa'r de same kind of shirt i does ter whup me.' "we wuz glad when de yankees comed, aldo' dey acted lak a pack o' robbers. dey burned de cotton, dey stold eber' thing dey could lay han's on, an' dey tored up ever' thing scand'lous. dey'd go ter de house an' knock at de do', den missus would lock it an' yell at 'em dat she warn't gwinter open it. dey doan keer, dey jist kicks it down an' walks right in. "dey snatch pictures frum de side o' de house an' throw 'em down an' break 'em. dey drunk up all of massa's brandy, an' dey insults de white wimmen an' de blacks alike. "de yankees comed on a thursday an' we lef' on sunday. when we left de yard wuz full of dem yankees, cussin', an' laughin', an' drinkin'. we went to raleigh, an' de fust winter wuzen't so bad atter all. we doan keer nothin' 'bout mr. lincoln, case he ain't keerin' 'bout us. he wuz lak de rest of de yankees, he jist doan want de south ter git rich. dey tol' us dat de warn't no slaves in de no'th but we done found out dat de only reason wuz 'cause dey can't stan' de cold weather dar, an' dat de no'th am greedy of us. "i 'members de ku klux klan, an' i ain't got nothin' 'ginst 'em, case dey had ter do somethin' wid dem mean niggers an' de robber yankees, who had done ruint us all. i knowed some niggers what ain't got 'long so well an' dey done mean, case dey blame de white folks; but atter awhile dey sees dat it am massa lincoln's fault, so dey gits quiet. i said dat we wuz glad dat de yankees comed. we wuz, jist cause our massa warn't good lak some massas, an' at dat, we ain't want ter be free." n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no words: subject: a slavery story person interviewed: martha organ date of interview: may , editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp: jun ] [hw: story about the girl being burnt in front of fire. good. but not remarkable. _used_] a story of slavery as told by martha organ of cary as she heard her mother tell it many years ago. "i doan know nothin' 'bout slavery 'cept what i hyard my mother tell, an' dat ain't so much. "i know dat my pappa's name wuz handy jones an' my mammy's name wuz melisa. she belonged to a mr. whitaker but atter she married my pappa she belonged ter mr. rufus jones, mr. rufus wuz mr. wesley jones' brother at de ole fanning jones place; an' he owned a sizable plantation. mr. jones wuz good ter 'em. dey ain't nebber give him no trouble an' he ain't nebber whip none of 'em. "i've hyarn her tell a whole heap 'bout de patterollers an' de ku klux klan but of course i wuz borned atter de surrender, i now bein' jist sixty one. "i 'members 'specially what mammy said 'bout when de yankees come. she said dat it wuz on a thursday an' dat de ole master wuz sick in de bed an' had sent some slaves ter de mill wid grain. when dese men started back frum de mill de yankees overtook 'em an' dey killed de oxes in de harness, cut off de quarters an' rid [hw: ter] de house wid dat beef hangin' all over de horses. dey throwed what dey ain't wanted away, but of course dey took de meal an' de grain. "de ole master had hyard dat dem yankees wuz comin' an' he had buried de silverware in a san' bar, but lawd dem yankees foun' hit jist lak it were on top o' de groun'. dey stold eber'thing dat day git dere han's on, 'specially de meat frum de smoke house. dey went down inter de cellar an' dey drunk up master's brandy an' dey got so drunk dat dey ain't got no sense atall. when dey left dey carried my bruther off wid 'em, an' nobody ever hyard frum him ag'in. dey said dat de president was'nt thought much of dem days. "mr. jones died a few days atter de surrender an' hit 'pears lak he made a will what give all of his niggers a little piece o' land. somehow dis mr. whitaker, what my mammy uster belong to had somepin' ter do wid it, so he went ter de co't house in raleigh ter have de will broke up; an' he draps daid. mr. jones an' mr. whitaker wuz buried de same day. "speakin' 'bout ghosts, my mammy tol' me 'bout a ghost what she'd seed an' when i wuz a chile, i seed it too. "it wuz closter ephues church on de durham highway, an' de ghosts wuz three wimmen, dressed, in white an' widout heads. de rize an' flewed ober de wagin an' went ter de churchyard, an' dat wuz de las' time i seed 'em. i doan believe in ghosts much, but fo' de lawd i seed dat one an' my mammy an' pappy seed it 'fore i wuz borned. "my mammy said dat she'd seed some slave sales but dat dey warn't so bad. she nor my pappy ain't neber had no whippin's an' she said dat de wust thing she eber seed wuz a gal burnt. hit wuz dis way: missus jones had sold a gal dat she raised named alice ter a neighborhood 'oman. alice had been ust ter goin' to de missus house an' warmin', so when she went inter dis 'omans house ter warm de 'oman made her stand fore de fire till her legs burned so bad dat de skin cracked up an' some of it drapped off. missus jones found it out an' she give de 'oman back her money an' took alice home wid her." mh/eh n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no words: subject: ann parker person interviewed: ann parker editor: daisy bailey waitt ann parker ex-slave story an interview with ann parker in the wake county home, raleigh, north carolina. "i reckon dat i is a hundert an' three or a hundert an' four years old. i wuz a 'oman grown at de end o' de war. "i ain't had no daddy case queens doan marry an' my mammy, junny, wuz a queen in africa. dey kidnaps her an' steals her 'way from her throne an' fetches her hyar ter wake county in slavery. "we 'longed ter mr. abner parker who lived near raleigh an' he had maybe a hundert slaves an' a whole heap of lan'. i ain't neber laked him much, case we had ter wuck hard an' we ain't got much ter eat. he ain't 'lowed us no fun, but we did have some, spite o' him. "we uster git by de patterollers an' go ter de neighborin' plantations whar we'd sing an' talk an' maybe dance. i know onct do' dat we wuz in a barn on mr. liles' place when de patterollers comed, all dat could git out scated, but de ones dat got ketched got a whuppin'. "i got seberal whuppin's fer dis, dat an' tother; but i specks dat i needed 'em. anyhow we wuz raised right, we warn't 'lowed ter sass nobody an' we ole'uns still knows dat we is got ter be perlite ter yo' white ladies. "daughter, did i tell yo' 'bout my mamny bein' a queen. yes, she wuz a queen, an' when she tol' dem niggers dat she wuz dey bowed down ter her. she tol' dem not ter tell hit an' dey doan tell, but when dey is out of sight of de white folkses dey bows down ter her an' does what she says. "a few days 'fore de surrender mammy, who am also a witch, says ter dem dat she sees hit in de coffee grounds dat dey am gwine ter be free so all o' us packs up an' gits out. "we got along pretty good atter de war, an' on till lately. atter i gits too ole ter wuck i sets on de post-office steps an' begs. i got a good pile o' money too, but somebody done stole hit an' now i'se hyer in de county home. "i fell an' broke my arm sometime ago, case my right side am daid an' i tries ter crawl offen de bed. when i gits back from de hospital dey ties me in dis cheer ter keep me from fallin' out, but i want ter git a loose. de nigger boy what helps me up an' down ain't raised lak i wuz, he fusses an' he he ain't got de manners what he ort ter habe." l.e. n.c. district: worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: a slave story reference: amy penny editor: george l. andrews [tr: date stamp: aug ] amy penny cannister street, raleigh, north carolina. "i do not know my age. i wus borned in mecklenburg [hw: county], virginia. my marster give my age in a bible but i lost it by lendin' it out. my mother died 'fore i 'membered her. she wus named dinah epps. my grandmother wus named eliza epps. she lived to be years old. my father wus named jerry epps. marster's name wus victor epps, an' my missus wus named martha. i married bob penny. "de plantation wus at mecklenburg, virginia, near boylan, [hw: boydton, in mecklenburg co., va.] virginia. i don't 'member how many slaves but dere wus a good number. i never heard 'em numbered out as i knows of. i never saw a slave sold. i never saw one whupped. i heard 'em talk about paterollers but i never saw one. "i don't 'member when i come to raleigh. i have been here so long. my grandmother an' grandfather come here an' i come too. "i plowed in virginia, an' i cooked too. dey did not pick any work fur me. we lived in log houses. yes, indeed, we had plenty to eat. i never suffered for sumptin' to eat till i come to raleigh. on de plantation we got plenty allowance. we had good clothes on de plantation. "i am more naked now den i ever been before in my life. "we went to both de white an' colored churches in virginia. i never could learn to read an' write. i never could learn to make a number correct. i just can't learn. i tried my bes' to write. i went to four sessions of school but couldn't learn. i wus raised by some mighty good white people. i wanted to learn so bad i slept wid my books under my head but i couldn't learn. "i am well thought of at my home in virginia. dey have sent me rations since i been here. i had de worse time of my life since de surrender. i don't know nothin' 'bout de yankees comin' through only what i heard others say. i heard 'em talkin' 'bout freedom an' de war but i didn't know or care nothin' 'bout it. my father went to manassas gap to de war. i heard him talk 'bout de breastworks but i don't know nothin' 'bout 'em. "i wus my father's only chile. he didn't have any chillun by his las' wife. i fergot de name of his las' wife. "i heard 'em say abraham lincoln come through de south an' just learned ever'thing 'bout de folks. he wus 'guised so nobody knowed who he wus. yes, i heard 'bout dat an' when dey foun' out he been here he done come through an' gone back. "slavery wus better den it is now. shore it wus. i don't know much 'bout de war but my first life in virginia wus better den it is now. i never did have any mean white folks. de lord made me lucky in dat way. de yankees took, stole, an' carried off a lot of things an' dere wus a lot of talk 'bout 'em, but i never saw 'em 'cept when dey wus paradin'. i never seed any of 'em down dere at my marster's plantation. "my grandfather died in raleigh. grandmother wus de mother of thirteen chilluns but none of 'em 'cept two ever seed raleigh. dey wus so scattered 'bout 'cept de two younges', a boy an' a girl. dey come to raleigh atter de surrender when grandmother an' me come. we lived worser in raleigh den we did in virginia, an' if i wus back home wid my white folks i would git plenty to eat but i don't git it here. dey sends me a little money now an' den. here is some of dere letters where dey sent me money. you can see by dese letters dat my virginia white folks loves me an' i love dem. "i wus 'bout ten years ole when de war wus goin' on. i think slavery wus not such a bad thing 'pared wid de hard times now." eh n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: slavery days in franklin county story teller: lily perry editor: geo. l. andrews [tr: date stamp: jul ] slavery days in franklin county an interview with lily perry, years old, of mckee street, raleigh, n.c. "i wus borned on de plantation of mister jerry perry near louisburg, about eighty-four years ago. my daddy, riddick, 'longed ter him an' so did my mammy, do she 'longed ter a mis' litchford 'fore she married daddy. "de fust things dat i can remember wus bein' a house gal, pickin' up chips, mindin' de table an' feedin' de hogs. de slop buckets wus heavy an' i had a heap of wuck dat wus hard ter do. i done de very best dat i could but often i got whupped jist de same. "when dey'd start ter whup me i'd bite lak a run-mad dog so dey'd chain my han's. see hyar, hyars de scars made by de chains. dey'd also pick me up by de years an' fling me foun',[tr: roun'] see hyar, i can wiggle my years up an' down jist lak a mule can, an' i can wiggle' em roun' an' roun' lak dat, see! "one day i ain't feelin' so good an' de slops am so heavy dat i stops an' pours out some of it. de oberseer, zack terrell, sees me an' when i gits back ter de house he grabs me ter whup me. "de minute he grabs me i seize on ter his thumb an' i bites hit ter de bone, den he gits mad an' he picks me up an' lifts me higher dan my haid an' flings me down on de steel mat dere in front of de do'. "dey has ter revise me wid cold water from de spring an' i wus sick fer a week. we ain't had good food which makes me weak an' i still has ter do heavy wuck. "dar wus a slave block in louisburg an' i'se seed many a slave sold dar. very few wus put in chains, most of 'em wus put in a kivered wagon wid a guard an' wus chained at night. i'se seed many a 'oman cryin' fer her chile when one er de tother wus put on de slave block in louisburg. "i wus 'bout twelve years old when de yankees come. i wus pickin' up chips in de yard when dey comes by wid dere hosses steppin' high an' dere music playin' a happy chune. i wus skeered, but i don't dasent run case marster will sho have me whupped, so i keeps on wid my wuck. "dey pass fast on down de road an' dey doan bother nothin' in our community but de white folkses hates 'em jist de same. "marster jerry tells us 'bout a week later dat we am free an' all of de two hundret 'cept 'bout five er six goes right off. he tells all of us dat he will pay us effen we will stay an' wuck, so me an' my family we stays on. "we lives dar fer seberal years den i marries robert perry who lives on de same plantation wid us. we ain't had but one daughter an' dat's kate, who still libes wid me. "me an' robert wus raised up tergether, he bein' five years older'n me an' i loved him frum de time i wus borned. i know how he uster hate ter see me git dem beatin's an' he'd beg me not ter let my mouth be so sassy, but i can't help hit. he uster take my beatin's when he could an' a heap of times he sneak out ter de fiel's in de ebenin' an' toted dat slops ter de pigs. "onct when marster wus whuppin' me robert run up an' begged marse ter put de whuppin' on him 'stead of me. de result wus marse whupped us both an' we 'cided ter run away. "we did run away, but night brung us back ter another whuppin' an' we ain't neber run away no mo'. "we wus at a frolic at louisburg when he proposes ter me an' he do hit dis way, 'honey gal, i knows dat you doan love me so powerful much, but will you try ter do hit fer me?' "course i sez, 'go long, nigger, iffen i doan love yo' den dar ain't no water in tar riber.' den i sez, 'we can git marse henry outen de bed an' he'll marry us ternight.' "rob wus tickled pink an' sho nuff we wus married right away dat very night. "we lived pore, dat i knows, but we wus too happy in ourselves ter worry 'bout sich things an' de lack. "i laughs now ter think how ignorant we niggers wus. we'd do our washin' an' 'bout de time we hung hit on de line, we'd see a string of folks comin' home frum de prospect church an' we'd know dat we'd done our washin' on a sunday." ac n.c. district: no. worker: mary hicks no. words: subject: a slave story, the woman overseer person interviewed: valley perry editor: george l. andrews [tr: date stamp: aug ] [hw: story of kind mistress who stops cruelty on plantation. use whole story.] the woman overseer an interview with valley perry, years of age, of cary, north carolina, route # . "course bein' no older dan i is i can't recollect 'bout de war, but i'se heard my manny [tr: mammy] tell a little an' my gran'mammy tell a right smart 'bout dem slavery times yo's talkin' 'bout. "gran'mammy josephine, an' mammy clarice 'longed ter a mr. nat whitaker in wake county. "mr. nat's wife wus named mis' lucy, an' she wus so good dat ever'body what ever seed her 'membered her. dar is eben de belief among de niggers dat she riz up ter heaben alive, like elijah. "dey said dat mr. nat's oberseer wus kinder mean ter de slaves, an' when he whupped dem dey 'membered hit ter de longest day dey lived. mr. nat wusen't near so bad an' mis' lucy wus a angel. she'd beg mr. nat ter make de oberseer stop, but mr. nat 'fused, 'case he said dat de niggers won't obey him iffen he teaches dem he won't let de oberseer punish dem good an' plenty. den mis' lucy 'ud cry an' she'd run an' grab de oberseer's arm an' beg him ter stop. she'd cry so hard dat he'd hafter stop. "finally de oberseer goes ter mr. nat an' complains, an' he sez dat he am gwine ter quit de job iffen mr. nat doan make mis' lucy keep outen his business. "mr. nat axes him ter tell him 'fore he starts ter beat 'em, an' ter set a time fer de beatin' an' dat he will git mis' lucy offen de place. well, de oberseer does what mr. nat sez an' waits ter whup eber'body on chuesday an' on chuesday mr. nat takes mis' lucy ter town. "mis' lucy am tickled pink dat she am a-goin' shoppin' an' she ain't suspicion nothin' at all. when she gits ter shoppin' do' she ain't satisfied, an' terreckly she tells mr. nat dat she wants ter go home. mr. nat tries to git her ter go ter a concert but mis' lucy sez no, dat she feels lak somethin' am happenin' at home. "mr. nat begs her ter stay on an' enjoy herself, but when she won't listen ter no reason at all he starts home. de mules creep an' poke, but mis' lucy herself whups 'em up, an' dey gits home sooner dan dey am expected. "when dey drives up in de yard de oberseer am so busy whuppin' de niggers what has done bad dat he ain't seed mis' lucy till she am right on him, den she snatch de heavy bullwhup an' she strikes him two or three times right in de face. "mis' lucy look delicate, but she cuts de blood outen his cheek an' she shets up one of his eyes an' brings de blood a-pourin' from his nose. den de meek little 'oman draws back de whup ag'in an' she 'lows, 'git offen dis plantation, an' iffen ever i ketches you here ag'n i'll shoot you, you beast.' "dat settled de oberseer's hash an' atter he left mis' lucy went ter doctorin' cut up backs. gran'mammy said dat dar wusn't no more trouble wid de niggers an' mis' lucy done all of de punishin' herself. "she made de meanest ones l'arn a whole passel of scripture, she punish de chillun by makin' dem memorize poems an' sich. sometimes she sont 'em ter bed widout supper, sometimes she make 'em work at night, sometimes she prayed fer 'em, an' once in a coon's age she whupped. dey said dat she could really hurt when she meant to, but she whupped as de las' thing ter do an' she whupped wid a keen little switch 'stead of de leather. "once atter she had whupped a little nigger she said, 'clarice, dis hurt me wusser dan hit did yo'.' "clarice look at mis' lucy den she sez, 'iffen hit hurt yo' wusser dan hit did me i'se powerful sorry fer you.' dat little gal wus my mammy. "my gran'father wus named jake, an' he 'longed ter a family by de name of middleton some whar in de neighborhood. marse nat ain't had no use fer mr. middleton 'case he tried ter act up, an' he wus a new york yankee ter boot, what thought that he owned de heabens an' de yearth. when gran'father jake fell in love wid gran'mammy nobody ain't knowed hit, 'case dere marsters am mad at each other an' dey knows dat dere won't be no marryin' twixt de families. "time goes on an' gran'father runs away an' comes ter see gran'mammy, but one night mr. middleton follers gran'father an' fin's him in gran'mammy cabin. "mr. middleton doan wait ter say nothin' ter nobody, when he peeps in at de winder an' sees dem a-settin' at de table eatin' musk melons what gran'pappy had stole outen his patch. he jist comes in a-rarin' an' a-tarin' an' starts a-whuppin' wid his ridin' quirt. he whups gran'father fer a while, den he pitches in on gran'mammy. "while all dis am a-goin' on somebody runs fer marster nat an' when he gits dar dere am trouble in de shack. marse nat ain't so heaby as mr. middleton, but man, he puts de beatin' on mr. middleton, den he makes him sell jake ter him an' he pays him spot cash right den an' dar. "de nex' day he thinks ter ax gran'mammy what jake am a-doin' in her cabin, an' gran'mammy tells him dat she loves jake an' dat she wants ter marry him. marse nat laugh fit ter kill an' he sez dat dey'll have a big weddin' at de house fer dem. "dey did habe a big weddin' an' gran'mammy wore a red dress dat mis' lucy give her. she said dat she wish dat gran'father could of wore red too. "she said dat when mammy wus borned dat ole doctor freeman 'tended her an' dat she stayed in de bed two weeks. mis' lucy wus good ter de niggers lak dat. "i 'members gran'mammy tellin' 'bout de yankees comin' an' how she stood front of mis' lucy's door wid de ax an' tol' 'em dat she'd chop out anybody's brains what tried ter go in. de door wus open an' dey could see mis' lucy a-settin' dere white as a sheet, so dey went on sarchin' fer valuables, an' all de time dem valuables wus in mis' lucy's room." n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: tempe pitts person interviewed: tempe pitts editor: daisy bailey waitt [illustration: tempe pitts] tempe pitts ex-slave story an interview with tempe pitts, of tarboro st., raleigh, n.c. "i wuz borned in halifax county ninety-one years ago. see dis paper, hit wuz writ our fer me by ole marster's granddaughter dis year. hit says not only dat i is ninety-one but dat i wuz her mammy, an' dat i wuz a good an' trus'worthy servant. "my mammy wuz phillis pitts, an' my daddy wuz isaac williams. we 'longed fust ter mr. mason l. wiggins dar in halifax, den through de marriages we 'longed ter captain hardy pitts. both o' dem famblies wuz good ter me an' dey ain't neber done me dirty yit. "de pitts' owned ober two hundert slaves, case dey also had a plantation in firginia. we had all we could eat an' good, do' tough clothes. hit's de lawd's truff dat i ain't lakin' fer nothin' den. when we wuz sick we had de bes' doctor an' all de medicine dat he said dat we ought ter habe; an' we ain't wuck when we wuz sick nother. "i 'members jist one whuppin' dat i got, an' i needed hit too. missus pitts sont me out in de yard ter scrub de wilverware [tr: silverware] wid some san'. i knowed dat i wuz supposed to scrub hit good an' den wash it all off, but 'stid of dat i leaves hit layin' dar in de yard wid de dirt on it. she whups me fur it, but she jist stings my laigs wid a little switch. "i seed de oberseer whup a slave man but de best i 'members hit de nigger warn't whupped much. "i ain't neber seed no slave sales, do' i did see a whole slew o' slaves a-marchin' ter be sold at richmond. dey neber wuz chained do', an' sometimes i 'specks dat dese niggers what claims dat dey seed sich things am a-tellin' a lie. "de maddest dat i eber git, an' de only time dat eber i cuss bad wuz when de yankees come. dey stold de meat an' things from de smoke house, an' eber thing else dat dey can git. dey ain't done nothin' ter me, but de way dey done my white folkses made me mad, an' i jumps straight up an' down an' i yells, 'damn dem yankees an' damm ole abraham lincoln too!' "at de surrender did i leave? naw sir, i stay right on dar. missus die fust, den marster, an' atter dat i leaves, an' i gits married. "my mammy an' pappy, dey tells me, wuz married in de marster's dinin' room by jumpin' de broom. i ain't sayin' nothin' 'bout de ceremony case i ain't sayin' nothin' 'bout my white folkses, but sometimes i does wonder why i'se red-headed when my pappy an' mammy wuz black as tar. maybe i is part white, but i ain't sayin' nothin' 'bout my white folkses as i done tol' yo'." l.e. n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: hannah plummer person interviewed: hannah plummer editor: daisy bailey waitt hannah plummer smith street "my name is hannah plummer. i was born near auburn, in wake county, january , . my father was allen lane and my mother was named bertcha lane. we belonged to gov. charles manly, that is mother and myself, father belonged to some maiden ladies, susan and emma white. the governor had large plantations, but mother and myself lived with them on their lot right where the rex hospital now stands on south and fayetteville streets. governor manly owned the block down to the railroad, and we chillun went into [hw: ?] grove, it was a grove then, to pick up walnuts and hickory nuts. "my father was a stonecutter and he hired his time and gave it to his missus and lived with us. mother was at governor manly's. he said father was a high-headed fellow and said he was livin' on his lot and in his house and that he didn't do anything for him, and that he ought to keep up his family. mother was the washerwoman for the governor and his family. missus manly, the governor's wife, i forget her first name, did not take any particular interest in her servants. she had slave servants for everything: a wash and ironer, a drawing room and parlor cleaner, a cook, waiting men, waitresses and a maid who did nothing but wait on her. "governor manly was a mighty rich man, and he had several plantations and a lot o' slaves. i don't remember how many slaves he owned. mother was given meal and meat and had to cook it just the same as she would now. they didn't allow her food from the great house. mother had ten children, and at times we did not have enough to eat. we went hungry a lot. the boys were named fred, david, matthew, allen, and thomas. girls, cinderilla, corinna, hannah, victoria, and mary. all were born slaves but two. thomas and mary. david and myself are all that are left alive. "i remember that we lived in a plank house, with three rooms and a shed porch. mother washed clothes under the porch. the house had two rooms downstairs and one upstairs. (oh! i have thought of the governor's wife's name, missus name, it was charity.) we used trundle beds of wood. mother made our bed clothes at night. she also made bonnets and dresses. sometimes she made bonnets and sold them. the child that set up with her she gave some kind o' sweets. i set up with her a lot because i liked to eat. mother was allowed the little money she made makin' bonnets and dresses at night. "they whupped slaves on the place. i could hear the blows and hear 'em screamin' cryin' an' beggin', but i never saw it. i never saw a slave sold an' i never saw any in chains. "i do not remember how many children old marster had, i only remember one; he was marster basil manly. he was an officer in the confederate army. he used to come home with his pretty clothes an' his hat with plumes on it. mother tole me that before she was married marster gave her to his son basil as a maid for his wife caroline. "missus caroline whupped her most every day, and about anything. mother said she could not please her in anything, no matter what she done or how hard she tried. missus would go up town and come back and whup her. mother was a young girl then. one day miss caroline went up town, an' come back mad. she made mother strip down to her waist, and then took a carriage whup an' beat her until the blood was runnin' down her back. mother said she was afraid she would kill her, so she ran for the woods and hid there, and stayed three weeks. she made up her mind she wasn't comin' back. "the old governor charles manly, went to mother's father, jimmie manly an' tole him if he did not get bertcha back he would whup him. her father tole him he did not know where she was, an' that he belonged to him an' he could do with him as he liked, but he was not goin' one step to hunt bertcha, my mother. then the governor went to grandmother an' tole her she had to find her. he tole her to leave the lot an' stay away until her daughter came back. grandmother did not know where she was. "the niggers on different plantations fed mother by carrying things to certain hidin' places and leavin' it. grandmother got word to her, an' she said she would come back, but not to mis' caroline. she told marster, so marster let her stay with grandmother until christmas, then they allowed her to hire herself out. she hired herself to mrs. simpson. she was good to her and allowed her to work for herself at night, sit up as long as she wanted to, and she stayed with her until she was married. then she went back to old marster's. "when the war ended mother went to old marster and told him she was goin' to leave. he told her she could not feed all her children, pay house rent, and buy wood, to stay on with him. marster told father and mother they could have the house free and wood free, an' he would help them feed the children, but mother said, 'no, i am goin' to leave. i have never been free and i am goin' to try it. i am goin' away and by my work and the help of the lord i will live somehow'. marster then said, 'well stay as long as you wish, and leave when you get ready, but wait until you find a place to go, and leave like folks.' marster allowed her to take all her things with her when she left. the white folks told her good bye. "we went to a colored methodist church in slavery time but we had a white pastor. his name was dr. pell. he was a mighty nice man and all the colored people loved him. after the surrender it was a long time that the colored people had white preachers in their churches. it was a long time after the war before any of the colored churches had negro preachers. william warrick was the first colored preacher in raleigh. he preached in the basement of the baptist church now standing on the corner of hillsboro and salisbury streets. i went to church and sunday school there after the surrender. "i went to school in raleigh and taught school in ft. payne, alabama. my husband was a carpenter and went there where he could get good wages. slavery was a very bad thing. abraham lincoln was one of the best men that ever lived. "roosevelt is just grand. he is no doubt one of the greatest men of any age. i love to look at his picture. i love him because he has done so much for humanity. i pray to the lord to let him live to serve his country, and help his people." le n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: parker pool person interviewed: parker pool editor: daisy bailey waitt parker pool "good morning, how is yer? dat front door am locked mister, but i'll come 'round and undo it." "i'm not feeling ve'y well an' it looks lak dey'll rob me out'n all i got. dey had a mortgage on my home fer $ . i paid it, an' den dey got to gamblin' on it, an' tuk it. i didn't git de right receipts, when i paid: dat's de truf. i got a farm loan on de house part, yes sir, an' i still has it. "i wuz born near garner, wake county, north carolina. i belonged to aufy pool. he wuz a slave owner. his plantation wuz near garner. i am years old. i wuz born august , that's what my grandmammie tole me, an' i ain't never fergot it. "my missus name wuz betsy. my fust master, i had two, wuz master aufy pool. den he give us to his son, er his son bought us in at de sale when master aufy died. after master aufy died, his son, louis pool wuz my master den, an' his plantation wuz in johnston county. my mother wuz named violet pool. she died in child-birth two years atter i wuz born. my father wuz named peter turner. he belonged to john turner in johnston county, right near clayton. "my grandfather, i had two grandfathers, one on my mother's side and one on my father's side. on my mother's side tom pool, on my father's side jerry beddingfield. i never seed my great-grandparents, but my great-grandfather wuz name buck. he wuz right out o' africa. his wife wuz name hagar. i never have seen dem, but my grandmother wuz deir daughter. dey had three chillun here in america. my grandmammie and grandfather told me this. my brothers were name, oldest one, haywood, den lem, an' peter, an' me, parker pool. de girls, oldest girl wuz minerva rilla. "i had good owners. my missus and master dey took jes as good keer o' me as they could. dey wuz good to all de han's. dey giv' us plenty to eat, an' we had plenty o' clothes, sich as they wuz, but de wuz no sich clothes as we have now. dey treated us good, i will have to say dat. dey are dead in their graves, but i will have to say dis fer 'em. our houses were in de grove. we called master's house 'de great house'. we called our homes 'de houses'. we had good places ter sleep. "we got up at light. i had to do most o' the nursin' o' de chillun, case when choppin' time come de women had to go to work. we had plenty ter eat, an' we et it. our some'in to eat wuz well fixed an' cooked. we caught a lot o' 'possums, coons an' other game, but i tell yer a coon is a lot harder to ketch den a possum. we had one garden, an' de colored people tended the garden, an' we all et out'n it. "dere wuz about acres in de plantation. all de farm lan' wuz fenced in wid wood rails. de hogs, cows an' stock wuz turned out in de woods, an' let go. the cows wuz drived home at night, dat is if dey didn't come up. dat is so we could milk de ones we wanted ter milk. "we dug ditches to drain de lan', blin' ditches; we dug 'em an' den put poles on top, an' covered 'em wid brush an' dirt. we put de brush on de poles to keep de dirt from runnin' through. den we ploughed over de ditches. "we tanned our leather in a tan trough. we used white oak bark an' red oak bark. dey put copperas in it too, i think. "i knows how to raise flax. you grow it an' when it is grown you pull it clean up out of de groun' till it kinder rots. dey have what dey called a brake, den it wuz broke up in dat. de bark wuz de flax. dey had a stick called a swingle stick, made kinder like a sword. dey used dis to knock de sticks out o' de flax. dey would den put de flax on a hackle, a board wid a lot of pegs in it. den dey clean an' string it out till it looks lak your hair. dey flax when it came from de hackles wuz ready for de wheel whur it wuz spun into thread. i tell you, you couldn't break it either. "when it wuz spun into thread dey put it on a reel. it turned times and struck, when it struck it wuz called a cut. when it come from de wheel it wuz called a broach. de cuts stood fer so much flax. so many cuts made a yard, but dere wuz more ter do, size it, and hank it before it wuz weaved. most of the white people had flax clothes. "we had no church on de plantation. we had prayer meetin' an' candy pullin's, an' we would ask slaves from udder plantations. my master had no public corn shuckin's. his slaves shucked his corn. he had about head. de slaves dey went to de white folks church. dey had a place separate from de white folks by a railin'. we could look at de preacher an' hear him preach too. "no, sirree, dey wouldn't let us have no books. dey would not let none o' de chilluns tell us anything about a book. i cain't read an' write, not a bit. dey preached ter us to obey our master. preacher john ellington wuz my favorite preacher. no nigger wuz allowed ter preach. dey wuz allowed ter pray and shout sometimes, but dey better not be ketched wid a book. de songs dat dey sung den, dey hardly ever sing 'em now. dey were de good ole songs. 'hark from de tomb de doleful sound'. 'my years are tender,' 'cry, you livin' man,' 'come view dis groun' where we must shortly lie'. "no one ran away from our plantation, but dey did from some other plantations. when some o' de niggers were carried by their masters to wait on 'em as servants up no'th, some o' de other people would see how dey were treated an' git 'em to run away. when dere master started home dey couldn't find 'em. dey took and educated 'em and made women an' men out'en 'em. "we visited at night during slavery time. de men went courtin'. when a man, a slave, loved a 'oman on another plantation dey axed der master, sometimes de master would ax de other master. if dey agreed all de slave man an' 'oman had ter de [hw: do] sa'dy night wuz fer him to come over an' dey would go to bed together. dere wuz no marriage--until atter de surrender. all who wanted to keep de same 'oman atter de surrender had to pay ¢ fer er marriage license, den $ . , den $ . . if de magistrate married you, you didn't have to pay anything, less he charged you. "we got de holidays, christmas, and atter lay-by-time o' de crops. dey had big dinners den. dey had big tables set in de yard, de rations wuz spread on 'em, an' everybody et. we had brandy at christmas. "i have been whupped twice, an' i have seen slaves whupped. ha! ha! missus whupped me. she wouldn't let nobody else whup me neither. i 'members what it wuz about as if it wuz yesterday. she wuz fretted 'bout de cook. we wuz skinnin' i'sh taters. she tole us to make haste, if we didn't make haste an' peel de taters she would whack us down. i laughed, she sent me to git a switch. she hit me on de legs. when we were whupped we would say, 'oh! pray,' and dey would quit. if you acted stubborn dey would whup you more. she axed me, 'ain't you gwine ter say 'oh! pray?' i wuz mad. she wuz not hurtin' me much, an' i wouldn't say nuthin'. atter awhile i said, 'oh! pray', an' she quit. i had good owners all o' dem. my masters never did hit me. missus would not whup me much. she jes wanted ter show off sometimes. "we had good doctors when we got sick. i 'members dr. james o' clayton comin' to our house. dey carried dere pills an' medicine den, an' lef' it at de house fer you. "my master had a son in de war, walter pool. he wuz a footso'dier at first. he got sick an' he come home sick on er furlough. he hired er man to go in his place at first, den de man went. atter awhile de men got so skurce, he had to go agin; den he got de chance to go in de cavalry. ole master bought him a horse, an' he could ride nex' time. he belonged to the st. ga. reg. nd cavalry gen. dange's brigade, c. co. n.c. volunteers. "i saw de confederates' general johnson come through clayton, an' de yankees come de nd [hw: second] day atter dey come through. i think i seed enough yankees come through dere to whup anything on god's earth. de yankees camped three miles from our plantation at mrs. widow sarah saunders across white oak creek on de averysboro road. her son, capt. ed. saunders wuz in de confederate army. she wuz a big slave owner. she had about slaves. she wuz called a rich 'oman. "de yankees played songs o' walkin' de streets of baltimore an' walkin' in maryland. dey really played it. dey slaughtered cows and sometimes only et de liver. i went to de camp atter dey lef' an' it wuz de awfulest stink i ever smelt in my life. dey lef' dem cows part o' 'em lying whur dey were in de camp. dey killed geese an' chickens, an' skinned 'em. sometimes dey skinned de hind quarters uv a cow, cut 'em off an' lef' de res'. "when dey tole me i wuz free i didn't notice it, i stayed on and worked jest lak i had been doin', right on wid missus and master. i stayed dere a year atter de surrender. "i dunno what ter think o' abraham lincoln. dey said he wuz all right. i guess he wuz a man god loved, er all right man. i think some o' de slaves wuz better off when dey had owners and wuz in slavery den dey is now. de colored people are slaves now more den dey wuz den. i can show you wherein de nigger's got all his expenses ter bear now. he gits his pay out'en de white man and de white man don't pay him much. de nigger in de south is jest as much a slave as ever. de nigger now is a better slave den when dey owned him, 'cause he has his own expenses to bear. if you works a horse an' doan have him ter feed, you is better off, dan if you had ter feed and care fer him. dat is de way dat thing is now. "i seed many patterollers durin' slavery. if dey caught you out at night without a pass dey would whup you. "i think mr. roosevelt is a mighty nice man. he has done me a lot o' good. no man can make times real good till everybody is put to work. wid de lan' lyin' out dere can't be real good times. dis is my 'lustration. my horse died las' year. i ain't got no money ter buy nother and can't git one. you see dat lan' lyin' out dere i have farmed it every year fer a long time. through part o' de year i always had vegetables and sich ter sell, but now my horse is dead an' i can't farm no more. i ain't got nothin' ter sell. i is bad out o' heart. i shore hope sumpin' will be done fer me." n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: rena raines person interviewed: rena raines editor: g.l. andrews [tr: date stamp: aug ] rena raines "i wus three years ole when de yankees come through. i do not 'member much 'bout slavery, but i knows a lot my mother tole me. "my mother wus named vicey rogers an' my father wus named bob hunter. he 'longed ter de hunters of wake county an' mother longed ter marster john rogers. her missus' name wus ann rogers. i 'members my grandfather on my mother's side but do not 'member any more of my grandparents. "marse john rogers wus a ole batchelor before he wus married an' he had 'bout twelve slaves when he married mis' ann hunter. she owned one slave, a colored boy, when she wus married. her father gave her the slave. the plantation wus between apex an' holly springs in wake county. all my people lived in wake county an' i wus born on de plantation. marster wus good ter his niggers before he wus married, but when she came in it got mighty rough. it got wusser an' wusser till 'bout de time of de surrender. de place wus a hell on earth, mother said, if dere could ever be one. missus had slaves whupped fur most any little thing an' den she wud not allow 'em to have much ter eat. my mother tole me all about it, atter de surrender. mother said missus runned the plantation an' made it hard fur all de slaves. she jist liked ter see slaves beat almost ter death. dere wus a lot of niggers whupped in dat neighborhood by the overseers, owners an' patterollers. "slaves wus sold 'round from one to a nother 'mongst de white folks. mother said you jist couldn't tell when you would git whupped. de wurk wus hard from sun to sun. poor food ter eat, poor clothes, barefooted most of de time, an' a general hard time, till freedom put an end to it. my mother tole me ole man pasqual bert who lived near 'em in wake county had his niggers whupped all day sometimes. he beat 'em unmercifully an sometimes made away wid 'em an' dey wus not seed no more. she said de way he whupped his slaves wus ter lay 'em up an' down on a log wid de bark off. he made 'em lie flat down on dere stomachs an' den buckled 'em on den de overseers beat 'em unmercifully. one time a overseer's wife heard a pat, pat, pat, down at de whuppin' log an' she ax him what it wus an' why he beat niggers from sun to sun an he tole her ole man bert made 'im do it or else leave. so his wife says 'we will leave, you must not beat any more niggers if we perish to death,' an de overseer left. mother said ole man bert fed his little niggers out of a trough like hogs. ole man bert also had niggers tied to barrels an whupped. "de grown slaves got one pair shoes a year. dey wus give ter dem at xmas. an de chillun didn't have no shoes at all. de clothes wus homemade. de houses wus made out of logs an had stick an dirt chimleys to 'em. de sleepin' places wus bunks fer de grown niggers an de chillun slept on de floor on pallets. a pallet wus made by spreadin' a quilt made of towbaggin' or rags on de floor, dat's where de chillun slept in our neighborhood before de surrender. "mother and father married by jumpin' de broom. dey put de broom down on de floor den day helt one another's hands an den dey jumped de broom, den day went ter de slave house an' went ter bed. mother an' father come ter raleigh atter de surrender an wus married right. mother an' father lef' ole man rogers as soon as dey wus free. dey lived on hardtack an' pickled meat de yankees give for sometimes den dey went an' stayed wid mr. gray jones an' when i wus a great big girl we lef' an moved ter chatham county. pa bought a place, paid for it, built a little house on it an' lived dere until he died. "i married in chatham county an' lived dere till my husband died den i kept stayin' till all my chillun married off an' i come ter raleigh ter live wid my son. i had four chilluns. dey are all dead but de one i live wid. "i have been unable to git out of de house widout help fur a long time. i have heart trouble an' high blood pressure. slavery wus a right bad thing. i thank god it is over." le n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: anthony ransome person interviewed: anthony ransome editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp: jun (unclear)] anthony ransome ex-slave story (free) an interview with anthony ransome of s. tarboro st. raleigh, n.c. "i reckon dat i is eighty years old, an' i wus borned in murfreesboro in hertford county. my mammy wus named annice an' my father wus named calvin jones. my brothers wus named thomas, wesley, charlie, henry an' william. "we wus borned free, my mammy bein' de daughter of a white 'oman, an' my paw's paw onct saved do life o' his master's chile, an' wus freed. "my paw wus a shoemaker an' he made a putty good livin' fer us. course we ain't knowed so much 'bout slavery, but doctor manning who lived near us owned some slaves an' he treated 'em bad. we could hyar 'em screamin' at de top of dere voices onct in a while, an' when dey got through beatin' 'em dey wus tied down in de cellar. dey ain't had much ter eat nother. "dar wus a preacher what tol' us 'bout a member of his congregation durin' de war. de wife wus sold from de husban' an' he married ag'in. atter de war his fust wife comed back an' atter his secon' wife died he married de fust one ober ag'in." n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: caroline richardson person interviewed: caroline richardson editor: g.l. andrews [tr: date stamp: sep ] [hw: a (circled)] caroline richardson an interview with caroline richardson who does not know her age. she resides near the northern city limits of selma. "i reckin dat i is somers 'bout sixty year old. anyhow i wus ten or twelve when de yankees come ter marse ransome bridgers' place near clayton. dat's whar i wus borned an' my pappy, my mammy an' we 'leben chilluns 'longed ter marse ransome an' mis' adeline. dar wus also young marse george an' young miss betsy who i 'longed to. "mis' adeline wus little an' puny an' marse ransome wus big an' stout, dat's why it am funny dat mammy won't let mis' adeline whup her but she don't say nothin' when de marster gits de whup. dere ain't nobody got many whuppin's nohow an' a slave on marster's place had ter be mean ter git a whuppin'. you see mammy would sass dem all. "we ain't heard much 'bout de war, nothin' lak we heard 'bout de world war. i knows dat nobody from our plantation ain't gone ter dat war case marse ransome was too old an' marse george wus a patteroller, or maybe he wus just too young. dar was a little bit of talk but most of it we ain't heard. i tended to de slave babies, but my mammy what cooked in de big house heard some of de war talk an' i heard her a-talkin' to pappy about it. when she seed me a-listenin' she said dat she'd cut my year off iffen i told it. i had seen some of de slaves wid clipped years an' i wanted to keep mine, so i ain't said nothin'. "one day mis' betsy come out ter de yard an' she sez ter we chilluns, 'you has got de habit of runnin' ter de gate to see who can say howdy first to our company, well de yankees will be here today or tomorrow an' dey ain't our company. in fact iffen yo' runs ter de gate ter meet dem dey will shoot you dead.' "ober late dat evenin' i heard music an' i runs ter de gate ter see whar it am. comin' down de road as fast as dey can i sees a bunch of men wid gray suits on a-ridin' like de debil. dey don't stop at our house at all but later i heard dat dey wus wheeler's cavalry, de very meanest of de rebs, though 'tis said dat dey wus brave in battle. "about a hour atter wheeler's men come by de yankees hove into sight. de drums wus beatin', de flags wavin' an' de hosses prancin' high. we niggers has been teached dat de yankees will kill us, men women an' chilluns. de whole hundert or so of us runs an' hides. "yes mam, i 'members de blue uniforms an' de brass buttons, an' i 'members how dey said as dey come in de gate dat dey has as good as won de war, an' dat dey ort ter hang de southern men what won't go ter war. "i reckin dat dey talk purty rough ter marse ransome. anyhow, mammy tells de yankee captain dat he ort ter be 'shamed of talkin' ter a old man like dat. furder more, she tells dem dat iffen dat's de way dey're gwine ter git her freedom, she don't want it at all. wid dat mammy takes mis' betsy upstairs whar de yankees won't be a-starin' at her. "one of de yankees fin's me an' axes me how many pairs of shoes i gits a year. i tells him dat i gits one pair. den he axes me what i wears in de summertime. when i tells him dat i ain't wear nothin' but a shirt, an' dat i goes barefooted in de summer, he cusses awful an' he damns my marster. "mammy said dat dey tol' her an' pappy dat dey'd git some land an' a mule iffen dey wus freed. you see dey tried ter turn de slaves agin dere marsters. "at de surrender most of de niggers left, but me an' my family stayed fer wages. we ain't really had as good as we done before de war, an' 'cides dat we has ter worry about how we're goin' ter live. "we stayed dar at de same place, de ole zola may place, on de wake an' johnston line, fer four or five years an' i went to school a little bit. atter we left dar we went to mr. john h. wilson's place near wilson's mill. it wus at de end of dese ten years dat mammy wus gwine ter whup bill, my brother, so he went off ter louisanna an' we ain't seed him since. "at de end of dis time i married barney richardson an' we had three chilluns, who am all dead now. we worked an' slaved till we bought dis house an' paid fer it, den in he died. i married john haskins de second time but he's been dead now fer about ten years. "i told you dat i owned dis shack but you see how de top has come ter pieces an' de steps has fell down. i'm behind in my taxes too so i'm 'spectin' dem ter take it away from me at any time. i has been dependent on de white folks now fer four or five years. de county gives me two dollars a month an' de white folks gives me a little now an' den. you see dat i can't straighten up so i can't work in five years. "drawin' water out of dat well wid no curb shore bothers me too, come an' look at it." i looked at the well and in the well and was horrified. there was no curbing at all, only a few rotting planks laid over the hole, and on these she stood right over the water while she drew up the heavy bucket with a small rope and without the aid of a wheel. "i reckin dat some of dese days somebody will draw me outen dis well," she continued briskly. "anyhow hit don't matter much. "you see dat little patch, wid de roastin' ears comin' an' de peas a-bloomin'. i grubbed it up wid my hoe an' planted it myself. iffen you can spare it i wish you'd give me a quarter an' iffen you're round here 'bout three weeks stop an' git you a mess of peas." n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: charity riddick story teller: charity riddick editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp: jun (unclear)] charity riddick e. d. street. "i am years old, you know after comes , dats how old i am. a year ago, a little over a year ago, i wus by de age in de bible. my son ernest riddick tole me dat. he is gone to greensboro to work. he carried de bible wid him. if i had de bible i could tell de story better den i can. my full name is charity riddick and my husband wus weldon riddick. he is dead. my father wus named lewis jones. mother wus named haley jones. i had three brothers, washington, william and turner, two sisters mary and celia. all my people are dead except my sons. i have three sons livin'. "i got sick an' i got way down in my taxes. i am payin' a dollar on' em every time i can get it. i ain't able to work much. i chops in de garden to make a little to eat. my sons help me some. dey have children you know, but dey send me a little. dey is all married. one has eight chillun, the other five chillun and de third has four chillun. dey can't help me much. "i belonged to madison pace in slavery time. he dead an' gone long ago do'. my missus wus name mis' annie pace. sometimes i got plenty to eat and sometimes i didn't. all i got came through my mother from marster and missus. i was in my mother's care. i wus so young dey didn't have much to do with me. the plantation wus about three miles east o' raleigh. "dis house did belong to me, but i am a long way behind on it. dey lets me stay here and pay what i kin. i rents a room to an old lady fer cents a week. i buys oil and wood wid it. de lights has been cut off. i uses a oil lamp fur light. lights done cut off. i can't pay light rent, no sir, i haint been able to pay dat in a long time. "in slavery time when de people you call de yankees come, i wus small, but father took us and left the plantation. we lived in raleigh after that. father did not stay on de plantation anymore but he farmed around raleigh as long as he lived. he made corn, peas, potatoes and other things to feed us with. i used to hear 'em talk about de ku klux. we wus mighty afraid of dem. "i used to hear my father say he had a very good master. my min' is not good but i remember we used water from a spring and lived in a little log house out from my master's 'great house'. i remember sein' de slaves but i do not remember how many dere wus. i never saw a slave whupped. my mother's son wus sold, that wus my brother washington wus sold away from her before de surrender. mother cried a lot about it. i remember sein' her cry about my brother bein' sold. "i remember sein' de yankees. dey told us dey were the blue jackets dat set us free. i wus afraid o' dem. i am old enough to have been dead long ago. guess it is the mercy of the lord dats lets me live. "all i know about abraham lincoln is what i been told. dey say, i think dey said he set de slaves free. i don't know much good or bad about mr. roosevelt. i can't read and write. dey would not let a nigger have any books. dey were perticular 'bout dat. when dey tole us 'bout de bible dey say it say obey your marster. dis is 'bout all i 'members. yes, 'bout all i 'members." ac n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: simuel riddick story teller: simuel riddick editor: daisy bailey waitt simuel riddick everette ave. "my name is simuel riddick. i was born the fourth day february, . my owners, my white people, my old mistress wrote me a letter telling me my age. my mother was nancy riddick; she belonged to the riddicks in the eastern part of the state. my father was named elisha riddick. my master was named elisha and my mistress sarah riddick. they had three daughters, sarah, christine, and mary, one boy named asbury riddick. "i was born in perquimans county, north carolina and i have lived in north carolina all my life. we had good food, for marster was a heavy farmer. there were about acres cleared on the plantation, and about slaves. the great house was where marster lived and the quarters was where we lived. they were near the great house. i saw only one slave whupped. i had mighty fine white people, yes, mighty fine white people. they did not whup their slaves, but their son whupped my mother pretty bad because she did not bale enough corn and turnips to feed the fattening hogs. "he was a rang tang. he loved his liquor, and he loved colored women. the ole man never whupped anybody. young marster married in the marmaduke family in gates county. he sold one man who belonged to his wife, mary. i never saw a slave sold. "i have seen lots o' paterollers. they were my friends. i had friends among 'em because i had a young missus they run with. dats why they let me alone. i went with her to cotton pickin's at night. they came, but they didn't touch me. my young missus married dr. perry from the same neighborhood in perquimans county. bill simpson married her sister. he was from the same place. watson white married the other one. he was from perquimans. "there were no half-white children on marster's plantation, and no mixups that ever came out to be a disgrace in any way. my white folks were fine people. i remember marster's brother's son tommy going off to war. marster's brother was named willis riddick. he never came back. i got a letter from my missus since i been in raleigh. she was a fine lady. she put fine clothes on me. i was a foreman on the plantation and looked after things in general. i had charge of everything at the lots and in the fields. they trusted me. "when the war broke out i left my marster and went to portsmouth, virginia. general miles captured me and put me in uniform. i waited on him as a body servant, a private in the u.s. army. i stayed with him until general lee surrendered. when lee surrendered i stayed in washington with general miles at the willard hotel and waited on him. i stayed there a long time. i was with general miles at fortress monroe and stayed with him till he was in charge of north carolina. he was a general, and had the th irish brigade. he also had the bluecats and greentorches. "i waited on him at the abbeck house, alexandria, virginia after the war. i stayed with the general a long time after the war. i didn't go with general miles when he was ordered to the plains of the west. "i stayed on the bureau here in raleigh. dr. h.c. wagel was in charge. after i left the bureau i worked at the n.c. state college several years then i worked with the city at the city parks. i never left the state after coming here with general miles. "i had mighty good white people, was treated all right, was made foreman and treated with every kindness. i haven't anything to say against slavery. my old folks put my clothes on me when i was a boy. they gave me shoes and stockings and put them on me when i was a little boy. i loved them and i can't go against them in anything. there were things i did not like about slavery on some plantations, whuppin' and sellin' parents and children from each other but i haven't much to say. i was treated good. "don't know much about abraham lincoln, haven't much to express about mr. roosevelt. he is a mighty pleasant man tho'. i learned to read and write after the war. i could not read and write when i was a soldier." ac n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave stories person interviewed: adora rienshaw editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp: jun (unclear) ] [illustration: adora rienshaw] ex-slave stories an interview with adora rienshaw, , of south bloodworth street, raleigh. "i wuz borned at beulah, down hyar whar garner am now, an' my parents wuz cameron an' sally perry. when i wuz a month old we moved ter raleigh. "we wuz called 'ole issues', case we wuz mixed wid de whites. my pappy wuz borned free, case his mammy wuz a white 'oman an' his pappy wuz a coal-black nigger man. hit happened in mississippi, do' i doan know her name 'cept dat she wuz a perry. "she wuz de wife of grandfather's marster an' dey said dat he wuz mean ter her. grandfather wuz her coachman an' he often seed her cry, an' he'd talk ter her an' try ter comfort her in her troubles, an' dat's de way dat she come ter fall in love wid him. "one day, he said, she axed him ter stop de carriage an' come back dar an' talk ter her. when he wuz back dar wid her she starts ter cry an' she puts her purtty gold haid on his shoulder, an' she tells him dat he am her only friend, an' dat her husban' won't eben let her have a chile. "hit goes on lak dis till her husban' fin's out dat she am gwine ter have de baby. dey says dat he beats her awful an' when pappy wuz borned he jist about went crazy. anyhow pappy wuz bound out till he wuz twenty-one an' den he wuz free, case no person wid ary a drap of white blood can be a slave. "when he wuz free he comed ter raleigh an' from de fust i can remember he wuz a blacksmith an' his shop wuz on wolcot's corner. dar wuz jist three of us chilluns, charlie, narcissus, an' me an' dat wuz a onusual small family. "before de war judge bantin's wife teached us niggers on de sly, an' atter de war wuz over de yankees started hayes's school. i ain't had so much schoolin' but i teached de little ones fer seberal years. "de southern soldiers burned de depot, which wuz between cabarrus an' davie streets den, an' dat wuz ter keep de yankees from gittin' de supplies. wheeler's cavalry wuz de meanest troops what wuz. "de yankees ain't got much in raleigh, case de confederates has done got it all an' gone. why fer a long time dar de way we got our salt wuz by boilin' de dirt from de smoke house floor where de meat has hung an' dripped. "i'm glad slavery is ober, eben do' i ain't neber been no slave. but i tell yo' it's bad ter be a 'ole issue.'" n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: celia robinson story teller: celia robinson editor: daisy bailey waitt celia robinson e. cabarrus st. "my name, full name, is celia robinson. i can't rest, i has nuritus so bad; de doctor says it's nuritus. i do not know my age, i wus eight or ten years old at de close o' de war. de ole family book got burned up, house an' all. i wuz borned a slave. dat's what my father and mother tole me. my father, he 'longed to dr. wiley perry of louisburg, n.c., franklin co., an' my mother 'longed to mcknight on an adjoining plantation. i do not know mcknight's given name. my father wus named henderson perry. he wuz my marster's shop man (blacksmith). my mother wus named peggy perry. mcknight's wife wus named penny. i member her name. "i member when de yankees came ter my mother's house on de mcknight plantation near louisburg an' dey went inter her things. when de yankees came down my brother buck perry drug me under de bed and tole me to lie still or de yankees would ketch me. i member de sweet music dey played an' de way dey beat de drum. dey came right inter de house. dey went inter her chist; they broke it open. dey broke de safe open also. dey took mother's jewelry. but she got it back. missus went ter de captain an' dey give back de jewelry. my missus wus de cause of her gittin' it back. "i wuz old enough to go up ter where my brother kept de cows when de war ended. i member where he kept de calves. my brother would carry me up dere ter hold de calves off when dey wus milking de cows. my marster would take me by de hand and say 'now, celia, you must be smart or i will let de bull hook you.' he often carried me up to de great house an' fed me. he give me good things ter eat. yes, i am partly white. it won't on my mother's side tho', but let's not say anything about dat, jist let dat go. don't say anything about dat. marster thought a lot o' me. marster and missus thought there wus nothin' like me. missus let me tote her basket, and marster let me play wid his keys. "i cannot read an' write. i have never been ter school but one month in my life. when i wus a little girl i had plenty ter eat, wear, an' a good time. "i 'member when my father would come ter see mother. de patterollers tole him if he didn't stop coming home so much dey wus goin' ter whip him. he had a certain knock on de door, den mother would let him in. "i 'member how mother tole me de overseer would come ter her when she had a young child an' tell her ter go home and suckle dat thing, and she better be back in de field at work in minutes. mother said she knowed she could not go home and suckle dat child and git back in minutes so she would go somewhere an' sit down an' pray de child would die. "we lived at dr. wiley perry's one year atter de war, then we moved ter de plantation of seth ward, a white man who was not married, but he had a lot of mulatto children by a slave woman o' his. we stayed dere four years, den we moved ter de charles perry plantation. father stayed dere and raised children an' bought him a place near de town o' franklinton. i got along during my early childhood better dan i do now. yes, dat i did. i plowed, grubbed an' rolled logs right atter de war, i worked right wid de men. "i married henry robinson. we married on de perry plantation. we had two children born ter us, ada an' ella. dey are both dead. i wish i had had two dozen children. i have no children now. if i had had two dozen, maybe some would be wid me now. i am lonesome and unable to work. i have been trying to wash and iron fer a livin', but now i am sick, unable to work. i live with my grandson an' i have nothing." n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: george rogers person interviewed: george rogers editor: daisy bailey waitt george rogers ex-slave story "george rogers is the name. i has carried fur years an' over. i will be the first day o' this comin' august. louis rogers wuz my father. my mother wuz penny rogers. all my brothers an' sisters are dead except one sister. she is livin' in buffalo, new york. she is somewhere in seventy years old. she wuz the baby in our home. my mother an' father an' all o' us belonged to felix rogers. he lived in the edge o' wake county next to greenville county. my mother came from canada. my master came here from canada an' married here. he married old man billy shipp's daughter. her name wuz matilda shipp. "i cannot read an' write. dey did not 'low no niggers to handle no papers in dem days. master had three plantations an' about one hundred slaves. we had good houses an' plenty to eat. my master wuz a good man. we had no church on the plantation, but we had prayermeeting in our houses. he 'lowed dat an' when dey had big meeting, he made us all go. we had dances or anything else we wanted to at night. we had corn shuckings, candy pullings, an' all the whiskey an' brandy we wanted. my daddy didn't do nuthin' but 'still for him. whiskey wuz only ten cents a quart den. "i have never seen him really whup a slave any more dan he whupped his own chilluns. he whupped us all together when we stole watermelons and apples. he made us chillun, white and black, eat together at a big table to ourselves. we had ordinary clothes, but we all went alike. in the summer and winter we all went barefooted and in our shirt tails mos' er de time. his chilluns wuz just as bad fer goin' barefooted as we niggers wuz. "we had our patches, and he allowed us to have the money we made on 'em. our houses were called slave quarters. our marster's house wuz a big fine two story-house. we slaves called it 'de great house'. none er de slaves from marster roger's plantation never run away. "we chillun played de games uv marbles, cat ball, an' we played base, prison base. at night we all played peep squirrel in the house. we played blindfold and tag. "we fished a lot in briar creek. we caught a lot o' fish. sometimes we used pin hooks we made ourselves. we would trade our fish to missus for molasses to make candy out uv. "when we got sick we had a doctor. his name wuz dr. hicks. i never wuz sick, but some uv de res' wuz. we had an old colored man who doctored on all us chillun. he give us roots an' herbs. "yes sir, i have seen slaves sold. my marster died the year the war started; den dey had a big sale at our house. dey had a sale, an' old man askew bought a whole lot o' our niggers. i don't know his name only dey called him 'old man askew'. he lived on salisbury street raleigh, down near de rex hospital, corner salisbury and lenoir streets. old man askew wuz a slave speculator. he didn't do nothin' but buy up slaves and sell 'em. he carried de ones he bought at our house to texas. he bought my half-sister and carried her to texas. atter de surrender i saw her in texas once, never no more. "when de war begin dey carried young marster off. his name wuz william rogers, an' dey sent me to wait on 'im. i wuz in camp wid 'im up here by de old fair grounds. atter we got there i seed old colonel farrabow, he wuz colonel o' dat regiment. we all lef' raleigh on wagons, an' i don't know whur we went atter we lef' raleigh; i wuz las'. we got on de train at fayetteville, whur dey kept de rations. we went to a place whur dere wuz a lot o' water. i don't know its name. we were dere about three days when dey had a battle, an' den colonel farrabow come round an' tole me marster wuz gone. he told us to go to the breas'works and work. i stayed dere three years and eight months. den dey had anudder battle dar just befo' i lef', and de yankees tuc' de place. "i went to de yankees den. dey give me clothes, shoes, sumtin to eat, and some money too. i worked for 'em while dey were camped in raleigh. i come wid' em back to raleigh. dey were camped on newbern avenue and tarboro street and all out in gatlin' field in de place now called lincoln park. de yankees, when dey tuc' us, tole us ter come on wid' em. dey tole us to git all de folks's chickens and hogs. we wuz behind 'em, an' we had plenty. dey made us steal an' take things fur 'em. wheeler's calvary went before us, dat's why dey wuz so rich. dey got all de silver, an' we got de chickens and hogs. "de yankees skinned chickens and geese. dey cut hogs an' cows up an' den skinned 'em. dey took jis' part of a cow sometime, jis' de hind quarters an' lef' de res'. we went to one place, an' de white 'oman only had one piece o' meat an' a big gang o' little chillun. i begged de yankees to let dat piece of meat alone, she wuz so po', but de officer tole 'em to take it, an' dey took her las' piece o' meat. "i stayed wid de yankees two years arter de surrender. dey carried me to florida when i lef' raleigh. when i lef' 'em in florida i went ter texas to min' cattle. i stayed in texas seven years. den mr. hardie pool from down here at battle bridge, wake county come out dere. when he started home i couldn't stan' it no longer, an' i jis tole him i wuz goin' back home to north carolina. no sir, when i got home, i would not go back. no mo mindin' cattle in texas fur me. i married arter i come back here. i married polly bancomb first, den a 'oman named betsy maynard, and las', emily walton. "when de surrender come marster wuz dead, but he lef' it so dat all his slaves who had families got a piece o' lan'. dere were four of 'em who got lan'. he wuz dead do', but missus done like he had it fixed. "we had white overseers. old man john robinson stayed there till de surrender; den he lef'. we used to kill squirrels, turkeys, an' game wid guns. when marster went off some o' us boys stole de guns, an' away we went to de woods huntin'. marster would come back drunk. he would not know, an' he did not care nuther, about we huntin' game. we caught possums an' coons at night wid dogs. marsa an' missus wuz good to us. "i heerd a heap uv talk about abraham lincoln, but i don't know nuthin' bout him. i like mr. roosevelt all right. he is all right as fur as i know of 'im. i digs fish worms fer a livin'; i can't work much. i jist works awhile in the mornin'. i don't git anything from charity, de county, ner de state. i don' have much. dese are de bes' shoes i has. dey flinged dem away, an' i picked 'em up. dey is jist rags uv shoes. i shore need shoes." l.e. n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: hattie rogers person interviewed: hattie rogers editor: g.l. andrews [tr: date stamp: aug ] hattie rogers "i was born a slave in new bern, n.c., craven county, the nd day of march . my full name is hattie rogers. my mother's name was roxanna jeffreys. her husband was named gaston jeffreys, but he was not my father. my father was levin eubanks, a white man. i was born before my mother was married. i called my father marse levin. we belonged to allen eubanks of new bern, n.c. and his sister's son was my father. his sister was named harriot and i was named after her. marster didn't care who our fathers was jest so the women had children. my father died in . my mother was years old when i was born. when i was a little girl they moved us out to the plantation on the white oak river in onslow county where we had plenty to eat and wear. we made the stuff and we ate it. our marster was good to us. marster carried me around in his arms a whole lot. he would say to me, 'come on harriot, and let's go get a dram. if you're like your daddy i know you like it.' "our marster did not whip us or allow anyone else to whip us. "when the yankees took new bern, two years before the war ended, we all were refuged to franklin county to keep them from setting us free. all who could swim the river and get to the yankees were free. some of the men swum the river and got to jones county, then to new bern and freedom. one of these was alec parker. the white oak river was in onslow county bordering jones county. there was a lot of slaves who did this, but he is the only one i personally remember. "when we got to franklin county, we saw plenty of patterollers, and many of the men were whipped. mother's husband was beat unmercifully by them. "there was no churches on the plantation, but we went to the white folks church and sat on the back seats. the white people was friendly to us in the eastern part of the state. indeed it was more stiff up in franklin county. some of the slave-owners was very mean to their slaves. i remember seeing some of the slaves almost beat to death. lawsy mercy, that was a time. i saw a slave-owner whip a colored woman named lucy, his servant. he was named john ellis, judge ellis's son in franklinton. "my mother cooked for judge ellis then. john ellis whipped lucy because he found a piece of pickle outside the pantry door. he accused her of stealing it. there was a string attached to a bell, near where lucy stayed. she was a house girl. he accused her of stealing the pickle and leaving it there when the bell rung, and she had to go in the house. he made her strip to her waist and then he made her hug a tree. he whipped her with a cowhide whip until she could only say in a weak voice, 'oh pray! marster john'. major thomason was there, and he went to marse john and said 'john, don't kill the dam nigger.' "a lot of the white folks hid in the woods and in caves and swamps. they hired slaves out when they didn't need 'em themselves. they hid jewelry in hoss stables by digging holes, putting the jewelry in, and then replacing the straw. "when the slaves was sent from white oak to franklinton before lee surrendered they had to walk all the way. we children was carried in dump carts drawn by mules. my marster nor none of his boys was ever in the confederate army. when they got us to franklinton they put us in jail for safe keeping. "if a woman was a good breeder she brought a good price on the auction block. the slave buyers would come around and jab them in the stomach and look them over and if they thought they would have children fast they brought a good price. "just before the war started when the birds would sing around the well, missus would say, 'war is coming, them birds singing is a sign of war; the yankees will come and kill us all.' i can see the old well now jest as plain. it had a sweep and pole. you pulled the sweep over by pulling the pole and bucket down into the well. when it sunk into the water, the heavy sweep pulled it up again. "i wouldn't tell anything wrong on my ole marster for anything. he was good to all of us. he offered my mother a piece of land after the war closed, but mother's husband would not let her accept it. my grandmother took a place he offered her. he gave her fifty acres of land and put a nice frame building on it. "the man we belonged to never was married. he bought a woman who had two little girls, on [tr: one] named lucy and the other abbie. he took lucy for a house girl to wait on his mother. she had eleven children by him. they're all dead except one. all the missus i ever had was a slave, and she was this same lucy. yes, sir he loved that woman, and when he died he left all his property to her. "when the slaves on the plantation got sick they relied mostly on herbs. they used sage tea for fever, poplar bark water for chills. "when the husbands and brothers and sweethearts were gone to the war the white ladies would sing. annie ellis and mag thomas would sing these pitiful songs. 'adieu my friends, i bid you adieu, i'll hang my heart on the willow tree and may the world go well with you.' "when i was three years old i remember hearing this song. 'old beauregard and jackson came running down to manassas, i couldn't tell to save my life which one could run the fastest, hurray boys, hurray!' "when the surrender came the yankees rocked the place where we were in. we were in a box car. they wanted to get a light-colored slave out. "the yankee officers came and gave mother's husband a gun and told him to shoot anyone who bothered us. they put a guard around the car, and they walked around the car all night. "my mother was dipping snuff when the yankees came. one rode up to her and said, 'take that stick out of your mouth.' mother was scared when the yankees tried to break in on us. she cried and hollered murder! and i cried too. i din't know about freedom. i was too young to realize much about it. when the war ended i had just been hired out. i was never sent off. i think slavery was an awful thing, and that abraham lincoln was a good man because he set us free." le n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: henry rountree person interviewed: henry rountree editor: g.l. andrews henry rountree henry rountree, years old, of near newsom's store in wilson county. "i wus borned an' bred in wilson county on de plantation of mr. dock rountree. i wus named fer his oldest son, young marse henry. my mammy, adell, my pappy, shark, an' my ten brothers an' sisters lived dar, an' aldo' we works middlin' hard we has de grandes' times ever. "we has two er three corn shuckings ever' fall, we has wood splittin' days an' invite de neighbors in de winter time. de wimmen has quiltin's an' dat night we has a dance. in de col' winter time when we'd have hog killin's we'd invite de neighbors case dar wus a hundret er two hogs ter kill 'fore we quit. yes, mam, dem wus de days when folkses, white an' black, worked tergether. "dar wus candy pullin's when we makes de 'lasses an' at christmas time an' on new year's eve we has a all night dance. on christmas mornin' we serenaded de marster's family an' dey gived us fruits, candy an' clothes. "my marster had game cocks what he put up to fight an' dey wus valuable. when i wus a little feller he had one rooster that 'ud whup me ever' time i got close ter him, he'd whup young marse henry too, so both of us hated him. "one day we set down wid bruised backs ter decide how ter git rid of dat ole rooster, not thinkin' 'bout how much he cost. we made our plans, an' atter gittin' a stick apiece ready we starts drappin' a line of corn to de ole well out in de barnyard. de pesky varmint follers de corn an' when he gits on de brink of de well we lets him have it wid de sticks an' pretty shortly he am drownded. marse ain't never knowed it nother. "de missus had a ole parrot what had once 'longed ter her brother who wus a sea captain. dat wus de cussingest thing i ever seed an' he'd cuss ever'body an' ever'thing. one day two neighborhood men wus passin' when dey heard somebody holler 'wait a minute.' when dey turns 'roun' de ole parrot sez, 'go on now, i jist wanted ter see how you looks, great god what ugly men!' an' de ole thing laughs fit ter bust. "dat ole parrot got de slaves in a heap of trouble so de day when de hawk caught him we wus tickled pink. de hawk sailed off wid de parrot screamin' over an' over, 'pore polly's ridin'. we laughed too quick case de hawk am skeerd an' turns de ole fool parrot loose. "hit's things lak dat dat i 'members mostly, but i does 'member when de news of de war come. ole missus says dat de will of de lord be done. den ole marse sez dat his slaves won't be no happier in heaben dan dey will wid him an' dat de yankees better keep outen his business. "de war comes on an' as de niggers l'arns dat dey am free dar am much shoutin' an rejoicin' on other plantations, but dar ain't nothin' but sorrow on ours, case de marster sez dat he always give us ever'thing dat we needs ter make us happy but he be drat iffen he is gwine ter give us money ter fling away. so we all has ter go. "ole marster doan live long atter de war am over, but till de day dat he wus buried we all done anything he ax us. "i has done mostly farm work all of my life, an' work aroun' de house. fer years an' years i lives on a part of marse's land an' atter dat i lives here. i ain't got no kick comin' 'bout nothin' 'cept dat i wants my ole age pension, i does, an' i'd like to say too, miss, dat de niggers 'ud be better off in slavery. i ain't seed no happy niggers since dem fool yankees come along." le by miss nancy watkins madison, rockingham county biography sketch of ex-slave, anderson scales, three fourths of a mile from his master's mansion in madison on hunter street, with his large plug tobacco factory across the street on the corner (where [hw: in] stands the residence of dr. wesley mcanally,) in some "quarters" which nat pitcher scales had near beaver island creek, anderson was born to slave mother, martha scales of a father, "man name uh edwards." baby anderson was the slave of william scales, at one time the world's largest manufacturer of plug or chewing tobacco and he was named for henry anderson, the husband of mrs. william scales' sister. cabins here "quarters" consisting of three or four log ones. cabins were near the old "free white schoolhouse" or rather the "schoolhouse" for whites. rolling around the yards with the other pickaninnies, anderson passed his babyhood, and when he was a boy he went to be house boy at marse jim dick cardwell's on academy street facing nat pitcher scales' home, later that of col. john marion gallaway. here he learned good manners and to be of good service. later he was houseboy in the big house just beyond the methodist church at james cardwell's who had a mill five miles west of madison and whose wife was sallie martin; granddaughter of governor alexander martin. here anderson learned more good manners and rendered more good house boy service such as sweeping floors, bringing in "turns" (armfuls) of fireplace wood, drawing water from the yard well and toting it into the house, keeping flies off the dining table, carrying out slops and garbage, for every town house had its back lot pigs. larger [hw correction: later] anderson was hired to nat wall, (colored) farmer and blacksmith, then to joshua wall, white planter of dan valley northeast of town a few miles. white men would get contracts to have the mail carried to various towns and anderson scales was hired by one of these contractors to carry the mail from madison to mt. airy, fifty miles distant in northwest surry county. he would go by horse and sulky (sulky) on monday, return on wednesday; go on thursday, return on saturday. this was in the late 's and 's. during the tobacco season, he worked in factories in winston (no salem then) and greensboro. then he worked in nat scales' factory in madison and in that of his former marster, william scales. he married cora dalton and started his home a mile up the ayresville road from town. the railroads having come with the consequent transporting of freight to and fro, anderson started a public draying business of one horse and a wagon, which lasted thirty eight years and was given up by him to his son-in-law, arthur cable who now, in , has an auto-truck and hauls large paper boxes from the gem dandy suspender and garter company located across franklin street from anderson's house boy home, that of james cardwell, to the post office. from the freight train depot, arthur hauls merchandise also in paper cartons to the feed stores which do not own an auto truck of their own, and he hauls to the garter factory a few two by three foot wooden boxes loaded with metal fillings for the suspenders. this is a complete contrast to the loads "drayed" by anderson through the 's, 's and the 's to about when the automobile began to change the world of transportation, and anderson's one horse wagon dray business along with it. for thirty-eight years anderson met every train to capture the trunks of visitors or "drummers" in town. two immense hogheads packed with leaf tobacco was sold on the floors of webster's ware house and planters' warehouse. two stacks of tobacco baskets loaded with the bundles of leaf, anderson, five feet high, and his lean horse could dray from the sales floors to the packing houses where the tobacco was packed and pressed into the hogsheads or else stored for removal at a greater profit. one such packing house was converted into the gem dandy garter factory about , and today three of the original five remain. one or two are still used for tobacco packing, though the season of - marked the hauling of immense loads of tobacco direct from the sales floors to the winston-salem buyers. one pack house is used as a fertilizer sales house. one loaded to the roof comb with heavily insured tobacco was mysteriously burned during the world war where such insurance collections were the fashion! thus anderson's dray business dwindled. any kind of hauling he could get done, and his horses, as they died from strenuous work, would be replaced by others who in no time learned the meaning of anderson's constant pulls on their reins and his constant and meaningful clucks. with no swivel features to his wagon, anderson could nevertheless work the horse and wagon into any kind of close position for loading and unloading. he always said the baggage of the writer was the heaviest he carried. this was so because of books packed in the trunk or in boxes and twenty-five cents a piece was the fare! anderson's wife and children at home were making the acre homestead pay with cow, pigs, chickens and vegetables quickly grown on soil enriched from his dray horse stable as well as the cow stable: "snaps", tomatoes, irish potatoes, roasting ears, butterbeans, squash in the summer, in the spring mustard and onions; in the winter "sallet" from the "seven top" and turnips, too. fruit trees planted in time gave fruit for eating, canning and "pursurving" while all the little darkies knew where wild strawberries, crab apples and black berries grew for the picking. with mommuh taking in white folks' washing and the dray horse money coming in, anderson scales prospered in madison where he started from zero scratch. he had money in the bank. anderson said after "srenduh", [hw addition: the surrender] he learned to read and write at a negro free school taught by matilda phillips. with his wife, cora dalton, sister of sam dalton, anderson joined the african methodist church fifty years ago. this was located just across the street from the home of his former employer, nat wall until when it was abandoned with its parsonage and a new brick church built on the mayodan road with stained glass memorial windows, electric lights, piano, well finished interior, and christened st. stephen's methodist episcopal church. the omission of the word "south" emphasized the fact that the members considered it a northern methodist church as well as african. in this church, anderson was exhorter, trustee and class leader. in then religious capacities, his education by the colored teacher, matilda phillips was a great help to him. anderson's second wife was dinah strong who had no children. she died december, from a goiter on her throat. for ten years or more anderson has operated a grocery store in the corner of the mayodan and the ayresville roads. customers come more at night, so anderson has time in the day to work his garden patches of onions, snaps and the like and to stop and rest on the porch of the small store house. clad in good dark clothes, a low crowned derby hat, he often snoozes as he rests his eighty-two year old frame. anderson and many of his children were distinguished by their very large round eyes with much white showing. one of his sons inherited the blackness of his skin. this was "little anderson" who once sought a warrant from a local justice to punish by trial some boy at the tobacco warehouse, who had remarked thus: "boy, charcoal would leave a light mark on your skin!" anderson's son, will scales, was the first husband of bertha who had to nurse him through the terrible spells he would have from liquor debauchery. will was the servant of the nat picket family and once mrs. pickett herself went down to their home and nursed will through one of his terrible "cramping spells." after will scales' death, bertha married cleve booker, plumber, ex-world war veteran and of surpassing good nature from washington, georgia. their oldest son they named chilicothe, ohio, because at that city, cleve was in war camp and met bertha who had gone there to go out in service. some of anderson scales other children still live in madison in homes marked by good construction, clean well furnished interior, artistic surroundings. martha married arthur cable who also holds an honored place in the church. one daughter married odell dyson. fannie sue married thompson. walter married morris carter's daughter. he died in early of pneumonia in west virginia. so his widow went to help take care of "pap anderson". nancy scales married eler william wells. when told that the pioneer graveyard of the scaleses which is a mile or so west of his store was a thick tangle of growth and no stones to the once wealthy tobacco manufacturer, william scales, unka anderson exclaimed may , : "you don't mean to tell me my ole marse ain't got no tombstone to his grave". a merchant's wife stated that about , anderson had more ready cash in the bank of madison than any white man in town, but uncle anderson disclaimed this. but the depression of - did not injure this energetic black man who started in a "quarters" cabin a mile or so west of his present home and store, lived all his life in madison and faces the "one clear call" with comfortable snoozes on his own front porch. respected by white and colored, anderson scales, , has guided his life by the gospel preached by his pastor, also an ex-slave, william scales of madison. by miss nancy watkins madison, north carolina rockingham county biography of ex-slave catherine scales about ten years old at the "srenduh", now quite feeble, but aristocratic in her black dress, white apron and small sailor hat made of black taffeta silk with a milliner's fold around the edge, aunt catherine is small, intensely black with finely cut features and thin lip. her hand is finely molded, fingers long and slender. her voice is soft and poise marks her personality. sallie martin, a ginger cake colored woman, sixty-five, has lived as a kind of caretaker with aunt catherine since and thereby gets her own roof and refreshment. for aunt catherine has gotten "relief" from the county welfare chief, mrs. john lee wilson, and jeff scales, seventy, brings sallie to the "relief" dispensary in his two horse wagon for the apples or onions or grape fruits or prunes with dried bena, milk, canned beef or potatoes as the stores yield. a white horse and a brown mule comprise the team, and several dogs trot along side. sally also small and frail looking sits in a chair planted in the flat wagon bed behind the drivers' seat, a plank resting on the sides. jeff drives close to the door, alights and helps sallie step on to the back of the bed, thence to a chair he has placed, then to the ground, just as polite whites did to their women folks after the war when they would ride to town or to church or to picnics in wagons in order to carry the family, the servants, the dinner, horse feed, water bucket, chairs, cushions. sallie gets in line, presents aunt katherine's card which she has gotten by mail, hears the dispensing lady call to the helping men what aunt catherine is to have, and struggles to the door with it where jeff meets her, transfers the load to his wagon bed. then with his hands he steadies sallie as she mounts the chair, then the back of the wagon bed, over the side with voluminous long skirts, and old fashioned ruffled sun bonnet. off to the hilly north part of madison called freetown, jeff's [tr: jeff] expertly guides his team through automobile traffi. [tr: traffic] during the worst of the depression aunt sallie said she kept her coal reserve in a tub upstairs so nobody could steal it. aunt katherine strengthened by her relief food can talk comfortably. "i shure did love my white fokes--ole marse, timberlikk (timberlake) an' ole miss mary timberlikk. my mother, lucy ann timberlikk bough their portraits at the sale of the old timberlake things, and kepp them an' brought them with her to madison, when we moved up here, an kepp them until mummy was in her last sickness, an' two of ole misses daughters came over from greensboro, an' begged,--an mammy sold the pictures to them for a quarter a piece. i still have ole misses mother's dish, though. i've got in [tr: it] packed away in a safe place. i'll get it and show it to you." it is a large flat platter of the ware called iron ware and was generally used to serve fried ham and eggs while the gravy came in a small deep dish. in summer, a heap of snaps greasy with middling meat slashed and boiled down dry with irish potatoes around the edge came to table in the platter. the keeper of the timberlake oil portraits was lucy, slave of nat scales, and lucy's husband was nathan scales. slave nat scales (named for marse nat) had married a black woman who came "across the water", sallis [tr: sallie?] green who become by purchase sallie scales. thus aunt katherine recalls her grandmother as one who "cum over the water with a white lady". the purchaser mrs. scales was from the leseur family. her father was clerk of the rockingham county court as early as [tr: missing date?] and kept the session records of his presbyterian church in a fine neat script. "the leseurs had as big a house as the scales house at deep springs. i've stayed many a nite in it. it was next to ole marse jimmie scaleses. john durham scales, marse jimmy's grandson lived and died in it--his grandmother's house, the old le seur place, ten miles down the dan river towards leaksville. miss mary le seur married marse gus timberlikk, an was the grandmother of william timberlake lipscomb who used to come up to madison and go to dr. schuck's beulah academy just after the srenduh. when marse billy'd get lonesome, he'd go down to spring garden and dance with the scales girls. ole marse le seur's wife was miss lizzie scales marse jimmie's. "nome, us slaves didn't have no chuch. marse nat scales ud let his slaves go to the babtizings. "i could hoe but i didn't do much clean up work. i spun on a great big wheel that went m-m-m-m-m. i wish i had a big wheel to spin on right now. my mammy, lucy ann, could weave. she sho loved her white fokes. cullud fokes didn't have much sence den. she would take cow hair and kyard and spin it with a little cottin in to rolls, and then she'd weave cloth out of it. "an how they made their shoes den: my father would cut shoes out of the raw cowhide and put them on bottoms (soles) he cut out uv wood. an he couldn't run in them a-tall, just had to stomp along! an day didn't put on shoe till nearly christmas." schooling aunt katherine said she "learned her letters" in a school fuh cullud fokes only taught by mr. sam allen just after the srenduh close to the old timberlake place. mr. sam was the son of mr. val(entine) allen an miss betsy martin (she was the granddaughter of governor martin). "sometimes miss betsy'd git worried with little nigguh rolling roun on de floor thub hader under her feet, an' she'd say: 'gway! gway!! gway fum hyuh! gway tuh pamlico!' an the little nigguhs'd say: 'miss betsy, whah's pamplico?' "'nine miles tother sede o' hell!' "yesin mr. sam allen learn't me my letters. he was crippled. he married a grogan, an' two allen girls married grogans--one, mary! mr. val's father was william allen. i went to mr. vaul allen's funeral an he was buried on his father's ole place, an miss betsy too. "how de cullud fokes did hate to be sold down south in de cotton country! one time ole marse jimmy scales wuz go sell uh hunduhd down south, and he died, an' all de cullud fokes wuz glad he died cause he wuz go sell um, an oftuh he died, day didn't halftuh be sold way fum home. "one slave woman wuz sold way fum home--had three chillun, and daze six an eight an ten yuhs ole. she sang a song juss fo day tuh hub off. she put her three children between her knees. she sung, 'lord, be with us.'" [illustration: musical score] do--me--sol--re--do--sol--te--sol--me--do--do--sol--fa--me--sol--do "remembuh me remembuh me oh lord remembuh me" this was sung full of quavers and pathos, and entreaty. "den she cried! an dey took huh off, and de chillun never saw her no more. "aftuh i learned my lettuhs at marse sam allens school, i learned a bible verse ebry day an if i want bixxy i'd learn ah half uh chaptuh. i read some newspapers, and some story books de miss mary timberlikk give us chillun to read an look ovuh. i learned to write in a copy book, an i'd write stories about christ, and several different stories. i filled a great big copy book with practice. i learned the most, tho', from webstuh's weekly in reidsville. we took that papuh goin on five yuhs. i read evrything in it. "nome, i didn't know miss irene mcgehiet. uncle john r. webster made that paper. it sure wuz a good paper! "my daddy wuz marse nat's slave, an porter scales wuz his slave too. ole marse jimmie scale's sons was nat pitcher and john durham, and john durham went to wah. he took richmond scales long wiff him to wait on him! cook fuh him! make his pallet! clean his clothes! rub down his horse! marse john durum'd sleep with richmond in de wintuh to keep him warm. richmond'd carry him watuh in his canteen during a battle. marse john durum had on a ring that wuz carved and he tole richmond take a good look at this ring sose he'd know him by it, if he didn't kum up aftuh a battle. richmond ud hole onto his hawse's tail, an go wif him fuhs he could fo a battle. "yes'm i ma'd, richmond scales when he wuz a widower an had a boy named jeff. i never had no chillun. jeff's ( ) seventy now, an lives right ovuh cross de street dere in the other hous the vadens built sixty years ago. i live in one, too." aunt katherine's house has a front room with stairway in the corner leading to one above. a back door leads to a side porch flanked by a two roomed ell, and ended by a pantry. chimneys with fireplaces once gave heat, but economy had put in aunt katherine's tiny stove which she a lump at a time in the winters of depression and relief - . a big fat clean double bed, bureau, wash stand, "centuh" table, chairs and the stairway consumed the living room floor space. "nome! i joined de chuch after a big meetin' held by preacher richard walker about . i joined the methodist chuch an i have always loved to go tuh chuch. this street goes on and goes into the mayodan road at our new brick ( ) methodist chuch. richmond scales, my husband died long ago; my mother, about four years ago. she was very old! i wanted to move to reidsville when we leff de ole plantation whab we could get more wok (waiting) waten on wimmen (obstetries) but the men fokes had kin fokes up hyuh, an we keem hyuh. "i know whah de ole sharp graveyard 'bout two miles fum (east) madison close to mist tunnuh (turner) peay's; cause lots uh cullud fokes buried there an i went to the funerals. i could go straight tuh it." by miss nancy watkins, volunteer madison, north carolina story of ex-slave, porter scales [tr: date stamp: jun ] monday, december , , the faithful colored friends of uncle porter scales transported his body from st. stephen's african methodist episcopal church located on the madison-mayodan highway to a plantation grave yard several miles east of town, along roads slippery with sleet. he was buried by the side of his first wife on the acre farm which uncle porter said he bought from mr. ellick llewellyn to raise his family on and which he later swapped to mr. bob cardwell for a town house in pocomo (kemoca, a suburb from first syllables of promoters' names, kemp--moore--cardwell--kemoca). in this town house, uncle porter passed away aged he thought ninety-seven. for a number of years, he had drawn a pension of $ . per year for his services to the confederate government in hauling foodstuff from charlotte, north carolina to danville, virginia. as a slave of nat pitcher scales residing in the brick mansion on academy street across from the methodist church, porter came to madison when ten years of age, and his memory held the development of madison from the erection of the churches around to details like seeing little bettie carter (mrs. b. watkin's mebane) cry from stage fright and pass up her "piece" at school "exhibition" (commencement). he saw madison grow from a tiny trading village with aristocratic slave holding citizens with "quarters" on their town lots to a town of with automobiles clipping by to mayodan, a mill town of , and a thickly populated though unincorporated country side. in , uncle porter was struck by an automobile, and since he [hw addition: has] poked his way about town cautiously with his cane, no longer working as handy man to thomas r. pratt's family on the corner of academy and market streets. his slavery home was in a two roomed (with loft) cabin next door to the house mr. pratt built in when he moved to madison from leaksville. this cabin col. gallaway in the 's had enlarged to house the episcopal rector, mr. stickney. uncle porter's slave home stands in , occupied by mr. pratt's daughter, mrs. pearl van noppen and sons. uncle porter was ever very polite and humble, for all his contacts he thought had always been with the highest of dan river aristocracy. his medium, lean body, with a head like julius caesar's was covered with skin of "ginger cake color". on the deep springs dan river plantation lived mrs. timberlake whose daughter married mr. le seur from an adjoining plantation just across the dan river from gov. alexander martin's danbury plantation. she in time married mr. scales, and as property of this lady, porter was born of legally married parents. porter's brother, nathan scales, was given by his mistress to her daughter, when she married another le seur, and thus he became nathan le seur. both brothers have descendants in madison of a high type of citizenship. porter, himself was given the choice by his ole miss of belonging to either of her two sons, john durham scales or nathaniel pitcher scales. porter chose nat scales as his young marse and come to madison to live with him about . by obeying orders from his marse nat pitcher scales, porter operated a train of fifteen wagons loaded with corn for the confederate cavalry from charlotte, north carolina to danville, virginia. thus a confederate soldier, he in his old age received a pension. porter said he got lots of practice in managing feed wagons by "waggoning in georgia" for his marster between the two cities, augusta and wadesboro. his master, he said, traded his services to "dan river jim scales" who "bossed" the teams between augusta and wadesboro which were owned by john durham scales and dan river jim scales. these wagons also carried corn. nat pitcher, porter's master by choice, operated a store at wadesboro, georgia. uncle porter's "waggoning in georgia" shows madison's connection with the far south not only through the scales family but through other families. but the great honor of a tobacco country slave was that of being sold "down south to the cotton country." so after the war, porter scales came back to the dan river in rockingham county, and bought his acres farm from mr. alex llewellyn. he liked to recount his matrimonial matters except those of his second wife who married him for a rich nigger widower, and spent his hard won dollars freely for lace curtains and such to adorn the town house in "pocomo" and finally forced him out of the "town" house into the woodhouse in the yard where he lived some years, dying there. his church friends took charge of his body and kept it until put away by the side of his first wife. she, martha foy, he said in to me, was bought by dr. ben foy of madison from wheeler hancock of wentroth. six of their children are living near madison and in west virginia, stephen and lindsay scales at the old place down at deep springs. he told of "going tuh see" the attractive betsy ann, house girl slave of mrs. nancy watkins webster but was "cut out" by noah black. aunt betsy ann black is remembered as being the superlative obstetrical nurse in homes of the rich about madison, and was designated by them as being a "lady" if ever there was a negro lady. she was never dressed except in "cotton checks". "being cut out" thus, porter cited as evidence of his aristocratic association: for one of aunt betsy's son became a methodist preacher, and two of her grandaughters teachers in the public schools of north carolina. porter told of the white school teacher, professor seeker who taught in the doll academy, madison's old "female academy" which still stands (remodeled since into a dwelling) on murphy street at the foot deep well in the street, by the old dr. robert gallway house (standing still in ) just south of john h. moore's five acre homeplace. professor seeker, he said left madison and went up on baughn's mountain to teach among the baughns, lewises and higgies and bibsons, pioneer families of that area. on that may , in his kemoca yard, uncle porter recited the poem which little bettie carter forgot in stage fright at professor seeker's "exhibition" before professor jacob doll ever started his "female school". all these pupils were pay "scholars". the free school for madison, the "old field schoolhouse" was way down the hill from the old dr. smith house near beaver island creek. only white folks intimate with itch, head lice and long standing poverty then sent their children to the "free ole feel schoolhouse". porter said as a laborer he helped build a big tobacco factory at dr. smith's old place. by , this factory had been purchased by madison negroes as community and fraternal "hall" for assemblies. it served thus to when it was abandoned, and in , it was torn down, the last of the several large plug tobacco factories operated in madison - by the scales, daltons and hays. porter could name and designate vocationally madison's early white residents, and others, too, whom his marse nat scales visited. his story of some civil war refugees led to how their slave girl, rose, acquired a small farm two miles east of town held to this day ( ) by her descendants, the ned collins family of madison. rose acquired the farm by kindness to its owners, who willed it to her. forced to live in cellars in petersburg, virginia, (mrs. a.r. holderby, william holderby, miss fannie holderby, mrs. aiken) because of bombording federal shells came to madison afflicted with tuberculosis. their slave girl was rose. the whites died except a son, who became a presbyterian minister. the whites were buried on a hill just north of the pioneer joel cardwell home ( siegfired smiths'). rose was married to uncle henry collins, and they lived on the place of mrs. louise whitworth and scylla bailey. these white women willed their tiny farm to rose collins because of her kindness to them in their old age. n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: william scott story teller: william scott editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp: jun ] [illustration: william scott] william scott ex-slave story church st., years old. "my name is william scott. i live at church street, raleigh, north carolina. i wuz born , march st. i wuz free born. my father wuz william scott. i wuz named after my father. my mother wuz cynthia scott. she wuz a scott before she wuz married to my father. she wuz born free. as far back as i can learn on my mother's side they were always free. "my mother and father always told me my grandfather wuz born of a white woman. my grandfather wuz named elisha scott. i have forgot her name. if i heard her name called i have forgot it. my grandfather on my mother's side wuz a waverly. i can't tell you all about dese white folks, but some of 'em, when they died, left their property to mulattoes, or half-breed children, and several of them are living in this community now. i can tell you exactly where they are, and where they got their property. some of them are over half white. they were by a negro woman who wuz a mulatto and a white man. dey air so near white you can't tell them from white folks. this condition has existed as long ago as i have any recollection, and it still exists, but there are not as many children according to the relations as used to be. "free negroes were not allowed to go on the plantations much. now you see my father wuz a free man. we lived right here in town. my father wuz a ditcher and slave gitter. one night the man he worked for got up a crowd and come to whup him and take his money away from him. he had paid father off that day. dat night dey come an' got him an' blindfolded him. he moved the blindfold from over his eyes and run an' got away from 'em. he never did go back o [tr: no] more to the man he had been workin' for. i wuz a little boy, but i heard pappy tell it. dat wuz tereckly after de surrender. pappy saw the man he had been workin' for when he slipped the blindfold off his face, and he knowed him. "i wuz a boy when the yankees came to raleigh. they came in on the fayetteville road. they stopped and quartered at the edge of the town. i remember they had a guardhouse to put the yankees in who disobeyed. later on they came in from the east and quartered at the old soldiers home right in there, but not in the buildings. there were no houses there when the yankees came. they had some houses there. they built 'em. they stayed there a good while until all the yankees left. when the yankees first came in they camped over near dix hill, when they come into town you hardly knew where they come from. they were jist like blue birds. they jist covered the face of the earth. they came to our house and took our sumpin' to eat. yes sir, they took our sumpin' to eat from us negroes. my daddy didn't like deir takin' our rations so he went to de officer and tole him what his men had done, and the officers had sumpin' to eat sent over there. "my mammy cooked some fur de officers too. dey had a lot of crackers. dey called 'em hard tack. the officers brought a lot of 'em over dere. we lived near the confederate trenches jist below the fayetteville crossin' on fayetteville street. the breastworks were right near our house. "i know when the colored men farmed on share craps, dey were given jist enough to live on, and when a white man worked a mule until he wuz worn out he would sell him to de colored man. de colored man would sometime buy 'im a old buggy; den he wuz called rich. people went to church den on steer carts, that is colored folks, most uv 'em. de only man i wurked for along den who wud gib me biscuit through de week wuz a man named june goodwin. the others would give us biscuit on sundays, and i made up my mind den when i got to be a man to eat jist as many biscuits as i wanted; and i have done jist dat. "my mammy used to hire me out to de white folks. i worked and made jist enough to eat and hardly enough clothes to wear to church until i wuz a man. i worked many a day and had only one herrin' and a piece of bread for dinner. you know what a herrin' fish is? 'twon't becase i throwed my money away, twas cause we didn't git it, nuther to save up. when we farmed share crap dey took all we made. in de fall we would have to split cord wood to live through de winter. "i will tell you now how i got my start off now, i am going to use dis man's name. i went to work for a man name george whitaker. i drive a wagon for him. he 'lowed me all de waste wood for my own use. this wuz wood dat would not sell good on de market. i hauled it over home. i worked for him till he died, en his wife lowed me a little side crap. i made this crap, took de money i got for it, and built a little storehouse. i disremember how long i worked fer mis' hannah whitaker. den i quit work for her and went to work for myself. i owns dat little storehouse yit, de one i worked wid mis' hannah whitaker, en from dat i bought me a nudder home. "when de yankees come to raleigh dere wuz a building dey called de governor's palace, it stood whur de auditorium now stands. right back o' where de courthouse now stands wuz a jail and a gallows an' a whuppin' pos' all dere together. i know when dey built de penitentiary dey hauled poles from johnston county. dey called dem johnston county poles. dey hauled em in on trains. dis post office wuz not built den. de post office den wuz built of plank set up an' down. "i remember seeing a man hung down at de jail. his name wuz mills. he wuz a white man. when he got on de scaffold he said, 'what you gwine to do to me do it quick and be done wid it'. "i think abraham lincoln done the colored man a heap of good. if it hadn't been for mr. roosevelt there are many livin' today who would have parished to death. there are plenty of people walkin' about now who would have been dead if mr. roosevelt had not helped them. the only chance i had to hold my home wuz a chance given me through him. at my age, i cannot make much at work, but through things he helped me, and i is holding my own." b.n. n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: tiney shaw, ex-slave of wake county, . story teller: tiney shaw editor: daisy bailey waitt [illustration: tiney shaw] tiney shaw ex-slave of wake county, . "my papa wuz a free nigger, case he wuz de son of de master who wuz named medlin. when a chile wuz borned ter a slave woman an' its pappy wuz de boss dat nigger wuz free from birth. i know dat de family wuz livin' on mis' susy page's place durin' de war an' we wus jist lak slaves alldo' we wuz said to be free den. "my pappy wuz named madison medlin, maybe for de president, an' my mammy wuz a pretty, slim brown-skinned gal when i could remember. dey said dat she wuz named fer betsy ross. i had four brothers, allison, william, jeems and john an' five sisters named cynthy ann, nancy, sally, caroline an' molly. "we hyard a heap 'bout de war, but de white folkses didn't want us to know 'bout it. most of de white wimmens had ter live by dere selves durin' de time dat de men folkses wuz away at de war, but de niggers in our neighborhood stuck ter de missus an' dar ain't no niggers from other plantations come dar ter insult 'em nother. "i 'members dat it wuz in april when de yankees come an' i hyard mis' susy cryin', case she wuz a widder 'oman; an' her crops wuz jist started ter be planted. she knowed dat she wuz ruint, i reckon. "me an' my mammy wuz sittin' by de fireplace when de yankees come. i crawled under de wash bench but de yankee officer drug me out an' he sez, 'go fetch me a dozen aigs, an' i wants a dozen now, mind yo'.' "i looked till i found twelve aigs an' i started ter de house wid 'em, but bein' so excited i drapped one uv dem an' cracked it. i wuz sceered stiff now sho' nuff, an' i runned inter de back do' an' crawled under de bed. de officer seed me do' an' he cracks his whup an' makes me come out den he sez, 'nigger what's dat out dar in dat barrel in de hallway?' "i sez, 'lasses sir', an' he sez 'draw me some in dis cup.' "i draws 'bout a half a cupful an' he sez, 'nigger dat ain't no 'lasses,' an' he cracks his whup ag'in. "i den draws de cup full as it could be an' he tells me ter drunk it. "i drinks dat whole cupful uf 'lasses 'fore he'll lemmie 'lone. den i runs back ter my mammy. "atter awhile de yankee comes back an' sticks his haid in de do' an' he 'lows, 'ole doman, yo' 'lasses am leakin'.' "sho' nuff it wuz leakin' an' had run all down de hall an' out in de yard, but he done pull de stopper out fer meanness so he could laff at mammy when she waded through dat 'lasses. dey laffs an' laffs while she go steppin' down through de 'lasses lak a turkey walkin' on cockleburs. "dem yankees done a lot of mischief, i knows case i wuz dar. dey robbed de folkses an' a whole lot of darkies what ain't never been whupped by de master got a whuppin' from de yankee soldiers. "de ku klux klan warn't half as bad as dem yankee robbers what stayed in raleigh atter de war, robbin', plunderin', an' burnin' up ever'thing. de south had ter have de ku klux klan but dey ain't had no need fer de yankees. "de first winter atter de war wuz de worse winter i ever knowed, an' i'se tellin' yo' dat wuz bad. maybe yo' doan think so but nigh 'bout ever' nigger in de world cussed ole abraham lincoln dat winter." b.n. n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: john smith story teller: john smith editor: office force [hw: slaves raised [tr: illegible], women, some reconstruction material] [illustration: john smith] john smith john smith, a negro in the wake county home, raleigh, n.c. interviewed by t. pat matthews, may , . "john smith is my name, an i wuz borned at knightdale, right at my marster's house. yes sir, right in his home. i wuz born right near whar de depot now is. my marster owned de lan', all de lan' dere. i wuz bred an' bawn dere on my marster's plantation. i is, countin' day an' night, years old, not countin' day an' night i is years old. "my marster's name wuz haywood smith an' he wuz one ob de bes' men i ebber seed. he wuz good to all us niggers, he would come round an' talk to us, he lubbed us, and we lubbed him. my marster, haywood smith, nebber married but he had a nigger 'oman. she also had a nigger husband. she had two chillun by marster haywood smith, a gal and a boy. peter knight owned my marster's lan' at knightdale atter my marster died. he died de year de war commence. "den de gardeen, de gardeen dat wuz appointed for all us slaves, and his name wuz bat moore, he carried us slaves to marster haywood smith's brother's chillun in alabama. he wuz de gardeen. i got dere de month de war commence. bat moore carried me to alabama. marster elam smith's chillun wuz named frank an' john elam. dem boy's mother wuz name' miss mary, dere fadder wuz daid. miss mary married agin. her first husband was elam. miss mary moved off, but i staid wid de boys. "my mother's name wuz rose smith, my father's name wuz powell. he died at wilmington, n.c. when dey wuz diggin' de trenches roun' de fort dere durin' da war. my mother died in greene co. alabama, at a place called smithfield. my father belonged to mack powell. i made no money before or atter de war. i worked in alabama until de war close. "i seed millions of yankees, just like bees. when de war close i went wid' em. i did not work enny for a year. i wuz so glad when de war ended, and dey tole me i wuz free i did not know what to do. i went wid de yankees, dey wuz kind to us. dey said dey wuz shore glad to see us. dey gib us just what dey wanted us to hab. "during de war, i had corn bread wid one piece o' meat a day. de meal wuz not sifted. de white folks had sifters made of horse hair but de slaves didn't have no sifters. when i carried a dress off to have it made on sunday for mist'ss during de war, when she could not make it herself, she gimme a biskit. we called sunday, blue monday. she gimme de biskit fur workin' on sunday. den i got a biskit fur going atter de dress. i got about two biskits a year when de war was going on. i wuz workin' to keep de soldiers fed, dey got de biskits. "tom bridgers wuz marster's overseer. he had chilluns by niggers. marster bridgers rode a horse when he went ober de plantation. "de only game i eber played wuz marbles. i played fer watermelons. we didn't hab eny money so we played fer watermelons. "in alabama we got up at o'clock and worked to or o'clock den we had breakfast, en rested till o'clock. dat wuz when de weather wuz dry and hot. it wud kill de truck to work it den. when it wuz wet we worked longer. in north carolina we worked from sun to sun, but we rested two hours at noon. you hardly ever heard of a man gittin' sick. if he did, he had de typhoid den dr. sewell at knightdale, atter a while called jedge sewell, would come en doctor him. old man jedge sewell was buried near st. augustine school, other side tarboro road. "i didn' have to pay anthing fer going to alabama. i wuz carried. bat moore carried me, he wuz de gardeen, but i had to pay to come back. dey went atter me, and i had to work two years to pay it back. yes, sir-ree, two whole years to pay fer coming back. i wuz glad to git back. sometimes, dey gib us a fofe of de crap to farm. some years we didn' make much, when it wuz dry. no, we didn' make much. people didn' sociate together, pore whites, free niggers, slaves, and de slave owners. no dey didn' sociate much befo' de war, but dey did atter de war, dey got to mixin' den. "i et rabbits, an' possums, coons an' fish. i muddied de water an' caught fish. i caught rabbits, coons, an' possums wid dogs. dey fared but middlin pore chance wid us. we caught rabbits in hollers an' caves; an' possums in trees, but we had a hard time ketchin' squirrels. we niggers had no guns, so we had a hard time ketchin' squirrels. i et rabbits in summer whin dey had kits in 'em. we caught all dese animals wid dogs. "de white chillun didn' work, but de white folks wuz good to me. yes, sir-ree, dey wuz good to me. if dey done anything to me it wuz my fault. i belonged to elam smith's chilluns, frank and john elam. "i seed many yankees during de war in alabama. when de war ended dey tole me i wuz free. i wuz so glad i didn' know whut to do. de yankees tole me i wuz free. i went wid 'em. i stayed wid 'em from may till august. den i slipped away from 'em. i had no clothes and shoes till de yankees come. yes, sir, i went barefooted. dey gimme clothes and shoes, but i slipped away from 'em because dey wanted me to do things i didn' want to do. "white folks, if i must tell you, i must. i think jesus sent you to me so i can tell my story. dey just wanted me to forage aroun' and git chickens, collards, taters en anybody's hogs i could git. i didn' have no slips or shoes, no unner clothes for years befo' de yankees come, but i slipped away. i didn' want to do what dey wanted me t'do. "de pore white folks done tolerable well but de rich slave owners didn' 'low 'em to come on dere plantations. dey didn' 'low free niggers to come on de plantations if dey could help it, but dey couldn' hep it. dey slipped in dere at night when de marster didn' know it. "my marster owned three plantations and slaves. he started out wid 'oman slaves and raised slaves. one wuz called short peggy, and the udder wuz called long peggy. long peggy had chillun. long peggy, a black 'oman, wuz boss ob de plantation. marster freed her atter she had chilluns, just think o' dat, raisin' slaves wid two 'omans. it sho is de truf do'. "there wuz no jails but dey had whippin' pos' on de plantations. when a nigger done anything he wuz tied and whupped, dare ain't no scars on my back, no nary a one. dere wuz slave auction blocks at rolesville, en down to rosinburg, harpsborough, below zebulon, next place, smithfield. "white folks didn' hep me to read an' write. if i wuz caught wid a book i had better run an' git in a hole somewhar. dey didn' low me to hab nothing to do wid books. "my marster preached to us on sunday. he wuz a preacher. my marster preached to his slaves. no slaves didn' run away from my marster. he wuz too good to 'em. de slaves from other places run away do', an' when dey caught 'em dey whupped 'em too. "yes sir, my marster gib us christmas. sometimes he gib us two weeks befo' we went to work agin christmas. licker wuz no mo 'en water. brandy, de highest price of any of it wuz cts. a gallon. we had a plenty uv licker, but nobody got drunk. sometimes a white man got drunk en now en den a nigger would git drunk. "all worked for one an'er den. i tell you dis young bunch ain't right, dey don't do right, dey don't work fer one an'er. "i never married befo' de war. nobody married on marster's plantation, but dey had 'omans. my 'oman wuz mighty good to me. i slep' anywhar i could befo' de war ended, in de shuck pen, cotton seed house, an' went barefooted in slavery days. i married helen jones atter de war. i had four chilluns by her, gals an' boys. one o' dem boys is livin' now, but i doan know whar he is. i had one child by my 'oman in slavery time. my 'oman died in greene county alabama. i been married twice. i married another 'oman named amy gumpton in wake county. she had four chillun by me, one, a boy is in de navy yard, a girl in brooklyn, new york, one in wake county, a farmer, an' one died. i lub de southern people, but de debbil got de bes' of 'em; dey wuz good to me. "i doan think mr. abraham lincoln wuz a good man, no sir-ree, de debbil got him atter he whupped and won all de lan'. he wanted to gib it back agin. de debbil got de bes' o' him. he didn' lib long atter he whupped, did he?" n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: john smith person interviewed: john smith editor: g.l. andrews john smith pettigrew st., raleigh, n.c. age . "my mother was named charlotte smith and father was named richmond sanders. you know niggers were sold an' traded an' given away just like stock, horses, mules an' de like in slavery time. "my mother belonged to john smith and father belonged to richmond sanders. i belonged first to john smith, but was give away when i was a child to solomon gardner. john smith's plantation was in johnston county near smithfield. solomon gardner's place was in wake county. all these people are dead an' gone. my uncle, ben thomas, died 'bout one month ago in johnston county. he was the last of the old gang. mother and father said we got reasonably good food and clothes. the houses were small and poorly furnished but were warm and they got on very well. there was 'bout twenty-five slaves on the place and they worked long hours under overseers. "the rules were strict about books, goin' visiting an' having meetings of any kind. no slave was allowed to carry guns or hunt without some white man with him unless his marster give him a pass. dey caught rabbits in gums, birds in traps an' hunted possums wid dogs at night. dere was not much time for fishin' cept at lay-by time and at de fourth of july. den slaves an' whites sometime went fishin' in de neuse river together. at christmas de holidays was give slaves and den dey had plenty to eat, shoes, etc. "slaves were sold at smithfield on a auction block but a lot were carried to richmond, va. and to fayetteville, n.c. children were not made to work till dey got or years old unless it was some light work around de house, mindin' de table, fannin' flies, an' pickin' up chips to start a fire, scratchin' marster's head so he could sleep in de evenings an' washin' missus feet at night 'fore she went to bed. some of de missus had nigger servants to bathe 'em, wash dere feet an' fix dere hair. when one nigger would wash de missus feet dare would be another slave standin' dere wid a towel to dry 'em for her. some of dese missus atter de war died poor. before dey died dey went from place to place livin' on de charity of dere friends. "i was born nd sunday in may . i remember seein' de yankees but i know very little 'bout 'em. guess mos' all dem yankees are dead now. de ones dat whupped an' de ones dat got whupped are mos' all dead. i lerned to read an' write since slavery. i remember de yankees. dey give us chilluns hardtack. dey had cans on dere backs an' guns, blue clothes an' brass buttons on dere clothes. dey had covered wagons in front an' dey was walkin'. i remember seein' dem kill a hog and take part of de hog an' carry it off on dere backs. "de only time i saw anything in de slave situation dat made a big impression on my mind was when marster thomas tied my aunt anne thomas to a peach tree and whupped her. i will never forgit how she cried. another thing i 'members, my uncle teached me to cuss folks. his name was needum thomas. i can remember fore i could walk better than i can remember happenings now. "atter de war my daddy took mother an' moved to dr. leach's in wake county, next year we went to mrs. betsy jordan's plantation in johnston county. the fourth year atter the war they put me to work. we stayed with the jordans several years then we moved to mr. thomas' where my aunt was whupped in slavery time an' de marster dat owned some of our people in slavery time. we stayed there a few years. then we moved to john avery's near smithfield. father bought a place there an' paid for it. "father believed in whuppin like de white folks did. he cut de blood out of me wid a switch an' scarred me up an' i left him. when i was twenty-one, a free man, i went back an' paid father for every day i was away from him from de time i ran away at years old till i was twenty-one. i owed him dat 'cause i was his until i was free. i believes dat is why god has allowed me to live such a long time, 'cause i paid a just debt. daddy said before he died i had done more for him dan de other chilluns. he whupped me too much but atter all he was my father an' i loved him an' paid him all i owed him for de time i was away. "i married three times in raleigh. i married juliva smith, she lived one and one half years. we had one child dat lived six days. i have no more chilluns. i married mahalda rand. she lived a year and three months and the third an' last time i married maggie taylor. i lived with her eleven years an' she died. i am single now. "haywood smith was my first father-in-law. he is 'bout years ole. he lives at de county home. "i am livin' right in dis world tryin' to be ready when god calls me. slavery was bad. workin' the colored people over two hundred years without giving 'em anything but dere food an' clothes. yes slavery was bad." le n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: josephine smith story teller: josephine smith editor: daisy bailey waitt [illustration: josephine smith] josephine smith ex-slave story an interview with josephine smith, years old of mark street, raleigh, n.c. "i wuz borned in norfolk, virginia an' i doan know who we belonged to, but i 'members de day we wuz put on de block at richmond. i wuz jist todlin' roun' den, but me an' my mammy brought a thousand dollars. my daddy, i reckon, belonged ter somebody else, an' we wuz jist sold away from him jist lak de cow is sold away from de bull. "a preacher by de name of maynard bought me an' mammy an' carried us ter franklinton, whar we lived till his daughter married doctor john leach of johnston county; den i wuz give ter her. "all my white folkses wuz good ter me, an' i reckon dat i ain't got no cause fer complaint. i ain't had much clothes, an' i ain't had so much ter eat, an' a many a whuppin', but nobody ain't nebber been real bad ter me. "i 'members seein' a heap o' slave sales, wid de niggers in chains, an' de spec'ulators sellin' an' buyin' dem off. i also 'members seein' a drove of slaves wid nothin' on but a rag 'twixt dere legs bein' galloped roun' 'fore de buyers. 'bout de wust thing dat eber i seed do' wuz a slave 'oman at louisburg who had been sold off from her three weeks old baby, an' wuz bein' marched ter new orleans. "she had walked till she wuz give out, an' she wuz weak enough ter fall in de middle o' de road. she wuz chained wid twenty or thirty other slaves an' dey stopped ter rest in de shade o' a big oak while de speculators et dere dinner. de slaves ain't havin' no dinner. as i pass by dis 'oman begs me in god's name fer a drink o' water, an' i gives it ter her. i ain't neber be so sorry fer nobody. "hit wuz in de mont' of august an' de sun wuz bearin' down hot when de slaves an' dere drivers leave de shade. dey walk fer a little piece an' dis 'oman fall out. she dies dar side o' de road, an' right dar dey buries her, cussin', dey tells me, 'bout losin' money on her. "atter de war i comes ter raleigh an' wucks fer major russ den i cooks a year on hillsboro street fer somebody who i can' 'member right now, den i goes ter louisburg ter cook in mr. dedman's hotel, an' hearin' 'bout melissa i fin's dat she am my sister, so i goes ter mis' mitchel's an' i gits her. "a few years atter de war i marries alex. dunson wuz a body slave fer major fernie green an' went through all de war. me an' him lived tergether sixty years, i reckon, an' he died de night 'fore thanksgivin' in . "slavery wuzn't so good, case it divided famblies an' done a heap o' other things dat wuz bad, but de wuck wuz good fer ever'body. it's a pity dat dese youngins nowadays doan know de value o' wuck lak we did. why when i wuz ten years old i could do any kind o' house wuck an' spin an' weave ter boot. i hope dat dese chilluns will larn somethin' in school an' church. dats de only way dey can larn it." ac n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: nellie smith person interviewed: nellie smith editor: daisy bailey waitt nellie smith main st. dunn, north carolina route "my name is nellie smith. i wus born on a plantation in harnett county in , near where linden now stands. i belonged to ole man jack williams. his wife wus dead when i wus borned. there were many acres in the plantation; it wus a large one. i don't know exactly how many acres. there were 'bout fifty slaves on the place. the slave houses were on a hill. marster lived in the big house; and it wus a big one too. "i do not remember ever goin' hongry when i wus a slave. father wus the butler and mother wus a house woman, and we got plenty to eat. my mother wus named rosetta williams and father wus named atlas williams. i do not remember my grandmother and grandfather, but i remember my great grandmother. "we had good home made clothes and good beds. jack williams wus good to his slaves. he wus good to me and my mother and father, i have heard 'em say that he wus always good to 'em. our livin' with him wus good and we loved him. he thought a lot o' his niggers. he had six children of his own boys and girls; the boys dr. jack williams, dr. jim williams, william williams, jim williams; the girls mary and martha. "i did little work in slavery time. sometimes i fanned flies off the table at meal times and did other light work. they made children do very little work in slavery time. we children played base, an' hide the switch. "i saw a jail for slaves in fayetteville, north carolina, but i never saw a slave sold. i saw an overseer whup a man once but he certainly didn't hurt him much. he done more talkin' dan whuppin. "we went to the white folks' church but they would not allow any of us any books. no one taught us to read an' write. my father ran away once because he would not take a whuppin'. when he came back they did not do or say anything to 'im. jack williams would not allow a patteroller to whup a nigger on his land. if they could git on his land dey were safe. he had overseers at the plantation. i remember one whose name wus buck buckannon. when we got sick dr. jack williams looked after us. when marster jim williams got to be a doctor he looked after us. "yes, i remember de yankees. dey went to our house one sunday mornin'. dey did not fight on our side of the river; dey fought on de other side o' de river near de smith house. it wus the battle of averysboro. de smith house wus a hospital. dey came into the house, my sister irene wus house girl. the yankees put deir pistols to her head and said, 'you better tell me where dem things are hid. tell us where de money and silver is hid at.' sister did not tell. boss had started off wid de silver dat mornin'. de yankees caught him, took it, an' his boots, horse and all he had. he come back home barefooted. dey got mos' everthing at marster's house. dey took my mother's shawl, an' a lot of things belongin' to de slaves. "i have heard o' de ku klux klan, ha! ha! yes, i have. i heard tell of dey beatin' up people, but i never got into any tangle wid 'em. i just don't know bout all dem old folks lincoln, davis, booker washington. i think slavery wus a bad thing cause dey sold families apart, fathers from their wives and children, and mothers away from their children. two of my sisters were fixed up to be sold when the war ended." le n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: sarah ann smith person interviewed: sarah ann smith editor: g.l. andrews [tr: date stamp: aug ? ] sarah ann smith an interview with sarah ann smith of west lenoir street, raleigh, north carolina. "i wus borned january , ter martha an' green womble in chatham county, near lockville. my father 'longed ter mr. john womble an' mammy 'longed ter captain elias bryant. dey had six chilluns, i bein' nex' ter de oldes'. "father wus a carpenter an' by his havin' a trade he got along better before an' atter de war dan de other niggers. mammy wus housekeeper an' cook an' she always wus neat as a pin an' as quick as lightnin'. both families wus good ter dere slaves, givin' dem plenty ter eat an' enough ter wear. "i stayed wid mammy on captain bryant's plantation, an' i doan 'member doin' any wurk at all 'cept lookin' atter de babies onct in a long while. "when de yankees come marse wus off ter de war so dey tuck de place wid out any trouble at all. dey wusn't as good ter us as our white folkses wus an' somehow we doan feel right 'bout 'em takin' marse's stuff, but we knows hit ain't no use ter say nothin' 'bout hit. "at last de war wus ober, de captain wus too busted ter hire us ter stay on, so we moved over ter mr. womble's place den. "life wus a heap different from what hit wus 'fore de surrender. we ain't had no fun now case when we has time we is too tired an' when we do have time is soldom. no mo' dances an' parties fer us. we ain't eben got de 'lasses ter have a candy pullin'. we ain't got de 'ligion we had 'fore de war, so prayer meetin' am not hilt often. de yankees gived us a school but dey ain't give us nothin' ter eat so we's got ter wurk, we ain't got no time fer edgercation. "i growed up in dis han' mouth way an' when i wus thirteen i seed henry smith who wus rentin' a little farm dar near us. he wus young an' slim an' yaller. my folks wanted me ter marry bill bunn but he wus thirty-odd, black an' heavy, an' i ain't laked him. "me an' henry we cou'ted jist as we pleased case dey warn't strict on us an' when i tol' him dat i reckin dat i is got ter marry bill bunn he gits mad an' he sez dat i ain't nother, case i is gwine ter marry him. well i did an' i ain't never been sorry yet. "henry has been dead now fo'teen years an' de five chilluns what we had am dead too an' i is hopin' ter git my pension soon. i does need hit, bein' all alone in de worl'." le n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: william smith story teller: william smith editor: daisy bailey waitt william smith oberlin road "my full name is william smith. i was born august , eighty years ago, near neuse river at a place called wilder's grove. i belonged to gaston e. wiley and my missus was sarah. don't remember how many children they had but one or two o' 'em are living in raleigh now, some place on north street. i had good food and clothing and a good place to sleep. i was not big enough to work much but they were good to me. i jest done little things aroun' the house. "i remember seein' the yankees. i seen 'em take things. yes, i wus big enough to see 'em shoot hogs, an' cows, an' kill the chickens. they went through the house and took what they wanted. after the war we moved over about the asylum on the haywood place. we went to bryant green's from the haywood place. we lived in raleigh a long time, then i went to arkansas. my mother and father died in raleigh. "i stayed in arkansas years, and then came back to raleigh. i am partly paralyzed. i have had a stroke. i married anna regan of wake county. she went from wake county to arkansas and i married her there. her mother's father and the family all went to arkansas. she is years old the th of last april. she has had two strokes and can't talk any more. we have no boys but two girls, matilda and emma maye smith. matilda parker my daughter lives in pittsburg, pa. emma maye works to support us. she works as nurse for mrs. j.h. hunter but right now is out of work. charity helps us a little. one half peck meal, pound powdered milk, two cans grape fruit juice, one half pound coffee per week. this amounts to about eighty cents worth rations per week. the charity don't have much to give. "i have been back from arkansas nine years the seventh of last april. i was never teached no books. i never saw a patteroller, but daddy told me about 'em. i do not remember much about churches before the surrender. i cannot read and write. "i don't remember the overseers, and i know nuthin' 'bout dem men lincoln and the rest of 'em you have asked me bout. reckon they were all right." bn n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: the bound girl person interviewed: laura sorrell editor: g.l. andrews [tr: date stamp: jul ] the bound girl an interview with laura sorrell, years old, of battle street, raleigh. the story is her mother's. "my mammy, virginia burns, wus borned in fayetteville, cumberland county. she never knowed her parents an' frum de fust she can 'member she is a bound girl. "frum de fust she could 'member she wus bound out ter a mis' frizelle what beat her, give her scraps lak a dog, an' make her wuck lak a man. dey eben makes her git on de well sweep an' go down in de well an' clean hit out. she said dat she wus skeerd nigh ter death. "she wus a grown woman when she 'cided dat she can't stand de treatment no mo'. she has cut wood since she wus big enough ter pick up de axe an' she makes up her min' ter quit. "dey wus a-fixin' ter chain her up an' beat her lak dey usually done when she 'cides ter go away. she has ter go den or take de whuppin' an' she ain't got time ter make no plans. "fust she runs ter de marster's bedroom an' slips on a pair of his ole shoes, den she goes out ter de big chicken house back of de barn. she hyars de marster a-callin' fer her 'fore she gits ter de woods so she runs back an' hides in de chicken house. "dey calls an' dey calls, an' de chickens comes ter de roost but she lays low an' doan make no fuss, so dey goes on ter sleep. she hyars de folkses a-callin' her but she lays still, den she sees de torches what dey am usein' ter find her an' she thanks god dat she ain't in de woods. atter awhile she thinks dat she can sneak out, but she hyars de bayin' of de bloodhoun's in de swamp so she lays still. "hit am four o'clock 'fore all gits quiet. she knows dat hit am safe ter go now, case she has done hyard mister frizelle an' one of de patterollers a-talkin' as dey goes back ter de house. dey 'cides ter go home an' start out ag'in de nex' mornin' bright an' early. "mammy am skeerd pink but she knows dat unless she am keerful dey am gwine ter ketch her. she lays still till daybreak den she flies fer de woods. "i'se hyard mammy say dat dem nights she slept in de woods wus awful. she'd find a cave sometimes an' den ag'in she'd sleep in a holler log, but she said dat ever'time de hoot owls holler or de shiverin' owls shiver dat she'd cower down an' bite her tongue ter keep frum screamin'. "she said dat de woods wus full of snakes an' hit wus near 'bout two weeks 'fore she got ter guilford county. she had stold what she et on de way dar, an' dat hadn't been much so she wus weak. "one day she crept outen de woods an' look roun' her an' hit bein' in july, she spies a watermillion patch. she looks roun' an' den flies out dar an' picks up a big million, den she shakes a leg back ter de woods. "while she wus settin' dar eatin' de watermillion a young white man comes up an' axes her her business an' she, seein' dat he am kind-lookin', tells him her story. "she fully 'specks him ter turn her ober ter de sheriff but 'stid of dat he tells her dat his name am daniel green, an' dat he am a union sympathizer, an' den he takes her ter some colored folkses house. "dese colored folkses am named berry an' my mammy am stayin' dar when she falls in love wid my paw, jake sorrell, an' marries him. "she ain't never been ter dances an' sich before but now she goes some, an' hit wus at one of dese dances whar she met my paw. when she gits engaged ter him she won't let him kiss her till she axes marster daniel iffen she can marry him. yo' see she wus wuckin' fer marse dan. "well he give his consent an' dey wus married. dey had me soon, case i wus eight months old when de yankees come, an' we wus freed by de law. "my mammy an' paw had a hard time do' dey ain't had but us two chilluns, but dey manages ter feed us all right. dey wus superstitious an' paid de witch doctor a right smart ter keep off de witches but jist de same we got along well as most folks eben do' we did have ter eat hard tack an' black molasses fer seberal years atter de war." le n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: ria sorrell person interviewed: ria sorrell editor: g.l. andrews [tr: date stamp: aug ] ria sorrell years old. e. edenton street, raleigh, n.c. "i jist lak three years of bein' one hundred years old. i belonged to jacob sorrell. his wife wus named elizabeth. my age wus give to me by mr. bob sorrell, the only one of ole marster's chilluns dat is livin' now. "dey had four boys, marcillers, bob, adolphus and dr. patrick sorrell. dey had three girls, averada an' two udder ones dat died 'fore dey wus named. i wus born on marster's plantation near leesville, in wake county. dats been a long time ago. i can't git around now lak i could when i wus on de plantation. "dere wus 'bout twenty-five slaves on de place an' marster jist wouldn't sell a slave. when he whupped one he didn't whup much, he wus a good man. he seemed to be sorry everytime he had to whup any of de slaves. his wife wus de pure debil, she jist joyed whuppin' negroes. she wus tall an' spare-made wid black hair an' eyes. over both her eyes wus a bulge place in her forehead. her eyes set way back in her head. her jaws were large lak a man's an' her chin stuck up. her mouth wus large an' her lips thin an' seemed to be closed lak she had sumptin' in her mouth most all de time. "when marster come ter town she raised ole scratch wid de slaves. she whupped all she could while marster wus gone. she tried to boss marster but he wouldn't allow dat. he kept her from whuppin' many a slave. she jist wouldn't feed a slave an' when she had her way our food wus bad. she said underleaves of collards wus good enough for slaves. marster took feedin' in his hands an' fed us plenty at times. he said people couldn't work widout eatin'. "our houses wus good houses, 'case marster seed to it dey wus fixed right. we had good beds an' plenty of kiver. de houses wus called de nigger houses. dey wus 'bout two hundred yards from de big house. our houses had two rooms an' marster's had seven rooms. "we didn't have any overseers, marster said he didn't believe in 'em an' he didn't want any. de oldest slaves on the place woke us up in the morning, an' acted as foreman. marster hardly ever went to de field. he tole squire holman an' sam sorrell, two ole slaves, what he wanted done an' dey tole us an' we done it. i worked at de house as nurse an' house girl most of de time. "mother an' father worked in de field. mother wus named judy an' father wus named sam. you sees father wus a slave foreman. marster bought squire holman from de holmans an' let him keep his name. dats why he wus called dat. "we worked from sunup till sunset wid a rest spell at o'clock of two hours. he give us holidays to rest in. dat was christmas, a week off den, den a day every month, an' all sundays. he said he wus a christian an' he believed in givin' us a chance. marster died of consumption. he give us patches an' all dey made on it. he give slaves days off to work dere patches. "i shore believes marster went to heaven, but missus, well i don't know. don' know 'bout her, she wus so bad. she would hide her baby's cap an' tell me to find it. if i couldn't fin' it, she whupped me. she would call marster, an' i doin' de best i could to please her, an' say come here jacob an' whup dis nigger, but marster paid no attention to her. he took our part. many wus de meals he give us unbeknown to his wife. dere wus no mixin' white an' black on marster's place, no sir, nothin' lak dat. he wus lak a father to us. sometimes he brought hog haslets an' good things to de nigger house an' tole us to cook it. when it wus done he come an' et all he wanted, got up an' said, 'i'm goin' now,' an' you didn't see him no more till next day. "we had prayer meetin' anytime an' we went to the white folks church. dere wus no whiskey on de place, no, no, honey, no whiskey. now at corn shuckin's dey had a big supper an' all et all dey wanted. i'll tell you jake sorrell wus all right. we didn't have any dances no time. some nights marster would come to our cabins, call us all into one of 'em an pray wid us. he stood up in de floor an' tole us all to be good an pray. i saw him die. i saw him when de breath went out of him. de last word he said wus, 'lord do your will, not mine.' den he breathed twice an' wus no mo'. "missus died since de surrender, when she got sick she sent for me to go an' wait on her. i went an' cleaned her lak a baby, waited on her till de evenin' she died dat night. i went off dat evenin' late to spend de night an' next mornin' when i got dere she wus dead. i jist couldn't refuse missus when she sent for me even if she had treated me bad. "my grandmother wus as white as you is. she wus lottie sorrell. marster bought my grandmother. i do not know my grandfather's name. grandmother wus a cook an' she tole me the reason she was so white wus 'cause she stood over de fire so much. ha, ha, dats what she tole me. she had long straight hair. i 'members her well. "yes i 'members de yankees. de southern, our folks, wus in front. dey come along a road right by our house. our folks wus goin' on an' de yankees right behind. you could hear 'em shootin'. dey called it skirmishin'. it wus rainin' an our folks wus goin' through de mud an' slush. dey had wagins an' some would say, 'drive up, drive up, goddamn it, drive up, de damn yankees right behind us.' dey had turkeys an' chickens' on de wagins an' on dere hosses. dey got things out of de houses an' took de stock. dey searched de houses an' took de quilts an' sheets an' things. "de yankees wus soon dere an' dey done de same thing. dat wus a time. dey took all dey could find an' dere want much left when all got through. de yankees poured out lasses an' stomped down things dey could not carry off. i wus afraid of de yankees. dey come up an' said, 'haint you got some money round here?' i tole 'em i knowed nothin' about money. dey called me auntie an' said 'auntie tell us whar de money is, you knows.' i says, 'dey don't let me see everything around here, no dat dey don't.' "when dey tole us we wus free we stayed right on wid marster. we got crackers an' meat from de yankees an' when de crop wus housed in de fall marster give us part of all we made. we come to raleigh on a ole steer cart to git our crackers an' meat dat wus our 'lowance. we stayed at marster's till father died. i married there. we finally moved to the page place 'bout eleven miles north of raleigh. we been farmin' wid de white folks eber since, till we got so we couldn't work. "i married buck sorrell since de surrender. we had four boys an' two girls, six children in all. dey are all dead, 'cept one, her name is bettie. she works at dr. rogers'. "dr young looked after us when we wus sick. "dere wus one thing dey wouldn't allow, dat wus books an' papers. i can't read an' write. i heard talk of abraham lincoln comin' through when talk of de war come 'bout. dey met, him an' jeff davis, in south carolina. lincoln said, 'jeff davis, let dem niggers go free.' jeff davis tole him you can't make us give up our property.' den de war started. "a lot of de niggers in slavery time wurked so hard dey said dey hated to see de sun rise in de mornin'. slavery wus a bad thing, 'cause some white folks didn't treat dere niggers right." le n.c. district: no. worker: mary hicks no. words: subject: a slavery story story teller: chaney spell editor: george l. andrews chaney spell an interview with chaney spell, years old, contena heights, wilson, north carolina. "i really doan know who my first marster wus, case i has been sold an' hired so much since den. i reckin dat i wus borned in new hanover er beaufort county an' i wus sold fust time in my mammy's arms. we wus sold ter a man in carteret county and from dar de speculators took me ter franklin county. i wus sold ter a mr. mckee an' dat's de fust thing dat i 'members. "i doan 'member anything 'bout maw 'cept dat dey called her sal an' dat she died years an' years ago. i reckin dat i once had a pappy, but i ain't neber seed him. "marster mckee wus mean to us, an' we ain't had nothin' to eat nor wear half of de time. we wus beat fer ever' little thing. he owned i reckin two er three hundret slaves an' he had four overseers. de overseers wus mean an' dey often beat slaves ter death. "i worked in de house, sometime 'round de table, but i ain't got so much to eat. "when word come dat we wus to be sold i wus glad as i could be. dey tol' me dat de marster has gambled away his money an' lost ever'thing but a few slaves. later i learned dat he had lost me to a mr. hartman in nash county. "marse sid hartman wus good as he could be, sometimes his overseers wusn't but when he foun' it out he let dem go. marse sid ain't got but one weakness an' dat am pretty yaller gals. he just can't desist dem at all. finally mis' mary found it out an' it pretty near broke her heart. de ole marster, marster sid's daddy, said dat long as he could ride a hoss he could look out fer de plantation so marse sid took mis' mary to de mountains. "soon atter dey went away de war broke an' ole marster wus right busy, not dat de slaves ain't stuck to him but de yankees won't let dem stick. when marse sid an' mis' mary come home de war wus closin' an' dey has lost dere slaves. de slaves still loves 'em do' an' dey goes over an' cleans house an' fixes fer de young folks. "atter de war i married lugg spell an' we had five chilluns. he's been dead dese many years an' i'se worked, worked an' worked to raise de chilluns. i has been on charity a long time now, a long time." eh n.c. district: no. worker: mary hicks no. words: subject: a slavery family reference: tanner spikes editor: george l. andrews [tr: date stamp: aug ] a slavery family an interview with tanner spikes, years of age, of bragg street, raleigh, north carolina. "my mammy had fifteen chilluns which wus all borned on doctor fab haywood's plantation here in wake county. my mammy 'longed ter him, but my daddy 'longed ter a mr. wiggins in pasquotank county. i think that dr. haywood bought him just 'fore de war. anyhow, we took de name of wiggins. "mammy's name wus lucinda an' pappy's name wus osburn. i doan 'member seein' many yankees on dr. haywood's place. i doan reckon many comed dar. anyhow, we had a gyard. "i 'members a corn shuckin' what happened 'fore de war wus over, an' what a time dem niggers did have. dey kisses when dey fin' a red year an' atter dat dey pops some popcorn an' dey dances ter de music of de banjo which uncle jed am a-playin'. dey dances all night de best i can 'member. "i seed a few yankees, but dey wus just lookin' fer something ter eat. we ain't knowed nothin' 'bout freedom, but de yankees tol' us dat we ort ter be free, dey also said dat we ort ter have meat an' stuff in de smokehouse. my mammy sez dat dey ain't got good sense an' she tells marse what dey said. "de yankees has done tuck all de rations so dar ain't nothin' lef' fer de niggers ter take but mammy tells marse haywood what dey sez anyhow. marse haywood sez dat iffen he ketch any niggers in his smokehouse dat he'll skin 'em alive. he also sez dat we ain't free an' dat we ain't never gwine ter be free. "de nex' year, atter de war, wus a hard year. we ain't had nothin' ter eat but hardtack an' 'lasses an' sometimes not half enough of dat. my pappy still farmed fer marse haywood, but hit ain't as good as it is in slavery days. "seberal years atter dat, while we wus livin' on davie street, i met frank spikes an' i married him. i can't tell yo' much 'bout our love-makin' case hit warn't much, but he always called me 'honey gal' an' he axed me ter marry him in de kitchen while i was washin' dishes. he jist puts his arms 'round me an' he sez, 'i wants ter marry yo', honey gal.' "well we gits married by de baptist preacher in raleigh fifty odd years ago an' we lives tergether till dis past march, when he dies. "other boys comed ter see me but i ain't loved none of dem but frank. he ain't never whupped me but onct an' dat wus fer sassin' him, an' i reckin dat i needed dat. "we had five chilluns an' i'se stayin' wid my daughter since he died, but i misses him, yes mam, i misses him purty awful." eh n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: annie stephenson person interviewed: annie stephenson editor: g.l. andrews [tr: date stamp: aug ] annie stephenson years old rosewood ave. richmond, va. now at saunder's street raleigh, n.c. "i wus born in hillsboro, n.c. i 'longed to charles holman and my missus wus named rachel. he owned a plantation near hillsboro. it wus a mighty big plantation in orange county, an' he had a good many slaves on dat place. we had tolerable good food an' log cabins and clothes dat you wove in de loom. home-wove cloth. we had no feather bed. we did not know nuthin' 'bout feather beds. slaves like dat had bunks an' some slept on de floor. we went barefooted most of the time. slave shoes had wooden bottoms on 'em. chilluns wus not give shoes at our place till dey wus big enough to work. "i 'member seein' de yankees. dey wore blue clothes an had brass buttons on 'em. de only work i done wus to sweep yards an' nurse small chilluns. i done very little heavy work. my mother wus named nicy oldman an' she worked in de field. my father wus named billy briggs, cause he 'longed to the briggs family. i do not 'member seein' my father but one time. i never seen a slave sold or whupped, but i heard tell of it. my mother tole me 'bout marster whuppin' so severe. we had a rough boss. he had two colored foremen. dey were slaves who 'longed to marster. "dere wus no patches allowed to any of the slaves, an' none of 'em had any money. "we wus not allowed to have any prayer meetin's. mother said she never knowed one on de plantation. "dere wus a lot of talk 'bout de patterollers but marster done his own sneakin' around. he done a lot of eavesdroppin'. my mother said when dey tho't he wus asleep he wus awake. he wus strict on his slaves an' i didn't know what church wus. no books of any kind wus allowed to slaves an' i can't read an' write. "they give two days christmas. mother said dat had always been marster's rule. "i 'member de cornshuckin's. dey lasted two or three days. dere wus enough slaves to shuck de corn. dey had plenty of cider at corn shuckin's an' a lot better things to eat den at other times. marster made corn, peas, an' tobacco on de farm, mostly corn. dey had plenty hogs an' dat wus a time when dey killed 'em. dryin' up de fat for lard, trimmin' an' saltin' de meat an' chitlins. de hog guts wus called chitlins. slaves wus allowed to eat meats as soon as de hogs wus gutted. dey wus allowed to boil some lean parts of de meat an' eat it at de killin's. "we played base an' hide an' jumpin' when i wus a chile. "when we got right smart an' sick we had a doctor. when we wus not mighty sick, we took tea made of catnip, sassafras, an' roots. "yes, i 'member when dey tole us we wus free. mother got up de chilluns to leave. she got just a few clothes. i 'member seein' my uncle come to de house an' put up de horse. he put 'im in de stable an' we all lef' together. we went to my uncle 'bout five miles away on his marster's plantation. his marster wus named harvey roundtree. we stayed there three weeks, den we went to a white man's place, bill gates. we stayed there several years. mother had six chilluns. three wus boun' out for dere victuals an' clothes an' three wus with her. "we come to wake county when i wus fully grown. we come in a covered wagon. i saw father one time to 'member him. he died before de war closed, an' mother never married again. we went to mr. jeff upchurch of wake county an' worked on his farm. we stayed there ten or twelve years an' i married while we wus there. i married albert stephenson. we stayed right on there about six years after we married. we then went to mr. lonnie stephen's place, the man who onct owned my husband's father. we stayed there two years workin' as day hands, then we rented a farm from mr. joe smith. dis wus de fust time any of us had ever farmed for ourselves. we kept it up until old age made us unable to farm an' all de chilluns had got grown an' lef' us. "we had thirteen chilluns, an' six is livin' yet. my husband died two years ago dis comin' august. "slavery from what i knows an' whats been tole me wus a mighty bad thing. don' see how some of de slaves stood it. i never did min' work but i is unable to work now. i has got a good will but i is worn out. de only way i lives is by goin' 'round 'mong my people. i have no home of my own." le n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: sam t. stewart, ex-slave person interviewed: sam t. stewart editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp: jun ] [illustration: sam t. stewart] sam t. stewart [hw: years.] "my name is sam t. stewart. i was born in wake county, north carolina dec. , . my father was a slave, a.h. stewart, belonging to james arch stewart, a slave owner, whose plantation was in wake county near what is now the harnett county line of southern wake. tiresa was my mother's name. james arch stewart, a preacher, raised my father, but my mother was raised by lorenzo franks, a quaker in wake county. when i was two years old james arch stewart sold my father to speculators, and he was shipped to mississippi. i was too young to know my father. "the names of the speculators were--carter harrison, and--, and a man named roulhac. i never saw my father again, but i heard from him the second year of the surrender, through his brother and my aunt. my father died in mississippi. "the speculators bought up negroes as a drover would buy up mules. they would get them together by 'negro drivers', as the white men employed by the speculators were called. their names were,----jim harris of raleigh, and----yes, dred thomas, who lived near holly springs in wake county. wagon trains carried the rations on the trip to mississippi. the drivers would not start until they had a large drove. then the slaves were fastened together with chains. the chain was run between them, when they had been lined up like soldiers in double file. a small chain was attached to a negro on the left and one to the negro on the right and fastened to the main chain in the center. billy askew was another speculator. he lived on the corner of salisbury and carbarrus street in raleigh. sometimes as many as thirty slaves were carried in a drove. they walked to mississippi. "my brothers and sisters are dead. down on the plantations our houses were built of poles daubed with mud, with a rived board (split board). i had good beds, good clothes, and plenty to eat. we made it and we ate it. when a slave owner treated his slaves unusually good some other slave owner would tell him that he was raising slaves who would rise against him. lorenzo franks, who owned me and my mother, was a quaker. he treated his slaves unusually well. he would not sell any of them. his brother was an iron side baptist preacher, and he would tell his brother he was raising slaves who would rise against him. franks owned seventeen slaves, i don't know how many stewart owned." [hw: m p. ] [tr: editor indicated three paragraphs on page (page of the volume) should have been moved here.] "i did farm work in slavery time. i earned no money except what we made on patches. these patches were given to my mother by my master. we caught birds and game, sent it to town, and sold it for money. we caught birds and partridges in traps. our master would bring them to town, sell them for us, and give us the money. we had a lot of possums and other game to eat. we got our food out of the big garden planted for the whole shebang. my master overseered his plantation. "we didn't think much of the poor white man. he was down on us. he was driven to it, by the rich slave owner. the rich slave owner wouldn' let his negroes sociate with poor white folks. some of the slave owners, when a poor white man's land joined theirs and they wanted his place would have their negroes steal things and carry them to the poor white man, and sell them to him. then the slave owner, knowing where the stuff was, (of course the slave had to do what his master told him.) would go and find his things at the poor white man's house. then he would claim it, and take out a writ for him, but he would give him a chance. he would tell him to sell out to him, and leave, or take the consequences. that's the way some of the slave owners got such large tracks of lands. "the free negro was a child by a white man and a colored woman, or a white woman and a negro slave. a child by a white man and a negro woman was set free when the man got ready. sometimes he gave the free negro slaves. oscar austin, an issue, was set free and given slaves by his master and daddy. old man oscar austin lived by the depot in raleigh. he is dead now. "when a child by a negro man slave and a white woman arrived he could not be made a slave, but he was bound out until he was years old. the man, who ever wanted him, had him bound to him by the courts and was his gardeen until he was years old. he could not be made a slave if he was born of a free woman. there were jails for slaves called dungeons; the windows were small. slaves were put into jail for misdemeanors until court was held, but a white man could not be kept there over days without giving bond. whites and slaves were kept in the same jail house, but in separate rooms. "they never taught me to read and write; and most slaves who got any reading and writing certainly stole it. there were rules against slaves having books. if the patterollers caught us with books they would whip us. there were whipping posts on the plantation but patterollers tied negroes across fences to whip them. there was no church on the plantation. we had prayer meetings in the cabins. we had big times at corn shuckings and dances. we all had plenty of apple and peach brandy but very few got drunk. i never saw a nigger drunk until after the surrender. we went to the white folks' church. we were partitioned off in the church. "the patterollers visited our house every saturday night, generally. we set traps to catch the patterollers. the patterollers were poor white men. we stretched grape vines across the roads, then we would run from them. they would follow, and get knocked off their horses. i knew many of the patterollers. they are mostly dead. their children, who are living now in wake county and raleigh, are my best friends, and i will therefore not tell who they were. i was caught by the patterollers in raleigh. "i would have been whipped to pieces if it hadn't been for a white boy about my age by the name of thomas wilson. he told them i was his nigger, and they let me go. we had brought a load of lightwood splints in bundles to town on a steer cart. this was near the close of the war. we had sold out one load of splints had had been paid for them in confederate money. we had several bills. we went into a bar and bought a drink, each paying one dollar a drink, or two dollars for two small drinks. the bar was in the house where the globe clothing store is now located on the corner of wilmington and exchange streets. just as i swallowed my drink a constable grabbed me by the back of the neck, and started with me to the guard house, where they done their whippin'. down at the guard house nick denton, the bar tender, told thomas wilson 'go, tell the constable that is your nigger'. thomas came running up crying, and told the constable i was his nigger. the constable told him to take me and carry me on home or he would whip both of us. we then hitched our ox to the cart and went home." [tr: the editor indicated with lines that the following three paragraphs should be moved to page of this interview (page of the volume).] "when i was a child i played marbles, 'hail over', and bandy, a game played like golf. in striking the ball we knocked it at each other. before we hit the ball we would cry, 'shins, i cry', then we would knock the ball at our playmates. sometime we used rocks for balls. "we got christmas holidays from christmas to new years day. this was also a time when slaves were hired out or sold. you were often put on the auction block at christmas. there was a whipping post, an auction block, and jail located on court house square where the news stand is now located on fayetteville street. there was a well in the yard. "we were treated by doctors when sick. we were given lots of herbs. "i do not believe in ghosts. "i did not feel much elated over hearing i was free, i was afraid of yankee soldiers. our mistress told us we were free. i farmed first year after the war. we had no horses, the yankees had taken the horses, and some of us made a crap with grubbing hoes. "i think abraham lincoln was a man who aimed to do good, but a man who never got to it. i cannot say anymore than that his intentions were good, and if he had lived he would have done more good." [hw: ---- insert from p. .] n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave recollections person interviewed: emma stone editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp: jun ] ex-slave recollections an interview with emma stone, of heck's-town, durham, durham county. may , . "my mammy wuz a free issue an' my pappy belonged ter de bells in chatham county. pappy wuz named edmund bell, mammy wuz named polly mitchel. my sisters wuz fanny, jane, ann, josephine, narcissus, and cressie. my brothers wuz lizah, hilliard an' another one, but i doan 'member his name. "yo' knows dat i doan 'member much, but i does know dat days on de plantation wuz happy. when my mammy married pappy she moved ter de bell's plantation so we chilluns, long wid her, wuz lak de udder slaves. "de missus gib us her old hoop skirts ter play in an' we played nigh 'bout all de time. we wuz doin' dis when de yankees comed by. dey drives dere hosses up ter de gate an' dey says dat dey is lookin' fer wheeler's cavalry. we knows dat it done pass dar de day 'fore, but we is too skeered ter say a thing. "de yankees stays 'round dar fer a little while, an' dey gathers rations, den dey goes on atter wheeler. we uster sing a song 'bout wheeler's cavalry but i only 'members dat it went lak dis: "'wheeler's wheeler's cav--al--ry, marchin' on de battlefield wheeler's wheeler's cav--al--ry marchin' on de battlefield.' "it wuz really a game we played, while we marched an' pranced an' beat on tin pans. de missus ain't carin' case we is bein' true ter de south she thinks. shucks we doan care nothin' 'bout wheeler 'cept what we hyar, an dat ain't so good. we doan keer 'bout de yankees nother, case we is skeered of dem. "i hyard grown folkses praisen' lincoln but i doan know much 'bout him. i doan know nothin' much 'bout none of it, but i does know dat it wuz on a sunday dat de picket wuz lookin' fer wheeler an' dat we wuz playin' hide an' seek." n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: william sykes person interviewed: william sykes editor: daisy bailey waitt [illustration: william sykes] william sykes ex-slave story an interview with william sykes , of state prison, raleigh, n.c. "my mammy martha an' me we 'longed ter mister joshua long in martin county, an' my paw, henry 'longed ter squire ben sykes in tyrell county. squire sykes lived in what wus called gum neck, an' he owned a hundert slaves or more an' a whole passel of lan'. "i lived wid my mammy in martin county from de fust dat i could 'member, me an' my brothers, henry, benjamin an' columbus, an' my sisters hester, margaret, lucy an' susan. "i doan 'member so much what happen 'fore de war, of course, but i does 'member a heap of little things. i knows dat mister long an' mis' catherine wus good ter us an' i 'members dat de food an' de clothes wus good an' dat dar wus a heap o' fun on holidays. "most o' de holidays wus celebrated by eatin' candy, drinkin' wine an 'brandy. dar wus a heap o' dancin' ter de music of banjoes an' han' slappin'. "we had co'n shuckin's, an' prayer meetin's, an' sociables an' singin's. i went swimmin' in de crick, went wid ole joe brown, a-possum huntin', an' coon huntin', an' i sometimes went a-fishin'. "when de yankees comed dey come a tearin'. dey ain't done so bad in our neighborhood, case hit warn't so full of de 'infernal rebs', as de yankees said. dey tooked de bes' o' eber'thing do' but dey ain't doin' so much deruction. dey eben buyed terbacker from my mammy, an' dey paid her a dollar an' fifty cents a pound, stim an' all. "dey paid her wid shin plasters, which wus green paper money, an' de fust dat eber i seed. "we slaves wus skeerd o' de yankees, an' fer some reason i got sent ter paw at squire sykes' house in tyrell county. "squire sykes come stompin' in one day an' he says ter my paw, 'henry, dem damm yankees am comin' ter take my niggers 'way from me, an' i ain't gwine ter stan' fer hit nother. le's you an' me take dese niggers an' march straight ter de blue ridge mountains, an' up dar in dem mountains dar won't be no trouble, case dey won't dare come up dar atter us.' "wal, we got on de march fer de mountains an' we march on ter judge clayton moore's grandfather's place in mitchell county, whar we camps fer seberal days. "while we wus dar one day, an' while mr. jim moore, de jedge's daddy am in town de missus axes my cousin jane ter do de washin'. "jane says dat she has got ter do her own washin' an dat she'll wash fer de missus termorrer. de missus says 'you ain't free yit, i wants you ter know.' "'i knows dat i's not but i is gwine ter be free', jane says. "de missus ain't said a word den, but late sadday night mr. jim he comes back from town an' she tells him 'bout hit. "mr. jim am some mad an' he takes jane out on sunday mornin' an' he beats her till de blood runs down her back. "de patterollers wus thick dem days, mr. joe jones wus our regular patteroller an' he gibe us de very debil. "a few days atter jane got her beatin' we marches away. de wimen am left at jamesville but us mens an' boys, we marches on ter buncombe county an' we ain't seed no mo' yankees. "atter de war my paw an' mammy went ter live on mr. moore's plantation an' we had a hard time. a whole heap o' times i has had nothin' ter eat but one cupful o' peas an' a hunk of co'nbread all day long. a white lady, mis' douglas give me a quart of milk eber sunday, but i had ter walk three miles fer hit. "we ain't wucked none in slavery days ter what we done atter de war, an' i wisht dat de good ole slave days wus back. "dar's one thing, we ole niggers wus raised right an' de young niggers ain't. iffen i had my say-so dey'd burn down de nigger schools, gibe dem pickanninies a good spankin' an' put 'em in de patch ter wuck, ain't no nigger got no business wid no edgercation nohow. "yes'um, dey says dat i is a murderer". uncle william stroked his long white beard. "i runned from dis young nigger seberal times, an' i wus tryin' ter run wid my knife what i had been whittlin' wid open in my han'. i wus skeerd nigh ter death, so when he grabs me i throw up my han's an' in a minute he falls. i breshes de blood offen my coat, thinkin' dat he has hurt me, an' i sees de blood pourin' from de jugular vein. "i has sarved ten months o' my sentence which dey gived me, three ter five years fer manslaughter; what could i do? i stood up an' i said, 'thank you, jedge.'" l.e. n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: annie tate person interviewed: annie tate editor: daisy bailey waitt annie tate ex-slave story an interview with annie tate of s. harrington street, raleigh, n.c. "i wuz a year old when de war wuz ober but of course i ain't knowin' nothin' 'bout slavery 'cept what my mammy said, an' dat ain't so much. "i reckon dat it wuz a brother of calvin jones dat my mammy belonged ter, anyhow, it wuz at wake forest. my mammy wuz rosa jones till she married phil perry, my pappy. "my mammy's mammy, who also belonged ter de jones family killed herself 'cause dey sold her husban'. mammy said dat she wuz eight or ten years old at de time. "old marster wuz very fond of my grandpaw an' he wouldn't 'low de oberseer ter beat him, but ole marster went off on a trip an' he left young marster in charge of de big farm an' de whole slue o' slaves dat he owns. "one day atter ole marster wuz gone de oberseer tried ter run de hawg over gran'paw an' wuz cussin' him scan'lous. gran'paw cussed back at him an' den de oberseer started ter beat him. gran'paw drawed de hoe back ober his haid an' tells him dat if'en he comes a step closter dat he am gwine ter bust his haid open. de oberseer comes on an' de hoe 'cends on his haid choppin' hit wide open. "ole marster ain't dar so young marster makes seberal of de slaves hold him while he lashes him wid de cowhide. he cuts his back all ter pieces an' den he throws him in de barn, chained down ter de flo'. "gran'mammy snuke out ter see him an' whisper ter him through de cracks, but one night she goes out dar ter de barn an' he am gone. she runs ter young marster an' axes him whar am gran'paw an' he tells her dat he am sold ter a man from mississippi an' dat if'en she whimpers 'bout him sellin' de black bastard dat he will whup her, den wash her down wid vinegar, red pepper an' salt. "pore gran'maw am nigh 'bout crazy so she walks off'en de plantation. down on de aidge of de plantation runs de neuse so gran'maw gits dar, an' jumps in. "my mammy am little an' she ain't got no brothers an' sisters so de missus takes her in de house wid her. dey said dat de ole marster had a fit most when he fin's out 'bout what been done dar while he am gone, so he am extra good ter mammy. "at de surrender he calls his niggers in an' he says dat he will give 'em permission ter libe on de riber plantation, dey can build deir shacks dar an' live dar durin' dere life time. some of dem does dis, an' fer seberal years dey stays on dar. mammy said dat he tol' de ku kluxes ter stay off'en his lan' too, dat he could manage his own niggers." l.e. n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: r.s. taylor story teller: r.s. taylor editor: daisy bailey waitt r.s. taylor south mcdowell street "my name is ransom sidney taylor. i was borned in slavery the th day of january, . adam taylor was my father and mary taylor my mother. my brothers were: william h., jesse, and louis; sisters: virginia, annie, and isabella; all born in slavery. we all belonged to john cane. he owned a plantation on ramkatte road[ ] near yates mill, between yates mill and penny's mill. there was a whiskey still at penny's mill. "there were sixty slaves in all, but marster only kept seven on the plantation with him at yates mill. marster's sister mary was our missus after he died. he died before the surrender. the war was going on when he died. he was a northern man. his sister came down to the funeral from new york and then went back, then she came back to settle up the estate. she stayed here a long time then. she told all the slaves they were free. that was about the close of the war. "marster john cane was buried in the catholic graveyard in raleigh. his wife had died in the north, so my mother told me. we had plenty of something to eat, beans, peas, butter milk and butter and molasses and plenty o' flour.[ ] we made the wheat on the plantation and other things to eat. we didn't have clothes like they have now but we had plenty o' good and warm wove clothes. our shoes had wooden bottoms, but were all right. "we had prayer meetings on the plantation and at times we went to the white folks' church. marster was a catholic, but we went to the methodist church[ ], edenton street methodist church. my marster would not allow anyone to whip his negroes. if they were to be whipped he did it himself and the licks he gave them would not hurt a flea. he was good to all of us and we all loved him. "we called our parents pappy and mammy most o' the time. my marster looked like you, jes' the same complection and about your size. he weighed around pounds had curly hair like yours and was almost always smiling like you. my marster was an irishman from the north. mother and father said he was one o' the best white men that ever lived. i remember seein' him settin' on the porch in his large arm chair. he called me 'lonnie', a nickname. he called me a lot to brush off his shoes. i loved him he was so good. "our overseer was named john h. whitelaw. he got killed at the rock quarry near the federal cemetery when they were carrying a boiler to the rock quarry a long time after the surrender about or years ago. he and john were standing on the side of the boiler and the boiler turned over and killed both of 'em. marster's overseer was bad to us after marster died. nothing we could do would suit him, and he whipped the negroes. we never heard the word negroes until we moved to raleigh after the surrender. they called us niggers and colored folks. "we were darin' to have a book to study. it was against the confederates' rules at dat time, but marster called us in to have prayer meeting on sunday mornings. "i have seen patterollers. dey had' em but not when my marster was living. dey didn't come around den, but when he died dey come around every night; we never knowed when dey was comin', you know. "i never saw a slave really whipped. marster would switch a slave sometime, but it was a matter o' nothing 'cause he didn't hurt much. "we had good houses and plenty o' good places to sleep, and we fared fine in slavery time. we called marster's house with its long porch the 'dwelling house'. when the yankees came through they told us we were free and we didn't have to work for the johnnies no more. "we got everything all right on the plantation near yates mill, then we moved to raleigh. "my mammy belonged to old captain hunter before she was married to pappy. when she got married the taylors bought her, and she and pappy stayed with the taylors. as soon as we got the plantation fixed up, we moved to raleigh and mammy and pappy went back to her white folks, the hunters. my father was a carpenter by trade, and a preacher. he preached at st. paul's church on the corner of harrington and edenton streets. we lived in raleigh all our lives except annie. she went to brooklyn, new york and died there about four years ago. "i thinned corn, and turned potato vines, and helped look after and feed the stock. our marsters gave us some money, five and ten cents at a time. that's the only way we got any money. "we caught rabbits, hunting in the day time, and possums, hunting at night. we hunted on holidays. we had holidays at lay-by time, and the th of july. when we caught up with the work we had nothing to do. we got christmas holidays. "i never saw a slave sold and none never ran away. we went fishing in swift creek. i never saw a jail for slaves and never saw any in chains. we played push and spin on the plantation. "my mother looked after most of us when we were sick. she used roots, herbs, and grease, and medicine the overseer got in town. when my mother got through rubbin' you, you would soon be well. "when i first saw the yankees i was afraid of 'em. it was a curiosity to see 'em comin' through the fields with dem guns and things. they come down and talked with us and told us we were free and then i was not so scared of 'em. "i married francis [hw: corrected to frances] lipton in . we were married at the end of mcdowell street at mr. chester's home. just a quiet wedding with about friends present. i didn't think a thing about slavery while we fared mighty well; but it was bad on other plantations. "i don't know anything about booker t. washington, nor jefferson davis, but i know jim young. he was a negro politician. i do not know much about lincoln or roosevelt. "de[ ] yankees jes' shot hogs and cows and took everything on de plantation dey wanted. i can see 'em now runnin' chickens. dere was an old rooster, he said, 'cluck, cluck, cluck cluck,' as he run. dey shot his head off and he turned somersets awhile, and rolled over dead. jes' seemed lak if dem yankees pointed a gun at a chicken or hog dey would roll over dead. dey had live geese tied on their hosses. one ole gander would say, 'quack, quack, quack,' as the hoss stepped along and jarred him. some o' de yankee soldiers were carrying hams of hogs on deir bayonets. dat wus a time, lawsy, lawsy, a time. one ole hen, she had sense. when de yankees were killin' de res' o' de chickens she ran for de piney woods and hid dere and stayed till de yankees left raleigh; den she come home. mammy caught her and raised about forty chickens off her in raleigh." bn footnotes: [footnote : [hw: ramsgate road--nicknamed ramcat or rhamkatte in derision of governor tryon.]] [footnote : yates mill was a flour mill.] [footnote : [hw: st. paul's a.m.e. methodist church moved to edenton st. site in , formerly old christ church building.]] [footnote : the negroes interviewed frequently speak fairly correctly at first but when they begin to talk of old times lapse into dialect.] n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: elias thomas person interviewed: elias thomas editor: g.l. andrews [tr: date stamp: aug ] elias thomas years of age cannon ave., raleigh, n.c. "i was here when the civil war was goin' on an' i am years old. i was born in chatham county on a plantation near moncure, february . "my marster was named baxter thomas and missus was named katie. she was his wife. i don't know my father's name, but my mother was named phillis thomas. "it took a smart nigger to know who his father was in slavery time. i just can remember my mother. i was about four or five years old when she died. "my marster's plantation was fust the 'thomas place'. there was about two hundred acres in it with about one hundred acres cleared land. he had six slaves on it. "when i was eight years old he bought the boylan place about two miles from his first home and he moved there. there was about one thousand acres of land of it all with about three hundred acres cleared for farming. on the thomas place his house had six rooms, on the boylan place the house had eight rooms. he brought in more slaves and took over all the slaves after john boylan died. "john boylan never married. he was a mighty hard man to git along with, an' marster baxter thomas was about the only one who could do anything with him when he had one of his mad spells. they were no blood relation but marster got possession of his property when he died. it was fixed that way. "we called the slave houses 'quarters'. they were arranged like streets about two hundred yards on the northside of the great house. "our food was purty good. our white folks used slaves, especially the children, as they did themselves about eatin'. we all had the same kind of food. all had plenty of clothes but only one pair of shoes a year. people went barefooted a lot then more than they do now. we had good places to sleep, straw mattresses and chickenfeather beds and feather bolsters. a bolster reached clear across the head of the bed. "we worked from sun to sun with one hour and a half to rest at noon or dinner time. i was so small i did not do much heavy work. i chopped corn and cotton mostly. the old slaves had patches they tended, and sold what they made and had the money it brought. everybody eat out of the big garden, both white and black alike. ole missus wouldn't allow us to eat rabbits but she let us catch and eat possums. missus didn't have any use for a rabbit. "sometimes we caught fish with hooks in haw river, deep river, and the cape fear, and when it was a dry time and the water got low we caught fish in seines. "my marster only had two children, both boys, fred, and john. john was about my age and fred was about two years older. they are both dead. my marster never had any overseers, he made boss men out of his oldest slaves. "we thought well of the poor white neighbors. we colored children took them as regular playmates. marster's boys played with 'em too and marster gave them all the work he could. he hired both men an women of the poor white class to work on the plantation. we all worked together. we had a good time. we worked and sang together and everybody seemed happy. in harvest time a lot of help was hired and such laughing, working and singing. just a good time in general. we sang the songs 'crossin' over jordan' and 'bound for the promised land'. "i never saw a jail for slaves but i have seen slaves whipped. i saw crayton abernathy, a overseer, whip a woman in the cotton patch on doc. smith's farm, a mile from our plantation. i also saw ole man william crump, a owner, whip a man and some children. he waited till sunday morning to whip his slaves. he would git ready to go to church, have his horse hitched up to the buggy and then call his slaves out and whip them before he left for church. he generally whipped about five children every sunday morning. willis crump, a slave was tied up by his thumbs and whipped. his thumbs was in such a bad fix after that they rose and had to be cut open. willis was whipped after the war closed for asking for his wages and having words with ole man crump because he would not pay him. they fell out and he called his friends in and they took and tied him and whipped him. "no books were allowed to slaves in slavery time. i never went to school a minute in my life. i cannot read and write. we had prayermeetings on the plantation about once or twice a week. we went to the white folks church on sunday. we went to both the methodist and presbyterian. the preacher told us to obey our marsters. i remember the baptizings. they baptized in shattucks creek and haw river. i saw a lot of colored folks baptized. "i do not remember any slaves running away from our plantation but they ran away from ole man crump's and richard faucett's plantations near our plantation. jacob faucette ran away from faucette and tom crump ran away from ole man crump. they ran away to keep from getting a whippin'. "colored folks are afraid of bears so one of the slaves who saw tom crump at night told him he saw a bear in the woods where he was stayin'. tom was so scared he came home next morning and took his whippin'. both came home on account of that bear business and both were whipped. "when we got sick dr. hews, dr. wych and dr. tom buckhannan looked after us. a lot of the slaves wore rabbit feet, the front feet, for good luck. they also carried buckeyes. "i remember the yankees. i will remember seein' them till i die. i will never forgit it. i thought it was the last of me. the white folks had told me the yankees would kill me or carry me off, so i thought when i saw them coming it was the last of me. i hid in the woods while they were there. they tore up some things but they did not do much damage. they camped from holly springs to avant's ferry on cape fear river. william cross' plantation was about half the distance. the camp was about thirty miles long. general logan,[ ] who was an old man, was in charge. "i married martha sears when i was years old. i married in raleigh. my wife died in . we had fourteen children, five are living now. "when the war closed i stayed on eight years with my marster. i then went to the n.c. state hospital for the insane. i stayed there years. that's where i learned to talk like a white man." le footnotes: [footnote : hw: maj.-gen. john a. logan, fifteenth army corps (union.)] n.c. district: worker: mary hicks no. words: subject: mr. bell's plantation reference: jacob thomas editor: george l. andrews [tr: date stamp: aug ] mr. bell's plantation an interview with jacob thomas, years of age, of south bloodworth street, raleigh, north carolina. "i wus borned in elberton county, georgia, on de plantation of marse tom bell. my mammy, isobel, uster live in north carolina, but she wus sold from her husban' an' baby an' carried ter marse tom's place in georgia. atter she got dar she wus married agin an' had me. dat is i reckin dat she wus married. i never did know my pappy. "mammy wus sold in smithfield on de slave block an' carried off, chained 'hind a wagin. she turn' roun' an' looks back at her husban' who cries an' de oberseer's lash cuts his back, 'case dey ain't 'lowed ter cry at a sale. "from de time i can fust 'member i wucked on de farm. we planted cane, cotton, corn, an' rice in de low groun's. we ain't had ter wuck so powerful hard an' we am 'lowed a heap of pleasures, but some of us boys wus mean an' we had ter be whupped, lak de time we tied tin cans on de tail of jinks, marster's fine huntin' dog. de dog near run hisself ter death an' marse tom had us whupped fer hit. "he raised fine hosses too, an' he ain't 'lowed us boys ter git clost ter dem, but one sunday when uncle amos went ter sleep in de shade of de trees roun' de pasture i gits on lady, one of de fines' young mares, an' i flies away on her. "she ain't used ter nobody ridin' her bareback so she kicks up quite a rucus but i sets on. down cross de pasture she goes an' i enjoys hit fine till she steps in a hole an' falls. "de mare am crippled but i leads her back an' tries ter git away widout anybody seein' me. ole amos has woked up dis time an' of course he tells marse tom. "dat's de wust whuppin' i'se eber had, i'se tellin' yo'. dey streaked me all ober den dey makes me lay down, chained han' an' foot all de day long. dat ain't done no good do 'case i rid dem hosses eber'time i got de chance. "i got married ter pheobe de year dat de war begun. she wus a slim little brown-skinned gal what look so puny dat yo' jist natu'ally wants ter take care of her. i ain't courted her fer long 'case de marster gives his permission 'fore i axes fer hit. we is married 'fore de magistrate in june 'fore de war begun. "near 'bout at de start of de war i wus took ter atlanta ter he'p buil' de fort an' dar i stays till de yankees comes a-rippin' an' a-tarin'. dey shoots de fort ter pieces an' den marches in an' hangs up de ole stars an' stripes. "we had four chilluns den pheobe died an' lef' me. atter dis i moves ter star, south carolina, an' i marries rebecca white who also died five years ago an' so i comed ter live wid roberta. "i doan know whether slavery am better er not. most of de niggers claims dat all of de slaves wus good, but i knows better. i done a heap of meanness. an' once atter i done so mean an' got a whuppin' i runned away. comes night an' i comes back home an' de nex' day i done somethin' er other ter git another whuppin' fer. "dar's dis much we ain't worried 'bout livin' den lak we does now, an' dar's dis much fer bein' free, i has got thirteen great-gran'chilluns an' i knows whar dey everyone am. in slavery times dey'd have been on de block long time ago. "i always thought a lot of lincoln 'cause he had a heap of faith in de nigger ter think dat he could live on nothin' at all." eh n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: margaret thornton person interviewed: margaret thornton editor: g.l. andrews [tr: date stamp: sep ] margaret thornton an interview with margaret thornton, years old, of hayti, four oaks, north carolina. "i wus borned an' raised on de plantation of jake thornton of harnett county. my mammy, lula, my pappy, frank, an' my brother an' sisters an' me all wus dere slaves. de man i finally marries, tom, am also a slave on de plantation. "i wus jist five years ole when de yankees come, jist a few of dem to our settlement. i doan know de number of de slaves, but i does 'member dat dey herded us tergether an' make us sing a heap of songs an' dance, den dey clap dere han's an' dey sez dat we is good. one black boy won't dance, he sez, so dey puts him barefooted on a hot piece of tin an' believe me he did dance. "i know dat my white folks hated de yankees like pizen but dey had ter put up wid dere sass jist de same. dey also had to put up wid de stealin' of dere property what dey had made dere slaves work an' make. de white folks didn't loose dere temper much do', an' dey avoids de yankees. now when dey went protrudin' in de house dat am a different matter entirely. "i wus brung up ter nurse an' i'se did my share of dat, too honey, let me tell you. i has nursed 'bout two thousand babies i reckins. i has nursed gran'maws an' den dere gran' chiles. i reckin dat i has closed as many eyes as de nex' one. "atter de war we stayed on, case marse wus good ter us an' 'cided dat we ain't got nowhar ter go. i stayed on till i wus thirteen or fourteen an' den me an' tom married. he had a job at a sawmill near dunn, so dar we went ter live in a new shanty. "tom never did want me ter work hard while he wus able ter work, but i nursed babies off an' on all de time he lived. when he wus in his death sickness he uster cry case i had ter take in washin'. since he's daid i nurses mostly, but sometimes i ain't able ter do nothin'. i hopes ter git my pension pretty soon an' dat'll help a heap when i'm laid up, not able ter turn my han' at nothin'." le n.c. district: no. ii worker: mrs. w.n. harriss words: edited: mrs. w.n. harriss subject: tillie, daughter of a slave interviewed: tillie, caretaker, cornwallis headquarters, corner third and market sts, wilmington. tillie, daughter of a slave caretaker, cornwallis headquarters corner third and market streets wilmington, n.c. "la, miss fannie, what you mean askin' me what i knows about slavery! why i was bawn yeah's after freedom!" with a sweeping, upward wave of a slender, shriveled brown arm to indicate the wide lapse of time between her advent and the passing of those long ago days. the frail, little body might have been any age between sixty and a hundred; but feminine vanity rose in excited protest against the implication of age suggested by the question. tillie is one of the landmarks of wilmington. she was one of the servants in the house of which she is now caretaker, at the time of the owner's death, and the heirs have kept her on allowing her to live in the old slave quarters in the back garden. she sits in the sun on the coping of the brick wall, or across the street on the low wall of the grounds around st. james church. children and their nurses gather there on the lawn, and tillie holds forth at length on any topic from religion and politics to the cutting or losing of teeth. she makes the bold statement that she can tell you something about everybody in wilmington. that is "eve'body _we_ knows." there is a general uneasiness that perhaps she can. little escapes the large, keen, brown eyes, and the ears are perpetually cocked. after several conversations in passing, memory was coaxed to the time when as a _very_ young child she remembered incidents of slave times which she had heard from her mother. "my mother belonged to the bellamys, an' lived on their plantation across the river in brunswick. it was the bigges' place anywhere hereabouts. i was raised on it too. of co'se it was in the country, but it was so big we was a town all to ourselves. "did any of the colored people leave after freedom? of co'se they did'n'. were'nt no place to go to. none of us was 'customed to anybody but rich folks, an' of co'se their money was gone. i've heard mis' bellamy tell how her child'en made enough out of potatoes to buy their clo'es right on that plantation. so we all stayed right there. my mother brought us all up right there on the plot she'd been livin' on all the time. when i come along we had plenty to eat. she had a whole pa'cel of us, and we always had plenty of collards, an' po'k an' corn bread. plenty of fish. "o, yes, stuff was sold. i can remember timber bein' cut, an' our folks got some wages to buy clo'es. we did'n have no school, but we had a church. soon as i was big enough i came to wilmin'ton to work. i never has lived with none but [tr: duplicate "but" crossed out] the bes'. my mother always said 'tillie, always tie to the bes' white folks. them that has inflooence, 'cause if you gits into trouble they can git you out'. i've stuck to that. i've never had any traffic wid any but the blue bloods, an' now look at me. i'm not able to work, but i got a home an' plenty to eat. an' i ain't on no _relief_, an' tillie can sho' hold her head up." n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: ellen trell person interviewed: ellen trell editor: g.l. andrews [tr: date stamp: sep ] ellen trell age mckee st., raleigh, north carolina. "needham price owned about fifty slaves, and mother an' i were among that number. he was a very rich man, and owned a large plantation in wake county, n.c., near the town of knightdale. "my father belonged to tom bodie way down in edgecombe county, and mother and i went by the name of bodie. my father's given name was haywood. mother's name was caroline. the fare was bad in regard to food and clothing, but the slave quarters, though small and shanty-like in appearance, were warm an' dry. the rules were strick and the privileges few. mother was whipped and scarred by the lash so bad the scars were on her when she died. i have seen them many times. "there were no books of any kind allowed the slaves and no social gatherings tolerated. slaves were allowed to go to the white folks church and at times all slaves were carried to services at the church. the preacher told them to obey their marsters and missuses, that the bible said obey. "marster lived in a large house with fourteen rooms, which the slaves called the big house. he had four house servants to do his and missus bidding. they were 'specially trained as marster did a lot of entertaining in slavery time. marster and missus had a lot of parties where they served a lot of good food and various kinds of liquors to their guests. when marster was in his cups he was mighty rough, and any of the slaves who displeased him at these times were liable to get a beating. "i have heard a lot of talk about ghosts and witches among the colored folks. i have seen a few who had spells put on them by witches. my mother had a spell put on her and she lay in bed talking to herself and sweating draps of sweat as big as the end of my finger. she would groan and say, 'go away evil spirit, go away,' but the spell would not leave her until she went to a white witch-doctor and got cured. "after the surrender father came up from edgecombe county and he and mother went and worked with mr. ruth dunn of wake county. they stayed close, never going out of the county. mother, after a year of [hw: circle around "of"] two at mr. dunn's, began to think about goin' back home. she was free and though her ole marster had treated her rough she loved the missus and said she rather stay with marster price than anyone else. father went to see mr. price. he told him to tell caroline to come on back home and that he shure better bring her back. mother said when she got back home they all had a general good time cooking, eating, and laughing. marster tole her he never wanted her to leave him again. mother said she was so full of gladness she could not reply so she just stood there and cried. marster walked off. mother took charge of the house and father jist about took possession of the farm. he looked after the stock, all the farm tools, kept plenty of wood on the wood pile all the year roun'. "father and mother carried the keys and acted like the place belonged to them. they got most of the slaves who were agreeable to come back. marster gave them work and he loafed and prospered. because he trusted the negroes so much they felt the responsibility put upon them, and they worked for his interests. "mother and father stayed there until they died. i stayed with father and mother until i married badger farrell then we stayed in a cabin on the plantation several years. most of my life was spent near knightdale, wake county, until my husband died fifteen years ago. i had eight children, four girls and four boys. they are all dead except one, a boy, whom i have lived with in raleigh since my husband died. "i think slavery was a bad thing. this story is the things my mother and father told me of slavery and my own observations since i became old enough to remember the general happenings. mother said the place which had been a place of torture in slavery days turned out to be a haven of rest after slavery, a home where peace, plenty and contentment reigned supreme." le n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: henry james trentham person interviewed: henry james trentham editor: g.l. andrews henry james trentham raleigh, n.c. rt. age years "i wus born de second day of december . dat would make me years of age. i wus born on a plantation near camden, s.c. i belonged to dr. trentham and my missus wus named elizabeth. my father wus named james trentham and mother wus named lorie. i had two brothers and one sister. we all belonged to dr. trentham. "marster's plantation wus a awful big plantation with 'bout four hundred slaves on it. it wus a short distance from the wateree river. the slave houses looked like a small town and dere wus grist mills for corn, cotton gin, shoe shops, tanning yards, and lots of looms for weavin' cloth. most of de slaves cooked at dere own houses, dat dey called shacks. dey wus give a 'lowance of rations every week. de rations wus tolerably good, jest bout like people eat now. dere wus a jail on de place for to put slaves in, an in de jail dere wus a place to put your hands in called stocks. slaves wus put dere for punishment. "i seed lots of slaves whupped by de overseers. marster had four overseers on de place an' dey drove us from sunup till sunset. some of de women plowed barefooted most all de time, an' had to carry dat row an' keep up wid de men, an' den do dere cookin' at night. "we hated to see de sun rise in slavery time cause it meant anudder hard day, but den we was glad to see it go down. "marster lived in a large two story house wid 'bout twelve rooms in it. we called it de plantation house. dere wus a church on de plantation an' both white an' black went to preachin' dere. dere wus sunday school dere too. de preacher tole us to obey our missus an' marster. he tole us we must be obedient to 'em. yes sir, dat's what he tole us. some of de slaves run away. when dey wus caught dey wus whupped and put in de stocks in de jail. some of de slaves dat run away never did come back. de overseers tole us dey got killed reason dey never come back. "de patterollers come round ever now an' den an' if you wus off de plantation an' had no pass dey tore you up wid de lash. "marster an' missus rode around in a carriage drawn by two horses and driven by a driver. dey had four women to work in de house as cooks, maids, an' de like. "no huntin' wus allowed a slave if no white man wus wid 'im, an' dey wus not allowed to carry guns. "de corn shuckin's was a great time. marster give good licker to everybody den. when anybody shucked a red ear he got a extra drink of whiskey. we had big suppers den an' a good time at corn shuckin's. atter de shuckin' at nite [hw: night] dere would be a wrastlin' match to see who was bes' on de plantation. we got a week holliday at xmas. den wus de time shoes wus give to de slaves, an' de good times generally lasted a week. at lay-by time wus another big time. dat wus 'bout de fourth of july. dey give a big dinner an' everbody et all de barbecue an' cake dey wanted. "i saw slaves sold at camden. marster carried some slaves dere an' put 'em on de auction block an' sold 'em. i wus carried but i wus not sold. i went with the old doctor. i wus his pet. dey carried slaves away from de plantation in chains. dey carried five or six at a time. if a nigger didn't suit him he sold him. "missus didn't like for him to beat 'em so much no how. de old doctor had three boys, william, sidney and henry and two girls, missie and carrie. "dey would not allow slaves no books an' i can't read an' write. i did not git any learnin. "when a slave died dere wus only a few to go to de buryin. dey didn't have time to go, dey wus so busy workin'. de slaves wus burried in plain wood boxes which wus made by slave men on de plantation. our marster looked atter us when we got sick. "i married ella davis years ago in south carolina, near camden. we had twelve chilluns, six boys and six girls. "slavery wus pretty rough and i am glad it is all over." n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: jane anne privette upperman person interviewed: jane anne privette upperman editor: g.l. andrews [tr: date stamp: aug ] jane ann privette upperman years old, of west south street. "i wusn't livin in raleigh when my mother wus freed from slavery. we wus livin' in nash county right near the border of wake county. we belonged to shirley brantly. our missus wus named penina. "i wus born a slave, but i wus only 'bout two years old at de time of de surrender. i am now. i wus born in april. i had my age in a bible, but de book got tore to pieces an' my age got lost. "we lived on marster brantly's plantation an' de slave quarters wus near de great house. mother said she wurked in de fiel's from sun to sun. dey did not eat breakfast in de mornin' fore dey went to wurk. it wus cooked an' put on a shelf an' dey had breakfas' at about eleven o'clock in de day. mother said sometimes de flies got to de meat an' blowed it fore dey could come in to eat it. mother said de food wus bad an' not fixed right. "dere wus a lot of de slaves divided among marsters chillun. i can't remember how many. "marster wus a soldier an' when he come an' tole mother she wus free, missus penina tole her, 'no, you aint free, you'se got to stay here an' wurk right on.' marster tole her if she had been through wid what he been through wid she could give mother up as free as takin' a drink of water. "when de war ended father come an' got ma an' took her on to his marsters plantation. my father wus named carroll privette an' my mother wus cherry brantly, but after she wus free she begun to call herself by my fathers name, privette. father belonged to jimmie privette across tar river from whar ma lived. he lived near a little place named cascade. we lived there at father's marster's place till most of de chillun wus 'bout grown, den father bought a place in franklin county from mr. jack griffin. he stayed there long enough to pay for de place; den he sold it an' we moved to clayton. "at this time all de older chillun wus married, an' dats what dissatisfied my father. he had nobody to help him wurk. arch, frank, an' dennis wus married. mary wus married. two girls an' one boy wus lef' single. dere wus seben of de chillun. we moved from clayton to raleigh. i wus married in raleigh. i married william upperman. "mother an' faather died in raleigh. mother died right here in dis house. my mother an' father couldn't do no writin', but father could read a little. he could read hymns an' de bible. "i aint remember nothin' 'bout slavery 'ceptin' what i've heard 'em say. some said dey had a good time an' liked slavery. dat wus when dey had good marsters. den some says dey had a hard time an' didn't like it. dat wus when dey had bad marsters. slavery wus good an' bad accordin' to de kind of marster you had. "my husban' died september , . i am unable to wurk. i've had a stroke on one side. i'se jest hangin' 'round home. "my daughter wurks for de wpa an' supports me but now she has been laid off. my chillun, some of 'em live in harlem, new york, but dey has to have so much to live on dey can't help me. dey sends me a christmas present most of de time, an' dey remembers me on mother's day sometime. "i aint signed up wid any of de places to get money yet. don't see what i is goin' to do. i aint got 'nough money to pay bus fare to de registerin' place other side of town." le n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave stories person interviewed: ophelia whitley editor: daisy bailey waitt ex-slave stories an interview by mary a. hicks with ophelia whitley of zebulon, (wake co.) n.c. may , . "i wuz borned at wakefield in , here in wake county. my mammy wuz named eliza an' my pappy wuz named thomas. dar wuz eleben uv us chilluns, frances, sally ann, jane, pattie, louisa, alice, firginia, sam, haywood, boobie and me. we belonged to mr. agustus foster an' he wuz right good to us even do' he had a hundred or so other slaves. "i 'members one whuppin' i got when i wuz little 'bout a big matter dat looked little at de time. mens would come by in kivered wagons, (we called dem speckled wagons) an' steal marse gus' nigger chilluns. he had lost a heap of money dat way, so he forbids us of goin' out ter de road an' he orders us ter stay 'way back in de rear uv de house. one day we sees a drove uv dese wagons comin' an' we flies down ter de road. de marster ketches us an' i flies, but he hobbles ter our cabin on his crutches an' he pinches me, pokes me wid de crutch an' slaps my face. "his son billy wuz de overseer an' he wuz good ter git along wid, but he shore made dem darkies wuck. de wimmen plowed an' grubbed, an' i'se known dem ter leave de field, go ter de house an' find a baby an' be back at wuck de next day. dat ain't happen often do', mostly dey done light wuck fer a week or so. de babies wuz carried to ant hannah's house an' she raised 'em all so's dat de other wimmen could wuck. de mammies ain't even 'member which wuz dere chilluns half de time, so dar wuz no mo'nin' when somebody got sold. "i 'members a slave sale an' hyarin' de marster tell cindy an' bruce ter act up fer de benefit of de buyers. cindy said dat she could do ever'thing, so she brung a good price, but bruce, atter sayin' dat he could do it all, wuz tole ter hitch up a hoss in a hurry. he got de hoss an' turned his head ter de spatter board an' tried to hook de hoss up hind part befo'. de marster can't find no buyer, so he whups bruce awful atter he gits him home, but dat black boy says, 'marse, yo' can kill me, but i'd ruther stay on hyar.' i'se seed niggers in chains, but dey wuz travelin', or wuz mighty bad niggers. "we had log cabins to live in an' dey wuz comfortable but we ain't had much jubilees, de marster not believin' in such things. we warn't teached nothin', not even religion an' we got whupped if we wuz ketched wid a piece uv paper or a slate. de white folks warn't teached nothin' den, an' you know dey won't gwine ter take no trouble wid de niggers. de niggers had a doctor do' when dey got sick same as de white folks, an' dey got a lot of spring tonic an' such, made out of barks an' roots. "when de slaves got married dey done it dis way: de marster hilt a broom an' dey solemnly steps over it twict den dey kissed an' dey wuz married, 'course dar wuz something dat de marster said, but i done forgot whut it wuz. "when we hyard dat de yankees wuz comin' some of de niggers went fer de woods an' stayed till atter de surrender, but most uv us stayed on an' wucked jist de same. "my marstar made his own brandy an' whiskey an' when de yankees come he wuz a rich man. his smoke house wuz ful o' hams an' he hid 'em in de ceilin' of my mammy's shack, an' he buried dem barrels of brandy, but de yankees done found it all an' dey ain't left nothin'. "i 'members how some of dem yankee officers cussed in front of my mussus an' how i tole' em dat dey mought be yankees but dey won't half raised at dat. "atter de surrender my marster had ter make de slaves leave, but he moved my papy's cabin furder an' we jist stayed on same as always till he died. i 'members moughty well when my mammy an' papy got married case i seed it two years atter de surrender. "dar wuz two witches lived in our neighborhood. dey wuz sisters named miss quinnie an' miss tilda an' i'se seed dem brewin' coffee a many a time an' pourin' it out in a long neck goard. dey done a powerful lot of things which i can't recollect right dis minute, anyhow dey wuz witches. "i uster see ghosts on dis very road nigh 'bout ever' night. dey wuz white an' spongy lookin' an' dey set under de bushes an' holler an' holler an' holler. i'se poured water on 'em many a time but it ain't done no good. "do you know chile, slavery wuz a good thing, but folks has improved a lot since den, an' de yankees warn't half as good ter us as our ole marster an missus wuz, even if'n dey did put a stop ter de ku klux klan beatin' sorry niggers dat had ort ter be hung." mh/le n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: ex-slave story story teller: tom wilcox editor: daisy bailey waitt [tr: date stamp: jun ] [hw: has two songs beaten because worked on sun.] ex-slave story [hw: years] an interview on may , , with tom wilcox of method. "i wuz borned on march th, durin' de biggest snow dat eber hit eastern carolina; dey says dat hit wuz up ter de roof. de place whar i wuz borned wuz in warren county; jist acrost de halifax county line. my mammy's marster wuz mr. b. osco harris an' his wife wuz named martha. "my mammy's name wuz alice an' my pappie's name wuz camelin. i had three brothers, little berry, cornelius james, an' c.j. dar wuz four gals, anne, pattie, pennie, an' mary frances. "de white folks wuz good ter us an' we loved 'em, but we wanted ter be free, case de lawd done make us all free. "my missus wuz a religious woman an' i can't tell yo' de number uv times she has beat me case i done some kind uv wuck on a sunday. we went ter church ever sunday an' we wusn't 'lowed ter cuss an' sich things. "i wuz nine when de war commence. durin' de war an' i wuz workin' in de fiel', long wid de fifty or sixty other slaves. dar wuzn't nary a yankee track made in our section, an' we ain't knowed much 'bout de war. "as i done tell yo' onct we wuz fed an' clothed good an' we lived fer each other, but my pappy belonged ter one man an' my mammy ter another one an' so we wanted ter be all together. atter de war we stayed on till ' , den we come ter raleigh. most uv de wimmens an' chilluns wuz sent by de train, but me an' pappy an' berry, we walked all de way by louisburg, an' driv' pappy's thirteen heads of cattle. "in we buyed ten acres uv lan' at method fer three dollars a' acre an' moved out hyar. "no mam, we ain't liked jeff davis, but we did like mr. lincoln. i 'members a verse uv a song dat we sung durin' de first uv de war. it goes dis way. "'jeff davis is a rich man, lincoln is a fool, davis rides a big fat horse, lincoln rides a mule. knick knack dey say walk ole georgia row.' "dar wuz another song i 'members but i can't think uv no games, case we ain't neber played none. yo' has hyard dat atter a dog gits so full uv fleas he can't tote no mo'. well, dat's de way i is. i peddles my peanuts, but i barely makes a livin'. "hyar's de song do' de best i 'members it an' it wuz sung atter de war. "'ole confederate has done played out, shrew ball, shrew ball, ole confederate has done played out shrew ball say i, an' ole gen'l. lee can't fight no mo'; we'll all drink stone blind johnnies go marchin' home. "'i bought me a chicken fur fifty cents, shrew ball, shrew ball, i bought me a chicken fur fifty cents shrew ball say i, i bought me a chicken fur fifty cents an' de son uv a bitch done jump de fence, we'll all drink stone blind johnnies go marchin' home. "'eighteen hundret an' sixty one shrew ball, shrew ball, eighteen hundret an' sixty one shrew ball say i, eighteen hundret an' sixty one an' dat's de year de war begun we'll all drink stone blind johnnies go marchin' home. "'eighteen hundret an' sixty-five shrew ball, shrew ball, eighteen hundret an' sixty-five shrew ball say i, eighteen hundret an' sixty-five de yankees et ole lee alive; we'll all drink stone blind johnnies go marchin' home.'" n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: catharine williams person interviewed: catherine williams editor: daisy bailey waitt catharine williams barker street "my name is catharine williams. i was born december twenty fifth, . i remember my mother, but i do not know anything about my father. my mother's name was adeline williams. mother baked ash cakes, but my children would not eat 'em. she died fifty years ago. i had four children when she died, but i had three boys and two girls. i was born in virginia but i cannot tell what part. i was four years old when my mother brought me to north carolina. our old master, dabney cosby,[ ] moved from virginia to north carolina then. we came straight into raleigh, north carolina and have been living in raleigh ever since. "we were williams when owned by cosby and we were never sold again, but remained in the same family till we were set free after the surrender. we had good food, fair clothing and comfortable sleeping places. i know what a pallet is. all slep' on 'em a lot in slavery days, especially when it was hot weather. i makes 'em now sometimes. "my missus wus named fannie. i do not know how many slaves they owned, but marster did not have a plantation, he lived in town. he was a brick mason, and he made brick. he had two brick kilns. "our missus and marster were kind to us but they did not teach us to read and write. i learned to read and write since the surrender. i went to church and sunday school. there were no negro preachers, but we attended the white folks's church. we did not have any prayer meetings because our homes were in the white folks's yard. "i was never whupped, and mother and myself were well treated, so i have no complaint to make against our white folks. "the first work i done was nursing the children in the home, next i waited on the table, then general house [hw: work]. "at the last days of the war wheeler's calvary camped around my house at night. they tole us the yankees would be in raleigh the next morning and shore 'nough they came in next morning. if the citizens had not gone out and surrendered raleigh to the yankees they would have torn raleigh to pieces. we were living on the corner of hargett and dawson streets. the yankees done us no harm. they done all right in raleigh. they did not take nothing around home. they put out guards around the homes by the time they got in. we were not afraid of 'em, none of us children, neither white nor colored; they played such purty music and was dressed so fine. we run after the band to hear 'em play. "i heard talk of the patterollers, but never saw any. i knew very little about the jail in raleigh for slaves. i never saw any slaves sold or any in chains. i never knew of any slaves running away to the north. we children both white and colored enjoyed the christmas holidays together. we played running and jumping and hide and seek. "we had doctors when we got sick. dr. johnson was one of them. after the war we stayed on with marster and missus until they died. i have been on oberlin road about twenty-five years. "no sir, what you talkin' 'bout? no, there were no negro schools in raleigh at the time of the surrender, but i have had a good time all my life as far as bein' treated right is concerned. "i have never married. i will have to find that man yet, and at this age i don't expect to find him. ha! ha! never found that man yet. i am staying with my niece. "i know nothing about abraham lincoln. he helped us to be free. i knew nothing about jefferson davis, booker t. washington or roosevelt. i know very little about jim young, only he was a polititian." le footnotes: [footnote : dabney cosby, a practical architect and contractor, came to raleigh from halifax county, virginia, and did a good deal of building in the city between and . the original yarborough house ( ) was built by him. the heart house, corner hargett and dawson streets, cosby's home, and another stucco house, corner hargett and harrington streets are still standing in the locality mentioned in the story.] n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: rev. handy williams person interviewed: rev. handy williams editor: daisy bailey waitt rev. handy williams dunn, north carolina. "my name is handy h. williams. when de war went up i wus twelve years old, th of march. i belonged to blaney williams, and his wife wus named polly. my mother wus named margaret williams, and my father wus named sam williams. i do not remember my grandmother and grandfather; can't remember 'em. "my father lived in greene county. de plantation wus in greene county. dere were about acres in de farm and dere wus about slaves on it. "we lived in greene county till the war went up. we had plenty to eat, good clothes and a nice place to sleep. marster wus not good to us, but he gave us plenty to eat and wear. he worked us from light till dark and then my mother had to do house work after workin' in de fields all day, an' father had to do de feedin' or pick cotton at night. "we had no holidays. prayer meetings were not allowed in de quarters and a slave darsent to be caught wid a book in his han'. "de patterollers come by often an' dey caught and whupped de slaves many times. marster whupped slaves for mos' anything. sometimes he would get mad, an' whup us when he hardly had an excuse. yes sir, he would get drunk and whup somebody jest 'cause he was mad. some of de slaves run away. my uncle needham williams run away. when he come back he wus whupped an' then put up and sold. aunt chaney, my mother's sister, wus put up and sold. she wus sold away from her children. when de war went up, she come back home. my aunt beadie wus sold on de block in fayetteville. i remember her well, but we have never heard from her since. she never come back after the surrender. god only knows what become o' her. "when de war went up we went to harnett county to mr. jim surles' place, about three miles from whur this town now stands. dunn wus not here then. "we stayed there five years, and then moved to mingo in what is now sampson county on the louis martin tew place, and my father bought a place. the deed called for acres more or less. dat's what de deed called for. we paid for de place, but my father mortgaged de place. he didn't lose it, cause it wus fixed so dat no one could sell or mortgage it while any of de heirs wus livin'. all are dead 'cept pink williams and myself, and de lan' fell back to us. mammy and daddy are both dead long time ago, 'bout twenty-five years. "dey had overseers on marster's farm in greene county and dey were mean to de slaves. i wus not big enough to work much, but dey had me feedin' stock and helpin' around de house. "we children didn't play any games we wus afraid to play around de white folks. marster wus a rip snorter and he would get you if you got in his way. he lived in de great house not far distant from de quarters, but we did not go dere unless we had to go dere to work. "yes sir, you know how children is when dey hear wagins coomin', and a big crowd marchin' together. yes sir, i remember de yankees. dey rode dere horses against de fences and tore em down. dey comed in de yard and turned over de bee gums. dey shot de chickens. dey would say 'dere he goes, shoot him, shoot him', and den de guns would go 'bam, bam, bam, an' de chickens would fall dead'. dey shot de dogs in de yard. course, to heben, i am tellin' de truth. dey took de meat and destroyed mos' everything at marster's. after dey lef', if you could get a few beans or peas dey wus mighty good. people et tater peelings an' some come near starvin'. "i wus mighty lucky an' what i got i got it from de southern white folks; dey been mighty good to me since de war. i have worked for de town 'bout years and i work for it now. i ain't able to do much now, but i have a section of de courthouse. i keeps it might clean. "i know nothin' much bout de great men you ax me 'bout; don't remember much about 'em. i think slavery wus a bad thing, yes sir, i shore does." le n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: john thomas williams person interviewed: john thomas williams editor: g.l. andrews [tr: date stamp: sep ] john thomas williams years old. pettigrew street, raleigh, north carolina. "i don't know who i am nor what my true name is. i wus born december , on a plantation in new hanover county. the plantation belonged to john williams, whose wife wus named isabella and the farm wus on land which is now in the corporate limits of wilmington, n.c. "the reason i don't know who i am is that i don't remember my father and mother or any of my people. when i got so i could remember anything i wus with the williams family. marster an' missus, an' their family are the only ones i ever looked upon as my people. they never told me who i wus. "after the war i stayed with them a long time and helped them on the farm. they run a truck farm. i got along all right while i wus with the williams family, but when i got grown i left them. i loved them but i realized i wus a nigger and knew that i could never be like them, and that i wus one to myself. "when i left i went to little washington, n.c. then to plymouth. i stayed at these places several years working as a hand on truck farms. from there i went to charlotte, greensboro, and norfolk. i then went north an' stayed eight years in new york city as a waitman for a white man and his family. i then went to plymouth, n.c. "i married maggie swain, a former sweetheart, as soon as i got back to plymouth. we had two children. she lived six years. i then married mary davenport of little washington. we had seven children. she died and i come to raleigh and married maggie towel. we had no children by our marriage. "i own no home and have never owned one. excepting the eight years i spent in new york city my life has been spent in farming. i farm some now and do little jobs for the white folks. "i don't know much about slavery, as i wus too young to know much about it. there wus other slaves belonging to marster williams but i don't remember any of them because when i got so i could know what it wus all about they were free and gone from the plantation. "i have asked thousands of questions trying to find out who my people are but no one has ever told me who i am or who my people are. if i have any brothers and sisters, i don't know it. "i have nothing to say about being partly white, i leave that to your imagination. i have thought about it a lot. i don't know. "i have been blessed with good health, i am breaking now but i am still able to do light jobs. "i am a good fiddler. the white folks have taught me to do lots of different things. i have had very few advantages and i cannot read and write. "i have never been in jail in my life. i can give good references from dozens of white folks. i try to live right, be honest and above all give my fellow man a square deal." le interview with lizzie williams, ex-slave, max street, asheville, n.c. by marjorie jones, aug. , . "i's bo'n in selma, alabam', i can't mind how long ago, but jes 'bout ninety yeahs. i come to dis country 'bout . yes, i's purty porely des days an' i's gettin' homesick for my ol' home. "i's bo'n and lib on ol' man billy johnson's plantation--thousan's acres of groun' and plenty of niggahs. my pappy he allus b'long to ol' man billy. he not sich a bad man but de lawd knows i's seed bettah ones. when i's right sma't size missy mixon, she was marse billy's wife sistah, she get marse billy to let her hab me. she war a good woman. she took me to town to lib and make a little white girl outten me. y'all knows what i means; i got treated moh like de white folks den de res' of de' niggahs. "but 'twarn't long afore missy send me to new 'leans to nurse de sick chile of her sistah. i never war satisfi' down dar. evverbody so differen'. but de nex' year we go back to alabam'. "i went to marse ellis mixon's, he tubble mean to his niggahs. but i belong to de missus, she allus treat me good. all de little niggahs have to learn to work when dey little; get out'n pull weeds; dey neber had no time to play. most dem niggahs was scared to death, jes like de ones on billy johnson's plantation. dey know dey get whupped jes like a mule iffen dey act like dey don' wanna wurk. dey neber get much to eat, jes side meat, co'n bread and 'lasses. ol' billy he had overseers whut was mean to de pore niggahs. sometime dey ties dem up an' dey strip dem and dey whups dem wif cow hide, else dey lets other niggahs do it. "all de niggahs have to go to church, jes lik' de white fokes. dey have a part of de church for demselfs. after de wah we hab a church of our own. all de niggahs love to go to church an' sing. i mind a lot of de songs we used ter sing in de fiel's. i mind my pappy used ter sing in de fiel'. 'git on bo'd, little chillun, git on bo'd.' sometimes day babtiz in de ribber. den dey sing: "'i wanna be ready i wanna be ready i wanna be ready good lawd to walk in jarusalem jes like john. john say de city was jes four square, to walk in jarusalem jes like john. but i'll meet my mothah and fathah dar, to walk in jarusalem, jes like john.' "i 'members 'bout de paddyrollers. de niggahs hab' to get a pass from de massa or de missus if dey go ennywhar. de paddyrollers jes lik' police. 'bout dozen of dem ride 'long togedder. fus thing dey say: 'whar yo' pass?' den iffen yo' hab one dey lets you go but iffen you don' hab one dey strips yo' to de waist and dey lams yo' good till de blood comes. sometime dey rolls you over a barrel and lams you while de barrel rolls. "i mind a tale my pappy tell 'bout one time he see de paddyrollers comin'. he scared to death cas he did'n hab no pass. he kno' iffen dey finds him whut dey do. so pappy he gets down in de ditch an' throw sand an' grunts jes like a hawg. sho' nuf dey thinks he a hawg and dey pass on, cept one who was behin' de others. he say: 'dat am de gruntin'es ol' hawg i ebber hear. i think i go see him.' but de udders day say: 'jes let dat ol' hawg lone an' min' yo own business.' so day pass on. pappy he laff 'bout dat for long time. "i mind ol' mose, he hab monthly pass from de massa but he forgit it one day and de paddyrollers whup him and throw him in de callaboose. in de mawnin' when de massa wake and fin no fresh water and no fire in de stove and de cows not milk, he say: 'i know mose in de callaboose,' and he hab to go atter mose. "lots of de pore niggahs run away, but 'twarn't no use. der wa'nt no place to go. day was allus lookin' for you and den you had to work harder den ebber, 'sides all kin's of punishment you got. den dey nearly sta've you to def, jes feed you on bread and water for long time. "de niggahs nebber kno' nothin' 'bout learnin', jes wuk' all dey's fit for. de only thing i ebber do wif a book is jes to dust it off. i mind two little niggahs whose missy teach dem to read. emily, she look lik' a white gal. she was treated jes like she white. her daddy was a white man. emily was a sma't gal. she belong to one of de johnson mens. she do all de sewin' for her missy. when de missy go to buy clothes for de chillun she allus take emily along. her pappy pay no more 'tention to her den to de res' of de niggahs. but de missy she was good to her. she never stay in de quarters, she stay in de house with de white fokes. but emily have de saddes' look on her yaller face cas' de other niggahs whisper 'bout her pappy. "many de pore niggah women hab chillun for de massa, dat is iffen de massa a mean man. dey jes tell de niggahs whut to do and dey know better den to fuss. "ol' missus she good to me. i mind one time i got tubble mad an' say some ugly words. marse ellis he come up ahin' me and he say: ''lizabeth i gwina wallup yo' good for dat.' i 'mense cryin' and run to de missus and she say: 'look heah ellis mixon, y'all mind yo' own business an' look atter yo' own niggahs. dis one b'longs to me.' jes same when de missus went upstairs marse ellis take me in de smoke house and sta't to hit me. i yell for de missus an' when she come she plenty mad. marse say he nebber ment to whup me, jes scare me little. "i mind 'bout de wah. we niggahs neber know whut it 'bout. we jes go on an' work. nebber see nothin', nebber hear nothin', nebber say nothin', but de wah all 'roun'. evah day we heah dat de yankee sojers comin'. de plantations was gittin' robbed. evabody kep' a hidin' things. it was a tubble time. i mind plain when dey comes to selma. all de fokes was at church when de yankees come. day warn't no fightin' much, dey didn' hab time. dey jes march in an' take de town. but o, lawdy, dat night dey burn de stores an' houses an' take all de things dey want. cannons and guns all 'round, it war tubble sight. "marse ellis' plantation 'bout mile from selma on pea ridge. i mind one night marse come home from town and he say: 'lizabeth.' i say, 'yes, suh.' he say: 'bring me some fresh watah from de spring.' i run as fas' as i kin an' bring de watah an' gib it to him, den he say: 'lizabeth, de yankees am comin' soon, an' i knows yo'se gwin to tell 'em where i hide all my 'longings, guns an' ebberthing.' "'no' i says, 'jes why would i tell whar yo' hide yo' guns an' things?' missy come in den and she say: 'go on an' let lizzie 'lone, bettah be feared dem niggahs you done so mean to gwine tell, dats all you got to be feared of. but you, let lizzie 'lone, she b'long to me.' "marse ellis he go out an' hide some mo' stuff. dat night de sojers burn selma. dat war on sunday. next night we wake up in de middle of de night an' de house what we keep de bes' carriage an' horse was a'burnin'. de pore ho'se done break outten de barn an' was a runnin' roun' all over de place a'screamin' wif her poor back bu'nt tubble. we nebber find out iffen de yankees set de barn fire or not. guess dey did. dey done set marse hyde's house afire an' burn it to de groun' with marse hyde in it. marse hyde he had plantation in new 'leans and when de yankees take de town marse hyde he promise not to leave but when de sojers [hw: know] he 'scape and come to his house on pea ridge, so when de yankees fin' him here dey burn him in de house wif all his 'longings. "on de tuesday mawnin' after dey burn selma i wake up to see marse ellis' plantation all surroun' wif yankee sojers. i war nigh scared to death. i so 'fraid dey hurt me an' missy but dey didden, dey jes march through de house an' when dey see marse ellis dey ask him for he guns an' things dey want. marse ellis show dem whar de things war. 'twarn't no use to do anything else. i take marse frank's 'backer an' hide it in de missus' trunk. den when de sojers git what dey want dey laugh and ma'ch 'way on de hill. "after de surren'er all de niggahs jes lost. nowhar to go, nothin' to do, 'less dey stay wif de massa. nobuddy hab anything but 'federate money and it no good. my pappy had 'bout three hunner dolla's but 'twarn't no good 'tall. "all some of de white fokes think of war killin' de pore niggahs what worked for dem for yeahs. dey jes scour de country and shoot dem, 'specially de young men. one day dey come down de road to'ards my pappy. dey start askin' questions 'bout what he gwine to do now he free. 'what i gwin to do?' says pappy. 'what can i do? i jes stay on de plantation an' help ol' massa iffen i can get an ol' mule an' a piece of an ol' plow.' "one of de boys look at pappy an' say: 'i like take yo' head for a target,' but de ol' man wif dem say no so dey leave my pappy 'lone. dey hab de commissary whar de fokes git food; it b'long to de yankee sojers. food scarce lik' ebberthing. folks say now dey hab hard times; dey don' know nothin' 'bout hard times less day lib in war time and be slave to white fokes. "den dey was de ku klux klan. dey war frightful lookin' critters. my pappy say dey go out in de country an' tie pore niggahs to de tree and beat 'em to death. dey dress all kin's of fashions. most of dem look like ghosts. dey nebber go lik' de paddyrollers, dey jes sneak 'round at night when de poor niggahs in bed. den 'bout twelve 'clock dey tie up all de niggahs dey ketch and atter dey through beatin' dem dey leaves dem wif dey han's tied in de air and de blood astreamin' outten dey backs. "atter freedeom i come heah to live wif my fokes de williams's, dats how i come to be williams. nebber had no chillun of my own. dey calls me 'lizbeth johnson 'fore i went to live with de mixons, den i be one of de mixon niggahs, den later i be a williams; don' guess names matter much no way." n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: penny williams story teller: penny williams editor: daisy bailey waitt penny williams ex-slave story an interview with penny williams , of s. east street, raleigh, n.c. "i wus borned at de hinton place 'bout three miles south of raleigh, an' course we 'longed ter mr. lawrence hinton. "my mammy wus named harriet moore an' my pappy wus named mack moore, dat wus cause dey 'longed fust ter a mr. moore i 'specks. i had ten bruders an' sisters, an' we all done putty good. "de marster owned 'round two hundert slaves an' 'bout four hundert acres o' lan' an' dey had ter wuck peart, dey sez. "we had 'nough ter eat, sich as it wus, but dat ain't braggin', i reckins. an' we wus punished putty bad iffen we complains, sasses or 'fuses ter wuck lak we should. nat whitaker wus de oberseer an' patteroller an' he wus strick, i'se tellin' you. i'se seed him beat slaves till de blood run. "dar wus some nigger mens what 'ud go coutin' spite of de debil, an' as de marster ain't gibin' dem no passes dey goes widout 'em. mr. whitaker, he whups, an' whups, but dat ain't stop 'em. at las' marster lawrence 'cides ter hang cowbells on dere necks so's he can hyar dem if'en dey leabes de place atter night. "i'se tellin' you chile, dem niggers am gwin' anyway. dey ain't got sense nuff ter put dere han's in de bell ter keep de clapper from ringin', but dey does stuff de bell wid leaves an' it doan ring none, 'sides dat dey tears deir shirts, or steals sheets from missus clothes line an' fold dem ter make a scarf. dey ties dese 'roun' deir necks ter hide de bell an' goes on a-courtin'. "dey ain't got no pins ter pin de scarf on, but dey uses thornes from de locust tree or de crabapple; an' dey hol's fine. "dey warn't no spoons, knives, an' forks dem days, but de smart slave cut him some outen hickory an' dey wus jist as good as de other kin'. "dey also ain't go no matches dem days so flint rocks wus rubbed tergether. "i 'members mostly 'bout de rear en' o' de war, 'specially 'bout de yankees comin'. i 'members dat marster an' his fambly done moved ter town, case dey can't git no 'tection dar. dar wusn't a soul on de place but de slaves dar when de yankees comed a-takin' an' a-killin'. "i 'members dat i wus drawin' water at de well, when de yankees comed. i looks up de road an' dar am a gang o' 'em comin'. i draps de bucket back in de well an' i flies in de big house. "well sir, dey kills de chickens, hogs, geese, an' eber' thing as dey comes, eben ter marster's collie, an' when dey gits ter de big house dey swears dat dey'll burn hit down. dey stan's dar fur a minute, an' den one o' 'em sez dat hit am too putty ter burn, another one sez dat hit am too putty ter belong ter a damm reb, but dey doan burn it. i hyars hit all from de winder in de big house, an' i shore is glad dat dey ain't burn hit. "dey tears up all dey wants to, den dey robs de smokehouse; an' dey goes on 'bout dere business. "atter de surrender our white folkses comes back an' we stays on five or six years i reckon, den we moves ter mis' emma greens' place five miles furder in de country. we shore ain't got 'long good atter de war. de yankees what 'ud die ter free us ain't carin' iffen we starves nother." suddenly aunt penny was attracted by a hummingbird flitting around the pomegranate bush near the doorstep. "does you know which am de bes' way ter ketch a hummin' bird chile?" after a negative answer she smiled. "when you sees him 'roun' de flowers den you soaks two er three in whiskey, dey bird will suck till he gits drunk an' can't fly 'way, dat's how you ketch him. "i hates de town sparrers an' de cowbirds what ain't got nuff sense ter leave de floods. you read 'bout hit in de papers i reckon. you knows dey am bout de size of a peckerwood. "yesum, one witch tried ter ride me onct. i wus in de bed, an' she thought dat i wus 'sleep. i feels her when she crawls up on my lef' leg an' stops de circulation. i knows how ter fix her do' so i gits up an' puts a knife under my pillow. "i has slep' wid dat knife dar ever' since dat time an' i ain't had no mo' trouble wid witches ner circulation nother. so i reckons dat i fixed her good an' plenty." n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: aunt plaz source: plaz williams editor: geo. l. andrews aunt plaz an interview with plaz williams of four oaks who says that she is around years of age. "margaret thornton sez dat she has got de world record beat on nussin' but dat's whar she's wrong. she ain't a day over seventy, yit she sez dat she has nussed more dan i has an' me ninety. right now i'se a nussin' of a 'oman what has jist got back from de hospital. yes, mam, a heap of people sez dat dey'd rather have me dan de doctor. "i wus borned in mississippi, so dey tells me, den i wus sold ter mr. moses mordecai of raleigh, atter dat i 'longed ter a mr. henry lane who lived in wake county. dar wus two er three of dem lane's named henry, course dis one wus de youngest. "i worked in de fiel's like a man an' i liked it too. marse moses had oberseers what beat you fer nothin' but marse henry ain't dat sort of a person at all. marse moses an' marse henry both drunk whiskey an' such but dey wus different when dey wus drunk. marse moses 'ud beat you an' cuss you, but marse henry 'ud laugh at you an' play wid you. "i know one time marse moses comed ter see marse henry an' atter dey had drunk awhile marse henry seed me in de yard. hit bein' on sunday he calls me ter come to his library. when i gits in he axes me iffen i'se ever been drunk an' i tells him no. den he pours me a glassful an' sez for me ter drink it. i begs at fust, den i sez dat i won't drink de brandy. marse henry laugh an' would have let me go but dat debil, marse moses, sez, 'le's hol' her an' pour it down her guzzle, henry.' dat's what dey done an' dey pours down seberal drinks. terreckly marse henry axes me ter fetch him some water but when i starts my laigs am too weak to go so i sets down on de floor. marse henry laugh an' laugh but marse moses sez, 'whup de shameless hussy what ain't got no mo' raisin' dan ter git dog drunk.' he would have whupped me too but marse henry won't let him do it. 'stid of beatin' me he sez ter git in de corner an' sleep it off. "i doan know nothin' 'bout de yankees comin' case we wus sent 'way back in de country ter stay. marse henry comes out dar an' tells us dat we is free. marse henry has told jack williams dat he can't have me 'fore dis, so i axes, 'can i marry jack now, marse henry.' he sez yes, so 'fore night i is at jack's cabin. i thought dat dar ain't got ter be no preacher, but a week er two atter dis a preacher comes by an' marries us. "we moved here case hit am better farmin' land. we worked hard ter make anything do', an' fer awhile i thought dat we'd starve ter death. "dar ain't so much ter tell about atter de war. our chilluns died fast as we had 'em. we worked hard an' 'bout twenty years ago jack died. i'se been on de charity some but i hope dat when i gits my pension i won't have ter trouble dem no more." n.c. district: no. worker: mary a. hicks no. words: subject: melissa williamson story teller: melissa williamson editor: daisy bailey waitt melissa williamson ex-slave story an interview with melissa williamson of bledsoe avenue, raleigh, n.c. "dis june fifteenth sebenty-eight years ago i wuz borned in franklin county near louisburg. "my mammy an' me belonged ter mr. billy mitchell [hw: mitchell (?)] 'fore she died, which wuz one of de fust things dat i 'members, an' den mis' mitchel tuck me in her house an' raise me. dat wuz de fust year of de war, i believes. "de mitchels [hw: mitchells (?)] wuz good ter us in a way, an' dey doan spare de rod when it am needed, nor does dey think dat a picaninny can't go barefooted in de hot summertime. dey believes in a heap of wuck do' an' no play at all, an' very little rations. "de men slaves 'ud wuck in de fiel's an' at dinnertime dey ain't had nothin' 'cept a quart of buttermilk, an' a ash cake. i got a whole heap better dan dey did, but youngin'-like i begged dem fer some of dere dinner. "i neber thought dat mis' mitchel wuz hard till i seed her whup aunt pidea. aunt pidea wuz a good soul an' she wuz good ter we youngins, an' we loved her. she got ter gittin' frantic do', an' she'd put on her dinner on de stove, den she'd go ter de woods an' run an' romp lak a chile. "mis mitchel had loved her too, but atter awhile she got mad an' she wuz mad bad too. she tuck aunt pidea out ter a tree, stripped off her waist, tied her ter de tree an' whup her wid a cowhide till de blood runs down her back. "we wuz told dat de yankees would kill us an' we wuz skeered of dem too, an' i wuz always runnin' fer fear de yankees would git me. when dey did come i wuz out at de well, drawin' water wid de windlass an' i wuz so short dat i had ter jump up ter grap de handle. i looked up de road an' de yankees wuz comin' up de road as thick as fleas on a dog's back. i gives a yell, turns de windlass a loose, an' flies roun' de house ter my missus. hit's a wonder dat windlass ain't turn ober an break my haid in. "i had hyard 'bout my sister what wuz sold 'fore i wuz borned, an' i ain't knowin' whar she is, but atter de war had been ober fer two years she comed ter mis' mitchel's an' got me. she carried me ter louisburg an' sont me ter de yankee school dar. i 'member a song dat de yankees teached us, or at least a part o' one. "'how often we think o' childhood joys and tricks we used to play upon each other while at school to while the time away.'" chorus "'they often wished me with them but they always wished in vain i'd rather be with rosenell a-swinging in the lane.'" "i won't talk ter my chilluns 'bout slavery days, case i doan want 'em ter git stirred up 'bout it. i'se told 'em dat we ain't paid no mo' dan de white folkses fer our freedom, case some of dem sold dereselbes ter git hyar an' dey fought in wars dat de nigger doan know nothin' 'bout. "i know dat mis' mitchel done wrong when she ain't give us enough ter eat, an' when she whup aunt pidea 'bout bein' crazy, but i 'members somethin' else dat make me tender towards her an' other white folkses. "i 'members dat mis' mitchel used ter take me visitin' ter white folkses houses an' some o' dem hates niggers an' won't give me no place ter sleep, 'cept on de floor by missus bed. sometimes i can feel her now, kiverin' me up wid her own clothes durin' de night or feelin' me to see if i'm chilly or too hot." ac n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: alex woods story teller: alex woods editor: daisy bailey waitt alex woods ex-slave story ford alley--end of martin street, raleigh, n.c. "my name is alex woods. i wus born may , . in slavery time, i belonged to jim woods o' orange county. de plantation wus between durham and hillsboro near de edge o' granville county. my missus name wus polly woods. dey treated us tolerable fair, tolerable fair to a fellow. our food wus well cooked. we were fed from de kitchen o' the great house. "we called marster's house de 'great house' in dem times. we called de porch de piazza. we were fed from de kitchen o' his house during de week. we cooked and et at our homes saturday nights and sundays. we wove our clothes; children had only one piece, a long shirt. we went barefooted, an' in our shirt tails; we youngins' did. "we did not have any shoes winter nor summer, but mother and father had shoes with wooden bottoms an' leather tops. dr. tupper, de man who was principal of de shaw school, de man who started de school and de church on blount st., gave me my first pair o' shoes. dis wus the second year after de surrender. i wus nine years ole den. dey were boots wid brass on de toes, solid leather shoes, made in raleigh on fayetteville street in de basement o' tucker's dry goods store, 'bove de masonic temple as you go up. ole man jim jones, a colored shoe maker, worked in dis shop. "i can read, but i cannot write, 'cause i've been run over three times by automobiles. once my buggy wus torn to pieces, an' i wus knocked high in de air. de first time dey run into me dey killed my hoss. de third time dey paralized my arm and busted the linin' o' my stomach. "i learned to read an' write since de surrender by studying in spare time. dey wouldn't let any slaves have books in slavery time. mother had a book she kep' hid. dey would whup a slave if dey caught him wid a book. "dere were between twenty-five and thirty slaves on de plantation but dere wus no church. dey would not allow us to have prayer meetings in our houses, but we would gather late in de night and turn pots upside down inside de door to kill de sound and sing and pray for freedom. no one could hear unless dey eaves-drapped. "the patteroller rode around to see after de slaves and whipped 'em when dey caught' em away from home. i have seen slaves whipped. dey took them into the barn and corn crib and whipped 'em wid a leather strap, called de cat-o'nine tails. dey hit 'em ninety-nine licks sometimes. dey wouldn't allow 'em to call on de lord when dey were whippin' 'em, but dey let 'em say 'oh! pray, oh! pray, marster'. dey would say, 'are you goin' to work? are you goin' visitin' widout a pass? are you goin' to run away?' dese is de things dey would ax him, when dey wus whuppin' him. "my old marster's brother john wus a slave speculator. i 'member seein' him bringin' slaves in chains to de plantation when he wus carryin' 'em to richmond to put 'em on de auction block to be sold. dey were handcuffed wid a small chain to a large chain between 'em, two men side by side; dere wus 'bout thirty in a drove. dere wus 'bout three or four white men on horses. dey wus called slave drivers; some went before, an' some behind. dey carried pistols on dere sides. de distance wus so fur, dey camped out at night. de slaves set by de fire, and slept on dese trips wid de chains on 'em. evertime de mens come to our house i wus afraid my mother and father would be sold away from me. if a woman wus a good breeder she sold high, sometimes bringin' five hundred to a thousand dollars. de man who wus doin' de buyin' would inspect dem. dey would look in dere mouthes, and look 'em over just like buyin' hosses. there were no jails on de plantation. "sometimes we went to the white folkses church. de preacher would tell us to obey our missus and master. dat's what de preacher tole us. dey would take us back home and give us plenty to eat after preachin' was over, and tell us to do what de preacher said. dey tasked us saturday mornings, and if we got it done we could go to de branch on a flat rock and wash our clothes. "dey 'lowed my father to hunt wid a gun. he wus a good hunter an' he brought a lot o' game to de plantation. dey cooked it at de great house and divided it up. my father killed deer and turkey. all had plenty o' rabbits, possums, coons, an' squirrels. "my father's first wife wus sold from him, an' i am de chile o' de second wife. i had five brothers, greene, isom, nupez, den sam woods, who wus no slave, den spencer woods, he wus no slave. i had five sisters: mollie, rasella, who were slaves, an' nancy, catharine, an' fanny who were not slaves. my father wus named major woods, and mother wus named betty woods. "yes sir, i 'member gettin' sick before de surrender, an' dey bled me and gave me blue mass pills. dey wouldn't tell me what wus de matter. missus chewed our food for us, when we wus small. de babies wus fed wid sugar tits, and the food missus chewed. deir suckled mothers suckled dem at dinner, an' den stayed in de field till night. i remember missus chewin' fer me, an' de first whippin' i got. missus whipped me for pushin' my sister in de fire. sister called me a lie and i pushed her in de fire an' burned her hand. missus whipped me. we never did fight nor push one another after dat. "marster used colored overseers when he did not work his men hisself. "i wus very much afraid o' de ku klux. dey wore masks and dey could make you think dey could drink a whole bucket of water and walk widout noise, like a ghost. colored folks wus afraid of 'em. dey wus de fear o' de niggers. "i married addie shaw in first, den in i married agin. i think abraham lincoln wus all right. he caused us to be free. franklin d. roosevelt is all right; he kept a lot of people from perishing to death." bn district: no. worker: mary hicks no. words: subject: a slave story, anna wright person interviewed: anna wright editor: george l. andrews [tr: date stamp: aug ] anna wright an interview with anna wright, years of age, of wendell, north carolina. "i wus borned de year de war ended so i can't tell nothin' dat i seed, only what my mammy tol' me. we lived dar on marse james ellis' plantation till i wus five or six years old, so i 'members de slave cabins an' de big house. "de plantation wus in scotland county an' de big house set on a little knoll. back of de big house set de rows of slave cabins an' back of dem wus de apple orchard an' de bee orchard. hit wus a purty place sho' nuff, an' dey tells me dat dey wus happy 'fore de war, 'case marse james wus good ter dem. "dere must of been 'bout two hundret slaves, 'cordin' ter de number of cabins. de slaves wurked hard in de fiel's but unless de wurk wus pushin' dey had sadday evenin' off ter go a-fishin' er do anything de wanted ter do. two or three times a year marse james let dem have a dance an' invite in all de neighborhood slaves. dey had corn shuckin's ever' fall an' de other slaves 'ud come ter dem. "de candy pullin's wus a big affair wid de niggers. dey'd come from all over de neighborhood ter cook de lasses an' pull de candy. while de candy cooled dey'd play drappin' de handkerchief an' a heap of other games. de courtin' couples liked dese games 'case dey could set out or play an' court all dey pleased. dey often made up dere min's ter ax de marster iffen dey could narry [tr: marry] too, at dese parties. "de weddin's wus somethin' fine, believe me. de niggers dressed lak a white folks weddin' an' de circuit parson married dem in de big house parlour. de marster an' de missus wus dere, an' dey always gived presents ter de bride too. atter de ceremony wus over dar'd be a feas' an' a dance. most likely dar'd be a heap of noise. i've heard mammy tell of seberal big weddin's. "mammy tol' me dat marse james wus a very religious man, an' dat wus why de preacher married de slaves, an' why he made all of de slaves go ter church on sunday an' say de blessin' at meal times. "my pappy wus named tom, an' he wurked in de fiel's fer marse james. hit wus pappy dat haul up de waremelons in de wagin body atter i could 'member, an' dey said dat he haul dem up in slavery times too. marse james raise a plenty melons fer all of de slaves an' he raise plenty of hogs ter eat de rines. de slaves uster have a watermelon slicin' 'bout once a week an' sometimes dey'd invite de neighbors in. "you wants ter know 'bout some ole slavery foods, well i'll tell you what i knows. did you ever hear of kush? kush was cornbread, cooked in de big griddle on de fireplace, mashed up with raw onions an' ham gravy poured over hit. you mought think dat hit ain't good but hit am. "fried chicken wus seasoned, drapped in flour an' den simmered in a big pan of ham gravy wid a lid on hit till hit wus tender, den de lid wus tuck off an' de chicken wus fried a golden brown as quick as possible. "does you know de old southern way of makin' baked chicken dressin'? well, it wus made from soft corn bread wid bacon grease, onions, black pepper an' boiled eggs. some of de folks used cheese too in dis dressin'. "de griddle cakes wus flour an' meal mixed, put on a big ole iron griddle on de fireplace an' flipped over two times. ashe cake wus made of either meal or flour, wrapped in a damp cloth an' cooked in de hot ashes on de h'ath. taters wus cooked in de ashes too an' dey wus good like dat. i'se heard mammy say dat de slave chilluns uster bake onions dat way. "fish, dem days, wus dipped in meal, 'fore dey wus cooked, 'cept cat fish; an' dey wus stewed wid onions. "cornmeal dumplin's wus biled in de turnip greens, collards, cabbages, an' so on, even ter snap beans, an' at supper de pot licker wus eat wid de dumplin's. dat's why de folks wus so healthy. "speakin' 'bout sweets, de blackberry or other kind of pie wus cooked in a big pan wid two crusts. dat made more an' wus better ter boot. cakes wus mostly plain or had jelly fillin', 'cept fer special company. "from the first i could 'member de white folks an' niggers alike ain't had much ter eat. a heap of our rations wus vege'ables, squirrels, rabbits, possums an' coons. we drunk parched meal water fer coffee an' we done widout a heap of things, but atter awhile we got richer, an' marse james got some money for something from de no'th, so dey got 'long all right. "when i wus twelve we moved ter wake county, out near wendell an' when i wus thirteen i married sam wright, an' we got along fine till he dies 'bout ten years ago. we ain't had but three chilluns but we lived through a heap of bad depressions. "what we needs mostly am law an' justice. why hit wus better when de ku kluxes had law, dey tells me. now-a-days de nigger fights on de streets like dogs. back den de bossman seed to hit dat dar wus law an' order in de town an' in de country too fer dat matter, an' dem wus de good ole days." eh n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: , subject: dilly yelladay [tr: or yellady?] story teller: dilly yelladay editor: geo. l. andrews [tr: date stamp: jul ] dilly yellady [tr: or yelladay?] mark street "yes sir, i 'members 'bout what my mammy tole me 'bout abraham lincoln, grant, an' a lot of dem yankees comin' down ere 'fore de surrender. frum what dey tole me sherman knowed de south like a book 'fore he come thro' last time. dat he did. yankees come thro' dressed like tramps an' dey wus always lookin' fur some of dere people. dat wus dere scuse. dey wus at big shindigs de southern white folks had 'fore de war. "mammy an' dad dey said de niggers would git in de slave quarters at night an' pray fer freedom an' laf 'bout what de yankees wus doin' 'bout lincoln an' grant foolin' deir marsters so. "ole jeff davis said he wus goin' to fight de yankees till hell wus so full of 'em dat dere legs wus hangin' over de sides, but when dey got 'im in a close place he dres in 'omans clothes an' tried to git away frum 'em but dey seed his boots when he started to git in dat thing dey rode in den, a carriage. yes dats what it wus a carriage. dey seed his boots an' knowed who it wus. dey jus laffed an' pointed at 'im an' said you hol' on dere we got you, we knows who you is an' den dey took 'im. he wus mighty brave till dey got 'im in a close place den he quit barkin' so loud. mammy an' dad dey said dere wus a lot of de white folks didn't keer much 'bout jeff davis. dey said he wus jus de bragginest man in de worl', always a-blowin'. dat bird flew mighty high but he had to come back to de groun' an' course when he lit de yankees wus waitin' for 'im an' ketched 'im. "i wus born may nd, two years after de surrender. i is years old. my mammy belonged to autsy pool. when he died she fell to his son billy pool. there wus six of the chillun, an' they wus given out to the pool chillun. dey went like lan' does now; dey went to de heirs. ole man autsy loved likker so good he would steal it from hisself. he'd take a drink an' den blow his breath an' keep wife from smellin' it." [hw margin: (following paragraph) to p. ] "my uncle, parker pool, tole me de yankees made a slave of him. his marster wus so good to him he wus as happy as he could be 'fore de yankees come. "i wus born on the harper whitaker place near swift creek. simon yellady wus my father. he wus born in mississippi an' he belonged to dr. yelladay. "my father an' his brothers run away an' went to de yankees. i heard daddy tell 'bout it. he got sick an' dey shipped him back home to north carolina. dey shifted niggers from place to place to keep de yankees frum takin' 'em. when dere got to be too many yankees in a place de slaves wus sent out to keep' em from bein' set free. "mother said onct when she wus carrying the cows to de pasture dey looked down de railroad an' everything wus blue. a nigger girl by the name of susan wus with her. my mother wus named rilla pool. dey said dey jus fell down an' de yankees commenced sayin' 'hello dinah,' 'hello susie.' mother an' susan run. dey just went flyin'. when dey crossed a creek my mother lost her shoe in de mud, but she just kept runnin'. when she got home she tole her missus de yankees were ridin' up de railroad just as thick as flies. den my great-grandmother said, 'well i has been prayin' long enough for 'em now dey is here.' my great-grandmother wus named nancy pool an' she wus not afraid of nothin'. i wus a little teency thing when she died. "my mother tole we all about dem times dey rode de horses up to de smoke house an' got de meat. de yankees went to de clothes line an' got de clothes an' filled de legs an' arms wid corn an' slung it over dere saddles an' rode away. yes, de yankees freed us but dey lef' nuthin' for us to live on. dey give us freedom but dey took mos' everything an' lef' us nuthin' to eat, nuthin' to live on. "we lived in wake county all de time. i did not git only to the third grade in school. sister mary eliza got to de second grade. father could write a little, mother couldn't. couldn't go to school 'cept when it wus too wet to work. work, work, work, thirty acres in cotton an' cawn, cawn plowed till de th of august, plow, plow, plow hard ground, bad ground. nine girls an' one boy workin' from sun to sun. my mother had twenty-three chillun. she wus just as smart as she could be, worked in de field till just awhile before she died. she been dead 'bout twenty years. my father been dead 'bout ten years. he died right here in raleigh with me, at corner mark an' bledsoe street. "i've had a hard time workin' all my life. i ain't able to work now but i does all i can. i have places to work a little every day for my white folks. i am gwine to work long as i kin. my mother an' father said dey had good marsters an' dey were crazy 'bout 'em. sometimes dey sold slaves an' den de patterollers whupped 'em now an' den, but dey had nuthin' to say against dere white folks. "well, i los' my home. i have worked mos' uv my life since i come to raleigh, buyin' a home, but i got ole an' couldn't keep up de payments an' dey come down ere an' took my home. 'twas the wurst thing dats come to me in my whole life. less you tried it yo' can't 'magine how bad it makes you feel to have to give up yer home." ac n.c. district: no. worker: t. pat matthews no. words: subject: hilliard yellerday (a slave story) reference: hilliard yellerday editor: george l. andrews hilliard yellerday oakwood avenue, raleigh north carolina. "my mother and father told me many interesting stories of slavery and of its joys and sorrows. from what they told me there was two sides to the picture. one was extremely bad and the other was good. "these features of slavery were also dependent on the phases of human attitude and temperment which also was good or bad. if the master was broadminded, with a love in his heart for his fellowman, his slaves were at no disadvantage because of their low social standing and their lack of a voice in the civil affairs of the community, state, and nation. on the other hand if the master was narrowminded, overbearing and cruel the case was reversed and the situation the slaves were placed in caused a condition to exist concerning their general welfare that was bad and the slave was as low socially as the swine or other animals on the plantation. "some owners gave their slaves the same kind of food served on their own tables and allowed the slaves the same privileges enjoyed by their own children. other masters fed their slave children from troughs made very much like those from which the hogs of the plantation were fed. there were many instances where they were given water in which the crumbs and refuse from the masters table had been placed. they gathered around this food with gourds and muscle shells from the fresh-water creeks and ate from this trough. such a condition was very bad indeed." [hw: begin] "my mother was named maggie yellerday, and my father was named sam yellerday. they belonged to dr. jonathan yellerday, who owned a large plantation and over a hundred slaves. his plantation looked like a small town. he had blacksmith shops, shoe shops, looms for weaving cloth, a corn mill, and a liquor distillery. there was a tanyard covering more than a quarter of an acre where he tanned the hides of animals to use in making shoes. there was a large bell they used to wake the slaves, in the morning, and to call them to their meals during the day. he had carriages and horses, stable men and carriage men. the carriage master and his family rode in was called a coach by the slaves on the plantation. his house had eighteen rooms, a large hall, and four large porches. the house set in a large grove about one mile square and the slave quarters were arranged in rows at the back of master's great house. the nearest cabins were about one hundred yards from it. "dr. jonathan yellerday looked after slaves' health and the food was fair, but the slaves were worked by overseers who made it hard for them, as he allowed them to whip a slave at will. he had so many slaves he did not know all their names. his fortune was his slaves. he did not sell slaves and he did not buy many, the last ten years preceding the war. he resorted to raising his own slaves. "when a girl became a woman she was required to go to a man and become a mother. there was generally a form of marriage. the master read a paper to them telling them they were man and wife. some were married by the master laying down a broom and the two slaves, man and woman would jump over it. the master would then tell them they were man and wife and they could go to bed together. master would sometimes go and get a large hale hearty negro man from some other plantation to go to his negro woman. he would ask the other master to let this man come over to his place to go to his slave girls. a slave girl was expected to have children as soon as she became a woman. some of them had children at the age of twelve and thirteen years old. negro men six feet tall went to some of these children. "mother said there were cases where these young girls loved someone else and would have to receive the attentions of men of the master's choice. this was a general custom. this state of affairs tended to loosen the morals of the negro race and they have never fully recovered from its effect. some slave women would have dozens of men during their life. negro women who had had a half dozen mock husbands in slavery time were plentiful. the holy bonds of matrimony did not mean much to a slave. the masters called themselves christians, went to church worship regularly and yet allowed this condition to exist. mother, father, sister and i were sent as refugees from mississippi to n.c. they were afraid the yankees would get us in mississippi. i was only four years old when the war ended as i was born april , so i do not remember the trip. we were sent to warren county to the brownloe's plantation where we stayed until the war ended. "there was a question as to just what mississippi would do and then mother said the doctor feared we would be taken by the yankees there so he sent us to n.c. to the above named county. mother was sent to stay with mrs. green parrish and she took me with her. mr. green parrish was gone to the war. in the last of the war, he was wounded and sent home. while he was recovering i fanned the flies off him. that's the first thing i remember about the war. when he got well he went back and then the war soon ended. after the war ended father and the family moved to halifax county and worked on a farm belonging to mr. sterling johnston. i was in warren county when i first began to remember anything and i do not have any specific remembrance of the yankees. we stayed in halifax county eighteen years, going from one plantation to another, but we made no money. the landlords got all we made except what we ate and wore. they would always tell us we ate ours up. sometimes we would be almost naked, barefooted and hungry when the crop was housed and then the landlord would make us leave. we would go to another with about the same results. "there was a story going that each slave would get forty acres of land and a mule at the end of the war. the yankees started this story but the mule and land was never given and slaves were turned out without anything and with nowhere to go. "we moved to wake county and i farmed until . i had not gotten one hundred dollars ahead in all this time so i got a job with the railroad, s.a.l. shops in raleigh, n.c. and that is the only place i ever made any money. "father died in and mother in . i worked from until with the s.a.l. railroad as flunkey. i worked as box packer and machinist's helper. mother and father died without ever owning a house but i saved my money while working for the railroad company and bought this lot x - / and had this house built on it. the house has five rooms and cost about one thousand dollars. i've been so of late years i could not pay my taxes. i am partially blind and unable to work anymore." eh * * * * * transcriber's notes all footnotes use numbers for consistency, and are reindexed. contractions match original text and are inconsistent due to the variety of narrators and interviewers. page : retained "progro marshells" and "provo marshell" inconsistency. pages - and - : retained inconsistent spellings for "yelladay", "yellady", and "yellerday". handwritten edits to punctuation, nested quotation marks, and the following typos have been corrected: page : changed "wnated" to "wanted" (i wnated ter go wid him). page : changed "ha" to "he" (an' when ha azed dem who dey wus). page : changed "ca olina" to "carolina" (de no'th ca olina line). page : changed "do" to "de" (set fire to do cotton). page : changed "creulty" to "cruelty" (stops creulty on plantation). page : changed "sn'" to "an'" (jake, sn' he 'longed ter a family). page : changed "i d" to "i'd" (i d learn ah half uh chaptuh) and (an i d write stories about christ). file made using scans of public domain works at the university of georgia.) [illustration: old float bridge across the perquimans river] in ancient albemarle _by catherine albertson_ published by the north carolina society daughters of the revolution illustrated from drawings by mabel pugh raleigh commercial printing company copyright, by catherine albertson dedication to mary hilliard hinton state regent daughters of the revolution without whose aid and encouragement these chapters would never have been written --_c.a._ the perquimans river from the great swamp's mysterious depths, where wild beasts lurk and strange winds sough; from ancient forests dense and dark, where gray moss wreathes the cypress bough; 'mid marshes green with flowers starred, through fens where reeds and rushes sway, past fertile fields of waving grain, down to the sea i take my way. the wild swan floats upon my breast; the sea-gulls to my waters sink; and stealing to my low green shores, the timid deer oft stoops to drink. the yellow jessamine's golden bells ring on my banks their fairy chime; and tall flag lilies bow and bend, to the low music keeping time. between my narrow, winding banks, for many a mile i dream along 'mid silence deep, unbroken save by rustling reed, or wild bird's song; or murmuring of my shadowed waves beneath the feathery cypress trees, or pines, responsive to the breath of winds that breathe sea memories. so far removed seem shore and stream, from sound and sight of mart or mill, that kilcokonen's painted braves might roam my woods and marshes still. and still, as in the days of yore, ere yet the white man's sail i knew, upon my amber waves might skim the indian maiden's light canoe. thus, half asleep, i dream along, till low at first, and far away, then louder, more insistent, calls a voice my heart would fain obey. and by a force resistless drawn, the narrow banks that fetter me i thrust apart, and onward sweep in quiet strength toward the sea. i leave my marshes and my fens; i dream no more upon my way; but forward press, a river grown, in the great world my part to play. upon my wide and ample breast, the white-winged boats go hurrying by; and on my banks the whirring wheels of busy mills hum ceaselessly. and sharing man's incessant toil, i journey ever onward down, with many a lovely sister stream, with all the waters of the sound, to join the sea, whose billows break, in silver spray, in wild uproar, upon the golden bars that guard the lonely carolina shore. contents chapter page i. wikacome in weapomeiok, the home of george durant ii. the first albemarle assembly--hall's creek, near nixonton iii. enfield farm--where the culpeper rebellion began iv. the hecklefield farm v. colonial days in church and school on little river, pasquotank county vi. the haunts of blackbeard vii. the old brick house--a true history of the historic dwelling reputed to be the home of the famous pirate viii. "elmwood," the old swann homestead in pasquotank county ix. pasquotank in colonial wars x. pasquotank in colonial wars--"the war of jenkins' ear" xi. a soldier of the revolution--the story of a pasquotank boy who followed washington xii. general isaac gregory, a revolutionary officer of pasquotank-camden xiii. perquimans county--"land of beautiful women," and the colonial town of hertford xiv. currituck, the haunt of the wild fowl xv. edenton in the revolution illustrations facing page old float bridge across the perquimans river _frontispiece_ "the old brick house," on pasquotank river fairfax, the home of general isaac gregory the eagle tavern, hertford the cupola house, edenton in ancient albemarle chapter i wikacome in weapomeiok, the home of george durant in perquimans county, north carolina, there lies between the beautiful perquimans river on the west, and her fair and placid sister, the katoline or little river, on the east, a lovely strip of land to which the red man in days long gone, gave the name of wikacome. the broad sound whose tawny waters wash the southern shores of this peninsula, as well as all that tract of land lying between the chowan river and the atlantic ocean, were known to the primitive dwellers in that region as weapomeiok. not until george durant came into carolina, and following him a thin stream of settlers that finally overflowed the surrounding country, did the beautiful indian names give place to those by which they are now known. then wikacome became the familiar durant's neck, and the waters of weapomeiok and the territory known to the aborigines by the same name, changed to the historic cognomen of albemarle. george durant and samuel pricklove were the first of the anglo-saxon race to establish a permanent settlement in wikacome, though they were not the first englishmen whose eyes had rested upon its virgin forests and fair green meadows, for in the early spring of ralph lane, who had been sent with sir richard grenville by sir walter raleigh to colonize roanoke island, set out with fourteen comrades from that place on an exploring expedition, hoping to find the golden "will-o'-the-wisp," which led so many english adventurers of the day to seek their fortunes in the new world. as far as the roanoke river sailed the bold explorer and his comrades, among whom were philip amadas and the historian hakluyt. to the south as far as craven county they pushed their little boat, and northward to the shores of chesapeake bay. in the course of their journey they touched at chepanock, an indian village lying at the extremity of durant's neck. and lane relates that on his return trip he stopped again at that point to secure a supply of provisions, and to fish in the sound. it was easter morning, , when lane and his hardy sailors, worn out from their rough voyage down the chowan and up the tawny waters of the sound, sailed into the quiet harbor of the katoline river. half starved, for the hostile tribes of the mangoaks on the chowan river, after being repulsed in an attack upon the strangers, had refused to sell them food, lane and his men, for two days without means of staying their hunger, hoped to buy from the indians of weapomeiok the provisions so sorely needed. but when the little band of explorers rowed their small craft to the shore, and set out in search of corn and meat, they found the wigwams of chepanock deserted, and no sign of the red men. the indians doubtless had been alarmed at the sight of the strangers when they first stopped at the village, and had fled from their homes to the interior of the country. no corn nor meal could lane procure, but the weirs were full of fish, and the men were able to satisfy their hunger, and having rested at chepanock that night they returned to roanoke island next morning. when the plash of their oars died away in the distance, the waters of the katoline and the northern shores of weapomeiok knew the white man's sails no more until over half a century had passed away. lane and his colony, discouraged in their hopes of finding gold, and disheartened by the many misfortunes that had befallen them, sailed back to england with sir francis drake. raleigh's second attempt a year later to establish a colony on roanoke island ended in the pathetic story of little virginia dare and the "lost colony." queen elizabeth died, and the tyrannical reign of james i came to an end. charles i and cromwell waged their bitter war; the commonwealth and protectorate ran their brief course, and the restoration of brought back the third of the stuarts to the throne of england. during all these changes in the ownership of carolina and her sister colonies, the red man roamed unmolested through the forests of wikacome and fished the weirs in the silver streams flowing into the broad waters of weapomeiok, unafraid of the great, white-winged boats of the pale face. these brief visits to his shores were now remembered only when the tribes gathered around the great camp fires at night, and listened to the tales told by ancient braves and squaws, to whom the appearance of the swift ships of the strangers now seemed only a dim, half-remembered dream. but as the years rolled by, venturesome hunters and trappers from virginia began to thread their way through the tangled woods of the region lying to the south of the chesapeake. returning to their homes they carried with them glowing accounts of the mild climate, the placid streams teeming with fish, the wild game and rich furs to be found in the country through which they had wandered. in sir robert heath, to whom charles i granted a large portion of carolina, attempted to establish a settlement in the territory. later roger green, an english clergyman, made a similar attempt near the present town of edenton, but both these efforts failed. however, the spirit of discovery and adventure was now fully aroused, and by a number of settlements had been established along the shores of the streams that flow into albemarle sound. of none of these, however, can any accurate account be given, their date and location having long been forgotten; and not until is there any authenticated record of a permanent settlement in north carolina. a year or two previous to that date, george durant, a planter from virginia, attracted by the enthusiastic accounts he had heard of the desirable lands to be found lying to the south, started out on an exploring expedition to see for himself if all he had heard of the indian land of weapomeiok were true, intending, if the country came up to his expectations, there to establish his home. for nearly two years durant journeyed through the country, and finally satisfied that the glowing accounts he had heard were not exaggerated, he determined to bring his wife and family, his goods and chattels, into this new "land of promise," and there build for himself a house to dwell in, and to clear away the forest for a plantation. the first spot selected by him for his future home was very near the ancient indian village of chepanock, on the peninsula of wikacome, which juts out into the wide waters of weapomeiok, and whose shores are watered by the katoline and the perquimans rivers. with the coming of george durant to carolina, the old indian name wikacome vanishes from history, and "durant's neck" becomes the name by which that section is henceforth known. the sound and the region north of it, first known as weapomeiok, change to albemarle; and the katoline river soon loses its indian designation, and is known to the settlers who made their homes on its banks as the "little river." with the establishment of george durant on the peninsula now called by his name, the connected history of north carolina begins. and it is a matter of pride to the citizens of the old north state that our first settler, with a sturdy honesty and a sense of justice shown but seldom to the red man by the pioneers in the colonies, bought from the indian chief, kilcokonen "for a valuable consideration" the land on which he established his home. the deed for this tract of land is now in the old court-house in hertford, north carolina, and is the earliest recorded in the history of our state. the following is an exact copy of this ancient document: "george durant's deed from kilcokonen: "know all men these presents that i, kilcokonen king of the yeopems have for a valuable consideration of satisfaction received with ye consent of my people sold and made over and delivered to george durant, a parcel of land lying and being on a river called by ye name of perquimans, which issueth out of the north side of the aforesaid sound, and which land at present bears ye name of wecameke. beginning at a marked oak tree which divideth this land from ye land i formerly sold samuel precklove and extending easterly up ye said sound at a point or turning of ye aforesaid perquimans river and so up ye east side of ye said river to a creek called awoseake to wit, all ye land between ye aforesaid bounds of samuel precklove and the said creek whence to ye head thereof. and thence through ye woods to ye first bounds. to have and to hold ye quiet possession of ye same to him, his heirs forever, with all rights and privileges thereto forever from me or any person or persons whatsoever, as witness my hand this first day of march . "kilcokonen. "test: thos weamouth, caleb callaway." having thus fairly and justly bought his lands, as this and other deeds from kilcokonen testify, durant proceeded to establish his belongings on his estate, and to take up the strenuous life of a pioneer in a new country. and a fairer region never gladdened the eyes of men making a new home in a strange land. in the virgin forests surrounding the settlers' homes, the crimson berried holly tree against the dark background of lofty pines brightened the winter landscape. the opulent southern spring flung wide the white banners of dogwood, enriched the forest aisles with fretted gold of jessamine and scarlet of coral honeysuckle, and spread the ground with carpet of velvet moss, of rosy azaleas and blue-eyed innocents. the wide rivers that flow in placid beauty by the wooded banks of ancient wikacome, formed a highway for the commerce of the settlers and a connecting link with the outer sea. and however fierce and bold the wild creatures of those dark forests might be, the teeming fish and game of the surrounding woods and waters kept far from the settlers' doors the wolf of want and hunger. the fame of this fertile spot spread, and ere long george durant was greeting many newcomers into the country. samuel pricklove had preceded him into wikacome, and later came george catchmaid, captain john hecklefield and richard sanderson, while later still the blounts, the whedbees, the newbys, harveys and skinners, names still prominent in albemarle, came into the neighborhood and settled throughout perquimans county. at the homes of the planters on durant's neck the public business of the albemarle colony was for many years transacted. courts were held, councils convened, and assemblies called, while from the wharves of the planters on little river and the perquimans, white-sailed vessels carried the produce of the rich fields and dense forests to new england, to the west indies and to the mother country. many of the most interesting events in the early history of albemarle occurred on durant's neck. the culpeper rebellion, of which george durant and john culpeper were among the leaders, began in pasquotank, but reached its culmination in durant's home on little river. there, also, thomas miller was imprisoned for a time, and there the leaders of the rebellion organized a new people's government, the first in the new world absolutely independent of proprietors, parliament and king. at hecklefield's home on little river, the plantation adjoining durant's, the assembly of met to investigate the cary-glover question and to decide which of those two claimants to the gubernatorial chair had rightful authority to occupy that exalted seat. there also george eden was sworn in as ruler of north carolina under the proprietors; and there the death of queen anne was announced to the governor's council, and george i was formally proclaimed true and lawful sovereign of carolina. a prominent meeting place for the courts, councils and assemblies in colonial albemarle was the home of captain richard sanderson in the little river settlement on durant's neck. of the many notable events that occurred at the home of this wealthy and influential planter, probably the assembly of leads in interest and importance. the acts passed by this assembly were directed to be printed, but the order was evidently never carried out, as none but manuscript copies are now extant. among the most important measures taken by this assembly was one making the church of england the established church of the colony; though freedom of worship was granted to all, and the quakers were allowed to substitute a solemn affirmation in lieu of an oath. other acts, necessary to the welfare of the colony, were passed, and a revision of all former acts was made. edward moseley, speaker of the house, was of course present on this occasion, as were governor eden, thomas byrd, of pasquotank, tobias knight, of currituck, christopher gale, of chowan, and maurice moore, of perquimans. of all these old homes on durant's neck where so much of the early history of our state was made, none are now standing; though the sites of several of these historic places are well known to the dwellers on the peninsula. when the tide is low on little river, the bricks of what was once the home of governor drummond can be seen. and an old tombstone found in the sound, which is now used as the lower step of the side porch in a beautiful old home, on durant's neck, once the property of mr. edward leigh, but now owned by mr. c.w. grandy, of norfolk, is said to have once marked the grave of seth sothel. the inscription on the stone is now obliterated, but the original owners of the home declared that the old inhabitants of durant's neck claimed that the slab at one time bore the name of this, the most infamous of all the unworthy governors whom the proprietors placed over the people of albemarle. the site of durant's home is well known, and until a few years ago a tombstone bearing his name, it is said, was standing under an old sweet-gum tree on the bank of a great ditch near the sound. but the field hands in clearing the ditch undermined the stone and covered it with earth, so it now lies hidden from view. but though no monument now marks the resting place of our first settler, george durant, there is no need of "storied urn or animated bust" to keep alive in the hearts of his countrymen the memory of his name, and of the brave, fearless spirit which made him a tower of strength to the old north state in the struggles of her early days. chapter ii the first albemarle assembly--hall's creek near nixonton in king charles ii granted to eight noblemen of his court a tract of land reaching from the northern shores of albemarle sound to st. john's river in florida, and from the atlantic ocean to the pacific ocean. a small strip extending from the north shore of the albemarle sound to the southern boundary of virginia was not included in this grant, but nevertheless the lords proprietors, of whom governor berkeley, of virginia, was one, assumed control over this section; and in these noblemen authorized berkeley to appoint a governor to rule over this territory, whose ownership was a disputed question for several years. in the albemarle region, as it came to be called, comprising the four ancient counties of currituck, pasquotank, perquimans and chowan, had become very valuable on account of the rich plantations established therein by such men as george durant, of perquimans, and valentine byrd, of pasquotank; and the lords proprietors, as the owners of the carolinas were called, begged the king to include the above-named strip of land in their grant. this the king did, ignorant of the vast extent of the territory which he had already bestowed upon the lords. william drummond, whom berkeley, of virginia, had appointed to govern this albemarle country, came into carolina in , and assumed the reins of government. to assist him in his arduous duties, the lords authorized berkeley to appoint six of the most prominent men in the settlement to form what came to be known as the governor's council. this body of men, with the governor, acted for many years as the judicial department of the state, and also corresponded to what is now the senate chamber in our legislative department. that the liberty-loving pioneers in carolina might feel that they were a self-governing people, every free man in the settlement was to have right of membership in the general assembly, which was to meet yearly to enact the laws. after the governor, councilors, and the freemen or their deputies had passed the laws, a copy of them was to be sent to the lords for their consideration. should they meet with the approval of the proprietors, they went into effect; if not, they were null and void. in the fall of , governor drummond began organizing the government of his new province; and on february , , the "grand assembly of albemarle," as these early law-makers styled themselves, met to frame a set of laws for this albemarle colony. the place chosen for the meeting of this first legislative body ever assembled in our state, was a little knoll overlooking hall's creek in pasquotank county, about a mile from nixonton, a small town which was chartered nearly a hundred years later. no record of the names of these hardy settlers who were present at this grand assembly has been handed down to us; but on such an important occasion we may be sure that all the prominent men in the albemarle region who could attend would make it a point to do so. george drummond and his secretary, thomas woodward, were surely there; george durant, samuel pricklove, john harvey, all owners of great plantations in perquimans, doubtless were on hand. thomas raulfe, timothy biggs, valentine byrd, solomon poole, all large landowners in pasquotank, must have been there; thomas jarvis, of currituck, and thomas pollock, of chowan, may have represented their counties. and all--the dignified, reserved scotch governor, his haughty secretary, the wealthy, influential planters and the humble farmers and hunters--must have felt the solemnity of the occasion and recognized its importance. we may imagine the scene: under the spreading boughs of a lordly oak, this group of men were gathered. around them the dark forest stretched, the wind murmuring in the pines and fragrant with the aromatic odor of the spicy needles. at a distance a group of red men, silent and immovable, some with bow and arrow in hand, leaning against the trees, others sitting on the ground, gazed with wondering eyes upon the palefaces assembled for their first great pow-wow. down at the foot of the knoll the silver waves of the creek rippled softly against the shore; on its waters the sloops of the planters from the settlements nearby; here and there on its bosom, an indian canoe moored close to its shores. as to the work accomplished by this first albemarle assembly, only one fact is certain, and that is the drawing up by the members of a petition to the lords proprietors, begging that these settlers in carolina should be allowed to hold their lands on the same conditions and terms as the people of virginia. the lords graciously consented to this petition, and on the st of may, , they issued a paper known to this day as the deed of grant, by which land in albemarle was directed to be granted on the same terms as in virginia. the deed was duly recorded in albemarle, and was preserved with scrupulous care. there is a tradition in the county that the assembly also took steps for preparing for an indian war then threatening, which broke out the following year, but was soon suppressed. doubtless other laws were enacted, such as were necessary for the settlement, though no record of them is extant. and then, the business that called them together having been transacted, and the wheels of government set in motion, these early law-makers returned home, to manor house and log cabin, to the care of the great plantations, to the plow, and the wild, free life of the hunter and trapper; and a new government had been born. there seems to be no doubt in the minds of such historians as colonel saunders, captain ashe, and president d.h. hill, that the first albemarle assembly did convene in the early spring of . as for the day and month, tradition alone is our authority. an old almanac of h.d. turner's gives the date as february th, and in default of any more certain date, this was inscribed upon the tablet which the sir walter raleigh chapter daughters of the revolution have erected at hall's creek church. as to the statement that the place marked by the tablet was the scene of the meeting of our first assemblymen, tradition again is responsible. but such authorities as captain ashe, and various members of the state historical commission, accept the tradition as a fact. and all old residents of nixonton assert that their fathers and grandfathers handed the story down to them. an extract from a letter from captain ashe, author of ashe's history of north carolina, to the regent of the local chapter daughters of the revolution may be of interest here: "yesterday i came across in the library at washington, this entry, made by the late mrs. frances hill, widow of secretary of the state william hill: 'i was born in nixonton march , . nixonton is a small town one mile from hall's creek, and on a little rise of ground from the bridge stood the big oak, where the first settlers of our county held their assembly.'" other documents in possession of the regent of our local chapter daughters of the revolution go to show that the place and date as named on the tablet at hall's creek are authentic, and that pasquotank county may claim with truth the honor of having been the scene of the first meeting of the grand assembly of albemarle. chapter iii enfield farm--where the culpeper rebellion began some two or three miles south of elizabeth city on the banks of the pasquotank river, just where that lovely stream suddenly broadens out into a wide and beautiful expanse, lies the old plantation known in our county from earliest days as enfield farm, sometimes winfield. it is hard to trace the original owners of the plantation, but the farm is probably part of the original patent granted in by sir william berkeley, one of the lords proprietors, to mr. thomas relfe, "on account of his bringing into the colony fifteen persons and paying on st. michael's day, the th of september, one shilling for every acre of land." on this plantation, close to the river shore, was erected about , according to our local tradition, the home of the planter, two rooms of which are still standing and in good preservation. possibly "thomas relfe, gentleman," as he is styled in the colonial records, was the builder of this relic of bygone days, whose massive brick walls and stout timbers have for so long defied the onslaughts of time. many are the stories, legendary and historical, that have gathered around this ancient building. among the most interesting of the latter is that connected with the culpeper rebellion, an event as important in north carolina history as bacon's rebellion is in the history of virginia. the cause of culpeper's rebellion dates back to the passing of the navigation act by cromwell's parliament, when that vigorous ruler held sway in england and over the american colonies. this act, later broadened and amended, finally prohibited the colonists not only from importing goods from europe unless they were shipped from england, but forbade the use of any but english vessels in the carrying trade; and finally declared that inter-colonial trade should cease, and that england alone should be the market for the buying and selling of goods on the part of the americans. naturally the colonies objected to such a selfish restriction of their trade, and naturally there was much smuggling carried on, wherever and whenever this avoidance of the navigation acts could be made in safety. to none of these thirteen colonies were these laws more injurious than to the infant settlement on the northern shores of albemarle sound in carolina. the sand bars along the coast prevented the establishment of a seaport from whence trade could be carried on with the mother country. the large, english-built vessels could not pass through the shallow inlets that connect the atlantic with the carolina inland waterways. to have strictly obeyed the laws passed by the british parliament would have been the death blow to the commerce and to the prosperity of the albemarle settlement. so, for about fifteen years after george durant bought his tract of land on durant's neck from kilcokonen, the great chief of the yeopims, the planters in albemarle had paid but little attention to the trade laws. the proprietors appointed no customs collectors in the little colony, and had not considered it worth while to interfere with the trade which the shrewd new englanders had built up in carolina. enterprising yankee shipbuilders, realizing their opportunity, constructed staunch little vessels which could weather the seas, sail over to europe, load up with goods necessary to the planter, return and glide down the coast till they found an opening between the dreaded bars, then, slipping from sound to sound, carry to the planters in the albemarle region the cargoes for which they were waiting. another law requiring payment of an export tax on tobacco, then the principal crop of the albemarle sections, as it was of virginia, was evaded for many years by the settlers in this region. governors drummond and stevens, and john judkins, president of the council, must have known of this disregard of the laws, both on the part of the yankee shippers and the albemarle planters. but realizing that too strict an adherence to england's trade laws would mean ruin to the colonists, these officers were conveniently blind to the illegal proceedings of their people. but after the organization of the board of trade in london, of which four of the proprietors were members, the rulers of carolina determined to enforce the laws more strictly among their subjects in far-away carolina. so timothy biggs, of the little river settlement, was appointed surveyor of customs, and valentine byrd, of pasquotank, collector of customs, with orders to enforce the navigation acts and other trade laws, so long disregarded. there was violent opposition to this decision of the lords, as was to have been expected; but finally the settlers were persuaded to allow the officers to perform their duty. valentine byrd, himself, one of the wealthiest and most influential men in albemarle, was by no means rigid or exacting in collecting the tobacco tax; and for several years longer, though the laws were ostensibly observed, numerous ways were found to evade them. the colonists, however, were by no means satisfied; for though they were successful in avoiding a strict adherence to the laws, and in continuing their trade with new england, still the fact that the hated acts were in force at all, was to them a thorn in the flesh. matters soon reached a crisis, and the smouldering feeling of resentment against the proprietors broke out into open rebellion. in the lords appointed thomas eastchurch governor of albemarle and thomas miller collector of customs for that settlement. both of these men, who were then in london, had previously lived in albemarle and had incurred the enmity of some of the leading men in the settlement, eastchurch especially being in bad repute among the planters. in , eastchurch and miller departed from london to take up their duties in carolina. stopping at the island of nevis on their way over, eastchurch became enamored of the charms (and the fortune) of a fair creole who there abode, and dallied on the island until he succeeded in winning the lady's hand. miller, whom eastchurch appointed his deputy in carolina, continued on his way alone. when he reached albemarle, the people received him kindly and allowed him to fill eastchurch's place. but no sooner had he assumed the reins of government than he began a rigid enforcement of the trade and navigation laws. of course the planters resented his activity in this direction, and most bitterly did they resent his compelling a strict payment of the tobacco tax. possibly, however, no open rebellion would have occurred, had not miller proceeded to high-handed and arbitrary deeds, making himself so obnoxious to the people that finally they were wrought up to such an inflammable state of mind that only a spark was needed to light the flames of revolution. and that spark was kindled in december, , when captain zachary gilliam, a shrewd new england shipmaster, came into the colony in his trig little vessel, "the carolina," bringing with him, besides the supplies needed by the planters for the winter days at hand, ammunition and firearms which a threatened indian uprising made necessary for the safety of the settlers' homes. on board the "carolina" was george durant, the first settler in the colony, and the acknowledged leader in public affairs in albemarle. he had been over to england to consult the lords proprietors concerning matters relating to the colony, and was returning to his home on durant's neck. through the inlet at ocracoke the "carolina" slipped, over the broad waters of pamlico sound, past roanoke island, home of virginia dare, and into albemarle sound. then up the blue waters of the pasquotank she sailed, with "jack ancient flag and pennant flying," as miller indignantly relates, till she came to anchor at captain crawford's landing, just off the shore from enfield farm. gladly did the bluff captain and the jovial planter row ashore from their sea-tossed berths. many were the friendly greetings extended them, both prime favorites among the settlers, who came hurrying down to enfield when the news of the "carolina's" arrival spread through the community. eager questions assailed them on every side concerning news of loved ones in the mother country; and a busy day did captain gilliam put in, chaffering and bargaining with the planters who anxiously surrounded him in quest of long needed supplies. durant, though doubtless impatient to proceed as quickly as possible to his home and family in perquimans, nevertheless spent the day pleasantly enough talking to his brother planters, valentine byrd, samuel pricklove, and others. all was going merrily as a marriage bell when suddenly deputy governor miller appeared on the scene, accused gilliam of having contraband goods on board, and of having evaded the export tax on tobacco when he sailed out of port with his cargo a year before. a violent altercation arose, in which the planters, with few exceptions, sided with gilliam, who indignantly (if not quite truthfully) denied the charges brought against him. miller at last withdrew, muttering imprecations and threats against gilliam; but about o'clock that night he returned with several government officials, boarded the "carolina" and attempted to arrest both gilliam and durant. the planters, among whom were valentine byrd, captain crawford, captain jenkins and john culpeper, hearing of the disturbance, anxious for the safety of their friends, and fearing lest gilliam should sail away before they had concluded their purchases, came hurrying in hot haste to the rescue. rowing swiftly out to the little vessel, they quickly turned the tables on the governor and his officials; and to their indignant surprise, miller and his men found themselves prisoners in the hands of the rebels. then the insurgents, with john culpeper, now the acknowledged leader of the revolt, at their head, rowed ashore to the landing with their captives; and in the old house at enfield, on a bluff near the bank of the river--so goes our local tradition--the angry and astonished governor was imprisoned. then the revolutionists proceeded to "little river poynte," probably the settlement which afterwards grew into the town of nixonton, and seized timothy biggs, the surveyor and deputy collector of customs, who had been wringing the tobacco tax from the farmers. then breaking open the chests and the locks, they found and took possession of miller's commission as collector of customs and returned to enfield, where they locked biggs up with miller in captain crawford's house. for two weeks the deputy governor and the deputy collector were kept close prisoners at enfield. the revolutionists in the meanwhile drew up a document known as "the remonstrance of the inhabitants of pasquotank," in which they stated the grievances that had led them to take this high-handed manner of circumventing miller and biggs in their tyrannical proceedings. this "remonstrance" was sent to the precincts of currituck, perquimans and chowan; and the planters, following the example of their neighbors in pasquotank, rose in insurrection against the other collectors of the hated customs and export tax, and arrested and deposed the collectors. at the end of a fortnight, the insurgents decided to take miller and biggs to george durant's home in durant's neck. so the prisoners were taken on board one of the planter's vessels; and down the pasquotank, into the sound, and a short distance up little river, the rebels sailed, accompanied by several vessels filled with armed men. as they passed the "carolina," that saucy little ship, which as miller afterwards indignantly reported to the lords proprietors, "had in all these confusions rid with jack ensign flag and pennon flying," just off the shore from enfield, saluted culpeper, durant and their companions by firing three of her guns. arrived at durant's home, where some seventy prominent men of the colony had assembled, the revolutionists proceeded to establish a government of their own. john jenkins was appointed governor, an assembly of eighteen men was elected, and a court convened before which miller and biggs were brought for trial on a charge of treason. but before the trial was ended, governor eastchurch, who had arrived in virginia while these affairs were taking place, sent a proclamation to the insurgents commanding them to disperse and return to their homes. this the bold planters refused to do, and in further defiance of eastchurch, the new officials sent an armed force to prevent his coming into the colony. eastchurch appealed to virginia to help him establish his authority in carolina; but while he was collecting forces for this purpose he fell ill and died. durant, culpeper, byrd and their comrades were now masters in albemarle. the interrupted trials were never completed. biggs managed to escape and made his way to england. miller was kept a prisoner for two years in a little log cabin built for the purpose at the upper end of pasquotank, near where the old brick house now stands. in two years' time miller also contrived to escape, and found his way back to the mother country. for ten years the albemarle colony prospered under the wise and prudent management of the officers, whom the people had put in charge of affairs without leave or license from lord or king. but finally culpeper and durant decided of their own accord to give up their authority and restore the management of affairs to the proprietors. an amicable settlement was arranged with these owners of albemarle, who, realizing the wrongs the settlers had suffered at the hands of miller and his associates, made no attempt to punish the leaders of the rebellion. john harvey was quietly installed as temporary governor until seth sothel, one of the proprietors, should come to take up the reins of government himself. so at enfield farm, now the property of one of pasquotank's most successful farmers and business men, mr. jeptha winslow, began a disturbance which culminated a hundred years later in the revolutionary war; and here, in embryo form, in , was the beginning of our republic--"a government of the people, for the people, by the people." chapter iv the hecklefield farm of the old hecklefield house on little river in perquimans county, mentioned so often in the colonial records as the place of meeting for the governor's council, the general court, and on one notable occasion, as the legislative hall of the grand assembly of albemarle, not one stick or stone is left standing to-day. only a few bricks where the great chimney once stood now remain, to suggest to the imagination the hospitable hearth around whose blazing logs the governor and his colleagues, the chief justice and his associates, and the speaker of the assembly and his fellow representatives used to gather, when the old home was the scene of the public meetings of the albemarle colony. the hecklefield home was located on durant's neck on the plantation adjoining the tract of land purchased by george durant from kilcokonen, the great chief of the yeopims. though no one now living remembers the ancient building, yet the residents of durant's neck to-day, many of whom are the descendants of the early settlers in that region, confidently point out the site of captain hecklefield's house, and with one accord agree to its location, "about three hundred yards to the north of the main durant's neck road, at the foot of the late calvin humphries' lane." an old sycamore tree, whose great girth gives evidence of the centuries it has seen, stands by the side of the road at the entrance to the lane. its mottled trunk and wide spreading branches are one of the landmarks of the region. and beneath its sheltering boughs, durant and catchmaid, pricklove and governor drummond himself, who, tradition claims, was one of the residents of durant's neck, may often have met to talk over the affairs of the infant settlement. governor hyde and chief justice gale have doubtless often hailed with relief the glistening white branches and broad green leaves of the old tree, whose outlines had grown familiar through many a journey to hecklefield's home on business of state. no description of the house is now extant. but that the building must have been, for those days, large and commodious, is evident from the fact that so often beneath its roof the leading men of the colony gathered to transact affairs of public interest. on no less than twenty occasions did executive, judicial and legislative officers assemble at captain hecklefield's to perform their various duties. that a private home was chosen as the scene of these gatherings arose from the fact that for over forty years after the first recorded settlement in north carolina, no town had been founded within her borders. therefore no public building of any kind, court-house or capitol, had been erected, and the council, the assembly and the court were held at the homes of those planters, whose houses were large enough to accommodate such assemblies. local tradition tells us that the first court ever held in our state was convened under a great beech still standing on flatty creek, an arm of the broad pasquotank, in pasquotank county. but no records of this court can be found, nor does tradition tell whether the judge and advocates, plaintiffs and defendants, witnesses and jury assembled beneath the branches of that ancient tree, still strong and sturdy, came in answer to the call for the palatine court, the general court, or the more frequently assembled precinct court. the first albemarle assembly in , was also held out in the open, the verdant foliage of another historic tree for roof, the soft moss for carpet. but by the homes of the planters were being built of sufficient size to accommodate these public meetings; and from that time until edenton was founded and became the seat of government, we find these private homes being used for public gatherings. of captain john hecklefield himself, though his name appears very frequently in the colonial records from until , but little is known. of his ancestry nothing can be ascertained, nor do we know how or when he came into albemarle. it is not even certain that he owned the home assigned as his, for no record of lands bought by him can be found in the records of perquimans county. but that he must have been a man of high social standing and of great weight in the community is evident from the fact that he was a deputy of the lords proprietors, and thus became ex officio one of the seven associate justices of the general court. the fact also that his home was so often selected for the meeting of the general court, a body which in colonial days corresponded very closely to our modern supreme court; that the governor's council of which he, as a deputy for one of the lords, was a member, and, that on one occasion, the albemarle assembly was called to meet at his home, fixes his standing in the community. the first mention made of captain hecklefield is found in vol. i of the colonial records, where the following notice is inscribed: "at a general court held at ye house of captain john hecklefield in little river, oct. , . being present the hon. samuel swann, esq., the hon. william glover, esq., jno. hawkins, esq." from that day until , we find many instances of these public gatherings at captain hecklefield's home. the most prominent men in the albemarle colony were often there assembled. to the sessions of the general court came edward moseley, the justice of the court, leader of the cary faction in the glover-cary disturbance of , chief commissioner for north carolina when the boundary line between virginia and carolina was established, speaker of the assembly for four years, master of plantations and many slaves, and withal a very courteous gentleman and learned scholar. christopher gale, first judicial officer in carolina to receive the commission as chief justice, in wig and silken gown, upheld the majesty of the law at the sessions of the general court, assisted by his confréres, john porter, thomas symonds, and john blount. at the first council held at captain hecklefield's, july , , we find among the dignitaries assembled on that occasion, edward hyde, first governor of north carolina, as separate and distinct from south carolina, and first cousin of queen anne. this lordly gentleman commanded "most awful respect," and doubtless received it from planter and farmer. with him came thomas pollock, leader of the glover faction, owner of , acres of land, numerous flocks of sheep and herds of cattle and of many vessels trading with the new england and west indian ports, a merchant prince of colonial days, and destined to become twice acting governor of north carolina. some years later, at a meeting of the council in april, , charles eden, lately appointed by the proprietors to succeed hyde, who had died of yellow fever during the trouble with the tuscaroras, took the oath of office at captain hecklefield's home, and became governor of north carolina. among the members of the council present on this occasion were colonel thomas byrd, nathan chevin, and william reed, all prominent men in pasquotank, and the two former, leading churchmen of that county, and active members of the vestry of st. john's parish. tobias knight was also there, a wealthy resident of bath then, though he too had formerly lived in pasquotank. knight was later to win notoriety as a friend and colleague of teach, the pirate. and governor eden himself was later accused of collusion with blackbeard, though no sufficient proof could be found to bring him to trial. by what means of locomotion these high dignitaries of the colony found their way to durant's neck, we can only conjecture. possibly a coach and four may have borne governor eden and governor hyde the long journey from chowan and bath to hecklefield's door. possibly judge and advocate, members of the assembly and councilors, preferred to make the trip on horseback, breaking the journey by frequent stops at the homes of the planters in the districts through which they traveled, meeting along the road friends and acquaintances bound on the same errand to the same destination. and as the cavalcade increased in numbers as it drew nearer the end of the journey, doubtless the hilarity of the travelers increased; and by the time the old sycamore was sighted, it was a gay, though weary, procession that turned into the lane and passed beneath its branches, down to where the old house stood near the banks of the river. more probably, however, the members of council, court or assembly, met at some wharf in their various precincts, and embarking on the swift sloops of the great planter, made the trip to durant's neck by water. down the pamlico, chowan, perquimans and pasquotank the white-sailed vessels bore their passengers into albemarle sound and a short distance up little river; then disembarking at the hecklefield landing, where the hospitable host of the occasion was doubtless waiting to receive the travelers, they made their way with many a friendly interchange of gossip and jest to the great house, standing back from the river beneath the arching branches of the sheltering sycamores. one of the most interesting and important of all the public gatherings convened at the hecklefield home was the meeting of the assembly on october , , to decide which of the two claimants of the office of president of the council, or deputy governor of north carolina, should have just right to that office. the two rival claimants were thomas cary, of the precinct of pamlico, and william glover, of pasquotank. to understand the situation which necessitated the calling of a special session of the assembly to settle the dispute between the two men, it may be well to review the events leading up to this meeting. in , when queen anne came to the throne of england, parliament passed an act requiring all public officers to take an oath of allegiance to the new sovereign. the quakers in carolina, who in the early days of the colony were more numerous than any other religious body in albemarle, had hitherto been exempt from taking an oath when they qualified for office. holding religiously by the new testament mandate, "swear not at all," they claimed, and were allowed the privilege, of making a declaration of like tenor as the oath, substituting for the words, "i swear" the expression, to them equally binding, "i affirm." but when governor henderson walker died, sir nathaniel johnson, then governor of north and south carolina, sent major robert daniel from south carolina to take walker's place as deputy governor of the northern colony. daniel was an ardent member of the church of england, and was strongly desirous of establishing this church in carolina by law. but he knew that so long as the quakers were members of the assembly, and held high office in albemarle, this law could never be passed. therefore he determined to demand a strict oath of office from all who were elected to fill public positions. this determination was carried out. the quakers were driven from the assembly, which body, subservient to the new governor, passed the law establishing the church of england in albemarle. but the quakers did not submit tamely to this deprivation of their ancient rights and privileges. many of the most influential men in the colony, especially in pasquotank and perquimans, were friends; and they determined to appeal to the proprietors to uphold them in their claim to a share in the government. the dissenters in the colony joined with them in their plea, and the result was that governor daniel was removed from office, and governor johnson ordered by the lords to appoint another deputy for the northern colony. thomas cary, of south carolina, received the appointment and came into albemarle to take up the reins of government. but lo, and behold! no sooner was he installed in office than he, too, like daniel, made it known that he would allow no one to hold office who refused to be sworn in, in the manner prescribed by parliament. quakers and dissenters again banded together, this time to have cary deposed; and john porter hastened to england to state their grievances to the lords. porter also petitioned in behalf of the quakers and their supporters, that the law requiring the oaths should be set aside; and also that the colony should be allowed to choose its own governor from its own council. the lords again listened favorably to the petitioners, and porter returned to carolina, bringing with him a written agreement to the petition. cary, during porter's absence, had left the colony, and william glover, of pasquotank, was administering the government. on porter's return, glover was allowed to retain the office; but later, to the surprise and disappointment of friend and dissenter, he, too, decided to refuse to admit to office any who refused to take the hated oaths. cary returned at this juncture and demanded to be reinstated as deputy governor; and porter and other former supporters of glover now went to his side. a new council was chosen, and cary made its president, on condition, as we infer, that he carry out the will of the proprietors as expressed in the commission given to porter. but glover was by no means disposed to surrender his office tamely to cary, and still claimed the authority with which he had been invested. many prominent citizens supported him in his claim, thomas pollock, one of the most influential of the planters, being his warmest adherent. so now there were two governments in the colony, each claiming to be the only right and lawful one. disputes over the matter grew so numerous and violent that finally the two factions agreed to leave the decision of the matter to a new assembly which was elected at this juncture. and this was the assembly that convened at captain hecklefield's in . edward moseley was elected speaker; the rival claims of the two governors duly and hotly debated; and the result was, that cary's friends being in the majority, that worthy was declared to be the true and lawful ruler of the colony. glover, pollock and christopher gale, disgusted with the turn affairs had taken, left carolina and went to virginia, where they remained for two years, at the end of which time edward hyde, the queen's first cousin, was appointed governor of north carolina, and these malcontents returned to their homes in albemarle. and how did madam hecklefield manage to provide for the numerous guests who so often met around her fireside? the housewife to-day would rebel at such frequent invasions of the privacy of her home; and the high price of living would indeed prohibit such wholesale entertainment of the public; but in those good old days living was easy. the waters of little river and albemarle sound teemed with fish; the woods were full of deer and other wild game; the fields were musical with the clear call of the quail; slaves were ready to do the bidding of the lady of the manor; wood was plentiful for the big fire-places, and candles easily moulded for the lighting of the rooms. no one in those days was used to the modern luxury of a private room and bath; and the guests doubtless shared in twos and threes and fours the rooms placed at their disposal. so, madam hecklefield, with a mind at ease from domestic cares, was able to greet her guests with unruffled brow. the neighboring planters doubtless came to the rescue, and helped to provide bed and board for the gentry whom captain hecklefield could not accommodate; and the lesser fry found the humbler settlers on the "neck" no less hospitable in opening their doors to them, though very probably good coin of the realm often settled the debt between guest and host. after the meeting of the assembly of , various other public gatherings took place at the hecklefield home, until november , . on this occasion the colony was formally notified of the death of queen anne, and george i was proclaimed the "liege lord of carolina." at this meeting governor charles eden was present, and serving with him were the honorable thomas byrd, and nathaniel chevin, of pasquotank, and christopher gale and francis foster, all deputies of the proprietors. this being the first recorded occasion in north carolina of a proclamation announcing the death of one sovereign and ascension to the throne of another, the quaint phraseology of the original document may be of more interest than a modern version of its contents: "whereas we have received certain information from virginia of the death of our late sovereign lady, queen anne, of blessed memory by whose death the imperial crownes of greate brittaine ffrance and ireland are solely and rightfully come to the high and mighty prince george elector of brunswick luenburg-- "wee therefore doe by this our proclamation with one full voice and consent of heart and tongue publish and proclaim that the high and mighty prince george elector of brunswick luenburg is now by the death of our late sovereigne of happy memory become our lawful and rightful leighe lord george by the grace of god king of greate brittaine ffrance and ireland, defender of the faith etc., to whom wee doe all hearty and humble affection. beseeching obedience with long and happy years to raigne over us. given etc., the th day of november, ." this proclamation having been duly read, the governor and his council proceeded to subscribe to the oath of allegiance to the new sovereign, as did tobias knight, collector of customs, from currituck, and other public officers present. this meeting, with one exception, a council held in , is the last recorded as occurring at the hecklefield home. edenton, founded in , became the seat of government for a number of years, and meetings affecting the affairs of the colony were for the most part held there in the court-house built soon after. captain john hecklefield's house on little river now disappears from history; but though no longer the scene of the public activities of albemarle, it doubtless kept up for many years its reputation as the center of all that was best in the social life of the colony. chapter v colonial days in church and school on little river, pasquotank county among the many wide and beautiful rivers that drain the fertile lands of ancient albemarle, none is more full of historic interest than the lovely stream known as little river, the boundary set by nature to divide pasquotank county on the east from her sister county, perquimans, on the west. on the shores of this stream, "little," as compared with the other rivers of albemarle, but of noble proportions when contrasted with some of the so-called rivers of our western counties, the history of north carolina as an organized government had its beginning. as early as settlers began moving down into the albemarle region from virginia, among them being george durant, who spent two years searching for a suitable spot to locate a plantation, finally deciding upon a fertile, pleasant land lying between perquimans river on the west, and little river on the east. following durant came george catchmaid, john harvey, john battle, dr. thomas relfe and other gentlemen, who settled on pasquotank, perquimans and little rivers, buying their lands from the indians; and later, when charles ii included the albemarle region in the grant to the lords proprietors, taking out patents for their estates from these new owners of the soil, paying the usual quit-rents for the same. john jenkins, valentine byrd, and other wealthy men came later into this newly settled region, and by the albemarle region was a settlement of importance, and governor berkeley, of virginia, one of the lords proprietors, had, with the concurrence of his partners in this new land, sent william drummond to govern the colony; and the grand assembly of albemarle had held its first session at hall's creek, an arm of little river, in pasquotank county. in , when the clarendon colony was broken up, many of the settlers from the cape fear region came into albemarle; and in this section received a fresh influx of immigrants from the west indies, many of whom settled upon little river and embarked upon the then lucrative trade of ship-building. the usual natural advantages of the section made it in many respects a desirable land for the new comers. still there were many drawbacks to the well being of the settlers, among the most serious of which was the lack of the two factors which make for the true progress of a country, educational and religious facilities and privileges. carolina was settled in a very different manner from most of her sisters among the thirteen colonies. to those regions settlers came in groups, often a whole community migrating to the new land, taking with them ministers, priests and teachers; and wherever they settled, however wild and desolate the land, they had with them those two mainstays of civilization. but into the albemarle colony the settlers came a family at a time; and instead of towns and town governments being organized, the well-to-do settlers with their families and servants established themselves upon large plantations, building their homes far apart, and devoting their time to agricultural pursuits. so it is not surprising that for many years the only religious exercises in which the carolina settler could take part were such as he held in his own home, the members of the church of england reading the prayers and service of the book of common prayer, the dissenter using such service as appealed most to him. as for the education of the children, the wealthy planter would often engage in his service some indentured servant, often a man of learning, who would gladly give his services for a number of years for the opportunity of coming to this new land of promise. and in later years as the boys of the family outgrew the home tutor, they were sent to the mother country to finish their education at oxford or cambridge. but the poor colonist had none of these means of giving his children an education; and for many years, indeed, not until , we can find no mention of any attempt on the part of the settlers to provide a school for the children of the poor. but about twelve years after george durant settled on little river, the religious condition of albemarle began to improve. in the spring of that year, william edmundson, a faithful friend and follower of george fox, the founder of the quaker church, came into albemarle and held the first public religious service ever heard in the colony at the house of henry phelps, who lived in perquimans county, near where the old town of hertford now stands. from there he went into pasquotank, where he was gladly received and gratefully heard. the following fall george fox came into the two counties himself, preached to the people and made a number of converts to the quaker doctrine. this religious body grew in numbers and influence, and according to the colonial records, "at a monthly meeting held at caleb bundy's house in , it is agreed by friends that a meeting-house be built at pasquotank with as much speed as may be." and later, between and , this plan was carried out, and on the banks of symons creek, an arm of little river, between the two ancient settlements of nixonton and newbegun creek, the first quaker meeting-house (and with the exception of the old church in chowan built by members of the church of england), the first house of worship in the state, was built. rough and crude was this house of god, simple and plain the large majority of the men and women who gathered there to worship in their quiet, undemonstrative way the power who had led them to this land of freedom. but the word preached to these silent listeners in that rude building inspired within them those principles upon which the foundation of the best citizenship of our state was laid. the church of england, though long neglectful of her children in this distant colony, had by this time begun to waken to her duty towards the sheep of her fold in carolina. somewhere about a missionary society sent a clergyman to the settlement, and in the rev. mr. ackers writes to her majesty's secretary in london that "the citizens of pasquotank have agreed to build a church and two chapels." as to the location of these edifices, history remains silent; but that the church had been sowing good seed in this new and fertile soil is shown by the account given by the rev. mr. adams of the people of pasquotank, to whom he had been sent as rector of the parish in that county. according to the letter written by mr. adams to her majesty's secretary, there had come into the county with the settlers from the west indies a learned, public-spirited layman named charles griffin, who, seeing the crying need of the people, had established by a school on symons creek, for the children of the settlers near by. being a loyal son of the church of england, he insisted upon reading the morning and evening service of that church daily in his school, and he required his young charges to join in the prayers and make the proper responses. so faithful and efficient a teacher did he prove that even the quakers who had suffered many things from the church of england, as well as from their dissenting brethren, were glad to send their children to his school. the colonial records contain many references to the wide and beneficent influence exerted by mr. griffin while acting in his two-fold capacity of teacher and lay-reader in pasquotank. governor glover in a letter to the bishop of london in writes: "in pasquotank an orderly congregation has been kept together by the industry of a young gentleman whom the parish has employed to read the services of the church of england. this gentleman being a man of unblemished life, by his decent behavior in that office, and by apt discourses from house to house, not only kept those he found, but gained many to the church." again and again in the pages of the colonial records, vol. i, are the praises of charles griffin sung; though, sad to say, in the latter days of his life he seems to have fallen from grace, and to have become involved in some scandal, the particulars of which are not given. this scandal must have been proved unfounded, or he lived it down; for we hear of him in after years as a professor in william and mary college. history contains no record of the location of charles griffin's school, but according to tradition, and to the old inhabitants of that section, it was located on symons creek, not far from the ancient quaker meeting-house. this latter building, erected somewhere between and , was standing, within the memory of many among the older citizens of our county, some of whom retain vivid recollections of attending, when they were children, the services held by the friends in this house of worship. it may be of interest here to mention that the heirs of the late elihu white, of belvidere, to whom the property belonged, have lately donated the site of the meeting-house on symons creek to the quakers of that section, of whom there are still quite a number. and once again, after a lapse of many years, will the ancient worship be resumed on the shores of that quiet stream. to the pioneer settlers on little river, then, belongs the honor of starting the wheels of government at hall's creek, of erecting on symons creek the second house of worship in the state, and of establishing on that same tributary of little river the first school in north carolina. chapter vi the haunts of blackbeard the name of the famous pirate, teach, or blackbeard, as he was familiarly known, plays a conspicuous part in the early history of north carolina, and survives in many local traditions on our coast. many spots along our sounds and rivers have been honey-combed by diggers after the pirate's buried hoard. tradition says that it was the gruesome custom of those fierce sea robbers to bury the murdered body of one of their own band beside the stolen gold, that his restless spirit might "walk" as the guardian of the spot. and weird tales are still told of treasure seekers who, searching the hidden riches of teach and his band, on lonely islands and in tangled swamps along our eastern waterways, have been startled at their midnight task by strange sights and sounds, weird shapes and balls of fire, which sent the rash intruder fleeing in terror from the haunted spot. hardly a river that flows into our eastern sounds but claims to have once borne on its bosom the dreaded "adventure," blackbeard's pirate craft; hardly a settlement along those streams but retains traditions of the days when the black flag of that dreaded ship could be seen streaming in the breeze as the swift sails sped the pirates by, on murder and on plunder bent. up little river that flows by george durant's home down to the broad waters of albemarle sound, teach and his drunken crew would come, seeking refuge after some bold marauding expedition, in the hidden arms of that lovely stream. up the beautiful pasquotank, into the quiet waters of symons creek and newbegun creek, the dreaded bark would speed, and the settlers along those ancient streams would quake and tremble at the sound of the loud carousing, the curses and shouts that made hideous the night. on all these waters "teach's light" is still said to shed a ghostly gleam on dark, winter nights; and where its rays are seen to rest, there, so the credulous believe, his red gold still hides, deep down in the waters or buried along the shore. a few miles down the pasquotank from elizabeth city, north carolina, there stands near the river shore a quaint old building known as "the old brick house," which is said to have been one of the many widely scattered haunts of blackbeard. a small slab of granite, circular in shape, possibly an old mill wheel, is sunken in the ground at the foot of the steps and bears the date of , and the initials "e.t." the ends of the house are of mingled brick and stone, the main body of wood. the wide entrance hall, paneled to the ceiling, opens into a large room, also paneled, in which is a wide fire-place with a richly carved mantel reaching to the ceiling. on each side of this mantel there is a closet let into the wall, one of which communicates by a secret door with the large basement room below. tradition says that from this room a secret passage led to the river; that here the pirate confined his captives, and that certain ineffaceable stains upon the floor in the room above, hint of dark deeds, whose secret was known only to the underground tunnel and the unrevealing waters below. standing on a low cliff overlooking the pasquotank, whose amber waters come winding down from the great dismal swamp some ten miles away, the old house commands a good view of the river, which makes a wide bend just where the ancient edifice stands. and a better spot the pirate could not have found to keep a lookout for the avenging ship that should track him to his hiding place. and should a strange sail heave in sight, or one which he might have cause to fear was bringing an enemy to his door, quickly to the secret closet near the great mantel in the banquet hall would blackbeard slip, drop quietly down to the basement room beneath, bending low, rush swiftly through the underground tunnel, slip into the waiting sloop and be off and away up the river or down, whichever was safest, out of reach of the enemy. but though many of the streams and towns in the albemarle region retain these traditions of blackbeard, in little bath, the oldest town in north carolina, can the greatest number of these tales be heard; and with good reason, for here in this historic village, the freebooter made his home for a month or so after he had availed himself of the king's offer of pardon to the pirates who would surrender themselves and promise to give over their evil mode of life. this ancient village, founded in , is situated on bath creek, by which modest name the broad, beautiful body of water, beside which those early settlers built their homes, is called. the banks of the creek are high and thickly wooded, rising boldly from the water, in striking contrast with the low, marshy shores of most of our eastern rivers. near the shores of the creek, just outside the town, there is still to be seen a round brick structure resembling a huge oven, called teach's kettle, in which the pirate is said to have boiled the tar with which to calk his vessels. across the creek from the town are the ruins of "the governor's mansion," where, it is claimed, governor eden died. in an old field a short distance from the mansion is a deep depression filled with broken bricks, which was the governor's wine cellar. nearly on a line with this, at the water's edge, is shown the opening of a brick tunnel, through which the pirate teach is said to have conveyed his stolen goods into the governor's wine cellar for safe keeping. that governor eden, for reasons best known to himself, winked at the pirate's freebooting expeditions, and that there was undoubtedly some collusion between blackbeard and the chief magistrate of the state, was generally believed; though eden vehemently denied all partnership with the freebooter. to the latter class of narrative the following thrilling tale, which combines very ingeniously the various points of historic interest in bath, must, it is to be feared, belong. the story goes that blackbeard, with the consent of her father, was suing for the hand of governor eden's daughter. the young lady, for the excellent reason that she preferred another and better man, declined absolutely to become the pirate's bride. finally, in a desperate attempt to elude his pursuit, miss eden bribed two of her father's slaves to row her across the creek in the dead of the night to bath. here she took refuge in the "old marsh house" with her friend, mrs. palmer, whose memorial tablet is now in st. thomas church at bath, the oldest house of worship in the state. teach, infuriated at the lady's continued rejection of his suit, put out to sea on one of his piratical excursions. the prize he captured on this occasion was miss eden's lover, his hated rival. the story goes that blackbeard cut off one of the hands of the unfortunate captive, threw his body into the sea, and enclosing the gruesome relic in a silver casket, as if it were some costly gift, sent it with many compliments to his lady love. when the unfortunate maiden opened the casket and saw the ghastly object she uttered a terrible shriek and swooned from horror; then, as was the fashion in the old romances, pined slowly away and died of a broken heart. now, at first blush, it seems that this interesting tale has enough corroborating evidences of its veracity to pass down to the coming ages as true history. a visitor to bath can see for himself every one of the places mentioned in the story. the tablet in old st. thomas church testifies in many a high-sounding phrase the many virtues of miss eden's friend, mrs. margaret palmer; and the "old marsh house" is still standing, a well preserved and fascinating relic of the past, where the above lady is said to have sheltered her friend. we speak of facts as hard and stubborn things, but dates are as the nether millstone for hardness. and here are the rocks on which our lovely story shatters: teach was captured and beheaded in ; mrs. palmer's tablet reports her to have been born in , and the marsh house was not built until . the story is a beautiful instance of the way in which legends are made. after so much that is traditional, a brief sketch of the pirate's life may not be amiss. according to francis xavier martin's history of north carolina, edward teach was born in bristol, england. while quite young he took service on a privateer and fought many years for king and country with great boldness. in he joined one horngold, one of a band of pirates who had their rendezvous in the bahamas, taking refuge when pursued, in the sounds and rivers of north carolina. on his first cruise with the pirate, teach captured a sloop, of which horngold gave him the command. he put forty guns on board, named the vessel "queen anne's revenge," and started on a voyage to south america. here teach received news of the king's proclamation of pardon for all pirates who would surrender themselves. so, having collected much plunder, and wishing to secure it, he came to north carolina. with twenty of his men he proceeded to governor eden's house, surrendered himself and received the king's pardon. soon after, blackbeard married a young girl, his thirteenth wife, and settled down near bath with the intention, apparently, of becoming a peaceable citizen; but his good resolutions were soon broken; "being good" did not appeal to the bold sea rover, and soon he was back again on the high seas, pursuing unchecked his career of plunder. finally, the people in desperation, finding governor eden either unable or unwilling to put an end to the pirate's depredations, appealed to governor spotswood, of virginia, for aid, and the pirate was finally captured and beheaded by lieutenant maynard, whom spotswood put in command of the ship that went out to search for this terror of the seas. seen through the softening haze of two centuries, the figure of the redoubtable sea robber acquires a romantic interest, and it is not surprising that many good and highly respected citizens of eastern north carolina number themselves quite complacently among the descendants of the bold buccaneer. chapter vii the old brick house--a true history of the historic dwelling reputed to be the home of the famous pirate local tradition claims that the old brick house described in the foregoing chapter, was once a haunt of the famous pirate, edward teach, or blackbeard, as he was commonly called. wild legends of lawless revel and secret crime have grown up about the old building, until its time-stained walls seem steeped in the atmosphere of gloom and terror which the poet hood has so graphically caught in his "haunted house": "but over all there hung a cloud of fear-- a sense of mystery, the spirit daunted, and said as plain as whisper in the ear, 'the house is haunted.'" it is said that the basement room of the brick house served as a dungeon for prisoners taken in teach's private raids and held for ransom. there are darker stories, too, of deeds whose secret was known only to the hidden tunnel and unrevealing waters below. but tradition has been busy with other occupants of the old house. it is said to have been in colonial days the home of a branch of an ancient and noble english family. [illustration: "the old brick house," on pasquotank river] to the care of these gentlefolk their kinsmen of old england were said to have entrusted a young and lovely girl in order to separate her from a lover, whose fortunes failed to satisfy the ambition of her proud and wealthy parents. the lover followed his fair one across the seas, and entered in disguise among the guests assembled at the great ball which was given at the brick house in honor of their recently arrived and charming guest. the young lady's brother, who had accompanied her to this country, penetrated the disguise of her lover. "words of high disdain and insult" passed between the young men, a duel followed, and the lover fell, leaving on the floor dark stains which are said to remain to this day, in silent witness to the tragedy of long ago. many years after, in a closet of the old house, a faded pink satin slipper was found which tradition naturally assigns to the fair but unhappy heroine of the old tale of love and death. so much for tradition. the story of teach's occupation of the old brick house has not been received without question, but in default of more accurate knowledge, it has been accepted. recently, certain facts have come to light concerning the ancient building which are briefly given below. the information referred to was given by mr. joseph sitterson, a prominent resident of williamston, north carolina. according to mr. sitterson, the old brick house was the property of his great grandmother, nancy murden. this lady was a descendant of lord murden, who in sent out an expedition in charge of his eldest son to make a settlement in the new world. the party obtained, whether by grant or purchase is not known, the land on which the old brick house now stands. a sandy ridge extends into camden county, and is known to this day as murden's ridge. young murden had brought with him from england the brick and stone, the carved mantel and paneling, which entered into the construction of the new home he now proceeded to build. it is thought that the house was intended to be entirely of brick; but the end walls of the massive chimneys having exhausted the supply, the building was finished with wood. the house was planned with the greatest care for defense against the indian raids; hence the sliding panels, and the roomy and secret spaces in which the family plate and jewels brought from the old country could be quickly concealed, in case of sudden attack. with the same end in view, there were built in the basement, from the rich timber of the adjoining woods, stalls of cedar, the narrow windows of which can still be seen. in these stalls the ponies were kept for fear of indian raids. it is believed that in the troubled times preceding the american revolution, lord murden's son succeeded to his father's large estates and returned to england to claim his inheritance. after the revolution, his american lands were confiscated and became the property of the state. shortly after the war two brothers of the murden family came to north carolina, entered the old property and took charge of it. these brothers married sisters, the misses sawyer. in time the old brick house came into the possession of nancy murden, a descendant of one of the brothers murden. at her death she left the property as follows: one-third to isaac murden, one-third to jerry murden, one-third to nancy murden, her grandchildren. this will is recorded in the court-house at elizabeth city, north carolina. chapter viii "elmwood," the old swann homestead in pasquotank county on a low bluff, overlooking the waters of the beautiful pasquotank river, some five or six miles from elizabeth city, there stood until a few years before the outbreak of the civil war, an old colonial mansion known as "elmwood," the home for many years of the historic swann family, who were among the earliest settlers in our state, and played a prominent part in the colonial history of north carolina. mrs. j.p. overman, of elizabeth city, whose father, the late dr. william pool, of pasquotank county, spent his boyhood days at elmwood, then the home of his father, has given the writer a description of this historic house, as learned from her father: "the house was situated on the right-hand bank of the river, and was set some distance back from the road. it was built of brick brought from england, and was a large, handsome building for those days. as i recall my father's description of it, the house was two stories high; a spacious hall ran the full length of the house, both up-stairs and down; and in both the upper and lower story there were two large rooms on each side of the hall. a broad, massive stairway led from the lower hall to the one above. the house stood high from the ground, the porch was small for the size of the building, and the windows were high and narrow. the ceilings of the rooms on the first floor had heavy, carved beams of cedar that ran the length of the house. on the left of the house as you approached from the river road, stretched a dense woods, abounding in deer, and in those days these animals would venture near the homes of men, and feed in the fields." the great planters in those early days in north carolina, spent their working hours looking after the affairs of their estates, settling the disputes of their tenants, and attending with their fellow-landed neighbors the sessions of the general assembly, and of the courts. their pleasures were much the same as those of their kinsmen across the sea in merry england--fox-hunting, feasting and dancing; though to these amusements of the old country were added the more exciting deer chase, and the far more dangerous pastime of a bear hunt, when bruin's presence near the homestead became too evident for comfort. often the wild screams of the fierce american panther would call the planters forth into the dark forests at their doors, and then it must be a hunt to the death, for until that cry was stilled, every house within the shadow of the forest was endangered. among the homes of the planters in the ancient counties of pasquotank, currituck, perquimans and chowan, elmwood was noted for the hospitality of its earliest owners, the swanns; and the long list of prominent families who afterwards lived within its walls, kept alive the old traditions of hospitality. on many a clear, crisp autumn day, the lawn in front of the mansion would be filled with gentry on horseback, dressed after the fashion of their "neighbors" across the sea in hunting coats of pink, ready for a hunt after the wily fox. the master of the hounds, william swann himself, would give the signal for the eager creatures to be unloosed, the bugle would sound, and the cry "off and away" echo over the fields, and the chase would be on. a pretty run would reynard give his pursuers, and often the shades of evening would be falling ere the hunters would return to elmwood, a tired, bedraggled and hungry group. then at the hospitable board the day's adventures would be related, and after the dinner a merry dance would close the day. at christmas, invitations would be issued to the families of the gentry in the nearest counties, to attend a great ball at elmwood. the old house would be filled from garret to cellar, and the hospitable homes of nearby friends would open to take in the overflow of guests. dames and maidens coy, clad in the quaint and picturesque colonial costume, with powdered hair and patches, in richly brocaded gowns and satin slippers, made stately courtesy to gay dandies and jovial squires arrayed in coats of many colors, broidered vests, knee breeches and silken hose, brilliant buckles at knee and on slippers, their long hair worn ringleted and curled, or tied in queues. in stately measure the graceful minuet would open the ball. then the gayer strains of the old virginia reel would cause even the dignified dame or sober squire to relax; and in laughter and merry-making the hours would speed, till the gradual paling of the stars and a flush in the east would warn the merry dancers that "the night was far spent, and the day was at hand." such are the tales still told in our county of the olden days at elmwood--tales handed down from father to son, and preserved in the memories of the old inhabitants of pasquotank. and all such memories should be preserved and recorded ere those who hold them dear have passed away, and with them, the traditions that picture to a generation all too heedless of the past, the life of these, our pioneer forefathers. from this old home more distinguished men have gone forth than probably from any other home in north carolina. the hon. j. bryan grimes in an address made before the state historical society at raleigh in , gives a long list of eminent carolinians who have called elmwood their home. among them were colonel thomas swann and colonel william swann, both in colonial days speakers of the assembly; three members of the family by the name of samuel swann, and john swann, members of congress. here lived fred blount, son of colonel john blount, an intimate friend of governor tryon. william shephard, a prominent federalist, for some years made elmwood his home. the rev. solomon pool, president of the university of north carolina, and his brother, john pool, united states senator from north carolina, both spent their boyhood days in this ancient mansion. and, as colonel grimes' researches into the history of this old home have made known, and as he relates in his speech on "the importance of memorials," "at elmwood lived, and with it were identified, ten speakers of the assembly, five congressmen, one united states senator, one president of the state university, and one candidate for governor." one of the samuel swanns who resided at elmwood was the brave young surveyor, who, with his comrades, irvine and mayo, was the first to plunge into the tangled depths of the dismal swamp, when the boundary line between north carolina and virginia was established. before the war between the states had been declared, the old house was burned to the ground; and since then the estate has been cut into smaller farms, and the family burying-ground has been desecrated by treasure-seekers, who in their mad greed for gold have not hesitated to disturb the bones of the sacred dead. just when or how the old home was burned, no one is able to tell. whatever the circumstances of the destruction of this fine old building, the loss sustained by the county, and by the state, is irreparable. chapter ix pasquotank in colonial wars the earliest wars in which the pioneers of north carolina took part were those fought between the first comers into the state and the indians. as pasquotank was one of the earliest of the counties to be settled, we might naturally expect that county to have taken an active part in those encounters. the fact, however, that the great majority of her early settlers were friends, or quakers, as they are more commonly called, prevented pasquotank from sharing as extensively as she otherwise might have done in the fight for existence that the pioneers in carolina were compelled to maintain; for one of the most rigid rules of the quaker church is that its members must not take up arms against their fellow men, no matter what the provocation may be. however, a search through the colonial records reveals the fact that our county has given a fair quota of men and money whenever the domestic or foreign troubles of colony, state or nation, needed her aid. the first encounter between our sturdy anglo-saxon forefathers and the red man of the forest occurred in , two years after william drummond took up the reins of government in albemarle. after this trouble little is recorded, nor is pasquotank nor any of her precincts mentioned in reference to the indian war. but as the majority of the settlers in north carolina then lived along the shores of little river and the pasquotank, we may feel sure that the men of this county were prominent in subduing their savage foes, who, as captain ashe records, "were so speedily conquered that the war left no mark upon the infant settlement." from then until the terrible days of the tuscarora massacre of , the county, and albemarle as a whole, rested from serious warfare; but these years can hardly be termed peaceful ones for the settlers in this region. the culpeper rebellion, the dissatisfaction caused by the tyrannical and illicit deeds of seth sothel, the disturbance caused by captain bibbs, who claimed the office of governor in defiance of ludwell, whom the lords had appointed to rule over carolina, and the cary troubles, all combined to keep the whole albemarle district in a state of confusion and disorder for many years. but all of these quarrelings and brawlings were hushed and forgotten when in september, , the awful tragedy of the tuscarora massacre occurred. though the settlers south of albemarle sound, in the vicinity of bath and new bern, and on roanoke island, suffered most during those days of horror, yet from the letters of the rev. rainsford and of colonel pollock, written during these anxious days, we learn that the planters north of the sound came in for their share of the horrors of an indian uprising that swept away a large proportion of the inhabitants of the colony, and left the southern counties almost depopulated. though nearly paralyzed by the blow that had fallen upon the colony, which, in spite of difficulties, had been steadily growing and prospering, the officers of the government as soon as possible began to take steps to punish the tuscaroras and their allies for the unspeakable atrocities committed by them during the awful days of the massacre, and also to devise means for conquering the savage foes who were still pursuing their bloody work. all the able-bodied men in the state were called upon to take part in the warfare against the indians. but so few were left alive to carry on the struggle, that governor hyde was compelled to call upon the governor of south carolina and of virginia to come to his aid in saving the colony from utter extinction. south carolina responded nobly and generously. virginia, for various reasons, sent but little aid to her afflicted sister colony. for two long years the war continued, until at last the indians were conquered, the surviving hostile tuscaroras left the state, and peace was restored to the impoverished and sorely tried colony. during the bloody struggle, pasquotank, which, with the other northern counties suffered but little in comparison with the counties south of the albemarle, had sent what help she could to those upon whom the horrors of the war had fallen most heavily. in the colonial records this entry of services rendered by pasquotank is found in a letter sent by lieutenant woodhouse and thomas johnson to certain "gentlemen, friends, and neighbors," dated october , . "captain norton, as i was informed by mrs. knight, sailed last week from pasquotank in major reed's sloop, with or men, provisions, and two barrels of gunpowder and ten barrels, i think, of shot." the destination of ship, men and cargo was bath, the scene of the most disastrous of the indian outbreaks. in an extract from a "book of the orders and judgments and decrees of the hon. edward hyde, esq., president of the council," mentioned in dr. hawk's history of north carolina, we find the following entry: "ordered that capt. edward allard shall depart with his sloop "core sound merchant" to pasquotank river, and there take from on board the "return," mr. charles worth glover, so much corn as will load his sloop, give to mr. glover a receipt for the same, and that he embrace the first fair wind and weather to go to bath county and there apply himself to the hon. john barnewell, esq., and follow such instructions as he shall receive from him." again, in a letter from the rev. giles rainsforth to "jno. chamberlain, esq.," written from "chowan in north carolina july , ," further mention is made of pasquotank's part in the tuscarora war: "col. boyde was the other day sent out with a party against the indians, but was unfortunately shot through the head and few of his men came home, but shared his fate and fell sacrifices to the same common misfortune." it has been charged against pasquotank that her citizens did not respond to the call for volunteers to take part in the tuscarora war; and it is true that the quakers in the county did enjoin upon their brethren that they should not bear arms in this or any other disturbance. it is also true that a number of the citizens in the county did obey this injunction; and when the war was over we find that certain members of the friends' meeting were brought to trial by the courts "for not going out in ye indian wars." but enough instances have been recorded to show that our county did take an active part in breaking the power of the tuscaroras and in driving them from the state. in , when south carolina in her turn underwent the horrors of an indian war, and appealed to north carolina for aid, we find that men from pasquotank joined with other forces from the colony in response to this appeal. captain john pailin and captain john norton, both of pasquotank, are ordered "to draw out their companies and go to the assistance of south carolina in the yamassie war." and furthermore the command reads: "if men refuse, each captain is ordered to draft ten men who have small families or none, and to put them under captain hastins." that drafting was not resorted to, and that the men went willingly to the aid of their brethren in south carolina, who rendered the northern colony such generous assistance in the tuscarora war, is proved by the fact that fifty men were raised by the two captains, and cheerfully marched to the front along with the bands of militia from the neighboring counties. so in these earliest trials of the military courage of her citizens, the county proved that she could and would take a worthy part. chapter x pasquotank in colonial wars--"the war of jenkins' ear" after the war with the tuscaroras was over, and most of that powerful tribe had left the state, going to new york and becoming the sixth of the tribes there called "the six nations," for many years there were no pitched battles between the red men and the settlers in north carolina. but the troubles with the indians did not end with the tuscarora war; for though a treaty was made in with tom blount, king of the tuscaroras, who remained in the state, whereby the indians bound themselves to keep the peace, yet, as late as the colonists were still putting troops in the field to "catch or kill the enemy indians." indeed the settlers in albemarle suffered as much from the indians after the tuscaroras left the state as they did during the days of the indian massacre of , and of the open warfare that followed. in another indian outbreak occurred, and the alarm was so great that many of the settlers in the albemarle region determined to flee to virginia, where the government seemed better able to protect its citizens than were the officials of north carolina. to prevent such an immigration from the colony, governor eden, who had succeeded edward hyde, issued a proclamation forbidding the people to leave the colony; and governor spotswood, of virginia, gave orders to arrest any carolinians who should flee into his colony without a passport from duly authorized officials in carolina. but as the years passed on, the indian troubles gradually ceased, and the red men mostly disappeared from the eastern portion of the state, though as late as dr. brickwell speaks of finding there "a nation called the pasquotanks, who kept cattle and made butter, but at present have not cattle." with the dangers from the indians over, and with the transfer of carolina from the hands of the neglectful lords proprietors into the possession of king george ii, brighter and more prosperous days began to dawn for north carolina. the population rapidly increased; and, whereas, in there were only , persons in the colony, by this number had increased to , . lively wranglings there were often between the royal governors and the sturdy and independent members of the grand assembly, who resolutely carried out their purpose to preserve the constitutional rights of the people of the province. but no war cloud darkened the skies for many years after the indian troubles were over. not until was there again a call to arms heard in north carolina; then trouble arose between spain and england, and the colonists in america were called upon to aid their sovereign, king george ii, in his war against the haughty don. the real cause of this war was the constant violation on the part of the english of the commercial laws which spain had made to exclude foreign nations from the trade of her american colonies. but the event which precipitated matters and gave to the conflict which followed the name of "the war of jenkins' ear," was as follows: the spanish captured an english merchant vessel, whose master they accused of violating the trade laws of spain. in order to wring a confession from the master, captain jenkins, his captors hung him up to the yard arms of his ship until he was nearly dead, and then let him down, thinking he would confess. but on his stoutly denying that he had been engaged in any nefarious dealings, and since no proof could be found against him, the captain of the spanish ship cut off one of the english captain's ears, and insolently told him to show it to his countrymen as a warning of what englishmen might expect who were caught trading with spain's colonies in america. captain jenkins put the ear in his pocket, sailed home as fast as wind and wave would carry him, and was taken straight to the house of parliament with his story. such was the indignation of both lords and commons at this insult to one of their nation, and so loud was the clamor for vengeance, that even walpole, who for years had managed to hold the english dogs of war in leash, was now compelled to yield to the will of the people, and parliament declared war with spain. immediately upon this declaration, king george called upon his "trusty and well beloved subjects in carolina" and the other twelve colonies, to raise troops to help the mother country in her struggle with arrogant spain. carolina responded nobly to the call for troops, as the following extract from a letter from governor gabriel johnston to the duke of newcastle will testify: "i can now assure your grace that we have raised men in this province who are just going to put to sea. in those northern parts of the colony adjoining to virginia, we have got men each, though some few deserted since they began to send them on board the transports at cape fear. i have good reason to believe we could have raised more if it had been possible to negotiate the bills of exchange in this part of the continent; but as that was impossible we were obliged to rest satisfied with four companies. i must in justice to the assembly of the province inform your grace that they were very zealous and unanimous in promoting this service. they have raised a subsidy of pounds as it is reckoned hereby on which the men have subsisted ever since august, and all the transports are victualed." while no mention is made of pasquotank in this war, nor of men from any other county save new hanover, we may reasonably infer that among the three hundred troops from the northern counties adjoining virginia, men from our own county were included. no record has been kept of the names of the privates who enlisted from carolina in this war. nor do we know how many of those who at the king's call left home and country to fight a foreign land ever returned to their native shores; but we do know that these carolina troops took part in the disastrous engagements of cartagena and boca-chica; and that king george's troops saw fulfilled walpole's prophecy made at the time of the rejoicing over the news that parliament had declared war with spain: "you are ringing the joy bells now," said the great prime minister, "but before this war is over you will all be wringing your hands!" after the two crushing defeats of cartagena and boca-chica, the troops from the colonies who still survived embarked upon their ships to return home; but while homeward bound a malignant fever broke out among the soldiers which destroyed nine out of every ten men on the ships. but few of those from carolina lived to see their native home again. that they bore themselves bravely on the field of battle, none who know the war record of north carolina will dare deny; though as regards her private soldiers in this war, history is silent. one of the officers from carolina, captain innes, of wilmington, made such a record for gallantry during the two engagements mentioned, that in the french and indian war, in which fourteen years later, not only the thirteen colonies, but most of the countries of europe as well, were embroiled, he was made commander-in-chief of all the american forces, george washington himself gladly serving under this distinguished carolinian. chapter xi a soldier of the revolution--the story of a pasquotank boy who followed washington it is a well known fact that the records of the services of the north carolina soldiers who took part in the revolutionary war are very meagre. of the private, and other officers of leaser rank, this is especially true. therefore, it is not surprising that a search through the colonial records for a statement of the services rendered his country by john koen, a brave soldier of the revolution from pasquotank county, reveals only this fact: that he enlisted in moore's company, tenth regiment, on may , , and served for three years. but in addition to the above information, the following incidents in the life of john koen have been furnished the writer of this history by mrs. margaret temple, formerly of rosedale, now a resident of elizabeth city. mrs. temple is a granddaughter of colonel koen, the widow of william s. temple, a brave confederate soldier from pasquotank, and the mother of two of our former townsmen, hon. oscar temple, of denver, colorado, and robert temple, of new orleans. mrs. temple was about twelve years old at the time of colonel koen's death, and retains a very vivid recollection of the stirring stories of the revolution told by her grandfather during the long winter evenings, when the family gathered around the big fire-place in the old koen homestead near rosedale. a record copied from the koen family bible states that john koen, son of daniel koen and grace koen, his wife, was born on the th day of january, ; and years later this record was entered: "john koen, departed this life september th, , aged yrs." at the age of eighteen he entered his country's service as a volunteer, and served through the revolution, participating in many of the greatest victories won by the americans, sharing the worst hardships of the war with his fellow patriots, and laying down his arms only after cornwallis had surrendered his sword at yorktown. at the beginning of the winter of - , north carolina was confronting the most perilous conditions which she had ever been called to face. from the north, east and west, the foe was pressing, while within her own borders the tories were rising, and planning to join the british in the subjection of this rebellious state. the plan formulated by the enemy was this: sir henry clinton, with troops of british regulars, was to come down the coast to the mouth of the cape fear river, where lord cornwallis, who with seven regiments from england was hastening across the atlantic, was to join him. lord dunmore, royal governor of virginia, was to incite the slaves and indentured servants in the albemarle district to unite with the tories in the state; and the indians in the western counties were to be induced to take up arms against the whites. if these plans had matured, north carolina would have been overpowered, but one by one they were frustrated. the battle of great bridge defeated dunmore in his purpose. the snow campaign quieted the indian uprising. the battle of moore's creek bridge crashed the tories, and the heavy winter storms delayed cornwallis and prevented him from joining clinton at the mouth of the cape fear. when lord dunmore issued his proclamation offering freedom to the slaves and indentured servants who should join his majesty's forces, and then followed up this notice by burning and ravaging the plantations around norfolk, virginia, called upon her sister state for help, and long and sumner, from halifax, and warren, skinner and daugé from perquimans and pasquotank counties, hastened with their minute men and volunteers to great bridge, where colonel woodford in command of the virginia troops, had thrown up fortifications. among the volunteers who were hastening to the scene of action was john koen, of pasquotank, a boy in years, but a man in purpose and resolution. on december , , the british attacked the fortifications, and the sound of heavy firing at great bridge, the first battle in which the men of the albemarle section had been called to participate, was heard by the dwellers in the counties nearest norfolk. the story is still told by old residents of rosedale, that john koen's mother, who was washing the breakfast dishes when the firing began, hearing the first heavy reverberations from the cannon some thirty miles away, dropped the dish she was wiping, and in her motherly anxiety for the safety of her boy, cried out, "dodge, john, dodge!" whether john dodged or not we do not know, but we do know that he bore his part manfully in this, his first battle, and shared in the victory which drove dunmore from virginia, and saved north carolina from invasion from that direction, and a threatened uprising of the slaves. on february , , the battle of moore's creek bridge was fought, which defeated the tories in carolina, and convinced the british that further attempts at this time to conquer the state were useless. so, toward the end of may, clinton's fleet sailed from the mouth of cape fear river to charleston, south carolina, where his intention was to reduce that city. generals charles lee and robert howe, of the continental army, hastened immediately to the defense of that city, and among the soldiers who followed them was john koen. here again the british were defeated, colonel moultrie's palmetto fortifications proving an effective defense to the city by the sea, and thompson's south carolinians and north carolinians bravely repelling the british land troops. here koen fought by the side of the soldiers of north carolina, and here, possibly, he was an eye witness of the brave deed by which sergeant jasper won undying fame. the british fleet, repulsed in the attempt to capture charleston, sailed northward, the danger of invasion that for six months threatened the south was over, and we find many of the soldiers in north carolina released from duty and returning to their homes. but john koen's heart was filled with boyish love and admiration for the commander-in-chief of the american army, and his one desire now was to follow washington; so, shouldering his musket, the hardy young soldier marched away to offer his services to the great general. we do not know whether or not john koen was with washington in the battle at long island and at white plains, but from his own account as related by him to his family, he did have the glorious honor of sharing in the victory at trenton on december , . most of us are familiar with the picture of "washington crossing the delaware," wherein he is represented standing erect in a small boat that seems about to be dashed to pieces by the heavy waves and the cakes of ice, but according to colonel koen, who was with washington on that momentous night, no boats were used. the river was frozen over, and the soldiers, in order to keep their footing on the slippery ice, laid their muskets down on the frozen river and walked across on them to the jersey shore. at times the ice bent so beneath the tread of the men that they momentarily expected to be submerged in the dark waters, but the dangerous crossing was safely made, the british and hessian troops, spending the holiday hours in feasting and carousing at trenton, were captured, and a great victory won for the american army. some time in the spring of , john koen must have returned to his home in pasquotank county, for we find in the colonial records that in the month of may, , he enlisted in moore's company, tenth regiment, from north carolina, and that in june he was promoted to the rank of corporal. according to the fireside tales told by colonel koen to the household in the old koen homestead, this young soldier, then only twenty years old, was with gates' army, that, under the valiant leadership of morgan and arnold, won for the newly born nation the great victory of saratoga; and the winter of that same year--' --we find him sharing with washington's army the trials and privations of the days of suffering at valley forge. "i have seen the tears trickling down my grandfather's face when he told of the sufferings of that awful winter," said his granddaughter, mrs. temple to the writer, "and i used to wonder at seeing a grown man cry, and often i said in my childish way that war should never bring a tear in my eyes. little did i know then that the bitterest tears i should ever shed would be caused by war, and for eighteen months during the terrible struggle between the north and the south i should mourn as dead my soldier husband, whom god in his mercy restored to me after all hope of seeing him alive again was over." although the colonial records state that koen enlisted for only three years in may, , he must have re-enlisted in , for he has left with his family a graphic description of general lincoln's surrender of charleston in that year, and of the horrible treatment to which the continental troops were subjected, who found themselves prisoners of the victorious british army. the hot climate, the wretched condition of the prison ships, the unwholesome and insufficient food, made these days of imprisonment at charleston equal in horror to the worst days at valley forge. of the , prisoners who were taken captive on may , , only survived when they were paroled, and of these our hero was one. in what other battles or experiences colonel koen shared we have no record, historical or traditional, but according to his granddaughter's account, learned from his own lips, he served his country until the victory of yorktown was won and peace was declared. and it is easy to believe that this gallant soldier who was one of the first to volunteer at great bridge, and who fought so bravely in many of the sharpest struggles of the great conflict, would not have been willing to lay down his arms until his country was freed from the power that had so long held it in thrall. so we can imagine him following greene in his retreat across the state, taking part in the battle of guilford courthouse, and possibly present when the proud cornwallis was forced to surrender at yorktown. when the struggle at last had ended, john koen returned to his home. during the years of his absence his plantation was managed by william temple, whose pretty young daughter, susannah, soon won the heart of the brave soldier, and consented to become his bride. after some years of happy married life, the young wife died, and a few years later we find john koen making a second marriage, his bride being christian hollowell, of perquimans county. owing to his gallant conduct in the revolutionary war, john koen, a few years after the war was over, was appointed colonel of the militia in pasquotank county, and the government awarded him a pension, which was paid until his death in . chapter xii general isaac gregory, a revolutionary officer of pasquotank-camden during the war of the revolution, the albemarle region, though threatened with invasion time and again by the british, seldom heard the tread of the enemy's army, or felt the shock of battle. for this immunity from the destruction of life and property, such as the citizens whose homes lay in the path of cornwallis and tarleton suffered, this section of north carolina is largely indebted to general isaac gregory, one of the bravest officers who ever drew sword in defense of his native home and country. both pasquotank and camden claim this gallant officer for their son, and both have a right to that claim; for the two counties were one until . in that year a petition was presented to the general assembly by joseph jones, of pasquotank, from citizens living in what is now camden county, that the portion of pasquotank lying on the northeast bank of the river should be formed into a separate county, and have a court-house of its own, in order to do away with the inconvenience the people of that section suffered in having to cross the river to attend court, military drills and other public gatherings. the general assembly passed an act providing for the erection of a new county, and this county was named for charles pratt, earl of camden, a member of parliament and chancellor, who in the stormy days of worked for the repeal of the hated stamp act, and justice to the colonies. before the long and bloody days of the revolution proved his worth as a soldier, isaac gregory had won a prominent place in the public affairs of his county. his name first occurs in the colonial records in , when he was elected sheriff of pasquotank. in the same year he was appointed one of the trustees of st. martin's chapel in indian town, currituck county, a settlement whose citizens were many of them to become honored in the civil and military history of our state. ever since the passing of the stamp act in , low mutterings of the storm that was soon to sweep over the country some ten years later had disturbed the peace of the thirteen colonies; and events in north carolina showed that this colony was standing shoulder to shoulder with her american sisters in their endeavor to obtain justice from england. in , john harvey's trumpet call to the people of north carolina to circumvent governor martin's attempt to deprive them of representation in the continental congress at philadelphia, had resulted in the convention at new bern, the first meeting in america at which the representatives of a colony as a whole had ever gathered in direct defiance of orders from a royal governor. the next year, in april, harvey again called a convention of the people to meet in new bern. again governor martin was defied; again, the north carolinians, taking matters into their own hands, elected delegates to philadelphia, and before adjourning, added carolina's name to the association of colonies. pasquotank was represented in this convention by edward jones, joseph redding, edward everigen, john hearing, and isaac gregory. the last named, being by now an acknowledged leader in his county, was appointed by this body a member of the committee of safety in the edenton district. the path toward separation from the mother country was now being rapidly trod by the american colonies, though few, as yet, realized whither their steps were tending. in the vanguard of this march toward liberty and independence, north carolina kept a conspicuous place. the edenton tea party in october, , had proved the mettle of her women. the farmers of mecklenburg had struck the first chord in the song of independence, hardly a note of which had been sounded by the other colonies. governor martin had fled from new bern, and in august, , the hillsboro convention had organized a temporary form of government, and had placed at the head of public affairs cornelius harnett, who, as president of the provincial council, had more power in the state than is generally delegated to a governor. in december, , lord dunmore's attempted invasion of the state had been thwarted, largely by the aid of the minute men from albemarle. then came the famous snow campaign, in which the militia of the western counties joined the patriots of south carolina in defeating the tories of that state. and in february, , the important victory at moore's creek bridge had completely for a time broken the power of the loyalists in north carolina. there was no longer any hope of obtaining justice from england, nor, after such open and steady rebellion against the king's officers, civil and military, could there be any hope of conciliation with the mother country, save on terms too humiliating to even contemplate. north carolina, recognizing these facts, called another convention to meet at halifax in april, , and there sounded her defiance as a state to king and parliament, and boldly authorized her delegates to the next continental congress at philadelphia to vote for independence. the convention then proceeded to make further preparations for the war which all now felt was inevitable. pasquotank, in response to the call immediately issued for more troops, raised two regiments of militia. isaac gregory, who had been appointed lieutenant-colonel of the pasquotank militia by the convention of , was promoted and made colonel of the second regiment of pasquotank militia, the other officers being dempsey burgess, lieutenant-colonel, joshua campbell, major, and peter daugé, second major. independence having been declared by the continental congress of , the thirteen colonies, now independent states, proceeded to organize a permanent government within their several borders. in north carolina a state convention was called to meet at halifax in november, , to frame a constitution for the government of that state. to this convention isaac gregory, henry abbott, devotion davis, dempsey burgess and lemuel burgess were elected to represent pasquotank, and abbott was appointed on the committee to frame the constitution. by the th of december the work was completed and the constitution adopted, which, with amendments, is still the organic law of the state. after clinton's unsuccessful attempt to invade north carolina in may, , no further effort to place the state under british control was made until . but during the intervening years the carolina troops had not been idle. their valor had been proved at brandywine, germantown and stony point, and during the winter at valley forge , of her soldiers shared with their comrades from the other states the hunger, cold and suffering that was the portion of washington's army throughout those dreary months. the north carolina troops had aided in the brave but unsuccessful attempt to drive the british from savannah, and , of her soldiers had been sent to prevent the capture of charleston; but the patriot forces had been unable to repulse the invaders. savannah fell, then charleston, and by the last of may, , both georgia and south carolina were in the hands of the enemy, and cornwallis was threatening north carolina. so great was the blow to the american cause from the loss of these southern states, and so great the danger confronting north carolina, that congress ordered dekalb, of the continental line with the regulars from maryland and delaware to march to the rescue of the patriots in the south. general gates, the reputed victor at saratoga, was also ordered south, and put in command of the southern forces. for awhile the enemy remained quiet, cornwallis delaying the devastation of south carolina until the maturing crops should be safe. this respite gave the carolinians time to collect their forces on the south carolina border, in order to drive back the enemy. isaac gregory, who in may, , had been promoted to the office of brigadier-general of the edenton district, on the resignation of john pugh williams, was ordered to join general caswell in south carolina. as soon as he could collect his men, gregory marched towards the piedmont section, on his way to caswell's army; and by june he was with rutherford's brigade at yadkin's ford in rowan. near this place the tories had collected, some strong; and rutherford hoped, with gregory's aid, to crush them. but to his disappointment, no opportunity was given, for general bryan, the tory leader, hearing of the defeat of the loyalists at ramseur's mill a few days before, crossed the yadkin and united with general macarthur, whom cornwallis had sent to anson county. by july gregory's men, with rutherford and his brigade, were with general caswell at the cheraws, just across the south carolina border. for several weeks there was much suffering among the men on account of the lack of food, for though corn was plentiful, the rivers were so high that the mills could not grind the meal. lord rawdon's army was stationed near camden, south carolina, and gates, who had joined caswell on august , having learned that the british general was daily expecting a supply of food and stores for his men, determined to intercept the convoy and capture the supplies for his own army. in the meantime cornwallis, unknown to gates, had joined lord rawdon. gates, ignorant of this reinforcement of cornwallis' troops, marched leisurely towards camden to capture the coveted stores. the result of the battle that followed is known only too well. the american militia, panic-stricken at the furious onslaught of the enemy, threw down their arms and fled. general gates, after a vain attempt to rally his troops, lost courage, and abandoning his forces and his stores, brought everlasting disgrace upon his name by fleeing in hot haste from the field. but the cowardly conduct of gates and several of the other officers of the american army, as well as many of the militia, in this disastrous battle, was offset by the heroism and courage of others; and among those who won undying fame on that fatal field, none is more worthy of praise than general gregory. roger lamb, a british officer, writing an account of the battle, and speaking of the disgraceful conduct of those officers and men whose flight from the field brought shame upon the american army, gives this account of isaac gregory's heroic struggle to withstand the enemy at this bloody field: "in justice to north carolina, it should be remarked that general gregory's brigade acquitted themselves well. they formed on the left of the continentals, and kept the field while they had a cartridge left. gregory himself was twice wounded by bayonets in bringing off his men, and many in his brigade had only bayonet wounds." as to fight hand to hand with bayonets requires far more courage than to stand at a distance and fire a musket, this account of gregory and his troops proves the bravery with which they fought during those terrible hours. general gregory's horse was shot from under him while the battle was raging; and seeing him fall, so sure was the enemy of his death that cornwallis in his official report of the battle, gave in his name in the list of the american officers killed on the field. two days after the battle of camden, the patriots, shelby, clarke and williams, defeated a band of tories at musgrove's mill in south carolina; but hearing of the disaster at camden, these officers now withdrew from the state. sumter's corps, near rocky mount, had been put to flight by tarleton, gates had fled the state, and only davie's men were left between the army of cornwallis and charlotte, north carolina. had the british general pressed on into the state, north carolina must have inevitably fallen into the hands of the enemy. but cornwallis delayed the invasion for nearly a month, thus giving the carolinians time to collect their forces to repel his attempt. the general assembly which met in september, , acting upon governor nash's advice, created a board of war to assist him in conducting the military affairs of the state. this board now proceeded to put general smallwood, of maryland, in command of all the forces in the state, giving him authority over all the officers in the southern army, the honor being conferred upon him on account of his gallant conduct at camden. general gregory was consequently ordered to hold himself in readiness to obey general smallwood's orders, with the other officers in north carolina. the board of war then proceeded to raise money, arms and men for the army that would soon be called upon to drive cornwallis from the state. gregory's brigade received $ , of the funds raised, and flints and guns were distributed among his soldiers. the british now confidently expected that cornwallis would quickly subdue north carolina, then sweep over the state into virginia. in order to prevent the americans from hurrying into that state to join forces against cornwallis, general leslie was ordered from new york to the chesapeake, and in october his army was stationed near south quays in virginia, not far from norfolk. the presence of leslie's army so close to the carolina border caused much alarm for the safety of the albemarle section, which for the second time was in danger of invasion. general gregory, who after the battle of camden had joined exum and jarvis in front of cornwallis, had recently returned to albemarle. he was now ordered to take the field against leslie, and to prevent him from entering the state. from his camp at great swamp, near north river, he wrote to governor nash in november, , reporting the repulse of the enemy. he also warned the governor that the british were planning to attack edenton; and he set forth in his letter the blow that the capture of this town would be to the commerce of the state. general gregory's post at great swamp was no sinecure. he had only about men to withstand leslie, whose forces at portsmouth amounted to nearly , men. his troops were poorly equipped, half naked, and ill-fed; and his situation seemed almost desperate. to add to his troubles, an attempt was made at this time by colonel blount, of the edenton district, to deprive him of his command. but a council of state, held at camp norfleet mills to inquire into the matter, declared that as colonel blount had resigned of his own free will and accord--in favor of gregory--he should not now take the command from him. in spite of the troubles and perplexities that beset gregory in the fall of , he bravely held his ground; and by the end of november he wrote governor nash from his camp at north west that the british had abandoned portsmouth, and had departed for parts unknown. while these events were taking place in the east, cornwallis, whose left wing under ferguson had suffered a crushing defeat at king's mountain, disappointed at the humbling of the tories at that battle, had left north carolina on october th, and returned to south carolina. the heavy rains encountered by his army on his retreat caused much sickness among his men; and himself falling ill, he was obliged to give up his command temporarily to lord rawdon. general leslie's destination soon became known. on november he had abandoned the vicinity of norfolk, and had sailed to wilmington, n.c., hoping to rouse the tories in that section; but lord rawdon's army being now in great danger, leslie was ordered to his assistance, and he accordingly set out for the british army near camden. but southern virginia and the albemarle region were not long to be free from the fear of invasion, for soon another british army under the command of the traitor, benedict arnold, sailed into chesapeake bay, and gregory was again sent to keep the enemy in check. during this campaign a serious charge was brought against gregory, which, though soon proved to be wholly unfounded, caused the gallant officer life-long mortification and distress. the circumstances of this unfortunate occurrence were as follows: captain stevens, a british officer in arnold's corps, while sitting idly by his fire one night, "just for a joke," as he afterwards explained, wrote two notes to general gregory, which he intended to destroy, as they were simply the product of his own imagination, and were never intended to go out of his hands. in some unknown way these papers came into the hands of an american officer, who, deeming from their contents that gregory was a traitor, carried them to headquarters. their purport being made public, even gregory's most loyal friends began to look upon him with suspicion and distrust. the first of these two notes was as follows: "general gregory: "your well-formed plans of delivering into the hands of the british these people now in your command, gives me much pleasure. your next, i hope, will mention place of ambuscade, and manner you wish to fall into my hands." the second note was equally incriminating: "general gregory: "a mr. ventriss was last night made prisoner by three or four of your people. i only wish to inform you that ventriss could not help doing what he did in helping to destroy the logs. i myself delivered him the order from colonel simcox." great was the excitement and consternation in gregory's brigade, and indeed throughout the american army when these notes were read. arnold's treason early in was still fresh in the minds of all; and it was natural that the accusation now brought against general gregory should find ready and widespread credence. gregory was arrested and court-martialed by his own men; but his innocence was soon established, for as soon as colonel stevens heard of the disgrace he had unintentionally brought upon an innocent man, he hastened to make amends for his thoughtless act by a full explanation of his part in the affair. colonel parker, a british officer and a friend of stevens, had been informed of the writing of the notes, and he now joined stevens in furnishing testimony at the trial that fully exonerated the brave general from the hateful charge. but though friends and brother officers now crowded around him with sincere and cordial congratulations upon the happy termination of the affair, and with heartfelt expressions of regret at the unfortunate occurrence, the brave and gallant officer, crushed and almost heart-broken at the readiness with which his men and many of his fellow officers had accepted what seemed proofs of his guilt, never recovered from the hurt caused by the cruel charge. for though he nobly put aside his just resentment, and remained at his post of duty, guarding the albemarle counties from danger of invasion until the withdrawal of the british troops from southeastern virginia removed the danger, his life was ever afterwards shadowed by the mortification he had been called upon to undergo. in february, , the enemy's army in virginia became such a source of terror to the people of that section that general allen jones was ordered to reinforce gregory with troops from the halifax district. but later that same month a greater danger confronted the patriot army in the south, and this order was countermanded. most of the forces in the states were now hurried to the aid of general greene, who had superseded gates after the battle of camden, and was leading cornwallis an eventful chase across the piedmont section of north carolina. cornwallis, after having been reinforced by general leslie, had planned to invade north carolina, conquer that state, march through virginia and join clinton in a fierce onslaught against washington's army in the north. to foil the plans of the british officers greene was concentrating the patriot troops in the south in the catawba valley, and gregory was left with only a handful of men to hold the enemy at norfolk in check. in june, general gregory's situation was so desperate that the assembly again ordered general allan jones to send men from halifax district to north west bridge to reinforce gregory; and the latter officer was authorized to draft as many men as possible from the edenton district. general jones informed the assembly that he would send the troops as soon as possible, but that gregory would have to provide arms, as he had no means of furnishing equipments for them. several engagements took place in june between the british and americans in the dismal swamp region, and in one of them gregory was repulsed and driven from his position. but in july he wrote to colonel blount reporting that his losses were trifling, and that he had regained his old post from the enemy. in august, , a letter from general gregory conveyed the joyful tidings that the enemy had evacuated portsmouth. as his troops were no longer needed to guard against the danger of invasion from that direction, and as smallpox had broken out in his camp, general gregory now released his men from duty, and they returned to their homes. the british army that had just left portsmouth, was now on its way to yorktown, whither cornwallis, after his fruitless chase of greene, his disastrous victory at guilford courthouse, and his retreat to wilmington, was now directing his army. there on the th of october the famous battle of yorktown was fought and cornwallis and his entire army forced to surrender. this battle virtually ended the war; but peace did not come to carolina immediately upon the surrender. the tories in the state kept up a constant warfare upon their whig neighbors, and in march, , general greene, who not long after the battle of guilford courthouse had won a decisive victory at eutaw springs, and was still in south carolina, sent the alarming intelligence to the towns on the coast that the british had sent four vessels from charleston harbor to plunder and burn new bern and edenton. to meet this unexpected emergency, general rutherford was ordered to quell the tories in the cape fear section, who were terrorizing the people in that region. and in april, , general gregory received orders from general burke to take men to edenton for the defense of that town, and to notify count de rochambeau as soon as the enemy should appear in albemarle sound. in august no sign of the british ships had as yet been seen, though the coast towns were still in daily dread of their arrival. governor martin, who had succeeded burke, wrote gregory to purchase whatever number of vessels the edenton merchants considered necessary for the protection of the town, to buy cannon and to draft men to man the boats. but edenton was spared the horror of a second raid such as she had suffered in . in december, , the british army in south carolina, which since the battle of eutaw springs had been hemmed in at charleston by general greene, finally embarked for england. the ships that had been keeping the towns near the coast in north carolina in terror, departed with them, and the states that had for so many long and bitter years been engaged in the terrific struggle with england, were left to enjoy the fruits of their splendid victory without further molestation from the enemy. in september, , the treaty of peace was signed by great britain, and the united states, separately and individually, were declared to be "free, sovereign and independent states." general gregory's services to his state did not end with the war. eight times from to , we find him representing camden county in the state senate, serving on important committees, and lending the weight of his influence to every movement tending toward the prosperity and welfare of the state. in the local affairs of his neighborhood he also took a prominent part. in the currituck seminary was established at indian town, and isaac gregory and his friend and brother officer, colonel peter daugé, were appointed on the board of trustees of this school, which for many years was one of the leading educational institutions of the albemarle section. general gregory lived at the ferebee place in camden county in a large brick house, known then, as now, as fairfax hall. the old building is still standing, a well known landmark in the county. a letter from james iredell to his wife, written while this famous north carolina judge was a guest at fairfax, gives a pleasant account of an evening spent in general gregory's home with parson pettigrew and gideon lamb, and also of the kindness and hospitality of the camden people. in volume of the iredell letters this description of general gregory's personal appearance is given: "a lady, who remembers general gregory well, says that he was a large, fine looking man. he was exceedingly polite, had a very grand air, and in dress was something of a fop." in the same volume the following interesting account of an incident in the life of the famous general is found: "general gregory lived in his latter years so secluded a life and knew so little of events beyond his own family circle, that he addressed to a lady, the widow of governor stone, a letter making a formal proposal of marriage, full six months after her death." general isaac gregory was the son of general william gregory, an officer who took a prominent part in the french and indian wars. he married miss elizabeth whedbee, and had two children, sarah and matilda. sarah married dempsey burgess, of camden, and matilda married a young german, john christopher ehringhaus. many of the descendants of this brave revolutionary officer are living in the albemarle region to-day, and claim with pride this ancestor, who, as captain ashe in his history of north carolina says, "was one of the few who won honor at camden, and whose good fame was never tarnished by a single unworthy action." [illustration: fairfax, camden county, the home of general gregory] the sir walter raleigh chapter of the daughters of the revolution have within the past year obtained from the united states government a simple stone which they have had placed to mark the grave of this gallant officer, who lies buried in the family graveyard at fairfax. chapter xiii perquimans county--"land of beautiful women," and the colonial town of hertford from its hidden source in the southern fringe of the far-famed dismal swamp, the perquimans river, lovely as its indian name, which, being interpreted, signifies "the land of beautiful women," comes winding down. past marshes green with flags and rushes and starred with flowers of every hue, through forests dense with pine and cypress, with gum and juniper, the amber waters of the ancient stream pursue their tranquil way. lazily, but steadily and untiringly, the river journeys on in obedience to the eternal, insistent call of the sea, till its waves, meeting and mingling with those of the great sound and its numerous tributaries, finally find their way through the sand bars that bound our coast, to the stormy atlantic. save for the fields of corn and cotton that lie along its banks, and an occasional sawmill whose whirring wheels break at long intervals the silence of its wooded shores, the peaceful river through the greater part of its way is undisturbed by signs of man's presence. only twice in its course do its banks resound to the hum of town and village life, once when shortly emerging from the great swamp, the river in its winding flows by the sleepy little quaker village of belvidere; and again when its tranquility is suddenly broken by the stir and bustle of mill and factory, upon whose existence depends the prosperity of the old colonial town of hertford. there, the river, suddenly as wide awake as the beautiful town by which it flows, changes its narrow, tortuous, leisurely course, and broadening out from a slender stream, sweeps on to the sea, a river grown, whose shores from this point on lie apart from each other a distance of more than a mile. of all the streams that flow down to the sea from albemarle, none exceeds in beauty or historic interest the lovely perquimans river. on its eastern banks lies durant's neck, the home of george durant, the first settler in our state, who in left his virginia home and came into albemarle; and being well pleased with the beauty and fertility of fair wikacome, was content to abide thenceforth in that favored spot. on the banks of the streams flowing on either side of wikacome, roamed an indian tribe, the yeopims, whose great chief kilcokonen gave to george durant the first deed for land ever recorded in our state. durant, his friend and comrade, samuel pricklove, and their families and servants, proved to be the vanguard of a long procession of settlers, who, following the footsteps of these first pioneers, made their homes upon the shores of the albemarle streams. soon the dense forests that stretched down to the river brinks fell beneath the axe of these home-seekers, and small farms and great plantations fringed the borders of the streams. at the narrows of the perquimans, where the waters widen into a broad, majestic river, a sturdy pioneer, henry phillips (or phelps) had built his home. thither in the spring of , came a missionary, william edmundson, a friend and follower of george fox, who some years before had over in england founded the society of friends. henry phelps was a member of this society also, and the meeting between the two godly men was a joyful one. during the ten years that had passed since the indian chief had signed his first grant of land to the white man, the settlers of albemarle had had no opportunity of assembling together for public worship. phelps, knowing how gladly the call would be answered, at the bidding of edmundson, summoned such of his friends and neighbors as he could reach, to his home, to hear the word preached by this zealous man of god. not since the days of little virginia dare had a body of christian men and women met together in carolina to offer in public worship their prayer and praises to the loving father, who had led them safely over storm-tossed waters, through tangled wilderness, into this land of promise. rough and uncultured as most of the congregation were, they listened quietly and reverently to the good missionary, and received the word with gladness. there were present at the meeting "one tems and his wife," who earnestly entreated edmundson to hold another service at their home three miles away. so the next day he journeyed to the home of tems, and there another "blessed meeting" was held; and there was founded a society whose members were to be for many years the most prominent religious body in the state. in the fall of , the hearts of the members of this infant church were gladdened by the tidings that george fox himself was on his way to visit the little band of brethren in the wilds of carolina. one cool, crisp october morning, the great preacher arrived. again was the home of phelps chosen for the meeting; but so great was the crowd that gathered to hear him that the house would not hold the congregation. standing a little distance from phelps' simple dwelling were two great cypress trees. close down by the water's edge they grew, their feathery branches shading the rippling waves, and shielding the listeners from the glare of a sun whose rays had not yet lost their summer's heat. under one of these trees the preacher stood, and spoke to the assembled crowd as the spirit gave him utterance. it was a "tender meeting," as fox reports in his letters describing his stay in perquimans. many who were present became converts to the faith of fox and edmundson; and perquimans county and her sister, pasquotank, became for many years the stronghold of the society of friends in carolina. for a number of years after george fox's visit to perquimans, the quakers were the only religious body in the colony that regularly assembled its members together for divine service. their ministers were for the most part from the congregation itself; no salary was demanded by them; and the home of some friends was the scene of their religious meetings. in a new country where ready money is a scarce commodity, a church that could be conducted without any expenditure of cash could more easily take root, than one whose existence depended upon a certain amount, however small, of filthy lucre. the lords proprietors, members for the most part of the church of england, were too intent upon extracting wealth from their colony in carolina to be willing to expend any of their gains for the good of the colonists. disregarding the petitions of their officers in albemarle, who saw the great need for missionaries in the struggling settlements, they refused to become responsible for the salary of a minister. but after a while the society for the propagation of the gospel in foreign parts took hold of the matter, and in a church was built in chowan, near where edenton now stands. by rev. mr. gordon, who was one of the two ministers sent out by the s.p.g., writes to the secretary of the society from perquimans: "in perquimans there is a compact little church, built with care and express, and better than that in chowan. it continues yet unfinished, by reason of the death of major swann, , who fostered the building of this church." among the vestrymen of this new parish may be found the following names: francis forbes, colonel maurice moore, captain hecklefield, thomas hardy, captain richard saunderson, henry clayton, joseph jessups, samuel phelps and richard whedbee. most of these gentlemen were men of note in the colony, and many of their descendants are now living in perquimans county. that the wealthy planters in albemarle felt a certain responsibility for the spiritual welfare of their slaves, was shown by the fact that master and slave alike gathered together to join in the services held by the early missionaries of the church of england; and that the master willingly allowed his servant to share in the blessings of the sacraments of the church. a letter from rev. mr. taylor, written from perquimans in , records that he had just "baptized a young woman, slave of mr. duckinfield, to whom i have taught the whole of the church catechism." but the letter further reveals that our early colonists cherished their worldly possessions fully as fondly as their descendants, who pursue with avidity the chase after the dollar. and when it came to the question of the slave's spiritual welfare, or the master's temporal prosperity, the master did not hesitate to show which he considered of the most importance. for, as mr. taylor writes, when it was rumored in that the general assembly of that year had decreed that all baptized slaves should be set free; and when, immediately, and by a strange coincidence, the reverend gentleman was suddenly besieged by bands of men and women, all loudly clamoring to receive the rite of holy baptism, duckinfield and others of the planters prudently restrained the poor darkies from entering the church's folds until that law could be repealed. in secular as well as religious affairs, perquimans precinct in those early days took an active part. men of political and social prominence resided within her borders, and at their homes, for lack of other shelter for public gatherings, much of the business of the colony, legislative and judicial, was transacted. as early as the population of albemarle had grown so numerous that the settlers found themselves strong enough to successfully resist the oppressive rule of the unworthy governors set over them by the lords proprietors. and in that year, led by john culpeper and george durant, a revolt against the tyrannical miller, which began in pasquotank, spread through the surrounding precincts. among the men from perquimans who took part in this disturbance, known in history as culpeper's rebellion, were george durant, alexander lillington, samuel pricklove, jenkins, sherrell and greene. so successfully did they and their comrades strive against miller's tyranny, that that worthy was driven out of carolina, and the reins of government fell into the hands of culpeper and durant. and at the home of the latter on durant's neck, a fair and equitable people's government was organized, the first of the kind framed in america. alexander lillington, who lent the weight of his wealth and influence to the people in their struggle against miller, was a rich planter who in bought a tract of land from stephen pane and john foster, on yeopim creek, and soon became one of the leading men in the colony. his descendants moved to new hanover, and a namesake of his in later years won for himself undying fame at the battle of moore's creek bridge. at the homes of captain john hecklefield and captain richard saunderson, the general assembly and the governor's council often convened. the famous glover-cary controversy was temporarily settled at the home of the former, by the assembly of , while captain saunderson's dwelling sheltered the assembly of , whose important acts were for the first time formally recorded and published. the courts were frequently held at the home of dinah maclenden, and james thickpenny. james oates, captain james cole and captain anthony dawson also bore their share in entertaining the judicial assemblies. as the population of the colony increased, facilities for carrying on commerce and for traveling through the country became one of the crying needs of the day. the numerous rivers of albemarle made provision for ferries imperative, and as early as , we find record made of "ye ferre over ye mane road" in perquimans. in it is recorded that samuel phelps was appointed "keeper of ye toll boke at ye head of perquimans river." a council held at the home of captain saunderson in ordered: "that for the better convenience of people passing through the country, a good and sufficient ferry be duly kept and attended over perquimans river, from mrs. anne wilson's to james thickpenny, and that mrs. wilson do keep the same, and that no other persons presume to ferry over horse or man within five miles above or below that place." as time went on, the crowds attending the courts and assemblies became too large to be accommodated in private dwellings. as early as , the general assembly ordered a court-house to be built at phelps point, now the town of hertford, and tradition states that the old building was erected on the point near the bridge, where the home of mr. thomas mcmullan now stands. one of the most interesting spots in perquimans county is the strip of land lying between the perquimans and the yeopim rivers, known as harvey's neck. this was the home of the harveys, men who for over a century bore an important part in the history of our state. it was in older days, as now, a fair and fertile land. herds of deer wandered through its forests; and great flocks of swan and wild geese floated upon its silver streams, feeding upon the sweet grass which then grew in those rivers. the waters were then salt, but with the choking up of the inlets that let in the saline waves of the atlantic, the grass disappeared, and with it the wild fowl who wintered there. of all the members of the famous harvey family whose homes were builded on this spot, none proved more worthy of the fame he won than john harvey, son of thomas harvey and elizabeth coles. elected when just of age to the assembly of , he continued to serve his state in a public capacity until his death in . resisting the tyrannical endeavor of governor dobbs to tax the people against their rights, he nevertheless stood by the same governor in his efforts to raise men and money for the french and indian war. serving as speaker of the house in , he took an active part in opposing the stamp act, and boldly declared in the assembly that north carolina would not pay those taxes. in the assembly of he proposed that carolina should form a non-importation association; and when governor tryon thereupon angrily dismissed the assembly and ordered its members home, harvey called a convention independent of the governor, and the association was formed. when governor martin refused to call the assembly of , for fear that it would elect delegates to the continental congress, john harvey declared: "then the people will call an assembly themselves"; and following their intrepid leader, the people did call the convention of , elected their delegates to philadelphia, and openly and boldly joined and led their sister colonies in the gigantic struggle with the mother country that now began. in the time of boston's need, when her ports were closed by england's orders, and her people were threatened with starvation, john harvey and joseph hewes together caused the ship "penelope" to be loaded with corn and meal, flour and pork, which they solicited from the generous people of albemarle, and sent it with words of cheer and sympathy to their brethren in the new england town. in harvey again braved the anger of the royal governor and called another people's convention, whose purpose and work was to watch and circumvent the tyrant in his endeavor to crush the patriots in the state. "the father of the revolution" in carolina, he was to his native state what patrick henry was to virginia, in the early days of the revolution, and what hancock and adams were to massachusetts. his untimely death, in , caused by a fall from a horse, was deeply mourned by patriots throughout the land. among other eminent sons of perquimans during the revolutionary period the names of miles harvey, colonel of the regiment from that county; william skinner, lieutenant-colonel of the same regiment; thomas harvey, major, and major richard clayton, are recorded in history. among the delegates to the people's convention called by harvey and johnston we find the harveys, whedbees, blounts, skinners and moores, men whose names were prominent then as now in the social and political life of the state. as time went on, phelps point at the narrows of the perquimans river became so thickly populated that by june, , a petition was presented to the general assembly, praying for an act to be passed to lay out acres of land in perquimans, including phelps point, for a town and a town commons. but a disturbance arose in the state about that time concerning the right of the northern counties to send five delegates each to the assembly, while the southern counties were allowed to send only two. governor gabriel johnson sided with the southern section, and ordered the assembly to meet at wilmington in november, , on which occasion he and the southern delegates proposed to make a strong fight to reduce the representation from the albemarle counties. the northern counties, tenaciously clinging to their rights, established in the early days of the colony when the counties south of albemarle sound had not been organized, refused to send delegates to this assembly; whereupon that body, though a majority of its members were absent, passed an act reducing the representation from the albemarle region to two members from each county. indignant at this act, which they considered illegal, the citizens in the northern counties refused to subscribe to it, and for eight years declined to send any delegates at all to the assembly; and the bill for establishing a town in perquimans was heard from no more until the trouble between the two sections was settled. finally the people of albemarle sent a petition to george iii, praying him to restore their rights in the general assembly, and the king graciously granted their request. in an assembly met at new bern, at which delegates from all sections of the colony were present; and in answer to a petition presented by john harvey, it passed an act for the erection of a town at phelps point in perquimans county. the little village was called hertford, a word of saxon origin, signifying red ford. it was named for the marquis of hertford, an english noble who moved for the repeal of the stamp act in , and who was ambassador at paris in the reign of george iii, and lord lieutenant of ireland. the settlement at phelps point was already an important rendezvous for the dwellers in the county. the cypress trees under which fox had stood and preached to the little band of brethren still stood, as they stand to-day, bending lovingly over the stream, close to the end of the point. a little church of england chapel farther down had since been the center of the religious life of its members in the county, and the court-house on the point since had been the scene of the political and judicial gatherings in perquimans. the assembly of , realizing the importance of the little town to the community, decreed that a public ferry should be established "from newby's point to phelp's point where the court-house now stands," and in seth sumner, william skinner, francis nixon, john harvey and henry clayton were appointed trustees of the ferry; a three-penny tax was laid on all taxable persons to defray the expenses of the ferry, and "all persons crossing to attend vestry meetings, elections, military musters, court martials and sessions of the court" were to be carried over free of charge. the site of the town, described in colonial records as "healthy, pleasantly situated, well watered and commodious for commerce," was the property of john phelps, who gave his consent to the laying off of acres for the town on condition that he should retain his own house and lot, and four lots adjoining him. the public ferry having fallen into his hands, the further condition was made that the town should allow no ferry other than his to be run so long as he complied with the ferry laws. the subscribers for the lots were ordered to build within three years, one well-framed or brick house at least feet square; and in one month from purchase, were to pay the trustees the sum of shillings for each lot. as early as , before the little settlement began to assume the airs of a town, the old eagle tavern still standing on church street, was a registered hotel; and there when court week appeared on the calendar, the representative men of the county and the surrounding precincts would gather. quiet quaker folk from piney woods, eight miles down from newby's point, whites and nicholsons, albertsons, newbys and symmes, jogged along the country roads behind their sleek, well-fed nags, to answer with serene yea or nay the questions asked on witness stand or in jury room. powdered and bewigged judge and lawyer, high and mighty king's officers from edenton or new bern, or bath, brilliant in gay uniform, rolled ponderously thither in cumbersome coaches. leaving their great plantations on the adjoining necks in the hands of their overseers, harveys and skinners, blounts and whedbees, winslows and gordons, nixons and woods and leighs, dashed up to the doors of the tavern on spirited steeds. hospitable townsfolk hurried to and fro, greeting the travelers, and causing mine host of the inn much inward concern, lest their cordial invitation lure from his door the guest whose bill he could see, in his mind's eye, pleasantly lengthen, as the crowded court docket slowly cleared. very sure were the guests at the tavern that horse and man would be well cared for by the genial landlord; for the law required that the host of eagle tavern should give ample compensation for the gold he pocketed. when business was ended, the strangers within his gates wended their way homeward. no skimping of the bill of fare, no inattention to the comfort of the wayfarer did the landlord dare allow, lest his license be taken from him for violation of the tavern laws. many an illustrious guest the ancient inn has known, and a story cherished by the hertford people ascribes to the quaint old structure the honor of having on one occasion sheltered beneath its roof the illustrious "father of his country," george washington. [illustration: eagle tavern, hertford, north carolina] whether our first president came to hertford on business connected with lands in the dismal swamp in which he was interested, or whether he tarried at the old tavern while on his triumphal journey through the south in , no one now knows, but the room is still shown, and the tale still told of the great man's stay therein. diagonally across the street from the eagle tavern, at the end of the yard enclosing the old harvey home, may be seen two great stones which are said to mark the grave of a mighty indian chief. possibly kilcokonen, friend of george durant, lies buried there. the hertford children in olden days, when tales of ghost and goblin were more readily believed than they are to-day, used to thrill with delicious fear whenever in the dusk of the evening they passed the spot, and warily they would step over the stones, half-dreading, half-hoping to see, as legend said was possible, the spirit of the old warrior rise from the grave, swinging his gory tomahawk and uttering his blood-chilling war cry. during the long years that have passed since the white man came into albemarle, old perquimans has borne an enviable part in making the history of our state. hertford itself felt little of the fury of the storm of the war of secession, though during the awful cataclysm the peaceful perquimans was often disturbed by the gunboats of the northern army. one brief battle was fought in the town, in which one man was killed on each side. and the old residents still love to boast of the heroism shown by the courageous hertford women, who, while the skirmish was going on, came out on their piazzas, and, heedless of the shot and shell flying thick and fast around them, cheered on the soldiers battling to defend their homes. a ball from one of the gunboats on the river, while this skirmish was taking place, went through one of the houses down near the shore and tore the covering from the bed on which the mistress of the house had just been lying. the cruel war at last was over, the darker days of reconstruction passed heavily and stressfully by; the south began to recover from the ruin wrought by the awful struggle and its aftermath; and in the quiet years that followed, the spirit of god brooded over her rivers, hills and plains, and brought peace and prosperity to the troubled land. her farms were tilled again, the wheels of mills and factories were set whirling, and new business enterprises offered to the laboring man opportunities to earn a fair living. and the old colonial town of hertford, sharing with her sister towns and cities in the southland the prosperity for which her children for many weary, painful years had so bravely and manfully striven, sees the dawn of a new day, bright with the promise of a happy future for her sons and daughters. chapter xiv currituck, the haunt of the wild fowl currituck county is known the country over as the sportsman's paradise. thither when the first sharp frost gives warning that the clear autumn skies will soon be banked with gray snow clouds, the wild fowl from the far north come flocking. and as the swift-winged procession skims through the starry skies, and the hoarse cry of the aerial voyagers resounds over head, then do the dwellers in eastern albemarle know for a surety that the year is far spent, and the winter days close at hand. guided by unerring instinct, the feathered tribes of the north pursue "through the boundless sky their certain flight" till the shallow waters of currituck sound and its reedy shores greet their eager sight. there they find the wild celery and other aquatic plants upon which they love to feed, growing in abundance; and there they make their winter home "and rest and scream among their fellows," preferring the risk of death at the hands of the sportsman to the certain starvation that would confront them in their native arctic clime. vast as are to-day the clouds of wild fowl that every year descend upon the shores and waters of currituck, their numbers were far greater in years long gone, before the white man with shot and gun came roving among the reedy marshes. long before george durant's advent into the state, the indians with that aptness for nomenclature for which they are noted, had given to this haunt of the wild fowl the name of "coretonk," or currituck, as now called, in imitation of the cry of the feathered visitors. but not alone as the winter home of the winged creatures of the northern wilds was currituck noted in the early days of our state. this county, formerly much larger than it is to-day, for many years embraced the region known as dare county, and to currituck belongs the distinction of having once included within its borders the spot upon which raleigh's colonies tried to establish their homes. the history of that event is too well known to bear repetition. the story of amadas' and barlowe's expedition, of ralph lane's bold adventures in exploration of albemarle sound, chowan river and chesapeake bay, of the return of his disappointed colony to england in drake's vessels, and the tragic fate of little virginia dare and of john white's colony, have all been told in fiction, song and verse. the failure of raleigh's colonies to establish a permanent settlement in the new world discouraged the english for many years from making any further attempts to settle america. from , the date of governor white's return to roanoke, and of his unsuccessful search for the "lost colony," that lovely island for many years disappears from the white man's gaze; and save for a few scattered, unrecorded settlements in northern albemarle, carolina itself was almost unknown to the world. but in september, , according to the colonial records, a young fur trader from virginia had the misfortune to lose his sloop in which he was about to embark for the purpose of trading with the indians in the albemarle country. for reasons not stated he supposed she had gone to roanoke, so he hired a small boat, and with three companions set out in search of the runaway vessel. "they entered at coratoke inlet, ten miles to the north of cape henry," so reads the ancient chronicle, "and so went to roanoke island, where, or near thereabouts, they found the great commander of those parts with his indians a-hunting, who received them civilly and showed them the ruins of sir walter raleigh's fort, from which i received a sure token of their being there." a few months before this journey of the young fur trader, charles ii had bestowed upon eight of his favorites all the territory in america lying between the thirty-first and thirty-sixth parallels of latitude, a princely gift indeed, and worthy of the loyal friends who had devoted their lives and fortunes to the stuart cause during the dark days when that cause seemed hopelessly lost. this grant embraced the land adjacent to the north shore of albemarle sound, and extending to florida; but it failed to include a strip of territory about thirty miles broad, lying between the thirty-sixth degree and the virginia line. in this fertile region george durant and other settlers had as early as established their homes, buying from kilcokonen, the great chief of the yeopims, their right to the lands; and there these hardy pioneers were swiftly converting the primeval wilderness into fertile and productive fields. governor berkeley, of virginia, looked with covetous eye upon this fair strip of land, and with a view to planting settlements there in order to establish virginia's claim to the territory, he had offered in the name of king charles extensive grants in this region to planters who would bring a certain number of people into albemarle. in berkeley granted to john harvey acres of land "lying in a small creek called curratuck (probably indian creek to-day), falling into the river kecoughtancke (now north river), which falls in the carolina river (known to-day as albemarle sound). the land was given mr. harvey for bringing into the colony twelve new settlers." many other settlers in this region had acquired their lands by patents from virginia; but after the king's gift to his friends, berkeley, himself one of the lords proprietors, was no longer desirous to consider the albemarle region a part of the virginia colony; and henceforth the grants of land were all issued in the name of the lords proprietors. for several years, however, the albemarle counties were really separate, and to all practical purposes, independent territory. the proprietors had no legal claim to the region, and there was nothing in virginia's charter to show that she could rightfully lay claim to it. nevertheless the proprietors did claim it, and authorized berkeley to appoint a governor for that region. berkeley therefore journeyed into the settlement, organized a government, and appointed drummond governor of albemarle. in the lords, realizing the confusion that would arise unless their claim to the land was made good, induced the king to include albemarle in their grant. but virginia was by no means ready to relinquish her claim to this promising settlement, and after berkeley's day a long struggle began between the royal governors of that colony over the question as to who should collect the rents and taxes from the inhabitants of this disputed tract. as late as the quarrel was still going on, and the governor and council of virginia appealed to william and mary to restrain the governor of north carolina from collecting taxes in currituck county; and the question of the boundary line between virginia and carolina still being uncertain, the sovereigns were asked to have the bounds surveyed and settled. not for many years was this request regarded, though in commissioners from virginia went to currituck to meet those from carolina for the purpose of surveying the land and establishing the boundary between the two colonies. for some reason the carolina commissioners failed to appear, and not till did the work of settling the disputed boundaries really begin. in march of that year commissioners from the two colonies met on the north shore of currituck inlet, and a cedar post on the seashore was fixed as the beginning of the line. the result of the survey was that many thousand acres and several hundred people whom virginia had claimed were found to be in the albemarle district. this was naturally a great disappointment to virginia, and equally a matter of rejoicing to carolina, not only on account of the extra territory and inhabitants she now could lawfully claim, but because currituck inlet, the only entrance from the sea north of roanoke island, was thereafter indisputably thrown within her borders. this inlet, now closed by the shifting sands that form the long sand bars on the carolina coast, was of great importance in the early days of the colony, forming an entrance from the sea to the sound through which the trading vessels could slip. so necessary was this inlet to the commerce of the colony that in the general assembly ordered that the powder money accruing to the government by vessels coming into currituck inlet should be appropriated for beaconing and staking out the channel at that entrance. but by , the steady beating of the waves on the coast had deposited a bank of sand at the inlet. governor burrington wrote to the board of trade that it was no longer possible for large vessels to enter there, nor at roanoke inlet, which had also become so dangerous that no one cared to use it, but that the vessels now were obliged to go around by ocracoke inlet to make their exit and entrance from and into albemarle sound. the closing of the inlet was such a serious misfortune to the state that time and again efforts were made to reopen it, and the assembly of appropriated money for that purpose. but "man's control stops with the sea"; the waves continued to drop their burden of sand at the entrance to the inlet, and finally the attempt was abandoned. the great atlantic had made the entrance, and the same force had closed it, seemingly, forever, though small sloops still slipped in and out over the bar until , when it was entirely closed. so necessary was an outlet to the sea to the people of the albemarle region, that the assembly of passed an act providing for the digging of a canal from currituck sound to the head of north river; from thence vessels could go up north river and into elizabeth river, and on to norfolk, and so to the sea. this proposed plan was not carried out until many years later; for it was not until almost that the albemarle and chesapeake canal, following closely the route proposed in , was dug, though long before that date the dismal swamp canal had been opened, and a flourishing traffic was carried on between virginia and carolina waters. a traveler in eastern carolina, writing for _harper's magazine_ in , an account of his journeyings in the albemarle region, gives a most interesting description of his trip on the albemarle and chesapeake canal. the calypso was the first steamer to go through the canal, and on her maiden journey from norfolk to currituck county in , she was the observed of all observers. furthermore, continues mr. bruce, the writer of the article, who stopped at currituck courthouse for several days, "we must say that for average culture, intelligence and physical vigor, the people of this 'kingdom by the sea' will hold their own with most other communities, north or south." currituck being the sea frontier of albemarle, her waterways were naturally of prime importance to the state; but other matters of as great importance are found in reading the annals of this wind-blown, wave-washed county. in religious affairs we find that she early begins to make history. in governor glover wrote to the bishop of london: "pasquotank and currituck are now under the care of rev. james adams, to their general satisfaction, to whom they have presented the small provision of pounds a year." in rev. james adams informed the s.p.g.a. that he had been living for over a year in the home of a mr. richard saunderson, a former member of the governor's council, who had made a will in which, after his own and his wife's death, he had left considerable legacy for the encouragement of a minister in currituck parish, where he lived, namely: "a good plantation with all the houses and furniture, slaves, and their increase, and stock of cows, sheep and horses and hogs, with their increase forever." this was later declared void by the courts on account of sanderson's incapacity. so acceptable did mr. adams prove to the parish, that in the vestry wrote a letter of thanks to thomas, archbishop of canterbury, thanking him for sending this godly clergyman of the church of england to the parish. in , on the death of mr. adams, the rev. mr. rainsford was sent to take his place. he wrote back to england that on reaching currituck he found a small chapel at indian town, and there in june of that year he "preached to vast crowds" that came to hear him. in a legally appointed vestry was organized for the parish of currituck, among the most prominent of whose members were richard saunderson, colonel william reed, foster jarvis, william swann, and william williams. the services of the church of england were conducted in the county during those early days with as much regularity as the scattered congregations and the lack of facilities for traveling in that water-bound region permitted. in the general assembly passed an act to establish st. martin's chapel at belleville, and isaac gregory, peter daugé and a mr. ferebee were appointed to take this matter in charge. in educational matters currituck was wonderfully alert in colonial days for a county so inaccessible from the rest of the state. probably the most noted of her schools was the indian town academy built in by william ferebee, one of the most prominent men in north carolina, on his plantation, called by the indians "culong," and by the whites, "indian town." many of the students at this academy were in later days to be counted among the state's most famous and useful men. william ferebee's family alone furnished six members of the legislature, three revolutionary officers, and one colonel in the confederacy in the war of secession. for a hundred years this famous old school kept up its career of usefulness, but in the so-called "negro raid" of it met the fate that befell so many of the south's cherished institutions during the dark days of - , and was reduced to ashes by the incendiary's torch. another well known school in indian town, the most prominent settlement in currituck in colonial days, was the currituck seminary of learning, which was built in , and which numbered among its trustees isaac gregory, peter daugé, and william ferebee. this building served the triple purpose of school, church and masons' hall, the upper story being used for holding church service, and by the masons for their meetings, and the lower for the school. the principal of this school was called the provost, a high-sounding title which must have made even the most insignificant of pedagogues feel proud and important. among the teachers employed at this institution during the later years of its existence was ezekiel gilman, of massachusetts, a graduate of harvard, who came to currituck in and who taught in currituck and camden fifty consecutive years. mr. gilman is still well and affectionately remembered by citizens of these counties, who as lads were fortunate enough to be his pupils. though somewhat eccentric in manner and dress, he was a man of deep learning, whose kindness of heart was proverbial throughout the counties which were the scene of his labors. when the storm of the revolutionary war broke over the american colonies, the men of currituck came gallantly to the front, and with comrade soldiers from the other colonies doggedly and persistently fought the foe till the last british trooper was driven from the land, and independence was not only declared, but won. few counties in the state gave more freely of her sons than did this county by the sea. few can show a longer list of brave and gallant officers. among the most noted of these were the three sons of william ferebee, of culong plantation, joseph, william and samuel. joseph was a lieutenant in colonel jarvis' tenth north carolina militia, and was at valley forge during the terrible winter of -' . there is a family tradition that he killed general fordyce, of the british army, at the battle of great bridge, near norfolk. william was appointed captain in the seventh regiment of continentals from north carolina, and was later a member of the convention of , which ratified the federal constitution. samuel ferebee served as sergeant and ensign in the companies of captain william russell and colonel samuel jarvis. he volunteered in captain joseph ferebee's company, was ensign under captain james phillips, and was commissioned lieutenant, and collected troops by order of general gregory for baron von steuben. samuel ferebee was also the last surviving member of the fayetteville convention, which ratified the federal constitution. he was married three times, and as the family chronicle quaintly puts it, "was always married on sunday and on the fourteenth day of the month." among the prominent families of currituck during the colonial and revolutionary days, as well as in our own times, was the jarvis family, whose members have been men of note in the state since her history began. at the two conventions, called at new bern by john harvey, in -' , samuel jarvis represented his county, and he also figured prominently in the halifax convention that framed our state constitution. in he was appointed colonel of the minute men from currituck, in he was the recruiting officer from his county, and in he received his commission as colonel of the militia, by the advice of the governor's council, in place of colonel perkins, who had recently died. during this year jarvis wrote to governor ashe, asking that he would grant the petition of the men living on the "banks," who had asked to be excused from enlisting. the dwellers on the coast were exposed to attacks from the enemy, and should the husbands and fathers of that section of the county be forced to the field, their homes would be defenceless. how great the danger was had been realized a few days before jarvis wrote this letter, for a british ship had entered the inlet, burned two vessels belonging to the patriots, and killed the cattle in the nearby marshes. the governor granted the petition, and seeing the peril to which the dwellers on the "banks" were exposed, he ordered ammunition and food to be sent to jarvis for their use and protection. the names of thomas jarvis, judge of the admiralty court of currituck, and later lieutenant colonel in samuel jarvis' regiment, and of john jarvis, first lieutenant in an independent company stationed between currituck and roanoke inlets for the safeguard of the coast section, are also familiar to students of the revolutionary history of our state; while in recent times ex-governor thomas jarvis, in his services to the south during the war between the states, his educational campaign while governor of north carolina, his distinguished career as minister to brazil and as one of the most prominent members of the state bar, has added further distinction to the honored name he bears. throughout the revolution, from the battle of great bridge, where her men fought gallantly in repelling lord dunmore's invasion, through the siege of charleston, in the long and dreary winter at valley forge, on the fatal field of camden, and in many other important crises of the war, the soldiers of currituck were found in the front ranks of the american army, lustily shouting the "battle-cry of freedom." and not until the last british trooper had left our shores did they lay down their arms and return to their long neglected and deserted fields and farms. but though the county gave freely of her sons to the american ranks, there were some within her borders who deserted the cause, and either openly or secretly sympathized with the enemy. the most noted of these tories was thomas mcknight, who showed his colors early in the struggle. mcknight was a prominent citizen of indian town. this colonial settlement was built on land reserved by the lords proprietors in to yeopim indians, whose chief town was called by them "culong." in these indians, with permission of the general assembly, sold their lands, and with their king, john durant, left the state. the lands were bought by thomas mcknight, gideon lamb, peter daugé, major taylor jones, john humphries, william ferebee, and thomas pool williams, all revolutionary soldiers or members of the legislative bodies before or after the war. a white settlement grew up on the site of ancient "culong," and the name of the red man's village was changed to indian town, in memory of its former inhabitants. mcknight represented currituck at the new bern convention of , and there refusing to sign the document approving the continental congress at philadelphia, and withdrawing from the convention, he was accused of being a tory by the house and denounced as a traitor to his country. though in an open letter to joseph jones, of pasquotank, mcknight indignantly denied the charges against his loyalty to america, the halifax convention of ordered his estate to be confiscated and rented out for benefit of the state, by isaac gregory, william ferebee, and abram harrison. an amusing story is told of how mcknight acquired one of his plantations in currituck. john durant, the chief of the yeopims, had very astutely made it known to his own braves, as well as to his white neighbors, that the visions that visited him in his somnolent hours must somehow, somewhere, if within the range of possibility, materialize into visible, tangible realities, and that those who could, and did not help in their materialization, would incur the anger of the great chief. now it was the habit of the wily red man, whenever he greatly desired to acquire a new possession, to dream that the owner of the coveted article had presented it to him. having dwelt near the paleface for a number of years, the old chief adopted the white man's mode of dress to a certain extent. needing, or coveting, a new coat, he very conveniently dreamed that mcknight, who had kept a trading store on indian ridge, gave him a bolt of bright cloth which appealed strongly to his innate love of bright colors. presenting himself at the trader's store, he related his dream to the owner of the cloth; and mcknight not daring to incur the enmity of the indian by refusing to let him have the coveted article, presented it to him forthwith; but mcknight, equally as shrewd as the chief, soon did some dreaming on his own account, and in his vision he saw himself the owner of some four hundred acres of land in indian ridge, the property of john durant. so with due ceremony he approached the chief and solemnly related his dream; and the old indian, realizing that in the anglo-saxon he had met his match--nay, his superior in cunning--made over to mcknight the land. this plantation was afterwards bought by doctor marchant, a prominent citizen of currituck, the friend and patron of colonel henry shaw, whose gallant, though unsuccessful defense of roanoke island during the war between the states, brought honor and distinction to his native county. currituck in the past has played well her part in making the history of the old north state, and that a bright and prosperous future awaits her may easily be seen by all who can read the signs of the times. though nature on the one hand has placed many obstacles in the way of her progress by barring her coast to incoming vessels, and by surrounding her with barren shores and impenetrable marshes, on the other hand she has been abundantly generous to the ancient district. where her marshes are drained, as in the region around moyock, the richest corn land in the world is found. her vast forests supply the great lumber mills of the albemarle region; her sound and reedy shores provide her children with an abundance of fish and game, and with the completion of the inland waterway, which in carolina follows the course of the old albemarle and chesapeake canal, currituck will be placed in closer touch with the great world from which she has so long been in a measure isolated. material prosperity, far in excess of the homely comforts which her people have always enjoyed, will inevitably be the heritage of her children. chapter xv edenton in the revolution from the day when the war cloud of the revolution first began to gather upon the american horizon, until the storm was spent and peace descended upon the land, the little coast town of edenton played a conspicuous and heroic part in the struggle which for seven weary years wrought ruin and desolation throughout the thirteen colonies. as early as , when the oppressive rule of england reached its culmination in the iniquitous stamp act, edenton joined with the other carolina towns in adopting resolutions expressing the strong indignation of her citizens at this act of tyranny on the part of george iii and his parliament. in three of her prominent citizens, joseph hewes, samuel johnston and edward vail, were appointed on the carolina committee of correspondence which wrote to the other colonies that north carolina was ready to join them against the king and parliament. when england put into operation the famous boston port bill and that sturdy little new england city was on the verge of starvation, joseph hewes, a merchant of edenton, who was later to play a prominent part in revolutionary events in north carolina, joined with john harvey, of perquimans, in collecting supplies and provisions from the patriotic people of albemarle, which they sent in the sloop penelope to their distressed compatriots in far away boston. gratefully was the donation received by the inhabitants of that city, and a letter of thanks from the boston committee amply repaid the donors for their generosity. one of the earliest, and certainly one of the most interesting events in the revolutionary annals of edenton, was the far-famed edenton tea party, held at the home of mrs. elizabeth king, on october , . this famous gathering of the edenton women was convened for the purpose of protesting against the tax on tea, which england had lately begun to extort from the colonies, and also for heartily endorsing the work of the first people's convention, which, at the call of john harvey, had met at new bern in august, . before the meeting adjourned these brave and patriotic women had drawn up resolutions firmly declaring their intention to drink no more of the taxed tea, and to uphold and encourage in every possible way the men of the colony in their struggle to gain all the rights due them as british subjects. [illustration: the cupola house, edenton, north carolina] the news of this bold stand of the edenton women spread far and wide, and was commented upon by the newspapers of the day, both in america and england. arthur iredell, of london, brother of james iredell, of edenton, who married the sister of samuel johnston, on hearing of the event which seemed to have caused considerable stir in london, as well as throughout the thirteen colonies, wrote to his brother from his home in london the following letter anent the affair: "i see by the papers the edenton ladies have signalized themselves by their protest against tea-drinking. the name of johnston i see among them. are any of my sister's relatives patriotic? i hope not, for we english are afraid of the male congress; but if the ladies should attack us, the most fatal consequences are to be dreaded. so dextrous in the handling of a dart, each wound they give is mortal, while we, so unhappily formed by nature, the more we strive to conquer them, the more we are conquered. "the edenton ladies, conscious of this superiority on their side by former experiences, are willing to crush us into atoms by their omnipotency. the only security on our side, to prevent impending ruin is the probability that there are few places in america which possess so much female artillery as edenton. pray let me know all the particulars when you favor us with a letter." the old house under whose roof this historic tea party was held has only of recent years been destroyed. age and decay undermined its walls, and it was found necessary to tear it down, but a handsome bronze tea-pot on an iron pedestal now marks the site of the ancient building; and within the halls of the state capitol the daughters of the revolution have placed a bronze tablet in commemoration of this spirited act of the women of edenton. when john harvey, of perquimans, "the father of the revolution" in north carolina died, his mantle fell upon samuel johnston, of edenton, whose residence at "hayes" now became the headquarters of the whig party in north carolina, and his office the rendezvous of the leaders of the patriots in the state, among whom hewes, iredell and johnston, all of edenton, stood foremost. so active were these three men in arousing and spreading the spirit of patriotism among their fellow-countrymen that mccree, in his "iredell letters," declares that "much of the triumph at moore's creek must be ascribed to those three men, who at one time held frequent consultations in johnston's office." by the close of , and the beginning of , the flames of the revolution, which had been slowly kindling, now burst into open conflagration, and edenton began to experience something of the consequences of war. her militia had for some time been drilling, in preparation for the inevitable struggle; and mrs. iredell, in a letter to her husband, written in the spring of , thus expresses the general anxiety and the apprehensive state of mind of the edenton people: "the drum which is now beating while our soldiers exercise, drives every cheerful thought from my mind, and leaves it oppressed with melancholy reflections on the horrors of war." in november of that year emissaries sent by lord dunmore, the governor of virginia, were discovered near the town, endeavoring to incite the slaves of that section to rise against their masters, murder them, and join the tory army. but general robert howe, at the head of a detachment from his regiment, quickly drove these agents away, and thwarted the dastardly attempt; then marching on with six hundred north carolina militia, into virginia, the gallant general reached norfolk two days after the victory of the patriots at great bridge, helped to expel dunmore from norfolk, and to take possession of the city for the americans. in april, , the halifax convention authorized the delegates from north carolina to the continental congress of that year, "to concur with the delegates of the other colonies in declaring independence," and upon joseph hewes, of edenton, fell the honor of presenting the halifax resolution of to the congress at philadelphia. to the instructions of the state he represented, hewes added his own urgent plea for immediate action, and cast his state's vote squarely against postponing the declaration of independence. when the continental congress finally agreed to secede from the english government, hewes, with john penn and william hooper, of north carolina, affixed his name to that famous document in which the thirteen colonies foreswore their allegiance to king george. some two months after the halifax convention, and two weeks before the continental congress had formally declared independence, the vestry of old st. paul's church in edenton met in solemn conclave, and impelled by the wave of intense patriotism now sweeping over the land, drew up the so-called "declaration of independence of st. paul's parish," the context of which is as follows: "we, the subscribers, professing our allegiance to the king, and acknowledging the constitutional executive power of government, do solemnly profess, testify and declare, that we do absolutely believe that neither the parliament of great britain nor any member nor any constituent branch thereof, have a right to impose taxes upon these colonies or to regulate the internal policy thereof; and that all attempts by fraud or force to establish and exercise such claims and powers are violation of the peace and security of the people, and ought to be resisted to the utmost, and the people of this province singly and collectively are bound by the acts and resolutions of the continental and provincial congresses, because in both they are freely represented by persons chosen by themselves, and we do solemnly and sincerely promise and engage under the sanction of virtue, honor, and the sacred love of liberty and our country to maintain and support all and every acts, resolutions and regulations of the said continental and provincial congresses to the utmost of our power and ability. in testimony whereof we have set our hands this th day of june, ." during the winter of and nine battalions of soldiers from north carolina were sharing with their comrades from the other colonies the hardships of those terrible months at valley forge. half naked and starving, the soldiers would doubtless have given up the struggle to live through the awful winter, had not governor caswell, of north carolina, energetically set about securing the needed supplies for the army. joseph hewes, responding generously to the call for help, sent his own ships to the west indies to obtain necessaries for the army, had them brought to edenton, and from there sent by wagon to valley forge. after the american victory at saratoga, france, who had been until then hesitating as to what course she should pursue in regard to helping the americans against the ancient foe of the french, now yielded at last to franklin's persuasions, and promised to send a large fleet and four thousand troops to aid the colonies. a party of french gentlemen, sympathizing with the americans, and anxious to aid in the cause, came over to the states in advance of the army sent by the government, and landing in edenton, were so agreeably impressed with the social life of the hospitable town, that they spent several weeks in the little metropolis. three of these foreigners, messieurs pinchieu, noirmont de la neuville, and la tours, seem to have made many friends in the town, and to have been the recipients of much hospitality on the part of the gentlefolk of edenton. judge iredell, who spoke french fluently, made a strong impression upon the strangers; and m. pinchieu became one of his warm friends. the visit of the french officers to edenton was made the occasion of many social functions, and before the foreigners departed from the town, they gave a grand ball to the edenton ladies, who had made their stay so pleasant. the modest colonial maidens of old edenton, though dazzled and charmed by the airs and graces of the gay and debonair strangers, at times found the manners of their foreign guests a little too free for their comfort. miss nellie blair, in a letter to her uncle, judge iredell, declares most emphatically her displeasure at the decidedly french behavior of one of her too attentive foreign admirers. on leaving edenton, the frenchmen proceeded to new bern, where they tendered their swords to the general assembly, and offered their services in the american cause; but for reasons not stated their offer was declined. the many acts of open rebellion on the part of prominent citizens of edenton had by this time made the town a marked spot in the eyes of the enemy; and the fact that she was the most important port in the albemarle region, and that her destruction would be a heavy blow to the entire state, also singled her out as an important point of attack. so in , when sir george collier entered hampton roads, gutted norfolk, took possession of portsmouth, and burned suffolk, the citizens of edenton were thoroughly alarmed. the dismal swamp was on fire, and the crackling of the burning reed resembling the reports of musket shot, caused many to think that a battle was going on near the town. many of the inhabitants began to pack up their household goods, ready to leave when the british should enter the town. but for some unknown reason the enemy, though so near, failed to descend upon the town; and as days and weeks passed by, the cloud of apprehension began to disperse, and life in the village to resume its normal course. events, however, were to prove that the danger of invasion was averted for a time only. in the fall of , just after the disastrous defeat of the americans at camden, and prior to cornwallis' march into north carolina, general leslie, of the british army, was sent from new york to virginia to keep the americans in southeastern virginia and albemarle from joining greene's army in the effort to repel the invasion of cornwallis. edenton was again in danger. the enemy, two thousand strong, were camped at portsmouth, and one thousand were reported to have set out from virginia on their way to attack the town. to add to the terror of the inhabitants, two british galleys, with sixty men each, had slipped through roanoke inlet, and were making for the little port. a letter from mrs. blair to james iredell, written during those anxious days, gives a graphic description of conditions in edenton at this juncture. "vessels cannot get in," she writes; "two row galleys are between us and the bar, and are daily expected in edenton. if they come, i do not know what we shall do. we are unable to run away, and i have hardly a negro well enough to dress us a little of anything to eat. we hear that there is an english fleet in virginia, landing men at kempe's." governor nash, realizing that the town was in imminent danger, now ordered general benbury, of edenton, to join general isaac gregory at great swamp, near the virginia border, and aid him in preventing general leslie from entering albemarle. at this post a battle was fought between leslie's men and the militia under benbury and gregory, in which the latter were victorious. a little later gregory wrote governor nash that leslie's army had withdrawn from virginia, but that he had not been able to ascertain the destination of the enemy. however, it soon became known that leslie was hurrying to camden, south carolina, to join cornwallis in his attempt to sweep through north carolina and conquer that state, as he had conquered her sister state on the south. with leslie's army removed from the vicinity, edenton remained for a few months free from the fear of invasion; but not for long did her citizens enjoy a respite from anxiety, for in january, , the traitor, benedict arnold, was sent by the british to occupy the posts in virginia lately deserted by leslie. from portsmouth arnold wrote to general sir henry clinton, k.c.b., that he was planning to send boats carrying five hundred men through currituck inlet, sweep the sound as high as edenton, destroy that town and its shipping, and then proceed to new bern, which he hoped to serve in like manner. then he expected to post armed vessels outside currituck inlet, distress the people of the coast country, and thus keep the people of eastern carolina so busy defending their own homes that they would not be able to send men to interfere with the plans of cornwallis. arnold asked clinton for ship carpenters to build the vessels necessary for the execution of his plans, but the traitor was not able to carry out his designs against the eastern towns, for on arriving in virginia he found himself so hated and shunned by the british officers over whom he was placed that he soon resigned his command of the virginia posts to general phillips, of the british army, and instead of proceeding against edenton, he undertook another expedition up the james river. general phillips, who now assumed command of the british in southeastern virginia, immediately began to plan to join cornwallis, who in the meantime had won the doubtful victory of guilford courthouse and had retreated to wilmington. the situation in edenton was now alarming in the extreme. leslie had , men in virginia, , of whom, general gregory wrote iredell, had embarked at kempe's landing, supposedly for edenton. rumor had it that there were seven british boats at north landing, and some at knott's island. cornwallis' army was marching northward from wilmington, and reports from nearby counties that lay in his path, told of the atrocious crimes committed by his men against women and children, of devastated fields and homes burned and ruined. hundreds of negroes were foraging for the british army, and the tories everywhere were wreaking vengeance upon their whig neighbors. the long dreaded day at last arrived. edenton was raided, and the vessels in her harbor burned and carried off. eden house, some ten miles from the town, the home of robert smith, a prominent merchant of edenton, was plundered, and valuable papers destroyed. many of the beautiful homes of the planters in the neighborhood were destroyed, and a schooner belonging to robert smith, and one, the property of a mr. littlejohn, were captured by the enemy and carried off down the sound. the danger was so real that many families fled from the town and sought refuge in windsor, and the homes of that hospitable little village were crowded with women and children. but in spite of the discomfort that host and guest alike must have suffered from the overflow of visitors, the letters of the refugees to their husbands and fathers in edenton speak in warm praise of the cheerfulness and good humor that prevailed in the little town during those trying and anxious days, and of the merry social gatherings held in honor of the guests. though panic-stricken at first when confronted by the long apprehended danger, the citizens soon rallied and bravely resisted the foe. charles johnson, writing to james iredell, says: "the inhabitants in general and the sailors, have and do turn out unanimously. i never saw nor could i hope to see so much public spirit, personal courage and intrepid resolution." robert smith's schooner was retaken from the enemy, and later the row galley that had invaded edenton and captured the schooners was taken, and her commander, captain quinn, lodged in edenton jail. in the meantime the refugees at windsor were beginning to doubt their wisdom in leaving their homes for the bertie town. many of them were afraid that they had only jumped from the frying-pan into the fire. cornwallis was only thirty miles away, in halifax, and the windsor people were in daily terror that foraging parties from his army would descend upon their homes. to add to the danger of their situation, the hated and dreaded arnold, whose expedition up the james had been attended by the perpetration of many dastardly cruelties, was marching south to join cornwallis in carolina. six hundred negroes, sent by cornwallis, were near edenton, and other bands of foragers, two thousand in all, were pillaging and plundering in the wake of the british army. fortunately for edenton and the adjacent towns, anthony wayne was stationed at roanoke with his troops. hearing of the ravages committed by cornwallis' men, he marched in pursuit of the enemy, who now left north carolina, entered virginia, burned south quays, and then proceeded on their way to yorktown. in june, , samuel johnston, of edenton, was elected delegate to the continental congress, the first that had assembled since the adoption of the articles of confederation. his high ability and acknowledged statesmanship won for him in that body the distinguished honor of being elected to the office of president of congress. but the critical situation in edenton, and his anxiety concerning his family, decided him to decline the office and return home to share the fortunes of his townsmen and to render what aid he could to his own people. in august, , charles johnson wrote governor burke that a french fleet had appeared off the virginia capes, and had driven back general leslie; and general gregory, who had been stationed at edmund's hill in nansemond county, virginia, to hold leslie in check, reported at the same time that the enemy had evacuated portsmouth, and that it was useless to keep his soldiers there any longer. the british army had by this time reached yorktown, where, on the th of october the famous surrender took place, and the long, weary struggle for independence was over; but it was nearly a month later before the joyful news of washington's victory over cornwallis reached carolina. on november th the british troops in the state embarked from wilmington, and north carolina was troubled by the red-coats no more. but though the surrender at yorktown had convinced the british that she had lost her hold upon the american colonies, it was not until september, , that the king acknowledged the independence of his former american subjects; and still another year passed before the treaty of paris was signed, formally acknowledging the united states a separate and independent power. during these two years north carolina was torn and harrassed by bands of tories; and in south carolina the armies of greene and leslie were still engaged in fierce skirmishes. leslie was at last hemmed in at charleston by greene's troops, and both his men and greene's soldiers were in great distress for want of food and clothing. in the summer of greene warned the people of north carolina that the british in charleston were preparing to send four vessels to raid edenton, new bern and wilmington; and once more the inhabitants of these towns were plunged into a state of alarm. governor burke immediately ordered general gregory to have men ready to march at a moment's notice to edenton to repel the expected invasion, and also ordered him to ask the merchants of edenton how many vessels they thought necessary to protect the town. the governor furthermore gave gregory instructions to purchase cannon and to draft men to man the boats, guaranteeing, himself, full pay for men and supplies. but the fleet of which greene had written did not arrive, though during the summer of , tory galleys appeared in the bay and kept the town in constant terror of another raid. the fall passed without bringing the expected invasion, and finally the joyful news came that on december th the british had evacuated charleston, and that their fleet had sailed for the north. with the departure of the british fleet and army from the south, all fear of further invasion was over, and the little town of edenton settled down to long years of peace and happiness. finis narrative of the life of moses grandy, late a slave in the united states of america. "slavery is a mass, a system of enormities, which incontrovertibly bids defiance to every regulation which ingenuity can devise, or power effect, but a total extinction. why ought slavery to be abolished? because _it is incurable injustice_. why is injustice to remain for a single hour?" william pitt. second american from the last london edition. sold for the benefit of his relations still in slavery. boston: oliver johnson, cornhill. . *** it is not improbable that some of the proper names in the following pages are incorrectly spelled. m.g., through the laws of the slave states, is perfectly illiterate; his pronunciation being the only guide. introduction. about a fortnight ago, the subject of the following brief memoir came to me, bearing with him a letter from a dear friend and distinguished abolitionist in the united states, from which the following is an extract:--'i seize my pen in haste to gratify a most worthy colored friend of mine, by giving him a letter of introduction to you, as he intends sailing this week (august th, ) for liverpool and london, _via_ new orleans. his name is moses grandy. he knows what it is to have been a slave, and what are the tender mercies of the southern slave-drivers. his history is not only authentic, but most extraordinary, and full of thrilling interest. could it be published, it would make a deep sensation in every quarter. he was compelled to buy his freedom _three times over_! he paid for it $ , . he has since bought his wife, and one or two of his children; and before going to england will first go to new orleans, to purchase some of his other children, if he can find them, who are still held in captivity. his benevolence, affection, kindness of heart, and elasticity of spirit, are truly remarkable. he has a good head, a fine countenance, and a great spirit, notwithstanding his education has been obtained in the horrible school of slavery. just get him to tell you his narrative, and if you happen to have an anti-slavery meeting, let him tell his tale to a british audience.' in the letter of another highly esteemed friend, he is spoken of as 'unsurpassed for faithfulness and perseverance;' in the letter of a third, as a 'worthy and respectable man.' on examining a book containing a list of the donations made him by american friends, in aid of his noble design to rescue from the miseries of slavery his relations, i found the names and certificates of persons of the highest respectability. it will be amply sufficient with those who are acquainted with the abolitionists of the united states, for me to name general fessenden, and nathan winslow, esq., of portland, maine; the rev. a.a. phelps, ellis gray loring, and samuel e. sewall, esqs., of boston, massachusetts. being satisfied, by these indubitable vouchers, of moses grandy's title to credit, i listened to his artless tale with entire confidence, and with a feeling of interest which all will participate who peruse the following pages. considering his narrative calculated to promote a more extensive knowledge of the workings of american slavery, and that its sale might contribute to the object which engages so entirely the mind of moses, namely, the redemption of those who are in bonds, belonging to his family, i resolved to commit it to the press, as nearly as possible in the language of moses himself. i have carefully abstained from casting a single reflection or animadversion of my own. i leave the touching story of the self-liberated captive to speak for itself, and the wish of my heart will be gratified, and my humble effort on his behalf be richly rewarded, if this little book is the means of obtaining for my colored brother the assistance which he seeks, or of increasing the zeal of those who are associated for the purpose of 'breaking every yoke and setting the oppressed free.' george thompson. _ , blandford place, regent's park_, _october th, ._ narrative. my name is moses grandy. i was born in camden county, north carolina. i believe i am fifty-six years old. slaves seldom know exactly how old they are; neither they nor their masters set down the time of a birth; the slaves, because they are not allowed to write or read, and the masters, because they only care to know what slaves belong to them. the master, billy grandy, whose slave i was born, was a hard-drinking man; he sold away many slaves. i remember four sisters and four brothers; my mother had more children, but they were dead or sold away before i can remember. i was the youngest. i remember well my mother often hid us all in the woods, to prevent master selling us. when we wanted water, she sought for it in any hole or puddle formed by falling trees or otherwise. it was often full of tadpoles and insects. she strained it, and gave it round to each of us in the hollow of her hand. for food, she gathered berries in the woods, got potatoes, raw corn, &c. after a time, the master would send word to her to come in, promising he would not sell us. but, at length, persons came who agreed to give the prices he set on us. his wife, with much to be done, prevailed on him not to sell me; but he sold my brother, who was a little boy. my mother, frantic with grief, resisted their taking her child away. she was beaten, and held down; she fainted; and, when she came to herself, her boy was gone. she made much outcry, for which the master tied her up to a peach-tree in the yard, and flogged her. another of my brothers was sold to mr. tyler, dewan's neck, pasquotank county. this man very much ill treated many colored boys. one very cold day, he sent my brother out, naked and hungry, to find a yoke of steers; the boy returned without finding them, when his master flogged him, and sent him out again. a white lady, who lived near, gave him food, and advised him to try again; he did so, but, it seems, again without success. he piled up a heap of leaves, and laid himself down in them, and died there. he was found through a flock of turkey buzzards hovering over him; these birds had pulled his eyes out. my young master and i used to play together; there was but two days' difference in our ages. my old master always said he would give me to him. when he died, all the colored people were divided amongst his children, and i fell to young master; his name was james grandy. i was then about eight years old. when i became old enough to be taken away from my mother and put to field work, i was hired out for the year, by auction, at the court house, every january: this is the common practice with respect to slaves belonging to persons who are under age. this continued till my master and myself were twenty-one years old. the first who hired me was mr. kemp, who used me pretty well; he gave me plenty to eat, and sufficient clothing. the next was old jemmy coates, a severe man. because i could not learn his way of hilling corn, he flogged me naked with a severe whip, made of a very tough sapling; this lapped round me at each stroke; the point of it at last entered my belly and broke off, leaving an inch and a half outside. i was not aware of it until, on going to work again, it hurt my inside very much, when, on looking down, i saw it sticking out of my body. i pulled it out, and the blood spouted after it. the wound festered, and discharged very much at the time, and hurt me for years after. in being hired out, sometimes the slave gets a good home, and sometimes a bad one: when he gets a good one, he dreads to see january come; when he has a bad one, the year seems five times as long as it is. i was next with mr. enoch sawyer, of camden county. my business was to keep ferry, and do other odd work. it was cruel living. we had not near enough of either victuals or clothes. i was half starved for half my time. i have often ground the husks of indian corn over again in a hand-mill, for the chance of getting something to eat out of it which the former grinding had left. in severe frosts, i was compelled to go into the fields and woods to work, with my naked feet cracked and bleeding from extreme cold: to warm them, i used to rouse an ox or hog, and stand on the place where it had lain. i was at that place three years, and very long years they seemed to me. the trick by which he kept me so long was this: the court house was but a mile off. at hiring day, he prevented me from going till he went himself and bid for me. on the last occasion, he was detained for a little while by other business; so i ran as quickly as i could, and got hired before he came up. mr. george furley was my next master; he employed me as a car-boy in the dismal swamp; i had to drive lumber, &c. i had plenty to eat and plenty of clothes. i was so overjoyed at the change, that i then thought i would not have left the place to go to heaven. next year i was hired by mr. john micheau, of the same county, who married my young mistress, one of the daughters of mr. grandy, and sister of my present owner. this master gave us very few clothes, and but little to eat. i was almost naked. one day he came into the field, and asked why no more work was done. the older people were afraid of him; so i said that the reason was, we were so hungry we could not work. he went home and told the mistress to give us plenty to eat, and at dinner-time we had plenty. we came out shouting for joy, and went to work with delight. from that time we had food enough, and he soon found that he had a great deal more work done. the field was quite alive with people striving who should do most. he hired me for another year. he was a great gambler. he kept me up five nights together, without sleep night or day, to wait on the gambling table. i was standing in the corner of the room, nodding for want of sleep, when he took up the shovel and beat me with it; he dislocated my shoulder, and sprained my wrist, and broke the shovel over me. i ran away, and got another person to hire me. this person was mr. richard furley, who, after that, hired me at the court house every year till my master came of age. he gave me a pass to work for myself; so i obtained work by the piece where i could, and paid him out of my earnings what we had agreed on; i maintained myself on the rest, and saved what i could. in this way i was not liable to be flogged and ill used. he paid seventy, eighty, or ninety dollars a year for me, and i paid him twenty or thirty dollars a year more than that. when my master came of age, he took all his colored people to himself. seeing that i was industrious and persevering, and had obtained plenty of work, he made me pay him almost twice as much as i had paid mr. furley. at that time the english blockaded the chesapeake, which made it necessary to send merchandise from norfolk to elizabeth city by the grand canal, so that it might get to sea by pamlico sound and ocracock inlet. i took some canal boats on shares; mr. grice, who married my other young mistress, was the owner of them. i gave him one half of all i received for freight; out of the other half i had to victual and man the boats, and all over that expense was my own profit. some time before this, my brother benjamin returned from the west indies, where he had been two years with his master's vessel. i was very glad to hear of it, and got leave to go see him. while i was sitting with his wife and him, his wife's master came and asked him to fetch a can of water; he did so, and carried it into the store. while i was waiting for him, and wondering at his being so long away, i heard the heavy blows of a hammer: after a little while i was alarmed, and went to see what was going on. i looked into the store, and saw my brother lying on his back on the floor, and mr. williams, who had bought him, driving staples over his wrists and ankles; an iron bar was afterwards put across his breast, which was also held down by staples. i asked what he had been doing, and was told that he had done nothing amiss, but that his master had failed, and he was sold towards paying the debts. he lay in that state all that night; next day he was taken to jail, and i never saw him again. this is the usual treatment under such circumstances. i had to go by my mother's next morning, but i feared to tell her what had happened to my brother. i got a boy to go and tell her. she was blind and very old, and was living in a little hut, in the woods, after the usual manner of old, worn-out slaves; she was unable to go to my brother before he was taken away, and grieved after him greatly. it was some time after this that i married a slave belonging to mr. enoch sawyer, who had been so hard a master to me. i left her at home, (that is, at his house,) one thursday morning, when we had been married about eight months. she was well, and seemed likely to be so. we were nicely getting together our little necessaries. on the friday, as i was at work, as usual, with the boats, i heard a noise behind me, on the road which ran by the side of the canal. i turned to look, and saw a gang of slaves coming. when they came up to me, one of them cried out, 'moses, my dear!' i wondered who among them should know me, and found it was my wife. she cried out to me, 'i am gone!' i was struck with consternation. mr. rogerson was with them, on his horse, armed with pistols. i said to him, 'for god's sake, have you bought my wife?' he said he had; when i asked him what she had done, he said she had done nothing, but that her master wanted money. he drew out a pistol, and said that, if i went near the wagon on which she was, he would shoot me. i asked for leave to shake hands with her, which he refused, but said i might stand at a distance and talk with her. my heart was so full that i could say very little. i asked leave to give her a dram. he told mr. burgess, the man who was with him, to get down and carry it to her. i gave her the little money i had in my pocket, and bade her farewell. i have never seen or heard of her from that day to this. i loved her as i loved my life. mr. grice found that i served him faithfully. he and my young mistress, his wife, advised me, as i was getting money fast, to try to buy myself. by their advice, i asked my master what he would take for me. he wanted $ ; and, when i said that was too much, he replied, he could get $ for me any minute. mr. grice afterwards went with me to him; he said to him that i had already been more profitable to him than any five others of his negroes, and reminded him that we had been playfellows. in this way he got him to consent to take $ for me. i then went heartily to work, and, whenever i paid him for my time, i paid him something, also, towards my freedom, for which he gave me receipts. when i made him the last payment of the $ for my freedom, he tore up all the receipts. i told him he ought not to have done so; he replied it did not signify, for, as soon as court day came, he should give me my free papers. on monday, in court week, i went to him; he was playing at billiards, and would not go with me, but told me to come again the next day; the next day he did the same, and so on daily. i went to his sister, mrs. grice, and told her i feared that he did not mean to give them to me; she said she feared so too, and sent for him. he was a very wicked young man; he came, and cursed her, and went out of the house. mr. grice was from home; on his return, he went to my master, and told him he ought to give me my free papers; that i had paid for myself, and it was court week, so that there was no excuse. he promised he would; instead of which, he rode away and kept away till court was over. before the next court came, he sold me to mr. trewitt for $ . the way in which mr. trewitt came to buy me was this: i had left the boats, and had gone with a schooner collecting lumber in albemarle sound for the merchants. coming to elizabeth city, i found a new store had been opened by mr. grice, which mr. sutton was keeping: the latter gentleman was glad to see me, and was desirous that i should return to my old employment with the canal boats, as lumber was in great demand at norfolk. i did so, and sold some cargoes to mr. moses myers, of norfolk. as i was waiting at the door of his store for settlement, he came up with mr. trewitt, whom i did not then know. mr. myers said to mr. trewitt, 'here is a captain doing business for you.' mr. trewitt then asked me who had chartered the boats, and to whom i belonged. i told him mr. sutton had chartered me, and that i had belonged to mr. james grandy, but had bought myself. he said he would buy me; on which mr. myers told him he could not, as i had already bought myself, and further said i was one of their old war captains, and had never lost a single thing of the property intrusted to me. mr. trewitt said he would buy me, and would see about it as soon as he got to elizabeth city. i thought no more about it. on my return voyage, i delivered a cargo at elizabeth city, for mr. trewitt. i had been at mr. grice's, the owner of the boats; and, on my going away from him to meet mr. trewitt for settlement, he said he would go with me, as he wanted money. opposite the custom house we met mr. trewitt, who said, 'well, captain, i have bought you.' mr. grice said, 'let us have no nonsense; go and settle with him.' angry words passed between them, one saying he had bought me, and the other denying that he had or could, as i had bought myself already. we all went to mr. grice's dwelling house; there mr. trewitt settled with me about the freight, and then, jumping up, said, 'now i will show you, mr. grice, whether i am a liar or not.' he fetched the bill of sale; on reading it, mr. grice's color changed, and he sent for mrs. grice. when she read it, she began to cry; seeing that, i began to cry too. she sent me to her brother, who was at mr. wood's boarding house. he was playing at billiards. i said to him, 'master james, have you sold me?' he said, 'no.' i said he had; when he turned round and went into another room, crying; i followed him. all the gentlemen followed us, saying, 'captain grandy, what is the matter?' i told them master james had sold me again. they asked him why he had done it; he said it was because people had jeered him by saying i had more sense than he had. they would not suffer him to remain in the boarding house, but turned him out, there and then, with all his trunks and boxes. mrs. grice, his sister, sued him in my name for my liberty, but he gained the cause. the court maintained that i, and all i could do, belonged to him, and that he had a right to do as he pleased with me and all my earnings, as his own property, until he had taken me to the court house, and given me my free papers, and until, besides that, i had been a year and a day in the northern states to gain my residence. so i was forced to go to mr. trewitt. he agreed that, if i would pay him the same wages as i paid my late master, and the $ he gave for me, he would give me my free papers. he bought two canal boats, and, taking me out of mr. grice's employment, set me to work them on the same terms as i did for my former master. i was two years and a half in earning $ to pay for myself the second time. just when i had completed the payment, he failed. on christmas eve he gave me a letter to take to mr. mews, at newbegun creek. i was rather unwilling to take it, wishing to go to my wife; i told him, too, i was going to his office to settle with him. he offered to give me two dollars to take the letter, and said he would settle when i came back: then mr. shaw came from another room, and said his vessel was ready loaded, but he had nobody he could trust with his goods; he offered me five dollars to take the vessel down, and deliver the goods to mr. knox, who also was at newbegun creek. the wind was fair, and the hands on board, so i agreed; it being christmas eve, i was glad of something to carry to my wife. i ran the vessel down to the mouth of the creek, and anchored; when the moon rose, i went up the river. i reached the wharf, and commenced taking out the goods that night, and delivered them all safely to mr. knox next morning. i then took the letter to mr. mews, who read it, and, looking up at me, said, 'well, you belong to me.' i thought he was joking, and said, 'how? what way?' he said, 'don't you recollect when trewitt chartered wilson sawyer's brig to the west indies?' i said, i did. he told me trewitt then came to him to borrow $ , which he would not lend, except he had a mortgage on me: trewitt was to take it up at a certain time, but never did. i asked him whether he really took the mortgage on me. he replied that he certainly thought trewitt would have taken up the mortgage, but he had failed, and was not worth a cent, and he, mews, must have his money. i asked him whether he had not helped me and my young mistress in the court house, when master james fooled me before. he said he did help me all he could, and that he should not have taken a mortgage on me, but that he thought trewitt would take it up. trewitt must have received some of the last payments from me, after he had given the mortgage, and knew he should fail; for the mortgage was given two months before this time. my head seemed to turn round and round; i was quite out of my senses; i went away towards the woods; mr. mews sent his waiter after me to persuade me to go back. at first i refused, but afterwards went. he told me he would give me another chance to buy myself, and i certainly should have my freedom that time. he said mr. enoch sawyer wanted to buy me, to be his overseer in the swamp. i replied i would never try again to buy myself, and that they had already got $ , from me. my wife[ ] (this was my second wife) belonged to mr. sawyer; he told me that her master would not allow me to go to see her, if i would not consent to what he now proposed; for any colored person going on the grounds of a white man, after being warned off, is liable to be flogged, or even shot. i thus found myself forced to go, although no colored man wishes to live at the house where his wife lives, for he has to endure the continual misery of seeing her flogged and abused, without daring to say a word in her defence. in the service of mr. sawyer, i got into a fair way of buying myself again; for i undertook the lightering of shingles or boards out of the dismal swamp, and hired hands to assist me. but my master had become security for his two sons-in-law at norfolk, who failed; in consequence of which he sold eighteen colored people, his share of the swamp, and two plantations. i was one of the slaves he kept, and after that had to work in the corn-field the same as the rest. the overseer was a bad one; his name was brooks. the horn was blown at sunrise; the colored people had then to march before the overseer to the field, he on horseback. we had to work, even in long summer days, till twelve o'clock, before we tasted a morsel, men, women, and children all being served alike. at noon the cart appeared with our breakfast. it was in large trays, and was set on the ground. there was bread, of which a piece was cut off for each person; then there was small hominy boiled, that is, indian-corn, ground in the hand-mill, and besides this two herrings for each of the men and women, and one for each of the children. our drink was the water in the ditches, whatever might be its state; if the ditches were dry, water was brought to us by the boys. the salt fish made us always thirsty, but no other drink than water was ever allowed. however thirsty a slave may be, he is not allowed to leave his employment for a moment to get water; he can only have it when the hands in working have reached the ditch, at the end of the rows. the overseer stood with his watch in his hand, to give us just an hour; when he said, 'rise,' we had to rise and go to work again. the women who had children laid them down by the hedge-row, and gave them straws and other trifles to play with; here they were in danger from snakes; i have seen a large snake found coiled round the neck and face of a child, when its mother went to suckle it at dinner-time. the hands work in a line by the side of each other; the overseer puts the swiftest hands in the fore row, and all must keep up with them. one black man is kept on purpose to whip the others in the field; if he does not flog with sufficient severity, he is flogged himself; he whips severely, to keep the whip from his own back. if a man have a wife in the same field with himself, he chooses a row by the side of hers, that, with extreme labor, he may, if possible, help her. but he will not be in the same field if he can help it; for, with his hardest labor, he often cannot save her from being flogged, and he is obliged to stand by and see it; he is always liable to see her taken home at night, stripped naked, and whipped before all the men. on the estate i am speaking of, those women who had sucking children suffered much from their breasts becoming full of milk, the infants being left at home; they therefore could not keep up with the other hands. i have seen the overseer beat them with raw hide, so that blood and milk flew mingled from their breasts. a woman who gives offence in the field, and is large in the family way, is compelled to lie down over a hole made to receive her corpulency, and is flogged with the whip, or beat with a paddle, which has holes in it; at every hole comes a blister. one of my sisters was so severely punished in this way, that labor was brought on, and the child was born in the field. this very overseer, mr. brooks, killed in this manner a girl named mary; her father and mother were in the field at the time. he killed, also, a boy about twelve years old. he had no punishment, or even trial, for either. there was no dinner till dark, when he gave the order to knock off and go home. the meal then was the same as in the morning, except that we had meat twice a week. on very few estates are the colored people provided with any bedding: the best masters give only a blanket; this master gave none; a board, which the slave might pick up any where on the estate, was all he had to lie on. if he wished to procure bedding, he could only do so by working at nights. for warmth, therefore, the negroes generally sleep near a large fire, whether in the kitchen, or in their log huts; their legs are often in this way blistered and greatly swelled, and sometimes badly burnt: they suffer severely from this cause. when the water-mill did not supply meal enough, we had to grind with the hand-mill. the night was employed in this work, without any thing being taken from the labor of the day. we had to take turn at it, women as well as men; enough was to be ground to serve for the following day. i was eight months in the field. my master, mr. sawyer, agreed to allow me eight dollars a month, while so employed, towards buying myself; it will be seen he did not give me even that. when i first went to work in the corn-field, i had paid him $ towards this third buying of my freedom. i told him, one night, i could not stand his field work any longer; he asked, why; i said i was almost starved to death, and had long been unaccustomed to this severe labor. he wanted to know why i could not stand it as well as the rest. i told him he knew well i had not been used to it for a long time; that his overseer was the worst that had ever been on the plantation, and that i could not stand it. he said he would direct mr. brooks to give each of us a pint of meal or corn every evening, which we might bake, and which would serve us next morning, till our breakfast came at noon. the black people were much rejoiced that i got this additional allowance for them. but i was not satisfied; i wanted liberty. on sunday morning, as master was sitting in his porch, i went to him, and offered to give him the $ i had already paid him, if, beside them, he would take for my freedom the $ he had given for me. he drove me away, saying i had no way to get the money. i sat down for a time, and went to him again. i repeated my offer to procure the $ , and he again said i could not. he called his wife out of the room to the porch, and said to her, 'don't you think moses has taken to getting drunk?' she asked me if it was so; i denied it, when she inquired what was the matter. master replied, 'don't you think he wants me to sell him?' she said, 'moses, we would not take any money for you. captain cormack put a thousand dollars for you on the supper table last friday night, and mr. sawyer would not touch it; he wants you to be overseer in the dismal swamp.' i replied, 'captain cormack never said any thing to me about buying me; i would cut my throat from ear to ear rather than go to him. i know what made him say so; he is courting miss patsey, and he did it to make himself look big.' mistress laughed and turned away, and slammed to the door; master shook himself with laughing, and put the paper he was reading before his face, knowing that i spoke the truth. captain cormack was an old man who went on crutches. miss patsey was the finest of master's daughters. master drove me away from him again. on monday morning, mr. brooks, the overseer, blew the horn as usual for all to go to the field. i refused to go. i went to master, and told him that if he would give me a paper, i would go and fetch the $ ; he then gave me a paper, stating that he was willing to take that sum for my freedom: so i hired an old horse and started for norfolk, fifty miles off. when i reached deep creek, i went to the house of captain edward minner. he was very glad to see me, for in former days i had done much business for him; he said how sorry he had been to hear that i was at field work. he inquired where i was going. i said, to norfolk, to get some of the merchants to let me have money to buy myself. he replied, 'what did i always say to you? was it not, that i would let you have the money at any time, if you would only tell me when you could be sold?' he called mrs. minner into the room, and told her i could be sold for my freedom; she was rejoiced to hear it. he said, 'put up your horse at mr. western's tavern, for you need go no farther; i have plenty of old rusty dollars, and no man shall put his hand on your collar again to say you are a slave. come and stay with me to-night, and in the morning i will get mr. garret's horse, and go with you.' next morning we set off, and found master at major farrence's, at the cross canal, where i knew he was to be that day, to sell his share of the canal. when i saw him, he told me to go forward home, for he would not sell me. i felt sick and sadly disappointed. captain minner stepped up to him, and showed him the paper he had given me, saying, 'mr. sawyer, is not this your hand-writing?' he replied, 'mistress said, the last word when i came away, i was not to sell him, but send him home again.' captain minner said, 'mind, gentlemen, i do not want him for a slave; i want to buy him for freedom. he will repay me the money, and i shall not charge him a cent of interest for it. i would not have a colored person, to drag me down to hell, for all the money in the world.' a gentleman who was by said it was a shame i should be so treated; i had bought myself so often that mr. sawyer ought to let me go. the very worst man as an overseer over the persons employed in digging the canal, mr. wiley m'pherson, was there; he was never known to speak in favor of a colored person; even he said that mr. sawyer ought to let me go, as i had been sold so often. at length, mr. sawyer consented i should go for $ , and would take no less. i wished captain minner to give the extra $ , and not stand about it. i believe it was what m'pherson said that induced my master to let me go; for he was well known for his great severity to colored people; so that after even he had said so, master could not stand out. the lord must have opened m'pherson's heart to say it. i have said this m'pherson was an overseer where slaves were employed in cutting canals. the labor there is very severe. the ground is often very boggy; the negroes are up to the middle, or much deeper, in mud and water, cutting away roots and baling out mud; if they can keep their heads above water, they work on. they lodge in huts, or, as they are called, camps, made of shingles or boards. they lie down in the mud which has adhered to them, making a great fire to dry themselves, and keep off the cold. no bedding whatever is allowed them; it is only by work done over his task that any of them can get a blanket. they are paid nothing, except for this overwork. their masters come once a month to receive the money for their labor; then, perhaps, some few very good masters will give them $ each, some others $ , some a pound of tobacco, and some nothing at all. the food is more abundant than that of field slaves: indeed, it is the best allowance in america--it consists of a peck of meal and six pounds of pork per week; the pork is commonly not good; it is damaged, and is bought, as cheap as possible, at auctions. m'pherson gave the same task to each slave; of course, the weak ones often failed to do it. i have often seen him tie up persons and flog them in the morning, only because they were unable to get the previous day's task done; after they were flogged, pork or beef brine was put on their bleeding backs to increase the pain; he sitting by, resting himself, and seeing it done. after being thus flogged and pickled, the sufferers often remained tied up all day, the feet just touching the ground, the legs tied, and pieces of wood put between the legs. all the motion allowed was a slight turn of the neck. thus exposed and helpless, the yellow flies and musquitoes in great numbers would settle on the bleeding and smarting back, and put the sufferer to extreme torture. this continued all day, for they were not taken down till night. in flogging, he would sometimes tie the slave's shirt over his head, that he might not flinch when the blow was coming; sometimes he would increase his misery, by blustering, and calling out that he was coming to flog again, which he did or did not, as happened. i have seen him flog them with his own hands till their entrails were visible; and i have seen the sufferers dead when they were taken down. he never was called to account in any way for it. it is not uncommon for flies to blow the sores made by flogging; in that case, we get a strong weed growing in those parts, called the oak of jerusalem; we boil it at night, and wash the sores with the liquor, which is extremely bitter. on this the creepers or maggots come out. to relieve them in some degree, after severe flogging, their fellow-slaves rub their backs with part of their little allowance of fat meat. for fear the slaves should run away, while unable to work from flogging, he kept them chained till they could work again. this man had from to men under his control. when out of other employment, i sometimes worked under him, and saw his doings. i believe it was the word of this man which gained my freedom. he is dead, but there are yet others like him on public works. when the great kindness of captain minner had set me clear of mr. sawyer, i went to my old occupation of working the canal boats. these i took on shares, as before. after a time, i was disabled for a year from following this employment by a severe attack of rheumatism, caught by frequent exposure to severe weather. i was anxious, however, to be earning something towards the repayment of captain minner, lest any accident, unforeseen by him or me, should even yet deprive me of the liberty for which i so longed, and for which i had suffered so much. i therefore had myself carried in a lighter up a cross canal in the dismal swamp, and to the other side of drummond's lake. i was left on the shore, and there i built myself a little hut, and had provisions brought to me as opportunity served. here, among snakes, bears, and panthers, whenever my strength was sufficient, i cut down a juniper-tree, and converted it into cooper's timber. the camp, like those commonly set up for negroes, was entirely open on one side; on that side a fire is lighted at night, and a person sleeping puts his feet towards it. one night i was awoke by some animal smelling my face, and snuffing strongly; i felt its cold muzzle. i suddenly thrust out my arms, and shouted with all my might; it was frightened, and made off. i do not know whether it was a bear or a panther; but it seemed as tall as a large calf. i slept, of course, no more that night. i put my trust in the lord, and continued on the spot; i was never attacked again. i recovered, and went to the canal boats again; by the end of three years from the time he laid down the money, i entirely repaid my very kind and excellent friend. during this time he made no claim whatever on my services; i was altogether on the footing of a free man, as far as a colored man can there be free. when, at length, i had repaid captain minner, and had got my free papers, so that my freedom was quite secure, my feelings were greatly excited. i felt to myself so light, that i could almost think i could fly; in my sleep i was always dreaming of flying over woods and rivers. my gait was so altered by my gladness, that people often stopped me, saying, 'grandy, what is the matter?' i excused myself as well as i could; but many perceived the reason, and said, 'o! he is so pleased with having got his freedom.' slavery will teach any man to be glad when he gets freedom. my good master, captain minner, sent me to providence, in rhode island, to stay a year and a day, in order to gain my residence. but i staid only two months. mr. howard's vessel came there laden with corn. i longed much to see my master and mistress, for the kindness they had done me, and so went home in the schooner. on my arrival, i did not stop at my own house, except to ask my wife at the door how she and the children were in health, but went up the town to see captain and mrs. minner. they were very glad to see me, and consulted with me about my way of getting a living. i wished to go on board the new york and philadelphia packets, but feared i should be troubled for my freedom. captain minner thought i might venture, and i therefore engaged myself. i continued in that employment till his death, which happened about a year alter my return from providence. then i returned to boston; for, while he lived, i knew i could rely on his protection; but when i lost my friend, i thought it best to go wholly to the northern states. at boston i went to work at sawing wood, sawing with the whip-saw, laboring in the coal-yards, loading and unloading vessels, &c. after laboring in this way for a few months, i went a voyage to st. john's, in porto rico, with captain cobb, in the schooner _new packet_. on the return voyage, the vessel got ashore on cape cod; we left her, after doing in vain what we could to right her: she was afterwards recovered. i went several other voyages, and particularly two to the mediterranean: the last was to the east indies, in the ship _james murray_, captain woodbury, owner mr. gray. my entire savings, up to the period of my return from this voyage, amounted to $ ; i sent it to virginia, and bought my wife. she came to me at boston. i dared not go myself to fetch her, lest i should be again deprived of my liberty, as often happens to free colored people. at the time, called the time of the insurrection, about eight years ago, when the whites said the colored people were going to rise, and shot, hanged, and otherwise destroyed many of them, mrs. minner thought she saw me in the street, and fainted there. the soldiers were seizing all the blacks they could find, and she knew, if i were there, i should be sure to suffer with the rest. she was mistaken; i was not there. my son's master, at norfolk, sent a letter to me at boston, to say, that if i could raise $ , i might have his freedom; he was then fifteen years old. i had again saved $ . i knew the master was a drinking man, and was therefore very anxious to get my son out of his hands. i went to norfolk, running the risk of my liberty, and took my $ with me, to make the best bargain i could. many gentlemen in boston, my friends, advised me not to go myself; but i was anxious to get my boy's freedom, and i knew that nobody in virginia had any cause of complaint against me. so, notwithstanding their advice, i determined to go. when the vessel arrived there, they said it was against the law for me to go ashore. the mayor of the city said i had been among the cursed yankees too long; he asked me whether i did not know that it was unlawful for me to land, to which i replied, that i did not know it, for i could neither read nor write. the merchants for whom i had formerly done business came on board, and said they cared for neither the mare (mayor) nor the horse, and insisted that i should go ashore. i told the mayor the business on which i came, and he gave me leave to stay nine days, telling me that if i were not gone in that time, he would sell me for the good of the state. i offered my boy's master the $ ; he counted the money, but put it back to me, refusing to take less than $ . i went on board to return to boston. we met with head winds, and put back three times to norfolk, anchoring each time just opposite the jail. the nine days had expired, and i feared the mayor would find me on board and sell me. i could see the jail, full of colored people, and even the whipping-post, at which they were constantly enduring the lash. while we were lying there by the jail, two vessels came from eastern shore, virginia, laden with cattle and colored people. the cattle were lowing for their calves, and the men and women were crying for their husbands, wives, or children. the cries and groans were terrible, notwithstanding there was a whipper on board each vessel, trying to compel the poor creatures to keep silence. these vessels lay close to ours. i had been a long time away from such scenes; the sight affected me very much, and added greatly to my fears. one day i saw a boat coming from the shore with white men in it. i thought they were officers coming to take me; and such was my horror of slavery, that i twice ran to the ship's waist to jump overboard into the strong ebb tide then running, to drown myself; but a strong impression on my mind restrained me each time. once more we got under way for new york; but, meeting again with head winds, we ran into maurice's river, in delaware bay. new jersey, in which that place lies, is not a slave state. so i said to the captain, 'let me have a boat, and set me on the free land once more; then i will travel home over land; for i will not run the risk of going back to virginia any more. the captain said there was no danger, but i exclaimed, 'no, no! captain, i will not try it; put my feet on free land once again, and i shall be safe.' when i once more touched the free land, the burden of my mind was removed; if two ton weight had been taken off me, the relief would not have seemed so great. from maurice's creek i travelled to philadelphia, and at that place had a letter written to my wife, at boston, thanking god that i was on free land again. on arriving at boston, i borrowed $ of a friend, and, going to new york, i obtained the help of mr. john williams to send the $ to norfolk; thus, at length, i bought my son's freedom. i met him at new york, and brought him on to boston. six other of my children, three boys and three girls, were sold to new orleans. two of these daughters have bought their own freedom. the eldest of them, catherine, was sold three times after she was taken away from virginia; the first time was by auction. her last master but one was a frenchman; she worked in his sugar-cane and cotton fields. another frenchman inquired for a girl, on whom he could depend, to wait on his wife, who was in a consumption. her master offered him my daughter; they went into the field to see her, and the bargain was struck. her new master gave her up to his sick wife, on whom she waited till her death. as she had waited exceedingly well on his wife, her master offered her a chance of buying her freedom. she objected to his terms as too high; for he required her to pay him $ a week out of her earnings, and $ , for her freedom. he said he could get more for her, and told her she might get plenty of washing, at a dollar a dozen: at last she agreed. she lived near the river side, and obtained plenty of work. so anxious was she to obtain her freedom, that she worked nearly all her time, days and nights, and sundays. she found, however, she gained nothing by working on sundays, and therefore left it off. she paid her master punctually her weekly hire, and also something towards her freedom, for which he gave her receipts. a good stewardess was wanted for a steamboat on the mississippi; she was hired for the place at $ a month, which is the usual salary; she also had liberty to sell apples and oranges on board; and, commonly, the passengers give from twenty-five cents to a dollar to a stewardess who attends them well. her entire incoming, wages and all, amounted to about sixty dollars a month. she remained at this employment till she had paid the entire sum of $ , for her freedom. as soon as she obtained her free papers, she left the steamboat, thinking she could find her sister charlotte. her first two trials were unsuccessful; but on the third attempt she found her at work in the cane-field. she showed her sister's master her own free papers, and told him how she had bought herself; he said that, if her sister would pay him as much as she paid her master, she might go too. they agreed, and he gave her a pass. the two sisters went on board a steamboat, and worked together for the wages of one, till they had saved the entire $ , for the freedom of the second sister. the husband of charlotte was dead; her children were left behind in the cotton and cane-fields; their master refuses to take less than $ , for them; their names and ages are as follows: zeno, about fifteen; antoinette, about thirteen; joseph, about eleven; and josephine, about ten years old. of my other children, i only know that one, a girl, named betsey, is a little way from norfolk, in virginia. her master, mr. william dixon, is willing to sell her for $ . i do not know where any of my other four children are, nor whether they be dead or alive. it will be very difficult to find them out: for the names of slaves are commonly changed with every change of master: they usually bear the name of the master to whom they belong at the time: they have no family name of their own by which they can be traced. through this circumstance, and their ignorance of reading and writing, to which they are compelled by law, all trace between parents and children, who are separated from them in childhood, is lost in a few years. when, therefore, a child is sold away from its mother, she feels that she is parting from it forever; there is little likelihood of her ever knowing what of good or evil befalls it. the way of finding out a friend or relative who has been sold away for any length of time, or to any great distance, is to trace them, if possible, to one master after another, or if that cannot be done, to inquire about the neighborhood where they are supposed to be, until some one is found who can tell that such or such a person belonged to such or such a master; and the person supposed to be the one sought for, may, perhaps, remember the names of the persons to whom his father and mother belonged: there is little to be learned from his appearance, for so many years may have passed away that he may have grown out of the memory of his parents, or his nearest relations. there are thus no lasting family ties to bind relations together, not even the nearest, and this aggravates their distress when they are sold from each other. i have little hope of finding my four children again. i have lived in boston ever since i bought my freedom, except during the last year, which i have spent at portland, in the state of maine. i have yet said nothing of my father. he was often sold through the failure of his successive owners. when i was a little boy, he was sold away from us to a distance: he was then so far off that he could not come to see us oftener than once a year. after that, he was sold to go still farther away, and then he could not come at all. i do not know what has become of him. when my mother became old, she was sent to live in a little lonely log-hut in the woods. aged and worn-out slaves, whether men or women, are commonly so treated. no care is taken of them, except, perhaps, that a little ground is cleared about the hut, on which the old slave, if able, may raise a little corn. as far as the owner is concerned, they live or die, as it happens: it is just the same thing as turning out an old horse. their children, or other near relations, if living in the neighborhood, take it by turns to go at night with a supply saved out of their own scanty allowance of food, as well as to cut wood and fetch water for them: this is done entirely through the good feelings of the slaves, and not through the masters' taking care that it is done. on these night-visits, the aged inmate of the hut is often found crying on account of sufferings from disease or extreme weakness, or from want of food or water in the course of the day: many a time, when i have drawn near to my mother's hut, i have heard her grieving and crying on these accounts: she was old and blind too, and so unable to help herself. she was not treated worse than others: it is the general practice. some few good masters do not treat their old slaves so: they employ them in doing light jobs about the house and garden. my eldest sister is in elizabeth city. she has five children, who, of course, are slaves. her master is willing to sell her for $ : she is growing old. one of her children, a young man, cannot be bought under $ . my sister tamar, who belonged to the same master with myself, had children very fast. her husband had hard owners, and lived at a distance. when a woman who has many children belongs to an owner who is under age, as ours was, it is customary to put her and the children out yearly to the person who will maintain them for the least money, the person taking them having the benefit of whatever work the woman can do. but my sister was put to herself in the woods. she had a bit of ground cleared, and was left to hire herself out to labor. on the ground she raised corn and flax; and obtained a peck of corn, some herrings, or a piece of meat, for a day's work among the neighboring owners. in this way she brought up her children. her husband could help her but little. as soon as each of the children became big enough, it was sold away from her. after parting thus with five, she was sold along with the sixth, (about a year and a half old,) to the speculators; these are persons who buy slaves in carolina and virginia, to sell them in georgia and new orleans. after travelling with them more than one hundred miles, she made her escape, but could not obtain her child to take it with her. on her journey homeward she travelled by night, and hid herself in thick woods by day. she was in great danger on the road, but in three weeks reached the woods near us: there she had to keep herself concealed: i, my mother, and her husband, knew where she was: she lived in a den she made for herself. she sometimes ventured down to my mother's hut, where she was hid in a hollow under the floor. her husband lived ten miles off; he would sometimes set off after his day's work was done, spend part of the night with her, and get back before next sunrise: sometimes he would spend sunday with her. we all supplied her with such provisions as we could save. it was necessary to be very careful in visiting her; we tied pieces of wood or bundles of rags to our feet, that no track might be made. in the wood she had three children born; one of them died. she had not recovered from the birth of the youngest when she was discovered and taken to the house of her old master. she was afterwards sold to culpepper, who used her very cruelly. he was beating her dreadfully, and the blood was streaming from her head and back one day when i happened to go to his house. i was greatly grieved, and asked his leave to find a person to buy her: instead of answering me, he struck at me with an axe, and i was obliged to get away as fast as i could. soon after this he failed, and she was offered for sale in norfolk; there mr. johnson bought her and her two children, out of friendship for me: he treated her exceedingly well, and she served him faithfully; but it was not long before she was claimed by a person to whom culpepper had mortgaged her before he sold her to johnson. this person sold her to long, of elizabeth city, where again she was very badly treated. after a time, this person sold her to go to georgia: she was very ill at the time, and was taken away in a cart. i hear from her sometimes, and am very anxious to purchase her freedom, if ever i should be able. two of her children are now in north carolina, and are longing to obtain their freedom. i know nothing of the others, nor am i likely ever to hear of them again. the treatment of slaves is mildest near the borders, where the free and slave states join: it becomes more severe, the farther we go from the free states. it is more severe in the west and south than where i lived. the sale of slaves most frequently takes place from the milder to the severer parts: there is great traffic in slaves in that direction, which is carried on by the speculators. on the frontier between the slave and free states there is a guard; no colored person can go over a ferry without a pass. by these regulations, and the great numbers of patrols, escape is made next to impossible. formerly slaves were allowed to have religious meetings of their own; but after the insurrection which i spoke of before, they were forbidden to meet even for worship. often they are flogged if they are found singing or praying at home. they may go to the places of worship used by the whites; but they like their own meetings better. my wife's brother isaac was a colored preacher. a number of slaves went privately into a wood to hold meetings; when they were found out, they were flogged, and each was forced to tell who else was there. three were shot, two of whom were killed and the other was badly wounded. for preaching to them, isaac was flogged, and his back pickled; when it was nearly well, he was flogged and pickled again, and so on for some months; then his back was suffered to get well, and he was sold. a little while before this, his wife was sold away with an infant at her breast; and out of six children, four had been sold away by one at a time. on the way with his buyers he dropped down dead; his heart was broken. having thus narrated what has happened to myself, my relatives and near friends, i will add a few matters about slaves and colored people in general. slaves are under fear in every word they speak. if, in their master's kitchen, they let slip an expression of discontent, or a wish for freedom, it is often reported to the master or mistress by the children of the family who may be playing about: severe flogging is often the consequence. i have already said that it is forbidden by law to teach colored persons to read or write. a few well-disposed white young persons, of the families to which the slaves belonged, have ventured to teach them, but they dare not let it be known they have done so. the proprietors get new land cleared in this way. they first 'dead' a piece of ground in the woods adjoining the plantation: by 'deading' is meant killing the trees, by cutting a nick all round each, quite through the bark. out of this ground each colored person has a piece as large as he can tend after his other work is done; the women have pieces in like manner. the slave works at night, cutting down the timber and clearing the ground; after it is cleared, he has it for his own use for two or three years, as may be agreed on. as these new clearings lie between the woods and the old cultivated land, the squirrels and raccoons first come at the crops on them, and thus those on the planter's land are saved from much waste. when the negro has had the land for the specified time, and it has become fit for the plough, the master takes it, and he is removed to another new piece. it is no uncommon thing for the land to be taken from him before the time is out, if it has sooner become fit for the plough. when the crop is gathered, the master comes to see how much there is of it; he then gives the negro an order to sell that quantity; without that order, no storekeeper dare buy it. the slave lays out the money in something tidy to go to meeting in, and something to take to his wife. the evidence of a black man, or of ever so many black men, stands for nothing against that of one white; in consequence of it the free negroes are liable to great cruelties. they have had their dwellings entered, their bedding and furniture destroyed, and themselves, their wives and children, beaten; some have even been taken, with their wives, into the woods, and tied up, flogged, and left there. there is nothing which a white man may not do against a black one, if he only takes care that no other white man can give evidence against him. a law has lately been passed in new orleans prohibiting any free colored person from going there. the coasting packets of the ports on the atlantic commonly have colored cooks. when a vessel goes from new york or boston to a port in the slaveholding states, the black cook is usually put in jail till the vessel sails again. no colored person can travel without a pass. if he cannot show it, he may be flogged by any body; in such a case he often is seized and flogged by the patrols. all through the slave states there are patrols; they are so numerous that they cannot be easily escaped. the only time when a man can visit his wife, when they are on different estates, is saturday evening and sunday. if they be very near to each other, he may sometimes see her on wednesday evening. he must always return to his work by sunrise; if he fail to do so, he is flogged. when he has got together all the little things he can for his wife and children, and has walked many miles to see them, he may find that they have all been sold away, some in one direction, and some in another. he gives up all hope of seeing them again, but he dare not utter a word of complaint. it often happens that, when a slave wishes to visit his wife on another plantation, his own master is busy or from home, and therefore he cannot get a pass. he ventures without it. if there be any little spite against his wife or himself, he may be asked for it when he arrives, and, not having it, he may be beaten with thirty-nine stripes, and sent away. on his return, he may be seized by the patrol, and flogged again for the same reason; and he will not wonder if he is again seized and beaten for the third time. if a negro has given offence to the patrol, even by so innocent a matter as dressing tidily to go to a place of worship, he will be seized by one of them, and another will tear up his pass; while one is flogging him, the others will look another way; so when he or his master makes complaint of his having been beaten without cause, and he points out the person who did it, the others will swear they saw no one beat him. his oath, being that of a black man, would stand for nothing; but he may not even be sworn; and, in such a case, his tormentors are safe, for they were the only whites present. in all the slave states there are men who make a trade of whipping negroes; they ride about inquiring for jobs of persons who keep no overseer; if there is a negro to be whipped, whether man or woman, this man is employed when he calls, and does it immediately; his fee is half a dollar. widows and other females, having negroes, get them whipped in this way. many mistresses will insist on the slave who has been flogged begging pardon for her fault on her knees, and thanking her for the correction. a white man, who lived near me in camden county, thomas evidge, followed this business. he was also sworn whipper at the court house. a law was passed that any white man detected in stealing should be whipped. mr. dozier frequently missed hogs, and flogged many of his negroes on suspicion of stealing them; when he could not, in his suspicions, fix on any one in particular, he flogged them all round, saying that he was sure of having punished the right one. being one day shooting in his woods, he heard the report of another gun, and shortly after met david evidge, the nephew of the whipper, with one of his hogs on his back, which had just been shot. david was sent to prison, convicted of the theft, and sentenced to be flogged. his uncle, who vapored about greatly in flogging slaves, and taunted them with unfeeling speeches while he did it, could not bear the thought of flogging his nephew, and hired a man to do it. the person pitched on chanced to be a sailor; he laid it well on the thief; pleased enough were the colored people to see a white back for the first time subjected to the lash. another man of the same business, george wilkins, did no greater credit to the trade. mr. carnie, on western branch, virginia, often missed corn from his barn. wilkins, the whipper, was very officious in pointing out this slave and that, as very likely to be the thief; with nothing against them but his insinuations, some were very severely punished, being flogged by this very wilkins, and others, at his instigation, were sold away. one night, mr. carnie, unknown to his colored people, set a steel trap in the barn; some of the negroes, passing the barn before morning, saw wilkins standing there, but were not aware he was caught. they called the master, that he might seize the thief before he could escape; he came and teased wilkins during the night; in the morning, he exposed him to the view of the neighbors, and then set him at liberty without further punishment. the very severe punishments to which slaves are subjected, for trifling offences, or none at all, their continued liability to all kinds of ill usage, without a chance of redress, and the agonizing feelings they endure at being separated from the dearest connections, drive many of them to desperation, and they abscond. they hide themselves in the woods, where they remain for months, and, in some cases, for years. when caught, they are flogged with extreme severity, their backs are pickled, and the flogging repeated as before described: after months of this torture, the back is allowed to heal, and the slave is sold away. especially is this done when the slave has attempted to reach a free state. in violent thunder-storms, when the whites have got between feather-beds to be safe from the lightning, i have often seen negroes, the aged as well as others, go out, and, lifting up their hands, thank god that judgment was coming at last. so cruelly are many of them used, that judgment, they think, would be a happy release from their horrible slavery. the proprietors, though they live in luxury, generally die in debt: their negroes are so hardly treated that no profit is made by their labor. many of them are great gamblers. at the death of a proprietor, it commonly happens that his colored people are sold towards paying his debts. so it must and will be with the masters while slavery continues: when freedom is established, i believe they will begin to prosper greatly. before i close this narrative, i ought to express my grateful thanks to the many friends in the northern states, who have encouraged and assisted me: i shall never forget to speak of their kindness, and to pray for their prosperity. i am delighted in saying, that not only to myself, but to very many other colored persons, they have lent a benevolent and helping hand. last year, gentlemen whom i know bought no less than ten families from slavery; and this year they are pursuing the same good work. but for these numerous and heavy claims on their means and their kindness, i should have had no need to appeal to the generosity of the british public; they would gladly have helped me to redeem all my children and relations. when i first went to the northern states,--which is about ten years ago,--although i was free, as to the law, i was made to feel severely the difference between persons of different colors. no black man was admitted to the same seats in churches with the whites, nor to the inside of public conveyances, nor into street coaches or cabs: we had to be content with the decks of steamboats in all weathers, night and day, not even our wives or children being allowed to go below, however it might rain, or snow, or freeze; in various other ways, we were treated as though we were of a race of men below the whites. but the abolitionists boldly stood up for us, and, through them, things are much changed for the better. now, we may sit in any part of many places of worship, and are even asked into the pews of respectable white families; many public conveyances now make no distinction between white and black. we begin to feel that we are really on the same footing as our fellow-citizens. they see we can and do conduct ourselves with propriety, and they are now admitting us, in many cases, to the same standing with themselves. during the struggles which have procured for us this justice from our fellow-citizens, we have been in the habit of looking in public places for some well-known abolitionists, and, if none that we knew were there, we addressed any person dressed as a quaker; these classes always took our part against ill usage, and we have to thank them for many a contest in our behalf. we were greatly delighted by the zealous efforts and powerful eloquence in our cause of mr. george thompson, who came from our english friends to aid our suffering brethren. he was hated and mobbed by bad men amongst the whites; they put his life in great danger, and threatened destruction to all who sheltered him. we prayed for him, and did all we could to defend him. the lord preserved him, and thankful were we when he escaped from our country with his life. at that time, and ever since, we have had a host of american friends, who have labored for the cause night and day; they have nobly stood up for the rights and honor of the colored man; but they did so at first in the midst of scorn and danger. now, thank god, the case is very different. william lloyd garrison, who was hunted for his life by a mob in the streets of new york, has lately been chairman of a large meeting in favor of abolition, held in faneuil hall, the celebrated public hall of boston, called the 'cradle of liberty.' i am glad to say also that numbers of my colored brethren now escape from slavery; some by purchasing their freedom, others by quitting, through many dangers and hardships, the land of bondage. the latter suffer many privations in their attempts to reach the free states. they hide themselves, during the day, in the woods and swamps; at night, they travel, crossing rivers by swimming or by boats they may chance to meet with, and passing over hills and meadows which they do not know: in these dangerous journeys they are guided by the north-star, for they only know that the land of freedom is in the north. they subsist only on such wild fruit as they can gather, and as they are often very long on their way, they reach the free states almost like skeletons. on their arrival they have no friends but such as pity those who have been in bondage, the number of whom, i am happy to say, is increasing; but if they can meet with a man in a broad-brimmed hat and quaker coat, they speak to him without fear--relying on him as a friend. at each place the escaped slave inquires for an abolitionist or a quaker, and these friends of the colored man help them on their journey northwards, until they are out of the reach of danger. our untiring friends, the abolitionists, once obtained a law that no colored person should be seized as a slave within the free states; this law would have been of great service to us, by ridding us of all anxiety about our freedom while we remained there; but i am sorry to say, that it has lately been repealed, and that now, as before, any colored person who is said to be a slave, may be seized in the free states and carried away, no matter how long he may have resided there, as also may his children and their children, although they all may have been born there. i hope this law will soon be altered again. at present many escaped slaves are forwarded by their friends to canada, where, under british rule, they are quite safe. there is a body of ten thousand of them in upper canada; they are known for their good order, and loyalty to the british government; during the late troubles, they could always be relied on for the defence of the british possessions against the lawless americans who attempted to invade them. as to the settlement of liberia, on the coast of africa, the free colored people of america do not willingly go to it. america is their home: if their forefathers lived in africa, they themselves know nothing of that country. none but free colored people are taken there: if they would take slaves, they might have plenty of colonists. slaves will go any where for freedom. we look very much to england for help to the cause of the slaves. whenever we hear of the people of england doing good to black men, we are delighted, and run to tell each other the news. our kind friends, the abolitionists, are very much encouraged when they hear of meetings and speeches in england in our cause. the first of august, the day when the slaves in the west indies were made free, is always kept as a day of rejoicing by the american colored free people. i do hope and believe that the cause of freedom to the blacks is becoming stronger and stronger every day. i pray for the time to come when freedom shall be established all over the world. then will men love as brethren; they will delight to do good to one another; and they will thankfully worship the father of all. and now i have only to repeat my hearty thanks to all who have done any thing towards obtaining liberty for my colored brethren, and especially to express my gratitude to those who have helped me to procure for myself, my wife, and so far of my children, the blessing of freedom--a blessing of which none can know the value, but he who has been a slave. whatever profit may be obtained by the sale of this book, and all donations with which i may be favored, will be faithfully employed in redeeming my remaining children and relatives from the dreadful condition of slavery. note. i have paid the following sums to redeem myself and relatives from slavery, viz: for my own freedom, ... $ , for my wife's " ... for my son's " ... grandchild's " ... to redeem my kidnapped son, ------$ , i now wish to raise $ to buy the freedom of my sister mary, who is a slave at elizabeth city, n.c. her master says he will take that sum for her. m.g. _boston, jan. , ._ footnotes: [footnote : it will be observed that the narrator married a second wife, without having heard of the decease of the first. to explain this fact, it is necessary to state, that the frequent occurrence of cases where husbands and wives, members of christian societies, were finally separated by sale, led the ministers, some years ago, to deliberate on the subject: they decided that such separation might be considered as the death of the parties to each other, and they therefore agreed to consider subsequent marriages not immoral. the practice is general. it is scarcely necessary to remark, that a more unequivocal and impressive proof of the heinous nature of the system could hardly exist. it breaks up the fondest connections, it tears up the holiest attachments, and induces the ministers of religion, as much as in them lies, to carve the divine law to a fitting with its own infernal exigencies.] a new voyage to carolina by john lawson [british surveyor-general of north carolina. d. .] a new voyage to carolina; containing the exact description and natural history of that country: together with the present state thereof. and a journal of a thousand miles, travel'd thro' several nations of indians. giving a particular account of their customs, manners, &c. by john lawson, gent. surveyor-general of north carolina. tn: to assure a high quality text, the original was typed in (manually) twice and electronically compared. [some obvious errors have been corrected. (see notes at end of file.)] [dedication] to his excellency william lord craven, palatine; the most noble, henry duke of beaufort; the right hon-ble john lord carteret; the hon-ble maurice ashley, esq; sir john colleton, baronet, john danson, esq; and the rest of the true and absolute lords-proprietors of the province of carolina in america. my lords, as debts of gratitude ought most punctually to be paid, so, where the debtor is uncapable of payment, acknowledgments ought, at least, to be made. i cannot, in the least, pretend to retaliate your lordships favours to me, but must farther intrude on that goodness of which i have already had so good experience, by laying these sheets at your lordships feet, where they beg protection, as having nothing to recommend them, but truth; a gift which every author may be master of, if he will. i here present your lordships with a description of your own country, for the most part, in her natural dress, and therefore less vitiated with fraud and luxury. a country, whose inhabitants may enjoy a life of the greatest ease and satisfaction, and pass away their hours in solid contentment. those charms of liberty and right, the darlings of an english nature, which your lordships grant and maintain, make you appear noble patrons in the eyes of all men, and we a happy people in a foreign country; which nothing less than ingratitude and baseness can make us disown. as heaven has been liberal in its gifts, so are your lordships favourable promoters of whatever may make us an easy people; which, i hope, your lordships will continue to us and our posterity; and that we and they may always acknowledge such favours, by banishing from among us every principle which renders men factious and unjust, which is the hearty prayer of, my lords, your lordships most obliged, most humble, and most devoted servant, john lawson. preface. 'tis a great misfortune, that most of our travellers, who go to this vast continent in america, are persons of the meaner sort, and generally of a very slender education; who being hir'd by the merchants, to trade amongst the indians, in which voyages they often spend several years, are yet, at their return, uncapable of giving any reasonable account of what they met withal in those remote parts; tho' the country abounds with curiosities worthy a nice observation. in this point, i think, the french outstrip us. first, by their numerous clergy, their missionaries being obedient to their superiors in the highest degree, and that obedience being one great article of their vow, and strictly observ'd amongst all their orders. secondly, they always send abroad some of their gentlemen in company of the missionaries, who, upon their arrival, are order'd out into the wilderness, to make discoveries, and to acquaint themselves with the savages of america; and are oblig'd to keep a strict journal of all the passages they meet withal, in order to present the same not only to their governors and fathers, but likewise to their friends and relations in france; which is industriously spread about that kingdom, to their advantage. for their monarch being a very good judge of mens deserts, does not often let money or interest make men of parts give place to others of less worth. this breeds an honourable emulation amongst them, to outdo one another, even in fatigues, and dangers; whereby they gain a good correspondence with the indians, and acquaint themselves with their speech and customs; and so make considerable discoveries in a short time. witness, their journals from canada, to the missisipi, and its several branches, where they have effected great matters, in a few years. having spent most of my time, during my eight years abode in carolina, in travelling; i not only survey'd the sea-coast and those parts which are already inhabited by the christians, but likewise view'd a spatious tract of land, lying betwixt the inhabitants and the ledges of mountains, from whence our noblest rivers have their rise, running towards the ocean, where they water as pleasant a country as any in europe; the discovery of which being never yet made publick, i have, in the following sheets, given you a faithful account thereof, wherein i have laid down every thing with impartiality, and truth, which is indeed, the duty of every author, and preferable to a smooth stile, accompany'd with falsities and hyperboles. great part of this pleasant and healthful country is inhabited by none but savages, who covet a christian neighbourhood, for the advantage of trade, and enjoy all the comforts of life free from care and want. but not to amuse my readers any longer with the encomium of carolina, i refer 'em to my journal, and other more particular description of that country and its inhabitants, which they will find after the natural history thereof, in which i have been very exact, and for method's sake, rang'd each species under its distinct and proper head. introduction. in the year , when people flock'd from all parts of the christian world, to see the solemnity of the grand jubilee at rome, my intention, at that time, being to travel, i accidentally met with a gentleman, who had been abroad, and was very well acquainted with the ways of living in both indies; of whom, having made enquiry concerning them, he assur'd me, that carolina was the best country i could go to; and, that there then lay a ship in the thames, in which i might have my passage. i laid hold on this opportunity, and was not long on board, before we fell down the river, and sail'd to cowes; where, having taken in some passengers, we proceeded on our voyage 'till we sprung a-leak, and were forc'd into the islands of scilly. here we spent about days in refitting; in which time we had a great deal of diversion in fishing and shooting on those rocky islands. the inhabitants were very courteous and civil, especially the governor, to whose good company and favour, we were very much oblig'd. there is a town on one of these islands, where is good entertainment for those that happen to come in, though the land is but mean, and flesh-meat not plenty. they have good store of rabbits, quails, and fish; and you see at the poor peoples doors great heaps of perriwinkle-shells, those fish being a great part of their food. on the st day of may, having a fair wind at east, we put to sea, and were on the ocean (without speaking to any vessel, except a ketch bound from new england to barbadoes, laden with horses, fish, and provisions) 'till the latter end of july, when the winds hung so much southerly, that we could not get to our port, but put into sandyhook-bay, and went up to new york, after a pinching voyage, caus'd by our long passage. we found at the watering-place, a french man of war, who had on board men and necessaries to make a colony, and was intended for the messiasippi river, there to settle. the country of new-york is very pleasant in summer, but in the winter very cold, as all the northern plantations are. their chief commodities are provisions, bread, beer, lumber, and fish in abundance; all which are very good, and some skins and furrs are hence exported. the city is govern'd by a mayor, (as in england) is seated on an island, and lies very convenient for trade and defence, having a regular fort, and well mounted with guns. the buildings are generally of a smaller sort of flemish brick, and of the dutch fashion, (excepting some few houses:) they are all very firm and good work, and conveniently plac'd, as is likewise the town, which gives a very pleasant prospect of the neighbouring islands and rivers. a good part of the inhabitants are dutch, in whose hands this colony once was. after a fortnight's stay here, we put out from sandyhook, and in days after, arriv'd at charles-town, the metropolis of south carolina, which is soituate in , north latitude, and admits of large ships to come over their bar up to the town, where is a very commodious harbour, about miles distant from the inlet, and stands on a point very convenient for trade, being seated between two pleasant and navigable rivers. the town has very regular and fair streets, in which are good buildings of brick and wood, and since my coming thence, has had great additions of beautiful, large brick-buildings, besides a strong fort, and regular fortifications made to defend the town. the inhabitants, by their wise management and industry, have much improv'd the country, which is in as thriving circumstances at this time, as any colony on the continent of english america, and is of more advantage to the crown of great britain, than any of the other more northerly plantations, (virginia and maryland excepted.) this colony was at first planted by a genteel sort of people, that were well acquainted with trade, and had either money or parts, to make good use of the advantages that offer'd, as most of them have done, by raising themselves to great estates, and considerable places of trust, and posts of honour, in this thriving settlement. since the first planters, abundance of french and others have gone over, and rais'd themselves to considerable fortunes. they are very neat and exact in packing and shipping of their commodities; which method has got them so great a character abroad, that they generally come to a good market with their commodities; when oftentimes the product of other plantations, are forc'd to be sold at lower prizes. they have a considerable trade both to europe, and the west indies, whereby they become rich, and are supply'd with all things necessary for trade, and genteel living, which several other places fall short of. their co-habiting in a town, has drawn to them ingenious people of most sciences, whereby they have tutors amongst them that educate their youth a-la-mode. their roads, with great industry, are made very good and pleasant. near the town is built a fair parsonage-house, with necessary offices, and the minister has a very considerable allowance from his parish. there is likewise a french church in town, of the reform'd religion, and several meeting-houses for dissenting congregations, who all enjoy at this day an entire liberty of their worship; the constitution of this government, allowing all parties of well-meaning christians to enjoy a free toleration, and possess the same priviledges, so long as they appear to behave themselves peaceably and well: it being the lords proprietors intent, that the inhabitants of carolina should be as free from oppression, as any in the universe; which doubtless they will, if their own differences amongst themselves do not occasion the contrary. they have a well-disciplin'd militia; their horse are most gentlemen, and well mounted, and the best in america, and may equalize any in other parts: their officers, both infantry and cavalry, generally appear in scarlet mountings, and as rich as in most regiments belonging to the crown, which shews the richness and grandeur of this colony. they are a fronteer, and prove such troublesome neighbours to the spaniards, that they have once laid their town of st. augustine in ashes, and drove away their cattle; besides many encounters and engagements, in which they have defeated them, too tedious to relate here. what the french got by their attempt against south carolina, will hardly ever be rank'd amongst their victories; their admiral mouville being glad to leave the enterprize, and run away, after he had suffer'd all the loss and disgrace he was capable of receiving. they are absolute masters over the indians, and carry so strict a hand over such as are within the circle of their trade, that none does the least injury to any of the english, but he is presently sent for, and punish'd with death, or otherwise, according to the nature of the fault. they have an entire friendship with the neighbouring indians of several nations, which are a very warlike people, ever faithful to the english, and have prov'd themselves brave and true on all occasions; and are a great help and strength to this colony. the chief of the savage nations have heretofore groan'd under the spanish yoke, and having experienc'd their cruelty, are become such mortal enemies to that people, that they never give a spaniard quarter; but generally, when they take any prisoners, (if the english be not near to prevent it) sculp them, that is, to take their hair and skin of their heads, which they often flea away, whilst the wretch is alive. notwithstanding the english have us'd all their endeavours, yet they could never bring them to leave this barbarity to the spaniards; who, as they alledge, use to murder them and their relations, and make slaves of them to build their forts and towns. this place is more plentiful in money, than most, or indeed any of the plantations on the continent; besides, they build a considerable number of vessels of cedar, and other wood, with which they trade to cuirassau, and the west indies; from one they bring money, and from the other the produce of their islands, which yields a necessary supply of both to the colony. their stocks of cattle are incredible, being from one to two thousand head in one man's possession: these feed in the savannas, and other grounds, and need no fodder in the winter. their mutton and veal is good, and their pork is not inferior to any in america. as for pitch and tar, none of the plantations are comparable for affording the vast quantities of naval stores, as this place does. there have been heretofore some discoveries of rich mines in the mountanous part of this country; but being remote from the present settlement, and the inhabitants not well vers'd in ordering minerals, they have been laid aside 'till a more fit opportunity happens. there are several noble rivers, and spacious tracts of rich land in their lordships dominions, lying to the southward, which are yet uninhabited, besides port royal, a rare harbour and inlet, having many inhabitants thereon, which their lordships have now made a port for trade. this will be a most advantageous settlement, lying so commodiously for ships coming from the gulph, and the richness of the land, which is reported to be there. these more southerly parts will afford oranges, limons, limes, and many other fruits, which the northerly plantations yield not. the merchants of carolina, are fair, frank traders. the gentlemen seated in the country, are very courteous, live very nobly in their houses, and give very genteel entertainment to all strangers and others, that come to visit them. and since the produce of south and north carolina is the same, unless silk, which this place produces great quantities of, and very good, north carolina having never made any tryal thereof as yet, therefore i shall refer the natural produce of this country, to that part which treats of north carolina, whose productions are much the same. the christian inhabitants of both colonies pretty equal, but the slaves of south carolina are far more in number than those in the north. i shall now proceed to relate my journey thro' the country, from this settlement to the other, and then treat of the natural history of carolina, with other remarkable circumstances which i have met with, during my eight years abode in that country. a journal of a thousand miles travel among the indians, from south to north carolina. {saturday.} on december the th, , i began my voyage (for north carolina) from charles-town, being six english-men in company, with three indian-men, and one woman, wife to our indian-guide, having five miles from the town to the breach we went down in a large canoe, that we had provided for our voyage thither, having the tide of ebb along with us; which was so far spent by that time we got down, that we had not water enough for our craft to go over, although we drew but two foot, or thereabouts. this breach is a passage through a marsh lying to the northward of sullivans island, the pilot's having a look out thereon, lying very commodious for mariners, (on that coast) making a good land-mark in so level a country, this bar being difficult to hit, where an observation hath been wanting for a day or two; north east winds bringing great fogs, mists, and rains; which, towards the cool months of october, november, and until the latter end of march, often appear in these parts. there are three pilots to attend, and conduct ships over the bar. the harbour where the vessels generally ride, is against the town on cooper's river, lying within a point which parts that and ashley-river, they being land lock'd almost on all sides. at in the afternoon, (at half flood) we pass'd with our canoe over the breach, leaving sullivans island on our starboard. the first place we design'd for, was santee river, on which there is a colony of french protestants, allow'd and encourag'd by the lords proprietors. at night we got to bell's-island, a poor spot of land, being about ten miles round, where liv'd (at that time) a bermudian, being employ'd here with a boy, to look after a stock of cattle and hogs, by the owner of this island. one side of the roof of his house was thatch'd with palmeto-leaves, the other open to the heavens, thousands of musketoes, and other troublesome insects, tormenting both man and beast inhabiting these islands. {palmeto-trees.} the palmeto-trees, whose leaves growing only on the top of the tree, in the shape of a fan, and in a cluster, like a cabbage; this tree in carolina, when at its utmost growth, is about forty or fifty foot in height, and two foot through: it's worth mentioning, that the growth of the tree is not perceivable in the age of any man, the experiment having been often try'd in bermudas, and elsewhere, which shews the slow growth of this vegitable, the wood of it being porous and stringy, like some canes; the leaves thereof the bermudians make womens hats, bokeets, baskets, and pretty dressing-boxes, a great deal being transported to pensilvania, and other northern parts of america, (where they do not grow) for the same manufacture. the people of carolina make of the fans of this tree, brooms very serviceable, to sweep their houses withal. we took up our lodging this night with the bermudian; our entertainment was very indifferent, there being no fresh water to be had on the island. the next morning we set away thro' the marshes; about noon we reach'd another island, call'd dix's island, much like to the former, tho' larger; there liv'd an honest scot, who gave us the best reception his dwelling afforded, being well provided of oat-meal, and several other effects he had found on that coast; which goods belong'd to that unfortunate vessel, the rising sun, a scotch man of war, lately arriv'd from the istmus of darien, and cast away near the bar of ashley river, the september before, capt. gibson of glasco then commanding her, who, with above an hundred men then on board her, {septem. . .} were every soul drown'd in that terrible gust which then happen'd; most of the corps being taken up, were carefully interr'd by mr. graham, their lieutenant, who happily was on shore during the tempest. after dinner, we left our scotch landlord, and went that night to the north east point of the island: it being dark ere we got there, our canoe struck on a sand near the breakers, and were in great danger of our lives, but (by god's blessing) got off safe to the shore, where we lay all night. {monday.} in the morning we set forwards on our intended voyage. about two a clock we got to bulls island, which is about thirty miles long, and hath a great number of both cattel and hogs upon it; the cattel being very wild, and the hogs very lean. these two last islands belong to one colonel cary, an inhabitant of south carolina. although it were winter, yet we found such swarms of musketoes, and other troblesome insects, that we got but little rest that night. {tuesday.} the next day we intended for a small island on the other side of sewee-bay, which joining to these islands, shipping might come to victual or careen; but there being such a burden of those flies, that few or none cares to settle there; so the stock thereon are run wild. we were gotten about half way to racoon-island, when there sprung up a tart gale at n.w. which put us in some danger of being cast away, the bay being rough, and there running great seas between the two islands, which are better than four leagues asunder, a strong current of a tide setting in and out, which made us turn tail to it, and got our canoe right before the wind, and came safe into a creek that is joining to the north end of bulls island. we sent our indians to hunt, who brought us two deers, which were very poor, and their maws full of large grubs. {wednesday.} on the morrow we went and visited the eastermost side of this island, it joining to the ocean, having very fair sandy beeches, pav'd with innumerable sorts of curious pretty shells, very pleasant to the eye. amongst the rest, we found the spanish oyster-shell, whence come the pearls. they are very large, and of a different form from other oysters; their colour much resembles the tortoise-shell, when it is dress'd. there was left by the tide several strange species of a muciligmous slimy substance, though living, and very aptly mov'd at their first appearance; yet, being left on the dry sand, (by the beams of the sun) soon exhale and vanish. at our return to our quarters, the indians had kill'd two more deer, two wild hogs, and three racoons, all very lean, except the racoons. we had great store of oysters, conks, and clanns, a large sort of cockles. these parts being very well furnish'd with shell-fish, turtle of several sorts, but few or none of the green, with other sorts of salt-water fish, and in the season, good plenty of fowl, as curleus, gulls, gannets, and pellicans, besides duck and mallard, geese, swans, teal, widgeon, &c. {thursday.} on thursday morning we left bulls island, and went thro' the creeks, which lie between the bay and the main land. at noon we went on shore, and got our dinner near a plantation, on a creek having the full prospect of sewee-bay: we sent up to the house, but found none at home, but a negro, of whom our messenger purchas'd some small quantity of tobacco and rice. we came to a deserted indian residence, call'd avendaugh-bough, where we rested that night. {friday.} the next day we enter'd santee-river's mouth, where is fresh water, occasion'd by the extraordinary current that comes down continually. with hard rowing, we got two leagues up the river, lying all night in a swampy piece of ground, the weather being so cold all that time, we were almost frozen ere morning, leaving the impressions of our bodies on the wet ground. we set forward very early in the morning, to seek some better quarters. {saturday.} as we row'd up the river, we found the land towards the mouth, and for about sixteen miles up it, scarce any thing but swamp and percoarson, {percoarson, a sort of low land.} affording vast ciprus-trees, of which the french make canoes, that will carry fifty or sixty barrels. after the tree is moulded and dug, they saw them in two pieces, and so put a plank between, and a small keel, to preserve them from the oyster-banks, which are innumerable in the creeks and bays betwixt the french settlement and charles-town. they carry two masts, and bermudas sails, which makes them very handy and fit for their purpose; for although their river fetches its first rise from the mountains, and continues a current some hundreds of miles ere it disgorges it self, having no sound bay or sand-banks betwixt the mouth thereof, and the ocean. notwithstanding all this, with the vast stream it affords at all seasons, and the repeated freshes it so often allarms the inhabitants with, by laying under water great part of their country, yet the mouth is barr'd, affording not above four or five foot water at the entrance. as we went up the river, we heard a great noise, as if two parties were engag'd against each other, seeming exactly like small shot. {sewee indians.} when we approach'd nearer the place, we found it to be some sewee indians firing the canes swamps, which drives out the game, then taking their particular stands, kill great quantities of both bear, deer, turkies, and what wild creatures the parts afford. these sewees have been formerly a large nation, though now very much decreas'd, since the english hath seated their land, and all other nations of indians are observ'd to partake of the same fate, where the europeans come, the indians being a people very apt to catch any distemper they are afflicted withal; the small-pox has destroy'd many thousands of these natives, who no sooner than they are attack'd with the violent fevers, and the burning which attends that distemper, fling themselves over head in the water, in the very extremity of the disease; which shutting up the pores, hinders a kindly evacuation of the pestilential matter, and drives it back; by which means death most commonly ensues; not but in other distempers which are epidemical, you may find among 'em practitioners that have extraordinary skill and success in removing those morbifick qualities which afflict 'em, not often going above yards from their abode for their remedies, some of their chiefest physicians commonly carrying their compliment of drugs continually about them, which are roots, barks, berries, nuts, &c. that are strung upon a thread. so like a pomander, the physician wears them about his neck. an indian hath been often found to heal an english-man of a malady, for the value of a match-coat; which the ablest of our english pretenders in america, after repeated applications, have deserted the patient as incurable; god having furnish'd every country with specifick remedies for their peculiar diseases. {rum.} rum, a liquor now so much in use with them, that they will part with the dearest thing they have, to purchase it; and when they have got a little in their heads, are the impatients creatures living, 'till they have enough to make 'em quite drunk; and the most miserable spectacles when they are so, some falling into the fires, burn their legs or arms, contracting the sinews, and become cripples all their life-time; others from precipices break their bones and joints, with abundance of instances, yet none are so great to deter them from that accurs'd practice of drunkenness, though sensible how many of them (are by it) hurry'd into the other world before their time, as themselves oftentimes will confess. the indians, i was now speaking of, were not content with the common enemies that lessen and destroy their country-men, but invented an infallible stratagem to purge their tribe, and reduce their multitude into far less numbers. their contrivance was thus, as a trader amongst them inform'd me. they seeing several ships coming in, to bring the english supplies from old england, one chief part of their cargo being for a trade with the indians, some of the craftiest of them had observ'd, that the ships came always in at one place, which made them very confident that way was the exact road to england; and seeing so many ships come thence, they believ'd it could not be far thither, esteeming the english that were among them, no better than cheats, and thought, if they could carry the skins and furs they got, themselves to england, which were inhabited with a better sort of people than those sent amongst them, that then they should purchase twenty times the value for every pelt they sold abroad, in consideration of what rates they sold for at home. the intended barter was exceeding well approv'd of, and after a general consultation of the ablest heads amongst them, it was, `nemine contradicente', agreed upon, immediately to make an addition of their fleet, by building more canoes, and those to be of the best sort, and biggest size, as fit for their intended discovery. some indians were employ'd about making the canoes, others to hunting, every one to the post he was most fit for, all endeavours tending towards an able fleet and cargo for europe. the affair was carry'd on with a great deal of secrecy and expedition, so as in a small time they had gotten a navy, loading, provisions, and hands ready to set sail, leaving only the old, impotent, and minors at home, 'till their successful return. {they never hearing more of their fleet.} the wind presenting, they set up their mat-sails, and were scarce out of sight, when there rose a tempest, which it's suppos'd carry'd one part of these indian merchants, by way of the other world, whilst the others were taken up at sea by an english ship, and sold for slaves to the islands. the remainder are better satisfy'd with their imbecilities in such an undertaking, nothing affronting them more, than to rehearse their voyage to england. there being a strong current in santee-river, caus'd us to make small way with our oars. with hard rowing, we got that night to mons. eugee's house, which stands about fifteen miles up the river, being the first christian dwelling we met withal in that settlement, and were very courteously receiv'd by him and his wife. many of the french follow a trade with the indians, living very conveniently for that interest. there is about seventy families seated on this river, who live as decently and happily, as any planters in these southward parts of america. the french being a temperate industrious people, some of them bringing very little of effects, yet by their endeavours and mutual assistance amongst themselves, (which is highly to be commended) have out-stript our english, who brought with 'em larger fortunes, though (as it seems) less endeavour to manage their talent to the best advantage. 'tis admirable to see what time and industry will (with god's blessing) effect. carolina affording many strange revolutions in the age of a man, daily instances presenting themselves to our view, of so many, from despicable beginnings, which in a short time arrive to very splended conditions. here propriety hath a large scope, there being no strict laws to bind our privileges. a quest after game, being as freely and peremptorily enjoy'd by the meanest planter, as he that is the highest in dignity, or wealthiest in the province. deer, and other game that are naturally wild, being not immur'd, or preserv'd within boundaries, to satisfy the appetite of the rich alone. a poor labourer, that is master of his gun, &c. hath as good a claim to have continu'd coarses of delicacies crouded upon his table, as he that is master of a greater purse. we lay all that night at mons. eugee's, and the next morning set out farther, to go the remainder of our voyage by land: at ten a clock we pass'd over a narrow, deep swamp, having left the three indian men and one woman, that had pilotted the canoe from ashly-river, having hir'd a sewee-indian, a tall, lusty fellow, who carry'd a pack of our cloaths, of great weight; notwithstanding his burden, we had much a-do to keep pace with him. at noon we came up with several french plantations, meeting with several creeks by the way, the french were very officious in assisting with their small dories to pass over these waters, (whom we met coming from their church) being all of them very clean and decent in their apparel; their houses and plantations suitable in neatness and contrivance. they are all of the same opinion with the church of geneva, there being no difference amongst them concerning the punctilio's of their christian faith; which union hath propagated a happy and delightful concord in all other matters throughout the whole neighbourhood; living amongst themselves as one trible, or kindred, every one making it his business to be assistant to the wants of his country-man, preserving his estate and reputation with the same exactness and concern as he does his own; all seeming to share in the misfortunes, and rejoyce at the advance, and rise, of their brethren. towards the afternoon, we came to mons. l'jandro, where we got our dinner; there coming some french ladies whilst we were there, who were lately come from england, and mons. l'grand, a worthy norman, who hath been a great sufferer in his estate, by the persecution in france, against those of the protestant religion: this gentleman very kindly invited us to make our stay with him all night, but we being intended farther that day, took our leaves, returning acknowledgments of their favours. about in the afternoon, we pass'd over a large ciprus run in a small canoe; the french doctor sent his negro to guide us over the head of a large swamp; so we got that night to mons. galliar's the elder, who lives in a very curious contriv'd house, built of brick and stone, which is gotten near that place. near here comes in the road from charles-town, and the rest of the english settlement, it being a very good way by land, and not above miles, altho' more than by water; and i think the most difficult way i ever saw, occasion'd by reason of the multitude of creeks lying along the main, keeping their course thro' the marshes, turning and winding like a labyrinth, having the tide of ebb and flood twenty times in less than three leagues going. {monday.} the next morning very early, we ferry'd over a creek that runs near the house; and, after an hour's travel in the woods, we came to the river-side, where we stay'd for the indian, who was our guide, and was gone round by water in a small canoe, to meet us at that place we rested at. he came after a small time, and ferry'd us in that little vessel over santee river miles, and miles in the woods, which the over-flowing of the freshes, which then came down, had made a perfect sea of, there running an incredible current in the river, which had cast our small craft, and us, away, had we not had this sewee indian with us; who are excellent artists in managing these small canoes. santee river, at this time, (from the usual depth of water) was risen perpendicular foot, always making a breach from her banks, about this season of the year: the general opinion of the cause thereof, is suppos'd to proceed from the overflowing of fresh water-lakes that lie near the head of this river, and others, upon the same continent: but my opinion is, that these vast inundations proceed from the great and repeated quantities of snow that falls upon the mountains, which lie at so great a distance from the sea, therefore they have no help of being dissolv'd by those saline, piercing particles, as other adjacent parts near the ocean receive; and therefore lies and increases to a vast bulk, until some mild southerly breezes coming on a sudden, continue to unlock these frozen bodies, congeal'd by the north-west wind, dissipating them in liquids; and coming down with impetuosity, fills those branches that feed these rivers, and causes this strange deluge, which oft-times lays under water the adjacent parts on both sides this current, for several miles distant from her banks; tho' the french and indians affir'm'd to me, they never knew such an extraordinary flood there before. we all, by god's blessing, and the endeavours of our indian-pilot, pass'd safe over the river, but was lost in the woods, which seem'd like some great lake, except here and there a knowl of high land, which appear'd above water. we intended for mons. galliar's, jun', but was lost, none of us knowing the way at that time, altho' the indian was born in that country, it having receiv'd so strange a metamorphosis. we were in several opinions concerning the right way, the indian and my self, suppos'd the house to bear one way, the rest thought to the contrary; we differing, it was agreed on amongst us, that one half should go with the indian to find the house, and the other part to stay upon one of these dry spots, until some of them return'd to us, and inform'd us where it lay. my self and two more were left behind, by reason the canoe would not carry us all; we had but one gun amongst us, one load of ammunition, and no provision. had our men in the canoe miscarry'd, we must (in all probability) there have perish'd. in about six hours time, from our mens departure, the indian came back to us in the same canoe he went in, being half drunk, which assur'd us they had found some place of refreshment. he took us three into the canoe, telling us all was well: padling our vessel several miles thro' the woods, being often half full of water; but at length we got safe to the place we sought for, which prov'd to lie the same way the indian and i guess'd it did. when we got to the house, we found our comrades in the same trim the indian was in, and several of the french inhabitants with them, who treated us very courteously, wondering at our undertaking such a voyage, thro' a country inhabited by none but savages, and them of so different nations and tongues. after we had refresh'd our selves, we parted from a very kind, loving, and affable people, who wish'd us a safe and prosperous voyage. hearing of a camp of santee indians not far of, we set out intending to take up our quarters with them that night. there being a deep run of water in the way, one of our company being top-heavy, and there being nothing but a small pole for a bridge, over a creek, fell into the water up to the chin; my self laughing at the accident, and not taking good heed to my steps, came to the same misfortune: all our bedding was wet. the wind being at n.w. it froze very hard, which prepar'd such a night's lodging for me, that i never desire to have the like again; the wet bedding and freezing air had so qualify'd our bodies, that in the morning when we awak'd, we were nigh frozen to death, until we had recruited our selves before a large fire of the indians. {tuesday.} tuesday morning we set towards the congerees, leaving the indian guide scipio drunk amongst the santee-indians. we went ten miles out of our way, to head a great swamp, the freshes having fill'd them all with such great quantities of water, that the usual paths were render'd unpassable. we met in our way with an indian hut, where we were entertain'd with a fat, boil'd goose, venison, racoon, and ground nuts. we made but little stay; about noon, we pass'd by several large savannah's, wherein is curious ranges for cattel, being green all the year; they were plentifully stor'd with cranes, geese, &c. and the adjacent woods with great flocks of turkies. this day we travell'd about miles, and lay all night at a house which was built for the indian trade, the master thereof we had parted with at the french town, who gave us leave to make use of his mansion. such houses are common in these parts, and especially where there is indian towns, and plantations near at hand, which this place is well furnish'd withal. these santee-indians are a well-humour'd and affable people; and living near the english, are become very tractable. they make themselves cribs after a very curious manner, wherein they secure their corn from vermin; which are more frequent in these warm climates, than countries more distant from the sun. these pretty fabricks are commonly supported with eight feet or posts, about seven foot high from the ground, well daub'd within and without upon laths, with loom or clay, which makes them tight, and fit to keep out the smallest insect, there being a small door at the gable end, which is made of the same composition, and to be remov'd at pleasure, being no bigger, than that a slender man may creep in at, cementing the door up with the same earth, when they take corn out of the crib, and are going from home, always finding their granaries in the same posture they left them; theft to each other being altogether unpractis'd, never receiving spoils but from foreigners. hereabouts the ground is something higher than about charles-town, there being found some quarries of brown free stone, which i have seen made use of for building, and hath prov'd very durable and good. the earth here is mix'd with white gravel, which is rare, there being nothing like a stone to be found, of the natural produce, near to ashly-river. {wednesday.} the next day about noon we came to the side of a great swamp, where we were forc'd to strip our selves to get over it, which, with much difficulty, we effected. {septem. . .} hereabouts the late gust of wind, which happen'd in september last, had torn the large ciprus-trees and timbers up by the roots, they lying confusedly in their branches, did block up the way, making the passage very difficult. this night we got to one scipio's hutt, a famous hunter: there was no body at home; but we having (in our company) one that had us'd to trade amongst them, we made our selves welcome to what his cabin afforded, (which is a thing common) the indians allowing it practicable to the english traders, to take out of their houses what they need in their absence, in lieu whereof they most commonly leave some small gratuity of tobacco, paint, beads, &c. we found great store of indian peas, (a very good pulse) beans, oyl, thinkapin nuts, corn, barbacu'd peaches, and peach-bread; which peaches being made into a quiddony, and so made up into loves like barley-cakes, these cut into thin slices, and dissolv'd in water, makes a very grateful acid, and extraordinary beneficial in fevers, as hath often been try'd, and approv'd on by our english practitioners. the wind being at n.w. with cold weather, made us make a large fire in the indian's cabin; being very intent upon our cookery, we set the dwelling on fire, and with much ado, put it out, tho' with the loss of part of the roof. {thursday.} the next day we travell'd on our way, and about noon came up with a settlement of santee indians, there being plantations lying scattering here and there, for a great many miles. they came out to meet us, being acquainted with one of our company, and made us very welcome with fat barbacu'd venison, which the woman of the cabin took and tore in pieces with her teeth, so put it into a mortar, beating it to rags, afterwards stews it with water, and other ingredients, which makes a very savoury dish. at these cabins came to visit us the king of the santee nation. he brought with him their chief doctor or physician, who was warmly and neatly clad with a match-coat, made of turkies feathers, which makes a pretty shew, seeming as if it was a garment of the deepest silk shag. this doctor had the misfortune to lose his nose by the pox, which disease the indians often get by the english traders that use amongst them; not but the natives of america have for many ages (by their own confession) been afflicted with a distemper much like the lues venerea, which hath all the symptoms of the pox, being different in this only; for i never could learn, that this country-distemper, or yawes, is begun or continu'd with a gonorrhoea; yet is attended with nocturnal pains in the limbs, and commonly makes such a progress, as to vent part of the matter by botches, and several ulcers in the body, and other parts; oftentimes death ensuing. i have known mercurial unguents and remedies work a cure, following the same methods as in the pox; several white people, but chiefly the criolo's, losing their palates and noses by this devouring vulture. it is epidemical, visiting these parts of america, which is often occasion'd thro' the immoderate drinking of rum, by those that commonly drink water at other times, cold nights lodging, and bad open houses, and more chiefly by often wetting the feet, and eating such quantities of pork as they do, which is a gross food, and a great propagator of such juices as it often meets withal in human bodies, once tainted with this malady; which may differently (in some respects) act its tragedy; the change being occasion'd by the difference of climates and bodies, as in europe. we being well enough assur'd that the pox had its first rise (known to us) in this new world, it being caught of the indian women, by the spanish soldiers that follow'd columbus in one of his expeditions to america; who after their arrival in old spain, were hasten'd to the relief of naples, at that time besieg'd by the french. provisions growing scarce, the useless people were turn'd out of the city, to lessen the mouths; amongst these, the curtesans were one part, who had frequently embrac'd the spaniards, being well fraught with riches by their new discovery. the leager ladies had no sooner lost their spanish dons, but found themselves as well entertain'd by the french, whose camp they traded in, giving the mounsieurs as large a share of the pocky spoils within their own lines, as the spaniards had, who took the pains to bring it in their breeches as far as from america; the large supplies of swines flesh, which that army was chiefly victuall'd withal, made it rage. the siege was rais'd; the french and spaniards retreating to flanders, which was a parrade of all nations; by which means, this filthy distemper crowded it self into most nations of the known world. now to return to our doctor, who in the time of his affliction withdrew himself (with one that labour'd under the same distemper) into the woods. these two perfected their cures by proper vegitables, &c. of which they have plenty, and are well acquainted with their specifick virtue. i have seen such admirable cures perform'd by these savages, which would puzzle a great many graduate practitioners to trace their steps in healing, with the same expedition, ease, and success; using no racking instruments in their chirurgery, nor nice rules of diet and physick, to verify the saying, `qui medice vivit, misere vivit'. in wounds which penetrate deep, and seem mortal, they order a spare diet, with drinking fountain-water; if they perceive a white matter, or pus to arise, they let the patient more at large, and presently cure him. after these two had perform'd their cures at no easier rate than the expence of both their noses, coming again amongst their old acquaintance so disfigur'd, the indians admir'd to see them metamorphos'd after that manner; enquir'd of them where they had been all that time, and what were become of their noses? they made answer, that they had been conversing with the white man above, (meaning god almighty) how they were very kindly entertain'd by that great being; he being much pleas'd with their ways, and had promis'd to make their capacities equal with the white people in making guns, ammunition, &c. in retalliation of which, they had given him their noses. the verity of which, they yet hold, the indians being an easy, credulous people, and most notoriously cheated by their priests and conjurers, both trades meeting ever in one person, and most commonly a spice of quackship added to the other two ingredients, which renders that cunning knave the impostor to be more rely'd upon; thence a fitter instrument to cheat these ignorant people; the priest and conjurers being never admitted to their practice, 'till years and the experience of repeated services hath wrought their esteem amongst the nations they belong to. the santee king, who was in company with this no-nos'd doctor, is the most absolute indian ruler in these parts, although he is head but of a small people, in respect to some other nations of indians, that i have seen: he can put any of his people to death that hath committed any fault which he judges worthy of so great a punishment. this authority is rarely found amongst these savages, for they act not (commonly) by a determinative voice in their laws, towards any one that hath committed murder, or such other great crime, but take this method; him to whom the injury was done, or if dead, the nearest of his kindred prosecutes by way of an actual revenge, being himself, if opportunity serves his intent, both judge and executioner, performing so much mischief on the offender, or his nearest relation, until such time that he is fully satisfy'd: yet this revenge is not so infallible, but it may be bought off with beads, tobacco, and such like commodities that are useful amongst them, though it were the most sable villany that could be acted by mankind. some that attended the king, presented me with an odoriferous, balsamick root, of a fragrant smell and taste, the name i know not; they chew it in the mouth, and by that simple application, heal desperate wounds both green and old; that small quantity i had, was given inwardly to those troubl'd with the belly-ach, which remedy fail'd not to give present help, the pain leaving the patient soon after they had taken the root. near to these cabins are several tombs made after the manner of these indians; the largest and the chiefest of them was the sepulchre of the late indian king of the santees, a man of great power, not only amongst his own subjects, but dreaded by the neighbouring nations for his great valour and conduct, having as large a prerogative in his way of ruling, as the present king i now spoke of. the manner of their interment, is thus: a mole or pyramid of earth is rais'd, the mould thereof being work'd very smooth and even, sometimes higher or lower, according to the dignity of the person whose monument it is. on the top thereof is an umbrella, made ridge-ways, like the roof of an house; this is supported by nine stakes, or small posts, the grave being about six or eight foot in length, and four foot in breadth; about it is hung gourds, feathers, and other such like trophies, plac'd there by the dead man's relations, in respect to him in the grave. the other part of the funeral-rites are thus, as soon as the party is dead, they lay the corps upon a piece of bark in the sun, seasoning or embalming it with a small root beaten to powder, which looks as red as vermilion; the same is mix'd with bear's oil, to beautify the hair, and preserve their heads from being lousy, it growing plentifully in these parts of america. after the carcass has laid a day or two in the sun, they remove and lay it upon crotches cut on purpose for the support thereof from the earth; then they anoint it all over with the fore-mention'd ingredients of the powder of this root, and bear's oil. when it is so done, they cover it very exactly over with bark of the pine or cyprus tree, to prevent any rain to fall upon it, sweeping the ground very clean all about it. some of his nearest of kin brings all the temporal estate he was possess'd of at his death, as guns, bows, and arrows, beads, feathers, match-coat, &c. this relation is the chief mourner, being clad in moss, and a stick in his hand, keeping a mournful ditty for three or four days, his face being black with the smoak of pitch, pine, mingl'd with bear's oil. all the while he tells the dead man's relations, and the rest of the spectators, who that dead person was, and of the great feats perform'd in his life-time; all what he speaks, tending to the praise of the defunct. as soon as the flesh grows mellow, and will cleave from the bone, they get it off, and burn it, making all the bones very clean, then anoint them with the ingredients aforesaid, wrapping up the skull (very carefully) in a cloath artificially woven of possums hair. (these indians make girdles, sashes, garters, &c. after the same manner.) the bones they carefully preserve in a wooden box, every year oiling and cleansing them: by these means preserve them for many ages, that you may see an indian in possession of the bones of his grand-father, or some of his relations of a larger antiquity. they have other sorts of tombs; as where an indian is slain, in that very place they make a heap of stones, (or sticks, where stones are not to be found;) to this memorial, every indian that passes by, adds a stone, to augment the heap, in respect to the deceas'd hero. we had a very large swamp to pass over near the house, and would have hir'd our landlord to have been our guide, but he seem'd unwilling; so we press'd him no farther about it. he was the tallest indian i ever saw, being seven foot high, and a very strait compleat person, esteem'd on by the king for his great art in hunting, always carrying with him an artificial head to hunt withal: they are made of the head of a buck, the back part of the horns being scrapt and hollow, for lightness of carriage. the skin is left to the setting on of the shoulders, which is lin'd all round with small hoops, and flat sort of laths, to hold it open for the arm to go in. they have a way to preserve the eyes, as if living. the hunter puts on a match-coat made of deer's skin, with the hair on, and a piece of the white part of a deer's skin, that grows on the breast, which is fasten'd to the neck-end of this stalking head, so hangs down. in these habiliments an indian will go as near a deer as he pleases, the exact motions and behaviour of a deer being so well counterfeited by 'em, that several times it hath been known for two hunters to come up with a stalking head together, and unknown to each other, so that they have kill'd an indian instead of a deer, which hath happen'd sometimes to be a brother, or some dear friend; for which reason they allow not of that sort of practice, where the nation is populous. within half a mile of the house, we pass'd over a prodigious wide and deep swamp, being forc'd to strip stark-naked, and much a-do to save our selves from drowning in this fatiegue. we, with much a-do, got thro', going that day about five miles farther, and came to three more indian cabins, call'd in the indian tongue, hickerau, by the english traders, the black house, being pleasantly seated on a high bank, by a branch of santee-river. one of our company, that had traded amongst these indians, told us, that one of the cabins was his father's-in-law; he call'd him so, by reason the old man had given him a young indian girl, that was his daughter, to lie with him, make bread, and to be necessary in what she was capable to assist him in, during his abode amongst them. when we came thither first, there was no body at home, so the son made bold to search his father's granary for corn, and other provisions. he brought us some indian maiz and peas, which are of a reddish colour, and eat well, yet colour the liquor they are boil'd in, as if it were a lixivium of red tartar. after we had been about an hour in the house, where was millions of fleas, the indian cabins being often fuller of such vermin, than any dog-kennel, the old man came in to us, and seem'd very glad to see his son-in-law. this indian is a great conjurer, as appears by the sequel. the seretee or santee indians were gone to war against the hooks and backhooks nations, living near the mouth of winyan-river. those that were left at home, (which are commonly old people and children) had heard no news a long time of their men at arms. this man, at the entreaty of these people, (being held to be a great sorcerer amongst 'em) went to know what posture their fighting men were in. his exorcism was carry'd on thus: he dress'd himself in a clean white dress'd deer-skin; a great fire being made in the middle of the plantation, the indians sitting all round it, the conjurer was blind-folded, then he surrounded the fire several times, i think thrice; leaving the company, he went into the woods, where he stay'd about half an hour, returning to them, surrounded the fire as before; leaving them, went the second time into the woods; at which time there came a huge swarm of flies, very large, they flying about the fire several times, at last fell all into it, and were visibly consum'd. immediately after the indian-conjurer made a huge lilleloo, and howling very frightfully, presently an indian went and caught hold of him, leading him to the fire. the old wizard was so feeble and weak, being not able to stand alone, and all over in a sweat, and as wet as if he had fallen into the river. after some time he recover'd his strength, assuring them, that their men were near a river, and could not pass over it 'till so many days, but would, in such a time, return all in safety, to their nation. all which prov'd true at the indians return, which was not long after. this story the english-man, his son-in-law, affirm'd to me. the old man stay'd with us about two hours, and told us we were welcome to stay there all night, and take what his cabin afforded; then leaving us, went into the woods, to some hunting-quarter not far off. {friday.} the next morning early we pursu'd our voyage, finding the land to improve it self in pleasantness and richness of soil. when we had gone about ten miles, one of our company tir'd, being not able to travel any farther; so we went forward, leaving the poor dejected traveller with tears in his eyes, to return to charles-town, and travel back again over so much bad way, we having pass'd thro' the worst of our journey, the land here being high and dry, very few swamps, and those dry, and a little way through. we travell'd about twenty miles, lying near a savanna that was over-flown with water; where we were very short of victuals, but finding the woods newly burnt, and on fire in many places, which gave us great hopes that indians were not far of. {saturday miles.} next morning very early, we waded thro' the savanna, the path lying there; and about ten a clock came to a hunting quarter, of a great many santees; they made us all welcome; shewing a great deal of joy at our coming, giving us barbacu'd turkeys, bear's oil, and venison. here we hir'd santee jack (a good hunter, and a well-humour'd fellow) to be our pilot to the congeree indians; we gave him a stroud-water-blew, to make his wife an indian petticoat, who went with her husband. after two hours refreshment, we went on, and got that day about twenty miles; we lay by a small swift run of water, which was pav'd at the bottom with a sort of stone much like to tripoli, and so light, that i fancy'd it would precipitate in no stream, but where it naturally grew. the weather was very cold, the winds holding northerly. we made our selves as merry as we could, having a good supper with the scraps of the venison we had given us by the indians, having kill'd teal and a possum; which medly all together made a curious ragoo. {sunday miles.} this day all of us had a mind to have rested, but the indian was much against it, alledging, that the place we lay at, was not good to hunt in; telling us, if we would go on, by noon, he would bring us to a more convenient place; so we mov'd forwards, and about twelve a clock came to the most amazing prospect i had seen since i had been in carolina; we travell'd by a swamp-side, which swamp i believe to be no less than twenty miles over, the other side being as far as i could well discern, there appearing great ridges of mountains, bearing from us w.n.w. one alp with a top like a sugar-loaf, advanc'd its head above all the rest very considerably; the day was very serene, which gave us the advantage of seeing a long way; these mountains were cloth'd all over with trees, which seem'd to us to be very large timbers. at the sight of this fair prospect, we stay'd all night; our indian going about half an hour before us, had provided three fat turkeys e'er we got up to him. the swamp i now spoke of, is not a miry bog, as others generally are, but you go down to it thro' a steep bank, at the foot of which, begins this valley, where you may go dry for perhaps yards, then you meet with a small brook or run of water, about or foot deep, then dry land for such another space, so another brook, thus continuing. the land in this percoarson, or valley, being extraordinary rich, and the runs of water well stor'd with fowl. it is the head of one of the branches of santee-river; but a farther discovery time would not permit; only one thing is very remarkable, there growing all over this swamp, a tall, lofty bay-tree, but is not the same as in england, these being in their verdure all the winter long; which appears here, when you stand on the ridge, (where our path lay) as if it were one pleasant, green field, and as even as a bowling-green to the eye of the beholder; being hemm'd in on one side with these ledges of vast high mountains. viewing the land here, we found an extraordinary rich, black mould, and some of a copper-colour, both sorts very good; the land in some places is much burthen'd with iron, stone, here being great store of it, seemingly very good: the eviling springs, which are many in these parts, issuing out of the rocks, which water we drank of, it colouring the excrements of travellers (by its chalybid quality) as black as a coal. when we were all asleep, in the beginning of the night, we were awaken'd with the dismall'st and most hideous noise that ever pierc'd my ears: this sudden surprizal incapacitated us of guessing what this threatning noise might proceed from; but our indian pilot (who knew these parts very well) acquainted us, that it was customary to hear such musick along that swamp-side, there being endless numbers of panthers, tygers, wolves, and other beasts of prey, which take this swamp for their abode in the day, coming in whole droves to hunt the deer in the night, making this frightful ditty 'till day appears, then all is still as in other places. {monday.} the next day it prov'd a small drisly rain, which is rare, there happening not the tenth part of foggy-falling weather towards these mountains, as visits those parts. near the sea-board, the indian kill'd turkeys this day; there coming out of the swamp, (about sun-rising) flocks of these fowl, containing several hundreds in a gang, who feed upon the acrons, it being most oak that grow in these woods. there are but very few pines in those quarters. early the next morning, we set forward for the congeree-indians, parting with that delicious prospect. by the way, our guide kill'd more turkeys, and two polcats, which he eat, esteeming them before fat turkeys. some of the turkeys which we eat, whilst we stay'd there, i believe, weigh'd no less than pounds. the land we pass'd over this day, was most of it good, and the worst passable. at night we kill'd a possum, being cloy'd with turkeys, made a dish of that, which tasted much between young pork and veal; their fat being as white as any i ever saw. our indian having this day kill'd good store of provision with his gun, he always shot with a single ball, missing but two shoots in above forty; they being curious artists in managing a gun, to make it carry either ball, or shot, true. when they have bought a piece, and find it to shoot any ways crooked, they take the barrel out of the stock, cutting a notch in a tree, wherein they set it streight, sometimes shooting away above loads of ammunition, before they bring the gun to shoot according to their mind. we took up our quarters by a fish-pond-side; the pits in the woods that stand full of water, naturally breed fish in them, in great quantities. we cook'd our supper, but having neither bread, or salt, our fat turkeys began to be loathsome to us, altho' we were never wanting of a good appetite, yet a continuance of one diet, made us weary. {wednesday.} the next morning, santee jack told us, we should reach the indian settlement betimes that day; about noon, we pass'd by several fair savanna's, very rich and dry; seeing great copses of many acres that bore nothing but bushes, about the bigness of box-trees; which (in the season) afford great quantities of small black-berries, very pleasant fruit, and much like to our blues, or huckle-berries, that grow on heaths in england. hard by the savanna's we found the town, where we halted; there was not above one man left with the women, the rest being gone a hunting for a feast. the women were very busily engag'd in gaming: the name or grounds of it, i could not learn, tho' i look'd on above two hours. their arithmetick was kept with a heap of indian grain. when their play was ended, the king, or cassetta's wife, invited us into her cabin. the indian kings always entertaining travellers, either english, or indian; taking it as a great affront, if they pass by their cabins, and take up their quarters at any other indian's house. the queen set victuals before us, which good compliment they use generally as soon as you come under their roof. the town consists not of above a dozen houses, they having other stragling plantations up and down the country, and are seated upon a small branch of santee-river. their place hath curious dry marshes, and savanna's adjoining to it, and would prove an exceeding thriving range for cattle, and hogs, provided the english were seated thereon. besides, the land is good for plantations. these indians are a small people, having lost much of their former numbers, by intestine broils; but most by the small-pox, which hath often visited them, sweeping away whole towns; occasion'd by the immoderate government of themselves in their sickness; as i have mention'd before, treating of the sewees. neither do i know any savages that have traded with the english, but what have been great losers by this distemper. we found here good store of chinkapin-nuts, which they gather in winter great quantities of, drying them; so keep these nuts in great baskets for their use; likewise hickerie-nuts, which they beat betwixt two great stones, then sift them, so thicken their venison-broath therewith; the small shells precipitating to the bottom of the pot, whilst the kernel in form of flower, mixes it with the liquor. both these nuts made into meal, makes a curious soop, either with clear water, or in any meat-broth. from the nation of indians, until such time as you come to the turkeiruros in north carolina, you will see no long moss upon the trees; which space of ground contains above five hundred miles. this seeming miracle in nature, is occasion'd by the highness of the land, it being dry and healthful; for tho' this moss bears a seed in a sort of a small cod, yet it is generated in or near low swampy grounds. the congerees are kind and affable to the english, the queen being very kind, giving us what rarities her cabin afforded, as loblolly made with indian corn, and dry'd peaches. these congerees have abundance of storks and cranes in their savannas. they take them before they can fly, and breed 'em as tame and familiar as a dung-hill fowl. they had a tame crane at one of these cabins, that was scarce less than six foot in height, his head being round, with a shining natural crimson hue, which they all have. these are a very comely sort of indians, there being a strange difference in the proportion and beauty of these heathens. altho' their tribes or nations border one upon another, yet you may discern as great an alteration in their features and dispositions, as you can in their speech, which generally proves quite different from each other, though their nations be not above or miles in distance. the women here being as handsome as most i have met withal, being several fine-finger'd brounetto's amongst them. these lasses stick not upon hand long, for they marry when very young, as at or years of age. the english traders are seldom without an indian female for his bed-fellow, alledging these reasons as sufficient to allow of such a familiarity. first, they being remote from any white people, that it preserves their friendship with the heathens, they esteeming a white man's child much above one of their getting, the indian mistress ever securing her white friend provisions whilst he stays amongst them. and lastly, this correspondence makes them learn the indian tongue much the sooner, they being of the french-man's opinion, how that an english wife teaches her husband more english in one night, than a school-master can in a week. we saw at the cassetta's cabin the strangest spectacle of antiquity i ever knew, it being an old indian squah, that, had i been to have guess'd at her age by her aspect, old parr's head (the welch methusalem) was a face in swadling-clouts to hers. her skin hung in reaves like a bag of tripe. by a fair computation, one might have justly thought it would have contain'd three such carcasses as hers then was. she had one of her hands contracted by some accident in the fire, they sleeping always by it, and often fall into sad disasters, especially in their drunken moods. i made the strictest enquiry that was possible, and by what i could gather, she was considerably above years old, notwithstanding she smoak'd tobacco, and eat her victuals, to all appearance, as heartily as one of . one of our company spoke some of their language, and having not quite forgotten his former intrigues with the indian lasses, would fain have been dealing with some of the young female fry; but they refus'd him, he having nothing that these girls esteem'd. at night we were laid in the king's cabin, where the queen and the old squah pig'd in with us: the former was very much disfigur'd with tettars, and very reserv'd, which disappointed our fellow traveller in his intrigues. the women smoak much tobacco, (as most indians do.) they have pipes, whose heads are cut out of stone, and will hold an ounce of tobacco, and some much less. they have large wooden spoons, as big as small ladles, which they make little use of, lading the meat out of the bowls with their fingers. {thursday.} in the morning we rose before day, having hir'd a guide over night to conduct us on our way; but it was too soon for him to stir out, the indians never setting forward 'till the sun is an hour or two high, and hath exhall'd the dew from the earth. the queen got us a good breakfast before we left her; she had a young child, which was much afflicted with the cholick; for which distemper she infus'd a root in water, which was held in a goard; this she took into her mouth, and spurted it into the infant's, which gave it ease. after we had eaten, we set out (with our new guide) for the wateree indians. we went over a great deal of indifferent land this day. here begins to appear very good marble, which continues more and less for the space of miles. we lay all night by a run of water, as we always do, (if possible) for the convenience of it. the weather was very cold. we went this day about miles from the congerees. {friday.} in the morning we made no stay to get our breakfast, but hasted on our voyage, the land increasing in marble and richness of soil. at noon we halted, getting our dinner upon a marble-stone, that rose it self half a foot above the surface of the earth, and might contain the compass of a quarter of an acre of land, being very even, there growing upon it in some places a small red berry, like a salmon-spawn, there boiling out of the main rock curious springs of as delicious water, as ever i drank in any parts i ever travell'd in. these parts likewise affords good free stone, fit for building, and of several sorts. the land here is pleasantly seated, with pretty little hills and valleys, the rising sun at once shewing his glorious reflecting rays on a great many of these little mountains. we went this day about miles, our guide walking like a horse, 'till we had sadl'd him with a good heavy pack of some part of our cloaths and bedding, by which means we kept pace with him. this night we lay by a run-side, where i found a fine yellow earth, the same with bruxels-sand, which goldsmiths use to cast withal, giving a good price in england, and other parts. here is likewise the true blood-stone, and considerable quantities of fullers-earth, which i took a proof of, by scouring great spots out of woollen, and it prov'd very good. {saturday.} as we were on our road this morning, our indian shot at a tyger, that cross'd the way, he being a great distance from us. i believe he did him no harm, because he sat on his breech afterwards, and look'd upon us. i suppose he expected to have had a spaniel bitch, that i had with me, for his breakfast, who run towards him, but in the midway stopt her career, and came sneaking back to us with her tail betwixt her legs. we saw in the path a great many trees blown up by the roots, at the bottom whereof stuck great quantities of fine red bole; i believe nothing inferior to that of venice or lemma. we found some holes in the earth, which were full of a water as black as ink. i thought that tincture might proceed from some mineral, but had not time to make a farther discovery. about noon we pass'd over a pleasant stony brook, whose water was of a bluish cast, as it is for several hundreds of miles towards the heads of the rivers, i suppose occasion'd by the vast quantities of marble lying in the bowels of the earth. the springs that feed these rivulets, lick up some potions of the stones in the brooks; which dissolution gives this tincture, as appears in all, or most of the rivers and brooks of this country, whose rapid streams are like those in yorkshire, and other northern counties of england. the indians talk of many sorts of fish which they afford, but we had not time to discover their species. i saw here had been some indian plantations formerly, there being several pleasant fields of clear'd ground, and excellent soil, now well spread with fine bladed grass, and strawberry-vines. the mould here is excessive rich, and a country very pleasing to the eye, had it the convenience of a navigable river, as all new colonies (of necessity) require. it would make a delightful settlement. we went eight miles farther, and came to the wateree chickanee indians. the land holds good, there being not a spot of bad land to be seen in several days going. the people of this nation are likely tall persons, and great pilferers, stealing from us any thing they could lay their hands on, though very respectful in giving us what victuals we wanted. we lay in their cabins all night, being dark smoaky holes, as ever i saw any indians dwell in. this nation is much more populous than the congerees, and their neighbours, yet understand not one anothers speech. they are very poor in english effects, several of them having no guns, making use of bows and arrows, being a lazy idle people, a quality incident to most indians, but none to that degree as these, as i ever met withal. their country is wholly free from swamps and quagmires, being high dry land, and consequently healthful, producing large corn-stalks, and fair grain. {sunday.} next morning, we took off our beards with a razor, the indians looking on with a great deal of admiration. they told us, they had never seen the like before, and that our knives cut far better than those that came amongst the indians. they would fain have borrow'd our razors, as they had our knives, scissors, and tobacco-tongs, the day before, being as ingenious at picking of pockets, as any, i believe, the world affords; for they will steal with their feet. yesterday, one of our company, not walking so fast as the rest, was left behind. he being out of sight before we miss'd him, and not coming up to us, tho' we staid a considerable time on the road for him, we stuck up sticks in the ground, and left other tokens to direct him which way we were gone: but he came not to us that night, which gave us occasion to fear some of the heathens had kill'd him, for his cloaths, or the savage beasts had devour'd him in the wilderness, he having nothing about him to strike fire withal. as we were debating which way we should send to know what was become of him, he overtook us, having a waxsaw indian for his guide. he told us, he had miss'd the path, and got to another nation of indians, but miles off, who at that time held great feasting. they had entertain'd him very respectfully, and sent that indian to invite us amongst them, wondring that we would not take up our quarters with them, but make our abode with such a poor sort of indians, that were not capable of entertaining us according to our deserts: we receiv'd the messenger with a great many ceremonies, acceptable to those sort of creatures. bidding our waterree king adieu, we set forth towards the waxsaws, going along clear'd ground all the way. upon our arrival, we were led into a very large and lightsome cabin, the like i have not met withal. they laid furs and deer-skins upon cane benches for us to sit or lie upon, bringing (immediately) stewed peaches and green corn, that is preserv'd in their cabins before it is ripe, and sodden and boil'd when they use it, which is a pretty sort of food, and a great increaser of the blood. these indians are of an extraordinary stature, and call'd by their neighbours flat heads, which seems a very suitable name for them. in their infancy, their nurses lay the back-part of their children's heads on a bag of sand, (such as engravers use to rest their plates upon.) they use a roll, which is placed upon the babe's forehead, it being laid with its back on a flat board, and swaddled hard down thereon, from one end of this engine, to the other. this method makes the child's body and limbs as straight as an arrow. there being some young indians that are perhaps crookedly inclin'd, at their first coming into the world, who are made perfectly straight by this method. i never saw an indian of a mature age, that was any ways crooked, except by accident, and that way seldom, for they cure and prevent deformities of the limbs, and body, very exactly. the instrument i spoke of before, being a sort of a press, that is let out and in, more or less, according to the discretion of the nurse, in which they make the child's head flat, it makes the eyes stand a prodigious way asunder, and the hair hang over the forehead like the eves of a house, which seems very frightful: they being ask'd the reason why they practis'd this method, reply'd, the indian's sight was much strengthened and quicker, thereby, to discern the game in hunting at larger distance, and so never miss'd of becoming expert hunters, the perfection of which they all aim at, as we do to become experienced soldiers, learned school-men, or artists in mechanicks: he that is a good hunter never misses of being a favourite amongst the women; the prettiest girls being always bestow'd upon the chiefest sports-men, and those of a grosser mould, upon the useless lubbers. thus they have a graduation amongst them, as well as other nations. as for the solemnity of marriages amongst them, kept with so much ceremony as divers authors affirm, it never appear'd amongst those many nations i have been withal, any otherwise than in the manner i have mention'd hereafter. the girls at or years of age, as soon as nature prompts them, freely bestow their maidenheads on some youth about the same age, continuing her favours on whom she most affects, changing her mate very often, few or none of them being constant to one, till a greater number of years has made her capable of managing domestick affairs, and she hath try'd the vigour of most of the nation she belongs to; multiplicity of gallants never being a stain to a female's reputation, or the least hindrance of her advancement, but the more whorish, the more honourable, and they of all most coveted, by those of the first rank, to make a wife of. the `flos virginis', so much coveted by the europeans, is never valued by these savages. when a man and woman have gone through their degrees, (there being a certain graduation amongst them) and are allow'd to be house-keepers, which is not till they arrive at such an age, and have past the ceremonies practis'd by their nation, almost all kingdoms differing in the progress thereof, then it is that the man makes his addresses to some one of these thorough-paced girls, or other, whom he likes best. when she is won, the parents of both parties, (with advice of the king) agree about the matter, making a promise of their daughter, to the man, that requires her, it often happening that they converse and travel together, for several moons before the marriage is publish'd openly; after this, at the least dislike the man may turn her away, and take another; or if she disapproves of his company, a price is set upon her, and if the man that seeks to get her, will pay the fine to her husband, she becomes free from him: likewise some of their war captains, and great men, very often will retain or girls at a time for their own use, when at the same time, he is so impotent and old, as to be incapable of making use of one of them; so that he seldom misses of wearing greater horns than the game he kills. the husband is never so enrag'd as to put his adulteress to death; if she is caught in the fact, the rival becomes debtor to the cornuted husband, in a certain quantity of trifles valuable amongst them, which he pays as soon as discharg'd, and then all animosity is laid aside betwixt the husband, and his wife's gallant. the man proves often so good humour'd as to please his neighbour and gratify his wife's inclinations, by letting her out for a night or two, to the embraces of some other, which perhaps she has a greater liking to, tho' this is not commonly practis'd. they set apart the youngest and prettiest faces for trading girls; these are remarkable by their hair, having a particular tonsure by which they are known, and distinguish'd from those engag'd to husbands. they are mercenary, and whoever makes use of them, first hires them, the greatest share of the gain going to the king's purse, who is the chief bawd, exercising his perogative over all the stews of his nation, and his own cabin (very often) being the chiefest brothel-house. as they grow in years, the hot assaults of love grow cooler; and then they commonly are so staid, as to engage themselves with more constancy to each other. i have seen several couples amongst them, that have been so reserv'd, as to live together for many years, faithful to each other, admitting none to their beds but such as they own'd for their wife or husband: so continuing to their life's end. at our waxsaw landlord's cabin, was a woman employ'd in no other business than cookery; it being a house of great resort. the fire was surrounded with roast-meat, or barbakues, and the pots continually boiling full of meat, from morning till night. this she-cook was the cleanliest i ever saw amongst the heathens of america, washing her hands before she undertook to do any cookery; and repeated this unusual decency very often in a day. she made us as white-bread as any english could have done, and was full as neat, and expeditious, in her affairs. it happen'd to be one of their great feasts, when we were there: the first day that we came amongst them, arriv'd an ambassador from the king of sapona, to treat with these indians about some important affairs. he was painted with vermillion all over his face, having a very large cutlass stuck in his girdle, and a fusee in his hand. at night, the revels began where this foreign indian was admitted; the king, and war captain, inviting us to see their masquerade: this feast was held in commemoration of the plentiful harvest of corn they had reap'd the summer before, with an united supplication for the like plentiful produce the year ensuing. these revels are carried on in a house made for that purpose, it being done round with white benches of fine canes, joining along the wall; and a place for the door being left, which is so low, that a man must stoop very much to enter therein. this edifice resembles a large hay-rick; its top being pyramidal, and much bigger than their other dwellings, and at the building whereof, every one assists till it is finish'd. all their dwelling-houses are cover'd with bark, but this differs very much; for, it is very artificially thatch'd with sedge and rushes: as soon as finish'd, they place some one of their chiefest men to dwell therein, charging him with the diligent preservation thereof, as a prince commits the charge and government of a fort or castle, to some subject he thinks worthy of that trust. in these state-houses is transacted all publick and private business, relating to the affairs of the government, as the audience of foreign ambassadors from other indian rulers, consultation of waging and making war, proposals of their trade with neighbouring indians, or the english, who happen to come amongst them. in this theater, the most aged and wisest meet, determining what to act, and what may be most convenient to omit, old age being held in as great veneration amongst these heathens, as amongst any people you shall meet withal in any part of the world. whensoever an aged man is speaking, none ever interrupts him, (the contrary practice the english, and other europeans, too much use) the company yielding a great deal of attention to his tale, with a continued silence, and an exact demeanour, during the oration. indeed, the indians are a people that never interrupt one another in their discourse; no man so much as offering to open his mouth, till the speaker has utter'd his intent: when an english-man comes amongst them, perhaps every one is acquainted with him, yet, first, the king bids him welcome, after him the war-captain, so on gradually from high to low; not one of all these speaking to the white guest, till his superiour has ended his salutation. amongst women, it seems impossible to find a scold; if they are provok'd, or affronted, by their husbands, or some other, they resent the indignity offer'd them in silent tears, or by refusing their meat. would some of our european daughters of thunder set these indians for a pattern, there might be more quiet families found amongst them, occasion'd by that unruly member, the tongue. festination proceeds from the devil, (says a learned doctor) a passion the indians seem wholly free from; they determining no business of moment, without a great deal of deliberation and wariness. none of their affairs appear to be attended with impetuosity, or haste, being more content with the common accidents incident to humane nature, (as losses, contrary winds, bad weather, and poverty) than those of more civilized countries. now, to return to our state-house, whither we were invited by the grandees: as soon as we came into it, they plac'd our englishmen near the king; it being my fortune to sit next him, having his great general, or war-captain, on my other hand. the house is as dark as a dungeon, and as hot as one of the dutch-stoves in holland. they had made a circular fire of split canes in the middle of the house. it was one man's employment to add more split reeds to the one end as it consum'd at the other, there being a small vacancy left to supply it with fewel. they brought in great store of loblolly, and other medleys, made of indian grain, stewed peaches, bear-venison, &c. every one bringing some offering to enlarge the banquet, according to his degree and quality. when all the viands were brought in, the first figure began with kicking out the dogs, which are seemingly wolves, made tame with starving and beating; they being the worst dog-masters in the world; so that it is an infallible cure for sore-eyes, ever to see an indian's dog fat. they are of a quite contrary disposition to horses; some of their kings having gotten, by great chance, a jade, stolen by some neighbouring indian, and transported farther into the country, and sold; or bought sometimes of a christian, that trades amongst them. these creatures they continually cram, and feed with maiz, and what the horse will eat, till he is as fat as a hog; never making any farther use of him than to fetch a deer home, that is killed somewhere near the indian's plantation. after the dogs had fled the room, the company was summon'd by beat of drum; the musick being made of a dress'd deer's skin, tied hard upon an earthen porridge-pot. presently in came fine men dress'd up with feathers, their faces being covered with vizards made of gourds; round their ancles and knees, were hung bells of several sorts, having wooden falchions in their hands, (such as stage-fencers commonly use;) in this dress they danced about an hour, shewing many strange gestures, and brandishing their wooden weapons, as if they were going to fight each other; oftentimes walking very nimbly round the room, without making the least noise with their bells, (a thing i much admired at;) again, turning their bodies, arms and legs, into such frightful postures, that you would have guess'd they had been quite raving mad: at last, they cut two or three high capers, and left the room. in their stead, came in a parcel of women and girls, to the number of thirty odd; every one taking place according to her degree of stature, the tallest leading the dance, and the least of all being plac'd last; with these they made a circular dance, like a ring, representing the shape of the fire they danced about: many of these had great horse-bells about their legs, and small hawk's bells about their necks. they had musicians, who were two old men, one of whom beat a drum, while the other rattled with a gourd, that had corn in it, to make a noise withal: to these instruments, they both sung a mournful ditty; the burthen of their song was, in remembrance of their former greatness, and numbers of their nation, the famous exploits of their renowned ancestors, and all actions of moment that had (in former days) been perform'd by their forefathers. at these festivals it is, that they give a traditional relation of what hath pass'd amongst them, to the younger fry. these verbal deliveries being always publish'd in their most publick assemblies, serve instead of our traditional notes, by the use of letters. some indians, that i have met withal, have given me a very curious description of the great deluge, the immortality of the soul, with a pithy account of the reward of good and wicked deeds in the life to come; having found, amongst some of them, great observers of moral rules, and the law of nature; indeed, a worthy foundation to build christianity upon, were a true method found out, and practis'd, for the performance thereof. their way of dancing, is nothing but a sort of stamping motion, much like the treading upon founders bellows. this female-gang held their dance for above six hours, being all of them of a white lather, like a running horse that has just come in from his race. my landlady was the ring-leader of the amazons, who, when in her own house, behav'd herself very discreetly, and warily, in her domestick affairs; yet, custom had so infatuated her, as to almost break her heart with dancing amongst such a confused rabble. during this dancing, the spectators do not neglect their business, in working the loblolly-pots, and the other meat that was brought thither; more or less of them being continually eating, whilst the others were dancing. when the dancing was ended, every youth that was so disposed, catch'd hold of the girl he liked best, and took her that night for his bed-fellow, making as short courtship and expeditious weddings, as the foot-guards us'd to do with the trulls in salisbury-court. next we shall treat of the land hereabouts, which is a marl as red as blood, and will lather like soap. the town stands on this land, which holds considerably farther in the country, and is in my opinion, so durable that no labour of man, in one or two ages, could make it poor. i have formerly seen the like in leicestershire, bordering upon rutland. here were corn-stalks in their fields as thick as the small of a man's leg, and they are ordinarily to be seen. we lay with these indians one night, there being by my bed-side one of the largest iron pots i had ever seen in america, which i much wondred at, because i thought there might be no navigable stream near that place. i ask'd them, where they got that pot? they laugh'd at my demand, and would give me no answer, which makes me guess it came from some wreck, and that we were nearer the ocean, or some great river, than i thought. {monday.} the next day about noon, we accidentally met with a southward indian, amongst those that us'd to trade backwards and forwards, and spoke a little english, whom we hir'd to go with us to the esaw indians, a very large nation containing many thousand people. in the afternoon we set forward, taking our leaves of the wisack indians, and leaving them some trifles. on our way, we met with several towns of indians, each town having its theater or state house, such houses being found all along the road, till you come to sapona, and then no more of those buildings, it being about miles. we reach'd miles this day, lying at another town of the wisacks. the man of the house offer'd us skins to sell, but they were too heavy burdens for our long voyage. {tuesday.} next morning we set out early, breaking the ice we met withal, in the stony runs, which were many. we pass'd by several cottages, and about of the clock came to a pretty big town, where we took up our quarters, in one of their state houses, the men being all out, hunting in the woods, and none but women at home. our fellow traveller of whom i spoke before at the congerees, having a great mind for an indian lass, for his bed-fellow that night, spoke to our guide, who soon got a couple, reserving one for himself. that which fell to our companion's share, was a pretty young girl. tho' they could not understand one word of what each other spoke, yet the female indian, being no novice at her game, but understanding what she came thither for, acted her part dexterously enough with her cully, to make him sensible of what she wanted; which was to pay the hire, before he rode the hackney. he shew'd her all the treasure he was possess'd of, as beads, red cadis, &c. which she lik'd very well, and permitted him to put them into his pocket again, endearing him with all the charms, which one of a better education than dame nature had bestow'd upon her, could have made use of, to render her consort a surer captive. after they had us'd this sort of courtship a small time, the match was confirm'd by both parties, with the approbation of as many indian women, as came to the house, to celebrate our winchester-wedding. every one of the bride-maids were as great whores, as mrs. bride, tho' not quite so handsome. our happy couple went to bed together before us all, and with as little blushing, as if they had been man and wife for years. the rest of the company being weary with travelling, had more mind to take their rest, than add more weddings to that hopeful one already consummated; so that tho' the other virgins offer'd their service to us, we gave them their answer, and went to sleep. about an hour before day, i awak'd, and saw somebody walking up and down the room in a seemingly deep melancholy. i call'd out to know who it was, and it prov'd to be mr. bridegroom, who in less than hours, was batchelor, husband, and widdower, his dear spouse having pick'd his pocket of the beads, cadis, and what else should have gratified the indians for the victuals we receiv'd of them. however that did not serve her turn, but she had also got his shooes away, which he had made the night before, of a drest buck-skin. thus dearly did our spark already repent his new bargain, walking bare-foot, in his penitentials, like some poor pilgrim to loretto. after the indians had laugh'd their sides sore at the figure mr. bridegroom made, with much ado, we muster'd up another pair of shooes, or moggisons, and set forward on our intended voyage, the company (all the way) lifting up their prayers for the new married couple, whose wedding had made away with that, which should have purchas'd our food. {wednesday.} relying wholly on providence, we march'd on, now and then paying our respects to the new-married man. the land held rich and good; in many places there were great quantities of marble. the water was still of a wheyish colour. about of the clock, we waded thro' a river, (about the bigness of derwent, in yorkshire) which i take to be one of the branches of winjaw river. we saw several flocks of pigeons, field-fares, and thrushes, much like those of europe. the indians of these parts use sweating very much. if any pain seize their limbs, or body, immediately they take reeds, or small wands, and bend them umbrella-fashion, covering them with skins and matchcoats: they have a large fire not far off, wherein they heat stones, or (where they are wanting) bark, putting it into this stove, which casts an extraordinary heat: there is a pot of water in the bagnio, in which is put a bunch of an herb, bearing a silver tassel, not much unlike the aurea virga. with this vegetable they rub the head, temples, and other parts, which is reckon'd a preserver of the sight and strengthener of the brain. we went, this day, about miles, one of our company being lame of his knee. we pass'd over an exceeding rich tract of land, affording plenty of great free stones, and marble rocks, and abounding in many pleasant and delightsome rivulets. at noon, we stay'd and refresh'd ourselves at a cabin, where we met with one of their war-captains, a man of great esteem among them. at his departure from the cabin, the man of the house scratch'd this war-captain on the shoulder, which is look'd upon as a very great compliment among them. the captain went two or three miles on our way, with us, to direct us in our path. one of our company gave him a belt, which he took very kindly, bidding us call at his house, (which was in our road) and stay till the lame traveller was well, and speaking to the indian, to order his servant to make us welcome. thus we parted, he being on his journey to the congerees, and savannas, a famous, warlike, friendly nation of indians, living to the south-end of ashly river. he had a man-slave with him, who was loaded with european goods, his wife and daughter being in company. he told us, at his departure, that james had sent knots to all the indians thereabouts, for every town to send in skins, meaning captain moor, then governour of south-carolina. the towns being very thick hereabouts, at night we took up our quarters at one of the chief mens houses, which was one of the theaters i spoke of before. there ran, hard-by this town, a pleasant river, not very large, but, as the indians told us, well stor'd with fish. we being now among the powerful nation of esaws, our landlord entertain'd us very courteously, shewing us, that night, a pair of leather-gloves, which he had made; and comparing them with ours, they prov'd to be very ingeniously done, considering it was the first tryal. {thursday.} in the morning, he desired to see the lame man's affected part, to the end he might do something, which (he believ'd) would give him ease. after he had viewed it accordingly, he pull'd out an instrument, somewhat like a comb, which was made of a split reed, with teeth of rattle-snakes set at much the same distance, as in a large horn-comb: with these he scratch'd the place where the lameness chiefly lay, till the blood came, bathing it, both before and after incision, with warm water, spurted out of his mouth. this done, he ran into his plantation, and got some sassafras root, (which grows here in great plenty) dry'd it in the embers, scrap'd off the outward rind, and having beat it betwixt two stones, apply'd it to the part afflicted, binding it up well. thus, in a day or two, the patient became sound. this day, we pass'd through a great many towns, and settlements, that belong to the sugeree-indians, no barren land being found amongst them, but great plenty of free-stone, and good timber. about three in the afternoon, we reach'd the kadapau king's house, where we met with one john stewart, a scot, then an inhabitant of james-river in virginia, who had traded there for many years. being alone, and hearing that the sinnagers (indians from canada) were abroad in that country, he durst not venture homewards, till he saw us, having heard that we were coming, above days before. it is very odd, that news should fly so swiftly among these people. mr. stewart had left virginia ever since the october before, and had lost a day of the week, of which we inform'd him. he had brought seven horses along with him, loaded with english goods for the indians; and having sold most of his cargo, told us, if we would stay two nights, he would go along with us. company being very acceptable, we accepted the proposal. {friday.} the next day, we were preparing for our voyage, and baked some bread to take along with us. our landlord was king of the kadapau indians, and always kept two or three trading girls in his cabin. offering one of these to some of our company, who refus'd his kindness, his majesty flew into a violent passion, to be thus slighted, telling the englishmen, they were good for nothing. our old gamester, particularly, hung his ears at the proposal, having too lately been a loser by that sort of merchandize. it was observable, that we did not see one partridge from the waterrees to this place, tho' my spaniel-bitch, which i had with me in this voyage, had put up a great many before. {saturday.} on saturday morning, we all set out for sapona, killing, in these creeks, several ducks of a strange kind, having a red circle about their eyes, like some pigeons that i have seen, a top-knot reaching from the crown of their heads, almost to the middle of their backs, and abundance of feathers of pretty shades and colours. they prov'd excellent meat. likewise, here is good store of woodcocks, not so big as those in england, the feathers of the breast being of a carnation-colour, exceeding ours for delicacy of food. the marble here is of different colours, some or other of the rocks representing most mixtures, but chiefly the white having black and blue veins in it, and some that are red. this day, we met with seven heaps of stones, being the monuments of seven indians, that were slain in that place by the sinnagers, or iroquois. our indian guide added a stone to each heap. we took up our lodgings near a brook-side, where the virginia man's horses got away; and went back to the kadapau's. {sunday.} this day, one of our company, with a sapona indian, who attended stewart, went back for the horses. in the mean time, we went to shoot pigeons, which were so numerous in these parts, that you might see many millions in a flock; they sometimes split off the limbs of stout oaks, and other trees, upon which they roost o' nights. you may find several indian towns, of not above houses, that have more than gallons of pigeons oil, or fat; they using it with pulse, or bread, as we do butter, and making the ground as white as a sheet with their dung. the indians take a light, and go among them in the night, and bring away some thousands, killing them with long poles, as they roost in the trees. at this time of the year, the flocks, as they pass by, in great measure, obstruct the light of the day. {monday.} on monday, we went about miles, travelling through a pleasant, dry country, and took up our lodgings by a hillside, that was one entire rock, out of which gush'd out pleasant fountains of well-tasted water. {tuesday.} the next day, still passing along such land as we had done for many days before, which was, hills and vallies, about a clock we reach'd the top of one of these mountains, which yielded us a fine prospect of a very level country, holding so, on all sides, farther than we could discern. when we came to travel through it, we found it very stiff and rich, being a sort of marl. this valley afforded as large timber as any i ever met withal, especially of chesnut-oaks, which render it an excellent country for raising great herds of swine. indeed, were it cultivated, we might have good hopes of as pleasant and fertile a valley, as any our english in america can afford. at night, we lay by a swift current, where we saw plenty of turkies, but pearch'd upon such lofty oaks, that our guns would not kill them, tho' we shot very often, and our guns were very good. some of our company shot several times, at one turkey, before he would fly away, the pieces being loaded with large goose-shot. {wednesday.} next morning, we got our breakfasts; roasted acorns being one of the dishes. the indians beat them into meal, and thicken their venison-broth with them; and oftentimes make a palatable soop. they are used instead of bread, boiling them till the oil swims on the top of the water, which they preserve for use, eating the acorns with flesh-meat. we travell'd, this day, about miles, over pleasant savanna ground, high, and dry, having very few trees upon it, and those standing at a great distance. the land was very good, and free from grubs or underwood. a man near sapona may more easily clear acres of ground, than in some places he can one; there being much loose stone upon the land, lying very convenient for making of dry walls, or any other sort of durable fence. this country abounds likewise with curious bold creeks, (navigable for small craft) disgorging themselves into the main rivers, that vent themselves into the ocean. these creeks are well stor'd with sundry sorts of fish, and fowl, and are very convenient for the transportation of what commodities this place may produce. this night, we had a great deal of rain, with thunder and lightning. {thursday.} next morning, it proving delicate weather, three of us separated ourselves from the horses, and the rest of the company, and went directly for sapona town. that day, we pass'd through a delicious country, (none that i ever saw exceeds it.) we saw fine bladed grass, six foot high, along the banks of these pleasant rivulets: we pass'd by the sepulchres of several slain indians. coming, that day, about miles, we reach'd the fertile and pleasant banks of sapona river, whereon stands the indian town and fort. nor could all europe afford a pleasanter stream, were it inhabited by christians, and cultivated by ingenious hands. these indians live in a clear field, about a mile square, which they would have sold me, because i talked sometimes of coming into those parts to live. this most pleasant river may be something broader than the thames at kingston, keeping a continual pleasant warbling noise, with its reverberating on the bright marble rocks. it is beautified with a numerous train of swans, and other sorts of water-fowl, not common, though extraordinary pleasing to the eye. the forward spring welcom'd us with her innumerable train of small choristers, which inhabit those fair banks; the hills redoubling, and adding sweetness to their melodious tunes by their shrill echoes. one side of the river is hemm'd in with mountainy ground, the other side proving as rich a soil to the eye of a knowing person with us, as any this western world can afford. we took up our quarters at the king's cabin, who was a good friend to the english, and had lost one of his eyes in their vindication. being upon his march towards the appallatche mountains, amongst a nation of indians in their way, there happen'd a difference, while they were measuring of gunpowder; and the powder, by accident, taking fire, blew out one of this king's eyes, and did a great deal more mischief, upon the spot: yet this sapona king stood firmly to the english man's interest, with whom he was in company, still siding with him against the indians. they were intended for the south sea, but were too much fatigued by the vast ridge of mountains, tho' they hit the right passage; it being no less than five days journey through a ledge of rocky hills, and sandy desarts. and which is yet worse, there is no water, nor scarce a bird to be seen, during your passage over these barren crags and valleys. the sapona river proves to be the west branch of cape-fair, or clarendon river, whose inlet, with other advantages, makes it appear as noble a river to plant a colony in, as any i have met withal. the saponas had (about days before we came thither) taken five prisoners of the sinnagers or jennitos, a sort of people that range several thousands of miles, making all prey they lay their hands on. these are fear'd by all the savage nations i ever was among, the westward indians dreading their approach. they are all forted in, and keep continual spies and out-guards for their better security. those captives they did intend to burn, few prisoners of war escaping that punishment. the fire of pitch-pine being got ready, and a feast appointed, which is solemnly kept at the time of their acting this tragedy, the sufferer has his body stuck thick with light-wood-splinters, which are lighted like so many candles, the tortur'd person dancing round a great fire, till his strength fails, and disables him from making them any farther pastime. most commonly, these wretches behave themselves (in the midst of their tortures) with a great deal of bravery and resolution, esteeming it satisfaction enough, to be assur'd, that the same fate will befal some of their tormentors, whensoever they fall into the hands of their nation. more of this you will have in the other sheets. the toteros, a neighbouring nation, came down from the westward mountains, to the saponas, desiring them to give them those prisoners into their hands, to the intent they might send them back into their own nation, being bound in gratitude to be serviceable to the sinnagers, since not long ago, those northern-indians had taken some of the toteros prisoners, and done them no harm, but treated them civilly whilst among them, sending them, with safety, back to their own people, and affirming, that it would be the best method to preserve peace on all sides. at that time these toteros, saponas, and the keyauwees, small nations, were going to live together, by which they thought they should strengthen themselves, and become formidable to their enemies. the reasons offer'd by the toteros being heard, the sapona king, with the consent of his counsellors, deliver'd the sinnagers up to the toteros, to conduct them home. {friday.} friday morning, the old king having shew'd us of his horses, that were as fat, as if they had belong'd to the dutch troopers, left us, and went to look after his bever-traps, there being abundance of those amphibious animals in this river, and the creeks adjoining. taken with the pleasantness of the place, we walk'd along the river-side, where we found a very delightful island, made by the river, and a branch; there being several such plots of ground environ'd with this silver stream, which are fit pastures for sheep, and free from any offensive vermin. nor can any thing be desired by a contented mind, as to a pleasant situation, but what may here be found; every step presenting some new object, which still adds invitation to the traveller in these parts. our indian king and his wife entertain'd us very respectfully. {saturday. jan. .} on saturday, the indians brought in some swans, and geese, which we had our share of. one of their doctors took me to his cabin, and shew'd me a great quantity of medicinal drugs, the produce of those parts; relating their qualities as to the emunctories they work'd by, and what great maladies he had heal'd by them. this evening, came to us the horses, with the remainder of our company, their indian guide (who was a youth of this nation) having kill'd, in their way, a very fat doe, part of which they brought to us. {sunday.} this day, the king sent out all his able hunters, to kill game for a great feast, that was to be kept at their departure, from the town, which they offer'd to sell me for a small matter. that piece of ground, with a little trouble, would make an englishman a most curious settlement, containing above a mile square of rich land. this evening, came down some toteros, tall, likely men, having great plenty of buffelos, elks, and bears, with other sort of deer amongst them, which strong food makes large, robust bodies. enquiring of them, if they never got any of the bezoar stone, and giving them a description how it was found, the indians told me, they had great plenty of it; and ask'd me, what use i could make of it? i answer'd them, that the white men us'd it in physick, and that i would buy some of them, if they would get it against i came that way again. thereupon, one of them pull'd out a leather-pouch, wherein was some of it in powder; he was a notable hunter, and affirm'd to me, that that powder, blown into the eyes, strengthen'd the sight and brain exceedingly, that being the most common use they made of it. i bought, for or flints, a large peach-loaf, made up with a pleasant sort of seed; and this did us a singular kindness, in our journey. near the town, within their clear'd land, are several bagnios, or sweating-houses, made of stone, in shape like a large oven. these they make much use of; especially, for any pains in the joints, got by cold, or travelling. at night, as we lay in our beds, there arose the most violent n.w. wind i ever knew. the first puff blew down all the palisadoes that fortify'd the town; and i thought it would have blown us all into the river, together with the houses. our one-ey'd king, who pretends much to the art of conjuration, ran out in the most violent hurry, and in the middle of the town, fell to his necromantick practice; tho' i thought he would have been blown away or kill'd, before the devil and he could have exchang'd half a dozen words; but in two minutes, the wind was ceas'd, and it became as great a calm, as ever i knew in my life. as i much admir'd at that sudden alteration, the old man told me, the devil was very angry, and had done thus, because they had not put the sinnagers to death. {monday.} on monday morning, our whole company, with the horses, set out from the sapona-indian town, after having seen some of the locust, which is gotten thereabouts, the same sort that bears honey. going over several creeks, very convenient for water-mills, about miles from the town, we pass'd over a very pretty river, call'd rocky river, a fit name, having a ridge of high mountains running from its banks, to the eastward; and disgorging itself into sapona-river; so that there is a most pleasant and convenient neck of land, betwixt both rivers, lying upon a point, where many thousand acres may be fenced in, without much cost or labour. you can scarce go a mile, without meeting with one of these small swift currents, here being no swamps to be found, but pleasant, dry roads all over the country. the way that we went this day, was as full of stones, as any which craven, in the west of yorkshire, could afford, and having nothing but moggisons on my feet, i was so lam'd by this stony way, that i thought i must have taken up some stay in those parts. we went, this day, not above or miles. after we had supp'd, and all lay down to sleep, there came a wolf close to the fire-side, where we lay. my spaniel soon discover'd him, at which, one of our company fir'd a gun at the beast; but, i believe, there was a mistake in the loading of it, for it did him no harm. the wolf stay'd till he had almost loaded again, but the bitch making a great noise, at last left us and went aside. we had no sooner laid down, but he approach'd us again, yet was more shy, so that we could not get a shot at him. {tuesday.} next day, we had miles farther to the keyauwees. the land is more mountainous, but extremely pleasant, and an excellent place for the breeding sheep, goats, and horses; or mules, if the english were once brought to the experience of the usefulness of those creatures. the valleys are here very rich. at noon, we pass'd over such another stony river, as that eight miles from sapona. this is call'd heighwaree, and affords as good blue stone for mill-stones, as that from cologn, good rags, some hones, and large pebbles, in great abundance, besides free-stone of several sorts, all very useful. i knew one of these hones made use of by an acquaintance of mine, and it prov'd rather better than any from old spain, or elsewhere. the veins of marble are very large and curious on this river, and the banks thereof. five miles from this river, to the n.w. stands the keyauwees town. they are fortify'd in, with wooden puncheons, like sapona, being a people much of the same number. nature hath so fortify'd this town, with mountains, that were it a seat of war, it might easily be made impregnable; having large corn-fields joining to their cabins, and a savanna near the town, at the foot of these mountains, that is capable of keeping some hundred heads of cattle. and all this environ'd round with very high mountains, so that no hard wind ever troubles these inhabitants. those high clifts have no grass growing on them, and very few trees, which are very short, and stand at a great distance one from another. the earth is of a red colour, and seems to me to be wholly design'd by nature for the production of minerals, being of too hot a quality, to suffer any verdure upon its surface. these indians make use of lead-ore, to paint their faces withal, which they get in the neighbouring mountains. as for the refining of metals, the indians are wholly ignorant of it, being content with the realgar. but if it be my chance, once more to visit these hilly parts, i shall make a longer stay amongst them: for were a good vein of lead found out, and work'd by an ingenious hand, it might be of no small advantage to the undertaker, there being great convenience for smelting, either by bellows or reverberation; and the working of these mines might discover some that are much richer. at the top of one of these mountains, is a cave that men may fit very conveniently to dine in; whether natural, or artificial, i could not learn. there is a fine bole between this place, and the saps. these valleys thus hemm'd in with mountains, would (doubtless) prove a good place for propagating some sort of fruits, that our easterly winds commonly blast. the vine could not miss of thriving well here; but we of the northern climate are neither artists, nor curious, in propagating that pleasant and profitable vegetable. near the town, is such another current, as heighwaree. we being six in company, divided ourselves into two parties; and it was my lot to be at the house of keyauwees jack, who is king of that people. he is a congeree-indian, and ran away when he was a boy. he got this government by marriage with the queen; the female issue carrying the heritage, for fear of impostors; the savages well knowing, how much frailty possesses the indian women, betwixt the garters and the girdle. {wednesday.} the next day, having some occasion to write, the indian king, who saw me, believ'd that he could write as well as i. whereupon, i wrote a word, and gave it him to copy, which he did with more exactness, than any european could have done, that was illiterate. it was so well, that he who could read mine, might have done the same by his. afterwards, he took great delight in making fish-hooks of his own invention, which would have been a good piece for an antiquary to have puzzled his brains withal, in tracing out the characters of all the oriental tongues. he sent for several indians to his cabin, to look at his handy-work, and both he and they thought, i could read his writing as well as i could my own. i had a manual in my pocket, that had king david's picture in it, in one of his private retirements. the indian ask'd me, who that figure represented? i told him, it was the picture of a good king, that liv'd according to the rules of morality, doing to all as he would be done by, ordering all his life to the service of the creator of all things; and being now above us all, in heaven, with god almighty, who had rewarded him with all the delightful pleasures imaginable in the other world, for his obedience to him in this; i concluded, with telling them, that we received nothing here below, as food, raiment, &c. but what came from that omnipotent being. they listened to my discourse with a profound silence, assuring me, that they believ'd what i said to be true. no man living will ever be able to make these heathens sensible of the happiness of a future state, except he now and then mentions some lively carnal representation, which may quicken their apprehensions, and make them thirst after such a gainful exchange; for, were the best lecture that ever was preach'd by man, given to an ignorant sort of people, in a more learned style, than their mean capacities are able to understand, the intent would prove ineffectual, and the hearers would be left in a greater labyrinth than their teacher found them in. but dispense the precepts of our faith according to the pupil's capacity, and there is nothing in our religion, but what an indifferent reason is, in some measure, able to comprehend; tho' a new-england minister blames the french jesuits for this way of proceeding, as being quite contrary to a true christian practice, and affirms it to be no ready, or true method, to establish a lively representation of our christian belief amongst these infidels. all the indians hereabouts carefully preserve the bones of the flesh they eat, and burn them, as being of opinion, that if they omitted that custom, the game would leave their country, and they should not be able to maintain themselves by their hunting. most of these indians wear mustachoes, or whiskers, which is rare; by reason the indians are a people that commonly pull the hair of their faces, and other parts, up by the roots, and suffer none to grow. here is plenty of chesnuts, which are rarely found in carolina, and never near the sea, or salt-water; tho' they are frequently in such places in virginia. at the other house, where our fellow-travellers lay, they had provided a dish, in great fashion amongst the indians, which was two young fawns, taken out of the doe's bellies, and boil'd in the same slimy bags nature had plac'd them in, and one of the country-hares, stew'd with the guts in her belly, and her skin with the hair on. this new-fashion'd cookery wrought abstinence in our fellow-travellers, which i somewhat wonder'd at, because one of them made nothing of eating allegators, as heartily as if it had been pork and turneps. the indians dress most things after the wood-cock fashion, never taking the guts out. at the house we lay at, there was very good entertainment of venison, turkies, and bears; and which is customary amongst the indians, the queen had a daughter by a former husband, who was the beautifullest indian i ever saw, and had an air of majesty with her, quite contrary to the general carriage of the indians. she was very kind to the english, during our abode, as well as her father and mother. {thursday.} this morning, most of our company having some inclination to go straight away for virginia, when they left this place; i and one more took our leaves of them, resolving (with god's leave) to see north-carolina, one of the indians setting us in our way. the rest being indifferent which way they went, desired us, by all means, to leave a letter for them, at the achonechy-town. the indian that put us in our path, had been a prisoner amongst the sinnagers; but had out-run them, although they had cut his toes, and half his feet away, which is a practice common amongst them. they first raise the skin, then cut away half the feet, and so wrap the skin over the stumps, and make a present cure of the wounds. this commonly disables them from making their escape, they being not so good travellers as before, and the impression of their half-feet making it easy to trace them. however, this fellow was got clear of them, but had little heart to go far from home, and carry'd always a case of pistols in his girdle, besides a cutlass, and a fuzee. leaving the rest of our company at the indian-town, we travell'd, that day, about miles, in very cold, frosty weather; and pass'd over two pretty rivers, something bigger than heighwaree, but not quite so stony. we took these two rivers to make one of the northward branches of cape-fair river, but afterwards found our mistake. {friday.} the next day, we travell'd over very good land, but full of free-stone, and marble, which pinch'd our feet severely. we took up our quarters in a sort of savanna-ground, that had very few trees in it. the land was good, and had several quarries of stone, but not loose, as the others us'd to be. {saturday.} next morning, we got our breakfasts of parch'd corn, having nothing but that to subsist on for above miles. all the pine-trees were vanish'd, for we had seen none for two days. we pass'd through a delicate rich soil this day; no great hills, but pretty risings, and levels, which made a beautiful country. we likewise pass'd over three rivers this day; the first about the bigness of rocky river, the other not much differing in size. then we made not the least question, but we had pass'd over the north-west branch of cape-fair, travelling that day above miles. we were much taken with the fertility and pleasantness of the neck of land between these two branches, and no less pleas'd, that we had pass'd the river, which us'd to frighten passengers from fording it. at last, determining to rest on the other side of a hill, which we saw before us; when we were on the top thereof, there appear'd to us such another delicious, rapid stream, as that of sapona, having large stones, about the bigness of an ordinary house, lying up and down the river. as the wind blew very cold at n.w. and we were very weary, and hungry, the swiftness of the current gave us some cause to fear; but, at last, we concluded to venture over that night. accordingly, we stripp'd, and with great difficulty, (by god's assistance) got safe to the north-side of the famous hau-river, by some called reatkin; the indians differing in the names of places, according to their several nations. it is call'd hau-river, from the sissipahau indians, who dwell upon this stream, which is one of the main branches of cape-fair, there being rich land enough to contain some thousands of families; for which reason, i hope, in a short time, it will be planted. this river is much such another as sapona; both seeming to run a vast way up the country. here is plenty of good timber, and especially, of a scaly-bark'd oak; and as there is stone enough in both rivers, and the land is extraordinary rich, no man that will be content within the bounds of reason, can have any grounds to dislike it. and they that are otherwise, are the best neighbours, when farthest of. {sunday.} as soon as it was day, we set out for the achonechy-town, it being, by estimation, miles off, which, i believe, is pretty exact. we were got about half way, (meeting great gangs of turkies) when we saw, at a distance, loaded horses, coming on the road, with four or five men, on other jades, driving them. we charg'd our piece, and went up to them: enquiring, whence they came from? they told us, from virginia. the leading man's name was massey, who was born about leeds in yorkshire. he ask'd, from whence we came? we told him. then he ask'd again, whether we wanted any thing that he had? telling us, we should be welcome to it. we accepted of two wheaten biskets, and a little ammunition. he advised us, by all means, to strike down the country for ronoack, and not think of virginia, because of the sinnagers, of whom they were afraid, tho' so well arm'd, and numerous. they persuaded us also, to call upon one enoe will, as we went to adshusheer, for that he would conduct us safe among the english, giving him the character of a very faithful indian, which we afterwards found true by experience. the virginia-men asking our opinion of the country we were then in? we told them, it was a very pleasant one. they were all of the same opinion, and affirm'd, that they had never seen miles of such extraordinary rich land, lying all together, like that betwixt hau-river and the achonechy town. having taken our leaves of each other, we set forward; and the country, thro' which we pass'd, was so delightful, that it gave us a great deal of satisfaction. about three a clock, we reach'd the town, and the indians presently brought us good fat bear, and venison, which was very acceptable at that time. their cabins were hung with a good sort of tapestry, as fat bear, and barbakued or dried venison; no indians having greater plenty of provisions than these. the savages do, indeed, still possess the flower of carolina, the english enjoying only the fag-end of that fine country. we had not been in the town hours, when enoe-will came into the king's cabin; which was our quarters. we ask'd him, if he would conduct us to the english, and what he would have for his pains; he answer'd, he would go along with us, and for what he was to have, he left that to our discretion. {monday.} the next morning, we set out, with enoe-will, towards adshusheer, leaving the virginia path, and striking more to the eastward, for ronoack. several indians were in our company belonging to will's nation, who are the shoccories, mixt with the enoe-indians, and those of the nation of adshusheer. enoe-will is their chief man, and rules as far as the banks of reatkin. it was a sad stony way to adshusheer. we went over a small river by achonechy, and in this miles, through several other streams, which empty themselves into the branches of cape-fair. the stony way made me quite lame; so that i was an hour or two behind the rest; but honest will would not leave me, but bid me welcome when we came to his house, feasting us with hot bread, and bears-oil; which is wholsome food for travellers. there runs a pretty rivulet by this town. near the plantation, i saw a prodigious overgrown pine-tree, having not seen any of that sort of timber for above miles: they brought us cocks, and pull'd their larger feathers off, never plucking the lesser, but singeing them off. i took one of these fowls in my hand, to make it cleaner than the indian had, pulling out his guts and liver, which i laid in a bason; notwithstanding which, he kept such a struggling for a considerable time, that i had much ado to hold him in my hands. the indians laugh'd at me, and told me, that enoe-will had taken a cock of an indian that was not at home, and the fowl was design'd for another use. i conjectur'd, that he was design'd for an offering to their god, who, they say, hurts them, (which is the devil.) in this struggling, he bled afresh, and there issued out of his body more blood than commonly such creatures afford. notwithstanding all this, we cook'd him, and eat him; and if he was design'd for him, cheated the devil. the indians keep many cocks, but seldom above one hen, using very often such wicked sacrifices, as i mistrusted this fowl was design'd for. our guide and landlord enoe-will was of the best and most agreeable temper that ever i met with in an indian, being always ready to serve the english, not out of gain, but real affection; which makes him apprehensive of being poison'd by some wicked indians, and was therefore very earnest with me, to promise him to revenge his death, if it should so happen. he brought some of his chief men into his cabin, and of them having a drum, and a rattle, sung by us, as we lay in bed, and struck up their musick to serenade and welcome us to their town. and tho' at last, we fell asleep, yet they continu'd their consort till morning. these indians are fortify'd in, as the former, and are much addicted to a sport they call chenco, which is carry'd on with a staff and a bowl made of stone, which they trundle upon a smooth place, like a bowling-green, made for that purpose, as i have mention'd before. {tuesday.} next morning, we set out, with our guide, and several other indians, who intended to go to the english, and buy rum. we design'd for a nation about miles from adshusheer, call'd the lower quarter: the first night, we lay in a rich perkoson, or low ground, that was hard-by a creek, and good dry land. {wednesday.} the next day, we went over several tracts of rich land, but mix'd with pines and other indifferent soil. in our way, there stood a great stone about the size of a large oven, and hollow; this the indians took great notice of, putting some tobacco into the concavity, and spitting after it. i ask'd them the reason of their so doing, but they made me no answer. in the evening, we pass'd over a pleasant rivulet, with a fine gravelly bottom, having come over such another that morning. on the other side of this river, we found the indian town, which was a parcel of nasty smoaky holes, much like the waterrees; their town having a great swamp running directly through the middle thereof. the land here begins to abate of its height, and has some few swamps. most of these indians have but one eye; but what mischance or quarrel has bereav'd them of the other i could not learn. they were not so free to us, as most of the other indians had been; victuals being somewhat scarce among them. however, we got enough to satisfy our appetites. i saw, among these men, very long arrows, headed with pieces of glass, which they had broken from bottles. they had shap'd them neatly, like the head of a dart; but which way they did it, i can't tell. we had not been at this town above an hour, when two of our company, that had bought a mare of john stewart, came up to us, having receiv'd a letter by one of will's indians, who was very cautious, and asked a great many questions, to certifie him of the person, e'er he would deliver the letter. they had left the trader, and one that came from south-carolina with us, to go to virginia; these two being resolved to go to carolina with us. {thursday.} this day fell much rain, so we staid at the indian town. {friday.} this morning, we set out early, being four english-men, besides several indians. we went miles, and were then stopp'd by the freshes of enoe-river, which had rais'd it so high, that we could not pass over, till it was fallen. i enquir'd of my guide, where this river disgorg'd it self? he said, it was enoe-river, and run into a place call'd enoe-bay, near his country, which he left when he was a boy; by which i perceiv'd, he was one of the cores by birth: this being a branch of neus-river. {saturday.} this day, our fellow-traveller's mare ran away from him; wherefore, will went back as far as the lower quarter, and brought her back. {sunday.} the next day, early, came two tuskeruro indians to the other side of the river, but could not get over. they talk'd much to us, but we understood them not. in the afternoon, will came with the mare, and had some discourse with them; they told him, the english, to whom he was going, were very wicked people; and, that they threatned the indians for hunting near their plantations. these two fellows were going among the schoccores and achonechy indians, to sell their wooden bowls and ladles for raw-skins, which they make great advantage of, hating that any of these westward indians should have any commerce with the english, which would prove a hinderance to their gains. their stories deterr'd an old indian and his son, from going any farther; but will told us, nothing they had said should frighten him, he believing them to be a couple of hog-stealers; and that the english only sought restitution of their losses, by them; and that this was the only ground for their report. will had a slave, a sissipahau-indian by nation, who killed us several turkies, and other game, on which we feasted. {monday.} this river is near as large as reatkin; the south-side having curious tracts of good land, the banks high, and stone-quarries. the tuskeruros being come to us, we ventur'd over the river, which we found to be a strong current, and the water about breast-high. however, we all got safe to the north-shore, which is but poor, white, sandy land, and bears no timber, but small shrubby oaks. we went about miles, and sat down at the falls of a large creek, where lay mighty rocks, the water making a strange noise, as if a great many water-mills were going at once. i take this to be the falls of neus-creek, called by the indians, `wee quo whom'. we lay here all night. my guide will desiring to see the book that i had about me, i lent it him; and as he soon found the picture of king david, he asked me several questions concerning the book, and picture, which i resolv'd him, and invited him to become a christian. he made me a very sharp reply, assuring me, that he lov'd the english extraordinary well, and did believe their ways to be very good for those that had already practis'd them, and had been brought up therein; but as for himself, he was too much in years to think of a change, esteeming it not proper for old people to admit of such an alteration. however, he told me, if i would take his son jack, who was then about years of age, and teach him to talk in that book, and make paper speak, which they call our way of writing, he would wholly resign him to my tuition; telling me, he was of opinion, i was very well affected to the indians. {tuesday.} the next morning, we set out early, and i perceiv'd that these indians were in some fear of enemies; for they had an old man with them, who was very cunning and circumspect, wheresoever he saw any marks of footing, or of any fire that had been made; going out of his way, very often, to look for these marks. we went, this day, above miles, over a very level country, and most pine land, yet intermix'd with some quantities of marble; a good range for cattel, though very indifferent for swine. we had now lost our rapid streams, and were come to slow, dead waters, of a brown colour, proceeding from the swamps, much like the sluices in holland, where the track-scoots go along. in the afternoon, we met two tuskeruros, who told us, that there was a company of hunters not far of, and if we walk'd stoutly, we might reach them that night. but will and he that own'd the mare, being gone before, and the old indian tired, we rested, that night, in the woods, making a good light fire, wood being very plentiful in these parts. {wednesday.} next day, about a clock, we struck out of the way, by the advice of our old indian. we had not gone past two miles, e'er we met with about tuskeruros in one hunting-quarter. they had made themselves streets of houses, built with pine-bark, not with round tops, as they commonly use, but ridge-fashion, after the manner of most other indians. we got nothing amongst them but corn, flesh being not plentiful, by reason of the great number of their people. for tho' they are expert hunters, yet they are too populous for one range; which makes venison very scarce to what it is amongst other indians, that are fewer; no savages living so well for plenty, as those near the sea. i saw, amongst these, a hump-back'd indian, which was the only crooked one i ever met withal. about two a clock, we reach'd one of their towns, in which there was no body left, but an old woman or two; the rest being gone to their hunting-quarters. we could find no provision at that place. we had a tuskeruro that came in company with us, from the lower quarter, who took us to his cabin, and gave us what it afforded, which was corn-meat. {thursday.} this day, we pass'd through several swamps, and going not above a dozen miles, came to a cabin, the master whereof us'd to trade amongst the english. he told us, if we would stay two nights, he would conduct us safe to them, himself designing, at that time, to go and fetch some rum; so we resolved to tarry for his company. during our stay, there happen'd to be a young woman troubled with fits. the doctor who was sent for to assist her, laid her on her belly, and made a small incision with rattle-snake-teeth; then laying his mouth to the place, he suck'd out near a quart of black conglutinated blood, and serum. our landlord gave us the tail of a bever, which was a choice food. {friday.} there happen'd also to be a burial of one of their dead, which ceremony is much the same with that of the santees, who make a great feast at the interment of their corps. the small runs of water hereabout, afford great plenty of craw-fish, full as large as those in england, and nothing inferior in goodness. {saturday.} saturday morning, our patron, with enoe will, and his servant, set out with us, for the english. in the afternoon, we ferried over a river, (in a canoe) called by the indians, chattookau, which is the n.w. branch of neus-river. we lay in the swamp, where some indians invited us to go to their quarters, which some of our company accepted, but got nothing extraordinary, except a dozen miles march out of their way: the country here is very thick of indian towns and plantations. {sunday.} we were forced to march, this day, for want of provisions. about a clock, we met an indian that had got a parcel of shad-fish ready barbaku'd. we bought of them, for a dress'd doe-skin, and so went on, through many swamps, finding, this day, the long ragged moss on the trees, which we had not seen for above miles. in the afternoon, we came upon the banks of pampticough, about miles above the english plantations by water, though not so far by land. the indian found a canoe, which he had hidden, in which we all got over, and went about six miles farther. we lay, that night, under two or three pieces of bark, at the foot of a large oak. there fell abundance of snow and rain in the night, with much thunder and lightning. {monday.} next day, it clear'd up, and it being about miles to the english, about half-way we passed over a deep creek, and came safe to mr. richard smith's, of pampticough-river, in north-carolina; where being well receiv'd by the inhabitants, and pleas'd with the goodness of the country, we all resolv'd to continue. finis. a description of north-carolina. {carolina how bounded.} the province of carolina is separated from virginia by a due west-line, which begins at currituck-inlet, in degrees, minutes, of northern-latitude, and extends indefinitely to the westward, and thence to the southward, as far as degrees; which is a vast tract of sea-coast. but having already treated, as far as is necessary, concerning south-carolina, i shall confine myself, in the ensuing sheets, to give my reader a description of that part of the country only, which lies betwixt currituck and cape-fair, and is almost deg. north. and this is commonly call'd north carolina. this part of carolina is faced with a chain of sand-banks, which defends it from the violence and insults of the atlantick ocean; by which barrier, a vast sound is hemm'd in, which fronts the mouths of the navigable and pleasant rivers of this fertile country, and into which they disgorge themselves. {inlets.} thro' the same are inlets of several depths of water. some of their channels admit only of sloops, brigantines, small barks, and ketches; and such are currituck, ronoak, and up the sound above hatteras: whilst others can receive ships of burden, as ocacock, topsail-inlet, and cape-fair; as appears by my chart. {first colony of carolina.} the first discovery and settlement of this country was by the procurement of sir walter raleigh, in conjunction with some publick-spirited gentlemen of that age, under the protection of queen elizabeth; for which reason it was then named virginia, being begun on that part called ronoak-island, where the ruins of a fort are to be seen at this day, as well as some old english coins which have been lately found; and a brass-gun, a powder-horn, and one small quarter deck-gun, made of iron staves, and hoop'd with the same metal; which method of making guns might very probably be made use of in those days, for the convenience of infant-colonies. {hatteras indians.} a farther confirmation of this we have from the hatteras indians, who either then lived on ronoak-island, or much frequented it. these tell us, that several of their ancestors were white people, and could talk in a book, as we do; the truth of which is confirm'd by gray eyes being found frequently amongst these indians, and no others. they value themselves extremely for their affinity to the english, and are ready to do them all friendly offices. it is probable, that this settlement miscarry'd for want of timely supplies from england; or thro' the treachery of the natives, for we may reasonably suppose that the english were forced to cohabit with them, for relief and conversation; and that in process of time, they conform'd themselves to the manners of their indian relations. and thus we see, how apt humane nature is to degenerate. {sir walter raleigh's ship.} i cannot forbear inserting here, a pleasant story that passes for an uncontested truth amongst the inhabitants of this place; which is, that the ship which brought the first colonies, does often appear amongst them, under sail, in a gallant posture, which they call sir walter raleigh's ship, and the truth of this has been affirm'd to me, by men of the best credit in the country. {second settlement of north-carolina.} a second settlement of this country was made about fifty years ago, in that part we now call albemarl-county, and chiefly in chuwon precinct, by several substantial planters, from virginia, and other plantations; who finding mild winters, and a fertile soil, beyond expectation, producing every thing that was planted, to a prodigious increase; their cattle, horses, sheep, and swine, breeding very fast, and passing the winter, without any assistance from the planter; so that every thing seem'd to come by nature, the husbandman living almost void of care, and free from those fatigues which are absolutely requisite in winter-countries, for providing fodder and other necessaries; these encouragements induc'd them to stand their ground, altho' but a handful of people, seated at great distances one from another, and amidst a vast number of indians of different nations, who were then in carolina. nevertheless, i say, the fame of this new-discover'd summer-country spread thro' the neighbouring colonies, and, in a few years, drew a considerable number of families thereto, who all found land enough to settle themselves in, (had they been many thousands more) and that which was very good and commodiously seated, both for profit and pleasure. {pleasantness of carolina.} and indeed, most of the plantations in carolina naturally enjoy a noble prospect of large and spacious rivers, pleasant savanna's, and fine meadows, with their green liveries, interwoven with beautiful flowers, of most glorious colours, which the several seasons afford; hedg'd in with pleasant groves of the ever-famous tulip-tree, the stately laurel, and bays, equalizing the oak in bigness and growth; myrtles, jessamines, wood-bines, honysuckles, and several other fragrant vines and ever-greens, whose aspiring branches shadow and interweave themselves with the loftiest timbers, yielding a pleasant prospect, shade and smell, proper habitations for the sweet-singing birds, that melodiously entertain such as travel thro' the woods of carolina. the planters possessing all these blessings, and the produce of great quantities of wheat and indian corn, in which this country is very fruitful, as likewise in beef, pork, tallow, hides, deer-skins, and furs; for these commodities the new-england-men and bermudians visited carolina in their barks and sloops, and carry'd out what they made, bringing them, in exchange, rum, sugar, salt, molosses, and some wearing apparel, tho' the last at very extravagant prices. as the land is very fruitful, so are the planters kind and hospitable to all that come to visit them; there being very few housekeepers, but what live very nobly, and give away more provisions to coasters and guests who come to see them, than they expend amongst their own families. of the inlets and havens of this country. {currituck inlet.} the bar of currituck being the northermost of this country, presents itself first to be treated of. it lies in deg. min. and the course over is s.w. by w. having not above seven or eight foot on the bar, tho' a good harbour, when you are over, where you may ride safe, and deep enough; but this part of the sound is so full of shoals, as not to suffer any thing to trade thro' it, that draws above three foot water, which renders it very incommodious. however, this affects but some part of the country, and may be easily remedied, by carrying their produce, in small craft, down to the vessels, which ride near the inlet. {ronoak inlet.} ronoak inlet has ten foot water, the course over the bar is almost w. which leads you thro' the best of the channel. this bar, as well as currituck, often shifts by the violence of the n.e. storms, both lying expos'd to those winds. notwithstanding which, a considerable trade might be carry'd on, provided there was a pilot to bring them in; for it lies convenient for a large part of this colony, whose product would very easily allow of that charge; lat. deg. min. {hatteras inlet.} the inlet of hatteras lies to the westward of the cape, round which is an excellent harbour. when the wind blows hard at n. or n.e. if you keep a small league from the cape-point, you will have , , and fathom, the outermost shoals lying about or leagues from shoar. as you come into the inlet, keep close to the south breakers, till you are over the bar, where you will have two fathom at low-water. you may come to an anchor in two fathom and a half when you are over, then steer over close aboard the north shoar, where is four fathom, close to a point of marsh; then steer up the sound a long league, till you bring the north cape of the inlet to bear s.s.e. half e. then steer w.n.w. the east-point of bluff-land at hatteras bearing e.n.e. the southermost large hammock towards ocacock, bearing s.s.w. half s. then you are in the sound, over the bar of sand, whereon is but foot water; then your course to pampticough is almost west. it flows on these three bars s.e. by e. / e. about eight of the clock, unless there is a hard gale of wind at n.e. which will make it flow two hours longer; but as soon as the wind is down, the tides will have their natural course: a hard gale at n. or n.w. will make the water ebb sometimes hours, but still the tide will ebb and flow, tho' not seen by the turning thereof, but may be seen by the rising of the water, and falling of the same, lat. d ". {ocacock inlet.} ocacock is the best inlet and harbour yet in this country; and has foot at low-water upon the bar. there are two channels; one is but narrow, and lies close aboard the south cape; the other in the middle, viz. between the middle ground, and the south shoar, and is above half a mile wide. the bar itself is but half a cable's length over, and then you are in or fathom water; a good harbour. the course into the sound is n.n.w. at high-water, and neap-tides, here is foot water. it lies s.w. from hatteras inlet. lat. d ". {topsail inlet.} topsail inlet is above two leagues to the westward of cape look-out. you have a fair channel over the bar, and two fathom thereon, and a good harbour in five or six fathom to come to an anchor. your course over this bar is almost n.w. lat. d ". {cape fair inlet and river.} as for the inlet and river of cape fair, i cannot give you a better information thereof, than has been already deliver'd by the gentlemen, who were sent on purpose, from barbados, to make a discovery of that river, in the year , which is thus. from tuesday the th of september, to friday the d of october, we rang'd along the shoar from lat. deg. min. to lat. deg. min. but could discern no entrance for our ship, after we had pass'd to the northward of deg. min. on saturday, octob. . a violent storm overtook us, the wind between north and east; which easterly winds and foul weather continu'd till monday the th; by reason of which storms and foul weather, we were forced to get off to sea, to secure ourselves and ship, and were driven by the rapidity of a strong current to cape hatteras in lat. deg. min. on monday the th aforesaid, we came to an anchor in seven fathom at cape-fair road, and took the meridian altitude of the sun, and were in latitude deg. min. the wind continuing still easterly, and foul weather, till thursday the th; and on friday the th, the wind being at n.w. we weigh'd and sail'd up cape-fair-river, some or leagues, and came to an anchor in or fathom, at which time several indians came on board, and brought us great store of fresh fish, large mullets, young bass, shads, and several other sorts of very good well-tasted fish. on saturday the th, we went down to the cape, to see the english cattle, but could not find 'em, tho' we rounded the cape: and having an indian guide with us, here we rode till oct. . the wind being against us, we could not go up the river with our ship; but went on shoar, and view'd the land of those quarters. on saturday, we weigh'd, and sail'd up the river some leagues, or thereabouts. sunday the th, we weigh'd again, and row'd up the river, it being calm, and got up some leagues from the harbour's mouth, where we mor'd our ship. on monday oct. the th, we went down with the yawl, to necoes, an indian plantation, and view'd the land there. on tuesday the th, we row'd up the main river, with our long-boat, and men, some leagues, or thereabouts. on wednesday the th, we row'd up about or leagues more. thursday the th, was foul weather, with much rain and wind, which forc'd us to make huts, and lie still. friday the th, we proceeded up the main river, or leagues. saturday the st, we got up or leagues more, and came to a tree that lay cross the river; but because our provisions were almost spent, we proceeded no farther, but return'd downward before night, and on monday the d of november, we came aboard our ship. tuesday the d, we lay still, to refresh ourselves. on wednesday the th, we went or leagues up the river, to search a branch that run out of the main river towards the n.w. in which branch we went up or leagues; but not liking the land, return'd on board that night about midnight, and call'd that place swampy-branch. thursday, november the th, we stay'd aboard. on friday the th, we went up greens-river, the mouth of it being against the place at which rode our ship. on saturday the th, we proceeded up the said river, some or leagues in all, and found it ended in several small branches; the land, for the most part, being marshy and swamps, we return'd towards our ship, and got aboard it in the night. sunday november the th, we lay still, and on monday the th, went again up the main river, being well stock'd with provisions, and all things necessary, and proceeded upwards till thursday noon, the th, at which time we came to a place, where were two islands in the middle of the river; and by reason of the crookedness of the river at that place, several trees lay cross both branches, which stop'd the passage of each branch, so that we could proceed no farther with our boat; but went up the river side by land, some or miles, and found the river wider and wider. so we return'd, leaving it, as far as we could see up a long reach, running n.e. we judging ourselves near fifty leagues north from the river's mouth. in our return, we view'd the land on both sides the river, and found as good tracts of dry, well-wooded, pleasant, and delightful ground, as we have seen any where in the world, with abundance of long thick grass on it, the land being very level, with steep banks on both sides the river, and in some places very high, the woods stor'd every where, with great numbers of deer and turkies, we never going on shoar, but we saw of each sort; as also great store of partridges, cranes, and conies, in several places; we likewise heard several wolves howling in the woods, and saw where they had torn a deer in pieces. also in the river we saw great store of ducks, teal, widgeon; and in the woods, great flocks of parrakeeto's. the timber that the woods afford, for the most part, consists of oaks of four or five sorts, all differing in leaves, but each bearing very good acorns. we measur'd many of the oaks in several places, which we found to be, in bigness, some two, some three, and others almost four fathom in height, before you come to boughs or limbs; forty, fifty, sixty foot, and some more; and those oaks very common in the upper parts of both rivers; also a very tall large tree of great bigness, which some call cyprus, the right name we know not, growing in swamps. likewise walnut, birch, beech, maple, ash, bay, willow, alder, and holly; and in the lowermost parts innumerable pines, tall and good for boards or masts, growing, for the most part, in barren and sandy, but in some places up the river, in good ground, being mixt amongst oaks and other timbers. we saw mulberry-trees, multitudes of grape-vines, and some grapes which we eat of. we found a very large and good tract of land, on the n.w. side of the river, thin of timber, except here and there a very great oak, and full of grass, commonly as high as a man's middle, and in many places to his shoulders, where we saw many deer, and turkies; one deer having very large horns, and great body, therefore call'd it stag-park. it being a very pleasant and delightful place, we travell'd in it several miles, but saw no end thereof. so we return'd to our boat, and proceeded down the river, and came to another place, some twenty five leagues from the river's mouth on the same side, where we found a place, no less delightful than the former; and as far as we could judge, both tracts came into one. this lower place we call'd rocky point, because we found many rocks and stones, of several sizes, upon the land, which is not common. we sent our boat down the river before us; ourselves travelling by land, many miles. indeed we were so much taken with the pleasantness of the country, that we travell'd into the woods too far to recover our boat and company that night. the next day being sunday, we got to our boat; and on monday the th of november, proceeded down to a place on the east-side of the river, some leagues from the harbour's mouth, which we call'd turky-quarters, because we kill'd several turkies thereabouts; we view'd the land there, and found some tracts of good ground, and high, facing upon the river about one mile inward, but backwards some two miles, all pine land, but good pasture ground: we return'd to our boat, and proceeded down some or leagues, where we had formerly view'd, and found it a tract of as good land, as any we have seen, and had as good timber on it. the banks on the river being high, therefore we call'd it high-land-point. having view'd that, we proceeded down the river, going on shoar in several places on both sides, it being generally large marshes, and many of them dry, that they may more fitly be call'd meadows. the wood-land against them is, for the most part, pine, and in some places as barren, as ever we saw land, but in other places good pasture-ground. on tuesday, november the th, we got aboard our ship, riding against the mouth of green's river, where our men were providing wood, and fitting the ship for the sea: in the interim, we took a view of the country on both sides of the river there, finding some good land, but more bad, and the best not comparable to that above. friday the th was foul weather; yet in the afternoon we weigh'd, went down the river about two leagues, and came to an anchor against the mouth of hilton's river, and took a view of the land there on both sides, which appear'd to us much like that at green's river. monday the d, we went, with our long-boat well victuall'd and mann'd, up hilton's river; and when we came three leagues, or thereabouts, up the same, we found this and green's river to come into one, and so continu'd for four or five leagues, which makes a great island betwixt them. we proceeded still up the river, till they parted again, keeping up hilton's river on the larboard side, and follow'd the said river five or six leagues farther, where we found another large branch of green's river to come into hilton's, which makes another great island. on the starboard side going up, we proceeded still up the river some four leagues, and return'd, taking a view of the land on both sides, and then judg'd ourselves to be from our ship some leagues w. and by n. one league below this place, came four indians in a canoe to us, and sold us several baskets of acorns, which we satisfy'd them for, and so left them; but one of them follow'd us on the shoar some two or three miles, till he came on the top of a high bank, facing on the river; and as we row'd underneath it, the fellow shot an arrow at us, which very narrowly miss'd one of our men, and stuck in the upper edge of the boat; but broke in pieces, leaving the head behind. hereupon, we presently made to the shoar, and went all up the bank (except four to guide the boat) to look for the indian, but could not find him: at last, we heard some sing, farther in the woods, which we look'd upon as a challenge to us, to come and fight them. we went towards them with all speed; but before we came in sight of them, heard two guns go off from our boat; whereupon we retreated, as fast as we could, to secure our boat and men. when we came to them, we found all well, and demanded the reason of their firing the guns: they told us, that an indian came creeping along the bank, as they suppos'd, to shoot at them; and therefore they shot at him at a great distance, with small shot, but thought they did him no hurt; for they saw him run away. presently after our return to the boat, and while we were thus talking, came two indians to us, with their bows and arrows, crying `bonny, bonny'. we took their bows and arrows from them, and gave them beads, to their content; then we led them, by the hand, to the boat, and shew'd them the arrow-head sticking in her side, and related to them the whole passage; which when they understood, both of them shew'd a great concern, and signify'd to us, by signs, that they knew nothing of it; so we let them go, and mark'd a tree on the top of the bank, calling the place mount-skerry. we look'd up the river, as far as we could discern, and saw that it widen'd, and came running directly down the country: so we return'd, viewing the land on both sides the river, and finding the banks steep in some places, but very high in others. the bank-sides are generally clay, and as some of our company did affirm, some marl. the land and timber up this river is no way inferiour to the best in the other, which we call the main river. so far as we could discern, this seem'd as fair, if not fairer, than the former, and we think runs farther into the country, because a strong current comes down, and a great deal more drift-wood. but, to return to the business of the land and timber: we saw several plots of ground clear'd by the indians, after their weak manner, compass'd round with great timber trees, which they are no-wise able to fell, and so keep the sun from corn-fields very much; yet nevertheless, we saw as large corn-stalks, or larger, than we have seen any where else: so we proceeded down the river, till we found the canoe the indian was in, who shot at us. in the morning, we went on shoar, and cut the same in pieces. the indians perceiving us coming towards them, ran away. going to his hutt, we pull'd it down, broke his pots, platters, and spoons, tore the deer-skins and matts in pieces, and took away a basket of acorns; and afterwards proceeded down the river leagues, or thereabouts, and came to another place of indians, bought acorns and some corn of them, and went downwards leagues more. at last, espying an indian peeping over a high bank, we held up a gun at him; and calling to him, `skerry', presently several indians came in sight of us, and made great signs of friendship, saying `bonny, bonny'. then running before us, they endeavour'd to persuade us to come on shoar; but we answer'd them with stern countenances, and call'd out, `skerry', taking up our guns, and threatning to shoot at them, but they still cry'd `bonny, bonny': and when they saw they could not prevail, nor persuade us to come on shoar, two of them came off to us in a canoe, one paddling with a great cane, the other with his hand. as soon as they overtook us, they laid hold of our boat, sweating and blowing, and told us, it was `bonny' on shoar, and at last persuaded us to go on shoar with them. as soon as we landed, several indians, to the number of near lusty men, came to us, all in a great sweat, and told us `bonny': we shew'd 'em the arrow-head in the boat-side, and a piece of the canoe we had cut in pieces: whereupon, the chief man amongst them made a long speech, threw beads into our boat, which is a sign of great love and friendship, and gave us to understand, that when he heard of the affront which we had receiv'd, it caus'd him to cry; and that he and his men were come to make peace with us, assuring us, by signs, that they would tye the arms, and cut off the head, of the fellow who had done us that wrong; and for a farther testimony of their love and good-will towards us, they presented us with two very handsome, proper, young indian women, the tallest that ever we saw in this country; which we suppos'd to be the king's daughters, or persons of distinction amongst them. those young women were so ready to come into our boat; that one of them crowded in, and would hardly be persuaded to go out again. we presented the king with a hatchet and several beads, and made presents of beads also to the young women, the chief men, and the rest of the indians, as far as our beads would go. they promis'd us, in four days, to come on board our ship, and so departed from us. when we left the place, which was soon after, we call'd it mount-bonny, because we had there concluded a firm peace. proceeding down the river or leagues farther, we came to a place where were or canoes all together. we went ashoar there, and found several indians; but most of them were the same which had made peace with us before. we staid very little at that place, but went directly down the river, and came to our ship, before day. thursday the th of november, the wind being at south, we could not go down to the river's mouth; but on friday the th, we weigh'd at the mouth of hilton's river, and got down a league towards the harbour's mouth. on sunday the th, we got down to crane-island, which is leagues or thereabouts, above the entrance of the harbour's mouth. on tuesday the st of december, we made a purchase of the river and land of cape-fair, of wat-coosa, and such other indians, as appear'd to us to be the chief of those parts. they brought us store of fresh fish aboard, as mullets, shads, and other sorts very good. this river is all fresh water, fit to drink. some leagues within the mouth, the tide runs up about leagues, but stops and rises a great deal farther up. it flows at the harbour's mouth, s.e. and n.w. foot at neap-tides, and foot at spring-tides. the channel on the east side, by the cape-shoar, is the best, and lies close aboard the cape-land, being fathoms at high water, in the shallowest place in the channel, just at the entrance; but as soon as you are past that place, half a cables length inward, you have or fathoms, a fair turning channel into the river, and so continuing or leagues upwards. afterwards the channel is more difficult, in some places or fathoms, in others or , and in others but or foot, especially where the river is broad. when the river comes to part, and grows narrow, there it is all channel from side to side, in most places; tho' in some you shall have , , or fathoms, but generally or , sand and oaze. we view'd the cape-land, and judg'd it to be little worth, the woods of it being shrubby and low, and the land sandy and barren; in some places grass and rushes, in others nothing but clear sand: a place fitter to starve cattle, in our judgment, than to keep 'em alive; yet the indians, as we understand, keep the english cattle down there, and suffer them not to go off of the said cape, (as we suppose) because the country indians shall have no part with them; and therefore 'tis likely, they have fallen out about them, which shall have the greatest share. they brought on board our ship very good and fat beef several times, which they sold us at a very reasonable price; also fat and very large swine, good and cheap; but they may thank their friends of new-england, who brought their hogs to so fair a market. some of the indians brought very good salt aboard us, and made signs, pointing to both sides of the river's mouth, that there was great store thereabouts. we saw up the river, several good places for the setting up of corn or saw-mills. in that time, as our business call'd us up and down the river and branches, we kill'd of wild fowl, swans, geese, cranes, turkies, ducks and mallards, dozen of parrakeeto's, and dozen of other small fowls, as curlues and plover, &c. whereas there was a writing left in a post, at the point of cape-fair river, by those new-england-men, that left cattle with the indians there, the contents whereof tended not only to the disparagement of the land about the said river, but also to the great discouragement of all such as should hereafter come into those parts to settle: in answer to that scandalous writing, we, whose names are underwritten, do affirm, that we have seen, facing both sides the river and branches of cape-fair aforesaid, as good land, and as well timber'd, as any we have seen in any other part of the world, sufficient to accommodate thousands of our english nation, and lying commodiously by the said river's side. on friday the th of december, the wind being fair, we put out to sea, bound for barbados; and, on the th of february, , came to an anchor in carlisle-bay; it having pleas'd god, after several apparent dangers both by sea and land, to bring us all in safety to our long-wish'd-for and much-desir'd port, to render an account of our discovery; the verity of which we do assert. anthony long. william hilton. peter fabian. thus you have an account of the latitude, soil, and advantages of cape-fair, or clarendon-river, which was settled in the year , or thereabouts; and had it not been for the irregular practices of some of that colony against the indians, by sending away some of their children, (as i have been told) under pretence of instructing 'em in learning, and the principles of the christian religion; which so disgusted the indians, that tho' they had then no guns, yet they never gave over, till they had entirely rid themselves of the english, by their bows and arrows; with which they did not only take off themselves, but also their stocks of cattle; and this was so much the more ruinous to them, in that they could have no assistance from south-carolina, which was not then planted; and the other plantations were but in their infancy. were it not for such ill practices, i say, it might, in all probability, have been, at this day, the best settlement in their lordships great province of carolina. {albemarl sound and rivers.} the sound of albemarl, with the rivers and creeks of that country, afford a very rich and durable soil. the land, in most places, lies indifferent low, (except in chuwon, and high up the rivers) but bears an incredible burden of timber; the low-grounds being cover'd with beech; and the high-land yielding lofty oaks, walnut-trees, and other useful timber. the country, in some plantations, has yearly produc'd indian corn, or some other grain, ever since this country was first seated, without the trouble of manuring or dressing; and yet (to all appearance) it seems not to be, in the least, impoverish'd, neither do the planters ever miss of a good crop, unless a very unnatural season visits them, which seldom happens. of the corn of carolina. {wheat.} the wheat of this place is very good, seldom yielding less than thirty fold, provided the land is good where it is sown; not but that there has been sixty-six increase for one measure sown in piny-land, which we account the meanest sort. and i have been inform'd, by people of credit, that wheat which was planted in a very rich piece of land, brought a hundred and odd pecks, for one. if our planters, when they found such great increase, would be so curious as to make nice observations of the soil, and other remarkable accidents, they would soon be acquainted with the nature of the earth and climate, and be better qualified to manage their agriculture to more certainty, and greater advantage; whereby they might arrive to the crops and harvests of babylon, and those other fruitful countries so much talk'd of. for i must confess, i never saw one acre of land manag'd as it ought to be in carolina, since i knew it; and were they as negligent in their husbandry in europe, as they are in carolina, their land would produce nothing but weeds and straw. {rye.} they have try'd rye, and it thrives very well; but having such plenty of maiz, they do not regard it, because it makes black bread, unless very curiously handled. {barley.} barley has been sowed in small quantities, and does better than can be expected; because that grain requires the ground to be very well work'd with repeated ploughings, which our general way of breaking the earth with hoes, can, by no means, perform, tho' in several places we have a light, rich, deep, black mould, which is the particular soil in which barley best thrives. {oats.} the naked oats thrive extraordinary well; and the other would prove a very bold grain; but the plenty of other grains makes them not much coveted. {maiz.} the indian corn, or maiz, proves the most useful grain in the world; and had it not been for the fruitfulness of this species, it would have proved very difficult to have settled some of the plantations in america. it is very nourishing, whether in bread, sodden, or otherwise; and those poor christian servants in virginia, maryland, and the other northerly plantations, that have been forced to live wholly upon it, do manifestly prove, that it is the most nourishing grain, for a man to subsist on, without any other victuals. and this assertion is made good by the negro-slaves, who, in many places, eat nothing but this indian corn and salt. pigs and poultry fed with this grain, eat the sweetest of all others. it refuses no grounds, unless the barren sands, and when planted in good ground, will repay the planter seven or eight hundred fold; besides the stalks bruis'd and boil'd, make very pleasant beer, being sweet like the sugar-cane. {rice.} there are several sorts of rice, some bearded, others not, besides the red and white; but the white rice is the best. yet there is a sort of perfum'd rice in the east-indies, which gives a curious flavour, in the dressing. and with this sort america is not yet acquainted; neither can i learn, that any of it has been brought over to europe; the rice of carolina being esteem'd the best that comes to that quarter of the world. it is of great increase, yielding from eight hundred to a thousand-fold, and thrives best in wild land, that has never been broken up before. {buck-wheat.} buck-wheat is of great increase in carolina; but we make no other use of it, than instead of maiz, to feed hogs and poultry: {guinea-wheat.} and guinea corn, which thrives well here, serves for the same use. {pulse. bushel-bean.} of the pulse-kind, we have many sorts. the first is the bushel-bean, which is a spontaneous product. they are so called, because they bring a bushel of beans for one that is planted. they are set in the spring, round arbours, or at the feet of poles, up which they will climb, and cover the wattling, making a very pretty shade to sit under. they continue flowering, budding, and ripening all the summer long, till the frost approaches, when they forbear their fruit, and die. the stalks they grow on, come to the thickness of a man's thumb; and the bean is white and mottled, with a purple figure on each side it, like an ear. they are very flat, and are eaten as the windsor-bean is, being an extraordinary well-relish'd pulse, either by themselves, or with meat. {indian rouncevals.} we have the indian rounceval, or miraculous pease, so call'd from their long pods, and great increase. these are latter pease, and require a pretty long summer to ripen in. {pease and beans.} they are very good; and so are the bonavis, calavancies, nanticokes, and abundance of other pulse, too tedious here to name, which we found the indians possess'd of, when first we settled in america; some of which sorts afford us two crops in one year; as the bonavis and calavancies, besides several others of that kind. {eng. bean.} now i am launch'd into a discourse of the pulse, i must acquaint you, that the european bean planted here, will, in time, degenerate into a dwarfish sort, if not prevented by a yearly supply of foreign seed, and an extravagant rich soil; yet these pigmy-beans are the sweetest of that kind i ever met withal. {pease.} as for all the sorts of english pease that we have yet made tryal of, they thrive very well in carolina. particularly, the white and gray rouncival, the common field-pease, and sickle-pease yield very well, and are of a good relish. as for the other sorts, i have not seen any made tryal of as yet, but question not their coming to great perfection with us. {kidney-bean.} the kidney-beans were here before the english came, being very plentiful in the indian corn-fields. {roots.} the garden-roots that thrive well in carolina, are carrots, leeks, parsnips, turneps, potatoes, of several delicate sorts, ground artichokes, radishes, horse-radish, beet, both sorts, onions, shallot, garlick, cives, and the wild-onions. {sallads.} the sallads are the lettice, curl'd, red, cabbage, and savoy. the spinage round and prickly, fennel, sweet and the common sort, samphire in the marshes excellent, so is the dock or wild-rhubarb, rocket, sorrel, french and english, cresses of several sorts, purslain wild, and that of a larger size which grows in the gardens; {no purslain in indian fields.} for this plant is never met withal in the indian plantations, and is, therefore, suppos'd to proceed from cow-dung, which beast they keep not. parsley two sorts; asparagus thrives to a miracle, without hot beds or dunging the land, white-cabbage from european or new-england seed, for the people are negligent and unskilful, and don't take care to provide seed of their own. the colly-flower we have not yet had an opportunity to make tryal of, nor has the artichoke ever appear'd amongst us, that i can learn. coleworts plain and curl'd, savoys; besides the water-melons of several sorts, very good, which should have gone amongst the fruits. of musk-melons we have very large and good, and several sorts, as the golden, green, guinea, and orange. cucumbers long, short, and prickly, all these from the natural ground, and great increase, without any helps of dung or reflection. pompions yellow and very large, burmillions, cashaws, an excellent fruit boil'd; squashes, simnals, horns, and gourds; besides many other species, of less value, too tedious to name. {pot-herbs, and others for physick.} our pot-herbs and others of use, which we already possess, are angelica wild and tame, balm, bugloss, borage, burnet, clary, marigold, pot-marjoram, and other marjorams, summer and winter savory, columbines, tansey, wormwood, nep, mallows several sorts, drage red and white, lambs quarters, thyme, hyssop of a very large growth, sweet bazil, rosemary, lavender: the more physical, are carduus benedictus, the scurvy-grass of america, i never here met any of the european sort; tobacco of many sorts, dill, carawa, cummin, anise, coriander, all sorts of plantain of england, and two sorts spontaneous, good vulneraries; elecampane, comfrey, nettle, the seed from england, none native; monks rhubarb, burdock, asarum wild in the woods, reckon'd one of the snake-roots; poppies in the garden, none wild yet discover'd; wormseed, feverfew, rue, ground-ivy spontaneous, but very small and scarce, aurea virga, {rattle-snakes.} four sorts of snake-roots, besides the common species, which are great antidotes against that serpent's bite, and are easily rais'd in the garden; mint; {james-town-weed, the seed like onion seed.} james-town-weed, so called from virginia, the seed it bears is very like that of an onion; it is excellent for curing burns, and asswaging inflammations, but taken inwardly brings on a sort of drunken madness. one of our marsh-weeds, like a dock, has the same effect, and possesses the party with fear and watchings. the red-root whose leaf is like spear-mint, is good for thrushes and sore mouths; camomil, but it must be kept in the shade, otherwise it will not thrive; housleek first from england; vervin; night-shade, several kinds; harts-tongue; yarrow abundance, mullein the same, both of the country; sarsaparilla, and abundance more i could name, yet not the hundredth part of what remains, a catalogue of which is a work of many years, and without any other subject, would swell to a large volume, and requires the abilities of a skilful botanist: had not the ingenious mr. banister (the greatest virtuoso we ever had on the continent) been unfortunately taken out of this world, he would have given the best account of the plants of america, of any that ever yet made such an attempt in these parts. not but we are satisfy'd, the species of vegetables in carolina, are so numerous, that it requires more than one man's age to bring the chiefest part of them into regular classes; the country being so different in its situation and soil, that what one place plentifully affords, another is absolutely a stranger to; yet we generally observe, that the greatest variety is found in the low grounds, and savanna's. {flowers.} the flower-garden in carolina is as yet arriv'd but to a very poor and jejune perfection. we have only two sorts of roses; the clove-july-flowers, violets, princes feather, and tres colores. there has been nothing more cultivated in the flower-garden, which, at present, occurs to my memory; but as for the wild spontaneous flowers of this country, nature has been so liberal, that i cannot name one tenth part of the valuable ones; and since, to give specimens, would only swell the volume, and give little satisfaction to the reader, i shall therefore proceed to the present state of carolina, and refer the shrubs and other vegetables of larger growth, till hereafter, and then shall deliver them and the other species in their order. the present state of carolina. when we consider the latitude and convenient situation of carolina, had we no farther confirmation thereof, our reason would inform us, that such a place lay fairly to be a delicious country, being placed in that girdle of the world which affords wine, oil, fruit, grain, and silk, with other rich commodities, besides a sweet air, moderate climate, and fertile soil; these are the blessings (under heaven's protection) that spin out the thread of life to its utmost extent, and crown our days with the sweets of health and plenty, which, when join'd with content, renders the possessors the happiest race of men upon earth. {the present state of carolina.} the inhabitants of carolina, thro' the richness of the soil, live an easy and pleasant life. the land being of several sorts of compost, some stiff, others light, some marl, others rich black mould; here barren of pine, but affording pitch, tar, and masts; there vastly rich, especially on the freshes of the rivers, one part bearing great timbers, others being savanna's or natural meads, where no trees grow for several miles, adorn'd by nature with a pleasant verdure, and beautiful flowers, frequent in no other places, yielding abundance of herbage for cattle, sheep, and horse. the country in general affords pleasant seats, the land (except in some few places) being dry and high banks, {necks of land.} parcell'd out into most convenient necks, (by the creeks) easy to be fenced in for securing their stocks to more strict boundaries, whereby, with a small trouble of fencing, almost every man may enjoy, to himself, an entire plantation, or rather park. these, with the other benefits of plenty of fish, wild-fowl, venison, and the other conveniencies which this summer-country naturally furnishes, has induc'd a great many families to leave the more northerly plantations, and sit down under one of the mildest governments in the world; in a country that, with moderate industry, will afford all the necessaries of life. we have yearly abundance of strangers come among us, who chiefly strive to go southerly to settle, because there is a vast tract of rich land betwixt the place we are seated in, and cape-fair, and upon that river, and more southerly, which is inhabited by none but a few indians, who are at this time well affected to the english, and very desirous of their coming to live among them. {purchase of land.} the more southerly, the milder winters, with the advantages of purchasing the lords land at the most easy and moderate rate of any lands in america, nay (allowing all advantages thereto annex'd) i may say, the universe does not afford such another; besides, men have a great advantage of choosing good and commodious tracts of land at the first seating of a country or river, whereas the later settlers are forced to purchase smaller dividends of the old standers, and sometimes at very considerable rates; {land in virginia and maryland.} as now in virginia and maryland, where a thousand acres of good land cannot be bought under twenty shillings an acre, besides two shillings yearly acknowledgment for every hundred acres; which sum, be it more or less, will serve to put the merchant or planter here into a good posture of buildings, slaves, and other necessaries, when the purchase of his land comes to him on such easy terms. {stocks increase.} and as our grain and pulse thrives with us to admiration, no less do our stocks of cattle, horses, sheep, and swine multiply. {beef.} the beef of carolina equalizes the best that our neighbouring colonies afford; the oxen are of a great size when they are suffer'd to live to a fit age. i have seen fat and good beef at all times of the year, but october and the cool months are the seasons we kill our beeves in, when we intend them for salting or exportation; for then they are in their prime of flesh, all coming from grass, we never using any other food for our cattle. {heifers.} the heifers bring calves at eighteen or twenty months old, which makes such a wonderful increase, that many of our planters, from very mean beginnings, have rais'd themselves, and are now masters of hundreds of fat beeves, and other cattle. {veal.} the veal is very good and white, so is the milk very pleasant and rich, there being, at present, considerable quantities of butter and cheese made, that is very good, not only serving our own necessities, but we send out a great deal among our neighbours. {sheep.} the sheep thrive very well at present, having most commonly two lambs at one yeaning: as the country comes to be open'd, they prove still better, change of pasture being agreeable to that useful creature. mutton is (generally) exceeding fat, and of a good relish; their wool is very fine, and proves a good staple. {horses.} the horses are well-shap'd and swift; the best of them would sell for ten or twelve pounds in england. they prove excellent drudges, and will travel incredible journeys. they are troubled with very few distempers, neither do the cloudy-fac'd grey horses go blind here, as in europe. as for spavins, splints, and ring-bones, they are here never met withal, as i can learn. were we to have our stallions and choice of mares from england, or any other of a good sort, and careful to keep them on the highlands, we could not fail of a good breed; but having been supply'd with our first horses from the neighbouring plantations, which were but mean, they do not as yet come up to the excellency of the english horses; tho' we generally find, that the colt exceeds, in beauty and strength, its sire and dam. {swine.} the pork exceeds any in europe; the great diversity and goodness of the acorns and nuts which the woods afford, making that flesh of an excellent taste, and produces great quantities; so that carolina (if not the chief) is not inferior, in this one commodity, to any colony in the hands of the english. {goats.} as for goats, they have been found to thrive and increase well, but being mischievous to orchards and other trees, makes people decline keeping them. {produce.} our produce for exportation to europe and the islands in america, are beef, pork, tallow, hides, deer-skins, furs, pitch, tar, wheat, indian-corn, pease, masts, staves, heading, boards, and all sorts of timber and lumber for madera and the west-indies; rozin, turpentine, and several sorts of gums and tears, with some medicinal drugs, are here produc'd; besides rice, and several other foreign grains, which thrive very well. good bricks and tiles are made, and several sorts of useful earths, as bole, fullers-earth, oaker, and tobacco-pipe-clay, in great plenty; earths for the potters trade, and fine sand for the glass-makers. in building with bricks, we make our lime of oyster-shells, tho' we have great store of lime-stone, towards the heads of our rivers, where are stones of all sorts that are useful, besides vast quantities of excellent marble. iron-stone we have plenty of, both in the low-grounds and on the hills; lead and copper has been found, so has antimony heretofore; but no endeavours have been us'd to discover those subteraneous species; otherwise we might, in all probability, find out the best of minerals, which are not wanting in carolina. hot baths we have an account of from the indians that frequent the hill-country, {salt-peter.} where a great likelihood appears of making salt-peter, because the earth, in many places, is strongly mix'd with a nitrous salt, which is much coveted by the beasts, who come at some seasons in great droves and herds, and by their much licking of this earth, make great holes in those banks, which sometimes lie at the heads of great precipices, where their eagerness after this salt hastens their end, by falling down the high banks, so that they are dash'd in pieces. it must be confess'd, that the most noble and sweetest part of this country, is not inhabited by any but the savages; and a great deal of the richest part thereof, has no inhabitants but the beasts of the wilderness: for, the indians are not inclinable to settle in the richest land, because the timbers are too large for them to cut down, and too much burthen'd with wood for their labourers to make plantations of; besides, the healthfulness of those hills is apparent, by the gigantick stature, and gray-heads, so common amongst the savages that dwell near the mountains. the great creator of all things, having most wisely diffus'd his blessings, by parcelling out the vintages of the world, into such lots, as his wonderful foresight saw most proper, requisite, and convenient for the habitations of his creatures. towards the sea, we have the conveniency of trade, transportation, and other helps the water affords; but oftentimes, those advantages are attended with indifferent land, a thick air, and other inconveniences; when backwards, near the mountains, you meet with the richest soil, a sweet, thin air, dry roads, pleasant small murmuring streams, and several beneficial productions and species, which are unknown in the european world. one part of this country affords what the other is wholly a stranger to. {chalybeate waters.} we have chalybeate waters of several tastes and different qualities; some purge, others work by the other emunctories. we have, amongst the inhabitants, a water, that is, inwardly, a great apersive, and, outwardly, cures ulcers, tettars, and sores, by washing therewith. {coal-mine in virginia.} there has been a coal-mine lately found near the mannakin town, above the falls of james-river in virginia, which proves very good, and is us'd by the smiths, for their forges; and we need not doubt of the same amongst us, towards the heads of our rivers; but the plenty of wood (which is much the better fuel) makes us not inquisitive after coal-mines. {french refugees.} most of the french, who lived at that town on james-river, are remov'd to trent-river, in north-carolina, where the rest were expected daily to come to them, when i came away, which was in august, . they are much taken with the pleasantness of that country, and, indeed, are a very industrious people. at present, they make very good linnen-cloath and thread, and are very well vers'd in cultivating hemp and flax, of both which they raise very considerable quantities; and design to try an essay of the grape, for making of wine. {planters.} as for those of our own country in carolina, some of the men are very laborious, and make great improvements in their way; but i dare hardly give 'em that character in general. the easy way of living in that plentiful country, makes a great many planters very negligent, which, were they otherwise, that colony might now have been in a far better condition than it is, (as to trade, and other advantages) which an universal industry would have led them into. {women good houswives.} the women are the most industrious sex in that place, and, by their good houswifry, make a great deal of cloath of their own cotton, wool and flax; some of them keeping their families (though large) very decently apparel'd, both with linnens and woollens, so that they have no occasion to run into the merchant's debt, or lay their money out on stores for cloathing. {natives of carolina.} the christian natives of carolina are a straight, clean-limb'd people; the children being seldom or never troubled with rickets, or those other distempers, that the europeans are visited withal. 'tis next to a miracle, to see one of them deform'd in body. the vicinity of the sun makes impression on the men, who labour out of doors, or use the water. {beautiful.} as for those women, that do not expose themselves to the weather, they are often very fair, and generally as well featur'd, as you shall see any where, and have very brisk charming eyes, which sets them off to advantage. they marry very young; some at thirteen or fourteen; and she that stays till twenty, is reckon'd a stale maid; which is a very indifferent character in that warm country. the women are very fruitful; most houses being full of little ones. it has been observ'd, that women long marry'd, and without children, in other places, have remov'd to carolina, and become joyful mothers. they have very easy travail in their child-bearing, in which they are so happy, as seldom to miscarry. {not passionate.} both sexes are generally spare of body, and not cholerick, nor easily cast down at disappointments and losses, seldom immoderately grieving at misfortunes, unless for the loss of their nearest relations and friends, which seems to make a more than ordinary impression upon them. many of the women are very handy in canoes, and will manage them with great dexterity and skill, which they become accustomed to in this watry country. {good wives.} they are ready to help their husbands in any servile work, as planting, when the season of the weather requires expedition; pride seldom banishing good houswifry. the girls are not bred up to the wheel, and sewing only; but the dairy and affairs of the house they are very well acquainted withal; so that you shall see them, whilst very young, manage their business with a great deal of conduct and alacrity. {natives are docile.} the children of both sexes are very docile, and learn any thing with a great deal of ease and method; and those that have the advantages of education, write good hands, and prove good accountants, which is most coveted, and indeed most necessary in these parts. the young men are commonly of a bashful, sober behaviour; {no prodigals.} few proving prodigals, to consume what the industry of their parents has left them, but commonly improve it. the marrying so young, carries a double advantage with it, and that is, that the parents see their children provided for in marriage, and the young married people are taught by their parents, how to get their living; for their admonitions make great impressions on their children. {great age of americans.} i had heard (before i knew this new world) that the natives of america were a short-liv'd people, which, by all the observations i could ever make, proves quite contrary; for those who are born here, and in other colonies, live to as great ages as any of the europeans, the climate being free from consumptions, which distemper, fatal to england, they are strangers to. and as the country becomes more clear'd of wood, it still becomes more healthful to the inhabitants, and less addicted to the ague; which is incident to most new comers into america from europe, yet not mortal. a gentle emetick seldom misses of driving it away, but if it is not too troublesome, 'tis better to let the seasoning have its own course, in which case, the party is commonly free from it ever after, and very healthful. and now, as to the other advantages the country affords, we cannot guess at them at present, because, as i said before, the best part of this country is not inhabited by the english, from whence probably will hereafter spring productions that this age does not dream of, and of much more advantage to the inhabitants than any things we are yet acquainted withal: and as for several productions of other countries, much in the same latitude, we may expect, with good management, they will become familiar to us, as wine, oil, fruit, silk, and other profitable commodities, such as drugs, dyes, &c. and at present the curious may have a large field to satisfy and divert themselves in, {collections.} as collections of strange beasts, birds, insects, reptiles, shells, fishes, minerals, herbs, flowers, plants, shrubs, intricate roots, gums, tears, rozins, dyes, and stones, with several other that yield satisfaction and profit to those, whose inclinations tend that way. and as for what may be hop'd for, towards a happy life and being, by such as design to remove thither, i shall add this; that with prudent management, i can affirm, by experience, not by hear-say, that any person, with a small beginning, may live very comfortably, and not only provide for the necessaries of life, but likewise for those that are to succeed him; {provisions very cheap.} provisions being very plentiful, and of good variety, to accommodate genteel house-keeping; and the neighbouring indians are friendly, and in many cases serviceable to us, in making us wares to catch fish in, for a small matter, which proves of great advantage to large families, because those engines take great quantities of many sorts of fish, that are very good and nourishing: {indians hunters.} some of them hunt and fowl for us at reasonable rates, the country being as plentifully provided with all sorts of game, as any part of america; the poorer sort of planters often get them to plant for them, by hiring them for that season, or for so much work, which commonly comes very reasonable. moreover, it is remarkable, that no place on the continent of america, has seated an english colony so free from blood-shed, as carolina; but all the others have been more damag'd and disturb'd by the indians, than they have; which is worthy notice, when we consider how oddly it was first planted with inhabitants. {fishing-trade.} the fishing-trade in carolina might be carried on to great advantage, considering how many sorts of excellent fish our sound and rivers afford, which cure very well with salt, as has been experienced by some small quantities, which have been sent abroad, and yielded a good price. {whale-fishing.} as for the whale-fishing, it is no otherwise regarded than by a few people who live on the sand-banks; and those only work on dead fish cast on shoar, none being struck on our coast, as they are to the northward; altho' we have plenty of whales there. great plenty is generally the ruin of industry. thus our merchants are not many, nor have those few there be, apply'd themselves to the european trade. the planter sits contented at home, whilst his oxen thrive and grow fat, and his stocks daily increase; the fatted porkets and poultry are easily rais'd to his table, and his orchard affords him liquor, so that he eats, and drinks away the cares of the world, and desires no greater happiness, than that which he daily enjoys. whereas, not only the european, but also the indian-trade, might be carried on to a great profit, because we lie as fairly for the body of indians, as any settlement in english-america; {indian-trade.} and for the small trade that has been carried on in that way, the dealers therein have throve as fast as any men, and the soonest rais'd themselves of any people i have known in carolina. {climate.} lastly, as to the climate, it is very healthful; {summer.} our summer is not so hot as in other places to the eastward in the same latitude; {no earthquakes.} neither are we ever visited by earthquakes, as many places in italy and other summer-countries are. our northerly winds, in summer, cool the air, and free us from pestilential fevers, which spain, barbary, and the neighbouring countries in europe, &c. are visited withal. {serene.} our sky is generally serene and clear, and the air very thin, in comparison of many parts of europe, where consumptions and catarrhs reign amongst the inhabitants. the winter has several fitts of sharp weather, especially when the wind is at n.w. which always clears the sky, though never so thick before. however, such weather is very agreeable to european bodies, and makes them healthy. the n.e. winds blowing in winter, bring with them thick weather, and, in the spring, sometimes, blight the fruits; but they very seldom endure long, being blown away by westerly winds, and then all becomes fair and clear again. {spring.} our spring, in carolina, is very beautiful, and the most pleasant weather a country can enjoy. {fall.} the fall is accompanied with cool mornings, which come in towards the latter end of august, and so continue (most commonly) very moderate weather till about christmas; then winter comes on apace. tho' these seasons are very piercing, yet the cold is of no continuance. perhaps, you will have cold weather for three or four days at a time; then pleasant warm weather follows, such as you have in england, about the latter end of april or beginning of may. in the year , we had the severest winter in carolina, that ever was known since the english came to settle there; for our rivers, that were not above half a mile wide, and fresh water, were frozen over; and some of them, in the north-part of this country, were passable for people to walk over. {no frontier.} one great advantage of north-carolina is, that we are not a frontier, and near the enemy; which proves very chargeable and troublesome, in time of war, to those colonies that are so seated. {near virginia.} another great advantage comes from its being near virginia, where we come often to a good market, at the return of the guinea-ships for negro's, and the remnant of their stores, which is very commodious for the indian-trade; besides, in war-time, we lie near at hand to go under their convoy, and to sell our provisions to the tobacco-fleets; {mariland.} for the planting of tobacco generally in those colonies, prevents their being supplyed with stores, sufficient for victualling their ships. {necessaries for carolina.} as for the commodities, which are necessary to carry over to this plantation, for use and merchandize, and are, therefore, requisite for those to have along with them, that intend to transport themselves thither, they are guns, powder and shot, flints, linnens of all sorts, but chiefly ordinary blues, osnabrugs, scotch and irish linnen, and some fine: mens and womens cloaths ready made up, some few broad-cloaths, kerseys and druggets; to which you must add haberdashers-wares, hats about five or six shillings apiece, and a few finer; a few wiggs, not long, and pretty thin of hair; thin stuffs for women; iron-work, as nails, spades, axes, broad and narrow hoes, frows, wedges, and saws of all sorts, with other tools for carpenters, joiners, coopers, shoemakers, shave-locks, &c. all which, and others which are necessary for the plantations, you may be inform'd of, and buy at very reasonable rates, of mr. james gilbert, ironmonger, in mitre-tavern-yard, near aldgate. you may also be used very kindly, for your cuttlery-ware, and other advantageous merchandizes, and your cargo's well sorted, by capt. sharp, at the blue-gate in cannon-street; and for earthen-ware, window-glass, grind-stones, mill-stones, paper, ink-powder, saddles, bridles, and what other things you are minded to take with you, for pleasure or ornament. and now, i shall proceed to the rest of the vegetables, that are common in carolina, in reference to the place where i left off, which is the natural history of that country. [the natural history of carolina.] of the vegetables of carolina. the spontaneous shrubs of this country, are, the lark-heel-tree; three sorts of hony-suckle-tree, the first of which grows in branches, as our piemento-tree does, that is, always in low, moist ground; the other grows in clear, dry land, the flower more cut and lacerated; the third, which is the most beautiful, and, i think, the most charming flower of its colour, i ever saw, grows betwixt two and three foot high, and for the most part, by the side of a swampy wood, or on the banks of our rivers, but never near the salt-water. all the sorts are white; the last grows in a great bunch of these small hony-suckles set upon one chief stem, and is commonly the bigness of a large turnep. nothing can appear more beautiful than these bushes, when in their splendour, which is in april and may. the next is the honey-suckle of the forest; it grows about a foot high, bearing its flowers on small pedestals, several of them standing on the main stock, which is the thickness of a wheat-straw. we have also the wood-bind, much the same as in england; princes-feather, very large and beautiful in the garden; tres-colores, branch'd sun-flower, double poppies, lupines, of several pretty sorts, spontaneous; and the sensible plant is said to be near the mountains, which i have not yet seen. saf-flower; (and i believe, the saffron of england would thrive here, if planted) the yellow jessamin is wild in our woods, of a pleasant smell. ever-greens are here plentifully found, of a very quick growth, and pleasant shade; cypress, or white cedar, the pitch pine, the yellow pine, the white pine with long leaves; and the smaller almond-pine, which last bears kernels in the apple, tasting much like an almond; and in some years there falls such plenty, as to make the hogs fat. horn-beam; cedar, two sorts; holly, two sorts; bay-tree, two sorts; one the dwarf-bay, about twelve foot high; the other the bigness of a middling pine-tree, about two foot and half diameter; laurel-trees, in height equalizing the lofty oaks; the berries and leaves of this tree dyes a yellow; the bay-berries yield a wax, which besides its use in chirurgery, makes candles that, in burning, give a fragrant smell. the cedar-berries are infused, and made beer of, by the bermudians, they are carminative, and much of the quality of juniper-berries; yew and box i never saw or heard of in this country: there are two sorts of myrtles, different in leaf and berry; the berry yields wax that makes candles, the most lasting, and of the sweetest smell imaginable. some mix half tallow with this wax, others use it without mixture; and these are fit for a lady's chamber, and incomparable to pass the line withal, and other hot countries, because they will stand, when others will melt, by the excessive heat, down in the binacles. ever-green oak, two sorts; gall-berry-tree, bearing a black berry, with which the women dye their cloaths and yarn black; 'tis a pretty ever-green, and very plentiful, growing always in low swampy grounds, and amongst ponds. we have a prim or privet, which grows on the dry, barren, sandy hills, by the sound side; it bears a smaller sort than that in england, and grows into a round bush, very beautiful. {yaupon.} last of bushes, (except savine, which grows every where wild) is the famous yaupon, of which i find two sorts, if not three. i shall speak first of the nature of this plant, and afterwards account for the different sorts. this yaupon, call'd by the south-carolina indians, cassena, is a bush, that grows chiefly on the sand-banks and islands, bordering on the sea of carolina; on this coast it is plentifully found, and in no other place that i know of. it grows the most like box, of any vegetable that i know, being very like it in leaf, only dented exactly like tea, but the leaf somewhat fatter. i cannot say, whether it bears any flower, but a berry it does, about the bigness of a grain of pepper, being first red, then brown when ripe, which is in december; some of these bushes grow to be twelve foot high, others are three or four. the wood thereof is brittle as myrtle, and affords a light ash-colour'd bark. there is sometimes found of it in swamps and rich low grounds, which has the same figured leaf, only it is larger, and of a deeper green; this may be occasion'd by the richness that attends the low grounds thus situated. the third sort has the same kind of leaf, but never grows a foot high, and is found both in rich, low land, and on the sand-hills. i don't know that ever i found any seed, or berries on the dwarfish sort, yet i find no difference in taste, when infusion is made: cattle and sheep delight in this plant very much, and so do the deer, all which crop it very short, and browze thereon, wheresoever they meet with it. i have transplanted the sand-bank and dwarfish yaupon, and find that the first year, the shrubs stood at a stand; but the second year they throve as well as in their native soil. this plant is the indian tea, us'd and approv'd by all the savages on the coast of carolina, and from them sent to the westward indians, and sold at a considerable price. {curing the yaupon.} all which they cure after the same way, as they do for themselves; which is thus: they take this plant (not only the leaves, but the smaller twigs along with them) and bruise it in a mortar, till it becomes blackish, the leaf being wholly defaced: then they take it out, put it into one of their earthen pots which is over the fire, till it smoaks; stirring it all the time, till it is cur'd. others take it, after it is bruis'd, and put it into a bowl, to which they put live coals, and cover them with the yaupon, till they have done smoaking, often turning them over. after all, they spread it upon their mats, and dry it in the sun to keep for use. the spaniards in new-spain have this plant very plentifully on the coast of florida, and hold it in great esteem. sometimes they cure it as the indians do; or else beat it to a powder, so mix it, as coffee; yet before they drink it, they filter the same. they prefer it above all liquids, to drink with physick, to carry the same safely and speedily thro' the passages, for which it is admirable, as i myself have experimented. {timber.} in the next place, i shall speak of the timber that carolina affords, which is as follows. {chesnut-oak.} chesnut-oak, is a very lofty tree, clear of boughs and limbs, for fifty or foot. they bear sometimes four or five foot through all clear timber; and are the largest oaks we have, yielding the fairest plank. they grow chiefly in low land, that is stiff and rich. i have seen of them so high, that a good gun could not reach a turkey, tho' loaded with swan-shot. they are call'd chesnut, because of the largeness and sweetness of the acorns. {scaly oaks.} white, scaly-bark oak; this is used, as the former, in building sloops and ships. tho' it bears a large acorn, yet it never grows to the bulk and height of the chesnut oak. it is so call'd, because of a scaly, broken, white bark, that covers this tree, growing on dry land. {red oak.} we have red oak, sometimes, in good land, very large, and lofty. 'tis a porous wood, and used to rive into rails for fences. 'tis not very durable; yet some use this, as well as the two former, for pipe and barrel-staves. it makes good clap-boards. {spanish oak.} spanish oak is free to rive, bears a whitish, smooth bark; and rives very well into clap-boards. it is accounted durable, therefore some use to build vessels with it for the sea; it proving well and durable. these all bear good mast for the swine. {bastard spanish.} bastard-spanish is an oak betwixt the spanish and red oak; the chief use is for fencing and clap-boards. it bears good acorns. {black oak.} the next is black oak, which is esteem'd a durable wood, under water; but sometimes it is used in house-work. it bears a good mast for hogs. {white iron.} white iron, or ring-oak, is so call'd, from the durability and lasting quality of this wood. it chiefly grows on dry, lean land, and seldom fails of bearing a plentiful crop of acorns. this wood is found to be very durable, and is esteem'd the best oak for ship-work that we have in carolina; for tho' live oak be more lasting, yet it seldom allows planks of any considerable length. {turkey oak.} turkey-oak is so call'd from a small acorn it bears, which the wild turkeys feed on. {live oak.} live-oak chiefly grows on dry, sandy knolls. this is an ever-green, and the most durable oak all america affords. the shortness of this wood's bowl, or trunk, makes it unfit for plank to build ships withal. there are some few trees, that would allow a stock of twelve foot, but the firmness and great weight thereof, frightens our sawyers from the fatigue that attends the cutting of this timber. a nail once driven therein, 'tis next to an impossibility to draw it out. the limbs thereof are so cur'd, that they serve for excellent timbers, knees, &c. for vessels of any sort. the acorns thereof are as sweet as chesnuts, and the indians draw an oil from them, as sweet as that from the olive, tho' of an amber-colour. with these nuts, or acorns, some have counterfeited the cocoa, whereof they have made chocolate, not to be distinguish'd by a good palate. window-frames, mallets, and pins for blocks, are made thereof, to an excellent purpose. i knew two trees of this wood among the indians, which were planted from the acorn, and grew in the freshes, and never saw any thing more beautiful of that kind. they are of an indifferent quick growth; of which there are two sorts. the acorns make very fine pork. {willow oak.} willow-oak is a sort of water-oak. it grows in ponds and branches, and is useful for many things. it is so call'd, from the leaf, which very much resembles a willow. {fresh-water oak.} the live oak grows in the fresh water ponds and swamps, by the river sides, and in low ground overflown with water; and is a perennial green. {ash.} of ash we have two sorts, agreeing nearly with the english in the grain. one of our sorts is tough, like the english, but differs something in the leaf, and much more in the bark. neither of them bears keys. the water-ash is brittle. the bark is food for the bevers. {elm.} there are two sorts of elm; the first grows on our high-land, and approaches our english. the indians take the bark of its root, and beat it, whilst green, to a pulp; and then dry it in the chimney, where it becomes of a reddish colour. this they use as a sovereign remedy to heal a cut or green wound, or any thing that is not corrupted. it is of a very glutinous quality. the other elm grows in low ground, of whose bark the english and indians make ropes; for as soon as the sap rises, it strips off, with the greatest ease imaginable. it runs in march, or thereabouts. {tulip-tree.} the tulip-trees, which are, by the planters, call'd poplars, as nearest approaching that wood in grain, grow to a prodigious bigness, some of them having been found one and twenty foot in circumference. i have been inform'd of a tulip-tree, that was ten foot diameter; and another, wherein a lusty man had his bed and houshold furniture, and liv'd in it, till his labour got him a more fashionable mansion. he afterwards became a noted man, in his country, for wealth and conduct. one of these sorts bears a white tulip; the other a party-colour'd, mottled one. the wood makes very pretty wainscot, shingles for houses, and planks for several uses. it is reckon'd very lasting; especially, under ground, for mill-work. the buds, made into an ointment, cure scalds, inflammations, and burns. i saw several bushels thereon. the cattle are apt to eat of these buds, which give a very odd taste to the milk. {beech.} beech is here frequent, and very large. the grain seems exactly the same as that in europe. we make little use thereof, save for fire-wood. 'tis not a durable timber. it affords a very sweet nut, yet the pork fed thereon (tho' sweet) is very oily, and ought to be harden'd with indian corn, before it is kill'd. {buck beech.} another sort call'd buck-beech is here found. {horn-beam.} horn-beam grows, in some places, very plentifully; yet the plenty of other wood makes it unregarded. {sassafras.} the vertues of sassafras are well known in europe. this wood sometimes grows to be above two foot over, and is very durable and lasting, used for bowls, timbers, posts for houses, and other things that require standing in the ground. 'tis very light. it bears a white flower, which is very cleansing to the blood, being eaten in the spring, with other sallating. the berry, when ripe, is black; 'tis very oily, carminative, and extremely prevalent in clysters for the colick. the bark of the root is a specifick to those afflicted with the gripes. the same in powder, and a lotion made thereof, is much used by the savages, to mundify old ulcers, and for several other uses; being highly esteem'd among them. {dog-wood.} dog-wood is plentiful on our light land, inclining to a rich soil. it flowers the first in the woods; its white blossom making the forest very beautiful. it has a fine grain, and serves for several uses within doors; but is not durable. the bark of this root infused, is held an infallible remedy against the worms. {laurel.} laurel, before-mention'd; as to its bigness and use, i have seen planks sawn of this wood; but 'tis not found durable in the weather; yet pretty enough for many other uses. bay and laurel generally delight in a low, swampy ground. i know no use they make of them, but for fire-wood, excepting what i spoke of before, amongst the ever-greens. {ever-green.} a famous ever-green i must now mention, which was forgotten amongst the rest. it is in leaf like a jessamine, but larger, and of a harder nature. this grows up to a large vine, and twists itself round the trees it grows near, making a very fine shade. i never saw any thing of that nature outdo it, and if it be cut away close to the ground, it will presently spring up again, it being impossible to destroy it, when once it has got root. 'tis an ornamental plant, and worth the transplanting. its seed is a black berry. {trumpet-vine.} the scarlet trumpet-vine bears a glorious red flower, like a bell, or trumpet, and makes a shade inferiour to none that i ever saw; yet it leaves us, when the winter comes, and remains naked till the next spring. it bears a large cod, that holds its seed. {maycock.} the maycock bears a glorious flower, and apple of an agreeable sweet, mixt with an acid taste. this is also a summer-vine. {indico-trees.} the indico grows plentifully in our quarters. {bay-tulips.} the bay-tulip-tree is a fine ever-green which grows frequently here. {sweet gum.} the sweet gum-tree, so call'd, because of the fragrant gum it yields in the spring-time, upon incision of the bark, or wood. it cures the herpes and inflammations; being apply'd to the morphew and tettars. 'tis an extraordinary balsam, and of great value to those who know how to use it. no wood has scarce a better grain; whereof fine tables, drawers, and other furniture might be made. some of it is curiously curl'd. it bears a round bur, with a sort of prickle, which is the seed. {black gums.} of the black gum there grows, with us, two sorts; both fit for cart-naves. the one bears a black, well-tasted berry, which the indians mix with their pulse and soups, it giving 'em a pretty flavour, and scarlet colour. the bears crop these trees for the berries, which they mightily covet, yet kill'd in that season, they eat very unsavory; which must be occasion'd by this fruit, because, at other times, when they feed on mast, bears-flesh is a very well-tasted food. the other gum bears a berry in shape like the other, tho' bitter and ill-tasted. this tree (the indians report) is never wounded by lightning. it has no certain grain; and it is almost impossible to split or rive it. {white gum.} the white gum, bearing a sort of long bunch'd flowers, is the most curled and knotted wood i ever saw, which would make curious furniture, in case it was handled by a good workman. {red cedar.} the red sort of cedar is an ever-green, of which carolina affords plenty. that on the salts, grows generally on the sand-banks; and that in the freshes is found in the swamps. of this wood, tables, wainscot, and other necessaries, are made, and esteemed for its sweet smell. it is as durable a wood as any we have, therefore much used in posts for houses and sills; likewise to build sloops, boats, &c. by reason the worm will not touch it, for several years. the vessels built thereof are very durable, and good swimmers. of this cedar, ship-loads may be exported. it has been heretofore so plentiful in this settlement, that they have fenced in plantations with it, and the coffins of the dead are generally made thereof. {white cedar.} white cedar, so call'd, because it nearly approaches the other cedar, in smell, bark, and leaf; only this grows taller, being as strait as an arrow. it is extraordinary light, and free to rive. 'tis good for yard, top-masts, booms and boltsprits, being very tough. the best shingles for houses are made of this wood, it being no strain to the roof, and never rots. good pails and other vessels, free from leakage, are likewise made thereof. the bark of this and the red cedar, the indians use to make their cabins of, which prove firm, and resist all weathers. {cypress.} cypress is not an ever-green with us, and is therefore call'd the bald cypress, because the leaves, during the winter-season, turn red, not recovering their verdure till the spring. these trees are the largest for height and thickness, that we have in this part of the world; some of them holding thirty-six foot in circumference. upon incision, they yield a sweet-smelling grain, tho' not in great quantities; and the nuts which these trees bear plentifully, yield a most odoriferous balsam, that infallibly cures all new and green wounds, which the inhabitants are well acquainted withal. of these great trees the pereaugers and canoes are scoop'd and made; which sort of vessels are chiefly to pass over the rivers, creeks, and bays; and to transport goods and lumber from one river to another. some are so large, as to carry thirty barrels, tho' of one entire piece of timber. others, that are split down the bottom, and a piece added thereto, will carry eighty, or an hundred. several have gone out of our inlets on the ocean to virginia, laden with pork, and other produce of the country. of these trees curious boats for pleasure may be made, and other necessary craft. some years ago, a foolish man in albemarl and his son, had got one of these canoes deck'd. she held, as i take it, sixteen barrels. he brought her to the collectors, to be clear'd for barbados; but the officer took him for a man that had lost his senses, and argu'd the danger and impossibility of performing such a voyage, in a hollow tree; but the fellow would hearken to no advice of that kind, till the gentleman told him, if he did not value his own life, he valu'd his reputation and honesty, and so flatly refus'd clearing him; upon which, the canoe was sold, and, i think, remains in being still. this wood is very lasting, and free from the rot. a canoe of it will outlast four boats, and seldom wants repair. they say, that a chest made of this wood, will suffer no moth, or vermine, to abide therein. {two sorts of locust white and yellow, is rare if varnish'd.} the locust, for its enduring the weather, is chosen for all sorts of works that are exposed thereto. it bears a leaf nearest the liquorice-plant. 'tis a pretty tall tree. of this the indians make their choicest bows, it being very tough and flexible. we have little or none of this wood in pampticough. {honey tree a locust.} the honey-tree bears as great a resemblance to the locust, as a shallot does to an onion. it is of that species, but more prickly. they bear a cod, one side whereof contains the seed, the other the honey; they will bear in five years, from the kernel. they were first brought (by the indian traders) and propagated, by their seed, at the apamaticks in virginia. last year, i planted the seed, and had them sprung up before i came from thence, which was in august. of the honey, very good metheglin is made, there being orchards planted in virginia for that intent. {sowr wood.} the sorrel, or sowr-wood-tree, is so call'd, because the leaves taste like sorrel. some are about a foot or ten inches diameter. i am unacquainted with its vertues at present. {pine.} of pines, there are, in carolina, at least, four sorts. the pitch-pine, growing to a great bigness, most commonly has but a short leaf. its wood (being replete with abundance of bitumen) is so durable, that it seems to suffer no decay, tho' exposed to all weathers, for many ages; and is used in several domestick and plantation uses. this tree affords the four great necessaries, pitch, tar, rozin, and turpentine; which two last are extracted by tapping, and the heat of the sun, the other two by the heat of the fire. the white and yellow pines are saw'd into planks for several uses. they make masts, yards, and a great many other necessaries therewith, the pine being the most useful tree in the woods. the almond-pine serves for masts very well. as for the dwarf-pine, it is for shew alone, being an ever-green, as they all are. {hiccory the best fire-wood.} the hiccory is of the walnut-kind, and bears a nut as they do, of which there are found three sorts. the first is that which we call the common white hiccory. it is not a durable wood; for if cut down, and exposed to the weather, it will be quite rotten, and spoil'd in three years; as will likewise the beech of this country. hiccory nuts have very hard shells, but excellent sweet kernels, with which, in a plentiful year, the old hogs, that can crack them, fatten themselves, and make excellent pork. these nuts are gotten, in great quantities, by the savages, and laid up for stores, of which they make several dishes and banquets. one of these i cannot forbear mentioning; it is this: they take these nuts, and break them very small betwixt two stones, till the shells and kernels are indifferent small; and this powder you are presented withal in their cabins, in little wooden dishes; the kernel dissolves in your mouth, and the shell is spit out. this tastes as well as any almond. another dish is the soup which they make of these nuts, beaten, and put into venison-broth, which dissolves the nut, and thickens, whilst the shell precipitates, and remains at the bottom. this broth tastes very rich. {red hiccory.} there is another sort, which we call red hiccory, the heart thereof being very red, firm and durable; of which walking-sticks, mortars, pestils, and several other fine turnery-wares are made. the third is call'd the flying-bark'd hiccory, from its brittle and scaly bark. it bears a nut with a bitter kernel and a soft shell, like a french walnut. of this wood, coggs for mills are made, &c. the leaves smell very fragrant. {walnut.} the walnut-tree of america is call'd black walnut. i suppose, that name was, at first, to distinguish it from the hiccories, it having a blacker bark. this tree grows, in good land, to a prodigious bigness. the wood is very firm and durable, of which tables and chests of drawers are made, and prove very well. some of this is very knotty, which would make the best returns for england, tho' the masters of vessels refuse it, not understanding its goodness. 'tis a very good and durable wood, to bottom vessels for the sea withal; and they say, that it is never eaten by the worm. the nuts have a large kernel, which is very oily, except lain by, a long time, to mellow. the shell is very thick, as all the native nuts of america are. when it has its yellow outward coat on, it looks and smells much like a lemon. {maple.} the maple, of which we have two sorts, is used to make trenchers, spinning-wheels, &c. withal. {chinkapin.} chinkapin is a sort of chesnut, whose nuts are most commonly very plentiful; insomuch that the hogs get fat with them. they are rounder and smaller than a chesnut, but much sweeter. the wood is much of the nature of chesnut, having a leaf and grain almost like it. it is used to timber boats, shallops, &c. and makes any thing that is to endure the weather. this and the hiccory are very tough rods used to whip horses withal; yet their wood, in substance, is very brittle. this tree the vine much delights to twist about. it's good fire-wood, but very sparkling, as well as sassafras. {birch.} the birch grows all on the banks of our rivers, very high up. i never saw a tree on the salts. it differs something, in bark, from the european birch. its buds in april are eaten by the parrakeetos, which resort, from all parts, at that season, to feed thereon. where this wood grows, we are not yet seated; and as to the wine, or other profits it would yield, we are, at present, strangers to. {willow.} the willow, here, likewise differs both in bark and leaf. it is frequently found on the banks of fresh water, as the birch is. {sycamore.} the sycamore, in these parts, grows in a low, swampy land, by river-sides. its bark is quite different from the english, and the most beautiful i ever saw, being mottled and clowded with several colours, as white, blue, &c. it bears no keys but a bur like the sweet gum. its uses i am ignorant of. {aspin.} i never saw any aspin, but in rapahannock-river, from whence i brought one, (that was presented me there as a great present) but it died by the way. {holly.} of holly we have two sorts; one having a large leaf, the other a smaller. they grow very thick in our low woods. many of them are very strait, and two foot diameter. they make good trenchers, and other turnery-ware. {red-bud.} the red-bud-tree bears a purple lark-heel, and is the best sallad, of any flower i ever saw. it is ripe in april and may. they grow in trees, generally small, but some are a foot diameter. {pelletory.} pelletory grows on the sand-banks and islands. it is used to cure the tooth-ach, by putting a piece of the bark in the mouth, which being very hot, draws a rhume from the mouth, and causes much spittle. the indians use it to make their composition, which they give to their young men and boys, when they are husquenaw'd, of which you shall hear farther, when i come to treat of the customs, &c. of that people. {arrow-wood.} arrow-wood, growing on the banks, is used, by the indians, for arrows and gun-sticks. it grows as strait, as if plain'd, and is of all sizes. 'tis as tough and pliable, as the smallest canes. {chesnut.} the chesnut-tree of carolina, grows up towards the hilly part thereof, is a very large and durable wood, and fit for house-frames, palisado's, sills, and many other uses. the nut is smaller than those from portugal, but sweeter. {oak-vine.} this is no tree, but call'd the oak-vine, by reason it bears a sort of bur as the oak does, and generally runs up those trees. it's so porous, that you suck liquors thro' a length of two foot. prickly-ash grows up like a pole; of which the indians and english make poles to set their canoes along in shoal-water. it's very light, and full of thorns or prickles, bearing berries in large clusters, of a purple colour, not much unlike the alder. the root of this tree is cathartick and emetick, used in cachexies. {poison vine.} the poison vine is so called, because it colours the hands of those who handle it. what the effects of it may be, i cannot relate; neither do i believe, that any has made an experiment thereof. the juice of this will stain linnen, never to wash out. it marks a blackish blue colour, which is done only by breaking a bit of the vine off, and writing what you please therewith. i have thought, that the east-india natives set their colours, by some such means, into their finest callicoes. it runs up any tree it meets withal, and clasps round about it. the leaves are like hemlock, and fall off in winter. {canes and reeds.} of canes and reeds we have many sorts. the hollow reed, or cane, such as angling-rods are made of, and weavers use, we have great plenty of, though none to the northward of james-river in virginia. they always grow in branches and low ground. their leaves endure the winter, in which season our cattle eat them greedily. we have them (towards the heads of our rivers) so large, that one joint will hold above a pint of liquor. {bamboo.} the small bamboo is next, which is a certain vine, like the rest of these species, growing in low land. they seldom, with us, grow thicker than a man's little finger, and are very tough. their root is a round ball, which the indians boil as we do garden-roots, and eat them. when these roots have been some time out of the ground, they become hard, and make good heads to the canes, on which several pretty figures may be cut. there are several others of this kind, not thoroughly discover'd. {palmeto.} that palmeto grows with us, which we call the dwarfish sort; but the palmeto-tree i have not yet met withal in north-carolina, of which you have a description elsewhere. we shall next treat of the spontaneous fruits of this country; and then proceed to those that have been transplanted from europe, and other parts. {natural vines.} among the natural fruits, the vine first takes place, of which i find six sorts, very well known. {bunch-grapes.} the first is the black bunch-grapes, which yield a crimson juice. these grow common, and bear plentifully. they are of a good relish, though not large, yet well knit in the clusters. they have a thickish skin, and large stone, which makes them not yield much juice. there is another sort of black-grapes like the former, in all respects, save that their juice is of a light flesh-colour, inclining to a white. i once saw a spontaneous white bunch-grape in carolina; but the cattle browzing on the sprouts thereof in the spring, it died. {fox-grapes.} of those which we call fox-grapes, we have four sorts; two whereof are called summer-grapes, because ripe in july; the other two winter-fruit, because not ripe till september or october. the summer fox-grapes grow not in clusters, or great bunches, but are about five or six in a bunch, about the bigness of a damson, or larger. the black sort are frequent, the white not so commonly found. they always grow in swamps, and low moist lands, running sometimes very high, and being shady, and therefore proper for arbours. they afford the largest leaf i ever saw, to my remembrance, the back of which is of a white horse-flesh colour. this fruit always ripens in the shade. i have transplanted them into my orchard, and find they thrive well, if manured: a neighbour of mine has done the same; mine were by slips, his from the roots, which thrive to admiration, and bear fruit, tho' not so juicy as the european grape, but of a glutinous nature. however, it is pleasant enough to eat. the other winter fox-grapes, are much of the same bigness. these refuse no ground, swampy or dry, but grow plentifully on the sand-hills along the sea-coast, and elsewhere, and are great bearers. i have seen near twelve bushels upon one vine of the black sort. some of these, when thoroughly ripe, have a very pretty vinous taste, and eat very well, yet are glutinous. the white sort are clear and transparent, and indifferent small stones. being removed by the slip or root, they thrive well in our gardens, and make pleasant shades. {persimmons.} persimmon is a tree, that agrees with all lands and soils. their fruit, when ripe, is nearest our medlar; if eaten before, draws your mouth up like a purse, being the greatest astringent i ever met withal, therefore very useful in some cases. the fruit, if ripe, will presently cleanse a foul wound, but causes pain. the fruit is rotten, when ripe, and commonly contains four flat kernels, call'd stones, which is the seed. 'tis said, the cortex peruvianus comes from a persimmon-tree, that grows in new-spain. i have try'd the drying of this bark, to imitate it, which it does tolerably well, and agrees therewith. it is binding enough to work the same effect. the tree, in extraordinary land, comes sometimes to two foot diameter, though not often. there are two sorts of this fruit; one ripe in summer, the other when the frost visits us. {mulberry.} we have three sorts of mulberries, besides the different bigness of some trees fruit. the first is the common red mulberry, whose fruit is the earliest we have, (except the strawberries) and very sweet. these trees make a very fine shade, to sit under in summer-time. they are found wild in great quantities, wherever the land is light and rich; yet their fruit is much better when they stand open. they are used instead of raisins and currants, and make several pretty kickshaws. they yield a transparent crimson liquor, which would make good wine; but few peoples inclinations in this country tend that way. the others are a smooth-leav'd mulberry, fit for the silk-worm. one bears a white fruit, which is common; the other bears a small black berry, very sweet. they would persuade me there, that the black mulberry with the silk-worm smooth leaf, was a white mulberry, and changed its fruit. the wood hereof is very durable, and where the indians cannot get locust, they make use of this to make their bows. this tree grows extraordinary round and pleasant to the eye. the hiccory, walnut, chinkapin and chesnut, with their fruits, we have mention'd before. {hazle-nut.} the hazle-nut grows plentifully in some places of this country; especially, towards the mountains; but ours are not so good as the english nuts, having a much thicker shell (like all the fruits of america, that i ever met withal) which in hardness exceeds those of europe. {black-cherries.} the cherries of the woods grow to be very large trees. one sort, which is rarely found, is red, and not much unlike the cornel-berry. but the common cherry grows high, and in bunches, like english currants, but much larger. they are of a bitterish sweet relish, and are equally valuable with our small black-cherries, for an infusion in spirits. they yield a crimson liquor, and are great bearers. {rasberries.} our rasberries are of a purple colour, and agreeable relish, almost like the english; but i reckon them not quite so rich. when once planted, 'tis hard to root them out. they run wild all over the country, and will bear the same year you transplant them, as i have found by experience. {hurts.} the hurts, huckle-berries, or blues of this country, are four sorts, which we are well acquainted withal; but more species of this sort, and all others, time and enquiry must discover. the first sort is the same blue or bilberry, that grows plentifully in the north of england, and in other places, commonly on your heaths, commons, and woods, where brakes or fern grows. the second sort grows on a small bush in our savannas and meads, and in the woods. they are larger than the common fruit, and have larger seed. the third grows on the single stem of a stick that grows in low good land, and on the banks of rivers. they grow three or four foot high, and are very pleasant like the first sort, but larger. the fourth sort grows upon trees, some ten and twelve foot high, and the thickness of a man's arm; these are found in the runs and low grounds, and are very pleasant, and bear wonderfully. the english sometimes dry them in the sun, and keep them to use in the winter, instead of currants. the indians get many bushels, and dry them on mats, whereof they make plum-bread, and many other eatables. they are good in tarts, or infused in liquors. {piemento.} in the same ground, commonly grows the piemento, or all-spice-tree, whose berries differ in shape from those in the west-indies, being taper or conick, yet not inferiour, to any of that sort. this tree grows much like the hurts, and is of the same bigness. i have known it transplanted to high land, where it thrives. {dews. black-berries.} our dew-berries are very good. but the black-berries are bitterish, and not so palatable, as in england. {sugar tree.} the sugar-tree ought to have taken place before. it is found in no other parts of carolina or america, that i ever learnt, but in places that are near the mountains. it's most like one sort of maple, of any tree, and may be rank'd amongst that kind. this tree, which, i am told, is of a very tedious growth, is found very plentifully towards the heads of some of our rivers. the indians tap it, and make gourds to receive the liquor, which operation is done at distinct and proper times, when it best yields its juice, of which, when the indians have gotten enough, they carry it home, and boil it to a just consistence of sugar, which grains of itself, and serves for the same uses, as other sugar does. {papau.} the papau is not a large tree. i think, i never saw one a foot through; but has the broadest leaf of any tree in the woods, and bears an apple about the bigness of a hen's egg, yellow, soft, and as sweet, as any thing can well be. they make rare puddings of this fruit. the apple contains a large stone. {wild fig.} the wild fig grows in virginia, up in the mountains, as i am inform'd by a gentleman of my acquaintance, who is a person of credit, and a great traveller in america. i shall be glad to have an opportunity to make tryal what improvement might be made of this wild fruit. {plum red.} the wild plums of america are of several sorts. those which i can give an account of from my own knowledge, i will, and leave the others till a farther discovery. the most frequent is that which we call the common indian plum, of which there are two sorts, if not more. one of these is ripe much sooner than the other, and differs in the bark; one of the barks being very scaly, like our american birch. these trees, when in blossom, smell as sweet as any jessamine, and look as white as a sheet, being something prickly. you may make it grow to what shape you please; they are very ornamental about a house, and make a wonderful fine shew at a distance, in the spring, because of their white livery. their fruit is red, and very palatable to the sick. they are of a quick growth, and will bear from the stone in five years, on their stock. the english large black plum thrives well, as does the cherry, being grafted thereon. {damsons of america.} the american damsons are both black and white, and about the bigness of an european damson. they grow any where, if planted from the stone or slip; bear a white blossom, and are a good fruit. they are found on the sand-banks all along the coast of america. i have planted several in my orchard, that came from the stone, which thrive well amongst the rest of my trees. but they never grow to the bigness of the other trees now spoken of. these are plentiful bearers. there is a third sort of plum about the bigness of the damson. the tree is taller, seldom exceeding ten inches in thickness. the plum seems to taste physically, yet i never found any operation it had, except to make their lips sore, that eat them. the wood is something porous, but exceeds any box, for a beautiful yellow. {winter currant.} there is a very pretty, bushy tree, about seven or eight foot high, very spreading, which bears a winter-fruit, that is ripe in october. they call 'em currants, but they are nearer a hurt. i have eaten very pretty tarts made thereof. they dry them instead of currants. this bush is very beautiful. {bermudas currants.} the bermudas currants grow in the woods on a bush, much like the european currant. some people eat them very much; but for my part, i can see nothing inviting in them, and reckon them a very indifferent fruit. {april currants.} we have another currant, which grows on the banks of rivers, or where only clay hath been thrown up. this fruit is red, and gone almost as soon as come. they are a pretty fruit whilst they last, and the tree (for 'tis not a bush) they grow upon, is a very pleasant vegetable. {red haws.} the haw-thorn grows plentifully in some parts of this country. the haws are quite different from those in england, being four times as big, and of a very pleasant agreeable taste. we make no use of this plant, nor any other, for hedges, because timber is so plentiful at present. in my judgment, the honey-locust would be the fittest for hedges; because it is very apt to shoot forth many sprouts and succours from the roots; besides, it is of a quick growth, and very prickly. {black-haws.} the black haw grows on a slender tree, about the height of a quince-tree, or something higher, and bears the black haw, which people eat, and the birds covet also. what vertues the fruit or wood is of, i cannot resolve you, at present. {services.} thus have i given an account of all the spontaneous fruits of carolina, that have come to my knowledge, excepting services, which i have seen in the indians hands, and eat of them, but never saw, how nor where they grew. there may very well be expected a great many more fruits, which are the natural product of this country, when we consider the fruitfulness of the soil and climate, and account for the vast tract of land, (great part of which is not yet found out) according to the product of that which is already discover'd, which (as i once hinted before) is not as yet arriv'd to our knowledge, we having very little or no correspondence amongst the mountainous parts of this province, and towards the country of messiasippi, all which we have strange accounts of, and some very large ones, with respect to the different and noble fruits, and several other ornaments and blessings of nature which messiasippi possesses; more to be coveted, than any of those we enjoy, to the eastward of the mountains: yet when i came to discourse some of the idolizers of that country, i found it to be rather novelty, than truth and reality, that induced those persons to allow it such excellencies above others. it may be a brave and fertile country, as i believe it is; but i cannot be persuaded, that it can be near so advantageous as ours, which is much better situated for trade, being faced all along with the ocean, as the english america is; when the other is only a direct river, in the midst of a wild unknown land, greatest part of whose product must be fetch'd, or brought a great way, before it can come to a market. moreover, such great rivers commonly allow of more princes territories than one; and thus nothing but war and contention accompanies the inhabitants thereof. but not to trouble our readers with any more of this, we will proceed, in the next place, to shew, what exotick fruits we have, that thrive well in carolina; and what others, it may reasonably be suppos'd, would do there, were they brought thither and planted. in pursuance of which, i will set down a catalogue of what fruits we have; i mean species: for should i pretend to give a regular name to every one; it's neither possible for me to do it, nor for any one to understand it, when done; if we consider, that the chiefest part of our fruit came from the kernel, and some others from the succours, or sprouts of the tree. first, we will begin with apples; which are the {apples.} golden russet. pearmain | winter. | summer. harvey-apple, i cannot tell, whether the same as in england. winter queening. leather coat. juniting. codlin. redstreak. long-stalk. lady-finger. the golden russet thrives well. the pearmains, of both sorts, are apt to speck, and rot on the trees; and the trees are damaged and cut off by the worm, which breeds in the forks, and other parts thereof; and often makes a circumposition, by destroying the bark round the branches, till it dies. harvey-apple; that which we call so, is esteem'd very good to make cider of. winter queening is a durable apple, and makes good cider. leather-coat; both apple and tree stand well. the juniting is early ripe, and soon gone, in these warm countries. codlin; no better, and fairer fruit in the world; yet the tree suffers the same distemper, as the pearmains, or rather worse; the trees always dying before they come to their growth. the redstreak thrives very well. long-stalk is a large apple, with a long stalk, and makes good summer cider. we beat the first of our codlin cider, against reaping our wheat, which is from the tenth of june, to the five and twentieth. lady-finger, the long apple, the same as in england, and full as good. we have innumerable sorts; some call'd rope-apples which are small apples, hanging like ropes of onions; flattings, grigsons, cheese-apples, and a great number of names, given according to every ones discretion. {pears.} the warden-pear here proves a good eating pear; and is not so long ripening as in england. katharine excellent. sugar-pear. and several others without name, the bergamot we have not, nor either of the bonne chrestiennes, though i hear, they are all three in virginia. those sorts of pears which we have, are as well relisht, as ever i eat any where; but that fruit is of very short continuance with us, for they are gone almost as soon as ripe. {quinces.} i am not a judge of the different sorts of quinces, which they call brunswick, portugal, and barbary; but as to the fruit, in general, i believe no place has fairer and better relisht. they are very pleasant eaten raw. of this fruit, they make a wine, or liquor, which they call quince-drink, and which i approve of beyond any drink which that country affords, though a great deal of cider and some perry is there made. the quince-drink most commonly purges those that first drink it, and cleanses the body very well. the argument of the physicians, that they bind people, is hereby contradicted, unless we allow the quinces to differ in the two countries. the least slip of this tree stuck in the ground, comes to bear in three years. {peaches.} all peaches, with us, are standing; neither have we any wall-fruit in carolina; for we have heat enough, and therefore do not require it. we have a great many sorts of this fruit, which all thrive to admiration, peach-trees coming to perfection (with us) as easily as the weeds. a peach falling on the ground, brings a peach-tree that shall bear in three years, or sometimes sooner. eating peaches in our orchards makes them come up so thick from the kernel, that we are forced to take a great deal of care to weed them out; otherwise they make our land a wilderness of peach-trees. they generally bear so full, that they break great part of their limbs down. we have likewise very fair nectarines, especially the red, that clings to the stone, the other yellow fruit, that leaves the stone; of the last, i have a tree, that, most years, brings me fifteen or twenty bushels. i see no foreign fruit like this, for thriving in all sorts of land, and bearing its fruit to admiration. i want to be satisfy'd about one sort of this fruit, which the indians claim as their own, and affirm, they had it growing amongst them, before any europeans came to america. the fruit i will describe, as exactly as i can. the tree grows very large, most commonly as big as a handsome apple-tree; the flowers are of a reddish, murrey colour; the fruit is rather more downy, than the yellow peach, and commonly very large and soft, being very full of juice. they part freely from the stone, and the stone is much thicker than all the other peach stones we have, which seems to me, that it is a spontaneous fruit of america; yet in those parts of america that we inhabit, i never could hear that any peach-trees were ever found growing in the woods; neither have the foreign indians, that live remote from the english, any other sort. and those living amongst us have a hundred of this sort for one other; they are a hardy fruit, and are seldom damaged by the north-east blasts, as others are. of this sort we make vinegar; wherefore we call them vinegar-peaches, and sometimes indian-peaches. {apricock.} this tree grows to a vast bigness, exceeding most apple-trees. they bear well, tho' sometimes an early spring comes on in february, and perhaps, when the tree is fully blown the cloudy north-east-winds which attend the end of, that month, or the beginning of march, destroy most of the fruit. the biggest apricock-tree i ever saw, as they told me, was grafted on a peach-stock, in the ground. i know of no other sort with us, than the common. we generally raise this fruit from the stone, which never fails to bring the same fruit. likewise our peach-stones effect the same, without so much as once missing, to produce the same sort that the stone came from. {plum.} damson, damazeen, and a large round black plum are all i have met withal in carolina. they thrive well enough; the last to admiration, and becomes a very large tree, if in stiff ground; otherwise they will not do well. {figs.} of figs we have two sorts; one is the low bush-fig, which bears a large fruit. if the winter happens to have much frost, the tops thereof die, and in the spring sprout again, and bear two or three good crops. the tree-fig is a lesser fig, though very sweet. the tree grows to a large body and shade, and generally brings a good burden; especially, if in light land. this tree thrives no where better, than on the sand-banks by the sea. {cherries.} we have the common red and black cherry, which bear well. i never saw any grafted in this country, the common excepted, which was grafted on an indian plum-stock, and bore well. this is a good way, because our common cherry-trees are very apt to put scions all round the tree, for a great distance, which must needs be prejudicial to the tree and fruit. not only our cherries are apt to do so, but our apples and most other fruit-trees, which may chiefly be imputed to the negligence and unskilfulness of the gardener. our cherries are ripe a month sooner than in virginia. {goosberry.} goosberries i have seen of the smaller sort, but find they do not do so well as in england, and to the northward. want of dressing may be some reason for this. {currants.} currants, white, red, and black, thrive here, as well as any where. {rasps.} rasberries, the red and white, i never saw any trial made of. but there is no doubt of their thriving to admiration, since those of the country do so well. {mulberry.} the mulberries are spontaneous. we have no others, than what i have already mentioned in the class of natural fruits of carolina. {barberry.} barberry red, with stones, and without stones, grow here. {strawberry.} strawberries, not foreign, but those of the country, grow here in great plenty. last april i planted a bed of two hundred foot in length, which bore the same year. {medlar.} medlars we have none. {walnut.} all sorts of walnuts from england, france, and maderas, thrive well from the nut. {filbert.} no filberts, but hazle-nuts; the filbert-nut planted, becomes a good hazle-nut, and no better. {vines.} as for that noble vegetable the vine, without doubt, it may (in this country) be improved, and brought to the same perfection, as it is, at this day, in the same latitude in europe, since the chiefest part of this country is a deep, rich, black mould, which is up towards the freshes and heads of our rivers, being very rich and mix'd with flint, pebbles, and other stones. and this sort of soil is approv'd of (by all knowing gardeners and vigneroons) as a proper earth, in which the grape chiefly delights; and what seems to give a farther confirmation hereof, is, that the largest vines, that were ever discover'd to grow wild, are found in those parts, oftentimes in such plenty, and are so interwoven with one another, that 'tis impossible to pass through them. moreover, in these freshes, towards the hills, the vines are above five times bigger than those generally with us, who are seated in the front-parts of this country, adjoining to the salts. of the wild vines, which are most of them great bearers, some wine has been made, which i drank of. it was very strong and well relisht; but what detains them all from offering at great quantities, they add, that this grape has a large stone, and a thick skin, and consequently yields but a small quantity of wine. some essays of this nature have been made by that honourable knight, sir nathanael johnson, in south carolina, who, as i am inform'd, has rejected all exotick vines, and makes his wine from the natural black grape of carolina, by grafting it upon its own stock. what improvement this may arrive to, i cannot tell; but in other species, i own grafting and imbudding yields speedy fruit, tho' i never found that it made them better. new planted colonies are generally attended with a force and necessity of planting the known and approved staple and product of the country, as well as all the provisions their families spend. therefore we can entertain but small hopes of the improvement of the vine, till some skilful in dressing vines shall appear amongst us, and go about it, with a resolution, that ordering the vineyard shall be one half of their employment. if this be begun and carried on, with that assiduity and resolution which it requires, then we may reasonably hope to see this a wine-country; for then, when it becomes a general undertaking, every one will be capable to add something to the common stock, of that which he has gain'd by his own experience. this way would soon make the burden light, and a great many shorter and exacter curiosities, and real truths would be found out in a short time. the trimming of vines, as they do in france, that is, to a stump, must either here be not follow'd, or we are not sensible of the exact time, when they ought to be thus pruned; for experience has taught us, that the european grape, suffer'd to run and expand itself at large, has been found to bear as well in america, as it does in europe; when, at the same time, the same sort of vine trimm'd to a stump, as before spoken of, has born a poor crop for one year or two; and by its spilling, after cutting, emaciated, and in three or four years, died. this experiment, i believe, has never fail'd; for i have trimm'd the natural vine the french way, which has been attended, at last, with the same fate. wherefore, it seems most expedient, to leave the vines more branches here, than in europe, or let them run up trees, as some do, in lombardy, upon elms. the mulberries and chinkapin are tough, and trimm'd to what you please, therefore fit supporters of the vines. gelding and plucking away the leaves, to hasten the ripening of this fruit, may not be unnecessary, yet we see the natural wild grape generally ripens in the shade. nature in this, and many others, may prove a sure guide. the twisting of the stems to make the grapes ripe together, loses no juice, and may be beneficial, if done in season. a very ingenious french gentleman, and another from switzerland, with whom i frequently converse, exclaim against that strict cutting of vines, the generally approved method of france and germany, and say, that they were both out in their judgment, till of late, experience has taught them otherwise. moreover, the french in north carolina assure me, that if we should trim our apple and other fruit-trees, as they do in europe, we should spoil them. as for apples and plums, i have found by experience, what they affirm to be true. the french, from the mannakin town on the freshes of james river in virginia, had, for the most part, removed themselves to carolina, to live there, before i came away; and the rest were following, as their minister, (monsieur philip de rixbourg) told me, who was at bath-town, when i was taking my leave of my friends. he assur'd me, that their intent was to propagate vines, as far as their present circumstances would permit; provided they could get any slips of vines, that would do. at the same time, i had gotten some grape-seed, which was of the jesuits white grape from madera. the seed came up very plentifully, and, i hope, will not degenerate, which if it happens not to do, the seed may prove the best way to raise a vineyard, as certainly it is most easy for transportation. yet i reckon we should have our seed from a country, where the grape arrives to the utmost perfection of ripeness. these french refugees have had small encouragement in virginia, because, at their first coming over, they took their measures of living, from europe; which was all wrong; for the small quantities of ten, fifteen, and twenty acres to a family did not hold out according to their way of reckoning, by reason they made very little or no fodder; and the winter there being much harder than with us, their cattle fail'd; chiefly, because the english took up and survey'd all the land round about them; so that they were hemm'd in on all hands from providing more land for themselves or their children, all which is highly prejudicial in america, where the generality are bred up to planting. one of these french men being a fowling, shot a fowl in the river, upon which his dog went down the bank to bring it to his master; but the bank was so high and steep, that he could not get up again. thereupon, the french man went down, to help his dog up, and breaking the mould away, accidentally, with his feet, he discover'd a very rich coal-mine. this adventure he gave an account of amongst the neighbourhood, and presently one of the gentlemen of that part survey'd the land, and the poor french man got nothing by his discovery. the french are good neighbours amongst us, and give examples of industry, which is much wanted in this country. they make good flax, hemp, linnen-cloth and thread; which they exchange amongst the neighbourhood for other commodities, for which they have occasion. we have hitherto made no tryal of foreign herbage; but, doubtless, it would thrive well; especially, sanfoin, and those grasses, that endure heat, and dry grounds. as for our low lands, such as marshes, savannas and percoarson-ground, which lies low, all of them naturally afford good land for pasturage. we will next treat of the beasts, which you shall have an account of, as they have been discover'd. the beasts of carolina are the buffelo, or wild beef. bear. panther. cat-a-mount. wild cat. wolf. tyger. polcat. otter. bever. musk-rat. possum. raccoon. minx. water-rat. rabbet, two sorts. elks. stags. fallow-deer. squirrel, four sorts. fox. lion, and jackall on the lake. rats, two sorts. mice, two sorts. moles. weasel, dormouse. bearmouse. the buffelo is a wild beast of america, which has a bunch on his back, as the cattle of st. laurence are said to have. he seldom appears amongst the english inhabitants, his chief haunt being in the land of messiasippi, which is, for the most part, a plain country; yet i have known some kill'd on the hilly part of cape-fair-river, they passing the ledges of vast mountains from the said messiasippi, before they can come near us. {two killed one year in virginia at appamaticks.} i have eaten of their meat, but do not think it so good as our beef; yet the younger calves are cry'd up for excellent food, as very likely they may be. it is conjectured, that these buffelos, mixt in breed with our tame cattle, would much better the breed for largeness and milk, which seems very probable. of the wild bull's skin, buff is made. the indians cut the skins into quarters for the ease of their transportation, and make beds to lie on. they spin the hair into garters, girdles, sashes, and the like, it being long and curled, and often of a chesnut or red colour. these monsters are found to weigh (as i am informed by a traveller of credit) from to weight. {bear.} the bears here are very common, though not so large as in greenland, and the more northern countries of russia. the flesh of this beast is very good, and nourishing, and not inferiour to the best pork in taste. it stands betwixt beef and pork, and the young cubs are a dish for the greatest epicure living. i prefer their flesh before any beef, veal, pork, or mutton; and they look as well as they eat, their fat being as white as snow, and the sweetest of any creature's in the world. if a man drink a quart thereof melted, it never will rise in his stomach. we prefer it above all things, to fry fish and other things in. those that are strangers to it, may judge otherwise; but i who have eaten a great deal of bears flesh in my life-time (since my being an inhabitant in america) do think it equalizes, if not excels, any meat i ever eat in europe. the bacon made thereof is extraordinary meat; but it must be well saved, otherwise it will rust. this creature feeds upon all sorts of wild fruits. when herrings run, which is in march, the flesh of such of those bears as eat thereof, is nought, all that season, and eats filthily. neither is it good, when he feeds on gum-berries, as i intimated before. they are great devourers of acorns, and oftentimes meet the swine in the woods, which they kill and eat, especially when they are hungry, and can find no other food. now and then they get into the fields of indian corn, or maiz, where they make a sad havock, spoiling ten times as much as they eat. the potatos of this country are so agreeable to them, that they never fail to sweep 'em all clean, if they chance to come in their way. they are seemingly a very clumsy creature, yet are very nimble in running up trees, and traversing every limb thereof. when they come down, they run tail foremost. at catching of herrings, they are most expert fishers. they sit by the creek-sides, (which are very narrow) where the fish run in; and there they take them up, as fast as it's possible they can dip their paws into the water. there is one thing more to be consider'd of this creature, which is, that no man, either christian or indian, has ever kill'd a she-bear with young. it is supposed, that the she-bears, after conception, hide themselves in some secret and undiscoverable place, till they bring forth their young, which, in all probability, cannot be long; otherwise, the indians, who hunt the woods like dogs, would, at some time or other, have found them out. bear-hunting is a great sport in america, both with the english and indians. some years ago, there were kill'd five hundred bears, in two counties of virginia, in one winter; and but two she-bears amongst them all, which were not with young, as i told you of the rest. the english have a breed of dogs fit for this sport, about the size of farmers curs, and, by practice, come to know the scent of a bear, which as soon as they have found, they run him, by the nose, till they come up with him, and then bark and snap at him, till he trees, when the huntsman shoots him out of the trees, there being, for the most part, two or three with guns, lest the first should miss, or not quite kill him. though they are not naturally voracious, yet they are very fierce when wounded. the dogs often bring him to a bay, when wounded, and then the huntsmen make other shots, perhaps with the pistols that are stuck in their girdles. if a dog is apt to fasten, and run into a bear, he is not good, for the best dog in europe is nothing in their paws; but if ever they get him in their clutches, they blow his skin from his flesh, like a bladder, and often kill him; or if he recovers it, he is never good for any thing after. as the paws of this creature, are held for the best bit about him, so is the head esteem'd the worst, and always thrown away, for what reason i know not. i believe, none ever made trial thereof, to know how it eats. the oil of the bear is very sovereign for strains, aches, and old pains. the fine fur at the bottom of the belly, is used for making hats, in some places. the fur itself is fit for several uses; as for making muffs, facing caps, &c. but the black cub-skin is preferable to all sorts of that kind, for muffs. its grain is like hog-skin. {panther.} the panther is of the cat's kind; about the height of a very large greyhound of a reddish colour, the same as a lion. he climbs trees with the greatest agility imaginable, is very strong-limb'd, catching a piece of meat from any creature he strikes at. his tail is exceeding long; his eyes look very fierce and lively, are large, and of a grayish colour; his prey is, swines-flesh, deer, or any thing he can take; no creature is so nice and clean, as this, in his food. when he has got his prey, he fills his belly with the slaughter, and carefully lays up the remainder, covering it very neatly with leaves, which if any thing touches, he never eats any more of it. he purrs as cats do; if taken when young, is never to be reclaim'd from his wild nature. he hollows like a man in the woods, when kill'd, which is by making him take a tree, as the least cur will presently do; then the huntsmen shoot him; if they do not kill him outright, he is a dangerous enemy, when wounded, especially to the dogs that approach him. this beast is the greatest enemy to the planter, of any vermine in carolina. his flesh looks as well as any shambles-meat whatsoever; a great many people eat him, as choice food; but i never tasted of a panther, so cannot commend the meat, by my own experience. his skin is a warm covering for the indians in winter, though not esteem'd amongst the choice furs. this skin dress'd, makes fine womens shooes, or mens gloves. {cat-a-mount.} the mountain-cat, so call'd, because he lives in the mountainous parts of america. he is a beast of prey, as the panther is, and nearest to him in bigness and nature. {wild cat.} this cat is quite different from those in europe; being more nimble and fierce, and larger; his tail does not exceed four inches. he makes a very odd sort of cry in the woods, in the night. he is spotted as the leopard is, tho' some of them are not, (which may happen, when their furs are out of season) he climbs a tree very dexterously, and preys as the panther does. he is a great destroyer of young swine. i knew an island, which was possess'd by these vermine, unknown to the planter, who put thereon a considerable stock of swine; but never took one back; for the wild cats destroy'd them all. he takes most of his prey by surprize, getting up the trees, which they pass by or under, and thence leaping directly upon them. thus he takes deer (which he cannot catch by running) and fastens his teeth into their shoulders and sucks them. they run with him, till they fall down for want of strength, and become a prey to the enemy. hares, birds, and all he meets, that he can conquer, he destroys. the fur is approv'd to wear as a stomacher, for weak and cold stomachs. they are likewise used to line muffs, and coats withal, in cold climates. {wolf.} the wolf of carolina, is the dog of the woods. the indians had no other curs, before the christians came amongst them. they are made domestick. when wild, they are neither so large, nor fierce, as the european wolf. they are not man-slayers; neither is any creature in carolina, unless wounded. they go in great droves in the night, to hunt deer, which they do as well as the best pack of hounds. nay, one of these will hunt down a deer. they are often so poor, that they can hardly run. when they catch no prey, they go to a swamp, and fill their belly full of mud; if afterwards they chance to get any thing of flesh, they will disgorge the mud, and eat the other. when they hunt in the night, that there is a great many together, they make the most hideous and frightful noise, that ever was heard. the fur makes good muffs. the skin dress'd to a parchment makes the best drum-heads, and if tann'd makes the best sort of shooes for the summer-countries. {tyger.} tygers are never met withal in the settlement; but are more to the westward, and are not numerous on this side the chain of mountains. i once saw one, that was larger that a panther, and seem'd to be a very bold creature. the indians that hunt in those quarters, say, they are seldom met withal. it seems to differ from the tyger of asia and africa. {polcat.} polcats or skunks in america, are different from those in europe. they are thicker, and of a great many colours; not all alike, but each differing from another in the particular colour. they smell like a fox, but ten times stronger. when a dog encounters them, they piss upon him, and he will not be sweet again in a fortnight or more. the indians love to eat their flesh, which has no manner of ill smell, when the bladder is out. i know no use their furs are put to. they are easily brought up tame. {otters.} there have been seen some otters from the westward of carolina, which were of a white colour, a little inclining to a yellow. they live on the same prey here, as in europe, and are the same in all other respects; so i shall insist no farther on that creature. their furs, if black, are valuable. {bevers.} bevers are very numerous in carolina, their being abundance of their dams in all parts of the country, where i have travel'd. they are the most industrious and greatest artificers (in building their dams and houses) of any four-footed creatures in the world. their food is chiefly the barks of trees and shrubs, viz. sassafras, ash, sweet-gum, and several others. if you take them young, they become very tame and domestick, but are very mischievous in spoiling orchards, by breaking the trees, and blocking up your doors in the night, with the sticks and wood they bring thither. if they eat any thing that is salt, it kills them. their flesh is a sweet food; especially, their tail, which is held very dainty. their fore-feet are open, like a dog's; their hind-feet webb'd like a water-fowl's. the skins are good furs for several uses, which every one knows. the leather is very thick; i have known shooes made thereof in carolina, which lasted well. it makes the best hedgers mittens that can be used. {musk rat.} musk rats frequent fresh streams and no other; as the bever does. he has a cod of musk, which is valuable, as is likewise his fur. {possum.} the possum is found no where but in america. he is the wonder of all the land animals, being the size of a badger, and near that colour. the male's pizzle is placed retrograde; and in time of coition, they differ from all other animals, turning tail to tail, as dog and bitch when ty'd. the female, doubtless, breeds her young at her teats; for i have seen them stick fast thereto, when they have been no bigger than a small rasberry, and seemingly inanimate. she has a paunch, or false belly, wherein she carries her young, after they are from those teats, till they can shift for themselves. their food is roots, poultry, or wild fruits. they have no hair on their tails, but a sort of a scale, or hard crust, as the bevers have. if a cat has nine lives, this creature surely has nineteen; for if you break every bone in their skin, and mash their skull, leaving them for dead, you may come an hour after, and they will be gone quite away, or perhaps you meet them creeping away. they are a very stupid creature, utterly neglecting their safety. they are most like rats of any thing. i have, for necessity in the wilderness, eaten of them. their flesh is very white, and well tasted; but their ugly tails put me out of conceit with that fare. they climb trees, as the raccoons do. their fur is not esteem'd nor used, save that the indians spin it into girdles and garters. {raccoon.} the raccoon is of a dark-gray colour; if taken young, is easily made tame, but is the drunkenest creature living, if he can get any liquor that is sweet and strong. they are rather more unlucky than a monkey. when wild, they are very subtle in catching their prey. those that live in the salt-water, feed much on oysters which they love. they watch the oyster when it opens, and nimbly put in their paw, and pluck out the fish. sometimes the oyster shuts, and holds fast their paw till the tide comes in, that they are drown'd, tho' they swim very well. the way that this animal catches crabs, which he greatly admires, and which are plenty in carolina, is worthy of remark. when he intends to make a prey of these fish, he goes to a marsh, where standing on the land, he lets his tail hang in the water. this the crab takes for a bait, and fastens his claws therein, which as soon as the raccoon perceives, he, of a sudden, springs forward, a considerable way, on the land, and brings the crab along with him. as soon as the fish finds himself out of his element, he presently lets go his hold; and then the raccoon encounters him, by getting him cross-wise in his mouth, and devours him. there is a sort of small land-crab, which we call a fiddler, that runs into a hole when any thing pursues him. this crab the raccoon takes by putting his fore-foot in the hole, and pulling him out. with a tame raccoon, this sport is very diverting. the chief of his other food is all sorts of wild fruits, green corn, and such as the bear delights in. this and the possum are much of a bigness. the fur makes good hats and linings. the skin dress'd makes fine womens shooes. {minx.} the minx is an animal much like the english fillimart or polcat. he is long, slender, and every way shap'd like him. his haunts are chiefly in the marshes, by the sea-side and salt-waters, where he lives on fish, fowl, mice, and insects. they are bold thieves, and will steal any thing from you in the night, when asleep, as i can tell by experience; for one winter, by misfortune, i ran my vessel a-ground, and went often to the banks, to kill wild fowl, which we did a great many. one night, we had a mind to sleep on the banks (the weather being fair) and wrapt up the geese which we had kill'd, and not eaten, very carefully, in the sail of a canoe, and folded it several doubles, and for their better security, laid 'em all night under my head. in the morning when i wak'd, a minx had eaten thro' every fold of the canoe's sail, and thro' one of the geese, most part of which was gone. these are likewise found high up in the rivers, in whose sides they live; which is known by the abundance of fresh-water muscle-shells (such as you have in england) that lie at the mouth of their holes. this is an enemy to the tortois, whose holes in the sand, where they hide their eggs, the minx finds out, and scratches up and eats. the raccoons and crows do the same. the minx may be made domestick, and were it not for his paying a visit now and then to the poultry, they are the greatest destroyers of rats and mice, that are in the world. their skins, if good of that kind, are valuable, provided they are kill'd in season. {water-rats.} the water-rat is found here the same as in england. the water-snakes are often found to have of these rats in their bellies. {coneys.} that which the people of carolina call a hare, is nothing but a hedge-coney. they never borough in the ground, but much frequent marshes and meadow-land. they hide their young in some place secure from the discovery of the buck, as the european rabbets do, and are of the same colour; but if you start one of them, and pursue her, she takes into a hollow tree, and there runs up as far as she can, in which case the hunter makes a fire, and smoaks the tree, which brings her down, and smothers her. at one time of the year, great bots or maggots breed betwixt the skin and the flesh of these creatures. they eat just as the english ones do; but i never saw one of them fat. we fire the marshes, and then kill abundance. {rabbet english.} the english, or european coneys are here found, tho' but in one place that i ever knew of, which was in trent-river, where they borough'd among the rocks. i cannot believe, these are natives of the country, any otherwise than that they might come from aboard some wreck; the sea not being far off. i was told of several that were upon bodies island by ronoak, which came from that ship of bodies; but i never saw any. however the banks are no proper abode of safety, because of the many minxes in those quarters. i carried over some of the tame sort from england to south-carolina, which bred three times going over, we having a long passage. i turn'd them loose in a plantation, and the young ones, and some of the old ones bred great maggots in their testicles. at last, the great gust in september, , brought a great deal of rain, and drown'd them all in their holes. i intend to make a second tryal of them in north carolina, and doubt not but to secure them. {elks.} the elk is a monster of the venison sort. his skin is used almost in the same nature as the buffelo's. some take him for the red deer of america; but he is not: for, if brought and kept in company with one of that sort, of the contrary sex, he will never couple. his flesh is not so sweet as the lesser deers. his horns exceed (in weight) all creatures which the new world affords. they will often resort and feed with the buffelo, delighting in the same range as they do. {stags.} the stags of carolina are lodg'd in the mountains. they are not so large as in europe, but much larger than any fallow-deer. they are always fat, i believe, with some delicate herbage that grows on the hills; for we find all creatures that graze much fatter and better meat on the hills, than those in the valleys: i mean towards and near the sea. some deer on these mountains afford the occidental bezoar, not coming from a goat, as some report. what sort of beast affords the oriental bezoar, i know not. the tallow of the harts make incomparable candles. their horns and hides are of the same value, as others of their kind. {fallow-deer.} fallow-deer in carolina, are taller and longer-legg'd, than in europe; but neither run so fast, nor are so well haunch'd. their singles are much longer, and their horns stand forward, as the others incline backward; neither do they beam, or bear their antlers, as the english deer do. towards the salts, they are not generally so fat and good meat, as on the hills. i have known some kill'd on the salts in january, that have had abundance of bots in their throat, which keep them very poor. as the summer approaches, these bots come out, and turn into the finest butterfly imaginable, being very large, and having black, white, and yellow stripes. deer-skins are one of the best commodities carolina affords, to ship off for england, provided they be large. {fox squirrel.} of squirrels we have four sorts. the first is the fox-squirrel, so call'd, because of his large size, which is the bigness of a rabbet of two or three months old. his colour is commonly gray; yet i have seen several pied ones, and some reddish, and black; his chiefest haunts are in the piny land, where the almond-pine grows. there he provides his winter-store; they being a nut that never fails of bearing. he may be made tame, and is very good meat, when killed. {small gray squirrel.} the next sort of squirrel is much of the nature of the english, only differing in colour. their food is nuts (of all sorts the country affords) and acorns. they eat well; and, like the bear, are never found with young. {flying-squirrel.} this squirrel is gray, as well as the others. he is the least of the three. his food is much the same with the small gray squirrels. he has not wings, as birds or bats have, there being a fine thin skin cover'd with hair, as the rest of the parts are. this is from the fore-feet to the hinder-feet, which is extended and holds so much air, as buoys him up, from one tree to another, that are greater distances asunder, than other squirrels can reach by jumping or springing. he is made very tame, is an enemy to a cornfield, (as all squirrels are) and eats only the germinating eye of that grain, which is very sweet. {ground squirrel.} ground squirrels are so call'd, because they never delight in running up trees, and leaping from tree to tree. they are the smallest of all squirrels. their tail is neither so long not bushy; but flattish. they are of a reddish colour, and striped down each side with black rows, which make them very beautiful. they may be kept tame, in a little box with cotton. they and the flying-squirrels seldom stir out in cold weather, being tender animals. {fox.} the fox of carolina is gray, but smells not as the foxes in great-britain, and elsewhere. they have reddish hair about their ears, and are generally very fat; yet i never saw any one eat them. when hunted, they make a sorry chace, because they run up trees, when pursued. they are never to be made familiar and tame, as the raccoon is. their furs, if in season, are used for muffs and other ornaments. they live chiefly on birds and fowls, and such small prey. {supposed lion and jackall.} i have been inform'd by the indians, that on a lake of water towards the head of neus river, there haunts a creature, which frightens them all from hunting thereabouts. they say, he is the colour of a panther, but cannot run up trees; and that there abides with him a creature like an englishman's dog, which runs faster than he can, and gets his prey for him. they add, that there is no other of that kind that ever they met withal; and that they have no other way to avoid him, but by running up a tree. the certainty of this i cannot affirm by my own knowledge, yet they all agree in this story. as for lions, i never saw any in america; neither can i imagine, how they should come there. {rats.} of rats we have two sorts; the house-rat, as in europe; and the marsh-rat, which differs very much from the other, being more hairy, and has several other distinctions, too long here to name. {mice.} mice are the same here, as those in england, that belong to the house. there is one sort that poisons a cat, as soon as she eats of them, which has sometimes happen'd. these mice resort not to houses. {dormouse.} the dormouse is the same as in england; and so is the weasel, which is very scarce. {rearmouse.} the bat or rearmouse, the same as in england. the indian children are much addicted to eat dirt, and so are some of the christians. but roast a bat on a skewer, then pull the skin off, and make the child that eats dirt, eat the roasted rearmouse; and he will never eat dirt again. this is held as an infallible remedy. i have put this amongst the beasts, as partaking of both natures; of the bird, and mouse-kind. having mention'd all the sorts of terrestrial or land-animals, which carolina affords and are yet known to us, except the tame and domestick creatures (of which i shall give an account hereafter, when i come to treat of the ways and manners of agriculture in that province) i shall now proceed to the known insects of that place. not that i pretend to give an ample account of the whole tribe, which is too numerous, and contains too great a diversity of species, many not yet discovered, and others that have slipt my memory at present; but those which i can remember, i here present my readers withal. insects of carolina. allegators. rattle-snakes. ground rattle-snakes. horn-snakes. water-snakes, four sorts. swamp snakes three sorts. red-bellied land-snakes. red-back'd snake. black truncheon snake. scorpion-lizard. green lizard. frogs, many sorts. long black snake. king-snake. green snake. corn snake. vipers black and gray. tortois. terebin land and water. brimstone-snake. egg, or chicken-snake. eel-snake, or great loach. brown lizard. rotten-wood worm, &c. {strange genitors.} the allegator is the same, as the crocodile, and differs only in name. they frequent the sides of rivers, in the banks of which they make their dwellings a great way under ground; the hole or mouth of their dens lying commonly two foot under water, after which it rises till it be considerably above the surface thereof. here it is, that this amphibious monster dwells all the winter, sleeping away his time till the spring appears, when he comes from his cave, and daily swims up and down the streams. he always breeds in some fresh stream, or clear fountain of water, yet seeks his prey in the broad salt waters, that are brackish, not on the sea-side, where i never met with any. he never devours men in carolina, but uses all ways to avoid them, yet he kills swine and dogs, the former as they come to feed in the marshes, the others as they swim over the creeks and waters. they are very mischievous to the wares made for taking fish, into which they come to prey on the fish that are caught in the ware, from whence they cannot readily extricate themselves, and so break the ware in pieces, being a very strong creature. this animal, in these parts, sometimes exceeds seventeen foot long. it is impossible to kill them with a gun, unless you chance to hit them about the eyes, which is a much softer place, than the rest of their impenetrable armour. they roar, and make a hideous noise against bad weather, and before they come out of their dens in the spring. i was pretty much frightened with one of these once; which happened thus: i had built a house about half a mile from an indian town, on the fork of neus-river, where i dwelt by my self, excepting a young indian fellow, and a bull-dog, that i had along with me. i had not then been so long a sojourner in america, as to be throughly acquainted with this creature. one of them had got his nest directly under my house, which stood on pretty high land, and by a creek-side, in whose banks his entring-place was, his den reaching the ground directly on which my house stood. i was sitting alone by the fire-side (about nine a clock at night, some time in march) the indian fellow being gone to the town, to see his relations; so that there was no body in the house but my self and my dog; when, all of a sudden, this ill-favour'd neighbour of mine, set up such a roaring, that he made the house shake about my ears, and so continued, like a bittern, (but a hundred times louder, if possible) for four or five times. the dog stared, as if he was frightned out of his senses; nor indeed, could i imagine what it was, having never heard one of them before. immediately again i had another lesson; and so a third. being at that time amongst none but savages, i began to suspect, they were working some piece of conjuration under my house, to get away my goods; not but that, at another time, i have as little faith in their, or any others working miracles, by diabolical means, as any person living. at last, my man came in, to whom when i had told the story, he laugh'd at me, and presently undeceiv'd me, by telling me what it was that made that noise. these allegators lay eggs, as the ducks do; only they are longer shap'd, larger, and a thicker shell, than they have. how long they are in hatching, i cannot tell; but, as the indians say, it is most part of the summer, they always lay by a spring-side, the young living in and about the same, as soon as hatch'd. their eggs are laid in nests made in the marshes, and contain twenty or thirty eggs. some of these creatures afford a great deal of musk. their tail, when cut of, looks very fair and white, seemingly like the best of veal. some people have eaten thereof, and say, it is delicate meat, when they happen not to be musky. their flesh is accounted proper for such as are troubled with the lame distemper, (a sort of rhumatism) so is the fat very prevailing to remove aches and pains, by unction. the teeth of this creature, when dead, are taken out, to make chargers for guns, being of several sizes, fit for all loads. they are white, and would make pretty snuff-boxes, if wrought by an artist. after the tail of the allegator is separated from the body, it will move very freely for four days. {rattle-snake.} the rattle-snakes are found on all the main of america, that i ever had any account of; being so call'd from the rattle at the end of their tails, which is a connexion of jointed coverings, of an excrementitious matter, betwixt the substance of a nail, and a horn, though each tegmen is very thin. nature seems to have design'd these, on purpose to give warning of such an approaching danger, as the venomous bite of these snakes is. some of them grow to a very great bigness, as six foot in length, their middle being the thickness of the small of a lusty man's leg. we have an account of much larger serpents of this kind; but i never met them yet, although i have seen and kill'd abundance in my time. they are of an orange, tawny, and blackish colour, on the back; differing (as all snakes do) in colour, on the belly; being of an ash-colour, inclining to lead. the male is easily distinguish'd from the female, by a black velvet-spot on his head; and besides, his head is smaller shaped, and long. their bite is venomous, if not speedily remedied; especially, if the wound be in a vein, nerve, tendon, or sinew; when it is very difficult to cure. the indians are the best physicians for the bite of these and all other venomous creatures of this country. there are four sorts of snake-roots already discover'd, which knowledge came from the indians, who have perform'd several great cures. the rattle-snakes are accounted the peaceablest in the world; for they never attack any one, or injure them, unless they are trod upon, or molested. the most danger of being bit by these snakes, is for those that survey land in carolina; yet i never heard of any surveyor that was kill'd, or hurt by them. i have myself gone over several of this sort, and others; yet it pleased god, i never came to any harm. they have the power, or art (i know not which to call it) to charm squirrels, hares, partridges, or any such thing, in such a manner, that they run directly into their mouths. this i have seen by a squirrel and one of these rattle-snakes; and other snakes have, in some measure, the same power. the rattle-snakes have many small teeth, of which i cannot see they make any use; for they swallow every thing whole; but the teeth which poison, are only four; two on each side of their upper-jaws. these are bent like a sickle, and hang loose as if by a joint. towards the setting on of these, there is, in each tooth, a little hole, wherein you may just get in the point of a small needle. and here it is, that the poison comes out, (which is as green as grass) and follows the wound, made by the point of their teeth. they are much more venomous in the months of june and july, than they are in march, april or september. the hotter the weather, the more poisonous. neither may we suppose, that they can renew their poison as oft as they will; for we have had a person bit by one of these, who never rightly recover'd it, and very hardly escaped with life; a second person bit in the same place by the same snake, and receiv'd no more harm, that if bitten with a rat. they cast their skins every year, and commonly abide near the place where the old skin lies. these cast skins are used in physick, and the rattles are reckon'd good to expedite the birth. the gall is made up into pills, with clay, and kept for use; being given in pestilential fevers and the small-pox. it is accounted a noble remedy, known to few, and held as a great arcanum. this snake has two nostrils on each side of his nose. their venom, i have reason to believe, effects no harm, any otherwise than when darted into the wound by the serpents teeth. {ground rattle-snakes.} the ground rattle-snake, wrong nam'd, because it has nothing like rattles. it resembles the rattle-snake a little in colour, but is darker, and never grows to any considerable bigness, not exceeding a foot, or sixteen inches. he is reckon'd amongst the worst of snakes; and stays out the longest of any snake i know, before he returns (in the fall of the leaf) to his hole. {horn-snake.} of the horn-snakes i never saw but two, that i remember. they are like the rattle-snake in colour, but rather lighter. they hiss exactly like a goose, when any thing approaches them. they strike at their enemy with their tail, and kill whatsoever they wound with it, which is arm'd at the end with a horny substance, like a cock's spur. this is their weapon. i have heard it credibly reported, by those who said they were eye-witnesses, that a small locust-tree, about the thickness of a man's arm, being struck by one of these snakes, at ten a clock in the morning, then verdant and flourishing, at four in the afternoon was dead, and the leaves red and wither'd. doubtless, be it how it will, they are very venomous. i think, the indians do not pretend to cure their wound. {water-snakes.} of water-snakes there are four sorts. the first is of the horn-snakes colour, though less. the next is a very long snake, differing in colour, and will make nothing to swim over a river a league wide. they hang upon birches and other trees by the water-side. i had the fortune once to have one of them leap into my boat, as i was going up a narrow river; the boat was full of mats, which i was glad to take out, to get rid of him. they are reckon'd poisonous. a third is much of an english adder's colour, but always frequents the salts, and lies under the drift seaweed, where they are in abundance, and are accounted mischievous, when they bite. the last is of a sooty black colour, and frequents ponds and ditches. what his qualities are, i cannot tell. {swamp-snakes.} of the swamp-snakes there are three sorts, which are very near akin to the water-snakes, and may be rank'd amongst them. the belly of the first is of a carnation or pink colour; his back a dirty brown; they are large, but have not much venom in them, as ever i learnt. the next is a large snake, of a brown dirt colour, and always abides in the marshes. the last is mottled, and very poisonous. they dwell in swamps sides, and ponds, and have prodigious wide mouths, and (though not long) arrive to the thickness of the calf of a man's leg. {red-belly land-snakes.} these frequent the land altogether, and are so call'd, because of their red bellies, which incline to an orange-colour. some have been bitten with these sort of snakes, and not hurt; when others have suffer'd very much by them. whether there be two sorts of these snakes, which we make no difference of, i cannot at present determine. {red-back snakes.} i never saw but one of these, which i stept over, and did not see him; till he that brought the chain after me, spy'd him. he has a red back, as the last has a red belly. they are a long, slender snake, and very rare to be met withal. i enquired of the indian that was along with me, whether they were very venomous, who made answer, that if he had bitten me, even the indians could not have cured it. {black truncheon-snake.} this sort of snake might very well have been rank'd with the water-snakes. they lie under roots of trees, and on the banks of rivers. when any thing disturbs them, they dart into the water (which is salt) like an arrow out of a bow. they are thick, and the shortest snake i ever saw. what good, or harm, there is in them, i know not. some of these water-snakes will swallow a black land-snake, half as long again as themselves. {scorpion lizard.} the scorpion lizard, is no more like a scorpion, than a hedge-hog; but they very commonly call him a scorpion. he is of the lizard kind, but much bigger; his back is of a dark copper-colour; his belly an orange; he is very nimble in running up trees, or on the land, and is accounted very poisonous. he has the most sets of teeth in his mouth and throat, that ever i saw. {green lizard.} green lizards are very harmless and beautiful, having a little bladder under their throat, which they fill with wind, and evacuate the same at pleasure. they are of a most glorious green, and very tame. they resort to the walls of houses in the summer season, and stand gazing on a man, without any concern or fear. there are several other colours of these lizards; but none so beautiful as the green ones are. {frogs.} of frogs we have several sorts; the most famous is the bull-frog, so call'd, because he lows exactly like that beast, which makes strangers wonder (when by the side of a marsh) what's the matter, for they hear the frogs low, and can see no cattle; he is very large. i believe, i have seen one with as much meat on him, as a pullet, if he had been dress'd. the small green frogs get upon trees, and make a noise. there are several other colour'd small frogs; but the common land-frog is likest a toad, only he leaps, and is not poisonous. he is a great devourer of ants, and the snakes devour him. these frogs baked and beat to powder, and taken with orrice-root cures a tympany. {long black snake.} the long, black snake frequents the land altogether, and is the nimblest creature living. his bite has no more venom, than a prick with a pin. he is the best mouser that can be; for he leaves not one of that vermine alive, where he comes. he also kills the rattle-snake, wheresoever he meets him, by twisting his head about the neck of the rattle-snake, and whipping him to death with his tail. this whipster haunts the dairies of careless housewives, and never misses to skim the milk clear of the cream. he is an excellent egg-merchant, for he does not suck the eggs, but swallows them whole (as all snakes do.) he will often swallow all the eggs from under a hen that sits, and coil himself under the hen, in the nest, where sometimes the housewife finds him. this snake, for all his agility, is so brittle, that when he is pursued, and gets his head into the hole of a tree, if any body gets hold of the other end, he will twist, and break himself off in the middle. one of these snakes, whose neck is no thicker that a woman's little finger, will swallow a squirrel; so much does that part stretch, in all these creatures. {king snake.} the king-snake is the longest of all others, and not common; no snake (they say) will meddle with them. i think they are not accounted very venomous. the indians make girdles and sashes of their skins. {green snake.} green-snakes are very small, tho' pretty (if any beauty be allow'd to snakes.) every one makes himself very familiar with them, and puts them in their bosom, because there is no manner of harm in them. {corn-snake.} the corn-snakes are but small ones; they are of a brown colour, mixed with tawny. there is no more hurt in this, than in the green snake. {vipers.} of those we call vipers, there are two sorts. people call these vipers, because they spread a very flat head at any time when they are vex'd. one of these is a grayish like the italian viper, the other black and short; and is reckon'd amongst the worst of snakes, for venom. {tortois.} tortois, vulgarly call'd turtle; i have rank'd these among the insects, because they lay eggs, and i did not know well where to put them. among us there are three sorts. the first is the green turtle, which is not common, but is sometimes found on our coast. the next is the hawks-bill, which is common. these two sorts are extraordinary meat. the third is logger-head, which kind scarce any one covets, except it be for the eggs, which of this and all other turtles, are very good food. none of these sorts of creatures eggs will ever admit the white to be harder than a jelly; yet the yolk, with boiling, becomes as hard as any other egg. {terebin.} of terebins there are divers sorts, all which, to be brief, we will comprehend under the distinction of land and water-terebins. {land-terebin.} the land-terebin is of several sizes, but generally round-mouth'd, and not hawks-bill'd, as some are. the indians eat them. most of them are good meat, except the very large ones; and they are good food too, provided they are not musky. they are an utter enemy to the rattle-snake, for when the terebin meets him, he catches hold of him a little below his neck, and draws his head into his shell, which makes the snake beat his tail, and twist about with all the strength and violence imaginable, to get away; but the terebin soon dispatches him, and there leaves him. these they call in europe the land tortois; their food is snails, tad-pools, or young frogs, mushrooms, and the dew and slime of the earth and ponds. {water-terebin.} water terebins are small; containing about as much meat as a pullet, and are extraordinary food; especially, in may and june. when they lay, their eggs are very good; but they have so many enemies that find them out, that the hundredth part never comes to perfection. the sun and sand hatch them, which come out the bigness of a small chesnut, and seek their own living. {brimstone-snake.} we now come again to the snakes. the brimstone is so call'd, i believe, because it is almost of a brimstone colour. they might as well have call'd it a glass-snake, for it is as brittle as a tobacco-pipe, so that if you give it the least touch of a small twigg, it immediately breaks into several pieces. some affirm, that if you let it remain where you broke it, it will come together again. what harm there is in this brittle ware, i cannot tell; but i never knew any body hurt by them. {chicken-snake.} the egg or chicken-snake is so call'd, because it is frequent about the hen-yard, and eats eggs and chickens, they are of a dusky soot colour, and will roll themselves round, and stick eighteen, or twenty foot high, by the side of a smooth-bark'd pine, where there is no manner of hold, and there sun themselves, and sleep all the sunny part of the day. there is no great matter of poison in them. {wood-worm.} the wood-worms are of a copper, shining colour, scarce so thick as your little finger; are often found in rotten-trees. they are accounted venomous, in case they bite, though i never knew any thing hurt by them. they never exceed four or five inches in length. the reptiles, or smaller insects, are too numerous to relate here, this country affording innumerable quantities thereof; as the flying-stags with horns, beetles, butterflies, grashoppers, locust, and several hundreds of uncouth shapes, which in the summer-season are discovered here in carolina, the description of which requires a large volume, which is not my intent at present. besides, what the mountainous part of this land may hereafter lay open to our view, time and industry will discover, for we that have settled but a small share of this large province, cannot imagine, but there will be a great number of discoveries made by those that shall come hereafter into the back-part of this land, and make enquiries therein, when, at least, we consider that the westward of carolina is quite different in soil, air, weather, growth of vegetables, and several animals too, which we at present are wholly strangers to, and to seek for. as to a right knowledge thereof, i say, when another age is come, the ingenious then in being may stand upon the shoulders of those that went before them, adding their own experiments to what was delivered down to them by their predecessors, and then there will be something towards a complete natural history, which (in these days) would be no easie undertaking to any author that writes truly and compendiously, as he ought to do. it is sufficient at present, to write an honest and fair account of any of the settlements, in this new world, without wandring out of the path of truth, or bespattering any man's reputation any wise concern'd in the government of the colony; he that mixes invectives with relations of this nature rendering himself suspected of partiality in whatever he writes. for my part, i wish all well, and he that has received any severe dealings from the magistrate or his superiours, had best examine himself well, if he was not first in the fault; if so, then he can justly blame none but himself for what has happen'd to him. having thus gone thro' the insects, as in the table, except the eel-snake, (so call'd, though very improperly, because he is nothing but a loach, that sucks, and cannot bite, as the snakes do.) he is very large, commonly sixteen inches, or a foot and half long; having all the properties that other loaches have, and dwells in pools and waters, as they do. notwithstanding, we have the same loach as you have, in bigness. this is all that at present i shall mention, touching the insects, and so go on to give an account of the fowls and birds, that are properly found in carolina, which are these. {birds in america more beautiful than in europe.} birds of carolina. eagle bald. eagle gray. fishing hawk. turkey buzzard, or vulture. herring-tail'd hawk. goshawk. falcon. merlin. sparrow-hawk. hobby. ring-tail. raven. crow. black birds, two sorts. buntings two sorts. pheasant. woodcock. snipe. partridge. moorhen. jay. green plover. plover gray or whistling. pigeon. turtle dove. parrakeeto. thrush. wood-peckers, five sorts. mocking-birds, two sorts. cat-bird. cuckoo. blue-bird. bulfinch. nightingale. hedge-sparrow. wren. sparrows, two sorts. lark. red bird. east-india bat. martins, two sorts. diveling, or swift. swallow. humming bird. the tom-tit, or ox-eye. owls, two sorts. scritch owl. baltimore bird. throstle, no singer. whippoo will. reed sparrow. weet bird. rice bird. cranes and storks. snow-birds. yellow-wings. {water fowl.} water fowl are, swans, called trompeters. swans, called hoopers. geese, three sorts. brant gray. brant white. sea-pies or pied curlues. will willets. great gray gulls. old wives. sea cock. curlues, three sorts. coots. kings-fisher. loons, two sorts. bitterns, three sorts. hern gray. hern white. water pheasant. little gray gull. little fisher, or dipper. ducks, as in england. ducks black, all summer. ducks pied, build on trees. ducks whistling, at sapona. ducks scarlet-eye at esaw. blue-wings. widgeon. teal, two sorts. shovelers. whistlers. black flusterers, or bald coot. turkeys wild. fishermen. divers. raft fowl. bull-necks. redheads. tropick-birds. pellican. cormorant. gannet. shear-water. great black pied gull. marsh-hens. blue peter's. sand-birds. runners. tutcocks. swaddle-bills. mew. sheldrakes. bald faces. water witch, or ware coot. {bald-eagle.} as the eagle is reckon'd the king of birds i have begun with him. the first i shall speak of, is the bald eagle; so call'd, because his head, to the middle of his neck, and his tail, is as white as snow. these birds continually breed the year round; for when the young eagles are just down'd, with a sort of white woolly feathers, the hen-eagle lays again, which eggs are hatch'd by the warmth of the young ones in the nest, so that the flight of one brood makes room for the next, that are but just hatch'd. they prey on any living thing they can catch. they are heavy of flight, and cannot get their food by swiftness, to help which there is a fishawk that catches fishes, and suffers the eagle to take them from her, although she is long-wing'd and a swift flyer, and can make far better way in her flight than the eagle can. the bald eagle attends the gunners in winter, with all the obsequiousness imaginable, and when he shoots and kills any fowl, the eagle surely comes in for his bird; and besides, those that are wounded, and escape the fowler, fall to the eagle's share. he is an excellent artist at stealing young pigs, which prey he carries alive to his nest, at which time the poor pig makes such a noise over head, that strangers that have heard them cry, and not seen the bird and his prey, have thought there were flying sows and pigs in that country. the eagle's nest is made of twigs, sticks and rubbish. it is big enough to fill a handsome carts body, and commonly so full of nasty bones and carcasses that it stinks most offensively. this eagle is not bald, till he is one or two years old. {gray eagle.} the gray eagle is altogether the same sort of bird, as the eagle in europe; therefore, we shall treat no farther of him. {fishing-hawk.} the fishing-hawk is the eagle's jackal, which most commonly (though not always) takes his prey for him. he is a large bird, being above two thirds as big as the eagle. he builds his nest as the eagles do; that is, in a dead cypress-tree, either standing in, or hard by, the water. the eagle and this bird seldom sit on a living tree. he is of a gray pied colour, and the most dexterous fowl in nature at catching of fish, which he wholly lives on, never eating any flesh. {turkey-buzzard.} the turkey-buzzard of carolina is a small vulture, which lives on any dead carcasses. they are about the bigness of the fishing-hawk, and have a nasty smell with them. they are of the kites colour, and are reported to be an enemy to snakes, by killing all they meet withal of that kind. {herring-tail'd hawk.} the herring, or swallow-tail'd hawk, is about the bigness of a falcon, but a much longer bird. he is of a delicate aurora-colour; the pinions of his wings, and end of his tail are black. he is a very beautiful fowl, and never appears abroad but in the summer. his prey is chiefly on snakes, and will kill the biggest we have, with a great deal of dexterity and ease. {goshawk.} goshawks are very plentiful in carolina. they are not seemingly so large as those from muscovy; but appear to be a very brisk bird. {falcon.} the falcon is much the same as in europe, and promises to be a brave bird, tho' i never had any of them in my hand; neither did i ever see any of them in any other posture than on the wing, which always happen'd to be in an evening, and flying to the westward; therefore, i believe, they have their abode and nest among the mountains, where we may expect to find them, and several other species that we are at present strangers to. {merlin.} the merlin is a small bird in europe, but much smaller here; yet he very nimbly kills the smaller sorts of birds, and sometimes the partridge; if caught alive, he would be a great rarity, because of his beauty and smalness. {sparrow-hawk.} the sparrow-hawk in carolina is no bigger than a field-fare in england. he flies at the bush and sometimes kills a small bird, but his chiefest food is reptiles, as beetles, grashoppers, and such small things. he is exactly of the same colour, as the sparrow-hawk in england, only has a blackish hood by his eyes. {hobby.} hobbies are the same here as in england, and are not often met withal. {ring tail.} the ring-tail is a short-wing'd hawk, preying on mice, and such vermine in the marshes, as in england. {ravens.} ravens, the same as in england, though very few. i have not seen above six in eight years time. {crows.} crows are here less than in england. they are as good meat as a pigeon; and never feed on any carrion. they are great enemies to the corn-fields; and cry and build almost like rooks. {black-birds.} of these we have two sorts, which are the worst vermine in america. they fly sometimes in such flocks, that they destroy every thing before them. they (both sorts) build in hollow trees, as starlings do. the first sort is near as big as a dove, and is very white and delicate food. the other sort is very beautiful, and about the bigness of the owsel. part of their head, next to the bill, and the pinions of their wings, are of an orange, and glorious crimson colour. they are as good meat as the former, tho' very few here (where large fowl are so plenty) ever trouble themselves to kill or dress them. {bunting two sorts.} of the bunting-larks we have two sorts, though the heel of this bird is not so long as in europe. the first of these often accompany the black-birds, and sing as the bunting-larks in england do, differing very little. the first sort has an orange-colour on the tops of their wings, and are as good meat as those in europe. the other sort is something less, of a lighter colour; nothing differing therein from those in england, as to feathers, bigness, and meat. {pheasant.} the pheasant of carolina differs some small matter from the english pheasant, being not so big, and having some difference in feather; yet he is not any wise inferiour in delicacy, but is as good meat, or rather finer. he haunts the back woods, and is seldom found near the inhabitants. {woodcock.} the woodcocks live and breed here, though they are not in great plenty, as i have seen them in some parts of england, and other places. they want one third of the english woodcock in bigness; but differ not in shape, or feather, save that their breast is of a carnation colour; and they make a noise (when they are on the wing) like the bells about a hawk's legs. they are certainly as dainty meat, as any in the world. their abode is in all parts of this country, in low, boggy ground, springs, swamps, and percoarsons. {snipe.} the snipes here frequent the same places, as they do in england, and differ nothing from them. they are the only wild bird that is nothing different from the species of europe, and keeps with us all the year. in some places, there are a great many of these snipes. {partridge.} our partridges in carolina, very often take upon trees, and have a sort of whistle and call, quite different from those in england. they are a very beautiful bird, and great destroyers of the pease in plantations; wherefore, they set traps, and catch many of them. they have the same feather, as in europe; only the cock wants the horse-shooe, in lieu of which he has a fair half-circle over each eye. these (as well as the woodcock) are less than the european bird; but far finer meat. they might be easily transported to any place, because they take to eating, after caught. {moorhen.} the moorhens are of the black game. i am inform'd, that the gray game haunts the hills. they never come into the settlement, but keep in the hilly parts. {jay.} jays are here common, and very mischievous, in devouring our fruit, and spoiling more than they eat. they are abundantly more beautiful, and finer feather'd than those in europe, and not above half so big. {green-plover.} the lap-wing or green-plover are here very common. they cry pretty much, as the english plovers do; and differ not much in feather, but want a third of their bigness. {gray-plover.} the gray or whistling plover, are very scarce amongst us. i never saw any but three times, that fell and settled on the ground. they differ very little from those in europe, as far as i could discern. i have seen several great flocks of them fly over head; therefore, believe, they inhabit the valleys near the mountains. {pigeons.} our wild pigeons, are like the wood-queese or stock-doves, only have a longer tail. they leave us in the summer. this sort of pigeon (as i said before) is the most like our stock-doves, or wood-pigeons that we have in england; only these differ in their tails, which are very long, much like a parrakeeto's? you must understand, that these birds do not breed amongst us, (who are settled at, and near the mouths of the rivers, as i have intimated to you before) but come down (especially in hard winters) amongst the inhabitants, in great flocks, as they were seen to do in the year , which was the hardest winter that ever was known, since carolina has been seated by the christians. and if that country had such hard weather, what must be expected of the severe winters in pensylvania, new-york, and new-england, where winters are ten times (if possible) colder than with us. although the flocks are, in such extremities, very numerous; yet they are not to be mention'd in comparison with the great and infinite numbers of these fowl, that are met withal about a hundred, or a hundred and fifty, miles to the westward of the places where we at present live; and where these pigeons come down, in quest of a small sort of acorns, which in those parts are plentifully found. they are the same we call turky-acorns, because the wild turkies feed very much thereon; and for the same reason, those trees that bear them, are call'd turky-oaks. i saw such prodigious flocks of these pigeons, in january or february, - , (which were in the hilly country, between the great nation of the esaw indians, and the pleasant stream of sapona, which is the west-branch of clarendon, or cape-fair river) that they had broke down the limbs of a great many large trees all over those woods, whereon they chanced to sit and roost; especially the great pines, which are a more brittle wood, than our sorts of oak are. these pigeons, about sun-rise, when we were preparing to march on our journey, would fly by us in such vast flocks, that they would be near a quarter of an hour, before they were all pass'd by; and as soon as that flock was gone, another would come; and so successively one after another, for great part of the morning. it is observable, that whereever these fowl come in such numbers, as i saw them then, they clear all before them, scarce leaving one acorn upon the ground, which would, doubtless, be a great prejudice to the planters that should seat there, because their swine would be thereby depriv'd of their mast. when i saw such flocks of the pigeons i now speak of, none of our company had any other sort of shot, than that which is cast in moulds, and was so very large, that we could not put above ten or a dozen of them into our largest pieces; wherefore, we made but an indifferent hand of shooting them; although we commonly kill'd a pigeon for every shot. they were very fat, and as good pigeons, as ever i eat. i enquired of the indians that dwell'd in those parts, where it was that those pigeons bred, and they pointed towards the vast ridge of mountains, and said, they bred there. now, whether they make their nests in the holes in the rocks of those mountains, or build in trees, i could not learn; but they seem to me to be a wood-pigeon, that build in trees, because of their frequent sitting thereon, and their roosting on trees always at night, under which their dung commonly lies half a foot thick, and kills every thing that grows where it falls. {turtle doves.} turtle doves are here very plentiful; they devour the pease; for which reason, people make traps and catch them. {parrakeetos.} the parrakeetos are of a green colour, and orange-colour'd half way their head. of these and the allegators, there is none found to the northward of this province. they visit us first, when mulberries are ripe, which fruit they love extremely. they peck the apples, to eat the kernels, so that the fruit rots and perishes. they are mischievous to orchards. they are often taken alive, and will become familiar and tame in two days. they have their nests in hollow trees, in low, swampy ground. they devour the birch-buds in april, and lie hidden when the weather is frosty and hard. {thrushes.} the thrushes in america, are the same as in england, and red under the wings. they never appear amongst us but in hard weather, and presently leave us again. {wood-peckers.} of wood-peckers, we have four sorts. the first is as big as a pigeon, being of a dark brown colour, with a white cross on his back, his eyes circled with white, and on his head stands a tuft of beautiful scarlet feathers. his cry is heard a long way; and he flies from one rotten tree to another, to get grubs, which is the food he lives on. {second.} the second sort are of an olive-colour, striped with yellow. they eat worms as well as grubs, and are about the bigness of those in europe. {third.} the third is the same bigness as the last; he is pied with black and white, has a crimson head, without a topping, and is a plague to the corn and fruit; especially the apples. he opens the covering of the young corn, so that the rain gets in, and rots it. {fourth.} the fourth sort of these wood-peckers, is a black and white speckled, or mottled; the finest i ever saw. the cock has a red crown; he is not near so big as the others; his food is grubs, corn, and other creeping insects. he is not very wild, but will let one come up to him, then shifts on the other side the tree, from your sight; and so dodges you for a long time together. he is about the size of an english lark. {mocking-birds.} the mocking-bird is about as big as a throstle in england, but longer; they are of a white, and gray colour, and are held to be the choristers of america, as indeed they are. they sing with the greatest diversity of notes, that is possible for a bird to change to. they may be bred up, and will sing with us tame in cages; yet i never take any of their nests, altho' they build yearly in my fruit-trees, because i have their company, as much as if tame, as to the singing part. they often sit upon our chimneys in summer, there being then no fire in them, and sing the whole evening and most part of the night. they are always attending our dwellings; and feed upon mulberries and other berries and fruits; especially the mechoacan-berry, which grows here very plentifully. { d. sort.} there is another sort call'd the ground-mocking-bird. she is the same bigness, and of a cinnamon colour. this bird sings excellently well, but is not so common amongst us as the former. {cat-bird.} the cat-bird, so nam'd, because it makes a noise exactly like young cats. they have a blackish head, and an ash-coloured body, and have no other note that i know of. they are no bigger than a lark, yet will fight a crow or any other great bird. {cuckoo.} the cuckoo of carolina may not properly be so call'd, because she never uses that cry; yet she is of the same bigness and feather, and sucks the small-birds eggs, as the english cuckoo does. {blue-bird.} a blue-bird is the exact bigness of a robin-red-breast. the cock has the same colour'd breast as the robin has, and his back, and all the other parts of him, are of as fine a blue, as can possibly be seen in any thing in the world. he has a cry, and a whistle. they hide themselves all the winter. {bulfinch.} bulfinches, in america, differ something from those in europe, in their feathers, tho' not in their bigness. i never knew any one tame, therefore know not, what they might be brought to. {nightingale.} the nightingales are different in plumes from those in europe. they always frequent the low groves, where they sing very prettily all night. {hedge-sparrow.} hedge-sparrows are here, though few hedges. they differ scarce any thing in plume or bigness, only i never heard this whistle, as the english one does; especially after rain. {wren.} the wren is the same as in europe, yet i never heard any note she has in carolina. {sparrow.} sparrows here differ in feather from the english. we have several species of birds call'd sparrows, one of them much resembling the bird call'd a corinthian sparrow. {lark.} the lark with us resorts to the savannas, or natural meads, and green marshes. he is colour'd and heel'd as the lark is; but his breast is of a glittering fair lemon-colour, and he is as big as a fieldfare, and very fine food. {red-birds.} the red-birds (whose cock is all over of a rich scarlet feather, with a tufted crown on his head, of the same colour) are the bigness of a bunting-lark, and very hardy, having a strong thick bill. they will sing very prettily, when taken old, and put in a cage. they are good birds to turn a cage with bells; or if taught, as the bulfinch is, i believe, would prove very docible. {east-india bats.} east-india bats or musqueto hawks, are the bigness of a cuckoo, and much of the same colour. they are so call'd, because the same sort is found in the east-indies. they appear only in the summer, and live on flies, which they catch in the air, as gnats, musquetos, &c. {martins.} martins are here of two sorts. the first is the same as in england; the other as big as a black-bird. they have white throats and breasts, with black backs. the planters put gourds on standing poles, on purpose for these fowl to build in, because they are a very warlike bird, and beat the crows from the plantations. {swift.} the swift, or diveling, the same as in england. {swallow.} swallows, the same as in england. {humming-bird.} the humming-bird is the miracle of all our wing'd animals; he is feather'd as a bird, and gets his living as the bees, by sucking the honey from each flower. in some of the larger sort of flowers, he will bury himself, by diving to suck the bottom of it, so that he is quite cover'd, and oftentimes children catch them in those flowers, and keep them alive for five or six days. they are of different colours, the cock differing from the hen. the cock is of a green, red, aurora, and other colours mixt. he is much less than a wren, and very nimble. his nest is one of the greatest pieces of workmanship the whole tribe of wing'd animals can shew, it commonly hanging on a single bryar, most artificially woven, a small hole being left to go in and out at. the eggs are the bigness of pease. {tom-tit.} the tom-tit, or ox-eyes, as in england. {owls.} of owls we have two sorts; the smaller sort is like ours in england; the other sort is as big as a middling goose, and has a prodigious head. they make a fearful hollowing in the night-time, like a man, whereby they often make strangers lose their way in the woods. {scritch owls.} scritch owls, much the same as in europe. {baltimore-bird.} the baltimore-bird, so call'd from the lord baltimore, proprietor of all maryland, in which province many of them are found. they are the bigness of a linnet, with yellow wings, and beautiful in other colours. {throstle.} throstle, the same size and feather as in europe, but i never could hear any of them sing. {weet bird.} the weet, so call'd because he cries always before rain; he resembles nearest the fire-tail. {cranes and storks.} cranes use the savannas, low ground, and frogs; they are above five foot-high, when extended; are of a cream colour, and have a crimson spot on the crown of their heads. their quills are excellent for pens; their flesh makes the best broth, yet is very hard to digest. among them often frequent storks, which are here seen, and no where besides in america, that i have yet heard of. the cranes are easily bred up tame, and are excellent in a garden to destroy frogs, worms, and other vermine. {snow-birds.} the snow-birds are most numerous in the north parts of america, where there are great snows. they visit us sometimes in carolina, when the weather is harder than ordinary. they are like the stones smach, or wheat-ears, and are delicate meat. {yellow wings.} these yellow-wings are a very small bird, of a linnet's colour, but wings as yellow as gold. they frequent high up in our rivers, and creeks, and keep themselves in the thick bushes, very difficult to be seen in the spring. they sing very prettily. {whippoo-will.} whippoo-will, so nam'd, because it makes those words exactly. they are the bigness of a thrush, and call their note under a bush, on the ground, hard to be seen, though you hear them never so plain. they are more plentiful in virginia, than with us in carolina; for i never heard but one that was near the settlement, and that was hard-by an indian town. {red sparrow.} this nearest resembles a sparrow, and is the most common small-bird we have, therefore we call them so. they are brown, and red, cinnamon colour, striped. {water fowl.} of the swans we have two sorts; the one we call trompeters; because of a sort of trompeting noise they make. {swans.} these are the largest sort we have, which come in great flocks in the winter, and stay, commonly, in the fresh rivers till february, that the spring comes on, when they go to the lakes to breed. a cygnet, that is, a last year's swan, is accounted a delicate dish, as indeed it is. they are known by their head and feathers, which are not so white as old ones. {hooper.} the sort of swans call'd hoopers, are the least. they abide more in the salt-water, and are equally valuable, for food, with the former. it is observable, that neither of these have a black piece of horny flesh down the head, and bill, as they have in england. {wild geese.} of geese we have three sorts, differing from each other only in size. ours are not the common geese that are in the fens in england, but the other sorts, with black heads and necks. {gray brants.} the gray brant, or barnicle, is here very plentiful, as all other water-fowl are, in the winter-season. they are the same which they call barnicles in great-britain, and are a very good fowl, and eat well. {white brant.} there is also a white brant, very plentiful in america. this bird is all over as white as snow, except the tips of his wings, and those are black. they eat the roots of sedge and grass in the marshes and savannas, which they tear up like hogs. the best way to kill these fowl is, to burn a piece of marsh, or savanna, and as soon as it is burnt, they will come in great flocks to get the roots, where you kill what you please of them. they are as good meat as the other, only their feathers are stubbed, and good for little. {sea-pie, or curlue.} the sea-pie, or gray curlue, is about the bigness of a very large pigeon, but longer. he has a long bill as other curlues have, which is the colour of an english owsel's, that is, yellow; as are his legs. he frequents the sand-beaches on the sea-side, and when kill'd, is inferiour to no fowl i ever eat of. {will willet.} will willet is so called from his cry, which he very exactly calls will willet, as he flies. his bill is like a curlue's, or woodcock's, and has much such a body as the other, yet not so tall. he is good meat. {great gray gull.} the great gray gulls are good meat, and as large as a pullet. they lay large eggs, which are found in very great quantities, on the islands in our sound, in the months of june, and july. the young squabs are very good victuals, and often prove a relief to travellers by water, that have spent their provisions. {old wives.} old wives are a black and white pied gull with extraordinary long wings, and a golden colour'd bill and feet. he makes a dismal noise, as he flies, and ever and anon dips his bill in the salt-water. i never knew him eaten. {sea-cock.} the sea-cock is a gull that crows at break of day, and in the morning, exactly like a dunghil cock, which cry seems very pleasant in those uninhabited places. he is never eaten. {curlues. coots, kingfisher, loons, two sorts.} of curlues there are three sorts, and vast numbers of each. they have all long bills, and differ neither in colour, nor shape, only in size. the largest is as big as a good hen, the smaller the bigness of a snipe, or something bigger. {bitterns, three sorts.} we have three sorts of bitterns in carolina. the first is the same as in england; the second of a deep brown, with a great topping, and yellowish white throat and breast, and is lesser than the former; the last is no bigger than a wood-cock, and near the colour of the second. {herns.} we have the same herns, as in england. {white-herns.} white herns are here very plentiful. i have seen above thirty sit on one tree, at a time. they are as white as milk, and fly very slowly. {water-pheasant.} the water-pheasant (very improperly call'd so) are a water-fowl of the duck-kind, having a topping, of pretty feathers, which sets them out. they are very good meat. {little gray gull.} the little gray-gull is of a curious gray colour, and abides near the sea. he is about the bigness of a whistling-plover, and delicate food. {dipper.} we have the little dipper or fisher, that catches fish so dexterously, the same as you have in the islands of scilly. {duck and mallard.} we have of the same ducks, and mallards with green heads, in great flocks. they are accounted the coarsest sort of our water-fowl. {black duck.} the black duck is full as large as the other, and good meat. she stays with us all the summer, and breeds. these are made tame by some, and prove good domesticks. {summer duck.} we have another duck that stays with us all the summer. she has a great topping, is pied, and very beautiful. she builds her nest in a wood-pecker's hole, very often sixty or seventy foot high. {whistling duck.} towards the mountains in the hilly country, on the west-branch of caip-fair inlet, we saw great flocks of pretty pied ducks, that whistled as they flew, or as they fed. i did not kill any of them. {scarlet ey'd duck.} we kill'd a curious sort of ducks, in the country of the esaw-indians, which were of many beautiful colours. their eyes were red, having a red circle of flesh for their eye-lids; and were very good to eat. {blue-wings.} the blue-wings are less than a duck, but fine meat. these are the first fowls that appear to us in the fall of the leaf, coming then in great flocks, as we suppose, from canada, and the lakes that lie behind us. {widgeon.} widgeons, the same as in europe, are here in great plenty. {teal two sorts.} we have the same teal, as in england, and another sort that frequents the fresh-water, and are always nodding their heads. they are smaller than the common teal, and dainty meat. {shovellers.} shovellers (a sort of duck) are gray, with a black head. they are a very good fowl. {whistlers.} these are called whistlers, from the whistling noise they make, as they fly. {black-flusterers, or bald-coot.} black flusterers; some call these old wives. they are as black as ink. the cocks have white faces. they always remain in the midst of rivers, and feed upon drift grass, carnels or sea-nettles. they are the fattest fowl i ever saw, and sometimes so heavy with flesh, that they cannot rise out of the water. they make an odd sort of noise when they fly. what meat they are, i could never learn. some call these the great bald coot. {turkeys.} the wild turkeys i should have spoken of, when i treated of the land-fowl. there are great flocks of these in carolina. i have seen about five hundred in a flock; some of them are very large. i never weigh'd any myself, but have been inform'd of one that weigh'd near sixty pound weight. i have seen half a turkey feed eight hungry men two meals. sometimes the wild breed with the tame ones, which, they reckon, makes them very hardy, as i believe it must. i see no manner of difference betwixt the wild turkeys and the tame ones; only the wild are ever of one colour, (viz.) a dark gray, or brown, and are excellent food. they feed on acorns, huckle-berries, and many other sorts of berries that carolina affords. the eggs taken from the nest, and hatch'd under a hen, will yet retain a wild nature, and commonly leave you, and run wild at last, and will never be got into a house to roost, but always pearch on some high tree, hard-by the house, and separate themselves from the tame sort, although (at the same time) they tread and breed together. i have been inform'd, that if you take these wild eggs, when just on the point of being hatch'd, and dip them (for some small time) in a bowl of milk-warm water, it will take off their wild nature, and make them as tame and domestick as the others. some indians have brought these wild breed hatch'd at home, to be a decoy to bring others to roost near their cabins, which they have shot. but to return to the water-fowl. {fishermen.} fishermen are like a duck, but have a narrow bill, with setts of teeth. they live on very small fish, which they catch as they swim along. they taste fishy. the best way to order them, is, upon occasion, to pull out the oil-box from the rump, and then bury them five or six hours under ground. then they become tolerable. {divers.} of divers there are two sorts; the one pied, the other gray; both good meat. {raft-fowl.} raft-fowl includes all the sorts of small ducks and teal, that go in rafts along the shoar, and are of several sorts, that we know no name for. {bull-necks.} these are a whitish fowl, about the bigness of a brant; they come to us after christmas, in very great flocks, in all our rivers. they are a very good meat, but hard to kill, because hard to come near. they will dive and endure a great deal of shot. {red-heads.} red-heads, a lesser fowl than bull-necks, are very sweet food, and plentiful in our rivers and creeks. {tropick-birds.} tropick-birds are a white mew, with a forked tail. they are so call'd, because they are plentifully met withal under the tropicks, and thereabouts. {pellican.} the pellican of the wilderness cannot be the same as ours; this being a water-fowl, with a great natural wen or pouch under his throat, in which he keeps his prey of fish, which is what he lives on. he is web-footed, like a goose, and shap'd like a duck, but is a very large fowl, bigger than a goose. he is never eaten as food; they make tobacco-pouches of his maw. {cormorant.} cormorants are very well known in some parts of england; we have great flocks of them with us, especially against the herrings run, which is in march and april; then they sit upon logs of dry wood in the water, and catch the fish. {gannet.} the gannet is a large white fowl, having one part of his wings black; he lives on fish, as the pellican. his fat or grease, is as yellow as saffron, and the best thing known, to preserve fire-arms, from rust. {shear-water.} shear-waters are a longer fowl than a duck; some of them lie on the coast, whilst others range the seas all over. sometimes they are met five hundred leagues from land. they live without drinking any fresh water. {pied-gull.} we have a great pied gull, black and white, which seems to have a black hood on his head; these lay very fair eggs which are good; as are the young ones in the season. {marsh-hen.} marsh-hen, much the same as in europe, only she makes another sort of noise, and much shriller. {blue-peters.} the same as you call water-hens in england, are here very numerous, and not regarded for eating. {sand-birds.} the sand-birds are about the bigness of a lark, and frequent our sand-beaches; they are a dainty food, if you will bestow time and ammunition to kill them. {runners.} these are called runners; because if you run after them, they will run along the sands and not offer to get up; so that you may often drive them together to shoot as you please. they are a pleasant small bird. {tutcocks.} a sort of snipe, but sucks not his food; they are almost the same as in england. {swaddle-bills.} swaddle-bills are a sort of an ash-colour'd duck, which have an extraordinary broad bill, and are good meat; they are not common as the others are. {mew.} the same mew as in england, being a white, slender bird, with red feet. {shel-drakes.} the same as in england. {bald-faces.} the bald, or white faces are a good fowl. they cannot dive, and are easily shotten. {water-witch.} water-witch, or ware-coots, are a fowl with down and no feathers; they dive incomparably, so that no fowler can hit them. they can neither fly, nor go; but get into the fish-wares, and cannot fly over the rods, and so are taken. thus have we given an account of what fowl has come to our knowledge, since our abode in carolina; except some that, perhaps, have slipt our memory, and so are left out of our catalogue. proceed we now to treat of the inhabitants of the watry element, which tho' we can as yet do but very imperfectly; yet we are willing to oblige the curious with the best account that is in our power to present them withal. the fish in the salt, and fresh waters of carolina, are, whales, several sorts. thrashers. divel-fish. sword-fish. crampois. bottle-noses. porpoises. sharks, two sorts. dog-fish. spanish-mackarel. cavallies. boneto's. blue-fish. drum, red. drum-fish, black. angel-fish. bass, or rock-fish. sheeps-heads. plaice. flounder. soles. mullets. shad. eat-backs. guard, white. guard, green. scate or stingray. thornback. congar-eels. lamprey-eels. eels. sun-fish. toad-fish. sea-tench. trouts of the salt water. crocus. herring. smelts. shads. breams. taylors. fresh-water fish are, sturgeon. pike. trouts. gudgeon. pearch english. pearch, white. pearch, brown, or welch-men. pearch, flat, and mottled, or irishmen. pearch small and flat, with red spots, call'd round robins. carp. roach. dace. loaches. sucking-fish. cat-fish. grindals. old-wives. fountain-fish. white-fish. the shell-fish are. large crabs, call'd stone-crabs. smaller flat crabs. oysters great and small. cockles. clams. muscles. conks. skellop. man of noses. periwinkles, or wilks. sea-snail-horns. fidlars. runners. spanish or pearl-oysters. flattings. tortois and terebin, accounted for among the insects. finger-fish. shrimps. fresh water. craw-fish. muscles. {whale.} whales are very numerous, on the coast of north carolina, from which they make oil, bone, &c. to the great advantage of those inhabiting the sand-banks, along the ocean, where these whales come ashore, none being struck or kill'd with a harpoon in this place, as they are to the northward, and elsewhere; all those fish being found dead on the shoar, most commonly by those that inhabit the banks, and sea-side, where they dwell, for that intent, and for the benefit of wrecks, which sometimes fall in upon that shoar. of these monsters there are four sorts; the first, which is most choice and rich, is the sperma caeti whale, from which the sperma caeti is taken. these are rich prizes; but i never heard but of one found on this coast, which was near currituck-inlet. the other sorts are of a prodigious bigness. of these the bone and oil is made; the oil being the blubber, or oily flesh, or fat of that fish boil'd. these differ not only in colour, some being pied, others not, but very much in shape, one being call'd a bottle-nosed whale, the other a shovel-nose, which is as different as a salmon from a sturgeon. these fish seldom come ashoar with their tongues in their heads, the thrasher (which is the whale's mortal enemy, wheresoever he meets him) eating that out of his head, as soon as he and the sword-fish have kill'd him. for when the whale-catchers (in other parts) kill any of these fish, they eat the tongue, and esteem it an excellent dish. there is another sort of these whales, or great fish, though not common. i never knew of above one of that sort, found on the coast of north carolina, and he was contrary, in shape, to all others ever found before him; being sixty foot in length, and not above three or four foot diameter. some indians in america will go out to sea, and get upon a whales back, and peg or plug up his spouts, and so kill him. {thrashers.} the thrashers are large fish, and mortal enemies to the whale, as i said before. they make good oil; but are seldom found. {divel-fish.} the divel-fish lies at some of our inlets, and, as near as i can describe him, is shap'd like a scate, or stingray; only he has on his head a pair of very thick strong horns, and is of a monstrous size, and strength; for this fish has been known to weigh a sloop's anchor, and run with the vessel a league or two, and bring her back, against tide, to almost the same place. doubtless, they may afford good oil; but i have no experience of any profits which arise from them. {sword-fish.} the sword-fish is the other of the whale's enemies, and joins with the thrasher to destroy that monster. after they have overcome him, they eat his tongue, as i said before, and the whale drives ashoar. {crampois.} crampois is a large fish, and by some accounted a young whale; but it is not so; neither is it more than twenty five or thirty foot long. they spout as the whale does, and when taken yield good oil. {bottle-noses.} bottle-noses are between the crampois and porpois, and lie near the soundings. they are never seen to swim leisurely, as sometimes all other fish do, but are continually running after their prey in great shoals, like wild horses, leaping now and then above the water. the french esteem them good food, and eat them both fresh and salt. {porpoises.} porpoises are frequent, all over the ocean and rivers that are salt; nay, we have a fresh-water lake in the great sound of north carolina that has porpoises in it. and several sorts of other unknown fish, as the indians say, that we are wholly strangers to. as to the porpoises, they make good oil; they prey upon other fish as drums, yet never are known to take a bait, so as to be catch'd with a hook. {sharks.} of these there are two sorts; one call'd paracooda-noses; the other shovel-noses; they cannot take their prey before they turn themselves on their backs; wherefore some negro's, and others, that can swim and dive well, go naked into the water, with a knife in their hand, and fight the shark, and very commonly kill him, or wound him so, that he turns tail, and runs away. their livors make good oil to dress leather withal; the bones found in their head are said to hasten the birth, and ease the stone, by bringing it away. their meat is eaten in scarce times; but i never could away with it, though a great lover of fish. their back-bone is of one entire thickness. of the bones, or joints, i have known buttons made, which serve well enough in scarce times, and remote places. {dog-fish.} the dog-fish are a small sort of the shark kind; and are caught with hook and line, fishing for drums. they say, they are good meat; but we have so many other sorts of delicate fish, that i shall hardly ever make tryal what they are. {spanish-mackarel.} spanish mackarel are, in colour and shape, like the common mackarel, only much thicker. they are caught with hook and line at the inlets, and sometimes out a little way at sea. they are a very fine hard fish, and of good taste. they are about two foot long, or better. {cavallies.} cavallies are taken in the same places. they are of a brownish colour, have exceeding small scales, and a very thick skin; they are as firm a fish as ever i saw; therefore will keep sweet (in the hot weather) two days, when others will stink in half a day, unless salted. they ought to be scaled as soon as taken; otherwise you must pull off the skin and scales, when boiled; the skin being the choicest of the fish. the meat, which is white and large, is dress'd with this fish. {boneto's.} boneto's are a very palatable fish, and near a yard long. they haunt the inlets and water near the ocean; and are killed with the harpoon, and fishgig. {blue-fish.} the blue fish is one of our best fishes, and always very fat. they are as long as a salmon, and indeed, i think, full as good meat. these fish come (in the fall of the year) generally after there has been one black frost, when there appear great shoals of them. the hatteras indians, and others, run into the sands of the sea, and strike them, though some of these fish have caused sickness and violent burnings after eating of them, which is found to proceed from the gall that is broken in some of them, and is hurtful. sometimes, many cart-loads of these are thrown and left dry on the sea side, which comes by their eager pursuit of the small fish, in which they run themselves ashoar, and the tide leaving them, they cannot recover the water again. they are called blue-fish, because they are of that colour, and have a forked tail, and are shaped like a dolphin. {red-drum.} the red drum is a large fish much bigger than the blue-fish. the body of this is good firm meat, but the head is beyond all the fish i ever met withal for an excellent dish. we have greater numbers of these fish, than of any other sort. people go down and catch as many barrels full as they please, with hook and line, especially every young flood, when they bite. these are salted up, and transported to other colonies, that are bare of provisions. {black-drum.} black drums are a thicker-made fish than the red drum, being shap'd like a fat pig; they are a very good fish, but not so common with us as to the northward. {angel-fish.} the angel-fish is shaped like an english bream. he is so call'd, from his golden colour, which shines all about his head and belly. this is accounted a very good fish, as are most in these parts. the bermudians have the same sort of fish, and esteem them very much. {rock-fish.} bass or rock is both in salt and fresh-water; when young, he much resembles a grayling, but grows to the size of the large cod-fish. they are a very good firm fish. their heads are souced, and make a noble dish, if large. {sheeps-head.} sheeps-head has the general vogue of being the choicest fish in this place. indeed, it is a very delicate fish, and well relish'd; yet i think, there are several others full as good as the sheeps-head. he is much of the bigness of the angel-fish, and flat as he is; they sometimes weigh two or three pound weight. this fish hath teeth like a sheep, and is therefore so call'd. {plaice.} plaice are here very large, and plentiful, being the same as in england. {flounder.} flounders should have gone amongst the fresh-water fish, because they are caught there, in great plenty. {soles.} soles are a fish we have but lately discover'd; they are as good, as in any other part. {mullets.} mullets, the same as in england, and great plenty in all places where the water is salt or brackish. {shads.} shads are a sweet fish, but very bony; they are very plentiful at some seasons. {fat-backs.} fat-backs are a small fish, like mullets, but the fattest ever known. they put nothing into the pan, to fry these. they are excellent sweet food. {white guard-fish.} the white guard-fish is shaped almost like a pike, but slenderer; his mouth has a long small bill set with teeth, in which he catches small fish; his scales are knit together like armour. when they dress him, they strip him, taking off scales and skin together. his meat is very white, and rather looks like flesh than fish. the english account them no good fish; but the indians do. the gall of this fish is green, and a violent cathartick, if taken inwardly. {green-guard.} the green guard is shaped, in all respects, like the other, save that his scales are very small and fine. he is indifferent good meat; his bones, when boil'd or fry'd, remain as green as grass. the same sort of fish come before the mackarel in england. {scate.} scate, or stingray, the same as in england, and very common; but the great plenty of other fish makes these not regarded; for few or none eat them in carolina, though they are almost at every ones door. {thornback.} thornbacks are the same as in england. they are not so common as the scate and whip-rays. {congar-eels.} congar-eels always remain in the salt-water; they are much more known in the northward parts of america, than with us. {lamprey.} lampreys are not common; i never saw but one, which was large, and caught by the indians, in a ware. they would not eat him, but gave him to me. {eels.} eels are no where in the world better, or more plentiful, than in carolina. {sun-fish.} sun-fish are flat and rounder than a bream, and are reckon'd a fine-tasted fish, and not without reason. they are much the size of angel-fish. {toad-fish.} toad-fish are nothing but a skin full of prickles, and a few bones; they are as ugly as a toad, and preserv'd to look upon, and good for nothing else. {sea-tench.} they are taken by a bait, near the inlet, or out at sea a little way. they are blackish, and exactly like a tench, except in the back-fins, which have prickles like a pearch. they are as good, if not better than any tench. {salt-water trouts.} trouts of the salt-water are exactly shaped like the trouts in europe, having blackish, not red spots. they are in the salts, and are not red within, but white, yet a very good fish. they are so tender, that if they are in or near fresh water, and a sudden frost come, they are benumm'd, and float on the surface of the water, as if dead; and then they take up canoe-loads of them. if you put them into warm water, they presently recover. {crocus.} the crocus is a fish, in shape like a pearch, and in taste like a whiting. they croke and make a noise in your hand, when taken with hook or net. they are very good. {herring.} the herrings in carolina are not so large as in europe. they spawn there in march and april, running up the fresh rivers and small fresh runs of water in great shoals, where they are taken. they become red if salted; and, drest with vinegar and oil, resemble an anchovy very much; for they are far beyond an english herring, when pickled. {smelts.} the same as in england; they lie down a great way in the sound, towards the ocean, where (at some certain seasons) are a great many very fine ones. {breams.} the fresh water affords no such bream as in england, that i have as yet discover'd; yet there is a sea-bream, which is a flat and thin fish, as the european breams are. {taylors.} the taylor is a fish about the bigness of a trout, but of a bluish and green colour, with a forked tail, as a mackarel has. they are a delicate fish, and plentiful in our salt-waters. infinite numbers of other species will be hereafter discover'd as yet unknown to us; although i have seen and eaten of several other sorts of fish, which are not here mention'd, because, as yet, they have no certain names assign'd them. therefore, i shall treat no farther of our salt-water fish, but proceed to the fresh. {fresh water sturgeon.} the first of these is the sturgeon, of which we have plenty, all the fresh parts of our rivers being well stor'd therewith. the indians upon and towards the heads and falls of our rivers, strike a great many of these, and eat them; yet the indians near the salt-waters will not eat them. i have seen an indian strike one of these fish, seven foot long, and leave him on the sands to be eaten by the gulls. in may, they run up towards the heads of the rivers, where you see several hundreds of them in one day. the indians have another way to take them, which is by nets at the end of a pole. the bones of these fish make good nutmeg-graters. {pike.} the jack, pike, or pickerel, is exactly the same, in carolina, as they are in england. indeed, i never saw this fish so big and large in america, as i have in europe, these with us being seldom above two foot long, as far as i have yet seen. they are very plentiful with us in carolina, all our creeks and ponds being full of them. i once took out of a ware, above three hundred of these fish, at a time. {trouts.} the same in england as in carolina; but ours are a great way up the rivers and brooks, that are fresh, having swift currents, and stony, and gravelly bottoms. {gudgeon.} the same gudgeons as in europe are found in america. {first pearch.} the same sort of pearch as are in england, we have likewise in carolina, though, i think, ours never rise to be so large as in england. {second pearch.} we have a white pearch, so call'd, because he is of a silver colour, otherwise like the english pearch. these we have in great plenty, and they are preferable to the red ones. {third pearch.} the brown pearch, which some call welch-men, are the largest sort of pearches that we have, and very firm, white and sweet fish. these grow to be larger than any carp, and are very frequent in every creek and pond. {fourth flat.} the flat or mottled pearch are shaped almost like a bream. they are called irish-men, being freckled or mottled with black, and blue spots. they are never taken any where, but in the fresh water. they are good fish; but i do not approve of them, no more than of the other sorts of pearch. {fifth pearch, or round robin.} we have another sort of pearch, which is the least sort of all, but as good meat as any. these are distinguish'd from the other sorts, by the name of round-robins; being flat, and very round-shap'd; they are spotted with red spots very beautiful, and are easily caught with an angle, as all the other sort of pearches are. {carp.} we have the same carp as you have in england. {roach.} and the same roach; only scarce so large. {dace.} dace are the same as yours too; but neither are these so large nor plentiful, as with you. {loach.} the same as in england. {sucking-fish.} sucking-fish are the nearest in taste and shape to a barbel, only they have no barbs. {cat-fish.} cat-fish are a round blackish fish, with a great flat head, a wide mouth, and no scales; they something resemble eels in taste. both this sort, and another that frequents the salt water, are very plentiful. {grindals.} grindals are a long scaled fish with small eyes; and frequent ponds, lakes, and slow-running creeks and swamps. they are a soft sorry fish, and good for nothing; though some eat them for good fish. {old-wives.} these are a bright scaly fish, which frequent the swamps, and fresh runs; they seem to be between an english roach and a bream, and eat much like the latter. the indians kill abundance of these, and barbakue them, till they are crisp, then transport them, in wooden hurdles, to their towns and quarters. {fountain-fish.} the fountain-fish are a white sort which breed in the clear running springs and fountains of water, where the clearness thereof makes them very difficult to be taken. i cannot say how good they are; because i have not as yet tasted of them. {white-fish.} the white fish are very large; some being two foot and a half long and more. they are found a great way up in the freshes of the rivers; and are firm meat, and an extraordinary well-relish'd fish. {barbouts millers thumbs.} barbouts and millers-thumbs, are the very same here, in all respects, as they are in england. what more are in the fresh waters we have not discover'd, but are satisfied, that we are not acquainted with one third part thereof; for we are told by the indians, of a great many strange and uncouth shapes and sorts of fish, which they have found in the lakes laid down in my chart. however as we can give no farther account of these than by hear-say; i proceed to treat of the shell-fish that are found in the salt-water, so far as they have already come to our knowledge. {large crabs.} the large crabs, which we call stone-crabs, are the same sort as in england, having black tips at the end of their claws. these are plentifully met withal, down in core sound, and the south parts of north-carolina. {small flat crabs.} the smaller flat crabs i look upon to be the sweetest of all the species. they are the breadth of a lusty man's hand, or rather larger. these are innumerable, lying in most prodigious quantities, all over the salts of carolina. they are taken not only to eat, but are the best bait for all sorts of fish, that live in the salt-water. these fish are mischievous to night-hooks, because they get away all the bait from the hooks. {oysters.} oysters, great and small, are found almost in every creek and gut of salt-water, and are very good and well-relish'd. the large oysters are excellent, pickled. {cockles.} one cockle in carolina is as big as five or six in england. they are often thrown upon the sands on the sound-side, where the gulls are always ready to open and eat them. {clams.} clams are a sort of cockles, only differing in shell, which is thicker and not streak'd, or ribb'd. these are found throughout all the sound and salt-water-ponds. the meat is the same for look and taste as the cockle. these make an excellent strong broth, and eat well, either roasted or pickled. {muscles.} the muscles in carolina have a very large shell, striped with dents. they grow by the side of ponds and creeks, in salt-water, wherein you may get as many of them as you please. i do not like them so well as the english muscle, which is no good shell-fish. {conks.} some of the shells of these are as large as a man's hand, but the lesser sort are the best meat, and those not extraordinary. they are shap'd like the end of a horses yard. of their shells, the peak or wampum is made, which is the richest commodity amongst the indians. they breed like a long thing shap'd like a snake, but containing a sort of joints, in the hollowness whereof are thousands of small coaks, no bigger then small grains of pepper. {skellops.} the skellops, if well dress'd, are a pretty shell-fish; but to eat them only roasted, without any other addition, in my judgment, are too luscious. {man of noses.} man of noses are a shell-fish commonly found amongst us. they are valued for increasing vigour in men, and making barren women fruitful; but i think they have no need of that fish; for the women in carolina are fruitful enough without their helps. {wilks.} wilks, or periwinkles, are not so large here, as in the islands of scilly, and in other parts of europe, though very sweet. {snail-horn.} the sea-snail-horn is large, and very good meat; they are exactly shaped as other snail-horns are. {fidlar.} fidlars are a sort of small crabs, that lie in holes in the marshes. the raccoons eat them very much. i never knew any one try, whether they were good meat or no. {runner.} runners live chiefly on the sands, but sometimes run into the sea. they have holes in the sand-beaches and are a whitish sort of a crab. tho' small, they run as fast as a man, and are good for nothing but to look at. {spanish-oysters.} spanish oysters have a very thin shell, and rough on the outside. they are very good shell-fish, and so large, that half a dozen are enow to satisfy an hungry stomach. {flattings.} the flattings are inclosed in a broad, thin shell, the whole fish being flat. they are inferiour to no shell-fish this country affords. {finger-fish.} finger-fish are very plentiful in this country; they are of the length of a man's finger, and lie in the bottom of the water about one or two foot deep. they are very good. {shrimps.} shrimps are here very plentiful and good, and are to be taken with a small-bow-net, in great quantities. {small-cockles.} the small cockles are about the bigness of the largest english cockles, and differ nothing from them, unless in the shells, which are striped cross-wise as well as long-wise. the fresh-water shell-fish are, {muscles.} muscles, which are eaten by the indians, after five or six hours boiling, to make them tender, and then are good for nothing. {craw-fish.} craw-fish, in the brooks, and small rivers of water, amongst the tuskeruro indians, and up higher, are found very plentifully, and as good as any in the world. and thus i have gone through the several species of fish, so far as they have come to my knowledge, in the eight years that i have lived in carolina. i should have made a larger discovery, when travelling so far towards the mountains, and amongst the hills, had it not been in the winter-season, which was improper to make any enquiry into any of the species before recited. therefore, as my intent was, i proceed to what remains of the present state of carolina, having already accounted for the animals, and vegetables, as far as this volume would allow of; whereby the remainder, though not exactly known, may yet be guess'd at, if we consider what latitude carolina lies in, which reaches from to deg. min. northern latitude, as i have before observ'd. which latitude is as fertile and pleasant, as any in the world, as well for the produce of minerals, fruit, grain, and wine, as other rich commodities. and indeed, all the experiments that have been made in carolina, of the fertility and natural advantages of the country, have exceeded all expectation, as affording some commodities, which other places, in the same latitude, do not. as for minerals, as they are subterraneous products, so, in all new countries, they are the species that are last discover'd; and especially, in carolina, where the indians never look for any thing lower than the superficies of the earth, being a race of men the least addicted to delving of any people that inhabit so fine a country as carolina is. as good if not better mines than those the spaniards possess in america, lie full west from us; and i am certain, we have as mountainous land, and as great probability of having rich minerals in carolina, as any of those parts that are already found to be so rich therein. but, waving this subject, till some other opportunity, i shall now give you some observations in general, concerning carolina, which are, first, that it lies as convenient for trade as any of the plantations in america; that we have plenty of pitch, tar, skins of deer, and beeves, furs, rice, wheat, rie, indian grain, sundry sorts of pulse, turpentine, rozin, masts, yards, planks and boards, staves and lumber, timber of many common sorts, fit for any uses; hemp, flax, barley, oats, buck-wheat, beef, pork, tallow, hides, whale-bone and oil, wax, cheese, butter, &c. besides drugs, dyes, fruit, silk, cotton, indico, oil, and wine that we need not doubt of, as soon as we make a regular essay, the country being adorn'd with pleasant meadows, rivers, mountains, valleys, hills, and rich pastures, and blessed with wholesome pure air; especially a little backwards from the sea, where the wild beasts inhabit, none of which are voracious. the men are active, the women fruitful to admiration, every house being full of children, and several women that have come hither barren, having presently prov'd fruitful. there cannot be a richer soil; no place abounding more in flesh and fowl, both wild and tame, besides fish, fruit, grain, cider, and many other pleasant liquors; together with several other necessaries for life and trade, that are daily found out, as new discoveries are made. the stone and gout seldom trouble us; the consumption we are wholly strangers to, no place affording a better remedy for that distemper, than carolina. for trade, we lie so near to virginia, that we have the advantage of their convoys; as also letters from thence, in two or three days at most, in some places in as few hours. add to this, that the great number of ships which come within those capes, for virginia and maryland, take off our provisions, and give us bills of exchange for england, which is sterling money. the planters in virginia and maryland are forc'd to do the same, the great quantities of tobacco that are planted there, making provisions scarce; and tobacco is a commodity oftentimes so low, as to bring nothing, whereas provisions and naval stores never fail of a market. besides, where these are raised, in such plenty as in carolina, there always appears good housekeeping, and plenty of all manner of delicate eatables. for instance, the pork of carolina is very good, the younger hogs fed on peaches, maiz, and such other natural produce; being some of the sweetest meat that the world affords, as is acknowledged by all strangers that have been there. and as for the beef, in pampticough, and the southward parts, it proves extraordinary. we have not only provisions plentiful, but cloaths of our own manufactures, which are made, and daily increase; cotton, wool, hemp, and flax, being of our own growth; and the women to be highly commended for their industry in spinning, and ordering their houswifry to so great advantage as they generally do; which is much more easy, by reason this happy climate, visited with so mild winters, is much warmer than the northern plantations, which saves abundance of cloaths; fewer serving our necessities, and those of our servants. but this is not all; for we can go out with our commodities, to any other part of the west-indies, or elsewhere, in the depth of winter; whereas, those in new-england, new-york, pensylvania, and the colonies to the northward of us, cannot stir for ice, but are fast lock'd into their harbours. besides, we can trade with south-carolina, and pay no duties or customs, no more than their own vessels, both north and south being under the same lords-proprietors. we have, as i observ'd before, another great advantage, in not being a frontier, and so continually alarm'd by the enemy; and what has been accounted a detriment to us, proves one of the greatest advantages any people could wish; which is, our country's being faced with a sound near ten leagues over in some places, through which, although there be water enough for as large ships to come in at, as in any part hitherto seated in both carolinas; yet the difficulty of that sound to strangers, hinders them from attempting any hostilities against us; and, at the same time, if we consider the advantages thereof, nothing can appear to be a better situation, than to be fronted with such a bulwark, which secures us from our enemies. furthermore, our distance from the sea rids us of two curses, which attend most other parts of america, viz. muskeetos, and the worm-biting, which eats ships bottoms out; whereas at bath-town, there is no such thing known; and as for muskeetos, they hinder us of as little rest, as they do you in england. add to this, the unaccountable quantities of fish this great water, or sound, supplies us withal, whenever we take the pains to fish for them; advantages i have no where met withal in america, except here. as for the climate, we enjoy a very wholsome and serene sky, and a pure and thin air, the sun seldom missing to give us his daily blessing, unless now and then on a winters day, which is not often; and when cloudy, the first appearance of a north-west wind clears the horizon, and restores the light of the sun. the weather, in summer, is very pleasant; the hotter months being refresh'd with continual breezes of cool reviving air; and the spring being as pleasant, and beautiful, as in any place i ever was in. the winter, most commonly, is so mild, that it looks like an autumn, being now and then attended with clear and thin north-west winds, that are sharp enough to regulate english constitutions, and free them from a great many dangerous distempers, that a continual summer afflicts them withal, nothing being wanting, as to the natural ornaments and blessings of a country, that conduce to make reasonable men happy. and, for those that are otherwise, they are so much their own enemies, where they are, that they will scarce ever be any ones friends, or their own, when they are transplanted; so, it's much better for all sides, that they remain as they are. not but that there are several good people, that, upon just grounds, may be uneasy under their present burdens; and such i would advise to remove to the place i have been treating of, where they may enjoy their liberty and religion, and peaceably eat the fruits of their labour, and drink the wine of their own vineyards, without the alarms of a troublesome worldly life. if a man be a botanist, here is a plentiful field of plants to divert him in; if he be a gardner, and delight in that pleasant and happy life, he will meet with a climate and soil, that will further and promote his designs, in as great a measure, as any man can wish for; and as for the constitution of this government, it is so mild and easy, in respect to the properties and liberties of a subject, that without rehearsing the particulars, i say once for all, it is the mildest and best establish'd government in the world, and the place where any man may peaceably enjoy his own, without being invaded by another; rank and superiority ever giving place to justice and equity, which is the golden rule that every government ought to be built upon, and regulated by. besides, it is worthy our notice, that this province has been settled, and continued the most free from the insults and barbarities of the indians, of any colony that was ever yet seated in america; which must be esteem'd as a particular providence of god handed down from heaven, to these people; especially, when we consider, how irregularly they settled north-carolina, and yet how undisturb'd they have ever remain'd, free from any foreign danger or loss, even to this very day. and what may well be look'd upon for as great a miracle, this is a place, where no malefactors are found, deserving death, or even a prison for debtors; there being no more than two persons, that, as far as i have been able to learn, ever suffer'd as criminals, although it has been a settlement near sixty years; one of whom was a turk that committed murder; the other, an old woman, for witchcraft. these, 'tis true, were on the stage, and acted many years, before i knew the place; but as for the last, i wish it had been undone to this day; although they give a great many arguments, to justifie the deed, which i had rather they should have a hand in, than myself; seeing i could never approve of taking life away upon such accusations, the justice whereof i could never yet understand. but, to return to the subject in hand; we there make extraordinary good bricks throughout the settlement. all sorts of handicrafts, as carpenters, joiners, masons, plaisterers, shooemakers, tanners, taylors, weavers, and most others, may, with small beginnings, and god's blessing, thrive very well in this place, and provide estates for their children, land being sold at a much cheaper rate there, than in any other place in america, and may, as i suppose, be purchased of the lords-proprietors here in england, or of the governour there for the time being, by any that shall have a mind to transport themselves to that country. the farmers that go thither (for which sort of men it is a very thriving place) should take with them some particular seeds of grass, as trefoil, clover-grass all sorts, sanfoin, and common grass, or that which is a rarity in europe; especially, what has sprung and rose first from a warm climate, and will endure the sun without flinching. likewise, if there be any extraordinary sort of grain for increase or hardiness, and some fruit-trees of choice kinds, they will be both profitable and pleasant to have with you, where you may see the fruits of your labour in perfection, in a few years. the necessary instruments of husbandry i need not acquaint the husbandman withal; hoes of all sorts, and axes must be had, with saws, wedges, augurs, nails, hammers, and what other things may be necessary for building with brick, or stone, which sort your inclination and conveniency lead you to. for, after having look'd over this treatise, you must needs be acquainted with the nature of the country, and therefore cannot but be judges, what it is that you will chiefly want. as for land, none need want it for taking up, even in the places there seated on the navigable creeks, rivers, and harbours, without being driven into remoter holes and corners of the country, for settlements, which all are forced to do, who, at this day, settle in most or all of the other english plantations in america; which are already become so populous, that a new-comer cannot get a beneficial and commodious seat, unless he purchases, when, in most places in virginia and maryland, a thousand acres of good land, seated on a navigable water, will cost a thousand pounds; whereas, with us, it is at present obtain'd for the fiftieth part of the money. besides, our land pays to the lords, but an easy quit-rent, or yearly acknowledgement; and the other settlements pay two shillings per hundred. all these things duly weighed, any rational man that has a mind to purchase land in the plantations for a settlement of himself and family, will soon discover the advantages that attend the settlers and purchasers of land in carolina, above all other colonies in the english dominions in america. and as there is a free exercise of all persuasions amongst christians, the lords-proprietors, to encourage ministers of the church of england, have given free land towards the maintenance of a church, and especially, for the parish of s. thomas in pampticough, over-against the town, is already laid out for a glebe of two hundred and twenty three acres of rich well-situated land, that a parsonage-house may be built upon. and now i shall proceed to give an account of the indians, their customs and ways of living, with a short dictionary of their speech. an account of the indians of north-carolina. the indians, which were the inhabitants of america, when the spaniards and other europeans discover'd the several parts of that country, are the people which we reckon the natives thereof; as indeed they were, when we first found out those parts, and appear'd therein. yet this has not wrought in me a full satisfaction, to allow these people to have been the ancient dwellers of the new-world, or tract of land we call america. the reasons that i have to think otherwise, are too many to set down here; but i shall give the reader a few, before i proceed; and some others he will find scatter'd in my writings elsewhere. in carolina (the part i now treat of) are the fairest marks of a deluge, (that at some time has probably made strange alterations, as to the station that country was then in) that ever i saw, or, i think, read of, in any history. {wood under ground.} amongst the other subterraneous matters, that have been discover'd, we found, in digging of a well that was twenty six foot deep, at the bottom thereof, many large pieces of the tulip-tree, and several other sorts of wood, some of which were cut and notch'd, and some squared, as the joices of a house are, which appear'd (in the judgment of all that saw them) to be wrought with iron instruments; it seeming impossible for any thing made of stone, or what they were found to make use of, to cut wood in that manner. it cannot be argu'd, that the wood so cut, might float from some other continent; because hiccory and the tulip-tree are spontaneous in america, and in no other places, that i could ever learn. {shells some fathoms in the earth, the sea probably has thrown up in part of this country.} {mexico buildings.} it is to be acknowledg'd, that the spaniards give us relations of magnificent buildings, which were raised by the indians of mexico and other parts, which they discover'd, and conquer'd; amongst whom no iron instruments were found: but 'tis a great misfortune, that no person in that expedition was so curious, as to take an exact draught of the fabricks of those people, which would have been a discovery of great value, and very acceptable to the ingenious; for, as to the politeness of stones, it may be effected by collision, and grinding, which is of a contrary nature, on several accounts, and disproves not my arguments, in the least. {earthen pots under ground.} the next is, the earthen pots that are often found under ground, and at the foot of the banks where the water has wash'd them away. they are for the most part broken in pieces; but we find them of a different sort, in comparison of those the indians use at this day, who have had no other, ever since the english discover'd america. the bowels of the earth cannot have alter'd them, since they are thicker, of another shape, and composition, and nearly approach to the urns of the ancient romans. {indian peaches.} again, the peaches, which are the only tame fruit, or what is foreign, that these people enjoy, which is an eastern product, and will keep and retain its vegetative and growing faculty, the longest of any thing of that nature, that i know of. {the stone. water-melon and gourds the indians have always had.} the stone, as i elsewhere have remark'd, is thicker than any other sort of the peaches in europe, or of the european sort, now growing in america, and is observed to grow if planted, after it has been for several years laid by; and it seems very probable, that these people might come from some eastern country; for when you ask them whence their fore-fathers came, that first inhabited the country, they will point to the westward and say, `where the sun sleeps, our forefathers came thence', which, at that distance, may be reckon'd amongst the eastern parts of the world. and to this day, they are a shifting, wandring people; for i know some indian nations, that have chang'd their settlements, many hundred miles; sometimes no less than a thousand, as is prov'd by the savanna indians, who formerly lived on the banks of the messiasippi, and remov'd thence to the head of one of the rivers of south-carolina; since which, (for some dislike) most of them are remov'd to live in the quarters of the iroquois or sinnagars, which are on the heads of the rivers that disgorge themselves into the bay of chesapeak. i once met with a young indian woman, that had been brought from beyond the mountains, and was sold a slave into virginia. she spoke the same language, as the coranine indians, that dwell near cape-look-out, allowing for some few words, which were different, yet no otherwise, than that they might understand one another very well. {indian well shap'd people.} the indians of north-carolina are a well-shap'd clean-made people, of different statures, as the europeans are, yet chiefly inclin'd to be tall. they are a very streight people, and never bend forwards, or stoop in the shoulders, unless much overpower'd by old age. their limbs are exceeding well-shap'd. as for their legs and feet, they are generally the handsomest in the world. their bodies are a little flat, which is occasion'd, by being laced hard down to a board, in their infancy. this is all the cradle they have, which i shall describe at large elsewhere. their eyes are black, or of a dark hazle; the white is marbled with red streaks, which is ever common to these people, unless when sprung from a white father or mother. their colour is of a tawny, which would not be so dark, did they not dawb themselves with bears oil, and a colour like burnt cork. this is begun in their infancy, and continued for a long time, which fills the pores, and enables them better to endure the extremity of the weather. they are never bald on their heads, although never so old, which, i believe, proceeds from their heads being always uncover'd, and the greasing their hair (so often as they do) with bears fat, which is a great nourisher of the hair, and causes it to grow very fast. amongst the bears oil (when they intend to be fine) they mix a certain red powder, that comes from a scarlet root which they get in the hilly country, near the foot of the great ridge of mountains, and it is no where else to be found. they have this scarlet root in great esteem, and sell it for a very great price, one to another. the reason of its value is, because they not only go a long way for it, but are in great danger of the sinnagars or iroquois, who are mortal enemies to all our indians, and very often take them captives, or kill them, before they return from this voyage. the tuskeruros and other indians have often brought this seed with them from the mountains; but it would never grow in our land. with this and bears grease they anoint their heads and temples, which is esteem'd as ornamental, as sweet powder to our hair. besides, this root has the virtue of killing lice, and suffers none to abide or breed in their heads. for want of this root, they sometimes use pecoon-root, which is of a crimson colour, but it is apt to die the hair of an ugly hue. their eyes are commonly full and manly, and their gate sedate and majestick. they never walk backward and forward as we do, nor contemplate on the affairs of loss and gain; the things which daily perplex us. they are dexterous and steady both as to their hands and feet, to admiration. they will walk over deep brooks, and creeks, on the smallest poles, and that without any fear or concern. nay, an indian will walk on the ridge of a barn or house and look down the gable-end, and spit upon the ground, as unconcern'd, as if he was walking on terra firma. in running, leaping, or any such other exercise, their legs seldom miscarry, and give them a fall; and as for letting any thing fall out of their hands, i never yet knew one example. they are no inventers of any arts or trades worthy mention; the reason of which i take to be, that they are not possess'd with that care and thoughtfulness, how to provide for the necessaries of life, as the europeans are; yet they will learn any thing very soon. i have known an indian stock guns better than most of our joiners, although he never saw one stock'd before; and besides, his working-tool was only a sorry knife. i have also known several of them that were slaves to the english, learn handicraft-trades very well and speedily. {no dwarf.} i never saw a dwarf amongst them, nor but one that was hump-back'd. their teeth are yellow with smoaking tobacco, which both men and women are much addicted to. they tell us, that they had tobacco amongst them, before the europeans made any discovery of that continent. it differs in the leaf from the sweet-scented, and oroonoko, which are the plants we raise and cultivate in america. {indian tobacco.} theirs differs likewise much in the smell, when green, from our tobacco, before cured. they do not use the same way to cure it as we do; and therefore, the difference must be very considerable in taste; for all men (that know tobacco) must allow, that it is the ordering thereof which gives a hogoo to that weed, rather than any natural relish it possesses, when green. although they are great smokers, yet they never are seen to take it in snuff, or chew it. they have no hairs on their faces (except some few) and those but little, nor is there often found any hair under their arm-pits. they are continually plucking it away from their faces, by the roots. as for their privities, since they wore tail-clouts, to cover their nakedness, several of the men have a deal of hair thereon. it is to be observ'd, that the head of the penis is cover'd (throughout all the nations of the indians i ever saw) both in old and young. although we reckon these a very smooth people, and free from hair; yet i once saw a middle-aged man, that was hairy all down his back; the hairs being above an inch long. {few cripples.} as there are found very few, or scarce any, deformed, or cripples, amongst them, so neither did i ever see but one blind man; and then they would give me no account how his blindness came. they had a use for him, which was, to lead him with a girl, woman, or boy, by a string; so they put what burdens they pleased upon his back, and made him very serviceable upon all such occasions. {indians good eyes.} no people have better eyes, or see better in the night or day, than the indians. some alledge, that the smoke of the pitch-pine, which they chiefly burn, does both preserve and strengthen the eyes; as, perhaps, it may do, because that smoak never offends the eyes, though you hold your face over a great fire thereof. this is occasion'd by the volatile part of the turpentine, which rises with the smoke, and is of a friendly, balsamick nature; for the ashes of the pine-tree afford no fix'd salt in them. {not pair their nails.} they let their nails grow very long, which, they reckon, is the use nails are design'd for, and laugh at the europeans for pairing theirs, which, they say, disarms them of that which nature design'd them for. {indians not robust.} they are not of so robust and strong bodies, as to lift great burdens, and endure labour and slavish work, as the europeans are; yet some that are slaves, prove very good and laborious: {no hard workers.} but, of themselves, they never work as the english do, taking care for no farther than what is absolutely necessary to support life. in travelling and hunting, they are very indefatigable; because that carries a pleasure along with the profit. i have known some of them very strong; and as for running and leaping, they are extraordinary fellows, and will dance for several nights together, with the greatest briskness imaginable, their wind never failing them. {indians dance of war. on what account they make war.} their dances are of different natures; and for every sort of dance, they have a tune, which is allotted for that dance; as, if it be a war-dance, they have a warlike song, wherein they express, with all the passion and vehemence imaginable, what they intend to do with their enemies; how they will kill, roast, sculp, beat, and make captive, such and such numbers of them; and how many they have destroy'd before. all these songs are made new for every feast; nor is one and the same song sung at two several festivals. {indian poet.} some one of the nation (which has the best gift of expressing their designs) is appointed by their king, and war-captains, to make these songs. {dance of peace.} others are made for feasts of another nature; as, when several towns, or sometimes, different nations have made peace with one another; then the song suits both nations, and relates, how the bad spirit made them go to war, and destroy one another; but it shall never be so again; but that their sons and daughters shall marry together, and the two nations love one another, and become as one people. they have a third sort of feasts and dances, which are always when the harvest of corn is ended, and in the spring. the one, to return thanks to the good spirit, for the fruits of the earth; the other, to beg the same blessings for the succeeding year. and, to encourage the young men to labour stoutly, in planting their maiz and pulse, they set a sort of an idol in the field, which is dress'd up exactly like an indian, having all the indians habit, besides abundance of wampum, and their money, made of shells, that hangs about his neck. {plantation idol.} the image none of the young men dare approach; for the old ones will not suffer them to come near him, but tell them, that he is some famous indian warriour, that died a great while ago, and now is come amongst them, to see if they work well, which if they do, he will go to the good spirit, and speak to him to send them plenty of corn, and to make the young men all expert hunters and mighty warriours. all this while, the king and old men sit round the image, and seemingly pay a profound respect to the same. one great help to these indians, in carrying on these cheats, and inducing youth to do what they please, is, the uninterrupted silence, which is ever kept and observ'd, with all the respect and veneration imaginable. {masquerade.} at these feasts, which are set out with all the magnificence their fare allows of, the masquerades begin at night, and not before. there is commonly a fire made in the middle of the house, which is the largest in the town, and is very often the dwelling of their king, or war-captain; where sit two men on the ground, upon a mat; one with a rattle, made of a gourd, with some beans in it; the other with a drum, made of an earthen pot, cover'd with a dress'd-deer-skin, and one stick in his hand to beat thereon; and so they both begin the song appointed. {indian musicians.} at the same time, one drums, and the other rattles, which is all the artificial musick of their own making i ever saw amongst them. to these two instruments they sing, which carries no air with it, but is a sort of unsavoury jargon; yet their cadences and raising of their voices are form'd with that equality and exactness, that (to us europeans) it seems admirable, how they should continue these songs, without once missing to agree, each with the others note and tune. {dancing.} as for their dancing, were there masters of that profession amongst them, as there are with us, they would dearly earn their money; for these creatures take the most pains at it, that men are able to endure. i have seen thirty odd together a dancing, and every one dropp'd down with sweat, as if water had been poured down their backs. they use those hard labours, to make them able to endure fatigue, {indians long winded.} and improve their wind, which indeed is very long and durable, it being a hard matter, in any exercise, to dispossess them of it. at these feasts, they meet from all the towns within fifty or sixty miles round, where they buy and sell several commodities, as we do at fairs and markets. {indian gaming.} besides, they game very much, and often strip one another of all they have in the world; and what is more, i have known several of them play themselves away, so that they have remain'd the winners servants, till their relations or themselves could pay the money to redeem them; and when this happens, the loser is never dejected or melancholy at the loss, but laughs, and seems no less contented than if he had won. they never differ at gaming, neither did i ever see a dispute, about the legality thereof, so much as rise amongst them. {indian cards.} their chiefest game is a sort of arithmetick, which is managed by a parcel of small split reeds, the thickness of a small bent; these are made very nicely, so that they part, and are tractable in their hands. they are fifty one in number, their length about seven inches; when they play, they throw part of them to their antagonist; the art is, to discover, upon sight, how many you have, and what you throw to him that plays with you. some are so expert at their numbers, that they will tell ten times together, what they throw out of their hands. although the whole play is carried on with the quickest motion it's possible to use, yet some are so expert at this game, as to win great indian estates by this play. a good sett of these reeds, fit to play withal, are valued and sold for a dress'd doe-skin. {indian dice.} they have several other plays and games; as, with the kernels or stones of persimmons, which are in effect the same as our dice, because winning or losing depend on which side appear uppermost, and how they happen to fall together. {indian trap-ball.} another game is managed with a batoon and a ball, and resembles our trap-ball; besides, several nations have several games and pastimes, which are not used by others. {indian cabins.} these savages live in wigwams, or cabins built of bark, which are made round like an oven, to prevent any damage by hard gales of wind. they make the fire in the middle of the house, and have a hole at the top of the roof right above the fire, to let out the smoke. these dwellings are as hot as stoves, where the indians sleep and sweat all night. the floors thereof are never paved nor swept, so that they have always a loose earth on them. {fleas.} they are often troubled with a multitude of fleas, especially near the places where they dress their deer-skins, because that hair harbours them; yet i never felt any ill, unsavory smell in their cabins, whereas, should we live in our houses, as they do, we should be poison'd with our own nastiness; {indians a sweet people.} which confirms these indians to be, as they really are, some of the sweetest people in the world. the bark they make their cabins withal, is generally cypress, or red or white cedar; and sometimes, when they are a great way from any of these woods, they make use of pine-bark, which is the worser sort. {making cabins.} in building these fabricks, they get very long poles, of pine, cedar, hiccory, or any wood that will bend; these are the thickness of the small of a man's leg, at the thickest end, which they generally strip of the bark, and warm them well in the fire, which makes them tough and fit to bend; afterwards, they stick the thickest ends of them in the ground, about two yards asunder, in a circular form, the distance they design the cabin to be, (which is not always round, but sometimes oval) then they bend the tops and bring them together, and bind their ends with bark of trees, that is proper for that use, as elm is, {black moss.} or sometimes the moss that grows on the trees, and is a yard or two long, and never rots; then they brace them with other poles, to make them strong; afterwards, cover them all over with bark, so that they are very warm and tight, and will keep firm against all the weathers that blow. {indians store-houses.} they have other sorts of cabins without windows, which are for their granaries, skins, and merchandizes; and others that are cover'd over head; the rest left open for the air. {indians banqueting houses.} these have reed-hurdles, like tables, to lie and sit on, in summer, and serve for pleasant banqueting-houses in the hot season of the year. the cabins they dwell in have benches all round, except where the door stands; on these they lay beasts-skins, and mats made of rushes, whereon they sleep and loll. in one of these, several families commonly live, though all related to one another. as to the indians food, it is of several sorts, which are as follows. {indian food.} venison, and fawns in the bags, cut out of the doe's belly; fish of all sorts, the lamprey-eel excepted, and the sturgeon our salt-water indians will not touch; bear and bever; panther; pole-cat; wild-cat; possum; raccoon; hares, and squirrels, roasted with their guts in; snakes, all indians will not eat them, tho' some do; all wild fruits that are palatable, some of which they dry and keep against winter, as all sort of fruits, and peaches, which they dry, and make quiddonies, and cakes, that are very pleasant, and a little tartish; young wasps, when they are white in the combs, before they can fly, this is esteemed a dainty; all sorts of tortois and terebins; shell-fish, and stingray, or scate, dry'd; gourds; melons; cucumbers; squashes; pulse of all sorts; rockahomine meal, which is their maiz, parch'd and pounded into powder; fowl of all sorts, that are eatable; ground-nuts, or wild potato's; acorns and acorn oil; wild-bulls, beef, mutton, pork, &c. from the english; indian corn, or maiz, made into several sorts of bread; ears of corn roasted in the summer, or preserv'd against winter. the victuals is common, throughout the whole kindred relations, and often to the whole town; especially, when they are in hunting-quarters, then they all fare alike, whichsoever of them kills the game. {feasts of charity. indians discern not between fat and lean meat.} they are very kind, and charitable to one another, but more especially to those of their own nation; for if any one of them has suffer'd any loss, by fire or otherwise, they order the griev'd person to make a feast, and invite them all thereto, which, on the day appointed, they come to, and after every man's mess of victuals is dealt to him, one of their speakers, or grave old men, makes an harangue, and acquaints the company, that that man's house has been burnt, wherein all his goods were destroy'd; that he, and his family, very narrowly escaped; that he is every man's friend in that company; and, that it is all their duties to help him, as he would do to any of them, had the like misfortune befallen them. after this oration is over, every man, according to his quality, throws him down upon the ground some present, which is commonly beads, ronoak, peak, skins or furs, and which very often amounts to treble the loss he has suffer'd. the same assistance they give to any man that wants to build a cabin, or make a canoe. they say, it is our duty thus to do; for there are several works that one man cannot effect, therefore we must give him our help, otherwise our society will fall, and we shall be depriv'd of those urgent necessities which life requires. {indians no fences.} they have no fence to part one anothers lots in their corn-fields; but every man knows his own, and it scarce ever happens, that they rob one another of so much as an ear of corn, which if any is found to do, he is sentenced by the elders to work and plant for him that was robb'd, till he is recompensed for all the damage he has suffer'd in his corn-field; and this is punctually perform'd, and the thief held in disgrace, that steals from any of his country-folks. {indians charity to widows.} it often happens, that a woman is destitute of her husband, and has a great many children to maintain; such a person they always help, and make their young men plant, reap, and do every thing that she is not capable of doing herself; yet they do not allow any one to be idle, but to employ themselves in some work or other. {indian women no scolds.} they never fight with one another, unless drunk, nor do you ever hear any scolding amongst them. they say, the europeans are always rangling and uneasy, and wonder they do not go out of this world, since they are so uneasy and discontented in it. all their misfortunes and losses end in laughter; for if their cabins take fire, and all their goods are burnt therein, (indeed, all will strive to prevent farther damage, whilst there is any possibility) yet such a misfortune ends in a hearty fitt of laughter, unless some of their kinsfolks and friends have lost their lives; but then the case is alter'd, and they become very pensive, and go into deep mourning, which is continued for a considerable time; sometimes longer, or shorter, according to the dignity of the person, and the number of relations he had near him. the burial of their dead is perform'd with a great deal of ceremony, in which one nation differs, in some few circumstances, from another, yet not so much but we may, by a general relation, pretty nearly account for them all. {indian burial of their dead.} when an indian is dead, the greater person he was, the more expensive is his funeral. the first thing which is done, is, to place the nearest relations near the corps, who mourn and weep very much, having their hair hanging down their shoulders, in a very forlorn manner. after the dead person has lain a day and a night, in one of their hurdles of canes, commonly in some out-house made for that purpose, those that officiate about the funeral, go into the town, and the first young men they meet withal, that have blankets or match coats on, whom they think fit for their turn, they strip them from their backs, who suffer them so to do, without any resistance. in these they wrap the dead bodies, and cover them with two or three mats, which the indians make of rushes or cane; and last of all, they have a long web of woven reeds, or hollow canes, which is the coffin of the indians, and is brought round several times, and tied fast at both ends, which indeed, looks very decent and well. then the corps is brought out of the house, into the orchard of peach-trees, where another hurdle is made to receive it, about which comes all the relations and nation that the dead person belong'd to, besides several from other nations in alliance with them; all which sit down on the ground, upon mats spread there, for that purpose; where the doctor or conjurer appears; and, after some time, makes a sort of `o-yes', at which all are very silent; then he begins to give an account, who the dead person was, and how stout a man he approv'd himself; how many enemies and captives he had kill'd and taken; how strong, tall, and nimble he was; that he was a great hunter, a lover of his country, and possess'd of a great many beautiful wives and children, esteem'd the greatest of blessings among these savages, in which they have a true notion. {indian funeral sermon.} thus this orator runs on, highly extolling the dead man, for his valour, conduct, strength, riches, and good-humour; and enumerating his guns, slaves and almost every thing he was possess'd of, when living. after which, he addresses himself to the people of that town or nation, and bids them supply the dead man's place, by following his steps, who, he assures them, is gone into the country of souls, (which they think lies a great way off, in this world, which the sun visits, in his ordinary course) and that he will have the enjoyment of handsome young women, great store of deer to hunt, never meet with hunger, cold or fatigue, but every thing to answer his expectation and desire. this is the heaven they propose to themselves; but, on the contrary, for those indians that are lazy, thievish amongst themselves, bad hunters, and no warriours, nor of much use to the nation, to such they allot, in the next world, hunger, cold, troubles, old ugly women for their companions, with snakes, and all sorts of nasty victuals to feed on. thus is mark'd out their heaven and hell. {indian traditions.} after all this harangue, he diverts the people with some of their traditions, as when there was a violent hot summer, or very hard winter; when any notable distempers rag'd amongst them; when they were at war with such and such nations; how victorious they were; and what were the names of their war-captains. to prove the times more exactly, he produces the records of the country, which are a parcel of reeds, of different lengths, with several distinct marks, known to none but themselves; by which they seem to guess, very exactly, at accidents that happen'd many years ago; nay two or three ages or more. the reason i have to believe what they tell me, on this account, is, because i have been at the meetings of several indian nations; and they agreed, in relating the same circumstances, as to time, very exactly; {a hard winter.} as, for example, they say, there was so hard a winter in carolina, years ago, that the great sound was frozen over, and the wild geese came into the woods to eat acorns, and that they were so tame, (i suppose, through want) that they kill'd abundance in the woods, by knocking them on the head with sticks. but, to return to the dead man. when this long tale is ended, by him that spoke first; perhaps, a second begins another long story; so a third, and fourth, if there be so many doctors present; which all tell one and the same thing. at last, the corps is brought away from that hurdle to the grave, by four young men, attended by the relations, the king, old men, and all the nation. {interment in the grave.} when they come to the sepulcre, which is about six foot deep, and eight foot long, having at each end (that is, at the head and foot) a light-wood, or pitch-pine fork driven close down the sides of the grave, firmly into the ground; (these two forks are to contain a ridge-pole, as you shall understand presently) before they lay the corps into the grave, they cover the bottom two or three times over with bark of trees, then they let down the corps (with two belts, that the indians carry their burdens withal) very leisurely, upon the said barks; then they lay over a pole of the same wood, in the two forks, and having a great many pieces of pitch-pine logs, about two foot and a half long, they stick them in the sides of the grave down each end, and near the top thereof, where the other ends lie on the ridge-pole, so that they are declining like the roof of a house. these being very thick-plac'd, they cover them (many times double) with bark; then they throw the earth thereon, that came out of the grave, and beat it down very firm; by this means, the dead body lies in a vault, nothing touching him; so that when i saw this way of burial, i was mightily pleas'd with it, esteeming it very decent and pretty, as having seen a great many christians buried without the tenth part of that ceremony and decency. {quiogozon idols.} now, when the flesh is rotted and moulder'd from the bone, they take up the carcass, and clean the bones, and joint them together; afterwards, they dress them up in pure white dress'd deer-skins, and lay them amongst their grandees and kings in the quiogozon, which is their royal tomb or burial-place of their kings and war-captains. this is a very large magnificent cabin, (according to their building) which is rais'd at the publick charge of the nation, and maintain'd in a great deal of form and neatness. {idols at the beds.} about seven foot high, is a floor or loft made, on which lie all their princes, and great men, that have died for several hundred years, all attir'd in the dress i before told you of. no person is to have his bones lie here, and to be thus dress'd, unless he gives a round sum of their money to the rulers, for admittance. if they remove never so far, to live in a foreign country, they never fail to take all these dead bones along with them, though the tediousness of their short daily marches keeps them never so long on their journey. they reverence and adore this quiogozon, with all the veneration and respect that is possible for such a people to discharge, and had rather lose all, than have any violence or injury offer'd thereto. these savages differ some small matter in their burials; some burying right upwards, and otherwise, as you are acquainted withal in my journal from south to north carolina; {mourning for the dead.} yet they all agree in their mourning, which is, to appear every night, at the sepulcre, and howl and weep in a very dismal manner, having their faces dawb'd over with light-wood soot, (which is the same as lamp-black) and bears oil. this renders them as black as it is possible to make themselves, so that theirs very much resemble the faces of executed men boil'd in tar. {indians hired to mourn.} if the dead person was a grandee, to carry on the funeral ceremonies, they hire people to cry and lament over the dead man. of this sort there are several, that practise it for a livelihood, and are very expert at shedding abundance of tears, and howling like wolves, and so discharging their office with abundance of hypocrisy and art. the women are never accompanied with these ceremonies after death; and to what world they allot that sex, i never understood, unless, to wait on their dead husbands; but they have more wit, than some of the eastern nations, who sacrifice themselves to accompany their husbands into the next world. it is the dead man's relations, by blood, as his uncles, brothers, sisters, cousins, sons, and daughters, that mourn in good earnest, the wives thinking their duty is discharg'd, and that they are become free, when their husband is dead; so, as fast as they can, look out for another, to supply his place. {indian women handsome.} as for the indian women, which now happen in my way; when young, and at maturity, they are as fine-shap'd creatures (take them generally) as any in the universe. they are of a tawny complexion; their eyes very brisk and amorous; their smiles afford the finest composure a face can possess; their hands are of the finest make, with small long fingers, and as soft as their cheeks; and their whole bodies of a smooth nature. they are not so uncouth or unlikely, as we suppose them; nor are they strangers or not proficients in the soft passion. they are most of them mercenary, except the married women, who sometimes bestow their favours also to some or other, in their husbands absence. for which they never ask any reward. {married women unconstant.} as for the report, that they are never found unconstant, like the europeans, it is wholly false; for were the old world and the new one put into a pair of scales (in point of constancy) it would be a hard matter to discern which was the heavier. {trading girls.} as for the trading girls, which are those design'd to get money by their natural parts, these are discernable, by the cut of their hair; their tonsure differing from all others, of that nation, who are not of their profession; which method is intended to prevent mistakes; for the savages of america are desirous (if possible) to keep their wives to themselves, as well as those in other parts of the world. when any addresses are made to one of these girls, she immediately acquaints her parents therewith, and they tell the king of it, (provided he that courts her be a stranger) his majesty commonly being the principal bawd of the nation he rules over, and there seldom being any of these winchester-weddings agreed on, without his royal consent. he likewise advises her what bargain to make, and if it happens to be an indian trader that wants a bed-fellow, and has got rum to sell, be sure, the king must have a large dram for a fee, to confirm the match. these indians, that are of the elder sort, when any such question is put to them, will debate the matter amongst themselves with all the sobriety and seriousness imaginable, every one of the girl's relations arguing the advantage or detriment that may ensue such a night's encounter; all which is done with as much steadiness and reality, as if it was the greatest concern in the world, and not so much as one person shall be seen to smile, so long as the debate holds, making no difference betwixt an agreement of this nature, and a bargain of any other. if they comply with the men's desire, then a particular bed is provided for them, either in a cabin by themselves, or else all the young people turn out, to another lodging, that they may not spoil sport; and if the old people are in the same cabin along with them all night, they lie as unconcern'd, as if they were so many logs of wood. if it be an indian of their own town or neighbourhood, that wants a mistress, he comes to none but the girl, who receives what she thinks fit to ask him, and so lies all night with him, without the consent of her parents. {indian traders what.} the indian traders are those which travel and abide amongst the indians for a long space of time; sometimes for a year, two, or three. {indian wives.} these men have commonly their indian wives, whereby they soon learn the indian tongue, keep a friendship with the savages; and, besides the satisfaction of a she-bed-fellow, they find these indian girls very serviceable to them, on account of dressing their victuals, and instructing 'em in the affairs and customs of the country. moreover, such a man gets a great trade with the savages; for when a person that lives amongst them, is reserv'd from the conversation of their women, 'tis impossible for him ever to accomplish his designs amongst that people. but one great misfortune which oftentimes attends those that converse with these savage women, is, that they get children by them, which are seldom educated any otherwise than in a state of infidelity; for it is a certain rule and custom, amongst all the savages of america, that i was ever acquainted withal, to let the children always fall to the woman's lot; {children go with the women.} for it often happens, that two indians that have liv'd together, as man and wife, in which time they have had several children; if they part, and another man possesses her, all the children go along with the mother, and none with the father. and therefore, on this score, it ever seems impossible for the christians to get their children (which they have by these indian women) away from them; whereby they might bring them up in the knowledge of the christian principles. nevertheless, we often find, that english men, and other europeans that have been accustom'd to the conversation of these savage women, and their way of living, have been so allur'd with that careless sort of life, as to be constant to their indian wife, and her relations, so long as they liv'd, without ever desiring to return again amongst the english, although they had very fair opportunities of advantages amongst their countrymen; of which sort i have known several. as for the indian marriages, i have read and heard of a great deal of form and ceremony used, which i never saw, nor yet could learn in the time i have been amongst them, any otherwise than i shall here give you an account of; which is as follows. {indian marriage.} when any young indian has a mind for such a girl to his wife, he, or some one for him, goes to the young woman's parents, if living; if not, to her nearest relations; where they make offers of the match betwixt the couple. the relations reply, they will consider of it, which serves for a sufficient answer, till there be a second meeting about the marriage, which is generally brought into debate before all the relations (that are old people) on both sides; and sometimes the king, with all his great men, give their opinions therein. if it be agreed on, and the young woman approve thereof, (for these savages never give their children in marriage, without their own consent) {indians buy their wives.} the man pays so much for his wife; and the handsomer she is, the greater price she bears. now, it often happens, that the man has not so much of their money ready, as he is to pay for his wife; but if they know him to be a good hunter, and that he can raise the sum agreed for, in some few moons, or any little time, they agree, she shall go along with him, as betroth'd, but he is not to have any knowledge of her, till the utmost payment is discharg'd; all which is punctually observ'd. thus, they lie together under one covering for several months, and the woman remains the same as she was when she first came to him. i doubt, our europeans would be apt to break this custom, {indian men not vigorous.} but the indian men are not so vigorous and impatient in their love as we are. yet the women are quite contrary, and those indian girls that have convers'd with the english and other europeans, never care for the conversation of their own countrymen afterwards. they never marry so near as a first cousin; and although there is nothing more coveted amongst them, than to marry a woman of their own nation, yet when the nation consists of a very few people (as now adays it often happens) so that they are all of them related to one another, then they look out for husbands and wives amongst strangers. for if an indian lies with his sister, or any very near relation, his body is burnt, and his ashes thrown into the river, as unworthy to remain on earth; yet an indian is allow'd to marry two sisters, or his brothers wife. although these people are call'd savages, yet sodomy is never heard of amongst them, and they are so far from the practice of that beastly and loathsome sin, that they have no name for it in all their language. the marriages of these indians are no farther binding, than the man and woman agree together. either of them has liberty to leave the other, upon any frivolous excuse they can make; yet whosoever takes the woman that was another man's before, and bought by him, as they all are, must certainly pay to her former husband, whatsoever he gave for her. nay, if she be a widow, and her husband died in debt, whosoever takes her to wife, pays all her husband's obligations, though never so many; yet the woman is not required to pay any thing (unless she is willing) that was owing from her husband, so long as she keeps single. but if a man courts her for a nights lodging, and obtains it, the creditors will make him pay her husband's debts, and he may, if he will, take her for his money, or sell her to another for his wife. {selling wives.} i have seen several of these bargains driven in a day; for you may see men selling their wives as men do horses in a fair, a man being allow'd not only to change as often as he pleases, but likewise to have as many wives as he is able to maintain. {indian many wives.} i have often seen, that very old indian men (that have been grandees in their own nation) have had three or four very likely young indian wives, which i have much wondered at, because to me they seem'd incapacitated to make good use of one of them. {night rambles.} the young men will go in the night from one house to another, to visit the young women, in which sort of rambles they will spend the whole night. in their addresses they find no delays, for if she is willing to entertain the man, she gives him encouragement and grants him admittance; otherwise she withdraws her face from him, and says, i cannot see you, either you or i must leave this cabin, and sleep somewhere else this night. they are never to boast of their intrigues with the women. if they do, none of the girls value them ever after, or admit of their company in their beds. this proceeds not on the score of reputation, for there is no such thing (on that account) known amongst them; and although we may reckon them the greatest libertines and most extravagant in their embraces, yet they retain and possess a modesty that requires those passions never to be divulged. {trading girls marry at last.} the trading girls, after they have led that course of life, for several years, in which time they scarce ever have a child; (for they have an art to destroy the conception, and she that brings a child in this station, is accounted a fool, and her reputation is lessen'd thereby) at last they grow weary of so many, and betake themselves to a married state, or to the company of one man; neither does their having been common to so many any wise lessen their fortunes, but rather augment them. {women not punish'd for adultery.} the woman is not punish'd for adultery, but 'tis the man that makes the injur'd person satisfaction, which is the law of nations practis'd amongst them all; and he that strives to evade such satisfaction as the husband demands, lives daily in danger of his life; yet when discharg'd, all animosity is laid aside, and the cuckold is very well pleased with his bargain, whilst the rival is laugh'd at by the whole nation, for carrying on his intrigue with no better conduct, than to be discover'd and pay so dear for his pleasure. the indians say, that the woman is a weak creature, and easily drawn away by the man's persuasion; for which reason, they lay no blame upon her, but the man (that ought to be master of his passion) for persuading her to it. {never love-mad.} they are of a very hale constitution; their breaths are as sweet as the air they breathe in, and the woman seems to be of that tender composition, as if they were design'd rather for the bed than bondage. yet their love is never of that force and continuance, that any of them ever runs mad, or makes away with themselves on that score. they never love beyond retrieving their first indifferency, and when slighted, are as ready to untie the knot at one end, as you are at the other. yet i knew an european man that had a child or two by one of these indian women, and afterwards married a christian, after which he came to pass away a night with his indian mistress; but she made answer that she then had forgot she ever knew him, and that she never lay with another woman's husband, so fell a crying, and took up the child she had by him, and went out of the cabin (away from him) in great disorder. {indian women what they do.} the indian womens work is to cook the victuals for the whole family, and to make mats, baskets, girdles of possum-hair, and such-like. they never plant the corn amongst us, as they do amongst the iroquois, {iroquois great warriours.} who are always at war and hunting; therefore, the plantation work is left for the women and slaves to perform, and look after; whilst they are wandring all over the continent betwixt the two bays of mexico and st. laurence. {mats how made.} the mats the indian women make, are of rushes, and about five foot high, and two fathom long, and sew'd double, that is, two together; whereby they become very commodious to lay under our beds, or to sleep on in the summer season in the day-time, and for our slaves in the night. there are other mats made of flags, which the tuskeruro indians make, and sell to the inhabitants. {baskets.} the baskets our neighbouring indians make, are all made of a very fine sort of bulrushes, and sometimes of silk-grass, which they work with figures of beasts, birds, fishes, &c. a great way up in the country, both baskets and mats are made of the split reeds, which are only the outward shining part of the cane. of these i have seen mats, baskets, and dressing-boxes, very artificially done. {indian wives.} the savage women of america, have very easy travail with their children; sometimes they bring twins, and are brought to bed by themselves, when took at a disadvantage; not but that they have midwives amongst them, as well as doctors, who make it their profession (for gain) to assist and deliver women, and some of these midwives are very knowing in several medicines that carolina affords, which certainly expedite, and make easy births. besides, they are unacquainted with those severe pains which follow the birth in our european women. their remedies are a great cause of this easiness in that state; for the indian women will run up and down the plantation, the same day, very briskly, and without any sign of pain or sickness; yet they look very meager and thin. not but that we must allow a great deal owing to the climate, and the natural constitution of these women, whose course of nature never visits them in such quantities, as the european women have. and tho' they never want plenty of milk, yet i never saw an indian woman with very large breasts; neither does the youngest wife ever fail of proving so good a nurse, as to bring her child up free from the rickets and disasters that proceed from the teeth, with many other distempers which attack our infants in england, and other parts of europe. {nurse children how.} they let their children suck till they are well grown, unless they prove big with child sooner. they always nurse their own children themselves, unless sickness or death prevents. i once saw a nurse hired to give suck to an indian woman's child, which you have in my journal. after delivery, they absent the company of a man for forty days. as soon as the child is born, they wash it in cold water at the next stream, and then bedawb it, as i have mention'd before. {cradle.} after which, the husband takes care to provide a cradle, which is soon made, consisting of a piece of flat wood, which they hew with their hatchets to the likeness of a board; it is about two foot long, and a foot broad; to this they brace and tie the child down very close, having, near the middle, a stick fasten'd about two inches from the board, which is for the child's breech to rest on, under which they put a wad of moss, that receives the child's excrements, by which means they can shift the moss, and keep all clean and sweet. some nations have very flat heads, as you have heard in my journal, which is made whilst tied on this cradle, as that relation informs you. these cradles are apt to make the body flat; yet they are the most portable things that can be invented; for there is a string which goes from one corner of the board to the other, whereby the mother flings her child on her back; so the infant's back is towards hers, and its face looks up towards the sky. if it rains, she throws her leather or woollen match-coat, over her head, which covers the child all over, and secures her and it from the injuries of rainy weather. the savage women quit all company, and dress not their own victuals, during their purgations. after they have had several children, they grow strangely out of shape in their bodies; as for barrenness, i never knew any of their women, that have not children when marry'd. {indian womens habit.} the womens dress is, in severe weather, a hairy match-coat in the nature of a plad, which keeps out the cold, and (as i said before) defends their children from the prejudices of the weather. at other times, they have only a sort of flap or apron containing two yards in length, and better than half a yard deep. sometimes, it is a deer-skin dress'd white, and pointed or slit at the bottom, like fringe. when this is clean, it becomes them very well. others wear blue or red flaps made of bays and plains, which they buy of the english, of both which they tuck in the corners, to fasten the garment, and sometimes make it fast with a belt. all of them, when ripe, have a small string round the waste, to which another is tied and comes between their legs, where always is a wad of moss against the os pubis; but never any hair is there to be found: sometimes, they wear indian shooes, or moggizons, which are made after the same manner, as the mens are. the hair of their heads is made into a long roll like a horses tail, and bound round with ronoak or porcelan, which is a sort of beads they make of the conk-shells. others that have not this, make a leather-string serve. {indian mens habit.} the indian men have a match-coat of hair, furs, feathers, or cloth, as the women have. their hair is roll'd up, on each ear, as the womens, only much shorter, and oftentimes a roll on the crown of the head, or temples, which is just as they fancy; there being no strictness in their dress. betwixt their legs comes a piece of cloth, that is tuck'd in by a belt both before and behind. this is to hide their nakedness, of which decency they are very strict observers, although never practised before the christians came amongst them. they wear shooes, of bucks, and sometimes bears skin, which they tan in an hour or two; with the bark of trees boil'd, wherein they put the leather whilst hot, and let it remain a little while, whereby it becomes so qualify'd, as to endure water and dirt, without growing hard. these have no heels, and are made as fit for the feet, as a glove is for the hand, and are very easie to travel in, when one is a little us'd to them. {indians washing in the river.} when these savages live near the water, they frequent the rivers in summer-time very much, where both men and women very often in a day go in naked to wash themselves, though not both sexes together. {match-coats how made.} their feather match-coats are very pretty, especially some of them, which are made extraordinary charming, containing several pretty figures wrought in feathers, making them seem like a fine flower silk-shag; and when new and fresh, they become a bed very well, instead of a quilt. some of another sort are made of hare, raccoon, bever, or squirrel-skins, which are very warm. others again are made of the green part of the skin of a mallard's head, which they sew perfectly well together, their thread being either the sinews of a deer divided very small, or silk-grass. when these are finish'd, they look very finely, though they must needs be very troublesome to make. some of their great men, as rulers and such, that have plenty of deer skins by them, will often buy the english-made coats, which they wear on festivals and other days of visiting. yet none ever buy any breeches, saying, that they are too much confin'd in them, which prevents their speed in running, &c. we have some indians, that are more civilized than the rest, which wear hats, shooes, stockings, and breeches, with very tolerable linnen shirts, which is not common amongst these heathens. the paspitank indians did formerly keep cattle, and make butter. {civiliz'd indians. hatteras indians.} these are them that wear the english dress. whether they have cattle now or no, i am not certain; but i am of the opinion, that such inclinations in the savages should meet with encouragement, and every englishman ought to do them justice, and not defraud them of their land, which has been allotted them formerly by the government; for if we do not shew them examples of justice and vertue, we can never bring them to believe us to be a worthier race of men than themselves. the dresses of these people are so different, according to the nation that they belong to, that it is impossible to recount all the whimsical figures that they sometimes make by their antick dresses. besides, carolina is a warm country, and very mild in its winters, to what virginia, maryland, pensylvania, new-york, the jerseys, and new-england are; wherefore, our indians habit very much differs from the dresses that appear amongst the savages who inhabit those cold countries; in regard their chiefest cloathing for the winter-season is made of the furs of bever, raccoon, and other northern furs, that our climate is not acquainted withal, they producing some furs, as the monack, moor, marten, black fox, and others to us unknown. {painting for war.} their dress in peace and war, is quite different. besides, when they go to war, their hair is comb'd out by the women, and done over very much with bears grease, and red root; with feathers, wings, rings, copper, and peak, or wampum in their ears. moreover, they buy vermillion of the indian traders, wherewith they paint their faces all over red, and commonly make a circle of black about one eye, and another circle of white about the other, whilst others bedawb their faces with tobacco-pipe clay, lamp-black, black lead, and divers other colours, which they make with the several sorts of minerals and earths that they get in different parts of the country, where they hunt and travel. when these creatures are thus painted, they make the most frightful figures that can be imitated by men, and seem more like devils than humane creatures. you may be sure, that they are about some mischief, when you see them thus painted; for in all the hostilities which have ever been acted against the english at any time, in several of the plantations of america, the savages always appear'd in this disguize, whereby they might never after be discover'd, or known by any of the christians that should happen to see them after they had made their escape; for it is impossible, ever to know an indian under these colours, although he has been at your house a thousand times, and you know him, at other times, as well as you do any person living. as for their women, they never use any paint on their faces; neither do they ever carry them along with them into the field, when they intend any expedition, leaving them at home with the old men and children. {ear bobs.} some of the indians wear great bobs in their ears, and sometimes in the holes thereof they put eagles and other birds, feathers, for a trophy. when they kill any fowl, they commonly pluck off the downy feathers, and stick them all over their heads. some (both men and women) wear great necklaces of their money made of shells. they often wear bracelets made of brass, and sometimes of iron wire. {indian money.} their money is of different sorts, but all made of shells, which are found on the coast of carolina, which are very large and hard, so that they are very difficult to cut. some english smiths have try'd to drill this sort of shell-money, and thereby thought to get an advantage; but it prov'd so hard, that nothing could be gain'd. they oftentimes make, of this shell, a sort of gorge, which they wear about their neck in a string; so it hangs on their collar, whereon sometimes is engraven a cross, or some odd sort of figure, which comes next in their fancy. there are other sorts valued at a doe-skin, yet the gorges will sometimes sell for three or four buck-skins ready drest. there be others, that eight of them go readily for a doe skin; but the general and current species of all the indians in carolina, and, i believe, all over the continent, as far as the bay of mexico, is that which we call peak, and ronoak; but peak more especially. this is that which at new-york, they call wampum, and have used it as current money amongst the inhabitants for a great many years. this is what many writers call porcelan, and is made at new-york in great quantities, and with us in some measure. five cubits of this purchase a dress'd doe-skin, and seven or eight purchase a dress'd buck-skin. an english-man could not afford to make so much of this wampum for five or ten times the value; for it is made out of a vast great shell, of which that country affords plenty; where it is ground smaller than the small end of a tobacco-pipe, or a large wheat-straw. four or five of these make an inch, and every one is to be drill'd through, and made as smooth as glass, and so strung, as beads are, and a cubit of the indian measure contains as much in length, as will reach from the elbow to the end of the little finger. they never stand to question, whether it is a tall man, or a short one, that measures it; but if this wampum peak be black or purple, as some part of that shell is, then it is twice the value. this the indians grind on stones and other things, till they make it current, but the drilling is the most difficult to the english-men, which the indians manage with a nail stuck in a cane or reed. thus they roll it continually on their thighs, with their right-hand, holding the bit of shell with their left, so in time they drill a hole quite through it, which is a very tedious work; but especially in making their ronoak, four of which will scarce make one length of wampum. the indians are a people that never value their time, so that they can afford to make them, and never need to fear the english will take the trade out of their hands. this is the money with which you may buy skins, furs, slaves, or any thing the indians have; it being the mammon (as our money is to us) that entices and persuades them to do any thing, and part with every thing they possess, except their children for slaves. as for their wives, they are often sold, and their daughters violated for it. with this they buy off murders; and whatsoever a man can do that is ill, this wampum will quit him of, and make him, in their opinion, good and vertuous, though never so black before. {indians how named.} all the indians give a name to their children, which is not the same as the father or mother, but what they fancy. this name they keep, (if boys) till they arrive to the age of a warriour, which is sixteen or seventeen years; then they take a name to themselves, sometimes, eagle, panther, allegator, or some such wild creature; esteeming nothing on earth worthy to give them a name, but these wild-fowl, and beasts. some again take the name of a fish, which they keep as long as they live. {indian king and counsellors. every town a ruler, yet one over all the nation.} the king is the ruler of the nation, and has others under him, to assist him, as his war-captains, and counsellors, who are pick'd out and chosen from among the ancientest men of the nation he is king of. these meet him in all general councils and debates, concerning war, peace, trade, hunting, and all the adventures and accidents of humane affairs, which appear within their verge; where all affairs are discoursed of and argued pro and con, very deliberately (without making any manner of parties or divisions) for the good of the publick; for, as they meet there to treat, they discharge their duty with all the integrity imaginable, never looking towards their own interest, before the publick good. after every man has given his opinion, that which has most voices, or, in summing up, is found the most reasonable, that they make use of without any jars and wrangling, and put it in execution, the first opportunity that offers. {succession how.} the succession falls not to the king's son, but to his sister's son, which is a sure way to prevent impostors in the succession. sometimes they poison the heir to make way for another, which is not seldom done, when they do not approve of the youth that is to succeed them. the king himself is commonly chief doctor in that cure. they are so well versed in poison, that they are often found to poison whole families; nay, most of a town; and which is most to be admired, they will poison a running spring, or fountain of water, so that whosoever drinks thereof, shall infallible die. when the offender is discover'd, his very relations urge for death, whom nothing will appease, but the most cruel torment imaginable, which is executed in the most publick manner that it's possible to act such a tragedy in. for all the whole nation, and all the indians within a hundred mile (if it is possible to send for them) are summon'd to come and appear at such a place and time, to see and rejoyce at the torments and death of such a person, who is the common and profess'd enemy to all the friendly indians thereabouts, who now lies under the condemnation of the whole nation, and accordingly is to be put to death. then all appear (young and old) from all the adjacent parts, and meet, with all the expressions of joy, to consummate this horrid and barbarous feast, which is carried on after this dismal manner. {poisoning indians how punished.} first, they bring the prisoner to the place appointed for the execution, where he is set down on his breech on the ground. then they all get about him, and you shall not see one sorrowful or dejected countenance amongst them, but all very merrily dispos'd, as if some comedy was to be acted, instead of a tragedy. he that is appointed to be the chief executioner, takes a knife, and bids him hold out his hands, which he does, and then cuts round the wrist through the skin, which is drawn off like a glove, and flead quite off at the fingers ends; then they break his joints and bones, and buffet and torment him after a very inhumane manner, till some violent blow perhaps ends his days; then they burn him to ashes, and throw them down the river. afterwards they eat, drink and are merry, repeating all the actions of the tormentors and the prisoner, with a great deal of mirth and satisfaction. this accusation is laid against an indian heroe sometimes wrongfully, or when they have a mind to get rid of a man that has more courage and conduct than his neighbouring kings or great men; then they alledge the practice of poisoning indians against him, and make a rehearsal of every indian that died for a year or two, and say, that they were poison'd by such an indian; which reports stir up all the relations of the deceased against the said person, and by such means make him away presently. in some affairs, these savages are very reserv'd and politick, and will attend a long time with a great deal of patience, to bring about their designs; they being never impatient or hasty in executing any of their designs of revenge. now i am gone so far in giving an account of the indians temper, i will proceed; and can give you no other character of them, but that they are a very wary people, and are never hasty or impatient. they will endure a great many misfortunes, losses, and disapointments without shewing themselves, in the least, vex'd or uneasy. when they go by water, if there proves a head-wind, they never vex and fret, as the europeans do, and let what misfortune come to them, as will or can happen, they never relent. besides, there is one vice very common every where, which i never found amongst them, which is envying other mens happiness, because their station is not equal to, or above, their neighbours. of this sin i cannot say i ever saw an example, though they are a people that set as great a value upon themselves, as any sort of men in the world; upon which account they find something valuable in themselves above riches. thus, he that is a good warriour, is the proudest creature living; and he that is an expert hunter, is esteem'd by the people and himself; yet all these are natural vertues and gifts, and not riches, which are as often in the possession of a fool as a wise-man. several of the indians are possess'd of a great many skins, wampum, ammunition, and what other things are esteem'd riches amongst them; yet such an indian is no more esteem'd amongst them, than any other ordinary fellow, provided he has no personal endowments, which are the ornaments that must gain him an esteem among them; for a great dealer, amongst the indians, is no otherwise respected and esteemed, than as a man that strains his wits, and fatigues himself, to furnish others with necessaries of life, that live much easier and enjoy more of the world, than he himself does, with all his pelf. {indians not afraid to die.} if they are taken captives, and expect a miserable exit, they sing; if death approach them in sickness, they are not afraid of it; nor are ever heard to say, grant me some time. they know by instinct, and daily example, that they must die; wherefore, they have that great and noble gift, to submit to every thing that happens, and value nothing that attacks them. their cruelty to their prisoners of war is what they are seemingly guilty of an error in, (i mean as to a natural failing) because they strive to invent the most inhumane butcheries for them, that the devils themselves could invent, or hammer out of hell; they esteeming death no punishment, but rather an advantage to him, that is exported out of this into another world. {indians cruelty to prisoners of war.} therefore, they inflict on them torments, wherein they prolong life in that miserable state as long as they can, and never miss skulping of them, as they call it, which is, to cut off the skin from the temples, and taking the whole head of hair along with it, as if it was a night-cap. sometimes, they take the top of the skull along with it; all which they preserve, and carefully keep by them, for a trophy of their conquest over their enemies. others keep their enemies teeth, which are taken in war, whilst others split the pitch-pine into splinters, and stick them into the prisoners body yet alive. thus they light them, which burn like so many torches; and in this manner, they make him dance round a great fire, every one buffeting and deriding him, till he expires, when every one strives to get a bone or some relick of this unfortunate captive. one of the young fellows, that has been at the wars, and has had the fortune to take a captive, returns the proudest creature on earth, and sets such a value on himself, that he knows not how to contain himself in his senses. the iroquois, or sinnagers, are the most warlike indians that we know of, being always at war, and not to be persuaded from that way of living, by any argument that can be used. if you go to persuade them to live peaceably with the tuskeruros, and let them be one people, and in case those indians desire it, and will submit to them, they will answer you, that they cannot live without war, which they have ever been used to; and that if peace be made with the indians they now war withal, they must find out some others to wage war against; for, for them to live in peace, is to live out of their element, war, conquest, and murder, being what they delight in, and value themselves for. {indians flea and cut off part of the feet.} when they take a slave, and intend to keep him to work in their fields, they flea the skin from the setting on of his toes to the middle of his foot, so cut off one half of his feet, wrapping the skin over the wounds, and healing them. by this cruel method, the indian captive is hinder'd from making his escape, for he can neither run fast or go any where, but his feet are more easily traced and discover'd. yet i know one man who made his escape from them, tho' they had thus disabled him, as you may see in my journal. the indians ground their wars on enmity, not on interest, as the europeans generally do; for the loss of the meanest person in the nation, they will go to war and lay all at stake, and prosecute their design to the utmost; till the nation they were injur'd by, be wholly destroy'd, or make them that satisfaction which they demand. they are very politick, in waging, and carrying on their war, first by advising with all the ancient men of conduct and reason, that belong to their nation; such as superannuated war-captains, and those that have been counsellors for many years, and whose advice has commonly succeeded very well. they have likewise their field counsellors, who are accustomed to ambuscades, and surprizes, which methods are commonly used by the savages; for i scarce ever heard of a field-battle fought amongst them. one of their expeditions afforded an instance, worthy mention, which was thus; two nations of indians here in carolina were at war together, and a party of each were in the forest ranging to see what enemies they could take. the lesser number found they were discover'd, and could not well get over a river (that lay betwixt them and their home) without engaging the other party, whose numbers were much the greater; so they call'd a council, which met, and having weigh'd their present circumstances with a great deal of argument and debate, for a considerable time, and found their enemies advantage, and that they could expect no success in engaging such an unequal number; they, at last, concluded on this stratagem, which, in my opinion, carried a great deal of policy along with it. {indian politicks.} it was, that the same night, they should make a great fire, which they were certain would be discover'd by the adverse party, and there dress up logs of wood in their cloaths, and make them exactly seem like indians, that were asleep by the fireside; (which is their way, when in the woods) so, said they, our enemies will fire upon these images, supposing them to be us, who will lie in ambuscade, and, after their guns are unloaded, shall deal well enough with them. this result was immediately put in execution, and the fire was made by the side of a valley, where they lay perdu very advantageously. thus, a little before break of day, (which commonly is the hour they surprize their enemies in) the indians came down to their fire, and at once fired in upon those logs in the indians cloaths, and run up to them, expecting they had kill'd every man dead; but they found themselves mistaken, for then the other indians, who had lain all the night stark-naked in the bottom, attack'd them with their loaded pieces, which so surprized them, that every man was taken prisoner, and brought in bound to their town. another instance was betwixt the machapunga indians, and the coranine's, on the sand-banks; which was as follows. {machapunga king charles.} the machapungas were invited to a feast, by the coranines; (which two nations had been a long time at war together, and had lately concluded a peace.) thereupon, the machapunga indians took the advantage of coming to the coranines feast, which was to avoid all suspicion, and their king, who, of a savage, is a great politician and very stout, order'd all his men to carry their tamahauks along with them, hidden under their match-coats, which they did; and being acquainted when to fall on, by the word given, they all (upon this design) set forward for the feast, and came to the coranine town, where they had gotten victuals, fruit, and such things as make an indian entertainment, all ready to make these new friends welcome, which they did; and, after dinner, towards the evening, (as it is customary amongst them) they went to dancing, all together; so when the machapunga king saw the best opportunity offer, he gave the word, and his men pull'd their tamahauks or hatchets from under their match-coats, and kill'd several, and took the rest prisoners, except some few that were not present, and about four or five that escap'd. the prisoners they sold slaves to the english. at the time this was done, those indians had nothing but bows and arrows, neither side having guns. the indians are very revengeful, and never forget an injury done, till they have receiv'd satisfaction. yet they are the freest people from heats and passions (which possess the europeans) of any i ever heard of. {drunkenness in indians.} they never call any man to account for what he did, when he was drunk; but say, it was the drink that caused his misbehaviour, therefore he ought to be forgiven: they never frequent a christian's house that is given to passion, nor will they ever buy or sell with him, if they can get the same commodities of any other person; for they say, such men are mad wolves, and no more men. {indians not jealous.} they know not what jealousy is, because they never think their wives are unconstant, unless they are eye-witnesses thereof. they are generally very bashful, especially the young maids, who when they come into a strange cabin, where they are not acquainted, never ask for any thing, though never so hungry or thirsty, but sit down, without speaking a word (be it never so long) till some of the house asks them a question, or falls into discourse, with the stranger. i never saw a scold amongst them, and to their children they are extraordinary tender and indulgent; neither did i ever see a parent correct a child, excepting one woman, that was the king's wife, and she (indeed) did possess a temper that is not commonly found amongst them. {indians complements.} they are free from all manner of compliments, except shaking of hands, and scratching on the shoulder, which two are the greatest marks of sincerity and friendship, that can be shew'd one to another. they cannot express fare you well; but when they leave the house, will say, i go straightway, which is to intimate their departure; and if the man of the house has any message to send by the going man, he may acquaint him therewith. their tongue allows not to say, sir, i am your servant; because they have no different titles for man, only king, war-captain, old man, or young man, which respect the stations and circumstances men are employ'd in, and arriv'd to, and not ceremony. as for servant, they have no such thing, except slave, and their dogs, cats, tame or domestick beasts, and birds, are call'd by the same name: for the indian word for slave includes them all. so when an indian tells you he has got a slave for you, it may (in general terms, as they use) be a young eagle, a dog, otter, or any other thing of that nature, which is obsequiously to depend on the master for its sustenance. {indians not afraid of spirits.} they are never fearful in the night, nor do the thoughts of spirits ever trouble them; such as the many hobgoblins and bugbears that we suck in with our milk, and the foolery of our nurses and servants suggest to us; who by their idle tales of fairies, and witches, make such impressions on our tender years, that at maturity, we carry pigmies souls, in giants bodies, and ever after are thereby so much depriv'd of reason, and unman'd, as never to be masters of half the bravery nature design'd for us. not but that the indians have as many lying stories of spirits and conjurers, as any people in the world; but they tell it with no disadvantage to themselves; for the great esteem which the old men bring themselves to, is by making the others believe their familiarity with devils and spirits, and how great a correspondence they have therewith, which if it once gains credit, they ever after are held in the greatest veneration imaginable, and whatever they after impose upon the people, is receiv'd as infallible. they are so little startled at the thoughts of another world, that they not seldom murder themselves; as for instance, a bear-river indian, a very likely young fellow, about twenty years of age, whose mother was angry at his drinking of too much rum, and chid him for it, thereupon reply'd, he would have her satisfied, and he would do the like no more; upon which he made his words good; for he went aside, and shot himself dead. this was a son of the politick king of the machapunga, i spoke of before, and has the most cunning of any indian i ever met withal. most of the savages are much addicted to drunkenness, a vice they never were acquainted with, till the christians came amongst them. some of them refrain drinking strong liquors, but very few of that sort are found amongst them. their chief liquor is rum, without any mixture. this the english bring amongst them, and buy skins, furs, slaves and other of their commodities therewith. they never are contented with a little, but when once begun, they must make themselves quite drunk; otherwise they will never rest, but sell all they have in the world, rather than not have their full dose. in these drunken frolicks, (which are always carried on in the night) they sometimes murder one another, fall into the fire, fall down precipices, and break their necks, with several other misfortunes which this drinking of rum brings upon them; and tho' they are sensible of it, yet they have no power to refrain this enemy. about five years ago, when landgrave daniel was governour, he summon'd in all the indian kings and rulers to meet, and in a full meeting of the government and council, with those indians, they agreed upon a firm peace, and the indian rulers desired no rum might be sold to them, which was granted, and a law made, that inflicted a penalty on those that sold rum to the heathens; but it was never strictly observ'd, and besides, the young indians were so disgusted at that article, that they threatned to kill the indians that made it, unless it was laid aside, and they might have rum sold them, when they went to the englishmens houses to buy it. some of the heathens are so very poor, that they have no manner of cloaths, save a wad of moss to hide their nakedness. these are either lusty and will not work; otherwise, they are given to gaming or drunkenness; yet these get victuals as well as the rest, because that is common amongst them. if they are caught in theft they are slaves till they repay the person, (as i mention'd before) but to steal from the english they reckon no harm. not but that i have known some few savages that have been as free from theft as any of the christians. when they have a design to lie with a woman, which they cannot obtain any otherwise than by a larger reward than they are able to give, they then strive to make her drunk, which a great many of them will be; then they take the advantage, to do with them what they please, and sometimes in their drunkenness, cut off their hair and sell it to the english, which is the greatest affront can be offer'd them. they never value time; for if they be going out to hunt, fish, or any other indifferent business, you may keep them in talk as long as you please, so you but keep them in discourse, and seem pleased with their company; yet none are more expeditious and safer messengers than they, when any extraordinary business that they are sent about requires it. {not pass over a tree.} when they are upon travelling the woods, they keep a constant pace, neither will they stride over a tree that lies cross the path, but always go round it, which is quite contrary to the custom of the english, and other europeans. {cut with a knife how. a knife of reed.} when they cut with a knife, the edge is towards them, whereas we always cut and whittle from us. {not left-handed.} nor did i ever see one of them left-handed. {get fire how.} before the christians came amongst them, not knowing the use of steel and flints, they got their fire with sticks, which by vehement collision, or rubbing together, take fire. this method they will sometimes practise now, when it has happen'd thro' rainy weather, or some other accident, that they have wet their spunk, which is a sort of soft corky substance, generally of a cinnamon colour, and grows in the concave part of an oak, hiccory, and several other woods, being dug out with an ax, and always kept by the indians, instead of tinder or touch-wood, both which it exceeds. you are to understand, that the two sticks they use to strike fire withal, are never of one sort of wood, but always differ from each other. they are expert travellers, and though they have not the use of our artificial compass, yet they understand the north-point exactly, let them be in never so great a wilderness. one guide is a short moss, that grows upon some trees, exactly on the north-side thereof. {indian compass.} besides, they have names for eight of the thirty two points, and call the winds by their several names, as we do; but indeed more properly, for the north-west wind is called the cold wind; the north-east the wet wind; the south the warm wind; and so agreeably of the rest. sometimes it happens, that they have a large river or lake to pass over, and the weather is very foggy, as it often happens in the spring and fall of the leaf; so that they cannot see which course to steer: in such a case, they being on one side of the river, or lake, they know well enough what course such a place (which they intend for) bears from them. therefore, they get a great many sticks and chunks of wood in their canoe, and then set off directly for their port, and now and then throw over a piece of wood, which directs them, by seeing how the stick bears from the canoes stern, which they always observe to keep right aft; and this is the indian compass by which they will go over a broad water of ten or twenty leagues wide. they will find the head of any river, though it is five, six or seven hundred miles off, and they never were there, in their lives before; as is often prov'd, by their appointing to meet on the head of such a river, where perhaps, none of them ever was before, but where they shall rendezvous exactly at the prefixt time; and if they meet with any obstruction, they leave certain marks in the way, where they that come after will understand how many have pass'd by already, and which way they are gone. besides, in their war expeditions, they have very certain hieroglyphicks, whereby each party informs the other of the success or losses they have met withal; all which is so exactly perform'd by their sylvian marks and characters, that they are never at a loss to understand one another. yet there was never found any letters amongst the savages of carolina; nor, i believe, among any other natives in america, that were possess'd with any manner of writing or learning throughout all the discoveries of the new-world. {indians make maps.} they will draw maps, very exactly, of all the rivers, towns, mountains, and roads, or what you shall enquire of them, which you may draw by their directions, and come to a small matter of latitude, reckoning by their days journeys. these maps they will draw in the ashes of the fire, and sometimes upon a mat or piece of bark. i have put a pen and ink into a savage's hand, and he has drawn me the rivers, bays, and other parts of a country, which afterwards i have found to agree with a great deal of nicety: but you must be very much in their favour, otherwise they will never make these discoveries to you; especially, if it be in their own quarters. {no discovery of mines.} and as for mines of silver and other metals, we are satisfied we have enow, and those very rich, in carolina and its adjacent parts; some of which the indians are acquainted withal, although no enquirers thereafter, but what came, and were discover'd, by chance; yet they say, it is this metal that the english covet, as they do their peak and ronoak; and that we have gain'd ground of them wherever we have come. now, say they, if we should discover these minerals to the english, they would settle at or near these mountains, and bereave us of the best hunting-quarters we have, as they have already done wherever they have inhabited; so by that means, we shall be driven to some unknown country, to live, hunt, and get our bread in. these are the reasons that the savages give, for not making known what they are acquainted withal, of that nature. and indeed, all men that have ever gone upon those discoveries, allow them to be good; {mr. mitchell.} more especially, my ingenious friend mr. francis-louis mitchell, of bern in switzerland, who has been, for several years, very indefatigable and strict in his discoveries amongst those vast ledges of mountains, and spacious tracts of land, lying towards the heads of the great bays and rivers of virginia, maryland, and pensylvania, where he has discover'd a spacious country inhabited by none but the savages, and not many of them; who yet are of a very friendly nature to the christians. this gentleman has been employ'd by the canton of bern, to find out a tract of land in the english america, where that republick might settle some of their people; which proposal, i believe, is now in a fair way towards a conclusion, between her majesty of great-britain and that canton. {switzers settlement in america.} which must needs be of great advantage to both; and as for ourselves, i believe, no man that is in his wits, and understands the situation and affairs of america, but will allow, nothing can be of more security and advantage to the crown and subjects of great-britain, than to have our frontiers secured by a warlike people, and our friends, as the switzers are; especially when we have more indians than we can civilize, and so many christian enemies lying on the back of us, that we do not know how long or short a time it may be, before they visit us. add to these, the effects and product that may be expected from those mountains; which may hereafter prove of great advantage to the british monarchy, and none more fit than an industrious people, bred in a mountainous country, and inur'd to all the fatigues of war and travel, to improve a country. thus we have no room to doubt, but as soon as any of those parts are seated by the switzers, a great many britains will strive to live amongst them, for the benefit of the sweet air and healthful climate, which that country affords, were it only for the cultivating of hemp, flax, wine, and other valuable staples, which those people are fully acquainted withal: not to mention the advantages already discover'd by that worthy gentleman i just now spoke of, who is highly deserving of the conduct and management of such an affair, as that wise canton has entrusted him withal. {hunting of the savages.} when these savages go a hunting, they commonly go out in great numbers, and oftentimes a great many days journey from home, beginning at the coming in of the winter; that is, when the leaves are fallen from the trees, and are become dry. 'tis then they burn the woods, by setting fire to the leaves, and wither'd bent and grass, {moss match.} which they do with a match made of the black moss that hangs on the trees in carolina, and is sometimes above six foot long. this, when dead, becomes black, (tho' of an ash-colour before) and will then hold fire as well as the best match we have in europe. in places, where this moss is not found, (as towards the mountains) they make lintels of the bark of cypress beaten, which serve as well. thus they go and fire the woods for many miles, and drive the deer and other game into small necks of land and isthmus's, where they kill and destroy what they please. in these hunting-quarters, they have their wives and ladies of the camp, where they eat all the fruits and dainties of that country, and live in all the mirth and jollity, which it is possible for such people to entertain themselves withal. here it is, that they get their complement of deer-skins and furs to trade with the english, (the deer-skins being in season in winter, which is contrary to england.) all small game, as turkeys, ducks, and small vermine, they commonly kill with bow and arrow, thinking it not worth throwing powder and shot after them. of turkeys they have abundance; especially, in oak-land, as most of it is, that lies any distance backwards. i have been often in their hunting-quarters, where a roasted or barbakued turkey, eaten with bears fat, is held a good dish; and indeed, i approve of it very well; for the bears grease is the sweetest and least offensive to the stomach (as i said before) of any fat of animals i ever tasted. {beating of corn.} the savage men never beat their corn to make bread; but that is the womens work, especially the girls, of whom you shall see four beating with long great pestils in a narrow wooden mortar; and every one keeps her stroke so exactly, that 'tis worthy of admiration. their cookery continues from morning till night. the hunting makes them hungry; and the indians are a people that always eat very often, not seldom getting up at midnight, to eat. they plant a great many sorts of pulse, part of which they eat green in the summer, keeping great quantities for their winter-store, which they carry along with them into the hunting-quarters, and eat them. the small red pease is very common with them, and they eat a great deal of that and other sorts boil'd with their meat, or eaten with bears fat, which food makes them break wind backwards, which the men frequently do, and laugh heartily at it, it being accounted no ill manners amongst the indians: yet the women are more modest, than to follow that ill custom. at their setting out, they have indians to attend their hunting-camp, that are not good and expert hunters; {servile indians.} therefore are employ'd to carry burdens, to get bark for the cabins, and other servile work; also to go backward and forward, to their towns, to carry news to the old people, whom they leave behind them. the women are forced to carry their loads of grain and other provisions, and get fire-wood; for a good hunter, or warriour in these expeditions, is employ'd in no other business, than the affairs of game and battle. {dry'd fruits.} the wild fruits which are dry'd in the summer, over fires, on hurdles and in the sun, are now brought into the field; as are likewise the cakes and quiddonies of peaches, and that fruit and bilberries dry'd, of which they stew and make fruit-bread and cakes. {pigeons fat.} in some parts, where pigeons are plentiful, they get of their fat enough to supply their winter stores. thus they abide in these quarters, all the winter long, till the time approach for planting their maiz and other fruits. {bowls and tobacco-pipes to make. dress skins.} in these quarters, at spare-hours, the women make baskets and mats to lie upon, and those that are not extraordinary hunters, make bowls, dishes, and spoons, of gum-wood, and the tulip-tree; others (where they find a vein of white clay, fit for their purpose) make tobacco-pipes, all which are often transported to other indians, that perhaps have greater plenty of deer and other game; so they buy (with these manufactures) their raw skins, with the hair on, which our neighbouring indians bring to their towns, and, in the summer-time, make the slaves and sorry hunters dress them, the winter-sun being not strong enough to dry them; and those that are dry'd in the cabins are black and nasty with the lightwood smoke, which they commonly burn. their way of dressing their skins is by soaking them in water, so they get the hair off, with an instrument made of the bone of a deer's foot; yet some use a sort of iron drawing-knife, which they purchase of the english, and after the hair is off, they dissolve deers brains, (which beforehand are made in a cake and baked in the embers) in a bowl of water, so soak the skins therein, till the brains have suck'd up the water; then they dry it gently, and keep working it with an oyster-shell, or some such thing, to scrape withal, till it is dry; whereby it becomes soft and pliable. yet these so dress'd will not endure wet, but become hard thereby; which to prevent, they either cure them in the smoke, or tan them with bark, as before observ'd; not but that young indian corn, beaten to a pulp, will effect the same as the brains. they are not only good hunters of the wild beasts and game of the forest, but very expert in taking the fish of the rivers and waters near which they inhabit, and are acquainted withal. {fish to strike.} thus they that live a great way up the rivers practise striking sturgeon and rock-fish, or bass, when they come up the rivers to spawn; besides the vast shoals of sturgeon which they kill and take with snares, as we do pike in europe. the herrings in march and april run a great way up the rivers and fresh streams to spawn, where the savages make great wares, with hedges that hinder their passage only in the middle, where an artificial pound is made to take them in; so that they cannot return. this method is in use all over the fresh streams, to catch trout and the other species of fish which those parts afford. {craw-fish to take.} their taking of craw-fish is so pleasant, that i cannot pass it by without mention; when they have a mind to get these shell-fish, they take a piece of venison, and half-barbakue or roast it; then they cut it into thin slices, which slices they stick through with reeds about six inches asunder, betwixt piece and piece; then the reeds are made sharp at one end; and so they stick a great many of them down in the bottom of the water (thus baited) in the small brooks and runs, which the craw-fish frequent. thus the indians sit by, and tend those baited sticks, every now and then taking them up, to see how many are at the bait; where they generally find abundance; so take them off, and put them in a basket for the purpose, and stick the reeds down again. by this method, they will, in a little time, catch several bushels, which are as good, as any i ever eat. {hatteras indians.} those indians that frequent the salt-waters, take abundance of fish, some very large, and of several sorts, which to preserve, they first barbakue, then pull the fish to pieces, so dry it in the sun, whereby it keeps for transportation; as for scate, oysters, cockles, and several sorts of shell-fish, they open and dry them upon hurdles, having a constant fire under them. the hurdles are made of reeds or canes in the shape of a gridiron. thus they dry several bushels of these fish, and keep them for their necessities. at the time when they are on the salts, and sea coasts, they have another fishery, that is for a little shell-fish, {blackmoor teeth.} which those in england call blackmoors teeth. these they catch by tying bits of oysters to a long string, which they lay in such places, as, they know, those shell-fish haunt. these fish get hold of the oysters, and suck them in, so that they pull up those long strings, and take great quantities of them, which they carry a great way into the main land, to trade with the remote indians, where they are of great value; but never near the sea, by reason they are common, therefore not esteem'd. besides, the youth and indian boys go in the night, and one holding a lightwood torch, the other has a bow and arrows, and the fire directing him to see the fish, he shoots them with the arrows; and thus they kill a great many of the smaller fry, and sometimes pretty large ones. {indians not eat of the first he kills.} it is an establish'd custom amongst all these natives, that the young hunter never eats of that buck, bear, fish, or any other game, which happens to be the first they kill of that sort; because they believe, if he should eat thereof, he would never after be fortunate in hunting. {big bellied woman never eat of the first fish caught in a ware.} the like foolish ceremony they hold, when they have made a ware to take fish withal; if a big-belly'd woman eat of the first dish that is caught in it, they say, that ware will never take much fish; {indians not kill snakes why.} and as for killing of snakes, they avoid it, if they lie in their way, because their opinion is, that some of the serpents kindred would kill some of the savages relations, that should destroy him: they have thousands of these foolish ceremonies and beliefs, which they are strict observers of. moreover, several customs are found in some families, which others keep not; {circumcision.} as for example, two families of the machapunga indians, use the jewish custom of circumcision, and the rest do not; neither did i ever know any others amongst the indians, that practis'd any such thing; and perhaps, if you ask them, what is the reason they do so, they will make you no manner of answer; which is as much as to say, i will not tell you. many other customs they have, for which they will render no reason or account; and to pretend to give a true description of their religion, it is impossible; for there are a great many of their absurdities, which, for some reason, they reserve as a secret amongst themselves; or otherwise, they are jealous of their weakness in the practising them; so that they never acquaint any christian with the knowledge thereof, let writers pretend what they will; {indian idols give an account of.} for i have known them amongst their idols and dead kings in their quiogozon for several days, where i could never get admittance, to see what they were doing, though i was at great friendship with the king and great men; but all my persuasions avail'd me nothing. neither were any but the king, with the conjurer, and some few old men, in that house; as for the young men, and chiefest numbers of the indians, they were kept as ignorant of what the elders were doing, as myself. {the world is round.} they all believe, that this world is round, and that there are two spirits; the one good, the other bad: {what they believe of god. their offering idols.} the good one they reckon to be the author and maker of every thing, and say, that it is he, that gives them the fruits of the earth, and has taught them to hunt, fish, and be wise enough to overpower the beasts of the wilderness, and all other creatures, that they may be assistant, and beneficial to man; to which they add, that the quera, or good spirit, has been very kind to the english men, to teach them to make guns, and ammunition, besides a great many other necessaries, that are helpful to man, all which, they say, will be deliver'd to them, when that good spirit sees fit. they do not believe, that god punishes any man either in this life, or that to come; but that he delights in doing good, and in giving the fruits of the earth, and instructing us in making several useful and ornamental things. {devil what.} they say, it is a bad spirit (who lives separate from the good one) that torments us with sicknesses, disappointments, losses, hunger, travel, and all the misfortunes, that humane life is incident to. how they are treated in the next world, i have already mention'd, and, as i said before, they are very resolute in dying, when in the hands of savage enemies; yet i saw one of their young men, a very likely person, condemn'd, on a sunday, for killing a negro, and burning the house. {indian condemn'd.} i took good notice of his behaviour, when he was brought out of the house to die, which was the next morning after sentence, but he chang'd his countenance with trembling, and was in the greatest fear and agony. i never saw any person under his circumstances, which, perhaps, might be occasion'd by his being deliver'd up by his own nation (which was the tuskeruro's) and executed by us, that are not their common enemies, though he met with more favour than he would have receiv'd at the hands of savages; for he was only hang'd on a tree, near the place where the murder was committed; and the three kings, that but the day before shew'd such a reluctancy to deliver him up, (but would have given another in his room) when he was hang'd, pull'd him by the hand, and said, `thou wilt never play any more rogues tricks in this world; whither art thou gone to shew thy tricks now?' which shews these savages to be what they really are, (viz) a people that will save their own men if they can, but if the safety of all the people lies at stake, they will deliver up the most innocent person living, and be so far from concern, when they have made themselves easy thereby, that they will laugh at their misfortunes, and never pity or think of them more. {indian conjurers.} their priests are the conjurers and doctors of the nation. i shall mention some of their methods, and practices; and so leave them to the judgment of the reader. as i told you before, the priests make their orations at every feast, or other great meeting of the indians. {indian lightning, at chattooka, at a feast for rebuilding a king's house burnt.} i happen'd to be at one of these great meetings, which was at the funeral of a tuskeruro indian, that was slain with lightning at a feast, the day before, where i was amongst the rest; it was in july, and a very fair day, where, in the afternoon, about six or seven a clock, as they were dealing out their victuals, there appear'd a little black cloud to the north west, which spread and brought with it rain, wind and lightning; so we went out from the place where we were all at victuals, and went down to the cabins where i left the indians, and went to lie in my canoe, which was convenient enough to keep me dry. the lightning came so terrible, and down in long streams, that i was afraid it would have taken hold of a barrel of powder i had in my vessel, and so blown me up; but it pleas'd god, that it did me no harm; yet the violence of the wind had blown all the water away, where i rid at anchor, so that my canoe lay dry, and some indian women came with torches in their hands to the side of the canoe, and told me, an indian was kill'd with lightning. the next day, (i think) he was buried, and i stay'd to see the ceremony, and was very tractable to help the indians to trim their reeds, and make the coffin, which pleased them very much, because i had a mind to see the interment. before he was interr'd according to their custom, they dealt every one some hot victuals, which he took and did what he would with: then the doctor began to talk, and told the people what lightning was, and that it kill'd every thing that dwelt upon the earth; nay, the very fishes did not escape; for it often reach'd the porpoises and other fish, and destroy'd them; that every thing strove to shun it, except the mice, who, he said, were the busiest in eating their corn in the fields, when it lightned the most. he added, that no wood or tree could withstand it, except the black gum, and that it would run round that tree a great many times, to enter therein, but could not effect it. now you must understand, that sort of gum will not split or rive; therefore, i suppose, the story might arise from thence. at last, he began to tell the most ridiculous absurd parcel of lyes about lightning, that could be; as that an indian of that nation had once got lightning in the likeness of a partridge; that no other lightning could harm him, whilst he had that about him; and that after he had kept it for several years, it got away from him; so that he then became as liable to be struck with lightning, as any other person. there was present at the same time, an indian that had liv'd from his youth, chiefly in an english house; so i call'd to him, and told him, what a parcel of lyes the conjurer told, not doubting but he thought so, as well as i, but i found to the contrary; for he reply'd, that i was much mistaken, for that old man (who, i believe was upwards of an hundred years old) did never tell lyes; and as for what he said, it was very true; for he knew it himself to be so. {how hard it is to bring the indians from their superstition.} thereupon, seeing the fellow's ignorance, i talk'd no more about it. {rattle-snake kill indians in canoes. eagles kill it.} then the doctor proceeded to tell a long tale of a great rattle-snake, which, a great while ago, liv'd by a creek in that river (which was neus) and that it kill'd abundance of indians; but at last, a bald eagle kill'd it, and they were rid of a serpent, that us'd to devour whole canoes full of indians, at a time. i have been something tedious upon this subject, on purpose to shew what strange ridiculous stories these wretches are inclinable to believe. i suppose, these doctors understand a little better themselves, than to give credit to any such fooleries; for i reckon them the cunningest knaves in all the pack. i will therefore begin with their physick and surgery, which is next: {indian physick and surgery.} you must know, that the doctors or conjurers, to gain a greater credit amongst these people, tell them, that all distempers are the effects of evil spirits, or the bad spirit, which has struck them with this or that malady; therefore, none of these physicians undertakes any distemper, but that he comes to an exorcism, to effect the cure, and acquaints the sick party's friends, that he must converse with the good spirit, to know whether the patient will recover or not; if so, then he will drive out the bad spirit, and the patient will become well. now, the general way of their behaviour in curing the sick, (a great deal of which i have seen, and shall give some account thereof, in as brief a manner as possible) is, when an indian is sick, if they think there is much danger of life, and that he is a great man or hath good friends, the doctor is sent for. as soon as the doctor comes into the cabin, the sick person is sat on a mat or skin, stark-naked, lying on his back, and all uncover'd, except some small trifle that covers their nakedness when ripe, otherwise in very young children, there is nothing about them. {conjuring over the sick.} in this manner, the patient lies, when the conjurer appears; and the king of that nation comes to attend him with a rattle made of a gourd with pease in it. this the king delivers into the doctor's hand, whilst another brings a bowl of water, and sets it down: then the doctor begins, and utters some few words very softly; afterwards he smells of the patient's navel and belly, and sometimes scarifies him a little with a flint, or an instrument made of rattle-snakes teeth for that purpose; then he sucks the patient, and gets out a mouthful of blood and serum, but serum chiefly; which, perhaps, may be a better method in many cases, than to take away great quantities of blood, as is commonly practis'd; which he spits in the bowl of water. then he begins to mutter, and talk apace, and, at last, to cut capers, and clap his hands on his breech and sides, till he gets into a sweat, so that a stranger would think he was running mad; now and then sucking the patient, and so, at times, keeps sucking, till he has got a great quantity of very ill-coloured matter out of the belly, arms, breast, forehead, temples, neck, and most parts, still continuing his grimaces, and antick postures, which are not to be match'd in bedlam: at last, you will see the doctor all over of a dropping sweat, and scarce able to utter one word, having quite spent himself; then he will cease for a while, and so begin again, till he comes in the same pitch of raving and seeming madness, as before, (all this time the sick body never so much as moves, although, doubtless, the lancing and sucking must be a great punishment to them; but they, certainly, are the patientest and most steady people under any burden, that i ever saw in my life.) {whether live or die.} at last, the conjurer makes an end, and tells the patient's friends, whether the person will live or die; {bury the serum.} and then one that waits at this ceremony, takes the blood away, (which remains in a lump, in the middle of the water) and buries it in the ground, in a place unknown to any one, but he that inters it. now, i believe a great deal of imposture in these fellows; yet i never knew their judgment fail, though i have seen them give their opinion after this manner, several times: some affirm, that there is a smell of brimstone in the cabins, when they are conjuring, which i cannot contradict. which way it may come, i will not argue, but proceed to a relation or two, which i have from a great many persons, and some of them worthy of credit. {indian robbery.} the first is, of a certain indian, that one rainy night, undermin'd a house made of logs, (such as the swedes in america very often make, and are very strong) which belong'd to seth southwell, esq; governor of north-carolina, and one of the proprietors. there was but one place the indian could get in at, which was very narrow; the rest was secur'd, by having barrels of pork and other provisions set against the side of the house, so that if this indian had not exactly hit the very place he undermin'd, it had been impossible for him to have got therein, because of the full barrels that stood round the house, and barricadoed it within. the indian stole sixty or eighty dress'd deer-skins, besides blankets, powder, shot and rum, (this being the indian store-house, where the trading goods were kept.) now, the indian had made his escape, but dropt some of the skins by the way, and they track'd his foot-steps, and found him to be an indian; then they guess'd who it was, because none but that indian had lately been near the house. thereupon, the governor sent to the indian town that he belong'd to, which was the tuskeruro's, and acquainted them that if they did not deliver up the indian, who had committed the robbery, he would take a course with them, that would not be very agreeable. upon this, the indians of the town he belong'd to, brought him in bound, and deliver'd him up to the governor, who laid him in irons. at the same time, it happen'd, that a robbery was committed amongst themselves, at the indian town, and this prisoner was one of their conjurers; so the indians came down to the governor's house, and acquainted him with what had happen'd amongst them, and that a great quantity of peak, was stoln away out of one of their cabins, and no one could find out the thief, unless he would let the prisoner conjure for it, who was the only man they had at making such discoveries. the governor was content he should try his skill for them, but not to have the prisoners irons taken off, which was very well approved of. the indian was brought out in his fetters, where were the governor's family, and several others of the neighbourhood, now living, to see this experiment; which he perform'd thus: {conjuring for stoln goods.} the conjurer order'd three fires to be made in a triangular form, which was accordingly done; then he was hoodwink'd very securely, with a dress'd deer-skin, two or three doubles, over his face. after he had made some motions, as they always do, he went directly out of one of the three gaps, as exactly as if he had not been blindfolded, and kept muttering to himself, having a stick in his hand, with which, after some time, he struck two strokes very hard upon the ground, and made thereon a cross, after which he told the indian's name that had stoln the goods, and said, that he would have a cross on his back; which prov'd true; for when they took and search'd him, there appear'd two great wheals on his back, one cross the other; for the thief was at governor southwell's house, and was under no apprehension of being discover'd. the indians proffer'd to sell him as a slave to the governor, but he refused to buy him; so they took him bound away. another instance, of the like nature, happen'd at the same house. one of the tuskeruro kings had brought in a slave to the same governor, to whom he had sold him; and before he return'd, fell sick at the governor's house; upon which, the doctor that belong'd to this king's nation, was sent for, being a man that was held to be the greatest conjurer amongst them. it was three days, before he could arrive, and he appear'd (when he came) to be a very little man, and so old, that his hair was as white as ever was seen. when he approach'd the sick king, he order'd a bowl of water to be brought him, and three chunks of wood, which was immediately done. then he took the water, and set it by him, and spurted a little on him, and with the three pieces of wood, he made a place to stand on, whereby he was rais'd higher; (he being a very low statur'd man) then he took a string of ronoak, which is the same as a string of small beads; this he held by one end, between his fingers; the other end touch'd the king's stomach, as he stood on the logs. then he began to talk, and at length, the by-standers thought really, that they heard somebody talk to him, but saw no more than what first came in. at last, this string of beads, which hung thus perpendicular, turn'd up as an eel would do, and without any motion of his, they came all up (in a lump) under his hand, and hung so for a considerable time, he never closing his hand, and at length return'd to their pristine length and shape, at which the spectators were much frightned. then he told the company, that he would recover, and that his distemper would remove into his leg, all which happen'd to be exactly as the indian doctor had told. these are matters of fact, and i can, at this day, prove the truth thereof by several substantial evidences, that are men of reputation, there being more than a dozen people present, when this was perform'd; most of whom are now alive. {salmon-creek.} there are a great many other stories, of this nature, which are seemingly true, being told by persons that affirm they were eye-witnesses thereof; as, that they have seen one roncommock (a chuwou indian, and a great conjurer) take a reed about two foot long in his mouth, and stand by a creek-side, where he call'd twice or thrice with the reed in his mouth; and, at last, has open'd his arms, and fled over the creek, which might be near a quarter of a mile wide or more; but i shall urge no man's belief, but tell my own; which is, that i believe the two first accounts, which were acted at mr. southwell's plantation, as firmly as any man can believe any thing of that which is told him by honest men, and he has not seen; not at all doubting the credit of my authors. the cures i have seen perform'd by the indians, are too many to repeat here; so i shall only mention some few, and their method. {scald head cured.} they cure scald-heads infallibly, and never miss. their chief remedy as i have seen them make use of, is, the oil of acorns, but from which sort of oak i am not certain. they cure burns beyond credit. i have seen a man burnt in such a manner, (when drunk) by falling into a fire, that i did not think he could recover; yet they cur'd him in ten days, so that he went about. i knew another blown up with powder, that was cured to admiration. {no ulcerated wounds.} i never saw an indian have an ulcer, or foul wound in my life; neither is there any such thing to be found amongst them. {pox to cure.} they cure the pox, by a berry that salivates, as mercury does; yet they use sweating and decoctions very much with it; as they do, almost on every occasion; and when they are thoroughly heated, they leap into the river. the pox is frequent in some of these nations; amongst which i knew one woman die of it; and they could not, or would not, cure her. before she died, she was worn away to a skeleton, yet walk'd up and down to the last. we had a planter in carolina, who had got an ulcer in his leg, which had troubled him a great many years; at last, he apply'd himself to one of these indian conjurers, who was a pampticough indian, and was not to give the value of fifteen shillings for the cure. {indian cure an ulcer.} now, i am not positive, whether he wash'd the ulcer with any thing, before he used what i am now going to speak of, which was nothing but the rotten doated grains of indian corn, beaten to powder, and the soft down growing on a turkey's rump. this dry'd the ulcer up immediately, and no other fontanel was made to discharge the matter, he remaining a healthful man, till the time he had the misfortune to be drown'd, which was many years after. {cure in maryland.} another instance (not of my own knowledge, but i had it confirm'd by several dwellers in maryland, where it was done) was, of an honest planter that had been possess'd with a strange lingring distemper, not usual amongst them, under which he emaciated, and grew every month worse than another, it having held him several years, in which time he had made tryal of several doctors, as they call them, which, i suppose, were ship-surgeons. in the beginning of this distemper, the patient was very well to pass, and was possess'd of several slaves, which the doctors purged all away, and the poor man was so far from mending, that he grew worse and worse every day. but it happen'd, that, one day, as his wife and he were commiserating his miserable condition, and that he could not expect to recover, but look'd for death very speedily, and condoling the misery he should leave his wife and family in, since all his negro's were gone. at that time, i say, it happen'd, that an indian was in the same room, who had frequented the house for many years, and so was become as one of the family, and would sometimes be at this planter's house, and at other times amongst the indians. this savage, hearing what they talk'd of, and having a great love for the sick man, made this reply to what he had heard. `brother, you have been a long time sick; and, i know, you have given away your slaves to your english doctors: what made you do so, and now become poor? they do not know how to cure you; for it is an indian distemper, which your people know not the nature of. if it had been an english disease, probably they could have cured you; and had you come to me at first, i would have cured you for a small matter, without taking away your servants that made corn for you and your family to eat; and yet, if you will give me a blanket to keep me warm, and some powder and shot to kill deer withal, i will do my best to make you well still.' the man was low in courage and pocket too, and made the indian this reply. `jack, my distemper is past cure, and if our english doctors cannot cure it, i am sure, the indians cannot.' but his wife accosted her husband in very mild terms, and told him, he did not know, but god might be pleased to give a blessing to that indian's undertaking more than he had done to the english; and farther added; `if you die, i cannot be much more miserable, by giving this small matter to the indian; so i pray you, my dear, take my advice, and try him;' to which, by her persuasions, he consented. after the bargain was concluded, the indian went into the woods, and brought in both herbs and roots, of which he made a decoction, and gave it the man to drink, and bad him go to bed, saying, it should not be long, before he came again, which the patient perform'd as he had ordered; and the potion he had administred made him sweat after the most violent manner that could be, whereby he smell'd very offensively both to himself, and they that were about him; but in the evening, towards night, jack came, with a great rattle-snake in his hand alive, which frightned the people almost out of their senses; {cure by a snake.} and he told his patient, that he must take that to bed to him; at which the man was in a great consternation, and told the indian, he was resolv'd, to let no snake come into his bed, for he might as well die of the distemper he had, as be kill'd with the bite of that serpent. to which the indian reply'd, he could not bite him now, nor do him any harm; for he had taken out his poison-teeth, and shew'd him, that they were gone. at last, with much persuasion, he admitted the snake's company, which the indian put about his middle, and order'd nobody to take him away upon any account, which was strictly observ'd, although the snake girded him as hard for a great while, as if he had been drawn in by a belt, which one pull'd at, with all his strength. at last, the snake's twitches grew weaker and weaker, till, by degrees, he felt him not; and opening the bed, he was found dead, and the man thought himself better. the indian came in the morning, and seeing the snake dead, told the man, that his distemper was dead along with that snake, which prov'd so as he said; for the man speedily recover'd his health, and became perfectly well. {spleen how cure.} they cure the spleen (which they are much addicted to) by burning with a reed. they lay the patient on his back, so put a hollow cane into the fire, where they burn the end thereof, till it is very hot, and on fire at the end. then they lay a piece of thin leather on the patient's belly, between the pit of the stomach and the navel, so press the hot reed on the leather, which burns the patient so that you may ever after see the impression of the reed where it was laid on, which mark never goes off so long as he lives. this is used for the belly-ach sometimes. {colouring of the hair.} they can colour their hair black, though sometimes it is reddish, which they do with the seed of a flower that grows commonly in their plantations. i believe this would change the reddest hair into perfect black. {not many tears, rozins.} they make use of no minerals in their physick, and not much of animals; but chiefly rely on vegetables. they have several remedies for the tooth-ach, which often drive away the pain; but if they fail, they have recourse to punching out the tooth, with a small cane set against the same, on a bit of leather. then they strike the reed, and so drive out the tooth; and howsoever it may seem to the europeans, i prefer it before the common way of drawing teeth by those instruments than endanger the jaw, and a flux of blood often follows, which this method of a punch never is attended withal; neither is it half the pain. the spontaneous plants of america the savages are well acquainted withal; and a flux of blood never follows any of their operations. they are wholly strangers to amputation, and for what natural issues of blood happen immoderately, they are not to seek for a certain and speedy cure. tears, rozins, and gums, i have not discover'd that they make much use of; and as for purging and emeticks, so much in fashion with us, they never apply themselves to, {yaupon.} unless in drinking vast quantities of their yaupon or tea, and vomiting it up again, as clear as they drink it. this is a custom amongst all those that can procure that plant, in which manner they take it every other morning, or oftner; by which method they keep their stomachs clean, without pricking the coats, and straining nature, as every purge is an enemy to. besides, the great diuretick quality of their tea carries off a great deal, that perhaps might prejudice their health, by agues, and fevers, which all watry countries are addicted to; for which reason, i believe, it is, that the indians are not so much addicted to that distemper, as we are, they preventing its seizing upon them, by this plant alone. moreover, i have remark'd, that it is only those places bordering on the ocean and great rivers, that this distemper is frequent in, and only on and near the same places this evergreen is to be found; and none up towards the mountains, where these agues seldom or never appear; nature having provided suitable remedies, in all countries, proper for the maladies that are common thereto. the savages of carolina have this tea in veneration, above all the plants they are acquainted withal, and tell you, the discovery thereof was by an infirm indian, that labour'd under the burden of many rugged distempers, and could not be cured by all their doctors; so, one day, he fell asleep, and dreamt, that if he took a decoction of the tree that grew at his head, he would certainly be cured; upon which he awoke, and saw the yaupon or cassena-tree, which was not there when he fell asleep. he follow'd the direction of his dream, and became perfectly well in a short time. now, i suppose, no man has so little sense as to believe this fable; yet it lets us see what they intend thereby, and that it has, doubtless, work'd feats enough, to gain it such an esteem amongst these savages, who are too well versed in vegetables, to be brought to a continual use of any one of them, upon a meer conceit or fancy, without some apparent benefit they found thereby; especially, when we are sensible, they drink the juices of plants, to free nature of her burdens, and not out of foppery and fashion, as other nations are oftentimes found to do. amongst all the discoveries of america, by the missionaries of the french and spaniards, i wonder none of them was so kind to the world, as to have kept a catalogue of the distempers they found the savages capable of curing, and their method of cure; which might have been of some advantage to our materia medica at home, when deliver'd by men of learning, and other qualifications, as most of them are. authors generally tell us, that the savages are well enough acquainted with those plants which their climate affords, and that some of them effect great cures, but by what means, and in what form, we are left in the dark. {sassafras.} the bark of the root of the sassafras-tree, i have observ'd, is much used by them. they generally torrefy it in the embers, so strip off the bark from the root, beating it to a consistence fit to spread, so lay it on the griev'd part; which both cleanses a fowl ulcer; and after scarrification, being apply'd to a contusion, or swelling, draws forth the pain, and reduces the part to its pristine state of health, as i have often seen effected. fats and unguents never appear in their chirurgery, when the skin is once broke. the fats of animals are used by them, to render their limbs pliable, and when wearied, to relieve the joints, and this not often, because they approve of the sweating-house (in such cases) above all things. {make bread, how. alkali salts.} the salts they mix with their bread and soupe, to give them a relish, are alkalis, (viz.) ashes, and calcined bones of deer, and other animals. {no sallads, pepper, or mustard.} sallads, they never eat any; as for pepper and mustard, they reckon us little better than madmen, to make use of it amongst our victuals. they are never troubled with the scurvy, dropsy, nor stone. the phthisick, asthma, and diabetes, they are wholly strangers to; neither do i remember i ever saw one paralytick amongst them. the gout, i cannot be certain whether they know what it is, or not. indeed, i never saw any nodes or swellings, which attend the gout in europe; {rhumatick pains.} yet they have a sort of rhumatism or burning of the limbs, which tortures them grievously, at which time their legs are so hot, that they employ the young people continually to pour water down them. i never saw but one or two thus afflicted. the struma is not uncommon amongst these savages, and another distemper, which is, in some respects, like the pox, but is attended with no gonorrhoea. this not seldom bereaves them of their nose. i have seen three or four of them render'd most miserable spectacles by this distemper. yet, when they have been so negligent, as to let it run on so far without curbing of it; at last, they make shift to patch themselves up, and live for many years after; and such men commonly turn doctors. i have known two or three of these no-nose doctors in great esteem amongst these savages. the juice of the tulip-tree is used as a proper remedy for this distemper. what knowledge they have in anatomy, i cannot tell, neither did i ever see them employ themselves therein, unless, as i told you before, when they make the skeletons of their kings and great mens bones. the indians are very careless and negligent of their health; as, by drunkenness, wading in the water, irregular diet and lodging, and a thousand other disorders, (that would kill an european) which they daily use. they boil and roast their meat extraordinary much, and eat abundance of broth, {naked indians.} except the savages whom we call the naked indians, who never eat any soupe. they travel from the banks of the messiasippi, to war against the sinnagars or iroquois, and are (if equal numbers) commonly too hard for them. they will lie and sleep in the woods without fire, being inur'd thereto. they are the hardiest of all indians, and run so fast, that they are never taken, neither do any indians outrun them, if they are pursu'd. their savage enemies say, their nimbleness and wind proceeds from their never eating any broth. {small-pox.} the small-pox has been fatal to them; they do not often escape, when they are seiz'd with that distemper, which is a contrary fever to what they ever knew. most certain, it had never visited america, before the discovery thereof by the christians. their running into the water, in the extremity of this disease, strikes it in, and kills all that use it. now they are become a little wiser; but formerly it destroy'd whole towns, without leaving one indian alive in the village. the plague was never known amongst them, that i could learn by what enquiry i have made: these savages use scarrification almost in all distempers. their chief instruments for that operation is the teeth of rattle-snakes, which they poison withal. they take them out of the snake's head, and suck out the poison with their mouths, (and so keep them for use) and spit out the venom, which is green, and are never damag'd thereby. the small-pox and rum have made such a destruction amongst them, that, on good grounds, i do believe, there is not the sixth savage living within two hundred miles of all our settlements, as there were fifty years ago. these poor creatures have so many enemies to destroy them, that it's a wonder one of them is left alive near us. the small-pox i have acquainted you withal above, and so i have of rum, and shall only add, that they have got a way to carry it back to the westward indians, who never knew what it was, till within very few years. now they have it brought them by the tuskeruro's, and other neighbour-indians, but the tuskeruro's chiefly, who carry it in rundlets several hundred miles, amongst other indians. sometimes they cannot forbear breaking their cargo, but sit down in the woods, and drink it all up, and then hollow and shout like so many bedlamites. i accidentally once met with one of these drunken crews, and was amaz'd to see a parcel of drunken savages so far from any englishman's house; but the indians i had in company inform'd me, that they were merchants, and had drunk all their stock, as is very common for them to do. but when they happen to carry it safe, (which is seldom, without drinking some part of it, and filling it up with water) and come to an indian town, those that buy rum of them have so many mouthfuls for a buck-skin, they never using any other measure; and for this purpose, the buyer always makes choice of his man, which is one that has the greatest mouth, whom he brings to the market with a bowl to put it in. the seller looks narrowly to the man's mouth that measures it, and if he happens to swallow any down, either through wilfulness or otherwise, the merchant or some of his party, does not scruple to knock the fellow down, exclaiming against him for false measure. thereupon, the buyer finds another mouthpiece to measure the rum by; so that this trading is very agreeable to the spectators, to see such a deal of quarrelling and controversy, as often happens, about it, and is very diverting. {poisoning of taylor.} another destroyer of them, is, the art they have, and often practise, of poisoning one another; which is done by a large, white, spungy root, that grows in the fresh-marshes, which is one of their poisons; not but that they have many other drugs, which they poison one another withal. {how the indians war.} lastly, the continual wars these savages maintain, one nation against another, which sometimes hold for some ages, killing and making captives, till they become so weak thereby, that they are forced to make peace for want of recruits, to supply their wars; and the difference of languages, that is found amongst these heathens, seems altogether strange. for it often appears, that every dozen miles, you meet with an indian town, that is quite different from the others you last parted withal; and what a little supplies this defect is, that the most powerful nation of these savages scorns to treat or trade with any others (of fewer numbers and less power) in any other tongue but their own, which serves for the lingua of the country, with which we travel and deal; as for example, we see that the tuskeruro's are most numerous in north-carolina, therefore their tongue is understood by some in every town of all the indians near us. and here i shall insert a small dictionary of every tongue, though not alphabetically digested. english. tuskeruro. pampticough. woccon. one unche weembot tonne two necte neshinnauh num-perra (rra?) three ohs-sah nish-wonner nam-mee four untoc yau-ooner punnum-punne (e?) five ouch-who umperren webtau six houeyoc who-yeoc is-sto (st?) seven chauh-noc top-po-osh nommis-sau eight nec-kara nau-haush-shoo nupsau nine wearah pach-ic-conk weihere ten wartsauh cosh soone noponne eleven unche scauwhau tonne hauk pea twelve nectec scaukhau soone nomme twenty wartsau scauhau winnop thirty ossa te wartsau hundred youch se thousand ki you se rum oonaquod weesaccon yup-se blankets oorewa mattosh roo-iune white ware-occa wop-poshaumosh waurraupa red cotcoo-rea mish-cock (ck?) yauta black or caw-hunshe mow-cottowosh yah-testea blue, idem gunpowder ou-ku pungue rooeyam shot cauna ar-rounser week axe au-nuka tomma-hick tau-unta winnik knife oosocke nauh rig-cosq wee tobacco charho hooh-pau uu-coone shirt ough-tre's tacca pitteneer shoes oo-ross-soo wee-kessoo hat trossa mottau-quahan intome-posswa fire utchar tinda yau water awoo umpe ejau coat ouswox taus-won rummissau kawhitchra awl or oose-waure moc-cose wonsh-shee needle a hoe wauche-wocnoc rosh-shocquon rooe-pau salt cheek-ha paint quaunt chuwon whooyeonne ronoak nauh-houreot mis-kis-'su rummaer peak chu-teche ronoak erroco gun auk-noc gau hooptop wittape gun-lock oo-teste gun tock seike noonkosso flints ou-negh-ra hinds matt-teer a flap oukhaure rappatoc rhooeyau belt oona-teste maachone wee-kau scissors and cheh-ra toc-koor tobacco-tongues a kettle oowaiana tooseawau a pot ocnock acorns kooawa roosomme a pine-tree heigta oonossa hooheh englishman nickreruroh tosh shonte wintsohore indians unqua nuppin yauh-he english. tuskeruro. woccon. a horse a hots yenwetoa swine watsquerre nommewarraupau moss auoona hau itto raw skin undrest ootahawa teep buckskin ocques rookau fawn-skin ottea wisto bear-skin oochehara ourka fox-skin che-chou hannatockore raccoon-skin roo-sotto auher squirrel-skin sost yehau wildcat-skin cauhauweana panther-skin caunerex wattau wolf squarrena tire kiro minx chac-kauene soccon otter chaunoc wetkes a mat ooyethne soppepepor basket ooyaura rookeppa feathers oosnooqua soppe drest-skin cotcoo rauhau a turkey coona yauta a duck sooeau welka a king teethha roamore fat ootsaure yendare soft utsauwanne roosomme hard or heavy waucots ne itte teraugh a rope utsera trauhe a possum che-ra day ootauh-ne a pestel tic-caugh-ne miyau a mortar ootic caugh-ne yossoo stockings way haushe a creek wackena a river ahunt wackena a man entequos old man occooahawa young man quottis woman con-noowa old woman cusquerre yicau wife kateocca yecauau a child woccanookne a boy wariaugh infant utserosta ears ooethnat fishgig ootosne weetipsa a comb oonaquitchra sacketoome posswa a cake bak't ooneck a head ootaure poppe hair oowaara tumme brother caunotka yenrauhe i ee thou eets there ka homine cotquerre roocauwa bread ootocnare ikettau broath ook-hoo corn oonaha cose oonave oosare oosha pease saugh-he coosauk a bag uttaqua ekoocromon fish cunshe yacunne a louse cheecq; eppesyau a flea nauocq; potato's untone wauk a stick chinqua wood ouyunkgue yonne house ounouse (oin?) ouke a cow ous-sarunt nappinjure a snake us-quauh-ne yau-hauk a rat rusquiane wittau a goose au-hoohaha auhaun a swan oorhast atter allegator utsererauh monwittetau a crab rouare cou wunneau a canoe ooshunnawa watt a box ooanoo yopoonitsa a bowl ortse cotsoe a spoon oughquere cotsau a path wauh-hauhne yauh sun or moon heita wittapare wind hoonoch yuncor a star uttewiraratse wattapi untakeer rain untuch yawowa auhuntwood night oosottoo yantoha a rundlet oohunawa ynpyupseunne (yup?) an eel cuhn-na a t---d utquera pulawa a f---t uttena pautyau a cable utquichra small ropes utsera utquichra a button tic-hah rummissauwoune breeches wahunshe rooeyaukitte stockings oowissera rooesoo possoo day wauwoc-hook waukhaway mad cosserunte rockcumne angry cotcheroore roocheha afraid werricauna reheshiwau smoak oo-teighne too-she a thief or rogue katichhei a dog cheeth tauh-he a reed cauna weekwonne lightwood kakoo sek to morrow jureha kittape now kahunk to day kawa a little while ago kakoowa yauka english. tuskeruro. woccon. yesterday oousotto yottoha how many ut-tewots tontarinte how far untateawa will you go along with me unta hah quauke go you its warko yuppa me give it me cotshau mothei that's all ut chat cuttaune a cubit length kihoosocca ishewounaup dead whaharia caure a gourd or bottle utchaawa wattape a lazy fellow wattattoo watse tontaunete englishman is thirsty oukwockaninniwock i will sell you goods very cheap wausthanocha nau hou hoore-ene all the indians are drunk connaugh jost twane nonnupper have you got any thing to eat utta-ana-wox noccoo eraute i am sick connauwox waurepa a fish-hook oos-skinna don't lose it oon est nonne it quost a tobacco-pipe oosquaana intom i remember it oonutsauka aucummato let it alone tnotsaurauweek (tout?) sauhau peaches roo-ooe yonne walnuts rootau-ooe hickery nuts rootau nimmia a jew's-harp ooratsa wottiyau i forget it merrauka northwest-wind hothooka snow. acaunque. wawawa. {indian speech.} to repeat more of this indian jargon, would be to trouble the reader; and as an account how imperfect they are in their moods and tenses, has been given by several already, i shall only add, that their languages or tongues are so deficient, that you cannot suppose the indians ever could express themselves in such a flight of stile, as authors would have you believe. they are so far from it, that they are but just able to make one another understand readily what they talk about. as for the two consonants `l' and `f', i never knew them in any indian speech i have met withal; yet i must tell you, that they have such a way of abbreviating their speech, when in their great councils and debates, that the young men do not understand what they treat about, when they hear them argue. it is wonderful, what has occasion'd so many different speeches as the savages have. {tartarian hurds.} the three nations i now mention'd, do not live above ten leagues distant, and two of them, viz. the tuskeruro's and the woccon, are not two leagues asunder; yet their speech differs in every word thereof, except one, which is tsaure, cockles, which is in both tongues the same, and nothing else. now this difference of speech causes jealousies and fears amongst them, which bring wars, wherein they destroy one another; otherwise the christians had not (in all probability) settled america so easily, as they have done, had these tribes of savages united themselves into one people or general interest, or were they so but every hundred miles. in short, they are an odd sort of people under the circumstances they are at present, and have some such uncouth ways in their management and course of living, that it seems a miracle to us, how they bring about their designs, as they do, when their ways are commonly quite contrary to ours. i believe, they are (as to this life) a very happy people; and were it not for the feuds amongst themselves, they would enjoy the happiest state (in this world) of all mankind. they met with enemies when we came amongst them; for they are no nearer christianity now, than they were at the first discovery, to all appearance. {indians learn of the europeans.} they have learnt several vices of the europeans, but not one vertue, as i know of. drunkenness was a stranger, when we found them out, and swearing their speech cannot express; yet those that speak english, learn to swear the first thing they talk of. it's true, they have some vertues and some vices; but how the christians can bring these people into the bosom of the church, is a proposal that ought to be form'd and follow'd by the wisest heads and best christians. after i have given one remark or two farther, of some of their strange practices and notions, i will give my opinion, how i think, in probability, it may be (if possible) effected, and so shall conclude this treatise of carolina. they are a very craving people, and if a man give them any thing of a present, they think it obliges him to give them another; and so on, till he has given them all he has; for they have no bounds of satisfaction in that way; and if they give you any thing, it is to receive twice the value of it. they have no consideration that you will want what you give them; for their way of living is so contrary to ours, that neither we nor they can fathom one anothers designs and methods. they call rum and physick by one name, which implies that rum make people sick, as when they have taken any poisonous plant; yet they cannot forbear rum. they make offerings of their first-fruits, and the more serious sort of them throw into the ashes, near the fire, the first bit or spoonful of every meal they sit down to, which, they say, is the same to them, as the pulling off our hats, and talking, when we go to victuals, is to us. they name the months very agreeably, as one is the herring-month, another the strawberry-month, another the mulberry-month. others name them by the trees that blossom; especially, the dogwood-tree; or they say, we will return when turkey-cocks gobble, that is in march and april. the age of the moon they understand, but know no different name for sun and moon. they can guess well at the time of the day, by the sun's height. their age they number by winters, and say, such a man or woman is so many winters old. they have no sabbath, or day of rest. their slaves are not over-burden'd with work, and so not driven by severity to seek for that relief. those that are acquainted with the english, and speak the tongue, know when sunday comes; besides, the indians have a distinct name for christmas which they call winnick keshuse, or the englishmans gods moon. there is one most abominable custom amongst them, which they call husquenawing their young men; which i have not made any mention of as yet, so will give you an account of it here. you must know, that most commonly, once a year, or, at farthest, once in two years, these people take up so many of their young men, as they think are able to undergo it, and husquenaugh them, which is to make them obedient and respective to their superiors, and (as they say) is the same to them, as it is to us to send our children to school, to be taught good breeding and letters. this house of correction is a large strong cabin, made on purpose for the reception of the young men and boys, that have not passed this graduation already; and it is always at christmas that they husquenaugh their youth, which is by bringing them into this house, and keeping them dark all the time, where they more than half-starve them. besides, they give them pellitory-bark, and several intoxicating plants, that make them go raving mad as ever were any people in the world; and you may hear them make the most dismal and hellish cries, and howlings, that ever humane creatures express'd; all which continues about five or six weeks, and the little meat they eat, is the nastiest, loathsome stuff, and mixt with all manner of filth it's possible to get. after the time is expired, they are brought out of the cabin, which never is in the town, but always a distance off, and guarded by a jaylor or two, who watch by turns. now, when they first come out, they are as poor as ever any creatures were; for you must know several die under this diabolical purgation. moreover, they either really are, or pretend to be dumb, and do not speak for several days; i think, twenty or thirty; and look so gastly, and are so chang'd, that it's next to an impossibility to know them again, although you was never so well acquainted with them before. i would fain have gone into the mad house, and have seen them in their time of purgatory, but the king would not suffer it, because, he told me, they would do me, or any other white man, an injury, that ventured in amongst them; so i desisted. they play this prank with girls as well as boys, and i believe it a miserable life they endure, because i have known several of them run away, at that time, to avoid it. now, the savages say, if it was not for this, they could never keep their youth in subjection, besides that it hardens them ever after to the fatigues of war, hunting, and all manner of hardship, which their way of living exposes them to. besides, they add, that it carries off those infirm weak bodies, that would have been only a burden and disgrace to their nation, and saves the victuals and cloathing for better people, that would have been expended on such useless creatures. these savages are described in their proper colours, but by a very few; for those that generally write histories of this new world, are such as interest, preferment, and merchandize, drew thither, and know no more of that people than i do of the laplanders, which is only by hear-say. and if we will make just remarks, how near such relations generally approach truth and nicety, we shall find very few of them worthy of entertainment; and as for the other part of the volume, it is generally stufft with invectives against the government they lived under, on which stage is commonly acted greater barbarities, in murdering worthy mens reputations, than all the savages in the new world are capable of equalizing, or so much as imitating. and since i hinted at a regulation of the savages, and to propose a way to convert them to christianity, i will first particularize the several nations of indians that are our neighbours, and then proceed to what i promis'd. tuskeruro indians are fifteen towns, viz. haruta, waqui, contah-nah, anna ooka, conauh-kare harooka, una nauhan, kentanuska, chunaneets, kenta, eno, naur-hegh-ne, oonossoora, tosneoc, nonawharitse, nursoorooka; fighting men . waccon, towns , yupwauremau, tooptatmeer, fighting men . machapunga, town , maramiskeet, fighting men . bear river, town , raudauqua-quank, fighting men . maherring indians, town , maherring river, fighting men . chuwon indians, town , bennets creek, fighting men . paspatank indians, town , paspatank river, fighting men . poteskeit, town , north river, fighting men . nottaway indians, town , winoack creek, fighting men . hatteras town , sand banks, fighting men . connamox indians, towns , coranine, raruta, fighting men . neus indians, towns , chattooka, rouconk, fighting men . pampticough indians, town , island, fighting men . jaupim indians, people. these five nations of the totero's, sapona's, keiauwee's, aconechos, and schoccories, are lately come amongst us, and may contain, in all, about men, women and children. total . now, there appears to be one thousand six hundred and twelve fighting men, of our neighbouring indians; and probably, there are three fifths of women and children, not including old men, which amounts to four thousand and thirty savages, besides the five nations lately come. now, as i before hinted, we will see what grounds there are to make these people serviceable to us, and better themselves thereby. on a fair scheme, we must first allow these savages what really belongs to them, that is, what good qualities, and natural endowments, they possess, whereby they being in their proper colours, the event may be better guess'd at, and fathom'd. first, they are as apt to learn any handicraft, as any people that the world affords; i will except none; as is seen by their canoes and stauking heads, which they make of themselves; but to my purpose, the indian slaves in south carolina, and elsewhere, make my argument good. secondly, we have no disciplin'd men in europe, but what have, at one time or other, been branded with mutining, and murmuring against their chiefs. these savages are never found guilty of that great crime in a soldier; i challenge all mankind to tell me of one instance of it; besides, they never prove traitors to their native country, but rather chuse death than partake and side with the enemy. they naturally possess the righteous man's gift; they are patient under all afflictions, and have a great many other natural vertues, which i have slightly touch'd throughout the account of these savages. they are really better to us, than we are to them; they always give us victuals at their quarters, and take care we are arm'd against hunger and thirst: we do not so by them (generally speaking) but let them walk by our doors hungry, and do not often relieve them. we look upon them with scorn and disdain, and think them little better than beasts in humane shape, though if well examined, we shall find that, for all our religion and education, we possess more moral deformities, and evils than these savages do, or are acquainted withal. we reckon them slaves in comparison to us, and intruders, as oft as they enter our houses, or hunt near our dwellings. but if we will admit reason to be our guide, she will inform us, that these indians are the freest people in the world, and so far from being intruders upon us, that we have abandon'd our own native soil, to drive them out, and possess theirs; neither have we any true balance, in judging of these poor heathens, because we neither give allowance for their natural disposition, nor the sylvian education, and strange customs, (uncouth to us) they lie under and have ever been train'd up to; these are false measures for christians to take, and indeed no man can be reckon'd a moralist only, who will not make choice and use, of better rules to walk and act by: we trade with them, it's true, but to what end? not to shew them the steps of vertue, and the golden rule, to do as we would be done by. no, we have furnished them with the vice of drunkenness, which is the open road to all others, and daily cheat them in every thing we sell, and esteem it a gift of christianity, not to sell to them so cheap as we do to the christians, as we call our selves. pray let me know where is there to be found one sacred command or precept of our master, that counsels us to such behaviour? besides, i believe it will not appear, but that all the wars, which we have had with the savages, were occasion'd by the unjust dealings of the christians towards them. i can name more than a few, which my own enquiry has given me a right understanding of, and i am afraid the remainder (if they come to the test) will prove themselves birds of the same feather. {indians aversion to christianity.} as we are in christian duty bound, so we must act and behave ourselves to these savages, if we either intend to be serviceable in converting them to the knowledge of the gospel, or discharge the duty which every man, within the pale of the christian church, is bound to do. upon this score, we ought to shew a tenderness for these heathens under the weight of infidelity; let us cherish their good deeds, and, with mildness and clemency, make them sensible and forwarn them of their ill ones; let our dealings be just to them in every respect, and shew no ill example, whereby they may think we advise them to practise that which we will not be conformable to ourselves: let them have cheap penniworths (without guile in our trading with them) and learn them the mysteries of our handicrafts, as well as our religion, otherwise we deal unjustly by them. but it is highly necessary to be brought in practice, which is, to give encouragement to the ordinary people, and those of a lower rank, that they might marry with these indians, and come into plantations, and houses, where so many acres of land and some gratuity of money, (out of a publick stock) are given to the new-married couple; and that the indians might have encouragement to send their children apprentices to proper masters, that would be kind to them, and make them masters of a trade, whereby they would be drawn to live amongst us, and become members of the same ecclesiastical and civil government we are under; then we should have great advantages to make daily conversions amongst them, when they saw that we were kind and just to them in all our dealings. moreover, by the indians marrying with the christians, and coming into plantations with their english husbands, or wives, they would become christians, and their idolatry would be quite forgotten, and, in all probability, a better worship come in its stead; for were the jews engrafted thus, and alienated from the worship and conversation of jews, their abominations would vanish, and be no more. thus we should be let into a better understanding of the indian tongue, by our new converts; and the whole body of these people would arrive to the knowledge of our religion and customs, and become as one people with us. by this method also, we should have a true knowledge of all the indians skill in medicine and surgery; they would inform us of the situation of our rivers, lakes, and tracts of land in the lords dominions, where by their assistance, greater discoveries may be made than has been hitherto found out, and by their accompanying us in our expeditions, we might civilize a great many other nations of the savages, and daily add to our strength in trade, and interest; so that we might be sufficiently enabled to conquer, or maintain our ground, against all the enemies to the crown of england in america, both christian and savage. what children we have of theirs, to learn trades, &c. ought to be put into those hands that are men of the best lives and characters, and that are not only strict observers of their religion, but also of a mild, winning and sweet disposition, that these indian parents may often go and see how well their children are dealt with, which would much win them to our ways of living, mildness being a vertue the indians are in love withal, for they do not practise beating and correcting their children, as we do. a general complaint is, that it seems impossible to convert these people to christianity, as, at first sight, it does; and as for those in new spain, they have the prayer of that church in latin by rote, and know the external behaviour at mass and sermons; yet scarce any of them are steady and abide with constancy in good works, and the duties of the christian church. we find that the fuentes and several other of the noted indian families about mexico, and in other parts of new spain, had given several large gifts to the altar, and outwardly seem'd fond of their new religion; yet those that were the greatest zealots outwards, on a strict enquiry, were found guilty of idolatry and witchcraft; and this seems to proceed from their cohabiting, which, as i have noted before, gives opportunities of cabals to recal their ancient pristine infidelity and superstitions. they never argue against our religion, but with all imaginable indifference own, that it is most proper for us that have been brought up in it. in my opinion, it's better for christians of a mean fortune to marry with the civiliz'd indians, than to suffer the hardships of four or five years servitude, in which they meet with sickness and seasonings amidst a crowd of other afflictions, which the tyranny of a bad master lays upon such poor souls, all which those acquainted with our tobacco plantations are not strangers to. this seems to be a more reasonable method of converting the indians, than to set up our christian banner in a field of blood, as the spaniards have done in new spain, and baptize one hundred with the sword for one at the font. whilst we make way for a christian colony through a field of blood, and defraud, and make away with those that one day may be wanted in this world, and in the next appear against us, we make way for a more potent christian enemy to invade us hereafter, of which we may repent, when too late. the second charter granted by king charles ii. to the proprietors of carolina charles ii. by the grace of god, &c. whereas by our letters patents, bearing date the four and twentieth day of march, in the fifteenth year of our reign, we were graciously pleas'd to grant unto our right trusty, and right well-beloved cousin and counsellor edward earl of clarendon, our high chancellor of england, our right trusty, and right entirely beloved cousin and counsellor, george duke of albemarle, master of our horse, our right trusty and well beloved william, now earl of craven, our right trusty and well-beloved counsellor, john lord berkeley, our right trusty, and well-beloved counsellor, anthony lord ashley, chancellor of our exchequer, our right trusty and well-beloved counsellor sir george carterett knight and baronet, vice-chamberlain of our houshold, our right trusty and well-beloved, sir john colleton knight and baronet, and sir william berkeley knight, all that province, territory, or tract of ground, called carolina, situate, lying and being within our dominions of america, extending from the north end of the island, called luke island, which lyeth in the southern virginia seas, and within six and thirty degrees of the northern latitude; and to the west, as far as the south seas; and so respectively as far as the river of mathias, which bordereth upon the coast of florida, and within one and thirty degrees of the northern latitude, and so west in a direct line, as far as the south seas aforesaid. now, know ye, that we, at the humble request of the said grandees in the aforesaid letters patents named, and as a farther mark of our especial favour towards them, we are graciously pleased to enlarge our said grant unto them, according to the bounds and limits hereafter specifyed, and in favour to the pious and noble purpose of the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, all that province, territory, or tract of ground, situate, lying, and being within our dominions of america aforesaid, extending north and westward, as far as the north end of carahtuke river, or gulet, upon a streight westerly line, to wyonoake creek, which lies within, or about the degrees of thirty six, and thirty minutes northern latitude, and so west, in a direct line, as far as the south seas; and south and westward, as far as the degrees of twenty nine inclusive northern latitude, and so west in a direct line, as far as the south seas; together with all and singular ports, harbours, bays, rivers and islets, belonging unto the province or territory, aforesaid. and also, all the soil, lands, fields, woods, mountains, ferms, lakes, rivers, bays and islets, situate, or being within the bounds, or limits, last before mentioned; with the fishing of all sorts of fish, whales, sturgeons, and all other royal fishes in the sea, bays, islets and rivers, within the premises, and the fish therein taken; together with the royalty of the sea, upon the coast within the limits aforesaid. and moreover, all veins, mines and quarries, as well discovered as not discover'd, of gold, silver, gems and precious stones, and all other whatsoever; be it of stones, metal, or any other thing found, or to be found within the province, territory, islets and limits aforesaid. and furthermore, the patronage and advowsons of all the churches and chappels, which as the christian religion shall encrease within the province, territory, isles and limits aforesaid, shall happen hereafter to be erected; together with licence and power to build and found churches, chappels and oratories in convenient and fit places, within the said bounds and limits; and to cause them to be dedicated and consecrated, according to the ecclesiastical laws of our kingdom of england; together with all and singular, the like, and as ample rights, jurisdictions, privileges, prerogatives, royalties, liberties, immunities and franchises, of what kind soever, within the territory, isles, islets and limits aforesaid. to have, hold, use, exercise and enjoy the same, as amply, fully, and in as ample manner, as any bishop of durham in our kingdom of england, ever heretofore had, held, used, or enjoyed, or of right ought, or could have, use, or enjoy; and them the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns; we do by these presents, for us, our heirs and successors, make, create and constitute the true and absolute lords and proprietors of the said province, or territory, and of all other the premises, saving always the faith, allegiance and sovereign dominion due to us, our heirs and successors, for the same; to have, hold, possess and enjoy the said province, territory, islets, and all and singular, other the premises, to them the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, for ever, to be holden of us, our heirs and successors, as of our mannor of east greenwich, in kent, in free and common soccage, and not in capite, or by knights service, yielding and paying yearly to us, our heirs and successors, for the same, the fourth part of all goods and silver oar, which within the limits hereby granted, shall from time to time, happen to be found, over and besides the yearly rent of twenty marks and the fourth part of the gold and silver oar, in and by the said recited letters patents reserved and payable. and that the province, or territory hereby granted and described, may be dignifyed with as large titles and privileges, as any other parts of our dominions and territories in that region; know ye, that we, of our farther grace, certain knowledge and meer motion, have thought fit to annex the same tract of ground and territory, unto the same province of carolina; and out of the fulness of our royal power and prerogative, we do for us, our heirs and successors, annex and unite the same to the said province of carolina. and forasmuch as we have made and ordained the aforesaid edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, the true lords and proprietors of all the province or territory aforesaid; know ye therefore moreover, that we reposing especial trust and confidence in their fidelity, wisdom, justice and provident circumspection for us, our heirs and successors, do grant full and absolute power, by virtue of these presents, to them the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george catterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, and their heirs and assigns, for the good and happy government of the said whole province or territory, full power and authority to erect, constitute, and make several counties, baronies, and colonies, of and within the said provinces, territories, lands and hereditaments, in and by the said recited letters patents, and these presents, granted, or mentioned to be granted, as aforesaid, with several and distinct jurisdictions, powers, liberties and privileges. and also, to ordain, make and enact, and under their seals, to publish any laws and constitutions whatsoever, either appertaining to the publick state of the said whole province or territory, or of any distinct or particular county, barony or colony, of or within the same, or to the private utility of particular persons, according to their best discretion, by and with the advice, assent and approbation of the freemen of the said province or territory, or of the freemen of the county, barony or colony, for which such law or constitution shall be made, or the greatest part of them, or of their delegates or deputies, whom for enacting of the said laws, when, and as often as need shall require, we will that the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton and sir william berkeley, and their heirs or assigns, shall from time to time, assemble in such manner and form as to them shall seem best: and the same laws duly to execute upon all people within the said province or territory, county, barony or colony, and the limits thereof, for the time being, which shall be constituted under the power and government of them, or any of them, either sailing towards the said province or territory of carolina, or returning from thence towards england, or any other of our, or foreign dominions, by imposition of penalties, imprisonment, or any other punishment: yea, if it shall be needful, and the quality of the offence require it, by taking away member and life, either by them, the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, and their heirs, or by them or their deputies, lieutenants, judges, justices, magistrates, or officers whatsoever, as well within the said province, as at sea, in such manner and form, as unto the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, and their heirs, shall seem most convenient: also, to remit, release, pardon and abolish, whether before judgment or after, all crimes and offences whatsoever, against the said laws; and to do all and every other thing and things, which unto the compleat establishment of justice, unto courts, sessions and forms of judicature, and manners of proceedings therein, do belong, altho' in these presents, express mention is not made thereof; and by judges, to him or them delegated to award, process, hold please, and determine in all the said courts and places of judicature, all actions, suits and causes whatsoever, as well criminal as civil, real, mixt, personal, or of any other kind or nature whatsoever: which laws so as aforesaid, to be published, our pleasure is, and we do enjoyn, require and command, shall be absolutely firm and available in law; and that all the leige people of us, our heirs and successors, within the said province or territory, do observe and keep the same inviolably in those parts, so far as they concern them, under the pains and penalties therein expressed; or to be expressed; provided nevertheless, that the said laws be consonant to reason, and as near as may be conveniently, agreeable to the laws and customs of this our realm of england. and because such assemblies of free-holders cannot be so suddenly called, as there may be occasion to require the same; we do therefore by these presents, give and grant unto the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, by themselves or their magistrates in that behalf, lawfully authorized, full power and authority from time to time, to make and ordain fit and wholsome orders and ordinances, within the province or territory aforesaid, or any county, barony or province, of or within the same, to be kept and observed, as well for the keeping of the peace, as for the better government of the people there abiding, and to publish the same to all to whom it may concern: which ordinances we do, by these presents, streightly charge and command to be inviolably observed within the same province, counties, territories, baronies, and provinces, under the penalties therein expressed; so as such ordinances be reasonable and not repugnant or contrary, but as near as may be agreeable to the laws and statutes of this our kingdom of england; and so as the same ordinances do not extend to the binding, charging or taking away of the right or interest of any person or persons, in their freehold goods, or chattels, whatsoever. and to the end the said province or territory, may be the more happily encreased by the multitude of people resorting thither, and may likewise be the more strongly defended from the incursions of savages and other enemies, pirates, and robbers. therefore, we for us, our heirs and successors, do give and grant by these presents, power, license and liberty unto all the leige people of us, our heirs and successors in our kingdom of england, or elsewhere, within any other our dominions, islands, colonies or plantations; (excepting those who shall be especially forbidden) to transport themselves and families into the said province or territory, with convenient shipping, and fitting provisions; and there to settle themselves, dwell and inhabit, any law, act, statute, ordinance, or other thing to the contrary in any wise, notwithstanding. and we will also, and of our especial grace, for us, our heirs and successors, do streightly enjoyn, ordain, constitute and demand, that the said province or territory, shall be of our allegiance; and that all and singular, the subjects and leige people of us, our heirs and successors, transported, or to be transported into the said province, and the children of them, and such as shall descend from them, there born, or hereafter to be born, be, and shall be denizens and lieges of us, our heirs and successors of this our kingdom of england, and be in all things, held, treated and reputed as the liege faithful people of us, our heirs and successors, born within this our said kingdom, or any other of our dominions; and may inherit, or otherwise purchase and receive, take, hold, buy and possess any lands, tenements or hereditaments, within the said places, and them may occupy, and enjoy, sell, alien and bequeath; as likewise, all liberties, franchises and privileges of this our kingdom, and of other our dominions aforesaid, may freely and quietly have, possess and enjoy, as our liege people born within the same, without the molestation, vexation, trouble or grievance of us, our heirs and successors, any act, statute, ordinance, or provision to the contrary, notwithstanding. and furthermore, that our subjects of this our said kingdom of england, and other our dominions, may be the rather encouraged to undertake this expedition, with ready and chearful minds; know ye, that we, of our especial grace, certain knowledge and meer motion, do give and grant, by virtue of these presents, as well to the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, and their heirs, as unto all others as shall, from time to time, repair unto the said province or territory, with a purpose to inhabit there, or to trade with the natives thereof; full liberty and license to lade and freight in every port whatsoever, of us, our heirs and successors; and into the said province of carolina, by them, their servants and assigns, to transport all and singular, their goods, wares and merchandizes; as likewise, all sort of grain whatsoever, and any other thing whatsoever, necessary for their food and cloathing, not prohibited by the laws and statutes of our kingdom and dominions, to be carried out of the same, without any lett or molestation of us, our heirs and successors, or of any other our officers or ministers whatsoever; saving also to us, our heirs and successors, the customs, and other duties and payments due for the said wares and merchandizes, according to the several rates of the place from whence the same shall be transported. we will also, and by these presents, for us, our heirs and successors, do give and grant license by this our charter, unto the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, and to all the inhabitants and dwellers in the province or territory aforesaid, both present and to come, full power and authority to import or unlade by themselves, or their servants, factors or assigns, all merchandizes and goods whatsoever, that shall arise of the fruits and commodities of the said province or territory, either by land or sea, into any the ports of us, our heirs and successors, in our kingdom of engl. scotl. or ireland, or otherwise, to dispose of the said goods, in the said ports. and if need be, within one year next after the unlading, to lade the said merchandizes and goods again in the same, or other ships; and to export the same into any other countries, either of our dominions or foreign, being in amity with us, our heirs and successors, so as they pay such customs, subsidies and other duties for the same to us, our heirs and successors, as the rest of our subjects of this our kingdom, for the time being, shall be bound to pay. beyond which we will not that the inhabitants of the said province or territory, shall be any ways charged. provided, nevertheless, and our will and pleasure is, and we have further, for the considerations aforesaid, of our special grace, certain knowledge and meer motion, given and granted, and by these presents, for us, our heirs and successors, do give and grant unto the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, full and free license, liberty, power and authority, at any time or times, from and after the feast of st. michael the arch-angel, which shall be in the year of our lord christ, one thousand, six hundred, sixty and seven; as well to import and bring into any our dominions from the said province of carolina, or any part thereof, the several goods and commodities herein after mentioned; that is to say, silks, wines, currants, raisons, capers, wax, almonds, oil and olives, without paying or answering to us, our heirs and successors, any custom, impost, or other duty, for, or in respect thereof, for and during the time and space of seven years to commence and be accompted from and after the first importation of four tons of any the said goods, in any one bottom ship or vessel, from the said province or territory, into any of our dominions; as also, to export and carry out of any of our dominions into the said province or territory, custom-free, all sorts of tools, which shall be useful or necessary for the planters there, in the accommodation and improvement of the premises, any thing before in these presents contained, or any law, act, statute, prohibition, or other matter or thing, heretofore had, made, enacted or provided, or hereafter to be had, made, enacted or provided, in any wise notwithstanding. and furthermore, of our more ample and especial grace, certain knowledge and meer motion, we do for us, our heirs and successors, grant unto the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, full and absolute power and authority to make, erect and constitute within the said province or territory, and the isles and islets aforesaid, such and so many sea-ports, harbours, creeks and other places for discharge and unlading of goods and merchandizes out of ships, boats, and other vessels, and for lading of them in such and so many places, as with such jurisdictions, privileges and franchises, unto the said ports belonging, as to them shall seem most expedient; and that all and singular, the ships, boats and other vessels, which shall come for merchandizes, and trade into the said province or territory, or shall depart out of the same, shall be laden and unladen at such ports only, as shall be erected and constituted by the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, and not elsewhere, any use, custom, or any thing to the contrary in any wise notwithstanding. and we do furthermore will, appoint and ordain, and by these presents, for us, our heirs and successors, do grant unto the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, that they the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, may from time to time, for ever, have and enjoy the customs and subsidies in the ports, harbours, creeks and other places, within the province aforesaid, payable for the goods, merchandizes and wares there laded, or to be laded or unladed, the said customs to be reasonably assessed upon any occasion by themselves, and by and with the consent of the free people, or the greater part of them, as aforesaid; to whom we give power by these presents, for us, our heirs and successors, upon just cause and in a due proportion to assess and impose the same. and further, of our especial grace, certain knowledge and meer motion, we have given, granted and confirmed, and by these presents, for us, our heirs and successors, do give, grant and confirm unto the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, full and absolute power, license and authority, that they the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, from time to time, hereafter for ever, at his and their will and pleasure, may assign, alien, grant, demise or enfeoff the premises or any part or parcel thereof to him or them, that shall be willing to purchase the same; and to such person and persons, as they shall think fit, to have, and to hold to them the said person or persons, their heirs and assigns, in fee simple or in fee tayle, or for the term of life or lives, or years to be held of them, the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, by such rents, services and customs, as shall seem fit to them the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, and not of us, our heirs and successors: and to the same person and persons, and to all and every of them, we do give and grant by these presents, for us, our heirs and successors, license, authority and power, that such person or persons, may have and take the premises, or any parcel thereof, of the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, and the same to hold to themselves, their heirs or assigns, in what estate of inheritance soever, in fee simple, or in fee tayle, or otherwise, as to them the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, shall seem expedient; the statute in the parliament of edward, son of king henry, heretofore king of england, our predecessor, commonly called, the statute of quia emptores terrar; or any other statute, act, ordinance, use, law, custom, any other matter, cause or thing heretofore published or provided to the contrary, in any wise notwithstanding. and because many persons born and inhabiting in the said province for their deserts and services may expect, and be capable of marks of honour and favour, which, in respect of the great distance cannot conveniently be conferred by us; our will and pleasure therefore is, and we do by these presents, give and grant unto the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william lord craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, full power and authority to give and confer unto, and upon such of the inhabitants of the said province, or territory, as they shall think, do, or shall merit the same, such marks of favour, and titles of honour, as they shall think fit, so as their titles of honours be not the same as are enjoyed by, or conferred upon any of the subjects of this our kingdom of england. and further also, we do by these presents, for us, our heirs and successors, give and grant, license to them the edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, full power, liberty and license, to erect, raise and build within the said province and places aforesaid, or any part or parts thereof, such and so many forts, fortresses, castles, cities, boroughs, towns, villages and other fortifications whatsoever; and the same or any of them to fortify and furnish with ordnance, powder, shot, armour and all other weapons, ammunition and habiliments of war, both defensive and offensive, as shall be thought fit and convenient for the safety and welfare of the said province, and places, or any part thereof; and the same, or any of them, from time to time, as occasion shall require, to dismantle, disfurnish, demolish and pull down; and also to place, constitute and appoint in, or over all, or any of the said castles, forts, fortifications, cities, towns and places aforesaid, governours, deputy governours, magistrates, sheriffs and other officers, civil and military, as to them shall seem meet; and to the said cities, boroughs, towns, villages, or any other place or places, within the said province or territory, to grant letters or charters of incorporation, with all liberties, franchises and privileges requisite, or usual, to, or within this our kingdom of england granted, or belonging; and in the same cities, boroughs, towns and other places, to constitute, erect and appoint such, and so many markets, marts and fairs as shall in that behalf be thought fit and necessary; and further also, to erect and make in the province or territory aforesaid, or any part thereof, so many mannors with such signories as to them shall seem meet and convenient, and in every of the same mannors to have and to hold a court-baron, with all things whatsoever, which to a court-baron do belong, and to have and to hold views of frank pledge, and court-leet, for the conservation of the peace, and better government of those parts, with such limits, jurisdiction and precincts, as by the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, or their heirs, shall be appointed for that purpose, with all things whatsoever, which to a court-leet, or view of franck pledge, do belong; the same courts to be holden by stewards, to be deputed and authorized by the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, or their heirs, by the lords of the mannors and leets, for the time being, when the same shall be erected. and because that in so remote a country, and situate among so many barbarous nations, the invasions as well of savages as other enemies, pirates, and robbers may probably be feared; therefore we have given, and for us, our heirs and successors do give power by these presents, unto the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs or assigns by themselves, or their captains, or their officers to levy, muster and train up all sorts of men, of what condition soever, or wheresoever born, whether in the said province, or elsewhere, for the time being; and to make war and pursue the enemies aforesaid, as well by sea, as by land; yea, even without the limits of the said province, and by god's assistance, to vanquish and take them, and being taken, to put them to death by the law of war, and to save them at their pleasure; and to do all and every other thing, which to the charge and office of a captain general of an army belongeth, or hath accustomed to belong, as fully and freely as any captain general of an army hath had the same. also, our will and pleasure is, and by this our charter, we do give and grant unto the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william lord craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, full power, liberty and authority, in case of rebellion, tumult, or sedition (if any should happen, which god forbid) either upon the land within the province aforesaid, or upon the main sea, in making a voyage thither, or returning from thence, by him and themselves, their captains, deputies or officers, to be authorized under his or their seals, for that purpose: to whom also for us, our heirs and successors, we do give and grant by these presents, full power and authority to exercise martial law against mutinous and seditious persons of those parts; such as shall refuse to submit themselves to their government, or shall refuse to serve in the wars, or shall fly to the enemy, or forsake their colours or ensigns, or be loiterers or stragglers, or otherwise howsoever offending against law, custom, or military discipline, as freely, and in as ample manner and form as any captain general of an army, by virtue of his office, might, or hath accustomed to use the same. and our further pleasure is, and by these presents, for us, our heirs and successors, we do grant unto the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, and to the tenants and inhabitants of the said province, or territory, both present and to come, and to every of them, that the said province, or territory, and the tenants and inhabitants thereof, shall not from henceforth, be held or reputed any member, or part of any colony whatsoever, in america or elsewhere, now transported or made, or hereafter to be transported or made; nor shall be depending on, or subject to their government in any thing, but be absolutely separated and divided from the same: and our pleasure is, by these presents, that they may be separated, and that they be subject immediately to our crown of england, as depending thereof for ever. and that the inhabitants of the said province or territory, or any of them, shall at any time hereafter, be compelled or compellible, or be any ways subject, or liable to appear or answer to any matter, suit, cause, or plaint whatsoever, out of the province or territory aforesaid, in any other of our islands, colonies or dominions in america, or elsewhere, other than in our realm of england and dominion of wales. and because it may happen, that some of the people and inhabitants of the said province, cannot in their private opinions conform to the publick exercise of religion according to the liturgy, forms and ceremonies of the church of england, or take or subscribe the oaths and articles made and established in that behalf: and for that the same, by reason of the remote distances of those places, will, as we hope, be no breach of the unity, and conformity, established in this nation; our will and pleasure therefore is, and we do by these presents for us, our heirs, and successors, give and grant unto the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, full and free licence, liberty and authority, by such ways and means as they shall think fit, to give and grant unto such person and persons, inhabiting, and being within the said province or territory, hereby or by the said recited letters patents, mentioned to be granted as aforesaid, or any part thereof, such indulgencies and dispensations, in that behalf, for, and during such time and times, and with such limitations and restrictions, as they the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs, or assigns, shall in their discretion think fit and reasonable. and that no person or persons, unto whom such liberty shall be given, shall be any way molested, punished, disquieted, or called in question for any differences in opinion or practice, in matters of religious concernment, who do not actually disturb the civil peace of the province, county or colony, that they shall make their abode in. but all and every such person and persons, may from time to time, and at all times, freely and quietly have and enjoy his and their judgment and consciences, in matters of religion, throughout all the said province, or colony, they behaving themselves peaceably, and not using this liberty to licentiousness, nor to the civil injury or outward disturbance of others. any law, statute or clause contained, or to be contained, usage or customs of our realm of england to the contrary hereof in any wise, notwithstanding. and in case it shall happen, that any doubts or questions should arise concerning the true sense and understanding of any word, clause, or sentence, contained in this our present charter, we will, ordain, and command, that at all times, and in all things, such interpretations be made thereof, and allow'd in all and every of our courts whatsoever, as lawfully may be adjudged most advantageous and favourable to the said edward earl of clarendon, george duke of albemarle, william earl of craven, john lord berkeley, anthony lord ashley, sir george carterett, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, their heirs and assigns, although express mention, &c. witness our self at westminster, the thirtieth day of june, in the seventeenth year of our reign. per ipsum regem. an abstract of the constitution of carolina. as to the government of carolina, the laws of england are there in force; yet the lords-proprietors, by their deputies, have power, with the consent of the inhabitants, to make by-laws for the better government of the said province; so that no law can be made, or money rais'd, unless the inhabitants, or their representatives, consent thereto: one law which they have in south-carolina deserves particular mention, which is, their method of chusing juries, it being done by making a considerable number of paper-billets, on which are written the names of as many of the most substantial freeholders. these billets are put into a hat, out of which twenty-four are chosen by the next child that appears. then, out of those twenty-four, twelve are chosen at the next court, after the same manner; which is an infallible way to prevent all manner of fraud. north and south-carolina settlements are distant from one another some hundreds of miles; so that necessity compels each colony to keep to themselves, a governour, council and assembly. the governor represents the lord-palatine; the rest of the counsellors are the lord-deputies; who, of themselves, make a palatines court, and a court of chancery; wherein they pass several orders of council, much of the nature of the prince's proclamation; which continues no longer in force, than the next assembly. likewise, they grant several sorts of commissions, warrants, &c. yet military commissions lie wholly in the governor's power; but making of war or peace, in all, or the majority of the lords-deputies; by whom (the governor being one) it is determin'd, and by whose commissions all other magistrates act. on these heads they have settled, and maintain an admirable constitution of government, for the lasting peace, security, and well-being of all the inhabitants. the way of any ones taking up his land in carolina, due to him either by purchasing it of the lords proprietors here in england, who keep their board at craven-house in drury-lane, london, the first thursday in every month; or if purchas'd in carolina, is after this manner: he first looks out for a place to his mind, that is not already possess'd by any other; then applies himself to the governor and lords proprietors deputies, and shews what right he hath to such a tract of land, either by purchase of the lords in england, or by an entry in the surveyor-general's office, in order to purchase of the governor and lords deputies there in carolina, who thereupon issue out their warrant-land as is due to him. who making certificate, that he had measured out so much land and the bounds, a deed is prepared of course, by the secretary, which is sign'd by the governor and the lords proprietors deputies, and the proprietors seal affix'd to it, and register'd in the secretaries office, which is a good coveyance in law of the land therein mention'd, to the party and his heirs for ever. thus have i given you as large and exact an account of carolina, as the discovery of so few years (in this great and extensive land) would permit. which flourishing country will, doubtless, in time, increase the number of its productions, and afford us plentifully those necessaries and rich commodities, which the streights, turky and other countries supply us withal at present, and not seldom in their own shipping; whereas, were those merchandizes the produce of an english plantation, and brought us home by our own hands and bottoms, of what advantage such an improvement would be to the crown of great-britain, and the people in general, i leave to men of reason and experience to judge. i do intend (if god permit) by future voyages (after my arrival in carolina) to pierce into the body of the continent, and what discoveries and observations i shall, at any time hereafter, make, will be communicated to my correspondents in england, to be publish'd, having furnish'd myself with instruments and other necessaries for such voyages. for the better understanding of this country, i have already drawn a very large and exact map thereof, as far as any discoveries have been yet made, either by others or my self, and have spared neither cost nor pains, to procure the most correct maps and journals thereof, that are extant in print, or in manuscript. this map containing nine sheets of imperial paper, and now fit for engraving, begins at cape henry in virginia, deg. n. lat. and contains all the coasts of carolina, or florida, with the bahama islands, great part of the bay of mexico, and the island of cuba, to the southward, and several degrees to the westward of the messiasippi river, with all the indian nations and villages, and their numbers, which of them are subject to carolina, and trade with their people, what places are convenient factories and forts, to increase and secure our trade on the messiasippi, and what forts and factories the french and spaniards have gain'd in those latitudes, especially on the great river and the neighbouring streams; all which they illegally possess, since the very mouth of the river messiasippi is in the king of england's grant to the lords proprietors of carolina, it falling something to the northward of degr. north lat. whose claim and right i question not, but a peace will adjust, and restore, which every englishman is bound in duty and interest, to wish for; if we consider how advantageously they have seated themselves, whereby to disturb the peace and interest of all the english plantations on the continent of america. ---------- finis. ---------- [original advertisement, included for historical context.] lately publish'd, in the collections for december, january, february, and march, the discovery and conquest of the molucco and philippine islands; containing their history, ancient and modern, natural and political: their description, product, religion, government, laws, languages, customs, manners, habits, shape, and inclinations of the natives. with an account of many other adjacent islands, and several remarkable voyages through the streights of magellan, and in other parts. written in spanish by bartholomew leonardo argensola, chaplain to the empress, and rector of villahermosa. now translated into english; and illustrated with a map and several cuts. [end of original advertisement.] transcriber's notes to etext: this book was originally published in london in . this text follows the original spellings, which are somewhat irregular, though still quite readable. a footnote from william gilmore simms' "life of francis marion" (online): lawson's "journal of a thousand miles' travel among the indians, from south to north carolina", is a work equally rare and interesting. this unfortunate man fell a victim to his official duties. he was confounded, by the savages, with the government which he represented, and sacrificed to their fury, under the charge of depriving them, by his surveys, of their land. he was made captive with the baron de graffenreid. the latter escaped, but lawson was subjected to the fire-torture. simms, however, was never a stickler for details. other accounts differ as to john lawson's exact fate, and no one is sure how he died. mike lawson, (mike_lawson@intertec.com, http://www.mixbooks.com), a direct descendant of the author, contacted me while i was working on putting this book online, and sent me some interesting information, which is summarized below. baron de graffenreid = degraffenreid, etc. from about to john lawson had lived in bath town, nc, where his primary interests were his orchards and vines. when he went to england to have his book published, he was "called upon by the lord proprietors to assist degraffenreid" who was trying to settle a colony of palatines in north carolina. franz louis michel, of bern, switzerland, (lawson refers to him as francis-louis mitchell) had come to america in , and discovered evidence of silver in the mountains. he returned to europe to start a company to found a colony in america, and met degraffenreid, who had similar plans, and had already contracted with the city of bern to remove some anabaptists to america -- they formed a partnership, and intended to search for silver. after the course of events which included john lawson's death and a massacre of these colonists, they had a falling out, and that plan never came off. according to de graffenreid, some days before the new bern massacre john lawson proposed that they go up the neuse river, where there were plenty of wild grapes. they were assured "that no savages lived on that branch of the river. but to feel safer we took two indians to guide, which we knew well, with two negroes to row." two days out, near the village of coram, they were overtaken by a large number of tuscaroras, and captured. there was a trial of sorts, where their intentions were examined, and mr. lawson was charged with being too severe, and for selling their land. after a lengthy debate, it was decided that they should be released the next day, but the following morning, one cor tom reproached mr. lawson, and they quarrelled. "i made every effort to get lawson to quit quarrelling. i did not succeed. all at once three or four indians fell upon us in a furious manner. . . . they took our hats and periwigs and threw them into the fire, and a council of war being held we were immediately sentenced to death." one of the indians, a relation of king taylor, from whom de graffenreid had bought the land for new bern, appealed in his behalf. "the indians whispered in my ear that i had nothing to fear, but that lawson would die, what affected me much. they also liberated my negro, but i never saw him since. . . . as to his death, i know nothing. some said he was hung, some said he was burnt. the indians kept that execution very secret." the tuscaroras then informed de graffenreid that they were going to war, but would not harm chattooka (new bern), but that the people of new bern ought to stay in the town -- unfortunately, there was no way to inform the people of new bern. several days later prisoners were brought back, and de graffenreid tells of recognizing some of them as his tenants, including a boy who reported that his whole family had been killed. after six weeks imprisonment at catechna, he was released, and returned to new bern, where the people were surprised to find him alive. (the relevant passages from de graffenreid's journal were printed in the north carolina booklet, vol. i, no. , june , , `colonial new bern', by mrs. sara beaumont kennedy, pp. - . issued by the north carolina society of the daughters of the revolution. raleigh: capital printing company, .) due to the age of this book, there are a number of nonstandard spellings, and the font used in the original, with the s's much like f's, has surely led to an error or two in the transcription, though every effort was made to minimize this factor. the standards of printing at the time were also somewhat low, and combine all this with those instances where indian names and words are given, and some of the material is doubtless inaccurate -- though lawson's comments on zoology should make that quite clear. nonetheless, this account remains one of our best sources for information on the indians of north carolina in and about the year . sidenotes, throughout, are presented in squiggly brackets. {as here.} where the sidenote precedes a paragraph, it is given on a separate line. corrections: (p. ) [ and become cripples all ther life-time; ] changed to: [ and become cripples all their life-time; ] (p. ) [ to satisfy the apppetite of the rich alone. ] changed to: [ to satisfy the appetite of the rich alone. ] (p. ) [ so we got that night to mons. gallian's the elder, ] changed to: [ so we got that night to mons. galliar's the elder, ] as the difference between "n" and "r" is significant, other evidence (william dobein james) suggests the real name was gaillard, and "mons. galliar's, jun'," is mentioned on the next page. (in giving the background of marion, in his "life of gen. francis marion", judge william dobein james quotes from "a new voyage to carolina", and in his footnotes gives some additional commentary on the area in relation to lawson's description. this text is online.) (p. ) [ which was s parrade of all nations, ] changed to: [ which was a parrade of all nations, ] and: [ most natious of the known world. ] changed to: [ most nations of the known world. ] (p. ) [ about it is hung gourds feathers, and other such like trophies, ] changed to: [ about it is hung gourds, feathers, and other such like trophies, ] (p. ) [ for tho' this most bears a seed in a sort of a small cod, ] changed to: [ for tho' this moss bears a seed in a sort of a small cod, ] (p. ) [ the sinnagers, or troquois. ] changed to: [ the sinnagers, or iroquois. ] (p. - ) [ at that, time these toteros saponas, and the keyauwees, ] changed to: [ at that time these toteros, saponas, and the keyauwees, ] (p. ) [ on the th of february, ( / ) came to an anchor ] changed to: [ on the th of february, , came to an anchor ] (p. ) [ to more certainty, and greater anvantage; whereby they might arrive ] changed to: [ to more certainty, and greater advantage; whereby they might arrive ] (p. ) [ to leave the more northerly platations, and sit down under ] changed to: [ to leave the more northerly plantations, and sit down under ] (p. ) [ in the year . we had the severest winter ] changed to: [ in the year , we had the severest winter ] (p. ) [ and dry it in the sun. to keep for use. ] changed to: [ and dry it in the sun to keep for use. ] (p. ) [ {plum.} ] inserted before: [damson, damazeen, and a large round black plum are all i have met withal ] (this follows the paragraph on apricots ["apricock"], and the absence of this or similar side-note seems to be accidental.) (p. ) [ this beast is the greatast enemy to the planter, ] changed to: [ this beast is the greatest enemy to the planter, ] (p. ) [ there fore-feet are open, like a dog's; ] changed to: [ their fore-feet are open, like a dog's; ] (p. ) [ great gust in september. . brought ] changed to: [ great gust in september, . brought ] (p. ) [ and make euquiries therein, when, at least, ] changed to: [ and make enquiries therein, when, at least, ] (the ol' upside-down "n" error.) (p. ) (from the list of water fowl) [ whifflers. ] changed to: [ whistlers. ] (in accordance with the text about them that follows.) (p. ) (from the list of water fowl) [ men. ] changed to: [ mew. ] (in accordance with the text about them that follows.) (p. ) [ {swaddle-bills.} ] inserted before: [ swaddle-bills are a sort of an ash-colour'd duck, ] (this follows the paragraph on tutcocks, precedes that on mew, and the absence of this or similar side-note seems to be accidental.) (p. ) [ although their be water enough for as large ships ] changed to: [ although there be water enough for as large ships ] (p. ) [ their remedies area great cause of this easiness ] changed to: [ their remedies are a great cause of this easiness ] (p. ) [ and so strung, as beds are, and a cubit ] changed to: [ and so strung, as beads are, and a cubit ] (p. ) [ that is common amongst them, if they are caught in theft ] changed to: [ that is common amongst them. if they are caught in theft ] in "an account of the indians of north-carolina", the side-notes do not always perfectly match the text in the original. in this edition, an attempt has been made to match them to the relevent text. the most notable changes are: p. , side note {get fire.} has been omitted, as at the end of p. there is the note {get fire how.} which refers to the same text, which is only broken by the turn of a page. the second note appears to serve no other purpose than continuity, which is no longer needed. p. , the side note {moss match.} actually refers to text that begins at the end of p. , and in this edition the side note has been inserted at the beginning of the relevant text. (p. ) [ others (where they find a vein of white clay, fit for their purpose, ] changed to: [ others (where they find a vein of white clay, fit for their purpose) ] (closing parenthesis was missing.) (pp. - ) throughout the book, a curious device is used -- at the end of each page, on a separate line, and right-justified, appears the first word of the next page. this does not generally need comment, but at the junction of pages and , an error occurs, in that at the bottom of page the next-word-to-come is given as "being", but the first word on page is "because". the latter is retained, and the former omitted, as seeming best to fit the context. it is a possibility that both should have been retained, i.e., "being because". (p. ) [ is a great man or hath good frieds, the doctor is sent for. ] changed to: [ is a great man or hath good friends, the doctor is sent for. ] also: [ keeps sucking. till he has got a great quaatity of very ] changed to: [ keeps sucking, till he has got a great quantity of very ] (p. ) [ girded him as hard for a great while) as if he had ] changed to: [ girded him as hard for a great while, as if he had ] (no opening parenthesis.) (p. ) [ mif-kis-'su ] changed to: [ mis-kis-'su ] as lawson notes the indian languages have no "f" sound, and the old `s' and `f' are very similar in shape. (p. ) (in the dictionary of indian terms, the translations for "minx" [mink]) [ min ] changed to: [ minx ] (in accordance with context and the preferred spelling in the text) (p. ) [ settled america so easily, at they have done, ] changed to: [ settled america so easily, as they have done, ] (p. ) [ into any other countries, either of our dominins or foreign, ] changed to: [ into any other countries, either of our dominions or foreign, ] (p. ) [ such ports only, as shall be erected and constitued by the said ] changed to: [ such ports only, as shall be erected and constituted by the said ] (p. ) [ to give and grant unto such person any persons, inhabiting, ] changed to: [ to give and grant unto such person and persons, inhabiting, ] (p. ) [ to the westward of of the messiasippi river, ] changed to: [ to the westward of the messiasippi river, ] i am unable to match all of lawson's spellings with modern versions, especially when it comes to the names of people, places, and tribes. however, quite likely: tuscarora: tuskeruro, and probably turkeiruro also. roanoke: ronoack. neuse river: neus-river. falls-of-neuse (north of raleigh): falls of neus-creek. deep river: sapona-river (possible -- given as the west branch of cape fair). cape fear: cape fair. haw river: hau river. congaree: congeree wateree: waterree catawba: kadapau (possible -- the location seems correct) waxhaw: waxsaw seneca: sinnager "rocky-river" is probably still "rocky river", but there are two by that name in north carolina, and the one in question is doubtless the larger one, situated between haw river and deep river. other non-standard spellings follow, but first some notes on how nonstandard items were handled in the text: . it seems as if "off" is occasionally spelled "of", but almost always in conjunction with "far" or the like: i.e., "not far of", "when farthest of". on p. , "when cut of" may also be an example. in all these examples, though, "of" *could* be the correct word, if used in the sense of "from". if is difficult to ascertain if the difference is spelling or usage. . where modern english would always use "than", lawson sometimes uses "that". this instance is repeated, so it is not conclusively an error. one example is on p. , "larger that a panther". . abbreviated words often end with an apostrophe, rather than a period, which is now the standard. "through" is usually abbreviated as "thro'". . italics have been kept throughout, with these notable exceptions: in the original, every case of "&c." was italicized; the side-notes were entirely italicized, except those words generally italicized in the text, which were rendered in normal type -- this has been reversed. (where "&c." appeared in an italicized section, it was presented in normal type. this too was ignored.) . printing was not as exact an art in as it is now, and this should be kept in mind throughout the text. as spelling was also not as standardized as it is now, it is difficult to tell sometimes whether a word has an old spelling, has a typographical error, or refers to something entirely different from what the first impression would suggest. in addition to this, there is a problem of battered type, which seems especially common in italic text -- which, unfortunately, is commonly used here for words in indian languages, which makes reading the text extremely difficult at times. and even without broken type, as in lawson's dictionary entry for "a rundlet" (perhaps a roundlet, a small round object?) he gives `ynpyupseunne' as the woccon term, which remains unclear on several accounts, as `u' and `n' were not infrequently accidentally inverted in old texts -- i.e., it might be `yupyupseunne', but where can we check it? no exact answers can be given here, but all these factors should be kept in mind when attempting to read this text. also in lawson's dictionary, occur the indian words pulawa and mif-kis-'su -- the latter has been rendered mis-kis-'su, as the old `s' and `f' were nearly identical, and were probably inadvertently switched -- which according to his own notes on p. , cannot happen, there being no `l' or `f' sounds in the languages. (in this old type, `s' has an f-like appearance in most cases, but a modern `s' was used if it was the last letter in a word, which follows a similar usage with the `s' sound in the greek alphabet.) it is much harder to guess what pulawa ought to have been. modern spelling is listed first: alternate spelling(s) follow: (more or less in the order they appear in the text.) . when multiple spellings in text include the modern spelling, it is not noted. . any word ending in -ed, such as "viewed", may end in -'d, as "view'd". this gets a little complicated in such cases as "accompany'd" (accompanied), "try'd" (tried), "supply'd" (supplied), "carry'd" (carried), "hurry'd" (hurried), and the like. also cases where the root word originally ended with an "e", such as "us'd" and "continu'd". these cases are not always noted. them: 'em mississippi: missisipi, messiasippi (older concept -- seems to refer to a vast area, probably everything drained by that river.) new york: new-york spacious: spatious public: publick style: stile fur: furr situate: soituate price: prize privilege: priviledge show: shew frontier: fronteer enterprise: enterprize scalp: sculp flay: flea allege: alledge (applies also to alleging, alleged, etc.) mountainous: mountanous gulf: gulph lemon: limon trial: tryal palmetto: palmeto mosquitoes: musketoes, musquetos troublesome: troblesome (p. ) tried: try'd vegetable: vegitable buckets or boquets?: bokeets pennsylvania: pensilvania, pensylvania isthmus: istmus glasgow: glasco corpses: corps o'clock: a clock cattle: cattel deer (plural): deers beach: beech clam: clann (probable -- may be a textual error) curlew: curleu pelican: pellican cyprus: ciprus alarm: allarm turkey: turkie, turky morbific: morbifick complement: compliment (warning: compliment is also spelled this way) specific: specifick most impatient (impatientest): impatients (textual error?) mons. huger: mons. eugee (according to `life of gen. francis marion', by judge william dobein james, "huger, who lived in the fork between south santee and wambaw creek.") splendid: splended continued: continu'd courses: coarses crowded: crouded ashley river: ashley-river, ashly-river clothe or cloth: cloath tribe: trible (textual error?) rejoice: rejoyce mons. gendron: mons. l'jandro ???: mons. l'grand mons. gaillard: mons. galliar affirmed: affir'm'd knoll: knowl (possible) paddling: padling fabrics (fabrication, a structure): fabricks loam: loom hut: hutt used: us'd oil: oyl chinquapin, chinkapin, chincapin: chinkapin, thinkapin (error?) quiddany (a confection of quinces made with sugar): quiddony barbecued: barbacu'd loaves: loves creoles: criolo's courtesan: curtesan monsieur: mounsieur leaguer-ladies (soldier's wives -- scottish term): leager ladies parade: parrade physic (medicine): physick surgery: chirurgery expense: expence retaliation: retalliation villainy: villany balsamic: balsamick belly-ache: belly-ach crutches (i.e., props): crotches smoke: smoak straight: strait (probable), streight complete: compleat scraped: scrapt fatigue: fatiegue (textual error?) maize: maiz over-flowed: over-flown stroud-water-blue?: stroud-water-blew [from the american encyclopaedic dictionary, (aed): stroud: (etym. doubtful: perhaps from stroud, in gloucester, england, where flannel and cloth are manufactured in large quantities.) a kind of coarse blanket or garment of strouding (a coarse kind of cloth employed in trade with north american indians) worn by the indians of north america.] medley: medly ragout: ragoo burden: burthen (archaic) availing (useful): eviling [possible, but questionable] [note also that the "e" in the print is badly formed, and there is a slim chance it might be an "a" or another letter.] chalybeate: chalybid most dismal (dismallest): dismall'st surprisal: surprizal threatening: threatning music: musick tiger: tyger (note that in "tyger" and "panther" were generic terms) drizzly: drisly acorns: acrons (textual error?) polecat (skunk): polcat arithmetic: arithmetick straggling: stragling hickory: hiccory, hickery, hickerie broth: broath loblolly [aed: . water-gruel or spoon-meat. . a sweet.] brunette: brounetto (probable) [probably in the older sense of a woman of brownish complexion; i.e., skin, eyes, and hair.] squaw: squah swaddling-cloths: swadling-clouts rive: reave (possible -- not a common word) pigged: pig'd [aed: to be huddled together with several others in a single room by night as well as by day; to live like pigs.] tetter (generic term, skin disease): tettar colic: cholick gourd: goard saddled: sadl'd brussels, bruxelles: bruxels (probable) fuller's-earth: fullers-earth stopped: stopt portion: potion (possible -- or textual error?) wondering: wondring mechanics: mechanicks domestic: domestick passed: past cornuted [horned. these references to horns reflect the time this book was written, when a man whose wife was unfaithful was said to have horns.] stews [archaic: a brothel.] barbecues: barbakues fusil: fusee, fuzee (probable) [a fusee can be one of several things, but the context here suggests that it was a fusil, which was a type of small, firelock musket.] festination [haste, hurry, expedition.] human: humane fuel: fewel ankle: ancle wondered: wondred cully [several senses, including a dupe or fool, especially one imposed upon by a prostitute.] caddis: cadis winchester-wedding [the aed had no entry for this, but notes that "winchester-goose" is "a cant term for a venereal sore, said to have originated from the public stews (brothels) in southwark, england, being under the jurisdiction of the bishop of winchester." it is probable that a winchester-wedding would be of the type (or non-type) performed in these same institutions.] bachelor: batchelor widower: widdower shoes: shooes moccasins: moggisons, moggizons merchandise: merchandize valleys: vallies chestnut: chesnut perch: pearch soup: soop, soupe appalachian: appallatche desert: desart cape fear: cape-fair, caip-fair befall: befal beaver: bever buffalo: buffelo palisades: palisadoes necromantic: necromantick cologne, koeln: cologn (possible) cliff or cleft?: clift mustaches: mustachoes alligator: allegator (despite lawson's claim, not a crocodile) turnip: turnep biscuit: bisket (probable) wholesome: wholsome basin: bason percoarson = perkoson, but i can not find any external references to either certify: certifie threatened: threatned hindrance: hinderance atlantic: atlantick honeysuckle: honysuckle, hony-suckle molasses: molosses roanoke: ronoack, ronoak shore: shoar moored: mor'd parakeet: parrakeeto (doubtless the carolina parakeet, now extinct.) inferior: inferiour tie: tye ashore: ashoar peas: pease garlic: garlick chives: cives salad: sallad lettuce: lettice spinach: spinage cauliflower: colly-flower watermelon: water-melon basil: bazil assuaging: asswaging chamomile, camomile: camomil houseleek: housleek conveniences: conveniencies rounceval: rouncival (in the text, a type of pea, now called a marrowfat) rosin: rozin subterranean, subterraneous: subteraneous gigantic: gigantick linen: linnen housewife/housewives: houswife/houswives housewifery: houswifry woolens: woollens choleric: cholerick watery: watry emetic: emetick weirs: wares (probable -- pp. , . can also be "wares", however.) whaling: whale-fishing porket: a young pig or hog. thrived: throve fit: fitt maryland: mariland supplied: supplyed wig: wigg cutlery: cuttlery jasmine, jessamine: jessamin browse/browsing: browze/browzing evergreen: ever-green household: houshold virtue: vertue vermin: vermine appamattox: apamaticks, appamaticks (probable) cloud: clowd aspen: aspin ache: ach burr, bur. (both are still used, but "burr" is now more common, where john lawson tends towards "bur".) cathartic: cathartick cachexia (plural): cachexies ("cachexy" is an english form of the word, now rarely, if ever, used.) calico: callico hazelnut: hazle-nut conic/conical: conick exotic: exotick serviceberry/juneberry/shadblow: service (given as the name of a fruit), the plant it grows on is called the shadbush. (probable) relished?: relisht apricot: apricock gooseberry: goosberry vinedresser/vine dresser/vine-dresser: vigneroon (french "vigneron") madeira: madera rabbit: rabbet jackal: jackall havoc: havock holler: hollow (not all cases. of the panther, "he hollows like a man" should be "he hollers like a man".) sourwood tree: sowr-wood-tree, sowr wood, sorrel surprise: surprize raspberry: rasberry mink: minx mussel: muscle (in cases such as "muscle-shell") rheum/rheumatism: rhume/rhumatism rheumatic: rhumatick tortoise: tortois burrow: borough chipmunk: ground squirrel (probable) chase: chace insect: reptile reptile: insect ("insect" is used strangely, to include reptiles and amphibians. conversely, lawson uses "reptile" to refer to insects.) thoroughly: throughly (possible, p. ) entering: entring frightened: frightned connection: connexion (spelling in common use through the th century) excrementitious (spelling still technically correct, but rare enough that "excrescent" is suggested as an alternative, yet even that has the wrong connotation in modern usage.) terrapin: terebin tadpole: tad-pool easy: easie wandering: wandring leech: loach screech owl: scritch owl (probable) trumpeter swan: swans, called trompeters (probable) fish hawk: fishawk smallness: smalness grasshopper: grashopper set: sett shot (past tense of shoot): shotten (see case on p. ) livor: liver waiving: waving (??? -- p. ) rye: rie indigo: indico (??? -- p. ) plasterers: plaisterers governor: governour joists: joices (probably this or a related word) hazel: hazle dye: die (p. ) gait: gate (p. ) inventor: inventer (both spellings acceptable, but "inventer" non-standard) pare: pair (p. ) warrior: warriour trap-ball (from sense of "trap" in the aed) a game and also one of the instruments used in playing the game, the others being a small bat and a ball. the trap is of wood, made like a slipper, with a hollow at the heel end, and a kind of wooden spoon working on a pivot, in which the ball is placed. by striking the handle or end of the spoon the ball is projected up into the air, and the striker endeavors to hit it as far as possible with the bat before it falls to the ground. the opponents endeavor to catch the ball, or to bowl it so as to hit the trap. also called trap-bat and trap-bat and ball. baton, bat: batoon (a variant spelling of baton, with a meaning closer to that of bat. see trap-ball) worse: worser wrangling: rangling sepulchre: sepulcre hominy (grits): rockahomine meal (conjecture: lawson gives roocauwa as the woccon word for homine [hominy].), homine nowadays: now adays flag (p. ) is another word for rushes or reeds. artificially (p. ) has changed meaning over the years. means "artfully". plaid: plad (in the sense of the garment, not the pattern) porcelain: porcelan (used in a very old sense, referring to a cowry shell) antic: antick hero: heroe disappointment: disapointment relic: relick tomahawk: tamahauk unmanned: unman'd frolic: frolick prefixed: prefixt (obsolete sense) enough: enow (correct but obsolete) hieroglyphic: hieroglyphick republic: republick pestle: pestil, pestel lightninged: lightned (the strict conversion to modern spelling would be "lightened", but "lightninged" adheres to modern usage) lie: lye dripping: dropping (probable) barricaded: barricadoed stolen: stoln frightened: frightned lingering: lingring mere: meer (at least in one case -- "meer motion" may mean something else.) foul: fowl (p. -- same spelling used elsewhere for "fowl".) phthisis, phthisic: phthisick (may be the old sense of the term, designating any waste, decay, or emaciation; including tuberculosis, which it now designates.) torrefy: to dry, roast, scorch, or parch by a fire. aed. this dictionary also notes that "torrefy" is a formation from the french, whereas "torrify" (meaning the same thing) is an english formation, from "torrid". waccon & woccon used interchangeably baked: bak't mongolian hordes: tartarian hurds (`tartar' or `tatar' is still in use, but in this context, `mongolian hordes' is now used almost exclusively. what is curious is why lawson has this sidenote in the first place -- apparently he is comparing the indians to the tatars, though on what grounds is unclear.) jailor: jaylor ghastly: gastly stuffed: stufft stalking: stauking choose: chuse mutinying: mutining sylvan: sylvian forewarn: forwarn recall: recal lies, lieth: lyeth chapel: chappel manor: mannor (possible) ore: oar dignified: dignifyed enjoin: enjoyn increase: encrease liege: leige (may be an error in one case) cheerful: chearful let: lett (p. ) (not sure if this is the same type of `let') twig: twigg brier: bryar wherever: whereever (p. -- may be an error resulting from being broken at the end of a line -- i.e., where-ever.) red clay?: "a marl as red as blood" (p. ) aperitive?: apersive (a laxative -- it fits the context. p. ) school history of north carolina, from to the present time. by john w. moore. revised and enlarged. preface to revised edition. in the publication of a fourteenth edition it seems proper that something should be said as to changes made in this work. at a session of the north carolina board of education, held november d, , it was resolved that "the board expressly reserve to itself the right to require further revisions" in moore's school history of north carolina, the second edition of which was then adopted for use in the public schools. conforming to this requirement of the state board of education, the author has diligently sought aid and counsel in the effort to perfect this work. to mrs. c. p. spencer, e. j. hale, esq., of new york, and hon. montford mcgehee, commissioner of agriculture, the work is indebted for many valuable suggestions, but still more largely to col. w. l. saunders, secretary of state, who has aided assiduously not only in its revision, but in its progress through the press. the teacher of north carolina history will be greatly aided in the work by having a wall map of north carolina before the class, and to this end the publishers have prepared a good and accurate school map, which will be furnished at a special low price. contents. chapter. i. physical description of north carolina ii. physical description--continued iii. geological characteristics iv. the indians v. sir walter raleigh vi. discovery of north carolina vii. governor lane's colony viii. governor white's colony ix. the fate of raleigh x. charles ii. and the lords proprietors xi. governor drummond and sir john yeamans xii. governor stephens and the fundamental constitutions xiii. early governors and their troubles xiv. lord carteret adds a new trouble xv. thomas carey and the tuscarora war xvi. governor eden and black-beard xvii. governor gabriel johnston xviii. the pirates and other enemies xix. governor arthur dobbs xx. governor tryon and the stamp act xxi. governor tryon and the regulators xxii. governor martin and the revolution xxiii. first provincial congress xxiv. second provincial congress xxv. the congress at hillsboro xxvi. battle of moore's creek bridge xxvii. fourth provincial congress declares independence xxviii. adoption of a state constitution xxix. the war continued xxx. stony point and charleston xxxi. ramsour's mill and camden court house xxxii. battle of king's mountain xxxiii. cornwallis's last invasion xxxiv. battle of guilford court house xxxv. fanning and his brutalities xxxvi. peace and independence xxxvii. the state of franklin xxxviii. formation of the union xxxix. france and america xl. the federalists and the republicans xli. closing of the eighteenth century xlii. growth and expansion xliii. second war with great britain xliv. after the storm xlv. the whigs and the democrats xlvi. the condition of the state xlvii. the courts and the bar xlviii. origin of the public schools xlix. slavery and social development l. the mexican war li. the north carolina railway and the asylums lii. a spectre of the past re-appears liii. the social and political status liv. president lincoln and the war lv. the war between the states lvi. the combat deepens lvii. the war continues lviii. war and its horrors lix. the death wound at gettysburg lx. general grant and his campaign lxi. north carolina and peace-making lxii the war draws to a close lxiii. concluding scenes of the war lxiv. refitting the wreck lxv. governor worth and president johnson lxvi. results of reconstruction lxvii results of reconstruction--continued lxviii. impeachment of governor holden lxix. resumption of self-government lxx. the cotton trade and factories lxxi. progress of material development lxxii. the railroads and new towns lxxiii. literature and authors lxxiv. the colleges and schools lxxv. conclusion appendix. constitution of north carolina questions on the constitution hints to teachers. it is well known that any subject can be more thoroughly taught when both the eye and the mind of the pupil are used as mediums for imparting the knowledge; and the teacher of "north carolina history" will find a valuable help in a wall map of the state hung in convenient position for reference while the history class is reciting. require the pupils to go to the map and point out localities when mentioned, also places adjoining; trace the courses of the rivers which have a historical interest, and name important towns upon their banks. a good, reliable wall map of north carolina can he procured at a moderate price from the publishers of this work. it has been deemed proper to make the chapters short, that each may form one lesson. at the close of each chapter will be found questions upon the main points of the lesson. these will furnish thought for many other questions which will suggest themselves to the teacher. there are many small matters of local state history which can be given with interest to the class, from time to time, as appropriate periods are reached. these minor facts could not be included in the compass of a school book, but a teacher will be helped by referring occasionally to "moore's library history of north carolina." inspire your pupils with a spirit of patriotism and love for their native state. a little effort in this direction will show you how easily it can be done. in every boy and girl is a latent feeling of pride in whatever pertains to the welfare of their native state, and this feeling should be cultivated and enlarged, and thus the children make better citizens when grown. the history of our state is filled with events which, told to the young, will fix their attention, and awaken a desire to know more of the troubles and noble deeds of the people who laid the foundation of this commonwealth. the appendix contains the present "constitution of north carolina." then follows a series of "questions on the constitution," prepared expressly for this work by hon. kemp p. battle, ll. d., president of the university of north carolina. this is an entirely new and valuable feature in a school book, and contains an analysis of our state government. this is just the information that every citizen of north carolina ought to possess, and teachers should require all their students of this history to read and study the constitution and endeavor to answer the questions thereon. no state in the union possesses a record of nobler achievements than north carolina. her people have always loved liberty for themselves, and they offered the same priceless boon to all who came within her borders; and it was a full knowledge of this trait of our people which made bancroft say "north carolina was settled by the freest of the free." chapter i. physical description of north carolina. the state of north carolina is included between the parallels ° and ° north latitude, and between the meridians ° and ° west longitude. its western boundary is the crest of the smoky mountains, which, with the blue ridge, forms a part of the great appalachian system, extending almost from the mouth of the st. lawrence to the gulf of mexico; its eastern is the atlantic ocean. its mean breadth from north to south is about one hundred miles; its extreme breadth is one hundred and eighty-eight miles. the extreme length of the state from east to west is five hundred miles. the area embraced within its boundaries is fifty-two thousand two hundred and eighty-six square miles. . the climate of north carolina is mild and equable. this is due in part to its geographical position; midway, as it were, between the northern and southern limits of the union. two other causes concur to modify it; the one, the lofty appalachian chain, which forms, to some extent, a shield from the bleak winds of the northwest; the other, the softening influence of the gulf stream, the current of which sweeps along near its shores. . the result of these combined causes is shown in the character of the seasons. fogs are almost unknown; frosts occur not until the middle of october; ice rarely forms of a sufficient thickness to be gathered; snows are light, seldom remaining on the ground more than two or three days. the average rainfall is about fifty- three inches, which is pretty uniformly distributed throughout the year. the climate is eminently favorable to health and longevity. . the state falls naturally into three divisions or sections-- the western or mountain section, the middle or piedmont section, and the eastern or tidewater section. the first consists of mountains, many of them rising to towering heights, the highest, indeed, east of the rocky mountains. it is bounded on the east by the blue ridge and on the west by the smoky mountains. the section inclosed within these limits is in shape somewhat like an ellipse. its length is about one hundred and eighty miles; its average breadth from twenty to fifty miles. it is a high plateau, from the plane of which many lofty mountains everywhere rise, and on its border the culminating points of the appalachian system--the roau, the grandfather and the black--lift their heads to the sky. between the mountains are fertile valleys, plentifully watered by streams, many of them remarkable for their beauty. the mountains themselves are wooded, except a few which have prairies on their summits, locally distinguished as "balds." this section has long been one of the favorite resorts of the tourist and the painter. . the middle section lies between the blue ridge and the falls where the rivers make their descent into the great plain which forms the eastern section of the state. its area comprises nearly one-half of the territory of the state. throughout the greater part it presents an endless succession of hills and dales, though the surface near the mountains is of a bolder and sometimes of a rugged cast. the scenery of this section is as remarkable for quiet, picturesque beauty, as that of the western is for sublimity and grandeur. . the eastern section is a champaign country; relieved, however, by gentle undulations. its breadth is about one hundred miles. its principal beauty lies in its river scenery and extensive water prospects. . the cultivated productions of the mountain section are corn, wheat, oats, barley, hay, tobacco, fruits and vegetables. cattle are also reared quite extensively for market. in the middle section are found all the productions of the former, and over the southern half cotton appears as the staple product. in the eastern section cotton, corn, oats and rice are staple crops, and the "trucking business" (growing fruits and vegetables for the northern markets), constitutes a flourishing industry. the lumber business, and the various industries to which the long- leaf pine gives rise, tar, pitch and turpentine, have long been, and still continue to be, great resources of wealth for this section. of the crops produced in the united states all are grown in north carolina except sugar and some semi-tropical fruits, as the orange, the lemon and the banana. the wine grapes of america may be said to have their home in north carolina; four of them, the catawba, isabella, lincoln and scuppernong, originated here. . the physical characteristics of the state will be better understood by picturing to the mind its surface as spread out upon a vast declivity, sloping down from the summits of the smoky mountains, an altitude of near seven thousand feet, to the ocean level. through the range of elevation thus afforded, the plants and trees (or what is comprehended under the term flora) vary from those peculiar to alpine regions to those peculiar to semi- tropical regions. . the variety of trees is most marked, including all those which yield timber employed in the useful and many of those employed in the ornamental arts. indeed, nearly all the species found in the united states, east of the rocky mountains, are found in north carolina. her wealth in this respect will be appreciated when the striking fact is mentioned that there are more species of oaks in north carolina than in all the states north of us, and only one less than in all the southern states east of the mississippi. this range of elevation affords also a great variety of medicinal herbs. in fact, the mountains of north carolina are the 'storehouse' of the united states for plants of this description. questions. . of what does this chapter treat? give the latitude and longitude of north carolina. what are its eastern and western boundaries? give its dimensions. . what is said of the climate of north carolina? name the causes of this mildness of climate. . what is said of the seasons? of fogs, snow and ice? of the rainfall? . into how many natural divisions is the state formed? name them. describe the mountain section. point it out on the map. . give a description of the middle or piedmont section. locate this section on the map. . what is said of the eastern or 'tidewater' section? point it out on the map. . what are some of the productions of the mountain section? of the piedmont? of the tidewater? what is said of the grapes of north carolina? . how may the physical characteristics of the state be easily understood? . what is said of the plants and trees? what further is said of this particular branch of north carolina's wealth? chapter ii. physical description-continued. the mountains of north carolina may be conveniently classed as four separate chains: the smoky, forming the western boundary of the state; the blue ridge, running across the state in a very tortuous course, and shooting out spurs of great elevation; the brushy (which divides, for the greater part of its course, the waters of the catawba and yadkin), beginning at a point near lenoir and terminating in the pilot and sauratown mountains; and an inferior range of much lower elevation, which may be termed, from its local name at different points, the uwharrie or oconeechee mountains beginning in montgomery county and terminating in the heights about roxboro, in person county. . each of these mountain ranges is marked by distinct characteristics. the smoky chain, as contrasted with the next highest--the blue ridge--is more continuous, more elevated, more regular in its direction and height, and rises very uniformly from five thousand to nearly six thousand seven hundred feet. the blue ridge is composed of many fragments scarcely connected into a continuous and regular chain. its loftier summits range from five thousand to five thousand nine hundred feet. the brushy range presents, throughout the greater part of its course, a remarkable uniformity in direction and elevation, many of its peaks rising above two thousand feet. the last, the oconeechee or uwharrie range, sometimes presents a succession of elevated ridges, then a number of bold and isolated knobs, whose heights are one thousand feet above the sea level. . there are three distinct systems of rivers in the state: those that find their way to the gulf of mexico through the mississippi, those that flow through south carolina to the sea and those that reach the sea along our own coast. the divide between the first and the second is the blue ridge chain of mountains; that between the second and third systems is found in an elevation extending from the blue ridge, near the virginia line, just between the sources of the yadkin and the roanoke, in a south-easterly direction some two hundred miles, almost to the sea-coast below wilmington. in the divide between the first and second systems, which is also the great watershed between the atlantic slope and the mississippi valley, a singular anomaly is presented, for it is formed not by the lofty smoky range, but by the blue ridge--not, therefore, at the crest of the great slope which the surface of the state presents, but on a line lower down. on the western flank of this lower range the beautiful french broad and the other rivers of the first section, including the headwaters of the great khanawha, have their rise. in their course through the smoky mountains to the mississippi they pass along chasms or "gaps" from three thousand to four thousand feet in depth. these chasms or "gaps" are more than a thousand feet lower than those of the corresponding parts of the blue ridge. . the rivers of the second system rise on the eastern flank of the blue ridge. these rivers--the catawba and the yadkin, with their tributaries stretching from the broad river, near the mountains in the west, to the lumber near the seacoast--water some thirty counties in the state, a fan-shaped territory, embracing much the greater portion of the piedmont section of the state. . the rivers of the third system are the chowan, the roanoke, the tar, the neuse and the cape fear, usually navigable some for fifty and others to near one hundred miles for boats of light draught. of these the three last have their rise near the northern boundary of the state, in a comparatively small area, near the eastern source of the yadkin. the chowan has its rise in virginia, below appomattox court house. the principal sources of the roanoke, also, are in virginia, in the blue ridge, though some of its head streams are in north carolina, and very near those of the yadkin. only one of these rivers, the cape fear, flows directly into the ocean in this state; the others, after reaching the low country, move on with diminished current and empty into large bodies of water known as sounds. . the great rivers of these three systems, with their network of countless tributaries, great and small, afford a truly magnificent water supply. flat lands border the streams in every section; they are everywhere exceptionally rich, and in the tidewater section, of great breadth. in their course from the high plateaus to the low country all the rivers of the state have a descent of many hundred feet, made by frequent falls and rapids. these falls and rapids afford all unlimited motive power for machinery of every description; and here many cotton mills and other factories have been established, and are multiplying every year. . the sounds, and the rivers which empty into them, constitute a network of waterway for steam and sailing vessels of eleven hundred miles. they are separated from the ocean by a line of sand banks, varying in breadth from one hundred yards to two miles, and in height from a few feet above the tide level to twenty-five or thirty feet, on which horses of a small breed, called "bank ponies," are reared in great numbers, and in a half wild state. these banks extend along the entire shore a distance of three hundred miles. through them there are a number of inlets from the sea to the sounds, but they are usually too shallow except for vessels of light burden. along its northern coast the commerce of the state has, in consequence, been restricted; it has, however, an extensive commerce through beaufort harbor and the cape fear river. . the sounds, and the rivers in their lower courses, abound with fish and waterfowl. hunting the canvas-back duck and other fowls for the northern cities is a regular and profitable branch of industry; while herring, shad and rock-fishing is pursued, especially along albemarle sound, with spirit, skill and energy, and a large outlay of capital. questions. . what is the subject of this chapter? how may the mountains of north carolina be classed? describe each chain. point out these mountains on the map. . describe the smoky mountains. the blue ridge. the brushy. the oconeechee. . describe the river systems of the state. give the dividing lines between the systems. describe the flow of the rivers of western north carolina. trace the courses of these rivers on the map. what is said of the mountain gaps? . where are the catawba and yadkin rivers? what portion of the state do they water? point them out on the map. . describe the rivers of the third system. where do they empty? . what do our rivers afford? what is said of our water power? . what mention is made of the sounds? describe the banks. point out on the map the sounds and the banks. . with what do the sounds and rivers abound? what important branches of industry are mentioned? chapter iii. geological characteristics. a knowledge of the geology of a state affords the key to its soils; since the soils are formed by the disintegration of the underlying rocks, more or less mixed with animal or vegetable matter. the peculiar geological structure of the state furnishes the material for every possible variety of soil. in fact, there is no description or combination unrepresented. there are, first, the black and deep peaty soils of hyde county and the great swamp tracts along the eastern border of the tidewater section; then come the alluvious marls and light sandy soils of the more elevated portions of the same section; then the clayey, sandy and gravelly soils of the piedmont and mountain section, the result of the decomposition of every variety of rock. . from its western boundary to the last falls of its rivers, the rocks generally belong to that formation known as "primitive". primitive rocks are easily distinguished; they are crystalline in structure, and have no animal or vegetable remains (called fossils) imbedded or preserved in them. the soils of this formation are not very fertile, nor yet are they sterile; they are of medium quality, and susceptible, under skilful culture, of the highest improvement. the primitive rocks are chiefly represented by granite and gneiss. . the rocks of the secondary formation appear in certain counties of the piedmont section, and here the coal-fields occur, embracing many hundred square miles. this formation consists of the primitive rocks, broken down by natural agents, and subsequently deposited in beds of a thickness from a few feet to many hundred, and abounds in organic remains. the soils of this formation vary more than the former, as the one or the other of the materials of which they are made up happens to predominate. . the eastern section belongs to that which is known as the "quaternary" formation. here no rocks like those mentioned above are found; indeed, rocks, in the ordinary sense of that term, are unknown. this formation will be best understood by regarding it as an ocean bed laid bare by upheaval through some convulsion of nature, and thus made dry land. sandy soils predominate somewhat in this section, though there are tracts in which clay is in great excess, and other tracts in which vegetable matter is in great excess. between these extremes there exist, also, the usual mixtures in various proportions. . geology also affords a key to the mineral resources of a state. those of the tidewater section are summed up in its marls. that whole section is underlaid with marl at a depth of a few feet, and in quantity sufficient to raise and keep it, when regularly applied to the surface, for all time to come at the highest point of productiveness. of all resources for wealth this is the most durable; and, on account of the industry to which it is subservient--the agricultural--is best calculated to promote the happiness of man. . it is in the primitive rocks, however, that minerals abound. those of north carolina surpass any in the union. in the last report on the geology of the state one hundred and seventy-eight are numbered and described. among these are gold, silver, copper, lead, iron, mica, corundum, graphite, manganese, kaolin, mill-stone grits, marble, barytes, oil shale, buhrstones, roofing slate, etc. the most of these are the subjects of great mining industries, which are daily developing to greater proportions. . of some of these minerals, as corundum and mica, north carolina has already become the chief source of supply. among the principal sources of the future mineral wealth of the state, copper, gold and iron are clearly indicated. the ores of these metals are found in abundance over extensive tracts of country. lastly, in north carolina many beautiful specimens of the precious stones have been found, and a large capital has been raised to carry on mining as a regular business for one of these-- the hiddenite gem. . north carolina will thus be seen to be a state of vast resources, whether we regard the variety and value of her natural or cultivated productions, the immense range of her minerals or her facilities for manufacturing industries. it would, perhaps, be safe to say that no equal portion of the earth's surface will, in half a century, be the scene of industries so various and of such value. questions. . of what does this chapter treat? what does the knowledge of the geology of a state afford? mention the variety of soils found in north carolina. . where are the primitive rocks found? describe them. how are they chiefly represented? what are the soils of this division? . where do the rocks of the secondary formation appear? describe this formation. what is said of the soils of the secondary formation? . to what class do the rocks of the eastern section belong? what is said of this section? describe the quaternary formation. what is said of the soil? . what else is afforded by geology? where is marl found and what is said of it? . where do the minerals abound? how many kinds of minerals are located in this state? can you name the principal ones? what is said of mining? . what is said of corundum and mica? of gold and iron? of precious gems? . what great resources does north carolina possess? chapter iv. the indians. that portion of america now known as the state of north carolina was once inhabited by indians. for many ages before columbus came across the seas in the year , they had held undisputed possession of all the western continent, except those arctic regions where the esquimaux dwelt. . nearly a century had gone by since the spaniards had begun their settlements, and yet, north of st. augustine, in florida, not a white man was to be found. cortez and pizarro had founded great states in mexico and peru, but the vast region stretching from the rio grande to the st. lawrence was still the home of only red men and the wild beasts of the forest. . there were many different tribes and languages to be found among the indians. in north carolina, the tuscaroras lived in the east, the catawbas in the middle, and the cherokees in the western portion of the territory as now defined. there were corees, meherrins, chowanokes, and other small tribes in the east, but they were weak in numbers and occupied but a small portion of our present state limits. . the treacherous tuscaroras were a portion of a powerful race known as the iroquois. the other five nations of this family dwelt in the lake country of new york, and were the most daring and dangerous confederation among all indians then known to the white people. these iroquois of the north were generally friendly to the english, but waged almost ceaseless war upon the french and a tribe of indians called the algonquins. . the tuscaroras were generally to be found in the country watered by the roanoke and neuse rivers, and were the terror of all other tribes. it is not known when they had separated from their northern relatives. they kept up amicable relations with them, and messengers and embassies occasionally passed between the banks of the roanoke and the settlements on the northern lakes. . the catawbas roamed over the fair regions through which flow the catawba and yadkin rivers. westward of them were to be found, in the mountains, the numerous bands of the cherokees. amid the towering peaks, and along the beautiful french broad and other rivers, lived and hunted these simple children of the hills. they were generally disposed to peace, and were averse to leaving the paradise they inhabited for the dangerous honor of the warpath. . the indians were, in many respects, a peculiar people. though ignorant and savage, they were not idolaters. they believed in one god, whom they called the "great spirit." they were not shepherds or farmers, for they had no domestic animals except dogs, and their corn fields were but insignificant patches, cleared and cultivated by their women. they cleared these little patches of land by burning down the trees, and their plow was a crooked stick with which they scratched over the ground for planting the corn. the men hunted, and fought with other tribes, but disdained to be found engaged in any useful labor. . such habits made large areas of land necessary for the subsistence of the people. thus all of the tribes were jealous of the intrusion of others upon their hunting grounds, and whenever one found another getting closer than usual war was begun. their lives were filled with terror and apprehension; not knowing when some enemy would kill and scalp every person in the tribe. . the meherrins lived in the fork of meherrin and chowan rivers. they were long at war with the nottoways, who lived in virginia, south of james river. the meherrins at last left their old men, women and children and went on the warpath against their enemies, who happened to be approaching them on a similar errand. they chanced to miss each other, and the nottoways therefore found the lodges of their foes completely undefended, and they slew every human being in the captured village. the meherrins left their old homes in despair and disappeared in the west. this occurred after many white people had settled in the albemarle country. . such a state of society necessitated the control of one leader; so the indian tribes were governed by chiefs, who led them to battle and in pursuit of game. some of these chiefs, like powhatan and king philip, were men of marked ability, and extended their power over other tribes. when a chief died his son succeeded to his office only when fitted for the place; if weak or cowardly, some other brave was chosen. in this way the honor was not strictly hereditary. . the indians had no knowledge as to the working of iron. they had only bows, arrows, stone tomahawks and such weapons for war. they lived in small communities, embracing from ten to thirty cabins, for protection, but had no large towns, because of the impossibility of feeding great numbers at one point. they held it a part of their religion to seek vengeance for all injuries, real and imaginary, and their general traits of character were as savage as their habits. in war they had no pity on captives, no reverence for helpless age, and were strangers to the sentiments of honor and justice. they were brave, yet much given to cunning and treachery. they rarely forgot benefits or forgave injuries. . many relics of these savages are yet to be found in almost every county throughout the state. broken pieces of pottery, arrowheads and tomahawks are often plowed up in the fields; and mounds of various sizes, made by the indians, are still seen in some sections. there had long been a tradition among the indians that, in the course of time, pale-faced strangers from beyond the seas would possess their land; and so, after ages of petty warfare among themselves, as the sixteenth century drew to its close, they were confronted by men who built ships that withstood the ocean's storms, and shook the solid earth with the roar of their artillery. questions. . who were the original inhabitants of the country now known as north carolina? . who had made settlements on the american continent a century before the english? what two great men were leaders in making those settlements? . give the location of the various tribes of indians in north carolina. . who were the tuscaroras? what was the feeling of the indians toward the white people? . in what part of north carolina were the tuscaroras found? what were their habits? . what tribes were found in the western portion of the state? what were their habits? . what kind of people were the indians? how did they cultivate the soil? . give further description of their habits. . where was the home of the meherrin indians? the nottoways? what were the relations existing between these two tribes? . describe the government of the indians. . how did they live? what were some of their traits in war? . what relics of the indians are still to be found in the state? what tradition existed among the indians? how was that tradition beginning to be fulfilled ? point out on the map the ancient homes of the tuscarora indians. the catawbas. the cherokees. the corees. the meherrins. the chowanokes. trace the course of the roanoke river. the neuse. the meherrin. the chowan. the catawba. the yadkin. the french broad. chapter v. sir walter raleigh a. d. to . . the sixteenth century of the christian era was one of the most wonderful periods in the world's history. the recent invention of the printing-press had scattered books and knowledge over christendom, a larger liberty in religions matters had been achieved by the reformation, and daring navigators sailed with their ships into many regions never before visited by civilized men. . the portuguese and spaniards sent expeditions to many lands. in america, thousands of men and women were living who had come from europe, or had been born of white parents since the first settlements in the west indies, mexico and peru. as columbus had discovered the new world with spanish ships, the kings of spain laid claim to all the continent. . england, in that time, was ruled by queen elizabeth, who began her reign in . ireland and the small islands in the british channel were the only dependencies of the crown. scotland was still an independent monarchy. with a few millions of subjects, and this small territory as her realm, this queen was in great danger of dethronement and death. the pope, the catholic kings and her own people belonging to the church of rome denied her title to be queen and sought her overthrow and that of the protestant religion she upheld. . amid so many dangers and difficulties, queen elizabeth, by wisdom and prudence, not only managed to defend herself, but became one of the greatest rulers of any age. she devoted her energies to the government of her people, and, though courted by many princes, would never marry, for fear such a relation would impair her usefulness as a queen. . among her greatest gifts as a ruler was her clear insight into the characters of men. she knew whom to employ as her agents, and was rarely deceived as to how far she could trust them in a season so full of treason and danger. but this great queen, who humbled the most powerful monarchs, and in whose presence the sternest men would sometimes tremble, was, after all, a very vain woman. nothing pleased her more, even in her old age, than praise of her personal appearance. . one evening she was walking at the head of a procession composed of ladies and gentlemen of her court, when she encountered a muddy place in her pathway. the stately queen paused a moment, seeming in doubt as to whether she should step in the mud or pass around. a handsome young man, who was standing near by, snatched a velvet cloak from his shoulders, and, throwing it in the mud for her majesty to step upon, she passed over with dry feet. . queen elizabeth was charmed with the ready gallantry of the youth. she made inquiries concerning him, and found that it was young walter raleigh, who had just come to london from his home in the country. it was the beginning of his fortunes at court, and he soon won the queen's confidence and respect. . walter raleigh had many noble and generous qualities. he was, by nature, brave, ambitious and enterprising, and soon became a great and learned man. he was a gallant soldier, a skilful navigator and the statesman who first conceived the plan for extending the british empire. while serving as a soldier in behalf of the french protestants, on the continent of europe, he heard and read so much of the wondrous lands across the atlantic ocean that he resolved that england should share in the glory and profit of future discoveries. - . . when raleigh went back to england he communicated his desires and feelings to his half-brother, sir humphrey gilbert, who had made reputation as a commander of ships. in the year , the queen granted leave to these two men to sail in search of lands yet undiscovered by civilized nations. in they sent out a large vessel called the raleigh, [it is said that the vessel was commanded by sir walter raleigh in person, and this was the only attempt ever made by him to visit the shores of north america. ] which was compelled to return in a few days, on account of disease among the crew. . english sailors, at that time, were easily discouraged in efforts to navigate the atlantic ocean. they had never crossed it, and were full of superstition concerning that unknown and mysterious sea. . again, in , sir humphrey gilbert, with three ships, ventured out upon the waste of waters that lay to the west of their island homes. he discovered the island of newfoundland, and thence sailed southward. off the coast of maine he was overtaken by a storm which sunk one of his ships. this disaster induced him to turn his prows for the voyage homeward; but the storm continued, and the darkness and horrors of the sea grew tenfold worse when they found themselves amid drifting icebergs. brave sir humphrey, from the deck of his ship, the squirrel, to the last cheered the men of her consort, crying out, "cheer up, my lads! we are as near heaven at sea as on land." . when the terrible night had passed, it was found that sir humphrey gilbert and his crew had perished, and only the hind was left to carry back the disheartening tidings to raleigh and the english queen. the vessel which carried sir humphrey gilbert and his crew was of only ten tons burden, and very poorly able to stand the gales along the american coast. the delight, another one of the fleet, had gone down a few days before the loss of the squirrel. [note--in the year a spanish vessel, commanded by vasques de ayllon, was driven by a violent storm upon the coast of carolina. the commander was kindly treated by the natives, and, in return, he enticed a number of them on board his ship and tried to carry them to hispaniola. but the indians preferred death to captivity; they all refused to partake of any food, and thus died of voluntary starvation. the scene of this occurrence is within the present borders of south carolina.] questions. . what is said of the sixteenth century of the world's history? . what was the condition of the "new world"? what people laid claim to the american continent, and why? . who was queen of england, and what was the condition of her kingdom? what was queen elizabeth's trouble with the pope of rome? . what is said of queen elizabeth as a ruler? . what other traits of character did she possess? . what interesting circumstance is relayed of the queen? . who was the young man, and what did the queen think of him? . what was the character of walter raleigh? . to whom did he communicate his plans? what did the queen grant to these two men? when was the first expedition started, and with what result? . how did sailors of that period regard the atlantic ocean? . what occurred in ? what island was discovered? what disaster befell the expedition? . what did daylight reveal? give the names of the three ships. chapter vi. discovery of north carolina. a. d. to . . when the little ship hind reached england, and it was known how sir humphrey gilbert and so many of his men had gone down into the depths of that mysterious ocean which was so much dreaded, there was great grief; and, possibly many bitter speeches were made by the people who stayed at home and predicted disaster to the daring enterprise. raleigh was sorely afflicted at the loss of his brother and men, and had he been weak or selfish this disaster would have unmanned him, and he would have ventured on no more such projects. . he had lost many thousands of dollars in the foundered ships; and many a gallant friend that had trusted him and cheered him in his mighty schemes had perished. but the hearts of heroes are not cast in common moulds. instead of abandoning his enterprise, he obtained, on march , , letters-patent from the queen favoring another expedition, and he at once began to fit out another fleet. this consisted of two vessels, and they were put under the command of philip amadas and arthur barlowe. [note--the queen's "letters-patent" to raleigh gave him "free liberty to discover such remote heathen and barbarous lands not actually possessed by any christian prince, nor inhabited by christian people.] . the fleet sailed from england on the th day of april, , and, avoiding the dangers of drift-ice in the northern waters, steered for the canary islands and the west indies. they had the good fortune to escape the spanish cruisers, which were so dangerous to english vessels sailing at that day upon this course. on the th day of july they first saw the coast of north carolina, probably at a point just below old topsail inlet. they continued northward along the low, barren barriers of sand which divide the waters of the ocean from those of pamlica and croatan sounds, and, two days later, came to anchor off an island called wocoken, in what was an inlet at that day. . they called this place trinity harbor. across the desolate sand ridges were fair landlocked waters, and great forests that sent far out to sea the odors of countless flowers. the weary toilers who had sailed so far, with nothing to look upon but the sky and the great stretches of the sea, were charmed with the richness of the vegetation, the balmy air, and the ceaseless songs of the mockingbirds. . for two whole days it seemed that the country was uninhabited, for no one had been seen by the englishmen. at the expiration of that period they saw a canoe approaching from the north, in which were three indians. one of them landed and came down the beach toward the ships. by signs he was invited aboard the vessels, and went with the white men to survey some of the wonders of civilization found in various parts of the vessel. . it must have been a notable day in this indian's life, when, for the first time, he, who had seen nothing of the kind larger than his canoe, beheld the tall poops, the towering masts and the great sails of vessels that had come from such distant lands beyond the seas. nothing so astonished the indians of that day as the roar of artillery. it was something entirely beyond their comprehension, and filled them with terror. they had no guns or knowledge of their use. so, when a cannon was fired, they were ready to believe that men who could do such things were possessed of supernatural powers. . the officers of the vessel gave to the indian a hat, shirt and several other articles, besides treating him to wine and meat, which he seemed to greatly relish. as a return for their kindness, the indian took his canoe and showed the white men how to catch fish. in a half hour he had nearly filled his boat with those delicious fish which have always so remarkably abounded in all the waters of that portion of north carolina. by signs he made known his wish that they should be divided between the men of the two ships, and then he took his departure. . the next day many indians, with much ceremony, visited the ships. among them was granganimeo, a brother of the chief who ruled in that portion of the country. he was an honest and kindly indian, faithful to his promises, and affording a strong contrast to wingina, the indian king, who was full of suspicion and duplicity. the indians were clothed in mantles and aprons of deerskins. they were gentle, unsuspicious and hospitable. a few days later amadas, with eight of his men in a boat, visited the home of granganimeo, about twenty miles distant, on the shore of roanoke island. the chief was not at home, but his wife gave them a cordial and hospitable reception. she prepared a feast for them of fruits, melons, fish and venison, and showed them every kindness. . amadas and barlowe proceeded, in the presence of many indians, to lay claim to the country for their queen. this whole pageant was probably a dumb show to the astonished and ignorant natives. they neither knew nor cared what the white men were celebrating with beating drums, flaunting banners and salvos of artillery. . this expedition had not been sent with any purpose of settlement; so, in a few weeks after the ceremony of taking possession, the fleet weighed anchor and sailed back to england. they carried with them a large cargo of skins and valuable woods, which they had obtained in trading with the indians. for a bright tin dish the indians gave twenty skins, worth about thirty- five dollars, and fifty valuable skins were given for an old copper kettle. amadas and barlowe also carried to england the first knowledge of the potato and tobacco. . with their own consent, two indians, named manteo and wanchese, were taken aboard and carried to england, that they might see something of the world across the sea. they afforded a singular test of human nature. they were of equal abilities, and yet, by the visit to england, manteo became the friend, wanchese the implacable enemy of the white men. [note--the indians were greatly amazed at the sight of gunpowder, the cause of all the noise in the artillery. on one of their expeditions they captured a quantity of powder from the colonists, and, to increase the supply, they made rows in the ground and carefully planted the black grains of powder, expecting to reap a full harvest of it in season. ] . queen elizabeth was greatly pleased by the glowing descriptions of the new country as given by the returned mariners, especially by the accounts of the abundance of fruits, vines hanging with luscious grapes, great forests, rich shrubbery and bright flowers, and she gave the country the name of virginia, in honor of herself, the "virgin queen." . walter raleigh was, soon after, elected a member of parliament in the house of commons, of which body be became a leader. the queen, in recognition of his services, confirmed his patent for prosecuting discoveries in foreign lands, and, in conferring upon him the honor of knighthood, made him sir walter raleigh. questions. . how did the people of england receive the news of sir humphrey gilbert's death? how did it affect raleigh? . what did the expeditions cost him? whom did he next send out to the new world? . when did this fleet leave england? describe their course and trace it on the map. when did they reach the coast of north carolina? where did they land? can you point out this place on the map? wocoken? croatan? pamlico sound? . what did they name this place? what is said of the new land? . what occurred on the second day after their arrival? . how did this visit impress the indians? how were the indians affected by the roar of the artillery? . what return did the indian make for the kindness of the white men? . who next visited the ships? what kind of man was he? how did this indian's wife treat the white men? locate roanoke island on the map. . what formal ceremony did amadas and barlowe conduct? . what did the ships carry back to europe? . what two indians were taken on a visit to england? how was each of them affected by the visit? . what account did the mariners give of the new country? what did queen elizabeth think of the description? what name did she give to the new country, and why? . of what body did raleigh soon become a member? what title was then conferred upon him, and why? chapter vii. governor lane's colony. a. d. to . we cannot easily realize, in our day, what excitement and enthusiasm were felt in england when the two ships returned and exhibited the indians, the potatoes, the tobacco and other new and strange productions that had been gathered by amadas and barlowe, to prove the value and fertility of the newly discovered land. it is strange, but true, that more value was set upon the discovery of the sassafras tree than upon anything else, and wonderful things were expected of its virtues as a tea, a medicine and for the manufacture of perfume. [note--sir walter raleigh planted some of the potatoes upon his own estate, and found them very palatable. other people afterwards obtained seed from him, and now the potato forms a principal part of the food of ireland. raleigh was also the first englishman who ever used tobacco. an amusing incident is related of his using it. his servant entered the room one day, bringing a mug of ale, while raleigh was enjoying his pipe and tobacco, and the smoke was issuing from his mouth and filling the room. the servant, thinking, that his master was on fire, immediately dashed the ale in his face and ran out, crying for help, for his master "would be burnt to ashes."] . sir walter raleigh hastened to send over a colony of men to take possession of roanoke. ralph lane, a gentleman of courage and experience, was appointed governor. the seven ships, conveying one hundred and eight emigrants and the two indians who had visited england, sailed on the th of april; they were commanded by sir richard grenville, who was a cousin of raleigh, and famous as a seaman. . this fleet also came over by the southern route, and was in considerable danger off cape fear during a great storm, but the ships all safely rode out the gale, and, on the th of july, , they dropped their anchors in trinity harbor, off the coast where the fleet had lain during the visit of the previous year. news of the arrival was at once sent to wingina, at roanoke island. . governor lane had one hundred and eight men to remain with him, among whom was thomas hariot, the celebrated mathematician and historian. with these colonists he landed upon roanoke island, and began to build and fortify a town upon the northern part of the island, which he named the "city of raleigh." the island is twelve miles long and about four broad, and is to this day fertile and pleasant as a place of residence. it then abounded in game, and countless and choice varieties of fish were to be caught in the sounds and sea at all seasons of the year. . admiral grenville was active during his stay at roanoke in visiting many indian towns and in exploring the many broad waters that are found connected with one another in that portion of north carolina. on one of his expeditions he lost a silver cup, which was stolen from him during his stay at an indian town. the passionate seaman, in a rage, demanded its return by the indians, whom he charged with stealing it. they did not comply, and he, with great imprudence and injustice, burned the whole village and destroyed all the corn. . this was the first taste afforded the indians of how harshly they might expect to be treated, and, though no war followed immediately, they neither forgot nor forgave grenville's punishment, and many unexpected injuries were inflicted upon the poor settlers by the indians on account of this rash and cruel act. . governor lane, after the admiral's departure, continued his explorations, in order to learn the geography and nature of the country. he ascended the chowan river to near the mouth of the nottoway and penetrated the interior as far as the indian village of chowanoke. instead of clearing fields and making provisions for his people; he was laboriously searching for gold mines and jewels. he was told by the chief of the chowanoke indians, whom he held as prisoner for two days, that such things abounded along the upper reaches of roanoke river (then called the "moratock"), and that the headwaters of that stream extended to within an arrow's flight of a great ocean to the west, and along the banks of the river lived a very great and wealthy race of people, whose walled cities glittered with pearls and gold. . fired in imagination by this false and wicked indian story, preparations were made for a journey in boats, longer than had yet been attempted. they found the swift current of the roanoke difficult to ascend, and their small store of provisions was exhausted by the time they had reached where the town of williamston now stands. they could procure none from the tuscaroras, who dwelt upon the banks, and, while in this dilemma, the savages made a night attack upon their camp, and with great difficulty the adventurers succeeded in escaping destruction. . thus perished governor lane's dreams of gold. he hurried back to roanoke and soon found the hostility of the tuscaroras extending to the tribe under wingina. granganimeo was dead, and manteo was the only indian of any influence who manifested friendship for the colonists. they had previously brought an abundance of fish, game and fruits; but these supplies now ceased, and governor lane realized that he was surrounded by a people who had become his enemies. . . by some means he discovered that wingina was concerting with the tuscaroras for an attack upon roanoke island. concealing this knowledge, he invited the unsuspecting plotter to come, with certain of his people, to a feast at the city of raleigh. they accepted the invitation, and wingina, with eight of his headmen, was put to death. this occurred on the first of june, . . this was a stern and bloody punishment of their foes, but it gave the white men deliverance from attack until sir francis drake came, with a large fleet, and anchored in trinity harbor, finding the colony almost in a perishing condition. . ralph lane was not a hero, but francis drake was. if the governor lacked resolution, no man ever supposed the great admiral deficient in this respect. after a long consultation, drake approved the resolution of the colonists to abandon the settlement, and, on the th of june, , taking them aboard his ships, he steered for england, leaving the city of raleigh untenanted. thus failed the first attempt at forming a permanent settlement upon this great territory forming the present limits of the united states. questions. . what occurred in england on the return of the ships? mention some things exhibited by the mariners. . what did sir walter raleigh next do? who was appointed governor? who commanded the expedition? . what was the route of the fleet? when and where did they land? . how many men were landed upon roanoke island? what did they name their city? describe roanoke island. . mention some of grenville's exploits during his stay. . what did the indians think of this treatment? how did the settlers suffer in consequence? . how did governor lane occupy himself? what wonderful story was told lane by the indians? . how did lane regard this story? give an account of his expedition up the roanoke river. point out williamston. . what did governor lane find to be the condition of affairs upon his return to the settlement? . what plot was discovered? how did governor lane prevent it? . what was the effect of this treatment? what help arrived from england? . what did the colonists resolve to do? what is said of this attempt to found a colony? chapter viii. governor white's colony. a. d. to . it must have been a sore trial to sir walter raleigh when he learned that his colonists had returned to england. he had sent over a ship with abundant supplies, which reached roanoke only a few days after sir francis drake sailed away with his fleet. finding no white people upon the island, the ships returned to england. sir richard grenville also touched at the same point, with three other ships, about fifteen days later. the folly, avarice and timidity of agents such as ralph lane have, in all ages, crippled the noblest efforts for human advancement. . sir richard grenville left fifteen men in the fort built at roanoke by lane, lest the english claim to the country should be lost through want of its being occupied. they soon fell victims to indian vengeance after grenville had hoisted his sails and gone in search of spanish treasure ships. . . once again, in , raleigh collected a fleet of transports, and, with john white as governor, sent about one hundred and fifty men, women and children to roanoke for permanent settlement. they brought over farming implements, wisely determining to give up the useless search for gold, and to look to husbandry as a means of livelihood in their new home. on arriving at roanoke, on the d of july, governor white, with forty of his best men, went ashore for the purpose of finding the men who had been left there by grenville. the fort was destroyed, the houses were in a dilapidated condition and no trace of the colonists was found except a single skeleton which lay bleaching in the sun in front of one of the cabins, indicating that some fearful tragedy had been enacted. . sir walter raleigh had ordered white to go to hampton roads, in the region of chesapeake bay, instead of roanoke, but this command was disregarded under the plea that, their pilot, a spaniard, would not show the way. but as governor lane had sent a party there the year before, the location must have been known to others of the expedition besides fernando, the pilot. it was like everything else done by john white while connected with the effort of colonization--very foolish and culpable. . manteo was still the warm friend of the english, and, with his mother, welcomed them. to his home on croatan. he was, on the th of august, as a reward for his faithful services, baptized by order of sir walter raleigh, and created a nobleman, with the title of "lord of roanoke," which was the first title of nobility ever conferred by the english in america. . governor white had, among the colonists, a daughter named eleanor, wife of ananias dare, one of his assistants. on august th, a few days after their arrival, she gave birth to a little girl, who, in honor of the land of her birth, was named "virginia dare." this is about all we know of the little girl who will ever be famous as the first of all the children born to english speaking people within the borders of the united states. one of the counties of this state bears the name of "dare" in honor of this little girl, and includes in its area the scene of her birth. . governor white had been at roanoke only a few weeks, when he became convinced that he should at once return to england in the interest of the people he had been sent over here to govern. he said they would need provisions and additions to their numbers, and a larger supply of implements of civilized life; therefore, after a stay of but thirty-six days with the colony, he set sail for england. . he should have manifested even more haste to return to america, as members of his own family were included among the settlers who were at roanoke looking to him for guidance and safety amid so many dangers. but when he reached england, and raleigh had furnished him with two ships and men and stores for his speedy return, john white found excuse for long stay before revisiting the stormy neighborhood of cape hatteras. . when he was ready to sail for america a great spanish fleet, called the "invincible armada," was drawing near the english coast, with the avowed purpose of dethroning the queen and subjugating the people. john white preferred to take the chances of plunder in the coming engagement to fulfilling his duty to the poor people at roanoke who were waiting so anxiously for his return. . british heroism, aided by a severe storm, drove off and destroyed the great spanish fleet, and governor white, with his two ships which raleigh had with great difficulty fitted out for him with stores for the colony, joined in pursuit of the fugitives. he gained neither gold nor glory, and his ships were so battered that they had to be carried into port and repaired before they were fit to venture on a voyage across the atlantic ocean. sir walter raleigh expressed very great displeasure at the conduct of governor white. . . three years had elapsed before governor white came back to roanoke. he found the "city of raleigh" as desolate as upon his first arrival. there was no trace of the colonists left except the word "croatan," carved upon a tree. it had been agreed that if the colonists should find it necessary to remove before his return, they would thus designate the place to which they had gone. governor white, in his search, found three of his chests which had been buried by the colonists and afterwards dug up and partly broken open. they contained books, maps and pictures, all of which were badly torn and spoiled. . croatan was a peninsula about fifty miles from roanoke island, and governor white had good reason to believe that the people whom he left had gone there; but he sailed down the coast in sight of the place, and went back to england with no further efforts to discover the nature of their fate. thus, again, roanoke was left to the savage and the wild beast. it will never be known what became of the colonists. sir walter raleigh for a long time did not despair of finding them, and sent out five expeditions for this purpose, but all were unsuccessful. their fate is one of those sealed secrets which will only be known when all our ignorance shall be enlightened and the sea gives up its dead. [note--there was a tradition among the indians that these people, after great suffering for food, were adopted by the hatteras tribe of indians, and became mingled with them; and, it is said that later generations of these indians possessed many physical characteristics which indicated a mixture of the european and indian races; but this may be, after all, fanciful surmises of the early historian. ] questions. . what ships had been sent over to relieve the colony? . how did grenville continue english claims to roanoke? what was the fate of his settlers? . what was raleigh's next attempt at settlement? who was appointed governor? how many people composed the colony? how was this colony better prepared for permanent settlement than any of its predecessors? what became of this colony? . where had white been ordered to make settlement? point out hampton roads on the map. why did he land at roanoke island? what is said of manteo? . what is said of little virginia dare? how is her name still honored in this state? point out dare county on the map. . what did governor white do in a few weeks after his arrival at roanoke? . what was furnished to him on his arrival in england? did he at once go back to relieve the colonists? . why did not governor white immediately return to his suffering people? . what became of the "spanish armada"? how did governor white become engaged in this conflict? . how long was governor white away from roanoke? what did he find on his return? what is supposed to have been the meaning of the word "croatan"? what did governor white find? . where is "croatan"? can you locate it on the map? did governor white go to this place to seek his people? was any settlement on roanoke at this time? what effort did raleigh make to find these people? chapter ix. the fate of raleigh. a. d. to . the story of the attempted settlement on roanoke island is the story of one of the world's tragedies. misfortune seemed to be the doom, not only of the colonists, but of many gallant men who sought to aid sir walter raleigh in his enterprise. sir humphrey gilbert, with two of his ships, was the first to perish at sea; sir francis drake and his compeer, sir john hawkins, both died of pestilence in the west indies; and, to the baffled and broken- hearted originator of the scheme, the coming years were black with disaster and death. . with the loss of governor white's colony, raleigh found that his expenditures had greatly impaired his wealth. he had lost more than two hundred thousand dollars (£ , sterling), and, no longer able to fit out costly and fruitless expeditions, was forced to solicit aid from others, joining them in the rights and privileges granted him by the queen in his charter. [note--it must also be remembered that money in the sixteenth century was worth at least five times more than at present. forty thousand pounds expended by sir walter raleigh would, at that time, purchase about what one million dollars would now command in england or the united states. ] . . but raleigh found his greatest disaster in the death of elizabeth. after ruling england so wisely and well for more than fifty years, she died on march th, . this great queen left her throne to one of the most paltry and contemptible of men. . king james i, was an ungainly scotch pedant, who was incapable of appreciating heroism and manliness in others, because of his own deficiency in all such qualities. he lavished favors and titles on unworthy favorites, and incurred the contempt of wise men for his follies and vices. . . sir walter raleigh had long treated the spaniards as the enemies of his country. the king of spain hated him on that account, and king james, to please his catholic majesty and secure the marriage of prince charles to a spanish princess, caused the great lawyer, sir edward coke, to procure the wrongful conviction of raleigh, his greatest subject. after lying in prison for twelve years under this conviction, raleigh was released by king james, and although not pardoned, was put in command of an expedition to the coast of guiana. the expedition was unsuccessful, and on his return, to satisfy the king of spain, james signed the warrant for raleigh's execution upon his former sentence. accordingly, raleigh was beheaded, at the age of sixty-five, as a traitor to the land for whose good he had accomplished more than any one else in all its limits. [note--sir walter raleigh occupied the twelve years of his imprisonment in writing a "history of the world." this work gave great offence to king james, who endeavored to suppress its circulation. when raleigh was carried to execution, while on the scaffold, he asked to see the axe. he closely examined its bright, keen edge, and said, with a smile: "this is a sharp medicine, but a sound cure for all diseases." he then laid his head composedly on the block, moved his lips as if in prayer, and gave the signal for the blow. ] . thus suffered and died the man who first sent ships and men to the soil of north carolina. that he failed in what he desired to accomplish should not detract from the gratitude and reverence due to his memory. if incompetent and unworthy agents, and the accidents of fortune, thwarted him in his designs, the fault is not his. he was the greatest and most illustrious man connected with our annals as a state, and should ever receive the applause and remembrance of our people. . after the death of sir walter raleigh no more efforts were made to plant a colony at roanoke. the spot was never favorable for such a purpose. no coast in the world is much more dangerous to ships than that of north carolina. cape hatteras is even now the dread of all mariners. it is visited by many storms, and sends its deadly sandbars for fifteen miles out into the ocean to surprise and wreck the ill-fated vessel that has approached too near the coast. . governor lane, while at roanoke, discovered the broad, deep inlet and safe anchorage at hampton roads, within the present limits of virginia. this port lies, but little to the north of that inlet which amadas and barlowe entered on the first english visit to carolina. into hampton roads, in , went another colony, sent over by men who had succeeded the unfortunate raleigh in the royal permission to plant settlements in america. to the genius and bravery of the leader, captain john smith, was due the permanence of the settlement at jamestown. the name of "virginia," which had been applied to all the territory claimed by england under the discoveries of gilbert and raleigh, was then confined to the colony on james river. . in the course of a few years many places on the atlantic coast were occupied by expeditions sent out from england and other countries of europe. those of england, at plymouth, of the dutch, at new amsterdam, and of the swedes, in new jersey, were speedily seen, while yet roamed the tuscarora in undisturbed possession of north carolina. . as virginia grew more populous there were hardships and troubles concerning religion. men and women were persecuted on account of their religious practices. if people did not conform to the "english" or episcopal church they were punished by fine and imprisonment. sometimes cruel whipping became the portion of men who were found preaching quaker and baptist doctrines. . sir william berkeley, who was governor of virginia, had no authority over men who dwelt in the region south of a line a few miles below where the ships approached the inland waters of virginia. when this became known many people around the nansemond river and adjacent localities went southward, towards the albemarle sound, seeking homes where the tyrant of virginia had no jurisdiction. . . for this cause roger green, a clergyman, in , led a considerable colony to the banks of the chowan and roanoke rivers; but even before this, there were probably scattered settlements over most all the region north of the albemarle sound, of which we have no reliable account. questions. . what is said of the attempted settlement upon roanoke island? . what had the expedition cost raleigh? . what was raleigh's greatest loss? . who succeeded queen elizabeth? what kind of a man was king james i. ? . what new trouble came upon raleigh? describe his conviction and death. . how should the people of north carolina ever think of sir walter raleigh? . were any further efforts made to plant a colony at roanoke? what is said of the place? . what safe anchorage had governor lane discovered? what colony entered hampton roads in ? what town was settled in virginia, and by whom? to what locality was the name "virginia" then confined? . mention some settlements made on the atlantic coast about this time. . what persecutions were common in virginia? . over what section of country did governor berkeley have no authority? when this became known to the people what did many of them do? . what settlement was made by roger green, and when? were there any settlements in north carolina before this time? chapter x. king charles ii. and the lords proprietors. a. d. . after the discovery of north carolina, in , by amadas and barlowe, many years had gone by before the period now reached in this narrative. not only had james succeeded elizabeth, but charles had succeeded james and had been beheaded as a traitor to the land he pretended to rule. cromwell had lived, ruled and died, and charles ii. was on the throne of his fathers, and thus again royal bounties became possible and fashionable. . many men in england had heard of the goodly land which was being peopled around albemarle sound, beyond the jurisdiction of governor berkeley. he, too, with his bitter and envenomed soul, took part in a scheme which was to give him some authority over the refugees who had imagined themselves beyond the reach of his cruel rule. . in the year , his majesty charles ii., king of england, scotland and ireland, granted to george, duke of albemarle; edward, earl of clarendon; william, earl of craven; john, lord berkeley; anthony, lord ashley; sir george carteret, sir john colleton, and sir william berkeley, as "lords proprietors," all the territory south of the lands not already granted to the province of virginia, down to the spanish line of florida. . there were some remarkable men among these titular owners of the land we now inhabit. the duke of albemarle had been general george monk before the restoration of king charles, and was made a nobleman on account of his part in that transaction. he was not possessed of very great ability, and only became famous by the accidents of fortune. . very different was the astute lawyer, edward hyde, who, for his abilities, was made the earl of clarendon and lord high chancellor of england. he was a selfish and crafty man, and lost his offices in his old age, but had two granddaughters who became queens of great britain. . lord ashley, afterward the earl of shaftesbury, will ever be remembered for the part he bore in establishing the writ of habeas corpus as a part of the british constitution. he was a bold, able and profligate man, who marred great abilities by greater vices. he combined within himself all that is dangerous and detestable in a demagogue. . sir william berkeley, then governor of the province of virginia, was another of these lords proprietors. he was the embodiment of the cruelty and religious prejudice of that age. he whipped and imprisoned people who worshipped god in a way not pleasing to himself, and was immortalized by the remark of king charles ii., who said of him: "that old fool has taken more lives without offence in that naked country than i, in all england, for the murder of my father." . to these men, as lords proprietors, a great territory was granted, which they called "carolina," in compliment to king charles ii. [many years before this time the name of "carolina" had been applied to the territory between virginia and florida, in honor of king charles ix. of france. ] all of them except governor berkeley lived in england, but they ruled the new country and sold the lands at the highest rate of money they could get, with a tax of seventy-five cents on each hundred acres to be paid every year. . many fine promises were made to the english and other people to induce them to go to carolina and settle. freedom to worship god in the way that seemed best to each individual was especially held out to poor sufferers like john bunyan, who, in those days, were too often kept for long years in loathsome prisons because of their differing with the civil magistrates as to certain matters of faith and practice in the churches. note--governor berkeley exhibited some traits of his character by saying, while governor of virginia: "i thank god there are no free schools nor printing here, and i hope we shall have none of them these hundred years." . religious persecutions were practiced in most of the american colonies. it had been decreed in some of the new england colonies that quakers, upon coming into the province, should have their tongues bored with a hot iron and be banished. any person bringing a quaker into the province was fined one hundred pounds sterling (about five hundred dollars), and the quaker was given twenty lashes and imprisoned at hard labor. in virginia the persecutions were equally as bad, if not worse, and some of the punishments were almost as severe as indian tortures. the assembly of this colony (virginia) levied upon all quakers a monthly tax of one hundred dollars. . to escape persecution, many men who were quakers and baptists had already gone to the region around the albemarle sound; and others followed from various inducements. their settlements were known as the "albemarle colony." the whole country was still roamed over by indians, and even in albemarle the rude farmhouses were widely scattered. . there was not even a village in the new province. no churches, courthouses or public schools were to be seen; but the men and women of that day loved liberty. they preferred to undergo danger from the indians and the privations of lonely homes in the forest to the persecution which they found in england and in many portions of america. . it can hardly be realized amid the present luxuries and enjoyments of the american people, what dangers and privations were encountered by the white settlers in north carolina two hundred years ago; for while now thronging cities, teeming fields and busy highways of a people numbering many millions cover the land, then cruel and crafty indians, always hostile at heart to the tread of the white man, surrounded the defenceless homes of the scattered colonists and filled the great forest stretching three thousand miles toward the setting sun. questions. . what period have we now reached in our history? what changes had taken place in the english government? . in what new scheme do we find governor berkeley taking part? . what new grant of this territory was made in ? what was the new government called? . what kind of a man was george, duke of albemarle? . who was edward, earl of clarendon? . who was lord ashley? what was his character? . what was governor berkeley's character? what was said of him by king charles ii. ? . what name was given to the territory now granted? in whose honor was carolina named? where did the lords proprietors live? what tax was to be paid to them? . what inducements were offered to the english to go to carolina and settle? why was "religious freedom" an inducement for them to leave their comfortable homes and settle in a savage country? . what religious persecutions were seen in most of the american colonies? . what two religious sects had emigrated to this section? what did they call their colony? . what was the condition of the colony? what sacrifices had the colonists made, and why? . how did the condition of the colonists differ from ours? chapter xi. governor drummond and sir john yeamans. a. d. to . . king charles ii., who thus bestowed this vast dominion upon a few of his friends, was in marked contrast, as a sovereign, to queen elizabeth. he was a gay, dissolute, shameless libertine, who despised all that is valuable in human duties, and spent his life in the paltriest amusements. he could be polite and entertaining in conversation, but abundantly justified lord rochester's remark that "he never did a wise thing or said a foolish one." . under instructions from the other lords proprietors, sir william berkeley, in , appointed william drummond the first "governor of albemarle." he was a scotch settler in virginia, and was a man who deserved the respect and confidence of the people whom he governed. he was plain and prudent in his style of life, and seems to have given satisfaction to the people who had been previously uncontrolled by law or magistrate. . after a stay of three years, governor drummond returned to virginia. a great trouble arose in virginia at this period, known as "bacon's rebellion." a brave young man, nathaniel bacon, was at the head of a force resisting the presumption and illegal authority of governor berkeley. william drummond, seeing the justness of the resistance, warmly supported bacon's cause. mrs. sarah drummond, wife of the governor, nobly sustained her husband. bacon died before the close of the "rebellion," and a large number of the leaders were put to death. governor drummond was, by order of berkeley, hanged within two hours after his capture. the entire property of mrs. drummond was confiscated and herself and five children were turned out to starve. . this tragic culmination of berkeley's ruthless cruelties was the occasion of the bitter censure by the king, already recorded. after the death of berkeley, mrs. drummond brought suit against his wife, lady frances berkeley, for recovery of her property, and a verdict in her favor was given by a virginia jury. governor drummond is commemorated by the lake in the dismal swamp which still bears his name. . it was discovered soon after the king's grant to the lords proprietors, that a belt of land extending southward from the present virginia boundary to a point on a line with the month of chowan river, and extending indefinitely west, was not included in that charter; so, in another charter was granted joining this strip of territory to north carolina. . in there was an expedition formed in the island of barbadoes, which came to the shores of carolina and explored to the distance of about one hundred and fifty miles the courses of the northeast branch of the cape fear river. this expedition was under command of an experienced navigator named hilton, who was assisted by long and fabian, and returned to barbadoes in february, . . among the planters who had fitted out this expedition was john yeamans. he was a young man of good connections in england. his father had been sheriff of the city of bristol during the war of king charles i. with parliament, and was put to death by the order of fairfax on account of his stubborn defence of his city in the king's behalf. . . yeamans had emigrated to barbadoes, hoping to mend his broken fortunes, and being pleased with the report of captain hilton's expedition, he determined to remove to carolina. he went to england to negotiate with the lords proprietors and receive from them a grant of large tracts of land, and at the same time he was knighted by the king in reward for the loyalty and misfortunes of his family. returning from england in the autumn of , he led a band of colonists from barbadoes to the cape fear, and purchasing from the indians a tract of land thirty-two miles square, settled at old town, in the present county of brunswick. the settlement was afterwards known as the "clarendon colony." this village, which was called charlestown, soon came to number eight hundred inhabitants, and they occupied their time in clearing the land for cultivation and preparing lumber, staves, hoops and shingles for shipment to barbadoes. the colony greatly prospered under the excellent and prudent management of sir john yeamans, but was afterwards deserted, when yeamans was ordered by the lords proprietors to the government of a colony on cooper and ashley rivers, south carolina. . there had been, as early as , a new england settlement for the purpose of raising cattle, on the cape fear; but this colony incurred the resentment of the indians, it is said, by kidnapping their children under the pretence of sending them to boston to be educated; and the colonists were all gone when the men from barbadoes visited the cape fear. whether the new englanders were driven from the settlement by the indians, or left because their enterprise was unprofitable, is not known with certainty. these men left attached to a post a writing discouraging "all such as should hereafter come into these parts to settle." . . during governor drummond's stay in albemarle there was entire satisfaction manifested by the people with his rule, and also with that of the lords proprietors. he exerted himself to arrange matters so as not to disturb the titles acquired in the time previous to the king's grant; and there was full sympathy between him and the class represented by george durant. . this sturdy quaker had, some years before, bought from the yeoppim indians the place known as "durant's neck," on perquimans river; and he was a leader in wealth and influence among the settlers. he was prosperous in his affairs, and largely controlled the views of the people belonging to his religious sect. . the rivers were full of fish every spring, and with little trouble large supplies were caught in the nets and weirs. indian corn, tobacco and lumber were sent in vessels to new england and the west indies. in return sugar, coffee and rum were brought to albemarle, and an active trade grew up, which was almost wholly conducted by the new england vessels. . these vessels all passed through the inlet at nag's head, where, as late as , twenty-five feet of water was found upon the bar. this afforded entrance to ships of considerable size. cape hatteras was then, as now, a place of great peril to ships, and many were wrecked upon the terrible outlying sand bars; but this did not deter the brave mariners from the trade which they found was growing each year more profitable. questions. . what was the character of king charles ii. ? what was said of him by lord rochester? . who was appointed the first governor of albemarle? what kind of man was he? . how long did governor drummond stay in north carolina? can you tell something of "bacon's rebellion"? what part did governor drummond take, and what was the result? what can you tell of mrs. sarah drummond? . what further is said of mrs. drummond? how is governor drummond's name commemorated in the state? point out this lake. . what additional piece of land was given to the lords proprietors in ? . what expedition came to carolina in ? . what is said of sir john yeamans? . what was the object of yeamans' visit? what colony did he form in ? where was it located? what is the history of this colony? . what previous settlement had been made in this same vicinity? why was it deserted? . how had the people of albemarle been pleased with the administration. of governor drummond? . who was george durant? point out "durant's neck "on the map. . give some account of the prosperity of albemarle. what vessels conducted the trade? . through what inlet did vessels enter the sound? describe the neighborhood of cape hatteras. chapter xii. governor stephens and the fundamental constitutions. a. d. to . after sir william berkeley had put governor drummond to death in the manner described, governor stephens was sent in to take his place. stephens was a ruler of ordinary abilities, and probably did his best for the interests of the province, so far as was consistent with a keen regard for instructions from the lords proprietors. . . the government, in his day, consisted of the governor, his council of twelve, and twelve members of the house of assembly, elected by the freeholders. every white man having an estate of inheritance, or for life, in fifty acres of land, was a freeholder. perfect religious liberty was allowed, and there was no check at that day upon the government, provided it preserved its fealty to the king and the lords proprietors. . a wide margin was left to the grand assembly of albemarle for the display of its power. neither the legislature nor the governor had any capital city for the transaction of business. the governor lived on any farm he pleased, and the general assembly met at such place as it deemed most convenient. . . their earliest known legislation allowed no settlers to be disturbed for the collection of debts contracted before coming to live in albemarle. another law exempted all newcomers from taxes for one year; and prohibited the transfer of any land by a settler during the first two years of his residence. these laws were evidently passed to encourage immigration. . as there were no church of england preachers then in the colony, another statute allowed people to get married by simply going before the governor, or any of his council, and declaring a purpose to become man and wife. . . albemarle at that time was divided into the precincts of carteret, berkeley and shaftesbury. the settlements extended rapidly down the seacoast, and soon reached as far south as the present town of beaufort, on old topsail inlet. . governor stephens soon reached the conclusion of his administration and the term of his natural life. the closing months of his rule were embittered by the nature of the instructions he received from the lords proprietors and the board of trade in london. . one of these instructions, materially changing the simple government previously existing in the province, was concerning the colonial trade. english merchants saw that new england vessels were visiting the scattered settlements on the watercourses and establishing a lucrative exchange of manufactured goods for the tobacco, corn and lumber of carolina. . it was determined in london to stop this, and appropriate to english factors whatever of profit might be realized. the old english navigation act, passed under cromwell, to break down the dutch trade, was revived against the boston skippers. governor stephens accordingly told the colonists they must exchange the products of their farms with none but english traders, but he quickly found that the people were resolute in refusing obedience to any such regulations. . it was further announced that a new scheme of rule had been prepared in england. this was the work of lord shaftesbury and a distinguished philosopher named john locke. this, familiarly known as "locke's grand model," was called by the proprietors "the fundamental constitutions of carolina," and was a cumbrous and elaborate system, full of titles and dignities. it involved a large expenditure, and was as unsuited to the carolina wilderness as st. paul's cathedral in london was for a meetinghouse for the quakers of pasquotank! . the people who were constantly enduring danger and privations in albemarle at once resolved that they would have no part in the titles and pageants concocted by these wise men of england. they had been promised freedom if they would come to america, both by the king in the great deed of grant and by the lords proprietors, and nothing less than the privileges of englishmen would satisfy them. . the "navigation act" was intended to destroy their commerce and manufactures, and the "fundamental constitutions," if submitted to, would have put an end to their home rule. they waged a long opposition to these two things, and a century went by before, in the blood of the revolution, american commerce became free. they were denounced as unruly subjects, but they were, in all truth, wise and resolute patriots. they were protecting not only themselves, but the generations of the future. questions. . who succeeded governor drummond as governor of albemarle? what kind of a man was governor stephens? . in what did the government consist at that time? . what is said of the grand assembly? where did the general assembly usually meet? . mention some of the earliest laws. . what law was enacted concerning marriage? . how was albemarle divided? how far had the settlement extended? . what trouble came to governor stephens? . what kind of trade was carried on between carolina and new england? . what was determined by the lords proprietors? what old law was revived? how did the people receive the orders from governor stephens? . what two celebrated englishmen prepared a form of government for carolina? what was this system called? state its nature. . what was resolved by the colonists concerning the grand model? . what was the intent of the navigation act? of the fundamental constitutions? chapter xiii. early governors and their troubles. a. d. to . . samuel stephens, upon his death in , was succeeded by george carteret as governor of albemarle. the oldest member of the council was entitled by law to the place, but the members of the house of assembly succeeded in obtaining the position for their speaker. governor carteret found many difficulties in the office he had assumed; and becoming disgusted with the continued opposition of the people to the fundamental constitutions and the navigation laws of , he went over to london and resigned his place as governor. . . when he reached england he found eastchurch, who, as speaker, of the house of assembly, had been sent over to remonstrate with the proprietors against the innovations they were proposing. his friend miller, who was accused of indulging in rebellious language, had been carried out of the province for trial at williamsburg, in virginia, and was also in london at this time seeking redress for his alleged grievances. . eastchurch was in london as the agent for albemarle. the people were paying him to procure the assent of the proprietors to some remission in the hard measure of the navigation laws; also for the abrogation of the fundamental constitutions. he and miller betrayed their trusts, and became the willing tools of lord shaftesbury and the board of trade. . as the price of their subservience, eastchurch was appointed governor of albemarle and miller was made secretary of state. the authorities in london were fully resolved that the new england vessels should be excluded from carolina waters and that the fundamental constitutions should be accepted as the system of government. . this betrayal of a high trust was to bring its own punishment on the heads of both eastchurch and miller. on their way to america they stopped at the island of nevis, where the new governor of albemarle met a creole lady. his conduct in london had been weak enough, but complete insanity seemed to have fallen upon him at nevis. for two years he was oblivious to all the disorders and distresses of the people committed to his government; and he surrendered everything else to his lovemaking. . . miller went on to albemarle, and in july, , assumed control of public affairs. there were then in the colony two thousand taxpayers. besides indian corn, which was the staple production, eight hundred thousand pounds of tobacco were made that year. the whole colony was enjoying such prosperity as a fertile soil and good climate always give. . the new governor conducted matters in an outrageous manner. he imposed taxes upon all goods sent to other colonies, and in this way soon realized five thousand dollars on the tobacco which was sent to virginia and boston. . he was particularly emphatic in his orders forbidding trade with new england vessels. george durant, with a large majority of the people, was determined to thwart him in this matter. governor miller, on the other hand, was so determined in enforcing his orders that he in person boarded a boston vessel and arrested the skipper. . . thereupon john culpepper, with his followers, seized miller, and having put him in prison, assumed the government himself. he imprisoned all the deputies of the lords proprietors. the king's revenue, also, amounting to fifteen thousand dollars, was appropriated by him; culpepper, like gillam, the skipper who had caused the outbreak, was from new england. . . at last, after two years delay upon his journey, eastchurch made his appearance in albemarle. he had won his bride, but lost everything else. culpepper scouted his claims to the government. he went to williamsburg, in virginia, to beg the governor of that province to aid him in regaining the place he had lost by his folly; but so slow and ceremonious was his lordship, that eastchurch died of vexation before anything substantial had been accomplished in his behalf. . miller escaped from the confinement to which he had been subjected by culpepper, and again went to england to utter his complaints. culpepper followed him there, and though indicted and tried for treason, was acquitted by aid of lord shaftesbury. . thus it was, in the earliest days of our history as a people, that the men of north carolina found means to resist the execution of laws enacted abroad for their oppression, and commenced a struggle which was to continue for a century. questions. . who succeeded samuel stephens as governor? how did he obtain the place? why did governor carteret go to england? . what two men from carolina did he find in england and what was their mission? . what duty had the colonists entrusted to eastchurch? how did he fulfill the trust? . how were eastchurch and miller rewarded for their betrayal? what was the determination of the london authorities? . what was the conduct of eastchurch while on his way to carolina? . what did miller do in the meantime? what was the condition of the colony at this period? . how did the new governor manage affairs? . what trade did he forbid? by whom was his command thwarted? what violent act was done by miller? . what was done to miller? who assumed the government? . when did eastchurch arrive at carolina? how did he find matters? to whom did he go for aid, and with what success? . what became of miller and culpepper? . what do the events of this lesson teach us? chapter xiv. lord carteret adds a new trouble. a. d. to . when john culpepper had ended his administration the authorities in england sent over john harvey as governor. little is known of him or of his successors, john jenkins and henry wilkinson. there were still misrule and confusion in albemarle. a few men of wealth, who acted as deputies in the council for the absent lords proprietors, were their advocates and defenders in everything they proposed; but the people still traded with new england vessels and vented their scorn upon the fundamental constitutions. . . at last, in , the authorities in england concluded that if one of their own number went over he might exert more influence upon the people than a hired agent. therefore, they induced seth sothel, who had bought the interest first granted to the earl of clarendon, to venture on the doubtful expedient. - . . to the great good fortune of the province, this abandoned man was captured at sea by algerine pirates. thus he became the slave of these corsairs for two years. when he arrived it was soon seen what a beastly and detestable monster had been sent as a reformer of the morals of the people of albemarle. he was the most shameless reprobate ever seen as a governor in america. he took bribes, stole property and appropriated the indian trade to his own uses, growing worse and worse until the people, in , could no longer endure his iniquities, and drove him from the place he disgraced. he went to south carolina, and after his sentence to twelve months exile had expired, returned to north carolina and died in . - . . philip ludwell and alexander lillington were the next rulers in north carolina, and the administration of the latter witnessed the triumph of the colonists in the consent of the lords proprietors to the abolition of the fundamental constitutions. this event occurred in , and brought no little joy to the men who had so long and successfully opposed it as the constitution of north carolina. - . . thomas harvey ruled next in albemarle, while john archdale, a wise and benevolent quaker, was put in charge of all the settlements in what was north carolina, and also those on cooper and ashley rivers, in south carolina. in the year a severe pestilential fever visited all the tribes of indians along pamlico sound and destroyed nearly all of them. the colonists, soon after this, feeling somewhat safer from indian attacks, began to form settlements southward. . . henderson walker succeeded to the rule by virtue of his place as president of the council. after him colonel robert daniel, who had made reputation in an expedition against the spaniards in florida, became, in , the governor of the province. . governor daniel was probably the mistaken and ignorant agent of lord carteret, who happened then to be the palatine, or chief of the lords proprietors, in a foolish effort at reform. carteret, like james ii., was by no means a pattern in morality, but became impressed with his duty to cause the assembly to pass a law making the episcopal church the state church in the province, as it was in england. . the baptists and quakers were numerous, and both of these sects were sternly opposed to any such regulation. the law was passed in spite of their votes to the contrary, and provided for building churches, buying glebe lands, and public taxation to pay the rectors' salaries, but did not visit any disqualification or punishment upon nonconformists. the first episcopal preacher arrived at albemarle in , and the first church was built in , in chowan county. . these persons, who were not members of the episcopal church, said they were already paying for the support of their pastors, and at once declared that they would not submit to the injustice of paying money to men who were the leaders in the persecutions of baptists and quakers in england and america. . the presbyterians of south carolina sent john ashe, of that section, to london to resist the confirmation of the law, and edmund porter was sent, for the same purpose, by the people of albemarle. ashe died in london before he knew of his success. both queen anne and the house of lords denounced the innovation as unjust and impolitic, and the law was therefore annulled by her majesty in her privy council. . it was thus, year by year, that the carolinians kept up their struggle for freedom and equality before the law. the ocean stretched between them and the men who sought their oppression, and large expenditures, both in money and heartwearing efforts, were undergone, as the dangerous and alarming years went by; but these men of the woods never wavered in their determination to be free. questions. . who was sent from england to succeed john culpepper as governor of carolina? who followed governor harvey in office? what was the condition of affairs in the colony under these governors? . who became governor in ? who was seth sothel, and why was he selected? . what befell sothel on his way to carolina? what kind of man was governor sothel? what did the people do? . who next took charge of carolina? what important thing was accomplished under this administration? . who was governor in ? who had charge of all the settlements? . what two governors are next mentioned? . whose agent was governor daniel? what law was passed by the assembly? . what two religious sects were strongest opposers of the act? what was provided for in the statute? . what complaint was made by the baptists and quakers? . who was sent to london in the interest of the presbyterians? what man from albemarle? what was the success of the mission to london? . what was the almost constant struggle of the people of carolina? chapter xv. thomas carey and the tuscarora war a. d. to . thomas carey, who had already reached the positions of speaker of the house of assembly and lieutenant-governor, was promoted to be governor in . he had been a leader in opposition to governor daniel's church scheme, and for that reason john archdale and the quakers had procured his elevation to the latter position. it may be imagined what was their disgust and surprise when it was found that carey had changed sides and become the willing tool of lord carteret. . . in the town of bath, in beaufort county, was settled, and this was the first incorporated town in north carolina. one of the oldest churches in the state is at bath. the bricks used in the building were brought from england. the edifice is still in a good condition, and is regularly used for public worship. . when the general assembly met, governor carey announced that, under english laws, none but members of the english or episcopal church could be allowed to take the oaths necessary to qualification for a seat in either house. john porter was thereupon sent to london to make known this fresh outrage and betrayal of the people. . he was soon back with orders for carey's removal; and the general assembly elected william glover by the votes of john porter and the men he influenced. it is sickening to add that glover also immediately deceived the men who were his supporters, and was found acting and talking exactly as carey had done. the next thing seen was the pacification of carey and the quakers, and their re-election of him as governor. . two rival governments were thus at open rupture, each claiming to be the local government in albemarle. they both took up arms, and it seemed that bloodshed must ensue. a general assembly was called to decide the question of authority. members were present with certificates of election signed by glover, and another set whose certificates were issued by carey. glover and carey, with their adherents, occupied separate rooms in the same building, and great confusion and bitterness prevailed. finally the members of glover's council were compelled to seek refuge in virginia. . in such a state of affairs, edward hyde arrived from england with papers directing edward tynte, the governor of both south and north carolina, to commission him as governor of north carolina. in the meantime carey, having heard of governor tynte's death, refused to acknowledge hyde's claims, and proceeded to arm and equip his followers. . . the cruel and crafty tuscaroras now resolved to avail themselves of the divisions among the white people. they procured the meherrins, corees, mattarnuskeets and other tribes to unite with them in an effort to murder all they could of the settlers. they kept the secret so well that on the night of the th of september, , according to the calendar of that day, more than two hundred whites were butchered. the tuscaroras mustered in their ranks a strong force, which was increased by their allies to sixteen hundred warriors. the indians continued this terrible slaughter for three days, and only ceased when fatigue and drunkenness rendered them incapable of further continuance. . the baron de graffenreid, a nobleman from bern, had just established (in ) a flourishing colony, comprising about six hundred persons, germans and swedes, at new bern, at the confluence of the neuse and trent rivers. de graffenreid and john lawson, the surveyor-general, while on an exploring voyage up the neuse river, a few days before the massacre of september th, were seized by the indians. the war council decided that both the men should be put to death. de graffenreid made claim that he was king of the swiss settlement just established, and escaped death by promising that no more land should he taken from the indians without their consent. the unfortunate lawson and a negro servant were put to death by the most horrible cruelties. . baron de graffenreid was held a captive for several weeks, and was set at liberty upon application of governor spottswood. on his return to his settlement he found it in a condition of almost desolation. he became so disheartened at the prospect that he soon sold his interest in carolina and returned to switzerland. . . the south carolina militia and near a thousand yemassee indians, under colonel john barnwell, came as swiftly as they could to the rescue, and inflicted a stunning blow upon the savages. they were attacked in a fort near new bern, and more than three hundred of the indians were killed and a hundred made prisoners. thinking the league crushed, colonel barnwell went home with his forces, after making a treaty with the indians, which was quickly broken. . in this terrible emergency, which threatened the destruction of so many settlers, governor spottswood, of virginia, did nothing to aid the colony except keep the five nations and tom blount's tuscaroras neutral in the war. the great danger was in the possible adhesion of the new york iroquois to the savage league. with albemarle divided, and consequently in a measure helpless, it was seen that it would be impossible to meet the five nations in battle. . when the next spring had opened, some hundreds of men in north carolina were joined by colonel james moore, from south carolina, with another force of a hundred and fifty of his white neighbors and the yemassees, who again were willing to make war upon their hated enemies, the tuscaroras. . another bloody attack upon a fort made of earthworks and palisades resulted in such slaughter of the indians that handcock, their chief, who had boldly led them before, was so disheartened at the loss of his braves that, with his tribe, he abandoned carolina and rejoined his brethren in the lake country of new york, who were from that time known as the six nations. they ventured no more among the men who had so fearfully broken their strength and power as belligerents. the fort occupied by handcock and his force was situated where the village of snow hill, greene county, now stands, and was called by the indians "nahucke." the siege began march th, and in a few days the fort, with eight hundred prisoners, was taken by storm. colonel moore's loss was twenty white men and thirty-six indians killed and about one hundred wounded. . in the midst of the danger, in this second year of the war, yellow fever was seen for the first time in albemarle. governor hyde fell a victim to its virulence. he died september , , and was succeeded by thomas pollock, who had long been known as one of the richest and most influential of the settlers. pollock and edward moseley, who was the leading lawyer and ablest man in albemarle, were in deadly enmity concerning the quarrels between the contending governors. . during this turbulent period among their rulers the people of albemarle were giving their principal attention to growing corn and other farm products. they were improving their settlements and reaping the full reward of industry and perseverance. in the manufacture of tar began, and it was soon discovered that this native article was destined to become a very valuable commodity, both at home and in foreign countries. . during the years just considered north carolina received large accessions to her population. as early as french protestant refugees purchased lands and began to form settlements in pamlico. in another body of french emigrants, under the guidance of their clergymen, phillipe de richebourg, located in the same section. a good number of french huguenots, also, had formed thrifty settlements in the pamlico region and along the banks of the neuse and trent rivers. questions. . how did thomas carey become governor of albemarle? how did he disappoint the people who elected him? . where was the first town incorporated in the state? . what announcement was made by carey at the meeting of the assembly? how was this received by the people? . what orders were brought by porter? who was elected as carey's successor? how were the people disappointed in governor glover? . what was the condition of affairs? . who arrived from england, and for what purpose? how did carey receive governor hyde's demand? . how were the tuscaroras acting during this public trouble? what calamity befell the colony? . what befell baron de graffenreid and john lawson? . what further is said of de graffenreid? . what aid came from south carolina? describe the battle. . how did governor spottswood, of virginia, act during this trouble? what was specially feared by the people? . how was the colony preparing for war? . describe the second battle and the result. . what terrible sickness visited carolina in ? who was one of the victims? who succeeded governor hyde? what is said of governor pollock? . how were the people of albemarle occupying themselves during these troublesome times? . give some account of the growth of the settlements in north carolina. chapter xvi. governor eden and black-beard. a. d. to . with the conquest of the tuscaroras and their allies, a great danger was removed from the settlements in carolina. tom blount and his people were assigned a tract of land as a token of the gratitude of the whites for their refusal to join in the war. this reservation was first located south of albemarle sound, but was afterwards changed to the region still known as the "indian woods," in bertie county. . . in , colonel pollock was relieved of his office as governor by the arrival of charles eden, with full powers from the duke of beaufort, who was then palatine. governor eden was instructed by the proprietors to discourage much expansion of the settlements. he became popular with a large portion of the people. he lived some years at queen annie's creek, which town was called edenton, as a compliment to him. he afterwards bought a place on salmon creek, in bertie county, and dwelt there. this place is still known as "eden house." . . in the same yemassee indians who had so signally aided in the overthrow of the tuscaroras, repeated, in south carolina, the bloody work of their old enemies in albemarle. they were aided by other tribes, and murdered many white people. the indians in the bath precinct also, taking advantage of the alarm caused by this outbreak in the southern province, raised the war cry and murdered several white people on the pamlico plantations before they could be checked. . at the request of the governor of south carolina, governor eden immediately sent a strong force of both cavalry and infantry to aid the south carolinians. colonel maurice moore, who was the brother of colonel james moore, the late commander against the tuscaroras, and had become a resident of albemarle, was in command. . the oldest statutes of which we have copies were enacted in , at the house of captain richard sanderson, in perquimans. edward moseley was speaker of the house of assembly and differed with governor eden in many matters of provincial policy. through all his life as a public man he was intensely devoted to the interest of the colony; and though warmly attached to the english or episcopal church, was resolute in his advocacy of complete religious liberty. he formed a strong party of men, who regarded the governor as simply the agent of the lords proprietors; and therefore, to be vigilantly watched and checked in any innovation upon established privileges. . there had been, for years, many crimes committed by pirates upon the ocean just along the north carolina coast. they sometimes extended their infamous practices to the sounds and rivers. one edward teach, who was also called "black-beard," was the chief of these bloody robbers. he had a fleet of armed vessels; the largest of which was called queen anne's revenge. this formidable craft carried a crew of one hundred men, and forty cannon. . edward moseley and others were clamorous for the arrest and punishment of such horrid offenders against the law, and denounced governor eden as their accomplice. it was brought to the knowledge of capt. ellis brand, who came in command of a british squadron in hampton roads, that teach was to be found near ocracoke. . lieutenant robert maynard was ordered to go to that point and capture the outlaws. he found the pirates, who saluted him with so deadly a broadside that a large portion of the royal men were slain. maynard unfortunately got his ship aground in the action, and his deck was terribly raked by his antagonists' fire. his case seemed well nigh hopeless, when he resorted to a stratagem. all of his men were ordered to go below, and soon the pirates saw nothing but dead men upon the deck. they hastened to board what they thought was another prize. . but maynard and his men met them as they crowded upon the deck, and after a bloody struggle, captured nine men, who were the survivors of the prolonged and desperate conflict. among these was a gigantic negro, who was on the point of blowing up the pirate vessel when arrested in his desperate purpose. . black-beard was slain during the battle, and maynard sailed away from the scene of his victory with the corsair's head fixed upon his bowsprit. the captured offenders were carried to williamsburg, virginia, and there tried and executed, as they deserved to be. . in the early portion of the eighteenth century the whole atlantic coast of america was more or less infested by these buccaneers. in some quarters they congregated in great numbers, and made expeditions in which they laid cities under contribution, and endangered all legitimate commerce in the new world. they were as cruel desperadoes as have been seen in any age of the world's history. after long and costly effort by the english and other governments, they were driven from the seas. questions. . what reservation was given to the indians? . who became governor in ? how had governor eden been instructed by the lords proprietors? where did he live? . what occurred in ? . who was sent to aid the people of south carolina? . at whose house did the legislature meet? what noted man was speaker of the house? give some description of edward moseley. . what famous pirate was ravaging the coast about this time? . of what had governor eden been charged? . who was sent to capture the pirate? describe the battle. . how did the engagement result? . what disposition was made of the captives? . what is said of the atlantic coast during this period? chapter xvii. governor gabriel johnston. a. d. to . upon the death of governor eden in , colonel thomas pollock, as president of his majesty's council for north carolina, assumed the place of governor, but he died in a short while and was succeeded by william reed. that year bertie precinct was erected west of chowan river, and court houses were, for the first time, ordered to be built. not only the general assembly, but courts and all public affairs, up to this time, had been held in private houses. . north carolina then comprised three counties. these were albemarle, bath and clarendon. albemarle contained currituck, pasquotank, perquimans, chowan and bertie precincts. bath and clarendon, though counties, were not subdivided at this time. . . the lords proprietors, as the last evidence of their lack of wisdom and interest in the province they had so long cursed with their misrule, sent over george burrington. after the creation of the counties of bath and clarendon the representative of the lords proprietors was called "governor of north carolina." . governor burrington's character was very bad; he had been indicted and punished in the old bailey, in london, for beating an old woman, and was, all his life, drunken and quarrelsome. yet such a man came over to be the guardian of a people who knew not when they were to be tomahawked by the savages or driven into further exile by the zealots who were disturbed at the nature of their religious belief. . . this weak and wicked ruler only remained one year in charge, when sir richard everhard came to replace him. they were brothers in iniquity, and before burrington left edenton these two men disgraced themselves by fighting in the streets of that village. the general assembly met at edenton, and by enactment of law the dividing line between north carolina and virginia was run in november of this year. . . such rulers as have just been mentioned so utterly disgusted every one in the colony that the king and parliament were petitioned to buy the province and abolish the rule of those who had only hindered its growth. so, in , for the sum of forty- five thousand dollars, all of the proprietors except lord carteret, sold to the crown their interest in carolina . thus, after sixty-six years of unbounded misrule, these men in london who had so greatly cursed north carolina by their ignorance and mistakes, surrendered their title to property which had never paid them more than about one hundred dollars a piece in any one year. . they had never really cared for the people whom they were so anxious to disturb with their crude notions of religion. the schemes of london merchants were of far more moment thanthe welfare of albemarle, and the folly of the fundamental constitutions was to be upheld even at the ruin of the province. . as an earnest of the want of care king george i. was to exhibit towards the colony, governor burrington was sent back to the people who were already so well acquainted with his faults of temper and character. he soon got into trouble with the leading men of the province, and pretending to go to south carolina, returned to england, where he was soon after killed in a night- brawl in the city of london. . . nathaniel rice was governor until the arrival and qualification of gabriel johnston, who took the oaths of office at brunswick, on the cape fear river. governor johnston was a scotchman, who had lived for several years in london, and was to prove the wisest and best of all the men sent over to rule the people in carolina. he married penelope eden, daughter of the late governor, and dwelt at her home on the chowan river. . there were no troubles between the governor and people in the time of governor johnston's administration. sometimes edward moseley, always a stickler for the rights of the colonists, would carry some dispute into the general assembly, but the measures of governor johnston, as a general thing, were pleasing to all classes of the people and received their support. . at this period, dr. john brickell, with a party of white men and indians, was sent by the general assembly to explore the mountain region of western north carolina. he went into east tennessee in his travels among the cherokees. he brought back wondrous accounts of the beauty of the region and of the simplicity and kindness of the natives. dr. brickell practiced medicine in edenton and wrote an interesting book about the north carolina of that day. . . during the spanish war governor johnston enlisted four hundred north carolina troops for the expedition that was led by governor oglethorpe against the spaniards at st. augustine, in florida. they formed a battalion of the regiment commanded by colonel vanderclussen. they were carried under admiral vernon to the siege of carthagena and participated in the dangers and horrors of that expedition. but few returned to tell the story of their disasters. . . in consequence of the great defeat of the scotch by the english at the battle of culloden, many scotch emigrants began to settle in north america. the captives in the struggle mentioned had been offered choice between death and exile to america. the emigrants landed at wilmington in large numbers and formed settlements along the cape fear river. one of their principal towns was at cross creek, now known as fayetteville. these scotch people were brave, industrious, and frugal, and north carolina has always esteemed them as a part of her best population. . . the province had never grown so rapidly, or been so prosperous, as in the rule of this wise and excellent man who now conducted public affairs. the provinces of north and south carolina were formally separated in governor burrington's time, and upon the death of governor johnston, in , it was found that the population had been multiplied several times over what it had been twenty years before, and it now numbered nearly fifty thousand people. great quantities of tar, pitch and turpentine, also staves, corn, tobacco and other products of the farm, besides pork, beef, bacon and lard were exported. questions. . who became governor on the death of governor eden? what changes were noticed in the colony? . into what precincts and counties was north carolina divided? . who was sent over by the lords proprietors in as governor? . can you tell something of governor burrington's past life? . how long was governor burrington in office, and who succeeded him? how did these officers conduct themselves in edenton? . what large purchase was made in ? which of the lords proprietors reserved his right? what had been the annual profit to the proprietors from the colony? . how had these men always felt toward their province? . what was the first act of george i. in the government of north carolina? how did burrington's administration terminate? . who was burrington's successor? who followed governor rice? tell something of governor johnston. . how did governor johnston conduct affairs? . what expedition was sent out at this time? what account of the western country was given by dr, brickell on his return? . what occurred in ? . how and by whom was the cape fear region now being settled? . give an account of the prosperity of the province during period. chapter xviii. the pirates and other enemies. a. d. to . during the government of north carolina by gabriel johnston, there was still much trouble from the buccaneers. these were pirates who chiefly infested the west indies, where they were sometimes congregated by thousands at a single place. they were daring enough to invade cities and countries, and caused great terror and danger to all honest people within their reach. . in a fleet of the pirates, under the pretext of a war between england and spain, sailed into the mouth of the cape fear river. instead of the plunder they expected to obtain from firms and towns, they were bravely met by the people, as the fleet lay off the village of brunswick, and after a bloody fight, were driven back to sea with the loss of one of their ships. from this demolished craft were taken a number of negroes and valuables. these spoils which rewarded the gallant defence of the men of cape fear were, by act of assembly, given to the churches in wilmington and brunswick. [note--the pirate chief left his vessel and crew off at brunswick, and in a small boat, with a few men, ascended the cape fear river to ravage the farm of maurice moore. col. moore learned of the coming of the robbers and boldly met them on the shore with gun in hand, and compelled them to return without even landing. while the chief was up the river the fight occurred off brunswick, his vessel was captured, and forty men, comprising the crew were sold by the victors at public auction. ] . . the year is memorable because then, for the first time, a printing press was erected in north carolina. james davis brought this press to new bern from virginia, and began, years later, the publication of a weekly newspaper, called the north carolina magazine or universal intelligencer. this occurred in , and the press was used until that time in printing the laws and proceedings of the general assembly. . the first movements toward peopling the western sections of the province were seen this year in the purchase, by the moravians, of a large tract of land from earl granville. they called it wachovia, in compliment to count zinzendorf's estate in germany. the same region was peopled rapidly by other german settlers, with a large addition of scotch-irish emigrants. their town was named salem, and is now the county seat of forsyth. - . . upon the death of governor johnston, president rice was in charge until the next year, when, upon his death, colonel matthew rowan succeeded to the place thus made vacant. colonel rowan lived in bladen, and was a planter of large means. he was greatly valued, and his name is perpetrated in a county which has long been important in north carolina. . . at this time there was great rivalry between france and england for supremacy in america. large as was the area of unoccupied territory for division between them, they were fast maturing schemes for each other's expulsion from the western continent. . all around the english settlements, from new england along the great lakes, and down the mississippi river, a chain of forts was being constructed by the french, and the aid of all the indian tribes had already been secured except in the instance of the iroquois or six nations in new york. lord dinwiddie, then governor of virginia, sent a messenger to say that these enemies were even encroaching upon the old dominion and erecting a fort at the junction of the two streams which form the ohio river. . pittsburg stands upon the spot where this famous fort du quesne was constructed. his lordship applied for aid from north carolina in an expedition which he proposed to send against these intruders. governor rowan and the general assembly responded nobly and promptly to the call. . colonel james innes, who had served gallantly under lord vernon at carthagena, in south america, was put in command of a regiment mustering more than nine hundred men. two hundred thousand dollars was voted for their equipment and supplies, and with high hopes, the long march for the ohio river was begun. . when the army reached winchester, in virginia, colonel joshua fry, who was in command of all the forces, died, and governor dinwiddie appointed colonel innes his successor. but this appointment gave offence to the virginians, who wished colonel george washington, already a favorite of the people, to take command. the virginia legislature, under the circumstances, would make no provision for the support of colonel innes' regiment, and it was forced to return home. in this way the generous purpose of north carolina was completely thwarted. . colonel innes died at winchester soon after. the french occupied their fort and perfected those arrangements which resulted, shortly afterwards, in the terrible defeat of the army commanded by general braddock. . another army of virginians and north carolinians, about thirty years after these occurrences, was assembled to attack colonel patrick ferguson's british and tories at king's mountain. a very different spirit prevailed there. the north carolina officers, who greatly outnumbered those of the old dominion, insisted that as they were at home, colonel campbell, of the latter state, should assume command, and their knightly courtesy was followed by a glorious victory. questions. . who infested the coast during governor johnston's term? . how was a fleet of pirates received by the cape fear men in ? what was done with the spoils? point out brunswick and wilmington on the map. . what memorable event occurred in ? . give an account of the settlement of wachovia. in what part of the state is this settlement? . who became governor after the death of governor rice? what kind of man was governor rowan? . what were the english and french trying to accomplish in america at this period? . how were the french preparing for hostilities? what was stated by governor dinwiddie's messenger? . of whom did governor dinwiddie ask aid? how did north carolina respond to the call? . to what extent did the province prepare resistance? . what occurred at winchester? how did this appointment affect the virginians, and why? how did the effort of north carolina to aid the virginians terminate? . what was the result of the expedition against fort du quesne? . what other occurrence is mentioned? chapter xix. governor arthur dobbs. a. d. to . king george selected major arthur dobbs, as governor of north carolina; and at new bern, on november , , he entered upon the discharge of his duties. he was a man of high temper, and very obstinate in support of his views, but devoted to whatever he believed his duty demanded. his greatest fault was filling public offices with members of his own family and a disposition to make jobs for his own benefit. . governor dobbs soon visited the new county of rowan, which was established in , and included in its area most of the western portion of north carolina and a part of tennessee. he found presbyterians under rev. hugh mcaden, and baptists under rev. shubal stearns, establishing churches and laying the foundations of towns in a region where, but a few years before, no white people were to be seen. . . colonel hugh waddell, of brunswick, was put in command of troops raised in north carolina for the french and indian war. he had started to join general braddock's column, but just previous to the fatal battle on monongahela river was recalled by governor dobbs to repel the attack of the cherokees on old fort. this stronghold was built amid the western mountains to overawe the indians and as a refuge for the settlers. . governor littleton, of south carolina, by his bad management, had most wantonly provoked the over-hill indians into this condition of hostility. his foolish and unnecessary interference and cruelty had converted these usually peaceful neighbors into sufficient hostility to make it easy for french emissaries to obtain their active aid against the english settlers. . captain dennie, with his company, was also besieged at fort tellico. colonel waddell made haste with his battalion and drove off the cherokees, burning their lodges and destroying all the corn he could find. another battalion remained with general forbes, as north carolina's contingent in the expedition against fort du quesne. these things occurred in . . in england the administration of the duke of newcastle over american and foreign affairs terminated, and the first william pitt succeeded to his place. in every portion of the world mighty consequences resulted from this arrangement. the fleets and armies of great britain were animated with the zeal and patriotism of that great statesman. . . of all the victories of the year, none was so important to america as that of general wolfe over the french at quebec. it broke the power of france in the western continent, and stopped, in a great measure, the war waged by indians upon the frontier settlements. . at no period has the population of north carolina increased relatively so fast as during these years now under consideration. up to the death of governor johnston it had amounted to no more than thirty thousand souls, but since that time had more than doubled. in the exports amounted to sixty-one thousand five hundred and twenty-eight barrels of tar, twelve thousand and fifty-five barrels of turpentine, seven hundred and sixty-two thousand staves, sixty-one thousand five hundred and eighty bushels of corn, besides much tobacco, pork, beef and other commodities. . the most discreditable thing in governor dobbs' administration was his effort to procure the general assembly to locate the provincial capital on his farm, called "tower hill." this was the place where the indians had been defeated by colonel james moore in . he failed in his scheme, and snow hill, as the place is now called, never became the capital of north carolina. . he was often at variance with the legislature, or more properly, the house of assembly, concerning the courts and judges. he wished things arranged to suit certain men in london, and the house resolved that this should not be done, and north carolina was left, in the end, with no judges but the justices of the peace. . even before this there was much complaint concerning the extortions of public officers. although the people were very poor, the agents of the king and earl granville made them pay enormous license and poll taxes. francis corbin, one of the king's agents, was dragged from his home in chowan to enfield, then in edgecombe county, to compel him to repay the sums which he had unlawfully exacted. he gave bail and promised to return the illegal tribute, but instead of complying he brought suit against the men who had seized him. the matter terminated in a riot, in which some of the chief friends of governor dobbs were concerned. . . the governor, being old, and weary of contests with the house of assembly, at length asked for leave of absence; but died at his place on town creek, in brunswick county, before sailing for england. he was devoted to his sense of duty to the king, and was in many ways deserving of public respect. questions. . who tools the oath of office of governor in ? can you give some traits of his character? . what visit was made by governor dobbs? how was the new county of rowan becoming settled? . who was put in command of the north carolina troops? how was he prevented from joining general braddock? find old fort on the map. . who had incited the indians to the proposed attack on old fort? . give an account of colonel waddell's expedition-against the indians. . what noted man in england had charge of american affairs? what effect had his administration upon every portion of the world? . what great victory was gained in america at this period? what good resulted to the whole country from this victory? . what had been the increase of population in north carolina? can you name some of the exports? . where did governor dobbs endeavor to have the capital of north carolina located? . what trouble did the governor have with the legislature? with what result? . of what extortions did the people complain? how was francis corbin treated, and why? . what is said of the close of governor dobbs' life? chapter xx. governor tryon and the first resistance to the stamp acts. a. d. to . some months before the death of governor dobbs there had come over from england a handsome, polished and genial officer who wore the uniform of the queen's guards. this was lieutenant- colonel william tryon, recently appointed lieutenant-governor of north carolina. he succeeded governor dobbs, and left a name that will never be forgotten in north carolina. . governor tryon was accompanied by his wife and her sister, miss esther wake. they were ladies of great attractiveness, and were destined to become so much valued by the people that their family name is still preserved in our midst, as the name of our metropolitan county. . there was much gaiety seen at that time in the eastern counties. the indians were all gone, beyond the blue ridge mountains, and the rude huts of old had, in many instances, been replaced by large and costly buildings of brick. weddings were generally celebrated by balls that lasted for a week. hospitality was unstinted, and most men of means thought their establishments imperfect until provided with a private race course. with hound and horn, there was great diversion, for game was abundant and the sport open to all who could get a horse to ride. . in such society the brilliant family of the governor was of course at once sure of unbounded influence. perhaps no man was ever more warmly esteemed than governor tryon during the first years of his rule in north carolina. he was gracious and wary at the same time. he knew whom to cultivate, and while smiling on all he was fast making friends who were almost ready to die in his behalf. . the great preacher, george whitefield, came to the state in , and moved thousands with his eloquence. his new sect, the methodist, had until then made no progress in north carolina, and his converts went to swell the numbers of the baptists, who were more numerous than any other denomination. . there was the utmost kindness of feeling between the new governor and the people, when the news came that the english parliament had passed a law called the "stamp act." it had been much talked of and denounced in many portions of america, and now, with a unanimity that is still one of the strangest things recorded in history, the men of all conditions, in every colony, arose in frenzy and swore that this law should not be executed in america. . the stamp act required that all colonial legal instruments, such as deeds, bonds and notes, should be written only upon stamped paper, otherwise they were not binding, or of any effect. the paper was prepared in england, to be sold to the colonists at the heavy tax of one and two dollars upon each sheet. in addition to this, the act contained a great variety of other ruinous exactions. newspapers and pamphlets were taxed more than such publications at present would cost. an advertisement in a newspaper paid the government fifty cents; almanacs, eight cents; college diplomas, ten dollars; and the fee charged for a marriage license was sometimes as high as fifteen dollars. the act received royal assent on d march, . . the law was oppressive upon the people because of the amount exacted, but was considered constitutional in england by many great lawyers who were warm friends of the american people. but in america it had been held for some time that no tax levied by great britain, without the consent of america, was just; and thus every man resolved that the stamp act should not be enforced. . when the news reached governor tryon, at new bern, the general assembly was in session at that place. a very bold and fearless man, colonel john ashe, was then speaker of the house of assembly. governor tryon asked of ashe, in private conversation, what the house would do as to the new law." we will resist its execution to the death," said he, and that very day governor tryon sent them all home by proroguing the session. nor did he permit them to assemble again until late in the next year, after the repeal of the stamp act. by this means he prevented the election of delegates from north carolina to the continental congress which met in new york in to organize the opposition to that oppressive measure. [prorogue is to continue or adjourn a legislative body from one session to another by royal or state authority. ] . the first step of the people in their resistance to the stamp act was to carry james houston, who had been appointed stamp agent, before moses john derosset, who was then mayor of wilmington. there, in the presence of many distinguished men of the cape fear country, on the th of november, , he was obliged publicly to resign his office in the court house of wilmington, and make oath that he would have no further connection with it. . twelve days later, on the th november, , the ship of war diligence arrived with stamps. the commander was told by armed men, under colonels ashe and waddell, that they must not be landed; and no effort was made to do so. on the st december, , the governor issued his proclamation dissolving the general assembly, and on the same day took the opinion of his council and the attorney-general "whether writs can issue for the election of a new assembly, as the circulation of the stamps is obstructed." the council and attorney-general advised that the writs could go without stamps. . . on the th january, , governor tryon, taking fresh courage from some source, went so far as to issue a proclamation announcing that the stamps were on board the diligence and ready for distribution. it did no good, however, for no one would use them. comparative quiet now ensued for some weeks, but it was only the calm before the storm. . on the th of february, two vessels that had come up to the port of brunswick without stamps upon their clearance papers were promptly seized by the custom house officers, and then the storm arose. on the th, armed men broke open the desk of the collector of the port, and forcibly carried off the unstamped clearance papers of the two vessels. on the th, a committee of armed men appeared on board the viper and demanded of captain lobb the two sloops he was guarding. meanwhile armed men were continually coming into brunswick from different counties. . on the evening of the th, mr. pennington, another stamp distributor, took refuge in governor tryon's house. shortly after eight o'clock on the morning of the st, armed men appeared before the governor's house and sent him a note desiring him to permit mr. pennington to appear before them, and informing him that it would "not be in the power of the directors appointed to prevent the ill consequences that may attend a refusal." the governor replied that any gentleman who had business with mr. pennington might see him at the governor's house. this, however, was by no means satisfactory, and in a short time, according to the governor's statement, a body of some five hundred men in arms moved toward his house. a detachment of sixty then came down the avenue and the main body drew up in sight and within three hundred yards of the house. . mr. cornelius harnett, a representative in the assembly for wilmington, came at the head of the detachment and sent a message asking to speak with mr. pennington; when he came into the house he told mr. pennington "the gentlemen wanted him." the governor replied that mr. pennington was in his house for refuge and that he would protect him to the utmost. mr. harnett thereupon said he hoped the governor would let mr. pennington go, as the people were determined to take him out of the house if he should be longer detained, an insult, mr. harnett said, they wished to avoid giving to the governor. . the governor protested it mattered not about that insult after they had already offered him every insult they could offer by investing his house and virtually making him a prisoner before any grievance had been made known to him. . mr. pennington growing apprehensive and showing a disposition to go with mr. harnett, the governor suggested to him that he resign before he left. to this he agreed, and thereupon the governor let him go. he was afterward compelled to take an oath that he would never issue any stamped paper in the province, as were all the clerks of the county courts and other public officers. the inhabitants, in the language of the governor, having redressed, after the manner described, their grievances complained of, left the town of brunswick about one o'clock on the st. these things were done, it must be borne in mind, in the broad daylight, and by men perfectly well known, and without a particle of disguise. after this, vessels entered and left the ports of north carolina as if no stamp act had ever been passed. . on june , , came news from england of the repeal of the law that had so terribly excited and aroused america. governor tryon announced the fact in a proclamation, but he had been humiliated by the resistance at wilmington, and from that hour, probably, determined on the revenge which he afterwards exacted at alamance. [note--governor tryon desired to regain his influence, for political purposes, over the people whom he had so greatly offended; and he ordered a general muster at wilmington. he prepared a feast for the militia, of whole oxen roasted, and barrels of beer. when the feast was ready the people rushed to the tables and threw the oxen into the river and emptied the beer upon the ground. a general fight ensued between the militia and the men of the english vessels, and perfect quiet was not restored for several days.] questions. . what distinguished person have we now under consideration? how did he become governor of north carolina? . who accompanied governor tryon? what is said of the two ladies? . tell something of life in the eastern counties at this time. . how did the tryon family become very influential? . what great preacher came to north carolina in ? how were his labors rewarded? . what memorable law was passed by parliament? how was the news received in north carolina? . what can you tell of the stamp act? . what is said of the law? . under what circumstances did the news reach the governor? what did the governor do concerning the assembly? . mention the first act of resistance to this law. . when did the diligence arrive? what occurred on her arrival? . what did the governor do on january th? with what result? . what trouble befell the viper? . what occurred on february th? . what further is said of this affair? . what did the governor say of these things? . what was the conclusion of this affair? . what joyful news was received on june th, ? how had governor tryon been affected by the resistance of the people to the stamp act? chapter xxi. governor tryon and the regulators. a. d. to . in the middle and western counties of north carolina in the period referred to, there was collected a large increase of population. immigrants had come in large companies from scotland, ireland, england and germany. fully two hundred thousand inhabitants were by that time to be found east of the blue ridge mountains. they were separated by that great barrier from the cherokees, who latterly had well respected this line of separation. . a great portion of the western settlers had recently come to their new homes, and were very poorly provided with the means of living. they were hundreds of miles from market, and made nothing on their farms to sell but wheat. these farmers were taxed about twelve dollars apiece on the poll, and paid an annual rent of seventy-five cents on each one hundred acres of their land. . when they hauled wheat to cross creek, now fayetteville, it realized but little more than enough to pay for the salt needed in the family. sugar and coffee were luxuries in which they rarely indulged. it can thus be seen how cruel would have been even an honest collection of what the laws demanded of these recent settlers as taxes. when these sums were enormously increased by dishonest sheriffs the farmers were in despair, for it was beyond their power to pay. . the farmers knew they were being cheated, and resolved to put an end to such practices. colonel edmund fanning, of hillsboro, in orange county, was growing rich as register of deeds, and was the ringleader in this oppression of the people. . in this same county lived herman husbands, who was a quaker preacher, and, though of limited education, was a man of considerable natural abilities. he prevailed on his neighbors at sandy creek to form an association for mutual protection against the wrongs of the public officers. his organization was known as the "regulators," and they were to help each other in the lawsuits and indictments growing out of a refusal to pay unlawful demands. . this was wise and proper, as these men were not rebellious, but only desired relief from oppression, but husbands should have joined the league he was thus creating, and thereby shared the liabilities of the members. this he would not do, but preached and harangued until the people were in a fever of excitement. . . the first trouble grew out of a seizure of a horse from one of two men sent to hillsboro on a mission to the sheriff. the regulators retook the horse by force, and fired into the roof of colonel fanning's house. that night husbands was arrested and carried to hillsboro, and gave bail for his appearance at the next superior court. he had hardly left hillsboro before seven hundred men came to his rescue; they went away with promises made by isaac edwards, who was tryon's secretary, that the governor would redress their wrongs. . governor tryon went to hillsboro in a few weeks, but condemned only the people who had asked his aid, and, after going further west, came back to the superior court with an army of eleven hundred men, which he had raised in mecklenburg and rowan counties. husbands was acquitted on trial, but three other regulators were heavily fined and imprisoned. colonel fanning was convicted in five cases of extortion in office, and the judges, to their shame, imposed a fine of only one penny in each case. . this marching of troops, and the failure of the court to do its duty, only made matters worse. the regulators grew in numbers and violence until the courts could not be held in some counties. husbands was expelled from his place in the house of assembly and thrown into prison for a libel on judge maurice moore. his release was effected in time to stop a crowd of several hundred men from going to new bern, where they had declared they would release him and burn the splendid palace the governor had just built. . . matters continued to grow worse until, in , governor tryon raised an army in the eastern counties, under a law of the assembly, and marched to orange to put down what he called the "rebellion of the regulators," colonel waddell, with another body of troops, marched from salisbury to join him, but was met by the regulators and driven back. . on the th of may, , the force of governor tryon, numbering eleven hundred men, met about two thousand of the regulators at a place called "alamance," in orange county. in the battle that ensued there was stubborn fighting until the ammunition of the regulators was exhausted, and they were driven from the field. many men lost their lives, and all that was gained by north carolina, after a noble resistance to oppression, was that edmund fanning and others, who were largely responsible for all its disorders, left the province. . the brutal malice and cruelty in governor tryon's character was exhibited soon after the battle. several prisoners were taken by him, and one of them, a poor half-witted youth named james few, was, by tryon's order, hung on the spot without trial. twelve other prisoners were soon convicted of high treason and sentenced to death. six of them were hanged almost immediately; the execution of the others was delayed for a few days in order that a grand military display might be made on the occasion, the details of which the governor superintended in person. [note--it has been said that the battle of alamance was begun by governor tryon, who fired the first gun at a prisoner named robert thompson, killing him instantly. the men seemed to hesitate about beginning the fight, and governor tryon, rising in his stirrups, exclaimed: "fire! fire on them, or on me!"] . governor tryon left the province a month after the battle of alamance to become, by the king's appointment, governor of new york. he had signally failed to do his duty in compelling his subordinates to deal honestly with the people, but yet he retained the confidence of many able and patriotic men. richard caswell and many other leaders in the province were distressed that he had ceased to be the chief magistrate of north carolina. questions. . how were the middle and western sections of north carolina being peopled at this period? . give some description of these people. how were they taxed? . what return did the sale of their crops bring them? how was theirs a hard lot? . by whom were the poor farmers being oppressed? . what noted man is now mentioned? can you tell something of the acts of herman husbands in the province? . how did he shrink from becoming a member of his league? . what was the first trouble? how did they settle the matter? mention some circumstances of the trial of husbands? . what was the result of governor tyron's visit to hillsboro? how did the trials at court terminate? . how were the regulators affected by this "mock judgment"? into what trouble did husbands next fall? . what steps were taken by governor tryon towards crushing the regulators? by whom was his army reinforced? . can you describe the memorable "battle of alamance"? what benefit was derived from it? point out on the map the scene of the battle. . what was governor tryon's conduct after the battle? . when did governor tryon leave north carolina, and for what purpose? chapter xxii. governor martin and the revolution. a. d. to . james hasell, as president of the council, assumed the conduct of affairs until the arrival of the new governor. this new governor, josiah martin, was born d april, , and had been a lieutenant-colonel in the british army, which position he was obliged to resign on account of his health. he then sought civil employment and was appointed governor of north carolina. he was a far more honorable man than tryon. he had no unworthy favorites, as tryon had, and concocted no selfish schemes for his own benefit or that of his family, but was exceedingly obstinate and strict in the observance of royal prerogatives. unattractive in his manners, and very positive in his opinions, he sometimes failed to withhold the manifestations of his displeasure towards those who might happen to differ with him, no matter how honestly. perhaps, however, in the fierce antagonisms of the times in which he ruled in north carolina, his real virtues were not appreciated as they deserved. . . governor martin met the assembly, for the first time, in new bern, on the th of november, . at his suggestion, the legislature passed an act of amnesty toward all persons engaged in the war of the regulation except husbands and a few other leaders. such wise and merciful action, however, was not to be the rule of his life. . it had long been felt that the taxes were exceedingly burdensome, and, from a statement made to the legislature at this time, by one of the public treasurers, of the real condition of the public funds, it was seen that these taxes had been, for a time at least, unnecessarily imposed. the treasurer showed that a full collection of the amounts in arrear, for which security had been given, would discharge the entire public debt and leave in the public treasury the sum of twenty thousand dollars. a bill was at once passed in both houses of the legislature, and without opposition in either, discontinuing the special taxes that had been devoted to the extinguishment of the public debt. governor martin, however, vetoed the bill, and thus began a series of conflicts with the legislature that lasted until his expulsion from the province. . the repeal of the stamp act had been gratefully received; but parliament still excited great apprehension by an express and formal assertion of its powers to tax america. it had cost immense sums to the crown to drive out the french, and much money was still needed to pay british expenses in america. it was insisted that the colonies ought to pay their fair share in these burdens. the great question was, how this was to be done. if parliament could levy what it pleased, then americans were no longer free, in that they were not masters of their own purses. many propositions were made to arrange the difficulty, but none were satisfactory to both sides. . . so dissatisfied was governor martin with his first legislature that he speedily dissolved it, and did not permit a new one to meet until the last of january, . the new legislature met in new bern, and the house gave notice of its temper by electing as its speaker john harvey, of perquimans, admitted on all hands to be the most earnest supporter of colonial rights in all the province. upon every important subject of legislation the governor and the new assembly were at variance, and he accordingly dissolved it on the th of march, declaring that it "had deserted its duty and flagrantly insulted the dignity and authority of the government." . the next assembly met in new bern, on the th of december, , and continued in session seventeen days, when it shared the fate of its predecessor, and was sent home with the injunction to consult with the people and learn their will. . short as was the session, however, its action was most important. on the day after the session began, letters were received from the legislature of virginia and other colonies, proposing that each province should appoint a committee of correspondence. the proposition was speedily agreed to by the house of assembly, and a committee of nine appointed, with instructions to "obtain the most early and authentic intelligence of all such acts and resolutions of the british parliament, or proceedings of administration, as may relate to or affect the british colonies in america, and to keep and maintain a correspondence and communication with all sister colonies, respecting these important considerations, and the result of such, their proceedings, from hour to hour, to lay before the house." . john harvey, richard caswell, samuel johnston, joseph hewes, edward vail, cornelius harnett, john ashe, william hooper and robert howe constituted the committee, and certainly, in north carolina at least, it may be said there was never an abler one. by this action the province took position with its sister colonies on the great question of the day. that the question was regarded as one of great importance and great gravity, if not of great difficulty, we need no other assurance than that afforded by the character of the men into whose hands it was committed. questions. . on whom did the government next devolve? who succeeded james hasell? how is governor martin compared with some of his predecessors? . where did governor martin first meet the assembly? what law was passed? . what was the financial condition of the government at this period? what act was passed concerning taxes? . how were the people excited by the english parliament? what was the trouble? . how did governor martin act concerning the legislature? what declaration was made by him? . where did the next assembly meet, and what was done with it? . what letters were received during the session? what was done with the proposition? . who composed the committee of correspondence? what is said of these men? chapter xxiii. first provincial congress. a. d. . . by this time the propriety of holding a general or continental congress, composed of delegates or representatives duly chosen by the several colonies, had suggested itself to men of sagacity in every portion of the country. wherever made, the suggestion at once found a lodgment in public favor, and by the time summer had come it was a generally accepted fact that such a congress would be held, and the time and place of its session pretty well agreed upon. during the month of june, , each colony, through its committee of correspondence, was invited to send delegates to a continental congress, to be held in philadelphia during the coming september. . from its first agitation, the project of a continental congress, to consider the best ways and means of redressing the grievances of the colonists, was exceedingly distasteful to governor martin, for he regarded it as a most efficient way to organize rebellion. he resolved that he would prevent north carolina from participating in such a congress, as governor tryon had prevented her from participating in a similar one in . to this end he determined that during the continuance of the existing disturbed condition of the colonies no legislature should meet in north carolina, thinking thereby to prevent the due election of delegates from the province. . to this fixed purpose on the part of governor martin, made known to john harvey through mr. biggleston, the governor's private secretary, the congress held at new bern in august, , owed its existence. when mr. biggleston told him the governor did not intend to call another legislature "until he saw a chance to get a better one," harvey replied, "then the people will convene one themselves." accordingly, about the first of july, in accordance with a plan agreed upon three months before between willie jones of halifax, samuel johnston of chowan and edward buncombe of tyrrell, harvey, the speaker of the house of assembly, issued handbills calling upon the people to elect delegates to a provincial congress, as it was called, to assemble in new bern on the th of august, to express the sentiments of the people on the acts lately passed by the parliament of great britain, and to appoint delegates to represent the province in a continental congress. the handbills of this bold speaker also invited the people to invest the deputies whom they might send to new bern "with powers obligatory on the future conduct of the inhabitants." . the elections for deputies were duly held about the first of august, and the governor, finding himself thus completely checkmated, was furious. the calm audacity of the speaker, in summoning such a body to meet in new bern, in the very presence of the king's represent representatives, as the governor said, "to concert treasonable schemes against the crown," astounded him. . up to this time governor martin had not at all realized how weak had become the ties that bound the people of the colony of north carolina to the mother country. nor did he believe they would, with any degree of unanimity whatever, take so bold and defiant a step in the direction of open rebellion as that involved in the election of a congress with powers obligatory on the people, but owing no obedience to the authority of the crown. yet, at the appointed times and places, with few exceptions, the people throughout the provinces openly assembled and elected delegates to the proposed congress, clothing them with most extraordinary powers. . this evidence of the condition of popular sentiment in the province could neither be doubted nor disregarded. accordingly, on the th of august, , the governor asked his council to advise him what to do in a state of affairs so inconsistent with the peace and good order of the government and so injurious to the maintenance of the authority of the crown. after deliberating for a day on the matter, the council advised him to issue a proclamation, and he did so, condemning the elections just held as highly illegal, and warning all officers of the king, both civil and military, to do all in their power to prevent such assemblages of the people, and especially the meeting of the deputies or delegates at new bern on the th instant. . in spite of all this, the first provincial congress in north carolina met at new bern, august th, , and elected john harvey as moderator or president. richard caswell, joseph hewes and william hooper were chosen as delegates to the continental congress. protesting their loyalty to the crown, but expressing a full determination to defend their rights as freemen, the members entered into an agreement that unless their grievances were redressed they would discontinue all trade with english merchants. . this congress was the first great step in the revolution, which was to deliver north carolina and america from the dominion of a distant king and parliament. the men of america were soon to be free from all foreign interference in their government. it was a bold and hazardous step in colonel harvey and the men over whom he presided as moderator, but safety in the end was the reward of those who thus dared to be free. questions. . what important step was suggesting itself to the people? how was the suggestion received? what was done in june, ? . how did governor martin regard this matter? what did he determine to do? . what vas the result of the governor's plan? what was done by john harvey? . how was governor martin affected by harvey's success? . what had the governor begun to realize? what was done by the people? . what advice did the governor seek? what was given? . when and where did the first provincial congress of north carolina meet? who was moderator? who were chosen as delegates to the continental congress? . what is said of this provincial congress? chapter xxiv. the second provincial congress. a. d. . after the meeting of the first provincial congress, at new bern, there were, to all observers of intelligence throughout the world, evident signs of an approaching rupture between the royal government and the people of north carolina. each day widened the breach between them and rendered more difficult an arrangement of the troubles. . in the regular course of events, if north carolina would continue to keep abreast of her sister colonies in the movement for the preservation of the inherent rights of british subjects, it was necessary that she should formally ratify and approve the action recently taken by the continental congress, and to elect delegates to that congress for a new term. accordingly, on the th of february, , after the governor had ordered an election to be held for a new legislature to meet in new bern on the d of april, colonel harvey also issued handbills for the election of another congress to meet at the same time and place. . both elections were held and both bodies met at the appointed time and place. indeed the same individuals were members of both the house of assembly and of the congress. the records show that every member of the house of assembly who was present was also present as a member of the congress, with only three exceptions. colonel harvey was chosen to preside over both bodies. when sitting at the house of assembly the members called him "mr. speaker," but when sitting as a congress they called him "mr. moderator." according to the journals of their proceedings, the congress met at nine o'clock and the assembly at ten o'clock in the morning. upon the face of the journals of the two bodies their proceedings seem to have been entirely separate and distinct; it is said, however, to have been otherwise in fact, and that at one moment the members would be sitting with mr. speaker harvey as a house of assembly, under the authority of the crown, and at another with mr. moderator harvey, as a congress in defiance of the crown. . as the two houses of the legislature met governor martin in the palace, according to the custom of that day, at the beginning of a session, he saluted them with indignant remonstrances, which were, the next day, most ably answered in an address prepared by captain robert howe, of brunswick. a chief ground of his complaint was that the assembly would take no action against the congress. he was aptly reminded, however, in reply, that as the assembly had no control over its sessions, holding them at his will and pleasure only, and remembering how that will and pleasure had been exercised, a congress that did have control over itself was absolutely necessary for the protection of the people. the result was a proclamation dissolving the assembly on the th of april, that being the fourth day of its session. . the congress, however, could neither be dissolved nor dispersed, and proceeded in its work with much deliberation. the same delegation was returned to philadelphia; and articles of association, pledging the members to abstain from all commerce with british marts, were signed by all except thomas mcknight, of currituck. . it was seen that a crisis was near at hand. boston had been held, for months past, in a state of siege. at length, on april th, came the encounter at lexington. accidents are constantly heard of wherein more lives are lost, but this little skirmish, small as it was, was enough, with its tidings, to fire the hearts of a continent. . the tidings of such an occurrence in our day outstrips the winds. in less than an hour it is known all over the mississippi valley, across the rocky mountains, and along the shores of the pacific ocean. but our ancestors of that day had no railways or telegraphs; so, it was fully two weeks after the militiamen slain at lexington had stiffened in their blood that richard caswell heard of it in petersburg, virginia. . a courier was hurrying southward with the tidings, but it was not until may th that the people of mecklenburg, in north carolina, became aware of what had occurred. at the village of charlotte upon that day a large concourse of the leading men of that county had assembled. fired at the nature of the startling intelligence, they held a convention, and after remaining in session all night, on the morning of the th, passed resolutions of independence that will immortalize their names. . all america, while arming for the war, was still protesting loyalty to the king, but these men of mecklenburg leaped to a conclusion, the expediency of which more than a year of blood was required to impress on the minds of their countrymen. abraham alexander presided in the meeting, and the famous "mecklenburg declaration of independence" was drawn by dr. ephraim breyard. [note--the men of mecklenburg held another meeting on may st, and adopted a system of government and military commissions. these people publicly declared themselves free from english rule nearly fourteen months before the declaration of independence at philadelphia.] . the news from boston was speedily followed, in north carolina, by mournful tidings from perquimans county. colonel john harvey, after so many strenuous efforts to put north carolina in readiness for the storm, sank under disease, and died at his place in "harvey's neck," on the albemarle sound. no braver or wiser man has ever borne a part in the conduct of affairs in north carolina. . apprehensive for his own safety and that of his family, governor martin at once made preparations for leaving new bern. he sent his family to new york by sea, but went himself by land to fort johnston, at the mouth of the cape fear. * but even fort johnston proved unsafe as a place of refuge, and in july the governor left it and went on board the war sloop cruiser, then lying in the river before the fort. on the same day colonel ashe, with five hundred men, burned the fort to the ground. *governor martin took advantage of this journey to visit the scotch settlements on the upper cape fear, and set on foot the insurrection that culminated in the battle of moore's creek bridge. questions. . what signs were observed after the first provincial congress? . what was necessary for north carolina to do? what was done on february , ? . what is said of this election ? describe the legislature and congress? . how was the legislature received by the governor? how did captain howe answer him? . what was done by the congress? . what startling news was received on april th. . how did the circulation of news in differ from the present? who was first to receive the news of lexington? . when did the tidings reach mecklenburg? what great event occurred at charlotte? find this city on the map. . what was the attitude of the american people at this time? by what name have the charlotte resolutions always been known? . what sad news next thrilled north carolina? . what was done by governor martin? what occurred at fort johnston? chapter xxv. the congress at hillsboro. a. d. . it had been seen at new bern that colonel harvey's days were numbered, and samuel johnston had been empowered, in case of the moderator's death, to order an election for another congress to meet at hillsboro whenever he should deem it necessary. accordingly (colonel harvey having died) the congress met, at the call of mr. johnston, in hillsboro, on the th of august, , and a memorable congress it was. samuel johnston was its president. . when governor martin left new bern royal authority was virtually at an end in north carolina, but it was at hillsboro, and by the congress there assembled, that its last vestige was swept away. the time had come when, if north carolina intended to stand with her sister colonies, she must take up arms and appeal to the god of battles. this she was ready to do without any hesitation, and this she did do at hillsboro, giving publicly to the world her reasons for so doing. . the governor sent to samuel johnston a copy of his proclamation, dated on board his majesty's ship cruiser, at cape fear, on the th of august, , in which he warned the people against the hillsboro congress as a dangerous and unconstitutional assembly, and of baneful influence; and further, that to assemble men in arms in the province without authority from the king, was a violation of law for which they would be held answerable. in reply to this proclamation, which was duly laid before the congress by the moderator, mr. johnston, it was formally resolved that the proclamation was a false, scandalous, scurrilous and seditious libel, tending to disunite the good people of the province; "and further, that the said paper be burnt by the common hangman." . accepting the recent flight of governor martin to the british war-sloop cruiser as an abdication of the government of the crown, the congress proceeded to put in its place a government of the people, and established what in this day would be called a provisional government. cornelius harnett* was at its head. *this man was the second of the name. his father came to clarendon in governor burrington's time, and was all his life afterwards a member of the council. this cornelius harnett was well educated, and was so intensely devoted to the american cause that he was called in that day "the samuel adams of north carolina." . on the third tuesday in october in each year delegates to a congress were to be elected, which congress was to meet on the th of november following, unless otherwise directed. when in session congress was, of course, supreme; when not in session, ample authority was vested in a general or provisional council and subordinate or district committees of safety. the province was divided into six military districts, and as far as possible, put on a war footing. . the ordinary militia organization was perfected and monthly drills ordered; a special organization of minutemen, as that class of troops was called, was provided for each district, and, in addition, two regiments of regulars were ordered as the contingent of the province for the continental army. provision was also made for the purchase, anywhere and everywhere, of arms, powder, lead, salt and saltpetre; for the manufacture at home of salt, saltpetre, powder, and for the refining of sulphur; for the manufacture of brown and writing paper, cotton and woolen cards, linen and woolen cloths, pins and needles, and for the erection of furnaces for making iron and steel and iron hollow ware, and of rolling mills for making nails, large premiums were offered. a census, too, was ordered to be taken without delay. . an issue of money to meet expenses was also provided for. in a word, every function of government was from that time exercised in the name and by the authority of the people of north carolina. virtually the province was under martial law, but it was under martial law self-imposed. . it is evident that the men who constituted the hillsboro, or third provincial congress, knew perfectly well what they were doing, and had fully counted the cost. success meant freedom, and would make them patriots; failure meant abject submission to a foreign government, and would make them traitors. knowing this, they deliberately put a government of the people in the place of the government of the king; they put an army in the field and provided it with arms and ammunition; and, as if looking ahead to a long and protracted struggle, during which their ports would be doubtless blockaded, they sought at once, by the offer of large bounties to encourage the manufacture at home of such articles as were of common use and prime necessity. they were indeed both bold and far-seeing, those men of the hillsboro congress, and well they might be, for they were the best and bravest of the province-men whose names are now household words throughout the state. . the hillsboro congress had not called out troops any too soon, for it was discovered that both governor martin, in north carolina, and lord dunmore, in virginia, were engaged in schemes to excite insurrections among the negro slaves. colonel robert howe, with the second north carolina regiment, was sent to norfolk, in virginia, where the british troops, being beaten at great bridge, were soon driven from the soil of the "old dominion." . this occurred in december, . about the same time colonels griffith rutherford, thomas polk and james martin embodied their militia regiments and went to south carolina, where they speedily crushed a tory insurrection of certain men called the "scovilites." the militia were, of course, aided by whig troops of that province. the readiness with which north carolina marched troops both to virginia and to south carolina caused her to stand very high in the estimation of the continental congress. . the term "tory" was applied to men who upheld the royal authority, and were opposed to any movement to defend the colonies against the exactions of the crown and parliament. the "whigs," on the contrary, were at that day demanding that american commerce should be free, and that no taxes should be imposed by great britain upon the colonies. they were not enemies to the king, and only opposed to that which they considered oppressive in the designs of his ministers. questions. . who had been selected to take colonel harvey's place? when and where did the third provincial congress meet? . in what condition were public affairs when the congress met? . what proclamation did the governor send to samuel johnston? what reply was returned? . what view was taken of the governor's flight? who was placed at the head of the provisional government? . mention some laws which were passed concerning the congress? . mention some further acts of the hillsboro congress. . what about the issue of money? . what is said of the men who composed the congress? . in what scheme was governor martin found engaged? what force was sent to virginia? . who were sent to south carolina? . define the terms "tory" and "whig." chapter xxvi. the battle of moores creek bridge. a. d. . . the new year, , found governor martin still lingering on board the cruiser in the cape fear river. he was closely watched by colonel james moore, who kept his command (the first north carolina regiment) in that vicinity. in february came the news that the scotch highlanders and regulators were gathering at a place called, at that day, "cross creek," and now the town of fayetteville. this place and in this connection will be remembered as the home of the beautiful heroine, flora mcdonald, and her husband. like her husband, she was a staunch tory, and did all she could to promote the insurrection. [this famous woman had won the world's admiration by her heroic efforts to aid the unfortunate prince charles edward after his defeat at culloden. he was being hunted like a wild beast by the troops of the king, but flora mcdonald bravely left her home and went off with the disguised prince, until, after many perils, he reached a vessel on the coast end thus escaped to his friends in france. ] . a large fleet and army were said to be on their way from england to take the town of wilmington. these scotchmen, assembling at cross creek by governor martin's orders, were in arms to force their way across the country and join the expected british army, colonel moore at once met them at rockfish creek, where he fortified his camp and awaited an attack. but he soon found this would not occur, so he sent colonel lillington and captain ashe with two hundred and fifty then to occupy a bridge over moore's creek that he supposed would intercept general donald mcdonald, who commanded the tories. . whigs in arms were assembling from different directions, and the tories soon saw that unless they passed colonel moore they would be surrounded and captured. mcdonald was an old and skillful officer, and he moved across the cape fear river to meet colonel caswell, who was coming up from new bern with a command of eight hundred men which had been raised in that section. . caswell made haste to join lillington on moore's creek, and artfully led the enemy to believe that he was camping, on the evening of february , , on the same side of the stream with him. he left his fires burning, and in the darkness crossed the bridge, removed the timbers except two log girders, and took up a position supporting lillington and ashe, who had already put themselves in the best place to prevent the passage of the tories. . in the darkness of early dawn, on the th, colonel donald mcleod took the place of his sick commander, general mcdonald, and fell upon what he had been led to believe was colonel caswell's camp; but his spies had been misled, and his foes were to be reached only by crossing the bridge before him. the prospect was appalling, but mcleod was brave, and putting himself at the head of a picked band of broadswordsmen, he charged across the remaining two logs of the bridge. it was a terrible moment when the whigs saw these dauntless highlanders, who had so often broken the strongest lines of troops in europe, rushing furiously upon them. but they were cool, and plied the deadly rifles upon the scotchmen as fast as they came. . colonel mcleod fell dead in his headlong charge, being pierced by twenty-six balls. the carnage was so frightful that the onset was stayed, and then, as the assailants wavered, captain ezekiel slocumb, having crossed the creek with his company, rushed from the woods and charged their flank. a wild panic ensued, and the tories fled in disorder from the fatal bridge. . the whigs followed in hot pursuit, and the victory was overwhelming. nearly two thousand royalists were thus defeated by eleven hundred undisciplined whigs. eight hundred prisoners, including general mcdonald, with all the camp stores, were taken. . there was not a more complete victory during the war. general moore's strategy was brilliant in conception and daring in execution; but no strategy, however brilliant, and no courage however daring, would have availed anything had not north carolina been prepared to put promptly in the field troops with the necessary munitions of war. these troops that took part in the campaign came some from above greensboro in the west and others below new bern in the east. infantry, artillery and mounted troops were all engaged, and everything went on as smoothly as if the province had never known anything about war. . the successful conduct of the campaign, requiring as it did the rapid concentration of troops without railroad, steamboat or telegraph, and the readiness with which, ninety days previous, we had sent troops both to south carolina and to virginia, demonstrated beyond question the wisdom of the congress in its work at hillsboro during the summer and autumn before. . the defeat of the tories thwarted the schemes of governor martin, and so dispirited the scotch and regulators that years elapsed before they gave further trouble. lord cornwallis came into the cape fear river with his army, but hearing of the disaster, sailed away, having effected nothing but an inglorious descent upon the farm of general robert howe. . thus began and ended the first british invasion of north carolina. colonel moore was made a general for his skill in planning the campaign, and caswell, lillington and ashe, with their gallant commands, were everywhere honored for their bravery and success. [note--a proclamation was issued soon after this, giving pardon to all who would submit to the government of the king, except general robert rowe and cornelius harnett.] questions. . what was the situation in wilmington in ? what important news was received? . what expedition was coming to wilmington? how was it to be reinforced? how was colonel moore preparing to meet these men from cross creek? . mention other preparations for a fight. . give an account of colonel caswell's position on moore's creek. . who commanded the tories? describe his charge upon the whigs. . give an account of the battle of moore's creek. when did this occur? locate the scene of this battle on the map. . what was the result? . what is said of the victory at moore's creek? what was promptly done by north carolina? . what is said of this campaign? . what distinguished british officer entered the cape fear? . how did the people feel towards colonel moore and other commanding officers? chapter xxvii. fourth provincial congress declares independence. a. d. . the hillsboro congress of august, , formally inaugurated a war of resistance to british oppressions, but to the halifax congress of april, , was left the crowning glory of being the first in all the colonies to declare for absolute independence of the mother country and for foreign alliances. . it was quickly seen when the new congress met at halifax, on the th of april, , that great progress had been made in public sentiment. at hillsboro professions of loyalty and of a desire for continued connection with great britain, some honest, but many of questionable sincerity doubtless, were still to be heard. at halifax there was neither halting nor hesitation in avowing that absolute independence from the mother country was the real aim of the people of the province. . the time for the final plunge had come, and north carolina was quite ready for it. accordingly, on the fourth day of the session, a committee was appointed to take into consideration the usurpations and violences attempted and committed by the king and parliament of britain against america, and the further measures to be taken for frustrating the same, and for the better defence of the province. four days later, that is to say, on the th day of april, , a day ever to be remembered in the annals of america, the committee reported as follows: "it appears to your committee that pursuant to the plan concerted by the british ministry for subjugating america, the king and parliament of great britain have usurped a power over the persons and properties of the people unlimited and uncontrolled, and disregarding their humble petitions for peace, liberty and safety, have made divers legislative acts denouncing war, famine and every species of calamity against the continent in general. that british fleets and armies have been, and still are, daily employed in destroying the people and committing the most horrid devastations on the country. that governors in different colonies have declared protection to slaves who should imbrue their hands in the blood of their masters; that the ships belonging to america are declared prizes of war, and many of them have been violently seized and confiscated, in consequence of which multitudes of the people have been destroyed or from easy circumstances reduced to the most lamentable distress. "and whereas, the moderation hitherto manifested by the united colonies and their sincere desire to be reconciled to the mother country on constitutional principles have procured no mitigation of the aforesaid wrongs and usurpations, and no hopes remain of obtaining redress by those means alone, which have been hitherto tried, your committee are of opinion that the house should enter into the following resolve, to wit: "resolved, that the delegates for this colony in the continental congress be empowered to concur with the delegates of the other colonies in declaring independence and forming foreign alliances, reserving to this colony the sole and exclusive right of forming a constitution and laws for this colony, and of appointing delegates from time to time (under direction of a general representation thereof) to meet the delegates of the other colonies for such purposes as shall be hereafter pointed out." and thereupon the congress did so resolve unanimously. . with the exception of the mecklenburg declaration of the year before, there had been, up to that time, nowhere in all america a single organized body to venture on such a proposition. individuals like samuel adams, william hooper and christopher gadsden had been heard advocating it; but every other assembly was yet protesting its loyalty to the king. it was more than a month before virginia consented to patrick henry's demands, and the other colonies were to follow at intervals after her endorsement. . in the annals of the world there is no prouder record than the entry made on the journals of the halifax congress on the th day of april, . a great fleet and army were yet upon the soil and within the waters of north carolina, but this could not deter these resolute patriots from thus taking the lead in a doubtful and perilous departure from all the ties and obligations of the past. . it can then be understood how joyously the news was received at this same town of halifax on july d, that the continental congress, at philadelphia, had acceded to the wishes of north carolina, and had, on the th day of the same month, declared the "independence of america." . the "council of safety" was at that time in session at halifax, and by it thursday, the st of august, was set as a day for proclaiming the declaration at the courthouse in halifax, and the people were invited to attend. on the day appointed, according to the vivid description of an eye-witness, a vast concourse of people assembled in front of the court house. the provincial troops and the militia were all drawn up in full array. at midday cornelius harnett ascended a rostrum that had been erected in front of the courthouse, and even as he opened the scroll upon which was written the immortal words of the declaration, the enthusiasm of the immense crowd broke forth in one loud swell of rejoicing and prayer. when he had finished, all the people shouted with joy, and the cannon sounding from fort to fort, proclaimed the glorious tidings that all the thirteen colonies were now free and independent states. the soldiers seized mr. harnett and bore him on their shoulders through the town. the declaration was ordered to be read in all portions of north carolina, and, except in one county, the mandate was everywhere obeyed. . all the north carolina troops then in arms, including the two continental regiments and the militia under general ashe, were in charleston. they were spectators of the combat in which the gallant moultrie, within his fort of palmetto logs, signally defeated the same british fleet under sir peter parker that had been so recently in cape fear river. . general james moore marched northward from charleston with his brigade, but died in wilmington. his death was a serious loss to north carolina and the cause of liberty, for in military genius, as in patriotic devotion, he had few equals and no superior in america. colonel francis nash succeeded to his place. general howe was sent to savannah, having with him his old command, the second north carolina regiment. four new regiments were ordered by the provincial congress and were soon put in the field. . on the same day with the battle in charleston harbor, june th, , the cherokee indians descended from their mountain homes and murdered two hundred western settlers. general griffith rutherford collected two thousand men of the militia regiments in his command, and took such swift and ample vengeance that from that time these indians ceased to trouble the frontier. they had been incited by british agents to their disastrous work. questions. . what is said of the fourth provincial congress? where was it held? . in what condition was public sentiment when the congress met? . what was done on the fourth day of the session? why should the th day of april, , ever be remembered? can you state the substance of this memorable declaration of independence? . what is said of the halifax declaration? . tell something of the boldness of this declaration. . what was done by the continental congress on may th? . describe the reading of the declaration of independence. . where were the north carolina soldiers at that time? . what other military movements were mentioned? . what occurred on january th, ? chapter xxviii. adoption of a state constitution. a. d. . after the public avowal by the people of north carolina, through their newly organized congress at halifax, in april, , of a fixed purpose to secure, by force of arms, absolute independence from the mother country, and of her desire to enter into foreign alliances to accomplish that end, there was no reason for any longer delay in establishing a permanent form of government for the colony. hitherto, pride of consistency in form at least, to say nothing of a considerate regard for tender consciences, if not for weak nerves, might well have held them back. after the action of the congress on the th of april, however, it was manifest that the day of provisional government was nigh its close, and that the people of north carolina must abide the arbitrament of war to which they had appealed, whether in future they should be free, self-governing citizens or dependent subjects of a foreign government. the half-way ground and the time for temporary expedients were both left behind in north carolina on the th of april, . there was great division, however, among the wisest and best men in the province as to the true nature of the new system of government which had thus become necessary. . samuel johnston was a wise and patriotic leader. he was a man of wealth and experience in public affairs, and was devoted to his country, but he thought that new experiments in government were dangerous, and withal was long very much averse to a final separation from great britain. he wished to keep up the old system of rule as far as possible; among other reasons, because he doubted the ability of the people to govern themselves. these views were also held by general allen jones, of northampton, and other prominent men. . on the other hand, willie jones, of halifax, brother of general allen jones, was the leader of a majority of the legislators and the people. he held as the fundamental article of his political creed that the american people were capable of governing themselves, and that all political power belonged to and proceeded from them. like jefferson, of virginia, he advocated religious freedom, separation of church and state, liberty of the press and choice of rulers by the masses at the ballot-box. . between these two champions of opposing theories stood richard caswell, a man of excellent discretion and great practical common sense, who, happily tempering the fierce democracy of jones with the more cautious conservatism of johnston, possessed, in a rare degree, the confidence of the people of north carolina of every faction. a marylander by birth, he came to north carolina when quite a youth, without fortune or friends, and won his unbounded popularity by long years of unselfish, unstinted devotion to her service. . men of strong convictions, especially when accustomed to shape public sentiment, do not readily yield to opposing views, and it was a happy thing for north carolina that she possessed such a man as caswell, whose commanding influence enabled him to control and finally to compose the fierce differences that prevailed in regard to the character of the proposed new government. at his suggestion, the matter was postponed until the winter, when a new congress would be in session, fresh from the people and in full possession of their views in the premises; and in this way the question at issue as to the character of the new government was remitted directly to the decision of the people,. . by formal resolution, adopted on the th of august, , the council of safety called the attention of the people to the fact that the next congress would frame a constitution for the state, and urged, for that reason, that the greatest care be taken in the selection of delegates at the ensuing election. . the election was held on the th day of october, and the congress met at halifax on the th day of november, and, on motion of allen jones, made richard caswell its president. samuel johnston, after a hot contest, had failed to be elected, and was consequently not a member. he was in halifax, however, during the sitting of the congress, and doubtless exercised but little less influence than he would have done had he been a delegate. . on the th of december, that most admirable enunciation of human rights, the bill of rights so-called, was adopted, and the next day the constitution was adopted. . the new constitution went into operation at once, with caswell as the first governor, and the great work of supplying the state with judges, sheriffs, magistrates and other officers began. for several years there had been no courts to administer justice, either civil or criminal, except military tribunals and the various committees of safety. fortunately, while governor caswell, aided by the legislative authorities, was putting in motion the untried machinery of a new government, and evoking civil order from military disorder, our british foes were far away to the northward. at last north carolinians lived under a government of their own making, administered by officers of their own choosing. questions. . what was seen to be the next necessary step after the action of the halifax congress? can you tell what difficulties had previously existed? . what views were held by governor johnston? . what did willie jones consider necessary for the people? what was advocated by him? . how did caswell consider these things? . what good influence was exerted by his opinion? . what did the council of safety do? . when did the congress meet? who was chosen to preside? what was done on december th? . who was the first governor of north carolina under the constitution? describe the condition of affairs? chapter xxix. the war continued. a. d. to . all of the north carolina continentals were with general washington early in the new year . they reached him in a great emergency. his army had just been driven from new york across the state of new jersey, and such had been his losses by battle and otherwise, that when he reached the delaware river he could hardly muster five thousand men. . sir william howe, the british commander-in-chief, had twenty- nine thousand trained soldiers available, and when lord cornwallis, who had been pursuing the americans, was halted by him, it was the salvation of the force left with general washington. had sir william forborne to stop the pursuit of cornwallis the struggle might have soon ended in the capture of washington. after a week of delay, cornwallis was permitted to advance, and even then came up in time to see the last boatloads of the american troops crossing the great river which so effectually stopped all further pursuit. . . when general nash arrived at the american camp, after his long march from the south, he brought six full regiments of north carolina continentals, nearly doubling the force upon which the hopes of america mainly depended. by this means general washington was soon after able to confront the advancing enemy in the battle of brandywine, on september th. at this and other engagements the north carolina troops displayed both courage and discipline. . it was on the bloody occasion of the attack upon the british force at germanton, october th, that their most glorious record was made. general washington entrusted the post of honor on the extreme right flank of his line of attack to general francis nash. the british were driven by the north carolinians a long distance on the right of the village, but the american divisions which had been sent in on the left failed to dislodge the enemy, and in this way left general nash's force exposed both on his left and rear. . it was a glorious but bloody day for north carolina. the brigade suffered heavy loss in advancing, but greater when compelled to fall back for want of support. general nash and colonel edward buncombe were mortally wounded. lieutenant- colonel irwin and many other gallant officers were slain upon the field. . . at length the british forces were directed again toward the south. on december th, general robert howe was driven from savannah by general prevost, on which occasion the second regiment of continentals was confronted by a regiment of north carolina tories under colonel john hamilton. howe and his command were transferred to west point, on the hudson river, of which important post he was soon commander, with the rank of major-general. . . after the courts were fully established, and judges ashe, iredell and spencer held terms at wilmington and at five other towns twice a year. waightstill avery, as attorney-general, was busy in trials for treason against the state. there were many men who yet labored to restore the king's authority, and against them was needed all the vigilance possible, both in the courts and at military headquarters. . more than three years of the war had passed away without serious disaster to north carolina. no invaders disturbed her borders, and beyond the grief for friends slain in battle, there was cause for gratitude to god that so few evils of the war had yet visited the state. . general washington had evinced such nobility of soul and great military capacity that all american hearts were soon filled with love and admiration. with far-seeing wisdom, he was patiently biding his time to strike his enemies, and in foreign lands other great soldiers were applauding the mingled caution and boldness of his military movements. questions. . where were the north carolina troops at this time? what was the condition of washington's army? . how were the continental troops benefited by an order of sir william howe? . what battle was fought on september th, ? . on what battle field did the north carolina troops specially distinguish themselves on october th? relate the circumstances. . how did general nash and his troops suffer on this occasion? . what occurred at savannah on december th, ? to what place was general howe then transferred? . when were the courts of north carolina fully established? can you tell something of the judicial system in that period? . for what had north carolina cause to be grateful? . what is said of general washington? chapter xxx. stony point and charleston. a. d. to . the capture of savannah caused uneasiness in all the southern states. it was seen at once that georgia was but a starting point in a general scheme of transferring hostilities from the north. early in , general john ashe reached charleston with two or more brigades of militia. these were hurried off, at the importunate demand of the governor of south carolina, to attack the british at augusta. . general ashe remonstrated, saying his men were not yet ready for active service in the field; he obeyed orders, however, and took the field as directed. on his approach the enemy retired down the savannah river, and ashe, dividing his force, was so unfortunate as to fall into an ambush on brier creek, where his men, who were raw, undisciplined troops, were taken by surprise and routed. . a little later, and elsewhere, there was better fortune. at stony point, on the hudson river, a strong american fortification had been recently captured by the british. general wayne found that it was garrisoned by six hundred scotch highlanders, constituting one of the regular royal regiments. the work was nearly surrounded by the river and by morasses, and the single approach was so swept by the guns of the work, and also by those of several ships-of-war lying close by for the purpose of aiding in its defence, that it seemed wellnigh hopeless to attempt its capture. . but hopeless as it seemed, general wayne determined to make the attempt. he drew near at midnight, and with unloaded muskets, and courage that has never been surpassed, captured the stronghold at the point of the bayonet. . two columns of assault were sent in on the right and left; but to major hardy murfree's two companies of the second north carolina continental regiment, as a forlorn hope, was the post of real honor and danger assigned. they charged full in front, up the steep hillside, through several lines of abattis, and in this way received the hottest of the enemy's fire. the capture of the fort was largely due to the gallantry of the north carolina troops. . . governor caswell being ineligible for the next term, was succeeded, at the beginning of the year, by abner nash as chief magistrate of north carolina. the constitution provided that after three years' service the executive became ineligible for the next term, and caswell had served three terms. governor nash, like his predecessor, was a man of ability and patriotism, but did not equal him in the versatility of his powers or his consummate skill in the management of men. . in february, , all of the north carolina troops of the continental line had been ordered to the south. they were at charleston with general lincoln, being besieged there by an overwhelming force under sir henry clinton. in addition to the army, the british commander had come down from new york with a great fleet. . the defence was a brave one, but unavailing, and on may th general lincoln was forced to surrender. it was a direful day for north carolina. all of her regular troops and a full thousand of her militia became prisoners of war. it was a fatal rashness in general lincoln to allow himself to be cooped up in a city. thus, while no real benefit resulted to the american cause, or to the state of south carolina, north carolina was, at one fell blow, stripped of all her defenders. . sir henry clinton sailed back to new york after the capitulation, but he left a man of far superior ability with an army to continue the conquest of south carolina. this was lord cornwallis, who was the bravest and most skillful british soldier then in the world. he was to remain this time long enough to be forever remembered and to take bloody vengeance for his inglorious experience with sir peter parker four years before. . the first movement of cornwallis, after capturing charleston, was to send lieutenant-colonel tarleton, with his dragoons, to intercept a column of infantry which was approaching from virginia, under the command of colonel buford. these were surprised and cut to pieces. among others, the north carolina company of captain john stokes lost heavily in the sudden and bloody attack. . this disaster occurred in the waxhaw settlement, on the state line, not far from charlotte, in north carolina. thus, at a time when everything indicated another invasion, not a single troop of disciplined soldiers was left for the defence of this state, except the two companies of mounted infantry which were commanded by the gallant major william r. davie. this little band hovered continually in the neighborhood of the scene of colonel buford's defeat. . governor rutledge, of south carolina, upon the fall of charleston, offered to cease fighting the british if they would allow his state to remain neutral for the remainder of the war; but a very different feeling actuated governor nash and his people when apprised of the great disaster. if her continental veterans were all prisoners, there were still brave hearts and deadly rifles left with which to continue the struggle, and north carolina had no thought of quailing. questions. . what was apprehended in north carolina after the fall of savannah, and why? who was put in command of the brigades under general john ashe? where were these troops carried? . what befell the command on the route? . what victory was gained by the americans on the hudson river? who was in command? describe the situation of stony point. . give an account of the attack on this stronghold? . what troops occupied the post of special danger? how did they perform their duty? . who succeeded governor caswell? why was governor caswell not re-elected? . where were the north carolina soldiers in ? what enemy was besieging them? . how did the siege terminate? why was this surrender disastrous to north carolina? . what did clinton do after the capitulation ? who was left in command of the british? what is said of lord cornwallis? . what was his first military movement? describe the engagement between tarleton and buford. . where did this action occur? what was the condition of north carolina's defences? . what proposition was made to the british by the governor of south carolina? what was the sentiment in north carolina? chapter xxxi. the battles of ramsour's mill and camden court house. a. d. . when the great disaster at charleston became known to the north carolina tories, and they fully realized that british troops were close at hand, the spirit that had seemed crushed at moore's creek began to revive. they had suffered indignities from the whigs on account of their support of the king, and they now determined on swift and bloody revenge. . john moore, who was lieutenant-colonel in hamilton's regiment, returned to his former residence in lincoln county and assembled, early in june, thirteen hundred royalists at ramsour's mill. general rutherford, hearing of this in his camp near the waxhaws, thought it impolitic to leave that position because of a threatened movement of the british then in his front. he therefore sent orders to colonel francis locke, of rowan, to assemble his militia and at once attack the tories. . no command was ever more promptly or bravely obeyed. locke mustered four hundred of his neighbors and went through the darkness of the night in search of foes outnumbering him threefold. at early dawn on the th, with mounted men in front, he charged boldly upon the tory camp that was pitched near ramsour's mill, in sight of the present village of lincolnton. the royalists fled at the first charge, but rallied on a hill and checked the horsemen in pursuit. the whigs on foot came to the rescue and drove the royalists routed from the field. . this brilliant victory was all-important at that fearful juncture. it was a bloody and heroic affair; and was a timely foretaste of the spirit of the brave men of the west. it was a struggle between neighbors and old friends, and carried bitterness and sorrow to many north carolina firesides. . major davie, with his small command, commenced a series of daring adventures, which gave him great reputation for bravery and military skill. at flat rock, and also at hanging rock, in south carolina, he inflicted such stunning blows, that tarleton's legion learned to be very cautious of a foe so daring and so wary. colonel isaac shelby also distinguished himself at musgrove's mill. . thus the militia of north carolina assumed the defence of their homes and inflicted such frequent and telling blows upon the enemy that lord cornwallis halted at camden to receive further reinforcements before venturing to enter a state whose undrilled citizen-soldiers had shown themselves so formidable. . upon the fall of charleston, general horatio gates had been put in command in the south, in place of general lincoln. his success at saratoga had given him great popularity, and some misguided men were advocating his advancement even to the place of general washington. a short time exposed the folly of all such views. he was, at best, but a martinet, who had learned something of military routine in the camps, but was as devoid of real ability as he was vain and rash. . he came to deep river on july th, where in camp he found one delaware and two maryland battalions of continentals, colonel armand's light-horse and three companies of artillery, under the command of the baron dekalb. learning that general caswell had a considerable militia force at cheraw, in south carolina, he started, two days later, for the neighborhood of lord cornwallis and his army at camden. . he reached cheraw with some additional troops that had joined him on the march. on august th, taking a large portion of caswell's militia, he set out with the purpose of surprising cornwallis. colonel armand was marching in front, when, at midnight, his dragoons recoiled from an unexpected meeting with the british vanguard. the collision was unexpected on both sides, and threw general gates's column into disorder. . his officers vainly besought him to retreat, as the veteran forces of the enemy had not been surprised. both sides halted and prepared for battle. at dawn lord cornwallis sent his regulars with fixed bayonets to attack the militia on the right, and these untrained troops, unable to withstand so fierce an onset from regular veteran soldiers, abandoned the field. . colonel henry dickson held his regiment of north carolina militia firmly to the front, and with the continental, or regular troops, they offered a stubborn and gallant defence, but the flight of so many made it necessary to withdraw the few who thus gallantly stood their ground. . the american defeat was complete. two thousand men were killed, wounded and captured. all the stores and transportation were utterly lost. general gates fled early in the action, and spurred on, without stopping, to hillsboro, in this state. his defeat nearly ruined the american cause in the south, and his reputation as a military leader received a severe blow. [note--the capture of general griffith rutherford at camden was one of the most deplorable incidents of the disaster. his courage, military ability and influence among his people made him invaluable to the american cause.] questions. . what was the feeling of the tories in north carolina after the disaster at charleston? . where were the tories assembling? who was sent to attack them? . describe the attack. what was the result? . in what respect was this an important victory? . mention some of major davie's exploits. . how did these engagements affect cornwallis? . who was put in command of the southern forces? what kind of man was general gates? . what was his first military movement? . what occurred on august th, ? . how did the engagement result? . what was said of colonel dickson and his regiment? . what was the termination of this affair? how did general gates act? chapter xxxii. second invasion of the state--battle of king's mountain. a. d. . the disaster at camden left north carolina without defence against invasion by the british under lord cornwallis. but the spirit of governor nash and his people was high, and they did not for a moment relax their efforts for the support of the war. in a short time five thousand continental and militia troops were in motion for the neighborhood of charlotte. . generals jethro sumner and william l. davidson were put in command of two camps, where the raw levies were drilled and equipped for the field. colonel davie was still continually in the enemy's front, to watch and report every movement. since the rout and dispersion of general sumter's command by tarleton, on august th, davie's battalion was the only mounted force left in the south. . in september, lord cornwallis at last moved forward from his camp at camden. he sent colonel patrick ferguson toward the scene of the late tory defeat at ramsour's mill. this colonel ferguson was one of the ablest officers in the british army. he was cool, daring and well skilled in everything relating to the conduct of military affairs. he could command men in camp and in battle, and excelled all others in arousing the spirit of the tories. he induced hundreds of men to take sides with the king when another would have failed. . as lord cornwallis marched upon north carolina, colonel davie hung upon his front and fell back only as compelled by the advance of the british. he made but one dash against his pursuers before reaching charlotte; but on arriving there he and major joseph graham halted under the courthouse, in the middle of the village, and surprised cornwallis and the whole british army by a resistance so bloody and stubborn as to prove the right of that place to the name of "hornet's nest," which cornwallis bestowed upon it. [note--davie's whole force did not number more than two hundred men, and yet so cool and bravely did they meet the british assault that the enemy was several times driven back. major graham was, at that time, just twenty-one years old, and he exhibited such courage and conduct as have never been excelled. in one attack upon him he received nine wounds and was left for dead on the field, but made his escape.] . the english commander was so harassed by the daring attacks of the militia upon his men at mcintyre's farm and elsewhere in that neighborhood that he concluded to remain at charlotte until he could hear from colonel ferguson. that officer had halted at a place called gilberttown, where his one hundred and fifty british regulars were soon reinforced by large numbers of native royalists, who came to the english flag to take service in its behalf. . colonel charles mcdowell and others, hearing that ferguson was enrolling the tories, met at watauga and took counsel against him. no general was present, and mcdowell was so old they feared he would be unable to endure the probable hard marching necessary to overtake their wily foe. colonel campbell, of virginia, as a courtesy to one belonging outside of the state, was put in command by the north carolina officers, and they set out with about eleven hundred men to look for the enemy. . colonels shelby, sevier, cleveland, and major joseph mcdowell, of north carolina, together with colonel williams, of south carolina, selected nine hundred picked men from their mounted force, and through the stormy thirty hours of their march kept their saddles, until, on the morning of the th of october, they found the foe with eleven hundred and twenty-five men on the summit of king's mountain. it was a strong position, but the heroic mountaineers at once surrounded it and began the attack. . ferguson fought like a lion at bay, but the deadly rifles of the assailants were plied upon his ranks as the royalists were pushed back step by step. time and again the british commander headed the regulars, and by desperate charges down the mountain side drove back a portion of the advancing whig lines. at last ferguson was slain, after being many times wounded, and soon the british fire slackened, and then to the nine hundred militiamen of the hills the remnant of the royalists laid down their guns. six hundred men became prisoners of war. . this was a bloody but a glorious victory. the number of british dead was unusually great. their proportion of wounded was perhaps smaller than was ever seen in a modern battle. the whigs lost three field officers, one captain and fifty-three privates. . it was a most opportune success, and apprised lord cornwallis of what dangers might await his further advance. he became so disheartened upon learning of the disaster that he at once fell back to winnsboro, in south carolina. north carolina was again free from invaders, and the tories of every section felt their hopes sink as they realized the swiftness and completeness of this overthrow. every patriot heart, however, once more beat with hope and joy. . the victory of king's mountain was the turning point of the war in the south, and foreshadowed the final success of the american armies in the following year. the arrival of general nathaniel greene, who now took command of the southern army, in place of general gates, secured every advantage of the situation. he was from rhode island, and had been a blacksmith, but was a man of rare military genius, and as such had been singled out by general washington to occupy an important place. . general greene soon proved himself a great commander. he was gentle, unselfish and true, and loved the cause for which he fought better than his own life. he was brave, cautious and quick to seize upon all the faults of his opponent. he could patiently wait until battle was proper, and even in apparent defeat was really more dangerous than less competent commanders with a foe beaten and in full flight. questions. . what number of troops did general nash raise toward the defence north carolina? . what generals were put in command? where was colonel davie? . what move did cornwallis make? to what place was colonel ferguson sent? what is said of him as a commander? . where was colonel davie? relate the exploit of colonel davie and major joseph graham at charlotte. . what were the movements of cornwallis and ferguson? . what preparations were made towards attacking ferguson? who is put in command of the troops, and why? . what was the strength of the command? where did they find the enemy? when did the battle begin? . describe the battle of king's mountain. . mention some of the losses. . how did the victory affect cornwallis? . what officer was sent to take the place of general gates in the south? . what was general greene's military ability? chapter xxxiii. cornwallis's last invasion. a. d. . general greene soon became aware that his great trouble would be in obtaining food in sufficient quantities to feed an army large enough to meet the british in open field. generals gregory and jones were ordered back to their homes, and their brigades were disbanded because of this poverty of resources in that section of the country. general morgan was sent west of the catawba river; another camp was established at cheraw, and the militia of rowan and mecklenburg, under general davidson, were allowed to await at their homes for any call that might become necessary. . . such was the state of affairs in general greene's command when lord cornwallis was reinforced by the arrival of another division of troops under the command of major general leslie. on january th, lieutenant-colonel tarleton, with his famous legion and the first battalion of the seventy-first regiment, assailed general morgan at cowpens. these men had so often cut to pieces such american forces that they expected an easy victory on this occasion. . they were received by the americans with the utmost coolness and self-possession. their deadly fire emptied so many british saddles that the boldest riders were thrown into confusion. like a thunderbolt, then came a charge of the american lighthorse, under lieutenant-colonel william washington. they rode down and sabred the terrified britons, chasing them many miles from the field. . in less than an hour the eleven hundred british were so thoroughly routed that they lost five hundred and two prisoners, three hundred killed and wounded, with all their artillery and stores. general morgan had but eight hundred men, and though flushed with victory, he remembered that the main army of the enemy was at turkey creek, only twenty-five miles away. he therefore prudently burned his captured stores, and leaving his and the enemy's wounded under protection of a flag, at once began his retreat through north carolina. . he well knew that lord cornwallis would be enraged at tarleton's disaster and would seek the recapture of his prisoners. during twelve days the victors fled from the scene of their glory, while the british were pushing on close behind them. at the expiration of that time, as the day was closing in, and general morgan had just safely crossed the catawba river, at the island ford, he looked back and saw the british vanguard on the other bank of the stream. . the exultant pursuers had overcome the twenty-five miles of start, and feeling sure of their prey, they encamped that night with the utmost confidence that on the next day they could easily overtake the fugitives. but they were doomed to disappointment. soon a heavy rain began falling, and when the night was past the river had become a great and impassable flood. . the baffled foe was compelled to halt, for the passage of the stream was impossible. the high water remained in the river for forty-eight hours, during which time the british were unable to effect a crossing. general morgan sent his militia with the prisoners on to virginia, and with his continentals kept down the left bank of the river and joined general greene at sherrill's ford. there they unhappily disagreed as to future operations, and general morgan left the service. . during the two days that lord cornwallis was stopped by the rise in the catawba river, general greene made arrangements to dispute its passage. this was attempted at cowan's ford, and the british, after some loss, forced a passage. unfortunately, brave general davidson, who was in command of the militia, was killed, and upon his fall his men retreated, from the field. they were surprised by tarleton at torrence's tavern, six miles away in the direction of salisbury. . the chase was now renewed and general greene was again in great danger. when he reached salisbury he was so dejected at the condition of affairs that a good woman named mrs. elizabeth steele sought to cheer him by words of hope. he explained to her his almost desperate condition, and that though in command of the southern army, he was wholly without friends and without money. she generously pressed upon him a purse of gold, and, with hope revived by such an exhibition of womanly sympathy and generous patriotism, he resumed his retreat. . a rise in the waters of the yadkin river, after the americans had crossed, repeated the scenes witnessed on the catawba; and thus, while general greene was enabled to reach the forces from cheraw that had been ordered to meet him at guilford court house, lord cornwallis was compelled to make a wide detour up the river to get across. . again, in a few days, the americans, still retreating, found their enemies once more close up in the rear. for several days on long stretches in the road, the two armies could see each other. . general greene was so hotly pursued that he found it necessary to check the enemy in some way, and the gallant colonel otho h. williams, of maryland, with a corps of light troops numbering seven hundred men, was detailed to cover the retreat. this detachment most faithfully performed its duty. taking but one meal each day, and six hours' sleep in forty-eight, they retarded the progress of the enemy so much; by frequent collisions, that greene was enabled to considerably increase the distance between the two armies. [note--while general greene was in the house of mrs. steele, at salisbury, he caught sight of a picture of king george iii. hanging upon the wall. the picture recalled many unpleasant memories and hardships to the general. he took it from the wall, and, with a piece of chalk, wrote upon the back: "o, george, hide thy face and mourn." he then replaced the picture with its face to the wall and rode away. this picture, with the writing on the back still visible, is now thought to be in the possession of mrs. governor swain. [rumple's history of rowan county. ]] . at last, on february th, dan river was reached; and lord cornwallis came up only in time to see the last boatloads of the americans safely landing on the other side of the wide stream which was too deep for the british to ford. thus ended this famous retreat, extending more than two hundred miles. it gave general greene great reputation, and the struggling americans took fresh heart, for they knew they had at last a general in command who could provide wisely and well amid all the dangers so thickly environing him. questions. . what great trouble did general greene foresee? how did he dispose of the forces? . at what place were the americans attacked? . describe the battle of camden. where is camden? . what were the british losses? what was done by general morgan? . describe the events of the next twelve days. . what occurred during the night while the two armies were encamped on opposite sides of the river? . how did the rise in the river benefit the americans? find the catawba river on the map. what occurred at sherrill's ford? . give an account of the engagement at cowan's ford. . what happened to general greene at salisbury? . what river was next crossed? . describe the retreat further. . what did general greene find it necessary to do to cover his retreat? who commanded this detachment? . what river was crossed on february th, ? how many miles had greene been pursued by cornwallis? can you go to the map and trace the course of this famous retreat? chapter xxxiv. battle of guilford court house. a. d. . when the british commander found that general greene was completely beyond his reach, he marched to hillsboro and there erected the royal standard. in consequence of his proclamations and the retreat of general greene across dan river, several hundred tories collected under colonel john pyle and started to join lord cornwallis. general greene sent lieutenant colonel henry lee across dan river to observe them. . pyle and his tories supposing lee's force to be british troops, drew near, uttering cheers for king george. suddenly the bugles of the lighthorse sounded a charge, and pyle and his men were furiously assailed. in five minutes ninety lay dead upon the ground, and nearly all the others were prisoners of war. this bloody affair has been called "pyle's hacking match." . major joseph graham, with his mounted force, had just before captured a picket of twenty-five men a mile and a half away from hillsboro. general polk's militia were also in the same vicinity, and soon general greene, having received reinforcements, recrossed the dan and assumed a position on the reedy fork, a confluent of haw river. . cornwallis hearing of pyle's disaster, left hillsboro and moved westward to protect any tories that might seek to reach him. the first time the two armies again saw anything of each other was at whitsell's mill. at that place colonel otho h. williams was posted with a body of light troops, which lord cornwallis attempted to cut off from the main body. he failed in so doing, but both armies were filled with admiration at a display of personal gallantry. . colonel williams had posted sharpshooters in and around the millhouse. these discovered a british officer approaching a ford below them, and saw that he was leading men and trying to cross the stream. many deadly rifles were soon hurling their missiles around him, but slowly, and as if unconscious of being under fire, he crossed in safety. this intrepid man was lieutenant- colonel william webster, then a brigade commander under cornwallis. . on march th, , general greene being at the courthouse of guilford county, learned that the british army was approaching on the salisbury road. he hosted his men in three lines and awaited the enemy's arrival, who came on in fine style, but the first american line, composed of militia, giving ground, only the men of the gallant captain forbis, of the hawfields, gained credit for their conduct. the british found stubborn resistance in the second and third lines, where the continentals were posted. . it was a furious and bloody conflict, and such havoc was wrought in the british ranks by a charge of colonels howard and washington, that lord cornwallis opened fire with his artillery upon his friends and foes alike, and thus checked this dangerous american movement. general greene at length gave orders for retreat, and the field was left in the possession of the british. . british valor was never more splendidly exhibited than upon this hard-fought field. with less than half of greene's force, they won the field, but the victory was too costly. at least one- fourth of the british force was dead and disabled, including the gallant webster, the hero of whitsell's mill. general greene, having halted close by the scene of conflict, returned three days later to again offer battle, but lord cornwallis was flying towards wilmington for safety. he who had so long sought to bring on an engagement was now the fugitive. . general greene followed in pursuit, but failing to overtake his foe, he turned his course and marched against lord rawdon, in south carolina. he had redeemed north carolina from the grasp of her foes, and went to confer upon the two other southern commonwealths a similar blessing. no more british armies were to bring ruin and terror to any portion of north carolina. . lord cornwallis hurried to wilmington. his stay was short there, for turning north in the month of april, , he marched his army, by way of halifax, to virginia. there, ere long, this great soldier was to close his career in america. he had, with a small portion of the british force under the command of sir henry clinton accomplished more than all compatriots. . on september the th a brilliant battle took place at eutaw springs, in south carolina, between general greene's army and the british under colonel stewart. it was the hardest fought and best conducted action of the war. the three north carolina continental regiments, led by general sumner, bore the brunt of the conflict, and were greatly praised for their gallantry. about two thousand men each was the strength of the armies, and they lost twelve hundred in killed and wounded. this battle resulted in the retreat of the british to charleston. . governor nash's term of office having expired, thomas burke, of orange, became his successor. burke was an irishman by birth, of good family, well educated, and with fine abilities. he had been conspicuous in public affairs and had shown a warm devotion to the american cause. his home was in hillsboro, which was then the capital of the state. questions. . where did cornwallis next go? what recruits were raised, and who was put in command? whom had general greene appointed to watch the enemy? . describe the surprise and defeat of colonel pyle and his men. . mention the movements of major joseph graham. of general greene. . give an account of the affair at whitsell's mill. . what special act of bravery is related? . what occurred on march th, ? give some account of the battle of guilford court house? . how did the engagement terminate ? . what is said of the british victory? what did general greene do three days later? . where did he then go? . where did cornwallis carry his army? . give an account of the battle of eutaw springs? . who succeeded governor nash, and what is said of him? chapter xxxv. fanning and his brutalities-- capture of governor burke. a. d. . when lord cornwallis left wilmington, on his way to virginia, there were no british troops left in north carolina except about four hundred regulars and some tory recruits, which constituted the garrison of wilmington. major james h. craig was in command there, having captured the place in the preceding january. . he had been trained to arms, and when general burgoyne surrendered at saratoga, was his adjutant-general. he was skillful as a soldier, but utterly unscrupulous as to the means he used to carry out his objects. seeing the british driven from almost all the state, he determined to ruin a people he could not subdue, and began to stir up a warfare of neighborhoods. . he found in david fanning, of chatham county, a powerful aid in his inhuman scheme. fanning was a man of low birth, ignorant and unscrupulous. he was a good partisan guerrilla leader, being brave, enterprising and swift to execute. associating with himself a small band of tories, whose sole objects were plunder and revenge, he was for a time the terror of chatham and orange counties. well mounted and well armed, and continually on the alert, these marauders made havoc of the whig settlements, murdering, burning and destroying, unrestrained by any authority and with no sense of humanity. they did not spare even their own neighbors, many of whom they shot down or hanged at their own doors. . many stories are told of fanning's exploits, of his audacity, his cruelty, his arrogance, and his wonderful successes and hairbreadth escapes. such a state of affairs existed at one time in the counties ravaged by his band that even the pitiless colonel tarleton deplored its continuance. fanning was born in johnston county about the year , and was the vilest and bloodiest wretch ever seen in our limits, most richly deserving the punishment of the gallows. he continued his criminal courses as long as he lived, and was pardoned for a capital felony committed on the island of cape breton not long before his departure from this world. . fanning began his military operations by surprising a courtmartial in chatham. his prisoners were disposed of by parole or sent to wilmington. this was in july, . his attack upon the house of colonel philip alston, a few days later, was a more serious matter, for he encountered stubborn resistance and some loss before compelling the surrender of a force almost as large as his own, and protected by the walls of a large house. four of the whigs were killed, and those who remained alive were spared from butchery by fanning only at the earnest appeals of mrs. alston. . fanning's movements called for resistance, and colonel thomas wade collected a force of more than three hundred men at mcfall's mill, in cumberland county. these were speedily attacked and utterly driven from that portion of the country. it was afterwards learned by the victors that colonel dudley's chatham regiment of cavalry was disbanded, and fanning immediately pushed on to hillsboro. on the morning of september th, his force entered the town, and succeeded in capturing governor burke and several other prominent persons. * *david fanning gives the account of this affair as follows: "we received several shots from different houses; however, we lost none and suffered no damage, except one man wounded. we killed fifteen of the rebels and wounded twenty, and took upwards of two hundred prisoners; amongst them was the governor, his council, and part of the continental colonels, several captains and subalterns, and seventy-one continental soldiers out of a church. we proceeded to the gaol and released thirty loyalists and british soldiers." . the bold marauders who had thus seized the governor and capital of the state, at once started with their prisoners for wilmington; but tidings of this exploit had reached a body of men who hastened to lindley's mill, on cane creek, to receive them. the whigs, nominally commanded by general john butler, were really directed by major robert mebane in their brave and bloody reception of the tories. . the tory colonel, hector mcneil, leading the attack, was slain, and his followers driven back in confusion. it seemed that governor burke would be rescued and the whole tory column captured when fanning, ever fertile in expedients, discovered a ford in cane creek, and having crossed with a portion of his command, attacked the whigs in the rear. this soon ended the battle, which was a bloody one to both sides. . about the same time with the capture of hillsboro, a most gallant and successful attack was made upon the tory stronghold at elizabethtown, in bladen county. there sixty whigs, in the favoring darkness of night, fell upon and drove out a largely superior force commanded by colonel john slingsby. he and many of his men were slain, and major craig was thus confined in his fortifications in wilmington. . when fanning captured governor burke at hillsboro, the chief- magistracy of the state devolved upon colonel alexander martin, of guilford. this latter gentleman had seen some service in the field as an officer of the continentals. governor burke was treated, from the hour of his capture, with extraordinary harshness. he was compelled to march all the way to wilmington, and, after some delay, was sent thence by ship to charleston. . general leslie, who commanded the british army in south carolina, placed the captive governor upon an island near charleston, where the deadly malaria was supplemented by danger of assassination from certain tories, who were loud in their threats of executing such a purpose. burke made repeated applications for a change of quarters, or for exchange as a prisoner, but was told that he was kept as a hostage to be executed in case of the capture and punishment of david fanning. . after months of torture from such treatment, governor burke, feeling that he was justified in disregarding his parole, effected his escape and returned to north carolina. he resumed his office for the short interval between his return and the meeting of the legislature. to his great discomfiture, he was defeated at the next election for governor by alexander mafitin. the members of the general assembly could not forgive this breach of his parole, and he regarded their act as evidence of public condemnation. his sensitive spirit brooded over this. his domestic relations were not such as to soothe and sustain his wounded mind, and the life that opened with such brilliant promise soon closed in gloom. governor burke died and was buried on his farm near hillsboro. no stone has ever marked the spot. he left one child, a daughter, who died unmarried. . general griffith rutherford had been a prisoner in the battle of camden. upon his exchange, he at once renewed his efforts to deliver north carolina from her foes. he soon collected a body of mecklenburg and rowan militia and marched for wilmington. . on nearing the city he received news of lord cornwallis's surrender at yorktown, on october , . he pushed on his lines, and arriving in wilmington he found that major craig had taken ship and was flying from the land he had so scourged by his presence. . the number of men enlisted from north carolina in the continental army during the revolutionary war was: in , , ; , , ; , , ; , , ; , , ; , , ; , , ; , , ; , . the state furnished, in continental troops and militia, , men. questions. . what british forces were in north carolina after the departure of cornwallis? who was in command at wilmington? . can you tell something of major craig? . tell something of the character of david fanning. . give further description of his traits. mention the horrible condition of the state under fanning's exploits. . relate fanning's attack on the chatham courtmartial. what occurred at colonel alston's house? . what officer went to attack fanning? what was the memorable exploit of fanning on september th, ? . what preparations were made for a fight at lindley's mill? . describe the engagement. . what occurred at elizabethtown? . who became governor after governor burke's capture? how was governor burke treated? . what further account is given of his treatment? . mention the concluding events of his life. . what was done by general rutherford upon his exchange? . what did he find upon his arrival at wilmington? . state the number of men enlisted in north carolina during the revolution. chapter xxxvi. peace and independence a. d. to . . on the th of october, , as has been previously stated, lord cornwallis surrendered himself and his army to general washington, at yorktown, in virginia. the timely arrival of the friendly french fleet under count rochambeau enabled washington to lay siege to cornwallis and force him to surrender. . the english commander, who was a skillful soldier, complained that he had been forced, by the orders of his superior officer and against his own judgment, into a position from which he could not escape. general la fayette, however, doubtless had at least an equal share in bringing about the result, for it was his skillful maneuvering of an inferior force that held cornwallis checked so that washington was enabled to bring his troops to their appointed places at the appointed times and cut off all hope of escape. . but a glorious day it was for the colonies, for it virtually put an end to the war, and everybody knew it. the only real questions henceforth were as to the terms of the peace. independence and peace were now assured. . . when the news reached england of cornwallis's surrender, lord north, the british prime minister exclaimed: "oh, god! it is all over." he well knew that the stubborn king had exhausted the patience of the english people. they, and not the king and his ministers, at last put a stop to the bloodshed between the two countries. on november th, , a treaty was signed in paris by which american independence was acknowledged. . the war was over at last. the seven years of deadly conflict were ended. thanks to their patient endurance, their undaunted courage and their untiring perseverance, the american colonies had at last achieved their independence. north carolina was at last a free and independent state, owing neither allegiance or fealty to any prince or power in the world. . of coarse there was great joy at the coming of peace, with the full recognition of the colonies as independent states. but there were still more difficulties to be overcome before the full tide of peace and prosperity could set in. . the agricultural interest of the state was doubtless affected by the war less than any other, owing to the employment of slave labor. but the soldiers had returned and wanted homes. homes were not to be provided in a day, nor the implements of husbandry, rude though they were at that time. cattle and horses, too, were to be obtained before the soldier became a farmer. . the finances of the country were in a wretched condition. there was no money to pay the current expenses of the government, and none even to pay the troops. in educational matters the condition was no better there were only two chartered schools in the state, one at new bern and one at charlotte. the constitution had, indeed, enjoined the establishment of schools and colleges, but with north carolinians of that day it was freedom first and education afterwards. . the population, however, had increased steadily during the war, so that in spite of its casualties, the state was stronger in numbers in than in . the legislature met at its appointed times and places, and so did the courts, and civil law had resumed its sway. but swords are not turned into pruning- hooks in a moment, nor are the feuds of a long, bitter war to be settled or forgotten in an hour. . naturally, the whigs bitterly remembered how much they had suffered at the hands of the tories during the long deadly struggle. many of these latter had fled from the province, but now desired to return and be restored to citizenship, or at least to receive possession of their former homes. but the people resolved that this should not be so, for they wanted no tories among them. accordingly, when tories who had left their homes desired to return to them after the peace, permission was refused them. . but it was necessary to reward the whigs as well as to punish the tories. a broad, fertile land, watered by great navigable rivers, and abounding in every possible resource for pleasure, wealth and prosperity, was secured to us by their courage and endurance. but if our brave soldiers desired reward, how much more did they deserve their pay, which was still largely in arrears. . commissioners, therefore, were appointed to sell the lands of refugee tories, and from that and other sources to pay up the arrears due the north carolina soldiers. furthermore, the land now known as tennessee, then a part of our state, was also to be largely devoted to the same patriotic purpose. general greene was given twenty-five thousand acres; one half that quantity to brigadier-generals, and so in a descending scale to the private soldiers. questions. . what is said of the surrender of cornwallis? . of what did the english commander complain? what credit is due la fayette? . how were the colonies considering the question of peace and independence? . what was the effect, in england, of the news of cornwallis's surrender? when and where was the treaty of peace signed? . what had north carolina gained by the war? . how did our people enjoy peace? . what is said of the agricultural interest of the state? . what was the financial condition? the educational? . what is said of the population? . what party was victor in the great struggle? what is said of the tories? . what was deemed necessary? . what plan was adopted towards paying off the soldiers? mention some payments that were made to commanding officers. chapter xxxvii. the state of franklin. a. d. t . . during the years that followed upon the close of the revolution the people of north carolina were busied with the restoration of their ravaged fields and the development of the new system of self-rule inaugurated by the convention of halifax in . there were many good and wise men in america who had no confidence in the perpetuity or effectiveness of a polity which rested upon the wisdom and virtue of the masses for its enforcement. . samuel johnston and the leading lawyers of that day were full of apprehension as to the result, where the protection of life, liberty and property rested upon the ballots of men who were, as a general thing, poor and unlettered. the halifax constitution sought to provide for the education of the people, and had recommended the establishment of a university, but no steps had been taken by the legislature to carry out this wise and beneficent ordinance. . the rev. drs. david caldwell and samuel e. mccorkle were conducting schools on their own responsibility in guilford and mecklenburg, in which many young men were receiving sound and useful preparation for life; and there were similar academies in wilmington, new bern, edenton and charlotte; but as a general thing, education was almost entirely neglected. . under the terms of the "articles of confederation" the general congress continued to assemble, but its sessions resulted in little good to america. the government was continually embarrassed by the public debt contracted in the revolution. it could only pay such liabilities by calling upon the several states for their proportions. these were regulated by the value of the real estate. . north carolina, thus witnessing the helplessness of the general government to meet its pecuniary liabilities, was moved to the noble resolution of ceding the great body of land then belonging to the state west of the allegheny mountains. this princely domain, now constituting the great state of tennessee, was at that period only settled in part by white people, and many millions of acres of fertile lands could be sold to settlers. . such a resource would have brought a great fund to the state for education and other useful purposes; but with unexampled devotion to the general good, it was determined by the legislature of that the governor should tender to the federal government, as a free gift, all the lands not already granted to soldiers and actual settlers. . . to an embarrassed government, unable to meet its most solemn engagements, such a boon, it seems, would have been gladly received; but so great was the selfishness of certain states which were then struggling to secure for themselves such bodies of western lands, that the intended bounty of north carolina proved a failure. the general congress having failed to accept the offer, the act authorizing the cession was repealed. . the story of this patriotic munificence on the part of north carolina ends not here. when it became known among the western settlers that their country had thus been offered to the general government much excitement followed. colonel john sevier, of king's mountain fame, was a leader among the people of the territory in question. he had been a gallant soldier in the revolution, and was trusted and beloved by his neighbors. he persuaded them that north carolina, in thus offering to surrender her claims to their allegiance, had forfeited all right to further control their destinies. . he procured the support of many others, who elected members to a convention. this body met at greenville, in november, , and framed a government of a state which they called "franklin," in honor of the illustrious statesman, benjamin franklin. colonel sevier was elected governor, and judges and other officers were also chosen. . richard caswell had again been made governor of north carolina, when it became known that such things were being done in the west. he issued a proclamation forbidding the whole movement and denouncing it as revolutionary and unlawful. he was supported by a party there headed by colonel john tipton. . . it often seemed that bloody civil war would ensue between the men who sided respectively with sevier and tipton, but happily there was little bloodshed amid so much brawling. there were many arrests and complaints, until finally, in october, , colonel sevier was captured by the forces of tipton, and brought to jail at morganton, in burke county. he was allowed to escape, and, in memory of his services as a soldier, his offences were forgiven. that there were no more serious results was greatly due to the influence of richard caswell. sevier was afterwards in the senate of north carolina, and, after tennessee became a state, received all the honors a grateful people could confer. [note--there was no money in circulation in the "state of franklin," and the following curious statement, taken from the old records, shows how payment was to be made to the public officers: "be it enacted by the general assembly of the state of franklin, and it is hereby enacted by the authority of the same, that the salaries of the officers of this commonwealth shall be as follows: his excellency, the governor, per annum, one thousand deer skins; his honor, the chief-justice, five hundred deer skins, or five hundred raccoon skins; the treasurer of the state, four hundred and fifty raccoon skins; clerk of the house of commons, two hundred raccoon skins; members of assembly, per diem, three raccoon skins."] . it was thus that the abortive state of franklin arose and disappeared. the state of vermont originated in the same way; and it is fortunate that such precedents have long since ceased in america. there is some limit to the doctrine of the people's right to self-government, just as liberty is not to be found in mere license. questions. . what matters occupied the attention of the people in north carolina after the revolution? how were some men disposed to view the new plan of government? . what was the opinion of samuel johnston? what had been provided for in the halifax constitution? . what private schools were in operation, and where were they? . how was the general congress greatly embarrassed? . to what extent did north carolina sympathize with the general government? what is the present name of that great territory? . what was done by the legislature of ? . why was this a very valuable and timely gift to the government? how did the offer succeed? . what excitement was created in the west by this donation? who was the leader of the people? what was colonel sevier's opinion of the matter? . what was done in ? what name was given to the new state, and why? . what proclamation was issued by governor caswell? who was the western leader of governor caswell's cause? . how did the whole matter end? what position did colonel sevier afterwards occupy? . what other state in the union originated in this way? chapter xxxviii. formation of the union. a. d. to . . the new state of north carolina now became divided and excited as to her position in the confederation of states. each day was demonstrating more clearly the failure of the confederation. its poverty and weakness were exciting the contempt of all civilized nations, and the general congress amounted to little more than an arena for the display of jealousy and selfishness on the part of the individual states. . in north carolina, as elsewhere, the people were divided as to what should be done to remedy this great need of a central and general government. many were opposed to any change. others were for creating a strong and overpowering central government that should overawe and control all of the states. these latter men were called the "federalists." . another, and a larger portion of the people of the state, were in favor of adding to the powers of the general government; but at the same time for going no further in that direction than was necessary for the general safety as against foreign nations, and for the execution of such regulations as pertained to all the states. these "republicans," or "democrats," were willing to empower the new government to carry the mails, control commerce, carry on war, make treaties, and coin money; but they insisted that all other powers should be retained by the states themselves. . in , in consequence of the action of the general congress, a convention of all the states was ordered to meet in philadelphia to prepare a new constitution. . the legislature of north carolina selected governor richard caswell, colonel w. r. davie, ex-governor alexander martin, willie jones and richard dobbs spaight as delegates to that body. governor caswell and willie jones declined the honor, and dr. hugh williamson and william mount were appointed in their places. . . general washington was chosen as president of the convention, and in the result of their deliberations was submitted for the ratification of the several states. it was provided by the convention framing the constitution that nine states should ratify the new constitution before it should go into operation, and that it should then be binding only upon those thus acceding to it. . a convention for north carolina was called and met at hillsboro, july st, , to consider the proposed constitution. samuel johnston, who had been moderator of several provincial congresses, and who had also succeeded governor caswell as chief-magistrate of the state, was chosen to preside. he and judge james iredell, colonel davie and archibald maclaine were earnest advocates of instant and unconditional ratification on the part of north carolina. . willie jones, of halifax, who had so long controlled much of the legislation and government of the state, was the leader of those who opposed such action. they favored the addition of numerous amendments before committing the fortunes of north carolina to such control. they insisted that without further specification, the powers reserved to the several states would not be sufficiently guarded; and the convention, by a great majority, took the same view of the matter. the result was that while declining to ratify absolutely the constitution as it then stood, the hope was held out that upon the adoption of proper amendments it would be ratified. . there was great excitement in the state upon north carolina's thus failing to join the new government. political animosities ran high, and renewed efforts were made to overcome the popular objections. the people became restless at the position they were occupying, being thus, with new york and rhode island, strangers to the great compact of their sister states. . . the new government of the united states went into operation in the spring of , and general washington took the oaths of office on march th as the first president of the republic. in november the legislature and a new convention both met at fayetteville, and on the st the constitution of the united states was speedily ratified, and north carolina was enrolled as a member of the new confederacy, which was to astonish all nations by the vigor of its rule and the splendor and rapidity of its growth as a nation. before this, however, the first ten amendments to the constitution had been proposed to the legislatures of the several states for ratification, thereby allaying the apprehensions that had been felt at hillsboro the year before. . . two important matters were also settled at this period. the convention at hillsboro limited the seat of the state government to some point in wake county. the capital had been migrating from town to town for nearly the whole period of north carolina's existence. the legislature also passed a bill creating the university of north carolina, and the terms of the halifax constitution, as to popular education, were thus first put into some shape of accomplishment. both of these measures were highly needed. [note--the state convention of was commissioned to select a place for the seat of government, which had been migratory since the earliest days of the carolina colony. the place selected for the capital was the farm of isaac hunter, at wake court house, or some other place within ten miles of that locality, to be determined by the general assembly.] questions. . what question was exciting the people of north carolina at this period? what was thought of the confederation? . how were the people of the state divided upon this great question? . what other party was formed? what were they called, and what powers did they propose to give to the general government? . what convention was to meet in ? . who were chosen to represent north carolina in that body? . who was chosen president of the convention? how was the new constitution to be submitted to the people? . what convention met in hillsboro in ? how did some of the prominent members view the question? . what different opinion was held by other leading men? what did the convention do with the constitution? . what was the effect on the state? what other states also failed to ratify? . when did the new government go into operation? who was chosen first president of the united states? when and where did north carolina ratify the constitution and become a member of the united government? . what two important matters were settled at this period? chapter xxxix. france and america. a. d. to . . when north carolina had thus taken her place in the federal union, and the whole system of state and national polity became perfected in america, many hearts beat with gratitude to god for the promises of a glorious future. the magnificent realm won by the blood of heroes was at last guarded by a system of laws so wise and effective that peace and prosperity were soon to make it one of the greatest of civilized lands. . this example of freedom achieved in the wilds of america was speedily felt in europe. general washington had been in the discharge of his duties as president about a month, when the states-general of france met in the famous convention which was to pull down the ancient french monarchy and engulf all europe in seas of blood. the overtaxed and excitable frenchmen were maddened by the contrast afforded in their sufferings and the blessings achieved by their late allies on the other side of the atlantic. . governor caswell, while in the discharge of his duties as a member of the state senate, died at fayetteville, in the month of december, . he was shortly followed in death by william hooper and archibald maclaine. willie jones had retired from public life; and thus, four most conspicuous leaders almost simultaneously disappeared from public life. . colonel william r. davie, of halifax, john haywood, of the same county, and alfred moore, of brunswick, were greatly influential, and were worthy successors of the older servants of the public who had been thus removed from the arena of their former usefulness. governor johnston having been elected united states senator, was succeeded as governor by alexander martin. . . it was during this second term of governor martin's rule that raleigh was selected for the state capital. a large tract of land at wake court house had been bought of colonel joel lane, and upon it a city was laid off and the public buildings erected. before that time, since governor tryon's palace at new bern had been burned, the main question to be determined by every general assembly was what town should be selected for the holding of the next session. . fayetteville, hillsboro, new bern and tarboro were sure to get up an excitement and contest as to which of them should be next favored with the presence of the state officers and the general assembly. the governor and his assistants had been dwelling wherever it best suited them, and the public records had thus been continually migrating over the state. . there was little church organization in america until after the revolution. there was not a single bishop of the episcopal church in all america before the revolution, and not until was an effort made to supply such a prelate for the church in north carolina. the rev. charles pettigrew was then elected bishop of the diocese by a convention at tarboro, but he died before consecration. . the baptists had united their churches in this state and southern virginia, in , in a body which was called the "kehukee association." in the presbyterians had formed the presbytery of orange; and in they set off the synode of the carolinas. the quakers and moravians were flourishing in certain sections, but as yet the methodist missionaries had effected but little in the way of planting churches in north carolina. . richard dobbs spaight, in , became governor, and was the first native north carolinian to fill that distinguished office. he possessed much ability and was familiar with the conduct of public affairs. he found that great excitement and division existed among the people as to the french revolution. because aid had been sent from that country to the struggling american colonists, many men insisted that it was the duty of america to take sides with france in the war then raging in europe. . . general washington and other wise men resisted this dangerous opinion, and held that america should take no part in the affairs of foreign nations. the great struggle went on, with napoleon bonaparte rapidly growing more formidable to the allied kings. . the french had acquired a thirst for freedom from america, but they in turn exerted an influence upon the religious creeds of our people. french books and modes of thought and french fashions became popular, and the country debating clubs were heard repeating the doubts and sneers of voltaire, diderot and other french infidels. . the world's creeds were on trial. kings and priests were as keenly criticised as in the sixteenth century, but out of all the turmoil and bloodshed a larger measure of liberty was to be won. constitutional kings and purified churches were the outgrowth and result of the most prodigious uproar yet witnessed among civilized nations. questions. . what was the feeling in north carolina after the state had joined the union? . how were the effects of american freedom felt in europe? . what great leaders disappeared from north carolina's councils at this time? . what then were fast rising to influence? who became governor? . when was raleigh selected as the capital? why was locating the capital of great good to the state? go to the map and point out the city of raleigh. . what contest would generally arise at meetings of the assembly? . what mention is made of religious matters? . how were the baptists, presbyterians and other christian bodies extending their fields of usefulness? . who became governor in ? what is said of him? what questions did governor spaight find agitating the people when he came into office? . how was this matter considered by general washington and others? . how were the works of celebrated french writers affecting the people of america? . what was to be the conclusion of all these troubles? chapter xl. the federalists and the republicans. a. d. to . . in the last days of the eighteenth century men became more and more plainly divided into two political parties. thomas jefferson, of virginia, a man of decided genius and consummate ability, was the leader of those who maintained that the government of the united states should be strictly limited to the powers expressly granted in the federal constitution and prohibited from the use of any of those reserved to the individual states. . alexander hamilton, of new york, another very able and patriotic statesman, took an entirely different view. he did not consider the people capable of ruling the country, and wished to subordinate the state governments to federal authority. the "federalists" were those who followed his views, while the "republicans" were no less strenuous in upholding mr. jefferson and his policy. . the superior courts of this state, after the resignation of judge iredell, were held, as in old provincial times, at the six favored villages, by judges samuel ashe, samuel spencer and john taylor. in the year , judge spencer came to his death in a singular manner. he was in extreme old age, and had suffered with a long and wasting illness. one warm evening he was carried out and laid upon the grass, beneath a tree in his yard. while lying there the red flannel of his shirt infuriated a large turkey-gobbler, which attacked him with great violence. when judge spencer's feeble cries attracted attention, he had been so injured that he soon after died of nervous exhaustion. . in accordance with the law of , the provisions of the constitution of were first seen in process of fulfillment when the trustees, after mature deliberation, selected chapel hill, in orange county, as the site of the state university. here, upon one of a long range of great hills traversing that region, they secured several hundred acres on the crest of a noble elevation that overlooks the surrounding country. . in the cornerstone of the east building was laid for the university at chapel hill. colonel davie, as grand master of the masons in the state, officiated; as did also rev. dr. mccorkle, who delivered an eloquent address to the citizens who had assembled from all parts of the state to do honor to the occasion. . . in , the buildings and faculty having been made ready, the institution was regularly opened for the reception of students. the rev. david kerr and samuel a. holmes constituted the faculty, and hinton james, of wilmington, was the first student to arrive. thus began an institution of learning in which distinguished men were to be prepared for usefulness in almost every honorable employment among civilized men. . tennessee had been conveyed to the general government soon after the ratification of the united states constitution, north carolina reserving to herself the right to locate land warrants in a certain portion. during the administration of governor ashe, who had succeeded alexander martin, many and extensive frauds in land warrants were concocted by james glasgow, secretary of state, martin armstrong, john armstrong and stokeley donnelson. . . immense tracts of land were located under fictitious boundaries, and not only the continental soldiers, but also the states and the united states were thus swindled by these officers, who had been long honored and trusted in north carolina. . courts were ordered to be held by the general assembly for the trial of these distinguished culprits; and in they were convicted and punished by heavy fines and the loss of their offices. judge john haywood resigned his place on the bench, and instead of trying, defended the malefactors, one of whom paid him one thousand dollars as a fee for his services. * a few years before a similar scene had occurred when benjamin mcculloh was convicted at warrenton and punished for like offences. *north carolina had honored james glasgow by giving his name to one of the counties of the state, but in consequence of his disgrace the name of glasgow county was stricken from the list, and the county named in honor of general nathaniel greene. . the excitement between republicans and federalists grew in intensity. john adams had succeeded general washington as president, and he was one of the most violent of the federal party. french agents and apologists became more offensive in their demands for american aid. president adams procured the passage of laws by congress that startled and confounded many good citizens. . these "alien and sedition acts" armed federal authorities with the power to seize and send out of the country, without trial, any foreigner who might, become offensive to them; also to indict in the district or circuit courts of the united states any writer or publisher whom the grand juries might charge with libel. - . . virginia and kentucky thereupon hastened to pass the famous resolutions of - , according to which the federal constitution is simply a covenant between the states as states, and "each party has an equal right to judge for itself, as well of infraction as of the mode and measure of redress," and to put the battle in array for another great struggle as to the respective powers of the states and the union. president adams and the federalists were overwhelmingly beaten in the contest of , and the republican party went into possession of all the offices by which state and federal powers were to be defined. . a much greater portion of the wisest and most experienced statesmen had been ranked, until this time, with the federalists, but that creed soon grew into such disfavor that few politicians could be found to do it reverence. and this, it may be safely asserted, has been the experience of the american people whenever the majority of them has differed from the learned few. the masses have been, in almost every instance, wiser than those who thus sought to control their views. questions. . what was observed towards the latter days of the eighteenth century? who was one of the political leaders? what views did mr. jefferson hold? . who was the leader of the other great political party? what was mr. hamilton's policy? . what is said of the superior courts and the judges? describe the singular manner of judge spencer's death. . what is said of the university? when was its seat selected, and where? . when was the cornerstone of the east building laid? who officiated? who delivered the address? . when was the university regularly opened? who constituted the faculty? who was the first student to enter? what have been the labors of this institution? . what land frauds were perpetrated in ? who were the guilty persons? . what was the nature of these frauds? . give some account of the trial of these offenders. . what was the condition of affairs throughout the united states at this period? . what was the effect of the "alien and sedition laws"? . what was done by virginia and kentucky? what were the resolutions of - ? what party came into power in ? . what is said of the "federalists"? chapter xli. closing of the eighteenth century. a. d. to . general davie ceased to be governor to become one of three commissioners to paris. he had been appointed major-general to command north carolina's contingent, when it seemed that war with france was inevitable; but that danger had happily passed, and he was sent over to arrange the vexed questions growing out of the berlin and milan decrees. * *these decrees were napoleon's efforts to retaliate for british blockade measures against france. the great conqueror forbade all europe from commercial intercourse with his english enemies. . among the members sent from north carolina to congress, nathaniel macon, of warren, soon became conspicuous for his virtue and weight of character. perhaps no other member of congress ever wielded so lasting and powerful an influence. his unquestioned sagacity, integrity and inflexible adhesion to what he believed to be right, and his unselfish devotion to the public good, made his opposition to any measure almost necessarily fatal to its passage in the house to which he belonged. . there was grief in the last hours of the century, when it became known that general washington had died in his retirement at mt. vernon. judge james iredell had also died about the same time. he had been one of the associate justices of the supreme court of the united states by the appointment of general washington, and fell a victim to the enormous labors incurred in riding the great distances involved in attending his different circuit courts. . . this was, perhaps, the golden age of social enjoyments in north carolina. the quakers were abolitionists, as were also many other good people; but the question had not been agitated, and there was nothing to give uneasiness to masters or false hopes to the slaves. these latter, shared largely in the festivities of the white people, and were free for many years to come to conduct their religious services in any way that seemed best to their wild and fantastic notions. . the president had appointed alfred moore as the successor of judge iredell on the supreme court bench. he was also a great lawyer. judge haywood had left north carolina and was a citizen of tennessee, but from william gaston, archibald henderson and archibald d. murphy the bar received fresh honors; while john stanly, david stone, joshua g. wright and peter browne had begun attendance upon the courts, in which they were to win great reputations. . there had been considerable change effected in the courts. by the statute of four ridings were established. the judges, after riding these circuits, were required to meet in raleigh to try appeals. the sheriffs were no longer obliged to march with drawn swords before the judges as they went to and from the court- houses, nor were the lawyers compelled to appear arrayed in gowns in the trial of cases. . . governor benjamin williams had succeeded general davie. among williams's last official acts was the pardoning of john stanly for killing ex-governor spaight in a duel. this had occurred on sunday, september th, , and was the outgrowth of a bitter political controversy. spaight was a republican, and had warmly opposed the election of the able and impulsive young leader of the federalists. . in the same year occurred the exodus of the remnant of the tuscaroras from bertie county. the reservation on roanoke river, which had been granted them for good conduct in the indian war of , was sold by them to private parties, and they emigrated to new york where the other parts of the tribe had long been located. . among the laws of the legislature of was a statute providing for the payment, to the patentees of the cotton-gin, of a given sum for every saw used in each machine. this implement had been recently invented by eli whitney, who was a young man from new england, engaged in teaching school in georgia . before this time only small patches of cotton had been seen in the southern states. the lint was picked from the seed only by hand, and so slow was the process that a shoe full of the seed cotton was a task usually given to be done between supper and bedtime. whitney's invention was soon to affect the agriculture and commerce of the world. the cotton gin has greatly aided the development of all civilized nations. it has built cities, freighted mighty fleets, and given employment to many millions of the human race. . attention has already been called to the effects of french atheism upon the united states. the tide of unbelief rolled on until many religious people trembled for the creed and morals of american people. its terrible influence was seen and felt in almost every department and employment of life. . in a mighty religious movement began in kentucky, and spread over a large portion of the republic. vast assemblages of the people were seen at the camp meetings. for weeks together the ordinary avocations of life were abandoned by multitudes in order to engage in religious worship; and, in the end, the churches were reinforced by many thousands of new members. questions. . what honors were conferred upon governor davie? . who was north carolinas most able representative in congress? tell something of the character of nathaniel macon. . what great grief came upon the nation at this period? what prominent man died in north carolina at this time? can you state something of his life? . what is this period called in the history of north carolina? what was the condition of the slaves? . what is said of prominent lawyers? . mention some changes which were made in the court system. . who had succeeded governor davie as chief-magistrate? what was one of his last official acts? give an account of the duel? . to what place did the tuscaroras emigrate in ? . what law was passed by the legislature in favor of the inventor of the cotton gin? who was the inventor? . give an account of the preparation of the cotton for use both before and after this great invention. . what was the religious condition of the country? . give an account of the great religious revival of . chapter xlii. growth and expansion. a. d to . the republic of america was wisely ruled during the eight years of mr. jefferson's administration as president. he was not only the greatest of political philosophers, but a consummate party leader. under his management the federalists were so completely won over that even ex-president john adams was found among the electors who voted for jefferson's re-election. . vermont, ohio, kentucky and tennessee were added to the list of states, and the vast territory known as "louisiana" was purchased from france and made a portion of the american union. for this magnificent territory the united states paid fifteen million dollars. but with all this evidence of internal advancement, there was unnecessary and ever-growing trouble with foreign powers. . . great britain had not only failed to carry out the conditions of the treaty of paris, but continual trouble and war with the western indians were traced to the plotting of british agents. in europe, on the high seas, american ships were frequently subjected to wrong and indignity by british cruisers, which seized their cargoes or crews on various pretexts. these maddening interferences, were fast bringing the people of the united states to a determination to vindicate, by arms, their claims as a free and independent people. europe was still convulsed by war. napoleon bonaparte had been crowned emperor, and in the mighty struggle the claims of the aggrieved public were overlooked or despised. . the people of north carolina were still in great want of general education. the university, at chapel hill, was sending out graduates who had already conferred honor upon that seat of learning, but the preparatory schools, so necessary as feeders to such an establishment, were few and far between. . rev. william bingham had begun a school in the eastern part of the state. he removed temporarily to pittsboro, but finally settled at hillsboro and established the academy which is even at this day continued near by, at mebaneville, under the management of one of his descendants. this school, dating from , was, even in its infancy, of marked excellence, and has won more reputation than any similar institution in the southern states. rev. dr. david caldwell's school in guilford, rev. j. o. freeman's in murfreesboro, and a few academies in the villages, however meritorious, produced but slight effect upon the great mass of the people. . there had not been opened a single free school in all the state. occasionally there could be found neighborhoods where a few citizens joined in employing a man to teach the elementary branches of english education, but these were generally attended for only a few months, and were not very admirable either for discipline or in the matters taught. . . the people of the interior and west were becoming anxious for some means of conveyance and travel to the outer world. the crops raised were generally too bulky to pay for expensive transportation over long distances, and for this reason were available to feed only the community in which they were grown. tobacco from all the counties in the northern portion of the state was conveyed to market by rolling the hogsheads containing it along the roads, to markets at petersburg, in virginia, and fayetteville. . in the regions of the long-leaf pine much attention was given to the preparation of turpentine and tar. indeed, so large a trade grew up in these articles, that some people abroad came to think that north carolina produced little else. there were no turpentine distilleries to be found, at this time, in north carolina; and the crude product of the tree was shipped from our ports to be manufactured in other states. . in , during the sessions of the legislature, general james wellborn, of wilkes, introduced a proposition to build, at the state's expense, a turnpike from beaufort harbor to the mountains; but this and all other such improvements were neglected for some time to come. . . the canal through the dismal swamp was to prove very beneficial to eastern counties; but this work, though authorized long before, was yet unfinished. vessels to new york or baltimore still passed out to sea by the dangers of cape hatteras, and not unfrequently both cargo and crew were engulfed amid its cruel sands. . there was, at this period of our history, a brisk trade between the west indies and several of the eastern towns. wilmington, new bern, washington and edenton were all largely engaged in the shipment of staves and provisions; importing salt and tropical stores in return. this, and all other foreign trade, was ruthlessly stopped by the embargo laid by congress. . this embargo was the result of an act of congress which forbade the exportation of all goods from the united states to great britain or her dependencies. it was very similar to the expedient resorted to by the second continental congress for a like purpose, but was not enforced by any voluntary associations of the people, as it was in . . . this extreme measure failed to bring great britain to a surrender of her claim to search american ships; and on the th of june, for this and other just causes, war was declared against her. mr. madison would have temporized and still deferred the dreadful expedient, but the american people were resolved upon indemnity for the past and security for the future; and thus two kindred nations were to waste blood and treasure in an unnecessary quarrel. questions. . who was president of the united states at this period? what is said of jefferson's rule? . what states were added to the union? what great territory was purchased? . how had great britain kept the treaty of paris? what indignities were offered to the american people? how were these things affecting the people? . what is said of educational matters? . what mention is made of the bingham school? what other schools are mentioned? . what was the condition of free education? . in what things were the people of the interior and west becoming specially interested? . what is said of the production of turpentine and tar? . what was proposed by general james wellborn to the legislature of ? . give a general description of coast navigation at this time. . give some particulars concerning trade. . explain the embargo act. . what war was declared in ? chapter xliii. second war with great britain. a. d. to . james turner, of warren; nathaniel alexander, of mecklenburg; david stone, of bertie, and benjamin smith, of brunswick, had served in turn as governors of north carolina during the years of growth and expansion described in the last chapters. william hawkins, of granville, was chosen to the same high office in , and, as commander-in-chief of all the state's forces, felt unusual responsibility in prospect of war even then begun between great britain and the united states. . . it was the purpose of the american government to seize canada and carry on hostilities, as much as possible, in that portion of america. as no great army was assembled at any one point, no call was made upon north carolina for troops to be sent outside of her borders, except to norfolk, in virginia. at that place major-general thomas brown, of bladen, was in command of a division sent from north carolina. . general brown was a veteran of the revolution, and had rendered heroic service at elizabethtown and elsewhere during that long and arduous struggle. his brigade commanders were general thomas davis, of fayetteville, and general james f. dickinson, of murfreesboro. . camps were also established and troops held for action at other points. the western levies were collected at wadesboro, under general alexander gray, and were drilled and kept in readiness to be marched to the relief of either wilmington or charleston. colonel maurice moore, at wilmington, and lieutenant- colonel john roberts, at beaufort, commanded garrisons for the defence of these seaports. . . in the american army on the northern frontier, where winfield scott, of virginia, was winning laurels, were two north carolina officers who were also rising to distinction. these were william gibbs mcneill, of bladen, and william mcree, of wilmington. both became colonels in the corps of engineers. amid the frequent disasters and exhibitions of incompetency on the part of other officers in that department, these gallant men were of great credit to america and to north carolina. . on the sea, where the mighty fleets of great britain had at such fearful disadvantage the few cruisers of their opponents, were also to be found brilliant representatives of this commonwealth. captain johnston blakeley, of wilmington, had been reared by colonel edward jones, the solicitor-general of north carolina. he had already made reputation in the mediterranean sea under commodore preble. . early in he went to sea in the united state's sloop-of- war wasp, and captured, with great eclat, the british sloop- of-war reindeer. having burned this prize for fear of its recapture, he refitted in a french port, and in august encountered another british ship, the avon. the british vessel had struck her colors, when a fleet of the enemy came upon the scene and the victorious wasp was forced to fly. in a few days blakeley, thus cruising over the crowded seas surrounding england, captured fifteen merchant vessels. on one of these, the brig atlanta, he put a prize crew and sent her to the united states. . this is the last that is known of this gallant and ill fated officer. he perished in some unknown manner at sea, but has left an imperishable name to our keeping. . captain otway burns, of beaufort, was the commander of a cruiser known as the snap-dragon. with this privateer he long roamed the seas, and was victorious in many well fought actions. he survived the war and was afterwards a member of the legislature. the village of burnsville was named in his honor. . in addition to the troops already mentioned, a regiment commanded by colonel joseph graham, so highly distinguished in the revolution, was sent against billy weathersford and his creek warriors, who had massacred nearly three hundred white people in fort minims, on the alabama river. another north carolinian by birth, general andrew jackson, of tennessee, was in command of the force sent to avenge this outrage of the red men. * *general andrew jackson was born in mecklenburg county, on the th day of march, , . so swiftly and completely had jackson done his work, that when the north carolina regiment arrived there was nothing left to do; for, as weathersford declared, his braves were all dead, and the war ended. the indians were required, as a preliminary to peace, to bring in their fugitive chief, weathersford. that bold and able half-breed did not wait for arrest upon hearing these terms, but rode into general jackson's camp, and in surrendering himself, boldly announced that he did so because he no longer had warriors to continue the struggle." i have nothing to ask for myself," said he, "but i want peace for my people." . . peace was soon made between the united states and great britain, and the two nations, after struggling for each other's injury for three years, agreed to stop without settling a single one of the causes of the war. england did not even agree to cease impressing men from the united states navy, but this was no more practiced. the treaty of peace was ratified by the united states senate, february th, . questions. . what governors had served in north carolina during the years just considered? who was governor at the beginning of the year ? . how had the united states proposed to conduct the campaign? what troops did north carolina furnish? who was in command? . what is said of general brown's past record? who were his brigade commanders? . what military preparations were made in north carolina? . what two north carolina officers were winning distinction under general winfield scott? in what branch of the army were they serving? . what is said of affairs on the seas? what north carolina naval officer was distinguishing himself? . give an account of some of his bold and heroic exploits. how many english vessels did he capture? . what is known of him after this? . what other seaman was distinguishing himself for his bravery? how is his name commemorated in the state? . who was sent against the indians? what great general was in command of all this force? . what was the success of general jackson's expedition? . what is said of the end of the war of ? chapter xliv. after the storm. a. d. to . when hostilities ceased it seemed a great thing to the people of north carolina once more to enjoy the full benefits of trade and commerce. british cruisers had made all foreign commodities very scarce and costly. salt had been made on the seacoast in limited quantities, but of inferior quality. it was, therefore, gratifying to the people to see the stores again filled with goods of every description. . when this period of its history had been reached, the state was divided into sixty-two counties. each of these sent annually to the general assembly one senator and two members of the house of commons. edenton, new bern, wilmington, fayetteville, hillsboro, halifax and salisbury were called "borough towns"; and, by virtue of this superior dignity, each sent, in addition to the county members, a representative to the lower house of assembly. . the moravian settlement at salem had prospered, and though no great numbers of that sect had come over from europe, yet much wisdom and thrift were seen in the affairs of wachovia. a female seminary of real excellence and great popularity had been founded in , and young ladies from all the southern states were receiving a good education in this retired and healthful region. . raleigh then contained about eight hundred people: fayetteville twice as many. wilmington and new bern were the largest and most important towns in the state, but were still limited in population and trade. edenton and halifax had each lost importance, and many villages were surpassing them both in number of inhabitants and in extent of trade. . . dr. joseph caldwell had been, for many years, president of the university. he came from new jersey to make north carolina his future home, and gave the state of his adoption so laborious and useful a devotion that his name will be cherished in its limits so long as learning and patriotism are valued he was not only making the college famous for the excellence of its appointments, but internal improvement was advocated by him so intelligently and zealously that the general apathy on the two great subjects of education and intercommunication was passing away. . the churches were likewise providing for increased effect among the people. the methodist conference was each year adding to the number of its churches and itinerant preachers. the baptists had added the "chowan" as a coadjutor to similar bodies known as "sandy creek" and "kehukee" associations. . the episcopal diocese of north carolina, in , perfected its organization by the election and consecration of bishop john stark ravenscroft. he was a man of strong character and eminent piety and usefulness. as a preacher, he was held in equal reverence with another distinguished divine of that day, the rev. john kerr, of caswell, a leader among the baptists. [note--in , dr. caldwell delivered an exceedingly able address before the legislature, on the subject of railways, and a considerable interest was awakened. the first railway in the united states was built in . this was in massachusetts, and was only two miles long. it was known as the "quincey railroad." the first passenger railway was the baltimore and ohio road, fifteen miles long, and was regularly opened in . the cars were drawn by horses until the next year, when a locomotive was used.] . the presbyterian synod also contained many able and excellent ministers. rev. drs. samuel e. mccorkle, david caldwell and james hall were greatly esteemed for their learning; and devotion. this church was specially active and efficient in refuting the teachings of the french atheists. . william gaston and bartlett yancey were leaders among the statesmen of north carolina at this period. they were both greatly distinguished for eloquence and ability. for purity of character they had not been surpassed in all our annals. another james iredell had arisen in chowan county, and in craven were john stanly and young george e. badger. in caswell appeared romulus m. saunders, another young lawyer of fine abilities, who became a distinguished citizen of the state. . the establishment of the supreme court, in , on its present basis, was largely the work of bartlett yancey. john louis taylor, the chief-justice, with leonard henderson and john hall, as associates, constituted a tribunal which was soon to win the veneration of american lawyers. . . this has been called the era of "good feeling" in american politics. but the question of slavery in the territories was fast assuming a dangerous importance. . the northern states objected to the admission of any more slave states. the southern would consent to no such prohibition. the storm grew louder, until it was temporarily settled by the "missouri compromise" of march d, , which provided that henceforward slavery should be forever forbidden north of the parallel of ° ' the news of which, however, mr. jefferson declared fell on his ears "like a fire-bell at night." questions. . what was the condition of north carolina after the war of ? . how many counties were in north carolina in ? what is said of the representation in the general assembly? what towns had special privileges? . give some account of the growth of the moravian settlement at salem. . give some description of various towns and villages. . what efforts was dr. joseph caldwell putting forth for the advancement of the state? . what growth was seen among the methodist churches? . who was at the head of the episcopal church? what is said of bishop ravenscroft? . who were the most eminent presbyterian divines? what benefit was derived from their labors? . mention the political leaders. . through whose efforts was the supreme court established? who were the justices? . what was this period called? . what question was greatly agitating the people? chapter xlv. the whigs and the democrats. a. d. to . . in the decade following the enactment of the missouri compromise there was prodigious material growth in every section of the american union. in north carolina the real prosperity of the people was imperceptible, by reason of the heavy emigration to the south and west. not only population, but wealth, was continually withdrawing to more profitable fields of labor and speculation. . while the northern and western sections of the union were receiving the thousands who came every year from europe and elsewhere, there was no such accession to our numbers. for a century past there has been little or no immigration to north carolina. the stream of settlers that once poured so steadily into the hill country had ceased even before the revolution. . after the overthrow of the federalists by mr. jefferson, in the year , there was no national party struggle on the old issues, but in every portion of the country were individuals who adhered to the views of alexander hamilton as to the proper construction of the constitution of the united states. many of these were men of great social and professional eminence. . under mr. madison and his successors there was, in fact, no party but the democratic-republicans. every one who hoped for political promotion professed the faith of that organization. there was no party division as to the bank or the united states, or the tariff of duties on foreign imports. . in the year the state was graced by the visit of general la fayette. a half century before he had left his wife and all the charms of life in paris to do battle in behalf of the struggling american colonies. after acting a distinguished part in the french revolution, he had returned as the nation's guest, to receive the thanks of another generation for the great services he had rendered in the past. he went from state to state, every where greeted with the utmost love and veneration. he soon returned to france in the united states ship brandywine, after receiving princely recognition and rewards from congress. . in this year, also, a considerable excitement was created on account of an extraordinary advance in the price of cotton. in a few weeks the price went from twelve to thirty-two cents per pound. this great rise was only temporary, and many people were ruined by the sudden and unexpected fall. . in the election of john quincy adams, by the house of representatives, to the presidency, resulted in giving a new aspect to political matters. general andrew jackson, who had received the largest popular vote, and was then a senator from tennessee, became the leader of those who were called "democrats." those who were opposed to him assumed the name of "whigs." . mr. adams, though elected as a democrat-republican, soon found that party arrayed against his administration. henry clay, and all of those who had been federalists, supported the president. in north carolina many prominent men arrayed themselves with the new party. these whigs, as they were called, advocated a continuance of the united states bank, a tariff for protection on importations, and a distribution to the several states of the money realized by the sale of public lands. . general jackson and the democrats favored a tariff for revenue. they contended that the national bank was not only unauthorized by the constitution, but also dangerous to the liberties of the people. they were likewise unfriendly to the plan of making the states pensioners of the general government, as proposed in the policy of distribution. . soon great rancor developed between the two parties, both of which had lately been included in the republican ranks. henry clay and john randolph inaugurated animosities by a duel; and soon, in north carolina, as elsewhere, social amenities were but little regarded between the whigs and democrats. . this was very absurd. all were citizens of a free country, and were entitled to hold and express opinions as to what was the best policy for the government to pursue. god has so constituted men that, of necessity, they must differ in opinion on all subjects. how weak and wicked, then, is the man who hates his brother because of the failure to agree on matters that are, after all, involved in doubt. . it was not always so, however, for when the constitution was framed in philadelphia, in , all the states but massachusetts recognized the legality of slave property. very soon afterwards, however, the "society for african emancipation" was formed, with dr. benjamin franklin as its president. this body petitioned congress to abolish slavery in the states and territories, but was answered that the constitution left this matter to the states, and that the federal authorities had no powers. . the northern states finding slave labor unprofitable, had all abolished this institution in their midst, and their slaves had been sent to the south and sold. southern men, also, had been divided as to the policy of continuing a state of society so opposed to the general liberties of mankind; but this liberal spirit in the south was checked by the violent and unreasonable criticisms and denunciations of the northern reformers. questions. . what growth was noticed in the union during the years just considered? . what is said of immigration to north carolina? . in what condition were the political parties of the country? . what is said of president madison's administration? . what distinguished frenchman visited north carolina in the year ? how was he everywhere received by the people? how did congress treat him? . what is said of the extraordinary rise in the price of cotton? how did it affect many people? . what was the effect of the election of john quincy adams? what two political parties then existed? . what troubles did mr. adams find? what party was led by henry clay? what were some of the whig principles? . what did general jackson and his party advocate? . what results were produced by the violent assertions of these opinions? . what is said of political animosities? . how was the question of slavery viewed? what state refused to recognize the legality of slave property? what society was organized? chapter xlvi. the condition of the state. a. d. to . . while the republic of the united states was so divided and agitated as to matters of policy touching the interests of all the union, there were, at the same time, many issues of local importance confined to north carolina. . the old habit of annually changing the place for holding the sessions of the legislature had first brought about a feeling of sectionalism between the eastern and western counties. western men had first learned to combine in securing hillsboro rather than new bern for this purpose. it was natural and right for them to seek to lessen as much as possible the distance that separated the state capital from their homes. . . the western counties were also anxious to change the system of representation, so that their weight in population should be felt in legislation. as it was, the east held control of both houses of the general assembly. hertford, with five hundred voters, had exactly the weight of buncombe or orange, with its thousands. eastern men would not consent to modify this hardship. they insisted that the halifax constitution was still to be adhered to, and refused to go into a constitutional convention for fear of changes that might subject eastern wealth to taxation in order to secure the construction of highways in the west. . . on the morning of the st of june the capitol at raleigh was burned. the fire was caused by the carelessness of a workman who was covering the roof. the building was a total loss, as was also the beautiful statue of washington, which stood in the rotunda. a new capitol was erected upon the site of the old building, by act of the legislature of . it is an elegant structure, and was built of native granite, at a cost of over a half million of dollars. . the burning of the capitol, or state-house, as it was called, was a calamity and inconvenience, but the chief regret was over the loss of the marble statue of washington. this fine work had recently been received from the famous sculptor canova, in italy, and was said to be one of his finest productions. [note--by a freak of liberality, unusual in those good old days, when the state never spent over ninety thousand dollars a year for all purposes, when taxes were six cents on the one hundred dollars value of real estate only, and personal property was entirely exempt, the general assembly had placed in the rotunda a magnificent statue of washington, of carrara marble, by the great canova. it was the pride and boast of the state. our people remembered with peculiar pleasure that la fayette had stood at its base and commended the beauty of the carving and fitness of the honor to the great man, under whom he had served in our war of independence, and whom he regarded with a passionate and reverential love. --(hon. kemp p. battle. ll. d. ).] . . on the th day of june, , a political convention, composed of gentlemen from the western portion of the state, met in raleigh. it was presided over by bartle yancey. the object of the convention was to devise measure to secure greater weight in the legislature to their great and growing popular majorities. many wise and desirable changes in the constitution of were suggested, and the result was that sectional feeling ran very high. so much so, that in time the people of the west might have proceeded to extreme measures had not the legislature of come to the rescue in the passage of the "convention bill." . on a close vote, aided by the votes of eastern borough members, the bill was passed which provided that, in case a call for a convention therein contained should be endorsed by a majority of the voters in the state, then a convention should be held; and each member chosen, before taking his seat should take oath that he would not be a party to any further alterations of the constitution than those specified in the enabling act. . . the convention met in raleigh on june th , and nathaniel macon was made president. many of the ablest men in the state were members. judge gastor, governor david l. swain and judge j. j. daniel were leaders in the debates. borough representation and free negro suffrage were abolished. the election of governor was taken from the assembly and committed to the people. the legislative sessions were made biennial instead of annual, as of old. each county was to send one member to the house of commons, and more if its population justified so doing. one hundred and twenty members constituted this body, while the senators were limited to fifty. the upper house was to represent taxation; and the lower, population. . these organic changes were ratified by a popular majority of more than five thousand votes. this change of constitution was soon followed by the first popular election for governor. governors miller, burton, owen and swain had successively occupied the executive office in north carolina, until the legislature, in , for the last time, selected a governor in the person of richard dobbs spaight, of craven. . this gentleman did not equal his father in the brilliance of his endowments, but he was well fitted for the exigencies of a contest before the people. he was nominated for re-election by the democrats the next year, but was beaten by the whig nominee, edward b. dudley, of wilmington. mr. dudley was not only a very able lawyer, but proved himself a statesman of enduring worth. questions. . what is said of these troublesome years? . what troubles were seen in north carolina? what divisions had rung up between the eastern and western men of the state? . how did the men of the two sections view the question of representation? . what public building was burned on june st, ? what was the cause of the fire? what was lost with the building? where was the new capitol built? of what was it built? . what was the chief regret? who was this work by? . what is said of the western convention of ? . what law was enacted concerning a convention? . what is said of the memorable convention of ? what changes were made in the constitution? . what was the majority of the votes given to the amendments? who was the last governor selected by the legislature? . what two candidates were before the people in ? who was the first governor elected by the people? . how had the northern states acted in regard to slavery? what checked the liberal spirit of the south concerning slavery? chapter xlvii. internal improvements--the courts and the bar. a. d. . there had been many changes effected among the people of north carolina by the lapse of time when the year came in. bartlett yancey, the two drs. caldwell and archibald henderson were all dead, and their places filled by other men. cotton was becoming more and more widely cultivated, and, year by year the value of slave property was increasing by reason of the profits realized in the cultivation of this great southern staple. . the dismal swamp canal was at last ready for traffic between the albemarle country and norfolk, in the state of virginia. a change was soon apparent in the trade of the towns thus connected by a new watercourse with the outer world. the dangerous voyages through the inlets and out into the ocean were by degrees abandoned, and almost all direct trade with the west indies ceased. . the first railway charter given in north carolina was that of the petersburg railroad. this was in , and was followed, two years later, by that of the portsmouth and roanoke route. soon after, governor dudley and others organized the wilmington railroad, leading to weldon, the same terminus fixed for the others. this was for some time the longest single line in the world. . a few lines had been constructed in the united states prior to these, but they were among the pioneer works of the vast network of railways now seen in every portion of the republic. wonderful changes have taken place in the travel and traffic of the states. the vast extent of the national territory once presented to wise observers of our institutions a bar to any unity of thought and interest; but steam and electricity have triumphed over space, and the republic, in , is far more compact and its parts greatly more accessible than were the atlantic states in . . in just a half century the iron lines, beginning at the sea, have reached and pierced the mountain barriers of western north carolina. from state to state rush the tireless ministers of our wealth and pleasure. instead of the wagon toiling slowly in the rear of weary axemen, we see the long and well-appointed railroad train sweep by with the speed of the hurricane, bearing the wealth of states, and doing more in the course of twenty-four hours to diffuse civilization and luxury than our ancestors could have accomplished in as many years. . the baptist churches of the greater portion of north carolina, in , formed what they called a "state convention" and organized for missionary and other purposes. this important movement resulted in a great improvement to this denomination, for out of this combination learned periodicals, new churches and many colleges and schools were to have their origin. . among public men of that day, judge willie p. manguni, of orange, held a distinguished position. his brilliant eloquence and gracious demeanor secured his election in , over governor john owen, to the united states senate. in this distinguished body he remained long and became highly influential. a personal difficulty came near resulting in a duel between these two gentlemen, but it was amicably settled. governor owen was no further in public life, except to preside over the convention which nominated harrison and tyler for the chief executive offices of the united states in . . upon the death of chief justice taylor, in , the legal profession lost one of its greatest ornaments. his strong natural understanding was further improved by his learning; but in addition to this, he possessed qualities which peculiarly fitted him for framing the practice and precedents of a new tribunal. he was an eminently wise and just man, and well deserved to be called the "mansfield of north carolina." . upon judge taylor's death, leonard henderson became chief- justice, and judge j. d. toomer, associate-justice. the latter only remained a member of the court a few months, and having resigned, was succeeded by thomas ruffin, of orange. no one in our history has brought higher judicial qualities to the bench than were seen in judge ruffin. deep learning, wide grasp and luminous statement soon made him respected both at home and abroad. . upon the death of chief-justice henderson, in , william gaston, of craven, was elected to the supreme court. the court was then composed of chief-justice thomas ruffin, joseph j. daniel and william gaston, associates; and was unequaled in america as a legal tribunal. judge daniel was able, learned and upright; and in gaston nature had combined her highest gifts. his roman catholic creed was not shared by many people of the state, but such were the purity and usefulness of his life, that no man of his time was more beloved or trusted. . the judges of the superior courts were also men of integrity and ability. henry seawell, who was a powerful advocate in the courts, and had twice been clothed with the judicial ermine, had recently died, and the different circuits were then presided over by thomas settle, of rockingham; r. m. saunders, of wake; john m. t. dick, of guilford; john l. bailey, of pasquotank, and richmond m. pearson, of rowan. . the bar of north carolina was never more respected for the learning and eloquence of its members than at the period now reached in this narrative. gavin hogg, peter browne and judge duncan cameron were all men of renown. they were possessed of large fortunes and left names of unsullied honor. . judge badger, b. f. moore, thomas bragg, and w. n. h. smith, were all in full practice before the courts, and were the peers of iredell, davie and archibald henderson of former days. it is impossible to overestimate the influence for good or evil which has been and ever will be exerted by the lawyers in a free land. they are the sentinels and conservators of public liberty, and, next to the clergy, improve or impair the morality of the masses. questions. . what changes were noticed in north carolina in ? what is said of cotton and slave property? . what canal had been completed? how did it benefit that section? . what is said of the railway charters? . in what condition were railroads at this time? . what is said of the present means of travel? . what religious convention had been formed in ? . what public man is now mentioned, and what is said of his abilities? . what mention is made of chief-justice taylor? . what changes were made in the supreme court? what is said of judge thomas ruffin? . who succeeded judge henderson? who composed the supreme court in ? . can you name some of the judges, of the superior court? . what is said of the bar at this period? . how is the influence of lawyers always felt in a community? chapter xlviii. origin of the public schools. a. d. to . it will be remembered that in the first school was incorporated by the legislature of north carolina, by the act in favor of the academy at new bern. in this, and subsequent legislation for schools at edenton and elsewhere, it had provided that the teachers should all be communicants of the church of england. this stipulation was, of course, part of the english church and state system of government. . when, just previous to the outbreak of the revolutionary war, the founders of the "queen's museum," at charlotte, a school so named in honor of the queen of england, asked incorporation of the colonial general assembly, it was not granted, for the reason that this institution was presbyterian, both as to trustees and faculty. up to that period dissenting ministers had not been allowed any legal recognition, and it was considered a great concession that the presbyterian clergy were allowed to officiate at marriages. . during the revolution (in ) the useful seminary at charlotte was first legally chartered as "liberty hall." it was in no way sustained by or connected with the state, but was to the presbytery of orange what davidson college is now to the, synod of north carolina, and was sustained solely by the contributions and patronage of private citizens. indeed, this had been the case all along with the chartered schools of new bern and edenton. . in , when the convention at halifax framed the first constitution for the state, among the leading ordinances of that instrument was that for the state's active aid to the education of the people. with this clause in the constitution which they all swore to uphold, the legislators had done nothing so far, except to provide, in , for the establishment of the university at chapel hill. * *section of the halifax constitution declared "that a school or schools shall be established by the legislature for the convenient instruction of youth, with such salaries to the masters, paid by the public, as may enable them to instruct at low prices. all useful learning shall be duly encouraged and promoted in one or more universities." . this disregard of their organic law, on the part of those constituting the state government, was deeply regretted by many wise and good men. but only a few dared to encounter the opposition to taxation for popular education. governors johnston and davie in former days, and judge murphy and bartlett yancey of later times, had been strenuous for a larger compliance with the terms of the state constitution, but the members of the several legislatures, fearful of incurring popular displeasure, or for other reasons, had held back. . general jackson and the democratic party had opposed the distribution of the proceeds from the sale of national public lands as a fixed rule in the policy of the government, but in his last administration many millions of dollars had accumulated in the federal treasury, for which the general government had no immediate use. in this fund was divided out to all the states except virginia (that commonwealth refusing her share). north carolina's proportion amounted to one and a half million dollars. . this fund, together with the amounts realized from the sale of swamp lands belonging to the state, and certain shares of bank stock, also the property of north carolina, was set aside and invested for the benefit of the public schools of the state, and was known as the "school fund." . it was not until the year that any effective legislation was had for the establishment of the free educational system. by an act of the legislature of , the governor and three others, by him to be appointed, were constituted the "literary board." in an act was passed to divide the counties into school districts. it left to each county the option of schools or no schools. it showed considerable advance in popular wisdom, that all but one of the counties decided to have schools and to be taxed for the election of such buildings as were necessary in the work. [note--the presidential campaign of was an unusually exciting one. the whig nominee, william henry harrison, was charged by his opponents as having lived in a "log cabin," with nothing to drink but "hard cider." his friends made good use of these charges. "hard cider" became a political watchword, and in the numerous whig processions a "log cabin" on wheels occupied the most prominent and honored position. the "log cabin campaign" will long be remembered. president harrison died within one month after his inauguration. his last words were, "the principles of the government; i wish them carried out. i ask nothing more."] . not in the general assembly alone was the subject of education receiving unusual attention. the baptists, in , established a high school on the farm of colonel calvin jones, in wake county. a little later it was changed in name and became wake forest college. the presbyterians, in , founded davidson college, in mecklenburg. these denominational institutions became noble adjuncts to the university in affording opportunities for liberal culture in our own borders. . thus, at last, the "old-field schools" were superseded as better institutions took their place. the old-fashioned country teacher, who passed from house to house for subsistence, and was wholly dependent upon the feelings or caprices of one or two employers, gradually disappeared as academies and common schools multiplied. . the bingham school in orange, the lovejoy school in raleigh, the bobbitt school in franklin, the caldwell institute in greensboro, trinity college near raleigh, the donaldson academy in fayetteville, and numerous other excellent male academies greatly added to the number of well-informed and useful men. . . the salem seminary, so widely renowned for the host of cultured women sent out to every portion of the south, at last found a worthy rival in st. mary's school. this institution was established at raleigh, in , under the patronage of bishop ives and the episcopal diocese of north carolina. rev. dr. aldert smedes, who soon presided over its fortunes, was singularly fitted for such place; for in no other institution in america was intellectual training more largely supplemented by the moral and social graces. these popular institutions were soon reinforced by the excellent methodist female college at greensboro. . presbyterian's, a few years later, had a first-rate school for the education of their daughters in "edgeworth," a noble seminary established by governor morehead at greensboro. questions. . what is this chapter about? what laws has been enacted concert concerning education? . why had incorporation been refused to the "queen's museum"? . what is said of the schools at charlotte and davidson? . what clause was in the first state constitution? how had the intent of this clause been carried out? . what were some of the views in regard to popular education? what men had advocated the provisions of the constitution? . what addition to the school fund did north carolina receive in ? . how was the fund further increased? . can you mention the legislation at this period affecting school matters? . what denominational schools were founded about this time? . what is said of the "old-field schools"? . where were the leading male schools, and what is said of the usefulness? . what female schools are mentioned? what is said of st. mary's school? what is said of other schools? chapter xlix. slavery and social development. a. d. to . . when the year of our lord had come, peace and prosperity were in all portions of north carolina. society was still divided into three classes. these were: the white people, the slaves and the free negroes. the latter class had originated by manumission, and were numerous in some of the eastern counties. they had lost the right of suffrage by the action of the state convention of . . this action on the part of the convention was due in some degree, doubtless, to the constant agitation of the slavery question, though by no means due to that alone; but to the further fact, as well, that during the time they voted by sufferance they had plainly demonstrated their utter unfitness to appreciate or exercise the great right of suffrage. . as a class they were unthrifty and dishonest, and each year becoming more useless as members of the community; their association with the slaves was regarded as an evil to be avoided if possible; therefore, they were discriminated against in the legislation of the period. virginia and ohio had both enacted statutes which forbade them access to their borders. north carolina provided by law that in case of their removal from the state they lost their residence, and were forbidden to return. . the right of the states to pass such laws for the protection of their slave property cannot be denied, unless the right of property in slaves be also denied. nor can they properly be called unjust. the right of property in their slaves the people of north carolina regarded as settled by the constitution of the state and that of the united states. theorists might speculate whether african slavery was consistent with the american declaration of independence as they pleased, but the right of property in slaves was undisputably recognized and secured in the fundamental laws of the land. as to the moral question involved, if any such there was, the southern slave-owner regarded it as one between himself and his god, and not between himself and his northern brother. . as a matter of course, slavery and intellectual culture are incompatible, and education was therefore denied the slaves. the right to testify in the courts against a white man, and even the right to defend himself from the assaults of white men, except in defence of life in the last extremity, were also necessarily denied him. these restrictions were necessary to the maintenance of the legal relations between the dominant and subject races. . of course there were those who studied the slavery problem from every possible standpoint, except the constitutional legality of it. that, at least, was fixed. some doubted the morality of it and others questioned the policy of it, and it is quite possible, had time and opportunity for gradual manumission and exportation offered, north carolina would have been a free state, in the course of events, of her own accord. . the northern states had sold their slaves rather than free them under their acts of manumission. it was not possible for this to be further repeated by the commonwealths still retaining the institution; so in a blind ignorance of the future and in utter hopelessness of any practicable solution of their difficulty, except in remaining as they were, the statesmen of the south contented themselves with a simple policy of resistance to change. . . among the white people of north carolina were found all who participated in the conduct of public affairs. the means of popular education had been too recently adopted to show effects upon the community. the labors of a few wise men were just being crowned with success, and the children of the poor were receiving the rudiments of education in every portion of the state. . in religion, the great mass of the people belonged to country churches. these rural congregations, as a general thing, met on one saturday and the succeeding sabbath of each month, to attend the preaching of a minister who often served other churches as pastor the remaining sundays. beyond the sunday schools and annual protracted meetings, there were no other religious observances except occasional funerals and prayer meetings at private houses. . the balls and horse-races of former days in the eastern counties had, in a large measure, ceased. in the growth of the methodist and baptist churches in that section, such amusements had been so discouraged that festivities of this kind became rare. in the western sections of north carolina they had never been countenanced by the presbyterians. . the summers became more or less marked by great assemblages in the protracted or "camp-meetings." they were, to the devout, seasons of religious devotion, but to the young and thoughtless, opportunities for courtship and social enjoyment. questions. . what three classes of society existed in north carolina in ? . what action was taken by the convention of in regard to free negroes? . what is said of this class of our population? . how did our people view the question of slavery? . what privileges were denied the slaves? why? . what would probably have been the final result in north carolina? . what had the northern states done with their slaves? how was the south compelled to act? . what educational progress was being made? . what was the condition of religious matters? . what effects were seen from the growth of the churches? . what great congregations were found in various places during the summer? chapter l. the mexican war. a. d. to . governor dudley was opposed by ex-governor john branch, of halifax, as the candidate of the democratic party in . governor branch had been in the cabinet of general jackson, and upon his defeat in this contest, retired from public life in north carolina to receive the appointment of territorial governor of florida. in the gubernatorial contest, two years later, john motley morehead, of guilford, as the nominee of the whigs, likewise defeated the democratic leader, judge romulus m. saunders. . they were both men of large natural endowments, and have never been surpassed in the vigor of their debates before the people. they were both educated at chapel hill, and were types of public southern men of their day. judge saunders made a high reputation as a member of congress; and governor morehead so grew in favor that eloquent louis d. henry, who opposed his re- election, was also defeated by a considerable majority. . the loss of the state in the deaths of judge gaston, of judge daniel, and of lewis williams, long one of our representatives in congress, was not easily repaired. michael hoke, of lincolnton, was rising to prominence as a politician when his untimely death occurred. he had just concluded a brilliant canvass against william a. graham, of orange, for the office of governor, and lost his election and his life in the summer of . . this election of governor graham marked a new era in the development of the state. he was the son of general joseph graham, of the revolution, and inherited many of his virtues. no public man in the history of the state has brought closer application or a higher elevation to his duties. like richard caswell and nathaniel macon, his hold upon the public affections was never lost, and to the day of his death he was "first in the hearts of his countrymen" of north carolina. . in , james knox polk, of tennessee, who was a native of north carolina and a graduate of our university, was elected president of the united states. during his administration the united states and the neighboring republic of mexico went to war. the boundary line between texas and mexico had long been in dispute between those countries, a dispute that practically amounted to a constant border warfare. of course as soon as texas was annexed to the united states the federal government took the place of texas as a party to the quarrel, and undisguised, open war followed. . president polk made a visit to the university during his term of office, which was highly appreciated and greatly redounded to the honor of that ancient institution. president polk was born in mecklenburg county in , and died in . the announcement of his nomination for the presidency was the first message ever sent by telegraph. it was sent from baltimore, where the national democratic convention was in session, to washington city, on th may, , over an experimental line, put up at the expense of the federal government, to test professor morse's recent invention. . . a regiment of north carolina volunteers was sent to mexico under colonel robert treat paine, of chowan. it was stationed on the line of communication, but was not actively engaged in any of the battles. two companies of north carolina troops under captains w. j. clarice and charles r. jones, were mustered into the twelfth regiment united states infantry, and did valiant service in the battle at national bridge. . louis d. wilson, of edgecombe, had been captain of company a, in colonel paine's regiment. he was promoted major and assigned to duty in the twelfth united states infantry. he died on duty in mexico, and left his estate to the benefit of the poor of his native county. . captain braxton bragg gained great credit for his conduct at the battle of buena vista, where, with a single battery of light artillery, he resisted the attack of a large force upon general taylor's left flank, and thus prevented a movement that would otherwise have caused the immediate retreat and probable destruction of the american army. . the smoke was so dense in this action that captain bragg was able to place his battery within fifty yards of the advancing column. he gave the foe a round of double canister shot, which opened great gaps in their ranks. they staggered and recoiled under this murderous fire. when the delighted american commander saw that the battle was won, he arose in his stirrups and joyfully shouted: "give them a little more grape, captain bragg!" . major samuel mcree, of wilmington, rendered valuable service as quartermaster in the army under general scott. captain j. h. k. burgwin, of the first united states dragoons, died of his wounds at taos. lieutenant james g. martin lost an arm and gained a brevet at churusbusco. captains t. h. holmes and gabriel rains, and lieutenant f. t. bryan, all gave valuable and recognized service in the two columns under generals scott and taylor. questions. . what period have we now reached? who were governors at this time? what is said of governor john branch? . what mention is made of the candidates for governor? . what deaths of prominent men occurred about this period? . what governor was elected in ? how was he beloved in the state? . what troubles arose in national matters on the election of james k. polk? . what is said, of his visit to the university? of what state was president polk a native? how was his nomination announced? . can you mention the north carolina troops sent to mexico, and their commanders? . tell something about major louis d. wilson. . what valiant officer was with general taylor at buena vista? give an account of his timely aid to the american army. . describe the action. . what other officers are spoken of? chapter li. the north carolina railway and the asylums. a. d. . no single year in human records has been more prolific of change and social advancement than that which witnessed the overthrow of king louis phillipe in france and the general upheaval of all europe. it seemed that the spirits of the sixteenth century had revisited the earth, and that men were everywhere resolved on revolution or amendment. . . north carolina formed no exception to this general impulse of christendom. a wise and patriotic disregard of old sectional and party traditions first led to the assumption by the state of a controlling part in the great work of internal improvement. the railroads that had been previously constructed from different points to roanoke river, were all in a deplorable condition. . the raleigh and gaston route was so decayed and impaired in its equipments that a whole day was consumed in the passage of a mail train over the eighty miles traversed. the seaboard route to portsmouth, virginia, was prostrate and out of use. the wilmington road, though it was in somewhat better plight, was still served by feeble engines, which drew a few trains slowly along the track, ironed no more heavily than the wheels of a six- horse wagon. . the additional fact that no railway went further west than the village of raleigh, also prevented the accumulation of such travel and traffic as to repay the outlay of construction and equipment. the wilmington road furnished the great route between the north and south, and in that way won richer returns than lines leading to the interior. . the long deferred hopes of western north carolina were at last to be realized. ex-governor morehead and others besought the legislature for the state's aid in a great line which should connect charlotte, greensboro, raleigh and goldsboro. this was to be called the "north carolina railroad," and was to be two hundred and forty miles long. . eastern men, as a general thing, opposed this bill, but it was earnestly supported by william s. ashe, of new hanover, and others, in the house of representatives; and, having passed that body, it was sent to the senate. the vote in the upper house resulted in a tie. calvin graves, of caswell, was speaker. he had been a life-long democrat, and knew that the people of his county were opposed to the state's aiding the proposed road, but he nobly discharged what he thought to be his duty, and, by his casting vote, the bill became a law. . this great step in building up the material prosperity of the commonwealth did not satisfy the desires of this memorable assembly. measures that had been adopted at the previous session for the establishment of an institution for the education of the deaf, dumb and the blind children of the state were extended; and, at the earnest solicitation of miss dorothea dix, of new york, a further appropriation was made for the erection of a hospital for the insane. . miss dix devoted her life to the amelioration of this unfortunate class of people. in north carolina, as generally in the republic, there had been no better disposition of lunatics than their confinement in the loathsome dungeons of county jails. numbers who might have been restored to reason and usefulness were, in this way, condemned to the horrors of perpetual insanity. instead of the comforts, kindness and restoration now to be found in the management of the insane asylums, the poor lunatic lay in chains in the murderer's cell and howled out his life amid the darkness and foetid exhalations of the hell to which he was doomed. . north carolina was thus manfully meeting the requirements of both civilization and humanity; for as the condition of their highways affords the truest test of a people's advancement in civilization, so, also does the provision made for the care and comfort of the unfortunate and helpless afford the highest evidence of a people's progress in humanity. . in this memorable session of - , a still further exemplification of the wisdom of the north carolina legislature was seen in their statute for the protection of married women. before that time the husband acquired by marriage absolute title to his wife's personal estate and a life interest in her real property, and these interests he could sell without her consent. he could also restrain her of her personal liberty. . the statute of this year provided that the husband's interest in the wife's lands should not be subject to sale by the husband without her full and free consent and joinder in the conveyance. this was to be attested by a privy examination and certificate appended to the deed conveying such lands. . a further much needed improvement took place when the ancient english rules allowing the husband the right of personal chastisement were also abolished, and this infamous badge of inferiority numbered among the things of the past. . there have been periods in the history of all communities when extraordinary development was witnessed. the overthrow of one ancient abuse leads to the correction of another; and thus, in the awakening sympathies of the hour, reformations give way to a new and higher humanity. questions. . what is this lesson about? what is said of the period now reached? . how was north carolina feeling the general impulse of improvement? . in what condition were the railroads? . how far west were the railroads reaching? which of the roads was obtaining most travel? . what important railway is now mentioned? what was to be its extent? . can you describe the passage of the "railroad bill" through the legislature? . what charitable institutions were provided for at this session? through whose instrumentality was the appropriation made for the insane asylum? . what devotion did miss dix give to this subject? what had been the disposition of the insane before this? . what is said of these internal improvements? . what other important law was enacted at this session? can you tell something of the rights of married women previous to this time? . what were the provisions of the new law? . what was indicated by these acts of the state? . what reflections are made upon this era? chapter lii. a spectre of the past reappears. a. d. to . . the female seminaries of salem, raleigh and greensboro were supplemented, in , in the establishment, by the chowan and portsmouth baptist associations, of another female school of high grade, at murfreesboro. this useful and popular institution soon gained reputation and attracted patronage from many of the southern states. the edgeworth seminary at greensboro was a similar institution under presbyterian rule. it was a worthy rival of its compeers in the education of southern girls. the university, wake forest and davidson college were advancing their standards and growing in prosperity. the university, especially, under the sagacious administration of ex-governor swain, assisted by an able body of experienced teachers, made great progress. several hundred students were in attendance, gathered from all the southern and southwestern states. . governor morehead had been succeeded in office by william a. graham, of orange. in the united states senate, judges mangum and badger were the peers of the best men of the republic, and reflected honor on north carolina. . in the house of representatives, colonel james i. mckay, of bladen, had long been recognized as one of the leading men, and was chairman of the committee on ways and means. messrs. kenneth rayner and thomas l. clingman were also men of recognized ability, the latter bringing varied accomplishments to aid his discharge of duty. . . at the expiration of governor graham's term of office charles manly, of wake, became governor. the people of the state grew excited in the contest between messrs. manly and reid over the democratic proposition to abolish the freehold qualification of voters for state senators. it had been, ever since , necessary for a man to possess fifty acres of land to be entitled to this franchise. it was now proposed to allow all white men the privilege of suffrage. . upon the election of general taylor as president of the united states, mr. polk retired to private life, and soon died at nashville, tennessee. he was a pure and laborious man, but was not the equal of andrew jackson in those great natural gifts which immortalized the hero of new orleans. . upon the cessation of war with mexico, it had been agreed in the treaty of peace that upon the payment of a large sum of money, upper california should, with other mexican territory, belong to the united states. the discovery of immense deposits of gold on the pacific coast led to such immigration there that, in , california was applying for admission as a state into the union. . again the spectre of coming strife and bloodshed was seen in the renewal of the struggle over the question of freedom or slavery in this new sister in the galaxy of states. southern men like henry clay thought that the whole subject had been settled in , when, by the missouri compromise, it had been ordained that involuntary servitude should not obtain north of the geographical line ° ' north latitude. . . it was understood that the surrender of the right to own slaves north of this line was the consideration for the admission of the right to own them south of it, and that this was what the "compromise" meant. but they were told that the inhibition alone was effective, and that no such converse right was intended to be conveyed as that contended for by the men of the south. the most logical of these men said that congress had exceeded its powers in the enactment mentioned, and that no power could settle the question but the people of the new state. . it was seen that "wilmot's proviso," which was an amendment continually offered by mr. wilmot, of pennsylvania, excluding slavery from all future states, was the fixed determination of the northern people. so, after a protracted and bitter struggle, mr. clay, as the last service of a long and illustrious life, procured the passage of the compromise of , in which the only concession by northern men was the "fugitive slave law." . this statute provided that federal courts and officers should arrest and return to their owners such slaves as should be found absconding in the different states of the union, whether free or slave-holding. it was greeted by a prodigious outcry from the northern press and people. they determined that this national law should not be executed, and the different legislatures of the free states began their enactment of personal liberty laws, which made it penal to aid in carrying out the law of congress. . . the people of the south were both exasperated and disheartened at such manifestations, and in view of such palpable violations of their plain constitutional rights, began seriously to consider whether in a union with the northern states the arbitrary will of the people of those states was not to be the rule of government rather than the constitution solemnly agreed upon between their forefathers. if this were to be so, the dream of liberty, regulated by law in the federal union, was at an end. questions. . what educational institutions are mentioned? . who was governor in ? what two men were distinguished in the united states senate? . who were the representative men in the house? . who succeeded governor graham in ? what proposition was agitating the people? . who succeeded james k. polk as president of the united states? what is said of president polk? . what events were occurring in the west? . what spectre of the past reappears? relate circumstances. . in what condition was the question now seen? . what is said of the "wilmot proviso" and "fugitive slave law"? . what was the"fugitive slave law"? how did the north legislate against this law of congress? . how was the south affected by these troubles? chapter liii. the social and political status. a. d. to . the election of general franklin pierce to the presidency, in , was considered by many as a rebuke to those who had been so clamorous in the north against the compromise of . he was a warm supporter of the rights of the individual states, and the knowledge of this fact brought repose to the minds of southern men. . north carolina had just entered upon a career of rapid development in her mineral resources. the incorporation of a clause extending the right of suffrage in the state constitution, the completion of the great central railway, the opening of the asylums and the large addition to the number of schools, were evidences of progress and widespread prosperity. capitalists, for the first time, began to invest their wealth in cotton and woolen factories. . . the creation of the office of superintendent of common schools, in , and the appointment of calvin h. wiley, of guilford, to that position, marked an extraordinary advance in the matter of popular education. mr. wiley soon evinced so much discretion and devotion to his duties that his propositions of improvement were adopted, and his views and wishes soon became those of the state government. the same year was further signalized by the normal school, under charge of mr. craven, being empowered by the legislature to grant literary degrees and the assumption of the full dignities of a college. after nearly thirty years of usefulness, this institution, now known as trinity college, is still accomplishing great good under the auspices of the methodists of the state. . with the new lines of railway and the restoration of the old routes, there was a large advance in the value of real estate and in the amount of productions sent abroad. the use of peruvian guano and other concentrated fertilizers was just being introduced, and the example of edgecombe county in the use of compost heaps was being followed in every direction and adding immensely to the yield of exhausted fields. . it was a notable thing in the political history of the country, that in the presidential contest of the candidates for vice-president, of both the whig and democratic parties, were born in north carolina and educated at chapel hill. ex-governor william r. king, democrat, then of alabama, was chosen over ex- governor graham, who had been secretary of the navy in the cabinet of president fillmore. . the churches were prospering under their increased attentions to education. a larger culture was coming to those who filled the pulpits at home, and devoted men like dr. matthew t. yates were going to heathen lands to spend their lives for the good of other races. the episcopal church had abundant compensation in the wisdom and virtues of bishop atkinson for the loss of bishop ives, upon his leaving that communion for the church of rome. the great slavery controversy was bringing trouble and division to the baptists and methodists, and thus, not only statesmen and politicians, but ministers of the gospel, were also set at variance. . . from massachusetts was sent, at this period, a new and startling impulse to the northern pulpits and hustings. it had been the peculiar glory of the american people that they were the originators of the great doctrine and practice of religious liberty. a new party, calling themselves the "knownothings," had carried that state and were proclaiming their opposition to all roman catholics as public officers. the "know-nothings" were also called the "american party," and their motto was "america for americans." . this was to prove a short-lived and pernicious movement. it not only contravened the noblest american precedents, but at once combined all the ends and fragments of parties which had previously opposed the great organization that had been led by jefferson and jackson. besides their hostility to the roman catholic religion, they inculcated one other principle; this was opposition to the naturalization of foreign immigrants until after a residence of twenty-one years within the borders of the united states. the success of this new party ended in the virginia campaign between governor wise and t. s. flournoy. . . about this time another party began to be prominent in the northern states. it was called the "republican party," and was the outgrowth of the notorious controversy over the passage of the kansas-nebraska act through congress. this statute was, in effect, but a continuance of the legislation in regard to california, and amounted to little beyond transferring the question of slave or free territory from congress to the new states. the north, however, was fanatically bent on the destruction of slavery everywhere within the united states, and would not consent that each new state should settle the question for itself. on the contrary, it was determined to prohibit the spread of slavery whether the people in the new states and territories desired it or not. . it was soon seen, therefore, in the bloody conflicts between the settlers from the north and those from the south, especially in kansas, that "squatter sovereignty" would neither afford protection to southern immigrants in removing with their property there, nor any prospect of a fair solution of a vexed question. . . on june th, , an event occurred in north carolina which brought sadness to the whole state. rev. elisha mitchell, d. d., while making researches and surveys upon black mountain, in the darkness of night, lost his way and fell over a very steep precipice and waterfall, and was killed. his remains were found, eleven days after the accident, in a pool of clear water at the foot of the waterfall. they are now resting on the highest point of the mountain, and the spot is known as "mitchell's peak." dr. mitchell found, by measurement, that the black mountain was the highest point of land east of the rocky mountains. "mitchell's peak" is , feet above the level of the sea, and feet higher than mount washington, in new hampshire. . after the defeat of charles manly by david s. reid, of rockingham, for governor in , the democrats continued to gain in strength in each succeeding election. in , governor bragg was elected to succeed governor reid, by an increased majority, over hon. john a. gilmer, the whig candidate. messrs. mangum and badger were succeeded by governor reid and colonel asa biggs, of martin, as united states senators; and when, in , another governor was to be chosen, both judge john w. ellis, of rowan, and his competitor, duncan k. macrae, of cumberland, claimed to be defenders of the democratic faith. the differences between the north and the south were fast bringing the people of north carolina to one mind. questions. . of what does this chapter treat ? how was the election of president, pierce considered ? . what is said of internal improvements? . what educational progress was being made? . how was the value of lands increasing? . what is said of the presidential campaign of ? . in what condition were religious matters? . how was the question of slavery affecting some of the religious denominations? . what new party was organized in massachusetts? what was the main policy of the "know-nothings"? . what is said of this new party? . what party next originated? . how was the south affected by "squatter sovereignty"? . what fatal accident befell dr. elisha mitchell in ? . what changes in the government of the state are now mentioned? chapter liv. president lincoln and the war. a. d. to . . after seventy years of party struggles touching the relations of the general government to the individual states, the presidential contest of opened with such notes of violence and public confusion, that it was at once seen that at last the supreme crisis had come. . the only issue apparently before the american people was that of slavery in the territories. the democrats were divided into two fragments. those supporting judge douglas for the presidency advocated "squatter sovereignty." the breckinridge men said that the question of slavery should only be settled as to the new states at their constitutional conventions; while republicans supporting abraham lincoln, proclaimed that only the enactment of the "wilmot proviso" would satisfy them. the whig candidates, messrs. bell and everett, and the whig party, were silent on all these stormy differences, and were not of much significance in the general upheaval. . back of this question, however, about slavery in the territories, and involved in it, was the real issue between the republican and democratic parties, and that was whether the federal constitution should be the supreme law of the land. the right of property in slaves was guaranteed by that constitution, and if the republican party could thus destroy that right it might when it so pleased, destroy any and all other rights. the democrats hold that the constitution was supreme; the republicans held that there was a still higher law unwritten and undefined. one was certainty, the other chaos. . it was seen at an early period of the contest, that the bulk of the southern people would be found supporting breckinridge and lane. * it was generally held in all the slave-holding states that the election of mr. lincoln would be significant of a purpose among northern men to disregard their rights, and that the inauguration of the abolition policy by the federal officers would compel and justify the secession of the southern states from the union. *joseph lane was born in buncombe county in this state, and was the cousin of colonel joel lane, who once owned the lands upon which raleigh was built. he had served gallantly as a brigadier general in mexico, afterwards in congress, and as governor of oregon. . when, in november, , it was known that the republicans had triumphed in the national election, and that abraham lincoln would be chosen president of the united states by a majority of the electors in the different state electoral colleges, then it was realized that the extreme southern states would, at an early period, sever their connection with the government at washington. . . south carolina and others said that protection of their property would now be impossible in the union, and therefore, before the inauguration of president lincoln, on march th, , seven states had assembled conventions, and by their ordinances declared the ties formerly binding them to the republic of the united states null and void. . on the st of january, , the legislature then in regular session passed, by a large majority in each house, an act declaring that in its opinion the condition of the country was so perilous "that the sovereign people of the state should assemble in convention to effect an honorable adjustment of the difficulties whereby the federal union is endangered, or otherwise to determine what action will best preserve the honor and promote the interest of north carolina." . at the same time that the delegates were to be elected the act required that the sense of the people should be taken whether there should be a convention at all or not. the election was held on th of february, , and upon the question of convention or no convention, the official count showed a majority of votes against convention, that is to say, , votes for convention and , votes against convention. the vote of davie county, which was not received in time to be counted, would have increased the majority against convention some votes. . how the delegates elected were divided in sentiment on the day of election cannot be ascertained, nor was such division to be relied upon, for changes were daily taking place, and men, no matter how reluctantly, were rapidly coming to believe that in united action by the south lay the only hope for the future. . in april, president lincoln, in consequence of the attack upon and capture of fort sumter, required of governor ellis north carolina's proportion of an army of seventy five thousand men, which was to be used in the coercion of the seceded states. this demand governor ellis promptly refused; and he at once convened the legislature in special session, declaring in his proclamation that the time for action had come, and, upon his recommendation, twenty thousand volunteers were called for by the general assembly to sustain north carolina in her course. . a state convention was called by the legislature on the first of may, and met on the th of may, ; in the hall of the house of commons. on this anniversary of the mecklenburg declaration the ordinance of secession was passed, and north carolina made haste to connect herself with the " confederate states of america." . the ordinance of secession was as follows "an ordinance dissolving the union between the state of north carolina and the other states united with her under the compact of government entitled 'the constitution of the united states. ' "we, the people of the state of north carolina, in convention assembled, do declare and ordain, and it is hereby declared and ordained, that the ordinance adopted by the state of north carolina in the convention of , whereby the constitution of the united states was ratified and adopted; and also all acts and parts of acts of the general assembly ratifying and adopting amendments to the said constitution, are hereby repealed, rescinded and abrogated. "we do further declare and ordain, that the union now subsisting between the state, of north carolina and the other states, under the title of 'the united states of america,' is hereby dissolved, and that the state of north carolina is in full possession and exercise of all those rights of sovereignty which belong and appertain to a free and independent state." . the number of submissionists in north carolina was very small, and the real differences of opinion did not so much regard final action in the crisis as they did the way and the time in which it should be reached. many preferred separate state action; many others preferred concert of action among the states. some preferred immediate action; others thought it advisable to wait until some actual "overt act," as it was called, was committed by the new administration. but no matter how much people were divided on these points, on one point they were a unit, that is to say, in the desire that final action should represent as near as possible every phase of public sentiment. and to secure this greatly to be desired unanimity in action, many personal preferences and original opinions were sacrificed. . many good people had hoped and prayed that the troubles between the north and south would be peaceably arranged; but all hope of such a blessing was now lost, and the whole state resounded with the notes of preparation for the war. in every county men pressed forward by thousands to enlist at the call of the state. . governor ellis was in the last stages of hopeless disease, but, with great resolution, he addressed himself to the discharge of the onerous duties of his station until his death, on june , . he was succeeded by colonel henry toole clark, of edgecombe, who became governor of the state by virtue of his office as speaker of the senate. . colonel john f. hoke, of lincoln, was succeeded as adjutant- general by james g. martin, of pasquotank, late a major in the army of the united states. the forts, johnston, macon and caswell, were seized, as was also the federal arsenal at fayetteville; and, in this way, fifty-seven thousand stand of small firearms and a considerable store of cannon and ammunition were secured. . after many years of peace and prosperity, the people of north carolina were once again to exhibit their patriotism, courage and endurance under the most trying circumstances. in the first revolution they had contributed twenty-two thousand nine hundred and ten men to the defence of the united colonies; in this second upheaval more than a hundred and fifty thousand crowded to the fray, and grew famous on more than a hundred fields. questions. . how was the presidential contest of viewed? . what was the issue? who were the candidates; and what were their platforms? . what was the real issue between the democrats and republicans? what views were held by each party? . to whom were most of the southern people giving support? how did they view the probable election of mr. lincoln? . who were elected? what did some of the southern states intend to do? . what occurred before the inauguration of mr. lincoln? . what act was passed by the north carolina legislature? . can you tell the result of the vote upon this question? . what was the south beginning to realize? . what call was made upon north carolina by mr. lincoln? with what result? . when did north carolina leave the union? . can you repeat the ordinance of secession? . mention the political opinions to be found in the state upon these questions? . what had been the hope of many of our people? how was the news of secession received? . what occurred on june th? who succeeded governor ellis? . what seizures were made by north carolina authorities? . what are the thoughts upon this period? chapter lv. the war between the states. a. d. . the people of north carolina loved the union of states that had been in such large part constructed by the heroism and wisdom of their own fathers. they well knew its value to themselves under an unbroken federal constitution; they knew, too, the danger incurred in the attempt to absolve them selves from further federal connections. but they knew, also, their rights under the constitution, and were fully determined neither to surrender them nor to aid in the subjugation of their sister states. as the state had entered the union by action of a convention of her own people, she now resolved to leave it in the same manner. . for more than a month before the memorable th day of may, , when the secession ordinance was passed, troops were volunteering and being received by governor ellis from many portions of the state. the first ten companies were embodied in a regiment, of which major daniel h. hill was elected colonel by the commissioned officers. they were at once sent to yorktown, in virginia. . on june th, general benjamin f. butler, who was in command of the united states forces at fortress monroe, in virginia, sent a column of troops up the peninsula for the purpose of ascertaining the possibility of reaching richmond, which city had recently become the capital of the southern confederacy. early the next morning the federal advance became confused in the darkness and two of their regiment, fired upon each other. . at big bethel, on the th, they found the regiment of colonel hill supporting a battery of the "richmond howitzers." there were also present two infantry and three cavalry companies belonging to virginia. this force was assailed by the federal army, but the attack was repelled and the assailants retired in disorder to old point comfort. only one confederate soldier was killed in the action, and that was private henry wyatt, of edgecombe county. he belonged to captain j. l. bridgers' company, and was the first southern soldier slain in the war between the states. . the whole affair was insignificant, both as to the number engaged and the results achieved, but was hailed as a happy omen by the south. north carolina, with all her deliberation in taking part in the struggle, was thus to afford the first martyr of the south, and was present with her troops to arrest the first federal invasion of southern soil. . on the th and st days of july occurred much greater and more serious conflicts at manassas and bull run, also in virginia. another federal army, commanded by general irvin mcdowell, and numbering more than forty thousand men, left washington with orders to attack the confederates under general g. t. beauregard. the fifth, sixth and twenty-first regiments of north carolina troops were present, and gallantly aided in the federal defeat. . colonel charles f. fisher was especially valuable in the aid he rendered in restoring a ditched train to the track, and thus making possible the timely approach of the reinforcements under general e. kirby smith, which so speedily resulted in the flight of general mcdowell's army. it is mournful to add, that, after performing this signal service, and after gallantly capturing the celebrated rickett's battery, colonel fisher was slain in the battle. he fell at the head of his regiment, beyond the battery and still in pursuit of the enemy. this memorable victory was very grateful to the south, but it did not delude the people into the belief that the war was at an end; it was useful, too, in that it gave them time to prepare for the greater conflicts still to come. . it had been hoped by mr. lincoln and his advisers that all southern opposition would be overcome in ninety days, but at bull run and manassas they were convinced that only by a great and prolonged struggle were such adversaries to be subdued. the short periods of enlistment were abandoned by both sides, and the winter was spent in preparation for a gigantic struggle in the spring. . it was early seen in north carolina that fortifications were necessary at hatteras for the defence of the many broad waters covering so large a portion of the eastern counties. a small sand-work, known as fort hatteras, with an outlying flank defence, called battery clark, was the only reliance for the protection of albemarle and pamlico sounds. . before these weak defences a large federal fleet appeared on august th, , and by means of its superior armament, lay securely beyond the range of the guns mounted in fort hatteras, while pouring in a tremendous discharge of shot and shell. the federals having effected a landing on the beach, and most of the caution being dismounted in the fort, it was thought best by colonel w. f. martin, on the th, to surrender the fort. . in two days' operations the whole tier of eastern counties was thus laid bare to the incursions of federal troops and cruisers. there was great sorrow for the captured garrison, and general alarm and uneasiness; but the spirit of resistance was undaunted, and troops continued volunteering by thousands. questions. . what is the subject of this lesson? how did the north carolinians consider their departure from the union? . what preparations for war were made by the state, even before its secession? who commanded the first regiment? . relate general butler's exploit. . give an account of the battle of big bethel. what confederate soldier was slain? . what is said of this event? . where were north carolina troops next engaged in battle? . what signal aid was rendered by colonel charles f. fisher? what were the effects of this victory? . what did mr. lincoln learn from these battles? . at what point on the north carolina coast were fortifications specially needed? . describe the federal attack on fort hatteras. point out hatteras on the map. . what was the result of the fall of hatteras? chapter lvi. the combat deepens. a. d. . . by the fortune of war in the revolution, as again in , the state was nearly always left with a small proportion of her own troops to defend the home of their birth. so, also, when the spring opened in , though fully forty thousand men of the state were under arms, they were to be found in virginia and south carolina, except a small force left at wilmington and roanoke island. . this condition of affairs did not result, however, from any indifference on the part of the general government to us, but from the fact that the main strategic points were in other states, and fortunate it was for north carolina that this was so; for whatever may have been the necessities of local defence, or the evils incident to an unprotected coastline, or those inseparable from its occupation by the enemy at various points, they cannot be compared to the evils resulting from the prolonged occupation of a state by large contending armies. . roanoke island was the only hope of defence for albemarle sound and the many rivers flowing therein. to defend it, general henry a. wise was sent with a small force to be added to the eighth and thirty-first regiments of north carolina volunteers. he was sick on february th, , when general burnside, with a great fleet and fifteen thousand federal troops, sailed up croatan sound and began the attack. . colonel henry m. shaw, of the eighth north carolina regiment, was in command, and made a gallant but unavailing defence. the federals landed and moved up the island in the rear of the forts which had been constructed to prevent the passage of vessels to the west of the defences. the only recourse left was to abandon the lower batteries and concentrate the southern troops at a point near the centre of roanoke island. . it was hoped that the morasses, indenting both shores and leaving a narrow isthmus, would enable the small confederate force to defend that position; but the bravery and enterprise of the enemy enabled him to turn both flanks, and nothing was left colonel shaw and his command but to fall back to the northern end of the island and there lay down their arms. . the battle had been bravely fought for two days, and the two thousand confederate prisoners and their gallant leader became captives, but only after inflicting heavy loss upon the assailants. the place was untenable against superior naval appliances, and quite men enough had been sacrificed in view of the impossibility of preventing its isolation by federal fleets. . very different were the defensive capacities of the city of new bern. it was immediately foreseen that this important place would be next assailed, and with enough troops it would have been an easy feat to have held it indefinitely, but whether its value as a strategic point would have justified such a defence may be doubted. the confederate authorities entrusted its defence to general l. o'b. branch, who had no experience in military affairs, and in whose command, like general wise's, was not a single regiment that had been under fire, though there were skillful officers of lower rank who had seen much service in the old army. on march th, general burnside, with the army and fleet so lately the victors at roanoke, moved to attack the forts which had been constructed just below the junction of neuse and trent rivers. . general branch had in his command the seventh, twenty-sixth, twenty-seventh, thirty-third and thirty-fifth north carolina regiments, a portion of the nineteenth (cavalry), with brem's and latham's light batteries and a small force of militia. these were disposed along a line stretching from fort thompson, on neuse river, across the railroad to an impassable swamp, which afforded abundant protection to his right flank. . the battle began at seven o'clock in the morning and raged until noon. the federal attacks were repeatedly repelled until, by the fatal flight of the militia in the centre, the confederate lines were broken and a precipitate retreat ensued. general branch lost two hundred prisoners and seventy men killed and wounded; and, besides these, all his guns and stores. he was beaten in his first battle, when perhaps naught but defeat was expected, but he soon won high reputation as a brave soldier and skillful officer. victory is not always possible to the best generalship. he met, in a few days at kinston, reinforcements that would have enabled him to hold his ground at new bern; but like many other earthly succors, they came too late for real benefit. . the fall of new bern sealed the fate of the confederate forces at fort macon. colonel m. i. white, with five companies of the tenth regiment (artillery), endured the federal bombardment until the work was in danger of being blown up. he surrendered the fort on april th, . these disasters at home were indeed calculated to dishearten, but the only visible effect upon the people at large was to increase the numbers of those who were still volunteering by thousands to defend north carolina and the confederate states. . in the spring of , general mcclellan, the federal commander, having determined to make his advance on richmond by way of james river, and having made his preparations to that effect, general johnston transferred the confederate troops from manassas to the peninsula between the james and york rivers, thus placing his army between mcclellan and richmond. . at williamsburg occurred the first memorable conflict of the year between the two great armies struggling on the soil of the old dominion. in this conflict the charge of the fifth north carolina regiment, under colonel d. k. macrae, excited the admiration and its terrible losses the sympathy of both friend and foe. . in the bloody and glorious campaign in the shenandoah valley, general t. j. jackson grew immortal before the coming of midsummer. the gallantry of the twenty-first north carolina regiment at winchester, like that of the fourth at seven pines, was as conspicuous as bloody. in this latter battle, where so many other men of the state were slain, the fourth regiment, under colonel george b. anderson, lost four hundred and sixty-two men, out of five hundred and twenty. . in the last days of june nearly all of the north carolina regiments and many southern troops were concentrated around richmond, under the command of general robert e. lee, in place of general johnston, who had been wounded at seven pines. in the week of battle which ended in the overthrow of the great investing army of general mcclellan, they lost thousands of their bravest and best. ninety-two regiments constituted the divisions of jackson, longstreet, d. h. hill and a. p. hill. these were the forces that drove the federals to their ships; and forty-six of these regiments belong to north carolina. it may be safely asserted that more than half the men actively engaged and disabled during that terrible week were citizens of north carolina. questions. . what is said or north carolina's forces in the wars? . what is said of this condition of affairs? . what force was sent to defend albermarle sound? . can you tell of burnside's attack? . what was the conclusion of the engagement? . what is said of this battle? . to what point was attention next directed? what officer was in command? when was the federal attack made? . what composed general branch's command? . describe the battle. . what is said of the fall of new bern? what fort was next surrendered? where is fort mason? . what military movements were made in virginia? . what is said of the gallant charge of the fifth regiment at williamsburg? . what regiments are specially mentioned as participants at winchester and seven pines? . what is said of the events at this period? chapter lvii. the war continues. a. d. . amid the exultation that filled the hearts of the people of north carolina for the victories around richmond, there was grief in many families for heroes fallen in the discharge of duty. colonels stokes, meares, campbell and c. c. lee, like a great host of their compatriots, were gone to come no more. it seemed that the superior numbers and resources of the united states forces were to prove powerless before the fiery onsets of the confederate troops. . in the month of august, , zebulon b. vance, of buncombe, then colonel of the twenty-sixth regiment, was chosen governor of north carolina over william johnston, of charlotte, who had been of late commissary-general of the state. by an ordinance of the convention, colonel vance entered upon his duties as chief- magistrate on september th, . he was to evince great zeal in the discharge of his official duties. . the first maryland campaign, which occurred in the fall of the year, was the next event of general interest. in the battles fought in that memorable campaign the north carolina regiments won great reputation, but a terrible loss of life. general branch was killed and general anderson received wounds at sharpsburg of which he soon died, and left grief in many hearts for their untimely end. colonel c. c. tew also fell in the same great battle, and increased the grief of his people at the loss by the mystery of his fate. he disappeared amid the storm of conflict, but exactly how and when was never known. . in north carolina there had been comparative quiet through the spring and summer months. the federal garrisons at plymouth and new bern were watched by small bodies of confederates, but no fighting occurred except in plymouth, which town was taken and held for a few hours by colonel martin, with the seventeenth regiment, and then abandoned because of the federal gun-boats. . on blackwater river, just below franklin, in virginia, there was a gallant conflict of a few cavalrymen under lieutenant thomas ruffin, of the fourth cavalry, and a federal double-ender. the crew were all driven from deck and the ship lay at the mercy of the assailants until her consorts came up the stream from below and shelled the victors from their prey. . by the st of december the federal army, this time under command of general burnside, was confronting general lee at fredericksburg, virginia. on the th, burns attempted to carry our lines, but after repeated and desperate assaults and terrible slaughter, withdrew his troops. it was this battle that marye's heights won its bloody fame. the gallantry of the enemy, especially of meagher's irish brigade was magnificent. . simultaneously with the attack of general burnside of the army of general lee at fredericksburg, the south carolina brigade of general evans, then stationed at kinston, north carolina, was surprised to see a few mounted federal soldiers make an attack upon the position then held by them. the federals were driven back and pursued in the direction of new bern. suddenly the south carolinians found themselves confronted by more than twenty thousand foes. . in the speedy retreat that ensued, general evans was unable to burn the bridges across the river, and effected escape with some loss. he was, the next day, reinforced and awaited general foster's approach on the road leading to goldsboro. but the federals were seeking to intervene between that place and the one occupied by evans. all tuesday morning (december th) the masses of the union troops were seeking to cross neuse river at white hall; they were bravely met there by general beverly h. robinson who, with the eleventh, thirty-first, fifty-ninth and sixty-third regiments, and battery b, third north carolina battalion, withstood all their attacks and inflicted severe loss on the baffled invaders. the contest lasted for eight hours during which general foster persisted in his efforts to drive off the confederates, so that pontoons could be laid forming a bridge across the stream, in place of the one burned the night before. . failing to cross neuse river at white hall, general foster marched in the evening for goldsboro, and, having reached the bridge of the wilmington & weldon railroad, succeeded in burning it, in spite of the gallant efforts of general clingman and his brigade to prevent. . general foster retired in great precipitation to new bern, and the burned bridge was his only trophy in an expedition which seemed so threatening at its inception. questions. . what was the feeling concerning the victories around richmond? . who was chosen governor in ? when did colonel vance enter upon the duties of chief-magistrate? . what losses had north carolina sustained in the battle of sharpsburg? what increased the grief of colonel tew's people? . what was the state of affairs in north carolina during the spring and summer of ? . describe the engagement on blackwater river? . where was the federal army confronting general lee on december st? what occurred on the th? . can you tell of the surprise at kinston? s. what was the further result of this affair? . what is said of the conclusion of this matter? . where did general foster go? chapter lviii. war and its horrors. a. d. . . when the year had come upon the american states in their bloody and wasting quarrel, there was nothing to indicate any solution of the great controversy. many bloody battles had been fought, thousands of homes were saddened in the loss of brave and true men, and yet both sides were as intent as ever upon carrying on indefinitely the terrible and costly struggle. . mr. lincoln and the government at washington said there should be no peace until the seceded states returned to their allegiance. mr. davis and the government at richmond said, on the other hand, that the seceded states were, of right, free and independent states that had rightfully resumed their delegated powers, and owed no allegiance to the federal government. . it was hoped that england and france would recognize the independence of the confederate states; but beyond extending to the southern government the rights of belligerents, this trust proved utterly fallacious. confederate agents were received and armed vessels allowed to enter their ports, but no aid was extended to the southern cause. the arrest of the confederate commissioners, messrs. mason and slidell, on a british mail steamer, by a united states war vessel, was resented by england and war seemed probable; but these southern envoys were released, and no aid came from abroad except in the ships that were bought of private persons for the purpose of cruising against vessels belonging to citizens of the united states. . among the earliest measures adopted by the federal government was the blockade of the southern seaports. wilmington, charleston, savannah, mobile and galveston were all watched by armed ships that sought to exclude the vessels of all countries from entering these harbors. cruisers swarmed along the whole southern coast, and it became a matter of great peril and difficulty to send out or bring in any commodity by way of the ocean. . this soon led to a scarcity of salt, sugar, coffee, molasses and everything which had been formerly imported from europe or bought of northern merchants. prices continually advanced as such things became more scarce in the south. wilmington is so situated that an effective blockade there was almost impossible. there were two inlets, and, therefore, two blockade fleets were necessary, and even with this added difficulty the blockading squadron could not prevent, on dark nights, the passage of swift steamers that swept in and out of the cape fear river and brought from nassau and bermuda what was most needed for the armies and people. . soon after his inauguration, governor vance, at general martin's suggestion, sent colonel thomas m. crossan to england for the purpose of procuring a ship to supply the wants of north carolina. crossan had been a naval officer in the service of the united states, and had judgment enough in such matters to select one of the swiftest ships in the world. it was called the lord clyde abroad, but that name was changed to the ad-vance, and the vessel made many successful voyages before she was captured. . in the superior clothing and equipments of the north carolina troops were the wisdom and activity of the state government manifested. and, too, not only were the necessities of our own soldiers supplied, but large aid was extended to the troops of other states. besides this, cotton and woolen cards and many other necessaries were brought in and distributed to the different sections of the state. salt was the most important of all the domestic supplies excluded by the blockade. to procure this indispensable article, private factories on the seacoast were supplemented by others under state management; but these proved insufficient to meet popular wants, and arrangements were made to procure additional supplies from the salt wells of southwestern virginia. . it was early foreseen that in so great a struggle enormous expenditures would become necessary; and to meet such liabilities, it would be necessary for the confederacy and the individual states to use their credit in procuring supplies on the faith of future payments. many millions of dollars were to be expended, and only confederate and state obligations would be available to meet such purchases. . unhappily, the great supply of cotton then in the south was not utilized by the authorities, and thus a solid basis of credit was lost; and a favorite theory is, that had all the cotton been promptly seized by the government and sent to foreign ports, the depreciation of its funds would have been averted, but whether this could have been done is, to say the least, by no means certain. as it was, in , both confederate and state money began to depreciate in value, and this depreciation once begun, had no stop in its downward tendency. questions. . what was the condition of the war in ? . what positions were taken by presidents lincoln and davis? . from what countries had the south expected aid? what is said of the arrest of mason and slidell? . what southern cities were blockaded? what was the effect of this blockade? . what is said of the port of wilmington? . how did governor vance supply the wants of the people? what is said of the ad-vance? . what supplies were brought in by the ad-vance? how was salt obtained? . how did the confederate government propose to obtain funds for carrying on the war? . what was the cause of the great depreciation in the value of money? chapter lix. the death-wound at gettysburg. a. d. . in spite of the great federal success in acquiring territory in north carolina, louisiana, mississippi and elsewhere, and notwithstanding the increasing hardships everywhere felt, the government and people of the confederate states were still undismayed and hopeful when the spring of permitted the vast armies of the united states to resume active military operations. no thought of submission was entertained by the confederate soldiers, and among the people at home only in rare instances were individuals to be found who expressed hopelessness as to the result of the war. . in north carolina a period of inactivity succeeded the raid by general foster, which was only broken by the unsuccessful attack on the town of washington. general w. b. c. whiting, who had made reputation as a division commander in the army of northern virginia, was sent to assume charge of the department of the cape fear, with his headquarters in wilmington. this city had been fearfully ravaged by yellow fever in the fall of , and had now become all important to the confederacy as a port. other southern sea ports were almost totally closed by blockade, and only at the cape fear was there left a hope of access. . generals braxton bragg, d. h. hill, leonidas poll, and benjamin mcculloh had all risen to prominent commands and conferred honor by their connections with the old north state. among the younger officers, generals pender, hoke, pettigrew and ramseur had all won distinguished notice and promotion for gallant and meritorious service. . many thousands had been enrolled in the sixty-six regiments and ten battalions of north carolina mustered in the confederate service, and, though mourning was in many households, recruits were constantly going to fill the gaps occasioned by deaths on the field and in the hospitals. dr. charles e. johnson had been succeeded as surgeon general of the state by dr. edward warren. drs. e. burke haywood, peter e. hines, w. c. warren and others of the leading physicians were placed in charge of great hospitals at raleigh and other cities in the state. north carolina sustained a similar institution at petersburg, in virginia. of the latter the excellent lady, miss mary pettigrew, a sister of the general of the same name, became matron; and, like another florence nightingale, cheered the sick and dying with her elegant presence. . general burnside lost his place by his disaster at fredericksburg, and was followed in command of the army of the potomac by general joseph hooker. this gallant commander was as signally beaten at chancellorsville on may d and d. no battle of any age conferred greater honor upon the victors; but in the loss of stonewall jackson the south was deprived of a leader whose place could not be supplied. north carolina was never more gloriously vindicated than on this famous field, and ex-governor graham, who was then in richmond, said, a few days afterwards, in the confederate states senate, that half the men killed and wounded at chancellorsville belonged to north carolina regiments. . so astonishing was the result of this battle, and so crushing its effects upon the federal authorities, that general lee again resolved upon an invasion of the north. the invasion proved a failure, and after several severe battles general lee was forced to return, with his defeated army, to virginia. it was on that last dread day, the d of july, at gettysburg, that he discovered that even his incomparable infantry could not accomplish everything he desired. . thirty thousand of the bravest and best, who had so long made the army of northern virginia unconquerable, were lost to our cause forever. among the north carolinians, generals pender and pettigrew, colonels burgwin, marshall and isaac e. avery were slain, and a host of subalterns likewise perished. . another great disaster happened at this time in the surrender of vicksburg, mississippi, with the army there under command of general pemberton, involving as it did the occupation of so large a portion of the confederacy. these great losses, occurring as they did on the same day, and so vitally affecting our strength, were never retrieved, and from that day southern fortunes waned, with occasional flickerings of hope, until the close at appomattox. . but many gallant struggles were yet to be made. on different fields the great forces of the union were to be bravely repelled, but the ranks of general lee's army were so much thinned that it became daily more impossible to confront the increasing horde that gathered against it from all civilized nations. but the policy of attrition and exhaustion was not to be seen in full force until the next year. . during the month of june, colonel spear's cavalry raid in hertford and northampton counties was driven back by general m. w. ransom, and, beyond this, there were no movements of a hostile character in the state limits during the year. questions. . in what condition was the south in ? . how was the port of wilmington specially important to the confederacy? who was in command at this place? . what north carolinians are mentioned as having risen to prominence? . how many regiments had the state furnished up to this time? who succeeded dr. charles e. johnson as surgeon general of the state? what doctors had charge of the hospitals? what noble woman is mentioned, and what is said of her? . what fierce battle was fought on may d and d? what did governor graham say of the north carolina troops at chancellorsville? . upon what did general lee resolve after the victory? what was the result of the invasion? . how many southern soldiers were lost on this occasion? what north carolinians are named among the slain? . what other great disaster happened at this time? how did it affect the southern cause? . what is said of lee's army? . what raid was driven back by general ransom? chapter lx. general grant and his campaign. a. d. . . the fourth year of the great war opened on north carolina with grief in almost every family; still, with diminished hopes and increased exertions for the general defence, they looked forward to a campaign which they well understood was to be decisive of their fortunes. perhaps not even general washington was so trusted and beloved by the american people in the revolution as was general robert e. lee by those of the south in the closing years of the struggle. . in his genius and capacity they felt sure they had the very highest human leadership, and in his splendid career and spotless renown they all took pride, as conferring reflected credit upon themselves. so noble, unselfish and wise, he had become the idol of his own people and the admiration of his foes. at the outbreak of the war he had declined the command of the federal armies, because he believed it was his duty to take part with his own people. . ex-governor thomas bragg had been for some time in the cabinet of president davis, as attorney-general. he resigned the position and was no more in public life. since , when he had left the bar to become the governor of north carolina, he had been continually growing in public favor, and now returned to the leadership of his profession. no lawyer in our annals has been more respected or successful. in the confederate states senate the polished and eloquent george davis, of wilmington, and w. w. avery, of burke, had served until the latter was succeeded, in , by w. t. dortch, of wayne; and, a year later, mr. davis was succeeded by ex-governor graham; and later still, mr. dortch was succeeded by thomas s. ashe, of anson, who did not take his seat by reason of the dissolution of the confederate government. . in the midst of the great struggle there was, of course, a great diminution of attention to matters of education. governor swain, with a remnant of the faculty, remained at chapel hill, and, with a few boys too young for service, yet retained the name and semblance of the university. professors hubbard, james and charles phillips, hepburn, smith, fetter and judge battle were still on duty at their old posts, but professor martin was colonel of the eleventh regiment, and almost all the students were enrolled as soldiers of the confederate army. the sectarian colleges, male and female, were nearly all closed, and even in the common schools there was small interest manifested amid the blood and excitement of the time. . many of the ablest ministers of the gospel left their churches and were faithful chaplains in the army. great religious interest was awakened by them among the men who were so bravely battling in virginia, and many thousands were converted and added to the churches during the revivals in the camps. . the recapture of plymouth, in washington county, on april th, , was one of the most brilliant and successful affairs of the war. the youthful and gallant brigadier general r. f. hoke was sent by general lee, in command of a division, with which he surrounded the strong fortifications and took them by assault, capturing more than three thousand prisoners. the help of the iron-clad albemarle was very efficacious on this occasion, and her combat at the mouth of roanoke river, a few days later, was one of the most stubborn naval engagements on record. single-handed, captain cook fought and defeated a strong fleet of double-enders, and drove them, routed, from the scene. this expedition of general hoke secured his promotion, and was in marked contrast with that of general pickett against new bern a few weeks before; the only incident of which, creditable to the confederates, was general martin's well-fought battle at shepardsville. . when the spring opened, tidings came from the wilderness of fresh battles in that region, which had been made famous the year before. general u. s. grant had been made commander-in- chief of all the federal armies, to assume the direction of affairs in virginia. with the vast numbers at his command, he resolved upon such strategy as fell with fearful results upon his army, but it weakened the reduced ranks of the confederates at the same time. general grant lost more men in his march from the rapidan to the james river than general lee had confronting him, but it mattered not, for still fresh federal thousands poured in to fill the places of those who fell at the wilderness, spottsylvania, cold harbor and the minor combats. on our side, however, there were none to take the places of those who were killed. . in this terrible campaign, which was not ended even when general grant began the siege of petersburg, the north carolina regiments were fearfully reduced. generals ramseur, daniel and godwin, together with colonels andrews, garrett, brabble, wood, spear, blacknall, c. m. avery, jones, barbour and moore were among those who sealed their faith with their blood. . no battle of the war was more brilliant in its particulars and results than that of reams' station, fought on august th, . general w. s. hancock, of the federal army, had seized and fortified a position, from which general lee ordered lieutenant-general a. p. hill to dislodge him. so stern was hancock's resistance that two bloody assaults had been repelled, when the privates of cooke's, macrae's and lane's north carolina brigades demanded to be led to the attack in which their comrades had failed. their officers complied; and, with seventeen hundred and fifty muskets in the charge, they took the works and captured twenty-one hundred prisoners and thirteen pieces of artillery. * *the north carolina cavalry regiments were also greatly applauded by general hampton for service on the same occasion. . in the steady depreciation of confederate and state money was the greatest calamity of all. the cry of distress from famishing women and children was increasing in volume, and the state and county authorities were finding it more and more impossible to meet, by public charity, the pressing wants of their people. . the pay of confederate soldiers in the ranks was $ and $ per month, in "confederate money." during the latter days of the war flour sold for $ per barrel; meat $ per pound; chickens $ each; shoes (brogans) $ per pair; coffee $ per pound; tallow candles $ per pound. it may be easily imagined how great was the suffering in the south when it is remembered that numbers of soldiers' wives were almost entirely dependent upon the pay of their husbands for support. there were relief committees throughout the state, but the great scarcity of provisions made them almost helpless. . almost all the white men in north carolina were in the ranks of the different regiments and battalions mustered into the confederate service. their families were largely dependent upon the pay they received as soldiers. when the confederate money became worthless, want and suffering appeared in every section, and unhappy wives were clamorous for their husbands' return to avert starvation at home. . the suffering families were ever in the minds of the dauntless men who were away facing the enemy, for a direr foe was thinning the blood and blanching the cheeks of wife and child. therefore, many a hero turned his back on the scenes of his glory and incurred personal ignominy, and sometimes the punishment of death, for desertion. . the case of edward cooper was in point. he was tried by court-martial for desertion. he declined the aid of a lawyer to defend him, and, as his only defence, handed the presiding judge of the court the following letter, which he had received from his wife: "my dear edward: i have always been proud of you, and since your connection with the confederate army i have been prouder of you than ever before. i would not have you do anything wrong for the world, but before god, edward, unless you come home, we must die. last night i was aroused by little eddie's crying. i called and said, "what is the matter, eddie? " and he said, "o mamma, i am so hungry." and lucy, edward, your darling lucy, she never complains, but she is growing thinner and thinner every day. and before god, edward, unless you come home, we must die. your mary." . general cullen battle and his associate members of the court were melted to tears. although the prisoner had voluntarily returned to his command, they found him guilty, and sentenced him to death, but recommended mercy. general lee, in reviewing the case, approved the finding but pardoned the unhappy artilleryman, who was afterwards seen by general battle, standing, pale and bloody, as he fired his last round into the retreating federals. he then fell dead at his post in battle. questions. . what year of the war have we now reached? what is said of north carolina's hopes? . what tribute is paid to general robert e. lee? . what is said of ex-governor bragg? what changes were made in the confederate states senate? . what is said of educational matters at this period? . how were the ministers of the gospel faithfully performing their duties? . can you describe the capture of plymouth by general r. f. hoke's command? . where was the principal fighting in the spring of ? what is said of grant's campaign? . what losses had north carolina sustained in this campaign. . describe the battle of reams' station. what north carolina troops captured general hancock's position? . what is said of the depreciation of the confederate currency? how was it affecting the people? . what was the pay of confederate soldiers? mention the prices of some of the necessaries of life. . how were the soldiers' families suffering? . what is said of the terrible struggle of the women and children? . can you mention the case of edward cooper? . what was the verdict of the court-martial? what was the ending of this sad case? chapter lxi. north carolina and peace-making. a. d. to . in colonel vance was re-elected governor of north carolina. at his first election he was personally very popular, was a soldier in the field, had been in actual battle, had been by no means a strong "union" man in the earlier portions of the year , and, indeed, in may of that year, was in camp at the head of his company. mr. johnston, his opponent, was a secessionist, but neither popular nor a soldier, and comparatively but little known to the mass of the people, except in his own immediate section of the state. everybody of every shade of opinion had the fullest confidence that colonel vance would do his whole duty. there was no expectation that mr. johnston would be elected, nor any serious effort made in his behalf. . in his course as governor such strenuous support was given to the confederate states that when his term of service approached conclusion, and a new election was to be held, a few men who had been among his most zealous friends two years before, but who now opposed the determined attitude of the confederacy and of north carolina, were found opposing his continuance as governor. . these comprised a small fragment of the people, and william w. holden, of wake, was their candidate, and this was all the opposition governor vance had. mr. holden was the editor of the standard, a newspaper that had, in years past, been extreme in southern proclivities, and he had advocated and signed the ordinance of secession, but of late he had advocated north carolina's withdrawal from the confederacy and the making of separate terms with the powers at washington. . governor vance and the people, except the handful of holden's followers, both in and out of the army, opposed this project as dishonorable and unjust to their compatriots of other states. they held that north carolina's fortunes were inseparable from those of the other southern states, and that she must share their fate, whatever that might be. . about this time several propositions looking to overtures to mr. lincoln for peace were communicated to governor vance from certain members of the confederate congress from other states, but he refused to take any part in such a scheme. he was re- elected by an overwhelming majority, after a thorough exposition of his views by many addresses both to the people at home and to the north carolina soldiers in their camps. . as general grant day-by-day massed fresh thousands of troops before petersburg, and the confederate resistance grew more feeble in the shenandoah valley, the conference which took place at old point comfort was arranged to no purpose. after a mighty struggle, the south, in utter exhaustion, was soon to lay down the arms that had been so bravely wielded. . the importance of wilmington to the waning fortunes of the confederacy had long been evident in the closing of other seaports by blockade. general whiting was an able and experienced engineer, and his main defence, fort fisher, on new inlet, was pronounced by general beauregard as almost impregnable. forts caswell and holmes, at the mouth of cape fear river, and the numerous works fringing both banks of the stream from wilmington to the ocean, had apparently rendered hostile approach from that direction a thing almost impossible to any naval expedition. . on december th the same general butler who had been at the capture of fort hatteras in , came with an army which was borne in a great fleet commanded by admiral d. d. porter. this vast armada, carrying six hundred of the heaviest cannon modern science has been able to construct, opened fire upon fort fisher. . the fort was reinforced by a few companies from other portions of general whiting's command, and later, the division of general hoke arrived from petersburg and took position in the intrenched camp at sugar loaf, four miles distant up the river. general braxton bragg had been for some time in command of the department and was present on this occasion. . all day, on that christmas sabbath, a fiery storm of shot and shell was rained upon the fort, which answered slowly and deliberately from its different batteries. in the midst of the bombardment, general butler landed his army on the peninsula above the land-face of the work, but upon inspection of its strength he grew hopeless of his undertaking, and on the night of december th, having re-embarked his force, the fleet returned to beaufort. . . there was much joy and relief in this evident federal confirmation of the reported impregnability of the great work, and congratulations went around among the confederates over this defeat of the costly undertaking of the invaders. general bragg withdrew hoke's division and all the force at sugar loaf, except adams' light battery and the cavalry, with the intention of attacking the garrison of new bern. . he was signally interrupted in this undertaking, when, on the night of the th of january, , colonel william lamb telegraphed from fort fisher that the fleet had returned and the troops were disembarking for a renewal of the attack. general bragg hurried hoke's and all other available commands back to the rescue, but found the federal army in complete possession of the ground between the fort and intrenched camp. upon a reconnaissance, the enemy were found too strongly posted to be assailed. . the great fleet opened fire upon the land-face, and having dismounted all but one of the twenty-two heavy guns defending that flank, on the evening of the th, general terry by signal, changed the fire of the fleet to the sea-face batteries. the three federal brigades that had worked their way close up, sprang forward in a charge that resulted in the capture of seven traverses and four hundred prisoners. the assailants lost their three commanders and five hundred men. it was a fatal blow. the federals could not be dislodged, and, after brave and unavailing combat within the works, fort fisher was taken; and its garrison, numbering two thousand men, became prisoners of war. general whiting and colonel lamb were both badly wounded, and the former soon died of his injuries. questions. . what is said of the re-election of governor vance in ? . what course had governor vance pursued? what is said of the approaching election? . who was governor vance's opponent? what measures were being advocated by mr. holden and his followers? . how did governor vance and the people consider these measures? . what proposition had certain members of the confederate congress communicated to governor vance, and how had he received them? what was the result of the election? . where was general grant placing fresh troops? what was the result? . what is said of wilmington and its defences? . what occurred on december th, ? . describe the attack on fort fisher. . what was the conclusion of the attack? how did the state receive the news of this federal failure? what forces were removed from fort fisher? . describe the preparations for renewal of attack on january th. . give an account of the engagement. what was the sad result? chapter lxii. the war draws to a close. a. d. . . with the fall of fort fisher the fate of wilmington was sealed. with the federal troops in such a position the port was most effectually closed. the last connection of the beleaguered confederacy with the outer world was thus broken, and north carolina, with beating heart, listened to the approaching footsteps of countless invaders. general lee, who had been made general-in-chief of all the southern armies, selected general joseph e. johnston to command in north carolina. . general bragg's forces having retired from wilmington, met the corps of major-general schofield in an ineffectual engagement at kinston on march th, and retired upon goldsboro. this command, with the troops lately in charleston and savannah, the remnant of the army of tennessee and hampton's division from virginia, soon made an army of twenty-five thousand men, under the command of general johnston. . against him were coming, from south carolina, the great army under general w. t. sherman; from wilmington, the corps of general terry, and from kinston, the army of general schofield. in addition to these overwhelming forces, another column was approaching from the west, under general stoneman. . as this great array gathered toward raleigh as a common focus, the first conflict was between the division commanded by general hardee and the army of general sherman at the hamlet of averasboro. after a stubborn fight, hardee withdrew, and, having joined general johnston, the latter collected fifteen thousand men at bentonsville, in johnston county, on march th, and awaited sherman's approach. . general sherman, on that day, made six successive attacks upon johnston's left, composed of hoke's and cheatham's divisions and the late garrisons on the cape fear. the federal assaults were all repelled, and, at the order for our troops to advance, three lines of the enemy's field works were carried and several batteries captured. this success, however, was not bloodlessly effected. . general sherman withdrew to goldsboro to meet schofield and terry, and johnston halted near smithfield to await developments. with such a force it seemed impossible that he would be able to meet the combined strength of the three, armies assembling at goldsboro, but the result at bentonsville had greatly elated his troops, and they resolutely awaited general sherman's return to the shock of arms. . after so much bloodshed the end of hostilities, however, was near at hand. general sheridan, with heavy cavalry reinforcements, having assailed the right flank of general lee's defences at petersburg, after hard fighting, succeeded in winning a decisive battle at five forks on the th of march. the loss, of the six thousand confederates made prisoners on that day was fatal to longer hold on the thinly-manned lines around the city that had been so long and nobly defended. . on the morning of the nd of april, in the general assault, general lee's lines were pierced in three places, general a. p. hill was slain, and, at nightfall the doomed army of northern virginia began its famous retreat. after incredible hardships, having fought their way to appomattox court house, the small remnant of the heroes who had for four years so dauntlessly held their ground against all comers, were enveloped in the masses of pursuing hosts, and, on april th, at the command of their beloved leader, they there laid down their arms. . general lee was never greater or more loved or more reverenced thanin the hour of his fall. he had not taken part in the struggle to gratify ambition or for love of war; but in the conscientious discharge of sacred duty. into that struggle north carolina had sent more than a hundred and fifty thousand of her sons, and to them all he was ever the ideal of the soldier, the gentleman and the christian. at his command they laid down their arms, returned to their homes and in time renewed their allegiance to the united states. questions. . what was the effect of the fall of fort fisher? . what occurred at kinston? what was the size of general johnston's army? . what great forces were marching against johnston? . where was the first conflict between these armies? when was the battle of bentonsville fought? point out averasboro on the map. bentonsville. . can you tell something of the fight at bentonsville? what was done by the federal and confederate commanders after this battle? . what occurred at petersburg? . how did the battle result? . what took place at appomattox? . what is said of the great general lee? chapter lxiii. concluding scenes of the war. a. d. . when general johnston became aware of general lee's retreat, he was informed that his next duty would be to effect a junction of his forces with those withdrawn from petersburg. in accordance with this object a movement was begun at raleigh, april th. the army, governor vance accompanying it, having passed the capital, ex-governors graham and swain, accompanied by surgeon-general warren, met general sherman at the head of his vast army a few miles from raleigh and asked him to protect the city. . general sherman and his accumulated army of more than a hundred thousand men entered the capital city on april th, and encamped near it. as the advance, under general kilpatrick, moved up fayetteville street, a confederate cavalryman, lieutenant walsh, of texas, before his flight, halted near the state house and fired several times at kilpatrick and his staff. his horse falling in his effort to escape, he was captured and taken before kilpatrick, who ordered him to be immediately hanged. this outrageous order for the murder of a confederate prisoner of war was speedily obeyed. . general johnston was soon apprised of general lee's capitulation, and, after conference with president davis at greensboro, he resolved to end the war by surrender of his army. to this end, having communicated with general sherman, they met on april th, at the house of a mr. bennett, near durham, and agreed upon conditions of surrender, subject to the approval of president lincoln. most unhappily for the southern people, mr. lincoln never had an opportunity to express his opinion concerning this military convention; for he having just been assassinated at washington by john wilkes booth. andrew johnson, the vice-president, had become president in his place. . mr. johnson was a north carolinian by birth. he had lived in raleigh until be reached manhood and then emigrated to tennessee, where he became a very prominent citizen. when the war came on he adhered to the federal side, and was very bitter and harsh, in his hostility to the south. he was rewarded for his course by election to the vice-presidency of the united states in . in the violent excitement which followed upon the killing of president lincoln, mr. johnson would not sanction the liberal terms of surrender which general sherman had granted to general johnston, although general sherman had been in conference with the deceased statesman just previous to his death, and was following his directions as to the treatment of the conquered south. . notwithstanding this refusal of the president of the united states to carry out the agreement of the military commissioners, the army of general johnston was surrendered at greensboro on april th, , and sent home on parole on like terms with the confederate troops at appomattox. . general schofield was made military governor of north carolina, and his first official act was a proclamation declaring freedom to the slaves in the state. after two centuries of servitude, these people were at last delivered from their bondage. it is difficult at this day to say who were the more blessed in this deliverance--the slaves or their masters. . it was a hard thing for men who had been reared in the south to realize that their principal property, guaranteed to them as it was, in the fundamental law of the land, was founded in injustice; and still harder was it to accept poverty on the strength of a sentiment. human nature is selfish in all regions, and, that southern men should have clung to their property is no more than what their opponents would have done had the circumstances been exchanged. it will be difficult for posterity to understand what a mighty revolution in the domestic life of the people was involved in this single act of an army officer. [note--in the state election of the total vote polled was , --the largest that had ever been polled. north carolina furnished to the confederacy over , men, or quite as many soldiers as she had voters, during the four years of the war. the total number of troops furnished by all the states of the confederacy was about , , and it will be seen that north carolina furnished one-fourth of the entire force raised by the confederate government during the war. at appomattox north carolina surrendered twice as many muskets as did any other state, and at greensboro more of her soldiers were among the paroled than from any of her sister states. north carolina's losses by the casualties of the war were largely over , men --our living and our dead.] . the slaves had been looking forward with hope, since the beginning of the war, that freedom might be in store for them, yet almost all of them had remained in quiet subjection at their homes while the war was progressing. it seemed hard for them to realize, for some time, that they were at last the masters of their own movements. as a general thing, they continued quietly at labor on the farms of their former owners until the crops that were growing were complete in their tillage, or, as they expressed it, "laid by." . governor vance was soon arrested and imprisoned in the "old capitol" at washington. president davis was also captured and imprisoned. mr. johnson appointed vance's late political antagonist, w. w. holden, provisional governor, and, at the same time, removed from office every state and county official in north carolina. for some weeks no officer with civil powers was to be seen, and to the commanders of the many federal posts alone could the peaceful have looked for protection against violence and fraud. . no man ever had so great an opportunity for fixing himself in the esteem and affection of the people as governor holden had during his administration as provisional governor, and no man ever so completely threw golden opportunities away. had he risen to the full height of a patriot, his name would today be a loving household word in every section of the state. but he did not, and such opportunities rarely occur twice to any man. . his career had not been an uneventful one. of humble origin, he had, by dint of his own work and his own brains, carried himself to the control of the democratic party in the state. he was not satisfied with the position of the editor of the chief organ of the dominant party, and the pecuniary profits that then resulted from such a position, but desired to be made governor of the state. he was defeated for the nomination by judge ellis before the democratic state convention at charlotte, and from that period dates his downward career. he advocated the douglas movement, and then supported breckinridge and lane. he voted for and signed the ordinance of secession, declaring he intended to preserve as an heirloom in his family the pen with which he attached his name to the ordinance; and then he became the head and front of the union element in the state during the war. at the close of the war, as we have seen, he was made provisional governor by president johnson. . no man knew better than governor holden that on our side the war was entirely at an end when the troops laid down their arms, and that when the people of north carolina renewed their allegiance to the federal government, they intended to stand to it honestly and faithfully. none better than he knew that they desired nothing so much as to set themselves to the task of rebuilding their fallen fortunes. he knew, too, that they were well aware that before this could be done, civil government, with all its varied machinery, must be re-established, and that in all that was right and proper for a people so situated, they were ready to aid him in doing this. the returned soldiers, too, especially felt that of them some recognition was due for the honorable terms and respectful treatment accorded to them at appomattox and greensboro. . in such mood it would have been an easy task for a ruler who was both patriot and statesman to re-establish federal authority in north carolina. it was simply impossible to punish all who had fought against the federal government. it was quite as impossible to expect the many who had fought against it to take part in punishing the few. amnesty and oblivion on one side, renewed allegiance and strict observer of the laws on the other, plainly constituted the true solution of the problem. unfortunately, the partisan prevailed over the patriot. instead of granting amnesty and oblivion, treason was to be made odious and traitors to be punished. instead of making the path easy back to the union, it was constantly blocked up in every possible way by both state and federal authority. of course an era of bitterness began, which the long imprisonment of mr. davis, the judicial murders of mrs surratt and henry wirz, the protracted exclusion of the southern states from all participation in the general government, and the harsh policy of reconstruction, daily served to intensify. questions. . what movement did general johnston attempt after the surrender of general lee? what men met general sherman's army in behalf of the city of raleigh? . when did sherman's army reach raleigh? what event is mentioned? . what was done by johnston after learning of lee's surrender? what occurred at washington city? . what is said of president andrew johnson? how did he act concerning johnston's surrender? . when and where did general johnston surrender? . who became military governor of north carolina? what was his first official act? what is said of the freedom of the slaves? . how is the question of slavery further considered? . how had the slaves acted during the war? how did they receive the news of freedom? . what befell governor vance? to what office was w. w. holden appointed? what was the condition of civil affairs in north carolina? . what is said of governor holden? . can you tell something of his life? . how should governor holden have viewed the situation? . what would have been the proper course to pursue towards north carolina? chapter lxiv. refitting the wreck. a. d. to . . when the bulk of the vast armies that had effected the overthrow of the confederacy was marched northward and disbanded, the full extent of the ruin that had been wrought was at last realized. so many federal troops had been collected in north carolina that their subsistence and depredations had consumed nearly all the food in the state, and the utmost scarcity was disclosed in broad districts contiguous to the line of march and occupation by general sherman's great armies. . grief for the ruined south, the desolated homes and slain kinsmen was further supplemented by the pangs of want and hunger. famishing men and women were forced to solicit rations of the federal officers. aid was given generally to needy applicants, upon their taking the oath of allegiance to the united states. . in the liberation of the slaves ruin was brought upon the banks and other fiscal corporations of the state, and, as a consequence, the endowments of the university and the colleges were, to a great extent, forever lost. even the large literary fund, by which the whole system of common schools was sustained, being invested in similar securities, also disappeared in the general bankruptcy. . when the provisional governor had entered upon the discharge of his official duties, north carolina was reduced to a small supply of cotton as the sum of her available means to discharge the current expenses of the new government, and even that was seized by the agents of the united states, and to governor holden's appeals for its release, the secretary of the treasury and president johnson proved deaf and inexorable. . judges pearson and battle were re-instated in their places of supreme court justices, but judge m. e. manly was replaced by edwin g. reade, of person. by orders from washington, a proclamation was issued for an election of a convention to restore the state to its former relations. this body met october nd, , and selected judge reade as its president. ordinances were passed repealing and declaring null and void the secession ordinances of may th, , abolishing slavery and invalidating all contracts made in furtherance of the late war. . . in the same election, jonathan worth, of randolph, was chosen over governor holden as chief-magistrate. the state was apparently resuming its self-government, and was soon to show that some spirit was left in the people. they refused to ratify the ordinances of the late convention by a decided majority; and while accepting the situation and submitting in all quietude to the authorities imposed, they were yet resolved to take no part in these constrained reformations. . the general government had been for four years declaring the ordinances of secession, passed by the several states, null and void. it had been repeatedly announced that no state could thus sever her connection with the union; but when the legally elected senators and representatives from north carolina reached washington, they found that this doctrine was reversed, and were told that they could not take part in national legislation until congress should restore the southern states to their lost privileges. . in the southern elections that were held, every man was required to take oaths of allegiance and for the support of the amended federal constitution. some refused to attend the polls and a few left the country for foreign lands. a vast majority were resolved to support the union in good faith, but, unhappily, this was not so understood by the men who controlled at raleigh and washington. they were impressed with the belief that only hostile sentiments actuated southern white men, and, therefore, the proper policy was to confer political power upon the negroes, and in that way establish a new system of rule and social life in the southern states lately in revolt. . . this was a great and cruel mistake in policy. it was not only impossible of execution, but necessarily entailed trouble and suffering on both races thus put in antagonism. it could not be expected that white people would quietly submit to the domination of negroes who had so recently been their slaves, even if such rulers had been equally intelligent and socially respected. when the race feeling was added to the late subjection and present ignorance of the negroes, it was the most futile and abortive scheme ever proposed in america, and was at war with all the precedents and spirit of the great republic. questions. . what was the condition of the state after the departure of federal troops? . how were the people enduring mental and bodily suffering? . what had become of the various educational funds? . what was the only means by which north carolina could meet the expenses of the state government? what became of the small supply of cotton? . what changes did governor holden make in the supreme court? what orders did the governor receive from washington? what was the work of the convention? . who. was chosen to succeed governor holden? what political opinions were expressed by the people in their votes? . what inconsistencies were observed in the management of affairs at washington? . how did the men of the south feel concerning the laws of congress? . how are the events of this period considered? chapter lxv. governor worth and president johnson. a. d. to . president andrew johnson, as has already been stated, was born and reared in the city of raleigh. he went to tennessee after reaching manhood, and, though blessed with small advantages as to early culture, devoted himself to political life. he is said to have mastered the rudiments of education with his wife's help. his native ability soon gave him position as a politician and eventually great popularity and control over the tennessee people. . he soon relaxed in the severity of his feelings toward the late confederates, and thereby incurred the resentment of the leaders in the party which had elected him vice-president. in the bitterness of the mutual recriminations, between him and his late friends in congress, there was, unhappily, evil to result to north carolina and the south; for to the old resentments against the south was added a desire in many men to thwart the president who had become their ally. . governor worth had ever been marked as a public man by the utmost devotion to the federal union. he had constantly opposed the doctrine and necessity of secession. he was now to show his wisdom and attachment for the state of his birth. as governor, he was continually pressed to secure legal protection for the people against the interference of military commanders and courts-martial, which were constantly intruding upon the jurisdiction of the state courts. . the whole system of education in the common schools had perished in the loss of the literary fund. the university still continued its ministrations, but with a diminished faculty and patronage. the colleges, male and female, belonging to the different religious denominations, were re-opened and generally were slowly regaining their former efficiency. . among the first enactments by the legislature after the war, was the law allowing negroes to testify against or for white parties in courts of justice. this was a great change in our law, but was now necessary for their protection, as they no longer had masters to care for them. . the agriculture of the period was rapidly advancing in the perfection of its details. concentrated fertilizers were coming into general use and the area of cotton culture was immensely expanding. the farms were about equally divided as to the style of their management. the best farmers still hired their "hands" and superintended the details of operation in person, but many leased their lands to laborers and furnished the teams and supplies needed by the tenants. . under the sensible and moderate rule then seen in the state, prosperity seemed rapidly returning, but as the united states congress still refused to allow any representation in that body, there was great and increasing uneasiness as to the terms that would be finally exacted from the south in the proposed reconstruction measures. . . early in the year a convention, so-called, was held to frame a new constitution under the reconstruction act of congress. the election for the delegates was held under general canby's orders, and the returns were sent to him at charleston. upon his order the convention met and upon his order its delegates were seated and unseated. . in the latter part of april the constitution thus framed was submitted to such of the people as were allowed to vote, at an election held as before, under general canby's order, and by him, in charleston, south carolina, the returns having been sent to him there, declared to have been adopted. it is now generally known as the "canby constitution." in june, by order by telegram from general canby, governor worth, who had been elected governor by the people in , was turned out of his office and governor holden put in his place. the only authority for this and other outrages was the might of federal bayonets. . the legislature elected under the recently adopted constitution met on the st of july, . it was comprised largely of negroes and of men from the north who had lately come to north carolina. these latter were popularly known as "carpetbaggers," and as a class were mere birds of prey who came here for plunder. as might have been expected, the legislation of such a body was both corrupt and injurious. ignorant of the resources of the state, of its people and their necessities, it would have been a miracle almost, no matter how honest, had their legislation not been harmful. unfortunately, there was added to gross ignorance the most unblushing corruption and wanton extravagance. many millions of debt, in the shape of "special tax bonds," as they were called, were attempted to be fastened upon the state by this legislature, but the people have persistently refused to recognize them. . the convention and elections of will ever be remembered. the act of congress, passed on february th, , was in vain vetoed by the president. it was made the law of the land, and under its provisions, while twenty thousand white men of north carolina were deprived of the right to vote, that privilege was extended to every colored male in the state who had attained the age of twenty-one years. . the year closed with great apprehensions to all classes. the new state government possessed neither the confidence nor the affection of the people, and in the pandemonium of bribery and corruption there was justification for the fears of men, who, in corrupt and reckless appropriations and corrupt and reckless expenditures, foresaw ruin to all material interests of the state. . in robeson county, life and property were so insecure that extraordinary measures were adopted to extirpate the bandits who slew and plundered as if no legal restraints were left in the land. the story of henry berry lowery and his "swamp angels" will ever stand as a convincing proof of the incompetency of the government of that day or of its wanton disregard of its duties to its citizens. questions. . where was president andrew johnson born? to what state did he go? to what profession did he devote himself? how is he said to have mastered the rudiments of education? what position did his native ability give him? . how did his feelings toward the south undergo a change? what did he incur thereby? how did this affect north carolina and the south? . what is said of governor worth? . in what condition were the institutions of learning at this period? . what legislation is mentioned favoring the colored people? why was this now necessary? . how were agricultural matters progressing? how were the farms conducted? . what was the general condition of the state? . for what was the convention of held? under whose order was the election for delegates held? . when was the constitution thus framed submitted to the people? how is this constitution now known? how was governor worth removed from office, and who was put in his place? what was the authority for this and other high-handed measures? . when did the legislature of meet, and of whom was it composed? what is said of this legislature? what is said of the "special tax bonds"? . what is said of the convention and elections of ? . in what condition were public affairs? . what is said of robeson county, and henry berry lowery and his "swamp angels"? chapter lxvi. the results of reconstruction. a. d. to . there was in north carolina great indignation at the result of the enforced changes wrought in the polity of the state by means of the various congressional enactments. strangers from other states, and men entirely unused to legislation, had effected many alterations in our government and laws. it was to be expected that such things, done in such manner, would prove distasteful to a proud race that had so lately withstood so stoutly on the field of battle, and so long, such superior numbers. . among the many unnecessary changes that were rendered more distasteful by the harsh manner of their accomplishment, were those made by governor holden and his party at the state university at chapel hill. this venerable institution, which had given education to many men of renown, was taken in hand, and, with a new management and a new faculty, made up of carpetbaggers and unsuitable native north carolinians, re-opened its doors. its late president, ex-governor david l. swain, had died shortly after his removal, his colleagues in the faculty had dispersed in search of new homes, and silence had usurped the halls so long thronged by students from many states. the village of chapel hill, depending on the existence of the university for its support, became almost deserted. no less than thirty of its best families removed within two years. the people of north carolina refused to patronize the new organization, and the institution was for seven years prostrate. . the changes did not stop with the university. the judges of all the courts had been, since , elected by the legislature. this was altered, so that they were in future to be selected by the votes of the people. the name of the lower branch of the general assembly, so long known as the house of "commons," became that of the "representatives." the meeting of the assembly was made annual instead of biennial, and the pay of the members and state officials largely increased. our county government system, too, was changed, and so was the mode of electing magistrates, who had hitherto been elected by the legislature. in future they were to be elected by the people. in many portions of the state the effect was to put the white race at once under the domination of the black race. bitterness and great excitement were the inevitable results. but of all the innovations, none, perhaps, was so startling as that made in the procedure and practice of the courts. it was distasteful both to client and counsel, but to the older lawyers it was especially objectionable. . . the distinguishing event of this year in north carolina was the appearance, in various parts of the state, of well-organized bodies of horsemen, commonly called ku-klux, who rode about at night in full disguise and punished crimes that the law had failed to punish. the mystery attending their coming and their going, the silence they preserved in their marches, the disguises they wore, coupled with the terrible punishment they inflicted, struck terror into the hearts of men with guilty consciences. . these midnight riders were doubtless in their origin the natural outgrowth of the condition of society that had prevailed in north carolina for some time past--that is to say, they were originally nothing more nor less than local mutual protective associations, with little form about them and but little more secrecy. the first step having been taken in that direction, the next followed as a matter of course. next came associations to prevent future crime by punishing past crime. these organizations were more complex in their character and of wider range in their operations. . the condition of society was very bad, but not worse than might have been expected under a government which, obnoxious in its creation, daily became more hateful in its conduct. negro suffrage had just become a reality. spies and eavesdroppers were everywhere catching up men's words and watching men's actions for report to the government at raleigh. corruption and licentiousness stalked openly in the legislative halls and sat unblushingly on the judicial bench, while in the executive office was a governor ready to obey the behests of his party at any cost. it was an era of extravagance, bribery, corruption, oppression, licentiousness and lawlessness. of the negroes, ignorant slaves but yesterday, with all their passion stirred to the utmost, large numbers blindly believed that freedom and suffrage would make them masters tomorrow were it not for the native white race. first suspicious, then sullen, then aggressive, they soon came under the bad teaching of the men who were their leaders, to regard the native white men as their born enemies. the result was the murder of men, the outraging of women, the burning of barns and other like destruction of property, then of vital importance, for the law had no terror for an evil doer who had friends at court or in the executive chamber. it is but just to the negroes, however, to say that it is not believed that if they had been left to themselves they would have acted as they did, but that they were influenced to bad deeds by bad white men, who used them as tools to accomplish political ends. under such circumstances as these, good citizens felt that they were tried beyond human endurance, and justified themselves to their own consciences for taking the law into their own hands. . the evils the ku-klux came to cure were indeed unbearable; but it must be said, also, that while the disease was desperate, the remedy was fearful. it is a fearful thing for men to band themselves together in secret and take the law into their own hands, and nothing but the direst necessity and the gravest emergency can ever justify it. inseparable from every such organization, and this proved no exception to the rule, is the danger of its easy perversion to the gratification of personal malice or the improper punishment of petty offences, and this alone ought to be warning that in such a remedy lies terrible danger. . governor holden quailed before the ku-klux, and from his guarded house issued proclamation after proclamation, but they would not down at his bidding. when winter came and with it the legislature, senator shoffner, of alamance, at the instance of the governor, introduced a bill into the senate, in its terms conferring upon the governor the right to declare any and every county in the state to be in insurrection, and to recruit and maintain an army whenever he saw proper. in other words, the bill sought to confer upon the governor the power to declare martial law at will. of course this was unconstitutional. . . the shoffner bill was ratified on the th of january, . on the night of the th of february, wyatt outlaw, a negro, was hung in the county town of alamance, by the ku-klux. on the th of march the county was declared to be in a state of insurrection. federal troops were sent there, but beyond eating their rations they had no occupation, for quiet and good order prevailed throughout the county. . a striking fact, true of every place during these unhappy times, is that whenever white federal troops were sent to a troubled section, whether in alamance, caswell, orange or elsewhere, there was straightway an end of trouble. the law- breakers were awed into good behavior, and those who in self- protection had forced, in their own judgment, to take into their own hands the administration of justice, of course had no further occasion to do so. . governor holden, however, seemed not to be satisfied with the shoffner bill, for on the th of march he wrote* to the president, asking that stringent orders be sent to the commanding general, and stating that if "criminals could be arrested and tried before military tribunals and shot, there would soon be peace and order throughout the country. the remedy," he said, "would be a sharp and bloody one, but indispensable as was the suppression of the rebellion." the th he wrote to the members of congress from north carolina**, beseeching them to induce congress to author the president to declare martial law in certain localities, so that he might "have military tribunals, by which assassins and murderers can be summarily tried and shot," and telling them at the same time that he could not have such tribunals unless the president was authorized to suspend the habeas corpus. *for letter in full, see governor's letter-book, page . **for letter in full, see governor's letter-book, page . . at the time when the governor was so anxious thus "summarily" to try and shoot people, not a single man had been killed in caswell, and only one in alamance. it might be borne in mind, too, that the men whom he refers to, and whom he afterwards arrested as assassins and murderers, were among the best men in all the land, many of them venerable for age as well as respected for personal integrity and christian character. questions. . how did our people take the many changes in state polity? . what was done with the university? . how was the manner of electing judges changed? what was the effect of this change? . what secret organization was formed at this time? . what is said of the ku-klux? . can you tell something of the condition of society? . how are the doings of the ku-klux considered? . what was done by the governor in regard to the ku-klux? . what occurred in alamance county? . what was the general effect produced by the federal troops? . what was the next step taken by governor holden? . who were the men arrested by order of the governor? chapter lxvii. the results of reconstruction--continued. a. d. to . on the st of may, john w. stephens, then a senator from caswell county, was secretly murdered in an unused room in the courthouse at yanceyville. a large concourse filled the house when the deed was committed, the occasion being a democratic political gathering, and stephens was seen and talked to at the meeting, being there as a spectator. strange to say, however, it is a mystery to this day as to who committed the crime. . it was insisted by governor holden and his party that stephens had been murdered by the ku-klux. this however, was as stoutly denied, and the assertion added that, as stephens was an object of derision and contempt rather than of hatred, there was neither desire nor cause to put him to death. . meanwhile, congress had refused to confer upon the president the power to declare martial law, and the august elections kept drawing near. a new attorney-general and a new legislature and new congressmen were to be elected. the governor and his party were therefore compelled to rely on the shoffner bill alone. . state troops, as they were called, were now recruited, and, on the st of june, george w. kirke, a brutal ruffian of infamous character, and known to be such, who had commanded a regiment of federal troops during the war, was brought from his home in tennessee and commissioned colonel. this man kirke, in his public posters calling for recruits, the original of which was found in governor holden's own hand-writing, appealed to his old comrades to join him, saying that "the blood of their murdered countrymen, inhumanly butchered for opinion's sake, cried to them from the ground for ensconce." . on the th of july, the county of caswell was declared to be in a state of insurrection. meanwhile, however, a company of federal troops had been stationed at yanceyville, and had found use for neither ball nor bayonet, and in both alamance and caswell the courts were open and not the slightest obstruction to any process of the law. . on the th of july, kirke having organized his regiment, was ordered to take command of the counties of alamace and caswell. in a few days more than a hundred citizens of alamance and caswell were arrested and imprisoned by kirke and his subordinates. in some instances persons thus seized were hung up by the neck, or otherwise treated with great brutality. among there prisoners were many men who had been for years of the first respectability as citizens, and were known and honored in every portion of the state. . application was speedily made to chief-justice pearson for a writ of habeas corpus, that adolphus g. moore, and others thus imprisoned, might know the cause of their detention and receive the protection of the laws. judge pearson granted the writ, but when it was served on kirke, he directed the messenger to inform the chief-justice that such things "had played out," that he was acting in accordance with governor holden's orders, and he refused to obey the command of his honor. the lawyers of the imprisoned men then asked for further process of the judge to punish kirke for his disregard of his orders; but judge pearson passed over his contemptuous message as the "flippant speech of a rude soldier," and held that his powers were exhausted, as the governor had ordered kirke to seize the men, and the judiciary could not contend with the executive, and in this he was sustained by the other members of the court. . the conspiracy against the constitution, the laws and the liberties of the people developed rapidly, now that the highest judges in the state had declared the courts of the state to be impotent. the military tribunals that the governor failed to get from congress in march, he now proceeded to organize under the shoffner act. the court was to consist of thirteen members, seven of whom governor holden selected from among his own partisans in the militia and six he left to kirke to select from the officers of his command. * the th day of july was first selected for the meeting of the court, and then the th of august. [!] it was a terrible state of affairs. the chief executive of the state was daily making his preparations for holding a drum head court-martial to try the best men in all the land, tie them to stakes and shoot them like dogs, while the judiciary, standing in sight and in hearing, declared itself helpless! *for full letter, see impeachment trial, volume i, page . [!]for full letter, see impeachment trial, volume ii, page . . fortunately, chief-justice pearson and those who sat with him were not the only judges in north carolina. there proved to be at least one judge who did not think his powers exhausted. that judge was george w. brooks, judge of the united states district court for north carolina, and application was accordingly made to him for a writ of habeas corpus. he came to raleigh, and was told by the governor that if he interfered civil war would ensue; but judge brooks was inflexible, and, on august th he ordered marshal carrow to notify colonel kirke that in ten days his prisoners should be brought before his honor at salisbury. . governor holden then appealed to president grant, informing him of the situation; and the president, after advising with the attorney-general, replied that the authority of judge brooks must be respected. kirke accordingly brought a portion of his prisoners as ordered, to salisbury, and as no crimes were alleged for their detention, they were all set at liberty. . as soon as governor holden was informed of the decision of the president, he sent a messenger in haste to the chief justice, who thereupon came to raleigh, and the prisoners who had not been brought before judge brooks at salisbury were carried before him and the other judges of the supreme court at raleigh. . but it was judge brooks who broke the backbone of this great conspiracy against the government of north carolina. no man ever lived on our soil who deserved to be held in more grateful remembrance by the people of north carolina than he. whatever others may have done in building up the state, it was he that saved her constitution and her laws and the liberties of her people. the scenes of horror that would have been witnessed but for his timely interference cannot be thought of, even now, without a shudder. it is greatly to be hoped that the legislature will speedily erect a suitable monument in the capitol square in token of the gratitude of the people for whom he did so much. questions. . what occurred at yanceyville on may st? . who were accused as the murderers of stephens? upon what ground was this denied? . what had congress done concerning martial law? . what man was put in charge of the state troops? where was kirke from, and what was his character? . what was the condition of affairs in alamance and caswell counties? . give an account of kirke's exploits in these counties? . to whom did the people apply for aid? with what result? . what was next done by the governor? . to what judge did the people next go for protection? what did judge brooks do? . what was governor holden's next step? where were kirke's prisoners taken? . where were the prisoners then carried? . what tribute is made to judge brooks? what are the reflections upon this matter? chapter lxviii. the impeachment of governor holden. a. d. to . the election of resulted in a great triumph for the people. opponents of the administration were elected to the legislature in overwhelming majorities, and a determination to bring governor holden to trial for his crimes against the constitution and liberties of the people was at once apparent. . nothing can be more important; in a civilized government than protection to the liberties of the people. nothing is truer than that "eternal vigilance is the price of liberty," even in the royal government of england, for more than two centuries the king has had no power to deprive a citizen of the right to be heard in the courts, when restrained by legal process or otherwise. neither there nor in america could anything but foreign invasion or positive insurrection justify even parliament or congress in suspending the right to this palladium of civil liberty. . upon motion in the house of representatives, the legislature having assembled, a committee was appointed to inquire into the facts, and soon, articles of impeachment were presented to the senate, charging the governor of the state with the commission of "high crimes and misdemeanors." . . by the terms of the state constitution, this worked a disability in governor holden; and tod r. caldwell, of burke, then lieutenant-governor, assumed control of the executive department. . in a court of impeachment in north carolina, when the governor is on trial, the chief-justice is the president of the body. the members of the senate are triers and the house of representatives act as prosecutors in behalf of the people, and a two-thirds vote is required to convict. . thus, with judge pearson presiding, there was a long and deliberate examination as to the charges made against the chief- magistrate of north carolina. after hearing the testimony presented both by the accusers and by the respondent, governor holden was convicted of the charges made against him, deprived of his office, and declared incapable of holding any further honor or dignity in the state. . such a trial has been seen but in this single instance in all the history of the state, and it attracted considerable attention in its progress. it involved great and important issues, and was happily followed by peace and quiet in every portion of the state. . after eight years' absence, a delegation was again seen in the federal capital representing the state of north carolina in the congress of the united states. for two years past her members of congress had been allowed to participate in the national legislation, and thus an ignominious disability had at last been removed from her federal relations. a mighty convulsion, that had stirred the nation to its depths, was being slowly hushed into calm by the adoption of wiser and more peaceful methods. a broader nationality was coming alike to the northern and southern people, and the wounds of the war were fast healing in the lapse of time. . the census of showed vast improvement in many departments of human industry. north carolina, in the many alterations wrought by the war, was learning the wisdom of diversifying the pursuits of the people. slowly public attention was being turned to the opening of new industries. the western north carolina, the raleigh & augusta and the carolina central railroads were opening up a new era in the history of such interests in the old north state. . with a greatly extended area of production in cotton, there was, besides, an enormous addition, of railroad profits from the increase both of travel and freights. as the railway lines lengthened to the west, it was found that they would repay the cost of construction, and each of the rival political parties pledged itself to the completion of the great western road which was to pierce the extreme mountain barriers and find outlets into tennessee, both at ducktown and the warm springs, in madison county. . slowly this great dream of the wise men of the past approaches the day of its accomplishment. a half century has gone by since dr. joseph caldwell and governor dudley first impressed this scheme upon the public mind as a work of the future. questions. . what was the result of the election of ? upon what was the legislature determined? . can you tell what is said about protection of the liberties of the people? . what was done by the house of representatives? . how did these charges affect the governor? who assumed control of the executive department? . who constitutes a court of impeachment in north carolina, and what vote does it take to convict? . who presided at the trial of governor holden? how did the trial terminate? what was the punishment? . what is said of this great trial? what did it involve? by what was it followed? . what political changes were seen at washington city? how was the condition becoming better? . what is said of industrial pursuits in north carolina? of railroads? can you trace the route of these railroads on the map? . how was the state being agitated upon the question of internal improvements? . what is said of the accomplishment of these improvements? how long has it been since this scheme was impressed upon the public? chapter lxix. resumption of self-government. a. d. . in the years that had passed since the close of the war between the states, the people of north carolina had been continually looking forward to the hour when the state should be fully restored to its old relations with the federal government. in the consummation of the reconstruction policy, inaugurated and carried out by congress, this had been partially attained, but, in the provisions of the constitution adopted in , there were many particulars that were unsuited to the habits of the people, and amendment was eagerly desired in this respect. . political animosities were being softened by the lapse of time, and general prosperity was fast extending to different sections. towns and villages were being built along the lines of railroads, and cotton and other factories were constantly being added. . just previous to the outbreak of the late war the masonic grand lodge of north carolina had reared at oxford a large and costly building, which was called "st. john's college," and was intended for the education of young men. in this building was devoted, by the fraternity that had erected it, to the education of the orphan children of north carolina. this noble charity was placed in the care of john h. mills, who has abundantly justified the wisdom of those who were parties to his being chosen for so responsible a place. . this school, which educates so many who would otherwise grow up in ignorance and vice, is aided now by an annual appropriation from the state and another from the grand lodge of masons, but on individual contributions of the charitable it is mainly dependent for its support. perhaps no other charity ever so much enlisted popular sympathy in north carolina, and none ever more richly repaid the unselfish contributions of the people. . at the period now reached the university had ceased to be attended as a college. rev. solomon pool still remained its president, but the buildings were silent, and the famous seat of learning no longer held its proud position among american institutions. meanwhile, the denominational colleges were vigorously at work, and were receiving a larger patronage than formerly. . among the female seminaries of the state a new and formidable rival for popular favor arose--peace institute, at raleigh. this institution, like the orphan asylum, had originated before the war, but, during the years of strife the building was used as a hospital. it is controlled by the presbyterians, and under their excellent management it has become one of the best appointed and most popular institutions in all the state. . in the nomination and re-election of general grant as president of the united states in , there were many incidents to show the alteration in southern sentiment. the white men of the south, as a general thing, voted in that contest for horace greeley, of new york. he had been long identified with all the movements that were specially obnoxious to southern people, and yet, after so many bitter differences in the fifty years past, the old leader of the abolitionists became the nominee of the democrats and received their votes for the presidency. . this strange course was said by those who pursued it to be dictated by the desire on their parts to show that they did not harbor resentment toward old enemies, and were not now disaffected toward the union, but were willing for "the dead past to bury its dead," and well might they pursue such a course. with the close of the war had passed all reason for the existence of another republic. in the abolition of slavery the states had become uniform in interest, and it was soon patent that it ought to need only a little time to heal the breaches of the war and restore concord to the two great sections of the mighty american commonwealth. . unfortunately, however, the men who swayed the destinies of the country were more partisans than patriots, and sought to perpetuate the domination of their party more than the restoration of peace and concord. . in the sober, second thought of the american people it is to be hoped that patriotism will prevail. that hatred and malevolence can continue indefinitely in the relations of the two grand divisions of the republic, is as impossible as it would be unwise and wicked. their destiny is too grand for the people of america to think of marring it by a continuance of strife. year by year the traces of blood disappear from the face of the land, and more closely grow the bands that make us a free and united people. questions. . to what period had the people of north carolina been looking forward since the close of the war? what acts had somewhat prevented the arrival of this state of affairs? . what is said of political animosities and the general prosperity of the state? of towns and factories? . what charitable institution had been opened by the masons? who was put in charge? . what is said of the orphan asylum? . in what condition was the university? what is said of other colleges? . what female school is now mentioned? . what political changes were seen in the presidential campaign of ? . what was said to have dictated this course? what was the general position of the people since the close of the war? . what was the cause of sectional prejudices continuing to exist? . in what characteristics do the american people stand high? why should all sectional animosities be speedily removed? chapter lxx. the cotton trade and factories. a. d. . . previous to the introduction of whitney's cotton gins there had been much attention bestowed by the people of the state upon the cultivation of flax. this crop was never reared for exportation, but for family use at home. few of the ancient spinning-wheels can now be found, but they were once abundant and the manufacture of home made linen was common in north carolina. this was even more the case than is now the preparation of woolen fabrics upon the handlooms of the families. . so soon as the lint cotton was cheaply separated from its seed, the great question of its universal use was solved. it could be so easily produced that no woolen or linen fabrics could hope to compete with it in the markets of the world. the good women of the state soon learned the economy of buying the cotton warp of the cloth wove at the farmhouses, but it was long before even this common domestic necessity was prepared for use in the south. . the cotton yarns were, until about , almost all spun in new england and bought by the merchants in the large cities when laying in their semi-annual supplies of goods for the retail trade. the purchase of slaves and the cultivation of cotton so completely absorbed the energies of our people that no one invested capital in anything else, except, perhaps, some who preferred real estate for such a purpose. . but even before the civil war and the liberation of the slaves there were wise men who urged the propriety and profit of cotton mills in the south. since the war there has been an immense development of this industry, and now the sound of the loom and spindle may be beard throughout the state. hundreds of persons are employed in a single one of the cotton mills. in this way not only the wealth but the population of the section is increased by bringing in new settlers. the railways find added employment, and in some cases private residences are seen that are rural paradises in the beauty and comfort of their appointments. there is, in some of the western counties, large capital invested in mills for the manufacture of woolen yarns and cloth, from which satisfactory profits are realized. another one of the important industries of the state is the manufacture of paper. the daily and weekly newspapers of north carolina are now largely supplied with printing papers by the mills of the state. the first paper mill in north carolina was erected near hillsboro, in ; the second one was built at salem, in , by gotleib shober. . north carolina has ever been slow to change in the habits of her people. the ways of their forefathers always seem best to most of them until abundant example has shown the wisdom of an innovation. steam, however, is usurping a place in every species of labor and motion. the great seines of albemarle sound, the printing press, the cotton gin and nearly everything else is now obedient to the tireless energies of this great motor. . when north carolina shall have developed her system of transportation so that the coal and iron mines shall be more largely worked, and when, as now in vermont, not only cotton but woolen factories shall be found in every section where such staples are produced; then, and not until then, will the civilization of the state be complete. they who merely produce raw material will ever be "hewers of wood and drawers of water" to others who prepare such things for market. . second alone in importance to the state at large, after the cotton factories, are those devoted to the handling and preparation of tobacco for the market. the western powers of europe had, for many years, realized immense revenues by means of their imports and monopolies of the virginia weed, before the government of the united states ever realized a dollar from all the vast production of this crop in the different states. so, too, in north carolina, enterprise and capital had remained almost completely blind to the possibilities of the situation. . though great quantities of tobacco had been grown in many of the counties, and the soil and climate were suited to the production of the finest and costliest grades, yet the farmers were content to raise such as commanded but humble prices, and but a small proportion of this was prepared for use in the vicinity of its production. in a few villages and on some of the farms were to be found small factories, which, with the rudest appliances, converted into plugs of chewing tobacco such portions of the crop of the neighborhood as could be probably sold from itinerant wagons. . these vehicles were sent to the eastern counties and even to portions of south carolina and georgia, to supply the farms and country stores. this traffic continued until the strong arm of the federal government, by means of "internal revenue laws," was interposed between the peddlers and their ancient profits. the bulk of the crop was sent, before this, to be manufactured at richmond, lynchburg and danville, in virginia. the fine brands of plug and all smoking tobacco used in north carolina were received from these cities. . if he who adds to the number of grass blades is a public benefactor, then the creators of new industries and towns may well claim consideration along with the warrior and statesman. in many towns and vast productions are modern states enabled to sustain the great and costly appliances of our new civilization. with the railroad and factory come population and those advantages that can never be enjoyed by the people who lack numbers and wealth. questions. . what was a principle crop in north carolina before the cotton gin was invented? what is said of the cultivation of flax? . why did the production of cotton so rapidly take the place of flax? . how did the people invest nearly all their means? . what can you tell of the various cotton factories? . why have not our people entered more largely into this class of industry? . what better future prosperity is yet to be attained by the state? . what other great industry is now considered? . what had been the production in north carolina? . what is said of the tobacco peddlers? . what sentiment animates the people of north carolina? chapter lxxi. progress of material development. a. d. to . . in this state of advancement as to her material interests, north carolina again became excited in over the choice of new men for chief-magistrates, both of the republic and of the state. . after eight years of service as president of the united states, general grant was retired to private life, and governor brogden, who had succeeded governor caldwell upon the death of the latter in , was also near the end of his service as governor of north carolina. no gubernatorial election was ever more exciting to the state. it resulted in the choice of ex- governor z. b. vance over judge thomas settle of the supreme court. . . in the complications which resulted in the seating of governor hayes as president of the united states, there was such a change effected that the federal army was no longer employed to uphold the reconstructed officials in louisiana and south carolina, and the people of those states, at last, were left to the management of their own affairs. with this consummation, so long and devoutly wished, came that peace and contentment to all sections which had been unknown since . . the enormous increase in the amount and quality of cotton grown in north carolina since the late war has been dependent upon the use of various fertilizers and other appliances of a better cultivation of the soil. the old habit of educated men, in committing their plantations and slaves to the management of overseers, has been almost wholly abandoned. many individuals of the largest culture are now devoting their time and skill to the discovery of improved methods in agriculture, and north carolina is reaping a golden harvest thereby. . . no employment, except agriculture, exceeds in importance that of the merchant. north carolina is shut off from foreign commerce by the sand barriers on the coast, only at beaufort, on old topsail inlet, can be found such an entrance to internal waters as promises safety to the mariner who would approach with his deep-laden vessel. but, while this has precluded the possibility of great commercial activity in north carolina, there has not been a lack of men, at any period of our history, to illustrate the dignity and importance of legitimate traffic. cornelius harnett and joseph hewes were as conspicuous for financial success as they were for patriotism during the revolution. . with the return of peace to the belligerent states, north carolina was commercially prostrate. the merchants and the banks were almost all ruined in the general impoverishment of their debtors. the supply of cotton which remained on hand at the cessation of hostilities was about all that had been left, in the general wreck, upon which trade could be again commenced with parties at a distance. . raleigh had never been recognized as a trade centre. a few stores on fayetteville street, between the state house and where the federal building now stands, were the representatives of their class in the city. cotton was very little grown in that region of the state, and no market for its sale had even existed nearer than norfolk and petersburg. . but this state of things was not to continue. numbers of young men, combining great energy and judgment with small capital, came to the city and began the work of expanding its trade and resources. it has not, like durham, risen up in a few years from almost nothing, but so great a change has been wrought, that the story of its growth is one of the most striking incidents in the state's history. the extension of the railway lines has opened up new custom in many counties that had never previously dealt with merchants of the place. . the development of commerce and manufacture is the great hope of the "old north state." the enterprise and capital of this and other communities are seeking opportunities of investment, and the day is fast coming when north carolina will rival pennsylvania in the variety and excellence of her manufactures. the "cotton exchange" of raleigh is aiding very largely in building up the business of the city to vast proportions. the quantity of cotton sold in raleigh has been rapidly increasing annually since the war, and the receipts for the year amounted to over seventy-six thousand bales. in the entire product of the state was only one hundred and forty-five thousand bales. . in the towns and cities of north carolina may be found a considerable number of israelites engaged in the various branches of trade; and this class of our citizens has added no little to the general growth and material prosperity of the state. they have synagogues at wilmington, charlotte, raleigh, goldsboro and new bern. . about the year the example of the federal government and that of certain northern states induced the state commissioner of agriculture to establish a fish hatchery at a mouth of salmon creek in bertie county. this establishment has hatched and liberated a very large number of shad and other varieties of fish, and valuable returns are seen in some of the rivers that have been in this manner replenished with this savory and abundant source of food. it has been satisfactorily demonstrated by seth green, of new york, and other naturalists, that fish which are spawned in fresh water and reared at sea almost invariably seek the place of their birth in the spring, when they reach maturity. . in addition to this artificial increase of the supply of fish, there have been large additions made to the means of their capture. the use of steam in the handling of the long seines and the great weirs known as "dutch nets," have opened the way to an indefinite increase of the amount taken, while the use of ice and rapid transportation make it possible to deliver the fish fresh in the markets of the northern and western cities. . this trade is also supplemented in the same region by such attention to the growth and sale of vegetables. all the requirements as to position, soil and climate are abundantly filled by the counties with alluvial soils along the seacoast. heavy crops of irish potatoes and garden peas are reared on the same land which, later in the year, supplies a second crop of cotton and corn. . in the same eastern counties the products of the farms have been increased by a large and rapidly extending area devoted to the production of peanuts and highland rice. with the exception of a limited supply of the former article, grown above wilmington, there was seen in other communities only a few small patches for the use of the family, but with no design of sale or shipment. in many eastern counties the fields of peanuts are, of late year, almost as numerous as those of cotton. the same history belongs to the highland rice. this great staple of human diet is rapidly becoming a favorite crop, and mills for its preparation are fast making their appearance in different localities. . nowhere else in the state has there been so great an increase in trade as in the city of wilmington. many ships from foreign ports began to visit cape fear river, and, from different cities in other states, regular lines of steam packets were established, which greatly facilitated the means of communication. . repeated appropriations, but never in sufficient amount, were made from time to time by the united states congress for the improvement of cape fear and other watercourses in north carolina. the closing of new inlet is believed to be entirely efficacious in the effort to deepen the approach by way of the river's mouth. a stone barrier of great length and stability shuts off the flow of water, except past fort caswell, and the happiest results are already realized. . in the city of new bern another shipping point of importance had been largely developed in the years since the close of the war. there, too, is the terminus of prosperous freight lines, employing many large steam vessels, that yet ply regularly between neuse river and cities beyond the borders of the state. a great trade in lumber and garden produce is improved by cotton and other factories, that add largely to the population and means of the city. questions: . how was the state excited in ? . what was the result of this election? . what is said of the events of the past few years? . how have the agricultural pursuits of the state been benefited? . what are the most important employments in a state? what are some of north carolina's commercial advantages? . what was the financial condition of the people at the close of the war? . what is said of raleigh as a trade centre? . in what way did trade matters begin to improve at the capital? . what else is said of north carolina's commercial prospects? what advantage has raleigh derived from the cotton exchange? . what is said of the israelites? . what new enterprise was inaugurated in ? what have been the results of the hatchery? what fact has been proven concerning fish? . what is said of the improvement in the means of catching fish? . what other species of trade is found in the eastern counties? . what is said of the production of peanuts? . can you tell something of the growth and trade of wilmington? . how has the navigation of the cape fear river been improved? . what other seaport city is now mentioned? what is said of its commercial interests? chapter lxxii. the railroads and new towns. a. d. . . the raleigh & gaston railroad originally connected the two places that gave name to the route. it was necessary in reaching raleigh from the albemarle region to go to weldon, and then, by the petersburg railroad, the junction in greenville county, virginia, gave access by a short line to gaston. it was not until about that the raleigh & gaston route was extended directly down the roanoke river to weldon. this was a great facility to both trade and travel on this important line, yet twenty years elapsed in the progress of internal communication before this short link could be added. . a great trunk line, extending east and west through the whole length of the state, has long been a favorite scheme of many statesmen in the effort to build up a seaport at beaufort. but in the progress of the late war it became all-important to the confederate government to tap the north carolina road at greensboro, in order that troops and military freights might be speedily conveyed to petersburg and richmond by way of danville. . the completion of the lines leading from charlotte to wilmington, from charlotte to statesville, from raleigh to hamlet, the cape fear & yadkin valley from fayetteville to greensboro; and the western north carolina road from salisbury to asheville, and the paint rock branch, have enormously increased the facilities for travel in the state. in addition to these lines, new routes from jamesville to washington, from rocky mount to tarboro, from norfolk to elizabeth city and edenton, from durham to chapel hill, from henderson to oxford, from goldsboro to smithfield, have also been recently added to the railway system. . the road from winston to greensboro has resulted in the creation of a city alongside of ancient salem which is, in every respect the compeer of durham in the swiftness of its growth and the amount of its trade and manufactures. winston, durham and reidsville have arisen almost like magic, and are expanding into such importance that charlotte, salisbury and greensboro have all felt the consequences of their growth in trade and population. . the city of charlotte has greatly prospered and has become important for its large trade and railway interests. perhaps, nowhere else in the state have the citizens of a city shown greater enterprise. its merchants, lawyers and editors have all won the respect and admiration of other communities, and have raised their city to such prosperity that it is now rapidly becoming a rival of wilmington and raleigh, and taking place in the front rank among north carolina's emporiums. . one of the most remarkable scenes ever witnessed in north carolina was the famous centennial anniversary of the signing of the mecklenburg declaration. it filled charlotte with thousands of visitors, among whom were the governors of several states and many other distinguished american citizens. ex-governor w. a. graham, judge john kerr, governor brogden and others delivered orations, and the citizen-soldiers of the state were gathered to do honor to an event "that had made charlotte forever sacred to history and song." this occurrence was, of course, on may th, , and just one hundred years later than the concourse ordered by colonel thomas polk. . fayetteville, asheville and statesville have also afforded remarkable instances of thrift and expansion in the busy latter years of our state's history. now, besides being a favorite resort as a watering place, supplements its summer festivities with large numbers of visitors avoiding the rigors of winter months elsewhere. it is becoming a railway centre and is fast developing a large and lucrative trade. . the tendency toward the erection of manufactories and the recent influx of foreign immigrants are happy auguries for the continued prosperity and growth of towns in the state. the wondrous diversity of products of the soil, the extent of the forests and the richness of the mines, all combine to demonstrate the ease with which the success of other american states can be rivalled in our own. . already the mountains have been pierced by the railway from salisbury. other lines from virginia, south carolina and tennessee are being constructed, so that every portion even of the mountainous region will soon be within easy reach of the markets of the world. the cranberry iron ores, the matchless mica quarries and the corundum deposits are all being made available to commerce, and will realize valuable returns for the capital employed upon them. . not the least remarkable among the new industries of the western counties is the collection and shipment of ginseng and other valuable medicinal roots and herbs. a firm in statesville have been, for years past, employing large capital in this business, which seems capable of indefinite extension. the preparation of dried fruits is another lucrative addition to the resources of the same region. . years ago, attention was called to the fact that at certain elevations in the mountains there was no frost to be seen at any period of the year; and this immunity has been turned to valuable account by the fruit growers, and now great orchards are found in many parts of the westerns counties, and shipments of very fine apples show the cultivation given to them. . north carolina is not only the original habitation of the scuppernong grape, but also of the luscious catawba. this latter fine fruit, which has proven so valuable to the nurseries of cincinnati, is at home in this latitude. . yadkin county was, before , famous for the production of a stronger beverage, derived from rye and corn. since the war many distilleries have been carried on in the state, in spite of the government regulations that carry so many men as culprits to the federal prisons. the offenders, known as "moonshiners," are those who make and sell whisky without paying the united states for a license in the trade. these transgressors of the law have for years been hunted like italian bandits or ferocious wild beasts, and not unfrequently blood has been shed in defence of the hidden distilleries and quite as often in attacking them and their owners. . in february of this year the secretary of state, joseph a. engelhard, died, after a brief illness. in the death of major engelhard, the state sustained a great loss. as a soldier he was faithful, capable and brave. at once made a conspicuous leader in the fierce struggles that followed the war by his control of a prominent journal, he proved ever courageous, far-seeing and of rare judgment. and to him, for the happy termination of those terrible struggles, the state owes a deep debt of gratitude that now, unhappily, she can repay only in honorable remembrance. questions. . what is the subject of this lesson? what is said of the extension of the raleigh & gaston railroad? go to the map and point out this road. . what favorite trunk-line has long been desired? what road was specially important to the confederate government? point out this road on the map. . what roads are mentioned as having been recently completed? point out these on the map. . what towns are now mentioned, and what is said of their growth? locate them on the map. . what is said of the prosperity of the city of charlotte? . what is said of the centennial celebration at charlotte? when did it occur? . what mention is made of fayetteville, asheville and statesville? find these towns on the map. . what have been the causes of the rapid growth of the towns in the state? . what further prosperity is noticed? . what other industry is described? can you tell anything of this valuable production? (teacher will explain). . what is said of the western fruit growers? . what excellent varieties of grape are natives of north carolina? what is said of the catawba grape? . what mention is made of the manufacture of stronger liquors? . what state officer died at this period? what is said of major engelhard? chapter lxxiii. literature and authors. a. d. . . it would seem natural that the connection of sir walter raleigh with the history of north carolina should have added to the literary tendencies of a people blessed with such a godfather. he was so full of genius and devotion to letters that a special impetus ought thereby to have been given to the cultivation of a similar spirit among those who were to inhabit the land of his love. but, though hariot, lawson, and quaint dr. brickell were moved by such a spirit, the muses have not made the old north state very remarkable in this respect. . north carolina has always been, since its settlement, the home of some highly cultivated people, but all the while the mass of the population has possessed but little knowledge of books. this fact has been a great discouragement to the production of authors. professions are not eagerly sought when not encouraged by the sympathy and support of the public. . in the period just preceding the revolt from british rule, edward moseley and samuel swann had been succeeded by men who possessed better literary opportunities and were more devoted to general culture than had been these two able and accomplished lawyers. moseley, with every requirement, could never bring to any of his many controversies with governor pollok and others such flowers of rhetoric as judge maurice moore lavished upon his famous "atticus letter." . that production was just such an attack upon governor tryon, for his conduct toward the regulators, as, a few years later, immortalized the english writer who is to this day only known by his signature, "junius." when judge moore and his compeer, cornelius harnett, were growing old, william hooper, archibald maclaine and the first james iredell were young lawyers, who travelled to all the superior courts in the state and mingled belles-lettres largely with their inspections of coke and the new lectures of dr. blackstone. . no man or woman then in north carolina wrote books, as a profession, but the copious correspondence of that day, which yet survives, and upon which fifty cents were paid as postage for each letter, proves that, what was called "polite literature" engaged much of their attention. they made fine speeches, and judge iredell wrote a law book and frequent dissertation for the newspapers; but, beyond this and an occasional pamphlet, no literary tasks were undertaken. . dr. hugh williamson was a man of similar habits. he was not only a skillful physician, but served with credit as a college professor and a member of the convention at philadelphia which formed the federal constitution, and he was also a member of the united states congress. after ceasing to be a citizen of this state, he undertook to write its history, but achieved very moderate success as an author. . in the lapse of years, this task was again undertaken by judge francois xavier martin. he came from france when a boy, and practiced law for seventeen years at new bern. his compilation of the statutes and history of north carolina were invaluable labors, and will ever render him memorable in our annals. his dry statement of facts was generally correct, and he fell into very few errors, considering that he was the first to attempt anything like a full record of the state's history; and this was accomplished in his new home in louisiana. . joseph seawell jones was a remarkable man in many respects. he was brilliant in social life, and became well known to the literary and fashionable circles of new york and washington. his love for north carolina was intense, and the "defence of the revolutionary history of the state of north carolina" that he wrote exhibits both talent and research. his infirmities of temper impaired his judgment, but his memory should ever be cherished in his native state for the services he rendered. after the gay scenes of his early manhood he spent many years on a mississippi plantation. his last book was entitled "my log cabin in the prairie." . early in the present century the literary aspects of the state were brightened by men who had attended as students on dr. joseph, caldwell's ministrations at chapel hill. his tendencies were all so practical that scientific and mechanical development was more encouraged than lighter subjects, but hardy b. croom, joseph a. hill, judge a. d. murphey and rev. drs. william hooper and francis l. hawks were early distinguished for the elegance of their literary acquirements. . judge william gaston left just enough literary memorials to cause us to regret that he did not attempt more things of the kind. his ode to carolina, and certain orations, will never be forgotten. judge robert strange was also possessed of similar gifts. philo henderson, walker anderson and abraham f. morehead were largely gifted in poetic power. each of them, at rare intervals, indulged in compositions that show what might have been accomplished had they been authors by profession and not mere literary amateurs. the state, while possessing a number of excellent musicians, has not produced many musical compositions of special merit; but the two songs, the "old north state," by hon. william gaston, and "ho! for carolina," by rev. william b. harrell, will ever remain favorites with our people. . colonel john h. wheeler and rev. dr. calvin h. wiley have both executed tasks that will render their names household words for ages to come. the historical contributions of the former are of the greatest possible value and are highly prized in every portion of the state. rev. drs. hubbard, foote, hawks and caruthers, and ex-governors graham and swain have each been large contributors to the same cause. rev. dr. charles f. deems, theo. h. hill and the lamented edwin w. fuller added much to the fame of our writers. professors richard sterling, william bingham and brantley york have contributed excellent educational textbooks, which do great credit to the talented authors. the recent "history of rowan county," by rev. jethro rumple, is both pleasing and valuable as a tribute to our local traditions. . in addition to the authors mentioned, there have been members of the bar of north carolina who have produced legal works of very great importance and value, not only to our own practitioners, but also to lawyers of other states. the most prominent writers of this class of literature were james iredell, edward cantwell, benjamin swam, william eaton, jr., b. f. moore, s. p. olds, william h. battle and quentin busbee, of former years; followed, in later times, by william h. bailey and fabius h. busbee. these law books have been chiefly digests, revisals and manuals of practice. . gifted women have not been wanting amid these literary people. mrs. cornelia phillips spencer, mrs. cicero w. harris, mrs. mary mason and mrs. mary bayard clarke have made valuable contributions to the literature of their era. in the case of miss frances fisher, under the assumed name of "christian reid," a most signal success is to be chronicled. she has given to the press many excellent stories and established a national fame as a novelist. . north carolina has produced many able newspaper editors. joseph gales and his two sons, edward j. hale, ex-governor w. w. holden, joseph a. engelhard, william j. yates, p. m. hale, william l. saunders, s. a. ashe, t. b. kingsbury, r. b. creecy, dossey battle, c. w. harris and other gifted men have wielded a wide influence on the people of this state. questions. of what does this lesson treat? . who is the first literary man known to north carolina? what is said of him? what others are mentioned in this connection? . what has been the general condition of literary matters in the state? why have so few professional authors been seen? . what is said of samuel swan and edward moseley? who was author of the "atticus letter? " . what mention is made of the "atticus letter? " who were the literary men of that period? . what is said of the correspondence of that day? what was the extent of judge iredell's literary efforts? . what is said of the attainments of dr. hugh williamson? . what other historians are mentioned, and what is said of them? . tell something of the labors of joseph seawell jones. . what produced an improvement in literary affairs early in the present century? . what is said of the ode to carolina and its author? what writers of similar gifts are named? what is said of musical compositions? . what is said of the literary efforts of colonel wheeler and dr wiley? what other historical writers are mentioned who have contributed to the state valuable series of school books? . what members of the bar have produced legal works of great value? . can you tell something of the gifted women of the state? . what prominent editors has the state furnished? chapter lxxiv. the colleges and schools. a. d. . as was intended by the men who framed the constitution of north carolina at halifax in , the university of the state has long held the leadership of such institutions in the commonwealth. the unfortunate and inexcusable interference of politicians with its management during the years of reconstruction only resulted in its temporary eclipse. the public refused it patronage when the new managers had installed a strange faculty in the seats of governor swain and his long honored coadjutors; but since the restoration of the ancient order of things, prosperity has returned both to the university and the beautiful village in which it is situated. . many useful reforms have been accomplished in its curriculum and management. perhaps never before was seen each devotion to study and compliance with the rules on the part of the students. the president, dr. kemp p. battle, had been much identified with the institution, before assuming charge of its fortunes. his learning, combined with public experience, made him a wise ruler of the literary community over which he was called to preside; and the excellence of the new faculty is becoming every day more evident in the scholarship and bearing of the young men who are sent out from its halls. . wake forest college is the oldest of the sectarian colleges of the state, and has long vindicated its usefulness among the baptist churches. its first intended end was the education of young men for the ministry, but this has been largely augmented by the successes of its graduates in every other branch of human usefulness in our midst. the councils of the state, and the learned professions, have been greatly illustrated by men who laid the foundations of their success by diligent application to their duties while attending as students at wake forest. . in the recent death of rev. dr. w. m. wingate, the institution lost a president who had given long and signal service; but, in his successor, rev. dr. t. h. pritchard, perhaps even higher executive qualities are seen. wake forest catalogue has latterly contained about two hundred names of students, and, through the munificence of certain friends, the college has received handsome additions to the buildings and appliances. . davidson college has also immensely developed in the last few years. not only in increased patronage, but in the grade of scholarship a great advance has been achieved, so that few institutions in america afford higher and more thorough instruction than is now enjoyed by the young men who avail themselves of the advantages here offered. . the same things may be said of trinity college, under the direction of rev. dr. b. craven. the pulpits of the methodist churches in north carolina have long borne evidence of the literary and moral excellence imparted to the graduates, and in many respects the whole state has been benefited and elevated by contact with such men. . the female seminaries at salem, greensboro, raleigh, murfreesboro, thomasville, wilson, kittrell, oxford and louisburg have also prospered in this era of general advancement among the north carolina schools. large numbers of young ladies from other states are sent to them for education, and, in the noble emulation thus evolved, admirable instruction is obtained. . among preparatory schools, that of major robert bingham, at mebaneville, in alamance county, is, by common consent, supreme in north carolina, and perhaps in the south, not only in number of students, but in the excellence of tuition, discipline and drill. on the catalogue of this institution will be found the names of young men from almost every state in the union, and even some foreign countries are represented. . other similar institutions have long flourished at raleigh, oxford, greensboro, kinston, lagrange, oak ridge and elsewhere, and all of them are having a large influence for good upon the young men of the state. the normal schools at chapel hill and other towns have been largely attended by teachers, and great interest is also manifested in the graded schools. at no previous period has so much attention been bestowed upon matters of this kind by the people of north carolina. . one of the most prominent of the graded schools in the state was organized at raleigh in , through the efforts of capt. john e. dugger, and named the "centennial graded school." the great success of this institution has led the citizens of other towns in the state to establish schools of like character. there are now to be found flourishing graded schools at salisbury, fayetteville, goldsboro, wilson, greensboro, charlotte, wilmington, new bern, rocky mount and franklinton. several towns also contain excellent schools of this description for the colored people, and their effectiveness is rapidly becoming apparent. . soon after the conclusion of the late war--in the month of december, --a colored school for both sexes was founded through the exertions of the rev. h. m. tupper, at the state capital, and called the "raleigh institute." on account of large donations from elijah shaw, of massachusetts, and jacob estey, of vermont, it was, in , changed in name; the male school then became "shaw university," and the female department was called "estey seminary." spacious and well-built edifices were reared on different portions of the grounds, and hundreds of colored pupils have been in attendance since its foundation. . in a different section of the city exists another seminary of similar character for the colored people, founded in , by the rev. dr. james brinton smith. this is called "st. augustine normal school and collegiate institute." it has been for some years under the charge of rev, john e, c. smedes, and is under episcopal patronage. though not so largely attended as shaw university, it is still of great benefit to the race it was intended to educate, and in this way is also a blessing to the community at large. another excellent school for the colored people is located in fayetteville, and others are to be found in various sections of the state. . ever since the close of the late war, the colored people of north carolina have shown a remarkable unanimity in their efforts to procure education for themselves and their children. in this desire they have been nobly aided by the white men and women, and their progress has been rapid. it is the belief of all that only in enlightened public sentiment can safety be found for our peace and liberties; and thus the state is doing all that can be effected for the culture and mental improvement of all classes of its population. questions. . what is this lesson about? what was the intent of the halifax constitution concerning the university? what is said of this institution during the years of reconstruction? when was it re- established? . how has the university been benefited by its new management? . what is said of the success of wake forest college? . tell something of its management. . give an account of the progress of davidson college. . what is said of trinity college and its work? . what female seminaries are now mentioned? what has been the result of their labors? . what have been the peculiar successes of the bingham school? . where are other fine schools for boys to be found? what other schools are mentioned? . what is said of the graded schools? . give an account of the raleigh institute for colored people? by what name is this institution now known? . what is said of the st. augustine normal school? where are other excellent schools for the colored people to be found? . what is said of the efforts of the colored people to secure education? how have they been aided in their efforts? chapter lxxv. conclusion. a. d. . in the financial prostration consequent upon the late war, a large debt was due from north carolina to creditors who held the bonds of the state. that portion of these bonds which had been issued before the war was considered an honorable burden, that should be discharged by such payment as might be fixed by agreement between the state and the bondholders. . in this way a compromise was effected, and new bonds have been issued, which embrace a large portion of what was honestly due from the state to her creditors. for those which were made in defiance of the terms of the constitution, and appropriated almost entirely by dishonest officials, no provision has been made, and doubtless, will never be. . when, in , the great quadrennial contest for the presidency of the union again recurred; it was rightly considered one of the most momentous crises that had yet occurred in american history. the great issue was as to the continuance of state governments. the recent habits of general grant in his dealing with southern commonwealths had virtually ignored their separate existence. in the strange and unprecedented action of congress that resulted in the seating of governor hayes as president, the federal troops were withdrawn, and the people of the states left to administer their own affairs, and state governments were recognized. . ex-governor vance was this year elected over judge thomas settle to the chief-magistracy, as has already been stated. general m. w. ransom and ex-judge a. s. merrimon were sent to the united states senate, in the place of john pool and general j. c. abbott. through the efforts of our congressmen, many needed appropriations by congress have been secured to north carolina, and their result is specially noticeable in the great improvement of the ship channels of the cape fear and other rivers. . upon the election of governor vance to the united states senate, february th, , he was succeeded by lieutenant- governor t. j. jarvis. the latter had served as a captain in the eighth north carolina regiment in the late war, and subsequently, as speaker of the house of representatives. chief- justice pearson died in , on his way to attend the session of the supreme court at raleigh. w. n. h. smith was appointed by governor vance as chief-justice in the place of judge pearson. at the next election by the people, judge smith, with john h. dillard and thomas s. ashe as associate justices, was elected without opposition. judge dillard having resigned in , judge thomas ruffin was appointed his successor. . the public charities of the state have been enlarged and elevated in their ministrations. the recent adoption of the orphan asylum at oxford as a recipient of the state's bounty, the erection of a colored deaf and dumb asylum, the erection of an hospital for the insane of the colored race, and the great building at morganton for additional accommodation to white lunatics, are only a portion of the recent humanities inaugurated by the general assembly. . perhaps in no other respect is so much physical improvement possible as in the development of the mining interests of the state. capital from abroad is flowing in, and from many counties fresh discoveries of mineral deposits are leading to the establishment of companies and firms for the purpose of working such mines. no other state of the union presents such a variety of these rich and beautiful gifts of nature. the recent discovery, in the western part of the state, of a new gem, called the "hiddenite," is attracting general attention and increasing the influx of visitors to the romantic scenery of the mountains. . for years past, it has been evident to intelligent observers that no bar exists to illimitable progression, both to north carolina and the great american republic, except in the senseless and cruel sectional hostilities. if the people, north and south, could only be induced to surrender their mutual distrust and aversion, thereby would disappear the last danger left to the american people. . . god has blessed them year by year with over flowing barns. they are already one of the most numerous and wealthy of all nations; and yet, with so many blessings, sectional hatred had become the ruling emotion in countless breasts. amid such a state of affairs, general james a. garfield became president of the united states. on the d day of july he was shot down in washington by an assassin. the news of this crime, when flashed over the electric wires, carried sorrow to the whole civilized world--and of all the cities of the union, raleigh was the first to express, by public meeting, the indignation of her people at the deed. in the weeks of the president's subsequent agony, as he lay battling with death, the hearts of the american people were strangely drawn together in the presence of this common national calamity. . when, on september th, it was announced that the long and painful struggle was ended, and the smitten statesman was at last eased of his agony by death, such grief was seen in all america as had never before been witnessed. in the presence of such a death all cries of dissension ceased to be heard, and every party and race united in the general mourning. . the people of north carolina, with one accord, desire that such a spirit may continue to animate the american people. as they were the first of all the states to urge the independence of america, so may they ever be found sustaining the constitution and the union that guarantee its perpetuity. questions. . what is said of the state at this period? what portion of this debt was considered an honorable burden? . how was a compromise effected in ? how does the state consider the unconstitutional debts? . what is said of the presidential contest of ? what was the great issue? how had general grant acted towards the southern commonwealth? what followed the seating of governor hayes as president? . what changes had been made in in north carolina public officers? what appropriations from congress has north carolina received through efforts of her senators? . who succeeded governor vance? who became supreme court judges? . what mention is made of the public charities? . what tends greatly to the physical improvement of the state? what is said of north carolina's mineral wealth? . what has retarded the state's progress? . what was the condition of this sectional feeling during the late presidential campaign? what calamity befell the country on july d, ? how did the news of this event affect the whole world? . when did president garfield die? what are the concluding reflections upon this great national calamity? . what is the sincere desire of every true north carolina patriot? appendix. remarks. the constitution of north carolina is an important instrument to the people of the state. it contains all the fundamental principles of our state government, and ought to be carefully read and studied by every citizen of north carolina. in order that the boys and girls who study this history may more thoroughly understand the meaning and provisions of the state constitution, a series of "questions" has been prepared with great care by a distinguished citizen of the commonwealth who is well acquainted with the subject. the pupils will become better informed on this subject if only short lessons are given to them for preparation. about one page of the text will be sufficient for a lesson if properly studied, and by this means a much greater amount of information will be retained than if larger space is rapidly passed over. constitution of the state of north carolina. preamble. we, the people of the state of north carolina, grateful to almighty god, the sovereign ruler of nations, for the preservation of the american union, and the existence of our civil, political and religious liberties, and acknowledging our dependence upon him for the continuance of those blessings to us and our posterity, do, for the more certain security thereof, and for the better government of this state, ordain and establish this constitution: article i. declaration of rights. that the great, general and essential principles of liberty and free government may be recognized and established, and that the relations of this state to the union and government of the united states, and those of the people of this state to the rest of the american people may be defined and affirmed, we do declare: section . that we hold it to be self-evident that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, the enjoyment of the fruits of their own labor, and the pursuit of happiness. sec. . that all political power is vested in, and derived from, the people; all government of right originates from the people, is founded upon their will only, and is instituted solely for the good of the whole. sec. . that the people of this state have the inherent, sole and exclusive right of regulating the internal government and police thereof, and of altering and abolishing their constitution and form of government whenever it may be necessary for their safety and happiness; but every such right should be exercised in pursuance of law and consistently with the constitution of the united states. sec. . that this state shall ever remain a member of the american union; that the people thereof are part of the american nation; that there is no right on the part of the state to secede, and that all attempts from whatever source or upon whatever pretext, to dissolve said union, or to sever said nation, ought to be resisted with the whole power of the state. sec. . that every citizen of the state owes paramount allegiance to the constitution and government of the united states, and that no law or ordinance of the state in contravention or subversion thereof can have any binding force. sec. . the state shall never assume or pay, or authorize the collection of, any debt or obligation, express or implied, incurred in aid of insurrection or rebellion against the united states, or any claim for the loss or emancipation of any slave; nor shall the general assembly assume or pay, or authorize the collection of any tax to pay either directly or indirectly, expressed or implied, any debt or bond incurred, or issued, by authority of the convention of the year one thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight, nor any debt or bond incurred, or issued, by the legislature of the year one thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight, either at its special session of the year one thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight, or at its regular sessions of the years one thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight and one thousand eight hundred and sixty-nine, and one thousand eight hundred and sixty-nine and one thousand eight hundred and seventy, except the bonds issued to fund the interest on the old debt of the state, unless the proposing to pay the same shall have first been submitted to the people, and by them ratified by the vote of a majority of all the qualified voters of the state, at a regular election held for that purpose. sec. . no man or set of men are entitled to exclusive or separate emoluments or privileges from the community but in consideration of public services. sec. . the legislative, executive and supreme judicial powers of the government ought to be forever separate and distinct from each other. sec. . all power of suspending laws, or the execution of laws, by any authority, without the consent of the representatives of the people, is injurious to their rights, and ought not to be exercised. sec. . all elections ought to be free. sec. . in all criminal prosecutions every man has the right to be informed of the accusation against him and to confront the accusers and witnesses with other testimony, and to have counsel for his defence, and not be compelled to give evidence against himself, or to pay costs, jail fees or necessary witness fees of the defence, unless found guilty. sec. . no person shall be put to answer any criminal charge, except as hereinafter allowed but by indictment, presentment or impeachment. sec. . no person shall be convicted of any crime but by the unanimous verdict of a jury of good and lawful men in open court. the legislature may, however, provide other means of trial for petty misdemeanors, with the right of appeal. sec. . excessive bail should not be required, nor excessives fines imposed, nor cruel or unusual punishments inflicted. sec. . general warrants, whereby any officer or messenger may be commanded to search suspected places, without evidence of the act committed, or to seize any person or persons not named, whose offence is not particularly described and supported by evidence, are dangerous to liberty, and ought not to be granted. sec. . there shall be no imprisonment for debt in this state, except in cases of fraud. sec. . no person ought to be taken, imprisoned or disseized of his freehold, liberties or privileges, or outlawed or exiled, or in any manner deprived of his life, liberty or property but by the law of the land. sec. . every person restrained of his liberty is entitled to a remedy to inquire into the lawfulness thereof, and to remove the same, if unlawful; and such remedy ought not to be denied or delayed. sec. . in all controversies at law respecting property, the ancient mode of trial by jury is one of the best securities of the rights of the people, and ought to remain sacred and inviolable. sec. . the freedom of the press is one of the great bulwarks of liberty, and therefore ought never to be restrained, but every individual shall be held responsible for the abuse of the same. sec. . the privileges of the writ of habeas corpus shall not be suspended. sec. . as political rights and privileges are not dependent upon, or modified by property, therefore no property qualification ought to affect the right to vote or hold office. sec. . the people of the state ought not to be taxed, or made subject to the payment of any impost or duty, without the consent of themselves, or their representatives in general assembly, freely given. sec. . a well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed; and, as standing armies in time of peace are dangerous to liberty, they ought not to be kept up, and the military should be kept under strict subordination to, and governed by, the civil power. nothing herein contained shall justify the practice of carrying concealed weapons, or prevent the legislature from enacting penal statutes against said practice. sec. . the people have a right to assemble together to consult for their common good, to instruct their representatives, and to apply to the legislature for redress of grievance. but secret political societies are dangerous to the liberties of a free people, and should not be tolerated. sec. . all men have a natural and unalienable right to worship almighty god according to the dictates of their own consciences, and no human authority should, in any case whatever, control or interfere with the rights of conscience. sec. . the people have the right to the privilege of education, and it is the duty of the state to guard and maintain that right. sec. . for redress of grievances, and for amending and strengthening the laws, elections should be often held. sec. . a frequent recurrence to fundamental principles is absolutely necessary to preserve the blessings of liberty. sec. . no hereditary emoluments, privileges or honors ought to be granted or conferred in this state. sec. . perpetuities and monopolies are contrary to the genius of a free state, and ought not to be allowed. sec. . retrospective laws, punishing acts committed before the existence of such laws, and by them only declared criminal, are oppressive unjust and incompatible with liberty, wherefore no ex post facto law ought to be made. no law taxing retrospectively sales, purchases, or other acts previously done, ought to be passed. sec. . slavery and involuntary servitude, otherwise than for crime whereof the parties shall have been duly convicted, shall be, and are hereby, forever prohibited within the state. sec. . the limits and boundaries of the state shall be and remain as they now are. sec. . all courts shall be open; and every person for an injury done him in his lands, goods, person or reputation, shall have remedy by due course of law, and right and justice administered without sale, denial or delay. sec. . no soldier shall in time of peace be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner; nor in time of war but in a manner prescribed by law. sec. . this enumeration of rights shall not be construed to impair or deny others retained by the people; and all powers not herein delegated remain with the people. article ii. legislative department. section . the legislative authority shall be vested in two distinct branches, both dependent on the people, to wit: a senate and a house of representatives. sec. . the senate and house of representatives shall meet biennially on the first wednesday after the first monday in january next after their election; and when assembled shall be denominated the general assembly. neither house shall proceed upon public business unless a majority of all the members are actually present. sec. . the senate shall be composed of fifty senators, biennially chosen by ballot. sec. . the senate districts shall be so altered by the general assembly, at the first session after the return of every enumeration by order of congress, that each senate district shall contain, as near as may be, an equal number of inhabitants, excluding aliens and indians not taxed, and shall remain unaltered until the return of another enumeration, and shall at all times consist of contiguous, territory; and no county shall be divided in the formation of a senate district, unless such county shall be equitably entitled to two or more senators. sec. . the house of representatives shall be composed of one hundred and twenty representatives, biennially chosen by ballot, to be elected by the counties respectively, according to their population, and each county shall have at least one representative in the house of representatives, although it may not contain the requisite ratio of representation; this apportionment shall be made by the general assembly at the respective times and periods when the districts for the senate are herein before directed to be laid off. sec. . in making the apportionment in the house of representatives, the ratio of representation shall be ascertained by dividing the amount of the population of the state, exclusive of that comprehended within those counties which do not severally contain the one hundred and twentieth part of the population of the state, by the number of representatives, less the number assigned to such counties; and in ascertaining the number of the population of the state, aliens and indians not taxed shall not be included. to each county containing the said ratio, and not twice the said ratio, there shall be assigned one representative; to each county containing twice but not three times the said ratio, there shall be assigned two representatives, and so on progressively, and then the remaining representatives shall be assigned severally to, the counties having the largest fractions. sec. . each member of the senate shall not be less than twenty- five years of age, shall have resided in the state as a citizen two years, and shall have usually resided in the district for which he is chosen one year immediately preceding his election. sec. . each member of the house of representatives shall be a qualified elector of the state, and shall have resided in the county for which he is chosen for one year immediately preceding his election. sec. . in the election of all officers, whose appointment shall be conferred upon the general assembly by the constitution, the vote shall be viva voce. sec. . the general assembly shall have power to pass general laws regulating divorce and alimony, but shall not have power to grant a divorce or secure alimony in any individual case. sec. . the general assembly shall not have power to pass any private law to alter the name of any person or to legitimate any person not born in lawful wedlock, or to restore to the rights of citizenship any person convicted of an infamous crime, but shall have power to pass general laws regulating the same. sec. . the general assembly shall not pass any private law, unless it shall be made to appear thirty days' notice of application to pass such a law shall have been given, under such directions and in such manner as shall be provided by law. sec. . if vacancies shall occur in the general assembly by death, resignation or otherwise, writs of election shall be issued by the governor under such regulations as may be prescribed by law. sec. . no law shall be passed to raise money on the credit of the state, or to pledge the faith of the state, directly or indirectly, for the payment of any debt, or to impose any tax upon the people of the state, or to allow the counties, cities or towns to do so, unless the bill for the purpose shall have been read three several times in each house of the general assembly, and passed three several readings, which readings shall have been on three different days, and agreed to by each house respectively, and unless the yeas and nays on the second and third reading of the bill shall have been entered on the journal. sec. . the general assembly shall regulate entails in such manner as to prevent perpetuities. sec. . each house shall keep a journal of its proceedings, which shall be printed and made public immediately after the adjournment of the general assembly. sec. . any member of either house may dissent from, and protest against, any act or resolve which he may think injurious to the public, or any individual, and have the reason of his dissent entered on the journal. sec. . the house of representatives shall choose their own speaker and other officers. sec. . the lieutenant-governor shall preside in the senate, but shall have no vote unless it may be equally divided. sec. . the senate shall choose its other officers, and also a speaker (pro tempore) in the absence of the lieutenant-governor, or when he shall exercise the office of governor. sec. . the style of the acts shall be: "the general assembly of north carolina do enact" sec. . each house shall be judge of the qualifications and elections of its own members, shall sit upon its own adjournments from day to day, prepare bills to be passed into laws; and the two houses may also jointly adjourn to any feature day, or other place. sec. . all bills and resolutions of a legislative nature shall be read three times in each house before they pass into laws; and shall be signed by the presiding officers of both houses. sec. . each member of the general assembly, before taking his seat, shall take an oath or affirmation, that he will support the constitution and laws of the united states, and the constitution of the state of north carolina and will faithfully discharge his duty as a member of the senate or house of representatives. sec. . the terms of office for senators and members of the house of representatives shall commence at the time of their election. sec. . upon motion made and seconded in either house, by one- fifth, of the members present, the yeas and nays upon any question shall be taken and entered upon the journals. sec. . the election for members of the general assembly shall be held for the respective districts and counties, at the places where they are now held, or may be directed hereafter to be held, in such manner as may be prescribed by law, on the first thursday in august in the year one thousand eight hundred and seventy, and every two years thereafter. but the general assembly may change the time of holding the elections. sec. . the members of the general assembly for the term for which they have been elected, shall receive as a compensation for their services the sum of four dollars per day for each day of their session, for a period not exceeding sixty days; and should they remain longer in session, they shall serve without compensation. they shall also be entitled to receive ten cents per mile, both while coming to the seat of government and while returning home, the said distance to be computed by the nearest line or mute of public travel. the compensation of the presiding officers of the two houses shall be six dollars per day and mileage. should an extra session of the general assembly be called, the members and presiding officers shall receive a like rate of compensation for a period not exceeding twenty days. art cle iii. executive department. section . the executive department shall consist of a governor, in whom shall be vested the supreme executive power of the state, a lieutenant governor, a secretary of state, an auditor, a treasurer, a superintendent of public instruction, and an attorney-general, who shall be elected for a term of four years, by the qualified electors of the state, at the same time and place, and in the same manner as members of the general assembly are elected. their term of office shall commence on the first day of january next after their election, and continue until their successors are elected and qualified: provided, that the officers first elected shall assume the duties of their office ten days after the approval of this constitution by the congress of the united states, and shall hold their offices four years from after the first day of january. sec. . no person shall be eligible as governor or lieutenant- governor, unless he shall have attained the age of thirty years, shall have been a citizen of the united states five years, and shall have been a resident of this state for two years next before the election; nor shall the person elected to either of these two offices be eligible to the same office more than four years in any term of eight years, unless the office shall have been cast upon him as lieutenant-governor or president of the senate. sec. . the return of every election for officers of the executive department shall be sealed up and transmitted to the seat of government by the returning officers, directed to the speaker of the house of representatives, who shall open and publish the same in the presence of a majority of the members of both houses of the general assembly. the persons having the highest number of votes respectively shall be declared duly elected; but if two or more be equal and highest in vote for the same office, then one of them shall be chosen by joint ballot of both houses of the general assembly. contested elections shall be determined by a joint ballot of both houses of the general assembly, in such manner as shall be prescribed-by law. sec. . the governor, before entering upon the duties of his office, shall, in the presence of the members of both branches of the general assembly, or before any justice of the supreme court, take an oath or affirmation that he will support the constitution and laws of the united states, and of the state of north carolina, and that he will faithfully perform the duties appertaining to the office of governor to which he has been elected. sec. . the governor shall reside at the seat of government of this state, and he shall, from time to time, give the general assembly information of the affairs of the state, and recommend to their consideration such measures as he shall deem expedient. sec. . the governor shall have power to grant reprieves, commutations and pardons, after conviction, for all offences (except in case of impeachment), upon such conditions as lie may think proper, subject to such regulations as may be provided by law relative to the manner of applying for pardons. he shall biennially communicate to the general assembly each case of reprieve, commutation or pardon granted, stating the name of each convict, the crime for which he was convicted, the sentence and its date, the date of commutation, pardon or reprieve, and the reasons therefor. sec. . the officers of the executive department and of the public institutions of the state shall, at least five days previous to each regular session of the general assembly, severally report to the governor, who shall transmit such reports, with his message, to the general assembly; and the governor may, at any time, require information in writing from the officers in the executive department upon any subject relating to the duties of their respective offices, and shall take care that the laws be faithfully executed. sec. . the governor shall be commander-in-chief of the militia of the state, except when they shall be called into the service of the united states. sec. . the governor shall have power, on extraordinary occasions, by and with the advice of the council of state, to convene the general assembly ? ? into? ? extra session by his proclamation, stating therein the purpose or purposes for which they are thus convened. sec. . the governor shall nominate, and by and with the advice and consent of a majority of the senators elect, appoint all officers, whose offices are established by this constitution, and whose appointments are not otherwise provided for. sec. . the lieutenant-governor shall be president of the senate, but shall have no vote unless the senate be equally divided. he shall, whilst acting as president of the senate, receive for his services the same pay which shall, for the same period, be allowed to the speaker of the house of representatives; and he shall receive no other compensation except when he is acting as governor. sec. . in case of the impeachment of the governor, his failure to qualify, his absence from the state, his inability to discharge the duties of his office, or, in case the office of governor shall in anywise become vacant, the powers, duties and emoluments of the office shall devolve upon the lieutenant- governor until the disabilities shall cease, or a new governor shall be elected and qualified. in every case in which the lieutvaant-governor shall be unable to preside over the senate, the senators shall elect one of their own number president of their body, and the powers, duties and emoluments of the office of governor shall devolve upon him whenever the lieutenant- governor shall, for any reason, be prevented from discharging the duties of such office as above provided, and he shall continue as acting governor until the disabilities are removed, or a new governor or lieutenant-governor shall be elected and qualified. whenever, during the recess of the general assembly, it shall become necessary for the president of the senate to administer the government, the secretary of state shall convene the senate, that they may elect such president. sec. . the respective duties of the secretary of state, auditor, treasurer, superintendent of public instruction and attorney general shall be prescribed by law. if the office of any of the officers shall be vacated by death, resignation or otherwise, it shall be the duty of the governor to appoint another until the disability be removed or his successor be elected and qualified. every such vacancy shall be filled by election at the first general election that occurs more than thirty days after the vacancy has taken place, and the person chosen shall hold the office for the remainder of the unexpired term fixed in the first section of this article. sec. . the secretary of state, auditor, treasurer and superintendent of public instruction shall constitute, ex officio, the council of state, who shall advise the governor in the execution of his office, and three of whom shall constitute a quorum; their advice and proceedings in this capacity shall be entered in a journal to be kept for this purpose exclusively, and signed by the members present, from any part of which any member may enter his dissent; and such journal shall be placed before the general assembly when called for by either house. the attorney-general shall be, ex officio, the legal adviser of the executive department. sec. . the officers mentioned in this article shall, at stated periods, receive for their services a compensation to be established by law, which shall neither be increased nor diminished during the time for which they shall have been elected, and the said officers shall receive no other emolument or allowance. sec. . there shall be a seal of the state, which shall be kept by the governor, and used by him, as occasion may require, and shall be called "the great seal of the state of north carolina." all grants and commissions shall be entered in the name and by the authority of the state of north carolina, sealed with the "great seal of the state," signed by the governor and countersigned by the secretary of state. sec. . the general assembly shall establish a department of agriculture, immigration and statistics, under such regulations as may best promote the agricultural interests of the state, and shall enact laws for the adequate protection and encouragement of sheep husbandry. article iv. judicial. department. section . the distinctions between actions at law and suits in equity, and the forms of all such actions and suits, shall be abolished; and there shall be in this state but one form of action for the enforcement or protection of private rights or the redress of private wrongs, which shall be denominated a civil action; and every action prosecuted by the people of the state as a party, against a person charged with a public offence, for the punishment of the same, shall be termed a criminal action. feigned issues shall also be abolished, and the fact at issue tried by order of court before a jury. sec. . the judicial power of the state shall be vested in a court for the trial of impeachments, a supreme court, superior courts, courts of justices of the peace, and such other courts inferior to the supreme court at may be established by law. sec. . the court for the trial of impeachments shall be the senate. a majority of the members shall be necessary to a quorum, and the judgment shall not extend beyond removal from and disqualification to hold office in this state; but the party shall be liable to indictment and punishment according to law. sec. . the house of representatives solely shall have the power of impeaching. no person shall be convicted without the concurrence of two-thirds of the senators present. when the governor is impeached, the chief-justice shall preside. sec . treason against the state shall consist only in levying war against it, or in adhering to its enemies, giving them aid and comfort. no person shall be convicted of treason unless on the testimony of two witnesses to the same overt act, or on confession in open court. no conviction of treason or attainder shall work corruption of blood or forfeiture. sec. . the supreme court shall consist of a chief-justice and two associate justices. sec. . the terms of the supreme court shall be held in the city of raleigh, as now, until otherwise provided by the general assembly. sec. . the supreme court shall have jurisdiction to review, upon appeal, any decision of the courts below, upon any matter of law or legal inference. and the jurisdiction of said court over "issues of fact" and "questions of fact" shall be the same exercised by it before the adoption of the constitution of one thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight, and the court shall have the power to issue any remedial writs necessary to give it a general supervision and control over the proceedings of the inferior courts. sec. . the supreme court shall have original jurisdiction to hear claims against the state, but its decisions shall be merely recommendatory; no process in the nature of execution shall issue thereon; they shall be reported to the next session of the general assembly for its action. sec. . the state shall be divided into nine judicial districts, for each of which a judge shall be chosen; and there shall be held a superior court in each county at least twice in each year, to continue for such time in each county as may be prescribed by law. but the general assembly may reduce or increase the number of districts. sec. . every judge of the superior court shall reside in the district for which he is elected. the judges shall preside in the courts of the different districts successively, but no judge shall hold the courts in the same district oftener than once in four years; but in the case of the protracted illness of the judge assigned to preside in any district, or of any other unavoidable accident to him by reason of which he shall be unable to preside, the governor may require any judge to hold one or more specified terms in said districts, in lieu of the judge assigned to hold the courts of the said districts. sec. . the general assembly shall have no grower to deprive the judicial department of any power or jurisdiction which rightfully pertains to it as a coordinate department of the government; but the general assembly shall allot and distribute that portion of this power and jurisdiction, which does not pertain to the supreme court, among the other courts prescribed in this constitution or which may be established by law, in such manner as it may deem best; provide also a proper system of appeals; and regulate by law, when necessary, the methods of proceeding in the exercise of their powers, of all the courts below the supreme court, so far as the same may be done without conflict with other provisions of this constitution. sec. . in all issues of fact, joined in any court, the parties may waive the right to have the same determined by a jury; in which case the finding of the judge upon the facts shall have the force and effect of a verdict by a jury. sec. . the general assembly shall provide for the establishment of special courts, for the trial of misdemeanors, in cities and towns where the same may be necessary. sec. . the clerk of the supreme court shall be appointed by the court, and shall hold his office for eight years. sec. . a clerk of the superior court for each county shall be elected by the qualifier voters thereof, at the time and in the manner prescribed by law for the election of members of the general assembly. sec. . clerks of the superior courts shall hold their offices for four years. sec. . the general assembly shall prescribe and regulate the fees, salaries and emoluments of all officers provided for in this article; but the salaries of the judges shall not be diminished during their continuance in office. sec. . the laws of north carolina, not repugnant to this constitution, or the constitution and laws of the united states, shall be in force until lawfully altered. sec. . actions at law, and suits in equity, pending when this constitution shall go into effect, shall be transferred to the courts having jurisdiction thereof, without prejudice by reason of the change; and all such actions and suits commenced before, and pending at the adoption by the general assembly of the rules of practice and procedure herein provided for, shall be heard and determined according to the practice now in use, unless otherwise provided for by said rules. sec. . the justices of the supreme court shall be elected by the qualified voters of the state, as is provided for the election of members of the general assembly. they shall hold their offices for eight years. the judges of the superior courts, elected at the first election under this amendment, shall be elected in like manner as is provided for justices of the supreme court, and shall hold their offices for eight years. the general assembly may, from time to time, provide by law that the judges of the superior courts, chosen at succeeding elections, instead of being elected by the voters of the whole state, as is herein provided for, shall be elected by the voters of their respective districts. sec. . the superior courts shall be, at all times, open for the transaction of all business within their jurisdiction, except the trial of issues of fact requiring a jury. sec. . a solicitor shall be elected for each judicial district by the qualified voters thereof, as is prescribed for members of the general assembly, who shall hold office for the term of four years, and prosecute on behalf of the state, in all criminal actions in the superior courts, and advise the officers of justice in his district. sec. . in each county a sheriff and coroner shall be elected by the qualified voters thereof, as is prescribed for members of the general assembly, and shall hold their offices for two years. in each township there shall be a constable elected in like manner by the voters thereof, who shall bold his office for two years. when there is no coroner in the county, the clerk of the superior court for the county may appoint one for special cases. in case of a vacancy existing for any cause in any of the offices created by this section, the commissioners for the county may appoint to such office for the unexpired term. sec. . all vacancies occurring in the offices provided for by this article of the constitution shall be filled by the appointments of the governor, unless otherwise provided for, and the appointees shall hold their places until the next regular election for members of the general assembly, when elections shall be held to fill such offices. if any person, elected or appointed to any of said offices, shall neglect and fail to qualify, such office shall be appointed to, held and filled as provided in case of vacancies occurring therein. all incumbents of said offices shall hold until their successors are qualified. sec. . the officers elected at the first election held under this constitution shall hold their offices for the terms prescribed for them respectively, next ensuing after the next regular election for members of the general assembly. but their terms shall begin upon the approval of this constitution by the congress of the united states. sec. . the several justices of the peace shall have jurisdiction, under such regulations as the general assembly shall prescribe, of civil actions founded on contract, wherein the sum demanded shall not exceed two hundred dollars, and wherein the title to real estate shall not be in controversy; and of all criminal matters arising within their counties where the punishment cannot exceed a fine of fifty dollars, or imprisonment for thirty days. and the general assembly may give to justice of the peace jurisdiction of other civil actions wherein the value of the property in controversy does ? ? list? ? exceed fifty dollars. when an issue of fact may be joined before a justice, on demand of either party thereto, he shall cause a jury of six men to be summoned, who shall try the same. the party against whom judgment shall be rendered in any civil action may appeal to the superior court from the same. in all cases of a criminal nature, the party against whom judgment is given may appeal to the superior court, where the matter shall be heard anew. in all cases brought before a justice, he shall make a record of the proceedings, and file the same with the clerk of the superior court for his county. sec. . when the office of justice of the peace shall become vacant otherwise than by expiration of the term, and in case of a failure by the voters of any district to elect, the clerk of the superior court for the county shall appoint to fill the vacancy for the unexpired term. sec. . in case the office of clerk of a superior court for a county shall become vacant otherwise than by the expiration of the term, and in case of a failure by the people to elect, the judge of the superior court for the county shall appoint to fill the vacancy until an election can be regularly held. sec. . in case the general assembly shall establish other courts inferior to the supreme court, the presiding officers and clerks thereof shall be elected in such manner as the general assembly may from time to time prescribe, and they shall hold their offices for a term not exceeding eight years. sec. . any judge of the supreme court, or of the superior courts, and the presiding officers of such courts inferior to the supreme court, as may be established by law, may be removed from office for mental or physical inability, upon a concurrent resolution of two thirds of both houses of the general assembly. the judge or presiding officer against whom the general assembly may be about to proceed, shall receive notice thereof, accompanied by a copy of the causes alleged for his removal, at least twenty days before the day on which either house of the general assembly shall act thereon. sec. . any clerk of the supreme court, or of the superior courts, or of such courts inferior to the supreme court as may be established by law, may be removed from office for mental or physical inability: the clerk of the supreme court by the judges of said courts, the clerks of the superior courts by the judge riding the district, and the clerks of such courts inferior to the supreme court as may be established by law, by the presiding officers of said courts. the clerk against whom proceedings are instituted shall receive notice thereof, accompanied by a copy of the causes alleged for his removal, at least ten days before the day appointed to act thereon, and. the clerk shall be entitled to an appeal to the next term of the superior court, and thence to the supreme court, as provided in other cases of appeals. sec. . the amendments made to the constitution of north carolina by this convention shall not have the effect to vacate any office or term off office now existing under the constitution of the state, and filled, or held, by virtue of any election or appointment under the said constitution, and the laws of the state made in pursuance thereof. article v. revenue and taxation. section l. the general assembly shall levy a capitation tag on every male inhabitant of the state over twenty-one and under fifty years of age, which shall be equal on each to the tax on property valued at three hundred dollars in cash. the commissioners of the several counties may exempt from capitation tax in special cases, on account of poverty and infirmity, and the state and county capitation tax combined shall never exceed two dollars on the head. sec. . the proceeds of the state and county capitation tax shall be applied to the purposes of education and the support of the poor, but in no one year shall more than twenty-five percent thereof be appropriated to the latter purpose. sec. . laws shall be passed taxing, by a uniform rule, all moneys, credits, investments in bonds, stocks, joint-stock companies, or otherwise; and, also, all real and personal property, according to its true value in money. the general assembly may also tax trades, professions, franchises and incomes, provided that no income shall be taxed when the property from which the income is derived is taxed. sec. . until the bonds of the state shall be at par, the general assembly shall have no power to contract any new debt or pecuniary obligation in behalf of the state, except to supply a casual deficit, or for suppressing invasion or insurrection, unless it shall in the same bill levy a special tag to pay the interest annually. and the general assembly shall have no power to give or lend the credit of the state in aid of any person, association or corporation, except to aid in the completion of such railroads as may be unfinished at the time of the adoption of this constitution, or in which the state has a direct pecuniary interest, unless the subject be submitted to a direct vote of the people of the state, and be approved by a majority of those who shall vote thereon. sec. . property belonging to the state or to municipal corporations shall be exempt from taxation. the general assembly may exempt cemeteries, and property held for educational, scientific, literary, charitable or religions purposes; also wearing apparel, arms for muster, household and kitchen furniture, the mechanical and agricultural implements of mechanics and farmers; libraries and scientific instruments, or any other personal property, to a value not exceeding three hundred dollars. sec. . the taxes levied by the commissioners of the several counties for county purposes shall be levied in like manner with the state taxes, and shall never exceed the double of the state taxes; except for a special purpose, and with the special approval of the general assembly. sec. . every act of the general assembly levying a tax shall state the special object to which it is to be applied, and it shall be applied to no other purpose. article vi. suffrage and eligibility to office. section . every male person born in the united states, and every male person who has been naturalized, twenty-one years old or upward, who shall have resided in the state twelve months next preceding the elections, and ninety days in the county in which he offers to vote, shall be deemed an elector. but no person, who, upon conviction or confession in open court, shall be adjudged guilty of felony, or any other crime infamous by the laws of this state, and hereafter committed, shall be deemed an elector, unless such person shall be restored to the rights of citizenship in a man, nor prescribed by law. sec. . it shall be the duty of the general assembly to provide, from time to time, for the registration of all electors; and no person shall be allowed to vote without registration, or to register, without first taking an oath or affirmation to support and maintain the constitution and laws of the united states, and the constitution and laws of north carolina not inconsistent therewith. sec. . all elections by the people shall be by ballot, and all elections by the general assembly shall be viva voce. sec. . every voter, except as hereinafter provided, shall be eligible to office; but before entering upon the discharge of the duties of his office, he shall take and subscribe the following oath: "i, --, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that i will support and maintain the constitution and laws of the united states, and the constitution and laws of north carolina not inconsistent therewith, and that i will faithfully discharge the duties of my office. so help me, god." sec. . the following classes of persons shall be disqualified for office. first, all persons who shall deny the being of almighty god. second, all persons who shall have been convicted of treason, perjury, or of any other infamous crime, since becoming citizens of the united states, or of corruption, or malpractice in office, unless such person shall have been legally restored to the rights of citizenship. article vii. municipal corporations. section . in each county, there shall be elected biennially by the qualified voters thereof, as provided for the election of members of the general assembly, the following officers: a treasurer, register of deeds, surveyor and five commissioners. sec. . it shall be the duty of the commissioners to exercise a general supervision and control of the penal and charitable institutions, schools, roads, bridges, levying of taxes and finances of the county, as may be prescribed by law the register of deeds shall be, ex officio, clerk of-the board of commissioners. sec. . it shall be the duty of the commissioners first elected in each county to divide the came into convenient districts, to determine the boundaries mud prescribe the name of the said districts, and to report the same to the general assembly before the first day of january, one thousand eight hundred and sixty- nine. sec. . upon the approval of the reports provided for in the foregoing section, by the general assembly, the said districts shall have corporate powers for the necessary purposes of local government, and shall be known as townships. sec. . in each township there shall be biennially elected, by the qualified voters thereof, a clerk and two justices of the peace, who shall constitute a board of trustees, and shall, under the supervision of the county commissioners, have control of the taxes and finances, roads and bridges of the townships, as may be prescribed by law. the general assembly may provide for the election of a larger number of the justices of the peace in cities and towns, and in those townships in which cities and towns are situated. in every township there shall also be biennially elected a school committee, consisting of three persons, whose duty shall be prescribed by law. sec. . the township board of trustees shall assess the taxable property of their townships and make return to the county commissioners for revision, as may be prescribed by law. the clerk shall be, ex officio, treasurer of the township. sec. . no county, city, town or other municipal corporation shall contract any debt, pledge its faith, or loan its credit, nor shall any tax be levied, or collected by any officers of the same, except for the necessary expenses thereof, unless by a vote of a majority of the qualified voters therein. sec. . no money shall be drawn from any county or township treasury except by authority of law. sec. . all taxes levied by any county, city, town, or township, shall be uniform and ad valorem, upon all property in the same, except property exempted by this constitution. sec. . the county officers first elected under the provisions of this article shall enter upon their duties ten days after the approval of this constitution by the congress of the united states. sec. . the governor shall appoint a sufficient number of justices of the peace in each county, who shall hold their places until sections four, five and six of this article shall have been carried into effect. sec. . all charters, ordinances and provisions relating to municipal, corporations shall remain in force until legally changed, unless inconsistent with the provisions of this constitution. sec. . no county, city, town or other municipal corporation shall assume to pay, nor shall any tax be levied or collected for the payment of any debt, or the interest upon any debt, contracted directly or indirectly in aid or support of the rebellion. sec. . the general assembly shall have full power by statute to modify, change, or abridge any and all of the provisions of this article, and substitute others in their place, except sections seven, nine and thirteen. article viii. corporations other than municipal. section . corporations may be formed under general laws; but shall not be created by special act, except for municipal purposes, and in cases where, in the judgment of the legislature, the object of the corporations cannot be attained under general laws. all general laws and special acts, passed pursuant to this section, may be altered from time to time, or repealed. sec. . dues from corporations shall be secured by such individual liabilities of the corporation and other means, as may be prescribed by law. sec. . the term corporation, as used in this article, shall be construed to include all association and joint-stock companies, having any of the powers and privileges of corporations, not possessed by individuals or partnerships. and all corporations shall have the right to sue, and shall be subject to be sued in all courts, in like cases as natural persons. sec. . it shall be the duty of the legislature to provide for the organization of cities, towns and incorporated villages, and to restrict their power of taxation, assessment, borrowing money, contracting debts and loaning their credits, so as to prevent abuses in assessment and in contracting debts by such municipal corporations. article ix. education. section . religion, morality and knowledge being necessary to good government and the happiness of mankind, schools and the means of education shall forever be encouraged. sec. . the general assembly, at the first session under this constitution, shall provide by taxation and otherwise, for a general and uniform system of public schools, wherein tuition shall be free of charge to all the children of the state between the ages of six and twenty-one years. and the children of the white race and the children of the colored race shall be taught in separate public schools; but there shall be no discrimination in favor of, or to the prejudice of either race. sec. . each county of the state shall be divided into a convenient number of districts, in which one or more public schools shall be maintained at least four months in every year; and if the commissioners of any county shall fail to comply with the aforesaid requirements of this section they shall be liable to indictment. sec. . the proceeds of all lands that have been or hereafter may be granted by the united states to this state, and not otherwise appropriated by this state or the united states; also, all moneys, stocks, bonds, and other property, now belonging to any state fund for purposes of education; also, the net proceeds of all sales of the swamp lands belonging to the state, and all other grants, gifts or devises that have been or hereafter may be made to the state, and not otherwise appropriated by the state, or by the term of the grant, gift or devise, shall be paid into the state treasury; and, together with so touch of the ordinary revenue of the state as may be by law set apart for that purpose, shall be faithfully appropriated for establishing and maintaining in this state a system of free public schools, and for no other uses or purposes whatsoever. sec. . all moneys, stocks, bonds, and other property, belonging to a county school fund; also, the net proceeds from the sale of ? ? estrays? ? ; also, the clear proceeds of all penalties and forfeitures, and of all fines collected in the several counties for any breach of the penal or military laws of the state; and all moneys which shall be paid by persons as an equivalent for exemption from military duty, shall belong to and remain in the several counties, and shall be faithfully appropriated for establishing and maintaining free public schools in the several counties of this state: provided, that the amount collected in each county shall be annually reported to the superintendent of public instruction. sec. . the general assembly shall have power to provide for the election of trustees of the university of north carolina, in whom, when chosen, shall be vested all the privileges, rights, franchises and endowments thereof, in anywise granted to or conferred upon the trustees of said university; and the general assembly may make such provisions, laws and regulations from time to time, as may be necessary and expedient for the maintenance and management of said university. sec. . the general assembly shall provide that the benefits of the university, as far as practicable, be extended to the youth of the state free of expense for tuition; also, that all the property which has heretofore accrued to the state, or shall hereafter accrue, from escheats, unclaimed dividends, or distributive shares of the estates of deceased persons, shall be appropriated to the use of the university. sec. . the governor, lieutenant-governor, secretary of state, treasurer, auditor, superintendent of public instruction and attorney-general shall constitute a state board of education. sec. . the governor shall be president, and the superintendent of public instruction shall be secretary of the board of education. sec. . the board of education shall succeed to all the powers and trusts of the president and directors of the literary fund of north carolina, and shall have full power to legislate and make all needful rules and regulations in relation to free public schools and the educational fund of the state; but all acts, rules and regulations of said board may be altered, amended or repealed by the general assembly, and when so altered amended or repealed, they shall not be re-enacted by the board. sec. . the first session of the board of education shall be held at the capitol of the state, within fifteen days after the organization of the state government under this constitution; the time of future meetings may be determined by the board. sec. . a majority of the board shall constitute a quorum for the transaction of business. sec. . the contingent expenses of the board shall be provided by the general assembly. sec. . as soon as practicable after the adoption of this constitution, the general assembly shall establish and maintain, in connection with the university, a department of agriculture, of mechanics, of mining, and of normal instruction. sec. . the general assembly is hereby empowered to enact that every child, of sufficient mental and physical ability, shall attend the public schools during the period between the ages of six and eighteen years for a term not less than sixteen months, unless educated by other means. article x. homestead and exemptions. section . the personal property of any resident of this state, to the value of five hundred dollars, to be selected by such resident, shall be, and is hereby exempted from sale under execution, or other final process of any court issued for the collection of any debt. sec. . every homestead, and the dwellings and buildings used therewith, not exceeding in value one thousand dollars, to be selected by the owner thereof, or in lieu thereof, at the option of the owner, any lot in a city, town or village, with the dwellings and buildings used thereon, owned and occupied by any resident of this state, and not exceeding the value of one thousand dollars, shall be exempt from sale under execution, or other final process obtained on any debt. but no property shall be exempt from sale for taxes, or for payment of obligations contracted for the purchase of said premises. sec. . the homestead, after the death of the owner thereof, shall be exempt from the payment of any debt during the minority of his children or any one of them. sec. . the provisions of sections one and two of this article shall not be so construed as to prevent a laborer's lien for work done and performed for the person claiming such exemption, or a mechanic's lien for work done on the premises. sec. . if the owner of a homestead die, leaving a widow, but no children, the same shall be exempt from the debts of her husband, and the rents and profits thereof shall inure to her benefit during her widowhood, unless she be the owner of a homestead in her own right. sec. . the real and personal property of any female in this states acquired before marriages and all property, real and personal, to which she may, after marriage, become in any manner entitled, shall be and remain the sole and separate estate and property of such female, and shall not be liable for any debts, obligations or engagements of her husband, and may be devised and bequeathed, and, with the written consent of her husband, conveyed by her as if she was unmarried. sec. . the husband may insure his own life for the sole use and benefit of his wife and children, and in the case of the death of the husband, the amount thus insured shall be paid over to his wife and children, or to the guardian, if under age, for her or their own use, free from all the claims of the representatives of her husband, or any of his creditors. sec. . nothing contained in the foregoing sections of this article shall operate to prevent the owner of a homestead from disposing of the same by deed; but no deed made by the owner of a homestead shall be valid without the voluntary signature and assent of his wife, signified on her private examination according to law. article xi. punishments, penal institutions and public charities. section . the following punishments only shall be known to the laws of this state, viz.: death, imprisonment, with or without hard labor, fines, removal from office, and disqualification to hold and enjoy any office of honor, trust or profit under this state. the foregoing provisions for imprisonment with hard labor shall be construed to authorize the employment of such convict labor on public works, or highways, or other labor for public benefit, and the farming out thereof, where, and in such manner as may be provided by law; but no convict shall be farmed out who has been sentenced on a charge of murder, manslaughter, rape, attempt to commit rape, or arson: provided, that no convict whose labor may be farmed out, shall be punished for any failure of duty as a laborer, except by a responsible officer of the state; but the convicts so farmed out shall be at all times under, the supervision and control, as to their government. and discipline, of the penitentiary board or some officer of this state. sec. . the object of punishments being not only to satisfy justice, but also to reform the offender, and thus prevent crime, murder, arson, burglary, and rape, and these only, may be punishable with death, if the general assembly shall so enact. sec. . the general assembly shall, at its first meeting, make provision for the erection and conduct of a state's prison or penitentiary, at some central and accessible point within the state. sec. . the general assembly may provide for the erection of houses of correction, where vagrants and persons guilty of misdemeanors shall be restrained and usefully employed. sec. . a house, or houses of refuge, may be established whenever the public interest may require it, for the correction and instruction of other classes of offenders. sec. . it shall be required, by competent legislation, that the structure and superintendence of penal institutions of the state, the county jails, and city police prisons, secure the health and comfort of the prisoners, and that male and female prisoners be never confined in the same roots or cell. sec. . beneficent provisions for the poor, the unfortunate and orphan being one of the first duties of a civilized and christian state, the general assembly shall, at its first session, appoint and define the duties of a board of public charities, to whom shall be entrusted the supervision of all charitable and penal state institutions, and who shall annually report to the governor upon their condition, with suggestions for their improvement. sec. . there shall also, as soon as practicable, be measures devised by the state, for the establishment of one or more orphan houses, where destitute orphans may be cared far, educated and taught some business or trade. sec. . it shall be the duty of the legislature, as soon as practicable, to devise means for the education of idiots and inebriates. sec. . the general assembly may provide that the indigent deaf mutes, blind and insane of the state shall be cared for at the charge of the state. sec. . it shall be steadily kept in view by the legislature, and the board of public charities, that all penal and charitable institutions should be made as nearly self-supporting as is consistent with the purposes of their creation. article xii. militia. section . all able-bodied male citizens of the state of north carolina, between the ages of twenty-one and forty years, who are citizens of the united states, shall be liable to duty in the militia; provided, that all persons who may be averse to bearing arms, from religious scruples, shall be exempt therefrom. sec. . the general assembly shall provide for the organization, arming, equipping and discipline of the militia, and for paying the same when called into active service. sec. . the governor shall be commander-in-chief, and shall have power to call out the militia to execute the law, suppress riots or insurrections, and to repel invasion. sec. . the general assembly shall have power to make such exemptions as may be deemed necessary, and to enact laws that may be expedient for the government of the militia. article xiii. amendments. section . no convention of the people of this state shall ever be called by the general assembly, unless by the concurrence of two-thirds of all the members of each house of the general assembly, and except the proposition "convention" or "no convention" be first submitted to the qualified voters of the whole state, at the next general election, in a manner to be prescribed by law. and should a majority of the votes cast be in favor of said convention, it shall assemble on such a day as may be prescribed by the general assembly. sec. . no part of the constitution of this state shall be altered, unless a bill to alter the same shall have been agreed to by three fifths of each house of the general assembly. and the amendment or amendments so agreed to shall be submitted at the next general election to the qualified voters of the whole state, in such manner as may be prescribed by law. and in the event of their adoption by a majority of the votes cast, such amendment or amendments shall became a part of the constitution of this state. article xiv. miscellaneous. section . all indictments which shall have been found, or may hereafter be found, for any crime or offence committed before this constitution takes effect, may be proceeded upon in the proper courts, but no punishment shall be inflicted which is forbidden by this constitution. sec. . no person who shall hereafter fight a duel, or assist in the same as a second, or send, accept, or knowingly carry a challenge therefor, or agree to go out of the state to fight a duel, shall hold any office in this state. sec. . no money shall be drawn from the treasury but in consequence of appropriations made by law; and an accurate account of the receipts and expenditures of the public money shall be annually published. sec. . the general assembly shall provide, by proper legislation, for giving to mechanics and laborers an adequate lien on the subject matter of their labor. sec. . in the absence of any contrary provision, all officers of this state, whether heretofore elected or appointed by the governor, shall hold their positions only until other appointments are made by the governor, or if the officers are elective, until their successors shall have been chosen and duly qualified according to the provisions of this constitution. sec. . the seat of government of this state shall remain at the city of raleigh. sec. . no person, who shall hold any office or place of trust or profit under the united states or any department thereof, or under this state, or under any other state, or government, shall hold or exercise any other office or place of trust or profit under the authority of this state, or be eligible to a seat in either house of the general assembly: provided, that nothing herein contained shall extend to officers in the militia, justices of the peace, commissioners of public charities, or commissioners for special purposes. sec. . all marriages between a white person and a negro, or between a white person and a person of negro descent to the third generation inclusive, are hereby forever prohibited. questions on the constitution of north carolina, prepared by hon. kemp p. battle., ll. d. president of the university of north carolina. preliminary questions. . when was the first constitution of north carolina adopted? answer--on december , . . when was it first amended? answer--in . . when was it again amended? answer--in , and . . when was a new constitution adopted? answer--in . . was there not a constitution adopted in ? answer--a new constitution was adopted in by the convention of -' , but the people voted it down. . has the constitution of been amended? answer--yes, it was partially amended in , and greatly amended by the convention of . the people adopted these amendments in - -a hundred years after the adoption of the first constitution. . is there further amendment? answer--yes; in . what is a constitution? answer--" the principles or fundamental laws which govern a state." another definition is: "the body of rules and maxims in accordance with which the powers of sovereignty are habitually exercised." . is the constitution of north carolina the highest law? answer--no; the constitution of the united states, and the laws of the united states passed in pursuance thereto, are the supreme law. . is the constitution of north carolina higher than the acts passed by the general assembly? answer--yes; acts contrary to the constitution are null and void. . who decides whether acts are constitutional and binding or not? answer--the courts. . give a simple explanation of the constitution of north carolina. answer--it is a written document in which the people of north carolina have laid down their plan of government of the state. it designates what officers are to make the laws, what officers are to interpret the laws, and what officers are to enforce the laws. it lays down laws for the guidance of these officers. if any officer acts contrary to it he is liable to punishment: it is the organic or fundamental law--the foundation stone on which our state government rests. it guards and enforces the liberties of the people. if officers are allowed to disobey it, our liberties will be in danger. hence every citizen should understand it, so that he may watch the officers and hold them to their duties. . can it be changed? answer--yes; the people of the state can change or amend it. the manner in which the people can change it is prescribed in the constitution itself, as will be seen hereafter. . can it be changed in any other way? answer--yes; if an amendment to the constitution of the united states, contrary to any provision of the state constitution, is made according to law, the latter must yield. preamble. . who made the constitution? . for what purpose was it made? . is there recognition of god in it? . for what blessings is gratitude to god expressed? article i. declaration of rights. . for what purpose is this declaration made? . what fundamental truths are declared? section . * (note-- most of the language of this section is taken from the declaration of independence). . in whom is political power vested? section . . for what good is government instituted? section . . who has the right to regulate the state government? section . . under what circumstances can the people change the form of government? section . . are the people under any restrictions in changing the form of government? if so, what? section . . has the state the right to secede from the union? section . . is the american union a confederacy of states, or a nation of the people of the states? section . . is this state bound to prevent other states from seceding from the union? section . . is our allegiance first due to the united states or to north carolina? section . . can the general assembly or a convention of the people release us from our primary allegiance to the united states? section . . can the state pay a debt incurred in rebellion against the united states? section . . can such a debt be collected in our courts? section . . does this prohibition apply to past as well as future debts? section . . can the state pay for emancipated slaves? section . . what debts are forbidden to be paid or assumed in any way unless by a vote of the people? section . . what majority must be had to sanction such payment or assumption? section . . is there no exception to this? section . . can this vote be taken at a special election? section . . by what name are most of the bonds mentioned in the answer to question known? answer--special tax bonds. . was this prohibition in the constitution of ? answer-- no; it was inserted by amendment submitted to the people by the general assembly of , and adopted by the people in . . what provision in regard to exclusive emoluments and privileges? section . . what provision in regard to the legislative, executive and judicial branches? section . . can the governor or judges suspend laws? section . . who can suspend laws? section . . what provision about election? section . . what rights has one who is charged with a crime? section . . if acquitted, does he pay the costs of his own witnesses, &c. ? section . . what modes of prosecution are prescribed? section . . by whom must conviction be made? section . . where must the verdict be rendered? section . . what right has the legislature in regard to petty misdemeanors? section . . can those accused of petty misdemeanors be utterly deprived of right of trial by jury? section . answer--no; they must have right of appeal and thus getting a jury. . what provision about bail? about fines and punishment? section . . what are "general warrants"? section . . are they allowed? if not, why not? section . . what provision about imprisonment for debt? section . . repeat the section guarding the life, liberty and property of citizens. section . . from what great historical document is this section taken? answer--from magna charta--wrested from king john, a. d. . . what rights has one restrained of his liberty? section . . should he have a speedy trial? section . . in law suits about property, what kind of a trial is declared best? section . . what is said about trial by jury in controversies about property? section . . what is declared about freedom of the press? section . . can the press be lawfully used for libelous and immoral publications? section . . what provision about the writ of habeas corpus? section . . what do you mean by the "privileges of the writ of habeas corpus"? answer--the right of one restrained of his liberty to be brought before a judge in order that the cause of imprisonment may be inquired into and be dealt with according to law. . must a man own property in order to vote or hold office? section . . why not? section . . what safeguard against improper taxation? section . . did the people claim this when we achieved our independence of great britain? answer--yes; the denial of this right was one of the chief causes of the revolutionary war. . is the right to bear arms secured? section . . what reason is given why the people should have this right? section . . are standing armies allowed? section . . why should they not be allowed? section . . which should be superior, the civil or military power? section . . can the practice of carrying concealed weapons be prohibited, and how? section . . for what purposes may the people assemble together? section . . what is said of secret societies? section . . what provision securing religions liberty? section . . what provision about education? section . . why should elections be often held? section . . what is necessary to preserve the blessings of liberty? section . . what provision in regard to hereditary privileges, &c. ? section . about perpetuities and monopolies. section . (see article ii section ). . what are ex-post facto laws? section . . are they proper? section . . what retrospective laws are forbidden? section . . are all slavery and involuntary servitude abolished? section . . what not abolished? section . . what provision about the state boundaries? section . . what provision about the courts? section and section . . what redress for injuries? section and section . . how shall justice be administered? * section . *note--these words are from magna charta. . how are householders protected from quartering of soldiers? section . . does the declaration of rights enumerate all the rights possessed by the people? section . . who have the powers not delegated in the constitution? section . article ii. legislative department. . how is the legislative authority vested? section . . when these two bodies meet according to law what is their joint name? section . . when is their regular meeting? section . . how many members required in order to proceed to public business? section . . what name is given to this majority? answer--quorum. . how many senators? section . . how chosen? section . . how often chosen? section . . how are the senate districts formed? section . . who are excluded from the count? section . . when can a county be divided in forming a senatorial district? section . . how are the members of the house of representatives chosen? section . . what is the rule as to counties not having a hundred-and- twentieth part of the population? section . . how is the apportionment of representatives made? section . . what are the qualifications of a senator? section . . what of members of the house? section . . how does the general assembly elect officers? section ; and article vi, section . . how do the people vote for senators and members of the house? sections and ; and article vi, section . . what is the provision about divorce and alimony? section . . what legislation is prohibited to the general assembly? section . (see article v, section ). . how can the general assembly pass private laws other than those mentioned in sections and ? section . . how are vacancies in the general assembly filled? section . . what laws must be read three times in each house, on three separate days? section . (see article v, section ). . must the names of the members voting be entered on the journal when these laws are passed? section . . how must entails be regulated? section . (see article j, section ). . what must be done with the journals of each house? section . . when can a member have the reasons of his dissent entered on the journal? section . . who chooses the speaker and other officers of the house of representatives? section . . who presides in the senate ordinarily? section . . when has the lieutenant-governor the right to vote? section . , what power has the senate, independent of the house of representatives? sections and . (see article iv, section ). . when does the senate choose a speaker? section . in article ii, section , he is called president. , what is the style of the acts of assembly? section . . what powers has each house by itself? section . . can one house by itself adjourn to any future day, or other place? section . . how often must bills be read before becoming laws? section . . what else must be read three times? section . . who signs these bills and resolutions? section . they must be signed in the presence of the houses. . what are bills called after such signatures? sections and . . what oath or affirmation must each member take? section . . when must be take this oath or affirmation? section . . when do the terms of office begin? section . . when must the names of the members be entered on the journal? sections and . . what is this proceeding termed? answer--"calling the yeas and nays." . what time is designated in the constitution for holding the election of members? section . . can the general assembly change this? section . . has the change been made? answer--yes; to the first tuesday after the first monday in november. . what authority determines the places of voting? section . . what compensation do members receive, and how long? section . . what mileage? section . . what do the presiding officers receive? section . . what provision about compensation during extra session? section . article iii. executive department. . in whom is the supreme executive power? section . . who constitute the executive department? section . . who chooses these officers? section . . how long do they serve? section . . at what times and places are the elections held? section . . when does their term of office begin? section . . how long do they serve? section . . what are the qualifications for the offices of governor and lieutenant-governor? section . . can they ever serve two terms in succession? section . . to whom are all the returns of election sent? section . . to what post-office? section . . before whom are they opened and published? section . . who must be declared elected? section . . what is done in case of a tie? section . . in such case how do the houses vote? section . . what must be done about contested elections? section ? ? . what oath does the governor take? section . . before whom taken? section . . where must the governor reside? section . . what duties has he to perform in regard to the general assembly? section . . in what case can the governor grant pardons, &c. ? section . . can he pardon before the offender is convicted? section . . can he pardon one impeached? section . . what is the governor's duty in regard to pardons, &c., after granted? section . . what officers report to the governor? section . . what is done with these reports? section . . supposing the governor desires information regarding the duties of officers of the executive department, what can he require? section . . what is the greatest duty of the governor? section . . who is commander-in-chief of the militia? section . . can the militia ever pass out of his authority? section . . under what circumstances can an extra session of the general assembly be called? section . who nominates officers not otherwise provided for in the constitution? section . . to what body are the nominations sent? section . . can the senate reject the nominations. section . . what duty has the lieutenant-governor in regard to the senate? section ; and article ii, section . . is he a senator? answer--no. . what is his compensation? section ; and article ii, section . . under what circumstances does the lieutenant-governor assume the powers, &c., of the governor? section . . what is done when the lieutenant-governor cannot preside in the senate? section . . who succeeds the lieutenant-governor, and under what circumstances? section . . what is done if the lieutenant-governor loses the office of governor during the recess of the general assembly? section . . who prescribes the duties of the officers of the executive department? section . . what is done in case of a vacancy? section . . how long does the officer so appointed hold his office? section . . who constitute the council of state? section . . what is done with their proceedings? section . . who is the legal adviser of the executive department? section . . who establishes the compensation of these officers? section . . how is their independence secured? section . . what is the seal of the state called? section . . who has charge of it? section . . in what name are grants of lands, &c., issued, and how are they authenticated? section . . in what manner are commissions to officers, &c., authenticated? section . . what department besides those heretofore named must be established by the general assembly? section . . what laws must be enacted? section . article iv. judicial department. . what is done in regard to distinctions between actions at law and suits in equity? section . . do the old forms of actions and suits remain? section . . what is the name of the form of actions in use? section . . what is the name of the actions prosecuted by the state for a public offence? section . . what is done with feigned issues? section . . how is the fact at issue tried? section . . in what courts is the judicial power vested? section . . can the general assembly establish any courts? section . . what is the court for trial of impeachments? section . . how many senators must be present? section . . who presides when the governor is impeached? section . . what sentence can the senate inflict? section . . does the impeachment for a crime indictable in the courts prevent prosecution in the courts? section . . can a less number than thirty-four senators convict on impeachment? section . . what is the least number which can possibly convict? answer- -two-thirds of a bare quorum--eighteen senators. . what is treason against the state? section . . in what modes can traitors be convicted? section . . can the punishment be made to extend to forfeiture of land or goods? section . . can it extend to corruption of blood? section . . what officers constitute the supreme court? section . . are they called judges? section , but see sections and . . where are the terms of the supreme court held? section . . what is the jurisdiction of this court on appeals? section . . what jurisdiction over issues and questions of fact? section . . over what courts has it control? section . . what writs may it issue to effectuate this control? section . . what are some of these writs called? answer--mundamus, procedendo, certiorari, recordari, &c. . what original jurisdiction has the supreme court? section . . can the court issue execution against the state? section . . what is done with the decisions of the court in such cases? section . . is the general assembly bound to carry out the decision of the court? section ; and article i, section . . into how many districts is the state divided by the constitution? section . . what chief town or towns in first district? answer--elizabeth city, edenton. in second district? raleigh, new bern. in third district? wilmington, goldsboro. in fourth district? fayetteville. in fifth district? greensboro, durham. in sixth district? charlotte, monroe. in seventh district? winston, salisbury. in eighth district? statesville, morganton. in ninth district? asheville. . can the general assembly change the number of districts? section . . how often in each county must the superior court be held? section . . where shall be the residence of the judge? section . . do the judges preside always in the same district? section . . how often can a judge preside in the same district? section . is there any exception to this? section . . can the general assembly deprive the judicial department of its rightful powers, &c ? section ; and article i, section . . what is allowable for the general assembly to do ? section . . does this power extend to the supreme court? section . . can the general assembly regulate appeals? section . . what power has the general assembly in regard to methods of proceedings ? section . . are parties in a law suit bound to submit issues of fact to the jury. section . . what effect has the finding of the judge in such case upon the facts? section . . what duty has the general assembly in regard to courts for citie and towns? section . . can these courts be allowed to try capital cases and other felonies section . . who appoints the clerk of the supreme court? section . . what is his term of office? section . . how is the clerk of a superior court appointed? section . . when is the election ? section . . what is the term of office? section . . who prescribes the salaries, fees, &c., of judges, clerks, &e. section . . how is the independence of the judges secured ? section . . what laws of north carolina are in force? section . . where may these laws be found ? answer. -same may be found in the acts of assembly, state codes, &c. but besides these we have the "common law," inherited from our ancestors, not found in any statute book. . where are the principles of this " common law'" to be looked for answer. -in the reports of judicial decisions, writings of eminent lawyers, &c. . who can alter these laws? article ii, section . . what was done with actions and suits pending when the constitution went into effect ? section . . how were these old suits to be-heard and determined ? section . who appoints the justices of the supreme court? section . . when does the voting take place? section . . what is the term of office ? section . . how are judges of the superior courts elected ? section . . what is their term of office? section . . are they necessarily elected by all the voters of the state? section . . when are the superior courts open ? section . . is there exception to this? section . . who elects the solicitors of the judicial districts? section . . what is their term of office? section . . what are their duties? section . . can a justice of the peace call on the solicitor for legal advice? section . . how are sheriffs and coroners chosen ? section . . what is the term of office? section . . who elects constables? section . . what are their terms of office? section. . . suppose there is no coroner and one is needed. what is done? section . . who may fill vacancies in the offices of sheriff, coroner and constable? section . . who fills vacancies in offices created under this article not specially provided for? section . . how long do judges, &c., so appointed, hold office? section . . suppose no election is held for such offices? section . . suppose those elected refuse to qualify? section . . suppose successors do not qualify? section . . is section obsolete? . what jurisdiction have justices of the peace over civil actions? section . . suppose the title to land is in question? section . . suppose the action is not founded on contract, where is it to be tried? section . . of what criminal matters have they jurisdiction ? section . . who has power to regulate the fines and imprisonments? answer. -the general assembly. . can the general assembly give jurisdiction to justices of the peace over any other matters whatever? section . . suppose an issue of fact is joined before a justice, can he decide it? section . . suppose either party demands a jury? section . . is not this provision for a jury of six violating article i, section ? answer---no; right of appeal is allowed. section . . is appeal allowed in criminal cases also? section . . must the justice write down the proceedings? section . . what must he do with the record? section . . who fills vacancies in the office of justice of the peace? section . . who fills vacancies in the office of the superior court clerk? section . . supposing the general assembly to establish other courts, who chooses the judges and other officers? section . . what is their term of office? section . . for what may judges be removed? section . . what vote is necessary? section . . what notice must be given? section . . supposing two-thirds of one house, and a majority not two- thirds of the other house, vote for removal, what is the result? section . . for what can clerks of courts be removed? section . . who have the power of removal? section . . what notice must clerks have of proceedings against them? section . . can the clerks of the courts inferior to the supreme court appeal? section . . is section obsolete? article v. revenues and taxation. . what is another name for "capitation tax"? answer--"poll tax." . is the general assembly bound to levy such tax? section . . on whom must it be levied? section . . to what amount must it be equal? section . . what is the maximum capitation tax under this section? section . . what is the maximum property tax? answer--sixty-six and two- thirds cents on the one hundred dollars valuation. . what is the object of the "equation of taxes"? answer--to protect property from excessive taxation by those owning no property, and vice versa. . who can exempt from capitation tax, and for what reason? section . . to what purpose must the capitation tax be applied? section . . what is the maximum amount which can be applied to the support of the poor? section . . how must property be taxed? section . . what has the general assembly power to tax without being compelled to do so? section . . can the income of a farmer from his lands be taxed? section . . what provisions in regard to contracting new debts? section . . is the special tax to be levied when the bonds of the state are at par? section . . supposing the bonds are not at par, in what cases are the special taxes not required? section . . what is necessary before the general assembly can give or lend the credit of the state to individuals or corporations? section . . what exception to the general rule? section . . does it require a majority of all the qualified voters to sanction such loan? section . . can the general assembly take stock in a corporation and pay for the same by bonds of the state accepted at par? section . (the supreme court says they cannot). . what property the general assembly cannot tax? section . . what property does the general assembly have power to exempt to an unlimited extent? section . . what property to a limited amount only? section . . what is the limit? section . . in what mode are county taxes to be levied? section . . what is the limit of county taxation, for general purposes? section . supposing the county desires to exceed this limit for a special purpose? section . . what must be observed in levying tax acts, i.e., "revenue acts"? section . . can tax money raised for one purpose be used for another? section . article vi. suffrage and eligibility to office. . state the qualifications of an elector, i.e., a voter. section . . what exception to this rule? section . . does the mere commission of an infamous crime disqualify? section . . what authority lays down the rule for restoration to rights of citizenship? section . . what step is requisite preliminary to voting? section . . what oath is necessary to registration? section . . what authority provides rules for registration? section . . how do the people vote? section . . how do members of the general assembly vote in elections of officers? section ; and article ii, section . . what is the general rule as to qualifications for holding office? section . . what oath does the officer take? section . . what persons are disqualified? section . . does mere disbelief in an almighty god disqualify, if such disbelief be not expressed? answer--no; the word "deny" is held to mean assertion of disbelief by word, writing or otherwise. (see article i, section ) article vii. municipal corporations. [note--by authority conferred in section of this article the general assembly has materially changed its provisions (laws of -' , chapter ). the attention of the pupil will be called to the most important of these changes.] . what county officers are to be elected? section . by act of -' , chapter , section , the justices of the peace elect three, four or five county commissioners. the justices may abolish the office of county treasurer, and then the sheriff takes his place. . how often and when does the election take place? section . . what are the duties of the county commissioners by the constitution? section . . how is this changed by act of -' : chapter ? answer--by this act, section , the commissioners cannot levy taxes, purchase land, remove or designate new sites for county buildings, contract or repair bridges, if the cost may be over $ , or borrow money, or alter, or make additional townships, without the concurrence of a majority of the justices of the peace sitting with them. moreover, by the same act the board of county commissioners have the powers of the township trustees. section . . who is clerk of the board of commissioners? section . . what duty, did the commissioners of have? section . . what is the name of the districts so formed? section . . what powers did they have, and for what purpose? section . by act of -' , chapter , section , these powers are to be under supervision of the board of county commissioners; and the said board can alter boundaries of said townships and create additional ones. . who constituted the board of trustees of the township by the constitution, and by whom and when were they to be chosen? section . . how is this by act of -' , chapter ? answer--by act of -' , chapter , the general assembly appoints three justices for each township, who are divided in three classes and hold their offices for two, four and six years, but the successors of each class, as its term expires, hold office for six years. for each township in which any city or incorporated town was situated, one justice of the peace is appointed by the general assembly, and one for each one thousand inhabitants of the city or town. when new townships are created, the general assembly, not being in session, the governor appoints until the next meeting of the assembly. . what other officers were to be elected in the townships? section . . how has section been changed? answer--the board of commissioners appoint one justice of the peace, or other suitable person, in each township, to list lands and personal property therein. laws of , chapter , section . the tax list is revised by the board of county commissioners. same; section . . what is necessary to enable a county or other municipal corporation to contract debts, pledge its faith, or loan its credit? section . . what is necessary in order to levy and collect taxes more than for necessary expenses? section . . will a majority of those actually voting be always sufficient? section . . what is necessary to enable money to be drawn from county or township treasuries? section . . what is the rule of taxation in county and other municipal corporations? section ; and article v, section . . what exemptions are required? section , and article v, section . . what exemptions are allowed, and to what extent? section ; and article v, section . . is section obsolete? . is section obsolete? . did all charters, &c., relating to municipal corporations, become of no effect on the adoption of this article? section . . what debts are counties, &c., forbidden to pay, or levy taxes for? section . . what provision of this article can the general assembly change or abrogate? section . . what is section ? . what is section ? . what is section ? [note--by act of , chapter , "county superintendents of public instruction" are to be elected by the county board of education and county board of magistrates in joint session. the county commissioners constitute the county board of education. same; section .] . suppose the general assembly should attempt to change either of these sections? answer--it would be the duty of the courts to decide their action invalid. article viii. corporations other than municipal. . in what way may corporations be formed? section . . in what case may they be created by special act? section l. . can charters of corporations granted under this section be amended or repealed? section . . how shall debts of corporations be secured? section . . what authority has the right to prescribe rules for so securing corporation dues? section . . what is the meaning of the term "corporation" as used in this article? section . . can corporations sue and be sued like natural persons? section . . on whom is the duty of organizing cities, towns and incorporated villages? section . . what powers should the general assembly restrict? section . . for what purpose are these restrictions? section . article ix. education. . why should schools, &c., be encouraged? section . . what is the duty of the general assembly in regard to public schools? section . . how must they provide such schools? section . . what are the school ages? section . . what charge shall be made for tuition? section . . are "mixed schools" allowed? section . . is it lawful to have the schools for one race superior to those of the other? section . . how shall the counties he divided for school purposes? section . . how long must the schools be maintained? section . . what punishment do the commissioners incur by failing to comply with this? section . . what funds are set apart for support of the schools? section . . can these funds be used for any other purpose? section . . what officer has charge of these funds? section . . what funds do the counties have charge of for school purposes? section . . how is the superintendent of public instruction to know about these county funds? section . . who provides for the election of trustees of the university? section . . what is vested in these trustees? section . . who has power to provide for the maintenance and management of the university? section . . what is the duty of the general assembly in regard to education at the university? section . . what is their duty in regard to escheats, unclaimed dividends and distributive shares? section . . who constitute the state board of education? section . . who are its officers? section . . to what does the board of education succeed? section . . what power of legislation has the board? section . . is such legislation final? section . . who fixes the times of meeting of the board? section . . how many necessary for the transaction of business? section . . who provides for the contingent expenses of the board? section . . what departments in connection with the university must the general assembly establish? section . . can the general assembly enact "compulsory education"? section . . over what ages would this compulsory education extend? section . . for what length of time? section . article x. homesteads and exemptions. . how much personal property is exempted from execution? section . . who chooses this property? section . . is it exempt from execution only? section . . what land is exempt, and of what value? section . . who selects the homestead? section . . can a lot in a city, &c., be set apart? section . . is the homestead liable for taxes? section . . is it liable for any other debt besides taxes? section . . after death of the owner is the homestead exempt any longer? section . . if work is done on a homestead, is such homestead exempt from the mechanic's or laborer's lien? section . . supposing the owner dies leaving a widow, but no children-- from what is the homestead exempt, and how long? section . . what privileges does the widow enjoy, and how long? section . . is every widow entitled to such privileges? section . . what becomes of the property of a woman marrying? section . . suppose she acquires property after marriage, does she or her husband own it? section . . what kind of property so belongs to the wife? section . . cannot such property be made to pay the husband's debts? section . . can she give her property away by will? section . . is her husband's assent necessary to the validity of her will? section . . can she sell or give away her property before her death? section . . is her husband's assent necessary to such sale, &c. ? section . . can her husband signify such assent "by word of mouth"? section . . can the husband insure his life for the benefit of his wife and children and pay for the policy out of his own money, rather than pay his creditors? section . . what is done with the money when he dies? section . . can the owner of the homestead sell it? section . . what is necessary to the validity of the deed? section . . suppose he is not married. section . article xi. punishments, penal institutions and public charities. . what are the punishments lawful in north carolina? section . . can convicts be made to labor on public works, &c. ? section . . can convicts be hired (or farmed) out to individuals or corporations? section . . can all convicts be farmed out? section . . what authority prescribes the rules in regard to farming out convicts? section . . what convicts cannot be farmed out? section . . can those hiring convicts punish them as they please? section . . for what can they be punished by the proper officer? section . . under whose supervision, &c., are these convicts? section . . can the general assembly abolish capital punishment? section . . for what offences can the punishment of death be inflicted? section . . what are the objects of punishment? section . . what is the duty of the general assembly in regard to a penitentiary? section . . for what may houses of correction be provided? section . . for what may houses of refuge be established? section . . how must the structure and superintendence of penal institutions, &c., be arranged? section . . what provision in regard to male and female prisoners? section . . what is one of the first duties of a civilized state? section . . what must the general assembly do to carry out this duty? section . . what are the duties of this board? section . . what must the general assembly do for destitute orphans? section . . what must the general assembly do in regard to idiots? section . . can idiots be educated? answer--yes; they can be taught many things of value to them and to others. . what other unfortunates are classed with idiots? section . . what classes may be provided for at the expense of the state? section . . has this section been changed since ? answer--by amendment to the constitution, adopted in , the word "may" was substituted for the word "must" in this section. . should the penal and charitable institutions be made self- supporting? section . article xii. militia. . who is liable to militia duty? section . . who are exempt? section . . what duties has the general assembly in regard to militia? section . . who is commander-in-chief of the militia? . section ; and article iii, section . . for what may he call them out? section ; and see article iii, section . . what authority can make exemptions from militia duty? section . . what other duty has the general assembly in regard to the militia? section . article xiii. amendments. . in what manner must a convention of the people be called? section . . what is the number of votes necessary in the senate? answer-- two-thirds of fifty--thirty-four at the least. . what number in the house of representatives? answer--two- thirds of one hundred and twenty-eighty votes at the least. . what authority directs the manner of submission to the people? section . . what authority prescribes the day of meeting? section . . can a convention so called to alter the constitution? answer- -yes; it can amend the constitution or make a new one. . what is a "restricted convention"? answer--one in which the general assembly provides that the members shall confine their action to certain specified matters, or shall refrain from making changes in certain particulars. some have doubted the power of the general assembly to bind the members in this way, but it has been done several times in this state. . can the constitution be altered without calling a convention? section . . by what vote must the proposed change pass the general assembly? section . . does this mean three-fifths of all the members of each house? section . . what is the least vote by which it could pass in the senate? answer--three-fifths of twenty-six--sixteen votes. . what is the least in the house of representatives? answer-- three-fifths of sixty-one--thirty-seven votes. . what must then be done with the proposed amendment? section . . does it require a majority of all the qualified voters to pass it? section . . which is the most, two-thirds or three-fifths? article xiv. miscellaneous. . supposing indictments to be pending at the adoption of the constitution, what is the rule in regard to their punishments? section . . what is the rule in regard to dueling? section . . is the challenger disqualified if the other party declines to fight? section . . is the challenged party, who accepts the challenge, disqualified if no fight occurs? section . . is the person who carries the challenge disqualified if no fight occurs? section . . is it any offence against the laws of north carolina for its citizens to fight in another state? answer: no; but it is an offence to agree to go out of the state for the purpose of fighting. . what is necessary to enable money to be drawn from the treasury of the state? section . (see article v, section ). . what must be done with the account of receipts and expenditures? section . . what protection to mechanics and laborers must be given? section ; and article x, section . . what is the general provision in regard to terms of office? section . . where shall be the seat of government? section . . what is the rule in regard to double office? section . . what exception to the general rule? section . . what marriages are prohibited? section . . what proportion of negro blood comes within the prohibition? section . answer--one-eighth negro blood (octoroon) will prohibit. none produced from scanned images of public domain material from the google print project.) constitution of the state of north carolina and copy of the act of the general assembly, entitled an act to amend the constitution of the state of north carolina (chapter , public laws, extra session of ) issued from the office of the secretary of state raleigh by authority of the general assembly raleigh edwards & broughton printing company state printers and binders received through the bureau for municipal research by direction of the general assembly, this pamphlet is furnished for distribution to, and the information of, citizens of the state of north carolina. it contains the constitution of the state of north carolina as it now stands, and shows, on page and the pages following, the proposed amendments, and a copy of the official ballot. additional copies of this pamphlet may be had upon application to the county clerk of court, or to the secretary of state, raleigh. constitution of the state of north carolina preamble. [sidenote: preamble.] we, the people of the state of north carolina, grateful to almighty god, the sovereign ruler of nations, for the preservation of the american union, and the existence of our civil, political and religious liberties, and acknowledging our dependence upon him for the continuance of those blessings to us and our posterity, do for the more certain security thereof, and for the better government of this state, ordain and establish this constitution: article i. declaration of rights. that the great, general and essential principles of liberty and free government may be recognized and established, and that the relations of this state to the union and government of the united states, and those of the people of this state to the rest of the american people, may be defined and affirmed, we do declare: [sidenote: the equality and rights of men.] section . that we hold it to be self-evident that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, the enjoyment of the fruits of their own labor, and the pursuit of happiness. [sidenote: political power and government.] sec. . that all political power is vested in, and derived from, the people; all government of right originates from the people, is founded upon their will only, and is instituted solely for the good of the whole. [sidenote: internal government of the state.] sec. . that the people of this state have the inherent, sole and exclusive right of regulating the internal government and police thereof, and of altering and abolishing their constitution and form of government whenever it may be necessary for their safety and happiness; but every such right should be exercised in pursuance of law, and consistently with the constitution of the united states. [sidenote: that there is no right to secede.] sec. . that this state shall ever remain a member of the american union; that the people thereof are a part of the american nation; that there is no right on the part of the state to secede, and that all attempts, from whatever source or upon whatever pretext, to dissolve said union, or to sever said nation, ought to be resisted with the whole power of the state. [sidenote: of allegiance to the u. s. government.] sec. . that every citizen of this state owes paramount allegiance to the constitution and government of the united states, and that no law or ordinance of the state in contravention or subversion thereof can have any binding force. [sidenote: public debt.] [sidenote: bonds issued under ordinance of convention of and under acts of , -' , -' , declared invalid.] [sidenote: exception.] sec. . the state shall never assume or pay, or authorize the collection of any debt or obligation, express or implied, incurred in aid of insurrection or rebellion against the united states, or any claim for the loss or emancipation of any slave; nor shall the general assembly assume or pay, or authorize the collection of any tax to pay, either directly or indirectly, expressed or implied, any debt or bond incurred, or issued, by authority of the convention of the year one thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight, nor any debt or bond incurred or issued by the legislature of the year one thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight, at its special session of the year one thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight, or at its regular sessions of the years one thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight and one thousand eight hundred and sixty-nine and one thousand eight hundred and seventy, except the bonds issued to fund the interest on the old debt of the state, unless the proposing to pay the same shall have first been submitted to the people and by them ratified by the vote of a majority of all the qualified voters of the state, at a regular election held for that purpose. [sidenote: exclusive emoluments, etc.] sec. . no man or set of men are entitled to exclusive or separate emoluments or privileges from the community but in consideration of public services. [sidenote: the legislative, executive and judicial powers distinct.] sec. . the legislative, executive and supreme judicial powers of the government ought to be forever separate and distinct from each other. [sidenote: of the power of suspending laws.] sec. . all power of suspending laws, or the execution of laws, by any authority, without the consent of the representatives of the people, is injurious to their rights, and ought not to be exercised. [sidenote: elections free.] sec. . all elections ought to be free. [sidenote: in criminal prosecutions.] sec. . in all criminal prosecutions, every man has the right to be informed of the accusation against him and to confront the accusers and witnesses with other testimony, and to have counsel for his defense, and not to be compelled to give evidence against himself, or to pay costs, jail fees, or necessary witness fees of the defense, unless found guilty. [sidenote: answers to criminal charges.] sec. . no person shall be put to answer any criminal charge, except as hereinafter allowed, but by indictment, presentment or impeachment. [sidenote: right of jury.] sec. . no person shall be convicted of any crime but by the unanimous verdict of a jury of good and lawful men in open court. the legislature may, however, provide other means of trial for petty misdemeanors, with the right of appeal. [sidenote: excessive bail.] sec. . excessive bail should not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel or unusual punishments inflicted. [sidenote: general warrants.] sec. . general warrants, whereby any officer or messenger may be commanded to search suspected places, without evidence of the act committed, or to seize any person or persons not named, whose offense is not particularly described and supported by evidence, are dangerous to liberty and ought not to be granted. [sidenote: imprisonment for debt.] sec. . there shall be no imprisonment for debt in this state, except in cases of fraud. [sidenote: no person to be taken, etc., but by law of the land.] sec. . no person ought to be taken, imprisoned, or disseized of his freehold, liberties or privileges, or outlawed or exiled, or in any manner deprived of his life, liberty or property, but by the law of the land. [sidenote: persons restrained of liberty.] sec. . every person restrained of his liberty is entitled to a remedy to enquire into the lawfulness thereof, and to remove the same, if unlawful; and such remedy ought not to be denied or delayed. [sidenote: controversies at law respecting property.] sec. . in all controversies at law respecting property, the ancient mode of trial by jury is one of the best securities of the rights of the people, and ought to remain sacred and inviolable. [sidenote: freedom of the press.] sec. . the freedom of the press is one of the great bulwarks of liberty, and therefore ought never to be restrained, but every individual shall be held responsible for the abuse of the same. [sidenote: habeas corpus.] sec. . the privileges of the writ of _habeas corpus_ shall not be suspended. [sidenote: property qualification.] sec. . as political rights and privileges are not dependent upon, or modified by, property, therefore no property qualification ought to affect the right to vote or hold office. [sidenote: representation and taxation.] sec. . the people of the state ought not to be taxed, or made subject to the payment of any impost or duty, without the consent of themselves, or their representatives in general assembly freely given. [sidenote: militia and the right to bear arms.] sec. . a well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed; and, as standing armies in time of peace are dangerous to liberty, they ought not to be kept up, and the military should be kept under strict subordination to, and governed by, the civil power. nothing herein contained shall justify the practice of carrying concealed weapons, or prevent the legislature from enacting penal statutes against said practice. [sidenote: right of the people to assemble together.] sec. . the people have a right to assemble together to consult for their common good, to instruct their representatives, and to apply to the legislature for redress of grievances. but secret political societies are dangerous to the liberties of a free people, and should not be tolerated. [sidenote: religious liberty.] sec. . all men have a natural and inalienable right to worship almighty god according to the dictates of their own consciences, and no human authority should, in any case whatever, control or interfere with the rights of conscience. [sidenote: education.] sec. . the people have the right to the privilege of education, and it is the duty of the state to guard and maintain that right. [sidenote: elections should be frequent.] sec. . for redress of grievances, and for amending and strengthening the laws, elections should be often held. [sidenote: recurrence to fundamental principles.] sec. . a frequent recurrence to fundamental principles is absolutely necessary to preserve the blessings of liberty. [sidenote: hereditary emoluments, etc.] sec. . no hereditary emoluments, privileges or honors ought to be granted or conferred in this state. [sidenote: perpetuities, etc.] sec. . perpetuities and monopolies are contrary to the genius of a free state and ought not to be allowed. [sidenote: ex post facto laws.] sec. . retrospective laws, punishing acts committed before the existence of such laws, and by them only declared criminal, are oppressive, unjust and incompatible with liberty; wherefore no _ex post facto_ law ought to be made. no law taxing retrospectively sales, purchases, or other acts previously done, ought to be passed. [sidenote: slavery prohibited.] sec. . slavery and involuntary servitude, otherwise than for crime, whereof the parties shall have been duly convicted, shall be and are hereby forever prohibited within the state. [sidenote: state boundaries.] sec. . the limits and boundaries of the state shall be and remain as they now are. [sidenote: courts shall be open.] sec. . all courts shall be open; and every person for an injury done him in his lands, goods, person or reputation, shall have remedy by due course of law, and right and justice administered without sale, denial or delay. [sidenote: soldiers in time of peace.] sec. . no soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner; nor in time of war but in a manner prescribed by the law. [sidenote: other rights of the people.] sec. . this enumeration of rights shall not be construed to impair or deny others retained by the people; and all powers not herein delegated remain with the people. article ii. legislative department. [sidenote: two branches.] section . the legislative authority shall be vested in two distinct branches, both dependent on the people, to wit, a senate and house of representatives. [sidenote: time of assembling.] sec. . the senate and house of representatives shall meet biennially on the first wednesday after the first monday in january next after their election; and, when assembled, shall be denominated the general assembly. neither house shall proceed upon public business unless a majority of all the members are actually present. [sidenote: number of senators.] sec. . the senate shall be composed of fifty senators, biennially chosen by ballot. [sidenote: regulations in relation to districting the state for senators.] sec. . the senate districts shall be so altered by the general assembly, at the first session after the return of every enumeration by order of congress, that each senate district shall contain, as near as may be, an equal number of inhabitants, excluding aliens and indians not taxed, and shall remain unaltered until the return of another enumeration, and shall at all times consist of contiguous territory; and no county shall be divided in the formation of a senate district, unless such county shall be equitably entitled to two or more senators. [sidenote: regulations in relation to apportionment of representatives.] sec. . the house of representatives shall be composed of one hundred and twenty representatives, biennially chosen by ballot, to be elected by the counties respectively, according to their population, and each county shall have at least one representative in the house of representatives, although it may not contain the requisite ratio of representation; this apportionment shall be made by the general assembly at the respective times and periods when the districts of the senate are hereinbefore directed to be laid off. [sidenote: ratio of representation.] sec. . in making the apportionment in the house of representatives, the ratio of representation shall be ascertained by dividing the amount of the population of the state, exclusive of that comprehended within those counties which do not severally contain the one hundred and twentieth part of the population of the state, by the number of representatives, less the number assigned to such counties; and in ascertaining the number of the population of the state, aliens and indians not taxed shall not be included. to each county containing the said ratio and not twice the said ratio, there shall be assigned one representative; to each county containing two but not three times the said ratio, there shall be assigned two representatives, and so on progressively, and then the remaining representatives shall be assigned severally to the counties having the largest fractions. [sidenote: qualifications for senators.] sec. . each member of the senate shall not be less than twenty-five years of age, shall have resided in the state as a citizen two years, and shall have usually resided in the district for which he is chosen one year immediately preceding his election. [sidenote: qualifications for representatives.] sec. . each member of the house of representatives shall be a qualified elector of the state, and shall have resided in the county for which he is chosen for one year immediately preceding his election. [sidenote: election of officers.] sec. . in the election of all officers, whose appointment shall be conferred upon the general assembly by the constitution, the vote shall be _viva voce_. [sidenote: powers in relation to divorce and alimony.] sec. . the general assembly shall have the power to pass general laws regulating divorce and alimony, but shall not have power to grant a divorce or secure alimony in any individual case. [sidenote: private laws in relation to names of persons, etc.] sec. . the general assembly shall not have power to pass any private law to alter the name of any person, or to legitimate any person not born in lawful wedlock, or to restore to the rights of citizenship any person convicted of an infamous crime, but shall have power to pass general laws regulating the same. [sidenote: thirty days' notice shall be given anterior to passage of private laws.] sec. . the general assembly shall not pass any private law, unless it shall be made to appear that thirty days' notice of application to pass such a law shall have been given, under such direction and in such manner as shall be provided by law. [sidenote: vacancies.] sec. . if vacancies shall occur in the general assembly by death, resignation or otherwise, writs of election shall be issued by the governor under such regulations as may be prescribed by law. [sidenote: revenue.] sec. . no law shall be passed to raise money on the credit of the state, or to pledge the faith of the state, directly or indirectly, for the payment of any debt, or to impose any tax upon the people of the state, or allow the counties, cities or towns to do so, unless the bill for the purpose shall have been read three several times in each house of the general assembly and passed three several readings, which readings shall have been on three different days, and agreed to by each house respectively, and unless the yeas and nays on the second and third readings of the bill shall have been entered on the journal. [sidenote: entails.] sec. . the general assembly shall regulate entails in such manner as to prevent perpetuities. [sidenote: journals.] sec. . each house shall keep a journal of its proceedings, which shall be printed and made public immediately after the adjournment of the general assembly. [sidenote: protest.] sec. . any member of either house may dissent from and protest against any act or resolve, which he may think injurious to the public, or any individual, and have the reasons of his dissent entered on the journal. [sidenote: officers of the house.] sec. . the house of representatives shall choose their own speaker and other officers. [sidenote: president of the senate.] sec. . the lieutenant-governor shall preside in the senate, but shall have no vote unless it may be equally divided. [sidenote: other senatorial officers.] sec. . the senate shall choose its other officers and also a speaker (_pro tempore_) in the absence of the lieutenant-governor, or when he shall exercise the office of governor. [sidenote: style of the acts.] sec. . the style of the acts shall be: "the general assembly of north carolina do enact." [sidenote: powers of the general assembly.] sec. . each house shall be judge of the qualifications and election of its own members, shall sit upon its own adjournment from day to day, prepare bills to be passed into laws; and the two houses may also jointly adjourn to any future day or other place. [sidenote: bills and resolutions to be read three times, etc.] sec. . all bills and resolutions of a legislative nature shall be read three times in each house, before they pass into laws; and shall be signed by the presiding officers of both houses. [sidenote: oath of members]. sec. . each member of the general assembly, before taking his seat, shall take an oath or affirmation that he will support the constitution and laws of the united states, and the constitution of the state of north carolina, and will faithfully discharge his duty as a member of the senate or house of representatives. [sidenote: terms of office.] sec. . the terms of office for senators and members of the house of representatives shall commence at the time of their election. [sidenote: yeas and nays.] sec. . upon motion made and seconded in either house by one-fifth of the members present, the yeas and nays upon any question shall be taken and entered upon the journals. [sidenote: election for members of the general assembly.] sec. . the election for members of the general assembly shall be held for the respective districts and counties, at the places where they are now held, or may be directed hereafter to be held, in such manner as may be prescribed by law, on the first thursday in august, in the year one thousand eight hundred and seventy, and every two years thereafter. but the general assembly may change the time of holding the elections. [sidenote: pay of members and officers of the general assembly.] [sidenote: extra session.] sec. . the members of the general assembly for the term for which they have been elected shall receive as a compensation for their services the sum of _four dollars_ per day for each day of their session, for a period not exceeding sixty days; and should they remain longer in session they shall serve without compensation. they shall also be entitled to receive ten cents per mile, both while coming to the seat of government and while returning home, the said distance to be computed by the nearest line or route of public travel. the compensation of the presiding officers of the two houses shall be six dollars per day and mileage. should an extra session of the general assembly be called, the members and presiding officers shall receive a like rate of compensation for a period not exceeding twenty days. article iii. executive department. [sidenote: officers of the executive department.] [sidenote: terms of office.] section . the executive department shall consist of a governor, in whom shall be vested the supreme executive power of the state, a lieutenant-governor, a secretary of state, an auditor, a treasurer, a superintendent of public instruction, and an attorney-general, who shall be elected for a term of four years by the qualified electors of the state, at the same time and places and in the same manner as members of the general assembly are elected. their term of office shall commence on the first day of january next after their election, and continue until their successors are elected and qualified: _provided_, that the officers first elected shall assume the duties of their office ten days after the approval of this constitution by the congress of the united states, and shall hold their offices four years from and after the first day of january. [sidenote: qualifications of governor and lieutenant-governor.] sec. . no person shall be eligible as governor or lieutenant-governor unless he shall have attained the age of thirty years, shall have been a citizen of the united states five years, and shall have been a resident of this state for two years next before the election; nor shall the person elected to either of these two offices be eligible to the same office more than four years in any term of eight years, unless the office shall have been cast upon him as lieutenant-governor or president of the senate. [sidenote: returns of elections.] sec. . the return of every election for officers of the executive department shall be sealed up and transmitted to the seat of government by the returning officers, directed to the speaker of the house of representatives, who shall open and publish the same in the presence of a majority of the members of both houses of the general assembly. the person having the highest number of votes respectively shall be declared duly elected; but if two or more be equal and highest in votes for the same office, one of them shall be chosen by joint ballot of both houses of the general assembly. contested elections shall be determined by a joint ballot of both houses of the general assembly in such manner as shall be prescribed by law. [sidenote: oath of office for governor.] sec. . the governor, before entering upon the duties of his office, shall, in the presence of the members of both branches of the general assembly, or before any justice of the supreme court, take an oath or affirmation that he will support the constitution and laws of the united states, and of the state of north carolina, and that he will faithfully perform the duties appertaining to the office of governor, to which he has been elected. [sidenote: duties of governor.] sec. . the governor shall reside at the seat of government of this state, and he shall, from time to time, give the general assembly information of the affairs of the state, and recommend to their consideration, such measures as he shall deem expedient. [sidenote: reprieves, commutations and pardons.] sec. . the governor shall have power to grant reprieves, commutations and pardons, after conviction, for all offenses (except in cases of impeachment), upon such conditions as he may think proper, subject to such regulations as may be provided by law relative to the manner of applying for pardons. he shall biennially communicate to the general assembly each case of reprieve, commutation or pardon granted, stating the name of each convict, the crime for which he was convicted, the sentence and its date, the date of the commutation, pardon or reprieve and the reasons therefor. [sidenote: annual reports from officers of executive department and of public institutions.] sec. . the officers of the executive department and of the public institutions of the state shall, at least five days previous to each regular session of the general assembly, severally report to the governor, who shall transmit such reports with his message to the general assembly; and the governor may, at any time, require information in writing from the officers in the executive department upon any subject relating to the duties of their respective offices, and shall take care that the laws be faithfully executed. [sidenote: commander in chief.] sec. . the governor shall be commander in chief of the militia of the state, except when they shall be called into the service of the united states. [sidenote: extra sessions of general assembly.] sec. . the governor shall have power, on extraordinary occasions, by and with the advice of the council of state, to convene the general assembly in extra session by his proclamation, stating therein the purpose or purposes for which they are thus convened. [sidenote: officers whose appointments are not otherwise provided for.] sec. . the governor shall nominate and, by and with the advice and consent of a majority of the senators-elect, appoint all officers whose offices are established by this constitution and whose appointments are not otherwise provided for. [sidenote: duties of the lieutenant-governor.] sec. . the lieutenant-governor shall be president of the senate, but shall have no vote unless the senate is equally divided. he shall, whilst acting as president of the senate, receive for his services the same pay which shall, for the same period, be allowed to the speaker of the house of representatives; and he shall receive no other compensation except when he is acting as governor. [sidenote: in case of impeachment of governor, or vacancy caused by death or resignation.] sec. . in case of the impeachment of the governor, his failure to qualify, his absence from the state, his inability to discharge the duties of his office, or, in case the office of governor shall in any wise become vacant, the powers, duties and emoluments of the office shall devolve upon the lieutenant-governor until the disability shall cease or a new governor shall be elected and qualified. in every case in which the lieutenant-governor shall be unable to preside over the senate, the senators shall elect one of their own number president of their body; and the powers, duties and emoluments of the office of governor shall devolve upon him whenever the lieutenant-governor shall, for any reason, be prevented from discharging the duties of such office as above provided, and he shall continue as acting governor until the disabilities are removed, or a new governor or lieutenant-governor shall be elected and qualified. whenever, during the recess of the general assembly, it shall become necessary for the president of the senate to administer the government, the secretary of state shall convene the senate, that they may select such president. [sidenote: duties of other executive officers.] sec. . the respective duties of the secretary of state, auditor, treasurer, superintendent of public instruction, and attorney-general shall be prescribed by law. if the office of any of said officers shall be vacated by death, resignation or otherwise, it shall be the duty of the governor to appoint another until the disability be removed or his successor be elected and qualified. every such vacancy shall be filled by election at the first general election that occurs more than thirty days after the vacancy has taken place, and the persons chosen shall hold the office for the remainder of the unexpired term fixed in the first section of this article. [sidenote: council of state.] sec. . the secretary of state, auditor, treasurer, and superintendent of public instruction shall constitute, _ex officio_, the council of state, who shall advise the governor in the execution of his office, any three of whom shall constitute a quorum. their advice and proceedings in this capacity shall be entered in a journal to be kept for this purpose exclusively, and signed by the members present, from any part of which any member may enter his dissent; and such journal shall be placed before the general assembly when called for by either house. the attorney-general shall be, _ex officio_, the legal adviser of the executive department. [sidenote: compensation of executive officers.] sec. . the officers mentioned in this article shall, at stated periods, receive for their services a compensation to be established by law, which shall neither be increased nor diminished during the time for which they shall have been elected, and the said officers shall receive no other emolument or allowance whatever. [sidenote: seal of state.] sec. . there shall be a seal of the state, which shall be kept by the governor, and used by him as occasion may require, and shall be called "the great seal of the state of north carolina." all grants and commissions shall be issued in the name and by the authority of the state of north carolina, sealed with "the great seal of the state," signed by the governor and counter-signed by the secretary of state. [sidenote: department of agriculture, immigration and statistics.] sec. . the general assembly shall establish a department of agriculture, immigration and statistics, under such regulations as may best promote the agricultural interests of the state, and shall enact laws for the adequate protection and encouragement of sheep husbandry. article iv. judicial department. [sidenote: abolishes the distinction between actions at law and suits in equity.] [sidenote: feigned issues abolished.] section . the distinctions between actions at law and suits in equity, and the forms of all such actions and suits, shall be abolished; and there shall be in this state but one form of action for the enforcement or protection of private rights or the redress of private wrongs, which shall be denominated a civil action; and every action prosecuted by the people of the state as a party against a person charged with a public offense, for the punishment of the same, shall be termed a criminal action. feigned issues shall also be abolished, and the fact at issue tried by order of court before a jury. [sidenote: division of judicial powers.] sec. . the judicial power of the state shall be vested in a court for the trial of impeachments, a supreme court, superior courts, courts of justices of the peace, and such other courts inferior to the supreme court as may be established by law. [sidenote: trial court of impeachment.] sec. . the court for the trial of impeachments shall be the senate. a majority of the members shall be necessary to a quorum, and the judgment shall not extend beyond removal from and disqualification to hold office in this state; but the party shall be liable to indictment and punishment according to law. [sidenote: impeachment.] sec. . the house of representatives solely shall have the power of impeaching. no person shall be convicted without the concurrence of two-thirds of the senators present. when the governor is impeached, the chief justice shall preside. [sidenote: treason against the state.] sec. . treason against the state shall consist only in levying war against it, or adhering to its enemies, giving them aid and comfort. no person shall be convicted of treason unless on the testimony of two witnesses to the same overt act, or on confession in open court. no conviction of treason or attainder shall work corruption of blood or forfeiture. [sidenote: supreme court justices.] sec. . the supreme court shall consist of a chief justice and four associate justices. [sidenote: terms of the supreme court.] sec. . the terms of the supreme court shall be held in the city of raleigh, as now, unless otherwise provided by the general assembly. [sidenote: jurisdiction of supreme court.] sec. . the supreme court shall have jurisdiction to review, upon appeal, any decision of the courts below, upon any matter of law or legal inference. and the jurisdiction of said court over "issues of fact" and "questions of fact" shall be the same exercised by it before the adoption of the constitution of one thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight, and the court shall have the power to issue any remedial writs necessary to give it a general supervision and control over the proceedings of the inferior courts. [sidenote: claims against the state.] sec. . the supreme court shall have original jurisdiction to hear claims against the state, but its decisions shall be merely recommendatory; no process in the nature of execution shall issue thereon; they shall be reported to the next session of the general assembly for its action. [sidenote: judicial districts for superior courts.] sec. . the state shall be divided into nine judicial districts, for each of which a judge shall be chosen; and there shall be held a superior court in each county at least twice in each year, to continue for such time in each county as may be prescribed by law. but the general assembly may reduce or increase the number of districts. [sidenote: residences of judges, rotation in judicial districts, and special terms.] sec. . every judge of the superior court shall reside in the district for which he is elected. the judges shall preside in the courts of the different districts successively, but no judge shall hold the courts in the same district oftener than once in four years; but in case of the protracted illness of the judge assigned to preside in any district, or of any other unavoidable accident to him, by reason of which he shall be unable to preside, the governor may require any judge to hold one or more specified terms in said district, in lieu of the judge assigned to hold the courts of the said district. [sidenote: jurisdiction of courts inferior to supreme court.] sec. . the general assembly shall have no power to deprive the judicial department of any power or jurisdiction which rightfully pertains to it as a coördinate department of the government; but the general assembly shall allot and distribute that portion of this power and jurisdiction which does not pertain to the supreme court, among other courts prescribed in this constitution or which may be established by law, in such manner as it may deem best; provide also a proper system of appeals, and regulate by law, when necessary, the methods of proceedings in the exercise of their powers, of all the courts below the supreme court, so far as the same may be done without conflict with other provisions of this constitution. [sidenote: in case of waiver of trial by jury.] sec. . in all issues of fact, joined in any court, the parties may waive the right to have the same determined by a jury, in which case the finding of the judge upon the facts shall have the force and effect of a verdict by a jury. [sidenote: special courts in cities.] sec. . the general assembly shall provide for the establishment of special courts, for the trial of misdemeanors, in cities and towns where the same may be necessary. [sidenote: clerk of supreme court.] sec. . the clerk of the supreme court shall be appointed by the court, and shall hold his office for eight years. [sidenote: election of superior court clerk.] sec. . a clerk of the superior court for each county shall be elected by the qualified voters thereof, at the time and in the manner prescribed by law for the election of members of the general assembly. [sidenote: term of office.] sec. . clerks of the superior courts shall hold their offices for four years. [sidenote: fees, salaries and emoluments.] sec. . the general assembly shall prescribe and regulate the fees, salaries and emoluments of all officers provided for in this article; but the salaries of the judges shall not be diminished during their continuance in office. [sidenote: what laws are and shall be in force.] sec. . the laws of north carolina, not repugnant to this constitution or the constitution and laws of the united states, shall be in force until lawfully altered. [sidenote: disposition of actions at law and suits in equity, pending when this constitution shall go into effect, etc.] sec. . actions at law, and suits in equity, pending when this constitution shall go into effect, shall be transferred to the courts having jurisdiction thereof, without prejudice by reason of the change; and all such actions and suits commenced before, and pending at the adoption by the general assembly of the rules of practice and procedure herein provided for, shall be heard and determined according to the practice now in use, unless otherwise provided for by said rules. [sidenote: justices supreme court, election of.] sec. . the justices of the supreme court shall be elected by the qualified voters of the state, as is provided for the election of members of the general assembly. they shall hold their offices for eight years. the judges of the superior courts, elected at the first election under this amendment, shall be elected in like manner as is provided for justices of the supreme court, and shall hold their offices for eight years. the general assembly may, from time to time, provide by law that the judges of the superior courts, chosen at succeeding elections, instead of being elected by the voters of the whole state, as is herein provided for, shall be elected by the voters of their respective districts. [sidenote: transaction of business in the superior court.] sec. . the superior courts shall be at all times open for the transaction of all business within their jurisdiction, except the trial of issues of fact requiring a jury. [sidenote: solicitors for each judicial district.] sec. . a solicitor shall be elected for each judicial district by the qualified voters thereof, as is prescribed for members of the general assembly, who shall hold office for the term of four years, and prosecute on behalf of the state, in all criminal actions in the superior courts, and advise the officers of justice in his district. [sidenote: sheriffs and coroners.] sec. . in each county a sheriff and coroner shall be elected by the qualified voters thereof, as is prescribed for members of the general assembly, and shall hold their offices for two years. in each township there shall be a constable elected in like manner by the voters thereof, who shall hold his office for two years. when there is no coroner in a county, the clerk of the superior court for the county may appoint one for special cases. in case of a vacancy existing for any cause in any of the offices created by this section, the commissioners of the county may appoint to such office for the unexpired term. [sidenote: vacancies.] sec. . all vacancies occurring in the offices provided for by this article of the constitution shall be filled by the appointment of the governor, unless otherwise provided for, and the appointees shall hold their places until the next regular election for members of the general assembly, when elections shall be held to fill such offices. if any person, elected or appointed to any of said offices, shall neglect and fail to qualify, such offices shall be appointed to, held and filled as provided in case of vacancies occurring therein. all incumbents of said offices shall hold until their successors are qualified. [sidenote: terms of office of first officers under this article.] sec. . the officers elected at the first election held under this constitution shall hold their offices for the terms prescribed for them respectively, next ensuing after the next regular election for members of the general assembly. but their terms shall begin upon the approval of this constitution by the congress of the united states. [sidenote: jurisdiction of justices of the peace.] sec. . the several justices of the peace shall have jurisdiction, under such regulations as the general assembly shall prescribe, of civil actions, founded on contract, wherein the sum demanded shall not exceed two hundred dollars, and wherein the title to real estate shall not be in controversy; and of all criminal matters arising within their counties where the punishment can not exceed a fine of fifty dollars or imprisonment for thirty days. and the general assembly may give to justices of the peace jurisdiction of other civil actions, wherein the value of the property in controversy does not exceed fifty dollars. when an issue of fact shall be joined before a justice, on demand of either party thereto, he shall cause a jury of six men to be summoned, who shall try the same. the party against whom judgment shall be rendered in any civil action may appeal to the superior court from the same. in all cases of a criminal nature, the party against whom judgment is given may appeal to the superior court, where the matter shall be heard anew. in all cases brought before a justice, he shall make a record of the proceedings and file same with the clerk of the superior court for his county. [sidenote: vacancies in office of justices.] sec. . when the office of justice of the peace shall become vacant otherwise than by expiration of the term, and in case of a failure by the voters of any district to elect, the clerk of the superior court for the county shall appoint to fill the vacancy for the unexpired term. [sidenote: vacancies in office of superior court clerk.] sec. . in case the office of clerk of a superior court for a county shall become vacant otherwise than by the expiration of the term, and in case of a failure by the people to elect, the judge of the superior court for the county shall appoint to fill the vacancy until an election can be regularly held. [sidenote: officers of other courts inferior to supreme court.] sec. . in case the general assembly shall establish other courts inferior to the supreme court, the presiding officers and clerks thereof shall be elected in such manner as the general assembly may from time to time prescribe, and they shall hold their offices for a term not exceeding eight years. [sidenote: removal of judges of the various courts for inability.] sec. . any judge of the supreme court or of the superior courts, and the presiding officers of such courts inferior to the supreme court as may be established by law, may be removed from office for mental or physical inability, upon a concurrent resolution of two-thirds of both houses of the general assembly. the judge or presiding officer, against whom the general assembly may be about to proceed, shall receive notice thereof, accompanied by a copy of the causes alleged for his removal, at least twenty days before the day on which either house of the general assembly shall act thereon. [sidenote: removal of clerks of the various courts for inability.] sec. . any clerk of the supreme court or of the superior courts, or of such courts inferior to the supreme court as may be established by law, may be removed from office for mental or physical inability; the clerk of the supreme court by the judges of said court, the clerks of the superior courts by the judge riding the district, and the clerks of such courts inferior to the supreme court as may be established by law by the presiding officers of said courts. the clerk against whom proceedings are instituted shall receive notice thereof, accompanied by a copy of the causes alleged for his removal, at least ten days before the day appointed to act thereon, and the clerk shall be entitled to an appeal to the next term of the superior court, and thence to the supreme court as provided in other cases of appeals. [sidenote: amendments not to vacate existing offices.] sec. . the amendments made to the constitution of north carolina by this convention shall not have the effect to vacate any office or term of office now existing under the constitution of the state and filled or held by virtue of any election or appointment under the said constitution and the laws of the state made in pursuance thereof. article v. revenue and taxation. [sidenote: capitation tax.] [sidenote: exemptions.] section . the general assembly shall levy a capitation tax on every male inhabitant in the state over twenty-one and under fifty years of age, which shall be equal on each to the tax on property valued at three hundred dollars in cash. the commissioners of the several counties may exempt from capitation tax in special cases, on account of poverty and infirmity, and the state and county capitation tax combined shall never exceed two dollars on the head. [sidenote: application of proceeds of state and county capitation tax.] sec. . the proceeds of the state and county capitation tax shall be applied to the purposes of education and the support of the poor, but in no one year shall more than twenty-five per cent thereof be appropriated to the latter purpose. [sidenote: taxation shall be by uniform rule and ad valorem.] sec. . laws shall be passed taxing, by a uniform rule, all moneys, credits, investments in bonds, stocks, joint-stock companies, or otherwise; and, also, all real and personal property, according to its true value in money. the general assembly may also tax trades, professions, franchises, and incomes: _provided_, that no income shall be taxed when the property from which the income is derived is taxed. [sidenote: restrictions upon the increase of the public debt, except in certain contingencies.] sec. . until the bonds of the state shall be at par, the general assembly shall have no power to contract any new debt or pecuniary obligation in behalf of the state, except to supply a casual deficit, or for suppressing invasions or insurrections, unless it shall in the same bill levy a special tax to pay the interest annually. and the general assembly shall have no power to give or lend the credit of the state in aid of any person, association or corporation, except to aid in the completion of such railroads as may be unfinished at the time of the adoption of this constitution, or in which the state has a direct pecuniary interest, unless the subject be submitted to a direct vote of the people of the state, and be approved by the majority of those who shall vote thereon. [sidenote: property exemptions from taxation.] sec. . property belonging to the state, or to municipal corporations, shall be exempt from taxation. the general assembly may exempt cemeteries and property held for educational, scientific, literary, charitable or religious purposes; also wearing apparel, arms for muster, household and kitchen furniture, the mechanical and agricultural implements of mechanics and farmers, libraries and scientific instruments, or any other personal property, to a value not exceeding three hundred dollars. [sidenote: taxes levied by county commissioners.] sec. . the taxes levied by the commissioners of the several counties for county purposes shall be levied in like manner with the state taxes, and shall never exceed the double of the state tax, except for a special purpose, and with the special approval of the general assembly. [sidenote: acts levying taxes shall state objects, etc.] sec. . every act of the general assembly levying a tax shall state the special object to which it is to be applied, and it shall be applied to no other purpose. article vi. suffrage and eligibility to office. [sidenote: qualifications of elector.] section . every male person born in the united states, and every male person who has been naturalized, twenty-one years of age, and possessing the qualifications set out in this article, shall be entitled to vote at any election by the people in the state, except as herein otherwise provided. [sidenote: qualifications of elector.] sec. . he shall have resided in the state of north carolina for two years, in the county six months, and in the precinct, ward or other election district, in which he offers his vote, four months next preceding the election: _provided_, that removal from one precinct, ward or other election district, to another in the same county, shall not operate to deprive any person of the right to vote in the precinct, ward or other election district from which he has removed until four months after such removal. no person who has been convicted, or who has confessed his guilt in open court upon indictment, of any crime, the punishment of which now is or may hereafter be imprisonment in the state's prison, shall be permitted to vote unless the said person shall be first restored to citizenship in the manner prescribed by law. [sidenote: qualification of elector.] [sidenote: general assembly to provide registration laws.] sec. . every person offering to vote shall be at the time a legally registered voter as herein prescribed and in the manner hereafter provided by law, and the general assembly of north carolina shall enact general registration laws to carry into effect the provisions of this article. [sidenote: qualifications of elector to register and vote.] [sidenote: registration of persons entitled to vote without educational qualification.] [sidenote: permanent record.] sec. . every person presenting himself for registration shall be able to read and write any section of the constitution in the english language; and before he shall be entitled to vote he shall have paid, on or before the first day of may of the year in which he proposes to vote, his poll tax for the previous year as prescribed by article v, sec. , of the constitution. but no male person who was on january , , or at any time prior thereto, entitled to vote under the laws of any state in the united states wherein he then resided, and no lineal descendant of any such person shall be denied the right to register and vote at any election in this state by reason of his failure to possess the educational qualifications herein prescribed: _provided_, he shall have registered in accordance with the terms of this section prior to december , . the general assembly shall provide for the registration of all persons entitled to vote without the educational qualifications herein prescribed, and shall, on or before november , , provide for making of a permanent record of such registration, and all persons so registered shall forever thereafter have the right to vote in all elections by the people in this state, unless disqualified under section of this article: _provided_, such person shall have paid his poll tax as above required. [sidenote: amendment indivisible.] sec. . that this amendment to the constitution is presented and adopted as one indivisible plan for the regulation of the suffrage, with the intent and purpose to so connect the different parts and to make them so dependent upon each other that the whole shall stand or fall together. [sidenote: elections by people and general assembly.] sec. . all elections by the people shall be by ballot, and all by the general assembly shall be _viva voce_. [sidenote: oath of office.] sec. . every voter in north carolina, except as in this article disqualified, shall be eligible to office, but before entering upon the duties of the office he shall take and subscribe the following oath: "i, ____, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that i will support and maintain the constitution and laws of the united states and the constitution and laws of north carolina not inconsistent therewith, and that i will faithfully discharge the duties of my office as ____ so help me, god." [sidenote: disqualification for office.] sec. . the following classes of persons shall be disqualified for office: _first_, all persons who shall deny the being of almighty god. _second_, all persons who shall have been convicted or confessed their guilt on indictment pending, and whether sentenced or not, or under judgment suspended, of any treason or felony, or of any other crime for which the punishment may be imprisonment in the penitentiary, since becoming citizens of the united states, or of corruption or malpractice in office, unless such person shall be restored to the rights of citizenship in a manner prescribed by law. [sidenote: when amendment to take effect.] sec. . that this amendment to the constitution shall go into effect on the first day of july, nineteen hundred and two, if a majority of votes cast at the next general election shall be cast in favor of this suffrage amendment. article vii. municipal corporations. [sidenote: county officers.] section . in each county there shall be elected biennially by the qualified voters thereof, as provided for the election of members of the general assembly, the following officers: a treasurer, register of deeds, surveyor, and five commissioners. [sidenote: duty of county commissioners.] sec. . it shall be the duty of the commissioners to exercise a general supervision and control of the penal and charitable institutions, schools, roads, bridges, levying of taxes, and finances of the county, as may be prescribed by law. the register of deeds shall be, _ex officio_, clerk of the board of commissioners. [sidenote: counties to be divided into districts.] sec. . it shall be the duty of the commissioners first elected in each county to divide the same into convenient districts, and to report the same to the general assembly before the first day of january, . [sidenote: said districts shall have corporate powers as townships.] sec. . upon the approval of the reports provided for in the foregoing section by the general assembly, the said districts shall have corporate powers for the necessary purposes of local government, and shall be known as townships. [sidenote: officers of townships.] sec. . in each township there shall be biennially elected by the qualified voters thereof a clerk and two justices of the peace, who shall constitute a board of trustees, and shall, under the supervision of the county commissioners, have control of the taxes and finances, roads and bridges of the townships, as may be prescribed by law. the general assembly may provide for the election of a larger number of the justices of the peace in cities and towns and in those townships in which cities and towns are situated. in every township there shall also be biennially elected a school committee, consisting of three persons, whose duties shall be prescribed by law. [sidenote: trustees shall assess property.] sec. . the township board of trustees shall assess the taxable property of their townships and make returns to the county commissioners for revision, as may be prescribed by law. the clerk shall be, _ex officio_, treasurer of the township. [sidenote: no debt or loan except by a majority of voters.] sec. . no county, city, town or other municipal corporation shall contract any debt, pledge its faith or loan its credit, nor shall any tax be levied or collected by any officers of the same except for the necessary expenses thereof, unless by a vote of the majority of the qualified voters therein. [sidenote: drawing of money.] sec. . no money shall be drawn from any county or township treasury except by authority of law. [sidenote: taxes to be ad valorem.] sec. . all taxes levied by any county, city, town or township shall be uniform and _ad valorem_ upon all property in the same, except property exempted by this constitution. [sidenote: when officers enter on duty.] sec. . the county officers first elected under the provisions of this article shall enter upon their duties ten days after the approval of this constitution by the congress of the united states. [sidenote: governor to appoint justices.] sec. . the governor shall appoint a sufficient number of justices of the peace in each county, who shall hold their places until sections four, five and six of this article shall have been carried into effect. [sidenote: charters to remain in force until legally changed.] sec. . all charters, ordinances and provisions relating to municipal corporations shall remain in force until legally changed, unless inconsistent with the provisions of this constitution. [sidenote: debts in aid of the rebellion not to be paid.] sec. . no county, city, town or other municipal corporation shall assume to pay, nor shall any tax be levied or collected for the payment of any debt, or the interest upon any debt, contracted directly or indirectly in aid or support of the rebellion. [sidenote: powers of general assembly over municipal corporations.] sec. . the general assembly shall have full power by statute to modify, change or abrogate any and all of the provisions of this article and substitute others in their place, except sections seven, nine, and thirteen. article viii. corporations other than municipal. [sidenote: corporations under general laws.] section . corporations may be formed under general laws, but shall not be created by special act except for municipal purposes and in cases where, in the judgment of the legislature, the object of the corporation can not be attained under general laws. all general laws and special acts passed pursuant to this section may be altered from time to time or repealed. [sidenote: debts of corporations, how secured.] sec. . dues from corporations shall be secured by such individual liabilities of the corporations and other means as may be prescribed by law. [sidenote: what corporations shall include.] sec. . the term corporation, as used in this article, shall be construed to include all associations and joint stock companies having any of the powers and privileges of corporations not possessed by individuals or partnerships. and all corporations shall have the right to sue and shall be subject to be sued in all courts in like cases as natural persons. [sidenote: legislature to provide for organising cities, towns, etc.] sec. . it shall be the duty of the legislature to provide for the organization of cities, towns and incorporated villages, and to restrict their power of taxation, assessment, borrowing money, contracting debts and loaning their credit, so as to prevent abuses in assessment and in contracting debts by such municipal corporations. article ix. education. [sidenote: education shall be encouraged.] section . religion, morality and knowledge being necessary to good government and the happiness of mankind, schools and the means of education shall forever be encouraged. [sidenote: general assembly shall provide for schools.] [sidenote: separation of the races.] sec. . the general assembly, at its first session under this constitution, shall provide by taxation and otherwise for a general and uniform system of public schools, wherein tuition shall be free of charge to all the children of the state between the ages of six and twenty-one years. and the children of the white race and the children of the colored race shall be taught in separate public schools; but there shall be no discrimination in favor of or to the prejudice of either race. [sidenote: counties to be divided into districts.] sec. . each county of the state shall be divided into a convenient number of districts, in which one or more public schools shall be maintained at least four months in every year; and if the commissioners of any county shall fail to comply with the aforesaid requirements of this section they shall be liable to indictment. [sidenote: what property shall be devoted to educational purposes.] sec. . the proceeds of all lands that have been or hereafter may be granted by the united states to this state and not otherwise appropriated by this state or the united states, also all moneys, stocks, bonds and other property now belonging to any state fund for purposes of education, also the net proceeds of all sales of the swamp lands belonging to the state, and all other grants, gifts or devises that have been or hereafter may be made to the state and not otherwise appropriated by the state or by the terms of the grant, gift or devise, shall be paid into the state treasury, and, together with so much of the ordinary revenue of the state as may be by law set apart for that purpose, shall be faithfully appropriated for establishing and maintaining in this state a system of free public schools, and for no other uses or purposes whatsoever. [sidenote: county school fund.] [sidenote: proviso.] sec. . all moneys, stocks, bonds and other property belonging to a county school fund, also the net proceeds from the sale of estrays, also the clear proceeds of all penalties and forfeitures and of all fines collected in the several counties for any breach of the penal or military laws of the state, and all moneys which shall be paid by persons as an equivalent for exemption from military duty, shall belong to and remain in the several counties, and shall be faithfully appropriated for establishing and maintaining free public schools in the several counties of this state: _provided_, that the amount collected in each county shall be annually reported to the superintendent of public instruction. [sidenote: election of trustees and provisions for maintenance of the university.] sec. . the general assembly shall have power to provide for the election of trustees of the university of north carolina, in whom, when chosen, shall be vested all the privileges, rights, franchises and endowments thereof in anywise granted to or conferred upon the trustees of said university, and the general assembly may make such provisions, laws and regulations from time to time as may be necessary and expedient for the maintenance and management of said university. [sidenote: benefits of the university.] sec. . the general assembly shall provide that the benefits of the university, as far as practicable, be extended to the youth of the state free of expense for tuition; also that all the property which has heretofore accrued to the state or shall hereafter accrue from escheats, unclaimed dividends or distributive shares of the estates of deceased persons, shall be appropriated to the use of the university. [sidenote: board of education.] sec. . the governor, lieutenant-governor, secretary of state, treasurer, auditor, superintendent of public instruction, and attorney-general shall constitute a state board of education. [sidenote: president and secretary.] sec. . the governor shall be president and the superintendent of public instruction shall be secretary of the board of education. [sidenote: power of board.] sec. . the board of education shall succeed to all the powers and trusts of the president and directors of the literary fund of north carolina, and shall have full power to legislate and make all needful rules and regulations in relation to free public schools and the educational fund of the state; but all acts, rules and regulations of said board may be altered, amended or repealed by the general assembly, and when so altered, amended or repealed the time of future meetings may be determined by the board. [sidenote: first session of board.] sec. . the first session of the board of education shall be held at the capital of the state within fifteen days after the organization of the state government under this constitution; the time of future meetings may be determined by the board. [sidenote: quorum.] sec. . a majority of the board shall constitute a quorum for the transaction of business. [sidenote: expenses.] sec. . the contingent expenses of the board shall be provided by the general assembly. [sidenote: agricultural department.] sec. . as soon as practicable after the adoption of this constitution the general assembly shall establish and maintain in connection with the university a department of agriculture, of mechanics, of mining, and of normal instruction. [sidenote: children must attend school.] sec. . the general assembly is hereby empowered to enact that every child of sufficient mental and physical ability shall attend the public schools during the period between the ages of six and eighteen years for a term of not less than sixteen months, unless educated by other means. article x. homesteads and exemptions. [sidenote: exemption.] section . the personal property of any resident of this state to the value of five hundred dollars, to be selected by such resident, shall be and is hereby exempted from sale under execution or other final process of any court issued for the collection of any debt. [sidenote: homestead.] sec. . every homestead, and the dwellings and buildings used therewith, not exceeding in value one thousand dollars, to be selected by the owner thereof, or in lieu thereof, at the option of the owner, any lot in a city or village, with the dwellings and buildings used thereon, owned and occupied by any resident of this state, and not exceeding the value of one thousand dollars, shall be exempt from sale under execution or other final process obtained on any debt. but no property shall be exempt from sale for taxes or for payment of obligations contracted for the purchase of said premises. [sidenote: homestead exempted from debt.] sec. . the homestead, after the death of the owner thereof, shall be exempt from the payment of any debt during the minority of his children or any one of them. [sidenote: laborer's lien.] sec. . the provisions of sections one and two of this article shall not be so construed as to prevent a laborer's lien for work done and performed for the person claiming such exemption, or a mechanic's lien for work done on the premises. [sidenote: benefit of widow.] sec. . if the owner of a homestead die, leaving a widow but no children, the same shall be exempt from the debts of her husband, and the rents and profits thereof shall inure to her benefit during her widowhood, unless she be the owner of a homestead in her own right. [sidenote: property of a married female secured to her.] sec. . the real and personal property of any female in this state acquired before marriage, and all property, real and personal, to which she may, after marriage, become in any manner entitled, shall be and remain the sole and separate estate and property of such female, and shall not be liable for any debts, obligations or engagements of her husband, and may be devised and bequeathed, and, with the written assent of her husband, conveyed by her as if she were unmarried. [sidenote: husband may insure his life for the benefit of wife and children.] sec. . the husband may insure his own life for the sole use and benefit of his wife and children, and in case of the death of the husband the amount thus insured shall be paid over to the wife and children, or to the guardian if under age, for her or their own use, free from all the claims of the representatives of her husband or any of his creditors. [sidenote: how deed for homestead may be made.] sec. . nothing contained in the foregoing sections of this article shall operate to prevent the owner of a homestead from disposing of the same by deed; but no deed made by the owner of a homestead shall be valid without the voluntary signature and assent of his wife, signified on her private examination according to law. article xi. punishments, penal institutions and public charities. [sidenote: punishments.] [sidenote: convict labor.] [sidenote: proviso.] section . the following punishments only shall be known to the laws of this state, viz., death, imprisonment with or without hard labor, fines, removal from office, and disqualification to hold and enjoy any office of honor, trust or profit under this state. the foregoing provision for imprisonment with hard labor shall be construed to authorize the employment of such convict labor on public works or highways, or other labor for public benefit, and the farming out thereof, where and in such manner as may be provided by law; but no convict shall be farmed out who has been sentenced on a charge of murder, manslaughter, rape, attempt to commit rape or arson: _provided_, that no convict whose labor may be farmed out shall be punished for any failure of duty as a laborer except by a responsible officer of the state; but the convicts so farmed out shall be at all times under the supervision and control, as to their government and discipline, of the penitentiary board or some officer of the state. [sidenote: death punishment.] sec. . the object of punishment being not only to satisfy justice, but also to reform the offender, and thus prevent crime, murder, arson, burglary and rape, and these only, may be punishable with death, if the general assembly shall so enact. [sidenote: penitentiary.] sec. . the general assembly shall, at its first meeting, make provision for the erection and conduct of a state's prison or penitentiary at some central and accessible point within the state. [sidenote: house of correction.] sec. . the general assembly may provide for the erection of a house of correction, where vagrants and persons guilty of misdemeanors shall be restrained and usefully employed. [sidenote: houses of refuge.] sec. . a house or houses of refuge may be established whenever the public interests may require it, for the correction and instruction of other classes of offenders. [sidenote: the sexes to be separated.] sec. . it shall be required by competent legislation that the structure and superintendence of penal institutions of the state, the county jails and city police prisons secure the health and comfort of the prisoners, and that male and female prisoners be never confined in the same room or cell. [sidenote: provision for the poor and orphans.] sec. . beneficent provisions for the poor, the unfortunate and orphan being one of the first duties of a civilized and christian state, the general assembly shall, at its first session, appoint and define the duties of a board of public charities, to whom shall be entrusted the supervision of all charitable and penal state institutions, and who shall annually report to the governor upon their condition, with suggestions for their improvement. [sidenote: orphan houses.] sec. . there shall also, as soon as practicable, be measures devised by the state for the establishment of one or more orphan houses, where destitute orphans may be cared for, educated and taught some business or trade. [sidenote: inebriates and idiots.] sec. . it shall be the duty of the legislature, as soon as practicable, to devise means for the education of idiots and inebriates. [sidenote: deaf-mutes, blind and insane.] sec. . the general assembly may provide that the indigent, deaf-mute, blind and insane of the state shall be cared for at the charge of the state. [sidenote: self-supporting.] sec. . it shall be steadily kept in view by the legislature and the board of public charities, that all penal and charitable institutions should be made as nearly self-supporting as is consistent with the purposes of their creation. article xii. militia. [sidenote: who are liable to militia duty.] section . all able-bodied male citizens of the state of north carolina, between the ages of twenty-one and forty years, who are citizens of the united states, shall be liable to do duty in the militia: _provided_, that all persons who may be averse to bearing arms, from religious scruples, shall be exempt therefrom. [sidenote: organizing, etc.] sec. . the general assembly shall provide for the organizing, arming, equipping and discipline of the militia, and for paying the same, when called into active service. [sidenote: governor commander in chief.] sec. . the governor shall be commander in chief, and shall have power to call out the militia to execute the law, suppress riots or insurrection, and to repel invasion. [sidenote: exemptions.] sec. . the general assembly shall have power to make such exemptions as may be deemed necessary, and enact laws that may be expedient for the government of the militia. article xiii. amendments. [sidenote: convention, how called.] section . no convention of the people of this state shall ever be called by the general assembly, unless by the concurrence of two-thirds of all the members of each house of the general assembly, and except the proposition, convention or no convention, be first submitted to the qualified voters of the whole state, at the next general election in a manner to be prescribed by law. and should a majority of the votes cast be in favor of said convention, it shall assemble on such day as may be prescribed by the general assembly. [sidenote: how the constitution may be altered.] sec. . no part of the constitution of this state shall be altered unless a bill to alter the same shall have been agreed to by three-fifths of each house of the general assembly. and the amendment or amendments so agreed to shall be submitted at the next general election to the qualified voters of the whole state, in such a manner as may be prescribed by law. and in the event of their adoption by a majority of the votes cast, such amendment or amendments shall become a part of the constitution of the state. article xiv. miscellaneous. [sidenote: indictments.] section . all indictments which shall have been found, or may hereafter be found, for any crime or offense committed before this constitution takes effect, may be proceeded upon in the proper courts, but no punishment shall be inflicted which is forbidden by this constitution. [sidenote: penalty for fighting duel.] sec. . no person who shall hereafter fight a duel, or assist in the same as a second, or send, accept, or knowingly carry a challenge therefor, or agree to go out of the state to fight a duel, shall hold any office in this state. [sidenote: drawing money.] sec. . no money shall be drawn from the treasury but in consequence of appropriations made by law; and an accurate account of the receipts and expenditures of the public money shall be annually published. [sidenote: mechanic's lien.] sec. . the general assembly shall provide, by proper legislation, for giving to mechanics and laborers an adequate lien on the subject matter of their labor. [sidenote: governor to make appointments.] sec. . in the absence of any contrary provision, all officers of this state, whether heretofore elected, or appointed by the governor, shall hold their positions only until other appointments are made by the governor, or, if the officers are elective, until their successors shall have been chosen and duly qualified according to the provisions of this constitution. [sidenote: seat of government.] sec. . the seat of government of this state shall remain at the city of raleigh. [sidenote: holding office.] sec. . no person, who shall hold any office or place of trust or profit under the united states, or any department thereof, or under this state, or under any other state or government, shall hold or exercise any other office or place of trust or profit under the authority of this state, or be eligible to a seat in either house of the general assembly: _provided_, that nothing herein contained shall extend to officers in the militia, justices of the peace, commissioners of public charities, or commissioners for special purposes. [sidenote: intermarriage of whites and negroes prohibited.] sec. . all marriages between a white person and a negro, or between a white person and a person of negro descent to the third generation inclusive, are hereby forever prohibited. index to state constitution art. sec. abuses in assessments and contracting debts by municipal corporations, general assembly to prevent; actions at law and equity suits, no distinction; pending when constitution took effect; acts of general assembly, style of; levying taxes, must state object; agriculture, department of; in connection with university; alimony, general assembly does not secure; allegiance to u. s. government; amendments; do not vacate existing offices; answer to criminal charge; apportionment of senators and representatives; - - arms, right to bear; article seven, general assembly may modify or repeal certain sections; assemblage, right of; attorney-general advises executive; duties of; auditor, duties of; bail, excessive; ballot, elections to be by; bills of general assembly, read three times; blind provided for; board of charities; boundaries of state; capitation tax, application of proceeds from; exempts; capital punishment; charities, public; deaf-mutes and the blind; idiots and inebriates; provision for orphans and the poor; self-supporting, as far as possible; cities organized by legislation; citizenship, restoration to; civil and criminal actions; claims against the state; clerk of superior court, election of; removal for inability; clerk of supreme court; terms of office of; removal of; commutations; compulsory education, general assembly may provide; concealed weapons, carrying not justified; constitution, how changed; controversies at law about property; convention, how called; convict labor; coroner and sheriff; corporations, municipal; charters remain in force till legally changed; power of general assembly over; corporations other than municipal; debts of, how secured; definition of; under general laws; correction, houses of; council of state; counsel allowed defendant; county commissioners, election and duty of; - counties, commissioners divide, into districts; districts have corporate powers as townships; majority of voters necessary to levy taxes, etc.; money, how drawn from its treasury; officers enter on duty, when; of townships; school districts; fund; taxes to be ad valorem; township trustees assess property; county treasurer; courts to be open; kinds of; criminal charges, answer to; criminal and civil actions; courts for cities and towns; prosecutions; deaf-mutes provided for; death punishment; debt does not affect homestead; county, city or town cannot contract, except by majority of qualified voters; imprisonment for; in aid of rebellion, void; debt, restrictions upon increase of public, etc.; what bonds declared invalid; declaration of rights; department of agriculture; divorce, general assembly does not grant; disqualification for office; { { dueling disqualifies; education, board of; officers; expenses; county school fund; encouraged; { { first session of; power of; property devoted to; - quorum; election of officers by general assembly, viva voce; elections, by people and general assembly; contested, returns of; free; frequent; electors, oath of office of; qualifications of; registration of; eligibility to office; emoluments, exclusive, none; hereditary; entails to be regulated; enumeration of rights, not to impair others retained by people; equity suits and actions at law, distinction abolished; pending when constitution took effect; evidence against himself, criminal not compelled to give; executive, attorney-general advises; department of; distinct; officers; compensation; duties; reports of; terms of office of; seal of state; vacancy in, how filled; exemption; by reason of military duty, etc.; property of _feme covert_ not liable for husband's debts; _ex post facto_ laws; extra session of general assembly; feigned issues abolished; _feme sole_, property of, not liable for husband's debts; fines, excessive; freedom of the press; fundamental principles, frequent recurrence to; general assembly, acts, style of; article seven may be modified or repealed by; bills and resolutions read three times; compulsory education may be enforced by; election by; entails regulated by; extra sessions; { { journals kept; protests entered on; members of; assemble when; election for, when held; office a disqualification; terms commence with election; vacancies, how filled; municipal corporations controlled by; names, personal not changed by; officers of, election, viva voce; pay of; president of senate; speaker of house; powers of; in relation to divorce and alimony; representation apportioned by; - revenue; schools provided by; university to be maintained by; - yeas and nays; - government, allegiance to u. s.; internal, of state; origin of; seat of, remains in raleigh; governor, commands militia; commutations, pardons, reprieves; governor, compensation duties of extra sessions called by impeachment of justices of peace appointed by, when lieutenant, qualification of oath of office officers appointed by { { qualification of residence of vacancy in office of _habeas corpus_ hereditary emoluments homestead and exemption benefit of widow in exempted from debt laborer's lien attaches privy examination of wife to dispose of house of correction orphans refuge house of representatives, representatives, apportionment officers of term begins when qualification for ratio of husband can insure life for benefit of family idiots provided for immigration, department of impeachment court of of governor imprisonment for debt except by law, wrong indictments for crimes committed before constitution took effect inebriates inferior courts officers of insane provided for institutions, charitable penal public, annual reports from self-supporting far as possible sexes to be separated instruction, superintendent of public intermarriage of whites and negroes prohibited internal government of state issues of fact, by whom tried and how waived judges, election, terms of, etc. fees, salaries, emoluments removal of, for inability residence of judicial department districts for superior courts general assembly not to deprive of jurisdiction powers, division of term of first officers under constitution vacancies judicial remedy allowed all judiciary distinct; jurisdiction, courts inferior to supreme; justices of the peace; supreme court; jury, right of; sacred and inviolable; trial by, waived; justices of the peace, governor appoints when; jurisdiction of; vacancies in office; laborers' and mechanics' lien; attaches homestead; law of the land, no person imprisoned, or deprived of life, etc., but by; laws, _ex post facto_ and retrospective; private, thirty days' notice before passage; what in force; legislative, distinct; two branches of; legislature provides for organizing towns, etc.; trials other than jury; legitimation, general assembly can pass general laws for; liberty, deprivation of, except by law; religious; restraint of, remedied; warrants without evidence, dangerous to; lien of laborers and mechanics; lieutenant-governor, president of senate, duties of; when governor; literary fund, board of education to succeed to rights of; marriages between whites and negroes forbidden; married woman, husband can insure life for benefit of; privy examination of, to dispose of homestead; property of, not liable for husband's debts; mechanics' lien; men, equality, rights of; militia; { { exemptions from duty; governor commands; { { organization of; who liable to bear arms; money, how drawn from state treasury; county or township treasury; monopolies are injurious; municipal corporations; cannot contract debt except by majority of qualified voters; charters remain in force till changed; general assembly to provide for organization of, taxation, etc., by; power of general assembly over; names, personal, how changed normal school, to be maintained by general assembly at university; oath of governor; oath of members of general assembly; oath of office; office, cannot hold two; disqualification; dueling disqualifies for; eligibility to; qualification, property, none; officers, county; { { first elected; what, appointed by governor; { { orphans, houses for; provision for; pardons; peace, soldiers quartered in time of; penitentiary; convict labor; self-supporting as far as possible; sexes separated; people, right of, to assemble together; perpetuities, injurious; general assembly shall prevent; political power and government; societies in secret dangerous; poor, provision for; power of general assembly; to suspend laws injurious; powers, executive, judicial and legislative, distinct; judicial, division of; press, freedom and abuse of; principles, recurrence to fundamental; prisoners, health and comfort secured; private laws; - privileges, exclusive, none; property, controversies at law about; deprivation of, except by law, wrong; devoted to education; exemptions from taxation; _feme sole_ not liable for husband's debts; qualification, none; prosecution, criminal; protest, by whom and when made; public debt, increase of, restricted, etc.; what bonds declared invalid; public money, how drawn; public schools, general assembly to provide for; punishments, penal institutions and public charities; cruel or unusual; { { qualification and election of members of general assembly, each house judge of; rebellion, debt in aid of, not to be paid; recurrence to fundamental principles; refuge, houses of; register of deeds; registration of electors; religious liberty; scruples against bearing arms; removal of judges; of clerks; representation and taxation; reprieves; retrospective laws; revenue; { { right of assemblage; jury; right of secession, none; to bear arms; to suspend laws, injurious; rights, declaration of; of men; { { salaries and fees, general assembly to regulate; schools, attendance of children; county, divided into districts; fund; provided by legislation; races separate; seal of state; search warrants without evidence, wrong; seat of government at raleigh; secession, no right of; secretary of state, duties of; senate, presiding officer; _pro tem_. speaker, when elected; senators, number of; other senatorial officers; president of; qualifications; for regulating senatorial districts; sexes separated in confinement; sheriff and coroner; slavery prohibited; societies, secret political, dangerous; soldiers, how quartered; solicitor, how elected; special courts; state boundaries; claims against; internal government; statistics, department of; suffrage and eligibility to office; superintendent of public instruction; reports of county school fund to be made; superior court, open at all times except for jury trials; clerk, his election; districts; judges, election and term; residence; rotation; solicitor for each district; special term; term; vacancy; transaction of business; supreme court, clerk; jurisdiction; - justices; election and terms of; terms of; surveyor; suspending laws without consent of representatives, not to be exercised; taxation, _ad valorem_ and uniform; and revenue; { { taxation, except for necessary expenses, not levied by county, city or town without assent of majority of voters; levied by county commissioners; of county to be ad valorem; of purchases and sales retrospectively not to be passed; property, exemptions from; taxes, acts to levy, to state object; towns, etc., organized by legislation; townships, officers of; treason against state; treasurer, duties of; university, agricultural department of, mechanics, mining and normal instruction connected with; benefits of; election of trustees; general assembly shall maintain; maintenance of; property devoted to; vacancies in general assembly; other; { - { - { vagrants, houses of correction for; warrants without evidence injurious; whites and negroes cannot intermarry; separated in schools; widow, homestead benefits; yeas and nays, when entered; - chapter . (public laws, extra session, ) an act to amend the constitution of the state of north carolina. _the general assembly of north carolina do enact_: section . that the constitution of the state of north carolina be and the same is hereby amended in manner and form as follows: [sidenote: substituting words "war between the states" for the words "insurrection or rebellion against the united states."] i. by striking out of article one, section six, the words "insurrection or rebellion against the united states," and inserting to lieu thereof the following words: "the war between the states," and by striking out the word "rebellion" in section thirteen of article seven and inserting in lieu thereof the words "war between the states." ii. by striking out section twenty-eight of article two, and substituting in lieu thereof the following: [sidenote: increasing per diem and reducing mileage of members of the general assembly.] "sec. . the members of the general assembly for the term for which they have been elected shall receive as compensation for their services the sum of six dollars per day for each day of their session, for a period not exceeding sixty days; and should they remain longer in session they shall serve without compensation. they shall also be entitled to receive five cents per mile both while coming to the seat of government and while returning home, the said distance to be computed by the nearest line or route of public travel. the compensation of the presiding officers of the two houses shall be eight dollars per day and mileage. should an extra session of the general assembly be called, the members and presiding officers shall receive a like rate of compensation for a period not exceeding twenty days." iii. by adding at the end of article two a new section, to wit: [sidenote: restricting local, private, and special legislation.] "sec. . the general assembly shall not pass any local, private, or special act or resolution: "relating to the establishment of courts inferior to the superior court; "relating to the appointment of justices of the peace; "relating to health, sanitation, and abatement of nuisances; "changing the names of cities, towns, and townships; "authorizing the laying out, opening, altering, maintaining, or discontinuing highways, streets, or alleys; "relating to ferries or bridges; "relating to game or hunting; "relating to nonnavigable streams; "relating to cemeteries; "relating to the pay of jurors; "erecting new townships, or changing township lines, or establishing or changing the lines of school districts; "remitting fines, penalties, and forfeitures, or refunding moneys legally paid into the public treasury; "regulating labor, trade, mining, or manufacturing; "extending the time for the assessment or collection of taxes or otherwise relieving any collector of taxes from the due performance of his official duties or his sureties from liability; "giving effect to informal wills and deeds. "nor shall the general assembly enact any such local, private, or special act by the partial repeal of a general law; but the general assembly may at any time repeal local, private, or special laws enacted by it. "any local, private, or special act or resolution passed in violation of the provisions of this section shall be void. "the general assembly shall have power to pass general laws regulating the matters set out in this section." [sidenote: fixing the beginning of the term of officers of the executive department.] iv. by striking out the words "first day of," in section one of article three and inserting in lieu thereof the words "second wednesday after the first monday in." [sidenote: providing for special emergency judges.] v. by adding at the end of section eleven of article four the following: "and the general assembly may by general law provide for the selection of special or emergency judges to hold the superior courts of any county or district, when the judge assigned thereto, by reason of sickness, disability, or other cause, is unable to attend and hold said courts, and when no other judge is available to hold the same. such special or emergency judges shall have the power and authority of regular judges of the superior courts, in the courts which they are so appointed to hold; and the general assembly shall provide for their reasonable compensation." [sidenote: elimination of obsolete sections.] vi. by striking out sections twenty, twenty-six, and thirty-three of article four. vii. by abrogating and striking out all the sections of article five and section nine of article seven, and inserting in lieu of said article five the following: article v. _revenue and taxation._ [sidenote: taxes imposed only for public purposes. consent of people or representatives.] section . taxes shall be imposed only for public purposes, by and with the consent of the people or their representatives in the general assembly. [sidenote: subjects may by classified. uniformity of taxes.] [sidenote: proviso: income from property already taxed.] [sidenote: separation of subjects.] sec. . the general assembly may, consistent with natural justice and equity, classify subjects of taxation; and all taxes shall be uniform upon the same class of property within the territorial limits of the authority levying the tax: _provided_, that no income shall be taxed when the property from which the income is derived is taxed; and, consistent with natural justice and equity, the general assembly may separate subjects of taxation for state and local purposes. [sidenote: state tax on real estate if subjects be separate.] sec. . if the subjects of taxation be separated for state and local purposes, in a manner not allowed by law immediately prior to the adoption of this amendment, no part of the _ad valorem_ tax on real estate, except the real estate of public service corporations, shall be applied to state purposes. [sidenote: power to tax not surrendered. property exempted.] [sidenote: property which may be exempted.] sec. . the power to tax shall not be surrendered, suspended, or contracted away, but property belonging to the state, a county, or a municipality shall be exempt from taxation; and the general assembly may exempt cemeteries, property held and used for educational, scientific, literary, charitable, or religious purposes; and also personal property of a natural person of a value not exceeding three hundred dollars ($ ). [sidenote: limit of rate for state and county purposes.] [sidenote: limit of rate by cities and towns.] [sidenote: proviso: debts heretofore contracted and taxes heretofore authorized.] sec. . the _ad valorem_ taxes on real estate and personal property shall not exceed for all state and county purposes sixty-six and two-thirds ( - / ) cents per annum on the one hundred dollars ($ ) assessed valuation of such property, unless a greater rate be approved by a majority of those who shall vote at an election held thereon. the _ad valorem_ taxes collected on real estate and personal property by cities and towns shall not exceed, for all purposes, seventy-five cents ( c.) per annum on the one hundred dollars ($ ) assessed valuation, unless a greater rate be approved by a majority of those who shall vote at an election held thereon: _provided_, that these limitations on the rate of taxation shall not apply to taxes necessary to pay debts contracted prior to the adoption of this amendment, nor to taxes heretofore authorized by an act of the general assembly, or by vote of the people. [sidenote: caption tax.] [sidenote: application of state and county capitation tax.] [sidenote: exemption from capitation tax.] sec. . the general assembly shall provide for a capitation tax on every male inhabitant of the state over twenty-one and under fifty years of age, but not exceeding two dollars ($ ) per annum for all state and county purposes, and municipalities may be authorized by the general assembly to levy a capitation tax, but not exceeding the amount hereinbefore authorized for state and county purposes. the proceeds collected from state and county capitation taxes shall be applied to the purposes of education and the support of the poor in such proportions as the general assembly may direct. the general assembly may also provide by general law for the exemption from payment of said capitation tax in special cases on account of poverty and infirmity. [sidenote: limitation of power to contract debt.] [sidenote: credit of state not to be given or lent.] sec. . the general assembly shall have no power to contract any new debt or pecuniary obligation in behalf of the state, except to supply a casual deficit, or for suppressing invasions or insurrections, unless it shall in the same bill levy a special tax to pay interest annually, and provide therein for the levying of tax for the payment of the principal by the date such debt matures. the general assembly shall have no power to give or lend the credit of the state in aid of any person, association, or corporation, municipal or otherwise, unless the subject be submitted to a direct vote of the people of the state and be approved by a majority of those who shall vote thereon. viii. by striking out section one of article eight and substituting therefor the following: [sidenote: corporations not created by special act.] [sidenote: exceptions.] [sidenote: general laws.] [sidenote: alteration and repeal of general laws and special acts.] [sidenote: repeal of charters.] "section . no corporation shall be created nor shall its charter be extended, altered, or amended by special act, except corporations for charitable, educational, penal, or reformatory purposes that are to be and remain under the patronage and control of the state; but the general assembly shall provide by general laws for the chartering and organization of all corporations, and for amending, extending, and forfeiture of all charters, except those above permitted by special act. all such general laws and special acts may be altered from time to time or repealed; and the general assembly may at any time by special act repeal the charter of any corporation." ix. by striking out section four of article eight, and substituting therefor the following: [sidenote: general laws for organization of cities, towns, and incorporated villages.] "it shall be the duty of the legislature to provide by general laws for the organization of cities, towns, and incorporated villages, and to restrict their power of taxation, assessment, borrowing money, contracting debts, and loaning their credit, so as to prevent abuses in assessment and in contracting debts by such municipal corporations." [sidenote: school term.] x. by striking out the words "four months" in section three of article nine, and inserting in lieu thereof the words "six months." [sidenote: amendments to be submitted to qualified voters of state.] sec. . that the several amendments to the constitution hereinbefore set forth as numbered from i to x, inclusive, respectively, shall be and are hereby submitted to the qualified voters of the whole state at the next general election as separate amendments to the constitution, all amendments proposed under each number respectively being regarded as one amendment. [sidenote: ballots.] sec. . that the said several proposed amendments shall be designated on one ballot by their appropriate article and section numbers, and also by their appropriate descriptive titles, and as so designated on said ballot shall be consecutively numbered in the manner and form hereinafter set forth. [sidenote: effect of adoption of any amendment.] [sidenote: effect of rejection of any amendment.] sec. . that the adoption of any amendment by its title by marking the said ballot as hereinafter indicated shall have the effect of adopting the amendment in full as agreed upon by the general assembly; and the rejection of any amendment by its title, by marking the said ballot as hereinafter indicated, shall have the effect of rejecting said amendment as a whole, but shall not affect any other amendment. [sidenote: form of ballot.] sec. . the said ballots shall be in form substantially as follows: official ballot. amendments to the constitution of north carolina agreed upon by three-fifths of each house of the general assembly, and thereupon submitted to the qualified voters of the whole state, general election, november ____, one thousand nine hundred and fourteen. directions to the voter: to vote for any amendment, place a cross mark in the blank space in which is the word "yes," opposite the title of such amendment. to vote against any amendment, place a cross mark in the blank space in which is the word "no," opposite the title of such amendment. ======================================================================== | | amendment to article i, section , and | yes | to article vii, section , i |_____| substituting the phrase, "war between the states," | | for the words "insurrection or rebellion against | no | the united states," in article i, section , and the | | word "rebellion" in article vii, section . =====+=====+============================================================ | | | yes | amendment to article ii, section , ii |_____| | | increasing compensation of members of the general | no | assembly, and decreasing mileage. | | =====+=====+============================================================ | | | yes | amendment to article ii (new section), iii |_____| | | restricting local, private, and special legislation. | no | | | =====+=====+============================================================ | | | yes | amendment to article iii, section , iv |_____| | | fixing the day of inauguration of the governor. | no | | | =====+=====+============================================================ | | | yes | amendment to article iv, section , v |_____| | | to prevent delays in trials by providing emergency | no | judges. | | ========================================================================= | | | yes | amendment to article iv, sections , , , vi |_____| | | removing obsolete sections from constitution. | no | | | =====+=====+============================================================ | | | yes | striking out article v, and section of article vii, vii |_____| and substituting therefor an article to revise | | and reform the system of revenue and taxation. | no | | | =====+=====+============================================================ | | | yes | amendment to article viii, section , viii |_____| | | to prevent special charters to corporations by the | no | general assembly. | | =====+=====+============================================================ | | | yes | amendment to article viii, section , ix |_____| | | to prevent special charters to towns, cities, and | no | incorporated villages. | | =====+=====+============================================================ | | | yes | amendment to article ix, section , x |_____| | | to require six months public school term. | no | | | ======================================================================= [sidenote: ballot boxes.] [sidenote: labels of boxes.] and the said ballots shall be cast in boxes specially provided by the election officers charged with this duty in general elections, and said boxes shall be conspicuously labeled, "ballot box for constitutional amendment election." [sidenote: law governing election.] [sidenote: count and return of vote.] [sidenote: governor to certify adopted amendments to secretary of state.] [sidenote: enrollment.] sec. . that, except as herein provided, the election upon the several amendments herein designated shall be conducted in the same manner and under the same rules and regulations as provided under the laws governing general elections and in force at the time of said general election at which these amendments shall be submitted. the said election shall be held and the votes returned, compared, counted, and canvassed, and the result announced, under the same rules and regulations as are in force at the general election of the year one thousand nine hundred and fourteen for returning, comparing, counting, and canvassing the votes for governor; and if the majority of the votes cast be in favor of any amendment, it shall be the duty of the governor of the state to certify said amendment under the seal of the state to the secretary of state, who shall enroll the said amendment so certified among the permanent records of his office. [sidenote: printing and distribution of copies.] [sidenote: form of ballot.] sec. . that at least six months prior to the said election the secretary of state shall cause to be printed not less than five hundred thousand ( , ) copies of the amendments to be submitted at the said election, in one pamphlet, together with a copy of the constitution as it now stands, and a form of ballot, including number, title, description, and instructions to voters as shown hereinbefore; and that at least one thousand ( , ) of said pamphlets shall be forwarded within thirty days after publication to the register of deeds of each county in the state for distribution; and that the remainder of said pamphlets shall be distributed under the supervision of the governor and secretary of state. [sidenote: amendments to become part of constitution. when effective.] [sidenote: amendments to prevail in case of conflict.] sec. . each amendment on which the number of affirmative votes shall exceed the number of negative votes shall become a part of the constitution; and any amendment so adopted shall take effect on the second wednesday after the first monday in january, in the year one thousand nine hundred and fifteen. any provision of the amendments passed and submitted by this general assembly and so adopted by the qualified voters inconsistent with or in conflict with any provisions of the present constitution shall be held to prevail. sec. . all laws and clauses of laws in conflict with the provisions of this act are hereby repealed. sec. . this act shall be in force from and after its ratification. ratified this the th day of october, a. d. . generously made available by internet archive (http://www.archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see http://www.archive.org/details/sinsoffatherroma dixo the sins of the father [illustration: "she blushed scarlet, took the rosebud from her bosom and pinned it on his coat." [page ]] the sins of the father a romance of the south by thomas dixon author of the leopard's spots, the clansman, comrades, the root of evil, etc. illustrated by john cassel grosset & dunlap publishers :: :: new york copyright, , by thomas dixon all rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including the scandinavian. published march, . printed in the united states of america. to the memory of randolph shotwell of north carolina soldier, editor, clansman patriot to the reader _i wish it understood that i have not used in this novel the private life of captain randolph shotwell, to whom this book is dedicated. i have drawn the character of my central figure from the authentic personal history of major daniel norton himself, a distinguished citizen of the far south, with whom i was intimately acquainted for many years._ thomas dixon. new york march , contents book i--sin chapter page i. the woman in yellow ii. cleo enters iii. a beast awakes iv. the arrest v. the rescue vi. a traitor's ruse vii. the irony of fate viii. a new weapon ix. the words that cost x. man to man xi. the unbidden guest xii. the judgment bar xiii. an old story xiv. the fight for life xv. cleo's silence xvi. the larger vision xvii. the opal gates xviii. questions xix. cleo's cry xx. the blow falls xxi. the call of the blood book ii--atonement i. the new life purpose ii. a modern scalawag iii. his house in order iv. the man of the hour v. a woman scorned vi. an old comedy vii. trapped viii. behind the bars ix. andy's dilemma x. the best laid plans xi. a reconnoitre xii. the first whisper xiii. andy's proposal xiv. the folly of pity xv. a discovery xvi. the challenge xvii. a skirmish xviii. love laughs xix. "fight it out!" xx. andy fights xxi. the second blow xxii. the test of love xxiii. the parting xxiv. father and son xxv. the one chance xxvi. between two fires xxvii. a surprise xxviii. via dolorosa xxix. the dregs in the cup xxx. the mills of god xxxi. sin full grown xxxii. confession xxxiii. healing the sins of the father _book one--sin_ chapter i the woman in yellow the young editor of _the daily eagle and phoenix_ straightened his tall figure from the pile of papers that smothered his desk, glanced at his foreman who stood waiting, and spoke in the quiet drawl he always used when excited: "just a moment--'til i read this over----" the foreman nodded. he scanned the scrawled pencil manuscript twice and handed it up without changing a letter: "set the title in heavy black-faced caps--_black_--the blackest you've got." he read the title over again musingly, his strong mouth closing with a snap at its finish: the black league and the ku klux klan down with all secret societies the foreman took the manuscript with a laugh: "you've certainly got 'em guessing, major----" "who?" "everybody. we've all been thinking until these editorials began that you were a leader of the klan." a smile played about the corners of the deep-set brown eyes as he swung carelessly back to his desk and waved the printer to his task with a friendly sweep of his long arm: "let 'em think again!" a shout in the court house square across the narrow street caused him to lift his head with a frown: "salesday--of course--the first monday--doomsday for the conquered south--god, the horror of it all!" he laid his pencil down, walked to the window and looked out on the crowd of slouching loafers as they gathered around the auctioneer's block. the negroes outnumbered the whites two to one. a greasy, loud-mouthed negro, as black as ink, was the auctioneer. "well, gemmen an' feller citizens," he began pompously, "de fust piece er property i got ter sell hain't no property 'tall--hit's dese po' folks fum de county po' house. fetch 'em up agin de wall so de bidders can see 'em----" he paused and a black court attendant led out and placed in line against the weatherbeaten walls fifty or sixty inmates of the county poor house--all of them white men and women. most of them were over seventy years old, and one with the quickest step and brightest eye, a little man of eighty-four with snow-white hair and beard, was the son of a hero of the american revolution. the women were bareheaded and the blazing southern sun of august beat down piteously on their pinched faces. the young editor's fists slowly clinched and his breath came in a deep quivering draught. he watched as in a trance. he had seen four years' service in the bloodiest war in history--seen thousands swept into eternity from a single battlefield without a tear. he had witnessed the sufferings of the wounded and dying until it became the routine of a day's work. yet no event of all that fierce and terrible struggle had stirred his soul as the scene he was now witnessing--not even the tragic end of his father, the editor of the _daily eagle_--who had been burned to death in the building when sherman's army swept the land with fire and sword. the younger man had never referred to this except in a brief, hopeful editorial in the newly christened _eagle and phoenix_, which he literally built on the ashes of the old paper. he had no unkind word for general sherman or his army. it was war, and a soldier knew what that meant. he would have done the same thing under similar conditions. now he was brushing a tear from his cheek. a reporter at work in the adjoining room watched him curiously. he had never before thought him capable of such an emotion. a brilliant and powerful editor, he had made his paper the one authoritative organ of the white race. in the midst of riot, revolution and counter revolution his voice had the clear ring of a bugle call to battle. there was never a note of hesitation, of uncertainty or of compromise. in the fierce white heat of an unconquered spirit, he had fused the souls of his people as one. at this moment he was the one man hated and feared most by the negroid government in power, the one man most admired and trusted by the white race. and he was young--very young--yet he had lived a life so packed with tragic events no one ever guessed his real age, twenty-four. people took him to be more than thirty and the few threads of gray about his temples, added to the impression of age and dignity. he was not handsome in the conventional sense. his figure was too tall, his cheek bones too high, the nostrils too large and his eyebrows too heavy. his great height, six feet three, invariably made him appear gaunt and serious. though he had served the entire four years in the confederate army, entering a private in the ranks at eighteen, emerging a major in command of a shattered regiment at twenty-two, his figure did not convey the impression of military training. he walked easily, with the long, loose stride of the southener, his shoulders slightly stooped from the habit of incessant reading. he was lifting his broad shoulders now in an ominous way as he folded his clenched fists behind his back and listened to the negro auctioneer. "come now, gemmens," he went on; "what's de lowes' offer ye gwine ter start me fer dese folks? 'member, now, de lowes' bid gets 'em, not de highes'! 'fore de war de black man wuz put on de block an' sole ter de _highes'_ bidder! times is changed----" "yas, lawd!" shouted a negro woman. "times is changed, i tells ye!--now i gwine ter sell dese po' white folks ter de lowes' bidder. whosomever'll take de po' house and bode 'em fer de least money gits de whole bunch. an' you has de right ter make 'em all work de po' farm. dey kin work, too, an' don' ye fergit it. dese here ones i fotch out here ter show ye is all soun' in wind and limb. de bedridden ones ain't here. dey ain't but six er dem. what's de lowes' bid now, gemmens, yer gwine ter gimme ter bode 'em by de month? look 'em all over, gemmens, i warrants 'em ter be sound in wind an' limb. sound in wind an' limb." the auctioneer's sonorous voice lingered on this phrase and repeated it again and again. the watcher at the window turned away in disgust, walked back to his desk, sat down, fidgeted in his seat, rose and returned to the window in time to hear the cry: "an' sold to mister abum russ fer fo' dollars a month!" could it be possible that he heard aright? abe russ the keeper to the poor!--a drunkard, wife beater, and midnight prowler. his father before him, "devil tom russ," had been a notorious character, yet he had at least one redeeming quality that saved him from contempt--a keen sense of humor. he had made his living on a ten-acre red hill farm and never used a horse or an ox. he hitched himself to the plow and made abe seize the handles. this strange team worked the fields. no matter how hard the day's task the elder russ never quite lost his humorous view of life. when the boy, tired and thirsty, would stop and go to the spring for water, a favorite trick of his was to place a piece of paper or a chunk of wood in the furrow a few yards ahead. when the boy returned and they approached this object, the old man would stop, lift his head and snort, back and fill, frisk and caper, plunge and kick, and finally break and run, tearing over the fields like a maniac, dragging the plow after him with the breathless boy clinging to the handles. he would then quietly unhitch himself and thrash abe within an inch of his life for being so careless as to allow a horse to run away with him. but abe grew up without a trace of his father's sense of humor, picked out the strongest girl he could find for a wife and hitched her to the plow! and he permitted no pranks to enliven the tedium of work except the amusement he allowed himself of beating her at mealtimes after she had cooked his food. he had now turned politician, joined the loyal black league and was the successful bidder for keeper of the poor. it was incredible! the watcher was roused from his painful reverie by a reporter's voice: "i think there's a man waiting in the hall to see you, sir." "who is it?" the reporter smiled: "mr. bob peeler." "what on earth can that old scoundrel want with me? all right--show him in." the editor was busy writing when mr. peeler entered the room furtively. he was coarse, heavy and fifty years old. his red hair hung in tangled locks below his ears and a bloated double chin lapped his collar. his legs were slightly bowed from his favorite mode of travel on horseback astride a huge stallion trapped with tin and brass bespangled saddle. his supposed business was farming and the raising of blooded horses. as a matter of fact, the farm was in the hands of tenants and gambling was his real work. of late he had been displaying a hankering for negro politics. a few weeks before he had created a sensation by applying to the clerk of the court for a license to marry his mulatto housekeeper. it was common report that this woman was the mother of a beautiful octoroon daughter with hair exactly the color of old peeler's. few people had seen her. she had been away at school since her tenth year. the young editor suddenly wheeled in his chair and spoke with quick emphasis: "mr. peeler, i believe?" the visitor's face lighted with a maudlin attempt at politeness: "yes, sir; yes, sir!--and i'm shore glad to meet you, major norton!" he came forward briskly, extending his fat mottled hand. norton quietly ignored the offer by placing a chair beside his desk: "have a seat, mr. peeler." the heavy figure flopped into the chair: "i want to ask your advice, major, about a little secret matter"--he glanced toward the door leading into the reporters' room. the editor rose, closed the door and resumed his seat: "well, sir; how can i serve you?" the visitor fumbled in his coat pocket and drew out a crumpled piece of paper which he fingered gingerly: "i've been readin' your editorials agin' secret societies, major, and i like 'em--that's why i made up my mind to put my trust in you----" "why, i thought you were a member of the loyal black league, mr. peeler?" "no, sir--it's a mistake, sir," was the smooth lying answer. "i hain't got nothin' to do with no secret society. i hate 'em all--just run your eye over that, major." he extended the crumpled piece of paper on which was scrawled in boyish writing: "we hear you want to marry a nigger. our advice is to leave this country for the more congenial climate of africa. "by order of the grand cyclops, ku klux klan." the young editor studied the scrawl in surprise: "a silly prank of schoolboys!" he said at length. "you think that's all?" peeler asked dubiously. "certainly. the ku klux klan have more important tasks on hand just now. no man in their authority sent that to you. their orders are sealed in red ink with a crossbones and skull. i've seen several of them. pay no attention to this--it's a fake." "i don't think so, major--just wait a minute, i'll show you something worse than a red-ink crossbones and skull." old peeler tipped to the door leading into the hallway, opened it, peered out and waved his fat hand, beckoning someone to enter. the voice of a woman was heard outside protesting: "no--no--i'll stay here----" peeler caught her by the arm and drew her within: "this is lucy, my housekeeper, major." the editor looked in surprise at the slender, graceful figure of the mulatto. he had pictured her coarse and heavy. he saw instead a face of the clean-cut aryan type with scarcely a trace of negroid character. only the thick curling hair, shining black eyes and deep yellow skin betrayed the african mother. peeler's eyes were fixed in a tense stare on a small bundle she carried. his voice was a queer muffled tremor as he slowly said: "unwrap the thing and show it to him." the woman looked at the editor and smiled contemptuously, showing two rows of perfect teeth, as she slowly drew the brown wrapper from a strange object which she placed on the desk. the editor picked the thing up, looked at it and laughed. it was a tiny pine coffin about six inches long and two inches wide. a piece of glass was fitted into the upper half of the lid and beneath the glass was placed a single tube rose whose peculiar penetrating odor already filled the room. peeler mopped the perspiration from his brow. "now, what do you think of that?" he asked in an awed whisper. in spite of an effort at self-control, norton broke into a peal of laughter: "it does look serious, doesn't it?" "serious ain't no word for it, sir! it not only looks like death, but i'm damned if it don't smell like it--smell it!" "so it does," the editor agreed, lifting the box and breathing the perfume of the pale little flower. "and that ain't all," peeler whispered, "look inside of it." he opened the lid and drew out a tightly folded scrap of paper on which was written in pencil the words: "you lying, hypocritical, blaspheming old scoundrel--unless you leave the country within forty-eight hours, this coffin will be large enough to hold all we'll leave of you. k. k. k." the editor frowned and then smiled. "all a joke, peeler," he said reassuringly. but peeler was not convinced. he leaned close and his whiskey-laden breath seemed to fill the room as his fat finger rested on the word "blaspheming:" "i don't like that word, major; it sounds like a preacher had something to do with the writin' of it. you know i've been a tough customer in my day and i used to cuss the preachers in this county somethin' frightful. now, ye see, if they should be in this ku klux klan--i ain't er skeered er their hell hereafter, but they sho' might give me a taste in this world of what they think's comin' to me in the next. i tell you that thing makes the cold chills run down my back. now, major, i reckon you're about the level-headest and the most influential man in the county--the question is, what shall i do to be saved?" again norton laughed: "nothing. it's a joke, i tell you----" "but the ku klux klan ain't no joke!" persisted peeler. "more than a thousand of 'em--some say five thousand--paraded the county two weeks ago. a hundred of 'em passed my house. i saw their white shrouds glisten in the moonlight. i said my prayers that night! i says to myself, if it don't do no good, at least it can't do no harm. i tell you, the klan's no joke. if you think so, take a walk through that crowd in the square to-day and see how quiet they are. last court day every nigger that could holler was makin' a speech yellin' that old thad stevens was goin' to hang andy johnson, the president, from the white house porch, take every foot of land from the rebels and give it to the loyal black league. now, by gum, there's a strange peace in israel! i felt it this mornin' as i walked through them crowds--and comin' back to this coffin, major, the question is--what shall i do to be saved?" "go home and forget about it," was the smiling answer. "the klan didn't send that thing to you or write that message." "you think not?" "i know they didn't. it's a forgery. a trick of some devilish boys." peeler scratched his red head: "i'm glad you think so, major. i'm a thousand times obliged to you, sir. i'll sleep better to-night after this talk." "would you mind leaving this little gift with me, peeler?" norton asked, examining the neat workmanship of the coffin. "certainly--certainly, major, keep it. keep it and more than welcome! it's a gift i don't crave, sir. i'll feel better to know you've got it." the yellow woman waited beside the door until peeler had passed out, bowed her thanks, turned and followed her master at a respectful distance. the editor watched them cross the street with a look of loathing, muttering slowly beneath his breath: "oh, my country, what a problem--what a problem!" he turned again to his desk and forgot his burden in the joy of work. he loved this work. it called for the best that's in the strongest man. it was a man's work for men. when he struck a blow he saw the dent of his hammer on the iron, and heard it ring to the limits of the state. dimly aware that some one had entered his room unannounced, he looked up, sprang to his feet and extended his hand in hearty greeting to a stalwart farmer who stood smiling into his face: "hello, macarthur!" "hello, my captain! you know you weren't a major long enough for me to get used to it--and it sounds too old for you anyhow----" "and how's the best sergeant that ever walloped a recruit?" "bully," was the hearty answer. the young editor drew his old comrade in arms down into his chair and sat on the table facing him: "and how's the wife and kids, mac?" "bully," he repeated evenly and then looked up with a puzzled expression. "look here, bud," he began quietly, "you've got me up a tree. these editorials in _the eagle and phoenix_ cussin' the klan----" "you don't like them?" "not a little wee bit!" the editor smiled: "you've got scotch blood in you, mac--that's what's the matter with you----" "same to you, sir." "but my great-great-grandmother was a huguenot and the french, you know, had a saving sense of humor. the scotch are thick, mac!" "well, i'm too thick to know what you mean by lambastin' our only salvation. the ku klux klan have had just one parade--and there hasn't been a barn burnt in this county or a white woman scared since, and every nigger i've met to-day has taken off his hat----" "are you a member of the klan, mac?" the question was asked with his face turned away. the farmer hesitated, looked up at the ceiling and quietly answered: "none of your business--and that's neither here nor there--you know that every nigger is organized in that secret black league, grinning and whispering its signs and passwords--you know that they've already begun to grip the throats of our women. the klan's the only way to save this country from hell--what do you mean by jumpin' on it?" "the black league's a bad thing, mac, and the klan's a bad thing----" "all right--still you've got to fight the devil with fire----" "you don't say so?" the editor said, while a queer smile played around his serious mouth. "yes, by golly, i do say so," the farmer went on with increasing warmth, "and what i can't understand is how you're against 'em. you're a leader. you're a soldier--the bravest that ever led his men into the jaws of death--i know, for i've been with you--and i just come down here to-day to ask you the plain question, what do you mean?" "the klan _is_ a band of lawless night raiders, isn't it?" "oh, you make me tired! what are we to do without 'em, that's the question?" "scotch! that's the trouble with you"--the young editor answered carelessly. "have you a pin?" the rugged figure suddenly straightened as though a bolt of lightning had shot down his spine. "what's--what's that?" he gasped. "i merely asked, have you a pin?" was the even answer, as norton touched the right lapel of his coat with his right hand. the farmer hesitated a moment, and then slowly ran three trembling fingers of his left hand over the left lapel of his coat, replying: "i'm afraid not." he looked at norton a moment and turned pale. he had been given and had returned the signs of the klan. it might have been an accident. the rugged face was a study of eager intensity as he put his friend to the test that would tell. he slowly thrust the fingers of his right hand into the right pocket of his trousers, the thumb protruding. norton quietly answered in the same way with his left hand. the farmer looked into the smiling brown eyes of his commander for a moment and his own filled with tears. he sprang forward and grasped the outstretched hand: "dan norton! i said last night to my god that you couldn't be against us! and so i came to ask--oh, why--why've you been foolin' with me?" the editor tenderly slipped his arm around his old comrade and whispered: "the cunning of the fox and the courage of the lion now, mac! it was easy for our boys to die in battle while guns were thundering, fifes screaming, drums beating and the banners waving. you and i have something harder to do--we've got to live--our watchword, '_the cunning of the fox and the courage of the lion!_' i've some dangerous work to do pretty soon. the little scalawag governor is getting ready for us----" "i want that job!" macarthur cried eagerly. "i'll let you know when the time comes." the farmer smiled: "i _am_ a scotchman--ain't i?" "and a good one, too!" with his hand on the door, the rugged face aflame with patriotic fire, he slowly repeated: "the cunning of the fox and the courage of the lion!--and by the living god, we'll win this time, boy!" norton heard him laugh aloud as he hurried down the stairs. gazing again from his window at the black clouds of negroes floating across the square, he slowly muttered: "yes, we'll win this time!--but twenty years from now--i wonder!" he took up the little black coffin and smiled at the perfection of its workmanship: "i think i know the young gentleman who made that and he may give me trouble." he thrust the thing into a drawer, seized his hat, strolled down a side street and slowly passed the cabinet shop of the workman whom he suspected. it was closed. evidently the master had business outside. it was barely possible, of course, that he had gone to the galleries of the capitol to hear the long-expected message of the governor against the klan. the galleries had been packed for the past two sessions in anticipation of this threatened message. the capital city was only a town of five thousand white inhabitants and four thousand blacks. rumors of impending political movements flew from house to house with the swiftness of village gossip. he walked to the capitol building by a quiet street. as he passed through the echoing corridor the rotund figure of schlitz, the carpetbagger, leader of the house of representatives, emerged from the governor's office. the red face flushed a purple hue as his eye rested on his arch-enemy of the _eagle and phoenix_. he tried to smile and nodded to norton. his smile was answered by a cold stare and a quickened step. schlitz had been a teamster's scullion in the union army. he was not even an army cook, but a servant of servants. he was now the master of the legislature of a great southern state and controlled its black, ignorant members with a snap of his bloated fingers. there was but one man norton loathed with greater intensity and that was the shrewd little scalawag governor, the native traitor who had betrayed his people to win office. a conference of these two cronies was always an ill omen for the state. he hurried up the winding stairs, pushed his way into a corner of the crowded galleries from which he could see every face and searched in vain for his young workman. he stood for a moment, looked down on the floor of the house and watched a black parliament at work making laws to govern the children of the men who had created the republic--watched them through fetid smoke, the vapors of stale whiskey and the deafening roar of half-drunken brutes as they voted millions in taxes, their leaders had already stolen. the red blood rushed to his cheeks and the big veins on his slender swarthy neck stood out for a moment like drawn cords. he hurried down to the court house square, walked with long, leisurely stride through the thinning crowds, and paused before a vacant lot on the opposite side of the street. a dozen or more horses were still tied to the racks provided for the accommodation of countrymen. "funny," he muttered, "farmers start home before sundown, and it's dusk--i wonder if it's possible!" he crossed the street, strolled carelessly among the horses and noted that their saddles had not been removed and the still more significant fact that their saddle blankets were unusually thick. only an eye trained to observe this fact would have noticed it. he lifted the edge of one of the blankets and saw the white and scarlet edges of a klan costume. it was true. the young dare-devil who had sent that message to old peeler had planned an unauthorized raid. only a crowd of youngsters bent on a night's fun, he knew; and yet the act at this moment meant certain anarchy unless he nipped it in the bud. the klan was a dangerous institution. its only salvation lay in the absolute obedience of its members to the orders of an intelligent and patriotic chief. unless the word of that chief remained the sole law of its life, a reign of terror by irresponsible fools would follow at once. as commander of the klan in his county he must subdue this lawless element. it must be done with an iron hand and done immediately or it would be too late. his decision to act was instantaneous. he sent a message to his wife that he couldn't get home for supper, locked his door and in three hours finished his day's work. there was ample time to head these boys off before they reached old peeler's house. they couldn't start before eleven, yet he would take no chances. he determined to arrive an hour ahead of them. the night was gloriously beautiful--a clear star-gemmed sky in the full tide of a southern summer, the first week in august. he paused inside the gate of his home and drank for a moment the perfume of the roses on the lawn. the light from the window of his wife's room poured a mellow flood of welcome through the shadows beside the white, fluted columns. this home of his father's was all the wreck of war had left him and his heart gave a throb of joy to-night that it was his. behind the room where the delicate wife lay, a petted invalid, was the nursery. his baby boy was there, nestling in the arms of the black mammy who had nursed him twenty odd years ago. he could hear the soft crooning of her dear old voice singing the child to sleep. the heart of the young father swelled with pride. he loved his frail little wife with a deep, tender passion, but this big rosy-cheeked, laughing boy, which she had given him six months ago, he fairly worshipped. he stopped again under the nursery window and listened to the music of the cradle. the old lullaby had waked a mocking bird in a magnolia beside the porch and he was answering her plaintive wail with a thrilling love song. by the strange law of contrast, his memory flashed over the fields of death he had trodden in the long war. "what does it matter after all, these wars and revolutions, if god only brings with each new generation a nobler breed of men!" he tipped softly past the window lest his footfall disturb the loved ones above, hurried to the stable, saddled his horse and slowly rode through the quiet streets of the town. on clearing the last clump of negro cabins on the outskirts his pace quickened to a gallop. he stopped in the edge of the woods at the gate which opened from peeler's farm on the main road. the boys would have to enter here. he would stop them at this spot. the solemn beauty of the night stirred his soul to visions of the future, and the coming battle which his klan must fight for the mastery of the state. the chirp of crickets, the song of katydids and the flash of fireflies became the martial music and the flaming torches of triumphant hosts he saw marching to certain victory. but the klan he was leading was a wild horse that must be broken to the bit or both horse and rider would plunge to ruin. there would be at least twenty or thirty of these young marauders to-night. if they should unite in defying his authority it would be a serious and dangerous situation. somebody might be killed. and yet he waited without a fear of the outcome. he had faced odds before. he loved a battle when the enemy outnumbered him two to one. it stirred his blood. he had ridden with forrest one night at the head of four hundred daring, ragged veterans, surrounded a crack union regiment at two o'clock in the morning, and forced their commander to surrender men before he discovered the real strength of the attacking force. it stirred his blood to-night to know that general forrest was the commander-in-chief of his own daring clansmen. half an hour passed without a sign of the youngsters. he grew uneasy. could they have dared to ride so early that they had reached the house before his arrival? he must know at once. he opened the gate and galloped down the narrow track at a furious pace. a hundred yards from peeler's front gate he drew rein and listened. a horse neighed in the woods, and the piercing shriek of a woman left nothing to doubt. they were already in the midst of their dangerous comedy. he pressed cautiously toward the gate, riding in the shadows of the overhanging trees. they were dragging old peeler across the yard toward the roadway, followed by the pleading voice of a woman begging for his worthless life. realizing that the raid was now an accomplished fact, norton waited to see what the young fools were going to do. he was not long in doubt. they dragged their panting, perspiring victim into the edge of the woods, tied him to a sapling and bared his back. the leader stepped forward holding a lighted torch whose flickering flames made an unearthly picture of the distorted features and bulging eyes. "mr. peeler," began the solemn muffled voice behind the cloth mask, "for your many sins and blasphemies against god and man the preachers of this county have assembled to-night to call you to repentance----" the terror-stricken eyes bulged further and the fat neck twisted in an effort to see how many ghastly figures surrounded him, as he gasped: "oh, lord--oh, hell--are you all preachers?" "all!" was the solemn echo from each sepulchral figure. "then i'm a goner--that coffin's too big----" "yea, verily, there'll be nothing left when we get through--selah!" solemnly cried the leader. "but, say, look here, brethren," peeler pleaded between shattering teeth, "can't we compromise this thing? i'll repent and join the church. and how'll a contribution of fifty dollars each strike you? now what do you say to that?" the coward's voice had melted into a pious whine. the leader selected a switch from the bundle extended by a shrouded figure and without a word began to lay on. peeler's screams could be heard a mile. norton allowed them to give him a dozen lashes and spurred his horse into the crowd. there was a wild scramble to cover and most of the boys leaped to their saddles. three white figures resolutely stood their ground. "what's the meaning of this, sir?" norton sternly demanded of the man who still held the switch. "just a little fun, major," was the sheepish answer. "a dangerous piece of business." "for god's sake, save me, major norton!" peeler cried, suddenly waking from the spell of fear. "they've got me, sir--and it's just like i told you, they're all preachers--i'm a goner!" norton sprang from his horse and faced the three white figures. "who's in command of this crowd?" "i am, sir!" came the quick answer from a stalwart masquerader who suddenly stepped from the shadows. norton recognized the young cabinet-maker's voice, and spoke in low tense tones: "by whose authority are you using these disguises, to-night?" "it's none of your business!" the tall sinewy figure suddenly stiffened, stepped close and peered into the eyes of the speaker's mask: "does my word go here to-night or must i call out a division of the klan?" a moment's hesitation and the eyes behind the mask fell: "all right, sir--nothing but a boyish frolic," muttered the leader apologetically. "let this be the end of such nonsense," norton said with a quiet drawl. "if i catch you fellows on a raid like this again i'll hang your leader to the first limb i find--good night." a whistle blew and the beat of horses' hoofs along the narrow road told their hurried retreat. norton loosed the cords and led old peeler to his house. as the fat, wobbling legs mounted the steps the younger man paused at a sound from behind and before he could turn a girl sprang from the shadows into his arms, and slipped to her knees, sobbing hysterically: "save me!--they're going to beat me--they'll beat me to death--don't let them--please--please don't let them!" by the light from the window he saw that her hair was a deep rich red with the slightest tendency to curl and her wide dilated eyes a soft greenish grey. he was too astonished to speak for a moment and peeler hastened to say: "that's our little gal, cleo--that is--i--mean--of--course--it's lucy's gal! she's just home from school and she's scared to death and i don't blame her!" the girl clung to her rescuer with desperate grip, pressing her trembling form close with each convulsive sob. the man drew the soft arms down, held them a moment and looked into the dumb frightened face. he was surprised at her unusual beauty. her skin was a delicate creamy yellow, almost white, and her cheeks were tinged with the brownish red of ripe apple. as he looked in to her eyes he fancied that he saw a young leopardess from an african jungle looking at him through the lithe, graceful form of a southern woman. and then something happened in the shadows that stood out forever in his memory of that day as the turning point of his life. laughing at her fears, he suddenly lifted his hand and gently stroked the tangled red hair, smoothing it back from her forehead with a movement instinctive, and irresistible as he would have smoothed the fur of a yellow persian kitten. surprised at his act, he turned without a word and left the place. and all the way home, through the solemn starlit night, he brooded over the strange meeting with this extraordinary girl. he forgot his fight. one thing only stood out with increasing vividness--the curious and irresistible impulse that caused him to stroke her hair. personally he had always loathed the southern white man who stooped and crawled through the shadows to meet such women. she was a negress and he knew it, and yet the act was instinctive and irresistible. why? he asked himself the question a hundred times, and the longer he faced it the angrier he became at his stupid folly. for hours he lay awake, seeing in the darkness only the face of this girl. chapter ii cleo enters the conference of the carpetbagger with the little governor proved more ominous than even norton had feared. the blow struck was so daring, so swift and unexpected it stunned for a moment the entire white race. when the editor reached his office on the second morning after the raid, his desk was piled with telegrams from every quarter of the state. the governor had issued a proclamation disarming every white military company and by wire had demanded the immediate surrender of their rifles to the negro adjutant-general. the same proclamation had created an equal number of negro companies who were to receive these guns and equipments. the negroid state government would thus command an armed black guard of fifty thousand men and leave the white race without protection. evidently his excellency was a man of ambitions. it was rumored that he aspired to the vice-presidency and meant to win the honor by a campaign of such brilliance that the solid negro-ruled south would back him in the national convention. beyond a doubt, this act was the first step in a daring attempt inspired by the radical fanatics in congress to destroy the structure of white civilization in the south. and the governor's resources were apparently boundless. president johnson, though a native southerner, was a puppet now in the hands of his powerful enemies who dominated congress. these men boldly proclaimed their purpose to make the south negro territory by confiscating the property of the whites and giving it to the negroes. their bill to do this, house bill number twenty-nine, introduced by the government leader, thaddeus stevens, was already in the calendar and mr. stevens was pressing for its passage with all the skill of a trained politician inspired by the fiercest hate. the army had been sent back into the prostrate south to enforce the edicts of congress and the negro state government could command all the federal troops needed for any scheme concocted. but the little governor had a plan up his sleeve by which he proposed to startle even the black radical administration at washington. he was going to stamp out "rebellion" without the aid of federal troops, reserving his right to call them finally as a last resort. that they were ready at his nod gave him the moral support of their actual presence. that any man born of a southern mother and reared in the south under the conditions of refinement and culture, of the high ideals and the courage of the old régime, could fall so low as to use this proclamation, struck norton at first as impossible. he refused to believe it. there must be some misunderstanding. he sent a messenger to the capitol for a copy of the document before he was fully convinced. and then he laughed in sheer desperation at the farce-tragedy to which the life of a brave people had been reduced. it was his business as an editor to record the daily history of the times. for a moment in imagination he stood outside his office and looked at his work. "future generations simply can't be made to believe it!" he exclaimed. "it's too grotesque to be credible even to-day." it had never occurred to him that the war was unreasonable. its passions, its crushing cost, its bloodstained fields, its frightful cruelties were of the great movements of the race from a lower to a higher order of life. progress could only come through struggle. war was the struggle which had to be when two great moral forces clashed. one must die, the other live. a great issue had to be settled in the civil war, an issue raised by the creation of the constitution itself, an issue its creators had not dared to face. and each generation of compromisers and interpreters had put it off and put it off until at last the storm of thundering guns broke from a hundred hills at once. it had never been decided by the builders of the republic whether it should be a mighty unified nation or a loose aggregation of smaller sovereignties. slavery made it necessary to decide this fundamental question on which the progress of america and the future leadership of the world hung. he could see all this clearly now. he had felt it dimly true throughout every bloody scene of the war itself. and so he had closed the eyes of the lonely dying boy with a reverent smile. it was for his country. he had died for what he believed to be right and it was good. he had stood bareheaded in solemn court martials and sentenced deserters to death, led them out in the gray morning to be shot and ordered them dumped into shallow trenches without a doubt or a moment's hesitation. he had walked over battlefields at night and heard the groans of the wounded, the sighs of the dying, the curses of the living, beneath the silent stars and felt that in the end it must be good. it was war, and war, however cruel, was inevitable--the great high court of life and death for the nations of earth. but this base betrayal which had followed the honorable surrender of a brave, heroic army--this wanton humiliation of a ruined people by pot-house politicians--this war on the dead, the wounded, the dying, and their defenseless women--this enthronement of savagery, superstition, cowardice and brutality in high places where courage and honor and chivalry had ruled--these vandals and camp followers and vultures provoking violence and exciting crime, set to rule a brave people who had risked all for a principle and lost--this was a nightmare; it was the reduction of human society to an absurdity! for a moment he saw the world red. anger, fierce and cruel, possessed him. the desire to kill gripped and strangled until he could scarcely breathe. nor did it occur to this man for a moment that he could separate his individual life from the life of his people. his paper was gaining in circulation daily. it was paying a good dividend now and would give his loved ones the luxuries he had dreamed for them. the greater the turmoil the greater his profits would be. and yet this idea never once flashed through his mind. his people were of his heart's blood. he had no life apart from them. their joys were his, their sorrows his, their shame his. this proclamation of a traitor to his race struck him in the face as a direct personal insult. the hot shame of it found his soul. when the first shock of surprise and indignation had spent itself, he hurried to answer his telegrams. his hand wrote now with the eager, sure touch of a master who knew his business. to every one he sent in substance the same message: "submit and await orders." as he sat writing the fierce denunciation of this act of the chief executive of the state, he forgot his bitterness in the thrill of life that meant each day a new adventure. he was living in an age whose simple record must remain more incredible than the tales of the arabian nights. and the spell of its stirring call was now upon him. the drama had its comedy moments, too. he could but laugh at the sorry figures the little puppets cut who were strutting for a day in pomp and splendor. their end was as sure as the sweep of eternal law. water could not be made to run up hill by the proclamation of a governor. he had made up his mind within an hour to give the scalawag a return blow that would be more swift and surprising than his own. on the little man's reception of that counter stroke would hang the destiny of his administration and the history of the state for the next generation. on the day the white military companies surrendered their arms to their negro successors something happened that was not on the programme of the governor. the ku klux klan held its second grand parade. it was not merely a dress affair. a swift and silent army of drilled, desperate men, armed and disguised, moved with the precision of clockwork at the command of one mind. at a given hour the armory of every negro military company in the state was broken open and its guns recovered by the white and scarlet cavalry of the "invisible empire." within the next hour every individual negro in the state known to be in possession of a gun or pistol was disarmed. resistance was futile. the attack was so sudden and so unexpected, the attacking party so overwhelming at the moment, each black man surrendered without a blow and a successful revolution was accomplished in a night without a shot or the loss of a life. next morning the governor paced the floor of his office in the capitol with the rage of a maddened beast, and schlitz, the carpetbagger, was summoned for a second council of war. it proved to be a very important meeting in the history of his excellency. the editor sat at his desk that day smiling in quiet triumph as he read the facetious reports wired by his faithful lieutenants from every district of the klan. an endless stream of callers had poured through his modest little room and prevented any attempt at writing. he had turned the columns over to his assistants and the sun was just sinking in a smother of purple glory when he turned from his window and began to write his leader for the day. it was an easy task. a note of defiant power ran through a sarcastic warning to the governor that found the quick. the editorial flashed with wit and stung with bitter epigram. and there was in his consciousness of power a touch of cruelty that should have warned the scalawag against his next act of supreme folly. but his excellency had bad advisers, and the wheels of fate moved swiftly toward the appointed end. norton wrote this editorial with a joy that gave its crisp sentences the ring of inspired leadership. he knew that every paper in the state read by white men and women would copy it and he already felt in his heart the reflex thrill of its call to his people. he had just finished his revision of the last paragraph when a deep, laughing voice beside his chair slowly said: "may i come in?" he looked up with a start to find the tawny figure of the girl whose red hair he had stroked that night bowing and smiling. her white, perfect teeth gleamed in the gathering twilight and her smile displayed two pretty dimples in the brownish red cheeks. "i say, may i come in?" she repeated with a laugh. "it strikes me you are pretty well in," norton said good-humoredly. "yes, i didn't have any cards. so i came right up. it's getting dark and nobody saw me----" the editor frowned and moved uneasily "you're alone, aren't you?" she asked. "the others have all gone to supper, i believe." "yes, i waited 'til they left. i watched from the square 'til i saw them go." "why?" he asked sharply. "i don't know. i reckon i was afraid of 'em." "and you're not afraid of me?" he laughed. "no." "why not?" "because i know you." norton smiled: "you wish to see me?" "yes." "is there anything wrong at mr. peeler's?" "no, i just came to thank you for what you did and see if you wouldn't let me work for you?" "work? where--here?" "yes. i can keep the place clean. my mother said it was awful. and, honest, it's worse than i expected. it doesn't look like it's been cleaned in a year." "i don't believe it has," the editor admitted. "let me keep it decent for you." "thanks, no. it seems more home-like this way." "must it be so dirty?" she asked, looking about the room and picking up the scattered papers from the floor. norton, watching her with indulgent amusement at her impudence, saw that she moved her young form with a rhythmic grace that was perfect. the simple calico dress, with a dainty little check, fitted her perfectly. it was cut low and square at the neck and showed the fine lines of a beautiful throat. her arms were round and finely shaped and bare to an inch above the elbows. the body above the waistline was slender, and the sinuous free movement of her figure showed that she wore no corset. her step was as light as a cat's and her voice full of good humor and the bubbling spirits of a perfectly healthy female animal. his first impulse was to send her about her business with a word of dismissal. but when she laughed it was with such pleasant assurance and such faith in his friendliness it was impossible to be rude. she picked up the last crumpled paper and laid it on a table beside the wall, turned and said softly: "well, if you don't want me to clean up for you, anyhow, i brought you some flowers for your room--they're outside." she darted through the door and returned in a moment with an armful of roses. "my mother let me cut them from our yard, and she told me to thank you for coming that night. they'd have killed us if you hadn't come." "nonsense, they wouldn't have touched either you or your mother!" "yes, they would, too. goodness--haven't you anything to put the flowers in?" she tipped softly about the room, holding the roses up and arranging them gracefully. norton watched her with a lazy amused interest. he couldn't shake off the impression that she was a sleek young animal, playful and irresponsible, that had strayed from home and wandered into his office. and he loved animals. he never passed a stray dog or a cat without a friendly word of greeting. he had often laid on his lounge at home, when tired, and watched a kitten play an hour with unflagging interest. every movement of this girl's lithe young body suggested such a scene--especially the velvet tread of her light foot, and the delicate motions of her figure followed suddenly by a sinuous quick turn and a childish laugh or cry. the faint shadows of negro blood in her creamy skin and the purring gentleness of her voice seemed part of the gathering twilight. her eyes were apparently twice the size as when first he saw them, and the pupils, dilated in the dusk, flashed with unusual brilliance. she had wandered into the empty reporters' room without permission looking for a vase, came back and stood in the doorway laughing: "this is the dirtiest place i ever got into in my life. gracious! isn't there a thing to put the flowers in?" the editor, roused from his reveries, smiled and answered: "put them in the pitcher." "why, yes, of course, the pitcher!" she cried, rushing to the little washstand. "why, there isn't a drop of water in it--i'll go to the well and get some." she seized the pitcher, laid the flowers down in the bowl, darted out the door and flew across the street to the well in the court house square. the young editor walked carelessly to the window and watched her. she simply couldn't get into an ungraceful attitude. every movement was instinct with vitality. she was alive to her finger tips. her body swayed in perfect rhythmic unison with her round, bare arms as she turned the old-fashioned rope windlass, drew the bucket to the top and dropped it easily on the wet wooden lids that flapped back in place. she was singing now a crooning, half-savage melody her mother had taught her. the low vibrant notes of her voice, deep and tender and quivering with a strange intensity, floated across the street through the gathering shadows. the voice had none of the light girlish quality of her age of eighteen, but rather the full passionate power of a woman of twenty-five. the distance, the deepening shadows and the quiet of the town's lazy life, added to the dreamy effectiveness of the song. "beautiful!" the man exclaimed. "the negro race will give the world a great singer some day----" and then for the first time in his life the paradox of his personal attitude toward this girl and his attitude in politics toward the black race struck him as curious. he had just finished an editorial in which he had met the aggressions of the negro and his allies with the fury, the scorn, the defiance, the unyielding ferocity with which the anglo-saxon conqueror has always treated his inferiors. and yet he was listening to the soft tones of this girl's voice with a smile as he watched with good-natured indulgence the light gleam mischievously from her impudent big eyes while she moved about his room. yet this was not to be wondered at. the history of the south and the history of slavery made such a paradox inevitable. the long association with the individual negro in the intimacy of home life had broken down the barriers of personal race repugnance. he had grown up with negro boys and girls as playmates. he had romped and wrestled with them. every servant in every home he had ever known had been a negro. the first human face he remembered bending over his cradle was a negro woman's. he had fallen asleep in her arms times without number. he had found refuge there against his mother's stern commands and sobbed out on her breast the story of his fancied wrongs and always found consolation. "mammy's darlin'" was always right--the world cruel and wrong! he had loved this old nurse since he could remember. she was now nursing his own and he would defend her with his life without a moment's hesitation. and so it came about inevitably that while he had swung his white and scarlet legions of disguised clansmen in solid line against the governor and smashed his negro army without the loss of a single life, he was at the same moment proving himself defenseless against the silent and deadly purpose that had already shaped itself in the soul of this sleek, sensuous young animal. he was actually smiling with admiration at the beautiful picture he saw as she lifted the white pitcher, placed it on the crown of red hair, and crossed the street. she was still softly singing as she entered the room and arranged the flowers in pretty confusion. norton had lighted his lamp and seated himself at his desk again. she came close and looked over his shoulder at the piles of papers. "how on earth can you work in such a mess?" she asked with a laugh. "used to it," he answered without looking up from the final reading of his editorial. "what's that you've written?" the impudent greenish gray eyes bent closer. "oh, a little talk to the governor----" "i bet it's a hot one. peeler says you don't like the governor--read it to me!" the editor looked up at the mischievous young face and laughed aloud: "i'm afraid you wouldn't understand it." the girl joined in the laugh and the dimples in the reddish brown cheeks looked prettier than ever. "maybe i wouldn't," she agreed. he resumed his reading and she leaned over his chair until he felt the soft touch of her shoulder against his. she was staring at his paste-pot, extended her tapering, creamy finger and touched the paste. "what in the world's that?" she cried, giggling again. "paste." another peal of silly laughter echoed through the room. "lord, i thought it was mush and milk--i thought it was your supper!--don't you eat no supper?" "sometimes." the editor looked up with a slight frown and said: "run along now, child, i've got to work. and tell your mother i'm obliged for the flowers." "i'm not going back home----" "why not?" "i'm scared out there. i've come in town to live with my aunt." "well, tell her when you see her." "please let me clean this place up for you?" she pleaded. "not to-night." "to-morrow morning, then? i'll come early and every morning--please--let me--it's all i can do to thank you. i'll do it a month just to show you how pretty i can keep it and then you can pay me if you want me. it's a bargain, isn't it?" the editor smiled, hesitated, and said: "all right--every morning at seven." "thank you, major--good night!" she paused at the door and her white teeth gleamed in the shadows. she turned and tripped down the stairs, humming again the strangely appealing song she had sung at the well. chapter iii a beast awakes within a week norton bitterly regretted the arrangement he had made with cleo. not because she had failed to do her work properly, but precisely because she was doing it so well. she had apparently made it the sole object of her daily thought and the only task to which she devoted her time. he couldn't accustom his mind to the extraordinary neatness with which she kept the office. the clean floor, the careful arrangement of the chairs, the neat piles of exchanges laid on a table she had placed beside his desk, and the vase of fresh flowers he found each morning, were constant reminders of her personality which piqued his curiosity and disturbed his poise. he had told her to come at seven every morning. it was his habit to reach the office and begin reading the exchanges by eight-thirty and he had not expected to encounter her there. she had always managed, however, to linger over her morning tasks until his arrival, and never failed to greet him pleasantly and ask if there were anything else she could do. she also insisted on coming at noon to fill his pitcher and again just before supper to change the water in the vase of flowers. at this last call she always tried to engage him in a few words of small talk. at first this program made no impression on his busy brain except that she was trying to prove her value as a servant. gradually, however, he began to notice that her dresses were cut with remarkable neatness for a girl of her position and that she showed a rare talent in selecting materials becoming to her creamy yellow skin and curling red hair. he observed, too, that she had acquired the habit of hanging about his desk when finishing her tasks and had a queer way of looking at him and laughing. she began to make him decidedly uncomfortable and he treated her with indifference. no matter how sullen the scowl with which he greeted her, she was always smiling and humming snatches of strange songs. he sought for an excuse to discharge her and could find none. she had the instincts of a perfect servant--intelligent, careful and loyal. she never blundered over the papers on his desk. she seemed to know instinctively what was worthless and what was valuable, and never made a mistake in rearranging the chaotic piles of stuff he left in his wake. he thought once for just a moment of the possibility of her loyalty to the negro race. she might in that case prove a valuable spy to the governor and his allies. he dismissed the idea as preposterous. she never associated with negroes if she could help it and apparently was as innocent as a babe of the nature of the terrific struggle in which he was engaged with the negroid government of the state. and yet she disturbed him deeply and continuously, as deeply sometimes when absent as when present. why? he asked himself the question again and again. why should he dislike her? she did her work promptly and efficiently, and for the first time within his memory the building was really fit for human habitation. at last he guessed the truth and it precipitated the first battle of his life with the beast that slumbered within. feeling her physical nearness more acutely than usual at dusk and noting that she had paused in her task near his desk, he slowly lifted his eyes from the paper he was reading and, before she realized it, caught the look on her face when off guard. the girl was in love with him. it was as clear as day now that he had the key to her actions the past week. for this reason she had come and for this reason she was working with such patience and skill. his first impulse was one of rage. he had little of the vanity of the male animal that struts before the female. his pet aversion was the man of his class who lowered himself to vulgar association with such girls. the fact that, at this time in the history of the south, such intrigues were common made his determination all the more bitter as a leader of his race to stand for its purity. he suddenly swung in his chair, determined to dismiss her at once with as few words as possible. she leaped gracefully back with a girlish laugh, so soft, low and full of innocent surprise, the harsh words died on his lips. "lordy, major," she cried, "how you scared me! i thought you had a fit. did a pin stick you--or maybe a flea bit you?" she leaned against the mantel laughing, her white teeth gleaming. he hesitated a moment, his eyes lingered on the graceful pose of her young figure, his ear caught the soft note of friendly tenderness in her voice and he was silent. "what's the matter?" she asked, stepping closer. "nothing." "well, you made an awful fuss about it!" "just thought of something--suddenly----" "i thought you were going to bite my head off and then that something bit you!" again she laughed and walked slowly to the door, her greenish eyes watching him with studied carelessness, as a cat a mouse. every movement of her figure was music, her smile contagious, and, by a subtle mental telepathy, she knew that the man before her felt it, and her heart was singing a savage song of triumph. she could wait. she had everything to gain and nothing to lose. she belonged to the pariah world of the negro. her love was patient, joyous, insistent, unconquerable. it was unusually joyous to-night because she felt without words that the mad desires that burned a living fire in every nerve of her young body had scorched the man she had marked her own from the moment she had first laid eyes on his serious, aristocratic face--for back of every hysterical cry that came from her lips that night in the shadows beside old peeler's house lay the sinister purpose of a mad love that had leaped full grown from the deeps of her powerful animal nature. she paused in the doorway and softly said: "good night." the tone of her voice was a caress and the bold eyes laughed a daring challenge straight into his. he stared at her a moment, flushed, turned pale and answered in a strained voice: "good night, cleo." but it was not a good night for him. it was a night never to be forgotten. until after twelve he walked beneath the stars and fought the beast--the beast with a thousand heads and a thousand legs; the beast that had been bred in the bone and sinew of generations of ancestors, wilful, cruel, courageous conquerors of the world. before its ravenous demands the words of mother, teacher, priest and lawgiver were as chaff before the whirlwind--the beast demanded his own! peace came at last with the vision of a baby's laughing face peeping at him from the arms of a frail little mother. he made up his mind and hurried home. he would get rid of this girl to-morrow and never again permit her shadow to cross his pathway. with other men of more sluggish temperament, position, dignity, the responsibility of leadership, the restraints of home and religion might be the guarantee of safety under such temptations. he didn't propose to risk it. he understood now why he was so nervous and distracted in her presence. the mere physical proximity to such a creature, vital, magnetic, unmoral, beautiful and daring, could only mean one thing to a man of his age and inheritance--a temptation so fierce that yielding could only be a question of time and opportunity. and when he told her the next morning that she must not come again she was not surprised, but accepted his dismissal without a word of protest. with a look of tenderness she merely said: "i'm sorry." "yes," he went on curtly, "you annoy me; i can't write while you are puttering around, and i'm always afraid you'll disturb some of my papers." she laughed in his face, a joyous, impudent, good-natured, ridiculous laugh, that said more eloquently than words: "i understand your silly excuse. you're afraid of me. you're a big coward. don't worry, i can wait. you'll come to me. and if not, i'll find you--for i shall be near--and now that you know and fear, i shall be very near!" she moved shyly to the door and stood framed in its white woodwork, an appealing picture of dumb regret. she had anticipated this from the first. and from the moment she threw the challenge into his eyes the night before, saw him flush and pale beneath it, she knew it must come at once, and was prepared. there was no use to plead and beg or argue. it would be a waste of breath with him in this mood. besides, she had already found a better plan. so when he began to try to soften his harsh decision with kindly words she only smiled in the friendliest possible way, stepped back to his desk, extended her hand, and said: "please let me know if you need me. i'll do anything on earth for you, major. good-by." it was impossible to refuse the gracefully outstretched hand. the southern man had been bred from the cradle to the most intimate and friendly personal relations with the black folks who were servants in the house. yet the moment he touched her hand, felt its soft warm pressure and looked into the depths of her shining eyes he wished that he had sent her away with downright rudeness. but it was impossible to be rude with this beautiful young animal that purred at his side. he started to say something harsh, she laughed and he laughed. she held his hand clasped in hers for a moment and slowly said: "i haven't done anything wrong, have i, major?" "no." "you are not mad at me for anything?" "no, certainly not." "i wonder why you won't let me work here?" she looked about the room and back at him, speaking slowly, musingly, with an impudence that left little doubt in his mind that she suspected the real reason and was deliberately trying to tease him. he flushed, hurriedly withdrew his hand and replied carelessly: "you bother me--can't work when you're fooling around." "all right, good-bye." he turned to his work and she was gone. he was glad she was out of his sight and out of his life forever. he had been a fool to allow her in the building at all. he could concentrate his mind now on his fight with the governor. chapter iv the arrest the time had come in norton's fight when he was about to be put to a supreme test. the governor was preparing the most daring and sensational movement of his never-to-be-forgotten administration. the audacity and thoroughness with which the klan had disarmed and made ridiculous his army of fifty thousand negroes was at first a stunning blow. in vain schlitz stormed and pleaded for national aid. "you must ask for federal troops without a moment's delay," he urged desperately. the scalawag shook his head with quiet determination. "congress, under the iron rule of stevens, will send them, i grant you----" "then why hesitate?" "because their coming would mean that i have been defeated on my own soil, that my administration of the state is a failure." "well, isn't it?" "no; i'll make good my promises to the men in washington who have backed me. they are preparing to impeach the president, remove him from office and appoint a dictator in his stead. i'll show them that i can play my part in the big drama, too. i am going to deliver this state bound hand and foot into their hands, with a triumphant negro electorate in the saddle, or i'll go down in ignominious defeat." "you'll go down, all right--without those troops--mark my word," cried the carpetbagger. "all right, i'll go down flying my own flag." "you're a fool!" schlitz roared. "union troops are our only hope!" his excellency kept his temper. the little ferret eyes beneath their bushy brows were drawn to narrow lines as he slowly said: "on the other hand, my dear schlitz, i don't think i could depend on federal troops if they were here." "no?" was the indignant sneer. "frankly i do not," was the even answer. "federal officers have not shown themselves very keen about executing the orders of reconstruction governors. they have often pretended to execute them and in reality treated us with contempt. they hold, in brief, that they fought to preserve the union, not to make negroes rule over white men! the task before us is not to their liking. i don't trust them for a moment. i have a better plan----" "what?" "i propose to raise immediately an army of fifty thousand loyal white men, arm and drill them without delay----" "where'll you get them?" schlitz cried incredulously. "i'll find them if i have to drag the gutters for every poor white scamp in the state. they'll be a tough lot, maybe, but they'll make good soldiers. a soldier is a man who obeys orders, draws his pay, and asks no questions----" "and then what?" "and then, sir!----" the governor's leathery little face flushed as he sprang to his feet and paced the floor of his office in intense excitement. "i'll tell you what then!" schlitz cried with scorn. the pacing figure paused and eyed his tormentor, lifting his shaggy brows: "yes?" "and then," the carpetbagger answered, "the ku klux klan will rise in a night, jump on your mob of ragamuffins, take their guns and kick them back into the gutter." "perhaps," the governor said, musingly, "if i give them a chance! but i won't!" "you won't? how can you prevent it?" "very simply. i'll issue a proclamation suspending the _writ_ of _habeas corpus_----" "but you have no right," schlitz gasped. the ex-scullion had been studying law the past two years and aspired to the supreme court bench. "my right is doubtful, but it will go in times of revolution. i'll suspend the _writ_, arrest the leaders of the klan without warrant, put them in jail and hold them there without trial until the day after the election." schlitz's eyes danced as he sprang forward and extended his fat hand to the scalawag: "governor, you're a great man! only a great mind would dare such a plan. but do you think your life will be safe?" the little figure was drawn erect and the ferret eyes flashed: "the governor of a mighty commonwealth--they wouldn't dare lift their little finger against me." schlitz shook his head dubiously. "a pretty big job in times of peace--to suspend the civil law, order wholesale arrests without warrants by a ragged militia and hold your men without trial----" "i like the job!" was the quick answer. "i'm going to show the smart young man who edits the paper in this town that he isn't running the universe." again the adventurer seized the hand of his chief: "governor, you're a great man! i take my hat off to you, sir." his excellency smiled, lifted his sloping shoulders, moistened his thin lips and whispered: "not a word now to a living soul until i strike----" "i understand, sir, not a word," the carpetbagger replied in low tones as he nervously fumbled his hat and edged his way out of the room. the editor received the governor's first move in the game with contempt. it was exactly what he had expected--this organization of white renegades, thieves, loafers, cut-throats, and deserters. it was the last resort of desperation. every day, while these dirty ignorant recruits were being organized and drilled, he taunted the governor over the personnel of his "loyal" army. he began the publication of the history of its officers and men. these biographical stories were written with a droll humor that kept the whole state in a good-humored ripple of laughter and inspired the convention that nominated a complete white man's ticket to renewed enthusiasm. and then the bolt from the blue--the governor's act of supreme madness! as the editor sat at his desk writing an editorial congratulating the state on the brilliant ticket that the white race had nominated and predicting its triumphant election, in spite of negroes, thieves, cut-throats, scalawags and carpetbaggers, a sudden commotion on the sidewalk in front of his office stopped his pencil in the midst of an unfinished word. he walked to the window and looked out. by the flickering light of the street lamp he saw an excited crowd gathering in the street. a company of the governor's new guard had halted in front. an officer ripped off the palings from the picket fence beside the building and sent a squad of his men to the rear. the tramp of heavy feet on the stairs was heard and the dirty troopers crowded into the editor's room, muskets in hand, cocked, and their fingers on the triggers. norton quietly drew the pencil from his ear, smiled at the mottled group of excited men, and spoke in his slow drawl: "and why this excitement, gentlemen?" the captain stepped forward: "are you major daniel norton?" "i am, sir." "you're my prisoner." "show your warrant!" was the quick challenge. "i don't need one, sir." "indeed! and since when is this state under martial law?" "will you go peaceable?" the captain asked roughly. "when i know by whose authority you make this arrest." the editor walked close to the officer, drew himself erect, his hands clenched behind his back and held the man's eye for a moment with a cold stare. the captain hesitated and drew a document from his pocket. the editor scanned it hastily and suddenly turned pale: "a proclamation suspending the _writ_ of _habeas corpus_--impossible!" the captain lifted his dirty palms: "i reckon you can read!" "oh, yes, i can read it, captain--still it's impossible. you can't suspend the law of gravitation by saying so on a scrap of paper----" "you are ready to go?" the editor laughed: "certainly, certainly--with pleasure, i assure you." the captain lifted his hand and his men lowered their guns. the editor seized a number of blank writing pads, a box of pencils, put on his hat and called to his assistants: "i'm moving my office temporarily to the county jail, boys. it's quieter over there. i can do better work. send word to my home that i'm all right and tell my wife not to worry for a minute. every man to his post now and the liveliest paper ever issued! and on time to the minute." the printers had crowded into the room and a ringing cheer suddenly startled the troopers. the foreman held an ugly piece of steel in his hand and every man seemed to have hold of something. "give the word, chief!" the foreman cried. the editor smiled: "thanks, boys, i understand. go back to your work. you can help best that way." the men dropped their weapons and crowded to the door, jeering and howling in derision at the awkward squad as they stumbled down the stairs after their commander, who left the building holding tightly to the editor's arm, as if at any moment he expected an escape or a rescue. the procession wended its way to the jail behind the court house through a crowd of silent men who merely looked at the prisoner, smiled and nodded to him over the heads of his guard. an ominous quiet followed the day's work. the governor was amazed at the way his sensational coup was received. he had arrested and thrown into jail without warrant the leaders of the white party in every county in the state. he was absolutely sure that these men were the leaders of the ku klux klan, the one invisible but terrible foe he really feared. he had expected bluster, protests, mass meetings and fiery resolutions. instead his act was received with a silence that was uncanny. in vain his carpetbagger lieutenant congratulated him on the success of his napoleonic move. his little ferret eyes snapped with suppressed excitement. "but what the devil is the meaning of this silence, schlitz?" he asked with a tremor. "they're stunned, i tell you. it was a master stroke. they're a lot of cowards and sneaks, these night raiders, anyhow. it only took a bold act of authority to throw them into a panic." the scalawag shook his head thoughtfully: "doesn't look like a panic to me--i'm uneasy----" "the only possible mistake you've made was the arrest of norton." "yes, i know public sentiment in the north don't like an attempt to suppress free speech, but i simply had to do it. damn him, i've stood his abuse as long as i'm going to. besides his dirty sheet is at the bottom of all our trouble." when the governor scanned his copy of the next morning's _eagle and phoenix_ his feeling of uneasiness increased. instead of the personal abuse he had expected from the young firebrand, he read a long, carefully written editorial reviewing the history of the great _writ_ of _habeas corpus_ in the evolution of human freedom. the essay closed with the significant statement that no governor in the records of the state or the colony had ever dared to repeal or suspend this guarantee of anglo-saxon liberty--not even for a moment during the chaos of the civil war. but the most disquieting feature of this editorial was the suggestive fact that it was set between heavy mourning lines and at the bottom of it stood a brief paragraph enclosed in even heavier black bands: "we regret to announce that the state is at present without a chief executive. our late unlamented governor passed away in a fit of insanity at three o'clock yesterday." when the little scalawag read the sarcastic obituary he paled for a moment and the hand which held the paper trembled so violently he was compelled to lay it on the table to prevent his secretary from noting his excitement. for the first time in the history of the state an armed guard was stationed at the door of the governor's mansion that night. the strange calm continued. no move was made by the negroid government to bring the imprisoned men to trial and apparently no effort was being made by the men inside the jails to regain their liberty. save that his editorials were dated from the county jail, no change had occurred in the daily routine of the editor's life. he continued his series of articles on the history of the state each day, setting them in heavy black mourning lines. each of these editorials ended with an appeal to the patriotism of the reader. and the way in which he told the simple story of each step achieved in the blood-marked struggle for liberty had a punch in it that boded ill for the little man who had set himself the task of dictatorship for a free people. no reference was made in the _eagle and phoenix_ to the governor. he was dead. the paper ignored his existence. each day of this ominous peace among his enemies increased the terror which had gripped the little scalawag from the morning he had read his first obituary. the big black rules down the sides of those editorials seemed a foot wide now when he read them. twice he seated himself at his desk to order the editor's release and each time cringed and paused at the thought of the sneers with which his act would be greeted. he was now between the devil and the deep sea. he was afraid to retreat and dared not take the next step forward. if he could hold his ground for two weeks longer, and carry the election by the overwhelming majority he had planned, all would be well. such a victory, placing him in power for four years and giving him an obedient negro legislature once more to do his bidding, would strike terror to his foes and silence their assaults. the negro voters far outnumbered the whites, and victory was a certainty. and so he held his ground--until something happened! it began in a semi-tropical rain storm that swept the state. all day it poured in blinding torrents, the wind steadily rising in velocity until at noon it was scarcely possible to walk the streets. at eight o'clock the rain ceased to fall and by nine glimpses of the moon could be seen as the fast flying clouds parted for a moment. but for these occasional flashes of moonlight the night was pitch dark. the governor's company of nondescript soldiers in camp at the capitol, drenched with rain, had abandoned their water-soaked tents for the more congenial atmosphere of the low dives and saloons of the negro quarters. the minute the rain ceased to fall, norton's wife sent his supper--but to-night by a new messenger. cleo smiled at him across the little table as she skillfully laid the cloth, placed the dishes and set a tiny vase of roses in the center. "you see," she began, smiling, "your wife needed me and i'm working at your house now, major." "indeed!" "yes. mammy isn't well and i help with the baby. he's a darling. he loved me the minute i took him in my arms and hugged him." "no doubt." "his little mother likes me, too. i can pick her up in my arms and carry her across the room. you wouldn't think i'm so strong, would you?" "yes--i would," he answered slowly, studying her with a look of increasing wonder at her audacity. "you're not mad at me for being there, are you? you can't be--mammy wants me so"--she paused--"lordy, i forgot the letter!" she drew from her bosom a note from his wife. he looked curiously at a smudge where it was sealed and, glancing at the girl who was busy with the tray, opened and read: "i have just received a message from macarthur's daughter that your life is to be imperilled to-night by a dangerous raid. remember your helpless wife and baby. surely there are trusted men who can do such work. you have often told me that no wise general ever risks his precious life on the firing line. you are a soldier, and know this. please, dearest, do not go. baby and little mother both beg of you!" norton looked at cleo again curiously. he was sure that the seal of this note had been broken and its message read by her. "do you know what's in this note, cleo?" he asked sharply. "no, sir!" was the quick answer. he studied her again closely. she was on guard now. every nerve alert, every faculty under perfect control. he was morally sure she was lying and yet it could only be idle curiosity or jealous interest in his affairs that prompted the act. that she should be an emissary of the governor was absurd. "it's not bad news, i hope?" she asked with an eagerness that was just a little too eager. the man caught the false note and frowned. "no," he answered carelessly. "it's of no importance." he picked up a pad and wrote a hurried answer: "don't worry a moment, dear. i am not in the slightest danger. i know a soldier's duty and i'll not forget it. sleep soundly, little mother and baby mine!" he folded the sheet of paper and handed it to her without sealing it. she was watching him keenly. his deep, serious eyes no longer saw her. his body was there, but the soul was gone. the girl had never seen him in this mood. she was frightened. his life _was_ in danger. she knew it now by an unerring instinct. she would watch the jail and see what happened. she might do something to win his friendship, and then--the rest would be easy. her hand trembled as she took the note. "give this to mrs. norton at once," he said, "and tell her you found me well and happy in my work." "yes, sir," the soft voice answered mechanically as she picked up the tray and left the room watching him furtively. chapter v the rescue cleo hurried to the house, delivered the message, rocked the baby to sleep and quietly slipped through the lawn into the street and back to the jail. a single guard kept watch at the door. she saw him by a flash of moonlight and then passed so close she could have touched the long old-fashioned musket he carried loosely across his shoulder. the cat-like tread left no echo and she took her stand in the underbrush that had pushed its way closer and closer until its branches touched the rear walls of the jail. for two hours she stood amid the shadows, her keen young ears listening and her piercing eyes watching. again and again she counted the steps the sentinel made as he walked back and forth in front of the entrance to the jail. she knew from the sound that he passed the corner of the building for three steps in full view from her position, could she but see him through the darkness. twice she had caught a glimpse of his stupid face as the moon flashed a moment of light through a rift of clouds. "the lord help that idiot," she muttered, "if the major's men want to pass him to-night!" she turned with a sharp start. the bushes softly parted behind her and a stealthy step drew near. her heart stood still. she was afraid to breathe. they wouldn't hurt her if they only knew she was the major's friend. but if they found and recognized her as old peeler's half-breed daughter, they might kill her on the spot as a spy. she hadn't thought of this terrible possibility before. it was too late now to think. to run meant almost certain death. she flattened her figure against the wall of the jail and drew the underbrush close completely covering her form. she stood motionless and as near breathless as possible until the two men who were approaching a step at a time had passed. at the corner of the jail they stopped within three feet of her. she could hear every word of their conference. "now, mac, do as i tell you," a voice whispered. "jump on him from behind as he passes the corner and get him in the gills." "i understand." "choke him stiff until i get something in his mouth." "ah, it's too easy. i'd like a little excitement." "we'll get it before morning----" "sh! what's that?" "i didn't hear anything!" "something moved." a bush had slipped from cleo's hand. she gripped the others with desperation. ten minutes passed amid a death-like silence. a hundred times she imagined the hand of one of these men feeling for her throat. at last she drew a deep breath. the men began to move step by step toward the doomed sentinel. they were standing beside the front corner of the jail now waiting panther-like for their prey. they allowed him to pass twice. he stopped at the end of his beat, blew his nose and spoke to himself: "god, what a lonely night!" the girl heard him turn, his feet measure three steps on his return and stop with a dull thud. she couldn't see, but she could feel through the darkness the grip of those terrible fingers on his throat. the only sound made was the dull thud of his body on the wet ground. in two minutes they had carried him into the shadows of a big china tree in the rear and tied him to the trunk. she could hear their sharp order: "break those cords now or dare to open your mouth and, no matter what happens, we'll kill you first--just for luck." in ten minutes they had reported the success of their work to their comrades who were waiting and the men who had been picked for their dangerous task surrounded the jail and slowly took up their appointed places in the shadows. the attacking group stopped for their final instructions not five feet from the girl's position. a flash of moonlight and she saw them--six grim white and scarlet figures wearing spiked helmets from which fell a cloth mask to their shoulders. their big revolvers were buckled on the outside of their disguises and each man's hand rested on the handle. one of them quietly slipped his robe from his shoulders, removed his helmet, put on the sentinel's coat and cap, seized his musket and walked to the door of the jail. she heard him drop the butt of the gun on the flagstone at the steps and call: "hello, jailer!" some one stirred inside. it was not yet one o'clock and the jailer who had been to a drinking bout with the soldiers had not gone to bed. in his shirt sleeves he thrust his head out the door: "who is it?" "the guard, sir." "well, what the devil do you want?" "can't ye gimme a drink of somethin'? i'm soaked through and i've caught cold----" "all right, in a minute," was the gruff reply. the girl could hear the soft tread of the shrouded figures closing in on the front door. a moment more and it opened. the voice inside said: "here you are!" the words had scarcely passed his lips, and there was another dull crash. a dozen masked clansmen hurled themselves into the doorway and rushed over the prostrate form of the half-drunken jailer. he was too frightened to call for help. he lay with his face downward, begging for his life. it was the work of a minute to take the keys from his trembling fingers, bind and gag him, and release norton. the whole thing had been done so quietly not even a dog had barked at the disturbance. again they stopped within a few feet of the trembling figure against the wall. the editor had now put on his disguise and stood in the centre of the group giving his orders as quietly as though he were talking to his printers about the form of his paper. "quick now, mac," she heard him say, "we've not a moment to lose. i want two pieces of scantling strong enough for a hangman's beam. push one of them out of the center window of the north end of the capitol building, the other from the south end. we'll hang the little scalawag on the south side and the carpetbagger on the north. we'll give them this grim touch of poetry at the end. your ropes have ready swinging from these beams. keep your men on guard there until i come." "all right, sir!" came the quick response. "my hundred picked men are waiting?" "on the turnpike at the first branch----" "good! the governor is spending the night at schlitz's place, three miles out. he has been afraid to sleep at home of late, i hear. we'll give the little man and his pal a royal escort for once as they approach the capitol--expect us within an hour." a moment and they were gone. the girl staggered from her cramped position and flew to the house. she couldn't understand it all, but she realized that if the governor were killed it meant possible ruin for the man she had marked her own. a light was still burning in the mother's room. she had been nervous and restless and couldn't sleep. she heard the girl's swift, excited step on the stairway and rushed to the door: "what is it? what has happened?" cleo paused for breath and gasped: "they've broken the jail open and he's gone with the ku klux to kill the governor!" "to kill the governor?" "yessum. he's got a hundred men waiting out on the turnpike and they're going to hang the governor from one of the capitol windows!" the wife caught the girl by the shoulders and cried: "who told you this?" "nobody. i saw them. i was passing the jail, heard a noise and went close in the dark. i heard the major give the orders to the men." "oh, my god!" the little mother groaned. "and they are going straight to the governor's mansion?" "no--no--he said the governor's out at schlitz's place, spending the night. they're going to kill him, too----" "then there's time to stop them--quick--can you hitch a horse?" "yessum!" "run to the stable, hitch my horse to the buggy and take a note i'll write to my grandfather, old governor carteret--you know where his place is--the big red brick house at the edge of town?" "yessum----" "his street leads into the turnpike--quick now--the horse and buggy!" the strong young body sprang down the steps three and four rounds at a leap and in five minutes the crunch of swift wheels on the gravel walk was heard. she sprang up the stairs, took the note from the frail, trembling little hand and bounded out of the house again. the clouds had passed and the moon was shining now in silent splendor on the sparkling refreshed trees and shrubbery. the girl was an expert in handling a horse. old peeler had at least taught her that. in five more minutes from the time she had left the house she was knocking furiously at the old governor's door. he was eighty-four, but a man of extraordinary vigor for his age. he came to the door alone in his night-dress, candle in hand, scowling at the unseemly interruption of his rest. "what is it?" he cried with impatience. "a note from mrs. norton." at the mention of her name the fine old face softened and then his eyes flashed: "she is ill?" "no, sir--but she wants you to help her." he took the note, placed the candle on the old-fashioned mahogany table in his hall, returned to his room for his glasses, adjusted them with deliberation and read its startling message. he spoke without looking up: "you know the road to schlitz's house?" "yes, sir, every foot of it." "i'll be ready in ten minutes." "we've no time to lose--you'd better hurry," the girl said nervously. the old man lifted his eyebrows: "i will. but an ex-governor of the state can't rush to meet the present governor in his shirt-tail--now, can he?" cleo laughed: "no, sir." the thin, sprightly figure moved quickly in spite of the eighty-four years and in less than ten minutes he was seated beside the girl and they were flying over the turnpike toward the schlitz place. "how long since those men left the jail?" the old governor asked roughly. "about a half-hour, sir." "give your horse the rein--we'll be too late, i'm afraid." the lines slacked over the spirited animal's back and he sprang forward as though lashed by the insult to his high breeding. the sky was studded now with stars sparkling in the air cleared by the rain, and the moon flooded the white roadway with light. the buggy flew over the beaten track for a mile, and as they suddenly plunged down a hill the old man seized both sides of the canopy top to steady his body as the light rig swayed first one way and then the other. "you're going pretty fast," he grumbled. "yes, you said to give him the reins." "but i didn't say to throw them on the horse's head, did i?" "no, sir," the girl giggled. "pull him in!" he ordered sharply. the strong young arms drew the horse suddenly down on his haunches and the old man lurched forward. "i didn't say pull him into the buggy," he growled. the girl suppressed another laugh. he was certainly a funny old man for all his eighty odd winters. she thought that he must have been a young devil at eighteen. "stop a minute!" he cried sharply. "what's that roaring?" cleo listened: "the wind in the trees, i think." "nothing of the sort--isn't this buffalo creek?" "yes, sir." "that's water we hear. the creek's out of banks. the storm has made the ford impassable. they haven't crossed this place yet. we're in time." the horse lifted his head and neighed. another answered from the woods and in a moment a white-masked figure galloped up to the buggy and spoke sharply: "you can't cross this ford--turn back." "are you one of norton's men?" the old man asked angrily. "none of your damned business!" was the quick answer. "i think it is, sir! i'm governor carteret. my age and services to this state entitle me to a hearing to-night. tell major norton i must speak to him immediately--immediately, sir!" his voice rose to a high note of imperious command. the horseman hesitated and galloped into the shadows. a moment later a tall shrouded figure on horseback slowly approached. "cut your wheel," the old governor said to the girl. he stepped from the buggy without assistance. "now turn round and wait for me." cleo obeyed, and the venerable statesman with head erect, his white hair and beard shining in the moonlight calmly awaited the approach of the younger man. norton dismounted and led his horse, the rein hanging loosely over his arm. "well, governor carteret"--the drawling voice was low and quietly determined. the white-haired figure suddenly stiffened: "don't insult me, sir, by talking through a mask--take that thing off your head." the major bowed and removed his mask. when the old man spoke again, his voice trembled with emotion, he stepped close and seized norton's arm: "my boy, have you gone mad?" "i think not," was the even answer. the deep brown eyes were holding the older man's gaze with a cold, deadly look. "were you ever arrested, governor, by the henchmen of a peanut politician and thrown into a filthy jail without warrant and held without trial at the pleasure of a master?" "no--by the living god!" "and if you had been, sir?" "i'd have killed him as i would a dog--i'd have shot him on sight--but you--you can't do this now, my boy--you carry the life of the people in your hands to-night! you are their chosen leader. the peace and dignity of a great commonwealth are in your care----" "i am asserting its outraged dignity against a wretch who has basely betrayed it." "even so, this is not the way. think of the consequences to-morrow morning. the president will be forced against his wishes to declare the state in insurrection. the army will be marched back into our borders and martial law proclaimed." "the state is under martial law--the _writ_ has been suspended." "but not legally, my boy. i know your provocation has been great--yes, greater than i could have borne in my day. i'll be honest with you, but you've had better discipline, my son. i belong to the old régime and an iron will has been my only law. you must live in the new age under new conditions. you must adjust yourself to these conditions." "the man who calls himself governor has betrayed his high trust," norton broke in with solemn emphasis. "he has forfeited his life. the people whom he has basely sold into bondage will applaud his execution. the klan to-night is the high court of a sovereign state and his death has been ordered." "i insist there's a better way. your klan is a resistless weapon if properly used. you are a maniac to-night. you are pulling your own house down over your head. the election is but a few weeks off. use your men as an army to force this election. the ballot is force--physical force. apply that force. your men can master that rabble of negroes on election day. drive them from the polls. they'll run like frightened sheep. their enfranchisement is a crime against civilization. every sane man in the north knows this. no matter how violent your methods, an election that returns the intelligent and decent manhood of a state to power against a corrupt, ignorant and vicious mob will be backed at last by the moral sentiment of the world. there's a fiercer vengeance to be meted out to your scalawag governor----" "what do you mean?" the younger man asked. "swing the power of your klan in solid line against the ballot-box at this election, carry the state, elect your legislature, impeach the governor, remove him from office, deprive him of citizenship and send him to the grave with the brand of shame on his forehead!" the leader lifted his somber face, and the older man saw that he was hesitating: "that's possible--yes----" the white head moved closer: "the only rational thing to do, my boy--come, i love you and i love my granddaughter. you've a great career before you. don't throw your life away to-night in a single act of madness. listen to an old man whose sands are nearly run"--a trembling arm slipped around his waist. "i appreciate your coming here to-night, governor, of course." "but if i came in vain, why at all?" there were tears in his voice now. "you must do as i say, my son--send those men home! i'll see the governor to-morrow morning and i pledge you my word of honor that i'll make him revoke that proclamation within an hour and restore the civil rights of the people. none of those arrests are legal and every man must be released." "he won't do it." "when he learns from my lips that i saved his dog's life to-night, he'll do it and lick my feet in gratitude. won't you trust me, boy?" the pressure of the old man's arm tightened and his keen eyes searched norton's face. the strong features were convulsed with passion, he turned away and the firm mouth closed with decision: "all right. i'll take your advice." the old governor was very still for a moment and his voice quivered with tenderness as he touched norton's arm affectionately: "you're a good boy, dan! i knew you'd hear me. god! how i envy you the youth and strength that's yours to fight this battle!" the leader blew a whistle and his orderly galloped up: "tell my men to go home and meet me to-morrow at one o'clock in the court house square, in their everyday clothes, armed and ready for orders. i'll dismiss the guard i left at the capitol." the white horseman wheeled and galloped away. norton quietly removed his disguise, folded it neatly, took off his saddle, placed the robe between the folds of the blanket and mounted his horse. the old governor waved to him: "my love to the little mother and that boy, tom, that you've named for me!" "yes, governor--good night." the tall figure on horseback melted into the shadows and in a moment the buggy was spinning over the glistening, moonlit track of the turnpike. when they reached the first street lamps on the edge of town, the old man peered curiously at the girl by his side. "you drive well, young woman," he said slowly. "who taught you?" "old peeler." "you lived on his place?" he asked quickly. "yes, sir." "what's your mother's name?" "lucy." "hm! i thought so." "why, sir?" "oh, nothing," was the gruff answer. "did you--did you know any of my people, sir?" she asked. he looked her squarely in the face, smiled and pursed his withered lips: "yes. i happen to be personally acquainted with your grandfather and he was something of a man in his day." [illustration: "'you are a maniac to-night.'"] chapter vi a traitor's ruse the old governor had made a correct guess on the line of action his little scalawag successor in high office would take when confronted by the crisis of the morning. the clansmen had left the two beams projecting through the windows of the north and south wings of the capitol. a hangman's noose swung from each beam's end. when his excellency drove into town next morning and received the news of the startling events of the night, he ordered a double guard of troops for his office and another for his house. old governor carteret called at ten o'clock and was ushered immediately into the executive office. no more striking contrast could be imagined between two men of equal stature. their weight and height were almost the same, yet they seemed to belong to different races of men. the scalawag official hurried to meet his distinguished caller--a man whose administration thirty years ago was famous in the annals of the state. the acting governor seemed a pigmy beside his venerable predecessor. the only prominent feature of the scalawag's face was his nose. its size should have symbolized strength, yet it didn't. it seemed to project straight in front in a way that looked ridiculous--as if some one had caught it with a pair of tongs, tweaked and pulled it out to an unusual length. it was elongated but not impressive. his mouth was weak, his chin small and retreating and his watery ferret eyes never looked any one straight in the face. the front of his head was bald and sloped backward at an angle. his hair was worn in long, thin, straight locks which he combed often in a vain effort to look the typical long-haired southern gentleman of the old school. his black broadcloth suit with a velvet collar and cuffs fitted his slight figure to perfection and yet failed to be impressive. the failure was doubtless due to his curious way of walking about a room. sometimes sideways like a crab or a crawfish, and when he sought to be impressive, straight forward with an obvious jerk and an effort to appear dignified. he was the kind of a man an old-fashioned negro, born and bred in the homes of the aristocratic régime of slavery, would always laugh at. his attempt to be a gentleman was so obvious a fraud it could deceive no one. "i am honored, governor carteret, by your call this morning," he cried with forced politeness. "i need the advice of our wisest men. i appreciate your coming." the old governor studied the scalawag for a moment calmly and said: "thank you." when shown to his seat the older man walked with the unconscious dignity of a man born to rule, the lines of his patrician face seemed cut from a cameo in contrast with the rambling nondescript features of the person who walked with a shuffle beside him. it required no second glance at the clean ruffled shirt with its tiny gold studs, the black string tie, the polished boots and gold-headed cane to recognize the real gentleman of the old school. and no man ever looked a second time at his roman nose and massive chin and doubted for a moment that he saw a man of power, of iron will and fierce passions. "i have called this morning, governor," the older man began with sharp emphasis, "to advise you to revoke at once your proclamation suspending the _writ_ of _habeas corpus_. your act was a blunder--a colossal blunder! we are not living in the dark ages, sir--even if you were elected by a negro constituency! your act is four hundred years out of date in the english-speaking world." the scalawag began his answer by wringing his slippery hands: "i realize, governor carteret, the gravity of my act. yet grave dangers call for grave remedies. you see from the news this morning the condition of turmoil into which reckless men have plunged the state." the old man rose, crossed the room and confronted the scalawag, his eyes blazing, his uplifted hand trembling with passion: "the breed of men with whom you are fooling have not submitted to such an act of tyranny from their rulers for the past three hundred years. your effort to set the negro up as the ruler of the white race is the act of a madman. revoke your order to-day or the men who opened that jail last night will hang you----" the governor laughed lamely: "a cheap bluff, sir, a schoolboy's threat!" the older man drew closer: "a cheap bluff, eh? well, when you say your prayers to-night, don't forget to thank your maker for two things--that he sent a storm yesterday that made buffalo creek impassable and that i reached its banks in time!" the little scalawag paled and his voice was scarcely a whisper: "why--why, what do you mean?" "that i reached the ford in time to stop a hundred desperate men who were standing there in the dark waiting for its waters to fall that they might cross and hang you from that beam's end you call a cheap bluff! that i stood there in the moonlight with my arm around their leader for nearly an hour begging, praying, pleading for your damned worthless life! they gave it to me at last because i asked it. no other man could have saved you. your life is mine to-day! but for my solemn promise to those men that you would revoke that order your body would be swinging at this moment from the capitol window--will you make good my promise?" "i'll--i'll consider it," was the waning answer. "yes or no?" "i'll think it over, governor carteret--i'll think it over," the trembling voice repeated. "i must consult my friends----" "i won't take that answer!" the old man thundered in his face. "revoke that proclamation here and now, or, by the lord god, i'll send a message to those men that'll swing you from the gallows before the sun rises to-morrow morning!" "i've got my troops----" "a hell of a lot of troops they are! where were they last night--the loafing, drunken cowards? you can't get enough troops in this town to save you. revoke that proclamation or take your chances!" the old governor seized his hat and walked calmly toward the door. the scalawag trembled, and finally said: "i'll take your advice, sir--wait a moment until i write the order." the room was still for five minutes, save for the scratch of the governor's pen, as he wrote his second famous proclamation, restoring the civil rights of the people. he signed and sealed the document and handed it to his waiting guest: "is that satisfactory?" the old man adjusted his glasses, read each word carefully, and replied with dignity: "perfectly--good morning!" the white head erect, the visitor left the executive chamber without a glance at the man he despised. the governor had given his word, signed and sealed his solemn proclamation, but he proved himself a traitor to the last. with the advice of his confederates he made a last desperate effort to gain his end of holding the leaders of the opposition party in jail by a quick shift of method. he wired orders to every jailer to hold the men until warrants were issued for their arrest by one of his negro magistrates in each county and wired instructions to the clerk of the court to admit none of them to bail no matter what amount offered. the charges on which these warrants were issued were, in the main, preposterous perjuries by the hirelings of the governor. there was no expectation that they would be proven in court. but if they could hold these prisoners until the election was over the little scalawag believed the klan could be thus intimidated in each district and the negro ticket triumphantly elected. the governor was explicit in his instructions to the clerk of the court in the capital county that under no conceivable circumstances should he accept bail for the editor of the _eagle and phoenix_. the governor's proclamation was issued at noon and within an hour a deputy sheriff appeared at norton's office and served his warrant charging the preposterous crime of "treason and conspiracy" against the state government. norton's hundred picked men were already lounging in the court house square. when the deputy appeared with his prisoner they quietly closed in around him and entered the clerk's room in a body. the clerk was dumfounded at the sudden packing of his place with quiet, sullen looking, armed men. their revolvers were in front and the men were nervously fingering the handles. the clerk had been ordered by the governor under no circumstances to accept bail, and he had promised with alacrity to obey. but he changed his mind at the sight of those revolvers. not a word was spoken by the men and the silence was oppressive. the frightened official mopped his brow and tried to leave for a moment to communicate with the capitol. he found it impossible to move from his desk. the men were jammed around him in an impenetrable mass. he looked over the crowd in vain for a friendly face. even the deputy who had made the arrest had been jostled out of the room and couldn't get back. the editor looked at the clerk steadily for a moment and quietly asked: "what amount of bail do you require?" the officer smiled wanly: "oh, major, it's just a formality with you, sir; a mere nominal sum of $ will be all right." "make out your bond," the editor curtly ordered. "my friends here will sign it." "certainly, certainly, major," was the quick answer. "have a seat, sir, while i fill in the blank." "i'll stand, thank you," was the quick reply. the clerk's pen flew while he made out the forbidden bail which set at liberty the arch enemy of the governor. when it was signed and the daring young leader quietly walked out the door, a cheer from a hundred men rent the air. the shivering clerk cowered in his seat over his desk and pretended to be very busy. in reality he was breathing a prayer of thanks to god for sparing his life and registering a solemn vow to quit politics and go back to farming. the editor hurried to his office and sent a message to each district leader of the klan to secure bail for the accused men in the same quiet manner. chapter vii the irony of fate his political battle won, norton turned his face homeward for a struggle in which victory would not come so easily. he had made up his mind that cleo should not remain under his roof another day. how much she really knew or understood of the events of the night he could only guess. he was sure she had heard enough of the plans of his men to make a dangerous witness against him if she should see fit to betray the facts to his enemies. yet he was morally certain that he could trust her with this secret. what he could not and would not do was to imperil his own life and character by a daily intimate association with this willful, impudent, smiling young animal. his one fear was the wish of his wife to keep her. in her illness she had developed a tyranny of love that brooked no interference with her whims. he had petted and spoiled her until it was well-nigh impossible to change the situation. the fear of her death was the sword that forever hung over his head. [illustration: "sitting astride her back, laughing his loudest."] he hoped that the girl was lying when she said his wife liked her. yet it was not improbable. her mind was still a child's. she could not think evil of any one. she loved the young and she loved grace and beauty wherever she saw it. she loved a beautiful cat, a beautiful dog, and always had taken pride in a handsome servant. it would be just like her to take a fancy to cleo that no argument could shake. he dreaded to put the thing to an issue--but it had to be done. it was out of the question to tell her the real truth. his heart sank within him as he entered his wife's room. mammy had gone to bed suffering with a chill. the doctors had hinted that she was suffering from an incurable ailment and that her days were numbered. her death might occur at any time. cleo was lying flat on a rug, the baby was sitting astride of her back, laughing his loudest at the funny contortions of her lithe figure. she would stop every now and then, turn her own laughing eyes on him and he would scream with joy. the little mother was sitting on the floor like a child and laughing at the scene. in a flash he realized that cleo had made herself, in the first few days she had been in his house, its dominant spirit. he paused in the doorway sobered by the realization. the supple young form on the floor slowly writhed on her back without disturbing the baby's sturdy hold, his little legs clasping her body tight. she drew his laughing face to her shoulder, smothering his laughter with kisses, and suddenly sprang to her feet, the baby astride her neck, and began galloping around the room. "w'oa! january, w'oa, sir!" she cried, galloping slowly at first and then prancing like a playful horse. her cheeks were flushed, eyes sparkling and red hair flying in waves of fiery beauty over her exquisite shoulders, every change of attitude a new picture of graceful abandon, every movement of her body a throb of savage music from some strange seductive orchestra hidden in the deep woods! its notes slowly stole over the senses of the man with such alluring power, that in spite of his annoyance he began to smile. the girl stopped, placed the child on the floor, ran to the corner of the room, dropped on all fours and started slowly toward him, her voice imitating the deep growl of a bear. "now the bears are going to get him!--boo-oo-oo." the baby screamed with delight. the graceful young she-bear capered around her victim from side to side, smelling his hands and jumping back, approaching and retreating, growling and pawing the floor, while with each movement the child shouted a new note of joy. the man, watching, wondered if this marvelous creamy yellow animal could get into an ungraceful position. the keen eyes of the young she-bear saw the boy had worn himself out with laughter and slowly approached her victim, tumbled his happy flushed little form over on the rug and devoured him with kisses. "don't, cleo--that's enough now!" the little mother cried, through her tears of laughter. "yessum--yessum--i'm just eatin' him up now--i'm done--and he'll be asleep in two minutes." she sprang to her feet, crushing the little form tenderly against her warm, young bosom, and walked past the man smiling into his face a look of triumph. the sombre eyes answered with a smile in spite of himself. could any man with red blood in his veins fight successfully a force like that? he heard the growl of the beast within as he stood watching the scene. the sight of the frail little face of his invalid wife brought him up against the ugly fact with a sharp pain. yet the moment he tried to broach the subject of discharging cleo, he hesitated, stammered and was silent. at last he braced himself with determination for the task. it was disagreeable, but it had to be done. the sooner the better. "you like this girl, my dear?" he said softly. "she's the most wonderful nurse i ever saw--the baby's simply crazy about her!" "yes, i see," he said soberly. "it's a perfectly marvellous piece of luck that she came the day she did. mammy was ready to drop. she's been like a fairy in the nursery from the moment she entered. the kiddy has done nothing but laugh and shriek with delight." "and you like her personally?" "i've just fallen in love with her! she's so strong and young and beautiful. she picks me up, laughing like a child, and carries me into the bathroom, carries me back and tucks me in bed as easily as she does the baby." "i'm sorry, my dear," he interrupted with a firm, hard note in his voice. "sorry--for what?" the blue eyes opened with astonishment. "because i don't like her, and her presence here may be very dangerous just now----" "dangerous--what on earth can you mean?" "to begin with that she's a negress----" "so's mammy--so's the cook--the man--every servant we've ever had--or will have----" "i'm not so sure of the last," the husband broke in with a frown. "what's dangerous about the girl, i'd like to know?" his wife demanded. "i said, to begin with, she's a negress. that's perhaps the least objectionable thing about her as a servant. but she has bad blood in her on her father's side. old peeler's as contemptible a scoundrel as i know in the county----" "the girl don't like him--that's why she left home." "did she tell you that?" he asked quizzically. "yes, and i'm sorry for her. she wants a good home among decent white people and i'm not going to give her up. i don't care what you say." the husband ignored the finality of this decision and went on with his argument as though she had not spoken. "old peeler is not only a low white scoundrel who would marry this girl's mulatto mother if he dared, but he is trying to break into politics as a negro champion. he denies it, but he is a henchman of the governor. i'm in a fight with this man to the death. there's not room for us both in the state----" "and you think this laughing child cares anything about the governor or his dirty politics? such a thing has never entered her head." "i'm not sure of that." "you're crazy, dan." "but i'm not so crazy, my dear, that i can't see that this girl's presence in our house is dangerous. she already knows too much about my affairs--enough, in fact, to endanger my life if she should turn traitor." "but she won't tell, i tell you--she's loyal--i'd trust her with my life, or yours, or the baby's, without hesitation. she proved her loyalty to me and to you last night." "yes, and that's just why she's so dangerous." he spoke slowly, as if talking to himself. "you can't understand, dear, i am entering now the last phase of a desperate struggle with the little scalawag who sits in the governor's chair for the mastery of this state and its life. the next two weeks and this election will decide whether white civilization shall live or a permanent negroid mongrel government, after the pattern of haiti and san domingo, shall be established. if we submit, we are not worth saving. we ought to die and our civilization with us! we are not going to submit, we are not going to die, we are going to win. i want you to help me now by getting rid of this girl." "i won't give her up. there's no sense in it. a man who fought four years in the war is not afraid of a laughing girl who loves his baby and his wife! i can't risk a green, incompetent girl in the nursery now. i can't think of breaking in a new one. i like cleo. she's a breath of fresh air when she comes into my room; she's clean and neat; she sings beautifully; her voice is soft and low and deep; i love her touch when she dresses me; the baby worships her--is all this nothing to you?" "is my work nothing to you?" he answered soberly. "bah! it's a joke! your work has nothing to do with this girl. she knows nothing, cares nothing for politics--it's absurd!" "my dear, you must listen to me now----" "i won't listen. i'll have my way about my servants. it's none of your business. look after your politics and let the nursery alone!" "please be reasonable, my love. i assure you i'm in dead earnest. the danger is a real one, or i wouldn't ask this of you--please----" "no--no--no--no!" she fairly shrieked. his voice was very quiet when he spoke at last: "i'm sorry to cross you in this, but the girl must leave to-night." the tones of his voice and the firm snap of his strong jaw left further argument out of the question and the little woman played her trump card. she sprang to her feet, pale with rage, and gave way to a fit of hysteria. he attempted to soothe her, in grave alarm over the possible effects on her health of such a temper. with a piercing scream she threw herself across the bed and he bent over her tenderly: "please, don't act this way!" her only answer was another scream, her little fists opening and closing like a bird's talons gripping the white counterpane in her trembling fingers. the man stood in helpless misery and sickening fear, bent low and whispered: "please, please, darling--it's all right--she can stay. i won't say another word. don't make yourself ill. please don't!" the sobbing ceased for a moment, and he added: "i'll go into the nursery and send her here to put you to bed." he turned to the door and met cleo entering. "miss jean called me?" she asked with a curious smile playing about her greenish eyes. "yes. she wishes you to put her to bed." the girl threw him a look of triumphant tenderness and he knew that she had heard and understood. chapter viii a new weapon from the moment the jail doors opened the governor felt the chill of defeat. with his armed guard of fifty thousand "loyal" white men he hoped to stem the rising tide of anglo-saxon fury. but the hope was faint. there was no assurance in its warmth. every leader he had arrested without warrant and held without bail was now a firebrand in a powder magazine. mass meetings, barbecues and parades were scheduled for every day by his enemies in every county. the state was ablaze with wrath from the mountains to the sea. the orators of the white race spoke with tongues of flame. the record of negro misrule under an african legislature was told with brutal detail and maddening effects. the state treasury was empty, the school funds had been squandered, millions in bonds had been voted and stolen and the thieves had fled the state in terror. all this the governor knew from the first, but he also knew that an ignorant negro majority would ask no questions and believe no evil of their allies. the adventurers from the north had done their work of alienating the races with a thoroughness that was nothing short of a miracle. the one man on earth who had always been his best friend, every negro now held his bitterest foe. he would consult his old master about any subject under the sun and take his advice against the world except in politics. he would come to the back door, beg him for a suit of clothes, take it with joyous thanks, put it on and march straight to the polls and vote against the hand that gave it. he asked no questions as to his own ticket. it was all right if it was against the white man of the south. the few scalawags who trained with negroes to get office didn't count. the negro had always despised such trash. the governor knew his solid black constituency would vote like sheep, exactly as they were told by their new teachers. but the nightmare that disturbed him now, waking or dreaming, was the fear that this full negro vote could not be polled. the daring speeches by the enraged leaders of the white race were inflaming the minds of the people beyond the bounds of all reason. these leaders had sworn to carry the election and dared the governor to show one of his scurvy guards near a polling place on the day they should cast their ballots. the ku klux klan openly defied all authority. their men paraded the county roads nightly and ended their parades by lining their horsemen in cavalry formation, galloping through the towns and striking terror to every denizen of the crowded negro quarters. in vain the governor issued frantic appeals for the preservation of the sanctity of the ballot. his speeches in which he made this appeal were openly hissed. the ballot was no longer a sacred thing. the time was in american history when it was the badge of citizen kingship. at this moment the best men in the state were disfranchised and hundreds of thousands of negroes, with the instincts of the savage and the intelligence of the child, had been given the ballot. never in the history of civilization had the ballot fallen so low in any republic. the very atmosphere of a polling place was a stench in the nostrils of decent men. the determination of the leaders of the klan to clear the polls by force if need be was openly proclaimed before the day of election. the philosophy by which they justified this stand was simple, and unanswerable, for it was founded in the eternal verities. men are not made free by writing a constitution on a piece of paper. freedom is inside. a ballot is only a symbol. that symbol stands for physical force directed by the highest intelligence. the ballot, therefore, is force--physical force. back of every ballot is a bayonet and the red blood of the man who holds it. therefore, a minority submits to the verdict of a majority at the polls. if there is not an intelligent, powerful fighting unit back of the scrap of paper that falls into a box, there's nothing there and that man's ballot has no more meaning than if it had been deposited by a trained pig or a dog. on the day of this fated election the little scalawag governor sat in the capitol, the picture of nervous despair. since sunrise his office had been flooded with messages from every quarter of the state begging too late for troops. everywhere his henchmen were in a panic. from every quarter the stories were the same. hundreds of determined, silent white men had crowded the polls, taken their own time to vote and refused to give an inch of room to the long line of panic-stricken negroes who looked on helplessly. at five o'clock in the afternoon less than a hundred blacks had voted in the entire township in which the capital was located. norton was a candidate for the legislature on the white ticket, and the governor had bent every effort to bring about his defeat. the candidate against him was a young negro who had been a slave of his father, and now called himself andy norton. andy had been a house-servant, was exactly the major's age and they had been playmates before the war. he was endowed with a stentorian voice and a passion for oratory. he had acquired a reputation for smartness, was good-natured, loud-mouthed, could tell a story, play the banjo and amuse a crowd. he had been norton's body-servant the first year of the war. the governor relied on andy to swing a resistless tide of negro votes for the ticket and sweep the county. under ordinary conditions, he would have done it. but before the hurricane of fury that swept the white race on the day of the election, the voice of andy was as one crying in the wilderness. he had made three speeches to his crowd of helpless black voters who hadn't been able to vote. the governor sent him an urgent message to mass his men and force their way to the ballot box. the polling place was under a great oak that grew in the square beside the court house. a space had been roped off to guard the approach to the boxes. since sunrise this space had been packed solid with a living wall of white men. occasionally a well-known old negro of good character was allowed to pass through and vote and then the lines closed up in solid ranks. one by one a new white man was allowed to take his place in this wall and gradually he was moved up to the tables on which the boxes rested, voted, and slowly, like the movement of a glacier, the line crowded on in its endless circle. the outer part of this wall of defense which the white race had erected around the polling place was held throughout the day by the same men--twenty or thirty big, stolid, dogged countrymen, who said nothing, but every now and then winked at each other. when andy received the governor's message he decided to distinguish himself. it was late in the day, but not too late perhaps to win by a successful assault. he picked out twenty of his strongest buck negroes, moved them quietly to a good position near the polls, formed them into a flying wedge, and, leading the assault in person with a loud good-natured laugh, he hurled them against the outer line of whites. to andy's surprise the double line opened and yielded to his onset. he had forced a dozen negroes into the ranks when to his surprise the white walls suddenly closed on the blacks and held them as in a steel trap. and then, quick as a flash, something happened. it was a month before the negroes found out exactly what it was. they didn't see it, they couldn't hear it, but they knew it happened. they _felt_ it. and the silent swiftness with which it happened was appalling. every negro who had penetrated the white wall suddenly leaped into the air with a yell of terror. the white line opened quickly and to a man the negro wedge broke and ran for life, each black hand clasped in agony on the same spot. andy's voice rang full and clear above his men's: "goddermighty, what's dat!" "dey shot us, man!" screamed a negro. the thing was simple, almost childlike in its silliness, but it was tremendously effective. the white guard in the outer line had each been armed with a little piece of shining steel three inches long, fixed in a handle--a plain shoemaker's pegging awl. at a given signal they had wheeled and thrust these awls into the thick flesh of every negro's thigh. the attack was so sudden, so unexpected, and the pain so sharp, so terrible, for the moment every negro's soul was possessed with a single idea, how to save his particular skin and do it quickest. all _esprit de corps_ was gone. it was each for himself and the devil take the hindmost! some of them never stopped running until they cleared buffalo creek, three miles out of town. andy's ambitions were given a violent turn in a new direction. before the polls closed at sundown he appeared at the office of the _eagle and phoenix_ with a broad grin on his face and asked to see the major. he entered the editor's room bowing and scraping, his white teeth gleaming. norton laughed and quietly said: "well, andy?" "yassah, major, i des drap roun' ter kinder facilitate ye, sah, on de 'lection, sah." "it does look like the tide is turning, andy." "yassah, hit sho' is turnin', but hit's gotter be a purty quick tide dat kin turn afore i does, sah." "yes?" "yassah! and i drap in, major, ter 'splain ter you dat i'se gwine ter gently draw outen politics, yassah. i makes up my min' ter hitch up wid de white folks agin. brought up by de nortons, sah, i'se always bin a gemman, an' i can't afford to smut my hands wid de crowd dat i been 'sociating wid. i'se glad you winnin' dis 'lection, sah, an' i'se glad you gwine ter de legislature--anyhow de office gwine ter stay in de norton fambly--an' i'se satisfied, sah. i know you gwine ter treat us far an' squar----" "if i'm elected i'll try to represent all the people, andy," the major said gravely. "if you'se 'lected?" andy laughed. "lawd, man, you'se dar right now! i kin des see you settin' in one dem big chairs! i knowed it quick as i feel dat thing pop fro my backbone des now! yassah, i done resigned, an' i thought, major, maybe you get a job 'bout de office or 'bout de house fer er young likely nigger 'bout my size?" the editor smiled: "nothing just now, andy, but possibly i can find a place for you in a few days." "thankee, sah. i'll hold off den till you wants me. i'll des pick up er few odd jobs till you say de word--you won't fergit me?" "no. i'll remember." "an', major, ef you kin des advance me 'bout er dollar on my wages now, i kin cheer myself up ter-night wid er good dinner. dese here loafers done bust me. i hain't got er nickel lef!" the major laughed heartily and "advanced" his rival for legislative honors a dollar. andy bowed to the floor: "any time you'se ready, major, des lemme know, sah. you'll fin' me a handy man 'bout de house, sah." "all right, andy, i may need you soon." "yassah, de sooner de better, sah," he paused in the door. "dey gotter get up soon in de mornin', sah, ter get erhead er us nortons--yassah, dat dey is----" a message, the first news of the election, cut andy's gabble short. it spelled victory! one after another they came from every direction--north, south, east and west--each bringing the same magic word--victory! victory! a state redeemed from negroid corruption! a great state once more in the hands of the children of the men who created it! it had only been necessary to use force to hold the polls from hordes of ignorant negroes in the densest of the black counties. the white majorities would be unprecedented. the enthusiasm had reached the pitch of mania in these counties. they would all break records. a few daring men in the black centres of population, where negro rule was at its worst, had guarded the polls under his direction armed with the simple device of a shoemaker's awl, and in every case where it had been used the resulting terror had cleared the place of every negro. in not a single case where this novel weapon had been suddenly and mysteriously thrust into a black skin was there an attempt to return to the polls. a long-suffering people, driven at last to desperation, had met force with force and wrested a commonwealth from the clutches of the vandals who were looting and disgracing it. now he would call the little scalawag to the bar of justice. chapter ix the words that cost it was after midnight when norton closed his desk and left for home. bonfires were burning in the squares, bands were playing and hundreds of sober, gray-haired men were marching through the streets, hand in hand with shouting boys, cheering, cheering, forever cheering! he had made three speeches from the steps of the _eagle and phoenix_ building and the crowds still stood there yelling his name and cheering. broad-shouldered, bronzed men had rushed into his office one by one that night, hugged him and wrung his hands until they ached. he must have rest. the strain had been terrific and in the reaction he was pitifully tired. the lights were still burning in his wife's room. she was waiting with cleo for his return. he had sent her the bulletins as they had come and she knew the result of the election almost as soon as he. it was something very unusual that she should remain up so late. the doctor had positively forbidden it since her last attack. "cleo and i were watching the procession," she exclaimed. "i never saw so many crazy people since i was born." "they've had enough to drive them mad the past two years, god knows," he answered, as his eye rested on cleo, who was dressed in an old silk kimono belonging to his wife, which a friend of her grandfather had sent her from japan. she saw his look of surprise and said casually: "i gave it to cleo. i never liked the color. cleo's to stay in the house hereafter. i've moved her things from the servants' quarters to the little room in the hall. i want her near me at night. you stay so late sometimes." he made no answer, but the keen eyes of the girl saw the silent rage flashing from his eyes and caught the look of fierce determination as he squared his shoulders and gazed at her for a moment. she knew that he would put her out unless she could win his consent. she had made up her mind to fight and never for a moment did she accept the possibility of defeat. he muttered an incoherent answer to his wife, kissed her good night, and went to his room. he sat down in the moonlight beside the open window, lighted a cigar and gazed out on the beautiful lawn. his soul raged in fury over the blind folly of his wife. if the devil himself had ruled the world he could not have contrived more skillfully to throw this dangerous, sensuous young animal in his way. it was horrible! he felt himself suffocating with the thought of its possibilities! he rose and paced the floor and sat down again in helpless rage. the door softly opened and closed and the girl stood before him in the white moonlight, her rounded figure plainly showing against the shimmering kimono as the breeze through the window pressed the delicate silk against her flesh. he turned on her angrily: "how dare you?" [illustration: "'how dare you?'"] "why, i haven't done anything, major!" she answered softly. "i just came in to pick up that basket of trash i forgot this morning"--she spoke in low, lingering tones. he rose, walked in front of her, looked her in the eye and quietly said: "you're lying." "why, major----" "you know that you are lying. now get out of this room--and stay out of it, do you hear?" "yes, i hear," came the answer that was half a sob. "and make up your mind to leave this place to-morrow, or i'll put you out, if i have to throw you head foremost into the street." she took a step backward, shook her head and the mass of tangled red hair fell from its coil and dropped on her shoulders. her eyes were watching him now with dumb passionate yearning. "get out!" he ordered brutally. a moment's silence and a low laugh was her answer. "why do you hate me?" she asked the question with a note of triumph. "i don't," he replied with a sneer. "then you're afraid of me!" "afraid of you?" "yes." he took another step and towered above her, his fists clenched and his whole being trembled with anger: "i'd like to strangle you!" she flung back her rounded throat, shook the long waves of hair down her back and lifted her eyes to his: "do it! there's my throat! i want you to. i wouldn't mind dying that way!" he drew a deep breath and turned away. with a sob the straight figure suddenly crumpled on the floor, a scarlet heap in the moonlight. she buried her face in her hands, choked back the cries, fought for self-control, and then looked up at him through her eyes half blinded by tears: "oh, what's the use! i won't lie any more. i didn't come in here for the basket. i came to see you. i came to beg you to let me stay. i watched you to-night when she told you that i was to sleep in that room there, and i knew you were going to send me away. please don't! please let me stay! i can do you no harm, major! i'll be wise, humble, obedient. i'll live only to please you. i haven't a single friend in the world. i hate negroes. i loathe poor white trash. this is my place, here in your home, among the birds and flowers, with your baby in my arms. you know that i love him and that he loves me. i'll work for you as no one else on earth would. my hands will be quick and my feet swift. i'll be your slave, your dog--you can kick me, beat me, strangle me, kill me if you like, but don't send me away--i--i can't help loving you! please--please don't drive me away." the passionate, throbbing voice broke into a sob and she touched his foot with her hand. he could feel the warmth of the soft, young flesh. he stooped and drew her to her feet. "come, child," he said with a queer hitch in his voice, "you--you--mustn't stay here another moment. i'm sorry----" she clung to his hand with desperate pleading and pressed close to him: "but you won't send me away?" she could feel him trembling. he hesitated, and then against the warning of conscience, reason, judgment and every instinct of law and self-preservation, he spoke the words that cost so much: "no--i--i--won't send you away!" with a sob of gratitude her head sank, the hot lips touched his hand, a rustle of silk and she was gone. and through every hour of the long night, maddened by the consciousness of her physical nearness--he imagined at times he could hear her breathing in the next room--he lay awake and fought the beast for the mastery of life. chapter x man to man cleo made good her vow of perfect service. in the weeks which followed she made herself practically indispensable. her energy was exhaustless, her strength tireless. she not only kept the baby and the little mother happy, she watched the lawn and the flowers. the men did no more loafing. the grass was cut, the hedges trimmed, every dead limb from shrub and tree removed and the old place began to smile with new life. her work of housekeeper and maid-of-all-work was a marvel of efficiency. no orders were ever given to her. they were unnecessary. she knew by an unerring instinct what was needed and anticipated the need. and then a thing happened that fixed her place in the house on the firmest basis. the baby had taken a violent cold which quickly developed into pneumonia. the doctor looked at the little red fever-scorched face and parched lips with grave silence. he spoke at last with positive conviction: "his life depends on a nurse, norton. all i can do is to give orders. the nurse must save him." with a sob in her voice, cleo said: "let me--i'll save him. he can't die if it depends on that." the doctor turned to the mother. "can you trust her?" "absolutely. she's quick, strong, faithful, careful, and she loves him." "you agree, major?" "yes, we couldn't do better," he answered gravely, turning away. and so the precious life was given into her hands. norton spent the mornings in the nursery executing the doctor's orders with clock-like regularity, while cleo slept. at noon she quietly entered and took his place. her meals were served in the room and she never left it until he relieved her the next day. the tireless, greenish eyes watched the cradle with death-like stillness and her keen young ears bent low to catch every change in the rising and falling of the little breast. through the long watches of the night, the quick alert figure with the velvet tread hurried about the room filling every order with skill and patience. at the end of two weeks, the doctor smiled, patted her on the shoulder and said: "you're a great nurse, little girl. you've saved his life." her head was bending low over the cradle, the baby reached up his hand, caught one of her red curls and lisped faintly: "c-l-e-o!" her eyes were shining with tears as she rushed from the room and out on the lawn to have her cry alone. there could be no question after this of her position. when the new legislature met in the old capitol building four months later, it was in the atmosphere of the crisp clearness that follows the storm. the thieves and vultures had winged their way to more congenial climes. they dared not face the investigation of their saturnalia which the restored white race would make. the wisest among them fled northward on the night of the election. the governor couldn't run. his term of office had two years more to be filled. and shivering in his room alone, shunned as a pariah, he awaited the assault of his triumphant foes. and nothing succeeds like success. the brilliant young editor of the _eagle and phoenix_ was the man of the hour. when he entered the hall of the house of representatives on the day the assembly met, pandemonium broke loose. a shout rose from the floor that fairly shook the old granite pile. cheer after cheer rent the air, echoed and re-echoed through the vaulted arches of the hall. men overturned their desks and chairs as they rushed pellmell to seize his hand. they lifted him on their shoulders and carried him in procession around the assembly chamber, through the corridors and around the circle of the rotunda, cheering like madmen, and on through the senate chamber where every white senator joined the procession and returned to the other end of the capitol singing "dixie" and shouting themselves hoarse. he was elected speaker of the house by his party without a dissenting voice, and the first words that fell from his lips as he ascended the dais, gazed over the cheering house, and rapped sharply for order, sounded the death knell to the hopes of the governor for a compromise with his enemies. his voice rang clear and cold as the notes of a bugle: "the first business before this house, gentlemen, is the impeachment and removal from office of the alleged governor of this state!" again the long pent feelings of an outraged people passed all bounds. in vain the tall figure in the chair rapped for order. he had as well tried to call a cyclone to order by hammering at it with a gavel. shout after shout, cheer after cheer, shout and cheer in apparently unending succession! they had not only won a great victory and redeemed a state's honor, but they had found a leader who dared to lead in the work of cleansing and rebuilding the old commonwealth. it was ten minutes before order could be restored. and then with merciless precision the speaker put in motion the legal machine that was to crush the life out of the little scalawag who sat in his room below and listened to the roar of the storm over his head. on the day the historic trial opened before the high tribunal of the senate, sitting as judges, with the chief justice of the state as presiding officer, the governor looked in vain for a friendly face among his accusers. now that he was down, even the dogs in his own party whom he had reared and fed, men who had waxed fat on the spoils he had thrown them, were barking at his heels. they accused him of being the cause of the party's downfall. the governor had quickly made up his mind to ask no favors of these wretches. if the blow should fall, he knew to whom he would appeal that it might be tempered with mercy. the men of his discredited party were of his own type. his only chance lay in the generosity of a great foe. it would be a bitter thing to beg a favor at the hands of the editor who had hounded him with his merciless pen from the day he had entered office, but it would be easier than an appeal to the ungrateful hounds of his own kennel who had deserted him in his hour of need. the bill of impeachment which charged him with high crimes and misdemeanors against the people whose rights he had sworn to defend was drawn by the speaker of the house, and it was a terrible document. it would not only deprive him of his great office, but strip him of citizenship, and send him from the capitol a branded man for life. the defense proved weak and the terrific assaults of the impeachment managers under norton's leadership resistless. step by step the remorseless prosecutors closed in on the doomed culprit. each day he sat in his place beside his counsel in the thronged senate chamber and heard his judges vote with practical unanimity "guilty" on a new count in the bill of impeachment. the chief executive of a million people cowered in his seat while his accusers told and re-told the story of his crimes and the packed galleries cheered. but one clause of the bill remained to be adjudged--the brand his accusers proposed to put upon his forehead. his final penalty should be the loss of citizenship. it was more than the governor could bear. he begged an adjournment of the high court for a conference with his attorneys and it was granted. he immediately sought the speaker, who made no effort to conceal the contempt in which he held the trembling petitioner. "i've come to you, major norton," he began falteringly, "in the darkest hour of my life. i've come because i know that you are a brave and generous man. i appeal to your generosity. i've made mistakes in my administration. but i ask you to remember that few men in my place could have done better. i was set to make bricks without straw. i was told to make water run up hill and set at naught the law of gravitation. "i struck at you personally--yes--but remember my provocation. you made me the target of your merciless ridicule, wit and invective for two years. it was more than flesh and blood could bear without a return blow. put yourself in my place----" "i've tried, governor," norton interrupted in kindly tones. "and it's inconceivable to me that any man born and bred as you have been, among the best people of the south, a man whose fiery speeches in the secession convention helped to plunge this state into civil war--how you could basely betray your own flesh and blood in the hour of their sorest need--it's beyond me! i can't understand it. i've tried to put myself in your place and i can't." the little ferret eyes were dim as he edged toward the tall figure of his accuser: "i'm not asking of you mercy, major norton, on the main issue. i understand the bitterness in the hearts of these men who sit as my judges to-day. i make no fight to retain the office of governor, but--major"--his thin voice broke--"it's too hard to brand me a criminal by depriving me of my citizenship and the right to vote, and hurl me from the highest office within the gift of a great people a nameless thing, a man without a country! come, sir, even if all you say is true, justice may be tempered with mercy. great minds can understand this. you are the representative to-day of a brave and generous race of men. my life is in ruins--i am at your feet. i have pride. i had high ambitions----" his voice broke, he paused, and then continued in strained tones: "i have loved ones to whom this shame will come as a bolt from the clear sky. they know nothing of politics. they simply love me. this final ignominy you would heap on my head may be just from your point of view. but is it necessary? can it serve any good purpose? is it not mere wanton cruelty? "come now, man to man--our masks are off--my day is done. you are young. the world is yours. this last blow with which you would crush my spirit is too cruel! can you afford an act of such wanton cruelty in the hour of your triumph? a small man could, yes--but you? i appeal to the best that's in you, to the spark of god that's in every human soul----" norton was deeply touched, far more than he dreamed any word from the man he hated could ever stir him. the governor saw his hesitation and pressed his cause: "i might say many things honestly in justification of my course in politics; but the time has not come. when passions have cooled and we can look the stirring events of these years squarely in the face--there'll be two sides to this question, major, as there are two sides to all questions. i might say to you that when i saw the frightful blunder i had made in helping to plunge our country into a fatal war, i tried to make good my mistake and went to the other extreme. i was ambitious, yes, but we are confronted with millions of ignorant negroes. what can we do with them? slavery had an answer. democracy now must give the true answer or perish----" "that answer will never be to set these negroes up as rulers over white men!" norton raised his hand and spoke with bitter emphasis. "even so, in a democracy with equality as the one fundamental law of life, what are you going to do with them? i could plead with you that in every act of my ill-fated administration i was honestly, in the fear of god, trying to meet and solve this apparently insoluble problem. you are now in power. what are you going to do with these negroes?" "send them back to the plow first," was the quick answer. "all right; when they have bought those farms and their sons and daughters are rich and cultured--what then?" "we'll answer that question, governor, when the time comes." "remember, major, that you have no answer to it now, and in the pride of your heart to-day let me suggest that you deal charitably with one who honestly tried to find the answer when called to rule over both races. "i have failed, i grant you. i have made mistakes, i grant you. won't you accept my humility in this hour in part atonement for my mistakes? i stand alone before you, my bitterest and most powerful enemy, because i believe in the strength and nobility of your character. you are my only hope. i am before you, broken, crushed, humiliated, deserted, friendless--at your mercy!" the last appeal stirred the soul of the young editor to its depths. he was surprised and shocked to find the man he had so long ridiculed and hated so thoroughly, human and appealing in his hour of need. he spoke with a kindly deliberation he had never dreamed it possible to use with this man. "i'm sorry for you, governor. your appeal is to me a very eloquent one. it has opened a new view of your character. i can never again say bitter, merciless things about you in my paper. you have disarmed me. but as the leader of my race, in the crisis through which we are passing, i feel that a great responsibility has been placed on me. now that we have met, with bared souls in this solemn hour, let me say that i have learned to like you better than i ever thought it possible. but i am to-day a judge who must make his decision, remembering that the lives and liberties of all the people are in his keeping when he pronounces the sentence of law. a judge has no right to spare a man who has taken human life because he is sorry for the prisoner. i have no right, as a leader, to suspend this penalty on you. your act in destroying the civil law, arresting men without warrant and holding them by military force without bail or date of trial, was, in my judgment, a crime of the highest rank, not merely against me--one individual whom you happened to hate--but against every man, woman and child in the state. unless that crime is punished another man, as daring in high office, may repeat it in the future. i hold in my hands to-day not only the lives and liberties of the people you have wronged, but of generations yet unborn. now that i have heard you, personally i am sorry for you, but the law must take its course." "you will deprive me of my citizenship?" he asked pathetically. "it is my solemn duty. and when it is done no governor will ever again dare to repeat your crime." norton turned away and the governor laid his trembling hand on his arm: "your decision is absolutely final, major norton?" "absolutely," was the firm reply. the governor's shoulders drooped lower as he shuffled from the room and his eyes were fixed on space as he pushed his way through the hostile crowds that filled the corridors of the capitol. the court immediately reassembled and the speaker rose to make his motion for a vote on the last count in the bill depriving the chief executive of the state of his citizenship. the silence was intense. the crowds that packed the lobby, the galleries, and every inch of the floor of the senate chamber expected a fierce speech of impassioned eloquence from their idolized leader. every neck was craned and breath held for his first ringing words. to their surprise he began speaking in a low voice choking with emotion and merely demanded a vote of the senate on the final clause of the bill, and the brown eyes of the tall orator had a suspicious look of moisture in their depths as they rested on the forlorn figure of the little scalawag. the crowd caught the spirit of solemnity and of pathos from the speaker's voice and the vote was taken amid a silence that was painful. when the clerk announced the result and the chief justice of the state declared the office of governor vacant there was no demonstration. as the lieutenant-governor ascended the dais and took the oath of office, the scalawag rose and staggered through the crowd that opened with a look of awed pity as he passed from the chamber. norton stepped to the window behind the president of the senate and watched the pathetic figure shuffle down the steps of the capitol and slowly walk from the grounds. the sun was shining in the radiant splendor of early spring. the first flowers were blooming in the hedges by the walk and birds were chirping, chattering and singing from every tree and shrub. a squirrel started across the path in front of the drooping figure, stopped, cocked his little head to one side, looked up and ran to cover. but the man with drooping shoulders saw nothing. his dim eyes were peering into the shrouded future. norton was deeply moved. "the judgment of posterity may deal kindlier with his life!" he exclaimed. "who knows? a politician, a trimmer and a time-server--yes, so we all are down in our cowardly hearts--i'm sorry that it had to be!" he was thinking of a skeleton in his own closet that grinned at him sometimes now when he least expected it. chapter xi the unbidden guest the night was a memorable one in norton's life. the members of the legislature and the leaders of his party from every quarter of the state gave a banquet in his honor in the hall of the house of representatives. eight hundred guests, the flower and chivalry of the commonwealth, sat down at the eighty tables improvised for the occasion. fifty leading men were guests of honor and vied with one another in acclaiming the brilliant young speaker the coming statesman of the nation. his name was linked with hamilton, jefferson, webster, clay and calhoun. he was the youngest man who had ever been elected speaker of a legislative assembly in american history and a dazzling career was predicted. even the newly installed chief executive, a hold-over from the defeated party, asked to be given a seat and in a glowing tribute to norton hailed him as the next governor of the state. he had scarcely uttered the words when all the guests leaped to their feet by a common impulse, raised their glasses and shouted: "to our next governor, daniel norton!" the cheers which followed were not arranged, they were the spontaneous outburst of genuine admiration by men and women who knew the man and believed in his power and his worth. norton flushed and his eyes dropped. his daring mind had already leaped the years. the governor's chair meant the next step--a seat in the senate chamber of the united states. a quarter of a century and the south would once more come into her own. he would then be but forty-nine years old. he would have as good a chance for the presidency as any other man. his fathers had been of the stock that created the nation. his great-grandfather fought with washington and lafayette. his head was swimming with its visions, while the great hall rang with his name. while the tumult was still at its highest, he lifted his eyes for a moment over the heads of the throng at the tables below the platform on which the guests of honor were seated, and his heart suddenly stood still. cleo was standing in the door of the hall, a haunted look in her dilated eyes, watching her chance to beckon to him unseen by the crowd. he stared at her a moment in blank amazement and turned pale. something had happened at his home, and by the expression on her face the message she bore was one he would never forget. as he sat staring blankly, as at a sudden apparition, she disappeared in the crowd at the door. he looked in vain for her reappearance and was waiting an opportune moment to leave, when a waiter slipped through the mass of palms and flowers banked behind his chair by his admirers and thrust a crumpled note into his hand. "the girl said it was important, sir," he explained. norton opened the message and held it under the banquet table as he hurriedly read in cleo's hand: "it's found out--she's raving. the doctor is there. i must see you quick." * * * * * he whispered to the chairman that a message had just been received announcing the illness of his wife, but he hoped to be able to return in a few minutes. it was known that his wife was an invalid and had often been stricken with violent attacks of hysteria, and so the banquet proceeded without interruption. the band was asked to play a stirring piece and he slipped out as the opening strains burst over the chattering, gay crowd. as his tall figure rose from the seat of honor he gazed for an instant over the sparkling scene, and for the first time in his life knew the meaning of the word fear. a sickening horror swept his soul and the fire died from eyes that had a moment before blazed with visions of ambition. he felt the earth crumbling beneath his feet. he hoped for a way out, but from the moment he saw cleo beckoning him over the heads of his guests he knew that death had called him in the hour of his triumph. he felt his way blindly through the crowd and pushed roughly past a hundred hands extended to congratulate him. he walked by instinct. he couldn't see. the mists of eternity seemed suddenly to have swept him beyond the range of time and sense. in the hall he stumbled against cleo and looked at her in a dazed way. "get your hat," she whispered. he returned to the cloakroom, got his hat and hurried back in the same dull stupor. "come down stairs into the square," she said quickly. he followed her without a word, and when they reached the shadows of an oak below the windows of the hall, he suddenly roused himself, turned on her fiercely and demanded: "well, what's happened?" the girl was calm now, away from the crowd and guarded by the friendly night. her words were cool and touched with the least suggestion of bravado. she looked at him steadily: "i reckon you know----" "you mean----" he felt for the tree trunk as if dizzy. "yes. she has found out----" "what--how--when?" his words came in gasps of fear. "about us----" "how?" "it was mammy. she was wild with jealousy that i had taken her place and was allowed to sleep in the house. she got to slipping to the nursery at night and watching me. she must have seen me one night at your room door and told her to get rid of me." the man suddenly gripped the girl's shoulders, swung her face toward him and gazed into her shifting eyes, while his breath came in labored gasps: "you little yellow devil! mammy never told that to my wife and you know it; she would have told me and i would have sent you away. she knows that story would kill my baby's mother and she'd have cut the tongue out of her own head sooner than betray me. she has always loved me as her own child--she'd fight for me and die for me and stand for me against every man, woman and child on earth!" "well, she told her," the girl sullenly repeated. "told her what?" he asked. "that i was hanging around your room." she paused. "well, go on----" "miss jean asked me if it was true. i saw that we were caught and i just confessed the whole thing----" the man sprang at her throat, paused, and his hands fell limp by his side. he gazed at her a moment, and grasped her wrists with cruel force: "yes, that's it, you little fiend--you confessed! you were so afraid you might not be forced to confess that you went out of your way to tell it. two months ago i came to my senses and put you out of my life. you deliberately tried to commit murder to bring me back. you knew that confession would kill my wife as surely as if you had plunged a knife into her heart. you know that she has the mind of an innocent child--that she can think no evil of any one. you've tried to kill her on purpose, willfully, maliciously, deliberately--and if she dies----" norton's voice choked into an inarticulate groan and the girl smiled calmly. the band in the hall over their heads ended the music in a triumphant crash and he listened mechanically to the chairman while he announced the temporary absence of the guest of honor: "and while he is out of the hall for a few minutes, ladies and gentlemen," he added facetiously, "we can say a lot of fine things behind his back we would have blushed to tell him to his face----" another burst of applause and the hum and chatter and laughter came through the open window. with a cry of anguish, the man turned again on the girl: "why do you stand there grinning at me? why did you do this fiendish thing? what have you to say?" "nothing"--there was a ring of exultation in her voice--"i did it because i had to." norton leaned against the oak, placed his hands on his temples and groaned: "oh, my god! it's a nightmare----" suddenly he asked: "what did she do when you told her?" the girl answered with indifference: "screamed, called me a liar, jumped on me like a wild-cat, dug her nails in my neck and went into hysterics." "and you?" "i picked her up, carried her to bed and sent for the doctor. as quick as he came i ran here to tell you." the speaker upstairs was again announcing his name as the next governor and senator and the crowd were cheering. he felt the waves of death roll over and engulf him. his knees grew weak and in spite of all effort he sank to a stone that lay against the gnarled trunk of the tree. "she may be dead now," he said to himself in a dazed whisper. "i don't think so!" the soft voice purred with the slightest suggestion of a sneer. she bit her lips and actually laughed. it was more than he could bear. with a sudden leap his hands closed on her throat and forced her trembling form back into the shadows. "may--god--hurl--you--into--everlasting--hell--for--this!" he cried in anguish and his grip suddenly relaxed. the girl had not struggled. her own hand had simply been raised instinctively and grasped his. "what shall i do?" she asked. "get out of my sight before i kill you!" "i'm not afraid." the calm accents maddened him to uncontrollable fury: "and if you ever put your foot into my house again or cross my path, i'll not be responsible for what happens!" his face was livid and his fists closed with an unconscious strength that cut the blood from the palms of his hands. "i'm not afraid!" she repeated, her voice rising with clear assurance, a strange smile playing about her full lips. "go!" he said fiercely. the girl turned without a word and walked into the bright light that streamed from the windows of the banquet hall, paused and looked at him, the white rows of teeth shining with a smile: "but i'll see you again!" and then, with shouts of triumph mocking his soul, his shoulders drooped, drunk with the stupor and pain of shame, he walked blindly through the night to the judgment bar of life--a home where a sobbing wife waited for his coming. chapter xii the judgment bar he paused at the gate. his legs for the moment simply refused to go any further. a light was burning in his wife's room. its radiance streaming against the white fluted columns threw their shadows far out on the lawn. the fine old house seemed to slowly melt in the starlight into a solemn court of justice set on the highest hill of the world. its white boards were hewn slabs of gleaming marble, its quaint old colonial door the grand entrance to the judgment hall of life and death. and the judge who sat on the high dais was not the blind figure of tradition, but a blushing little bride he had led to god's altar four years ago. her blue eyes were burning into the depths of his trembling soul. his hand gripped the post and he tried to pull himself together, and look the ugly situation in the face. but it was too sudden. he had repented and was living a clean life, and the shock was so unexpected, its coming so unforeseen, the stroke at a moment when his spirits had climbed so high, the fall was too great. he lay a mangled heap at the foot of a precipice and could as yet only stretch out lame hands and feel in the dark. he could see nothing clearly. a curious thing flashed through his benumbed mind as his gaze fascinated by the light in her room. she had not yet sent for him. he might have passed a messenger on the other side of the street, or he may have gone to the capitol by another way, yet he was somehow morally sure that no word had as yet been sent. it could mean but one thing--that his wife had utterly refused to believe the girl's story. this would make the only sane thing to do almost impossible. if he could humbly confess the truth and beg for her forgiveness, the cloud might be lifted and her life saved. but if she blindly refused to admit the possibility of such a sin, the crisis was one that sickened him. he would either be compelled to risk her life with the shock of confession, or lie to her with a shameless passion that would convince her of his innocence. could he do this? it was doubtful. he had never been a good liar. he had taken many a whipping as a boy sooner than lie. he had always dared to tell the truth and had felt a cruel free joy somehow in its consequence. he had been reserved and silent in his youth when he had sowed his wild oats before his marriage. he had never been forced to lie about that. no questions had been asked. he had kept his own counsel and that side of his life was a sealed book even to his most intimate friends. he had never been under the influence of liquor and knew how to be a good fellow without being a fool. the first big lie of his life he was forced to act rather than speak when cleo had entered his life. this lie had not yet shaped itself into words. and he doubted his ability to carry it off successfully. to speak the truth simply and plainly had become an ingrained habit. he trembled at the possibility of being compelled to deliberately and continuously lie to his wife. if he could only tell her the truth--tell her the hours of anguish he had passed in struggling against the beast that at last had won the fight--if he could only make her feel to-night the pain, the shame, the loathing, the rage that filled his soul, she must forgive. but would she listen? had the child-mind that had never faced realities the power to adjust itself to such a tragedy and see life in its wider relations of sin and sorrow, of repentance and struggle to the achievement of character? there was but one answer: "no. it would kill her. she can't understand----" and then despair gripped him, his eyes grew dim and he couldn't think. he leaned heavily on the gate in a sickening stupor from which his mind slowly emerged and his fancy began to play pranks with an imagination suddenly quickened by suffering into extraordinary activity. a katydid was crying somewhere over his head and a whip-poor-will broke the stillness with his weird call that seemed to rise from the ground under his feet. he was a boy again roaming the fields where stalwart slaves were working his father's plantation. it was just such a day in early spring when he had persuaded andy to run away with him and go swimming in buffalo creek. he had caught cold and they both got a whipping that night. he remembered how andy had yelled so loud his father had stopped. and how he had set his little jaws together, refused to cry and received the worst whipping of his life. he could hear andy now as he slipped up to him afterward, grinning and chuckling and whispered: "lordy, man, why didn't ye holler? you don't know how ter take er whippin' nohow. he nebber hurt me no mo' dan a flea bitin'!" and then his mind leaped the years. cleo was in his arms that night at old peeler's and he was stroking her hair as he would have smoothed the fur of a frightened kitten. that strange impulse was the beginning--he could see it now--and it had grown with daily contact, until the contagious animal magnetism of her nearness became resistless. and now he stood a shivering coward in the dark, afraid to enter his own house and look his wife in the face. yes, he was a coward. he acknowledged it with a grim smile--a coward! this boastful, high-strung, self-poised leader of men! he drew his tall figure erect and a bitter laugh broke from his lips. he who had led men to death on battlefields with a smile and a shout! he who had cried in anguish the day lee surrendered! he who, in defeat, still indomitable and unconquered, had fired the souls of his ruined people and led them through riot and revolution again to victory!--he was a coward now and he knew it, as he stood there alone in the stillness of the southern night and looked himself squarely in the face. his heart gave a throb of pity as he recalled the scenes during the war, when deserters and cowards had been led out in the gray dawn and shot to death for something they couldn't help. it must be a dream. he couldn't realize the truth--grim, hideous and unthinkable. he had won every fight as the leader of his race against overwhelming odds. he had subdued the desperate and lawless among his own men until his word was law. he had rallied the shattered forces of a defeated people and inspired them with enthusiasm. he had overturned the negroid government in the state though backed by a million bayonets in the hands of veteran battle-tried soldiers. he had crushed the man who led these forces, impeached and removed him from office, and hurled him into merited oblivion, a man without a country. he had made himself the central figure of the commonwealth. in the dawn of manhood he had lived already a man's full life. a conquered world at his feet, and yet a little yellow, red-haired girl of the race he despised, in the supreme hour of triumph had laid his life in ruins. he had conquered all save the beast within and he must die for it--it was only a morbid fancy, yes--yet he felt the chill in his soul. how long he had stood there doubting, fearing, dreaming, he could form no idea. he was suddenly roused to the consciousness of his position by the doctor who was hurrying from the house. there was genuine surprise in his voice as he spoke slowly and in a very low tone. dr. williams had the habit of slow, quiet speech. he was a privileged character in the town and the state, with the record of a half century of practice. a man of wide reading and genuine culture, he concealed a big heart beneath a brutal way of expressing his thoughts. he said exactly what he meant with a distinctness that was all the more startling because of his curious habit of speaking harsh things in tones so softly modulated that his hearers frequently asked him to repeat his words. "i had just started to the banquet hall with a message for you," he said slowly. "yes--yes," norton answered vaguely. "but i see you've come--cleo told you?" "yes--she came to the hall----" the doctor's slender fingers touched his fine gray beard. "really! she entered that hall to-night? well, it's a funny world, this. we spend our time and energy fighting the negro race in front and leave our back doors open for their women and children to enter and master our life. i congratulate you as a politician on your victory----" norton lifted his hand as if to ward off a blow: "please! not to-night!" the doctor caught the look of agony in the haggard face and suddenly extended his hand: "i wasn't thinking of your personal history, my boy. i was--i was thinking for a moment of the folly of a people--forgive me--i know you need help to-night. you must pull yourself together before you go in there----" "yes, i know!" norton faltered. "you have seen my wife and talked with her--you can see things clearer than i--tell me what to do!" "there's but one thing you can do," was the gentle answer. "lie to her--lie--and stick to it. lie skillfully, carefully, deliberately, and with such sincerity and conviction she's got to believe you. she wants to believe you, of course. i know you are guilty----" "let me tell you, doctor----" "no, you needn't. it's an old story. the more powerful the man the easier his conquest when once the female animal of cleo's race has her chance. it's enough to make the devil laugh to hear your politicians howl against social and political equality while this cancer is eating the heart out of our society. it makes me sick! and she went to your banquet hall to-night! i'll laugh over it when i'm blue----" the doctor paused, laughed softly, and continued: "now listen, norton. your wife can't live unless she wills to live. i've told you this before. the moment she gives up, she dies. it's the iron will inside her frail body that holds the spirit. if she knows the truth, she can't face it. she is narrow, conventional, and can't readjust herself----" "but doctor, can't she be made to realize that this thing is here a living fact which the white woman of the south must face? these hundreds of thousands of a mixed race are not accidents. she must know that this racial degradation is not merely a thing of to-day, but the heritage of two hundred years of sin and sorrow!" "the older women know this--yes--but not our younger generation, who have been reared in the fierce defense of slavery we were forced to make before the war. these things were not to be talked about. no girl reared as your wife can conceive of the possibility of a decent man falling so low. i warn you. you can't let her know the truth--and so the only thing you can do is to lie and stick to it. it's queer advice for a doctor to give an honorable man, perhaps. but life is full of paradoxes. my advice is medicine. our best medicines are the most deadly poisons in nature. i've saved many a man's life by their use. this happens to be one of the cases where i prescribe a poison. put the responsibility on me if you like. my shoulders are broad. i live close to nature and the prattle of fools never disturbs me." "is she still hysterical?" norton asked. "no. that's the strange part of it--the thing that frightens me. that's why i haven't left her side since i was called. her outburst wasn't hysteria in the first place. it was rage--the blind unreasoning fury of the woman who sees her possible rival and wishes to kill her. you'll find her very quiet. there's a queer, still look in her eyes i don't like. it's the calm before the storm--a storm that may leave death in its trail----" "couldn't i deny it at first," norton interrupted, "and then make my plea to her in an appeal for mercy on an imaginary case? god only knows what i've gone through--the fight i made----" "yes, i know, my boy, with that young animal playing at your feet in physical touch with your soul and body in the intimacies of your home, you never had a chance. but you can't make your wife see this. an angel from heaven, with tongue of divine eloquence, can make no impression on her if she once believes you guilty. don't tell her--and may god have mercy on your soul to-night!" with a pressure on the younger man's arm, the straight white figure of the old doctor passed through the gate. norton walked quickly to the steps of the spacious, pillared porch, stopped and turned again into the lawn. he sat down on a rustic seat and tried desperately to work out what he would say, and always the gray mist of a fog of despair closed in. for the first time in his life he was confronted squarely with the fact that the whole structure of society is enfolded in a network of interminable lies. his wife had been reared from the cradle in the atmosphere of beauty and innocence. she believed in the innocence of her father, her brothers, and every man who moved in her circle. above all, she believed in the innocence of her husband. the fact that the negro race had for two hundred years been stirring the baser passions of her men--that this degradation of the higher race had been bred into the bone and sinew of succeeding generations--had never occurred to her childlike mind. how hopeless the task to tell her now when the tragic story must shatter her own ideals! the very thought brought a cry of agony to his lips: "god in heaven--what can i do?" he looked helplessly at the stream of light from her window and turned again toward the cool, friendly darkness. the night was one of marvellous stillness. the band was playing again in his banquet hall at the capitol. so still was the night he could hear distinctly the softer strains of the stringed instruments, faint, sweet and thrilling, as they floated over the sleepy old town. a mocking-bird above him wakened by the call of melody answered, tenderly at first, and then, with the crash of cornet and drum, his voice swelled into a flood of wonderful song. with a groan of pain, norton rose and walked rapidly into the house. his bird-dog lay on the mat outside the door and sprang forward with a joyous whine to meet him. he stooped and drew the shaggy setter's head against his hot cheek. "i need a friend, to-night, don, old boy!" he said tenderly. and don answered with an eloquent wag of his tail and a gentle nudge of his nose. "if you were only my judge!--bah, what's the use----" he drew his drooping shoulders erect and entered his wife's room. her eyes were shining with peculiar brightness, but otherwise she seemed unusually calm. she began speaking with quick nervous energy: "dr. williams told you?" "yes, and i came at once." he answered with an unusually firm and clear note of strength. his whole being was keyed now to a high tension of alert decision. he saw that the doctor's way was the only one. "i don't ask you, dan," she went on with increasing excitement and a touch of scorn in her voice--"i don't ask you to deny this lie. what i want to know is the motive the little devil had in saying such a thing to me. mammy, in her jealousy, merely told me she was hanging around your room too often. i asked her if it were true. she looked at me a moment and burst into her lying 'confession.' i could have killed her. i did try to tear her green eyes out. i knew that you hated her and tried to put her out of the house, and i thought she had taken this way to get even with you--but it doesn't seem possible. and then i thought the governor might have taken this way to strike you. he knows old peeler, the low miserable scoundrel, who is her father. do you think it possible?" "i--don't--know," he stammered, moistening his lips and turning away. "yet it's possible"--she insisted. he saw the chance to confirm this impression by a cheap lie--to invent a story of old peeler's intimacy with the governor, of his attempt to marry lucy, of his hatred of the policy of the paper, his fear of the klan and of his treacherous, cowardly nature--yet the lie seemed so cheap and contemptible his lips refused to move. if he were going to carry out the doctor's orders here was his chance. he struggled to speak and couldn't. the habit of a life and the fibre of character were too strong. so he did the fatal thing at the moment of crisis. "i don't think that possible," he said. "why not?" "well, you see, since i rescued old peeler that night from those boys, he has been so abjectly grateful i've had to put him out of my office once or twice, and i'm sure he voted for me for the legislature against his own party." "he voted for you?" she asked in surprise. "he told me so. he may have lied, of course, but i don't think he did." "then what could have been her motive?" his teeth were chattering in spite of a desperate effort to think clearly and speak intelligently. he stared at a picture on the wall and made no reply. "say something--answer my question!" his wife cried excitedly. "i have answered, my dear. i said i don't know. i'm stunned by the whole thing." "you are _stunned_?" "yes----" "stunned? you, a strong, innocent man, stunned by a weak contemptible lie like this from the lips of such a girl--what do you mean?" "why, that i was naturally shocked to be called out of a banquet at such a moment by such an accusation. she actually beckoned to me from the door over the heads of the guests----" the little blue eyes suddenly narrowed and the thin lips grew hard: "cleo called you from the door?" she asked. "yes." "you left the hall to see her there?" "no, i went down stairs." "into the capitol square?" "yes. i couldn't well talk to her before all those guests----" "why not?" the question came like the crack of a pistol. her voice was high, cold, metallic, ringing. he saw, when too late, that he had made a fatal mistake. he stammered, reddened and then turned pale: "why--why--naturally----" "if you are innocent--why not?" he made a desperate effort to find a place of safety: "i thought it wise to go down stairs where i could talk without interruption----" "you--were--afraid," she was speaking each word now with cold, deadly deliberation, "to take-a-message-from-your-servant-at-the-door-of-a-public banquet-hall----" her words quickened--"then you suspected her possible message! there _was_ something between you----" "my dear, i beg of you----" he turned his head away with a weary gesture. she sprang from the side of the bed, leaped to his side, seized him by both arms and fairly screamed in his face: "look at me, dan!" he turned quickly, his haggard eyes stared into hers, and she looked with slowly dawning horror. "oh, my god!" she shrieked. "it's true--it's true--it's true!" she sprang back with a shiver of loathing, covered her face with her hands and staggered to her bed, sobbing hysterically: "it's true--it's true--it's true! have mercy, lord!--it's true--it's true!" she fell face downward, her frail figure quivering like a leaf in a storm. he rushed to her side, crying in terror: "it's not true--it's not true, my dear! don't believe it. i swear it's a lie--it's a lie--i tell you!" she was crying in sobs of utter anguish. he bent low: "it's not true, dearest! it's not true, i tell you. you mustn't believe it. you can't believe it when i swear to you that it's a lie----" his head gently touched her slender shoulder. she flinched as if scorched by a flame, sprang to her feet, and faced him with blazing eyes: "don't--you--dare--touch--me----" "my dear," he pleaded. "don't speak to me again!" "please----" "get out of this room!" he stood rooted to the spot in helpless stupor and she threw her little body against his with sudden fury, pushing him toward the door. "get out, i say!" he staggered back helplessly and awkwardly amazed at her strength as she pushed him into the hall. she stood a moment towering in the white frame of the door, the picture of an avenging angel to his tormented soul. through teeth chattering with hysterical emotion she cried: "go, you leper! and don't you ever dare to cross this door-sill again--not even to look on my dead face!" "for god's sake, don't!" he gasped, staggering toward her. but the door slammed in his face and the bolt suddenly shot into its place. he knocked gently and received no answer. an ominous stillness reigned within. he called again and again without response. he waited patiently for half an hour and knocked once more. an agony of fear chilled him. she might be dead. he knelt, pressed his ear close to the keyhole and heard a long, low, pitiful sob from her bed. "thank god----" he rose with sudden determination. she couldn't be left like that. he would call the doctor back at once, and, what was better still, he would bring her mother, a wise gray-haired little saint, who rarely volunteered advice in her daughter's affairs. the door would fly open at her soft command. chapter xiii an old story the doctor's house lay beyond the capitol and in his haste norton forgot that a banquet was being held in his honor. he found himself suddenly face to face with the first of the departing guests as they began to pour through the gates of the square. he couldn't face these people, turned in his tracks, walked back to the next block and hurried into an obscure side street by which he could avoid them. the doctor had not retired. he was seated on his porch quietly smoking, as if he were expecting the call. "well, you've bungled it, i see," he said simply, as he rose and seized his hat. "yes, she guessed the truth----" "guessed?--hardly." the white head with its shining hair slowly wagged. "she read it in those haggard eyes. funny what poor liars your people have always been! if your father hadn't been fool enough to tell the truth with such habitual persistence, that office of his would never have been burned during the war. it's a funny world. it's the fun of it that keeps us alive, after all." "do the best you can for me, doctor," he interrupted. "i'm going for her mother." "all right," was the cheery answer, "bring her at once. she's a better doctor than i to-night." norton walked swiftly toward a vine-clad cottage that stood beside governor carteret's place. it sat far back on the lawn that was once a part of the original estate twenty odd years ago. the old governor during his last administration had built it for robert carteret, a handsome, wayward son, whom pretty jennie pryor had married. it had been a runaway love match. the old man had not opposed it because of any objection to the charming girl the boy had fallen in love with. he knew that robert was a wild, headstrong, young scapegrace unfit to be the husband of any woman. but apparently marriage settled him. for two years after jean's birth he lived a decent life and then slipped again into hopelessly dissolute habits. when jean was seven years old he was found dead one night under peculiar circumstances that were never made public. the sweet little woman who had braved the world's wrath to marry him had never complained, and she alone (with one other) knew the true secret of his death. she had always been supported by a generous allowance from the old governor and in his last will the vigorous octogenarian had made her his sole heir. norton had loved this quiet, patient little mother with a great tenderness since the day of his marriage to her daughter. he had never found her wanting in sympathy or helpfulness. she rarely left her cottage, but many a time he had gone to her with his troubles and came away with a light heart and a clearer insight into the duty that called. her love and faith in him was one of the big things in life. in every dream of achievement that had fired his imagination during the stirring days of the past months he had always seen her face smiling with pride and love. it was a bitter task to confess his shame to her--this tender, gracious, uncomplaining saint, to whom he had always been a hero. he paused a moment with his hand on the bell of the cottage, and finally rang. standing before her with bowed head he told in a few stammering words the story of his sin and the sorrow that had overwhelmed him. "i swear to you that for the past two months my life has been clean and god alone knows the anguish of remorse i have suffered. you'll help me, mother?" he asked pathetically. "yes, my son," she answered simply. "you don't hate me?"--the question ended with a catch in his voice that made it almost inaudible. she lifted her white hands to his cheeks, drew the tall form down gently and pressed his lips: "no, my son, i've lived too long. i leave judgment now to god. the unshed tears i see in your eyes are enough for me." "i must see her to-night, mother. make her see me. i can't endure this." "she will see you when i have talked with her," was the slow reply as if to herself. "i am going to tell her something that i hoped to carry to the grave. but the time has come and she must know." the doctor was strolling on the lawn when they arrived. "she didn't wish to see me, my boy," he said with a look of sympathy. "and i thought it best to humor her. send for me again if you wish, but i think the mother is best to-night." without further words he tipped his hat with a fine old-fashioned bow to mrs. carteret and hurried home. at the sound of the mother's voice the door was opened, two frail arms slipped around her neck and a baby was sobbing again on her breast. the white slender hands tenderly stroked the blonde hair, lips bent low and kissed the shining head and a cheek rested there while sob after sob shook the little body. the wise mother spoke no words save the sign language of love and tenderness, the slow pressure to her heart of the sobbing figure, kisses, kisses, kisses on her hair and the soothing touch of her hand. a long time without a word they thus clung to each other. the sobs ceased at last. "now tell me, darling, how can i help you?" the gentle voice said. "oh, mamma, i just want to go home to you again and die--that's all." "you'd be happier, you think, with me, dear?" "yes--it's clean and pure there. i can't live in this house--the very air i breathe is foul!" "but you can't leave dan, my child. your life and his are one in your babe. god has made this so." "he is nothing to me now. he doesn't exist. i don't come of his breed of men. my father's handsome face--my grandfather's record as the greatest governor of the state--are not merely memories to me. i'll return to my own. and i'll take my child with me. i'll go back where the air is clean, where men have always been men, not beasts----" the mother rose quietly and took from the mantel the dainty morocco-covered copy of the bible she had given her daughter the day she left home. she turned its first, pages, put her finger on the sixteenth chapter of the book of genesis, and turned down a leaf: "i want you to read this chapter of genesis which i have marked when you are yourself, and remember that the sympathy of the world has always been with the outcast hagar, and not with the foolish wife who brought a beautiful girl into her husband's house and then repented of her folly." "but a negress! oh, my god, the horror, the shame, the humiliation he has put on me! i've asked myself a hundred times why i lived a moment, why i didn't leap from that window and dash my brain out on the ground below--the beast--the beast!" "yes, dear, but when you are older you will know that all men are beasts." "mother!" "yes, all men who are worth while----" "how can you say that," the daughter cried with scorn, "and remember my father and grandfather? no man passes the old governor to-day without lifting his hat, and i've seen you sit for hours with my father's picture in your lap crying over it----" "yes, dear," was the sweet answer, "these hearts of ours play strange pranks with us sometimes. you must see dan to-night and forgive. he will crawl on his hands and knees to your feet and beg it." "i'll never see him or speak to him again!" "you must--dear." "never!" the mother sat down on the lounge and drew the quivering figure close. her face was hidden from the daughter's view when she began to speak and so the death-like pallor was not noticed. the voice was held even by a firm will: "i hoped god might let me go without my having to tell you what i must say now, dearest"--in spite of her effort there was a break and silence. the little hand sought the mother's: "you know you can tell me anything, mamma, dear." "your father, my child, was not a great man. he died in what should have been the glory of young manhood. he achieved nothing. he was just the spoiled child of a greater man, a child who inherited his father's brilliant mind, fiery temper and willful passions. i loved him from the moment we met and in spite of all i know that he loved me with the strongest, purest love he was capable of giving to any woman. and yet, dearest, i dare not tell you all i discovered of his wild, reckless life. the vilest trait of his character was transmitted straight from sire to son--he would never ask forgiveness of any human being for anything he had done--that is your grandfather's boast to-day. the old governor, my child, was the owner of more than a thousand slaves on his two great plantations. many of them he didn't know personally--unless they were beautiful girls----" "oh, mother, darling, have mercy on me!"--the little fingers tightened their grip. but the mother's even voice went on remorselessly: "cleo's mother was one of his slaves. you may depend upon it, your grandfather knows her history. you must remember what slavery meant, dear. it put into the hands of a master an awful power. it was not necessary for strong men to use this power. the humble daughters of slaves vied with one another to win his favor. your grandfather was a man of great intellect, of powerful physique, of fierce, ungovernable passions----" "but my father"--gasped the girl wife. "was a handsome, spoiled child, the kind of man for whom women have always died--but he never possessed the strength to keep himself within the bounds of decency as did the older man----" "what do you mean?" the daughter broke in desperately. "there has always been a secret about your father's death"--the mother paused and drew a deep breath. "i made the secret. i told the story to save him from shame in death. he died in the cabin of a mulatto girl he had played with as a boy--and--the thing that's hardest for me to tell you, dearest, is that i knew exactly where to find him when he had not returned at two o'clock that morning----" the white head sank lower and rested on the shoulder of the frail young wife, who slipped her arms about the form of her mother, and neither spoke for a long while. at last the mother began in quiet tones: "and this was one of the reasons, my child, why slavery was doomed. the war was a wicked and awful tragedy. the white motherhood of the south would have crushed slavery. before the war began we had six hundred thousand mulattoes--six hundred thousand reasons why slavery had to die!" the fire flashed in the gentle eyes for a moment while she paused, and drew her soul back from the sorrowful past to the tragedy of to-day: "and so, my darling, you must see your husband and forgive. he isn't bad. he carried in his blood the inheritance of hundreds of years of lawless passion. the noble thing about dan is that he has the strength of character to rise from this to a higher manhood. you must help him, dearest, to do this." the daughter bent and kissed the gentle lips: "ask him to come here, mother----" she found the restless husband pacing the floor of the pillared porch. it was past two o'clock and the waning moon had risen. his face was ghastly as his feet stopped their dreary beat at the rustle of her dress. his heart stood still for a moment until he saw the smiling face. "it's all right, dan," she called softly in the doorway. "she's waiting for you." he sprang to the door, stooped and kissed the silken gray hair and hurried up the stairs. tears were slowly stealing from the blue eyes as the little wife extended her frail arms. the man knelt and bowed his head in her lap, unable to speak at first. with an effort he mastered his voice: "say that you forgive me!" the blonde head sank until it touched the brown: "i forgive you--but, oh, dan, dear, i don't want to live any more now----" "don't say that!" he pleaded desperately. "and i've wanted to live so madly, so desperately--but now--i'm afraid i can't." "you can--you must! you have forgiven me. i'll prove my love to you by a life of such devotion i'll make you forget! all i ask is the chance to atone and make you happy. you must live because i ask it, dear! it's the only way you can give me a chance. and the boy--dearest--you must live to teach him." she nodded her head and choked back a sob. when the first faint light of the dawn of a glorious spring morning began to tinge the eastern sky he was still holding her hands and begging her to live. chapter xiv the fight for life the little wife made a brave fight. for a week there was no sign of a breakdown save an unnatural brightness of the eyes that told the story of struggle within. he gave himself to the effort to help her win. he spent but an hour at the capitol, left a speaker _pro tem_ in the chair, hurried to his office, gave his orders and by eleven o'clock he was at home, talking, laughing, and planning a day's work that would interest her and bring back the flush to her pale cheeks. she had responded to his increasing tenderness and devotion with pathetic eagerness. at the beginning of the second week doctor williams gave him hope: "it looks to me, my boy," he said thoughtfully, "that i'm seeing a miracle. i think she's not only going to survive the shock, but, what's more remarkable, she's going to recover her health again. the mind's the source of health and power. we give medicines, of course, but the thought that heals the soul will reach the body. bah!--the body is the soul anyhow, for all our fine-spun theories, and the mind is only one of the ways through which we reach it----" "you really think she may be well again?" norton asked with boyish eagerness. "yes, if you can reconcile her mind to this thing, she'll not only live, she will be born again into a more vigorous life. why not? the preachers have often called me a godless rationalist. but i go them one better when they preach the miracle of a second, or spiritual birth. i believe in the possibility of many births for the human soul and the readjustment of these bodies of ours to the new spirits thus born. if you can tide her over the next three weeks without a breakdown, she will get well." the husband's eyes flashed: "if it depends on her mental attitude, i'll make her live and grow strong. i'll give her my body and soul." "there are just two dangers----" "what?" "the first mental--a sudden collapse of the will with which she's making this fight under a reaction to the memories of our system of educated ignorance, which we call girlish innocence. this may come at a moment when the consciousness of these 'ideals' may overwhelm her imagination and cause a collapse----" "yes, i understand," he replied thoughtfully. "i'll guard that." "the other is the big physical enigma----" "you mean?" "the possible reopening of that curious abscess in her throat." "but the specialist assured us it would never reappear----" "yes, and he knows just as much about it as you or i. it is one of the few cases of its kind so far recorded in the science of medicine. when the baby was born, the drawing of the mother's neck in pain pressed a bone of the spinal column into the flesh beside the jugular vein. your specialist never dared to operate for a thorough removal of the trouble for fear he would sever the vein----" "and if the old wound reopens it will reach the jugular vein?" "yes." "well--it--won't happen!" he answered fiercely. "it can't happen now----" "i don't think it will myself, if you can keep at its highest tension the desire to live. that's the magic thing that works the miracle of life in such cases. it makes food digest, sends red blood to the tips of the slenderest finger and builds up the weak places. don't forget this, my boy. make her love life, desperately and passionately, until the will to live dominates both soul and body." "i'll do it," was the firm answer, as he grasped the doctor's outstretched hand in parting. he withdrew completely from his political work. a speaker _pro tem_ presided daily over the deliberations of the house, and an assistant editor took charge of the paper. the wife gently urged him to give part of his time to his work again. "no," he responded firmly and gayly. "the doctor says you have a chance to get well. i'd rather see the roses in your cheeks again than be the president of the united states." she drew his head down and clung to him with desperate tenderness. chapter xv cleo's silence for two weeks the wife held her own and the doctor grew more confident each day. when norton began to feel sure the big danger was past his mind became alert once more to the existence of cleo. he began to wonder why she had not made an effort to see or communicate with him. she had apparently vanished from the face of the earth. in spite of his effort to minimize the importance of this fact, her silence gradually grew in sinister significance. what did it mean? what was her active brain and vital personality up to? that it boded no good to his life and the life of those he loved he couldn't doubt for a moment. he sent a reporter on a secret mission to peeler's house to find if she were there. he returned in three hours and made his report. "she's at peeler's, sir," the young man said with a smile. "you allowed no one to learn the real reason of your visit, as i told you?" "they never dreamed it. i interviewed old peeler on the revolution in politics and its effects on the poor whites of the state----" "you saw her?" "she seemed to be all over the place at the same time, singing, laughing and perfectly happy." "run your interview to-morrow, and keep this visit a profound secret between us." "yes, sir." the reporter tipped his hat and was gone. why she was apparently happy and contented in surroundings she had grown to loathe was another puzzle. through every hour of the day, down in the subconscious part of his mind, he was at work on this surprising fact. the longer he thought of it the less he understood it. that she would ever content herself with the dreary existence of old peeler's farm after her experiences in the town and in his home was preposterous. that she was smiling and happy under such conditions was uncanny, and the picture of her shining teeth and the sound of her deep voice singing as she walked through the cheap, sordid surroundings of that drab farmhouse haunted his mind with strange fear. she was getting ready to strike him in the dark. just how the blow would fall he couldn't guess. the most obvious thing for her to do would be to carry her story to his political enemies and end his career at a stroke. yet somehow, for the life of him he couldn't picture her choosing that method of revenge. she had not left him in a temper. the rage and curses had all been his. she had never for a moment lost her self-control. the last picture that burned into his soul was the curious smile with which she had spoken her parting words: "but i'll see you again!" beyond a doubt some clean-cut plan of action was in her mind when she uttered that sentence. the one question now was--"what did she mean?" there was one thought that kept popping into his head, but it was too hideous for a moment's belief. he stamped on it as he would a snake and hurried on to other possibilities. there was but one thing he could do and that was to await with increasing dread her first move. chapter xvi the larger vision his mind had just settled into this attitude of alert watchfulness toward cleo when the first danger the doctor dreaded for his wife began to take shape. the feverish brightness in her eyes grew dimmer and her movements less vigorous. the dreaded reaction had come and the taut strings of weakened nerves could bear the strain no longer. with a cry of despair she threw herself into his arms: "oh, dan, dear, it's no use! i've tried--i've tried so hard--but i can't do it--i just don't want to live any more!" he put his hands over the trembling, thin lips: "hush, dearest, you mustn't say that--it's just a minute's reaction. you're blue this morning, that's all. it's the weather--a dreary foggy day. the sun will be shining again to-morrow. it's shining now behind the mists if we only remember it. the trees are bare, but their buds are swelling and these days of cold and fog and rain must come to make them burst in glory. come, let me put your shawl around you and i'll show you how the flowers have pushed up in the sheltered places the past week." he drew the hands, limp and cold, from his neck, picked up her shawl, tenderly placed it about her shoulders, lifted her in his strong arms, and carried her to the old rose garden behind the house. don sniffed his leg, and looked up into his face with surprise at the unexpected frolic. he leaped into the air, barked softly and ran in front to show the way. "you see, old don knows the sun is shining behind the clouds, dear!" she made no answer. the blonde head drooped limply against his breast. he found a seat on the south side of the greenhouse on an old rustic bench his father had built of cedar when he was a boy. "there," he said cheerfully, as he smoothed her dress and drew her close by his side. "you can feel the warmth of the sun here reflected from the glass. the violets are already blooming along the walks. the jonquils are all gone, and the rose bushes have begun to bud. you mustn't talk about giving up. we haven't lived yet." "but i'm tired, dan, tired----" "it's just for a moment, remember, my love. you'll feel differently to-morrow. the world is always beautiful if we only have eyes to see and ears to hear. watch that smoke curling straight up from the chimney! that means the clouds are already lifting and the sun will burst through them this afternoon. you mustn't brood, dearest. you must forget the misery that has darkened our world for a moment and remember that it's only the dawn of a new life for us both. we are just boy and girl yet. there's nothing impossible. i'm going to prove to you that my love is the deathless thing in me--the thing that links me to god." "you really love me so?" she asked softly. "give me a chance to prove it. that's all i ask. men sometimes wait until they're past forty before they begin to sow their wild oats. i am only twenty-five now. this tragic sin and shame has redeemed life. it's yours forever--you must believe me when i say this, dearest----" "i try," she broke in wearily. "i try, dan, but it's hard to believe anything now--oh, so hard----" "but can't you understand, my love, how i have been headstrong and selfish before the shock of my fall brought me to my senses? and that the terror of losing you has taught me how deep and eternal the roots of our love have struck and this knowledge led me into the consciousness of a larger and more wonderful life--can't--can't you understand this, dearest?" his voice sank to the lowest reverent whisper as he ceased to speak. she stroked his hand with a pathetic little gesture of tenderness. "yes, i believe you," she said with a far-away look in her eyes. "i know that i can trust you now implicitly, and what i can't understand is that--feeling this so clearly--still i have no interest in life. something has snapped inside of me. life doesn't seem worth the struggle any longer----" "but it is, dear! life is always good, always beautiful, and always worth the struggle. we've but to lift our eyes and see. sin is only our stumbling in the dark as we grope toward the light. i'm going to be a humbler and better man. i am no longer proud and vain. i've a larger and sweeter vision. i feel my kinship to the weak and the erring. alone in the night my soul has entered into the fellowship of the great brotherhood through the gates of suffering. you must know this, jean--you know that it's true as i thus lay my heart's last secret bare to you to-day. "yes, dan," she sighed wearily, "but i'm just tired. i don't seem to recognize anything i used to know. i look at the baby and he don't seem to be mine. i look at you and feel that you're a stranger. i look at my room, the lawn, the street, the garden--no matter where, and i'm dazed. i feel that i've lost my way. i don't know how to live any more." for an hour he held her hand and pleaded with all the eloquence of his love that she would let him teach her again, and all she could do was to come back forever in the narrow circle her mind had beaten. she was tired and life no longer seemed worth while! he kissed the drooping eyelids at last and laughed a willful, daring laugh as he gathered her in his arms and walked slowly back into the house. "you've got to live, my own! i'll show you how! i'll breathe my fierce desire into your soul and call you back even from the dead!" yet in spite of all she drooped and weakened daily, and at the end of a fortnight began to complain of a feeling of uneasiness in her throat. the old doctor said nothing when she made this announcement. he drew his beetling eyebrows low and walked out on the lawn. pale and haggard, norton followed him. "well, doctor?" he asked queerly. "there's only one thing to do. get her away from here at once, to the most beautiful spot you can find, high altitude with pure, stimulating air. the change may help her. that's all i can say"--he paused, laid his hand on the husband's arm and went on earnestly--"and if you haven't discussed that affair with her, you'd better try it. tear the old wound open, go to the bottom of it, find the thing that's festering there and root it out if you can--the thing that's caused this break." the end of another week found them in asheville, north carolina. the wonderful views of purple hills and turquoise sky stretching away into the infinite thrilled the heart of the little invalid. it was her first trip to the mountains. she never tired the first two days of sitting in the big sun-parlor beside the open fire logs and gazing over the valleys and watching the fleet clouds with their marvelous coloring. the air was too chill in these early days of spring for her to feel comfortable outside. but a great longing began to possess her to climb the mountains and feel their beauty at closer range. she sat by his side in her room and held his hand while they watched the glory of the first cloud-flecked mountain sunset. the river lay a crooked silver ribbon in the deepening shadows of the valley, while the sky stretched its dazzling scarlet canopy high in heaven above it. the scarlet slowly turned to gold, and then to deepening purple and with each change revealed new beauty to the enraptured eye. she caught her breath and cried at last: "oh, it is a beautiful world, dan, dear--and i wish i could live!" he laughed for joy: "then you shall, dearest! you shall, of course you shall!" "i want you to take me over every one of those wonderful purple hills!" "yes, dear, i will!" "i dream as i sit and look at them that god lives somewhere in one of those deep shadows behind a dazzling cloud, and that if we only drive along those ragged cliffs among them we'd come face to face with him some day----" he looked at her keenly. there was again that unnatural brightness in her eyes which he didn't like and yet he took courage. the day was a glorious one in the calendar. hope had dawned in her heart. "the first warm day we'll go, dear," he cried with the enthusiasm of a boy, "and take mammy and the kid with us, too, if you say so----" "no, i want just you, dan. the long ride might tire the baby, and i might wish to stay up there all night. i shall never grow tired of those hills." "it's sweet to hear you talk like that," he cried with a smile. he selected a gentle horse for their use and five days later, when the sun rose with unusual warmth, they took their first mountain drive. along the banks of crystal brooks that dashed their sparkling waters over the rocks, up and up winding, narrow roads until the town became a mottled white spot in the valley below, and higher still until the shining clouds they had seen from the valley rolled silently into their faces, melting into the gray mists of fog! in the midst of one of these clouds, the little wife leaned close and whispered: "we're in heaven now, dan--we're passing through the opal gates! i shouldn't be a bit surprised to see him at any moment up here----" a lump suddenly rose in his throat. her voice sounded unreal. he bent close and saw the strange bright light again in her eyes. and the awful thought slowly shaped itself that the light he saw was the shining image of the angel of death reflected there. he tried to laugh off his morbid fancy now that she had begun to find the world so beautiful, but the idea haunted him with increasing terror. he couldn't shake off the impression. an hour later he asked abruptly: "you have felt no return of the pain in your throat, dear?" "just a little last night, but not to-day--i've been happy to-day." he made up his mind to telegraph to new york at once for the specialist to examine her throat. the fine weather continued unbroken. every day for a week she sat by his side and drifted over sunlit valleys, lingered beside beautiful waters and climbed a new peak to bathe in sun-kissed clouds. on the top of one of these peaks they found a farmhouse where lodgers were allowed for the night. they stayed to see the sunrise next morning. mammy would not worry, they had told her they might spend the night on these mountain trips. the farmer called them in time--just as the first birds were waking in the trees by their window. it was a climb of only two hundred yards to reach the top of a great boulder that gave an entrancing view in four directions. to the west lay the still sleeping town of asheville half hidden among its hills and trees. eastward towered the giant peaks of the blue ridge, over whose ragged crests the sun was climbing. the young husband took the light form in his strong arms and carried her to the summit. he placed his coat on the rocky ledge, seated her on it, and slipped his arm around the slim waist. there in silence they watched the changing glory of the sky and saw the shadows wake and flee from the valleys at the kiss of the sun. he felt the moment had come that he might say some things he had waited with patience to speak: "you are sure, dear, that you have utterly forgiven the great wrong i did you?" "yes, dan," she answered simply, "why do you ask?" "i just want to be sure, my jean," he said tenderly, "that there's not a single dark corner of your heart in which the old shadows lurk. i want to drive them all out with my love just as we see the sun now lighting with glory every nook and corner of the world. you are sure?" the thin lips quivered uncertainly and her blue eyes wavered as he searched their depths. "there's one thing, dan, that i'll never quite face, i think"--she paused and turned away. "what, dear?" "how any man who had ever bent over a baby's cradle with the tenderness and love i've seen in your face for tom, could forget the mother who gave the life at his command!" "i didn't forget, dearest," he said sadly. "i fought as a wounded man, alone and unarmed, fights a beast in the jungle. with her sweet spiritual ideal of love a sheltered, innocent woman can't remember that man is still an animal, with tooth and claw and unbridled passions, that when put to the test his religion and his civilization often are only a thin veneer, that if he becomes a civilized human being in his relations to women it is not by inheritance, for he is yet in the zoölogical period of development--but that it is by the divine achievement of character through struggle. try, dearest, if you can, to imagine such a struggle. this primeval man, in the shadows with desires inflamed by hunger, meets this free primeval woman who is unafraid, who laughs at the laws of society because she has nothing to lose. both are for the moment animals pure and simple. the universal in him finds its counterpart in the universal in her. and whether she be fair or dark, her face, her form, her body, her desires are his--and, above all, she is near--and in that moment with a nearness that overwhelms by its enfolding animal magnetism all powers of the mind to think or reflect. two such beings are atoms tossed by a storm of forces beyond their control. a man of refinement wakes from such a crash of elemental powers dazed and humiliated. your lips can speak no word as vile, no curse as bitter as i have hurled against myself----" the voice broke and he was silent. a little hand pressed his, and her words were the merest tender whisper as she leaned close: "i've forgiven you, my love, and i'm going to let you teach me again to live. i'll be a very docile little scholar in your school. but you know i can't forget in a moment the greatest single hour that is given a woman to know--the hour she feels the breath of her first born on her breast. it's the memory of that hour that hurts. i won't try to deceive you. i'll get over it in the years to come if god sends them----" "he will send them--he will send them!" the man broke in with desperate emotion. both were silent for several minutes and a smile began to play about the blue eyes when she spoke at last: "you remember how angry you were that morning when you found a doctor and a nurse in charge of your home? and the great fear that gripped your heart at the first mad cry of pain i gave? i laughed at myself the next moment. and then how i found your hand and wouldn't let you go. the doctor stormed and ordered you out, and i just held on and shook my head, and you stayed. and when the doctor turned his back i whispered in your ear: "''you won't leave me, dan, darling, for a single moment--promise me--swear it!' "and you answered: "'yes, i swear it, honey--but you must be very brave--braver than i am, you know'---- "and you begged me to take an anesthetic and i wouldn't, like a little fool. i wanted to know all and feel all if it killed me. and the anguish of your face became so terrible, dear--i was sorrier for you than for myself. and when i saw your lips murmuring in an agony of prayer, i somehow didn't mind it then----" she paused, looked far out over the hills and continued: "what a funny cry he gave--that first one--not a real baby cry--just a funny little grunt like a good-natured pig! and how awfully disappointed you were at the shapeless bundle of red flesh that hardly looked human! but i could see the lines of your dear face in his, i knew that he would be even handsomer than his big, brave father and pressed him close and laughed for joy----" she stopped and sighed: "you see, dan, what i couldn't understand is how any man who has felt the pain and the glory of this, with his hand clasped in the hand of the woman he loves, their two souls mirrored in that first pair of mysterious little eyes god sent from eternity--how he could forget the tie that binds----" he made no effort to interrupt her until the last bitter thought that had been rankling in her heart was out. he was looking thoughtfully over the valley. an eagle poised above the field in the foreground, darted to the stubble with lightning swiftness and rose with a fluttering brown quail in his talons. his shrill cry of triumph rang pitilessly in the stillness of the heights. the little figure gave an unconscious shiver and she added in low tones: "i'm never going to speak of this nameless thing again, dan, but you asked me this morning and i've told you what was in my heart. i just couldn't understand how you could forget----" "only a beast could, dearest," he answered with a curl of the lip. "i'm something more than that now, taught by the bitterness of experience. you're just a sweet, innocent girl who has never looked the world as it is in the face. reared as you were, you can't understand that there's a difference as deep as the gulf between heaven and hell, in the divine love that binds my soul and body and life to you and the sudden passing of a storm of passion. won't you try to remember this?" "yes, dear, i will----" she looked into his eyes with a smile of tenderness: "a curious change is coming over you, dan. i can begin to see it. there used to be a line of cruelty sometimes about your mouth and a flash of it in your eyes. they're gone. there's something strong and tender, wise and sweet, in their place. if i were an artist i could paint it but i can't just tell you what it is. i used to think the cruel thing i saw in you was the memory of the war. your eyes saw so much of blood and death and pain and cruelty----" "perhaps it was," he said slowly. "war does make men cruel--unconsciously cruel. we lose all sense of the value of human life----" "no, it wasn't that," she protested, "it was the other thing--the--the--beast you've been talking about. it's not there any more, dan--and i'm going to be happy now. i know it, dear----" he bent and kissed the slender fingers. "if this old throat of mine just won't bother me again," she added. he looked at her and turned pale: "it's bothering you this morning?" she lifted the delicately shaped head and touched her neck: "not much pain, but a sense of fullness. i feel as if i'm going to choke sometimes." he rose abruptly, a great fear in his heart: "we'll go back to town at once. the doctor should arrive at three from new york." "let's not hurry," she cried smiling. "i'm happy now. you're my old sweetheart again and i'm on a new honeymoon----" he gazed at the white slender throat. she was looking unusually well. he wondered if this were a trick of the enemy to throw him off his guard. he wondered what was happening in those tiny cells behind the smooth round lines of the beautiful neck. it made him sick and faint to think of the possibility of another attack--just when the fight was over--just when she had begun to smile and find life sweet again! his soul rose in fierce rebellion. it was too horrible for belief. he simply wouldn't believe it! "all right!" he exclaimed with decision. "we'll stay here till two o'clock, anyhow. we can drive back in three hours. the train will be late--it always is." through the long hours of a wonderful spring morning they basked in the sun side by side on a bed of leaves he piled in a sheltered spot on the mountain side. they were boy and girl again. the shadows had lifted and the world was radiant with new glory. they talked of the future and the life of perfect mutual faith and love that should be theirs. and each moment closer came the soft footfall of an unseen angel. chapter xvii the opal gates the doctor was waiting at the hotel, his keen eyes very serious. he had guessed the sinister meaning of the summons. he was an unusually brusque man--almost rude in his words. he greeted norton with friendly sympathy and smiled at the radiant face of the wife. "well, little mother," he said with grave humor, "we have more trouble. but you're brave and patient. it's a joy to work for you." "and now," she responded gayly, "you've got to finish this thing, doctor. i don't want any more half-way operations. i'm going to get well this time. i'm happy and i'm going to be strong again." "good, we'll get at it right away. i knew you'd feel that way and so i brought with me a great surgeon, the most skillful man i know in new york. i've told him of your case, a very unusual one, and he is going to help me." the little mouth smiled bravely: "i'll be ready for the examination in half an hour----" when the doctors emerged from her room the sun had set behind the dark blue hills and norton was waiting on the balcony for their report. the specialist walked slowly to where he was standing. he couldn't move from his tracks. his throat was dry and he had somehow lost the power of speech. he looked into the face of the man of science, read the story of tragedy and a mist closed his eyes. the doctor took his arm gently: "i've bad news for you----" "yes, i know," was the low answer. "the truth is best----" "i want to know it." "she can't live!" the tall figure stiffened, there was a moment of silence and when he spoke his words fell slowly with measured intensity: "there's not a single chance, doctor?" "not worth your cherishing. you'd as well know this now and be prepared. we opened and drained the old wound, and both agreed that it is too late for an operation. the flesh that guards the wall of the great vein is a mere shred. she would die under the operation. i can't undertake it." "and it will not heal again?" the doctor was silent for a long while and his eyes wandered to the darkening sky where the stars were coming out one by one: "who knows but god? and who am i to set bounds to his power?" "then there may be a slender chance?" he asked eagerly. "to the eye of science--no--yet while life lingers we always hope. but i wouldn't advise you to leave her side for the next ten days. the end, if it comes, will be very sudden, and it will be too late for speech." a groan interrupted his words and norton leaned heavily against the balcony rail. the doctor's voice was full of feeling as he continued: "if you have anything to say to her you'd better say it quickly to be sure that it does not remain unsaid." "thank you----" "i have told her nothing more can be done now until the wound from this draining heals--that when it does she can come to new york for a final decision on the operation." "i understand." "we leave to-night on the midnight express----" "you can do nothing more?" "nothing." a warm pressure of the hand in the gathering twilight and he was gone. the dazed man looked toward the fading sky-line of the southwest at mt. pisgah's towering black form pushing his way into the track of the stars and a feeling of loneliness crushed his soul. he turned abruptly, braced himself for the ordeal and hurried to her room. she was unusually bright and cheerful. "why, it didn't hurt a bit, dear!" she exclaimed joyfully. "it was nothing. and when it heals you're to take me to new york for the operation----" he took her hot hand and kissed it through blinding tears which he tried in vain to fight back. "they didn't even have to pack that nasty old gauze in it again--were you very much scared waiting out there, dan?" "very much." she started at the queer note in his voice, caught her hand in his brown locks and pressed his head back in view: "why, you're crying--you big foolish boy! you mustn't do that. i'm all right now--i feel much better--there's not a trace of pain or uneasiness. don't be silly--it's all right, remember." he stroked the little hand: "yes, i'll remember, dearest." "it should all be healed in three weeks and then we'll go to new york. it'll just be fun! i've always been crazy to go. i won't mind the operation--you'll be with me every minute now till i'm well again." "yes, dear, every moment now until--you--are--well." the last words came slowly, but by a supreme effort of will the voice was held even. he found mammy, told her the solemn truth, and sent her to hire a nurse for the baby. "either you or i must be by her side every minute now, mammy--day and night." "yessir, i understand," the dear old voice answered. every morning early the nurse brought the baby in for a romp as soon as he waked and mammy came to relieve the tired watcher. ten days passed before the end came. many long, sweet hours he had with her hand in his as the great shadow deepened, while he talked to her of life and death, and immortality. a strange peace had slowly stolen into his heart. he had always hated and feared death before. now his fears had gone. and the face of the dim white messenger seemed to smile at him from the friendly shadows. the change came quietly one night as they sat in the moonlight of her window. "oh, what a beautiful world, dan!" she said softly, and then the little hand suddenly grasped her throat! she turned a blanched face on him and couldn't speak. he lifted her tenderly and laid her on the bed, rang for the doctor and sent mammy for the baby. she motioned for a piece of paper--and slowly wrote in a queer, trembling hand: "i understand, dearest, i am going--it's all right. i am happy--remember that i love you and have forgiven--rear our boy free from the curse--you know what i mean. i had rather a thousand times that he should die than this--my brooding spirit will watch and guard." the baby kissed her sweetly and lisped: "good night, mamma!" from the doorway he waved his chubby little arm and cried again: "night, night, mamma!" the sun was slowly climbing the eastern hills when the end came. its first rays streamed through the window and fell on his haggard face as he bent and pressed a kiss on the silent lips of the dead. chapter xviii questions the thing that crushed the spirit of the man was not the shock of death with its thousand and one unanswerable questions torturing the soul, but the possibility that his acts had been the cause of the tragedy. dr. williams had said to him over and over again: "make her will to live and she'll recover!" he had fought this grim battle and won. she had willed to live and was happy. the world had never seemed so beautiful as the day she died. if the cause of her death lay further back in the curious accident which happened at the birth of the child, his soul was clear of guilt. he held none of the morbid fancies of the super-sensitive mind that would make a father responsible for a fatal outcome in the birth of a babe. god made women to bear children. the only woman to be pitied was the one who could not know the pain, the joy and the danger of this divine hour. but the one persistent question to which his mind forever returned was whether the shock of his sin had weakened her vitality and caused the return of this old trouble. the moment he left the grave on the day of her burial, he turned to the old doctor with this grim question. he told him the whole story. he told him every word she had spoken since they left home. he recounted every hour of reaction and depression, the good and the bad, just as the recording angel might have written it. he ended his recital with the burning question: "tell me now, doctor, honestly before god, did i kill her?" "certainly not!" was the quick response. "don't try to shield me. i can stand the truth. i don't belong to a race of cowards. after this no pain can ever come but that my soul shall laugh!" "i'm honest with you, my boy. i've too much self-respect not to treat you as a man in such an hour. no, if she died as you say, you had nothing to do with it. the seed of death was hiding there behind that slender, graceful throat. i was always afraid of it. and i've always known that if the pain returned she'd die----" "you knew that before we left home?" "yes. i only hinted the truth. i thought the change might prolong her life, that's all." "you're not saying this to cheer me? this is not one of your lies you give for medicine sometimes?" "no"--the old doctor smiled gravely. "no, shake off this nightmare and go back to your work. your people are calling you." * * * * * he made a desperate effort to readjust himself to life, but somehow at the moment the task was hopeless. he had preached, with all the eloquence of the enthusiasm of youth, that life in itself is always beautiful and always good. he found it was easier to preach a thing than to live it. the old house seemed to be empty, and, strange to say, the baby's voice didn't fill it. he had said to himself that the patter of his little feet and the sound of his laughter would fill its halls, make it possible to live, and get used to the change. but it wasn't so. somehow the child's laughter made him faint. the sound of his voice made the memory of his mother an intolerable pain. his voice in the morning was the first thing he heard and it drove him from the house. at night when he knelt to lisp his prayers her name was a stab, and when he waved his little hands and said: "good night, papa!" he could remember nothing save the last picture that had burned itself into his soul. he tried to feed and care for a canary she had kept in her room, but when he cocked his little yellow head and gave the loving plaintive cry with which he used to greet her, the room became a blur and he staggered out unable to return for a day. the silent sympathy of his dog, as he thrust his nose between his hands and wagged his shaggy tail, was the only thing that seemed to count for anything. "i understand, don, old boy," he cried, lifting his paw into his lap and slipping his arm around the woolly neck, "you're telling me that you love me always, good or bad, right or wrong. i understand, and it's very sweet to know it. but i've somehow lost the way on life's field, old boy. the night is coming on and i can't find the road home. you remember that feeling when we were lost sometimes in strange countries hunting together, you and i?" don licked his hand and wagged his tail again. he rose and walked through the lawn, radiant now with the glory of spring. but the flowers had become the emblems of death not life and their odor was oppressive. a little black boy, in a ragged shirt and torn trousers, barefooted and bareheaded, stopped at the gate, climbed up and looked over with idle curiosity at his aimless wandering. he giggled and asked: "ye don't need no boy fer nothin, do ye?" the man's sombre eyes suddenly lighted with a look of hate that faded in a moment and he made no reply. what had this poor little ragamuffin, his face smeared with dirt and his eyes rolling with childish mirth, to do with tragic problems which his black skin symbolized! he was there because a greedy race of empire builders had need of his labor. he had remained to torment and puzzle and set at naught the wisdom of statesmen for the same reason. for the first time in his life he asked himself a startling question: "do i really need him?" before the shock that threw his life into ruins he would have answered as every southerner always answered at that time: "certainly i need him. his labor is indispensable to the south." but to-day, back of the fire that flashed in his eyes, there had been born a new thought. he was destined to forget it in the stress of the life of the future, but it was there growing from day to day. the thought shaped itself into questions: "isn't the price we pay too great? is his labor worth more than the purity of our racial stock? shall we improve the breed of men or degrade it? is any progress that degrades the breed of men progress at all? is it not retrogression? can we afford it?" he threw off his train of thought with a gesture of weariness and a great desire suddenly possessed his heart to get rid of such a burden by a complete break with every tie of life save one. "why not take the boy and go?" he exclaimed. the more he turned the idea over in his mind the more clearly it seemed to be the sensible thing to do. but the fighting instinct within him was too strong for immediate surrender. he went to his office determined to work and lose himself in a return to its old habits. he sat down at his desk, but his mind was a blank. there wasn't a question on earth that seemed worth writing an editorial about. nothing mattered. for two hours he sat hopelessly staring at his exchanges. the same world, which he had left a few weeks before when he had gone down into the valley of the shadows to fight for his life, still rolled on with its endless story of joy and sorrow, ambitions and struggle. it seemed now the record of the buzzing of a lot of insects. it was a waste of time to record such a struggle or to worry one way or another about it. and this effort of a daily newspaper to write the day's history of these insects! it might be worth the while of a philosopher to pause a moment to record the blow that would wipe them out of existence, but to get excited again over their little squabbles--it seemed funny now that he had ever been such a fool! he rose at last in disgust and seized his hat to go home when the chairman of the executive committee of his party suddenly walked into his office unannounced. his face was wreathed in smiles and his deep bass voice had a hearty, genuine ring: "i've big news for you, major!" the editor placed a chair beside his desk, motioned his visitor to be seated and quietly resumed his seat. "it's been settled for some time," he went on enthusiastically, "but we thought best not to make the announcement so soon after your wife's death. i reckon you can guess my secret?" "i give it up," was the listless answer. "the committee has voted unanimously to make you the next governor. your nomination with such backing is a mere formality. your election is a certainty----" the chairman sprang to his feet and extended his big hand: "i salute the governor of the commonwealth--the youngest man in the history of the state to hold such high office----" "you mean it?" norton asked in a stupor. "mean it? of course i mean it! why don't you give me your hand? what's the matter?" "you see, i've sort of lost my bearings in politics lately." the chairman's voice was lowered: "of course, major, i understand. well, this is the medicine you need now to brace you up. for the first time in my memory a name will go before our convention without a rival. there'll be just one ballot and that will be a single shout that'll raise the roof----" norton rose and walked to his window overlooking the square, as he was in the habit of doing often, turning his back for a moment on the enthusiastic politician. he was trying to think. the first big dream of his life had come true and it didn't interest him. he turned abruptly and faced his visitor: "tell your committee for me," he said with slow emphatic voice, "that i appreciate the high honor they would do me, but cannot accept----" "what!" "i cannot accept the responsibility." "you don't mean it?" "i was never more in earnest." the chairman slipped his arm around the editor with a movement of genuine sympathy: "come, my boy, this is nonsense. i'm a veteran politician. no man ever did such a thing as this in the history of the state! you can't decline such an honor. you're only twenty-five years old." "time is not measured by the tick of a clock," norton interrupted, "but by what we've lived." "yes, yes, we know you've had a great shock in the death of your wife, but you must remember that the people--a million people--are calling you to lead them. it's a solemn duty. don't say no now. take a little time and you'll see that it's the work sent to you at the moment you need it most. i won't take no for an answer----" he put on his hat and started to the door: "i'll just report to the committee that i notified you and that you have the matter under consideration." before norton could enter a protest the politician had gone. his decision was instantly made. this startling event revealed the hopelessness of life under its present conditions. he would leave the south. he would put a thousand miles between him and the scene of the events of the past year. he would leave his home with its torturing memories. above all, he would leave the negroid conditions that made his shame possible and rear his boy in clean air. chapter xix cleo's cry the decision once made was carried out without delay. he placed an editor permanently in charge of his paper, closed the tall green shutters of the stately old house, sold his horses, and bought tickets for himself and mammy for new york. he paused at the gate and looked back at the white pillars of which he had once been so proud. he hadn't a single regret at leaving. "a house doesn't make a home, after all!" he sighed with a lingering look. he took the boy to the cemetery for a last hour beside the mother's grave before he should turn his back on the scenes of his old life forever. the cemetery was the most beautiful spot in the county. at this period of the life of the south, it was the one spot where every home had its little plot. the war had killed the flower of southern manhood. the bravest and the noblest boys never surrendered. they died with a shout and a smile on their lips and southern women came daily now to keep their love watches on these solemn bivouacs of the dead. the girls got the habit of going there to plant flowers and to tend them and grew to love the shaded walks, the deep boxwood hedges, the quiet, sweetly perfumed air. sweethearts were always strolling among the flowers and from every nook and corner peeped a rustic seat that could tell its story of the first stammering words from lovers' lips. norton saw them everywhere this beautiful spring afternoon, the girls in their white, clean dresses, the boys bashful and self-conscious. a throb of pain gripped his heart and he hurried through the wilderness of flowers to the spot beneath a great oak where he had laid the tired body of the first and only woman he had ever loved. he placed the child on the grass and led him to the newly-made mound, put into his tiny hand the roses he had brought and guided him while he placed them on her grave. "this is where little mother sleeps, my boy," he said softly. "remember it now--it will be a long, long time before we shall see it again. you won't forget----" "no--dad-ee," he lisped sweetly. "i'll not fordet, the big tree----" the man rose and stood in silence seeing again the last beautiful day of their life together and forgot the swift moments. he stood as in a trance from which he was suddenly awakened by the child's voice calling him excitedly from another walkway into which he had wandered: "dad-ee!" he called again. "yes, baby," he answered. "oh, come quick! dad-ee--here's c-l-e-o!" norton turned and with angry steps measured the distance between them. he came upon them suddenly behind a boxwood hedge. the girl was kneeling with the child's arms around her neck, clinging to her with all the yearning of his hungry little heart, and she was muttering half articulate words of love and tenderness. she held him from her a moment, looked into his eyes and cried: "and you missed me, darling?" "oh--c-l-e-o!" he cried, "i thought 'oo'd _nev-er_ tum!" the angry words died in the man's lips as he watched the scene in silence. he stooped and drew the child away: "come, baby, we must go----" "tum on, c-l-e-o, we do now," he cried. the girl shook her head and turned away. "tum on, c-l-e-o!" he cried tenderly. she waved him a kiss, and the child said excitedly: "oh, dad-ee, wait!--wait for c-l-e-o!" "no, my baby, she can't come with us----" the little head sank to his shoulder, a sob rose from his heart and he burst into weeping. and through the storm of tears one word only came out clear and soft and plaintive: "c-l-e-o! c-l-e-o!" the girl watched them until they reached the gate and then, on a sudden impulse, ran swiftly up, caught the child's hand that hung limply down his father's back, covered it with kisses and cried in cheerful, half-laughing tones: "don't cry, darling! cleo will come again!" and in the long journey to the north the man brooded over the strange tones of joyous assurance with which the girl had spoken. chapter xx the blow falls for a time norton lost himself in the stunning immensity of the life of new york. he made no effort to adjust himself to it. he simply allowed its waves to roll over and engulf him. he stopped with mammy and the boy at a brown-stone boarding house on stuyvesant square kept by a southern woman to whom he had a letter of introduction. mrs. beam was not an ideal landlady, but her good-natured helplessness appealed to him. she was a large woman of ample hips and bust, and though very tall seemed always in her own way. she moved slowly and laughed with a final sort of surrender to fate when anything went wrong. and it was generally going wrong. she was still comparatively young--perhaps thirty-two--but was built on so large and unwieldy a pattern that it was not easy to guess her age, especially as she had a silly tendency to harmless kittenish ways at times. the poor thing was pitifully at sea in her new world and its work. she had been reared in a typically extravagant home of the old south where slaves had waited her call from childhood. she had not learned to sew, or cook or keep house--in fact, she had never learned to do anything useful or important. so naturally she took boarders. her husband, on whose shoulders she had placed every burden of life the day of her marriage, lay somewhere in an unmarked trench on a virginia battlefield. she couldn't conceive of any human being enduring a servant that wasn't black and so had turned her house over to a lazy and worthless crew of northern negro help. the house was never clean, the waste in her kitchen was appalling, but so long as she could find money to pay her rent and grocery bills, she was happy. her only child, a daughter of sixteen, never dreamed of lifting her hand to work, and it hadn't yet occurred to the mother to insult her with such a suggestion. norton was not comfortable but he was lonely, and mrs. beam's easy ways, genial smile and southern weaknesses somehow gave him a sense of being at home and he stayed. mammy complained bitterly of the insolence and low manners of the kitchen. but he only laughed and told her she'd get used to it. he was astonished to find that so many southern people had drifted to new york--exiles of all sorts, with one universal trait, poverty and politeness. and they quickly made friends. as he began to realize it, his heart went out to the great city with a throb of gratitude. when the novelty of the new world had gradually worn off a feeling of loneliness set in. he couldn't get used to the crowds on every street, these roaring rivers of strange faces rushing by like the waters of a swollen stream after a freshet, hurrying and swirling out of its banks. at first he had found himself trying to bow to every man he met and take off his hat to every woman. it took a long time to break himself of this southern instinct. the thing that cured him completely was when he tipped his hat unconsciously to a lady on fifth avenue. she blushed furiously, hurried to the corner and had him arrested. his apology was so abject, so evidently sincere, his grief so absurd over her mistake that when she caught his southern drawl, it was her turn to blush and ask his pardon. a feeling of utter depression and pitiful homesickness gradually crushed his spirit. his soul began to cry for the sunlit fields and the perfumed nights of the south. there didn't seem to be any moon or stars here, and the only birds he ever saw were the chattering drab little sparrows in the parks. the first day of autumn, as he walked through central park, a magnificent irish setter lifted his fine head and spied him. some subtle instinct told the dog that the man was a hunter and a lover of his kind. the setter wagged his tail and introduced himself. norton dropped to a seat, drew the shaggy face into his lap, and stroked his head. he was back home again. don, with his fine nose high in the air, was circling a field and andy was shouting: "he's got 'em! he's got 'em sho, marse dan!" he could see don's slim white and black figure stepping slowly through the high grass on velvet feet, glancing back to see if his master were coming--the muscles suddenly stiffened, his tail became rigid, and the whole covey of quail were under his nose! he was a boy again and felt the elemental thrill of man's first work as hunter and fisherman. he looked about him at the bald coldness of the artificial park and a desperate longing surged through his heart to be among his own people again, to live their life and feel their joys and sorrows as his own. and then the memory of the great tragedy slowly surged back, he pushed the dog aside, rose and hurried on in his search for a new world. he tried the theatres--saw booth in his own house on d street play "hamlet" and lawrence barrett "othello," listened with rapture to the new italian grand opera company in the academy of music--saw a burlesque in the tammany theatre on th street, lester wallack in "the school for scandal" at wallack's theatre on broadway at th street, and tony pastor in his variety show at his opera house on the bowery, and yet returned each night with a dull ache in his heart. other men who loved home less perhaps could adjust themselves to new surroundings, but somehow in him this home instinct, this feeling of personal friendliness for neighbor and people, this passion for house and lawn, flowers and trees and shrubs, for fields and rivers and hills, seemed of the very fibre of his inmost life. this vast rushing, roaring, impersonal world, driven by invisible titanic forces, somehow didn't appeal to him. it merely stunned and appalled and confused his mind. and then without warning the blow fell. he told himself afterwards that he must have been waiting for it, that some mysterious power of mental telepathy had wired its message without words across the thousand miles that separated him from the old life, and yet the surprise was complete and overwhelming. he had tried that morning to write. a story was shaping itself in his mind and he felt the impulse to express it. but he was too depressed. he threw his pencil down in disgust and walked to his window facing the little park. it was a bleak, miserable day in november--the first freezing weather had come during the night and turned a drizzling rain into sleet. the streets were covered with a thin, hard, glistening coat of ice. a coal wagon had stalled in front of the house, a magnificent draught horse had fallen and a brutal driver began to beat him unmercifully. henry berg's society had not yet been organized. norton rushed from the door and faced the astonished driver: "don't you dare to strike that horse again!" the workman turned his half-drunken face on the intruder with a vicious leer: "well, what t'ell----" "i mean it!" with an oath the driver lunged at him: "get out of my way!" the big fist shot at norton's head. he parried the attack and knocked the man down. the driver scrambled to his feet and plunged forward again. a second blow sent him flat on his back on the ice and his body slipped three feet and struck the curb. "have you got enough?" norton asked, towering over the sprawling figure. "yes." "well, get up now, and i'll help you with the horse." he helped the sullen fellow unhitch the fallen horse, lift him to his feet and readjust the harness. he put shoulder to the wheel and started the wagon again on its way. he returned to his room feeling better. it was the first fight he had started for months and it stirred his blood to healthy reaction. he watched the bare limbs swaying in the bitter wind in front of st. george's church and his eye rested on the steeples the architects said were unsafe and might fall some day with a crash, and his depression slowly returned. he had waked that morning with a vague sense of dread. "i guess it was that fight!" he muttered. "the scoundrel will be back in an hour with a warrant for my arrest and i'll spend a few days in jail----" the postman's whistle blew at the basement window. he knew that fellow by the way he started the first notes of his call--always low, swelling into a peculiar shrill crescendo and dying away in a weird cry of pain. the call this morning was one of startling effects. it was his high nerve tension, of course, that made the difference--perhaps, too, the bitter cold and swirling gusts of wind outside. but the shock was none the less vivid. the whistle began so low it seemed at first the moaning of the wind, the high note rang higher and higher, until it became the shout of a fiend, and died away with a wail of agony wrung from a lost soul. he shivered at the sound. he would not have been surprised to receive a letter from the dead after that. he heard some one coming slowly up stairs. it was mammy and the boy. the lazy maid had handed his mail to her, of course. his door was pushed open and the child ran in holding a letter in his red, chubby hand: "a letter, daddy!" he cried. he took it mechanically, staring at the inscription. he knew now the meaning of his horrible depression! she was writing that letter when it began yesterday. he recognized cleo's handwriting at a glance, though this was unusually blurred and crooked. the postmark was baltimore, another striking fact. he laid the letter down on his table unopened and turned to mammy: "take him to your room. i'm trying to do some writing." the old woman took the child's hand grumbling: "come on, mammy's darlin', nobody wants us!" he closed the door, locked it, glanced savagely at the unopened letter, drew his chair before the open fire and gazed into the glowing coals. he feared to break the seal--feared with a dull, sickening dread. he glanced at it again as though he were looking at a toad that had suddenly intruded into his room. six months had passed without a sign, and he had ceased to wonder at the strange calm with which she received her dismissal and his flight from the scene after his wife's death. he had begun to believe that her shadow would never again fall across his life. it had come at last. he picked the letter up, and tried to guess its meaning. she was going to make demands on him, of course. he had expected this months ago. but why should she be in baltimore? he thought of a hundred foolish reasons without once the faintest suspicion of the truth entering his mind. he broke the seal and read its contents. a look of vague incredulity overspread his face, followed by a sudden pallor. the one frightful thing he had dreaded and forgotten was true! he crushed the letter in his powerful hand with a savage groan: "god in heaven!" he spread it out again and read and re-read its message, until each word burned its way into his soul: "our baby was born here yesterday. i was on my way to new york to you, but was taken sick on the train at baltimore and had to stop. i'm alone and have no money, but i'm proud and happy. i know that you will help me. "cleo." for hours he sat in a stupor of pain, holding this crumpled letter in his hand, staring into the fire. chapter xxi the call of the blood it was all clear now, the mystery of cleo's assurance, of her happiness, of her acceptance of his going without protest. she had known the truth from the first and had reckoned on his strength and manliness to draw him to her in this hour. "i'll show her!" he said in fierce rebellion. "i'll give her the money she needs--yes--but her shadow shall never again darken my life. i won't permit this shame to smirch the soul of my boy--i'll die first!" he moved to the west side of town, permitted no one to learn his new address, sent her money from the general postoffice, and directed all his mail to a lock box he had secured. he destroyed thus every trace by which she might discover his residence if she dared to venture into new york. to his surprise it was more than three weeks before he received a reply from her. and the second letter made an appeal well-nigh resistless. the message was brief, but she had instinctively chosen the words that found him. how well she knew that side of his nature! he resented it with rage and tried to read all sorts of sinister guile into the lines. but as he scanned them a second time reason rejected all save the simplest and most obvious meaning the words implied. the letter was evidently written in a cramped position. she had missed the lines many times and some words were so scrawled they were scarcely legible. but he read them all at last: "i have been very sick since your letter came with the money. i tried to get up too soon. i have suffered awfully. you see, i didn't know how much i had gone through. please don't be angry with me for what neither you nor i can help now. i want to see you just once, and then i won't trouble you any more. i am very weak to-day, but i'll soon be strong again. "cleo." it made him furious, this subtle appeal to his keen sense of fatherhood. she knew how tenderly he loved his boy. she knew that while such obligations rest lightly on some men, the tie that bound him to his son was the biggest thing in his life. she had been near him long enough to learn the secret things of his inner life. she was using them now to break down the barriers of character and self-respect. he could see it plainly. he hated her for it and yet the appeal went straight to his heart. two things in this letter he couldn't get away from: "you see, i didn't know how much i had gone through." he kept reading this over. and the next line: "please don't be angry with me for what neither you nor i can help now." the appeal was so human, so simple, so obviously sincere, no man with a soul could ignore it. how could she help it now? she too had been swept into the tragic situation by the blind forces of nature. after all, had it not been inevitable? did not such a position of daily intimate physical contact--morning, noon and night--mean just this? could she have helped it? were they not both the victims, in a sense, of the follies of centuries? had he the right to be angry with her? his reason answered, no. and again came the deeper question--can any man ever escape the consequences of his deeds? deeds are of the infinite and eternal and the smallest one disturbs the universe. it slowly began to dawn on him that nothing he could ever do or say could change one elemental fact. she was a mother--a fact bigger than all the forms and ceremonies of the ages. it was just this thing in his history that made his sin against the wife so poignant, both to her and to his imagination. a child was a child, and he had no right to sneak and play a coward in such an hour. step by step the woman's simple cry forced its way into the soul and slowly but surely the rags were stripped from pride, until he began to see himself naked and without sham. the one thing that finally cut deepest was the single sentence: "you see, i didn't know how much i had gone through----" he read it again with a feeling of awe. no matter what the shade of her olive cheek or the length of her curly hair, she was a mother with all that big word means in the language of men. say what he might--of her art in leading him on, of her final offering herself in a hundred subtle ways in their daily life in his home--he was still responsible. he had accepted the challenge at last. and he knew what it meant to any woman under the best conditions, with a mother's face hovering near and the man she loved by her side. he saw again the scene of his boy's birth. and then another picture--a lonely girl in a strange city without a friend--a cot in the whitewashed ward of a city's hospital--a pair of startled eyes looking in vain for a loved, familiar face as her trembling feet stepped falteringly down into the valley that lies between life and death! a pitiful thing, this hour of suffering and of waiting for the unknown. his heart went out to her in sympathy, and he answered her letter with a promise to come. but on the day he was to start for baltimore mammy was stricken with a cold which developed into pneumonia. unaccustomed to the rigors of a northern climate, she had been careless and the result from the first was doubtful. to leave her was, of course, impossible. he sent for a doctor and two nurses and no care or expense was spared, but in spite of every effort she died. it was four weeks before he returned from the funeral in the south. he reached baltimore in a blinding snowstorm the week preceding christmas. cleo had left the hospital three weeks previous to his arrival, and for some unexplained reason had spent a week or ten days in norfolk and returned in time to meet him. he failed to find her at the address she had given him, but was directed to an obscure hotel in another quarter of the city. he was surprised and puzzled at the attitude assumed at this meeting. she was nervous, irritable, insolent and apparently anxious for a fight. "well, why do you stare at me like that?" she asked angrily. "was i staring?" he said with an effort at self-control. "after all i've been through the past weeks," she said bitterly, "i didn't care whether i lived or died." "i meant to have come at once as i wrote you. but mammy's illness and death made it impossible to get here sooner." "one excuse is as good as another," she retorted with a contemptuous toss of her head. norton looked at her in blank amazement. it was inconceivable that this was the same woman who wrote him the simple, sincere appeal a few weeks ago. it was possible, of course, that suffering had embittered her mind and reduced her temporarily to the nervous condition in which she appeared. "why do you keep staring at me?" she asked again, with insolent ill-temper. he was so enraged at her evident attempt to bully him into an attitude of abject sympathy, he shot her a look of rage, seized his hat and without a word started for the door. with a cry of despair she was by his side and grasped his arm: "please--please don't!" "change your tactics, then, if you have anything to say to me." she flushed, stammered, looked at him queerly and then smiled: "yes, i will, major--please don't be mad at me! you see, i'm just a little crazy. i've been through so much since i came here i didn't know what i was saying to you. i'm awfully sorry--let me take your hat----" she took his hat, laid it on the table and led him to a seat. "please sit down. i'm so glad you've come, and i thank you for coming. i'm just as humble and grateful as i can be. you must forget how foolish i've acted. i've been so miserable and scared and lonely, it's a wonder i haven't jumped into the bay. and i just thought at last that you were never coming." norton looked at her with new astonishment. not because there was anything strange in what she said--he had expected some such words on his arrival, but because they didn't ring true. she seemed to be lying. there was an expression of furtive cunning in her greenish eyes that was uncanny. he couldn't make her out. in spite of the effort to be friendly she was repulsive. "well, i'm here," he said calmly. "you have something to say--what is it?" "of course," she answered smilingly. "i have a lot to say. i want you to tell me what to do." "anything you like," he answered bluntly. "it's nothing to you?" "i'll give you an allowance." "is that all?" "what else do you expect?" "you don't want to see her?" "no." "i thought you were coming for that?" "i've changed my mind. and the less we see of each other the better. i'll go with you to-morrow and verify the records----" cleo laughed: "you don't think i'm joking about her birth?" "no. but i'm not going to take your word for it." "all right, i'll go with you to-morrow." he started again to the door. he felt that he must leave--that he was smothering. something about the girl's manner got on his nerves. not only was there no sort of sympathy or attraction between them but the longer he stayed in her presence the more he felt the desire to choke her. he began to look into her eyes with growing suspicion and hate, and behind their smiling plausibility he felt the power of a secret deadly hostility. "you don't want me to go back home with the child, do you?" cleo asked with a furtive glance. "no, i do not," he replied, emphatically. "i'm going back--but i'll give her up and let you educate her in a convent on one condition----" "what?" he asked sharply. "that you let me nurse the boy again and give me the protection and shelter of your home----" "never!" he cried. "please be reasonable. it will be best for you and best for me and best for her that her life shall never be blackened by the stain of my blood. i've thought it all out. it's the only way----" "no," he replied sternly. "i'll educate her in my own way, if placed in my hands without condition. but you shall never enter my house again----" "is it fair," she pleaded, "to take everything from me and turn me out in the world alone? i'll give your boy all the love of a hungry heart. he loves me." "he has forgotten your existence----" "you know that he hasn't!" "i know that he has," norton persisted with rising wrath. "it's a waste of breath for you to talk to me about this thing"--he turned on her fiercely: "why do you wish to go back there? to grin and hint the truth to your friends?" "you know that i'd cut my tongue out sooner than betray you. i'd like to scream it from every housetop--yes. but i won't. i won't, because you smile or frown means too much to me. i'm asking this that i may live and work for you and be your slave without money and without price----" "i understand," he broke in bitterly, "because you think that thus you can again drag me down--well, you can't do it! the power you once had is gone--gone forever--never to return----" "then why be afraid? no one there knows except my mother. you hate me. all right. i can do you no harm. i'll never hate you. i'll just be happy to serve you, to love your boy and help you rear him to be a fine man. let me go back with you and open the old house again----" he lifted his hand with a gesture of angry impatience: "enough of this now--you go your way in life and i go mine." "i'll not give her up except on my conditions----" "then you can keep her and go where you please. if you return home you'll not find me. i'll put the ocean between us if necessary----" he stepped quickly to the door and she knew it was needless to argue further. "come to my hotel to-morrow morning at ten o'clock and i'll make you a settlement through a lawyer." "i'll be there," she answered in a low tone, "but please, major, before you go let me ask you not to remember the foolish things i said and the way i acted when you came. i'm so sorry--forgive me. i made you terribly mad. i don't know what was the matter with me. remember i'm just a foolish girl here without a friend----" she stopped, her voice failing: "oh, my god, i'm so lonely, i don't want to live! you don't know what it means for me just to be near you--please let me go home with you!" there was something genuine in this last cry. it reached his heart in spite of anger. he hesitated and spoke in kindly tones: "good night--i'll see you in the morning." this plea of loneliness and homesickness found the weak spot in his armor. it was so clearly the echo of his own feelings. the old home, with its beautiful and sad memories, his people and his work had begun to pull resistlessly. her suggestion was a subtle and dangerous one, doubly seductive because it was so safe a solution of difficulties. there was not the shadow of a doubt that her deeper purpose was to ultimately dominate his personal life. he was sure of his strength, yet he knew that the wise thing to do was to refuse to listen. at ten o'clock next morning she came. he had called a lawyer and drawn up a settlement that only waited her signature. she had not said she would sign--she had not positively refused. she was looking at him with dumb pleading eyes. [illustration: "he had heard the call of his people."] without a moment's warning the boy pushed his way into the room. norton sprang before cleo and shouted angrily to the nurse: "i told you not to let him come into this room----" "but you see i des tum!" the boy answered with a laugh as he darted to the corner. the thing he dreaded had happened. in a moment the child saw cleo. there was just an instant's hesitation and the father smiled that he had forgotten her. but the hesitation was only the moment of dazed surprise. with a scream of joy he crossed the room and sprang into her arms: "oh, cleo--cleo--my cleo! you've tum--you've tum! look, daddy! she's tum--my cleo!" he hugged her, he kissed her, he patted her flushed cheeks, he ran his little fingers through her tangled hair, drew himself up and kissed her again. she snatched him to her heart and burst into uncontrollable sobs, raised her eyes streaming with tears to norton and said softly: "let me go home with you!" he looked at her, hesitated and then slowly tore the legal document to pieces, threw it in the fire and nodded his consent. but this time his act was not surrender. he had heard the call of his people and his country. it was the first step toward the execution of a new life purpose that had suddenly flamed in the depths of his darkened soul as he watched the picture of the olive cheek of the woman against the clear white of his child's. book two--atonement chapter i the new life purpose norton had been compelled to wait twenty years for the hour when he could strike the first decisive blow in the execution of his new life purpose. but the aim he had set was so high, so utterly unselfish, so visionary, so impossible by the standards of modern materialism, he felt the thrill of the religious fanatic as he daily girded himself to his task. he was far from being a religious enthusiast, although he had grown a religion of his own, inherited in part, dreamed in part from the depth of his own heart. the first article of this faith was a firm belief in the ever-brooding divine spirit and its guidance in the work of man if he but opened his mind to its illumination. he believed, as in his own existence, that god's spirit had revealed the vision he saw in the hour of his agony, twenty years before when he had watched his boy's tiny arms encircle the neck of cleo, the tawny young animal who had wrecked his life, but won the heart of his child. he had tried to desert his people of the south and awaked with a shock. his mind in prophetic gaze had leaped the years and seen the gradual wearing down of every barrier between the white and black races by the sheer force of daily contact under the new conditions which democracy had made inevitable. even under the iron laws of slavery it was impossible for an inferior and superior race to live side by side for centuries as master and slave without the breaking down of some of these barriers. but the moment the magic principle of equality in a democracy became the law of life they must all melt or democracy itself yield and die. he had squarely faced this big question and given his life to its solution. when he returned to his old home and installed cleo as his housekeeper and nurse she was the living incarnation before his eyes daily of the problem to be solved--the incarnation of its subtleties and its dangers. he studied her with the cold intellectual passion of a scientist. nor was there ever a moment's uncertainty or halting in the grim purpose that fired his soul. she had at first accepted his matter of fact treatment as the sign of ultimate surrender. and yet as the years passed she saw with increasing wonder and rage the gulf between them deepen and darken. she tried every art her mind could conceive and her effective body symbolize in vain. his eyes looked at her, but never saw the woman. they only saw the thing he hated--the mongrel breed of a degraded nation. he had begun his work at the beginning. he had tried to do the things that were possible. the minds of the people were not yet ready to accept the idea of a complete separation of the races. he planned for the slow process of an epic movement. his paper, in season and out of season, presented the daily life of the black and white races in such a way that the dullest mind must be struck by the fact that their relations presented an insoluble problem. every road of escape led at last through a blind alley against a blank wall. in this policy he antagonized no one, but expressed always the doubts and fears that lurked in the minds of thoughtful men and women. his paper had steadily grown in circulation and in solid power. he meant to use this power at the right moment. he had waited patiently and the hour at last had struck. the thunder of a torpedo under an american warship lying in havana harbor shook the nation and changed the alignment of political parties. the war with spain lasted but a few months, but it gave the south her chance. her sons leaped to the front and proved their loyalty to the flag. the "bloody shirt" could never again be waved. the negro ceased to be a ward of the nation and the union of states our fathers dreamed was at last an accomplished fact. there could never again be a "north" or a "south." norton's first brilliant editorial reviewing the results of this war drew the fire of his enemies from exactly the quarter he expected. a little college professor, who aspired to the leadership of southern thought under northern patronage, called at his office. the editor's lips curled with contempt as he read the engraved card: "professor alexander magraw" the man had long been one of his pet aversions. he occupied a chair in one of the state's leading colleges, and his effusions advocating peace at any price on the negro problem had grown so disgusting of late the _eagle and phoenix_ had refused to print them. magraw was nothing daunted. he devoted his energies to writing a book in fulsome eulogy of a notorious negro which had made him famous in the north. he wrote it to curry favor with the millionaires who were backing this african's work and succeeded in winning their boundless admiration. they hailed him the coming leader of "advanced thought." as a southern white man the little professor had boldly declared that this negro, who had never done anything except to demonstrate his skill as a beggar in raising a million dollars from northern sentimentalists, was the greatest human being ever born in america! outraged public opinion in the south had demanded his expulsion from the college for this idiotic effusion, but he was so entrenched behind the power of money he could not be disturbed. his loud protests for free speech following his acquittal had greatly increased the number of his henchmen. norton wondered at the meaning of his visit. it could only be a sinister one. in view of his many contemptuous references to the man, he was amazed at his audacity in venturing to invade his office. he scowled a long while at the card and finally said to the boy: "show him in." chapter ii a modern scalawag as the professor entered the office norton was surprised at his height and weight. he had never met him personally, but had unconsciously formed the idea that he was a scrub physically. he saw a man above the average height, weighing nearly two hundred, with cheeks flabby but inclined to fat. it was not until he spoke that he caught the unmistakable note of effeminacy in his voice and saw it clearly reflected in his features. he was dressed with immaculate neatness and wore a tie of an extraordinary shade of lavender which matched the silk hose that showed above his stylish low-cut shoes. "major norton, i believe?" he said with a smile. the editor bowed without rising: "at your service, professor magraw. have a seat, sir." "thank you! thank you!" the dainty voice murmured with so marked a resemblance to a woman's tones that norton was torn between two impulses--one to lift his eyebrows and sigh, "oh, splash!" and the other to kick him down the stairs. he was in no mood for the amenities of polite conversation, turned and asked bluntly: "may i inquire, professor, why you have honored me with this unexpected call--i confess i am very curious?" "no doubt, no doubt," he replied glibly. "you have certainly not minced matters in your personal references to me in the paper of late, major norton, but i have simply taken it good-naturedly as a part of your day's work. apparently we represent two irreconcilable ideals of southern society----" "there can be no doubt about that," norton interrupted grimly. "yet i have dared to hope that our differences are only apparent and that we might come to a better understanding." he paused, simpered and smiled. "about what?" the editor asked with a frown. "about the best policy for the leaders of public opinion to pursue to more rapidly advance the interests of the south----" "and by 'interests of the south' you mean?" "the best interest of all the people without regard to race or color!" norton smiled: "you forgot part of the pass-word of your order, professor! the whole clause used to read, 'race, color or previous condition of servitude'----" the sneer was lost on the professor. he was too intent on his mission. "i have called, major norton," he went on glibly, "to inform you that my distinguished associates in the great educational movement in the south view with increasing alarm the tendency of your paper to continue the agitation of the so-called negro problem." "and may i ask by whose authority your distinguished associates have been set up as the arbiters of the destiny of twenty millions of white citizens of the south?" the professor flushed with amazement at the audacity of such a question: "they have given millions to the cause of education, sir! these great funds represent to-day a power that is becoming more and more resistless----" norton sprang to his feet and faced magraw with eyes flashing: "that's why i haven't minced matters in my references to you, professor. that's why i'm getting ready to strike a blow in the cause of racial purity for which my paper stands." "but why continue to rouse the bitterness of racial feeling? the question will settle itself if let alone." "how?" "by the process of evolution----" "exactly!" norton thundered. "and by that you mean the gradual breaking down of racial barriers and the degradation of our people to a mongrel negroid level or you mean nothing! no miracle of evolution can gloss over the meaning of such a tragedy. the negro is the lowest of all human forms, four thousand years below the standard of the pioneer white aryan who discovered this continent and peopled it with a race of empire builders. the gradual mixture of our blood with his can only result in the extinction of national character--a calamity so appalling the mind of every patriot refuses to accept for a moment its possibility." "i am not advocating such a mixture!" the professor mildly protested. "in so many words, no," retorted norton; "yet you are setting in motion forces that make it inevitable, as certain as life, as remorseless as death. when you demand that the patriot of the south let the negro alone to work out his own destiny, you know that the mere physical contact of two such races is a constant menace to white civilization----" the professor raised the delicate, tapering hands: "the old nightmare of negro domination is only a thing with which to frighten children, major, the danger is a myth----" "indeed!" norton sneered. "when our people saw the menace of an emancipated slave suddenly clothed with the royal power of a ballot they met this threat against the foundations of law and order by a counter revolution and restored a government of the wealth, virtue and intelligence of the community. what they have not yet seen, is the more insidious danger that threatens the inner home life of a democratic nation from the physical contact of two such races." "and you propose to prevent that contact?" the piping voice asked. "yes." "and may i ask how?" "by an ultimate complete separation through a process covering perhaps two hundred years----" the professor laughed: "visionary--impossible!" "all right," norton slowly replied. "i see the invisible and set myself to do the impossible. because men have done such things the world moves forward not backward!" the lavender hose moved stealthily: "you will advocate this?" the professor asked. "in due time. the southern white man and woman still labor under the old delusion that the negro's lazy, slipshod ways are necessary and that we could not get along without him----" "and if you dare to antagonize that faith?" "when your work is done, professor, and the glorious results of evolution are shown to mean the giving in marriage of our sons and daughters, my task will be easy. in the mean time i'll do the work at hand. the negro is still a voter. the devices by which he is prevented from using the power to which his numbers entitle him are but temporary. the first real work before the statesmen of the south is the disfranchisement of the african, the repeal of the fifteenth amendment to our constitution and the restoration of american citizenship to its original dignity and meaning." "a large undertaking," the professor glibly observed. "and you will dare such a program?" "i'll at least strike a blow for it. the first great crime against the purity of our racial stock was the mixture of blood which the physical contact of slavery made inevitable. "but the second great crime, and by far the most tragic and disastrous, was the insane act of congress inspired by the passions of the reconstruction period by which a million ignorant black men, but yesterday from the jungles of africa, were clothed with the full powers of citizenship under the flag of democracy and given the right by the ballot to rule a superior race. "the act of emancipation was a war measure pure and simple. by that act lincoln sought to strike the south as a political power a mortal blow. he did not free four million negroes for sentimental reasons. he destroyed four billion dollars' worth of property invested in slaves as an act of war to save the union. nothing was further from his mind or heart than the mad idea that these africans could be assimilated into our national life. he intended to separate the races and give the negro a nation of his own. but the hand of a madman struck the great leader down in the hour of his supreme usefulness. "in the anarchy which followed the assassination of the president and the attempt of a daring coterie of fanatics in washington to impeach his successor and create a dictatorship, the great crime against democracy was committed. millions of black men, with the intelligence of children and the instincts of savages, were given full and equal citizenship with the breed of men who created the republic. "any plan to solve intelligently the problem of the races must first correct this blunder from which a stream of poison has been pouring into our life. "the first step in the work of separating the races, therefore, must be to deprive the negro of this enormous power over democratic society. it is not a solution of the problem, but as the great blunder was the giving of this symbol of american kingship, our first task is to take it from him and restore the ballot to its original sanctity." "your movement will encounter difficulties, i foresee!" observed the professor with a gracious smile. he was finding his task with norton easier than he anticipated. the editor's madness was evidently so hopeless he had only to deliver his ultimatum and close the interview. "the difficulties are great," norton went on with renewed emphasis, "but less than they have been for the past twenty years. until yesterday the negro was the ward of the nation. any movement by a southern state to remove his menace was immediately met by a call to arms to defend the union by northern demagogues who had never smelled powder when the union was in danger. "a foolish preacher in boston who enjoys a national reputation has been in the habit of rousing his hearers to a round of cheers by stamping his foot, lifting hands above his head and yelling: "'the only way to save the union now is for northern mothers to rear more children than southern mothers!' "and the sad part of it is that thousands of otherwise sane people in new england and other sections of the north and west believed this idiotic statement to be literally true. it is no longer possible to fool them with such chaff----" the professor rose and shook out his finely creased trousers until the lavender hose scarcely showed: "i am afraid, major norton, that it is useless for us to continue this discussion. you are quite determined to maintain the policy of your paper on this point?" "quite." "i am sorry. the _eagle and phoenix_ is a very powerful influence in this state. the distinguished associates whom i represent sent me in the vain hope that i might persuade you to drop the agitation of this subject and join with us in developing the material and educational needs of the south----" norton laughed aloud: "really, professor?" the visitor flushed at the marked sneer in his tones, and fumbled his lavender tie: "i can only deliver to you our ultimatum, therefore----" "you are clothed with sovereign powers, then?" the editor asked sarcastically. "if you choose to designate them so--yes. unless you agree to drop this dangerous and useless agitation of the negro question and give our people a hearing in the columns of your paper, i am authorized to begin at once the publication of a journal that will express the best sentiment of the south----" "so?" "and i have unlimited capital to back it." norton's eyes flashed as he squared himself before the professor: "i've not a doubt of your backing. start your paper to-morrow if you like. you'll find that it takes more than money to build a great organ of public opinion in the south. i've put my immortal soul into this plant. i'll watch your experiment with interest." "thank you! thank you," the thin voice piped. "and now that we understand each other," norton went on, "you've given me the chance to say a few things to you and your associates i've been wanting to express for a long time----" norton paused and fixed his visitor with an angry stare: "not only is the negro gaining in numbers, in wealth and in shallow 'culture,' and tightening his grip on the soil as the owner in fee simple of thousands of homes, churches, schools and farms, but a negroid party has once more developed into a powerful and sinister influence on the life of this state! you and your associates are loud in your claims to represent a new south. in reality you are the direct descendants of the reconstruction scalawag and carpetbagger. "the old scalawag was the judas iscariot who sold his people for thirty pieces of silver which he got by licking the feet of his conqueror and fawning on his negro allies. the carpetbagger was a northern adventurer who came south to prey on the misfortunes of a ruined people. a new and far more dangerous order of scalawags has arisen--the man who boldly preaches the omnipotence of the dollar and weighs every policy of state or society by one standard only, will it pay in dollars and cents? and so you frown on any discussion of the tragic problem the negro's continued pressure on southern society involves because it disturbs business. "the unparalleled growth of wealth in the north has created our enormous poor funds, organized by generous well-meaning men for the purpose of education in the south. as a matter of fact, this new educational movement had its origin in the same soil that established negro classical schools and attempted to turn the entire black race into preachers, lawyers, and doctors just after the war. your methods, however, are wiser, although your policies are inspired, if not directed, by the fertile brain of a notorious negro of doubtful moral character. "the directors of your poor funds profess to be the only true friends of the true white man of the south. by a 'true white man of the south' you mean a man who is willing to show his breadth of vision by fraternizing occasionally with negroes. "an army of lickspittles have begun to hang on the coat-tails of your dispensers of alms. their methods are always the same. they attempt to attract the notice of the northern distributors by denouncing men of my type who are earnestly, fearlessly and reverently trying to face and solve the darkest problem the centuries have presented to america. these little beggars have begun to vie with one another not only in denouncing the leaders of public opinion in the south, but in fulsome and disgusting fawning at the feet of the individual negro whose personal influence dominates these funds." again the lavender socks moved uneasily. "in which category you place the author of a certain book, i suppose?" inquired the professor. "i paused in the hope that you might not miss my meaning," norton replied, smiling. "the astounding power for the debasement of public opinion developing through these vast corruption funds is one of the most sinister influences which now threatens southern society. it is the most difficult of all to meet because its protestations are so plausible and philanthropic. "the carpetbagger has come back to the south. this time he is not a low adventurer seeking coin and public office. he is a philanthropist who carries hundreds of millions of dollars to be distributed to the 'right' men who will teach southern boys and girls the 'right' ideas. so far as these 'right' ideas touch the negro, they mean the ultimate complete acceptance of the black man as a social equal. "your chief spokesman of this new order of carpetbag, for example, has declared on many occasions that the one thing in his life of which he is most proud is the fact that he is the personal friend of the negro whose influence now dominates your dispensers of alms! this man positively grovels with joy when his distinguished black friend honors him by becoming his guest in new york. "with growing rage and wonder i have watched the development of this modern phenomenon. i have fought you with sullen and unyielding fury from the first, and you have proven the most dangerous and insidious force i have encountered. you profess the loftiest motives and the highest altruism while the effects of your work can only be the degradation of the white race to an ultimate negroid level, to say nothing of the appalling results if you really succeed in pauperizing the educational system of the south! "i expected to hear from your crowd when the movement for a white ballot was begun. through you the society of affiliated black league almoners of the south, under the direction of your inspired negro leader, have sounded the alarm. and now all the little pigs who are feeding on this swill, and all the hungry ones yet outside the fence and squealing to get in, will unite in a chorus that you hope can have but one result--the division of the white race on a vital issue affecting its purity, its integrity, and its future. "the possible division of my race in its attitude toward the negro is the one big danger that has always hung its ugly menace over the south. so long as her people stand united, our civilization can be protected against the pressure of the negro's growing millions. but the moment a serious division of these forces occurs the black man's opportunity will be at hand. the question is, can you divide the white race on this issue?" "we shall see, major, we shall see," piped the professor, fumbling his lavender tie and bowing himself out. the strong jaw closed with a snap as norton watched the silk hose disappear. chapter iii his house in order norton knew from the first that there could be no hope of success in such a campaign as he had planned except in the single iron will of a leader who would lead and whose voice lifted in impassioned appeal direct to the white race in every county of the state could rouse them to resistless enthusiasm. the man who undertook this work must burn the bridges behind him, ask nothing for himself and take his life daily in his hands. he knew the state from the sea to its farthest mountain peak and without the slightest vanity felt that god had called him to this task. there was no other man who could do it, no other man fitted for it. he had the training, bitter experience, and the confidence of the people. and he had no ambitions save a deathless desire to serve his country in the solution of its greatest and most insoluble problem. he edited the most powerful organ of public opinion in the south and he was an eloquent and forceful speaker. his paper had earned a comfortable fortune, he was independent, he had the training of a veteran soldier and physical fear was something he had long since ceased to know. and his house was in order for the event. he could leave for months in confidence that the work would run with the smoothness of a clock. he had sent tom to a northern university which had kept itself clean from the stain of negro associations. the boy had just graduated with honor, returned home and was at work in the office. he was a handsome, clean, manly, straight-limbed, wholesome boy, the pride of his father's heart, and had shown decided talent for newspaper work. andy had long since become his faithful henchman, butler and man of all work. aunt minerva, his fat, honest cook, was the best servant he had ever known, and cleo kept his house. the one point of doubt was cleo. during the past year she had given unmistakable signs of a determination to fight. if she should see fit to strike in the midst of this campaign, her blow would be a crushing one. it would not only destroy him personally, it would confuse and crush his party in hopeless defeat. he weighed this probability from every point of view and the longer he thought it over the less likely it appeared that she would take such a step. she would destroy herself and her child as well. she knew him too well now to believe that he would ever yield in such a struggle. helen was just graduating from a convent school in the northwest, a beautiful and accomplished girl, and the last thing on earth she could suspect was that a drop of negro blood flowed in her veins. he knew cleo too well, understood her hatred of negroes too well, to believe that she would deliberately push this child back into a negroid hell merely to wreak a useless revenge that would crush her own life as well. she was too wise, too cunning, too cautious. and yet her steadily growing desperation caused him to hesitate. the thing he dreaded most was the loss of his boy's respect, which a last desperate fight with this woman would involve. the one thing he had taught tom was racial cleanness. with a wisdom inspired and guided by the brooding spirit of his mother he had done this thoroughly. he had so instilled into this proud, sensitive boy's soul a hatred for all low association with women that it was inconceivable to him that any decent white man would stoop to an intrigue with a woman of negro blood. the withering scorn, the unmeasured contempt with which he had recently expressed himself to his father on this point had made the red blood slowly mount to the older man's face. he had rather die than look into this boy's clean, manly eyes and confess the shame that would blacken his life. the boy loved him with a deep, tender, reverent love. his keen eyes had long ago seen the big traits in his father's character. the boy's genuine admiration was the sweetest thing in his lonely life. he weighed every move with care and deliberately made up his mind to strike the blow and take the chances. no man had the right to weigh his personal career against the life of a people--certainly no man who dared to assume the leadership of a race. he rose from his desk, opened the door of the reporters' room and called tom. the manly young figure, in shirt sleeves, pad and pencil in hand, entered with quick, firm step. "you want me to interview you, governor?" he said with a laugh. "all right--now what do you think of that little scrimmage at the mouth of the harbor of santiago yesterday? how's that for a fourth of july celebration? i ask it of a veteran of the confederate army?" the father smiled proudly as the youngster pretended to be taking notes of his imaginary interview. "you heard, sir," he went on eagerly, "that your old general, joe wheeler, was there and in a moment of excitement forgot himself and shouted to his aid: "'there go the damned yankees!--charge and give 'em hell!'" a dreamy look came into the father's eyes as he interrupted: "i shouldn't be surprised if wheeler said it--anyhow, it's too good a joke to doubt"--he paused and the smile on his serious face slowly faded. "shut the door, tom," he said with a gesture toward the reporters' room. the boy rose, closed the door, and sat down near his father's chair: "well, dad, why so serious? am i to be fired without a chance? or is it just a cut in my wages? don't prolong the agony!" "i am going to put you in my chair in this office, my son," the father said in a slow drawl. the boy flushed scarlet and then turned pale. "you don't mean it--now?" he gasped. "to-morrow." "you think i can make good?" the question came through trembling lips and he was looking at his father through a pair of dark blue eyes blurred by tears of excitement. "you'll do better than i did at your age. you're better equipped." "you think so?" tom asked in quick boyish eagerness. "i know it." the boy sprang to his feet and grasped his father's hand: "your faith in me is glorious--it makes me feel like i can do anything----" "you can--if you try." "well, if i can, it's because i've got good blood in me. i owe it all to you. you're the biggest man i ever met, dad. i've wanted to say this to you for a long time, but i never somehow got up my courage to tell you what i thought of you." the father slipped his arm tenderly about the boy and looked out the window at the bright southern sky for a moment before he slowly answered: "i'd rather hear that from you, tom, than the shouts of the rest of the world." "i'm going to do my level best to prove myself worthy of the big faith you've shown in me--but why have you done it? what does it mean?" "simply this, my boy, that the time has come in the history of the south for a leader to strike the first blow in the battle for racial purity by establishing a clean american citizenship. i am going to disfranchise the negro in this state as the first step toward the ultimate complete separation of the races." the boy's eyes flashed: "it's a big undertaking, sir." "yes." "is it possible?" "many say not. that's why i'm going to do it. the real work must come after this first step. just now the campaign which i'm going to inaugurate to-morrow in a speech at the mass meeting celebrating our victory at santiago, is the thing in hand. this campaign will take me away from home for several months. i must have a man here whom i can trust implicitly." "i'll do my best, sir," the boy broke in. "in case anything happens to me before it ends----" tom bent close: "what do you mean?" "you never can tell what may happen in such a revolution----" "it will be a revolution?" "yes. that's what my enemies as yet do not understand. they will not be prepared for the weapons i shall use. and i'll win. i may lose my life, but i'll start a fire that can't be put out until it has swept the state--the south"--he paused--"and then the nation!" chapter iv the man of the hour the editor prepared to launch his campaign with the utmost care. he invited the executive committee of his party to meet in his office. the leaders were excited. they knew norton too well to doubt that he had something big to suggest. some of them came from distant sections of the state, three hundred miles away, to hear his plans. he faced the distinguished group of leaders calmly, but every man present felt the deep undercurrent of excitement beneath his words. "with your coöperation, gentlemen," he began, "we are going to sweep the state this time by an overwhelming majority----" "that's the way to talk!" the chairman shouted. "four years ago," he went on, "we were defeated for the first time since the overthrow of the negro government under the reconstruction régime. this defeat was brought about by a division of the whites under the socialistic program of the farmers' alliance. gradually the black man has forced himself into power under the new régime. our farmers only wished his votes to accomplish their plans and have no use for him as an officeholder. the rank and file of the white wing, therefore, of the allied party in power, are ripe for revolt if the negro is made an issue." the committee cheered. "i propose to make the negro the only issue of this campaign. there will be no half-way measures, no puling hesitation, no weakness, and it will be a fight to the death in the open. the day for secret organizations has gone in southern history. there is no black league to justify a reorganization of the klan. but the new black league has a far more powerful organization. its mask is now philanthropy, not patriotism. its weapon is the lure of gold, not the flash of federal bayonets. they will fight to divide the white race on this vital issue. "here is our danger. it is real. it is serious. but we must meet it. there is but one way, and that is to conduct a campaign of such enthusiasm, of such daring and revolutionary violence if need be, that the little henchmen and sycophants of the dispensers of the national poor funds will be awed into silence. "the leadership of such a campaign will be a dangerous one. i offer you my services without conditions. i ask nothing for myself. i will accept no honors. i offer you my time, my money, my paper, my life if need be!" the leaders rose as one man, grasped norton's hand, and placed him in command. no inkling of even the outlines of his radical program was allowed to leak out until the hour of the meeting of the party convention. the delegates were waiting anxiously for the voice of a leader who would sound the note of victory. and when the platform was read to the convention declaring in simple, bold words that the time had come for the south to undo the crime of the fifteenth amendment, disfranchise the negro and restore to the nation the basis of white civilization, a sudden cheer like a peal of thunder swept the crowd, followed by the roar of a storm. it died away at last in waves of excited comment, rose again and swelled and rose higher and higher until the old wooden building trembled. again and again such assemblies had declared in vague terms for "white supremacy." campaign after campaign which followed the blight of negro rule twenty years before had been fought and won on this issue. but no man or party had dared to whisper what "white supremacy" really meant. there was no fog about this platform. for the first time in the history of the party it said exactly what was meant in so many words. thoughtful men had long been weary of platitudes on this subject. the negro had grown enormously in wealth, in numbers and in social power in the past two decades. as a full-fledged citizen in a democracy he was a constant menace to society. here, for the first time, was the announcement of a definite program. it was revolutionary. it meant the revision of the constitution of the union and a challenge to the negro race, and all his sentimental allies in the republic for a fight to a finish. the effect of its bare reading was electric. the moment the chairman tried to lift his voice the cheers were renewed. the hearts of the people had been suddenly thrilled by a great ideal. no matter whether it meant success or failure, no matter whether it meant fame or oblivion for the man who proposed it, every intelligent delegate in that hall knew instinctively that a great mind had spoken a bold principle that must win in the end if the republic live. norton rose at last to advocate its adoption as the one issue of the campaign, and again pandemonium broke loose--now they knew that he had written it! they suspected it from the first. instantly his name was on a thousand lips in a shout that rent the air. he stood with his tall figure drawn to its full height, his face unearthly pale, wreathed in its heavy shock of iron-gray hair and waited, without recognizing the tumult, until the last shout had died away. his speech was one of passionate and fierce appeal--the voice of the revolutionist who had boldly thrown off the mask and called his followers to battle. yet through it all, the big unspoken thing behind his words was the magic that really swayed his hearers. they felt that what he said was great, but that he could say something greater if he would. as he had matured in years he had developed this reserved power. all who came in personal touch with the man felt it instinctively with his first word. an audience, with its simpler collective intelligence, felt it overwhelmingly. yet if he had dared reveal to this crowd the ideas seething in his brain behind the simple but bold political proposition, he could not have carried them with him. they were not ready for it. he knew that to merely take the ballot from the negro and allow him to remain in physical touch with the white race was no solution of the problem. but he was wise enough to know that but one step could be taken at a time in a great movement to separate millions of blacks from the entanglements of the life of two hundred years. his platform expressed what he believed could be accomplished, and the convention at the conclusion of his eloquent speech adopted it by acclamation amid a scene of wild enthusiasm. he refused all office, except the position of chairman of the executive committee without pay, and left the hall the complete master of the politics of his party. little did he dream in this hour of triumph the grim tragedy the day's work had prepared in his own life. chapter v a woman scorned as the time drew near for norton to take the field in the campaign whose fierce passions would mark a new era in the state's history, his uneasiness over the attitude of cleo increased. she had received the announcement of his approaching long absence with sullen anger. and as the purpose of the campaign gradually became clear she had watched him with growing suspicion and hate. he felt it in every glance she flashed from the depth of her greenish eyes. though she had never said it in so many words, he was sure that the last hope of a resumption of their old relations was fast dying in her heart, and that the moment she realized that he was lost to her would be the signal for a desperate attack. what form the attack would take he could only guess. he was sure it would be as deadly as her ingenuity could invent. yet in the wildest flight of his imagination he never dreamed the daring thing she had really decided to do. on the night before his departure he was working late in his room at the house. the office he had placed in tom's hands before the meeting of the convention. the boy's eager young face just in front of him when he made his speech that day had been an inspiration. it had beamed with pride and admiration, and when his father's name rang from every lip in the great shout that shook the building tom's eyes had filled with tears. norton was seated at his typewriter, which he had moved to his room, writing his final instructions. the last lines he put in caps: "under no conceivable circumstances annoy me with anything that happens at home, unless a matter of immediate life and death, anything else can wait until my return." he had just finished this important sentence when the sound of a footstep behind his chair caused him to turn suddenly. cleo had entered the room and stood glaring at him with a look of sullen defiance. by a curious coincidence or by design, she was dressed in a scarlet kimono of the same shade of filmy japanese stuff as the one she wore in his young manhood. his quick eye caught this fact in a flash and his mind took rapid note of the changes the years had wrought. their burdens had made slight impression on her exhaustless vitality. whatever might be her personality or her real character, she was alive from the crown of her red head to the tips of her slippered toes. her attitude of tense silence sparkled with this vital power more eloquently than when she spoke with quick energy in the deep voice that was her most remarkable possession. her figure was heavier by twenty pounds than when she had first entered his home, but she never produced the impression of stoutness. her form was too sinuous, pliant and nervous to take on flesh. she was no longer the graceful girl of eighteen whose beauty had drugged his senses, but she was beyond all doubt a woman of an extraordinary type, luxuriant, sensuous, dominant. there was not a wrinkle on her smooth creamy skin nor a trace of approaching age about the brilliant greenish eyes that were gazing into his now with such grim determination. he wheeled from his machine and faced her, his eyes taking in with a quick glance the evident care with which she had arranged her hair and the startling manner in which she was dressed. he spoke with sharp, incisive emphasis: "it was a condition of your return that you should never enter my room while i am in this house." "i have not forgotten," she answered firmly, her eyes holding his steadily. "why have you dared?" "you are still afraid of me?" she asked with a light laugh that was half a sneer. "have i given you any such evidence during the past twenty years?" there was no bitterness or taunt in the even, slow drawl with which he spoke, but the woman knew that he never used the slow tone with which he uttered those words except he was deeply moved. she flushed, was silent and then answered with a frown: "no, you haven't shown any fear for something more than twenty years--until a few days ago." the last clause she spoke very quickly as she took a step closer and paused. "a few days ago?" he repeated slowly. "yes. for the past week you _have_ been afraid of me--not in the sense i asked you just now perhaps"--her white teeth showed in two even perfect rows--"but you have been watching me out of the corners of your eyes--haven't you?" "perhaps." "i wonder why?" "and you haven't guessed?" "no, but i'm going to find out." "you haven't asked." "i'm going to." "be quick about it!" "i'm going to find out--that's why i came in here to-night in defiance of your orders." "all right--the quicker the better!" "thank you, i'm not in a hurry." "what do you want?" he demanded with anger. she smiled tauntingly: "it's no use to get mad about it! i'm here now, you see that i'm not afraid of you and i'm quite sure that you will not put me out until i'm ready to go----" he sprang to his feet and advanced on her: "i'm not so sure of that!" "well, i am," she cried, holding his gaze steadily. he threw up his hands with a gesture of disgust and resumed his seat: "what is it?" she crossed the room deliberately, carrying a chair in front of her, sat down, leaned her elbow on his table and studied him a moment, their eyes meeting in a gaze of deadly hostility. "what is the meaning of this long absence you have planned?" "i have charge of this campaign. i am going to speak in every county in the state." "why?" "because i'll win that way, by a direct appeal to the people." "why do you want to win?" "because i generally do what i undertake." "why do you want to do this thing?" he looked at her in amazement. her eyes had narrowed to the tiniest lines as she asked these questions with a steadily increasing intensity. "what are you up to?" he asked her abruptly. "i want to know why you began this campaign at all?" "i decline to discuss the question with you," he answered abruptly. "i insist on it!" "you wouldn't know what i was talking about," he replied with contempt. "i think i would." "bah!" he turned from her with a wave of angry dismissal, seized his papers and began to read again his instructions to tom. "i'm not such a fool as you think," she began menacingly. "i've read your platform with some care and i've been thinking it over at odd times since your speech was reported." "and you contemplate entering politics?" he interrupted with a smile. "who knows?" she watched him keenly while she slowly uttered these words and saw the flash of uneasiness cross his face, "but don't worry," she laughed. "i'll not!" "you may for all that!" she sneered, "but i'll not enter politics as you fear. that would be too cheap. i don't care what you do to negroes. i've a drop of their blood in me----" "one in eight, to be exact." "but i'm not one of them, except by your laws, and i hate the sight of a negro. you can herd them, colonize them, send them back to africa or to the devil for all i care. your program interests me for another reason"--she paused and watched him intently. "yes?" he said carelessly. "it interests me for one reason only--you wrote that platform, you made that speech, you carried that convention. your man friday is running for governor. you are going to take the stump, carry this election and take the ballot from the negro!" "well?" "i'm excited about it merely because it shows the inside of your mind." "indeed!" "yes. it shows either that you are afraid of me or that you're not----" "it couldn't well show both," he interrupted with a sneer. "it might," she answered. "if you are afraid of me and my presence is the cause of this outburst, all right. i'll still play the game with you and win or lose. i'll take my chances. but if you're not afraid of me, if you've really not been on your guard for twenty years, it means another thing. it means that you've learned your lesson, that the book of the past is closed, and that you have simply been waiting for the time to come to do this thing and save your people from a danger before which you once fell." "and which horn of the dilemma do you take?" he asked coldly. "i haven't decided--but i will to-night." "how interesting!" "yes, isn't it?" she leaned close. "with a patience that must have caused you wonder, with a waiting through years as god waits, i have endured your indifference, your coldness, your contempt. each year i have counted the last that you could resist the call of my body and soul, and at the end of each year i have seen you further and further away from me and the gulf between us deeper and darker. this absence you have planned in this campaign means the end one way or the other. i'm going to face life now as it is, not as i've hoped it might be." "i told you when you made your bargain to return to this house, that there could be nothing between us except a hate that is eternal----" "and i didn't believe it! now i'm going to face it if i must----" she paused, breathed deeply and her eyes were like glowing coals as she slowly went on: "i'm not the kind to give up without a fight. i've lived and learned the wisdom of caution and cunning. i'm not old and i've still a fool's confidence in my powers. i'm not quite thirty-nine, strong and sound in body and spirit, alive to my finger tips with the full blood of a grown woman--and so i warn you----" "you warn me"--he cried with a flush of anger. "yes. i warn you not to push me too far. i have negro blood in me, but i'm at least human, and i'm going to be treated as a human being." "and may i ask what you mean by that?" he asked sarcastically. "that i'm going to demand my rights." "demand?" "exactly." "your _rights_?" "the right to love----" norton broke into a bitter, angry laugh: "are you demanding that i marry you?" "i'm not quite that big a fool. no. your laws forbid it. all right--there are higher laws than yours. the law that drew you to me in this room twenty years ago, in spite of all your fears and your prejudices"--she paused and her eyes glowed in the shadows--"i gave you my soul and body then----" "gifts i never sought----" "yet you took them and i'm here a part of your life. what are you going to do with me? i'm not the negro race. i'm just a woman who loves you and asks that you treat her fairly." "treat you fairly! did i ever want you? or seek you? you came to me, thrust yourself into my office, and when i discharged you, pushed your way into my home. you won my boy's love and made my wife think you were indispensable to her comfort and happiness. i tried to avoid you. it was useless. you forced yourself into my presence at all hours of the day and night. what happened was your desire, not mine. and when i reproached myself with bitter curses you laughed for joy! and you talk to me to-day of fairness! you who dragged me from that banquet hall the night of my triumph to hurl me into despair! you who blighted my career and sent me blinded with grief and shame groping through life with the shadow of death on my soul! you who struck your bargain of a pound of flesh next to my heart, and fought your way back into my house again to hold me a prisoner for life, chained to the dead body of my shame--you talk to me about fairness--great god!" he stopped, strangled with passion, his tall figure towering above her, his face livid, his hands clutched in rage. she laughed hysterically: "why don't you strike! i'm not your equal in strength--i dare you to do it--i dare you to do it! i _dare_ you--do you hear?" with a sudden grip she tore the frail silk from its fastenings at her throat, pressed close and thrust her angry face into his in a desperate challenge to physical violence. his eyes held hers a moment and his hands relaxed: "i'd like to kill you. i could do it with joy!" "why don't you?" "you're not worth the price of such a crime!" "you'd just as well do it, as to wish it. don't be a coward!" her eyes burned with suppressed fire. he looked at her with cold anger and his lip twitched with a smile of contempt. the strain was more than her nerves could bear. with a sob she threw her arms around his neck. he seized them angrily, her form collapsed and she clung to him with blind hysterical strength. he waited a moment and spoke in quiet determined tones: [illustration: "'i _dare_ you--do you hear?'"] "enough of this now." she raised her eyes to his, pleading with desperation: "please be kind to me just this last hour before you go, and i'll be content if you give no more. i'll never intrude again." she relaxed her hold, dropped to a seat and covered her face with her hands: "oh, my god! are you made of stone--have you no pity? through all these years i've gone in and out of this house looking into your face for a sign that you thought me human, and you've given none. i've lived on the memories of the few hours when you were mine. i've sometimes told myself it was just a dream, that it never happened--until i've almost believed it. you've pretended that it wasn't true. you've strangled these memories and told yourself over and over again that it never happened. i've seen you doing this--seen it in your cold, deep eyes. well, it's a lie! you were mine! you shall not forget it--you can't forget it--i won't let you, i tell you!" the voice broke again into sobs. he stood with arms folded, watching her in silence. her desperate appeal to his memories and his physical passion had only stirred anger and contempt. he was seeing now as he had never noticed before the growing marks of her negroid character. the anger was for her, the contempt for himself. he noticed the growth of her lips with age, the heavy sensual thickness of the negroid type! it was inconceivable that in this room the sight of her had once stirred the beast in him to incontrollable madness. there was at least some consolation in the fact that he had made progress. he couldn't see this if he hadn't moved to a higher plane. he spoke at length in quiet tones: "i am waiting for you to go. i have work to do to-night." she rose with a quick, angry movement: "it's all over, then. there's not a chance that you'll change your mind?" "not if you were the last woman on earth and i the last man." he spoke without bitterness but with a firmness that was final. "all right. i know what to expect now and i'll plan my own life." "what do you mean?" "that there's going to be a change in my relations to your servants for one thing." "your relations to my servants?" he repeated incredulously. "yes." "in what respect?" "i'm not going to take any more insolence from minerva----" "keep out of the kitchen and let her alone. she's the best cook i ever had." "if i keep this house for you, i demand the full authority of my position. i'll hire the servants and discharge them when i choose." "you'll do nothing of the kind," he answered firmly. "then i demand that you discharge minerva and andy at once." "what's the matter with andy?" "i loathe him." "well, i like him, and he's going to stay. anything else?" "you'll pay no attention to my wishes?" "i'm master of this house." "and in your absence?" "my son will be here." "all right, i understand now." "if i haven't made it plain, i'll do so." "quite clear, thank you," she answered slowly. norton walked to the mantel, leaned his elbow on the shelf for a moment, returned and confronted her with his hands thrust into his pockets, his feet wide apart, his whole attitude one of cool defiance. "now i want to know what you're up to? these absurd demands are a blind. they haven't fooled me. there's something else in the back of your devilish mind. what is it? i want to know exactly what you mean?" cleo laughed a vicious little ripple of amusement: "yes, i know you do--but you won't!" "all right, as you please. a word from you and helen's life is blasted. a word from you and i withdraw from this campaign, and another will lead it. speak that word if you dare, and i'll throw you out of this house and your last hold on my life is broken." "i've thought of that, too," she said with a smile. "it will be worth the agony i'll endure," he cried, "to know that i'm free of you and breathe god's clean air at last!" he spoke the words with an earnestness, a deep and bitter sincerity, that was not lost on her keen ears. she started to reply, hesitated and was silent. he saw his advantage and pressed it: "i want you to understand fully that i know now and i have always known that i am at your mercy when you see fit to break the word you pledged. yet there has never been a moment during the past twenty years that i've been really afraid of you. when the hour comes for my supreme humiliation, i'll meet it. speak as soon as you like." she had walked calmly to the door, paused and looked back: "you needn't worry, major," she said smoothly, "i'm not quite such a fool as all that. i've been silent too many years. it's a habit i'll not easily break." her white teeth gleamed in a cold smile as she added: "good night." a hundred times he told himself that she wouldn't dare, but he left home next lay with a sickening fear slowly stealing into his heart. chapter vi an old comedy norton had scarcely passed his gate on the way to catch the train when cleo left the window, where her keen eyes had been watching, and made her way rapidly to the room he had just vacated. books and papers were scattered loosely over his table beside the typewriter which he had, with his usual carelessness, left open. with a quick decision she seated herself beside the machine and in two hours sufficiently mastered its use to write a letter by using a single finger and carefully touching the keys one by one. the light of a cunning purpose burned in her eyes as she held up the letter which she had written on a sheet paper with the embossed heading of his home address at the top. she re-read it, smiling over the certainty of the success of her plan. the letter was carefully and simply worded: "my dear miss helen: "as your guardian is still in europe, i feel it my duty, and a pleasant one, to give you a glimpse of the south before you go abroad. please come at once to my home for as long as you care to stay. if i am away in the campaign when you arrive, my son and housekeeper, cleo, will make you at home and i trust happy. "with kindest regards, and hoping to see you soon, "sincerely, "daniel norton." the signature she practiced with a pen for half an hour until her imitation was almost perfect and then signed it. satisfied with the message, she addressed an envelope to "miss helen winslow, convent of the sacred heart, racine, wisconsin," sealed and posted it with her own hand. the answer came six days later. cleo recognized the post mark at once, broke the seal and read it with dancing eyes: "my dear major norton: "i am wild with joy over your kind invitation. as my last examinations are over i will not wait for the commencement exercises. i am so excited over this trip i just can't wait. i am leaving day after to-morrow and hope to arrive almost as soon as this letter. "with a heart full of gratitude, "your lonely ward, "helen." two days later a hack rolled up the graveled walk to the white porch, a girl leaped out and bounded up the steps, her cheeks flushed, her wide open blue eyes dancing with excitement. she was evidently surprised to find that cleo was an octoroon, blushed and extended her hand with a timid hesitating look: "this--this--is cleo--the major's housekeeper?" she asked. the quick eye of the woman took in at a glance the charm of the shy personality and the loneliness of the young soul that looked out from her expressive eyes. "yes," she answered mechanically. "i'm so sorry that the major's away--the driver told me----" "oh, it's all right," cleo said with a smile, "he wrote us to make you feel at home. just walk right in, your room is all ready." "thank you so much," helen responded, drawing a deep breath and looking over the lawn with its green grass, its dense hedges and wonderful clusters of roses in full bloom. "how beautiful the south is--far more beautiful than i had dreamed! and the perfume of these roses--why, the air is just drowsy with their honey! we have gorgeous roses in the north, but i never smelled them in the open before"--she paused and breathed deeply again and again--"oh, it's fairyland--i'll never want to go!" "i hope you won't," cleo said earnestly. "the major asked me to stay as long as i wished. i have his letter here"--she drew the letter from her bag and opened it--"see what he says: 'please come at once to my home for as long as you can stay'--now wasn't that sweet of him?" "very," was the strained reply. the girl's sensitive ear caught the queer note in cleo's voice and looked at her with a start. "come, i must show you to your room," she added, hurriedly opening the door for helen to pass. the keen eyes of the woman were scanning the girl and estimating her character with increasing satisfaction. she walked with exquisite grace. her figure was almost the exact counterpart of her own at twenty--helen's a little fuller, the arms larger but more beautiful. the slender wrists and perfectly moulded hand would have made a painter beg for a sitting. her eyes were deep blue and her hair the richest chestnut brown, massive and slightly waving, her complexion the perfect white and red of the northern girl who had breathed the pure air of the fields and hills. the sure, swift, easy way in which she walked told of perfect health and exhaustless vitality. her voice was low and sweet and full of shy tenderness. a smile of triumph flashed from cleo's greenish eyes as she watched her swiftly cross the hall toward the stairs. "i'll win!" she exclaimed softly. helen turned sharply. "did you speak to me?" she asked blushing. "no. i was just thinking aloud." "excuse me, i thought you said something to me--" "it would have been something very nice if i had," cleo said with a friendly smile. "thank you--oh, i feel that i'm going to be so happy here!" "i hope so." "when do you think the major will come?" the woman's face clouded in spite of her effort at self-control: "it may be a month or more." "oh, i'm so anxious to see him! he has been acting for my old guardian, who is somewhere abroad, ever since i can remember. i've begged and begged him to come to see me, but he never came. it was so far away, i suppose. he never even sent me his picture, though i've asked him often. what sort of a man is he?" cleo smiled and hesitated, and then spoke with apparent carelessness: "a very striking looking man." "with a kind face?" "a very stern one, clean shaven, with deep set eyes, a firm mouth, a strong jaw that can be cruel when he wishes, a shock of thick iron gray hair, tall, very tall and well built. he weighs two hundred and fifteen now--he was very thin when young." "and his voice?" "gentle, but sometimes hard as steel when he wishes it to be." "oh, i'll be scared to death when i see him! i had pictured him just the opposite." "how?" "why, i hardly know--but i thought his voice would be always gentle like i imagine a southern father's who loved his children very much. and i thought his hair would be blonde, with a kind face and friendly laughing eyes--blue, like mine. his eyes aren't blue?" "dark brown." "i know i'll run when he comes." "we'll make you feel at home and you'll not be afraid. mr. tom will be here to lunch in a few minutes and i'll introduce you." "then i must dress at once!" "the first door at the head of the stairs--your trunk has already been taken up." cleo watched the swift, strong, young form mount the stairs. "it's absolutely certain!" she cried under her breath. "i'll win--i'll win!" she broke into a low laugh and hurried to set the table in a bower of the sweetest roses that were in bloom. their languorous odor filled the house. helen was waiting in the old-fashioned parlor when tom's step echoed on the stoop. cleo hurried to meet him on the porch. his face clouded with a scowl: "she's here?" "yes, mr. handsome boy," cleo answered cheerfully. "and lunch is ready--do rub that awful scowl off your face and look like you're glad." "well, i'm not--so what's the use? it'll be a mess to have a girl on my hands day and night and i've got no time for it. i wish dad was here. i know i'll hate the sight of her." cleo smiled: "better wait until you see her." "where is she?" "in the parlor." "all right--the quicker a disagreeable job's over the better." "shall i introduce you?" "no, i'll do it myself," he growled, bracing himself for the ordeal. as he entered the door he stopped short at the vision as helen sprang to her feet and came to meet him. she was dressed in the softest white filmy stuff, as light as a feather, bare arms and neck, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement, her smooth, fair cheeks scarlet with blushes. the boy's heart stopped beating in sheer surprise. he expected a frowzy little waif from an orphanage, blear-eyed, sad, soulful and tiresome. this shining, blushing, wonderful creature took his breath. he stared at first with open mouth, until cleo's laugh brought him to his senses just as he began to hear helen's low sweet voice: "and this is mr. tom, i suppose? i am helen winslow, your father's ward, from the west--at least he's all the guardian i've ever known." tom grasped the warm little hand extended in so friendly greeting and held it in dazed surprise until cleo's low laughter again roused him. "yes--i--i--am delighted to see you, miss helen, and i'm awfully sorry my father couldn't be here to welcome you. i--i'll do the best i can for you in his absence." "oh, thank you," she murmured. "you know you're not at all like i expected to find you," he said hesitatingly. "i hope i haven't disappointed you," she answered demurely. "no--no"--he protested--"just the opposite." he stopped and blushed for fear he'd said too much. "and you're just the opposite from what i'd pictured you since cleo told me how your father looks." "and what did you expect?" he asked eagerly. "a stern face, dark hair, dark eyes and a firm mouth." "and you find instead?" helen laughed: "i'm afraid you love flattery." tom hurried to protest: "really, i wasn't fishing for a compliment, but i'm so unlike my father, it's a joke. i get my blonde hair and blue eyes from my mother and my great-grandfather." before he knew what was happening tom was seated by her side talking and laughing as if they had known each other a lifetime. helen paused for breath, put her elbow on the old mahogany table, rested her dimpled chin in the palm of her pretty hand and looked at tom with a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes. "what's the joke?" he asked. "do you know that you're the first boy i ever talked to in my life?" "no--really?" he answered incredulously. "don't you think i do pretty well?" "perfectly wonderful!" "you see, i've played this scene so many times in my day dreams----" "and it's like your dream?" "remarkably!" "how?" "you're just the kind of boy i always thought i'd meet first----" "how funny!" "yes, exactly," she cried excitedly and with a serious tone in her voice that was absolutely convincing. "you're so jolly and friendly and easy to talk to, i feel as if i've known you all my life." "and i feel the same--isn't it funny?" they both laughed immoderately. "come," the boy cried, "i want to show you my mother's and my grandfather's portraits in the library. you'll see where i get my silly blonde hair, my slightly pug nose and my very friendly ways." she rose with a laugh: "your nose isn't pug, it's just good-humored." "amount to the same thing." "and your hair is very distinguished looking for a boy. i'd envy it, if it were a girl's." tom led the way into the big, square library which opened on the pillared porch both on the rear and on the side of the house. before the fireplace he paused and pointed to his mother's portrait done in oil by a famous artist in new york. it was life-size and the canvas filled the entire space between the two fluted columns of the colonial mantel which reached to the ceiling. the woodwork of the mantelpiece was of dark mahogany and the background of the portrait the color of bright gold which seemed to melt into the lines of the massive smooth gilded frame. the effect was wonderfully vivid and life-like in the sombre coloring of the book-lined walls. the picture and frame seemed a living flame in its dark setting. the portrait was an idealized study of the little mother. the artist had put into his canvas the spirit of the tenderest brooding motherhood. the very curve of her arms holding the child to her breast seemed to breathe tenderness. the smile that played about her delicate lips and blue eyes was ethereal in its fleeting spirit beauty. the girl caught her breath in surprise: "what a wonderful picture--it's perfectly divine! i feel like kneeling before it." "it is an altar," the boy said reverently. "i've seen my father sit in that big chair brooding for hours while he looked at it. and ever since he put those two old gold candlesticks in front of it i can't get it out of my head that he slips in here, kneels in the twilight and prays before it." "he must have loved your mother very tenderly," she said softly. "i think he worships her still," the boy answered simply. "oh, i could die for a man like that!" she cried with sudden passion. tom pointed to his grandfather's portrait: "and there you see my distinguished features and my pug nose----" cleo appeared in the door smiling: "i've been waiting for you to come to lunch, mr. boy, for nearly an hour." "well, for heaven's sake, why didn't you let us know?" "i told you it was ready when you came." "forgot all about it." he was so serenely unconscious of anything unusual in his actions that he failed to notice the smile that continuously played about cleo's mouth or to notice andy's evident enjoyment of the little drama as he bowed and scraped and waited on the table with unusual ceremony. aunt minerva, hearing andy's report of the sudden affair that had developed in the major's absence, left the kitchen and stood in the door a moment, her huge figure completely filling the space while she watched the unconscious boy and girl devouring each other with sparkling eyes. she waved her fat hand over their heads to andy, laughed softly and left without their noticing her presence. the luncheon was the longest one that had been known within the memory of anyone present. minerva again wandered back to the door, fascinated by the picture they made, and whispered to andy as he passed: "well, fer de lawd's sake, is dey gwine ter set dar all day?" "nobum--'bout er nodder hour, an' he'll go back ter de office." tom suddenly looked at his watch: "heavens! i'm late. i'll run down to the office and cut the work out for the day in honor of your coming." helen rose blushing: "oh, i'm afraid i'll make trouble for you." "no trouble at all! i'll be back in ten minutes." "i'll be on the lawn in that wilderness of roses. the odor is maddening--it's so sweet." "all right--and then i'll show you the old rose garden the other side of the house." "it's awfully good of you, but i'm afraid i'm taking your time from work." "it's all right! i'll make the other fellows do it to-day." she blushed again and waved her bare arm high over her dark brown hair from the porch as he swung through the gate and disappeared. in a few minutes he had returned. through the long hours of a beautiful summer afternoon they walked through the enchanted paths of the old garden on velvet feet, the boy pouring out his dreams and high ambitions, the girl's lonely heart for the first time in life basking in the joyous light of a perfect day. andy made an excuse to go in the garden and putter about some flowers just to watch them, laugh and chuckle over the exhibition. he was just in time as he softly approached behind a trellis of climbing roses to hear tom say: "please give me that bud you're wearing?" "why?" she asked demurely. "just because i've taken a fancy to it." she blushed scarlet, took the rosebud from her bosom and pinned it on his coat: "all right--there!" andy suppressed a burst of laughter and hurried back to report to minerva. for four enchanted weeks the old comedy of life was thus played by the boy and girl in sweet and utter unconsciousness of its meaning. he worked only in the mornings and rushed home for lunch unusually early. the afternoon usually found them seated side by side slowly driving over the quiet country roads. two battlefields of the civil war, where his father had led a regiment of troops in the last desperate engagement with sherman's army two weeks after lee had surrendered at appomattox, kept them busy each afternoon for a week. at night they sat on the moonlit porch behind the big pillars and he talked to her of the great things of life with simple boyish enthusiasm. sometimes they walked side by side through the rose-scented lawn and paused to hear the love song of a mocking-bird whose mate was busy each morning teaching her babies to fly. the world had become a vast rose garden of light and beauty, filled with the odors of flowers and spices and dreamy strains of ravishing music. and behind it all, nearer crept the swift shadow whose tread was softer than the foot of a summer's cloud. chapter vii trapped norton's campaign during its first months was a continuous triumph. the opposition had been so completely stunned by the epoch-making declaration of principles on which he had chosen to conduct the fight that they had as yet been unable to rally their forces. even the rival newspaper, founded to combat the ideas for which the _eagle and phoenix_ stood, was compelled to support norton's ticket to save itself from ruin. the young editor found a source of endless amusement in taunting the professor on this painful fact. the leader had chosen to begin his tour of the state in the farthest mountain counties that had always been comparatively free from negro influence. these counties were counted as safe for the opposition before the startling program of the editor's party had been announced. yet from the first day's mass meeting which he had addressed an enthusiasm had been developed under the spell of norton's eloquence that had swept the crowds of mountaineers off their feet. they had never been slave owners, and they had no use for a negro as servant, laborer, voter, citizen, or in any other capacity. the idea of freeing the state forever from their baleful influence threw the entire white race into solid ranks supporting his ticket. the enthusiasm kindled in the mountains swept the foothills, gaining resistless force as it reached the more inflammable feelings of the people of the plains who were living in daily touch with the negro. yet amid all the scenes of cheering and enthusiasm through which he was passing daily the heart of the leader was heavy with dread. his mind was brooding over the last scene with cleo and its possible outcome. he began to worry with increasing anguish over the certainty that when she struck the blow would be a deadly one. the higher the tide of his triumph rose, the greater became the tension of his nerves. each day had its appointment to speak. some days were crowded with three or four engagements. these dates were made two weeks ahead and great expense had been incurred in each case to advertise them and secure record crowds. it was a point of honor with him to make good these dates even to the smallest appointment at a country crossroads. it was impossible to leave for a trip home. it would mean the loss of at least four days. yet his anxiety at last became so intense that he determined to rearrange his dates and swing his campaign into the territory near the capital at once. it was not a good policy. he would risk the loss of the cumulative power of his work now sweeping from county to county, a resistless force. but it would enable him to return home for a few hours between his appointments. there had been nothing in tom's reports to arouse his fears. the boy had faithfully carried out his instructions to give no information that might annoy him. his brief letters were bright, cheerful, and always closed with the statement: "everything all right at home, and i'm still jollying the professor about supporting the cause he hates." when he reached the county adjoining the capital his anxiety had reached a point beyond endurance. it would be three days before he could connect with a schedule of trains that would enable him to get home between the time of his hours to speak. he simply could not wait. he telegraphed to tom to send andy to the meeting next day with a bound volume of the paper for the year which contained some facts he wished to use in his speech in this district. andy's glib tongue would give him the information he needed. the train was late and the papers did not arrive in time. he was compelled to leave his hotel and go to the meeting without them. an enormous crowd had gathered. and for the first time on his tour he felt hostility in the glances that occasionally shot from groups of men as he passed. the county was noted for its gangs of toughs who lived on the edge of a swamp that had been the rendezvous of criminals for a century. the opposition had determined to make a disturbance at this meeting and if possible end it with a riot. they counted on the editor's fiery temper when aroused to make this a certainty. they had not figured on the cool audacity with which he would meet such a situation. when he reached the speaker's stand, the county chairman whispered: "they are going to make trouble here to-day." "yes?" "they've got a speaker who's going to demand a division of time." the editor smiled: "really?" "yes," the chairman said, nodding toward a tall, ministerial-looking individual who was already working his way through the crowd. "that's the fellow coming now." norton turned and confronted the chosen orator of the opposition, a backwoods preacher of a rude native eloquence whose name he had often heard. he saw at a glance that he was a man of force. his strong mouth was clean of mustache and the lower lip was shaved to the chin. a long beard covered the massive jaws and his hair reached the collar of his coat. he had been a deserter during the war, and a drunken member of the little scalawag governor's famous guard that had attempted to rule the state without the civil law. he had been converted in a baptist revival at a crossroads meeting place years before and became a preacher. his religious conversion, however, had not reached his politics or dimmed his memory of the events of reconstruction. he had hated norton with a deep and abiding fervor from the day he had escaped from his battalion in the civil war down to the present moment. norton hadn't the remotest idea that he was the young recruit who had taken to his heels on entering a battle and never stopped running until he reached home. "this is major norton?" the preacher asked. "yes," was the curt answer. "i demand a division of time with you in a joint discussion here, sir." norton's figure stiffened and he looked at the man with a flush of anger: "did you say demand?" "yes, sir, i did," the preacher answered, snapping his hard mouth firmly. "we believe in free speech in this county." norton placed his hands in his pockets, and looked him over from head to foot: "well, you've got the gall of the devil, i must say, even if you do wear the livery of heaven. you demand free speech at my expense! i like your cheek. it cost my committee two hundred dollars to advertise this meeting and make it a success, and you step up at the last moment and demand that i turn it over to your party. if you want free speech, hire your own hall and make it to your heart's content. you can't address this crowd from a speaker's stand built with my money." "you refuse?" norton looked at him steadily for a moment and took a step closer: "i am trying to convey that impression to your mind. must i use my foot to emphasize it?" the long-haired one paled slightly, turned and quickly pushed his way through the crowd to a group awaiting him on the edge of the brush arbor that had been built to shelter the people from the sun. the chairman whispered to norton: "there'll be trouble certain--they're a tough lot. more than half the men here are with him." "they won't be when i've finished," he answered with a smile. "you'd better divide with them----" "i'll see him in hell first!" norton stepped quickly on the rude pine platform that had been erected for the speaker and faced the crowd. for the first time on his trip the cheering was given with moderation. he saw the preacher walk back under the arbor and his men distribute themselves with apparent design in different parts of the crowd. he lifted his hand with a gesture to stop the applause and a sudden hush fell over the eager, serious faces. his eye wandered carelessly over the throng and singled out the men he had seen distribute themselves among them. he suddenly slipped his hand behind him and drew from beneath his long black frock coat a big revolver and laid it beside the pitcher of lemonade the chairman had provided. a slight stir swept the crowd and the stillness could be felt. the speaker lifted his broad shoulders and began his speech in an intense voice that found its way to the last man who hung on the edge of the crowd: "gentlemen," he began slowly, "if there's any one present who doesn't wish to hear what i have to say, now is the time to leave. this is my meeting, and i will not be interrupted. if, in spite of this announcement, there happens to be any one here who is looking for trouble"--he stopped and touched the shining thing that lay before him--"you'll find it here on the table--walk right up to the front." a cheer rent the air. he stilled it with a quick gesture and plunged into his speech. in the intense situation which had developed he had forgotten the fear that had been gnawing at his heart for the past weeks. at the height of his power over his audience his eye suddenly caught the black face of andy grinning in evident admiration of his master's eloquence. something in the symbolism of this negro grinning at him over the heads of the people hanging breathless on his words sent a wave of sickening fear to his heart. in vain he struggled to throw the feeling off in the midst of his impassioned appeal. it was impossible. for the remaining half hour he spoke as if in a trance. unconsciously his voice was lowered to a strange intense monotone that sent the chills down the spines of his hearers. he closed his speech in a silence that was strangling. the people were dazed and he was half-way down the steps of the rude platform before they sufficiently recovered to break into round after round of cheering. he had unconsciously made the most powerful speech of his life, and no man in all the crowd that he had hypnotized could have dreamed the grim secret which had been the source of his inspiration. without a moment's delay he found andy, examined the package he brought and hurried to his room. "everything all right at home, andy?" he asked with apparent carelessness. the negro was still lost in admiration of norton's triumph over his hostile audience. "yassah, you sho did set 'em afire wid dat speech, major!" he said with a laugh. "and i asked you if everything was all right at home?" "oh, yassah, yassah--everything's all right. of cose, sah, dey's a few little things always happenin'. dem pigs get in de garden las' week an' et everything up, an' dat ole cow er own got de hollow horn agin. but everything else all right, sah." "and how's aunt minerva?" "des es big an' fat ez ebber, sah, an' er gittin' mo' unruly every day--yassah--she's gittin' so sassy she try ter run de whole place an' me, too." "and cleo?" this question he asked bustling over his papers with an indifference so perfectly assumed that andy never guessed his interest to be more than casual, and yet he ceased to breathe until he caught the laughing answer: "oh, she's right dar holdin' her own wid miss minerva an' i tells her las' week she's lookin' better dan ebber--yassah--she's all right." norton felt a sense of grateful relief. his fears had been groundless. they were preposterous to start with. the idea that she might attempt to visit helen in his absence was, of course, absurd. his next question was asked with a good-natured, hearty tone: "and mr. tom?" andy laughed immoderately and norton watched him with increasing wonder. "right dar's whar my tale begins!" "why, what's the matter with him?" the father asked with a touch of anxiety in his voice. "lordy, dey ain't nuttin' de _matter_ wid him 'tall--hit's a fresh cut!" again andy laughed with unction. "what is it?" norton asked with impatience. "what's the matter with tom?" "nuttin' 'tall, sah--nuttin' 'tall--i nebber see 'im lookin' so well in my life. he gets up sooner den i ebber knowed him before. he comes home quicker an' stays dar longer an' he's de jolliest young gentleman i know anywhar in de state. mo' specially, sah, since dat handsome young lady from de north come down to see us----" the father's heart was in his throat as he stammered: "a handsome young lady from the north--i don't understand!" "why, miss helen, sah, de young lady you invite ter spen' de summer wid us." norton's eyes suddenly grew dim, he leaned on the table, stared at andy, and repeated blankly: "the young lady i asked to spend the summer with us?" "yassah, miss helen, sah, is her name--she cum 'bout er week atter you lef----" "and she's been there ever since?" he asked. "yassah, an' she sho is a powerful fine young lady, sah. i don't blame mister tom fer bein' crazy 'bout her!" there was a moment's dead silence. "so tom's crazy about her?" he said in a high, nervous voice, which andy took for a joke. "yassah, i'se had some sperience myself, sah, but i ain't nebber seen nuttin' like dis! he des trot long atter her day an' night like a fice. an' de funny thing, sah, is dat he doan' seem ter know dat he's doin' it. everybody 'bout de house laffin' fit ter kill dersef an' he don't pay no 'tention. he des sticks to her like a sick kitten to a hot brick! yassah, hit sho's funny! i des knowed you'd bust er laughin' when you sees 'em." norton had sunk to a seat too weak to stand. his face was pale and his breath came in short gasps as he turned to the negro, stared at him hopelessly for a moment and said: "andy, get me a good horse and buggy at the livery stable--we'll drive through the country to-night. i want to get home right away." andy's mouth opened and his eyes stared in blank amazement. "de lawd, major, hit's mos' sundown now an' hit's a hundred miles from here home--hit took me all day ter come on de train." "no, it's only forty miles straight across the country. we can make it to-night with a good horse. hurry, i'll have my valise packed in a few minutes." "do you know de way, sah?" andy asked, scratching his head. "do as i tell you--quick!" norton thundered. the negro darted from the room and returned in half an hour with a horse and buggy. through the long hours of the night they drove with but a single stop at midnight in a quiet street of a sleeping village. they halted at the well beside a store and watered the horse. a graveyard was passed a mile beyond the village, and andy glanced timidly over his shoulder at the white marble slabs glistening in the starlight. his master had not spoken for two hours save the sharp order to stop at the well. "dis sho is er lonesome lookin' place!" andy said with a shiver. but the man beside him gave no sign that he heard. his eyes were set in a strange stare at the stars that twinkled in the edge of the tree tops far ahead. andy grew so lonely and frightened finally at the ominous silence that he pretended to be lost at each crossroads to force norton to speak. "i wuz afraid you gone ter sleep, sah!" he said with an apologetic laugh. "an' i wuz erfered dat you'd fall out er de buggy gwine down er hill." in vain he tried to break the silence. there was no answer--no sign that he was in the same world, save the fact of his body's presence. the first streak of dawn was widening on the eastern horizon when norton's cramped legs limped into the gate of his home. he stopped to steady his nerves and looked blankly up at the window of his boy's room. he had given tom his mother's old room when he had reached the age of sixteen. somewhere behind those fluted pillars, white and ghost-like in the dawn, lay the girl who had suddenly risen from the dead to lead his faltering feet up life's calvary. he saw the cross slowly lifting its dark form from the hilltop with arms outstretched to embrace him, and the chill of death crept into his heart. the chirp of stirring birds, the dim noises of waking life, the whitening sky-line behind the house recalled another morning in his boyhood. he had waked at daylight to go to his traps set at the branch in the edge of the woods behind the barn. the plantation at that time had extended into the town. a fox had been killing his fancy chickens. he had vowed vengeance in his boyish wrath, bought half a dozen powerful steel-traps and set them in the fox's path. the prowler had been interrupted the night before and had not gotten his prey. he would return sure. he recalled now every emotion that had thrilled his young heart as he bounded along the dew-soaked path to his traps. before he could see the place he heard the struggles of his captive. "i've got him!" he shouted with a throb of savage joy. he leaped the fence and stood frozen to the spot. the fox was a magnificent specimen of his breed, tall and heavy as a setter dog, with beautiful appealing eyes. his fine gray fur was spotched with blood, his mouth torn and bleeding from the effort to break the cruel bars that held his foreleg in their death-like grip. with each desperate pull the blood spurted afresh and the steel cut deeper into bone and flesh. the strange cries of pain and terror from the trapped victim had struck him dumb. he had come with murder in his heart to take revenge on his enemy, but when he looked with blanched face on the blood and heard the pitiful cries he rushed to the spot, tore the steel arms apart, loosed the fox, pushed his quivering form from him and gasped: "go--go--i'm sorry i hurt you like that!" stirred by the memories of the dawn he lived this scene again in vivid anguish, and as he slowly mounted the steps of his home, felt the steel bars of an inexorable fate close on his own throat. chapter viii behind the bars when norton reached his room he locked the door and began to pace the floor, facing for the hundredth time the stunning situation which the presence of helen had created. to reveal to such a sensitive, cultured girl just as she was budding into womanhood the fact that her blood was tainted with a negro ancestor would be an act so pitifully cruel that every instinct of his nature revolted from the thought. he began to realize that her life was at stake as well as his boy's. that he loved this son with all the strength of his being and that he only knew the girl to fear her, made no difference in the fundamental facts. he acknowledged that she was his. he had accepted the fact and paid the penalty in the sacrifice of every ambition of a brilliant mind. he weighed carefully the things that were certain and the things that were merely probable. the one certainty that faced him from every angle was that cleo was in deadly earnest and that it meant a fight for the supremacy of every decent instinct of his life and character. apparently she had planned a tragic revenge by luring the girl to his home, figuring on his absence for three months, to precipitate a love affair before he could know the truth or move to interfere. a strange mental telepathy had warned him and he had broken in on the scene two months before he was expected. and yet he couldn't believe that cleo in the wildest flight of her insane rage could have deliberately meant that such an affair should end in marriage. she knew the character of both father and son too well to doubt that such an act could only end in tragedy. she was too cautious for such madness. what was her game? he asked himself that question again and again, always to come back to one conclusion. she had certainly brought the girl into the house to force from his reluctant lips her recognition and thus fix her own grip on his life. beyond a doubt the surest way to accomplish this, and the quickest, was by a love affair between the boy and girl. she knew that personally the father had rather die than lose the respect of his son by a confession of his shame. but she knew with deeper certainty that he must confess it if their wills once clashed over the choice of a wife. the boy had a mind of his own. his father knew it and respected and loved him all the more because of it. it was improbable as yet that tom had spoken a word of love or personally faced such an issue. of the girl he could only form the vaguest idea. it was clear now that he had been stricken by a panic and that the case was not so desperate as he had feared. one thing he saw with increasing clearness. he must move with the utmost caution. he must avoid helen at first and find the boy's attitude. he must at all hazards keep the use of every power of body, mind and soul in the crisis with which he was confronted. two hours later when andy cautiously approached his door and listened at the keyhole he was still pacing the floor with the nervous tread of a wounded lion suddenly torn from the forest and thrust behind the bars of an iron cage. chapter ix andy's dilemma andy left norton's door and rapped softly at tom's, tried the lock, found it unfastened, pushed his way quietly inside and called: "mister tom!" no answer came from the bed and andy moved closer: "mister tom--mister tom!" "ah--what's the matter with you--get out!" the sleeper growled. the negro touched the boy's shoulder with a friendly shake, whispering: "yo' pa's here!" tom sat up in bed rubbing his eyes: "what's that?" "yassah, i fotch him through the country and we rid all night----" "what's the matter?' "dat's what i wants ter see you 'bout, sah--an' ef you'll des slip on dem clothes an' meet me in de liberry, we'll hab a little confab an' er council er war----" the boy picked up a pillow and hurled it at andy: "well, get out, you old rascal, and i'll be down in a few minutes." andy dodged the pillow and at the door whispered: "yassah, an' don't disturb de major! i hopes ter god he sleep er month when he git started." "all right, i won't disturb him." tom dressed, wondering vaguely what had brought his father home at such an unearthly hour and by such a trip across the country. andy, arrayed in a suit of broadcloth which he had appropriated from norton's wardrobe in his absence, was waiting for tom with evident impatience. "now, what i want to know is," the boy began, "what the devil you mean by pulling me out of bed this time of day?" andy chuckled: "well, yer see, sah, de major git home kinder sudden like en' i wuz jest er little oneasy 'bout dis here new suit er close er mine----" "well, that's not the first suit of his clothes you've swiped--you needn't be scared." "scared--who me? man, i ain't er skeered er yo' pa." minerva banged the dining-room door and andy jumped and started to run. tom laughed and seized his arm: "oh, don't be a fool! there's no danger." "nasah--i knows dey's no danger--but"--he glanced over his shoulder to be sure that the master hadn't come down stairs--"but yer know de ole sayin' is dat indiscretion is de better part er value----" "i see!" tom smiled in perfect agreement. "an' i des has er little indiscretion----" "oh, you make me tired, how can i help a coward?" andy looked grieved: "lordy, mister tom--don't say dat, sah. i ain't no coward--i'se des cautious. ye know i wuz in dat fus' battle er bull's run wid de major. i git separated from him in a close place an' hatter move my headquarters. dey said i wuz er coward den 'cause i run. but twan't so, sah! twan't cause i wuz er coward. i knowed zactly what i wuz doin'. i run 'cause i didn't hab no wings! i done de very bes' i could wid what i had. an' fuddermo', sah, de fellers dat wuz whar i wuz en' didn't run--dey's all dar yit at bull's run! nasah, i ain't no coward. i des got de indiscretion----" another door slammed and andy dodged. "what's the matter with you anyhow, you old fool, are you having fits?" tom cried. andy looked around the room cautiously and took hold of the boy's coat: "you listen to me, mister tom. i'se gwine tell yer somfin' now----" "well?" "i ain't er skeered er de major--but he's dangous----" "bosh!" "dey's sumfin' de matter wid him!" "had a few mint juleps with a friend, no doubt." "mint juleps! huh! he kin swim in 'em--dive in 'em an' stay down er whole day an' never come up ter blow his bref--licker don't faze him!" "it's politics. he's leading this devilish campaign and he's worried over politics." "nasah!" andy protested with a laugh. "dem fool niggers des well give up--dey ain't gwine ter vote no mo'. de odder feller's doin' all de worryin'. he ain't worrin'----" "yes, he is, too," the boy replied. "he put a revolver in his pocket when he started on that trip." "yassah!" andy laughed. "i know, but yer don't understan'. dat pistol's his flatform!" "his platform?" "you ain' hear what he bin er doin' wid dat pistol?" "no--what?" "man erlive, yer des oughter see 'im yistiddy when i take 'im dem papers ter dat speakin', down in one er dem po' white counties full er radicals dat vote wid niggers. er kermittee comes up an' say dat de internal constertooshion er de nunited states give 'em free speech an' he gwine ter hear from 'em. de lordy, man, but his bristles riz! i 'lows ter myself, folks yer sho is thumpin' de wrong watermillion dis time!" "and what did he say to the committee?" "i nebber hear nary word. he des turn 'roun an' step up on dat flatform, kinder peart like, an' yer oughter see 'im open dat meetin'"--andy paused and broke into a loud laugh. "how did he open it?" tom asked with indulgent interest. andy scratched his woolly head: "well, sah, hit warn't opened wid prayer--i kin tell ye dat! de fust thing he done, he reach back in his britches, kinder kereless lak, an' pull dat big pistol an' lay hit down afore him on' de table beside his pitcher er lemonade. man, you oughter see de eyes er dat crowd er dirty-lookin' po' whites! dey fairly popped outen der heads! i hump myself an' move out towards de outskirts----" tom smiled: "i bet you did!" "oh, i didn't run!" andy protested. "of course not--far be it from you!" "nasah, i des tucken drawed out----" "i understand, just a little caution, so to speak!" "yassah--dat's hit! des tucken drawed out, whar i'd have elbow room in de mergency----" "in other words," the boy interrupted, "just used a little indiscretion!" andy chuckled: "yassah! dat's hit! well, sah, he pat dat pistol kinder familious like an' say: 'ef dey's any er you lowlife po' white scoundrels here ter-day that don't want ter hear my speech--git! but ef yer stay an' yer don't feel comfortable, i got six little lead pills here in a box dat'll ease yer pain. walk right up to de prescription counter!'" "and they walked right up?" "well, sah, dey didn't _crowd up!_--nasah!" andy paused and laughed immoderately. "an' wid dat he des folded his arms an' look at dat crowd er minute an' his eyes began to spit fire. when i see dat, i feels my very shoes commin' ontied. i sez ter myself, now folks he's gwine ter magnify----" tom laughed: "magnified, did he?" the negro's eyes rolled and he lifted his hands in a gesture of supreme admiration: "de lordy, man--ef he didn't! he lit inter dem po' white trash lak er thousand er brick----" "give 'em what paddy gave the drum, i suppose?" "now yer talkin', honey! ef he didn't give 'em particular hell!" "and what happened?" "nuttin' happened, chile--dat's what i'm tryin' ter tell ye. nary one of 'em nebber cheeped. dey des stood dar an' listened lak er passel er sheep-killin' dogs. lemme tell ye, honey, politics ain't er worryin' him. de odder fellers doin' all de worrin'. nasah, dey's sumfin else de matter wid de major----" "what?" andy looked around the room furtively and whispered: "dar's a quare look in his eye!" "ah, pooh!" "hit's des lak i tells ye, mister tom. i ain't seed dat quare look in his eye before since de night i see yo' ma's ghost come down outen dat big picture frame an' walk cross dis hall----" the boy smiled and looked at the shining yellow canvas that seemed a living thing gleaming in its dark setting: "i suppose, of course, andy, you really saw her do that?" "'fore god, es sho's i'm talkin' ter you now, she done dat thing--yassah! hit wus de las' year befo' you come back frum college. de moon wuz shinin' froo dem big windows right on her face, an' i seed her wid my own eyes, all of a sudden, step right down outen dat picture frame an' walk across dis room, huggin' her baby close up in her arms--an' you'se dat very baby, sah!" the boy was interested in the negro's weird recital in spite of his amusement. he shook his head and said laughingly: "andy, you've got the heat----" "hit's des lak i tells ye, sah," andy solemnly repeated. "i stood right dar by dat table froze in my tracks, till i seed her go froo dat do' widout openin' it----" "bah!" tom cried in disgust. "dat she did!--an' miss minerva she see her do dat same thing once before and tell me about it. but man erlive, when i see it, i let off one er dem yells dat wuz hark from de tomb----" "i bet you did!" "yassah, i went froo dat big window dar an' carry de whole sash wid me. de major he take out atter me when he hears de commotion, an' when he kotch me down dar in de fiel' i wuz still wearin' dat sash fer a necktie!" the boy laughed again: "and i suppose, of course, he believed all you told him?" the negro rolled his eyes solemnly to the ceiling and nodded his head: "dat he did, sah. when i fust told 'im dat i seed er ghost, he laft fit ter kill hissef----" the boy nodded: "i don't doubt it!" "but mind ye," andy solemnly continued, "when i tells him what kin' er ghost i seed, he nebber crack anudder smile. he nebber open his mouf ergin fer er whole day. an' dis here's what i come ter tell ye, honey----" he paused and glanced over his shoulder as if momentarily fearing the major's appearance. "i thought you'd been telling me?" "nasah, i ain't told ye nuttin' yit. when i say what _kine_ er ghost i see--dat quare look come in his eye--de same look dat come dar yistiddy when i tells 'im dat miss helen wuz here." the boy looked at andy with a sudden start: "ah, how could that sweet little girl upset him? he's her guardian's attorney and sent for her to come, of course----" "i don't know 'bout dat, sah--all i know is dat he went wil' es quick es i tells 'im, an' he bin wil' ever since. mister tom, i ain't skeered er de major--but he's dangous!" "ah, andy, you're the biggest fool in the county," the boy answered laughing. "you know my father wouldn't touch a hair of your kinky head." andy grinned. "'cose not, mister tom," he said with unction. "i knows dat. but all de same i gotter keep outen his way wid dis new suit er close till i see 'im smilin'----" "always bearing in mind that indiscretion is the better part of value!" "yassah--yassah--dat's hit--an' i wants you ter promise you'll stan' by me, sah, till de major's in a good humor." "all right; if you need me, give a yell." tom turned with a smile to go, and andy caught his sleeve and laughed again: "wait--wait er minute, mister tom--hold yer hosses. dey's anodder little thing i wants ye ter help me out erbout. i kin manage de major all right ef i kin des keep outen his sight ter-day wid dis suit er clothes. but de trouble is, i got ter wear 'em, sah--i got er 'pintment wid er lady!" the boy turned good-naturedly, threw his leg over the corner of the table and raised his eyebrows with a gleam of mischief: "oh, a lady! who is she? aunt minerva?" andy waved his hands in disgust. "dat's des de one hit ain't--nasah! i can't stan' her nohow, mr. tom. i des natchally can't stan' er fat 'oman! an' miss minerva weighs 'bout three hundred----" "oh, not so bad as that, andy!" "yassah, she's er whale! man, ef we wuz walkin' along tergedder, en she wuz ter slip an' fall she'd sqush de life outen me! i'd nebber know what hit me. an' what makes bad matters wus, i'se er strong suspicion dat she got her eyes sot on me here lately--i des feels it in my bones--she's atter me sho, sah." tom broke into a laugh: "well, she can't take you by force." "i don't know 'bout dat, sah. when any 'oman gits her min' sot she's dangous. but when a 'oman big an' black es she make up her min'!" "black!" tom cried, squaring himself and looking andy over: "aren't you just a little shady?" "who? me?--nasah! i ain't no black nigger!" "no?" "nasah! i'se what dey calls er tantalizin' brown!" "oh, i see!" "yassah, i'se er chocolate-colored gemman--an' i nebber could stan' dese here coal-black niggers. miss minerva's so black she kin spit ink!" "and she's 'atter' you?" "yassah, an' miss minerva's a widder 'oman, an' ye know de scripter says, 'beware of widders'----" "of course!" tom agreed. "i'se er gemman, yer know, mister tom. i can't insult er lady, an' dat's de particular reason dat i wants ter percipitate mysef wid my true love before dat big, black 'oman gits her hands on me. she's atter me sho, an' ef she gits me in er close place, what i gwine do, sah?" tom assumed a judicial attitude, folded his arms and asked: "well, who's the other one?--who's your true love?" andy put his hand over his mouth to suppress a snicker: "now dat's whar i kinder hesitates, sah. i bin er beatin' de debbil roun' de stump fur de pas' week tryin' ter screw up my courage ter ax ye ter help me. but mister tom, you gettin' so big an' dignified i kinder skeered. you got ter puttin' on more airs dan de major----" "ah, who is she?" the boy asked brusquely. andy glanced at him out of the corners of his rolling eyes: "yer ain't gwine laugh at me--is yer?" with an effort tom kept his face straight: "no, i may be just as big a fool some day myself--who is she?" andy stepped close and whispered: "miss cleo!" "cleo----" "yassah." "well, you are a fool!" the boy exclaimed indignantly. "yassah, i spec i is," andy answered, crestfallen, "but i des can't hep it, sah." "cleo, my nurse, my mammy--why, she wouldn't wipe her foot on you if you were a door-mat. she's almost as white as i am." "yassah, i know, an' dat's what make me want her so. she's mine ef i kin git her! hit des takes one drap er black blood to make er nigger, sah." "bah--she wouldn't look at you!" "i know she holds er high head, sah. she's been eddicated an' all dat--but you listen ter me, honey--she gwine look at me all de same, when i say de word." "yes, long enough to laugh." andy disregarded the shot, and prinked himself before the mirror: "don't yer think my complexion's gettin' little better, sah?" tom picked up a book with a smile: "you do look a little pale to-day, but i think that's your liver!" andy broke into a laugh: "nasah. dat ain't my liver!" "must be!" "nasah! i got er patent bleacher frum new york dat's gwine ter make me white ef i kin des buy enough of it." "how much have you used?" "hain't used but six bottles yit. hit costs three dollars a bottle"--he paused and rubbed his hands smoothingly over his head. "don't yer think my hair's gittin' straighter, sah?" tom turned another page of the book without looking up: "not so that you could notice it." "yassah, 'tis!" andy laughed, eyeing it sideways in the mirror and making a vain effort to see the back of his head. "i'se er usin' er concoction called 'not-a-kink.' hit costs five dollars a bottle--but man, hit sho is doin' de work! i kin des feel dem kinks slippin' right out." "there's nothing much the matter with your hair, andy," tom said, looking up with a smile, "that's the straightest thing about you. the trouble's inside." "what de matter wid me inside?" "you're crooked." "who--me?" andy cried. "ah, go long, mister tom, wid yer projectin'--yer des foolin' wid me"--he came close and busied himself brushing the boy's coat and continued with insinuating unction--"now ef yer des put in one little word fer me wid miss cleo----" "take my advice, andy," the boy said seriously, "keep away from her--she'll kill you." "not ef you help me out, sah," andy urged eagerly. "she'll do anything fer you, mister tom--she lubs de very ground you walks on--des put in one little word fer me, sah----" tom shook his head emphatically: "can't do it, andy!" "don't say dat, mister tom!" "can't do it." andy flicked imaginary lint from both sleeves of tom's coat: "now look here, mister tom----" the boy turned away protesting: "no, i can't do it." "lordy, mister tom," andy cried in grieved tones. "you ain't gwine back on me like dat des 'cose yer went ter college up dar in de norf an' git mixed up wid yankee notions! why, you an' me's always been good friends an' partners. what ye got agin me?" a gleam of mischief slipped into the boy's eyes again as he folded his arms with mock severity: "to begin with, you're the biggest old liar in the united states----" "lordy, mister tom, i nebber tell a lie in my life, sah!" "andy--andy!" the negro held his face straight for a moment and then broke into a laugh: "well, sah, i may has _pré-var-i-cated_ some times, but dat ain't lyin'--why, all gemmens do dat." "and look at this suit of clothes," tom said severely, "that you've just swiped from dad. you'd steal anything you can get your hands on!" andy turned away and spoke with deep grief "mister tom, you sho do hurt my feelin's, sah--i nebber steal nuttin' in my life." "i've known you to steal a palm-leaf fan in the dead of winter with snow on the ground." andy laughed uproariously: "why, man, dat ain't stealin! who gwine ter want er palm-leaf fan wid snow on de groun'?--dat's des findin' things. you know dey calls me hones' andy. when dey ketch me wid de goods i nebber try ter lie outen it lak some fool niggers. i des laugh, 'fess right up, an' hit's all right. dat's what make 'em call me hones' andy, cose i always knows dat honesty's de bes' policy--an' here you comes callin' me a thief--lordee, mister tom, yer sho do hurt my feelin's!" the boy shook his head again and frowned: "you're a hopeless old sinner----" "who, me, er sinner? why, man erlive, i'se er pillar in de church!" "god save the church!" "i mebbe backslide a little, sah, in de winter time," andy hastened to admit. "but i'se always de fus' man to de mourners' bench in de spring. i mos' generally leads de mourners, sah, an' when i comes froo an' gits religion over again, yer kin hear me shout er mile----" "and i bet when the chickens hear it they roost higher the next night!" andy ignored the thrust and went on enthusiastically: "nasah, de church folks don't call me no sinner. i always stands up fer religion. don't yer min' de time dat big yaller nigger cum down here from de norf er castin' circumflexions on our church? i wuz de man dat stood right up in de meetin' an' defends de cause er de lawd. i haul off an' biff 'im right in the jaw----" "and you're going to ask cleo to marry you?" "i sho' is, sah." "haven't you a wife living, andy?" the boy asked carelessly. the whites of the negro's eyes suddenly shone as he rolled them in the opposite direction. he scratched his head and turned back to his friendly tormentor with unction: "mr. tom, i'm gwine ter be hones'--cose honesty is de bes' policy. i did marry a lady, sah, but dat wuz er long time ergo. she run away an' lef me an' git married ergin an' i divorced her, sah. she don't pester me no mo' an' i don't pester her. hit warn't my fault, sah, an' i des put her away ez de bible sez. ain't dat all right, sah?" "well, it's hardly legal to-day, though it may have been a biblical custom." "yassah, but dat's nuttin' ter do wid niggers. de white folks make de laws an' dey hatter go by 'em. but niggers is niggers, yer know dat yosef, sah." tom broke into a laugh: "andy, you certainly are a bird!" the negro joined in the laugh with a joyous chuckle at its close: "yassah, yassah--one er dese here great big brown blackbirds! but, lordy, mister tom, yer des foolin' wid me--yer ain't got nuttin' 'gin yer ole partner, barrin' dem few little things?" "no, barring the few things i've mentioned, that you're a lazy, lying, impudent old rascal--barring these few little things--why--otherwise you're all right, andy, you're all right!" the negro chuckled joyfully: "yassah--yassah! i knowed yer warn't gwine back on me, mister tom." he edged close and dropped his voice to the oiliest whisper: "you'll say dat good word now to miss cleo right away, sah?" the boy shook his head: "the only thing i'll agree to do, andy, is to stand by and see you commit suicide. if it's any comfort to you, i'll tell you that she'll kill you." "nasah! don't yer believe it. ef i kin des escape dat fat 'oman wid my life before she gits me--now dat you'se on my side i kin read my titles clar----" "oh, you can get rid of minerva all right!" "for de lord sake, des tell me how!" tom bent toward him and spoke in low tones: "all you've got to do if minerva gets you in a tight place is to confess your real love and ask her to help you out as a friend." andy looked puzzled a moment and then a light broke over his dusky face: "dat's a fine plan, mister tom. you saved er nigger's life--i'll do dat sho!" "as for cleo, i can't do anything for you, but i won't do anything against you." "thankee, sah! thankee, sah!" when tom reached the door he paused and said: "i might consent to consult with the undertaker about the funeral and act as one of your pall-bearers." andy waved him away with a suppressed laugh: "g'way frum here, mister tom! g'way frum here!" the negro returned to the mirror, adjusted his suit and after much effort succeeded in fixing a new scarfpin of a horseshoe design in the centre of the bow of one of norton's old-fashioned black string ties. he dusted his shoes, smoothed as many of the kinks out of his hair as a vigorous rubbing could accomplish, and put the last touches on his elaborate preparations for a meeting with cleo that was destined to be a memorable one in her life. chapter x the best laid plans andy's plans for a speedy conquest of cleo were destined to an interruption. minerva had decided that he was the best man in sight for a husband, and made up her mind to claim her own. she had noticed of late a disposition on his part to dally with cleo, and determined to act immediately. breakfast was well under way and she had heard andy's unctous laugh in the library with tom. she put on her sweeping apron, took up a broom and entered under the pretense of cleaning the room. andy was still chuckling with joy over the brilliant plan of escape suggested by tom. he had just put the finishing touches on his necktie, and was trying on an old silk hat when minerva's voice caused him to suddenly collapse. "say, man, is dat a hat er a bee-gum?" she cried, with a laugh so jolly it would have been contagious but for andy's terror. he looked at her, dropped the hat, picked it up and stammered: "w-w-why--miss minerva, is dat you?" minerva beamed on him tenderly, placed her broom in the corner and advanced quickly to meet him: "i knowed ye wuz 'spectin me frum de way yer wuz gettin' ready." she laughed and chuckled with obvious coquetry, adding coyly: "i knows how yer feel----" andy looked for a way of escape. but minerva was too quick for him. she was a woman of enormous size, fat, jolly and extremely agile for her weight. she carried her two hundred and fifty pounds without apparent effort. she walked with a nervous, snappy energy and could waltz with the grace of a girl of sixteen. she had reached andy's side before his dull brain could think of an excuse for going. her shining coal-black face was aglow with tenderness and the determination to make things easy for him in the declaration of love she had planned that he should make. "i know how yer feels, brer andy," she repeated. the victim mopped his perspiring brow and stammered: "yassam--yassam." "yer needn't be so 'barrassed, mr. andy," minerva went on in the most insinuating tones. "yer kin say what's on yer mind." "yassam." "come right here and set down er minute." she seized his hand and drew him with a kittenish skip toward a settee, tripped on a bear rug and would have fallen had not andy grabbed her. "de lord save us!" he gasped. he was trying desperately in his new suit to play the gentleman under difficulties. minerva was in ecstasy over his gallantry: "yer sho wuz terrified less i git hurt, mr. andy," she laughed. "i thought dat bar had me sho." andy mopped his brow again and glanced longingly at the door: "yassam, i sho wuz terrified--i'm sorry m'am, you'll hatter 'scuse me. mister tom's out dar waitin' fer me, an' i hatter go----" minerva smilingly but firmly pulled him down on the seat beside her: "set right down, mr. andy, an' make yoself at home. we got er whole half hour yet 'fore de odder folks come down stairs. man, don't be so 'barrassed! i knows 'zactly how yer feels. i understand what's de matter wid yer"--she paused, glanced at him out of the corners of her eye, touched him slyly with her elbow, and whispered: "why don't yer say what's on yer mind?" andy cleared his throat and began to stammer. he had the habit of stammering under excitement, and tom's plan of escape had just popped into his benumbed brain. he saw the way out: "y-y-yas'm--cose, m'am. i got sumfin ter tell ye, miss m-m-minerva." minerva moved a little closer. "yas, honey, i knows what 'tis, but i'se jes' waitin' ter hear it." he cleared his throat and tried to begin his speech in a friendly business-like way: "yassam, i gwine tell yer sho----" he turned to face her and to his horror found her lips so close she had evidently placed them in position for the first kiss. he stopped appalled, fidgeted, looked the other way and stammered: "h-hit sho is powful warm ter-day, m'am!" "tain't so much de heat, brer andy," she responded tenderly, "as 'tis de humility dat's in de air!" andy turned, looked into her smiling face for a moment and they both broke into a loud laugh while he repeated: "yassam, de humility--dat's hit! de humility dat's in de air!" the expression had caught his fancy enormously. "yassir, de humility--dat's hit!" minerva murmured. when the laughter had slowly died down she moved a little closer and said reassuringly: "and now, brer andy, ez dey's des you an' me here tergedder--ef hits suits yo' circumstantial convenience, hab no reprehenshun, sah, des say what's on yo' min'." andy glanced at her quickly, bowed grandiloquently and catching the spirit of her high-flown language decided to spring his confession and ask her help to win cleo. "yassam, miss minerva, dat's so. an' ez i allays sez dat honesty is de bes' policy, i'se gwine ter ré-cede ter yo' invitation!" minerva laughed with joyous admiration: "des listen at dat nigger now! you sho is er talkin' man when yer gits started----" "yassam, i bin er tryin' ter tell ye fer de longest kind er time an' ax ye ter help me----" minerva moved her massive figure close against him: "cose i help you." andy edged as far away as possible, but the arm of the settee had caught him and he couldn't get far. he smiled wanly and tried to assume a purely platonic tone: "wuz yer ebber in love, miss minerva?" minerva nudged him slyly: "wuz i?" andy tried to ignore the hint, lifted his eyes to the ceiling and in far-away tones put the hypothetical case of the friend who needed help: "well, des 'spose m'am dat a po' man wuz ter fall in love wid er beautiful lady, fur above him, wid eyes dat shine lak de stars----" "oh, g'way frum here, man!" minerva cried entranced as she broke into a peal of joyous laughter, nudging him again. the insinuating touch of her elbow brought andy to a sharp realization that his plan had not only failed to work, but was about to compromise him beyond hope. he hurried to correct her mistake. "but listen, miss minerva--yer don't understand. would yer be his friend an' help him to win her?" with a cry of joy she threw her huge arms around his neck: "would i--lordy--man!" andy tried to dodge her strangle hold, but was too slow and she had him. he struggled and grasped her arms, but she laughed and held on. "b-b-but--yer--yer," he stammered. "yer needn't say annudder word----" "yassam, but wait des er minute," he pleaded, struggling to lower her arms. "hush, man," minerva said good-naturedly. "cose i knows yer bin er bad nigger--but ye needn't tell me 'bout it now----" "for gawd's sake!" andy gasped, wrenching her arms away at last, "will yer des lemme say one word?" "nasah!" she said generously. "i ain't gwine ter let ye say no harsh words ergin yoself. i sho do admire de indelicate way dat yer tells me of yo' love!" "b-but yer don't understand----" "cose i does, chile!" minerva exclaimed with a tender smile. andy made a gesture of despair: "b-b-but i tries ter 'splain----" "yer don't hatter 'splain nuttin' ter me, man--i ain't no spring chicken--i knowed what ye means befo' ye opens yer mouf. yer tells me dat ye lubs me an' i done say dat i lubs you--an' dat's all dey is to it." minerva enfolded him in her ample arms and he collapsed with feeble assent: "yassam--yassam." chapter xi a reconnoitre norton slept at last from sheer physical exhaustion and waked at eleven o'clock refreshed and alert, his faculties again strung for action. he wondered in the clear light of noon at the folly of his panic the night before. the fighting instinct in him had always been the dominant one. he smiled now at his silly collapse and his quick brain began to plan his line of defense. the girl was in his house, yes. but she had been here in spirit, a living, breathing threat over his life, every moment the past twenty years. no scene of pain or struggle could come but that he had already lived it a thousand times. there was a kind of relief in facing these phantoms for the first time in flesh and blood. they couldn't be more formidable than the ghosts he had fought. he shaved and dressed with deliberation--dressed with unusual care--his brain on fire now with the determination to fight and win. the instincts of the soldier were again in command. and the first thing a true soldier did when driven to desperation and surrounded by an overwhelming foe was to reconnoitre, find the strength of his enemy, and strike at their weakest spot. he must avoid cleo and find the exact situation of tom and helen. his safest way was again to cultivate andy's knowledge of the house in his absence. he rang for him and waited in vain for his appearance. he rang again and, getting no response, walked down stairs to the door and searched the lawn. he saw cleo beside a flower bed talking to helen. he caught a glimpse of the lovely young face as she lifted her eyes and saw him. he turned back quickly into the house to avoid her, and hurried to the library. andy had been watching carefully until norton went through the front door. sure that he had strolled out on the lawn to see helen, with a sigh of relief the negro hurried back to the mirror to take another admiring glance at his fine appearance in the new suit. norton's sudden entrance completely upset him. he tried to laugh and the effort froze on his lips. he saw that norton had recognized the stolen suit, but was too excited to see the amusement lurking behind his frown: "where were you a while ago, when i was calling?" "i been right here all mornin', sah," andy answered with forced surprise. "you didn't hear that bell?" "nasah, nebber hear a thing, sah." norton looked at him severely: "there's a bigger bell going to ring for you one of these days. you like to go to funerals, don't you?" andy laughed: "yassah--odder folk's funerals--but dey's one i ain't in no hurry to git to----" "that's the one--where were you when i rang just now?" the negro looked at his master, hesitated, and a broad grin overspread his black face. he bowed and chuckled and walked straight up to norton: "yassah, major, i gwine tell yer de honest truf now, cose honesty is de bes' policy. i wuz des embellishin' mysef wid dis here ole suit er close dat ye gimme, sah, an' i wants ter specify my 'preciation, sah, at de generosity wid which yer always treats me, sah. i had a mos' particular reason fer puttin' dis suit on dis mornin'----" norton examined the lapel of the coat, his lips twitching to suppress a smile: "my suit of broadcloth----" andy rubbed his hands over the coat in profound amazement: "is dis de broadcloth? de lawd er mussy!" norton shook his head: "you old black hound----" andy broke into a loud laugh: "yassah, yassah! dat's me. but, major, i couldn't find the vest!" "too bad--shall i get it for you?" "nasah--des tell me whar yer put it!" norton smiled: "did you look in my big cedar box?" "thankee, sah--thankee, sah. yer sho is good ter me, major, an' yer can always 'pend on me, sah." "yes, i'm going to send you to the penitentiary for this----" andy roared with laughter: "yassah--yassah--cose, sah! i kin see myse'f in dat suit er stripes now, but i sho is gwine ter blossom out in dat double-breasted vest fust!" when the laughter had died away norton asked in good-natured tones: "you say i can depend on you, andy?" "dat yer kin, sah--every day in the year--you'se de bes frien' i ebber had in de world, sah." "then i want to ask you a question." "yassah, i tells yer anything i know, sah." "i'm just a little worried about tom. he's too young to get married. do you think he's been really making love to miss helen?" norton watched the negro keenly. he knew that a boy would easily trust his secrets to such a servant, and that his sense of loyalty to the young would be strong. he was relieved at the quick reply which came without guile: "lawdy, major, he ain't got dat far, sah. i bin er watchin' 'em putty close. he des kinder skimmin' 'round de edges." "you think so?" "yassah!" was the confident reply. "he 'minds me er one er dese here minnows when ye go fishin'. he ain't swallowed de hook yit--he des nibblin'." norton smiled, lighted a cigar, and quietly said: "go down to the office and tell mr. tom that i'm up and wish to see him." "yassah--yassah--right away, sah." andy bowed and grinned and hurried from the house. norton seated himself in an armchair facing the portrait of the little mother. his memory lingered tenderly over the last beautiful days they had spent together. he recalled every smile with which she had looked her forgiveness and her love. he felt the presence of her spirit and took courage. he lifted his eyes to the sweet, tender face bending over her baby and breathed a prayer for guidance. he wondered if she could see and know in the dim world beyond. without trying to reason about it, he had grown to believe that she did, and that her soul was near in this hour of his trial. how like this mother the boy had grown the past year--just her age when he was born. the color of his blonde hair was almost an exact reproduction of hers. and this beautiful hair lent a peculiar distinction to the boy's fine face. he had developed, too, a lot of little ways strikingly like the mother's when a laughing school girl. he smiled in the same flashing way, like a sudden burst of sunlight from behind a cloud. his temper was quick like hers, and his voice more and more seemed to develop the peculiar tones he had loved. that this boy, around whose form every desire of life had centered, should be in peril was a thought that set his heart to beating with new energy. he heard his quick step in the hall, rose and laid down his cigar. with a rush tom was in the room grasping the outstretched hand: "glad to see you back, dad!" he cried, "but we had no idea you were coming so soon." "i got a little homesick," the father replied, "and decided to come in for a day or two." "i was awfully surprised at miss helen's popping in on us so unexpectedly--i suppose you forgot to tell me about it in the rush of getting away." "i really didn't expect her to come before my return," was the vague answer. "but you wrote her to come at once." "did i?" he replied carelessly. "why, yes, she showed me your letter. i didn't write you about her arrival because you told me under no circumstances, except of life or death, to tell you of anything here and i obeyed orders." "i'm glad you've made that a principle of your life--stick to it." "i'm sorry you're away in this dangerous campaign so much, dad," the boy said with feeling. "it may end your career." the father smiled and a far-away look stole into his eyes: "i have no career, my boy! i gave that up years ago and i had to lead this campaign." "why?" the look in the brown eyes deepened: "because i am the man to whom our danger has been revealed. i am the man to whom god has given a message--i who have been tried in the fires of hell and fought my way up and out of the pit--only the man who has no ambitions can tell the truth!" the boy nodded and smiled: "yes, i know your hobby----" "the big tragic truth, that the physical contact of the black race with the white is a menace to our life"--his voice had dropped to a passionate whisper as if he were talking to himself. a laugh from tom roused him to the consciousness of time and place: "but that isn't a speech you meant for me, dad!" the father caught his bantering tone with a light reply: "no." and then his tall form confronted the boy with a look of deep seriousness: "to-morrow i enter on the last phase of this campaign. at any moment a fool or a madman may blow my brains out." tom gave a start: "dad----" "over every mile of that long drive home last night, i was brooding and thinking of you----" "of me?" "wondering if i had done my level best to carry out the dying commands of your mother----" he paused, drew a deep breath, looked up tenderly and continued: "i wish you were settled in life." the boy turned slightly away and the father watched him keenly and furtively for a moment, and took a step toward him: "you have never been in love?" with a shrug and a laugh, tom dropped carelessly on the settee and crossed his legs: "love--hardly!" the father held his breath until the light answer brought relief and then smiled: "it will come some day, my boy, and when it hits you, i think it's going to hit hard." the handsome young head was poised on one side with a serious judicial expression: "yes, i think it will--but i guess my ideal's too high, though." the father spoke with deep emotion: "a man's ideal can't be too high, my boy!" tom didn't hear. his mind was busy with his ideal. "but if i ever find her," he went on dreamily, "do you know what i'll want?" "no." "the strength of samson!" "what for?" he shook his head with a smile: "to reach over in california, tear one of those big trees up by the roots, dip it in the crater of vesuvius and write her name in letters of fire across the sky!" he ended with a wide, sweeping gesture, showing just how he would inscribe it. "really!" the father laughed. "that's how i feel!" he cried, springing to his feet with an emphatic gesture, a smile playing about his firm mouth. the father slipped his arm around him: "well, if you should happen to do it, be sure to stand in the ocean, because otherwise, you know, if the grass should be dry you might set the world on fire." the boy broke into a hearty laugh, crossed to the table, and threw his leg carelessly over the corner, a habit he had gotten from his father. when the laugh had died away, he picked up a magazine and said carelessly: "i guess there's no danger, after all. i'm afraid that the big thing poets sing about is only a myth after all"--he paused, raised his eyes and they rested on his mother's portrait, and his voice became a reverent whisper--"except your love for my mother, dad--that was the real thing!" he was looking the other way and couldn't see the cloud of anguish that suddenly darkened his father's face. "you'll know its meaning some day, my son," was the even reply that came after a pause, "and i only demand of you one thing----" he laid his hand on the boy's shoulder: "that the woman you ask to be your wife bear a name without shadow. good blood is the noblest inheritance that any father or mother ever gave to a child." "i'm proud of mine, sir!" the boy said, drawing his form erect. the father's arm stole around the young shoulders and his voice was very low: "fools sometimes say, my son, that a man can sow his wild oats and be all the better for it. it's a lie. the smallest deed takes hold on eternity for it may start a train of events that even god can't stop----" he paused and fought back a cry from the depths of his soul. "i did something that hurt your mother once"--his voice dropped--"and for twenty years my soul in anguish has begged for forgiveness----" the boy looked at him in startled sympathy and his own arm instinctively slipped around his father's form as he lifted his face to the shining figure over the mantel: "but you believe that she sees and understands now?" norton turned his head away to hide the mists that clouded his eyes. his answer was uttered with the reverence of a prayer: "yes! i've seen her in dreams sometimes so vividly and heard her voice so plainly, i couldn't believe that i was asleep"--his voice stopped before it broke, his arm tightening its hold--"and i know that her spirit broods and watches over you----" and then he suddenly decided to do the most cruel thing to which his mind had ever given assent. but he believed it necessary and did not hesitate. only the vague intensity of his eyes showed his deep feeling as he said evenly: "ask miss helen to come here. you'll find her on the lawn with cleo." the boy left the room to summon helen, and norton seated himself with grim determination. chapter xii the first whisper when tom reached the lawn helen was nowhere to be seen. he searched every nook and corner which they had been accustomed to haunt, looked through the rose garden and finally knocked timidly on the door of her room. he was sure at first that he heard a sound within. he dared not open her door and so hurried down town to see if he could find her in one of the stores. helen shivering inside had held her breath until his his footsteps died away on the stairs. with heavy heart but swift hands she was packing her trunk. in spite of cleo's assurances she had been startled and frightened beyond measure by the certainty that norton had purposely avoided her. she had expected the most hearty welcome. her keen intuition had scented his hostility though not a word had been spoken. cleo, who had avoided tom, again rapped on her door: "just a minute, miss helen!" there was no answer and the woman strained her ear to hear what was happening inside. it couldn't be possible that the girl was really going to leave! such an act of madness would upset her plans just as they were coming out exactly as she had hoped. "she can't mean it!" cleo muttered under her breath. "it's only a fit of petulance!" she didn't dare to give helen a hint of her clouded birth. that might send her flying. yet if necessary she must excite her curiosity by a whisper about her parentage. she had already guessed from hints the girl had dropped that her one passionate desire was to know the names of her father and mother. she would be careful, but it was necessary to hold her at all hazards. she rapped again: "please, miss helen, may i come in just a minute?" her voice was full of pleading. a step was heard, a pause and the door opened. cleo quickly entered, turned the key and in earnest tones, her eyes dancing excitedly, asked: "you are really packing your trunk?" "it's already packed," was the firm answer. "but you can't mean this----" "i do." "i tell you, child, the major didn't see you----" "he did see me. i caught his eye in a straight, clear look. and he turned quickly to avoid me." "you have his letter of invitation. you can't think it a forgery?" she asked with impatience. the girl's color deepened: "he has evidently changed his mind for some reason." "nonsense!" "i was just ready to rush to meet him and thank him with the deepest gratitude for his invitation. the look on his face when he turned was like a blow." "it's only your imagination!" cleo urged eagerly. "he's worried over politics." "i'm not in politics. no, it's something else--i must go." cleo put her hand appealingly on helen's arm: "don't be foolish, child!" the girl drew away suddenly with instinctive aversion. the act was slight and quick, but not too slight or quick for the woman's sharp eye. she threw helen a look of resentment: "why do you draw away from me like that?" the girl flushed with embarrassment and stammered: "why--you see, i've lived up north all my life, shut up in a convent most of the time and i'm not used--to--colored people----" "well, i'm not a negro, please remember that. i'm a nurse and housekeeper, if you please, and there happens to be a trace of negro blood in my veins, but a white soul throbs beneath this yellow skin. i'd strip it off inch by inch if i could change its color"--her voice broke with assumed emotion--it was a pose for the moment, but its apparent genuineness deceived the girl and roused her sympathy. "i'm sorry if i hurt you," she said contritely. "oh, it's no matter." helen snapped the lid of her trunk: "i'm leaving on the first train." "oh, come now," cleo urged impatiently. "you'll do nothing of the kind--the major will be himself to-morrow." "i am going at once----" "you're not going!" the woman declared firmly, laying her hand again on the girl's arm. with a shudder helen drew quickly away. "please--please don't touch me again!" she cried with anger. "i'm sorry, but i can't help it." with an effort cleo suppressed her rage: "well, i won't. i understand--but you can't go like this. the major will be furious." "i'm going," the girl replied, picking up the odds and ends she had left and placing them in her travelling bag. cleo watched her furtively: "i--i--ought to tell you something that i know about your life--" helen dropped a brush from her hand and quickly crossed the room, a bright color rushing to her cheeks: "about my birth?" "you believe," cleo began cautiously, "that the major is the agent of your guardian who lives abroad. well, he's not the agent--he is your guardian." "why should he deceive me?" "he had reasons, no doubt," cleo replied with a smile. "you mean that he knows the truth? that he knows the full history of my birth and the names of my father and mother?" "yes." "he has assured me again and again that he does not--" "i know that he has deceived you." helen looked at her with a queer expression of angry repulsion that she should possess this secret of her unhappy life. "you know?" she asked faintly. "no," was the quick reply, "not about your birth; but i assure you the major does. demand that he tell you." "he'll refuse--" "ask him again, and stay until he does." "but i'm intruding!" helen cried, brushing a tear from her eyes. "no matter, you're here, you're of age, you have the right to know the truth--stay until you learn it. if he slights you, pay no attention to it--stay until you know." the girl's form suddenly stiffened and her eyes flashed: "yes, i will--i'll know at any cost." with a soft laugh which helen couldn't hear cleo hurried from the room. chapter xiii andy's proposal andy had been waiting patiently for cleo to leave helen's door. he had tried in vain during the entire morning to get an opportunity to see her alone, but since helen's appearance at breakfast she had scarcely left the girl's side for five minutes. he had slipped to the head of the back stairs, lifted the long flaps of the tail of his new coat and carefully seated himself on the last step to wait her appearance. he smiled with assurance. she couldn't get down without a word at least. "i'm gwine ter bring things to er head dis day, sho's yer born!" he muttered, wagging his head. he had been to norfolk the week before on an excursion to attend the annual convention of his african mutual insurance society, "the children of the king." while there he had met the old woman who had given him a startling piece of information about cleo which had set his brain in a whirl. he had long been desperately in love with her, but she had treated him with such scorn he had never summoned the courage to declare his affection. the advent of helen at first had made no impression on his slowly working mind, but when he returned from norfolk with the new clew to cleo's life he watched the girl with increasing suspicion. and when he saw the collapse of norton over the announcement of her presence he leaped to an important conclusion. no matter whether his guess was correct or not, he knew enough to give him a power over the proud housekeeper he proposed to exercise without a moment's delay. "we see now whether she turns up her nose at me ergin," he chuckled, as he heard the door open. he rose with a broad grin as he saw that at last she was alone. he adjusted his suit with a touch of pride and pulled down his vest with a little jerk he had seen his master use in dressing. he had found the heavy, black, double-breasted vest in the cedar box, but thought it rather sombre when contrasted with a red english hunting jacket the major had affected once in a fashionable fox hunt before the war. the rich scarlet took his fancy and he selected that one instead. he carried his ancient silk hat jauntily balanced in one hand, in the other hand a magnolia in full bloom. the petals of the flower were at least a half-foot long and the leaves longer. he bowed with an attempt at the easy manners of a gentleman in a gallant effort to attract her attention. she was about to pass him on the stairs without noticing his existence when andy cleared his throat: "ahem!" cleo paused with a frown: "what's the matter? have you caught cold!" andy generously ignored her tone, bowed and handed her the magnolia: "would you embellish yousef wid dis little posie, m'am?" the woman turned on him, drew her figure to its full height, her eyes blazing with wrath, snatched the flower from his hand and threw it in his face. andy dodged in time to save his nose and his offering went tumbling down the stairs. he shook his head threateningly when he caught his breath: "look a here, m'am, is dat de way yer gwine spessify my welcome?" "why, no, i was only thanking you for the compliment!" she answered with a sneer. "how dare you insult me?" "insult you, is i?" andy chuckled. "huh, if dat's de way ye talk i'm gwine ter say sumfin quick----" "you can't be too quick!" andy held her eye a moment and pointed his index finger in her face: "yassam! as de ole sayin' is--i'm gwine take my tex' from dat potion er de scripter whar de 'postle paul pint his 'pistle at de fenians!--i'se er comin' straight ter de pint." "well, come to it, you flat-nosed baboon!" she cried in rage. "what makes your nose so flat, anyhow?" andy grinned at her tantalizingly, and spoke with a note of deliberate insult: "i don't know, m'am, but i spec hit wuz made dat way ter keep hit outen odder folks' business!" "you impudent scoundrel, how dare you speak to me like this?" cleo hissed. a triumphant chuckle was his answer. he flicked a piece of imaginary dust from the rim of his hat, his eyes rolled to the ceiling and he slowly said with a smile: "well, yer see, m'am, circumstances alters cases an' dat always makes de altercations! i git holt er a little secret o' yourn dat gimme courage----" "a secret of mine?" cleo interrupted with the first flash of surprise. "yassam!" was the unctuous answer, as andy looked over his shoulder and bent to survey the hall below for any one who might possibly be passing. "yassam," he went on smoothly, "down ter norfork las' week, m'am----" "wait a minute!" cleo interrupted. "some one might be below. come to my room." "yassam, ob course, i wuz gwine ter say dat in de fust place, but ye didn't gimme time"--he bowed--"cose, m'am, de pleasure's all mine, as de sayin' is." he placed his silk hat jauntily on his head as they reached the door, and gallantly took hold of cleo's arm to assist her down the steps. she stopped abruptly: "wait here, i'll go ahead and you can come in a few minutes." "sholy, sholy, m'am, i understan' dat er lady allus likes ter make er little preparations ter meet er gemman. i understands. i des stroll out on de lawn er minute." "the backyard's better," she replied, quietly throwing him a look of scorn. "yassam, all right. i des take a little cursory view er de chickens." "as soon as i'm out of sight, you can come right up." andy nodded and cleo quickly crossed the fifty yards that separated the house from the neat square brick building that was still used as the servants' quarters. in a few minutes, with his silk hat set on the side of his head, andy tipped up the stairs and knocked on her door. he entered with a grandiloquent bow and surveyed the place curiously. her room was a sacred spot he had never been allowed to enter before. "have a seat," cleo said, placing a chair. andy bowed, placed his hat pompously on the table, pulled down his red vest with a jerk and seated himself deliberately. cleo glanced at him: "you were about to tell me something that you heard in norfolk?" andy looked at the door as an extra precaution and smiled blandly: "yassam, i happen ter hear down dar dat a long time ergo, mo'rn twenty years, afore i cum ter live here--dat is when i wuz er politicioner--dey wuz rumors 'bout you an' de major when you wuz mister tom's putty young nurse." "well?" "de major's wife fin' it out an' die. de major wuz heart-broke, drap everything an' go norf, an' while he wuz up dar, you claims ter be de mudder of a putty little gal. now min' ye, i ain't nebber seed her, but dat's what i hears you claims----" andy paused impressively and cleo held his eye in a steady, searching stare. she was trying to guess how much he really knew. she began to suspect that his story was more than half a bluff and made up her mind to fight. "claim? no, you fool!" she said with indifferent contempt, "i didn't claim it--i proved it. i proved it to his satisfaction. you may worry some one else with your secret. it doesn't interest me. but i'd advise you to have your life insured before you mention it to the major"--she paused, broke into a light laugh and added: "so that's your wonderful discovery?" andy looked at her with a puzzled expression and scratched his head: "yassam." "then i'll excuse you from wasting any more of your valuable time," cleo said, rising. andy rose and smiled: "yassam, but dat ain't all, m'am!" "no?" "nobum. i ain't 'sputin dat de little gal wuz born des lak you say, or des lak, mebbe, de major believes ter dis day"--he paused and leaned over until he could whisper in her ear--"but sposen she die?" the woman never moved a muscle for an instant. she spoke at last in a half-laughing, incredulous way: "suppose she died? why, what do you mean?" "now, mind ye," andy said, lifting his hands in a persuasive gesture, "i ain't sayin' dat she raly did die--i des say--sposen she die----" cleo lost her temper and turned on her tormentor in sudden fury: "but she didn't! who dares to tell such a lie? she's living to-day a beautiful, accomplished girl." andy solemnly raised his hand again: "mind ye, i don't say dat she ain't, i des say sposen--sposen she die, an' you git a little orphan baby ter put in her place, twenty years ergo, jis' ter keep yer grip on de major----" cleo peered steadily into his face: [illustration: "'yassam, but dat ain't all, m'am.'"] "did you guess that lie?" he cocked his head to one side and grinned: "i don't say dat i did, an' i don't say dat i didn't. i des say dat i mought, an' den ergin i moughn't!" "well, it's a lie!" she cried fiercely--"i tell you it's an infamous lie!" "yassam, dat may be so, but hit's a putty dangous lie fer you, m'am, ef----" he looked around the room in a friendly, cautious way and continued in a whisper: "especially ef de major wuz ter ever git pizened wid it!" cleo's voice dropped suddenly to pleading tones: "you're not going to suggest such an idea to him?" andy looked away coyly and glanced back at her with a smile: "not ef yer ax me----" "well, i do ask you," she said in tender tones. "a more infamous lie couldn't be told. but if such a suspicion were once roused it would be hard to protect myself against it." "oh, i des wants ter help ye, m'am," andy protested earnestly. "then i'm sure you'll never suggest such a thing to the major?--i'm sorry i've treated you so rudely, and spoke to you as i did just now." andy waved the apology aside with a generous gesture and spoke with large good nature: "oh, dat's all right, m'am! dat's all right! i'm gwine ter show you now dat i'se yer best friend----" "i may need one soon," she answered slowly. "things can't go on in this house much longer as they are." "yassam!" andy said reassuringly as he laid his hand on cleo's arm and bent low. "you kin 'pend on me. i'se always called hones' andy." she shuddered unconsciously at his touch, looked suddenly toward the house and said: "go--quick! mr. tom has come. i don't want him to see us together." andy bowed grandly, took up his hat and tipped down the stairs chuckling over his conquest, and cleo watched him cross the yard to the kitchen. "i'll manage him!" she murmured with a smile of contempt. chapter xiv the folly of pity norton sat in the library for more than an hour trying to nerve himself for the interview while waiting for helen. he had lighted and smoked two cigars in rapid succession and grown restless at her delay. he rose, strolled through the house and seeing nothing of either tom or helen, returned to the library and began pacing the floor with measured tread. he had made up his mind to do a cruel thing and told himself over and over again that cruel things are often best. the cruelty of surgery is the highest form of pity, pity expressed in terms of the highest intelligence. he was sure the boy had not made love to the girl. helen was no doubt equally innocent in her attitude toward him. it would only be necessary to tell her a part of the bitter truth and her desire to leave would be a resistless one. and yet, the longer he delayed and the longer he faced such an act, the more pitiless it seemed and the harder its execution became. at heart a deep tenderness was the big trait of his character. above all, he dreaded the first interview with helen. the idea of the responsibility of fatherhood had always been a solemn one. his love for tom was of the very beat of his heart. the day he first looked into his face was the most wonderful in all the calendar of life. he had simply refused to let this girl come into his heart. he had closed the door with a firm will. he had only seen her once when a little tot of two and he was laboring under such deep excitement and such abject fear lest a suspicion of the truth, or any part of the truth, reach the sisters to whom he was intrusting the child, that her personality had made no impression on him. he vaguely hoped that she might not be attractive. the idea of a girl of his own had always appealed to him with peculiar tenderness, and, unlike most fathers, he had desired that his first-born should be a girl. if helen were commonplace and unattractive his task would be comparatively easy. it was a mental impossibility for him as yet to accept the fact that she was his--he had seen so little of her, her birth was so unwelcome, her coming into his life fraught with such tragic consequences. the vague hope that she might prove weak and uninteresting had not been strengthened by the momentary sight of her face. the flash of joy that lighted her sensitive features, though it came across the lawn, had reached him with a very distinct impression of charm. he dreaded the effect at close range. however, there was no other way. he had to see her and he had to make her stay impossible. it would be a staggering blow for a girl to be told in the dawn of young womanhood that her birth was shadowed by disgrace. it would be a doubly cruel one to tell her that her blood was mixed with a race of black slaves. and yet a life built on a lie was set on shifting sand. it would not endure. it was best to build it squarely on the truth, and the sooner the true foundation was laid the better. there could be no place in our civilization for a woman of culture and refinement with negro blood in her veins. more and more the life of such people must become impossible. that she should remain in the south was unthinkable. that the conditions in the north were at bottom no better he knew from the experience of his stay in new york. he would tell her the simple, hideous truth, depend on her terror to keep the secret, and send her abroad. it was the only thing to do. he rose with a start at the sound of tom's voice calling her from the stairway. the answer came in low tones so charged with the quality of emotion that belongs to a sincere nature that his heart sank at the thought of his task. she had only said the most commonplace thing--"all right, i'll be down in a moment." yet the tones of her voice were so vibrant with feeling that its force reached him instantly, and he knew that his interview was going to be one of the most painful hours of his life. and still he was not prepared for the shock her appearance in the shadows of the tall doorway gave. he had formed no conception of the gracious and appealing personality. in spite of the anguish her presence had brought, in spite of preconceived ideas of the inheritance of the vicious nature of her mother, in spite of his ingrained repugnance to the negroid type, in spite of his horror of the ghost of his young manhood suddenly risen from the dead to call him to judgment, in spite of his determination to be cruel as the surgeon to the last--in spite of all, his heart suddenly went out to her in a wave of sympathy and tenderness! she was evidently so pitifully embarrassed and the suffering in her large, expressive eyes so keen and genuine, his first impulse was to rush to her side with words of comfort and assurance. the simple white dress, with tiny pink ribbons drawn through its edges, which she wore accentuated the impression of timidity and suffering. he was surprised to find not the slightest trace of negroid blood apparent, though he knew that a mixture of the sixteenth degree often left no trace until its sudden reversion to a black child. her hair was the deep brown of his own in young manhood, the eyes large and tender in their rich blue depths--the eyes of innocence, intelligence, sincerity. the lips were full and fluted, and the chin marked with an exquisite dimple that gave a childlike wistfulness to a face that without it might have suggested too much strength. her neck was slightly curved and set on full, strong shoulders with an unconscious grace. the bust was slight and girlish, the arms and figure rounded and beautiful in their graceful fullness. her walk, when she took the first few steps into the room and paused, he saw was the incarnation of rhythmic strength and perfect health. but her voice was the climax of her appeal--low, vibrant, quivering with feeling and full of a subtle quality that convinced the hearer from the first moment of the truth and purity of its owner. she smiled with evident embarrassment at his silence. he was stunned for the moment and simply couldn't speak. "so, i see you at last, major norton!" she said as the color slowly stole over her face. he recovered himself, walked quickly to meet her and extended his hand: "i must apologize for not seeing you earlier this morning," he said gravely. "i was up all night travelling through the country and slept very late." as her hand rested in his the girl forgot her restraint and wounded pride at the cold and doubtful reception he had given earlier. her heart suddenly beat with a desire to win this grave, strong man's love and respect. with a look of girlish tenderness she hastened to say: "i want to thank you with the deepest gratitude, major, for your kindness in inviting me here this summer----" "don't mention it, child," he interrupted frowning. "oh, if you only knew," she went on hurriedly, "how i love the south, how my soul glows under its skies, how i love its people, their old-fashioned ways, their kindness, their hospitality, their high ideals----" he lifted his hand and the gesture stopped her in the midst of a sentence. he was evidently struggling with an embarrassment that was painful and had determined to end it. "the time has come, helen," he began firmly--"you're of age--that i should tell you the important facts about your birth." "yes--yes----" the girl answered in an excited whisper as she sank into a chair and gazed at him fascinated with the terror of his possible revelation. "i wish i could tell you all," he said, pausing painfully. "you know--all?" "yes, i know." "my father--my mother--they are living?" in spite of his effort at self-control norton was pale and his voice strained. his answers to her pointed questions were given with his face turned from her searching gaze. "your mother is living," was the slow reply. "and my father?" his eyes were set in a fixed stare waiting for this question, as a prisoner in the dock for the sentence of a judge. his lips gave no answer for the moment and the girl went on eagerly: "through all the years that i've been alone, the one desperate yearning of my heart has been to know my father"--the lines of the full lips quivered--"i've always felt somehow that a mother who could give up her babe was hardly worth knowing. and so i've brooded over the idea of a father. i've hoped and dreamed and prayed that he might be living--that i might see and know him, win his love, and in its warmth and joy, its shelter and strength--never be lonely or afraid again----" her voice sank to a sob, and norton, struggling to master his feelings, said: "you have been lonely and afraid?" "utterly lonely! when other girls at school shouted for joy at the approach of vacation, the thought of home and loved ones, it brought to me only tears and heartache. many a night i've laid awake for hours and sobbed because a girl had asked me about my father and mother. lonely!--oh, dear lord! and always i've dried my eyes with the thought that some day i might know my father and sob out on his breast all i've felt and suffered"--she paused, and looked at norton through a mist of tears--"my father is not dead?" the stillness was painful. the man could hear the tick of the little french clock on the mantel. how tired his soul was of lies! he couldn't lie to her in answer to this question. and so without lifting his head he said very softly: "he is also alive." "thank god!" the girl breathed reverently. "oh, if i could only touch his hand and look into his face! i don't care who he is, how poor and humble his home, if it's a log cabin on a mountain side, or a poor white man's hovel in town, i'll love him and cling to him and make him love me!" the man winced. there was one depth her mind had not fathomed! how could he push this timid, lonely, haunted creature over such a precipice! he glanced at her furtively and saw that she was dreaming as in a trance. "but suppose," he said quietly, "you should hate this man when you had met?" "it's unthinkable," was the quick response. "my father is my father. i'd love him if he were a murderer!" again her mind had failed to sound the black depths into which he was about to hurl her. she might love a murderer, but there was one thing beyond all question, this beautiful, sensitive, cultured girl could not love the man who had thrust her into the hell of a negroid life in america! she might conceive of the love of a father who could take human life, but her mind could not conceive the possibility of facing the truth with which he must now crush the soul out of her body. why had he lied and deceived her at all? the instinctive desire to shield his own blood from a life of ignominy--yes. but was it worth the risk? no--he knew it when it was too late. the steel jaws with their cold teeth were tearing the flesh now at every turn and there was no way of escape. when he failed to respond, she rose, pressed close and pleaded eagerly: "tell me his name! oh, it's wonderful that you have seen him, heard his voice and held his hand! he may not be far away--tell me----" norton shook his head: "the one thing, child, i can never do." "you are a father--a father who loves his own--i've seen and know that. a nameless waif starving for a word of love begs it--just one word of deep, real love--think of it! my heart has never known it in all the years i've lived!" norton lifted his hand brusquely: "you ask the impossible. the conditions under which i am acting as your guardian seal my lips." the girl looked at him steadily: "then, you are my real guardian?" "yes." "and why have you not told me before?" the question was asked with a firm emphasis that startled him into a sense of renewed danger. "why?" she repeated. "to avoid questions i couldn't answer." "you will answer them now?" "with reservations." the girl drew herself up with a movement of quiet determination and spoke in even tones: "my parents are southern?" "yes----" "my father and mother were--were"--her voice failed, her head dropped and in an effort at self-control she walked to the table, took a book in her hand and tried to turn its leaves. the hideous question over which she had long brooded was too horrible to put into words. the answer he might give was too big with tragic possibilities. she tried to speak again and couldn't. he looked at her with a great pity in his heart and when at last she spoke her voice was scarcely a whisper: "my father and mother were married?" he knew it was coming and that he must answer, and yet hesitated. his reply was low, but it rang through her soul like the stroke of a great bell tolling for the dead: "no!" the book she held slipped from the trembling fingers and fell to the floor. norton walked to the window that he might not see the agony in her sensitive face. she stood very still and the tears began slowly to steal down her cheeks. "god pity me!" she sobbed, lifting her face and looking pathetically at norton. "why did you let them send me to school? why teach me to think and feel and know this?" the low, sweet tones of her wonderful voice found the inmost heart of the man. the misery and loneliness of the orphan years of which she had spoken were nothing to the anguish with which her being now shook. he crossed the room quickly and extended his hand in a movement of instinctive sympathy and tenderness: "come, come, child--you're young and life is all before you." "yes, a life of shame and humiliation!" "the world is wide to-day! a hundred careers are open to you. marriage is impossible--yes----" "and if i only wish for marriage?" the girl cried with passionate intensity. "if my ideal is simple and old-fashioned--if all i ask of god is the love of one man--a home--a baby----" a shadow of pain clouded norton's face and he lifted a hand in tender warning: "put marriage out of your mind once and for all time! it can only bring to you and your loved ones hopeless misery." helen turned with a start: "even if the man i love should know all?" "yes," was the firm answer. she gazed steadily into his eyes and asked with sharp rising emphasis: "why?" the question brought him squarely to the last blow he must give if he accomplish the thing he had begun. he must tell her that her mother is a negress. he looked at the quivering figure, the white, sensitive, young face with the deep, serious eyes, and his lips refused to move. he tried to speak and his throat was dry. it was too cruel. there must be an easier way. he couldn't strike the sweet uplifted head. he hesitated, stammered and said: "i--i'm sorry--i can't answer that question fully and frankly. it may be best, but----" "yes, yes--it's best!" she urged. "it may be best," he repeated, "but i simply can't do it"--he paused, turned away and suddenly wheeled confronting her: "i'll tell you all that you need to know to-day--you were born under the shadow of a hopeless disgrace----" the girl lifted her hand as if to ward a blow while she slowly repeated: "a hopeless--disgrace----" "beneath a shadow so deep, no lover's vow can ever lift it from your life. i should have told you this before, perhaps--well, somehow i couldn't"--he paused and his voice trembled--"i wanted you to grow in strength and character first----" the girl clenched her hands and sprang in front of him: "that my agony might be beyond endurance? now you _must_ tell me the whole truth!" again the appealing uplifted face had invited the blow, and again his heart failed. it was impossible to crush her. it was too horrible. he spoke with firm decision: "not another word!" he turned and walked rapidly to the door. the girl clung desperately to his arm: "i beg of you! i implore you!" he paused in the doorway, and gently took her hands: "forgive me, child, if i seem cruel. in reality i am merciful. i must leave it just there!" he passed quickly out. the girl caught the heavy curtains for support, turned with an effort, staggered back into the room, fell prostrate on the lounge with a cry of despair, and burst into uncontrollable sobs. chapter xv a discovery tom had grown restless waiting for helen to emerge from the interminable interview with his father. a half dozen times he had walked past the library door only to hear the low hum of their voices still talking. "what on earth is it all about, i wonder?" he muttered. "must be telling her the story of his whole life!" he had asked her to meet him in the old rose garden when she came out. for the dozenth time he strolled in and sat down on their favorite rustic. he could neither sit still nor content himself with wandering. "what the devil's the matter with me anyhow?" he said aloud. "the next thing i'll be thinking i'm in love--good joke--bah!" helen was not the ideal he had dreamed. she had simply brought a sweet companionship into his life--that was all. she was a good fellow. she could walk, ride, run and hold her own at any game he liked to play. he had walked with her over miles of hills and valleys stretching in every direction about town. he had never grown tired of these walks. he didn't have to entertain her. they were silent often for a long time. they sat down beside the roadway, laughed and talked like chums with never a thought of entertaining each other. in the long rides they had taken in the afternoons and sometimes late in the starlight or moonlight, she had never grown silly, sentimental or tiresome. a restful and home-like feeling always filled him when she was by his side. he hadn't thought her very beautiful at first, but the longer he knew her the more charming and irresistible her companionship became. "her figure's a little too full for the finest type of beauty!" he was saying to himself now. "her arms are splendid, but the least bit too big, and her face sometimes looks too strong for a girl's! it's a pity. still, by geeminy, when she smiles she is beautiful! her face seems to fairly blossom with funny little dimples--and that one on the chin is awfully pretty! she just misses by a hair being a stunningly beautiful girl!" he flicked a fly from his boot with a switch he was carrying and glanced anxiously toward the house. "and i must say," he acknowledged judicially, "that she has a bright mind, her tastes are fine, her ideals high. she isn't all the time worrying over balls and dresses and beaux like a lot of silly girls i know. she's got too much sense for that. the fact is, she has a brilliant mind." now that he came to think of it, she had a mind of rare brilliance. everything she said seemed to sparkle. he didn't stop to ask the reason why, he simply knew that it was so. if she spoke about the weather, her words never seemed trivial. he rose scowling and walked back to the house. "what on earth can they be talking about all this time?" he cried angrily. just then his father's tall figure stepped out on the porch, walked its length and entered the sitting-room by one of the french windows. he sprang up the steps, thrust his head into the hall, and softly whistled. he waited a moment, there was no response, and he repeated the call. still receiving no answer, he entered cautiously: "miss helen!" he tipped to the library door and called again: "miss helen!" surprised that she could have gone so quickly he rushed into the room, glanced hastily around, crossed to the window, looked out on the porch, heard the rustle of a skirt and turned in time to see her flying to escape. with a quick dash he headed her off. hiding her face she turned and ran the other way for the door through which he had entered. with a laugh and a swift leap tom caught her arms. "lord, you're a sprinter!" he cried breathlessly. "but i've got you now!" he laughed, holding her pinioned arms tightly. helen lifted her tear-stained face: "please----" tom drew her gently around and looked into her eyes: "why--what on earth--you're crying!" she tried to draw away but he held her hand firmly: "what is it? what's happened? what's the matter?" his questions were fired at her with lightning rapidity. the girl dropped forlornly on the lounge and turned her face away: "please go!" "i won't go--i won't!" he answered firmly as he bent closer. "please--please!" "tell me what it is?" helen held her face resolutely from him. "tell me," he urged tenderly. "i can't!" she threw herself prostrate and broke into sobs. the boy wrung his hands helplessly, started to put his arm around her, caught himself in time and drew back with a start. at last he burst out passionately: "don't--don't! for heaven's sake don't! it hurts me more than it does you--i don't know what it is but it hurts--it hurts inside and it hurts deep--please!" without lifting her head helen cried: "i don't want to live any more!" "oh, is that all?" tom laughed. "i see, you've stubbed your toe and don't want to live any more!" "i mean it!" she broke in desperately. "good joke!" he cried again, laughing. "you don't want to live any more! twenty years old and every line of your graceful, young form quivering with the joy of life--you--you don't want to live! that's great!" the girl lifted her dimmed eyes, looked at him a moment, and spoke the thought that had poisoned her soul--spoke it in hard, bitter accents with a touch of self-loathing: "i've just learned that my birth is shadowed by disgrace!" "well, what have you to do with that?" he asked quickly. "your whole being shines with truth and purity. what's an accident of birth? you couldn't choose your parents, could you? you're a nameless orphan and my father is the attorney of an old fool guardian who lives somewhere in europe. all right! the worst thing your worst enemy could say is that you're a child of love--a great love that leaped all bounds and defied the law--a love that was madness and staked all life on the issue! that means you're a child of the gods. some of the greatest men and women of the world were born like that. your own eyes are clear. there's no cloud on your beautiful soul----" tom paused and helen lifted her face in rapt attention. the boy suddenly leaped to his feet, turned away and spoke in ecstatic whispers: "good lord--listen at me--why--i'm making love--great scott--i'm in love! the big thing has happened--to me--to me! i feel the thrill of it--the thing that transforms the world--why--it's like getting religion!" he strode back and forth in a frenzy of absurd happiness. helen, smiling through her tears, asked: "what are you saying? what are you talking about?" with a cry of joy he was at her side, her hand tight gripped in his: "why, that i'm in love, my own--that i love you, my glorious little girl! i didn't realize it until i saw just now the tears in your eyes and felt the pain of it. every day these past weeks you've been stealing into my heart until now you're my very life! what hurts you hurts me--your joys are mine--your sorrows are mine!" laughing in spite of herself, helen cried: "you--don't realize what you're saying!" "no--but i'm beginning to!" he answered with a boyish smile. "and it goes to my head like wine--i'm mad with its joy! i tell you i love you--i love you! and you love me--you do love me?" the girl struggled, set her lips grimly and said fiercely: "no--and i never shall!" "you don't mean it?" "i do!" "you--you--don't love another?" "no--no!" "then you _do_ love me!" he cried triumphantly. "you've just _got_ to love me! i won't take any other answer! look into my eyes!" she turned resolutely away and he took both hands drawing her back until their eyes met. "your lips say no," he went on, "but your tears, your voice, the tremor of your hand and the tenderness of your eyes say yes!" helen shook her head: "no--no--no!" but the last "no" grew feebler than the first and he pressed her hand with cruel pleading: "yes--yes--yes--say it, dear--please--just once." helen looked at him and then with a cry of joy that was resistless said: "god forgive me! i can't help it--yes, yes, yes, i love you--i love you!" tom snatched her to his heart and held her in perfect surrender. she suddenly drew her arms from his neck, crying in dismay: "no--no--i don't love you!" the boy looked at her with a start and she went on quickly: "i didn't mean to say it--i meant to say--i hate you!" with a cry of pain she threw herself into his arms, clasping his neck and held him close. his hand gently stroked the brown hair while he laughed: "well, if that's the way you hate--keep it up!" with an effort she drew back: "but i mustn't----" "there!" he said, tenderly drawing her close again. "it's all right. it's no use to struggle. you're mine--mine, i tell you!" with a determined effort she freed herself: "it's no use, dear, our love is impossible." "nonsense!" "but you don't realize that my birth is shadowed by disgrace!" "i don't believe it--i wouldn't believe it if an angel said it. who dares to say such a thing?" "your father!" "my father?" he repeated in a whisper. "he has always known the truth and now that i am of age he has told me----" "told you what?" "just what i said, and warned me that marriage could only bring pain and sorrow to those i love." "he gave you no facts--only these vague warnings?" "yes, more--he told me----" she paused and moved behind the table: "that my father and mother were never married." "nothing more?" the boy asked eagerly. "that's enough." "not for me!" "suppose my father were a criminal?" "no matter--your soul's as white as snow" "suppose my mother----" "i don't care who she was--you're an angel!" helen faced him with strained eagerness: "you swear that no stain on my father or mother can ever make the least difference between us?" "i swear it!" he cried grasping her hand. "come, you're mine!" helen drew back: "oh, if i could only believe it----" "you do believe it--come!" he opened his arms and she smiled. "what shall i do!" "come!" slowly at first, and then with quick, passionate tenderness she threw herself into his arms: "i can't help it, dearest. it's too sweet and wonderful--god help me if i'm doing wrong!" "wrong!" he exclaimed indignantly. "how can it be wrong, this solemn pledge of life and love, of body and soul?" she lifted her face to his in wonder: "and you will dare to tell your father?" "in good time, yes. but it's our secret now. keep it until i say the time has come for him to know. i'll manage him--promise!" "yes! how sweet it is to hear you tell me what to do! i shall never be lonely or afraid again." the father's footstep on the porch warned of his approach. "go quickly!" the boy whispered. "i don't want him to see us together yet--it means too much now--it means life itself!" helen moved toward the door, looked back, laughed, flew again into his arms and quickly ran into the hall as norton entered from the porch. the boy caught the look of surprise on his father's face, realized that he must have heard the rustle of helen's dress, and decided instantly to accept the fact. he boldly walked to the door and gazed after her retreating figure, his back squarely on his father. norton paused and looked sharply at tom: "was--that--helen?" the boy turned, smiling, and nodded with slight embarrassment in spite of his determined effort at self-control: "yes." the father's keen eyes pierced the boy's: "why should she run?" tom's face sobered: "i don't think she wished to see you just now, sir." "evidently!" "she had been crying." "and told you why?" "yes." the father frowned: "she has been in the habit of making you her confidant?" "no. but i found her in tears and asked her the reason for them." norton was watching closely: "she told you what i had just said to her?" "vaguely," tom answered, and turning squarely on his father asked: "would you mind telling me the whole truth about it?" "why do you ask?" the question came from the father's lips with a sudden snap, so suddenly, so sharply the boy lost his composure, hung his head, and stammered with an attempt at a smile: "oh--naturally curious--i suppose it's a secret?" "yes--i wish i could tell you, but i can't"--he paused and spoke with sudden decision: "ask cleo to come here." chapter xvi the challenge norton was morally certain now that the boy was interested in helen. how far this interest had gone he could only guess. what stunned him was that tom had already taken sides with the girl. he had not said so in words. but his embarrassment and uneasiness could mean but one thing. he must move with caution, yet he must act at once and end the dangerous situation. a clandestine love affair was a hideous possibility. up to a moment ago he had held such a thing out of the question with the boy's high-strung sense of honor and his lack of experience with girls. he was afraid now of both the boy and girl. she had convinced him of her purity when the first words had fallen from her lips. yet wiser men had been deceived before. the thought of her sleek, tawny mother came with a shudder. no daughter could escape such an inheritance. there was but one thing to do and it must be done quickly. he would send helen abroad and if necessary tell her the whole hideous truth. he lifted his head at the sound of cleo's footsteps, rose and confronted her. as his deep-set eyes surveyed her he realized that the hour had come for a fight to the finish. she gazed at him steadily with a look of undisguised hate: "what is it?" he took a step closer, planted his long legs apart and met her greenish eyes with an answering flash of rage: "when i think of your damned impudence, using my typewriter and letterheads to send an invitation to that girl to spend the summer here with tom at home, and signing my name----" "i have the right to use your name with her," she broke in with a sneer. "it will be the last time i'll give you the chance." "we'll see," was the cool reply. norton slowly drew a chair to the table, seated himself and said: "i want the truth from you now." "you'll get it. i've never had to lie to you, at least----" "i've no time to bandy words--will you tell me exactly what's been going on between tom and helen during my absence in this campaign?" "i haven't seen anything!" was the light answer. his lips moved to say that she lied, but he smiled instead. what was the use? he dropped his voice to a careless, friendly tone: "they have seen each other every day?" "certainly." "how many hours have they usually spent together?" "i didn't count them." norton bit his lips to keep back an oath: "how often have they been riding?" "perhaps a dozen times." "they returned late occasionally?" "twice." "how late?" "it was quite dark----" "what time?--eight, nine, ten or eleven o'clock?" "as late as nine one night, half-past nine another--the moon was shining." she said it with a taunting smile. "were they alone?" "yes." "you took pains to leave them alone, i suppose?" "sometimes"--she paused and looked at him with a smile that was a sneer. "what are you afraid of?" he returned her gaze steadily: "anything is possible of your daughter--the thought of it strangles me!" cleo laughed lightly: "then all you've got to do is to speak--tell tom the truth." "i'll die first!" he fiercely replied. "at least i've taught him racial purity. i've been true to my promise to the dead in this. he shall never know the depths to which i once fell! you have robbed me of everything else in life, this boy's love and respect is all that you've left me"--he stopped, his breast heaving with suppressed passion. "why--why did you bring that girl into this house?" "i wished to see her--that's enough. for twenty years, i've lived here as a slave, always waiting and hoping for a sign from you that you were human----" "for a sign that i'd sink again to your level! well, i found out twenty years ago that beneath the skin of every man sleeps an ape and a tiger--i fought that battle and won----" "and i have lost?" "yes." "perhaps i haven't begun to fight yet." "i shouldn't advise you to try it. i know now that i made a tragic blunder when i brought you back into this house. i've cursed myself a thousand times that i didn't put the ocean between us. if my boy hadn't loved you, if he hadn't slipped his little arms around your neck and clung to you sobbing out the loneliness of his hungry heart--if i hadn't seen the tears in your own eyes and known that you had saved his life once--i wouldn't have made the mistake that i did. but i gave you my word, and i've lived up to it. i've reared and educated your child and given you the protection of my home----" "yes," she broke in, "that you might watch and guard me and know that your secret was safely kept while you've grown to hate me each day with deeper and fiercer hatred--god!--i've wondered sometimes that you haven't killed me!" norton's voice sank to a whisper: "i've wondered sometimes, too"--a look of anguish swept his face--"but i gave you my word, and i've kept it." "because you had to keep it!" he sprang to his feet: "had to keep it--you say that to me?" "i do." "this house is still mine----" "but your past is mine!" she cried with a look of triumph. "indeed! we'll see. helen leaves this house immediately." "she shall not!" "you refuse to obey my orders?" "and what's more," she cried with angry menace, "i refuse to allow you to put her out!" "to _allow_?" "i said it!" "so i am your servant? i must ask your permission?--god!----" he sprang angrily toward the bell and cleo stepped defiantly before him: "don't you touch that bell----" norton thrust her aside: "get out of my way!" "ring that bell if you dare!" she hissed. "dare?" the woman drew her form erect: "if you dare! and in five minutes i'll be in that newspaper office across the way from yours! the editor doesn't love you. to-morrow morning the story of your life and mine will blaze on that first page!" norton caught a chair for support, his face paled and he sank slowly to a seat. cleo leaned toward him, trembling with passion: "i'll give you fair warning. there are plenty of negroes to-day your equal in wealth and culture. do you think they have been listening to their great leader's call to battle for nothing--building fine houses, buying land, piling up money, sending their sons and daughters to college, to come at your beck and call? you're a fool if you do. they are only waiting their chance to demand social equality and get it. wealth and culture will give it in the end, ballot or no ballot. once rich, white men and women will come at their command. i've got my chance now to demand my rights of you and do a turn for the negro race. you've got to recognize helen before your son. i've brought her here for that purpose. with her by my side, i'll be the mistress of this house. now resign your leadership and get out of this campaign!" with a stamp of her foot she ended her mad speech in sharp, high tones, turned quickly and started to the door. between set teeth norton growled: "and you think that i'll submit?" the woman wheeled suddenly and rushed back to his side, her eyes flaming: "you've got to submit--you've got to submit--or begin with me a fight that can only end in your ruin! i've nothing to lose, and i tell you now that i'll fight to win, i'll fight to kill! i'll ask no quarter of you and i'll give none. i'll fight with every ounce of strength i've got, body and soul--and if i lose i'll still have strength enough left to pull you into hell with me!" her voice broke in a sob, she pulled herself together, straightened her figure and cried: "now what are you going to do? what are you going to do? accept my terms or fight?" norton's face was livid, his whole being convulsed as he leaped to his feet and confronted her: "i'll fight!" "all right! all right!" she said with hysterical passion, backing toward the door. "i've warned you now--i didn't want to fight--but i'll show you--i'll show you!" chapter xvii a skirmish norton's fighting blood was up, but he was too good a soldier and too good a commander to rush into battle without preparation. cleo's mask was off at last, and he knew her too well to doubt that she would try to make good her threat. the fire of hate that had flamed in her greenish eyes was not a sudden burst of anger, it had been smoldering there for years, eating its way into the fiber of her being. there were three courses open. he could accept her demand, acknowledge helen to his son, establish her in his home, throw his self-respect to the winds and sink to the woman's level. it was unthinkable! besides, the girl would never recover from the shock. she would disappear or take her own life. he felt it with instinctive certainty. but the thing which made such a course impossible was the fact that it meant his daily degradation before the boy. he would face death without a tremor sooner than this. he could defy cleo and pack helen off to europe on the next steamer, and risk a scandal that would shake the state, overwhelm the party he was leading, disgrace him not only before his son but before the world, and set back the cause he had at heart for a generation. it was true she might weaken when confronted with the crisis that would mean the death of her own hopes. yet the risk was too great to act on such a possibility. her defiance had in it all the elements of finality, and he had accepted it as final. the simpler alternative was a temporary solution which would give him time to think and get his bearings. he could return to the campaign immediately, take tom with him, keep him in the field every day until the election, ask helen to stay until his return, and after his victory had been achieved settle with the woman. it was the wisest course for many reasons, and among them not the least that it would completely puzzle cleo as to his ultimate decision. he rang for andy: "ask mr. tom to come here." andy bowed and norton resumed his seat. when tom entered, the father spoke with quick decision: "the situation in this campaign, my boy, is tense and dangerous. i want you to go with me to-morrow and stay to the finish." tom flushed and there was a moment's pause: "certainly, dad, if you wish it." "we'll start at eight o'clock in the morning and drive through the country to the next appointment. fix your business at the office this afternoon, place your men in charge and be ready to leave promptly at eight. i've some important writing to do. i'm going to lock myself in my room until it's done. see that i'm not disturbed except to send andy up with my supper. i'll not finish before midnight." "i'll see to it, sir," tom replied, turned and was gone. the father had watched the boy with keen scrutiny every moment and failed to catch the slightest trace of resentment or of hesitation. the pause he had made on receiving the request was only an instant of natural surprise. before leaving next morning he sent for helen who had not appeared at breakfast. she hastened to answer his summons and he found no trace of anger, resentment or rebellion in her gentle face. every vestige of the shadow he had thrown over her life seem to have lifted. a tender smile played about her lips as she entered the room. "you sent for me, major?" she asked with the slightest tremor of timidity in her voice. "yes," he answered gravely. "i wish you to remain here until tom and i return. we'll have a conference then about your future." "thank you," she responded simply. "i trust you will not find yourself unhappy or embarrassed in remaining here alone until we return?" "certainly not, major, if it is your wish," was the prompt response. he bowed and murmured: "i'll see you soon." tom waved his hand from the buggy when his father's back was turned and threw her an audacious kiss over his head as the tall figure bent to climb into the seat. the girl answered with another from her finger tips which he caught with a smile. norton's fears of tom were soon at rest at the sight of his overflowing boyish spirits. he had entered into the adventure of the campaign from the moment he found himself alone with his father, and apparently without reservation. through every one of his exciting speeches, when surrounded by hostile crowds, the father had watched tom's face with a subconscious smile. at the slightest noise, the shuffle of a foot, the mutter of a drunken word, or the movement of a careless listener, the keen eyes of the boy had flashed and his right arm instinctively moved toward his hip pocket. when the bitter struggle had ended, father and son had drawn closer than ever before in life. they had become chums and comrades. norton had planned his tour to keep him out of town until after the polls closed on the day of election. they had spent several nights within fifteen or twenty miles of the capital, but had avoided home. he had planned to arrive at the speaker's stand in the capitol square in time to get the first returns of the election. five thousand people were packed around the bulletin board when they arrived on a delayed train. the first returns indicated that the leader's daring platform had swept the state by a large majority. the negro race had been disfranchised and the ballot restored to its original dignity. and much more had been done. the act was purely political, but its effects on the relations, mental and moral and physical, of the two races, so evenly divided in the south, would be tremendous. the crowds of cheering men and women felt this instinctively, though it had not as yet found expression in words. a half-dozen stalwart men with a rush and a shout seized norton and lifted him, blushing and protesting, carried him on their shoulders through the yelling crowd and placed him on the platform. he had scarcely begun his speech when tom, watching his chance, slipped hurriedly through the throng and flew to the girl who was waiting with beating heart for the sound of his footstep. chapter xviii love laughs when helen had received a brief note from tom the night before the election that he would surely reach home the next day, she snatched his picture from the library table with a cry of joy and rushed to her room. she placed the little gold frame on her bureau, sat down before it and poured out her heart in silly speeches of love, pausing to laugh and kiss the glass that saved the miniature from ruin. the portrait was an exquisite work of art on ivory which the father had commisioned a painter in new york to do in celebration of tom's coming of age. the artist had caught the boy's spirit in the tender smile that played about his lips and lingered in the corners of his blue eyes, the same eyes and lips in line and color in the dainty little mother's portrait over the mantel. "oh, you big, handsome, brave, glorious boy!" she cried in ecstasy. "my sweetheart--so generous, so clean, so strong, so free in soul! i love you--i love you--i love you!" she fell asleep at last with the oval frame clasped tight in one hand thrust under her pillow. a sound sleep was impossible, the busy brain was too active. again and again she waked with a start, thinking she had heard his swift footfall on the stoop. at daybreak she leaped to her feet and found herself in the middle of the room laughing when she came to herself, the precious picture still clasped in her hand. "oh, foolish heart, wake up!" she cried with another laugh. "it's dawn, and my lover is coming! it's his day! no more sleep--it's too wonderful! i'm going to count every hour until i hear his step--every minute of every hour, foolish heart!" she looked out the window and it was raining. the overhanging boughs of the oaks were dripping on the tin roof of the bay window in which she was standing. she had dreamed of a wonderful sunrise this morning. but it didn't matter--the rain didn't matter. the slow, familiar dropping on the roof suggested the nearness of her lover. they would sit in some shadowy corner hand in hand and love all the more tenderly. the raindrops were the drum beat of a band playing the march that was bringing him nearer with each throb. the mocking-bird that had often waked her with his song was silent, hovering somewhere in a tree beneath the thick leaves. she had expected him to call her to-day with the sweetest lyric he had ever sung. somehow it didn't matter. her soul was singing the song that makes all other music dumb. "my love is coming!" she murmured joyfully. "my love is coming!" and then she stood for an hour in brooding, happy silence and watched the ghost-like trees come slowly out of the mists. to her shining eyes there were no mists. the gray film that hung over the waking world was a bridal veil hiding the blushing face of the earth from the sun-god lover who was on his way over the hills to clasp her in his burning arms! for the first time in her memory she was supremely happy. every throb of pain that belonged to the past was lost in the sea of joy on which her soul had set sail. in the glory of his love pain was only another name for joy. all she had suffered was but the preparation for this supreme good. it was all the more wonderful, this fairy world into which she had entered, because the shadows had been so deep in her lonely childhood. there really hadn't been any past! she couldn't remember the time she had not known and loved tom. love filled the universe, past, present and future. there was no task too hard for her hands, no danger she was not ready to meet. the hungry heart had found its own. through the long hours of the day she waited without impatience. each tick of the tiny clock on the mantel brought him nearer. the hands couldn't turn back! she watched them with a smile as she sat in the gathering twilight. she had placed the miniature back in its place and sat where her eye caught the smile from his lips when she lifted her head from the embroidery on her lap. the band was playing a stirring strain in the square. she could hear the tumult and the shouts of the crowds about the speaker's stand as they read the bulletins of the election. the darkness couldn't hold him many more minutes. she rose with a soft laugh and turned on the lights, walked to the window, looked out and listened to the roar of the cheering when norton made his appearance. the band struck up another stirring piece. yes, it was "hail to the chief!" he had come. she counted the minutes it would take for him to elude his father and reach the house. she pictured the smile on his face as he threaded his way through the throng and started to her on swift feet. she could see him coming with the long, quick stride he had inherited from his father. she turned back into the room exclaiming: "oh, foolish heart, be still!" she seated herself again and waited patiently, a smile about the corners of her lips and another playing hide and seek in the depths of her expressive eyes. tom had entered the house unobserved by any one and softly tipped into the library from the door directly behind her. he paused, removed his hat, dropped it silently into a chair and stood looking at the graceful, beautiful form bending over her work. the picture of this waiting figure he had seen in his day-dreams a thousand times and yet it was so sweet and wonderful he had to stop and drink in the glory of it for a moment. a joyous laugh was bubbling in his heart as he tipped softly over the thick yielding rug and slipped his hands over her eyes. his voice was the gentlest whisper: "guess?" the white figure slowly rose and her words came in little ripples of gasping laughter as she turned and lifted her arms: "it's--it's--tom!" with a smothered cry she was on his breast. he held her long and close without a word. his voice had a queer hitch in it as he murmured: "helen--my darling!" "oh, i thought you'd never come!" she sighed, looking up through her tears. tom held her off and gazed into her eyes: "it's been a century since i've seen you! i did my level best when we got into these nearby counties again, but i couldn't shake dad once this week. he watched me like a hawk and insisted on staying out of town till the very last hour of the election to-day. did old andy find out i slipped in last week?" "no!" she laughed. "did cleo find it out?" "no." "you're sure cleo didn't find out?" "sure--but aunt minerva did." "oh, i'm not afraid of her--kiss me!" with a glad cry their lips met. he held her off. "i'm not afraid of anything!" with an answering laugh, she kissed him again. "i'm not afraid of dad!" he said in tones of mock tragedy. "once more!" she gently disengaged herself, asking: "how did you get away from him so quickly?" "oh, he's making a speech to the crowd in the square proclaiming victory and so"--his voice fell to a whisper--"i flew to celebrate mine!" "won't he miss you?" "not while he's talking. dad enjoys an eloquent speech--especially one of his own----" he stopped abruptly, took a step toward her and cried: "say! do you know what the governor of north carolina said once upon a time to the governor of south carolina?" helen laughed: "what?" he opened his arms: "'it strikes me,' said he, 'that it's a long time between drinks!'" again her arms flashed around his neck. "did you miss me?" "dreadfully!" she sighed. "but i've been happy--happy in your love--oh, so happy, dearest!" "well, if dad wins this election to-night," he said with a boyish smile, "i'm going to tell him. now's the time--no more slipping and sliding!"--he paused, rushed to the window and looked out--"come, the clouds have lifted and the moon is rising. our old seat among the roses is waiting." with a look of utter happiness she slipped her arm in his and they strolled across the lawn. chapter xix "fight it out!" cleo had heard the shouts in the square with increasing dread. the hour was rapidly approaching when she must face norton. she had deeply regretted the last scene with him when she had completely lost her head. for the first time in her life she had dared to say things that could not be forgiven. they had lived an armed truce for twenty years. she had endured it in the hope of a change in his attitude, but she had driven him to uncontrollable fury now by her angry outburst and spoken words that could not be unsaid. she realized when too late that he would never forgive these insults. and she began to wonder nervously what form his revenge would take. that he had matured a definite plan of hostile action which he would put into force on his arrival, she did not doubt. why had she been so foolish? she asked herself the question a hundred times. and yet the clash was inevitable. she could not see helen packed off to europe and her hopes destroyed at a blow. she might have stopped him with something milder than a threat of exposure in his rival's paper. that was the mad thing she had done. what effect this threat had produced on his mind she could only guess. but she constantly came back to it with increasing fear. if he should accept her challenge, dare her to speak, and, weary of the constant strain of her presence in his house, put her out, it meant the end of the world. she had lived so long in dependence on his will, the thought of beginning life again under new conditions of humiliating service was unthinkable. she could only wait now until the blow fell, and adjust herself to the situation as best she could. that she had the power to lay his life in ruins and break tom's heart she had never doubted. yet this was the one thing she did not wish to do. it meant too much to her. she walked on the porch and listened again to the tumult in the square. she had seen tom enter the house on tip-toe and knew that the lovers were together and smiled in grim triumph. that much of her scheme had not failed! it only remained to be seen whether, with their love an accomplished fact, she could wring from norton's lips the confession she had demanded and save her own skin in the crash. andy had entered the gate and she heard him bustling in the pantry as tom and helen strolled on the lawn. the band in the square was playing their star piece of rag-time music, "a georgia campmeeting." the stirring refrain echoed over the sleepy old town with a weird appeal to-night. it had the ring of martial music--of hosts shouting their victory as they marched. they were playing it with unusual swinging power. she turned with a gesture of impatience into the house to find andy. he was carrying a tray of mint juleps into the library. cleo looked at him in amazement, suppressed an angry exclamation and asked: "what's that band playing for?" "white folks celebratin' de victory!" he replied enthusiastically, placing the tray on the table. "it's only seven o'clock. the election returns can't be in yet?" "yassam! hit's all over but de shoutin'!" cleo moved a step closer: "the major has won?" "yassam! yassam!" andy answered with loud good humor, as he began to polish a glass with a napkin. "yassam, i des come frum dar. de news done come in. dey hain't gwine ter 'low de niggers ter vote no mo', 'ceptin they kin read an' write--an' _den_ dey won't let 'em!" he held one of the shining glasses up to the light, examined it with judicial care and continued in tones of resignation: "don't make no diffrunce ter me, dough!--i hain't nebber got nuttin' fer my vote nohow, 'ceptin' once when er politicioner shoved er box er cigars at me"--he chuckled--"an' den, by golly, i had ter be a gemman, i couldn't grab er whole handful--i des tuck four!" cleo moved impatiently and glared at the tray: "what on earth did you bring all that stuff for? the whole mob are not coming here, are they?" "nobum--nobum! nobody but de major, but i 'low dat he gwine ter consume some! he's on er high hoss. dey's 'bout ten thousand folks up dar in de square. de boys carry de major on dere back to de flatform an' he make 'em a big speech. dey sho is er-raisin' er mighty humbug. dey gwine ter celebrate all night out dar, an' gwine ter serenade everybody in town. but de major comin' right home. dey try ter git him ter stay wid 'em, but he 'low dat he got some 'portant business here at de house." "important business here?" she asked anxiously. "yassam, i spec him any minute." cleo turned quickly toward the door and andy called: "miss cleo!" she continued to go without paying any attention and he repeated his call: "miss cleo!" she paused indifferently, while andy touched his lips smiling: "i got my mouf shet!" "does it pain you?" "nobum!" he laughed. "keep it shut!" she replied contemptuously as she again moved toward the door. "yassam--yassam--but ain't yer got nuttin' mo' dan dat ter say ter me?" he asked this question with a rising inflection that might mean a threat. the woman walked back to him: "prove your love by a year's silence----" "de lawd er mussy!" andy gasped. "a whole year?" "am i not worth waiting for?" she asked with a smile. "yassam--yassam," he replied slowly, "jacob he wait seben years an' den, by golly, de ole man cheat him outen his gal! but ef yer say so, i'se er-waitin', honey----" andy placated, her mind returned in a flash to the fear that haunted her: "he said important business here at once?" the gate closed with a vigorous slam and the echo of norton's step was heard on the gravel walk. "yassam, dar he is now." cleo trembled and hurried to the opposite door: "if the major asks for me, tell him i've gone to the meeting in the square." she passed quickly from the room in a panic of fear. she couldn't meet him in this condition. she must wait a better moment. andy, arranging his tray, began to mix three mint juleps, humming a favorite song: "dis time er-nudder year, oh, lawd, how long! in some lonesome graveyard-- woh, lawd, how long!" norton paused on the threshold with a smile and listened to the foolish melody. his whole being was quivering with the power that thrilled from a great act of will. he had just made a momentous decision. his work in hand was done. he had lived for years in an atmosphere poisoned by a yellow venomous presence. he had resolved to be free!--no matter what the cost. his mind flew to the boy he had grown to love with deeper tenderness the past weeks. the only thing he really dreaded was his humiliation before those blue eyes. but, if the worst came to worst, he must speak. there were things darker than death--the consciousness to a proud and sensitive man that he was the slave to an inferior was one of them. he had to be free--free at any cost. the thought was an inspiration. with brisk step he entered the library and glanced with surprise at the empty room. "tom not come?" he asked briskly. "nasah, i ain't seed 'im," andy replied. norton threw his linen coat on a chair, and a dreamy look came into his deep-set eyes: "well, andy, we've made a clean sweep to-day--the old state's white again!" the negro, bustling over his tray, replied with unction: "yassah, dat's what i done tole 'em, sah!" "all government rests on force, andy! the ballot is force--physical force. back of every ballot is a gun----" he paused, drew the revolver slowly from his pocket and held it in his hand. andy glanced up from his tray and jumped in alarm: "yassah, dat's so, sah--in dese parts sho, sah!" he ended his speech by a good-natured laugh at the expense of the country that allowed itself to be thus intimidated. norton lifted the gleaming piece of steel and looked at it thoughtfully: "back of every ballot a gun and the red blood of the man who holds it! no freeman ever yet voted away his right to a revolution----" "yassah--dat's what i tells dem niggers--you gwine ter giv 'em er dose er de revolution----" "well, it's done now and i've no more use for this thing--thank god!" he crossed to the writing desk, laid the revolver on its top and walked to the lounge his face set with a look of brooding intensity: "bah! the big battles are all fought inside, andy! there's where the brave die and cowards run--inside----" "yassah!--i got de stuff right here fer de _inside_, sah!" he held up the decanter with a grin. "from to-night my work outside is done," norton went on moodily. "and i'm going to be free--free! i'm no longer afraid of one of my servants----" he dropped into a seat and closed his fists with a gesture of intense emotion. andy looked at him in astonishment and asked incredulously: "who de debbil say you'se er scared of any nigger? show dat man ter me--who say dat?" "i say it!" was the bitter answer. he had been thinking aloud, but now that the negro had heard he didn't care. his soul was sick of subterfuge and lies. andy laughed apologetically: "yassah! cose, sah, ef you say dat hit's so, why i say hit's so--but all de same, 'twixt you an' me, i knows tain't so!" "but from to-night!" norton cried, ignoring andy as he sprang to his feet and looked sharply about the room: "tell cleo i wish to see her at once!" "she gone out in de squar ter hear de news, sah." "the moment she comes let me know!" he said with sharp emphasis and turned quickly to the door. "yassah," andy answered watching him go with amazement. "de lawdy, major, you ain't gwine off an' leave dese mint juleps lak dat, is ye?" norton retraced a step: "yes, from to-night i'm the master of my house and myself!" andy looked at the tray and then at norton: "well, sah, yer ain't got no objections to me pizinin' mysef, is ye?" the master surveyed the grinning servant, glanced at the tray, smiled and said: "no--you'll do it anyhow, so go as far as you like!" "yassah!" the negro laughed as norton turned again. "an' please, sah, won't yer gimme jes a little advice befo' you go?" norton turned a puzzled face on the grinning black one: "advice?" "yassah. what i wants ter know, major, is dis. sposen, sah, dat a gemman got ter take his choice twixt marryin' er lady dat's forcin' herself on 'im, er kill hissef?" "kill her!" andy broke into a loud laugh: "yassah! but she's er dangous 'oman, sah! she's a fighter from fightersville--an' fuddermo', sah, i'se engaged to annudder lady at the same time--an' i'se in lub wid dat one an' skeered er de fust one." "face it, then. confess your love and fight it out! fight it out and let them fight it out. you like to see a fight, don't you?" "yassah! oh, yassah," andy declared bravely. "i likes ter see a fight--i likes ter see de fur fly--but i don't care 'bout furnishin' none er de fur!" norton had reached the door when he suddenly turned, the momentary humor of his play with the negro gone from his sombre face, the tragedy of a life speaking in every tone as he slowly said: "fight it out! it's the only thing to do--fight it out!" andy stared at the retreating figure dazed by the violence of passion with which his master had answered, wondering vaguely what could be the meaning of the threat behind his last words. chapter xx andy fights when andy had recovered from his surprise at the violence of norton's parting advice his eye suddenly rested on the tray of untouched mint juleps. a broad smile broke over his black countenance: "fight it out! fight it out!" he exclaimed with a quick movement toward the table. "yassah, i'm gwine do it, too, i is!" he paused before the array of filled glasses of the iced beverage, saluted silently, and raised one high over his head to all imaginary friends who might be present. his eye rested on the portrait of general lee. he bowed and saluted again. further on hung stonewall jackson. he lifted his glass to him, and last to norton's grandfather in his blue and yellow colonial regimentals. he pressed the glass to his thirsty lips and waved the julep a jovial farewell with the palm of his left hand as he poured it gently but firmly down to the last drop. he smacked his lips, drew a long breath and sighed: "put ernuff er dat stuff inside er me, i kin fight er wil'cat! yassah, an' i gwine do it. i gwine ter be rough wid her, too! rough wid her, i is!" he seized another glass and drained half of it, drew himself up with determination, walked to the door leading to the hall toward the kitchen and called: "miss minerva!" receiving no answer, he returned quickly to the tray and took another drink: "rough wid her--dat's de way--rough wid her!" he pulled his vest down with a vicious jerk, bravely took one step, paused, reached back, picked up his glass again, drained it, and walked to the door. "miss minerva!" he called loudly and fiercely. from the kitchen came the answer in tender tones: "yas--honey!" andy retreated hastily to the table and took another drink before the huge but smiling figure appeared in the doorway. "did my true love call?" she asked softly. andy groaned, grasped a glass and quickly poured another drink of dutch courage down. "yassam, miss minerva, i thought i hear yer out dar----" minerva giggled as lightly as she could considering her two hundred and fifty pounds: "yas, honey, hit's little me!" andy had begun to feel the bracing effects of the two full glasses of mint juleps. he put his hands in his pockets, walked with springing strides to the other end of the room, returned and squared himself impressively before minerva. before he could speak his courage began to fail and he stuttered: "m-m-m-miss minerva!" the good-humored, shining black face was raised in sharp surprise: "what de matter wid you, man, er hoppin' roun' over de flo' lak er flea in er hot skillet?" andy saw that the time had come when he must speak unless he meant to again ignominiously surrender. he began boldly: "miss minerva! i got somethin' scandalous ter say ter you!" she glared at him, the whites of her eyes shining ominously, crossed the room quickly and confronted andy: "don't yer dar' say nuttin' scandalizin' ter me, sah!" his eyes fell and he moved as if to retreat. she nudged him gently: "g'long, man, what is it?" he took courage: "i got ter 'fess ter you, m'am, dat i'se tangled up wid annuder 'oman!" the black face suddenly flashed with wrath, and her figure was electric with battle. the very pores of her dusky skin seemed to radiate war. "who bin tryin' ter steal you?" she cried. "des sho' her ter me, an' we see who's who!" andy waved his hands in a conciliatory self-accusing gesture: "yassam--yassam! but i make er fool outen myse'f about her--hit's miss cleo!" "cleo!" minerva gasped, staggering back until her form collided with the table and rattled the glasses on the tray. at the sound of the tinkling glass, she turned, grasped a mint julep, and drank the whole of it at a single effort. andy, who had been working on a figure in the rug with the toe of his shoe during his confession, looked up, saw that she had captured his inspiration, and sprang back in alarm. minerva paused but a moment for breath and rushed for him: "dat yaller jezebel!--tryin' ter fling er spell over you--but i gwine ter save ye, honey!" andy retreated behind the lounge, his ample protector hot on his heels: "yassam!" he cried, "but i don't want ter be saved!" before he had finished the plea, she had pinned him in a corner and cut off retreat. "of course yer don't!" she answered generously. "no po' sinner ever does. but don't yer fret, honey, i'se gwine ter save ye in spite er yosef! yer needn't ter kick, yer needn't ter scramble, now's de time ye needs me, an i'se gwine ter stan' by ye. nuttin' kin shake me loose now!" she took a step toward him and he vainly tried to dodge. it was useless. she hurled her ample form straight on him and lifted her arms for a generous embrace: "lordy, man, dat make me lub yer er hundred times mo!" andy made up his mind in a sudden burst of courage to fight for his life. if she once got those arms about him he was gone. he grasped them roughly and stayed the onset: "yassam!" he answered warningly. "but i got ter 'fess up ter you now de whole truf. i bin er deceivin' you 'bout myself. i'se er bad nigger, miss minerva, an' i hain't worthy ter be you' husban'!" "g'long, chile, i done know dat all de time!" she laughed. andy walled his eyes at her uneasily, and she continued: "but i likes ter hear ye talk humble dat a way--hit's a good sign." he shook his head impatiently: "but ye don't know what i means!" "why, of cose, i does!" she replied genially. "i always knowed dat i wuz high above ye. i'se black, but i'se pure ez de drivellin' snow. i always knowed, honey, dat ye wern't my equal. but ye can't help dat. i'se er born 'ristocrat. my mudder was er african princess. my grandmudder wuz er queen--an' i'se er cook!" andy stamped his foot with angry impatience; "yassam--but ye git dat all wrong!" "cose, you' minerva understan's when ye comes along side er yo' true love dat ye feels humble----" "nobum! nobum!" he broke in emphatically--"ye got dat all wrong--all wrong!" he paused, drew a chair to the table and motioned her to a seat opposite. "des lemme tell ye now," he continued with determined kindness. "ye see i got ter 'fess de whole truf ter you. tain't right ter fool ye." minerva seated herself, complacently murmuring: "yassah, dat's so, brer andy." he leaned over the table and looked at her a moment solemnly: "i gotter 'fess ter you now, miss minerva, dat i'se always bin a bad nigger--what dey calls er pizen bad nigger--i'se er wife beater!" minerva's eyes walled in amazement: "no?" "yassam," he went on seriously. "when i wuz married afore i got de habit er beatin' my wife!" "beat her?" andy shook his head dolefully: "yassam. hit's des lak i tell ye. i hates ter 'fess hit ter you, m'am, but i formed de habit, same ez drinkin' licker--i beat her! i des couldn't keep my hands offen her. i beat her scandalous! i pay no tenshun to her hollerin!--huh!--de louder she holler, 'pears lak de harder i beat her!" "my, my, ain't dat terrible!" she gasped. "yassam----" "scandalous!" "dat it is----" "sinful!" "jes so!" he agreed sorrowfully. "but man!" she cried ecstatically, "dat's what i calls er husband!" "hey?" "dat's de man fer me!" he looked at her in dismay, snatched the decanter, poured himself a straight drink of whiskey, gulped it down, leaned over the table and returned to his task with renewed vigor: "but i kin see, m'am, dat yer don't know what i means! i didn't des switch 'er wid er cowhide er de buggy whip! i got in er regular habit er lammin' her wid anything i git hold of--wid er axe handle or wid er fire shovel----" "well, dat's all right," minerva interrupted admiringly. "she had de same chance ez you! i takes my chances. what i wants is er husban'--a husban' dat's got de sand in his gizzard! dat fust husban' er mine weren't no good 'tall--nebber hit me in his life but once--slap me in de face one day, lak dat!" she gave a contemptuous imitation of the trivial blow with the palms of her hands. "an' what'd you do, m'am?" andy asked with sudden suspicion. "nuttin' 'tall!" she said with a smile. "i des laf, haul off, kinder playful lak, an' knock 'im down wid de flatiron----" andy leaped to his feet and walked around the table toward the door: "wid de flatiron!" he repeated incredulously. "didn't hit 'im hard!" minerva laughed. "but he tumble on de flo' lak er ten-pin in er bowlin' alley. i stan' dar waitin' fer 'im ter git up an' come ergin, an' what ye reckon he done?" "i dunno, m'am," andy sighed, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. minerva laughed joyously at the memory of the scene: "he jump up an' run des lak er turkey! he run all de way down town, an' bless god ef he didn't buy me a new calico dress an' fotch hit home ter me. he warn't no man at all! i wuz dat sorry fer 'im an' dat ershamed er him i couldn't look 'im in de face ergin. i gits er divorce frum him----" she paused, rose, and looked at andy with tender admiration: "but, lordy, honey, you an' me's gwine ter have joyful times!" andy made a break for the door but she was too quick for him. with a swift swinging movement, astonishing in its rapidity for her size, she threw herself on him and her arms encircled his neck: "i'se yo' woman an' you'se my man!" she cried with a finality that left her victim without a ray of hope. he was muttering incoherent protests when helen's laughing voice came to his rescue: "oho!" she cried, with finger uplifted in a teasing gesture. minerva loosed her grip on andy overwhelmed with embarrassment, while he crouched behind her figure crying: "'twa'n't me, miss helen--'twa'n't me!" helen continued to laugh while andy grasped the tray and beat a hasty retreat. helen approached minerva teasingly: "why, aunt minerva!" the big, jovial black woman glanced at her: "g'way, chile--g'way frum here!" "aunt minerva, i wouldn't have thought such a thing of you!" helen said demurely. minerva broke into a jolly laugh and faced her tormentor: "yassum, honey, i spec hit wuz all my fault. love's such foolishness--yer knows how dat is yosef!" a look of rapture overspread helen's face: "such a sweet, wonderful foolishness, aunt minerva!"--she paused and her voice was trembling when she added--"it makes us all akin, doesn't it?" "yassam, an' i sho' is glad ter see you so happy!" "oh, i'm too happy, aunt minerva, it frightens me"--she stopped, glanced at the door, drew nearer and continued in low tones: "i've just left tom out there on the lawn, to ask you to do something for me." "yassam." "i want you to tell the major our secret to-night. he'll be proud and happy in his victory and i want him to know at once." the black woman shook her head dubiously: "tell him yosef, honey!" "but i'm afraid. the major frightens me. when i look into his deep eyes i feel that he has the power to crush the soul out of my body and that he will do it if i make him very angry." "dat's 'cause yer deceives him, child." "please tell him for us, aunt minerva! oh, you've been so good to me! for the past weeks i've been in heaven. it seems only a day instead of a month since he told me his love and then it seems i've lived through all eternity since i first felt his arms about me. sitting out there in the moonlight by his side i forget that i'm on earth, forget that there's a pain or a secret in it. i'm just in heaven. i have to pinch myself to see if it's real"--she smiled and pinched her arm--"i'm afraid i'll wake up and find it only a dream!" "well, yer better wake up just er minute an' tell de major--mister tom got ter have it out wid him." "yes, i know, and that's what scares me. won't you tell him for us right away? get him in a good humor, make him laugh, say a good word for us and then tell him. tell him how useless it will be to oppose us. he can't hold out long against tom, he loves him so." "mr. tom want me ter tell de major ter-night? he ax yer ter see me?" "no. he doesn't know what i came for. i just decided all of a sudden to come. i want to surprise him. he is going to tell his father himself to-night. but somehow i'm afraid, aunt minerva. i want you to help us. you will, won't you?" the black woman shook her head emphatically: "nasah, i ain't gwine ter git mixed up in dis thing!" "aunt minerva!" "nasah--i'se skeered!" "ah, please?" "nasah!" "please----" "na, na, na!" "aunt minerva----" "na------" the girl's pleading eyes were resistless and the black lips smiled: "cose i will, chile! cose i will--i'll see 'im right away. i'll tell him de minute i lays my eyes on 'im." she turned to go and ran squarely into norton as he strode into the room. she stopped and stammered: "why--why--wuz yer lookin' fer me, major?" norton gazed at her a moment and couldn't call his mind from its painful train of thought. he spoke finally with sharp accent: "no. i want to see cleo." helen slipped behind minerva: "stay and tell him now. i'll go." "no, better wait," was her low reply, as she watched norton furtively. "i don't like de way his eyes er spittin' fire." norton turned to minerva sharply: "find cleo and tell her i wish to see her immediately!" "yassah--yassah!" minerva answered, nervously, whispering to helen: "come on, honey--git outen here--come on!" helen followed mechanically, glancing timidly back over her shoulder at norton's drawn face. chapter xxi the second blow norton could scarcely control his eagerness to face the woman he loathed. every nerve of his body tingled with the agony of his desire to be free. he was ready for the end, no matter what she might do. the time had come in the strong man's life when compromise, conciliation, and delay were alike impossible. he cursed himself and his folly to-night that he had delayed so long. he had tried to be fair to the woman he hated. his sense of justice, personal honor, and loyalty to his pledged word, had given her the opportunity to strike him the blow she had delivered through the girl. he had been more than fair and he would settle it now for all time. that she was afraid to meet him was only too evident from her leaving the house on his return. he smiled grimly when he recalled the effrontery with which she had defied him at their last meeting. her voice, sharp and angry, rang out to andy at the back door. norton's strong jaw closed with a snap, and he felt his whole being quiver at the rasping sound of her familiar tones. she had evidently recovered her composure and was ready with her usual insolence. she walked quickly into the room, and threw her head up with defiance: "well?" "why have you avoided me to-night?" "have i?" "i think so." cleo laughed sneeringly: "you'll think again before i'm done with you!" she shook her head with the old bravado, but the keen eyes of the man watching saw that she was not sure of her ground. he folded his arms and quietly began: "for twenty years i have breathed the air poisoned by your presence. i have seen your insolence grow until you have announced yourself the mistress of my house. you knew that i was afraid of your tongue, and thought that a coward would submit in the end. well, it's over. i've held my hand for the past four weeks until my duty to the people was done. i've been a coward when i saw the tangled web of lies and shame in which i floundered. but the past is past. i face life to-night as it is"--his voice dropped--"and i'm going to take what comes. your rule in my house is at an end----" "indeed!" "helen leaves here to-morrow morning and _you_ go." "really?" "i've made a decent provision for your future--which is more than you deserve. pack your things!" the woman threw him a look of hate and her lips curved with scorn: "so--you have kindly allowed me to stay until your campaign was ended. well, i've understood you. i knew that you were getting ready for me. i'm ready for you." "and you think that i will allow you to remain in my house after what has passed between us?" "yes, you will," she answered smiling. "i'm not going to leave. you'll have to throw me into the street. and if you do, god may pity you, i'll not. there's one thing you fear more than a public scandal!" norton advanced and glared at her: "what?" "the hatred of the boy you idolize. i dare you to lay your hands on me to put me out of this house! and if you do, tom will hear from my lips the story of the affair that ended in the death of his mother. i'll tell him the truth, the whole truth, and then a great deal more than the truth----" "no doubt!" he interrupted. "but there'll be enough truth in all i say to convince him beyond a doubt. i promise you now"--she dropped her voice to a whisper--"to lie to him with a skill so sure, so cunning, so perfect, no denial you can ever make will shake his faith in my words. he loves me and i'll make him believe me. when i finish my story he ought to kill you. there's one thing you can depend on with his high-strung and sensitive nature and the training you have given him in racial purity--when he hears my story, he'll curse you to your face and turn from you as if you were a leper. i'll see that he does this if it's the last and only thing i do on this earth!" "and if you do----" "oh, i'm not afraid!" she sneered, holding his eye with the calm assurance of power. "i've thought it all over and i know exactly what to say." he leaned close: "now listen! i don't want to hurt you but you're going out of my life. every day while i've sheltered you in this house you have schemed and planned to drag me down again to your level. you have failed. i am not going to risk that girl's presence here another day--and _you_ go!" as he spoke the last words he turned from her with a gesture of final dismissal. she tossed her head in a light laugh and calmly said: "you're too late!" he stopped in his tracks, his heart chilled by the queer note of triumph in her voice. without turning or moving a muscle he asked: "what do you mean?" "tom is already in love with helen!" he wheeled and hurled himself at her: "what?" "and she is desperately in love with him"--she stopped and deliberately laughed again in his face--"and i have known it for weeks!" another step brought his trembling figure towering over her: "i don't believe you!" he hissed. cleo walked leisurely to the door and smiled: "ask the servants if you doubt my word." she finished with a sneer. "i begged you not to fight, major!" he stood rooted to the spot and watched her slowly walk backward into the hall. it was a lie, of course. and yet the calm certainty with which she spoke chilled his soul as he recalled his own suspicions. he must know now without a moment's delay and he must know the whole truth without reservation. before he approached either tom or helen there was one on whom he had always relied to tell the truth. her honest black face had been the one comfort of his life through the years of shadow and deceit. if minerva knew she would tell him. he rushed to the door that led to the kitchen and called: "minerva!" the answer came feebly: "yassah." "come here!" he had controlled his emotions sufficiently to speak his last command with some degree of dignity. he walked back to the table and waited for her coming. his brain was in a whirl of conflicting, stunning emotion. he simply couldn't face at once the appalling possibilities such a statement involved. his mind refused to accept it. as yet it was a lie of cleo's fertile invention, and still his reason told him that such a lie could serve no sane purpose in such a crisis. he felt that he was choking. his hand involuntarily went to his neck and fumbled at his collar. minerva's heavy footstep was heard and he turned sharply: "minerva!" "yassah"--she answered, glancing at him timidly. never had she seen his face so ghastly or the look in his eye so desperate. she saw that he was making an effort at self-control and knew instinctively that the happiness of the lovers was at stake. it was too solemn a moment for anything save the naked truth and her heart sank in pity and sympathy for the girl she had promised to help. "minerva," he began evenly, "you are the only servant in this house who has never lied to me"--he took a step closer. "are tom and miss helen lovers?" minerva fumbled her apron, glanced at his drawn face, looked down on the floor and stammered: "de lordy, major----" "yes or no!" he thundered. the black woman moistened her lips, hesitated, turned her honest face on his and said tremblingly: "yassah, dey is!" his eyes burned into hers: "and you, too, have known this for weeks?" "yassah. mister tom ax me not ter tell ye----" norton staggered to a seat and sank with a groan of despair, repeating over and over again in low gasps the exclamation that was a sob and a prayer: "great god!--great god!" minerva drew near with tender sympathy. her voice was full of simple, earnest pleading: "de lordy, major, what's de use? young folks is young folks, an' love's love. what ye want ter break 'em up fer--dey's so happy! yer know, sah, ye can't mend er butterfly's wing er put er egg back in de shell. miss helen's young, beautiful, sweet and good--won't ye let me plead fer 'em, sah?" with a groan of anguish norton sprang to his feet: "silence--silence!" "yassah!" "go--find miss helen--send her to me quickly. i don't want to see mr. tom. i want to see her alone first." minerva had backed out of his way and answered plaintively: "yassah." she paused and extended her hand pleadingly: "you'll be easy wid 'em, sah?" he hadn't heard. the tall figure slowly sank into the chair and his shoulders drooped in mortal weariness. minerva shook her head sadly and turned to do his bidding. norton's eyes were set in agony, his face white, his breast scarcely moving to breathe, as he waited helen's coming. the nerves suddenly snapped--he bowed his face in his hands and sobbed aloud: "oh, dear god, give me strength! i can't--i can't confess to my boy!" chapter xxii the test of love norton made a desperate effort to pull himself together for his appeal to helen. on its outcome hung the possibility of saving himself from the terror that haunted him. if he could tell the girl the truth and make her see that a marriage with tom was utterly out of the question because her blood was stained with that of a negro, it might be possible to save himself the humiliation of the full confession of their relationship and of his bitter shame. he had made a fearful mistake in not telling her this at their first interview, and a still more frightful mistake in rearing her in ignorance of the truth. no life built on a lie could endure. he was still trying desperately to hold his own on its shifting sands, but in his soul of souls he had begun to despair of the end. he was clutching at straws. in moments of sanity he realized it, but there was nothing else to do. the act was instinctive. the girl's sensitive mind was the key to a possible solution. he had felt instinctively on the day he told her the first fact about the disgrace of her birth, vague and shadowy as he had left it, that she could never adjust herself to the certainty that negro blood flowed in her veins. he had observed that her aversion to negroes was peculiarly acute. if her love for the boy were genuine, if it belonged to the big things of the soul, and were not the mere animal impulse she had inherited from her mother, he would have a ground of most powerful appeal. love seeks not its own. if she really loved she would sink her own life to save his. it was a big divine thing to demand of her and his heart sank at the thought of her possible inheritance from cleo. yet he knew by an instinct deeper and truer than reason, that the ruling power in this sensitive, lonely creature was in the spirit, not the flesh. he recalled in vivid flashes the moments he had felt this so keenly in their first pitiful meeting. if he could win her consent to an immediate flight and the sacrifice of her own desires to save the boy! it was only a hope--it was a desperate one--but he clung to it with painful eagerness. why didn't she come? the minutes seemed hours and there were minutes in which he lived a life. he rose nervously and walked toward the mantel, lifted his eyes and they rested on the portrait of his wife. "'my brooding spirit will watch and guard!'" he repeated the promise of her last scrawled message. he leaned heavily against the mantel, his eyes burning with an unusual brightness. "oh, jean, darling," he groaned, "if you see and hear and know, let me feel your presence! your dear eyes are softer and kinder than the world's to-night. help me, i'm alone, heartsick and broken!" he choked down a sob, walked back to the chair and sank in silence. his eyes were staring into space, his imagination on fire, passing in stern review the events of his life. how futile, childish and absurd it all seemed! what a vain and foolish thing its hope and struggles, its dreams and ambitions! what a failure for all its surface brilliance! he was standing again at the window behind the dais of the president of the senate, watching the little drooping figure of the governor staggering away into oblivion, and his heart went out to him in a great tenderness and pity. he longed to roll back the years that he might follow the impulse he had felt to hurry down the steps of the capitol, draw the broken man into a sheltered spot, slip his arms about him and say: "who am i to judge? you're my brother--i'm sorry! come, we'll try it again and help one another!" the dream ended in a sudden start. he had heard the rustle of a dress at the door and knew without lifting his head that she was in the room. only the slightest sound had come from her dry throat, a little muffled attempt to clear it of the tightening bands. it was scarcely audible, yet his keen ear had caught it instantly, not only caught the excitement under which she was struggling, but in it the painful consciousness of his hostility and her pathetic desire to be friends. he rose trembling and turned his dark eyes on her white uplifted face. a feeling of terror suddenly weakened her knees. he was evidently not angry as she had feared. there was something bigger and more terrible than anger behind the mask he was struggling to draw over his mobile features. "what has happened, major?" she asked in a subdued voice. [illustration: "only the slightest sound came from her dry throat."] "that is what i must know of you, child," he replied, watching her intently. she pressed closer with sudden desperate courage, her voice full of wistful friendliness: "oh, major, what have i done to offend you? i've tried so hard to win your love and respect. all my life i've been alone in a world of strangers, friendless and homesick----" he lifted his hand with a firm gesture: "come, child, to the point! i must know the truth now. tom has made love to you?" she blushed: "i--i--wish to see tom before i answer----" norton dropped his uplifted arm with a groan: "thank you," he murmured in tones scarcely audible. "i have your answer!"--he paused and looked at her curiously--"and you love him?" the girl hesitated for just an instant, her blue eyes flashed and she drew her strong, young figure erect: "yes! and i'm proud of it. his love has lifted me into the sunlight and made the world glorious--made me love everything in it--every tree and every flower and every living thing that moves and feels-----" she stopped abruptly and lifted her flushed face to his: "i've learned to love you, in spite of your harshness to me--i love you because you are his father!" he turned from her and then wheeled suddenly, his face drawn with pain: "now, i must be frank, i must be brutal. i must know the truth without reservation--how far has this thing gone?" "i--i--don't understand you!" "marriage is impossible! i told you that and you must have realized it." her head drooped: "you said so----" "impossible--utterly impossible! and you know it"--he drew a deep breath. "what--what are your real relations?" "my--real--relations?" she gasped. "answer me now, before god! i'll hold your secret sacred--your life and his may depend on it"--his voice dropped to a tense whisper. "your love is pure and unsullied?" the girl's eyes flashed with rage: "as pure and unsullied as his dead mother's for you!" "thank god!" he breathed. "i believe you--but i had to know, child! i had to know--there are big, terrible reasons why i had to know." a tear slowly stole down helen's flushed cheeks as she quietly asked: "why--why should you insult and shame me by asking that question?" "my knowledge of your birth." the girl smiled sadly: "yet you might have guessed that i had learned to cherish honor and purity before i knew i might not claim them as my birthright!" "forgive me, child," he said contritely, "if in my eagerness, my fear, my anguish, i hurt you. but i had to ask that question! i had to know. your answer gives me courage"--he paused and his voice quivered with deep intensity--"you really love tom?" "with a love beyond words!" "the big, wonderful love that comes to the human soul but once?" "yes!" his eyes were piercing to the depths now: "with the deep, unselfish yearning that asks nothing for itself and seeks only the highest good of its beloved?" "yes--yes," she answered mechanically and, pausing, looked again into his burning eyes; "but you frighten me--" she grasped a chair for support, recovered herself and went on rapidly--"you mustn't ask me to give him up--i won't give him up! poor and friendless, with a shadow over my life and everything against me, i have won him and he's mine! i have the right to his love--i didn't ask to be born. i must live my own life. i have as much right to happiness as you. why must i bear the sins of my father and mother? have i broken the law? haven't i a heart that can ache and break and cry for joy?" he allowed the first paroxysm of her emotion to spend itself before he replied, and then in quiet tones said: "you must give him up!" "i won't! i won't, i tell you!" she said through her set teeth as she suddenly swung her strong, young form before him. "i won't give him up! his love has made life worth living and i'm going to live it! i don't care what you say--he's mine--and you shall not take him from me!" norton was stunned by the fiery intensity with which her answer had been given. there was no mistaking the strength of her character. every vibrant note of her voice had rung with sincerity, purity, the justice of her cause, and the consciousness of power. he was dealing with no trembling schoolgirl's mind, filled with sentimental dreams. a woman, in the tragic strength of a great nature, stood before him. he felt this greatness instinctively and met it with reverence. it could only be met thus, and as he realized its strength, his heart took fresh courage. his own voice became tender, eager, persuasive: "but suppose, my dear, i show you that you will destroy the happiness and wreck the life of the man you love?" "impossible! he knows that i'm nameless and his love is all the deeper, truer and more manly because he realizes that i am defenseless." "but suppose i convince you?" "you can't!" "suppose," he said in a queer tone, "i tell you that the barrier between you is so real, so loathsome----" "loathsome?" she repeated with a start. "so loathsome," he went on evenly, "that when he knows the truth, whether he wishes it or not, he will instinctively turn from you with a shudder." "i won't believe it!" "suppose i prove to you that marriage would wreck both your life and his"--he gazed at her with trembling intensity--"would you give him up to save him?" she held his eye steadily: "yes--i'd die to save him!" a pitiful stillness followed. the man scarcely moved. his lips quivered and his eyes grew dim. he looked at her pathetically and motioned her to a seat. "and if i convince you," he went on tenderly, "you will submit yourself to my advice and leave america?" the blue eyes never flinched as she firmly replied: "yes. but i warn you that no such barrier can exist." "then i must prove to you that it does." he drew a deep breath and watched her. "you realize the fact that a man who marries a nameless girl bars himself from all careers of honor?" "the honor of fools, yes--of the noble and wise, no!" "you refuse to see that the shame which shadows a mother's life will smirch her children, and like a deadly gangrene at last eat the heart out of her husband's love?" "my faith in him is too big----" "you can conceive of no such barrier?" "no!" "in the first rush of love," he replied kindly, "you feel this. emotion obscures reason. but there are such barriers between men and women." "name one!" his brow clouded, his lips moved to speak and stopped. it was more difficult to frame in speech than he had thought. his jaw closed with firm decision at last and he began calmly: "i take an extreme case. suppose, for example, your father, a proud southern white man, of culture, refinement and high breeding, forgot for a moment that he was white and heard the call of the beast, and your mother were an octoroon--what then?" the girl flushed with anger: "such a barrier, yes! nothing could be more loathsome. but why ask me so disgusting a question? no such barrier could possibly exist between us!" norton's eyes were again burning into her soul as he asked in a low voice: "suppose it does?" the girl smiled with a puzzled look: "suppose it does? of course, you're only trying to prove that such an impossible barrier might exist! and for the sake of argument i agree that it would be real"--she paused and her breath came in a quick gasp. she sprang to her feet clutching at her throat, trembling from head to foot--"what do you mean by looking at me like that?" norton lowered his head and barely breathed the words: "that _is_ the barrier between you!" helen looked at him dazed. the meaning was too big and stupefying to be grasped at once. "why, of course, major," she faltered, "you just say that to crush me in the argument. but i've given up the point. i've granted that such a barrier may exist and would be real. but you haven't told me the one between us." the man steeled his heart, turned his face away and spoke in gentle tones: "i am telling you the pitiful, tragic truth--your mother is a negress----" with a smothered cry of horror the girl threw herself on him and covered his mouth with her hand, half gasping, half screaming her desperate appeal: "stop! don't--don't say it!--take it back! tell me that it's not true--tell me that you only said it to convince me and i'll believe you. if the hideous thing is true--for the love of god deny it now! if it's true--lie to me"--her voice broke and she clung to norton's arms with cruel grip--"lie to me! tell me that you didn't mean it, and i'll believe you--truth or lie, i'll never question it! i'll never cross your purpose again--i'll do anything you tell me, major"--she lifted her streaming eyes and began slowly to sink to her knees--"see how humble--how obedient i am! you don't hate me, do you? i'm just a poor, lonely girl, helpless and friendless now at your feet"--her head sank into her hands until the beautiful brown hair touched the floor--"have mercy! have mercy on me!" norton bent low and fumbled for the trembling hand. he couldn't see and for a moment words were impossible. he found her hand and pressed it gently: "i'm sorry, little girl! i'd lie to you if i could--but you know a lie don't last long in this world. i've lied about you before--i'd lie now to save you this anguish, but it's no use--we all have to face things in the end!" with a mad cry of pain, the girl sprang to her feet and staggered to the table: "oh, god, how could any man with a soul--any living creature, even a beast of the field--bring me into the world--teach me to think and feel, to laugh and cry, and thrust me into such a hell alone! my proud father--i could kill him!" norton extended his hands to her in a gesture of instinctive sympathy: "come, you'll see things in a calm light to-morrow, you are young and life is all before you!" "yes!" she cried fiercely, "a life of shame--a life of insult, of taunts, of humiliation, of horror! the one thing i've always loathed was the touch of a negro----" she stopped suddenly and lifted her hand, staring with wildly dilated eyes at the nails of her finely shaped fingers to find if the telltale marks of negro blood were there which she had seen on cleo's. finding none, the horror in her eyes slowly softened into a look of despairing tenderness as she went on: "the one passionate yearning of my soul has been to be a mother--to feel the breath of a babe on my heart, to hear it lisp my name and know a mother's love--the love i've starved for--and now, it can never be!" she had moved beyond the table in her last desperate cry and norton followed with a look of tenderness: "nonsense," he cried persuasively, "you're but a child yourself. you can go abroad where no such problem of white and black race exists. you can marry there and be happy in your home and little ones, if god shall give them!" she turned on him savagely: "well, god shall not give them! i'll see to that! i'm young, but i'm not a fool. i know something of the laws of life. i know that tom is not like you"--she turned and pointed to the portrait on the wall--"he is like his great-grandfather! mine may have been----" her voice choked with passion. she grasped a chair with one hand and tore at the collar of her dress with the other. she had started to say "mine may have been a black cannibal!" and the sheer horror of its possibility had strangled her. when she had sufficiently mastered her feelings to speak she said in a strange muffled tone: "i ask nothing of god now--if i could see him, i'd curse him to his face!" "come, come!" norton exclaimed, "this is but a passing ugly fancy--such things rarely happen----" "but they do happen!" she retorted slowly. "i've known one such tragedy, of a white mother's child coming into the world with the thick lips, kinky hair, flat nose and black skin of a cannibal ancestor! she killed herself when she was strong enough to leap out the window"--her voice dropped to a dreamy chant--"yes, blood will tell--there's but one thing for me to do! i wonder, with the yellow in me, if i'll have the courage." norton spoke with persuasive tenderness: "you mustn't think of such madness! i'll send you abroad at once and you can begin life over again----" helen suddenly snatched the chair to which she had been holding out of her way and faced norton with flaming eyes: "i don't want to be an exile! i've been alone all my miserable orphan life! i don't want to go abroad and die among strangers! i've just begun to live since i came here! i love the south--it's mine--i feel it--i know it! i love its blue skies and its fields--i love its people--they are mine! i think as you think, feel as you feel----" she paused and looked at him queerly: "i've learned to honor, respect and love you because i've grown to feel that you stand for what i hold highest, noblest and best in life"--the voice died in a sob and she was silent. the man turned away, crying in his soul: "o god, i'm paying the price now!" "what can i do!" she went on at last. "what is life worth since i know this leper's shame? there are millions like me, yes. if i could bend my back and be a slave there are men and women who need my services. and there are men i might know--yes--but i can't--i can't! i'm not a slave. i'm not bad. i can't stoop. there's but one thing!" norton's face was white with emotion: "i can't tell you, little girl, how sorry i am"--his voice broke. he turned, suddenly extended his hand and cried hoarsely: "tell me what i can do to help you--i'll do anything on this earth that's within reason!" the girl looked up surprised at his anguish, wondering vaguely if he could mean what he had said, and then threw herself at him in a burst of sudden, fierce rebellion, her voice, low and quivering at first, rising to the tragic power of a defiant soul in combat with overwhelming odds: "then give me back the man i love--he's mine! he's mine, i tell you, body and soul! god--gave--him--to--me! he's your son, but i love him! he's my mate! he's of age--he's no longer yours! his time has come to build his own home--he's mine--not yours! he's my life--and you're tearing the very heart out of my body!" the white, trembling figure slowly crumpled at his feet. he took both of her hands, and lifted her gently: "pull yourself together, child. it's hard, i know, but you begin to realize that you must bear it. you must look things calmly in the face now." the girl's mouth hardened and she answered with bitterness: "yes, of course--i'm nobody! we must consider you"--she staggered to a chair and dropped limply into it, her voice a whisper--"we must consider tom--yes--yes--we must, too--i know that----" norton pressed eagerly to her side and leaned over the drooping figure: "you can begin to see now that i was right," he pleaded. "you love tom--he's worth saving--you'll do as i ask and give him up?" the sensitive young face was convulsed with an agony words could not express and the silence was pitiful. the man bending over her could hear the throb of his own heart. a quartet of serenaders celebrating the victory of the election stopped at the gate and the soft strains of the music came through the open window. norton felt that he must scream in a moment if she did not answer. he bent low and softly repeated: "you'll do as i ask now, and give him up?" the tangled mass of brown hair sank lower and her answer was a sigh of despair: "yes!" the man couldn't speak at once. his eyes filled. when he had mastered his voice he said eagerly: "there's but one way, you know. you must leave at once without seeing him." she lifted her face with a pleading look: "just a moment--without letting him know what has passed between us--just one last look into his dear face?" he shook his head kindly: "it isn't wise----" "yes, i know," she sighed. "i'll go at once." he drew his watch and looked at it hurriedly: "the first train leaves in thirty minutes. get your hat, a coat and travelling bag and go just as you are. i'll send your things----" "yes--yes"--she murmured. "i'll join you in a few days in new york and arrange your future. leave the house immediately. tom mustn't see you. avoid him as you cross the lawn. i'll have a carriage at the gate in a few minutes." the little head sank again: "i understand." he looked uncertainly at the white drooping figure. the serenaders were repeating the chorus of the old song in low, sweet strains that floated over the lawn and stole through the house in weird ghost-like echoes. he returned to her chair and bent over her: "you won't stop to change your dress, you'll get your hat and coat and go just as you are--at once?" the brown head nodded slowly and he gazed at her tenderly: "you've been a brave little girl to-night"--he lifted his hand to place it on her shoulder in the first expression of love he had ever given. the hand paused, held by the struggle of the feelings of centuries of racial pride and the memories of his own bitter tragedy. but the pathos of her suffering and the heroism of her beautiful spirit won. the hand was gently lowered and pressed the soft, round shoulder. a sob broke from the lonely heart, and her head drooped until it lay prostrate on the table, the beautiful arms outstretched in helpless surrender. norton staggered blindly to the door, looked back, lifted his hand and in a quivering voice, said: "i can never forget this!" his long stride quickly measured the distance to the gate, and a loud cheer from the serenaders roused the girl from her stupor of pain. in a moment they began singing again, a love song, that tore her heart with cruel power. "oh, god, will they never stop?" she cried, closing her ears with her hands in sheer desperation. she rose, crossed slowly to the window and looked out on the beautiful moonlit lawn at the old rustic seat where her lover was waiting. she pressed her hand on her throbbing forehead, walked to the center of the room, looked about her in a helpless way and her eye rested on the miniature portrait of tom. she picked it up and gazed at it tenderly, pressed it to her heart, and with a low sob felt her way through the door and up the stairs to her room. chapter xxiii the parting tom had grown impatient, waiting in their sheltered seat on the lawn for helen to return. she had gone on a mysterious mission to see minerva, laughingly refused to tell him its purpose, but promised to return in a few minutes. when half an hour had passed without a sign he reconnoitered to find minerva, and to his surprise she, too, had disappeared. he returned to his trysting place and listened while the serenaders sang their first song. unable to endure the delay longer he started to the house just as his father hastily left by the front door, and quickly passing the men at the gate, hurried down town. the coast was clear and he moved cautiously to fathom, if possible, the mystery of helen's disappearance. finding no trace of her in minerva's room, he entered the house and, seeing nothing of her in the halls, thrust his head in the library and found it empty. he walked in, peeping around with a boyish smile expecting her to leap out and surprise him. he opened the french window and looked for her on the porch. he hurried back into the room with a look of surprised disappointment and started to the door opening on the hall of the stairway. he heard distinctly the rustle of a dress and the echo on the stairs of the footstep he knew so well. he gave a boyish laugh, tiptoed quickly to the old-fashioned settee, dropped behind its high back and waited her coming. helen had hastily packed a travelling bag and thrown a coat over her arm. she slowly entered the library to replace the portrait she had taken, kissed it and started with feet of lead and set, staring eyes to slip through the lawn and avoid tom as she had promised. as she approached the corner of the settee the boy leaped up with a laugh: "where have you been?" with a quick movement of surprise she threw the bag and coat behind her back. luckily he had leaped so close he could not see. "where've you been?" he repeated. "why, i've just come from my room," she replied with an attempt at composure. "what have you got your hat for?" she flushed the slightest bit: "why, i was going for a walk." "with a veil--at night--what have you got that veil for?" the boyish banter in his tones began to yield to a touch of wonder. helen hesitated: "why, the crowds of singing and shouting men on the streets. i didn't wish to be recognized, and i wanted to hear what the speakers said." "you were going to leave me and go alone to the speaker's stand?" "yes. your father is going to see you and i was nervous and frightened and wanted to pass the time until you were free again"--she paused, looked at him intently and spoke in a queer monotone--"the negroes who can't read and write have been disfranchised, haven't they?" "yes," he answered mechanically, "the ballot should never have been given them." "yet there's something pitiful about it after all, isn't there, tom?" she asked the question with a strained wistfulness that startled the boy. he answered automatically, but his keen, young eyes were studying with growing anxiety every movement of her face and form and every tone of her voice: "i don't see it," he said carelessly. she laid her left hand on his arm, the right hand still holding her bag and coat out of sight. "suppose," she whispered, "that you should wake up to-morrow morning and suddenly discover that a strain of negro blood poisoned your veins--what would you do?" tom frowned and watched her with a puzzled look: "never thought of such a thing!" she pressed his arm eagerly: "think--what would you do?" "what would i do?" he repeated in blank amazement. "yes." his eyes were holding hers now with a steady stare of alarm. the questions she asked didn't interest him. her glittering eyes and trembling hand did. studying her intently he said lightly: "to be perfectly honest, i'd blow my brains out." with a cry she staggered back and threw her hand instinctively up as if to ward a blow: "yes--yes, you would--wouldn't you?" he was staring at her now with blanched face and she was vainly trying to hide her bag and coat. he seized her arms: "why are you so excited? why do you tremble so?"--he drew the arm around that she was holding back--"what is it? what's the matter?" his eye rested on the bag, he turned deadly pale and she dropped it with a sigh. "what--what--does this mean?" he gasped. "you are trying to leave me without a word?" she staggered and fell limp into a seat: "oh, tom, the end has come, and i must go!" "go!" he cried indignantly, "then i go, too!" "but you can't, dear!" "and why not?" "your father has just told me the whole hideous secret of my birth--and it's hopeless!" "what sort of man do you think i am? what sort of love do you think i've given you? separate us after the solemn vows we've given to each other! neither man nor the devil can come between us now!" she looked at him wistfully: "it's sweet to hear such words--though i know you can't make them good." "i'll make them good," he broke in, "with every drop of blood in my veins--and no coward has ever borne my father's name--it's good blood!" "that's just it--and blood will tell. it's the law of life and i've given up." "well, i haven't given up," he protested, "remember that! try me with your secret--i laugh before i hear it!" with a gleam of hope in her deep blue eyes she rose trembling: "you really mean that? if i go an outcast you would go with me?" "yes--yes." "and if a curse is branded on my forehead you'll take its shame as yours?" "yes." she laid her hand on his arm, looked long and yearningly into his eyes, and said: "your father has just told me that i am a negress--my mother is an octoroon!" the boy flinched involuntarily, stared in silence an instant, and his form suddenly stiffened: "i don't believe a word of it! my father has been deceived. it's preposterous!" helen drew closer as if for shelter and clung to his hand wistfully: "it does seem a horrible joke, doesn't it? i can't realize it. but it's true. the major gave me his solemn word in tears of sympathy. he knew both my father and mother. i am a negress!" the boy's arm unconsciously shrank the slightest bit from her touch while he stared at her with wildly dilated eyes and spoke in a hoarse whisper: "it's impossible! it's impossible--i tell you!" he attempted to lift his hand to place it on his throbbing forehead. helen clung to him in frantic grief and terror: "please, please--don't shrink from me! have pity on me! if you feel that way, for god's sake don't let me see it--don't let me know it--i--i--can't endure it! i can't----" the tense figure collapsed in his arms and the brown head sank on his breast with a sob of despair. the boy pressed her to his heart and held her close. he felt her body shiver as he pushed the tangled ringlets back from her high, fair forehead and felt the cold beads of perspiration. the serenaders at the gate were singing again--a negro folk-song. the absurd childish words which he knew so well rang through the house, a chanting mockery. "there, there," he whispered tenderly, "i didn't shrink from you, dear. i couldn't shrink from you--you only imagined it. i was just stunned for a moment. the blow blinded me. but it's all right now, i see things clearly. i love you--that's all--and love is from god, or it's not love, it's a sham----" a low sob and she clung to him with desperate tenderness. he bent his head close until the blonde hair mingled with the rich brown: "hush, my own! if a single nerve of my body shrank from your little hand, find it and i'll tear it out!" she withdrew herself slowly from his embrace, and brushed the tears from her eyes with a little movement of quiet resignation: "it's all right. i'm calm again and it's all over. i won't mind now if you shrink a little. i'm really glad that you did. it needed just that to convince me that your father was right. our love would end in the ruin of your life. i see it clearly now. it would become to you at last a conscious degradation. _that_ i couldn't endure." "i have your solemn vow," he interrupted impatiently, "you're mine! i'll not give you up!" she looked at him sadly: "but i'm going, dear, in a few minutes. you can't hold me--now that i know it's for the best." "you can't mean this?" she clung to his hand and pressed it with cruel force: "don't think it isn't hard. all my life i've been a wistful beggar, eager and hungry for love. in your arms i had forgotten the long days of misery. i've been happy--perfectly, divinely happy! it will be hard, the darkness and the loneliness again. but i can't drag you down, my sweetheart, my hero! your life must be big and brilliant. i've dreamed it thus. you shall be a man among men, the world's great men--and so i am going out of your life!" "you shall not!" the boy cried fiercely. "i tell you i don't believe this hideous thing--it's a lie, i tell you--it's a lie, and i don't care who says it! nothing shall separate us now. i'll go with you to the ends of the earth and if you sink into hell, i'll follow you there, lift you in my arms and fight my way back through its flames!" she smiled at him tenderly: "it's beautiful to hear you say that, dearest, but our dream has ended!" she stooped, took up the bag and coat, paused and looked into his face with the hunger and longing of a life burning in her eyes: "but i shall keep the memory of every sweet and foolish word you have spoken, every tone of your voice, every line of your face, every smile and trick of your lips and eyes! i know them all. the old darkness will not be the same. i have loved and i have lived. a divine fire has been kindled in my soul. i can go into no world so far i shall not feel the warmth of your love, your kisses on my lips, your strong arms pressing me to your heart--the one true, manly heart that has loved me. i shall see your face forever though i see it through a mist of tears--good-by!" the last word was the merest whisper. the boy sprang toward her: "i won't say it--i won't--i won't!" "but you must!" he opened his arms and called in tones of compelling anguish: "helen!" the girl's lips trembled, her eyes grew dim, her fingers were locked in a cruel grip trying to hold the bag which slipped to the floor. and then with a cry she threw herself madly into his arms: "oh, i can't give you up, dearest! i can't--i've tried--but i can't!" he held her clasped without a word, stroking her hair, kissing it tenderly and murmuring little inarticulate cries of love. norton suddenly appeared in the door, his face blanched with horror. with a rush of his tall figure he was by their side and hurled them apart: "my god! do you know what you're doing?" he turned on tom, his face white with pain: "i forbid you to ever see or speak to this girl again!" tom sprang back and confronted his father: "forbid!" helen lifted her head: "he's right, tom." "yes," the father said with bated breath, "in the name of the law--by all that's pure and holy, by the memory of the mother who bore you and the angels who guard the sanctity of every home, i forbid you!" the boy squared himself and drew his figure to its full height: "you're my father! but i want you to remember that i'm of age. i'm twenty-two years old and i'm a man! forbid? how dare you use such words to me in the presence of the woman i love?" norton's voice dropped to pitiful tenderness: "you--you--don't understand, my boy. helen knows that--i'm right. we have talked it over. she has agreed to go at once. the carriage will be at the door in a moment. she can never see you again"--he paused and lifted his hand solemnly above tom's head--"and in the name of almighty god i warn you not to attempt to follow her----" he turned quickly, picked up the fallen bag and coat and added: "i'll explain all to you at last if i must." "well, i won't hear it!" tom cried in rage. "i'm a free agent! i won't take such orders from you or any other man!" the sound of the carriage wheels were heard on the graveled drive at the door. norton turned to helen and took her arm: "come, helen, the carriage is waiting." with a sudden leap tom was by his side, tore the bag and coat from his hand, hurled them to the floor and turned on his father with blazing eyes: "now, look here, dad, this thing's going too far! you can't bulldoze me. there's one right no american man ever yields without the loss of his self-respect--the right to choose the woman he loves. when helen leaves this house, i go with her! i'm running this thing now--your carriage needn't wait." with sudden decision he rushed to the porch and and called: "driver!" "yassah." "go back to your stable--you're not wanted." "yassah." "i'll send for you if i want you--wait a minute till i tell you." norton's head drooped and he blindly grasped a chair. helen watched him with growing pity, drew near and said softly: "i'm sorry, major, to have brought you this pain----" "you promised to go without seeing him!" he exclaimed bitterly. "i tried. i only gave up for a moment. i fought bravely. remember now in all you say to tom that i am going--that i know i must go----" "yes, i understand, child," he replied brokenly, "and my heart goes out to you. mine is heavy to-night with a burden greater than i can bear. you're a brave little girl. the fault isn't yours--it's mine. i've got to face it now"--he paused and looked at her tenderly. "you say that you've been lonely--well, remember that in all your orphan life you never saw an hour as lonely as the one my soul is passing through now! the loneliest road across this earth is the way of sin." helen watched him in amazement: "the way of sin--why----" tom's brusque entrance interrupted her. with quick, firm decision he took her arm and led her to the door opening on the hall: "wait for me in your room, dear," he said quietly. "i have something to say to my father." she looked at him timidly: "you won't forget that he is your father, and loves you better than his own life?" "i'll not forget." she started with sudden alarm and whispered: "you haven't got the pistol that you brought home to-day from the campaign, have you?" "surely, dear----" "give it to me!" she demanded. "no." "why?" she asked pleadingly. "i've too much self-respect." she looked into his clear eyes: "forgive me, dear, but i was so frightened just now. you were so violent. i never saw you like that before. i was afraid something might happen in a moment of blind passion, and i could never lift my head again----" "i'll not forget," he broke in, "if my father does. run now, dear, i'll join you in a few minutes." a pressure of the hand, a look of love, and she was gone. the boy closed the door, quickly turned and faced his father. chapter xxv father and son norton had ignored the scene between helen and tom and his stunned mind was making a desperate fight to prepare for the struggle that was inevitable. the thing that gave him fresh courage was the promise the girl had repeated that she would go. somehow he had grown to trust her implicitly. he hadn't time as yet to realize the pity and pathos of such a trust in such an hour. he simply believed that she would keep her word. he had to win his fight now with the boy without the surrender of his secret. could he do it? it was doubtful, but he was going to try. his back was to the wall. tom took another step into the room and the father turned, drew his tall figure erect in an instinctive movement of sorrowful dignity and reserve and walked to the table. all traces of anger had passed from the boy's handsome young face and a look of regret had taken its place. he began speaking very quietly and reverently: "now, dad, we must face this thing. it's a tragedy for you perhaps----" the father interrupted: "how big a tragedy, my son, i hope that you may never know----" "anyhow," tom went on frankly, "i am ashamed of the way i acted. but you're a manly man and you can understand." "yes." "i know that all you've done is because you love me----" "how deeply, you can never know." "i'm sorry if i forgot for a moment the respect i owe you, the reverence and love i hold for you--i've always been proud of you, dad--of your stainless name, of the birthright you have given me--you know this----" "yet it's good to hear you say it!" "and now that i've said this, you'd as well know first as last that any argument about helen is idle between us. i'm not going to give up the woman i love!" "ah, my boy----" tom lifted his hand emphatically: "it's no use! you needn't tell me that her blood is tainted--i don't believe it!" the father came closer: "you _do_ believe it! in the first mad riot of passion you're only trying to fool yourself." "it's unthinkable, i tell you! and i've made my decision"--he paused a moment and then demanded: "how do you know her blood is tainted?" the father answered firmly: "i have the word both of her mother and father." "well, i won't take their word. some natures are their own defense. on them no stain can rest, and i stake my life on helen's!" "my boy----" "oh, i know what you're going to say--as a theory it's quite correct. but it's one thing to accept a theory, another to meet the thing in your own heart before god alone with your life in your hands." "what do you mean by that?" the father asked savagely. "that for the past hour i've been doing some thinking on my own account." "that's just what you haven't been doing. you haven't thought at all. if you had, you'd know that you can't marry this girl. come, come, my boy, remember that you have reason and because you have this power that's bigger than all passion, all desire, all impulse, you're a man, not a brute----" "all right," the boy broke in excitedly, "submit it to reason! i'll stand the test--it's more than you can do. i love this girl--she's my mate. she loves me and i am hers. haven't i taken my stand squarely on nature and her highest law?" "no!" "what's higher? social fictions--prejudices?" the father lifted his head: "prejudices! you know as well as i that the white man's instinct of racial purity is not prejudice, but god's first law of life--the instinct of self-preservation! the lion does not mate with the jackal!" the boy flushed angrily: "the girl i love is as fair as you or i." "even so," was the quick reply, "we inherit ninety per cent. of character from our dead ancestors! born of a single black progenitor, she is still a negress. change every black skin in america to-morrow to the white of a lily and we'd yet have ten million negroes--ten million negroes whose blood relatives are living in africa the life of a savage." "granted that what you say it true--and i refuse to believe it--i still have the right to live my own life in my own way." "no man has the right to live life in his own way if by that way he imperil millions." "and whom would i imperil?" "the future american. no white man ever lived who desired to be a negro. every negro longs to be a white man. no black man has ever added an iota to the knowledge of the world of any value to humanity. in helen's body flows sixteen million tiny drops of blood--one million black--poisoned by the inheritance of thousands of years of savage cruelty, ignorance, slavery and superstition. the life of generations are bound up in you. in you are wrapt the onward years. man's place in nature is no longer a myth. you are bound by the laws of heredity--laws that demand a nobler not a baser race of men! shall we improve the breed of horses and degrade our men? you have no right to damn a child with such a legacy!" "but i tell you i'm not trying to--i refuse to see in her this stain!" the father strode angrily to the other side of the room in an effort to control his feelings: "because you refuse to think, my boy!" he cried in agony. "i tell you, you can't defy these laws! they are eternal--never new, never old--true a thousand years ago, to-day, to-morrow and on a million years, when this earth is thrown, a burnt cinder, into god's dust heap. i can't tell you what i feel--it strangles me!" "no, and i can't understand it. i feel one thing, the touch of the hand of the woman i love; hear one thing, the music of her voice----" "and in that voice, my boy, i hear the crooning of a savage mother! but yesterday our negroes were brought here from the west soudan, black, chattering savages, nearer the anthropoid ape than any other living creature. and you would dare give to a child such a mother? who is this dusky figure of the forest with whom you would cross your blood? in old andy there you see him to-day, a creature half child, half animal. for thousands of years beyond the seas he stole his food, worked his wife, sold his child, and ate his brother--great god, could any tragedy be more hideous than our degradation at last to his racial level!" "it can't happen! it's a myth!" "it's the most dangerous thing that threatens the future!" the father cried with desperate earnestness. "a pint of ink can make black gallons of water. the barriers once down, ten million negroes can poison the source of life and character for a hundred million whites. this nation is great for one reason only--because of the breed of men who created the republic! oh, my boy, when you look on these walls at your fathers, don't you see this, don't you feel this, don't you know this?" tom shook his head: "to-night i feel and know one thing. i love her! we don't choose whom we love----" "ah, but if we are more than animals, if we reason, we do choose whom we marry! marriage is not merely a question of personal whim, impulse or passion. it's the one divine law on which human society rests. there are always men who hear the call of the beast and fall below their ideals, who trail the divine standards of life in the dust as they slink under the cover of night----" "at least, i'm not trying to do that!" "no, worse! you would trample them under your feet at noon in defiance of the laws of man and god! you're insane for the moment. you're mad with passion. you're not really listening to me at all--i feel it!" "perhaps i'm not----" "yet you don't question the truth of what i've said. you can't question it. you just stand here blind and maddened by desire, while i beg and plead, saying in your heart: 'i want this woman and i'm going to have her.' you've never faced the question that she's a negress--you can't face it, and yet i tell you that i know it's true!" the boy turned on his father and studied him angrily for a moment, his blue eyes burning into his, his face flushed and his lips curled with the slightest touch of incredulity: "and do you really believe all you've been saying to me?" "as i believe in god!" with a quick, angry gesture he faced his father: "well, you've had a mighty poor way of showing it! if you really believed all you've been saying to me, you wouldn't stop to eat or sleep until every negro is removed from physical contact with the white race. and yet on the day that i was born you placed me in the arms of a negress! the first human face on which i looked was hers. i grew at her breast. you let her love me and teach me to love her. you keep only negro servants. i grow up with them, fall into their lazy ways, laugh at their antics and see life through their eyes, and now that my life touches theirs at a thousand points of contact, you tell me that we must live together and yet a gulf separates us! why haven't you realized this before? if what you say about helen is true, in god's name--i ask it out of a heart quivering with anguish--why haven't you realized it before? i demand an answer! i have the right to know!" norton's head was lowered while the boy poured out his passionate protest and he lifted it at the end with a look of despair: "you have the right to know, my boy. but the south has not a valid answer to your cry. the negro is not here by my act or will, and their continued presence is a constant threat against our civilization. equality is the law of life and we dare not grant it to the negro unless we are willing to descend to his racial level. we cannot lift him to ours. this truth forced me into a new life purpose twenty years ago. the campaign i have just fought and won is the first step in a larger movement to find an answer to your question in the complete separation of the races--and nothing is surer than that the south will maintain the purity of her home! it's as fixed as her faith in god!" the boy was quiet a moment and looked at the tall figure with a queer expression: "has she maintained it?" "yes." "is her home life clean?" "yes." "and these millions of children born in the shadows--these mulattoes?" the older man's lips trembled and his brow clouded: "the lawless have always defied the law, my son, north, south, east and west, but they have never defended their crimes. dare to do this thing that's in your heart and you make of crime a virtue and ask god's blessing on it. the difference between the two things is as deep and wide as the gulf between heaven and hell." "my marriage to helen will be the purest and most solemn act of my life----" "silence, sir!" the father thundered in a burst of uncontrollable passion, as he turned suddenly on him, his face blanched and his whole body trembling. "i tell you once for all that your marriage to this girl is a physical and moral impossibility! and i refuse to argue with you a question that's beyond all argument!" the two men glared at each other in a duel of wills in which steel cut steel without a tremor of yielding. and then with a sudden flash of anger, tom turned on his heel crying: "all right, then!" with swift, determined step he moved toward the door. the father grasped the corner of the table for support: "tom!" his hands were extended in pitiful appeal when the boy stopped as if in deep study, turned, looked at him, and walked deliberately back: "i'm going to ask you some personal questions!" in spite of his attempt at self-control, norton's face paled. he drew himself up with an attempt at dignified adjustment to the new situation, but his hands were trembling as he nervously repeated: "personal questions?" "yes. there's something very queer about your position. your creed forbids you to receive a negro as a social equal?" "yes." the boy suddenly lifted his head: "why did you bring helen into this house?" "i didn't bring her." "you didn't invite her?" "no." "she says that you did." "she thought so." "she got an invitation?" "yes." "signed with your name?" "yes, yes." "who dared to write such a letter without your knowledge?" "i can't tell you that." "i demand it!" norton struggled between anger and fear and finally answered in measured tones: "it was forged by an enemy who wished to embarrass me in this campaign." "you know who wrote it?" "i suspect." "you don't _know_?" "i said, i suspect," was the angry retort. "and you didn't kill him?" "in this campaign my hands were tied." the boy, watching furtively his father's increasing nervousness and anger, continued his questions in a slower, cooler tone: "when you returned and found her here, you could have put her out?" "yes," norton answered tremblingly, "and i ought to have done it!" "but you didn't?" "no." "why?" the father fumbled his watch chain, moved uneasily and finally said with firmness: "i am helen's guardian!" the boy lifted his brows: "you are supposed to be his attorney only. why did you, of all men on earth, accept such a position?" "i felt that i had to." "and the possibility of my meeting this girl never occurred to you? you, who have dinned into my ears from childhood that i should keep myself clean from the touch of such pollution--why did you take the risk?" "a sense of duty to one to whom i felt bound." "duty?" "yes." "it must have been deep--what duty?" norton lifted his hand in a movement of wounded pride: "my boy!" "come, come, dad, don't shuffle; this thing's a matter of life and death with me and you must be fair----" "i'm trying----" "i want to know why you are helen's guardian, exactly why. we must face each other to-day with souls bare--why are you her guardian?" "i--i--can't tell you." "you've got to tell me!" "you must trust me in this, my son!" "i won't do it!" the boy cried, trembling with passion that brought the tears blinding to his eyes. "we're not father and son now. we face each other man to man with two lives at stake--hers and mine! you can't ask me to trust you! i won't do it--i've got to know!" the father turned away: "i can't betray this secret even to you, my boy." "does any one else share it?" "why do you use that queer tone? what do you mean?" the father's last question was barely breathed. "nothing," the boy answered with a toss of his head. "does any one in this house suspect it?" "possibly." again tom paused, watching keenly: "on the day you returned and found helen here, you quarrelled with cleo?" norton wheeled with sudden violence: "we won't discuss this question further, sir!" "yes, we will," was the steady answer through set teeth. "haven't you been afraid of cleo?" the father's eyes were looking into his now with a steady stare: "i refuse to be cross-examined, sir!" tom ignored his answer: "hasn't cleo been blackmailing you?" "no--no." the boy held his father's gaze until it wavered, and then in cold tones said: "you are not telling me the truth!" norton flinched as if struck: "do you know what you are saying. have you lost your senses?" tom held his ground with dogged coolness: "_have_ you told me the truth?" "yes." "it's a lie!" the words were scarcely spoken when norton's clenched fist struck him a blow full in the face. a wild cry of surprise, inarticulate in fury, came from the boy's lips as he staggered against the table. he glared at his father, drew back a step, his lips twitching, his breath coming in gasps, and suddenly felt for the revolver in his pocket. with a start of horror the father cried: "my boy!" the hand dropped limp, he leaned against the table for support and sobbed: "o god! let me die!" norton rushed to his side, his voice choking with grief: "tom, listen!" "i won't listen!" he hissed. "i never want to hear the sound of your voice again!" "don't say that--you don't mean it!" the father pleaded. "i do mean it!" norton touched his arm tenderly: "you can't mean it, tom. you're all i've got in the world. you mustn't say that. forgive me--i was mad. i didn't know what i was doing. i didn't mean to strike you. i forgot for a moment that you're a man, proud and sensitive as i am----" the boy tore himself free from his touch and crossed the room with quick, angry stride and turned: "well, you'd better not forget it again"--he paused and drew himself erect. "you're my father, but i tell you to your face that i hate and loathe you----" the silver-gray head drooped: "that i should have lived to hear it!" "and i want you to understand one thing," tom went on fiercely, "if an angel from heaven told me that helen's blood was tainted, i'd demand proofs! you have shown none, and i'm not going to give up the woman i love!" norton supported himself by the table and felt his way along its edges as if blinded. his eyes were set with a half-mad stare as he gripped tom's shoulders: "i love you, my boy, with a love beyond your ken, a love that can be fierce and cruel when god calls, and sooner than see you marry this girl, i'll kill you with my own hands if i must!" the answer came slowly: "and you can't guess what's happened?" "guess--what's--happened!" the father repeated in a whisper. "what do you mean?" "that i'm married already!" with hands uplifted, his features convulsed, the father fell back, his voice a low piteous shriek: "merciful god!--no!" "married an hour before you dragged me away in that campaign!" he shouted in triumph. "i knew you'd never consent and so i took matters into my own hands!" with a leap norton grasped the boy again and shook him madly: "married already? it's not true, i tell you! it's not true. you're lying to me--lying to gain time--it's not true!" "you wish me to swear it?" "silence, sir!" the father cried in solemn tones. "you are my son--this is my house--i order you to be silent!" "before god, i swear it's true! helen is my lawful----" "don't say it! it's false--you lie, i tell you!" again the father shook him with cruel violence, his eyes staring with the glitter of a maniac. tom seized the trembling hands and threw them from his shoulders with a quick movement of anger: "if that's all you've got to say, sir, excuse me, i'll go to my wife!" he wheeled, slammed the door and was gone. the father stared a moment, stunned, looked around blankly, placed his hands over his ears and held them, crying: "god have mercy!" he rushed to a window and threw it open. the band was playing "for he's a jolly good fellow!" the mocking strains rolled over his prostrate soul. he leaned heavily against the casement and groaned: "my god!" he slammed the sash, staggered back into the room, lifted his eyes in a leaden stare at the portrait over the mantel, and then rushed toward it with uplifted arms and streaming eyes: "it's not true, dearest! don't believe it--it's not true, i tell you! it's not true!" the voice sank into inarticulate sobs, he reeled and fell, a limp, black heap on the floor. chapter xxv the one chance the dim light began to creep into the darkened brain at last. norton's eyes opened wider and the long arms felt their way on the floor until they touched a rug and then a chair. he tried to think what had happened and why he was lying there. it seemed a dream, half feverish, half restful. his head was aching and he was very tired. "what's the matter?" he murmured, unable to lift his head. he was whirling through space again and the room faded. once before in his life had he been knocked insensible. from the trenches before petersburg in the last days of the war he had led his little band of less than five hundred ragged, half-starved, tatterdemalions in a mad charge against the line in front. a bomb from a battery on a hilltop exploded directly before them. he had been thrown into the air and landed on a heap of dead bodies, bruised and stunned into insensibility. he had waked feeling the dead limbs and wondering if they were his own. he rubbed his hands now, first over his head, and then over each limb, to find if all were there. he felt his body to see if a bomb had torn part of it away. and then the light of memory suddenly flashed into the darkened mind and he drew himself to his knees and fumbled his way to a chair. "married? married already!" he gasped. "o, god, it can't be true! and he said, 'married an hour before you dragged me away in that campaign'"--it was too hideous! he laughed in sheer desperation and again his brain refused to work. he pressed his hands to his forehead and looked about the room, rose, staggered to the bell and rang for andy. when his black face appeared, he lifted his bloodshot eyes and said feebly: "whiskey----" the negro bowed: "yassah!" he pulled himself together and tried to walk. he could only reel from one piece of furniture to the next. his head was on fire. he leaned again against the mantel for support and dropped his head on his arm in utter weariness: "i must think! i must think!" slowly the power to reason returned. "what can i do? what can i do?" he kept repeating mechanically, until the only chance of escape crept slowly into his mind. he grasped it with feverish hope. if tom had married but an hour before leaving on that campaign, he hadn't returned until to-day. but had he? it was, of course, a physical possibility. from the nearby counties, he could have ridden a swift horse through the night, reached home and returned the next day without his knowing it. it was possible, but not probable. he wouldn't believe it until he had to. if he had married in haste the morning he had left town and had only rejoined helen to-night, it was no marriage. it was a ceremony that had no meaning. in law it was void and could be annulled immediately. but if he were really married in all that word means--his mind stopped short and refused to go on. he would cross that bridge when he came to it. but he must find out at once and he must know before he saw tom again. his brain responded with its old vigor under the pressure of the new crisis. one by one his powers returned and his mind was deep in its tragic problem when andy entered the room with a tray on which stood a decanter of whiskey, a glass of water and two small empty glasses. the negro extended the tray. norton was staring into space and paid no attention. andy took one of the empty glasses and clicked it against the other. there was still no sign of recognition until he pushed the tray against norton's arm and cleared his throat: "ahem! ahem!" the dazed man turned slowly and looked at the tray and then at the grinning negro: "what's this?" andy's face kindled with enthusiasm: "dat is moonshine, sah--de purest mountain dew--yassah!" "whiskey?" "yassah," was the astonished reply, "de whiskey you jis ring fer, sah!" "take it back!" andy could not believe his ears. the major was certainly in a queer mood. was he losing his mind? there was nothing to do but obey. he bowed and turned away: "yassah." norton watched him with a dazed look and cried suddenly: "where are you going?" "back!" "stop!" andy stopped with a sudden jerk: "yassah!" "put that tray down on the table!" the negro obeyed but watched his master out of the corners of his eye: "yassah!" again norton forgot andy's existence, his eyes fixed in space, his mind in a whirl of speculation in which he felt his soul and body sinking deeper. the negro was watching him with increasing suspicion and fear as he turned his head in the direction of the table. "what are you standing there for?" he asked sharply. "you say stop, sah." "well, get away--get out!" norton cried with sudden anger. andy backed rapidly: "yassah!" as he reached the doorway norton's command rang so sharply that the negro spun around on one foot: "wait!" "y--yas--sah!" the master took a step toward the trembling figure with an imperious gesture: "come here!" andy approached gingerly, glancing from side to side for the best way of retreat in case of emergency: "what's the matter with you?" norton demanded. andy laughed feebly: "i--i--i dunno, sah; i wuz des wonderin' what's de matter wid you, sah!" "tell me!" the negro's teeth were chattering as he glanced up: "yassah! i tell all i know, sah!" norton fixed him with a stern look: "has tom been back here during the past four weeks?" "nasah!" was the surprised answer, "he bin wid you, sah!" the voice softened to persuasive tones: "he hasn't slipped back here even for an hour since i've been gone?" "i nebber seed him!" "i didn't ask you," norton said threateningly, "whether you'd 'seed' him"--he paused and dropped each word with deliberate emphasis--"i asked you if you knew whether he'd been here?" andy mopped his brow and glanced at his inquisitor with terror: "nasah, i don't know nuttin', sah!" "haven't you lied to me?" "yassah! yassah," the negro replied in friendly conciliation. "i has pér-var-i-cated sometimes--but i sho is tellin' you de truf dis time, sah!" the master glared at him a moment and suddenly sprang at his throat, both hands clasping his neck with a strangling grip. andy dropped spluttering to his knees. "you're lying to me!" norton growled. "out with the truth now"--his grip tightened--"out with it, or i'll choke it out of you!" andy grasped the tightening fingers and drew them down: "fer gawd's sake, major, doan' do dat!" "has tom been back here during the past weeks to see miss helen?" andy struggled with the desperate fingers: "doan' do dat, major--doan' do dat! i ain't holdin' nuttin' back--i let it all out, sah!" the grip slackened: "then out with the whole truth!" "yassah. des tell me what ye wants me ter say, sah, an' i sho say hit!" "bah! you miserable liar!" norton cried in disgust, hurling him to the floor, and striding angrily from the room. "you're all in this thing, all of you! you're all in it--all in it!" andy scrambled to his feet and rushed to the window in time to see him hurry down the steps and disappear in the shadows of the lawn. he stood watching with open mouth and staring eyes: "well, 'fore de lawd, ef he ain't done gone plum crazy!" chapter xxvi between two fires so intent was andy's watch on the lawn, so rapt his wonder and terror at the sudden assault, he failed to hear cleo's step as she entered the room, walked to his side and laid her hand on his shoulder: "andy----" with a loud groan he dropped to his knees: "de lawd save me!" cleo drew back with amazement at the prostrate figure: "what on earth's the matter?" "oh--oh, lawd," he shivered, scrambling to his feet and mopping his brow. "lordy, i thought de major got me dat time sho!" "you thought the major had you?" cleo cried incredulously. andy ran back to the window and looked out again: "yassam--yassam! de major try ter kill me--he's er regular maniacker--gone wild----" "what about?" the black hands went to his throat: "bout my windpipes, 'pears like!" "what did he do?" "got me in de _gills_!" "why?" "dunno," was the whispered answer as he peered out the window. "he asked me if mr. tom been back here in de past fo' weeks----" "asked if tom had been back here?" "yassam!" "what a fool question, when he's had the boy with him every day! he must have gone crazy." "yassam!" andy agreed with unction as he turned back into the room and threw both hands high above his head in wild gestures. "he say we wuz all in it! dat what he say--we wuz all in it! _all_ in it!" "in what?" "gawd knows!" he cried, as his hands again went to his neck to feel if anything were broken, "gawd knows, but he sho wuz gittin' inside er me!" cleo spoke with stern appeal: "well, you're a man; you'll know how to defend yourself next time, won't you?" "yassam!--yas, m'am!" andy answered boldly. "oh, i fit 'im! don't you think i didn't fight him! i fit des lak er wild-cat--yassam!" the woman's eyes narrowed and her voice purred: "you're going to stand by me now?" "dat i is!" was the brave response. "you'll do anything for me?" "yassam!" "defend me with your life if the major attacks me to-night?" "dat i will!" cleo leaned close: "you'll die for me?" "yassam! yassam--i'll _die_ fer you--i'll die fer ye; of cose i'll _die_ for ye! b-b-but fer gawd's sake what ye want wid er dead nigger?" andy leaped back in terror as norton's tall figure suddenly appeared in the door, his rumpled iron-gray hair gleaming in the shadows, his eyes flashing with an unnatural light. he quickly crossed the room and lifted his index finger toward cleo: "just a word with you----" the woman's hands met nervously, and she glanced at andy: "very well, but i want a witness. andy can stay." norton merely glanced at the negro: "get out!" "yassah!" "stay where you are!" cleo commanded. "y--yassam"--andy stammered, halting. "get out!" norton growled. andy jumped into the doorway at a single bound: "done out, sah!" the major lifted his hand and the negro stopped: "tell minerva i want to see her." andy hastened toward the hall, the whites of his eyes shining: "yassah, but she ain't in de kitchen, sah!" "find her and bring her here!" norton thundered. his words rang like the sudden peal of a gun at close quarters: andy jumped: "yassah, yassah, i fetch her! i fetch her!" as he flew through the door he repeated humbly: "i fetch her, right away, sah--right away, sah!" cleo watched his cowardly desertion with lips curled in scorn. chapter xxvii a surprise for a while norton stood with folded arms gazing at cleo, his eyes smouldering fires of wonder and loathing. the woman was trembling beneath his fierce scrutiny, but he evidently had not noted the fact. his mind was busy with a bigger problem of character and the possible depths to which a human being might fall and still retain the human form. he was wondering how a man of his birth and breeding, the heir to centuries of culture and refinement, of high thinking and noble aspirations, could ever have sunk to the level of this yellow animal--this bundle of rags and coarse flesh! it was incredible! his loathing for her was surpassed by one thing only--his hatred of himself. he was free in this moment as never before. in the fearlessness of death soul and body stood erect and gazed calmly out on time and eternity. there was one thing about the woman he couldn't understand. that she was without moral scruple--that she was absolutely unmoral in her fundamental being--he could easily believe. in fact, he could believe nothing else. that she would not hesitate to defy every law of god or man to gain her end, he never doubted for a moment. but that a creature of her cunning and trained intelligence could deliberately destroy herself by such an act of mad revenge was unreasonable. he began dimly to suspect that her plans had gone awry. how completely she had been crushed by her own trap he could not yet guess. she was struggling frantically now to regain her composure but his sullen silence and his piercing eyes were telling on her nerves. she was on the verge of screaming in his face when he said in low, intense tones: "you did get even with me--didn't you?" "yes!" "i didn't think _you_ quite capable of this!" his words were easier to bear than silence. she felt an instant relief and pulled herself together with a touch of bravado: "and now that you see i am, what are you going to do about it?" "that's my secret," was the quiet reply. "there's just one thing that puzzles me!" "indeed!" "how you could willfully and deliberately do this beastly thing?" "for one reason only, i threw them together and brought about their love affair----" "revenge--yes," norton interrupted, "but the boy--you don't hate him--you can't. you've always loved him as if he were your own----" "well, what of it?" "i'm wondering----" "what?" his voice was low, vibrant but quiet: "why, if your mother instincts have always been so powerful and you've loved my boy with such devotion"--the tones quickened to sudden menace--"why you were so willing to give up your own child that day twenty years ago?" he held her gaze until her own fell: "i--i--don't understand you," she said falteringly. he seized her with violence and drew her squarely before him: "look at me!" he cried fiercely. "look me in the face!" he paused until she slowly lifted her eyes to his and finally glared at him with hate. "i want to see your soul now if you've got one. there's just one chance and i'm clutching at that as a drowning man a straw." "well?" she asked defiantly. norton's words were hurled at her, each one a solid shot: "would you have given up that child without a struggle--if she had really been your own?" "why--what--do you--mean?" cleo asked, her eyes shifting. "you know what i mean. if helen is really your child, why did you give her up so easily that day?" "why?" she repeated blankly. "answer my question!" with an effort she recovered her composure: "you know why! i was mad. i was a miserable fool. i did it because you asked it. i did it to please you, and i've cursed myself for it ever since." norton's grip slowly relaxed, and he turned thoughtfully away. the woman's hand went instinctively to the bruises he had left on her arms as she stepped back nearer the door and watched him furtively. "it's possible, yes!" he cried turning again to face her suddenly. "and yet if you are human how could you dare defy the laws of man and god to bring about this marriage?" "it's not a question of marriage yet," she sneered. "you've simply got to acknowledge her, that's all. that's why i brought her here. that's why i've helped their love affair. you're in my power now. you've got to tell tom that helen is my daughter, and yours--his half sister! now that they're in love with one another you've got to do it!" norton drew back in amazement: "you mean to tell me that you don't know that they are married?" with a cry of surprise and terror, the woman leaped to his side, her voice a whisper: "married? who says they are married?" "tom has just said so." "but they are not married!" she cried hysterically. "they can't marry!" norton fixed her with a keen look: "they _are_ married!" the woman wrung her hands nervously: "but you can separate them if you tell them the truth. that's all you've got to do. tell them now--tell them at once!" never losing the gaze with which he was piercing her soul norton said in slow menacing tones: "there's another way!" he turned from her suddenly and walked toward the desk. she followed a step, trembling. "another way"--she repeated. norton turned: "an old way brave men have always known--i'll take it if i must!" chilled with fear cleo glanced in a panic about the room and spoke feebly: "you--you--don't mean----" minerva and andy entered cautiously as norton answered: "no matter what i mean, it's enough for you to know that i'm free--free from you--i breathe clean air at last!" minerva shot cleo a look: "praise god!" cleo extended a hand in pleading: "major----" "that will do now!" he said sternly. "go!" cleo turned hurriedly to the door leading toward the stairs. "not that way!" norton called sharply. "tom has no further need of your advice. go to the servants' quarters and stay there. i am the master of this house to-night!" cleo slowly crossed the room and left through the door leading to the kitchen, watching norton with terror. minerva broke into a loud laugh and andy took refuge behind her ample form. chapter xxviii via dolorosa minerva was still laughing at the collapse of her enemy and andy sheltering himself behind her when a sharp call cut her laughter short: "minerva!" "yassah"--she answered soberly. "you have been a faithful servant to me," norton began, "you have never lied----" "an' i ain't gwine ter begin now, sah." he searched her black face keenly: "did tom slip back here to see miss helen while i was away on this last trip?" minerva looked at andy, fumbled with her apron, started to speak, hesitated and finally admitted feebly: "yassah!" andy's eyes fairly bulged: "de lordy, major, i didn't know dat, sah!" norton glanced at him: "shut up!" "you ain't gwine ter be hard on 'em, major?" minerva pleaded. he ignored her interruption and went on evenly: "how many times did he come?" "twice, sah." "he sho come in de night time den!" andy broke in. "i nebber seed 'im once!" norton bent close: "how long did he stay?" minerva fidgeted, hesitated again and finally said: "once he stay about er hour----" "and the other time?" she looked in vain for a way of escape, the perspiration standing in beads on her shining black face: "he stay all night, sah." a moment of stillness followed. norton's eyes closed, and his face became a white mask. he breathed deeply and then spoke quietly: "you--you knew they were married?" "yassah!" was the quick reply. "i seed 'em married. miss helen axed me, sah." andy lifted his hands in solemn surprise and walled his eyes at minerva: "well, 'fore gawd!" another moment of silence and andy's mouth was still open with wonder when a call like the crack of a revolver suddenly rang through the room: "andy!" the negro dropped to his knees and lifted his hands: "don't do nuttin' ter me, sah! 'fore de lawd, major, i 'clare i nebber knowed it! dey fool me, sah--i'd a tole you sho!" norton frowned: "shut your mouth and get up." "yassah!" andy cried. "hit's shet an' i'se up!" he scrambled to his feet and watched his master. "you and minerva go down that back stairway into the basement, fasten the windows and lock the doors." andy's eyes were two white moons in the shadows as he cried through chattering teeth: "g--g--odder mighty--what--what's de matter, major?" "do as i tell you, quick!" andy dodged and leaped toward the door: "r--right away, sah!" "pay no attention to anything mr. tom may say to you----" "nasah," andy gasped. "i pay no 'tension ter nobody, sah!" "when you've fastened everything below, do the same on this floor and come back here--i want you." "y-y-yas--sah! r-r-r-right a-way, sah!" andy backed out, beckoning frantically to minerva. she ignored him and watched norton as he turned toward a window and looked vaguely out. as andy continued his frantic calls she slipped to the doorway and whispered: "g'long! i be dar in er minute. you po' fool, you can't talk nohow. you're skeered er de major. i'm gwine do my duty now, i'm gwine ter tell him sumfin' quick----" norton wheeled on her with sudden fury: "do as i tell you! do as i tell you!" minerva dodged at each explosion, backing away. she paused and extended her hand pleadingly: "can't i put in des one little word, sah?" "not another word!" he thundered, advancing on her--"go!" "yassah!" "go! i tell you!" dodging again, she hurried below to join andy. norton turned back into the room and stood staring at something that gleamed with sinister brightness from the top of the little writing desk. an electric lamp with crimson shade seemed to focus every ray of light on the shining steel and a devil in the shadows pointed a single finger and laughed: "it's ready--just where you laid it!" he took a step toward the desk, stopped and gripped the back of the settee, steadied himself, and glared at the thing with fascination. he walked unsteadily to the chair in front of the desk and stared again. his hand moved to grasp the revolver and hesitated. and then, the last thought of pity strangled, he gripped the handle, lifted it with quick familiar touch, grasped the top clasp, loosed the barrel, threw the cylinder open and examined the shells, dropped them into his hand and saw that there were no blanks. one by one he slowly replaced them, snapped the cylinder in place and put the weapon in his pocket. he glanced about the room furtively, walked to each of the tall french windows, closed the shutters and carefully drew the heavy draperies. he turned the switch of the electric lights, extinguishing all in the room save the small red one burning on the desk. he would need that in a moment. he walked softly to the foot of the stairs and called: "tom!" waiting and receiving no answer he called again: "tom! tom!" a door opened above and the boy answered: "well?" "just a word, my son," the gentle voice called. "i've nothing to say, sir! we're packing our trunks to leave at once." "yes, yes, i understand," the father answered tenderly. "you're going, of course, and it can't be helped--but just a minute, my son; we must say good-by in a decent way, you know--and--i've something to show you before you go"--the voice broke--"you--won't try to leave without seeing me?" there was a short silence and the answer came in friendly tones: "i'll see you. i'll be down in a few minutes." the father murmured: "thank god!" he hurried back to the library, unlocked a tiny drawer in the desk, drew out a plain envelope from which he took the piece of paper on which was scrawled the last message from the boy's mother. his hand trembled as he read and slowly placed it in a small pigeon-hole. he took his pen and began to write rapidly on a pad of legal cap paper. while he was still busy with his writing, in obedience to his orders, andy and minerva returned. they stopped at the doorway and peeped in cautiously before entering. astonished and terrified to find the room so dimly lighted they held a whispered conference in the hall: "better not go in dar, chile!" andy warned. "ah, come on, you fool!" minerva insisted. "he ain't gwine ter hurt us!" "i tell ye he's wild--he's gone crazy, sho's yer born! i kin feel dem fingers playin' on my windpipe now!" "what's he doin' dar at dat desk?" minerva asked. "he's writin' good-by ter dis world, i'm tellin' ye, an' hit's time me an' you wuz makin' tracks!" "ah, come on!" the woman urged. andy hung back and shook his head: "nasah--i done bin in dar an' got my dose!" "you slip up behin' him an' see what he's writin'," minerva suggested. "na, you slip up!" "you're de littlest an' makes less fuss," she argued. "yes, but you'se de biggest an' you las' de longest in er scrimmage----" "ah, go on!" she commanded, getting behind andy and suddenly pushing him into the room. he rushed back into her arms, but she pushed him firmly on: "g'long, i tell ye, fool, an' see what he's doin'. i back ye up." andy balked and she pressed him another step: "g'long!" he motioned her to come closer, whispering: "ef yer gwine ter stan' by me, for de lawd's sake stan' by me--don't stan' by de do'!" seeing that retreat was cut off and he was in for it, the negro picked his way cautiously on tip-toe until he leaned over the chair and tried to read what his master was writing. norton looked up suddenly: "andy!" he jumped in terror: "i--i--didn't see nuttin', major! nasah! i nebber seed a thing, sah!" norton calmly lifted his head and looked into the black face that had been his companion so many years: "i want you to see it!" "oh!" andy cried with surprised relief, "you wants me to see hit"--he glanced at minerva and motioned her to come nearer. "well, dat's different, sah. yer know i wouldn't er tried ter steal er glimpse of it ef i'd knowed ye wuz gwine ter show it ter me. i allers is er gemman, sah!" norton handed him the paper: "i taught you to read and write, andy. you can do me a little service to-night--read that!" "yassah--yassah," he answered, pompously, adjusting his coat and vest. he held the paper up before him, struck it lightly with the back of his hand and cleared his throat: "me an' you has bin writin' fer de newspapers now 'bout fifteen years--yassah"--he paused and hurriedly read the document. "dis yo' will, sah? an' de lawd er mussy, 'tain't more'n ten lines. an' dey hain't nary one er dem whereases an' haremditaments aforesaids, like de lawyers puts in dem in de cote house--hit's des plain writin"--he paused again--"ye gives de house, an' ten thousand dollars ter miss helen an' all yer got ter de columnerzation society ter move de niggers ter er place er dey own!"--he paused again and walled his eyes at minerva. "what gwine come er mr. tom?" norton's head sank: "he'll be rich without this! sign your name here as a witness," he said shortly, picking up the pen. andy took the pen, rolled up his sleeve carefully, bent over the desk, paused and scratched his head: "don't yer think, major, dat's er terrible pile er money ter fling loose 'mongst er lot er niggers?" norton's eyes were dreaming again and andy went on insinuatingly: "now, wouldn't hit be better, sah, des ter pick out one good _reliable_ nigger dat yer knows pussonally--an' move him?" norton looked up impatiently: "sign it!" "yassah! cose, sah, you knows bes', sah, but 'pears ter me lak er powerful waste er good money des flingin' it broadcast!" norton lifted his finger warningly and andy hastened to sign his name with a flourish of the pen. he looked at it admiringly: "dar now! dey sho know dat's me! i practise on dat quereque two whole mont's----" norton folded the will, placed it in an envelope, addressed it and lifted his drawn face: "tell the clerk of the court that i executed this will to-night and placed it in this desk"--his voice became inaudible a moment and went on--"ask him to call for it to-morrow and record it for me." minerva, who had been listening and watching with the keenest interest, pressed forward and asked in a whisper: "yassah, but whar's you gwine ter be? you sho ain't gwine ter die ter-night?" norton quietly recovered himself and replied angrily: "do i look as if i were dying?" "nasah!--but ain't dey no way dat i kin help ye, major? de young folks is gwine ter leave, sah----" "they are not going until i'm ready!" was the grim answer. "nasah, but dey's gwine," the black woman replied tenderly. "ye can't stop 'em long. lemme plead fur 'em, sah! you wuz young an' wild once, major"--the silvery gray head sank low and the white lips quivered--"you take all yer money frum mister tom--what he care fer dat now wid love singin' in his heart? young folks is young folks----" norton lifted his head and stared as in a dream. "won't ye hear me, sah? can't i go upstairs an' speak de good word ter mister tom now an' tell him hit's all right?" a sudden idea flashed into norton's mind. the ruse would be the surest and quickest way to get tom into the room alone. "yes, yes," he answered, glancing at her. "you can say that to him now----" minerva laughed: "i kin go right up dar to his room now an' tell 'im dat you're er waitin' here wid yer arms open an' yer heart full er love an' fergiveness?" "yes, go at once"--he paused--"and keep miss helen there a few minutes. i want to see him first--you understand----" "yassah! yassah!" minerva cried, hastening to the door followed by andy. "i understands, i understands"--she turned on andy. "ye hear dat, you fool nigger? ain't i done tole you dat hit would all come out right ef i could des say de good word? gloree! we gwine ter hab dat weddin' all over agin! you des wait till yer seen dat cake i gwine ter bake----" with a quick turn she was about to pass through the door when andy caught her sleeve: "miss minerva!" "yas, honey!" "miss minerva," he repeated, nervously glancing at norton, "fer gawd's sake don't you leave me now! you'se de only restful pusson in dis house!" with a triumphant laugh minerva whispered: "i'll be right back in a minute, honey!" norton had watched with apparent carelessness until minerva had gone. he sprang quickly to his feet, crossed the room and spoke in an excited whisper: "andy!" "yassah!" "go down to that front gate and stay there. turn back anybody who tries to come in. don't you allow a soul to enter the lawn." "i'll do de best i kin, sah," he replied hastening toward the door. norton took an angry step toward him: "you do exactly as i tell you, sir!" andy jumped and replied quickly: "yassah, but ef dem serenaders come back here you know dey ain't gwine pay no 'tensun ter no nigger talkin' to 'em--dat's what dey er celebratin' erbout----" norton frowned and was silent a moment: "say that i ask them not to come in." "i'll tell 'em, sah, but i spec i'll hatter climb er tree 'fore i explains hit to 'em--but i tell 'em, sah--yassah." as andy slowly backed out, norton said sternly: "i'll call you when i want you. stay until i do!" "yassah," andy breathed softly as he disappeared trembling and wondering. chapter xxix the dregs in the cup norton walked quickly to the window, drew back the draperies, opened the casement and looked out to see if andy were eavesdropping. he watched the lazy figure cross the lawn, glancing back at the house. the full moon, at its zenith, was shining in a quiet glory, uncanny in its dazzling brilliance. he stood drinking in for the last time the perfumed sweetness and languor of the southern night. his senses seemed supernaturally acute. he could distinctly note the odors of the different flowers that were in bloom on the lawn. a gentle breeze was blowing from the path across the old rose garden. the faint, sweet odor of the little white carnations his mother had planted along the walks stole over his aching soul and he was a child again watching her delicate hands plant them, while grumbling slaves protested at the soiling of her fingers. she was looking up with a smile saying: "i love to plant them. i feel that they are my children then, and i'm making the world sweet and beautiful through them!" had he made the world sweeter and more beautiful? he asked himself the question sternly. "god knows i've tried for twenty years--and it has come to this!" the breeze softened, the odor of the pinks grew; fainter and the strange penetrating smell of the hedge of tuberoses swept in from the other direction with the chill of death in its breath. his heart rose in rebellion. it was too horrible, such an end of life! he was scarcely forty-nine years old. never had the blood pulsed through his veins with stronger throb and never had his vision of life seemed clearer and stronger than to-day when he had faced those thousands of cheering men and hinted for the first time his greater plans for uplifting the nation's life. the sense of utter loneliness overwhelmed his soul. the nearest being in the universe whose presence he could feel was the dead wife and mother. his eye rested on the portrait tenderly: "we're coming, dearest, to-night!" for the first time his spirit faced the mystery of eternity at close range. he had long speculated in theories of immortality and brooded over the problem of the world that lies but a moment beyond the senses. he had clasped hands with death now and stood face to face, calm and unafraid. his mind quickened with the thought of the strange world into which he would be ushered within an hour. would he know and understand? or would the waves of oblivion roll over the prostrate body without a sign? it couldn't be! the hunger of immortality was too keen for doubt. he would see and know! the cry rose triumphant within. he refused to perish with the moth and worm. the baser parts of his being might die--the nobler must live. there could be no other meaning to this sublimely cruel and mad decision to kill the body rather than see it dishonored. his eye caught the twinkle of a star through the branches of a tree-top. his feet would find the pathway among those shining worlds! there could be no other meaning to the big thing that throbbed and ached within and refused to be content to whelp and stable here as a beast of the field. pride, honor, aspiration, prayer, meant this or nothing! "i've made blunders here," he cried, "but i'm searching for the light and i'll find the face of god!" the distant shouts of cheering hosts still celebrating in the square brought his mind to earth with a sickening shock. he closed the windows, and drew the curtains. his hands clutched the velvet hangings in a moment of physical weakness and he steadied himself before turning to call tom. recovering his composure in a measure, his hand touched the revolver in his pocket, the tall figure instinctively straightened and he walked rapidly toward the hall. he had barely passed the centre of the room when the boy's voice distinctly echoed from the head of the stairs: "i'll be back in a minute, dear!" he heard the door of helen's room close softly and the firm step descend the stairs. the library door opened and closed quickly, and tom stood before him, his proud young head lifted and his shoulders squared. the dignity and reserve of conscious manhood shone in every line of his stalwart body and spoke in every movement of face and form. "well, sir," he said quietly. "it's done now and it can't be helped, you know." norton was stunned by the sudden appearance of the dear familiar form. his eyes were dim with unshed tears. it was too hideous, this awful thing he had to do! he stared at him piteously and with an effort walked to his side, speaking in faltering tones that choked between the words: "yes, it's done now--and it can't be helped"--he strangled and couldn't go on--"i--i--have realized that, my son--but i--i have an old letter from your mother--that i wanted to show you before you go--you'll find it on the desk there." he pointed to the desk on which burned the only light in the room. the boy hesitated, pained by the signs of deep anguish in his father's face, turned and rapidly crossed the room. the moment his back was turned, norton swiftly and silently locked the door, and with studied carelessness followed. the boy began to search for the letter: "i don't see it, sir." the father, watching him with feverish eyes, started at his voice, raised his hand to his forehead and walked quickly to his side: "yes, i--i--forgot--i put it away!" he dropped limply into the chair before the desk, fumbled among the papers and drew the letter from the pigeon-hole in which he had placed it. he held it in his hand, shaking now like a leaf, and read again the scrawl that he had blurred with tears and kisses. he placed his hand on the top of the desk, rose with difficulty and looked for tom. the boy had moved quietly toward the table. the act was painfully significant of their new relations. the sense of alienation cut the broken man to the quick. he could scarcely see as he felt his way to the boy's side and extended the open sheet of paper without a word. tom took the letter, turned his back on his father and read it in silence. "how queer her handwriting!" he said at length. norton spoke in strained muffled tones: "yes--she--she was dying when she scrawled that. the mists of the other world were gathering about her. i don't think she could see the paper"--the voice broke, he fought for self-control and then went on--"but every tiny slip of her pencil, each little weak hesitating mark etched itself in fire on my heart"--the voice stopped and then went on--"you can read them?" "yes." the father's long trembling finger traced slowly each word: "'remember that i love you and have forgiven----'" "forgiven what?" tom interrupted. norton turned deadly pale, recovered himself and began in a low voice: "you see, boy, i grew up under the old régime. like a lot of other fellows with whom i ran, i drank, gambled and played the devil--you know what that meant in those days----" "no, i don't," the boy interrupted. "that's just what i don't know. i belong to a new generation. and you've made a sort of exception of me even among the men of to-day. you taught me to keep away from women. i learned the lesson. i formed clean habits, and so i don't know just what you mean by that. tell me plainly." "it's hard to say it to you, my boy!" the older man faltered. "i want to know it." "i--i mean that twenty years ago it was more common than now for youngsters to get mixed up with girls of negroid blood----" the boy shrank back: "you!--great god!" "yes, she came into my life at last--a sensuous young animal with wide, bold eyes that knew everything and was not afraid. that sentence means the shame from which i've guarded you with such infinite care----" he paused and pointed again to the letter, tracing its words: "'rear our boy free from the curse!'--you--you--see why i have been so desperately in earnest?"--norton bent close with pleading eagerness: "and that next sentence, there, you can read it? 'i had rather a thousand times that he should die than this--my brooding spirit will watch and guard'"--he paused and repeated--"'that he should die'--you--you--see that?" the boy looked at his father's trembling hand and into his glittering eyes with a start: "yes, yes, but, of course, that was only a moment's despair--no mother could mean such a thing." norton's eyes fell, he moved uneasily, tried to speak again and was silent. when he began his words were scarcely audible: "we must part now in tenderness, my boy, as father and son--we--we--must do that you know. you--you forgive me for striking you to-night?" tom turned away, struggled and finally answered: "no." the father followed eagerly: "tell me that it's all right!" the boy's hand nervously fumbled at the cloth on the table: "i--i--am glad i didn't do something worse!" "say that you forgive me! why is it so hard?" tom turned his back: "i don't know, dad, i try, but--i--just can't!" the father's hand touched the boy's arm timidly: "you can never understand, my son, how my whole life has been bound up in you! for years i've lived, worked, and dreamed and planned for you alone. in your young manhood i've seen all i once hoped to be and have never been. in your love i've found the healing of a broken heart. many a night i've gone out there alone in that old cemetery, knelt beside your mother's grave and prayed her spirit to guide me that i might at least lead your little feet aright----" the boy moved slightly and the father's hand slipped limply from his, he staggered back with a cry of despair, and fell prostrate on the lounge: "i can endure anything on this earth but your hate, my boy! i can't endure that--i can't--even for a moment!" his form shook with incontrollable grief as he lay with his face buried in his outstretched arms. the boy struggled with conflicting pride and love, looked at the scrawled, tear-stained letter he still held in his hand and then at the bowed figure, hesitated a moment, and rushed to his father's side, knelt and slipped his arm around the trembling figure: "it's all right, dad! i'll not remember--a single tear from your eyes blots it all out!" the father's hand felt blindly for the boy's and grasped it desperately: "you won't remember a single harsh word that i've said?" "no--no--it's all right," was the soothing answer, as he returned the pressure. norton looked at him long and tenderly: "how you remind me of _her_ to-night! the deep blue of your eyes, the trembling of your lips when moved, your little tricks of speech, the tear that quivers on your lash and never falls and the soul that's mirrored there"--he paused and stroked the boy's head--"and her hair, the beaten gold of honeycomb!" his head sank and he was silent. the boy again pressed his hand tenderly and rose, drawing his father to his feet: "i'm sorry to have hurt you, dad. i'm sorry that we have to go--good-by!" he turned and slowly moved toward the door. norton slipped his right hand quickly to the revolver, hesitated, his fingers relaxed and the deadly thing dropped back into his pocket as he sank to his seat with a groan: "wait! wait, tom!" the boy stopped. "i--i've got to tell it to you now!" he went on hoarsely. "i--i tried to save you this horror--but i couldn't--the way was too hard and cruel." tom took a step and looked up in surprise: "the way--what way?" "i couldn't do it," the father cried. "i just couldn't--and so i have to tell you." the boy spoke with sharp eagerness: "tell me what?" "now that i know you are married in all that word means and i have failed to save you from it--i must give you the proofs that you demand. i must prove to you that helen _is_ a negress----" a sudden terror crept into the young eyes: "you--you have the proofs?" "yes!" the father nodded, placing his hand on his throat and fighting for breath. he took a step toward the boy, and whispered: "cleo--is--her mother!" tom flinched as if struck a blow. the red blood rushed to his head and he blanched with a death-like pallor: "and you have been afraid of cleo?" "yes." "why?" the father's head was slowly lowered and his hands moved in the slightest gesture of dumb confession. a half-articulate, maniac cry and the boy grasped him with trembling hands, screaming in his face: "god in heaven, let me keep my reason for just a moment!--so--you--are--helen's----" the bowed head sank lower. "father!" tom reeled, and fell into a chair with a groan: "lord have mercy on my lost soul!" norton solemnly lifted his eyes: "god's full vengeance has fallen at last! you have married your own----" the boy sprang to his feet covering his face: "don't! don't! helen doesn't know?" "no." "she mustn't!" he shivered, looking wildly at his father. "but why, why--oh, dear god, why didn't you kill me before i knew!" he sank back into the chair, his arms outstretched across the table, his face hidden in voiceless shame. the father slowly approached the prostrate figure, bent low and tenderly placed his cheek against the blonde head, soothing it with trembling touch. for a long while he remained thus, with no sound breaking the stillness save the sobs that came from the limp form. and then norton said brokenly: "i tried, my boy, to end it for us both without your knowing just now when your back was turned, but i couldn't. it seemed too cowardly and cruel! i just couldn't"--he paused, slowly drew the revolver from his pocket and laid it on the table. the boy felt the dull weight of the steel strike the velvet cover and knew what had been done without lifting his head. "now you know," the father added, "what we both must do." tom rose staring at the thing on the dark red cloth, and lifted his eyes to his father's. "yes, and hurry! helen may come at any moment." he had barely spoken when the knob of the door turned. a quick knock was heard at the same instant and helen's voice rang through the hall: "tom! tom!" norton grasped the pistol, thrust it under the table-cover and pressed the boy toward the door: "quick! open it, at once!" tom stared in a stupor, unable to move until his father shook his arm: "quick--open it--let her in a moment--it's best." he opened the door and helen sprang in breathlessly. chapter xxx the mills of god norton had dropped into a seat with apparent carelessness, while tom stood immovable, his face a mask. the girl looked quickly from one to the other, her breath coming in quick gasps. she turned to tom: "why did you lock the door--what does it mean?" norton hastened to answer, his tones reassuringly simple: "why, only that we wished to be alone for a few moments----" "yes, we understand each other now," tom added. helen's eyes flashed cautiously from one to the other: "i heard a strange noise"--she turned to the boy--"and, oh, tom, darling, i was so frightened! i thought i heard a struggle and then everything became so still. i was wild--i couldn't wait any longer!" "why, it was really nothing," tom answered her bravely smiling. "we--we did have a little scene, and lost our temper for a moment, but you can see for yourself it's all right now. we've thrashed the whole thing out and have come to a perfect understanding!" his words were convincing but not his manner. he hadn't dared to look her in the face. his eyes were on the rug and his foot moved nervously. "you are not deceiving me?" she asked trembling. the boy appealed to his father: "haven't we come to a perfect understanding, dad?" norton rose: "perfect, my son. it's all right, now, helen." "just wait for me five minutes, dear," tom pleaded. "can't i hear what you have to say?" "we prefer to be alone," the father said gravely. again her eyes flashed from one to the other and rested on tom. she rushed to him and laid her hand appealingly on his arm: "oh, tom, dear, am i not your wife?" the boy's head drooped--"must you have a secret from me now?" "just a few minutes," norton pleaded, "that's a good girl!" "only a few minutes, helen," tom urged. "please let me stay. why were you both so pale when i came in?" father and son glanced at each other over her head. norton hesitated and said: "you see we are perfectly calm now. all bitterness is gone from our hearts. we are father and son again." "why do you look so queerly at me? why do you look so strangely at each other?" "it's only your imagination, dear," tom said. "no, there's something wrong," helen declared desperately. "i feel it in the air of this room--in the strange silence between you. for god's sake tell me what it means! surely, i have the right to know"--she turned suddenly to norton--"you don't hate me now, do you, major?" the somber brown eyes rested on her in a moment of intense silence and he slowly said: "i have never hated you, my child!" "then what is it?" she cried in anguish, turning again to tom. "tell me what i can do to help you! i'll obey you, dearest, even if it's to lay my life down. don't send me away. don't keep this secret from me. i feel its chill in my heart. my place is by your side--tell me how i can help you!" tom looked at her intently: "you say that you will obey me?" "yes--you are my lord and master!" he seized her hand and led her to the door "then wait for me just five minutes." she lifted her head pleadingly: "you will let me come to you then?" "yes." "you won't lock the door again?" "not now." while tom stood immovable, with a lingering look of tenderness she turned and passed quickly from the room. he closed the door softly, steadied himself before loosing the knob and turned to his father in a burst of sudden rebellion: "oh, dad! it can't be true! it can't be true! i can't believe it. did you look at her closely again?" norton drew himself wearily to his feet and spoke with despairing certainty: "yes, yes, as i've looked at her a hundred times with growing wonder." "she's not like you----" "no more than you, my boy, and yet you're bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh--it can't be helped----" he paused and pointed to the revolver: "give it to me!" the boy started to lift the cloth and the father caught his arm: "but first--before you do," he faltered. "i want you to tell me now with your own lips that you forgive me for what i must do--and then i think, perhaps, i can--say it!" their eyes met in a long, tender, searching gaze: "i forgive you," he softly murmured. "now give it to me!" the father firmly said, stepping back and lifting his form erect. the boy felt for the table, fumbled at the cloth, caught the weapon and slowly lifted it toward his father's extended hand. he opened his eyes, caught the expression of agony in the drawn face, the fingers relaxed and the pistol fell to the floor. he threw himself blindly on his father, his arms about his neck: "oh, dad, it's too hard! wait--wait--just a moment!" the father held him close for a long while. his voice was very low when he spoke at last: "there's no appeal, my boy! the sin of your father is full grown and has brought forth death. yet i was not all to blame. we are caught to-night in the grip of the sins of centuries. i tried to give my life to the people to save the children of the future. my shame showed me the way as few men could have seen it, and i have set in motion forces that can never be stopped. others will complete the work that i have begun. but our time has come----" "yes, yes, i understand!" the father's arms pressed the son in a last long embrace: "what an end to all my hopes! oh, my boy, heart of my heart!" tom's hand slowly slipped down and caught his father's: "good-by, dad!" norton held the clasp with lingering tenderness as the boy slowly drew away, measured four steps and calmly folded his arms, his head erect, his broad young shoulders squared and thrown far back. cleo, who had crept into the hall, stood behind the curtains of the inner door watching the scene with blanched face. the father walked quickly to the revolver, picked it up, turned and lifted it above his head. with a smothered cry cleo sprang into the room--but she was too late. norton had quickly dropped the pistol to the level of the eye and fired. a tiny red spot flamed on the white skin of the boy's forehead, the straight figure swayed, and pitched forward face down on the rug. the woman staggered back, cowering in the shadows. the father knelt beside the quivering form, clasped his left hand in tom's, placed the revolver to his temple and fired. the silver-gray head sank slowly against the breast of the boy as a piercing scream from helen's lips rang through the silent hall. chapter xxxi sin full grown the sensitive soul of the girl had seen the tragedy before she rushed into the library. at the first shot she sprang to her feet, her heart in her throat. the report had sounded queerly through the closed doors and she was not sure. she had entered the hall, holding her breath, when the second shot rang out its message of death. she was not the woman who faints in an emergency. she paused just a moment in the door, saw the ghastly heap on the floor and rushed to the spot. she tore tom's collar open and placed her ear over his heart: "o god! he's alive--he's alive!" she turned and saw cleo leaning against the table with blanched face and chattering teeth. "call andy and aunt minerva--and go for the doctor--his heart's beating--quick--the doctor--he's alive--we may save him!" she knelt again on the floor, took tom's head in her lap, wiped the blood from the clean, white forehead, pressed her lips to his and sobbed: "come back, my own--it's i--helen, your little wife--i'm calling you--you can't die--you're too young and life's too dear. we've only begun to live, my sweetheart! you shall not die!" the tears were raining on his pale face and her cries had become little wordless prayers when andy and minerva entered the room. she nodded her head toward norton's motionless body: "lift him on the lounge!" they moved him tenderly: "see if his heart's still beating," she commanded. andy reverently lowered his dusky face against the white bosom of his master. when he lifted it the tears had blinded his eyes: "nobum," he said slowly, "he's done dead!" the tick of the little french clock on the mantel beneath the mother's portrait rang with painful clearness. helen raised her hand to minerva: "open the windows and let the smoke out. i'll hold him in my arms until the doctor comes." "yassum----" minerva drew the heavy curtains back from the tall windows, opened the casements and the perfumed air of the beautiful southern night swept into the room. a cannon boomed its final cry of victory from the square and a rocket, bursting above the tree-tops, flashed a ray of red light on the white face of the dead. chapter xxxii confession when dr. williams entered the room helen was still holding tom's head in her lap. he had stirred once with a low groan. "the major is dead, but tom's alive, doctor!" she cried through her tears. "he's going to live, too--i feel it--i know it--tell me that it's so!" the lips trembled pitifully with the last words. the doctor felt the pulse and was silent. "it's all right? he's going to live--isn't he?" she asked pathetically. "i can't tell yet, my child," was the calm answer. he examined the wound and ran his hand over the blonde hair. his fingers stopped suddenly and he felt the head carefully. he bent low, parted the hair and found a damp blood mark three inches above the line of the forehead. "see!" he cried, "the ball came out here. his head was thrown far back, the bullet struck the inner skull bone at an angle and glanced." "what does it mean?" she asked breathlessly. the doctor smiled: "that the brain is untouched. he is only stunned and in a swoon. he'll be well in two weeks." helen lifted her eyes and sobbed: "o god!" she tried to bend and kiss tom's lips, her body swayed and she fell backward in a dead faint. andy and minerva carried her to her room, left cleo to minister to her and returned to help the doctor. he examined norton's body to make sure that life was extinct and placed the body on an improvised bed on the floor until he should regain his senses. in half an hour tom looked into the doctor's face: "why, it's doctor williams?" "yes." "what--what's happened?" "it's only a scratch for you, my boy. you'll be well in a few days----" "well in a few days"--he repeated blankly. "i can't get well! i've got to die"--his head dropped and he caught his breath. the doctor waited for him to recover himself to ask the question that was on his lips. he had gotten as yet no explanation of the tragedy save cleo's statement that the major had shot tom and killed himself. he had guessed that the ugly secret in norton's life was in some way responsible. "why must you die, my boy?" he asked kindly. tom opened his eyes in a wild stare: "helen's my wife--we married secretly without my father knowing it. he has just told me that cleo is her mother and i have married my own----" his voice broke and his head sank. the doctor seized the boy's hand and spoke eagerly: "it's a lie, boy! it's a lie! take my word for it----" tom shook his head. "i'll stake my life on it that it's a lie"--the old man repeated--"and i'll prove it--i'll prove it from cleo's lips!" "you--you--can do it!" the boy said hopelessly, though his eyes flashed with a new light. "keep still until i return!" the doctor cried, "and i'll bring cleo with me." he placed the revolver in his pocket and hastily left the room, the boy's eyes following him with feverish excitement. he called cleo into the hall and closed helen's door. the old man seized her hand with a cruel grip: "do you dare tell me that this girl is your daughter?" she trembled and faltered: "yes!" "you're a liar!" he hissed. "you may have fooled norton for twenty years, but you can't fool me. i've seen too much of this sort of thing. i'll stake my immortal soul on it that no girl with helen's pure white skin and scarlet cheeks, clean-cut features and deep blue eyes can have in her body a drop of negro blood!" "she's mine all the same, and you know when she was born," the woman persisted. he could feel her body trembling, looked at her curiously and said: "come down stairs with me a minute." cleo drew back: "i don't want to go in that room again!" "you've got to come!" he seized her roughly and drew her down the stairs into the library. she gripped the door, panting in terror. he loosed her hands and pushed her inside before the lounge on which the body of norton lay, the cold wide-open eyes staring straight into her face. she looked a moment in abject horror, shivered and covered her eyes: "oh, my god, let me go!" the doctor tore her hands from her face and confronted her. his snow-white beard and hair, his tense figure and flaming anger seemed to the trembling woman the image of an avenging fate as he solemnly cried: "here, in the presence of death, with the all-seeing eye of god as your witness, and the life of the boy you once held in your arms hanging on your words, i ask if that girl is your daughter?" the greenish eyes wavered, but the answer came clear at last: "no----" "i knew it!" the doctor cried. "now the whole truth!" the color mounted tom's cheeks as he listened. "my own baby died," she began falteringly, "i was wild with grief and hunted for another. i found helen in norfolk at the house of an old woman whom i knew, and she gave her to me----" "or you stole her--no matter"--the doctor interrupted--"go on." helen had slipped down stairs, crept into the room unobserved and stood listening. "who was the child's mother?" the doctor demanded. cleo was gasping for breath: "the daughter of an old fool who had disowned her because she ran away and married a poor white boy--the husband died--the father never forgave her. when the baby was born the mother died, too, and i got the child from the old nurse--she's pure white--there's not a stain of any kind on her birth!" with a cry of joy helen knelt and drew tom into her arms: "oh, darling, did you hear it--oh, my sweetheart, did you hear it?" the boy's head sank on her breast and he breathed softly: "thank god!" chapter xxxiii healing the years brought their healing to wounded hearts. tom norton refused to leave his old home. he came of a breed of men who had never known how to quit. he faced the world and with grim determination took up the work for the republic which his father had begun. with tireless voice his paper pleads for the purity of the race. its circulation steadily increases and its influence deepens and widens. the patter of a baby's feet again echoes through the wide hall behind the white fluted columns. the young father and mother have taught his little hands to place flowers on the two green mounds beneath the oak in the cemetery. he is not old enough yet to understand, and so the last time they were there he opened his eyes wide at his mother's tears and lisped: "are 'oo hurt, mama?" "no, my dear, i'm happy now." "why do 'oo cry?" "for a great man i knew a little while, loved and lost, dearest--your grandfather for whom we named you." little dan's eyes grew very serious as he looked again at the flower-strewn graves and wondered what it all meant. but the thing which marks the norton home with peculiar distinction is that since the night of his father's death, tom has never allowed a negro to cross the threshold or enter its gates. the end * * * * * novels of southern life by thomas dixon, jr. may be had wherever books are sold. ask for grosset & dunlap's list _the leopard's spots_: a story of the white man's burden, - . with illustrations by c. d. williams. a tale of the south about the dramatic events of destruction. reconstruction and upbuilding. the work is able and eloquent and the verifiable events of history are followed closely in the development of a story full of struggle. _the clansman._ with illustrations by arthur i. keller. while not connected with it in any way, this is a companion volume to the author's "epoch-making" story _the leopard's spots_. it is a novel with a great deal to it, and which very properly is going to interest many thousands of readers. * * * it is, first of all, a forceful, dramatic, absorbing love story, with a sequence of events so surprising that one is prepared for the fact that much of it is founded on actual happenings; but mr. dixon has, as before, a deeper purpose--he has aimed to show that the original formers of the ku klux klan were modern knights errant taking the only means at hand to right intolerable wrongs. _the traitor._ a story of the fall of the invisible empire. illustrations by c. d. williams. the third and last book in this remarkable trilogy of novels relating to southern reconstruction. it is a thrilling story of love, adventure, treason, and the united states secret service dealing with the decline and fall of the ku klux klan. _comrades._ illustrations by c. d. williams. a novel dealing with the establishment of a socialistic colony upon a deserted island off the coast of california. the way of disillusionment is the course over which mr. dixon conducts the reader. _the one woman._ a story of modern utopia. a love story and character study of three strong men and two fascinating women. in swift, unified, and dramatic action, we see socialism a deadly force, in the hour of the eclipse of faith, destroying the home life and weakening the fiber of anglo saxon manhood. * * * * * stories of western life may be had wherever books are sold. ask for grosset & dunlap's list _riders of the purple sage_, by zane grey. illustrated by douglas duer. in this picturesque romance of utah of some forty years ago, we are permitted to see the unscrupulous methods employed by the invisible hand of the mormon church to break the will of those refusing to conform to its rule. _friar tuck_, by robert alexander wason. illustrated by stanley l. wood. happy hawkins tells us, in his humorous way, how friar tuck lived among the cowboys, how he adjusted their quarrels and love affairs and how he fought with them and for them when occasion required. _the sky pilot_, by ralph connor. illustrated by louis rhead. there is no novel, dealing with the rough existence of cowboys, so charming in the telling, abounding as it does with the freshest and the truest pathos. _the emigrant trail_, by geraldine bonner. colored frontispiece by john rae. the book relates the adventures of a party on its overland pilgrimage, and the birth and growth of the absorbing love of two strong men for a charming heroine. _the boss of wind river_, by a. m. chisholm. illustrated by frank tenney johnson. this is a strong, virile novel with the lumber industry for its central theme and a love story full of interest as a sort of subplot. _a prairie courtship_, by harold bindloss. a story of canadian prairies in which the hero is stirred, through the influence of his love for a woman, to settle down to the heroic business of pioneer farming. _joyce of the north woods_, by harriet t. comstock. illustrated by john cassel. a story of the deep woods that shows the power of love at work among its primitive dwellers. it is a tensely moving study of the human heart and its aspirations that unfolds itself through thrilling situations and dramatic developments. * * * * * john fox, jr's. stories of the kentucky mountains may be had wherever books are sold. ask for grosset and dunlap's list _the trail of the lonesome pine._ illustrated by f. c. yohn. [illustration] the "lonesome pine" from which the story takes its name was a tall tree that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. the fame of the pine lured a young engineer through kentucky to catch the trail, and when he finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but the _footprints of a girl_. and the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, and the trail of these girlish footprints led the young engineer a madder chase than "the trail of the lonesome pine." _the little shepherd of kingdom come._ illustrated by f. c. yohn. this is a story of kentucky, in a settlement known as "kingdom come." it is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which often springs the flower of civilization. "chad" the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor whence he came--he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood, seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery--a charming waif, by the way, who could play the banjo better that anyone else in the mountains. _a knight of the cumberland._ illustrated by f. c. yohn. the scenes are laid along the waters of the cumberland the lair of moonshiner and feudsman. the knight is a moonshiner's son, and the heroine a beautiful girl perversely christened "the blight." two impetuous young southerners' fall under the spell of "the blight's" charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in the love making of the mountaineers. included in this volume is "hell fer-sartain" and other stories, some of mr. fox's most entertaining cumberland valley narratives. * * * * * myrtle reed's novels may be had wherever books are sold. ask for grosset & dunlap's list _lavender and old lace._ [illustration] a charming story of a quaint corner of new england where bygone romance finds a modern parallel. the story centers round the coming of love to the young people on the staff of a newspaper--and it is one of the prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old fashioned love stories, * * * a rare book, exquisite in spirit and conception, full of delicate fancy, of tenderness, of delightful humor and spontaniety. _a spinner in the sun._ miss myrtle reed may always be depended upon to write a story in which poetry, charm, tenderness and humor are combined into a clever and entertaining book. her characters are delightful and she always displays a quaint humor of expression and a quiet feeling of pathos which give a touch of active realism to all her writings. in "a spinner in the sun" she tells an old-fashioned love story, of a veiled lady who lives in solitude and whose features her neighbors have never seen. there is a mystery at the heart of the book that throws over it the glamour of romance. _the master's violin,_ a love story in a musical atmosphere. a picturesque, old german virtuoso is the reverent possessor of a genuine "cremona." he consents to take for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to have an aptitude for technique, but not the soul of an artist. the youth has led the happy, careless life of a modern, well-to-do young american and he cannot, with his meagre past, express the love, the passion and the tragedies of life and all its happy phases as can the master who has lived life in all its fulness. but a girl comes into his life--a beautiful bit of human driftwood that his aunt had taken into her heart and home, and through his passionate love for her, he learns the lessons that life has to give--and his soul awakes. founded on a fact that all artists realize. * * * * * louis tracy's captivating and exhilarating romances may be had wherever books are sold. ask for grosset & dunlap's list _cynthia's chauffeur._ illustrated by howard chandler christy. a pretty american girl in london is touring in a car with a chauffeur whose identity puzzles her. an amusing mystery. _the stowaway girl._ illustrated by nesbitt benson. a shipwreck, a lovely girl stowaway, a rascally captain, a fascinating officer, and thrilling adventures in south seas. _the captain of the kansas._ love and the salt sea, a helpless ship whirled into the hands of cannibals, desperate fighting and a tender romance. _the message._ illustrated by joseph cummings chase. a bit of parchment found in the figurehead of an old vessel tells of a buried treasure. a thrilling mystery develops. _the pillar of light._ the pillar thus designated was a lighthouse, and the author tells with exciting detail the terrible dilemma of its cut off inhabitants. _the wheel o'fortune._ with illustrations by james montgomery flagg. the story deals with the finding of a papyrus containing the particulars of some of the treasures of the queen of sheba. _a son of the immortals._ illustrated by howard chandler christy. a young american is proclaimed king of a little balkan kingdom, and a pretty parisian art student is the power behind the throne. _the wings of the morning._ a sort of robinson crusoe _redivivus_ with modern settings and a very pretty love story added. the hero and heroine, are the only survivors of a wreck, and have many thrilling adventures on their desert island. * * * * * the novels of stewart edward white _the rules of the game._ illustrated by lajaren a. hiller. the romance of the son of "the riverman." the young college hero goes into the lumber camp, is antagonized by "graft" and comes into the romance of his life. _arizona nights._ illus. and cover inlay by n. c. wyeth. a series of spirited tales emphasizing some phases of the life of the ranch, plains and desert. a masterpiece. _the blazed trail._ with illustrations by thomas fogarty. a wholesome story with gleams of humor, telling of a young man who blazed his way to fortune through the heart of the michigan pines. _the claim jumpers._ a romance. the tenderfoot manager of a mine in a lonesome gulch of the black hills has a hard time of it, but "wins out" in more ways than one. _conjuror's house._ illustrated theatrical edition. dramatized under the title of "the call of the north." conjuror's house is a hudson bay trading post where the head factor is the absolute lord. a young fellow risked his life and won a bride on this forbidden land. _the magic forest._ a modern fairy tale. illustrated. the sympathetic way in which the children of the wild and their life is treated could only belong to one who is in love with the forest and open air. based on fact. _the riverman._ illus. by n. c. wyeth and c. underwood. the story of a man's fight against a river and of a struggle between honesty and grit on the one side, and dishonesty and shrewdness on the other. _the silent places._ illustrations by philip r. goodwin. the wonders of the northern forests, the heights of feminine devotion, and masculine power, the intelligence of the caucasian and the instinct of the indian, are all finely drawn in this story. _the westerners._ a story of the black hills that is justly placed among the best american novels. it portrays the life of the new west as no other book has done in recent years. _the mystery._ in collaboration with samuel hopkins adams. with illustrations by will crawford. the disappearance of three successive crews from the stout ship "laughing lass" in mid-pacific, is a mystery weird and inscrutable. in the solution, there is a story of the most exciting voyage that man ever undertook. * * * * * titles selected from grosset & dunlap's list may be had wherever books are sold. ask for grosset & dunlap's list _the siege of the seven suitors._ by meredith nicholson. illustrated by c. coles phillips and reginald birch. seven suitors vie with each other for the love of a beautiful girl, and she subjects them to a test that is full of mystery, magic and sheer amusement. _the magnet._ by henry c. rowland. illustrated by clarence f. underwood. the story of a remarkable courtship involving three pretty girls on a yacht, a poet-lover in pursuit, and a mix-up in the names of the girls. _the turn of the road._ by eugenia brooks frothingham. a beautiful young opera singer chooses professional success instead of love, but comes to a place in life where the call of the heart is stronger than worldly success. _scottie and his lady._ by margaret morse. illustrated by harold m. brett. a young girl whose affections have been blighted is presented with a scotch collie to divert her mind, and the roving adventures of her pet lead the young mistress into another romance. _sheila vedder._ by amelia e. barr. frontispiece by harrison fisher. a very beautiful romance of the shetland islands, with a handsome, strong willed hero and a lovely girl of gaelic blood as heroine. a sequel to "jan vedder's wife." _john ward, preacher._ by margaret deland. the first big success of this much loved american novelist. it is a powerful portrayal of a young clergyman's attempt to win his beautiful wife to his own narrow creed. _the trail of ninety-eight._ by robert w. service. illustrated by maynard dixon. one of the best stories of "vagabondia" ever written, and one of the most accurate and picturesque of the stampede of gold seekers to the yukon. the love story embedded in the narrative is strikingly original. _the second wife._ by thompson buchanan. illustrated by w. w. fawcett. harrison fisher wrapper printed in four colors and gold. an intensely interesting story of a marital complication in a wealthy new york family involving the happiness of a beautiful young girl. _tess of the storm country._ by grace miller white. illustrated by howard chandler christy. an amazingly vivid picture of low class life in a new york college town, with a heroine beautiful and noble, who makes a great sacrifice for love. _from the valley of the missing._ by grace miller white. frontispiece and wrapper in colors by penthyn stanlaws. another story of "the storm country." two beautiful children are kidnapped from a wealthy home and appear many years after showing the effects of a deep, malicious scheme behind their disappearance. _the lighted match._ by charles neville buck. illustrated by r. f. schabelitz. a lovely princess travels incognito through the states and falls in love with an american man. there are ties that bind her to someone in her own home, and the great plot revolves round her efforts to work her way out. _maud baxter._ by c. c. hotchkiss. illustrated by will grefe. a romance both daring and delightful, involving an american girl and a young man who had been impressed into english service during the revolution. _the highwayman._ by guy rawlence. illustrated by will grefe. a french beauty of mysterious antecedents wins the love of an englishman of title. developments of a startling character and a clever untangling of affairs hold the reader's interest. _the purple stockings._ by edward salisbury field. illustrated in colors; marginal illustrations. a young new york business man, his pretty sweetheart, his sentimental stenographer, and his fashionable sister are all mixed up in a misunderstanding that surpasses anything in the way of comedy in years. a story with a laugh on every page. _ask for complete free list of g. & d. popular copyrighted fiction_ grosset & dunlap, west th st., new york sketches of western north carolina, historical and biographical illustrating principally the revolutionary period of mecklenburg, rowan, lincoln and adjoining counties, accompanied with miscellaneous information, much of it never before published by c. l. hunter dedication. to the descendants of the revolutionary patriots of north carolina, whether now abiding within her borders and sharing her prosperities and adversities, or scattered abroad in other states of the american union, but who still cherish a lasting veneration for the memories of their heroic forefathers; and to the young men of the state generally, who would draw lessons of wisdom, patriotism and endurance from the examples herein described, this volume is respectfully dedicated by the author. preface. history has been defined, "philosophy teaching by example." there is no branch of literature in a republic like ours, that can be cultivated with more advantage to the general reader than history. from the infinite variety of aspects in which it presents the dealings of providence in the affairs of nations, and from the immense number of characters and incidents which it brings into view, it becomes a source of continuous interest and enjoyment. the american revolution is undoubtedly the most interesting event in the pages of modern history. changes equally great and convulsions equally violent have often taken place in the old world; and the records of former times inform us of many instances of oppression, which, urged beyond endurance, called forth the spirit of successful resistance. but in the study of the event before us--the story of the revolution--we behold feeble colonies, almost without an army--without a navy--without an established government--without a good supply of the munitions of war, firmly and unitedly asserting their rights, and, in their defence, stepping forth to meet in hostile array, the veteran troops of a proud and powerful nation. we behold too, these colonies, amidst want, poverty and misfortunes, animated with the spirit of liberty and fortified by the rectitude of their cause, sustaining for nearly eight years, the weight of a cruel conflict upon their own soil. at length we behold them victorious; their enemies sullenly retiring from their shores, and these feeble colonies enrolled on the page of history as a _free, sovereign and independent nation_. the american struggle for freedom, and its final achievement, was an act in the great drama of the world's history of such vast magnitude, and fraught with such momentous consequences upon the destinies of civilization throughout the world, that we can scarcely ever tire in contemplating the instrumentalities by which, under divine guidance, it was effected. it has taught mankind that oppression and misrule, under any government, tends to weaken and ultimately destroy the power of the oppressor; and that a people united in the cause of freedom and their inalienable rights, are invincible by those who would enslave them. no state in our union can present a greater display of exalted patriotism, enduring constancy and persistent bravery than north carolina. and yet, how many of our own people do we find who know but little of the early history of the state, her stern opposition to tyranny under every form, and her illustrious revolutionary career. on the shores of north carolina the first settlement of english colonists was made; within her borders the most formidable opposition to british authority, anterior to the revolution, was organized; by her people the _first declaration_ of independence was proclaimed, and some of the most brilliant achievements took place upon her own soil. for several years, at intervals, the author has devoted a portion of his time and attention to the collection of historical facts relating principally to western north carolina, and bordering territory of south carolina, to whom, as a sister state, and having a community of interests, north carolina frequently afforded relief in her hour of greatest need. such materials, procured at this late day--upon the arrival of our national centennial year, are often imperfect and fragmentary in character--merely scattered facts and incidents gathered here and there from the traditional recollections of our oldest inhabitants, or from the musty records of our state and county offices; and yet, it is believed such facts, when truthfully transmitted to us, are worthy of preservation and rescue from the gulf of oblivion, which unfortunately conceals from our view much valuable information. being the son of a revolutionary patriot, and accustomed in his boyhood to listen with enraptured delight to the narration of thrilling battle-scenes, daring adventures, narrow escapes and feats of personal prowess during the revolution, all tending to make indelible impressions upon the tablet of memory, the author feels a willingness to "contribute his mite" to the store of accumulated materials relating to north carolina, now waiting to be moulded into finished, historic shape by some one of her gifted sons. several of the sketches herein presented are original, and have never before been published. others, somewhat condensed, have been taken from wheeler's "historical sketches," when falling within the scope of this work. to the venerable author of that compilation, the author also acknowledges his indebtedness for valuable information furnished from time to time from the "pension bureau" at washington city, relating to the military services of several of our revolutionary patriots. the author and compiler of these sketches only aspires to the position of a historian in a limited sense. it cannot be denied that the history of our good old state, modest in her pretensions, but filled with grand, patriotic associations, has never been fully written. acting under this belief, he feels tempted to say, like ruth following the reapers in the time of boaz, he has "gleaned in the field until even," and having found a few "handfuls" of _neglected_ grain, and beaten them out, here presents his "ephah of barley"--plain, substantial food it is true, but yet may be made useful _mentally_ to the present generation, as it was _physically_ of old, to the inhabitants of palestine. in conclusion, the author cherishes the hope that other sons, and daughters too, of north carolina--some of them forming with himself, _connecting links of the past with the present_--will also become _gleaners_ in the same field of research, abounding yet with scattered grains of neglected and unwritten history worthy of preservation. if the author's efforts in this direction shall impart additional information, and assist in elucidating "liberty's story" in the old north state, his highest aspirations will be gratified, and his agreeable labors amply rewarded. contents. introductory chapter. original settlements in north carolina and character of the people. chapter i. mecklenburg county the mecklenburg declaration of independence--a brief account of the mecklenburg centennial--the grand procession--exercises at the fair grounds--james belk, a veteran invited guest--signers of the mecklenburg declaration of independence--origin of the alexander families of mecklenburg county--jack family--captain charles polk's "muster roll,"--president james k. polk--general william davidson, general george graham--william richardson davie--battle of the hanging rock--general michael mcleary--major thomas alexander--captain william alexander--elijah alexander--captain charles alexander--joseph kerr, "the cripple spy"--robert kerr--henry hunter--james orr--skirmish at charlotte; or, first attack of the "hornets"--surprise at mcintire's, or, the "hornets" at work--judge samuel lowrie--the ladies of the revolutionary period--mrs. eleanor wilson--queen's museum. chapter ii. cabarrus county the "black boys" of cabarrus--dr. charles harris--captain thomas caldwell. chapter iii. rowan county route of the british army through mecklenburg and rowan counties-- general griffith rutherford--locke family--hon. archibald henderson-- richard pearson--mrs elizabeth steele. chapter iv. iredell county col. alexander osborn--captain william sharpe--major william gill-- captain andrew carson, and others--captain alexander davidson--captain james houston--captain james houston's muster roll--rev. james hall-- hon. hugh lawson white. chapter v. lincoln county battle of ramseur's mill--route of the british army through lincoln county--gen. joseph graham--brevard family--col. james johnston-- genealogy of col. james johnston--jacob forney, sr.--gen. peter forney--major abram forney--remarks--genealogy of the forney family. chapter vi. gaston county rev. humphrey hunter--dr. william mclean--major william chronicle-- captain samuel martin--captain samuel caldwell--captain john mattocks-- william rankin--general john moore--elisha withers. chapter vii. cleaveland county battle of king's mountain--colonel william campbell--colonel isaac shelby--colonel james d. williams--colonel william graham-- lieutenant-colonel frederick hambrigh. chapter viii. burke county battle of the cowpens--general daniel morgan--general charles mcdowell and brothers. chapter ix. wilkes county colonel benjamin cleaveland--colonel john sevier--general william lenoir. chapter x. miscellaneous lord cornwallis--colonel tarleton--cherokee indians--conclusion. chronological table. date events. october , columbus discovered america. july , amadas and barlow approach the coast of north carolina. charter of charles ii, william drummond, first governor of north carolina. john culpeper's rebellion. carolina divided into north and south carolina. first church erected in north carolina. first newspaper published in the united states. carey's rebellion. charter of charles ii, surrendered. stamp act passed. may , battle of alamance. august , popular assembly at newbern. may mecklenburg declaration of independence. june, general washington commander-in-chief. june , battle of bunker's hill. august, josiah martin, royal governor, retreated. december , battle of great bridge, near norfolk, va. february , battle of moore's creek, n.c. august , battle of long island. december , constitution of north carolina formed at halifax. december , battle of trenton. aug. & sept., general rutherford subdues the cherokees. january , battle of princeton. september , battle of brandywine. october , battle of germantown. october , battle of saratoga. june , battle of monmouth march , ashe defeated at brier creek. june battle of stono, near charleston. may surrender of charleston. june , battle of ramsour's mill. august , battle of the hanging rock. august , gates defeated at camden. october , battle of king's mountain. january , battle of the cowpens. march , battle of guilford court house. september , battle of eutaw. october , battle of yorktown. january , treaty of peace at versailles. september , england recognizes the independence of the united states. may, constitution of the united states formed. introductory chapter. original settlements in north carolina and character of the people. north carolina, in the days of her colonial existence, was the asylum and the refuge of the poor and the oppressed of all nations. in her borders the emigrant, the fugitive, and the exile found a home and safe retreat. whatever may have been the impelling cause of their emigration--whether political servitude, religious persecution, or poverty of means, with the hope of improving their condition, the descendants of these enterprising, suffering, yet prospered people, have just reason to bless the kind providence that guided their fathers, in their wanderings, to such a place of comparative rest. on the sandy banks of north carolina the flag of england was first displayed in the united states. roanoke island, between pamlico and albemarle sounds, afforded the landing place to the first expedition sent out under the auspices of sir walter raleigh, in . "the fragrance, as they drew near the land, says amadas in his report, was as if they had been in the midst of some delicate garden, abounding in all manner of odoriferous flowers." such, no doubt, it seemed to them during the first summer of their residence in ; and, notwithstanding the disastrous termination of that, and several succeeding expeditions, the same maritime section of north carolina has presented its peculiar features of attractiveness to many generations which have since arisen there, and passed away. in the same report, we have the first notice of the celebrated scuppernong grape, yielding its most abundant crops under the saline atmospheric influence, and semi-tropical climate of eastern carolina. from the glowing description of the country, in its primitive abundance, transmitted to elizabeth and her court, they gave it the name _virginia_, being discovered in the reign of a _virgin queen_. but having failed in this and several other attempts of a similar kind, sir walter raleigh surrendered his patent, and nothing more was done in colonizing virginia during the remainder of that century. in , the first permanent settlement was made by the english at jamestown, va., under the charter of the london or southern company. this charter contained none of the elements of popular liberty, not one elective franchise, nor one of the rights of self-government; but religion was especially enjoined to be established according to the rites and doctrine of the church of england. the infant colony suffered greatly for several years from threatened famine, dissensions, and fear of the indians, but through the energy and firmness of capt john smith, was enabled to maintain its ground, and in time, show evident signs of prosperity. the jealousy of arbitrary power, and impatience of liberty among the new settlers, induced lord delaware, governor of virginia in , to reinstate them in the full possession of the rights of englishmen; and he accordingly convoked a provincial assembly, the _first_ ever held in america. the deliberations and laws of this infant legislature were transmitted to england for approval, and so wise and judicious were these, that the company under whose auspices they were acting, soon after confirmed and ratified the groundwork of what gradually ripened into the _american representative system_. the guarantee of political rights led to a rapid colonization. men were now willing to regard virginia as their home. "they fell to building houses and planting corn." women were induced to leave the parent country to become the wives of adventurous planters; and during the space of three years thirty-five hundred persons of both sexes, found their way to virginia. by various modifications of their charter, the colonists, in a few years, obtained nearly all the civil rights and privileges which they could claim as british subjects; but the church of england was "coeval with the settlement of jamestown, and seems to have been considered from the beginning as the established religion." at what time settlements were first permanently made within the present limits of north carolina, has not been clearly ascertained. in , the secretary of the colony of virginia traveled overland to chowan river, and described, in glowing terms, the fertility of the soil, the salubrity of the climate, and the kindness of the natives. in , a company obtained permission of the virginia legislature to prosecute discoveries on the great river south of the appomatox of which they had heard, under a monopoly of the profits for fourteen years, but with what measure of success has not been recorded. these early exploring parties to the south, bringing back favorable reports of the fertile lands of the chowan and the roanoke could not fail to excite in the colony of jamestown a spirit of emigration, many of whose members were already suffering under the baneful effects of intolerant legislation. in , during the administration of sir william berkeley, it was specially "ordered that no minister should preach or teach, publicly or privately, except in conformity to the constitutions of the church of england, and non-conformists were banished from the colony."[a] it is natural to suppose that individuals as well as families, who were fond of a roaming life, or who disliked the religious persecution to which they were subjected, would descend the banks of these streams until they found on the soil of carolina suitable locations for peaceable settlements. in , roger green led a company across the wilderness from nansemond, in virginia, to the chowan river, and settled near edenton. there they prospered, and others, influenced by similar motives, soon afterward followed. in , george durant purchased of the yeopim indians the neck of land, on the north-side of albemarle sound, which still bears his name. it was settled by persons driven off from virginia through religious persecutions. in , king charles ii, granted to the earl of clarendon and seven other associates, the whole of the region from the thirty-sixth degree of north latitude to the river san matheo, (now the st. john's) in florida; and extending westwardly, like all of that monarch's charters, to the pacific ocean. at the date of this charter, ( ,) sir william berkeley, governor of virginia, visited the infant settlement on the chowan, and being pleased with its evident signs of prosperity, and increasing importance, appointed william drummond the _first governor_ of the colony of carolina. drummond was a scotch presbyterian, and, inheriting the national characteristics of that people, was prudent, cautious, and deeply impressed with the love of liberty. such were the pioneer settlements, and such was the first governor of north carolina. the beautiful lake in the centre of the dismal swamp, noted for its healthy water, and abundantly laid in by sea-going vessels, perpetuates his name. in , it being discovered that the "county of albemarle," as the settlement on the chowan was called, was not in the limits of the carolina charter, but in virginia, king charles, on petition, granted an enlargement of that instrument so as to make it extend from twenty-nine degrees to thirty-six degrees and thirty minutes, north latitude. these charters were liberal in the concession of civil rights, and the proprietors were permitted to exercise toleration towards non-conformists, if it should be deemed expedient. great encouragement was held forth to immigrants from abroad, and settlements steadily increased. they were allowed to form a representative government, with certain limitations; and thus a degree of popular freedom was conceded, which it seems, was not intended to be permanent, but it could _never be recalled_; and had an important influence in producing the results which we now enjoy. as the people were chiefly refugees from religious oppression, they had no claims on government, nor did they wish to draw its attention. they regarded the indians as the true lords of the soil; treated with them in that capacity; purchased their lands, and obtained their grants. at the death of governor drummond in , the colony of carolina contained about four thousand inhabitants. the first assembly that made laws for carolina convened in the fall of . "here," says bancroft, "was a colony of men scattered among forests, hermits with wives and children resting on the bosom of nature, in perfect harmony with the wilderness of their gentle clime. the planters of albemarle were men led to the choice of their residence from a hatred of restraint. are there any who doubt man's capacity for self-government? let them study the history of north carolina. its inhabitants were restless and turbulent in their imperfect submission to a government imposed from abroad; the administration of the colony was firm, humane, and tranquil when they were left to take care of themselves. any government but one of their own institution was oppressive. north carolina was settled by the freest of the free. the settlers were gentle in their tempers, of serene minds, enemies to violence and bloodshed. not all the successive revolutions had kindled vindictive passions; freedom, entire freedom was enjoyed without anxiety as without guarantees. the charities of life were scattered at their feet like the flowers of their meadows."[b] no freer country was ever organized by man. freedom of conscience, exemption from taxation, except by their own consent; gratuities in land to every emigrant, and other wholesome regulations claimed the prompt legislative action of the infant colony. "these simple laws suited a simple people, who were as free as the air of their mountains; and when oppressed, were as rough as the billows of the ocean."[c] in , a company of huguenots, as the french protestants were called, settled on the trent. in , the lords proprietors granted to baron de graffenreidt ten thousand acres of land on the neuse and cape fear rivers for colonizing purposes. in a short time afterward, a great number of palatines (germans) and fifteen hundred swiss followed the baron, and settled at the confluence of the trent and the neuse. the town was called new berne, after berne, in switzerland, the birth-place of graffenreidt. this was the first important introduction into eastern carolina of a most excellent class of liberty-loving people, whose descendants wherever their lots were cast, in our country, gave illustrious proof of their valor and patriotism during the revolutionary war. in , the lords proprietors (except lord granville) surrendered the government of the province, with all the franchises under the charter of charles ii, and their property in the soil, to the crown for a valuable consideration. the population at that time did not exceed ten thousand inhabitants. george burrington. governor of the province under the lords proprietors, was re-appointed to the same office by the king. in february, , he thus officially writes to the duke of new castle. "the inhabitants of north carolina are not industrious, but subtle and crafty to admiration; always behaved insolently to their governors; some of them they have imprisoned; drove others out of the country; and at other times have set up a governor of their own choice, supported by men under arms. these people are neither to be cajoled nor outwitted. whenever any governor attempts to effect anything by these means, he will lose his labor, and show his ignorance." lord granville's part of the colony of north carolina (one-eighth) was not laid off to him, adjoining virginia, until . at that date, a strong tide of emigration was taking place from the chowan and roanoke, the pioneer attractive points of the colony, as well as from abroad, to the great interior, and western territory, now becoming dotted with numerous habitations. the tuscarora indians, the terrible scourge of eastern carolina, having been subdued, and entered into a treaty of peace and friendship in , no serious obstacle interposed to prevent a western extension of settlements. already adventurous individuals, and even families of hardy pioneers had extended their migrations to the eastern base of the "blue ridge," and selected locations on the head-waters of the yadkin and catawba rivers. in , gabriel johnston was appointed governor of north carolina. he was a scotchman by birth, a man of letters and of liberal views. he was by profession a physician, and held the appointment of professor of oriental languages in the university of saint andrews. his addresses to the legislature show that he fully appreciated the lamentable condition of the colony through the imprudence and vicious conduct of his predecessor (burrington) and his earnest desire to promote the welfare of the people. under his prudent administration, the province increased in population, wealth and happiness. at the time of its purchase by the crown, its population did not exceed thirteen thousand; it was now upwards of forty five thousand. in , arthur dobbs was appointed governor by the crown. his administration of ten years presented a continued contest between himself and the legislature on matters frivolous and unimportant. his high-toned temper for royal prerogatives was sternly met by the indomitable resistance of the colonists. the people were also much oppressed by lord granville's agents, one of whom (corbin) was seized and brought to enfield, where he was compelled to give bond and security, produce his books, and disgorge his illegal fees. but notwithstanding these internal commotions and unjust exactions, always met by the active resistance of the people, the colony continued to increase in power, and spread abroad its arms of _native inherent protection_. during the entire administrations of governors johnston and dobbs, commencing in and ending in , a strong tide of emigration was setting into north carolina from two opposite directions. while one current from pennsylvania passed down through virginia, forming settlements in its course, another current met it from the south, and spread itself over the inviting lands and expansive domain of the carolinas and georgia. near the close of governor johnston's administration ( ) numerous settlements had been made on the beautiful plateau of country between the yadkin and catawba rivers. at this time, the cherokee indians, the most powerful of the western tribes, still claimed the territory, as rightful "lords of the soil," and were committing numerous depredations and occasional murders. in , fort dobbs about twenty miles west of salisbury, was built for the protection of the small neighborhood of farmers and grazers around it. even the thriving colony of "albemarle county" on the seaboard now felt its growing importance was beginning to call for "more room," and seek new possessions in the interior, thus unconsciously fulfilling the truth of the poet's prediction, "westward the course of empire takes its way." on the d of april, , william tryon qualified as commander in-chief, and captain-general of the province of north carolina. the administration of governor tryon embraces an important period in the history of the state. he was a soldier by profession, and being trained to arms, looked upon the sword as the true scepter of government. "he knew when to flatter, and when to threaten. he knew when 'discretion was the better part of valor,' and when to use such force and cruelty as achieved for him from the cherokee indians, the bloody title of the 'great wolf of north carolina.' he could use courtesy towards the assembly when he desired large appropriations for his magnificent palace; and knew how to bring to bear the blandishments of the female society of his family, and all the appliances of generous hospitality."[d] governor tryon first met the assembly in the town of wilmington on the d of may . "in his address, he opposed all religious intolerance, and, although he recommended provision for the clergy out of the public treasury, yet he advised the members of the church of england of the folly of attempting to establish it by legal enactment. under such recommendations, a law was passed legalizing the marriages (which before were denounced as illegal) performed by presbyterian ministers, and authorizing them and other dissenting clergymen to perform that rite."[e] on the nd of march, , the stamp act was passed. this act produced great excitement throughout the whole country, and no where was it more violently denounced than in north carolina. the legislature was then in session, and so intense and wide-spread was the opposition to this odious measure, that governor tryon, apprehending the passage of denunciatory resolutions, prorogued that body after a session of fifteen days. the speaker of the house, john ashe, informed governor tryon that this law "would be resisted to blood and death." early in the year , the sloop-of-war, diligence, arrived in the cape fear river, having on board stamp paper for the use of the province. the first appearance and approach of the vessel had been closely watched, and when it anchored before the town of brunswick, on the cape fear, col. john ashe, of the county of new hanover, and col. hugh waddell, of the county of brunswick, marched at the head of the brave sons of these counties to brunswick, and notified the captain of their determination to resist the landing of the stamps. they seized one of the boats of the sloop, hoisted it on a cart, fixed a mast in her, mounted a flag, and marched in triumph to wilmington. the inhabitants all joined in the procession, and at night the town was illuminated. on the next day, col. ashe, at the head of a great concourse of people, proceeded to the governor's house and demanded of him to desist from all attempts to execute the stamp act, and to produce to them james houston, a member of the council, who had been appointed stamp master for the province. the governor at first refused to comply with a demand so sternly made. but the haughty representative of kingly power had to yield before the power of an incensed people, who began to make preparations to set fire to his house. the governor then reluctantly produced houston, who was seized by the people, carried to the market house, and there compelled to take a solemn oath never to perform the duties of his office. after this he was released and conducted by a delighted crowd, to the governor's palace. the people gave three cheers and quietly dispersed. here we have recorded an act far more daring in its performance than that of the famous tea party of boston, which has been celebrated by every writer of our national history, and "pealed and chimed on every tongue of fame." it is an act of the sons of the "old north state," not committed on the crew of a vessel, so disguised as to escape identity; but on royalty itself, occupying a palace, and in open day, by men of well known person and reputation. another event of great historic importance occurred during the administration of governor tryon. on the th of may, , the battle of alamance was fought. it is here deemed unnecessary to enter into a detail of the circumstances leading to this unfortunate conflict. suffice it to say the regulators, as they were called, suffered greatly by heavy exactions, by way of taxes, from the governor to the lowest subordinate officer. they rose to arms--were beaten, but theirs was the _first blood shed_ for freedom in the american colonies. many true patriots, who did not comprehend the magnitude of their grievances, fought against them. but the principles of right and justice for which they contended could never die. in less than four years, all the colonies were found battling for the same principles, and borne along in the rushing tide of revolution! the men on the seaboard of carolina, with cols. ashe and waddell at their head, had nobly opposed the stamp act in , and prevented its execution; and in their patriotic movements the people of orange sustained them, and called them the "sons of liberty." col. ashe, in , had led the excited populace in wilmington, against the wishes and even the hospitality of the governor. the assembled patriots had thrown the governor's roasted ox, provided for a barbecue feast, untasted, into the river. now, these patriotic leaders are found marching with this very governor to subdue the _disciples of liberty_ in the west. the eastern men looked for evils from across the waters, and were prepared to resist oppression on their shores before it should reach the soil of their state. the western men were seeking redress for grievances that oppressed them at home, under the misrule of the officers of the province, evils scarcely known in the eastern counties, and misunderstood when reported there. had ashe, and waddell, and caswell understood all the circumstances of the case, they would have acted like thomas person, of granville. and favored the distressed, even though they might have felt under obligations to maintain the peace of the province, and due subordination to the laws. herman husbands, the head of the regulators, has been denounced by a late writer, as a "turbulent and seditious character." if such he was, then john ashe and hugh waddell, for opposing the stamp law, were equally turbulent and seditious. time, that unerring test of principles and truth, has proved that the spirit of liberty which animated the regulators, was the true spirit which subsequently led to our freedom from foreign oppression. on the th of may, tryon, after committing acts of revenge, cruelty and barbarity succeeding the alamance battle, returned to his palace at newbern, and on the th took shipping for new york, over which state he had been appointed governor. josiah martin was appointed by the crown, tryon's successor as governor of north carolina. he met the legislature, for the first time, in the town of newbern, in november, . had he lived in less troublesome times, his administration might have been peaceful and prosperous. governor martin had the misfortune to differ very soon with the lower house of the assembly; and during the whole of his administration, these difficulties continued and grew in magnitude, helping, at last, to accelerate the downfall of the royal government. in this assembly we find the names of a host of distinguished patriots, as john ashe, cornelius harnett, "the samuel adams of north carolina," samuel johnson, willie jones, joseph hews, abner nash, john harvey, thomas person, griffith rutherford, abraham alexander, thomas polk, and many others, showing that, at that early date, the whig party had the complete control of the popular house of the assembly, in accordance with the recommendation of governor martin, the veil of oblivion was drawn over the past unhappy troubles, and all the animosities and distinctions which they created. the year passed by without a meeting of the assembly; and the only political event of any great importance, which occurred in the province, was the election of members to the popular house. such was the triumph of the whig party, that in many of the counties there was no opposition to the election of the old leaders, nor could the governor be said to have a party sufficiently powerful to effect an election before the people, or the passage of a bill before the assembly. the assembly, however, in consequence of two dissolutions by the governor, did not convene in newbern until the th of january, , and the popular house illustrated its political character by the election of john harvey to the office of speaker. to this new assembly many of the leading members of the house in , were returned. thomas polk and abraham alexander were not members; the former having been employed in the service of the governor, as surveyor, in running the dividing line between north and south carolina, and the latter not having solicited the suffrages of the people. the county of mecklenburg was, in the assembly, represented by martin pheifer and john davidson. the speaker of the house of commons, john harvey, laid before that body resolutions of the house of burgess of virginia ( ) of the th of march last; also, letters from the speakers of the lower houses of several other provinces, requesting that a committee be appointed to inquire into the encroachments of england upon the rights and liberties of america. the house passed a resolution that "such example was worthy of imitation, by which means communication and concert would be established among the colonies; and that they will at all times be ready to exert their efforts to preserve and defend their rights." john harvey, (speaker) robert howe, cornelius harnet, william hooper, richard caswell, edward vail, john ashe, joseph hewes and samuel johnston were this committee. this is the first record of a legislative character which led to the revolution. during the summer of the people in all parts of the province manifested their approbation of the proposed plan of calling a congress or assembly, to consult upon common grievances; and in nearly all the counties and principal towns meetings were held, and delegates appointed to meet in the town of newbern on the th of august, . on the th of august, governor martin issued a proclamation complaining that meetings of the people had been held without legal authority, and that resolutions had been passed derogatory to the authority of the king and parliament. he advised the people to forbear attending any such meetings, and ordered the king's officers to oppose them to the utmost of their power. but the delegates of the people attended on the day appointed without any obstruction from the "king's officers." the proclamation of governor martin availed nothing. (_vox et praeterea nil_.) excited at this state of affairs, governor martin consulted his council on the steps most proper to be taken in the emergency. they advised him that "nothing further could be done." this first assembly, or provincial congress, independent of royal authority, in newbern, on the th of august, , is an important epoch in our history. it was the first act of that great drama of revolutionizing events which finally achieved our independence. after the adjournment of this provincial congress governor martin visited new york, ostensibly for the "benefit of his health," and, perhaps, for the benefit of his government. the tumults of the people at newbern, that raged around him, and which threatened to overthrow his power, were, by his own confession, "beyond his control"; but he hoped the influence of governor tyron, who still governed new york, might assist him in restoring peace and authority in north carolina. vain, delusive hope, as the sequel proved! the year is full of important events, only a few of which can be adverted to in this brief sketch. in february, , john harvey issued a notice to the people to elect delegates to represent them in a second provincial congress at newbern on the rd of april, being the same time and place of the meeting of the colonial assembly. this roused the indignation of governor martin, and caused him to issue, on the st of march, , his proclamation denouncing the popular convention. in his speech to the assembly, governor martin expressed "his concern at this extraordinary state of affairs. he reminded the members of their oath of allegiance, and denounced the meeting of delegates chosen by the people, as illegal, and one that he should resist by every means in his power." in the dignified reply of the house, the governor was informed that the right of the people to assemble, and petition the throne for a redress of their grievances was undoubted, and that this right included that of appointing delegates for such purpose. the house passed resolutions approving of the proceedings of the continental congress at philadelphia ( th of sept. ) and declared their determination to use their influence in carrying out the views of that body. whereupon, the governor, by advice of his council, dissolved the assembly, by proclamation, after a session of four days. thus ceased forever all legislative action and intercourse under the royal government. indeed, from the organization of the first provincial congress or convention, in newbern (aug. th, ) composed of delegates "fresh from the people" the pioneers in our glorious revolution, until governor martin's expulsion, north carolina was enjoying and exercising an almost unlimited control of _separate governmental independence_. after the dissolution of the assembly on the th of april, , governor martin lingered only a few days, first taking refuge in fort jonston, and afterwards, on board of the ship of war, the cruiser, anchored in the cape fear river. only one more frothy proclamation ( th of aug., ,) appeared from governor martin, against the patriotic leaders of north carolina, issued this time, not from "the palace," at newbern, but from a _cruising_ source and out-look, and on a river, whose very name typified the real origin of his departure, and present retirement. these glimpses of the colonial history of north carolina, necessary to a proper understanding of the following sketches, will serve to illustrate, in a limited degree, the character of her people, and their unyielding opposition to all unjust exactions, and encroachment of arbitrary power. while these stirring transactions were transpiring in eastern carolina, the people of mecklenburg county moved, in their sovereign capacity, the question of independence, and took a much bolder, and more decided stand than the colonial or continental congress had as yet assumed. this early action of that patriotic county, effected after mature deliberation, is one of the ever memorable transactions of the state of north carolina, worthy of being cherished and honored by every lover of patriotism to the end of time. the public mind had been much excited at the attempts of governor martin to prevent the meeting of the provincial congress at newbern, and his arbitrary conduct in dissolving the assembly, when only in session four days, leaving them unprotected by courts of law, and without the present opportunity of finishing many important matters of legislation. in this state of affairs, the people began to think that, since the proper, lawful authorities failed to perform their legitimate duty, it was time to provide safe-guards for themselves, and to throw off all allegiance to powers that cease to protect their liberties, or their property. a late author has truly said, "men will not be fully able to understand north carolina until they have opened the treasures of history, and become familiar with the doings of her sons, previous to the revolution; during that painful struggle; and the succeeding years of prosperity. then will north carolina be respected as she is known."[f] sketches of western north carolina. chapter i. mecklenburg county. mecklenburg county was formed in from anson county, and named in honor of the native place of the new queen, princess charlotte, of mecklenburg, one of the smaller german states. this county has a peculiar historical interest. it is the birth-place of liberty on american soil. no portion of the state presents a more glowing page of unflinching patriotic valor than mecklenburg, always taking an active part in every political movement, at home or abroad, leading to independence. the temper and character of the people were early shown. in , george a. selwyn, having obtained, by some means, large grants of lands from the british crown, proceeded to have them surveyed, through his agent, henry e. mccullock, and located. on some of these grants, the first settlers had made considerable improvements by their own stalwart arms, and persevering industry. for this reason, and not putting much faith in the validity of selwyn's claims, they seized john frohock, the surveyor, and compelled him to desist from his work, or _fare worse_. here was manifested the early _buzzing_ of the "hornets' nest." which, in less than ten years, was destined to _sting_ royalty itself in these american colonies. the little village of charlotte, the seat of justice for mecklenburg county, was in , the theater of one of the most memorable events in the political annals of the united states. situated on the beautiful and fertile champaign, between the yadkin and catawba rivers, and on the general route of the southern travel, and among the earliest settlements in the carolinas and georgia, it soon became the centre of an enterprising and prosperous population. the fertility of the soil, the healthfulness of the climate, and abundance of cheap and unappropriated lands, were powerful inducements in drawing a large influx of emigrants from the northern colonies, and from the old world. these natural features of middle and western carolina; in particular, were strongly attractive, and pointed out, under well-directed energy, the sure road to prospective wealth and prosperity. the face of the country was then overspread with wild "pea vines," and luxuriant herbage; the water courses bristled with cane brakes; and the forest abounded with a rich variety and abundance of food-producing game. the original conveyance for the tract of land, upon which the city of charlotte now stands, contained acres, and was made on the th day of january. , by henry e. mccullock, agent for george a. selwyn, to "abraham alexander, thomas polk, and john frohock as trustees and directors, of the town of charlotte, and their successors." the consideration was "ninety pounds, lawful money." the conveyance was witnessed by matthew mclure and joseph sample. a few words of explanation, as to one of the trustees, may be here appropriate. the frohock family resided in rowan county, and, before the revolution, exerted a considerable influence, holding places of profit and trust. william frohock was captain of a military company, and at one time, ( ) deputy sheriff under general rutherford. thomas frohock was clerk of the superior court, in rowan, and senator to the state legislature from the town of salisbury, in and . john frohock, named in the conveyance, was, for several years, clerk of the county court, an active surveyor, and resided, during much of his time in mecklenburg, employed in the duties of his profession. soon after the town of charlotte was laid out, a log building was erected at the intersection of trade and tryon streets, and in the centre of the space now known as "independence square." this building was placed upon substantial brick pillars, ten or twelve feet high, with a stairway on the outside, leading to the court room. the lower part, in conformity with primitive economy and convenience, was used as a market house; and the upper part as a court house, and frequently for church, and other public meetings. although the original building has long since passed away, yet it has historic associations connected with its colonial and revolutionary existence, which can never cease to command the admiration of every true patriot. in may, , its walls resounded with the _tones of earnest debate and independence_, proclaimed from the court house steps. in september, , its walls resounded with the _tones of the musket_, by the same people, who "knew their rights, and knowing, dared maintain." at this period, there was no printing press in the upper country of carolina, and as no regular post traversed this region, a newspaper was seldom seen among the people. important information was transmitted from one colony to another by express messengers on horse-back, as was done by captain jack in bearing the mecklenburg declaration to philadelphia. the people were accustomed to assemble at stated places to listen to the reading of printed hand-bills from abroad, or to obtain verbal intelligence of passing events. charlotte early became the central point in mecklenburg county for these assemblages, and there the leading men often met at queen's museum or college, to discuss the exciting topics of the day. these meetings were at first irregular, and without system. it was finally agreed that thomas polk, colonel of the militia, long a surveyor in the province, frequently a member of the colonial assembly, and a man of great excellence of character should be authorized to call a convention of the representatives of the people whenever circumstances seemed to require it. it was also agreed that such representatives should consist of two delegates from each captain's company, chosen by the people of the several militia districts, and that their decisions, when thus legally convened, should be binding upon the whole county. when it became known that governor martin had attempted, by his proclamation, issued on the st of march, , to prevent the assembling of a provincial congress at newbern, on the d of april following; and when it was recollected that, by his arbitrary authority, he had dissolved the last provincial assembly, after a session of only four days, and before any important business had been transacted, the public excitement became intense, and the people were clamorous for some decisive action, and a redress of their grievances. a large majority of the people were willing to incur the dangers incident to revolution, for the sake of themselves, their posterity, and the sacred cause of liberty. in this state of the public mind, col. polk issued his notice to the committee-men, two from each captain's district, as previously agreed upon, to assemble in charlotte on the th of may, , to consult for the common good, and inaugurate such measures as would conduce to that desirable end. the notice of the appointed meeting spread rapidly through the county, and all classes of citizens, intuitively, as it were, partook of the general enthusiasm, and felt the importance of the approaching convention. on the appointed day, an immense concourse of people, consisting of gray-haired sires, and vigorous youths from all parts of the county, assembled in the town of charlotte, then containing about twenty-five houses, all anxious to know the result of that ever-memorable occasion. after assembling in the court house, abraham alexander, a venerable citizen and magistrate of the county, and former member of the legislature was made chairman; and john mcknitt alexander, assisted by dr. ephraim brevard, secretaries, all men of business habits, and of great popularity. a full, free and animated discussion upon the exciting topics of the day then ensued, in which dr. ephraim brevard, a finished scholar; col. william kennon, an eminent lawyer of salisbury, and rev. hezekiah j. balch, a distinguished presbyterian preacher, were the chief speakers. during the session of the convention, an express messenger arrived, bearing the news of the wanton and cruel shedding of blood at lexington on the th of april, just one month proceeding. this intelligence served to increase the general patriotic ardor, and the assembly, as with one voice, cried out, "let us be independent. let us declare our independence, and defend it with our lives and fortunes." the speakers said, his majesty's proclamation had declared them out of the protection of the british crown, and they ought, therefore, to declare themselves out of his protection, and be independent of his government. a committee consisting of dr. brevard, col. kennon, and the rev. mr. balch, was then appointed to prepare resolutions suitable to the occasion. the excitement of the people continued to increase, and the deliberations of the convention, including the framing of by-laws, and regulations by which it should be governed, as a standing committee, were not completed until after midnight, showing the great interest which every one felt, and that a solemn crisis had arrived which demanded firm and united action for the common defence. upon the return of the committee, the chairman proceeded to submit the resolutions of independence to the vote of the convention. all was silence and stillness around (_intentique ora tenebant_). the question was then put, "are you all agreed." the response was one universal "aye," not one dissenting voice in that immense assemblage. it was then agreed that the proceedings should be read to the whole multitude. accordingly at noon, on the th of may, , colonel thomas polk ascended the steps of the old court house, and read, in clear and distinct tones, the following patriotic resolutions, constituting, the mecklenburg declaration of independence. "_resolved_, . that whoever directly or indirectly abetted, or in any way, form or manner, countenanced the unchartered and dangerous invasion of our rights, as claimed by great britain, is an enemy to this country, to america, and to the inherent, and inalienable rights of man. "_resolved_, . that we, the citizens of mecklenburg county, do hereby dissolve the political bands which have connected us to the mother country, and hereby absolve ourselves from all allegiance to the british crown and abjure all political connection, contract, or association with that nation, who have wantonly trampled on our rights and liberties, and inhumanly shed the blood of american patriots at lexington. "_resolved_, . that we do hereby declare ourselves a free and independent people; are, and of right ought to be a sovereign, and self-governing association, under the control of no power, other than that of our god, and the general government of the congress; to the maintenance of which independence, we solemnly pledge to each other our mutual co-operation, our lives, our fortunes, and our most sacred honor. "_resolved_, . that, as we acknowledge the existence and control of no law, or legal officer, civil or military, within this county, we do hereby ordain and adopt, as a rule of life, all, each, and every one of our former laws; wherein, nevertheless, the crown of great britain never can be considered as holding rights, privileges, immunities, or authority therein. "_resolved_, that, it is also further decreed that all, each, and every military officer in this county is hereby retained in his former command and authority, he acting conformably to these regulations. and that every member present of this delegation shall henceforth be a civil officer, viz.: a justice of the peace, in the character of a committeeman, to issue process, hear and determine all matters of controversy, according to said adopted laws; and to preserve peace, union and harmony in said county; and to use every exertion to spread the love of country, and fire of freedom throughout america, until a more general and organized government be established in this province." after the reading of these resolutions, a voice from the crowd called out for "three cheers," and soon the welkin rang with corresponding shouts of applause. the resolutions were read again and again during the day to different parties, desirous of retaining in their memories sentiments of patriotism so congenial to their feelings. a copy of the proceedings of the convention was then drawn off, and sent by express to the members of congress from north carolina, at that time in session at philadelphia. captain james jack, a worthy and intelligent citizen of charlotte, was chosen as the bearer; and in a few days afterward, set out _on horse-back_ in the performance of his patriotic mission. of his journeyings, and _perilous adventures_ through a country, much of it infested with tories, we know but little. having faithfully performed the duties of his important trust, by delivering the resolutions into the hands of the north carolina delegation at philadelphia (caswell, hooper and hews,) he returned to his home in charlotte. he reported that our own delegation, and several members of congress, manifested their entire approbation of the earnest zeal and patriotism of the mecklenburg citizens, but deemed it premature to lay their resolutions before their body, as they still entertained some hopes of reconciliation with the mother country. a copy of the foregoing resolutions were also transmitted to the provincial congress, at hillsboro, and laid before that body on the th of august, , but for the same prudential reasons as just stated, they declined taking any immediate action. it has been deemed proper to present this summarized statement of the circumstances leading to the mecklenburg convention of the th and th of may, , as a source of reference for those who have no other history of the transaction before them. for a more extended account of its proceedings, the reader is referred to the pamphlet published by state authority in , and to the exhaustive treatise of the late ex-governor graham on the authenticity of the mecklenburg resolutions, with notices of the principal actors and witnesses on that ever-memorable occasion. since the publication of governor graham's pamphlet shortly before the centennial celebration in charlotte another copy of the mecklenburg resolutions of the th of may, , has been found in the possession of a grandson of adam brevard, now residing in indiana. this copy has all the outward appearances of age, has been sacredly kept in the family, and is in a good state of preservation. adam brevard was a younger brother of dr. ephraim brevard, the reputed author of these resolutions, frequently performed his brother's writing during the active discharge of his professional duties, and was himself, a man of cultivated intellect, and christian integrity. he kept a copy of these patriotic resolutions, mainly with the view of preserving a memento of his brother's hand writing, and vigor of composition--not supposing for a moment, their authenticity would ever be called into question. this venerable patriot, in a manuscript account of a celebration in iredell county on the th of july, , in discoursing on a variety of revolutionary matters, says among other things, he was in salisbury in june , attending to his professional duties as a lawyer, and that during the sessions of the general court in that place, the bearer of the mecklenburg declaration arrived on his way to philadelphia. when the object of his mission became known, and the mecklenburg resolutions of independence were read in open court, at the request of col. kennon, several tories who were present said they were treasonable, and that the framers of them were "rushing headlong into an abyss where congress had not dared to pass. their intemperance, however, was suddenly arrested by a gentleman from the same county, who had entered with all his powers into the impending contest and offered to rest the propriety and justness of the proceedings, both of mecklenburg and the delegate, upon a decision by the _arm of flesh_ with any one inclinable to abide the result. matters, which threatened a conflict of arms were soon hushed up by this direct argument _ad hominem_, the delegate retired to rest for the night, and, on the next morning, resumed his journey to philadelphia." he also states, in the same manuscript, that in the autumn of the year , he was one of the number who composed the college of queen's museum, and lived with his brother, dr. ephraim brevard, and that in ransacking a number of his brother's papers thrown aside as useless, he came across the fragments of a declaration of independence by the people of mecklenburg. upon inquiry, his brother informed him they were the rudiments out of which a short time before, he had framed the instrument despatched to congress. the same authority states that he was in philadelphia in the latter part of the year , and until may of the year . during that time, william sharp. esq., of rowan county, arrived in philadelphia, as a delegate to congress from north carolina. amidst a variety of topics introduced for discussion was that of the mecklenburg declaration of independence. hon. john penn, of north carolina, said in presence of several members of congress, that he was "highly pleased with the bold and distinguished spirit with which so enlightened a county of the state he had the honor to represent had _exhibited to the world_, and, furthermore, that the bearer of the instrument to congress had conducted himself very judiciously on the occasion by previously opening his business to the delegates of his own state, who assured him that the other states would soon act in the same patriotic manner as mecklenburg had done." this important and additional testimony, here slightly condensed, but facts not changed, is extracted from a communication in the _southern home_, by dr. j.m. davidson, of florida, a gentleman of great moral worth and christian integrity, and grandson of adam brevard, a brother of dr. ephraim brevard, the reputed author of the mecklenburg declaration of independence. a brief extract from governor martin's dispatch to the british secretary of state, dated th of june, , as found in wheeler's "historical sketches," will now be given, which cannot be viewed in any other light than that of disinterested evidence. the governor proceeds by saying, "the situation in which i find myself at present is indeed, my lord, most despicable and mortifying. ... i live, alas! ingloriously, only to deplore it. ... the resolves of the committee of mecklenburg, which your lordship will find in the enclosed newspaper, surpass all the horrid and treasonable publications that the inflammatory spirits of the continent have yet produced; and your lordship may depend, its authors and abettors will not escape, when my hands are sufficiently strengthened to attempt the recovery of the lost authority of the government. a copy of these resolves was sent off, i am informed, by express, to the congress at philadelphia, as soon as they were passed in the committee." the reader will mark, in particular, the closing sentence of this extract, as confirmatory of what actually took place on the th of may, . captain james jack, then of charlotte, a worthy and patriotic citizen, did set out a few days after the convention adjourned, on _horse back_, as the "express" to congress at philadelphia, and faithfully executed the object of his mission. (for further particulars, see sketch of the jack family.) the resolutions passed by the county committee of safety on the st of may following, and which some have erroneously confounded with those of the th of may, were a necessary consequence, embracing simply "rules and regulations" for the internal government of the county, and hence needed no "express" to congress. the preceding testimony, conjoined with that of gen. joseph graham, rev. humphrey hunter, captain james jack, the hearer of the mecklenburg declaration to congress, rev. francis cummins, major john davidson, isaac alexander and others, previously referred to in the state pamphlet of , and the exhaustive "memoir" of the late ex-governor graham--all men of exalted worth and christian integrity, ought to be "sufficient to satisfy incredulity itself," as to the genuineness of the mecklenburg declaration of independence, and of its promulgation to the world on the th of may, . and yet, in the face of this strong phalanx of unimpeachable testimony, there are a few who have attempted to rob north carolina of this brightest gem in the crown of her early political history, and tarnish, by base and insidious cavils the fair name and reputation of a band of revolutionary patriots, whose memories and heroic deeds the present generation and posterity will ever delight to honor. mecklenburg sent as a delegate to the first provincial congress direct from the people, which met at newbern on the th of august, , benjamin patton. to the meeting at hillsboro', on the st of august, , thomas polk, john phifer, waightstill avery, john mcknitt alexander, james houston, and samuel martin. to the meeting at halifax on the th of april, , john phifer, robert irwin and john mcknitt alexander. to the meeting at halifax, on the th of november, (which formed the first state constitution) john phifer, robert irwin, waighstill avery, hezekiah alexander and zaccheus wilson. all of these delegates were unwavering patriots, and nearly all were signers of the mecklenburg declaration of independence. not only were the patriotic sons of mecklenburg county active and vigilant in those trying times, but no portion of our state was more constantly the theater of stirring events during the drama of the american revolution. "its inhabitants," says tarleton in his campaigns, "were more hostile to england than any others in america." a brief account of the mecklenburg centennial. the mecklenburg declaration of independence, proclaimed to the world on the th of may, , was celebrated in charlotte on the th of may, , with all the honors and ceremonies befitting such an important occasion. a vast assemblage of at least , persons were present to enjoy the "welcome" extended to all, and participate in the festivities of this gala day of north carolina. for three days preceding the grand holiday, ( th, th and th) visitors were continually pouring into the city. enthusiastic excitement and necessary preparations were everywhere visible. flags and streamers greeted the eye in every direction. many private residences were handsomely decorated. one of the most _exalted_ ideas was a centennial pole, feet high, erected by capt. thos. allen, in the centre of independence square, from the top of which floated to the breeze a large flag, capped with a huge _hornet's nest_ from stokes county. to preserve the _centennial_ feature as far as possible of the convention of the th of may, , called out by col. thos. polk, accordingly, on the th of may, , a procession was formed, and the military companies formed into a hollow square around the centennial pole, the bands, in the meantime, rendering sweet music, and the artillery firing minute guns. the mayor, col. william johnston, then addressed the multitude, extending to them a cordial welcome in behalf of the citizens and authorities of charlotte; after which governor brogden was introduced, and spoke substantially as follows: he said the principles of liberty enunciated by the fathers of the revolution, one hundred years ago, upon the spot he then occupied would live throughout all time. here, as free american citizens, they had proclaimed the principles which north carolina had ever since upheld, and of which this glorious flag, which waves protection to american citizens on land and sea was the star-gemmed type. under this old flag we have a duty to perform in peace as well as in war. we have the principles of the fathers of the mecklenburg declaration to maintain. all should remember the sacrifices which gave us the right to that standard of our country; and we should not forget our duty to north carolina, and her daughter, tennessee, to the sister state of south carolina, and to the whole country. alluding to the growth of the united states in one hundred years, the governor said that at the date of the mecklenburg declaration of independence, there were not more than six post-offices in north carolina; now there are nine hundred post-offices; then there was no steam traveling; now there are twelve hundred miles of rail-way in this state alone. he hoped the country would go on to prosper in the fulness of civil liberty until there was no opposition to the principles we cherish. in the name of north carolina he welcomed all her sons to this festival, and the sons of all other sister states. may th, --centennial morning! of the large number of illustrious patriots who participated in the exercises of the mecklenburg convention of the same date, , not one was present to animate us with their counsel, or speak of the glorious deeds of the revolutionary period--all having succumbed to the irrevocable fiat of nature, and passed to "that bourne whence no traveler returns." their example, their precepts, and sacrifices in the cause of freedom, constitute their rich and instructive heritage to us. a cloudless sky, a balmy atmosphere, and a glow of patriotic feeling beaming on every countenance, all conspired to add impressiveness to the scene, and awaken hallowed remembrances of the past. agreeably to the published programme, the day was ushered in by the ringing of bells, and a salute of one hundred guns by the raleigh and richmond artillery. from six o'clock in the morning until several hours afterward, the whistles of locomotives every few minutes told of the arrival of trains, packed with visitors, firemen, military and bands of music. the various committees were kept busy in directing the movements and assigning quarters for the organized bodies; while landlords and keepers of boarding-houses showed an accommodating spirit, and received visitors until their utmost capacity for room was more than exhausted--full to overflowing. and, although some difficulty was observed in procuring bed room, yet an abundance of provisions was everywhere exhibited for the comfort and well-being of the "inner man." the grand procession. general joseph e. johnston, chief marshal, having been prevented from attending on account of severe sickness. general w.r. cox, of raleigh, was selected to fill his place. general bradley t. johnston, of richmond, was placed in charge of the military department, and john c. gorman of the fire department. the soldiers were nearly all dressed in gray suits, and the firemen in red and black, except the wilmington company, which also appeared in gray. while the chief marshal and his assistants were endeavoring to bring order out of the immense mass of humanity in the streets, six splendid bands from richmond, newbern, raleigh, wilmington, fayetteville and salem, besides the cadet band of the carolina military institute, were exerting their sonorous energies to move the listening million by "concord of sweet sounds," and thereby prevent them from ever becoming subjects "fit for treason, stratagems and spoils." at half-past ten o'clock the grand pageant was fully displayed. as far as the eye could reach the brilliant procession filled the streets, presenting a glittering, undulating line of infantry, artillery, firemen, laddermen, axemen, zouaves, cadets, grangers, masons, templars, highlanders, citizens, &c, with gleaming arms, rustling flags, soul-stirring music, and other manifestations of patriotic enthusiasm. nearly every window, piazza and house-top was crowded with feminine loveliness, to cheer with their smiles and lend their graceful approbation to the _moving_ exhibitions of the occasion. on the side-walks "miles of spectators" were seen submitting to the stifling effects of clouds of dust, with the laudable desire "to see and be seen." while immense flags were floating to the breeze across the principal streets, countless numbers of miniature ones, in red, white and blue, fluttered from windows and porches. a large number of military and fire companies followed by delegations of the masonic order, good templars, odd fellows, caledonian clubs, grangers, invited guests, visitors, &c, all joined in the grand procession to the fair grounds. exercises at the fair grounds. arriving at the fair grounds, the immense concourse of people gathered around the large stand, which had been erected amidst a clump of trees, for the ladies and invited guests. the stand was beautifully decorated with evergreens, festoons, flags, hornets' nests, and other emblematic devices. the ladies of the city had been diligently weaving these evergreen and floral adornments for several days preceding the centennial. a precious bouquet and wreath, sent by mrs. l.h. walker, from the grounds of washington's tomb at mt. vernon, added a venerated sanctity to the whole. at o'clock, rev. dr. a.w. miller, of the first presbyterian church, opened the exercises with an eloquent prayer. the "old north state" was then rendered in stirring tones by the citizens' band. ex-gov. graham then called the assembly to order, and said there was cause to congratulate the vast assemblage of patriotic citizens convened on this centennial occasion, for the bright, auspicious weather that prevailed, and for the general health and prosperity of the country. he felt highly gratified with the patriotic demonstration, and rejoiced to see in our midst so many prominent citizens from sister states. the governor of north carolina, and several of the judges of her courts were present. the governor of the far-off state of indiana, (mr. hendricks,) was here, representing one of the great western states which sprung from old virginia. there was a representative present (mr. bright) from tennessee, the daughter of north carolina. the governor (mr. chamberlain) of south carolina; the ex-governor (mr. walker) of virginia, and a large delegation from both of these states were all present to participate in the centennial festivities. in the name of north carolina, he bade all a hearty welcome. after the conclusion of ex-gov. graham's remarks maj. seaton gales, of raleigh, was introduced to the audience, who, previous to the reading of the mecklenburg resolves, delivered a short address expressing his entire confidence in their authenticity. the orator of the day, judge john kerr, of the fifth judicial district, was then introduced amidst loud applause. he spoke for half an hour in stirring, eloquent language, worthy of his high reputation as an impressive speaker. hon. john m. bright, of tennessee, was next introduced. he delivered an address of great power, abounding with many interesting historical facts relating to the early history of north carolina, and the character of her people. as these speeches will be published, it is deemed unnecessary to present a synopsis of their contents. the speeches being concluded, the invited guests, firemen, military, &c., marched into floral hall, and were entertained with toasts, short addresses and music, while the cravings of hunger were rapidly dispelled by the sumptuous food, and rich viands set before them. on thursday night, a stand having been erected around the centennial pole in independence square, a number of short and stirring addresses were made by ex-gov. hendricks, of indiana; ex-gov. walker, of virginia; gov. chamberlain, of south carolina; gov. brogden, of north carolina; ex-gov. vance, gen. w.r. cox, gen. t.l. clingman, judge davidson and col. h.m. polk, the latter two of tennessee. gov. hendricks, at the commencement of his address, spoke substantially as follows: "this is one of the greatest celebrations that has ever taken place in this country. here your fathers, and mine, one hundred years ago, declared themselves free of the british crown. i need not refer to the events since. in intelligence, wealth and power, we are ahead of the world. right here i must tell you that the fame of the mecklenburg declaration belongs not to the people of mecklenburg alone, nor to the state of north carolina, but its fame belongs to indiana as well--in fact, to all the states of the union. i claim a common participation in the glory of this great event. they were not only patriots, these mecklenburgers of , but they were also wise statesmen. one has but to carefully read this declaration to discern the truth of this statement. the resolutions looked to a delegation of powers in the continental congress for their protection against enemies abroad, and all general purposes of nationality, but they assert most unequivocally the right of local self-government, and all the reserved powers not plainly granted to the general government. these old patriots showed their wisdom by providing against an interim of anarchy for want of lawful officers to protect life and property; so they resolved that each military and civil officer under the provincial government should retain all their authority. i ask the people of north carolina to join with us in the national celebration, to take place in philadelphia in . shall i see north carolina represented there? (cries of yes! yes!) what a lesson it will be to the whole country! the troubles of the war can be yet settled by a system of good government." other speakers indulged in similar patriotic sentiments. after the speaking was over on centennial night, the mayor (colonel johnston) ascended the stand, and congratulated the large audience upon the excellent order and good feeling which had prevailed from the beginning to the end of the exercises. he thanked those present for their attendance and participation in the honors and festivities of the occasion. then commenced the pyrotechnical display which had been witnessed to some extent during the intervals of the addresses. the "rocket's red glare," without the "bombs bursting in air," gave proof _on that night_ our people were there. the streets, and the houses in the vicinity were never before so handsomely illuminated, and a brilliant and appropriate closing scene of "the day we celebrate" conspicuously displayed on a broad waving banner. hundreds of the descendants of the patriots of mecklenburg, and surrounding country, were present, as well as a goodly number of descendants of kindred spirits from the cape fear region, whose ancestors proved themselves "rebels" by _stamping underfoot the stamp paper_ intended for the use of the colony--an act "worthy of all roman, or grecian fame." the celebration of the th of may, , was a grand success--such a celebration as has never before occurred in the history of north carolina, and will never again be witnessed by the present generation. may the centennial of the th of may, , be still more successful, pass off with the same degree of order and good feeling, and be attended with all the blessings of enlightened civil and religious liberty! james belk--a veteran invited guest. among the honored invited guests of the mecklenburg centennial, on the th of may, , was james belk, of union county (formerly a part of mecklenburg), now upwards of one hundred and ten years old! as recorded in a family bible, printed in edinburg in , he was born on the th of february, . he still resides on the same tract of land upon which he was born and raised, his father being one of the original settlers of the country. he is a man of fine intelligence; acted for many years as one of the magistrates of mecklenburg county, and is still well preserved in mind and body. he recollects the death of his father, who was mortally wounded in the revolutionary war, near the north carolina line, and knows that his mother, fearing the mournful result, visited the place of conflict, and found him, severely wounded, in the woods near the road-side. she assisted him to their home, but soon afterward had him transferred to the residence of his grandfather for better attention, where he died. he remembers distinctly the great meeting in charlotte (then upwards of ten years old) on the th of may, , when a declaration of independence was read by colonel polk, and heard his father speak of it, in presence of the family, after his return from charlotte. his mother seemed to be greatly disturbed, supposing it would bring on war. although then but a youth of tender years, the _scene_ and the _declaration_ made an indelible impression upon his memory. he says his recollection of events of that period, and a few years subsequently, is more vivid and distinct than those which transpired thirty years ago. he has been twice married, having ten children by the first, and twelve by the last wife. he was accompanied to the centennial meeting by one of his younger sons, a lad _forty-one years_ of age. his oldest child, a daughter, is still living, aged _eighty-eight years!_ he named one of his sons julius alexander, an intimate friend and junior schoolmate. as he and alexander grew up, they frequently heard the two meetings of the th and st of may, , spoken of as being separate and distinct. having already attained a longevity seldom allotted to frail humanity, may continued health, prosperity, and, above all, the consolations of the gospel, attend him in his remaining days upon earth! p.s.--thus the author wrote soon after the centennial celebration in charlotte, on the th of may, , but before these sketches go to the press, he is informed of the death of this veteran and worthy citizen; passing away calmly and peacefully, at his home in union county, n.c. on the th of may, , at the extreme old age of _one hundred and eleven years three months and five days!_ signers of the mecklenburg declaration of independence. _abraham alexander_, the chairman of the mecklenburg convention of the th and th of may, , was born in , and was an active and influential magistrate of the county before and after the revolution, being generally the honored chairman of the inferior court. he was a member of the popular branch of the assembly in -' , with thomas polk as an associate; also one of the fifteen trustees of queen's museum, which institution, in , was transformed into "liberty hall academy." after the involuntary retreat of josiah martin, the royal governor, in june, , from the state, its government was vested in-- . a provincial council for the whole province. . a district committee of safety for each county, of not less than twenty-one persons, to be elected annually by the people of each county. the members of the provincial council for the salisbury district were samuel spencer and waightstill avery. the members of the district committee of safety were john brevard, griffith rutherford, hezekiah alexander, james auld, benjamin patton, john crawford, william hill, john hamilton, robert ewart, charles galloway, william dent, maxwell chambers. the county committee, elected annually by the people in each county, executed such orders as they received from the provincial council, and made such rules and regulations as the internal condition of each county demanded. they met once in three months at the court-house of their respective counties, to consult on public measures, to correspond with other committees, to disseminate important information, and thus performed the duties and requirements of courts. the county committees exercised these important functions until justices of the peace were appointed by the legislature and duly commissioned by the governor. it was this committee which met in charlotte on the st of may, , and passed a series of rules and regulations for the internal government of the county--a necessary sequel, as previously stated, of the more important meeting of the th of may preceding. this statement is strongly corroborated by a communication published last summer in the "charlotte observer," by d.a. caldwell, esq., one of mecklenburg's most aged, intelligent and worthy citizens. the portion of the communication most pertinent to our subject reads thus: "i was born and raised in the house of my maternal grandfather, major john davidson, who was one of the signers of the mecklenburg declaration. i have often heard him speak of the th of may, , as the day on which it was signed, and the st of the same month as the time of an adjourned meeting. the ' th of may' was a household word in the family. moreover, i was present (and am now the only surviving witness of the transaction) when he gave a certificate of the above dates to dr. joseph mcknitt alexander, whose father, john mcknitt alexander, was also a signer, and the principal secretary of the meeting. this certificate was called forth by the celebrated attempt of thomas jefferson to throw discredit on the whole affair. a certificate to the same effect was given on that occasion by samuel wilson, a brother-in-law of major davidson, and a man of undoubted integrity. mr. wilson, although not a signer, was present at the signing on the th of may. i often heard my grandfather allude to the date in later years, when he lived with his daughter, mrs. william lee davidson, whose husband was the son of general davidson, who fell at cowan's ford." under the administration of abraham alexander as chairman of the committee of safety, the laws passed by that body of vigilant observers of the common good were strictly enforced; and each citizen, when he left the county, was required to carry with him a certificate of his _political standing_, officially signed by the chairman. abraham alexander was a most worthy, exemplary and influential member of society; was, for many years, a ruling elder of the presbyterian church, and lies buried in the graveyard of sugar creek church. on his gravestone is this brief record: "abraham alexander, died on the nd of april, , aged years." "'let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.'" _adam alexander_ was chiefly known by his military services. he was appointed lieutenant colonel of a battalion of minute men, with thomas polk as colonel, and charles m'lean as major, by the provincial council held at johnston court-house, on the th of december, ; and colonel of mecklenburg county, with john phifer as lieutenant colonel, and john davidson and george a. alexander as majors, by the provincial congress, held at halifax on the th of april, . he was a brave and energetic officer; and his name will be found in nearly every expedition which marched from mecklenburg county to oppose the enemies of his country. he was for many years, before and after the war, an acting justice of the peace, and tradition speaks of him as bearing an excellent character. he died in , aged seventy years, and is buried in the old graveyard of rock spring, seven miles east of charlotte. many of his descendants lie buried in the graveyard at philadelphia church, two miles from rock spring, at which latter place the congregation worshipped before the revolution, mingling with their pious devotion many touching and prayerful appeals for the final deliverance of their country from the storms of the approaching conflict of arms in a righteous cause. _hezekiah alexander_ was more of a statesman than a soldier. he was born in pennsylvania in . he was appointed a member of the committee of safety for the salisbury district by the provincial congress which met at hillsboro on the st of august, , with general griffith rutherford, john brevard, benjamin patton and others--a position of much responsibility and power. he was appointed by the provincial congress, in april, , with william sharpe, of rowan county, on the council of safety. he was elected a member of the provincial congress from mecklenburg county, which met at halifax on november th, , and framed the first constitution of the state, with waightstill avery, robert irwin, john phifer, and zaccheus wilson, as colleagues. at the provincial congress, which met at halifax on the th of april, , he was appointed paymaster of the fourth regiment of north carolina continentals--thomas polk, colonel, james thackston, lieut. colonel, and william davidson, major. he was the treasurer of "liberty hall academy" (formerly "queen's museum") during its existence. he died on the th of july, , and lies buried in the graveyard of sugar creek church, of which he had long been an active and worthy member. the inscription on his tombstone reads thus: "in memory of hezekiah alexander, who departed this life july th, , aged years." _john mcknitt alexander_, of scotch-irish ancestors, was born in pennsylvania, near the maryland line, in . he served as an apprentice to the trade of tailor, and when his apprenticeship expired, at the age of twenty-one, he emigrated to north carolina, joining his kinsmen and countrymen in seeking an abode in the beautiful champaign between the yadkin and catawba rivers--the land of the deer and the buffalo; of "wild pea-vines" and cane-brakes, and of peaceful prosperity. in he married jane bain, of the same race, from pennsylvania, and settled in hopewell congregation. prospered in his business, he soon became wealthy and an extensive landholder, and rising in the estimation of his fellow-citizens, was promoted to the magistracy and the eldership of the presbyterian church. he was a member of the provincial assembly in , and one of the delegates to the convention which met at hillsboro, on the st of august, . he was also a member of the provincial congress, which met at halifax on the th of april, , with john phifer and robert irwin as colleagues. in , he was elected the first senator from mecklenburg county, under the new constitution. he was an active participator in the convention of the th and th of may, , and preserved for a long time, the records, as being its principal secretary, and the proper custodian of its papers. he gave copies of its important and ever-memorable proceedings to gen. william r. davie, dr. hugh williamson, then _professing_ to write a history of north carolina, and others. unfortunately, the original was destroyed in , when the house of mr. alexander was burned, but gen. davie's copy has been preserved. he was one of the trustees of the "college of queen's museum," the name of which was afterward changed to "liberty hall." he was for many years, a ruling elder of the presbyterian church, and by his walk and conversation, its firm supporter. by the east wall of the graveyard at hopewell church, is a row of marble slabs, all bearing the name of alexander. on one of them, is this short inscription: "john mcknitt alexander, who departed this life july th, , aged ." it is a singular fact, that the signers of the mecklenburg declaration were all, with perhaps one or two exceptions, members of the presbyterian church. one of them, rev. hezekiah j. balch, was a presbyterian preacher, and nine others elders of that church, which may be truly styled, at and before the revolution, the "nursing mother of freemen." _waightstìll avery_ was an eminent lawyer, born in the town of groton, connecticut, in , and graduated at princeton college in . there were eight brothers of this family, and all true patriots; some of them were massacred at fort griswold, and some perished at wyoming valley. some of the descendants still reside at groton, conn., and others at oswego, and seneca lake, n.y. he studied law on the eastern shore of maryland, with littleton dennis. in , he emigrated to north carolina, obtained license to practice in , and settled in charlotte. by his assiduity and ability, he soon acquired numerous friends. he was an ardent advocate of liberty, but not of licentiousness. in , he married near newbern, mrs leah frank, daughter of william probart, a wealthy merchant of snow hill, md., who died on a visit to london. he was a member of the provincial congress which met at hillsboro on the st of august, . in , he was a delegate to the provincial congress which met at halifax to form a state constitution, with hezekiah alexander, robert irwin, john phifer and zaccheus wilson as colleagues. he was appointed to sign proclamation bills by this body. on the th of july, , with william sharpe, joseph winston and robert lanier, as associates, he made the treaty of the long island of the holston with the cherokee indians. this treaty, made without an oath, is one that has never been violated. in , he was elected the first attorney general of north carolina. in , while lord cornwallis was encamped in charlotte, some of the british soldiery, on account of his well-known advocacy of independence, set fire to his law office, and destroyed it, with all his books and papers. in , he moved to burke county, which he represented in the commons in -' -' and ' ; and in the senate in . he was held in high esteem by all who knew him, and died at an advanced age, in . at the time of his death he was the "patriarch of the north carolina bar;" an exemplary christian, a pure patriot, and of sterling integrity. he left a son, the late colonel isaac t. avery, who represented burke county in the commons in and , and three daughters, one of whom married william w. lenoir; another, thomas lenoir, and the remaining one, mr. poor, of henderson county. _rev. hezekiah j. balch_ was born at deer creek, harford county, md., in . he was said to be the brother of col. james balch, of maryland, and the uncle of the late distinguished rev. stephen b. balch, d. d., of georgetown, d. c. he graduated at princeton in , when not quite eighteen years old, in the class with waightstill avery, luther martin, of maryland, oliver ellsworth, of connecticut, and others. he came to north carolina in , as a missionary, being appointed for this work by the synod of new york and philadelphia. although ordained before the war, he served four years as captain of a company in maryland, under general somerville. soon after this service, he removed to north carolina, and settled on "irish buffalo creek," in cabarrus county. he was the first pastor of rocky river and poplar tent churches, where he continued to faithfully labor in the cause of his divine master, until the time of his death. abundant in every good word and work, he took an active part in moulding the popular mind for the great struggle of the approaching revolution. he combined in his character, great enthusiasm with unflinching firmness. he looked to the achievement of principles upon which a government of well-regulated law and liberty could be safely established, and which should be removed from its strong foundations no more forever. hence, he was a prominent actor in the convention at charlotte on the th and th of may, , which declared independence of the british crown. but in the inscrutable ways of providence, he did not live long enough to see the warmest wish of his heart gratified--the independence of his country, for which he was ready, if necessary, to yield up his life in its achievement. he died in the spring of , in the midst of his usefulness, and his mortal remains repose in the old graveyard of poplar tent church. on the occasion of a railroad meeting at poplar tent church in , attention was called to the fact that no monument of any kind marked the grave of this eminent divine and patriot; whereupon, a voluntary subscription was immediately made, and the necessary funds promptly raised to build a suitable monument to his memory. fortunately, abijah alexander, then ninety years of age, was still living, a worthy citizen, and long a member of poplar tent church, who was present at the burial of his beloved pastor, and who could point out the precise spot of sepulture, near the centre of the old graveyard. the following is a copy of the inscription over his grave: "beneath this marble are the mortal remains of the rev. hezikiah j. balch, first pastor of poplar tent congregation, and one of the original members of orange presbytery. he was licensed a preacher of the everlasting gospel, of the presbytery of donegal in , and rested from his labors a.d. ; having been pastor of the united congregations of poplar tent and rocky river, about seven years. he was distinguished as one of the committee of three who prepared the declaration of independence, and his eloquence, the more effectual from his acknowledged wisdom, purity of motive and dignity of character, contributed much to the unanimous adoption of that instrument on the th of may, ." _dr. ephraim brevard_, the reputed author of the mecklenburg declaration of independence, proclaimed on the th of may, , was born in maryland in . he came with his parents to north carolina when about four years old. he was the son of john brevard, one of the earliest settlers of iredell, then rowan, county, and of huguenot descent. at the conclusion of the indian war in , he and his cousin, adlai osborne, were sent to a grammar school in prince edward county, va. about a year later, he returned to north carolina and attended a school of considerable notoriety in iredell county, conducted successively by joseph alexander, (a nephew of john mcknitt alexander) david caldwell, then quite young, and joel benedict, from the new england states. adlai osborne, ephraim brevard and thomas reese (a brother of david reese, one of the signers), graduated at princeton college in , and greatly contributed by talents and influence to the spread and maintenance of patriotic principles. soon after graduation, ephraim brevard commenced the study of medicine under the celebrated dr. alexander ramsey, of south carolina, a distinguished patriot and historian of the revolutionary war. in , dr. brevard joined the expedition of general rutherford in his professional capacity, during the cherokee campaign. soon after this service he settled in charlotte, where he married a daughter of col. thomas polk, and rapidly rose to eminence in his profession. he had one child, martha, who married mr. dickerson, the father of the late james p. dickerson, a lieutenant-colonel in the south carolina regiment in the mexican war, and who died from a wound received in a battle near the city of mexico. after the death of his beloved and youthful wife, dr. brevard again entered the southern army, as "surgeon's mate," or assistant surgeon, under general lincoln, in , and was made a prisoner at the surrender of charleston. while engaged as one of the teachers in the queen's museum he raised a company, from the young men of that institution, to assist in putting down the tories assembled on cape fear river. of this company he was made captain. they marched immediately in the direction of cross creek (fayetteville), but, on learning of the dispersion of the tories, they returned home. inheriting from his family a devotion to liberty and independence, he early became distinguished for his patriotic ardor and decision of character. he was a fine scholar, fluent writer, and drew up the resolutions of independence which the convention of the th of may, , adopted, with very slight alteration, acting as one of the secretaries. during his confinement in charleston, as a prisoner of war, he suffered so much from impure air and unwholesome diet that his health gave way, and he returned home only to die. he reached the house of his friend and fellow patriot, john mcknitt alexander, in mecklenburg county, where he soon after breathed his last. he lies buried in charlotte, in the lot now owned by a.b. davidson, esq., near the grave of his beloved wife, who, a short time before, preceded him to the tomb. upon this lot was located the queen's museum college, receiving, in , the more patriotic name of "liberty hall academy." within its walls were educated a spartan band of young men, who afterward performed a noble part in achieving the independence of their country. _richard barry_ was born in pennsylvania, of scotch-irish descent, and joining the great southern emigration of that period, he settled in mecklenburg county, in the bounds of the hopewell congregation, many years previous to the revolution. in this vicinity he married ann price, and raised a numerous family. a.m. barry, esq., who now ( ) resides at the old homestead, is the only surviving grandson. mrs. a.a. harry, mrs. g.l. sample and mrs. jane alexander, are the only surviving grand-daughters. he acted for many years as one of the magistrates of the county, and was a worthy and useful member of society. he was a true patriot and soldier, and was present at the affair of cowan's ford, when general davidson was killed, on the st of february, . after this short conflict he, david wilson and a few others, secured the body of general davidson, conveyed it to the house of samuel wilson, sen., where, after being properly dressed, it was moved by these devoted patriots to the graveyard of hopewell church, and there buried by _torch-light_. _john davidson_ was born in pennsylvania in . he performed much civil and military service to secure the independence of his country. he was appointed by the provincial congress, which met at halifax on the th of april, , a field officer (major) with adam alexander as colonel, john phifer as lieutenant colonel, and george a. alexander as second major. he was with general sumpter in august, , at the battle of the hanging rock, and was a general in the state militia service. he was enterprising, and successful in business. with alexander brevard, and joseph graham, his sons-in-law, he established vesuvius furnace and tirza forge iron works in lincoln county. he married violet, daughter of samuel wilson, sr., and raised a large family. his daughter, isabella, married joseph graham; rebecca married alexander brevard; violet married william bain alexander, son of john mcknitt alexander; elizabeth married william lee davidson, son of general davidson, who fell at cowan's ford; mary married dr. william mclean; sallie married alexander caldwell, son of rev. david caldwell, of guilford county; margaret married major james harris. he had only two sons, john (or "jackey") and robert; john married sallie brevard, daughter of adam brevard; robert married margaret osborne, daughter of adlai osborne, grandfather of the late judge james w. osborne, of charlotte. major davidson's residence was about one mile east of toole's ford, on the catawba river. a large elm, of his own planting, is now growing in front of the old family mansion, with over-arching limbs, beneath whose beneficent shade the old patriot could quietly sit in summer, (_sub tegmine patulæ ulmi_) whilst surrounded with some of his children, grand-children, and other blessings to cheer his earthly pilgrimage to the tomb. _robert irwin_ was a distinguished officer, and performed important military service during the revolutionary war. in , he and william alexander each, commanded a regiment under general rutherford, in the expedition from mecklenburg, rowan, lincoln, and other counties, to subdue the cherokee indians, who were committing murders and numerous depredations upon the frontier settlements. after the fall of charleston many of the unsubdued whigs sought shelter in north carolina. early in july, , general sumter had taken refuge in mecklenburg county, and having enlisted a considerable number of brave and dashing recruits in that chivalric region, returned to south carolina prepared for new and daring exploits. soon thereafter, accompanied by colonels neal, irwin, hill and lacy, he made a vigorous assault against the post of rocky mount, but failed in reducing it for the want of artillery. after this assault general sumter crossed the catawba, and marched with his forces in the direction of hanging rock. in the engagement which took place there, and, in the main successful, the right was composed of general davie's troops, and some volunteers under major bryan; the centre consisted of colonel irwin's mecklenburg militia, which made the first attack; and the left included colonel hill's south carolina regulars.[g] in colonel irwin commanded a regiment under general rutherford, in the wilmington campaign. he was a delegate to the provincial congress, which met at halifax, on the th of april, , with john mcknitt alexander and john phifer as colleagues. he was again a delegate to the provincial congress which met at halifax, on the th of november, , which body formed our first constitution. his last civil services were as senator from mecklenburg county, in ,-' -' and . for many years he was a worthy and influential elder of the presbyterian church at steele creek. he died on the rd of december, , aged sixty-two years. _william kennon_ was an early and devoted friend of liberty. he was an eminent lawyer, resided in salisbury, and had a large practice in the surrounding counties. he was one of the prominent advocates for _absolute independence_ at the convention in charlotte, on the th and th of may, . he, with mr. willis, a brother-in-law, adlai osborne, and samuel spencer (afterward judge spencer), took an active part in arresting two obnoxious lawyers, john dunn and benjamin booth boote, preceding the revolution, in giving utterance to language inimical to the cause of american independence. they were conveyed to charlotte for trial, and being found guilty of conduct inimical to the american cause, they were transported to camden, s.c., and finally to charleston, beyond the reach of their injurious influence. colonel kennon was a member of the first congress which met at newbern on the th of august, , in opposition to royalty, and "fresh from the people," with moses winslow and samuel young as colleagues. he was also a delegate to the same place in april, , with griffith rutherford and william sharpe as colleagues; and to the provincial congress at hillsboro, in august, , associated with william sharpe, samuel young and james smith. in , he was appointed commissary of the first regiment of state troops. he was ever active and faithful in the discharge of his duties. soon after the revolutionary war he moved to georgia, where he died at a good old age. _benjamin patton_ was one of the earliest settlers in the eastern part of mecklenburg county (now cabarrus). he was a man of iron firmness and of indomitable courage. descended from the blood of the covenanters, he inherited their tenacity of purpose, sagacity of action and purity of character. he was an early and devoted friend of liberty. he was a delegate to the provincial congress which met at newbern on the th of august, . this was the first meeting of representatives direct from the people. the royal governor, josiah martin, issued his proclamation against its assembling, as being without legal authority. it constitutes an illustrious epoch in our colonial history, transpiring nearly two years before congress _would dare to pass_ a national declaration. although it was not a battle, or conflict of arms, yet it was the first and leading act in a great drama, in which battles and blood were the _direct and inevitable consequences_. had governor martin the power at that time, he would have seized every member of this "rebellious" body and tried them for treason. in this dilemma, he summoned his ever obsequious council for consultation, who, becoming alarmed at the "signs of the times," declared "nothing could be done." tradition informs us that mr. patton, not being able to procure a horse, or any conveyance, walked all the way from charlotte to newbern, about three hundred miles rather than not be present to vote with those determined on _liberty_ or _death_. although then advanced in years, he showed all the enthusiasm of youth. at the provincial congress which met at hillsboro on the st of august, , he was appointed major of the second continental regiment, with robert howe as colonel, and alexander martin as lieutenant colonel. of his military record, in such high position, little is known, but we find him acting as a member of the committee of safety for mecklenburg county, with very full powers, associated with john paul barringer and martin phifer. they were a "terror unto evil doers." he was a man of considerable learning, of ardent temperament, and of christian integrity. he died near concord, in cabarras county, at a good old age, and is buried on the banks of irish buffalo creek. no monument marks his grave: "they carved not a line, they raised not a stone. but left him alone in his glory." _john phifer_ was born in cabarrus county (when a part of bladen) in . he was the son of martin phifer, a native of switzerland, and of margaret blackwelder. he raised a numerous family, who inherited the patriotic spirit of their ancestors. the original spelling of the name was _pfeifer_. he resided on "dutch buffalo" creek, at the red hill, known to this day as "phifer's hill." he was the father of general paul phifer, grandfather of general john n. phifer of mississippi, and great grandfather of general charles h. phifer, a distinguished officer in the battle of "shiloh," in the late war between the states. at the provincial council, held at johnston court house in december, , he was appointed lieutenant colonel of the first battalion of "minute men," in the salisbury district; general griffith rutherford, colonel, and john paisley, major. he was a member of the provincial congress which met at hillsboro on the st of august, , associated with thomas polk, waightstill avery, james houston, samuel martin and john mcknitt alexander; and also of the congress which met at halifax on the th of april, , with robert irwin and john mcknitt alexander. by this latter body, he was appointed lieutenant colonel of the regiment commanded by colonel adam alexander. he was also a member of the provincial congress which met at halifax in november, , which formed our first constitution, associated with hezekiah alexander, waightstill avery, robert irwin and zaccheus wilson, as colleagues. he married catharine barringer, which latter name was originally spelled _behringer_. it was on the plantation of john phifer, three mile west of concord, that the gallant band of "black boys," headed by captain 'black bill alexander' of sugar creek, aided by the whites and others from the neighboring congregation of rocky river, effected their memorable achievement in , of destroying the king's powder, which was on its way from charleston to hillsboro to be used by a tyrannical governor. the reader should bear in mind this _blackening of faces_, to prevent detection, was in the spring of , when the patriotic sentiment of this country had not ripened into that state of almost entire unanimity which characterized it, and the state generally, four years later. john phifer filled an early grave, and lies buried at the "red hill," on the salisbury road, where a decaying headstone, scarcely legible, marks the last resting-place of this true patriot. thomas polk is a name of historic distinction in north carolina, as well as in our nation. he was the early, constant, and enduring friend of liberty, and the unfaltering opponent of arbitrary power and oppression. he was a member of the colonial assembly in and , associated with abraham alexander from mecklenburg. in , he was appointed colonel of the second battalion of "minute men," with adam alexander as colonel, and charles mclean as major. as colonel of the mecklenburg militia, he issued orders to the captains of the several _beats_, or districts, to send two delegates each to the convention in charlotte on the th of may, . this act alone, proceeding from patriotic motives, entitles him to our gratitude. in accordance with orders, and the anticipated discussion of political measures affecting the welfare of the country, a vast concourse of delegates, and of the citizens generally, from all parts of the country, as well as from the adjoining counties of anson, rowan and tryon (afterward lincoln) assembled on the appointed day--such a gathering as had never before met in charlotte, preceding, or during the revolution. it was not a small assemblage, like that of the st of the same month, composed entirely of the committee of safety, met for the purpose of passing such rules and regulations as the internal government of the county demanded. at the provincial congress which met at halifax on the th of april, , he was appointed colonel of the fourth regiment of continental troops, with james thackson as lieutenant-colonel, and william davidson as major. the last named officer was afterward appointed a brigadier general, and was killed while disputing the passage of cornwallis at cowan's ford, on the st of february, . after the death of general davidson, he was appointed brigadier general in his stead. when general greene took command of the southern army in charlotte on the rd of december, , the commissary department was left vacant by the resignation of colonel polk. at the earnest solicitation of general greene, colonel davie was induced to accept the position, an ungracious and troublesome office at any time, but then attended with peculiar difficulties, as the country had been lately devastated and stripped of its usual resources by a large invading army. colonel thomas polk married susan spratt, and left several children. he died in , full of years and full of honors, and his mortal remains repose in the graveyard of the presbyterian church in charlotte. william polk, son of colonel thomas polk, was born in , and was present at the mecklenburg convention of the th and th of may, . he commenced his military career with his father in the expedition against the scovillite tories, in upper south carolina, in the autumn of . he was with general nash when he fell at germantown; with general davidson, at cowan's ford; with general greene, at guilford court house; and with the same officer at eutaw springs. in the last named battle he was severely wounded, the effects of which he carried with him to his grave. when the war closed, he held the rank of lieutenant-colonel. he settled in charlotte, his place of nativity, and represented mecklenburg county in the commons in -' , and ' . soon thereafter he removed to raleigh, where he spent the remainder of his life. he was the last surviving field officer of the north carolina line. he died on the th of january, , in the seventy-sixth year of his age. he was the father of bishop leonidas polk, a brave and meritorious officer, killed in the late civil war, while holding the position of major general; of the late thomas g. polk, of tennessee, and of mrs. rayner, wife of the hon. kenneth rayner, of washington city. ezekiel polk, one of the older brothers of colonel thomas polk, was the first clerk of the county court of lincoln, after its separation from mecklenburg in ; a magistrate of mecklenburg county at a later period; and was a man of considerable wealth and influence, owning much of the valuable lands around "morrow's turnout," now the flourishing village of "pineville." he was the grandfather of james k. polk, president of the united states in , some of whose noblest traits of character were illustrated in _refusing to serve a second term_ and in being _never absent from his post of duty_. well would it be for the best interests of our republic if other occupants of the "white house" would imitate his noble example. _zaccheus wilson_, was one of three brothers who moved from pennsylvania and settled in mecklenburg county about . at the time of the mecklenburg convention on the th and th of may, , he signed that instrument, pledging himself and his extensive family connections to its support and maintenance. he was said to be a man of liberal education, and very popular in the county in which he resided. he was a member of the convention which met at halifax on the th of november, , to form a state constitution, associated with waightstill avery, john phifer, robert irwin and hezekiah alexander. the wilsons were scotch-irish presbyterians, and were arrayed by early education, civil and religious, against tyranny in any form. the eldest brother, robert wilson, who lived for many years in steele creek congregation, was the father of eleven sons, seven of whom were at one time (all who were old enough) in the revolutionary army. shortly after the revolution, zaccheus wilson moved to sumner county, tennessee, and there died at an advanced age. _ezra alexander_ was a son of abraham alexander, the president of the mecklenburg convention of the th of may, . he and william alexander each commanded a company in colonel william davidson's battalion, under general rutherford, against the tories assembled at ramsour's mill, near the present town of lincolnton. he was also engaged in other military expeditions during the war, whenever the defence of the country demanded his services. _charles alexander_ and _john foard_, two of the signers, served as privates in captain charles polk's company of "light horse" in , in the wilmington campaign, and in other service during the war. john foard was, for many years, one of the magistrates of mecklenburg county, and both have descendants living among us. _david reese_ was a son of william reese, a worthy citizen of western rowan (now iredell county), who died in april, , aged _ninety-nine years_, and brother of the rev. thomas reese, whose ministerial labors were chiefly performed in pendleton district, s.c., where he ended his days, and is buried in the stone church graveyard. _james harris_ was from eastern mecklenburg (now cabarrus county), a neighborhood universally holding whig principles. he was the major in colonel robert irwin's regiment at the battle of the hanging rock, and elsewhere performed important services during the war. next to the alexanders the name harris was most prevalent in mecklenburg county preceding the revolution, and both still have numerous worthy descendants among us to perpetuate the fair name and fame of their distinguished ancestors. _matthew mclure_, one of the signers, was an early and devoted friend of liberty. some of his worthy descendants are still living among us. other descendants of the same patriotic family reside in chester county, s.c. one of his daughters married george houston, who, with a spartan band of twelve or thirteen brave spirits, under captain james thompson, beat back a british foraging party of over four hundred soldiers, at mcintyre's branch, on the beattie's ford road, seven miles north-west of charlotte. his son, hugh houston, served throughout the revolutionary war. the rifle used on that occasion by george houston is still in possession of the family. his son, m.m. houston, esq., of hopewell congregation, is one of the few grandsons now living of the original signers of the mecklenburg declaration. _william graham_, an irishman by birth, was one of the early advocates of liberty in mecklenburg county. he was intelligent and highly respected by all who knew him. he lived on the plantation now owned by mrs. potts, about four miles south-east of beattie's ford, on the public road leading to charlotte, where he died at a good old age. it is hoped others will prosecute this branch of historical research, here imperfectly sketched, supply omissions, and favor the public with the result of their investigations. in this centennial year it is pleasant and profitable to revert to the deeds of noble daring and lofty patriotism of our forefathers, and strive to emulate their illustrious examples. origin of the alexander families of mecklenburg county. the name, alexander, is of frequent mention among the nobility of scotland. about the year john alexander married margaret gleason, a "bonnie lassie" of glasgow, and shortly afterward emigrated to the town of armagh, in ireland. about , wishing to improve more rapidly his worldly condition, he emigrated with his rising family, two nephews, james and hugh alexander, and their sister, who was married to a mr polk, to america, and settled in nottingham, chester county, pa. these two nephews, and their brother-in-law, polk, soon afterward emigrated to mecklenburg county, north carolina, then holding forth flattering inducements for settlement. these families, of scotch-irish descent, there prospered in their several callings, and early imbibed those principles of civil and religious liberty which stamped their impress on themselves and their descendants, and shone forth conspicuously preceding and during the american revolution. about the time of this emigration of the alexanders to north carolina, john alexander moved to carlisle, cumberland county, pa. while he resided there his son james (james the first) married "rosa reed," of that place. soon after his marriage he left carlisle, and settled on "spring run," having purchased a tract of land which covered "logan's springs," where the celebrated mingo chief, logan, then lived. after logan's death he moved to the springs, which valuable property is still owned by the alexander heirs. john alexander, partaking of the roving spirit of the age, left carlisle, and finally settled in berkeley county, va., where he purchased a large farm, and spent the remainder of his days. his son james had twelve children, seven sons and five daughters. one of his daughters, rachel, married joseph vance, of virginia, the ancestor of ex-governor vance, of ohio, and other descendants. he gave vance a farm of three hundred acres as an inducement to settle near him. vance accepted the gift, and soon afterward removed to the farm; but indian troubles breaking out at that time, he sold his possession and returned to virginia, selecting a location near martinsburg. james alexander (james the second) had four sons and six daughters. the eldest son (james the third) married his cousin celia, youngest daughter of robert alexander, of whom was a descendant, robert alexander (perhaps a son), a captain in the revolution, who married mary jack, third daughter of patrick jack, of charlotte, and settled in lincoln county, where he died in . james porterfield alexander (james the fourth), and son of james the third, married annie augusta halsey, grand-daughter of the hon. jeremiah morton, and resides, in this centennial year, on the st. cloud plantation, rapidan station, culpeper county, va. hugh alexander, son of james the first, married martha edmundson, settled in sherman's valley, pa., and had a large family. he died at independence hall, philadelphia, while sitting as a member to form a state constitution. another prolific source of the alexanders in america is traceable to the descendants of seven brothers, who fled from scotland, on account of political troubles, to the north of ireland, and passing through the emerald isle, sailed for america, and landed in new york in . one of their descendants was william alexander, born in new york in , a son of james alexander, of scotland. he became a distinguished officer in the revolutionary war, known as "lord stirling." he married a daughter of philip livingston (the second lord of the manor), a sister of governor livingston, of new jersey. from these prolific sources (scotch and scotch-irish) north carolina, and other states of the american union, have received their original supplies of alexanders, embracing, in their expansion, many distinguished names. in the list of the signers of the mecklenburg declaration of the th of may, , six bear the name of alexander, and a _host_ of others, officers and privates, honored the name in their heroic achievements during the revolutionary war. two of the distinguished teachers in rowan county, preceding the revolution, were james alexander and robert brevard. it is also worthy of mention that one of the _twenty-six_ persons who met in charleston, in the fall of , after the repeal of the stamp act, under the leadership of that early patriot, general christopher gadsden, rejoiced under the duplicated name of _alexander alexander_. he had strayed off from the paternal roof in north carolina, and was employed there in the honorable calling of schoolmaster. johnson, in his "traditions and reminiscences," thus speaks favorably of his eminent worth: "alexander alexander was a school-master of high character and popularity. he was a native of mecklenburg, north carolina, and educated in the whig principles of that distinguished district." jack family. at the commencement of the revolutionary war, one of the worthy and patriotic citizens of the little town of charlotte, in mecklenburg county, n.c., was patrick jack. he was a native of ireland, and emigrated to america, with several brothers, about . he married lillis mcadoo, of the same race, who is represented to have been, by all who knew her, as "one of the best of women," having an amiable disposition, frequently dispensing charities to the poor, and truly pious. her christian name, _lillis_, in subsequent years, was softened into _lillie_, by many of her descendants in adopting it. the descent of patrick jack is traceable to noble ancestors, one of whom was a ministerial sufferer in the reign of charles ii, in . in that year, that despotic monarch, who, according to one of his own satirists, "never said a foolish thing, nor ever did a wise one," ejected from their benefices or livings, under jeremy taylor, thirteen ministers of the presbytery of lagan, in the northern part of ireland, for their non-conformity to the church of england. the puritans of england were called to the same trial, in august, , and in the following october, the same scene of heroic suffering was exhibited in scotland. among the honored names of these thirteen ejected ministers, were robert wilson, ancestor of the rev. francis mckemie, who, twenty years later, was the first presbyterian preacher that had ever visited the western continent, and near relative of george mckemie, of the waxhaw settlement, and a brother-in-law of mrs. elizabeth jackson, the mother of general andrew jackson; robert craighead, ancestor of the rev. alexander craighead, the first settled pastor of sugar creek congregation, the early apostle of civil and religious liberty in mecklenburg county, and who ended his days there in ; thomas drummond, a near relative of william drummond, the first royal governor of north carolina; adam white, ancestor of hon. hugh lawson white, a native of iredell county, and william jack, ancestor of patrick jack, of charlotte, charles jack, of chambersburg, pennsylvania, and others whose descendants are now found in ten or twelve states of the american union. in the list of tax-payers for chambersburg, pa, during the latter half of the last century, the "chief burgess," or mayor of that place, informs the author the name of jack (especially john, james, charles, and william) is of frequent occurrence; but, at the present time, not one of the name is to be found there. one of these, (james) probably a nephew of patrick and charles jack, served five years with distinction in the revolutionary army, and others are traditionally spoken of as actively engaged in the same patriotic duty. several of the elder members of the family are buried in the graveyard of chambersburg, others in williamsport, md., and elsewhere in western pennsylvania. several years previous to the revolution, there also came over from the north of ireland to america, at least two brothers of the name of jack, distant relatives of patrick and charles jack, and settled in western pennsylvania. when the county town of westmoreland (hannastown) was burned by the indians in , one of this family distinguished himself by saving the lives of the women and children. after the burning of that place, the name of the town was changed to greensburg, and a new location selected on land donated by william jack, who had become quite wealthy, and one of the associate judges of westmoreland county. he had five sons, four of whom died bachelors; the elder married, but none of his descendants are now ( ) living, except a grand-son, (william jack,) who resides near greensburg, pa. the only daughter of judge william jack, married _john cust_, who fled from ireland soon after the rebellion in . about , animated with the hope of more rapidly improving his worldly condition, patrick jack joined the great tide of emigration to the southern colonies, and shortly after his arrival in north carolina purchased a tract of land between grant and second creeks, in the cathey settlement (now thyatira) in rowan county. after remaining there for about two years, he sold his land and moved to the adjoining county of mecklenburg. here, by strict economy and industry, he was "blest in his basket and his store," and enabled to make more enlarged possessions. this improvement in his pecuniary condition and prosperity may be inferred from the fact that in , and a few years subsequently, he and his eldest son, capt. james jack, who, about this time united in business with his father, became the owners of some of the finest lots, or rather blocks, in charlotte. among the valuable lots they are recorded as owning, may be briefly named: no. , the present irwin corner; no. , the parks lot; no. , the whole space, or double block, from the irwin corner to the court house lot; no. , the space from the parks lot to the corner embracing the brown property; and several lots on trade street, opposite the first presbyterian church. on one of these last named lots (the old elms property, on the corner next to the court house) patrick jack and his son capt. james jack, resided when the delegates from the militia districts of the county assembled, on the th and th of may, , and kept a public house of entertainment. here patrick jack, on suitable occasions, was accustomed to "crack" many an irish joke, to the infinite delight of his numerous visitors; and by his ready wit, genial good humor and pleasantry, greatly contributed to the reputation of his house, and inculcated his own patriotic principles. the house soon became the favorite place of resort for the students of the collegiate institute known as "queen's museum," and of other ardent spirits of the town and country, to discuss the political issues of that exciting period, all foreboding the approach of a mighty revolution. patrick jack had four sons, james, john, samuel and robert, and five daughters, charity, jane, mary, margaret and lillis, named in the order of their ages. capt. james jack, the eldest son, married margaret houston, on the th of november, . the houston family came south nearly at the same time with the alexanders, polks, pattons, caldwells, wallaces, wilsons, clarkes, rosses, pattersons, browns, and many others, and settled mostly in the eastern part of mecklenburg county (now cabarrus), and in neighborhoods convenient to the old established presbyterian churches of the country, under whose guidance civil and religious freedom have ever found ardent and unwavering defenders. the late archibald houston, who served cabarrus county faithfully in several important positions, and died in , was one of this worthy family. on the nd of october, , captain james jack, as stated in his own family register, moved to his own place, on the head of the catawba river, then receiving a considerable emigration. he had five children: . cynthia, born on the th of september, . . patrick, born on the th of september, . . william houston, bom on the th of june, . . archibald, born on the th of april, (died young); and . james, born on the th of september, . on the th of august, , captain jack left his mountain home and moved to the residence of his father, patrick jack, in mecklenburg county. on the th of february, , he and his father moved from the country, where they had been temporarily sojourning, into "charlotte town," prospered in business, and soon became useful and influential citizens. on the th of sept., , lord cornwallis, elated with his victory at camden, entered charlotte, with the confident expectation of soon restoring north carolina to the british crown. patrick jack was then an old and infirm man, having given up the chief control of his public house to his son, captain james jack; but neither age nor infirmity could enlist the sympathies of the british soldiery. the patriotic character of the house had become extensively known through tory information, and its destruction was consequently a "foregone conclusion." the british soldiers removed its aged owner from the feather bed upon which he was lying, emptied its contents into the street, aid then set the house on fire! the reason assigned for this incendiary act was, "all of old jack's sons were in the rebel army," and he himself had been an active promoter of american independence. the loss to patrick jack of his dwelling-house and much furniture, accumulated through many years of patient toil and industry, was a severe one. the excitement of the burning scene, consequent exposure, and great nervous shock to a system already debilitated with disease, a few months afterward brought to the grave this veteran patriot. his aged partner survived him a few years. both were worthy and consistent members of the presbyterian church, and their mortal remains now repose in the old graveyard in charlotte. by the last will and testament of patrick jack, made on the th of may, , he devised the whole of his personal estate and the "undivided benefit of his house and lots to his beloved wife during her life-time." after her death they were directed to be sold, and the proceeds divided among his five married daughters, viz.: charity dysart, jane barnett, mary alexander, margaret wilson and lillie nicholson. james jack and joseph nicholson were appointed executors. it is related of dr. thomas henderson, a former venerable citizen of charlotte, that, on his death-bed, he requested to be buried by the side of patrick jack, "one of the best men he had ever known." at the convention of delegates in charlotte on the th and th of may, , capt. james jack was one of the deeply interested spectators, and shared in the patriotic feelings of that ever memorable occasion. he was then about forty-three years of age--brave, energetic and ready to engage in any duty having for its object the welfare and independence of his country. after the passage of the patriotic resolutions, elsewhere given in this volume, constituting the mecklenburg declaration of independence, capt. jack, for his well-known energy, bravery and determination of character, was selected to be the bearer of them to congress, then in session in philadelphia. accordingly, as soon as the necessary preparations for traveling could be made, he set out from charlotte on that long, lonesome and perilous journey, _on horseback_. there were then nowhere in the american colonies, _stages_ or _hacks_ to facilitate and expedite the weary traveler. express messengers were alone employed for the rapid transmission of all important intelligence. on the evening of the first day he reached salisbury, forty miles from charlotte, before the general court, then in session, had adjourned. upon his arrival, colonel kennon, an influential member of the court, who knew the object of captain jack's mission, procured from him the copy of the mecklenburg resolutions of independence he had in charge, and read them aloud in open court. all was silence, and all apparent approval (_intentique ora tenebant_) as these earliest key-notes of freedom resounded through the hall of the old court house in salisbury. there sat around, in sympathizing composure, those sterling patriots, moses winslow, waightstill avery, john brevard, william sharpe, griffith rutherford, matthew locke, samuel young, adlai osborne, james brandon, and many others, either members of the court, or of the county "committee of safety." the only marked opposition proceeded from two lawyers, _john dunn_ and _benjamin booth boote_, who pronounced the resolutions _treasonable_, and said captain jack ought to be detained. these individuals had previously expressed sentiments "inimical to the american cause." as soon as knowledge of their avowed sentiments and proposed detention of captain jack reached charlotte, the patriotic vigilance of the friends of liberty was actively aroused, and a party of ten or twelve armed horsemen promptly volunteered to proceed to salisbury, arrest said dunn and boote, and bring them before the committee of safety of mecklenburg for trial. this was accordingly done (george graham, living near charlotte, being one of the number), and both being found guilty of conduct inimical to the cause of american freedom, were transported, first to camden, and afterward, to charleston, s.c. they never returned to north carolina, but after the war, it is reported, settled in florida, and died there, it is hoped not only repentant of their sins, as all should be, but with chastened notions of the reality and benefits of american independence. on the next morning, captain jack resumed his journey from salisbury, occasionally passing through neighborhoods, in and beyond the limits of north carolina, infested with enraged tories, but, intent on his appointed mission, he faced all dangers, and finally reached philadelphia in safety. upon his arrival he immediately obtained an interview with the north carolina delegates (caswell, hooper and hewes), and, after a little conversation on the state of the country, then agitating all minds, captain jack drew from his pocket the mecklenburg resolutions of the th of may, , with the remark: "here, gentlemen, is a paper that i have been instructed to deliver to you, with the request that you should lay the same before congress." after the north carolina delegates had carefully read the mecklenburg resolutions, and approved of their patriotic sentiments so forcibly expressed, they informed captain jack they would keep the paper, and show it to several of their friends, remarking, at the same time, they did not think congress was then prepared to act upon so important a measure as _absolute independence_. on the next day, captain jack had another interview with the north carolina delegates. they informed him that they had consulted with several members of congress, (including hancock, jay and jefferson,) and that all agreed, while they approved of the patriotic spirit of the mecklenburg resolutions, it would be premature to lay them officially before the house, as they still entertained some hopes of reconciliation with england. it was clearly perceived by the north carolina delegates and other members whom they consulted, that the citizens of mecklenburg county were _in advance_ of the general sentiment of congress on the subject of independence; the phantasy of "reconciliation" still held forth its seductive allurements in , and even during a portion of ; and hence, no record was made, or vote taken on the patriotic resolutions of mecklenburg, and they became concealed from view in the blaze of the national declaration bursting forth on the th of july, , which only re-echoed and reaffirmed the truth and potency of sentiments proclaimed in charlotte on the th of may, . captain jack finding the darling object of his long and toilsome journey could not be then accomplished, and that congress was not prepared to vote on so bold a measure as _absolute independence_, just before leaving philadelphia for home, somewhat excited, addressed the north carolina delegates, and several other members of congress, in the following patriotic words: "_gentlemen, you may debate here about 'reconciliation,' and memorialize your king, but, bear it in mind, mecklenburg owes no allegiance to, and is separated from the crown of great britain forever_." on the breaking out of hostilities with the mother country, no portion of the confederacy was more forward in fulfilling the pledge of "life, fortune and sacred honor," in the achievement of liberty, previously made, than mecklenburg and several adjacent counties. upon the first call for troops, captain jack entered the service in command of a company, and acted in that capacity, with distinguished bravery, throughout the war under colonels polk, alexander, and other officers. he uniformly declined promotion when tendered, there being a strong reciprocal attachment between himself and his command, which he highly appreciated, and did not wish to sunder. at the commencement of the war he was in "easy" and rather affluent circumstances--at its close, comparatively a poor man. prompted by patriotic feelings for the final prosperity of his county, still struggling for independence, he loaned to the slate of north carolina, in her great pecuniary need, £ , , for which, unfortunately, he has never received a cent in return. as a partial compensation for his services the state paid him a land warrant, which he placed in the hands of a mr. martin, a particular friend, to be laid at his discretion. martin moved to tennessee, and died there, but no account of the warrant could be afterward obtained. soon after the war he sold his house and lots in charlotte, and moved with his family to wilkes county, ga. here he is represented, by those who knew him, as being a "model farmer," with barns well filled, and surrounded with all the evidences of great industry, order and abundance. here, too, he was blest in enjoying for many years the ministerial instructions of the rev. francis cummins, a distinguished presbyterian clergyman, who, at the youthful age of eighteen, joined his command in mecklenburg county, and had followed him to his new home in georgia--formerly a gallant soldier for his country's rights, but now transformed into a "soldier of the cross" on christian duty in his heavenly master's service. the latter years of captain jack's life were spent under the care of his second son, william h. jack, long a successful and most worthy merchant of augusta, ga. in or , captain jack moved from wilkes to elbert county, of the same state. there being no presbyterian church in reach, of which he had been for many years a devout and consistent member, he joined the methodist church, with which his children had previously united. he was extremely fond of meeting with old friends, and of narrating incidents of the revolution in which he had actively participated, and for its success freely contributed of his substance. in the serenity of a good old age, protracted beyond the usual boundaries of life, he cared but little for things of this world, and took great delight in reading his bible, and deriving from its sacred pages those christian consolations which alone can yield true comfort and happiness, and cheer the pathway of our earthly pilgrimage to the tomb. he met his approaching end with calm resignation, and died on the th of december, , in the ninety-first year of his age. his wife, the partner of his joys and his sorrows through a long and eventful life, survived him about two years, and then passed away in peace. cynthia jack, eldest child and only daughter of capt. james jack, married a.s. cosby, and settled in mississippi. after his death the widow and family settled in louisiana, about . their descendants were: . margaret. . cynthia. . james; and . dr. charles cosby. patrick jack, eldest son of captain james jack, was colonel of the th regiment u.s. infantry, in the war of , stationed at savannah. he sustained an elevated position in society, frequently represented elbert county in the state senate, and died in . his children were: . patrick. . william ii.; and . james w. jack. patrick jack, the eldest son, married miss spencer, and, in turn, had two daughters, harriet and margaret, and six sons: . james. . william ii. . patrick c. . spencer ii. . abner; and g. churchill jack. abner died several years ago in mississippi--a planter by occupation, and a man of wealth. james jack, eldest son of col. patrick jack, married, in , ann scott gray, who died in . in , he married mary jane witherspoon, having by the first wife ten, and by the second, eleven children, of whom at present ( ) twelve are living. in , he moved to jefferson county, ala., and one year afterward to hale county, in the same state, where he ended his days. during the fall of the last year ( ) the author received from him two interesting letters respecting the history of his ever-memorable grandfather, capt. james jack, after his removal from north carolina to georgia. but alas! the uncertainty of human life! before the year closed this venerable, intelligent, and truly christian man was numbered with the dead! he was a successful farmer, the prudent counsellor of his neighborhood, good to the poor, dispensing his charities with a liberal hand, and was universally beloved by all who knew him. on the th of november he had a severe stroke of paralysis, from which he never recovered. on the th of december, , like a sheaf, ripe in its season, he was cut down, and gathered to his fathers, quietly passing away in the seventy-sixth year of his age, with the fond hope of a blissful immortality beyond the grave. churchill jack, youngest son of col. patrick jack, is a farmer in arkansas, and the only one of this family now ( ) living. william h., patrick c. and spencer h. jack, all young and adventurous spirits, emigrated from alabama to texas in , and cast their lots with the little american colony which was then just beginning to establish itself. they were all three lawyers by profession, and took an active interest and part in the difficulties with mexico, which were sure to result in open hostilities and the independence of texas. spencer h. jack died young and without issue. patrick c. jack played a prominent part in one of the earliest acts "rebellion" against the mexican authorities. he, travis and edward, at anahuac, smarting under the tyranny of the mexican general, bradburn, then commanding the post, denounced and rebelled against his usurpations and oppression. for this they were seized and imprisoned by bradburn, and held as _captive traitors_, until released by a company of armed texans, who demanded their _immediate surrender or a fight_. bradburn, not having a particular fondness for _leaden arguments_, and well knowing the message _meant business_, reluctantly yielded to the stern demand. but this chivalric rescue, as might be expected, was regarded by mexico _as treason_, and war soon afterward followed. after the close of the mexican war patrick c. jack returned to his profession, which he pursued successfully. at the time of his death, in , though still a young man, he was one of the judges of the supreme court of the republic of texas. his brother, william h. jack, also participated prominently in council, and in the field in the revolution of texas, and served as a private in the battle of san jacinto, which sealed the independence of the "lone star" republic. he achieved distinction in his profession as a lawyer and advocate, and served repeatedly as representative and senator in the congress of the young republic. under president burnet's administration he became secretary of state. he, too, died in , not having attained his fortieth year. he left a widow and three children, two of the latter being daughters. his elder daughter is the wife of hon. w.p. ballinger, of the city of galveston, lately appointed to the bench of the supreme court of texas, which position he declined. his second daughter (now deceased) married the hon. grey m. bryan, of galveston, who represented his district in congress before the war, and was speaker of the house of representatives of texas in . colonel thomas m. jack, only son of william h. jack, and great-grandson of captain james jack, of mecklenburg memory, is an eminent lawyer and advocate, also of galveston (of the firm of ballinger, jack and mott), to whom the author acknowledges his indebtedness for many particulars respecting the texan members of the jack family. william houston jack, second son of captain james jack, was one of the first settlers, and successful merchants of augusta, ga. after his withdrawal from the mercantile business, he settled in wilkes county, taking care of his aged father and mother until their death. he married frances cummins, a daughter of the rev. francis cummins, one of the witnesses of the mecklenburg declaration of independence. he was universally beloved by all who knew him, and sustained through life a character of unsullied integrity. he left one son, william cummins jack, a teacher by profession, a fine classical scholar, and a gentleman of culture and great moral worth. he is now ( ) residing with his second son, william h. jack, a distinguished lawyer (of the firm of "jack and pierson") of natchitoches, la. his eldest son, dr. samuel jack, is an eminent physician, of extensive practice, residing in columbia county, arkansas. two other sons are industrious farmers, and all are pursuing successfully their several vocations of life. for the patriotic services, civil and military, performed by different members of the jack family, texas, in her formation stage, honored one of her counties with their name. james w. jack, third son of captain james jack, married annie barnett, a daughter of john barnett and ann spratt. he was a farmer by profession, of unblemished character, and extensive influence, residing and ending his days in wilkes county, ga. he had the following children: . samuel t.; . jane; . james, (killed at the massacre of the alamo, under col. faonin) . lillis; . patrick, and . cynthia jack. samuel t. jack married martha webster, of mississippi; jane jack married dr. james jarratt; lillis jack married osborne edward, esq., and patrick jack married emily hanson, of texas. john jack, second son of patrick jack, of charlotte, preceding and during the revolutionary war, lived on mcalpine's creek, in mecklenburg county. he performed a soldier's duty during the war, and soon after its termination, moved to wilkes county, ga. of his further history and descendants, little is now known. samuel jack, third son of patrick jack, of charlotte, was also a soldier of the revolution, and commanded an artillery company. he lived in the sugar creek neighborhood, and married, st. miss knight, of mecklenburg county, by whom he had two children, . eliza d. jack, who married the rev. mr. hodge, a presbyterian minister, and settled in athens, ga., and . james jack, who died when a young man. a few years after her death, he married margaret stewart, of philadelphia, pa., by whom he had five children: . samuel stewart; . john mccormick; . william d.; . mary e., and . amanda m. jack. samuel s. jack married elizabeth meredith, of walton county, ga., in . none of the other children ever married. he had five children: . william howard; . amanda e.; . james mortimer; . joseph henry, and . sarah m. jack. of these, william howard jack, in , married mary lunsdale, by whom he had five children. he was a printer and editor, and highly respected by all who knew him. he died in april, , in rome, ga., aged forty-two years. his son, james mortimer jack, was killed in the late war. amanda e. jack a worthy lady, is now ( ) living in the country with her brother, joseph henry jack. robert jack, the fourth and youngest son of patrick jack, of charlotte, remained in chambersburg, pa., where his father had resided many years previous to his removal to north carolina. he had the following children: . james; . john; . cynthia, and . margaret jack. john jack was the only one of this family who married. he was born in chambersburg, on the th of december, . at the age of sixteen, he went to baltimore, engaged as a clerk in a mercantile house, and there acquired those correct business habits and educational training which qualified him for future usefulness. near the close of the last, century, when quite a young man, he settled in romney, hampshire county, va. he there became a successful merchant, and sustained, through a long and busy life, an unblemished reputation for honesty, integrity and general uprightness of character. he married rebecca singleton, an estimable lady who survived him a few years. in , he was appointed cashier of the romney branch of the valley bank of virginia, which position he held until his death, with distinguished ability. the former intelligent mayor of romney, (a.p. white, esq.,) in writing to the author, says: "john jack, when young, was of a gay and festive disposition. after he joined the church, he sobered down to great calmness and evenness. he was always exceedingly neat in his person, courteous in his manners, and kind and charitable to the poor. he bore through life, the character of an earnest, honest, and upright man of business, was an elder of the presbyterian church, and a good christian." he died on the th of september, , in the seventy-fourth year of his age. he had the following children: . robert y.; . carlton t.; . james r.; . john; . margaret; . juliette m.; . john g., and . edward w. jack. the last named son is now ( ) the only one of the family living. robert y. jack settled in winchester, va., and engaged in merchandising. in the war of , he raised a company which was stationed at craney island, and participated in the battle at that place. robert y. jack died near charleston, jefferson county, va., in , leaving an only child, frances rebecca, who married thomas j. manning, of the u.s. navy. they both died previous to the late confederate war, leaving three sons: . charles j.; . george upshur, and . frank jack manning. each one of these brave youths joined the confederate army, all under the age of eighteen years. george upshur was killed in the cavalry charge under general stewart at brandy station. frank jack was shot through the body, but recovered of his severe wound and continued in the army. they all three served under general (stonewall) jackson, through his campaigns, and after his death, under general early. john g. jack settled in louisville, ky., and died there, leaving three daughters and one son, robert bruce jack. edward w. jack, youngest son of john jack, of romney, now lives near salem, roanoke county, va., in the quiet fruition of all that pertains to an honorable _bachelor's_ life. all the members of this family have sustained exemplary characters, and now occupy fair and eminent positions in society. charity jack, eldest daughter of patrick jack, of charlotte, married dr. cornelius dysart, a distinguished physician and surgeon of the revolutionary army. the dysart family, at that time, resided in mecklenburg county. dr. dysart is said to have built the first house on the "irwin corner," assisted by his brother-in-law, captain jack, who owned the lot until his removal to georgia, shortly after the war. dr. dysart died comparatively young, leaving a widow and two children, james and robert dysart, who settled in georgia. of their subsequent history little is known. jane (or "jean,") jack, second daughter of patrick jack, married william barnett, son of john barnett and ann spratt, of scotch-irish descent. the name spratt is generally spelled "sprot," or "sproat," in the old records. thomas spratt is said to have been the _first person_ who crossed the yadkin river, _with wheels_; and his daughter ann the _first child_ born in the beautiful champaign country between the yadkin and catawba rivers. he first intended to settle on rocky river (now in cabarrus county), but indian disturbances occurring there near the time of his arrival, induced him to select a home in the vicinity of the place which afterward became the "town of charlotte." at his humble dwelling, one mile and a half south of charlotte, was held the _first court_ of mecklenburg county. abraham alexander, the chairman of the mecklenburg convention of the th of may, , and colonel thomas polk, its "herald of freedom" on the same occasion, were then prominent and influential members of this primitive body of county magistrates. near the residence of thomas spratt is one of the oldest private burial grounds in the county, in which his mortal remains repose. here are found the grave-stones of several members of the spratt, barnett and jack families, who intermarried; also those of the binghams, mcknights, and a few others. on the head-stone of mary barnett, wife of william barnett, it is recorded, she died on the th of october, , aged forty-five years. a hickory tree, ten or twelve inches in diameter, is now growing on this grave, casting around its beneficent shade. the primitive forest growth, once partially cut down, is here fast assuming its original sway, and peacefully overshadowing the mortal remains of these early sleepers in this ancient graveyard. the descendants of william barnett and jane jack were: . annie barnett, married james jack, third son of captain james jack, of mecklenburg memory, whose genealogy has been previously given. . samuel barnett, married, st, eliza joyner; descendants: . jane barnett, married a.s. wingfield. . sarah j. barnett, married alexander pope, sen. descendants of samuel barnett (second marriage) and elizabeth worsham were: . samuel barnett (washington, ga.), married elizabeth a. stone. descendants: . annie barnett, married rev. william s. bean. . frank w. . samuel (davidson college.) . osborne s. . edward a. . hattie a.; and . susan barnett. the descendants of john jack and mary barnett were: . ann jack, married moses wiley. . mary a. jack, married john j. barnett. . dr. thomas jack. . john jack. . samuel jack, married annie leslie. . susan jack, married alexander bowie, formerly chancellor of alabama. the descendants of moses wiley and ann jack were: . leroy m. wiley. . mary wiley, married thomas baxter. . thomas wiley. . eliza wiley, married mr. carnes. . sarah ann, married john r. hays. . laird wiley; and . jack wiley. the descendants of susan barnett and george w. smart were five children, of whom only two arrived at the years of maturity, albert w. and thomas b. smart. george w. smart represented mecklenburg county in the house of commons in , and again in . he died in may, . mrs. smart survived her husband many years, and was one of the _remarkable women_ of her age. she was long known and highly esteemed in mecklenburg and surrounding country for her general intelligence, ardent piety, and retentive memories of revolutionary events. at the great gathering of delegates and people in charlotte, on the th of may, , she was present (then thirteen years old), and still retained a distinct recollection of some of the thrilling scenes of that memorable occasion, not the least of which was "the throwing up of hats," in the universal outburst of applause, when the resolutions of independence were read by colonel thomas polk, from the court-house steps. she died on the th of november, , aged ninety years, and is buried, with other members of the family, in a private cemetery on her own farm, nine miles from charlotte, on the camden road. it should be stated, the grandfather of l.m. wiley and others, (john jack) was _a cousin_ and not a brother, as some have supposed, of capt. james jack, of charlotte. our prescribed limits forbid a more extended genealogical, notice of the barnett family and their collateral connections, many of whom performed a conspicuous part in the revolutionary war. capt. william barnett was a bold, energetic officer, and was frequently engaged, with his brothers, and other ardent spirits of mecklenburg, in that species of partisan warfare which struck terror into the tory ranks, checked their atrocities, and gave celebrity to the dashing exploits of col. sumpter and his brave associates. mary jack, third daughter of patrick jack, of charlotte, married captain robert alexander, of lincoln county, who emigrated from pennsylvania to north carolina about . he commanded a company during the revolution, in the cherokee expedition, under general rutherford; acted for several years as commissary, and performed other minor, but important trusts for the county. he was one of the early band of patriots who met at newbern on the th of august, , and again attended the convention at hillsboro, on the st of august, . after the war, he settled on his farm, one mile northwest of tuckasege ford, on the catawba river. his residence was long a general stopping-place for travelers, and painted red--hence, it was widely known as the "red house place." he was elected to the state legislature consecutively from to ; and acted, for many years, as one of the magistrates of the county, showing the general acceptance with which his services were held. he died in , aged about seventy years, and is buried in goshen graveyard, gaston county, n.c. his descendants by the first wife, mary jack, were: . margaret, married judge samuel lowrie; . lillis, married capt. james martin; . robert w., married louisa moore; . mary, married, st. james j. scott, and nd. general john moore; . annie, married john sumter, (nephew of gen. sumter.) his descendants by the second wife, margaret reily, were: . eliza . evaline; . amanda, married dr. j.c. rudisill, of lincolnton. descendants of judge lowrie and margaret alexander were: . mary, married dr. david r. dunlap, of charlotte; . eliza, died unmarried; . margaret, do.; . lillis, married b. oates; . robert b., married ann sloan; . samuel, married mary johnson. margaret jack, fourth daughter of patrick jack, married samuel wilson, of mecklenburg. (for his descendants, see "genealogy of samuel wilson, sr.") lillis jack, the fifth and youngest daughter of patrick jack, married joseph nicholson. he left the state, and is reported as having a family of six children, but of their subsequent history little is known. colonel patrick jack, a brave and meritorious officer under the colonial government, and during the revolutionary war, was the son of charles jack, who lived on the conococheague river, near chambersburg, pa., and was probably the brother of patrick jack, of charlotte, n.c., whose family history has just been given. colonel jack lived an active and adventurous life, and was born about . he was much engaged, when a young man, in assisting to subdue the indians in pennsylvania, and commanded a company of rangers, under generals braddock and washington, in the indian and french war of . he also commanded a regiment, and participated actively in the revolutionary war. he was in the cherokee country many years anterior to the revolution. he was at the massacre of the garrison in fort london, on the tennessee river in , and was one of three persons who survived, his life having been saved through the influence of the indian chief, _atta-kulla-kulla_, the "little carpenter." he had three children; mary, jane, and john finley jack. john was educated at dickinson college, carlisle, pa. he studied law, and emigrated to knoxville, then the capital of tennessee, where he soon acquired eminence, and a lucrative practice in his profession. he afterward removed to rutledge, in grainger county, east tennessee, where he associated himself in the same profession with his brother-in-law, the late general john cocke, a son of general william cocke, one of the distinguished characters in the early history of tennessee. he took a prominent part in the politics of the country, filled the offices of circuit clerk, state's attorney, served several times in both branches of the legislature, and was finally elected circuit judge, which position he held for many years. when the infirmities of old age impeded his activity and usefulness, he retired from public life to his plantation near bean's station, east tennessee, where he ended his days. he was a profound lawyer, a judge of great purity of character, of remarkable discrimination and integrity of purpose, evinced through a long, useful, and honorable life. he was a hard student, possessed fine colloquial powers, and was a man of eminent learning and research. judge john f. jack married elizabeth, next to the youngest daughter of general william cocke, previously mentioned, who was a captain in the revolutionary war, a companion of daniel boon from western north carolina across the alleghany mountains to the "wilderness of kentucky," a prominent actor in the establishment of the "frankland government," one of the first senators to congress from the new state of tennessee, and afterward, one of the circuit judges of that state. he served in the legislatures of virginia, north carolina, tennessee and mississippi. at the advanced age of sixty-five years, he volunteered in the war of , and distinguished himself for his personal courage. he died on the th of august, , in the eighty-seventh year of his age, universally lamented, and is buried in columbus, mississippi. it has been previously stated that col. patrick jack, the father of judge john f. jack, led an active and adventurous life. one of these adventures will be now narrated. in dr. ramsey's "annals of tennessee," page , we have this record: "a grant, signed arthur dobbs, governor of north carolina; william beamer, sen., superintendent and deputy adjutant in and for the cherokee nation; and william beamer, jun., interpreter; and the 'little carpenter,' half king of the cherokee nation of the over-hill towns; and matthew toole, interpreter, made to captain patrick jack, of the province of pennsylvania, is recorded in the register's office of knox county, tennessee. it purports to have been made at a council held at tennessee river, on the st of march, . the consideration is four hundred dollars, and conveys to capt. jack _fifteen miles square_ south of the tennessee river. the grant itself, confirmatory of the purchase by jack, is dated at a general council, met at the catawba river, on the th of may, , and is witnessed by nathaniel alexander." upon this speculative transaction it is proper to make a few explanatory remarks. about , east tennessee was beginning to be settled by adventurous individuals, principally from western north carolina, south-western virginia, and occasionally from more northern colonies. the indians were still regarded as the rightful owners and proper "lords of the soil." at the date of the council held at the tennessee river in , only that portion of the country north of that stream had become sparsely settled, but soon thereafter purchases of land were sometimes made directly from the indian chiefs themselves, as in the above instance, and settlements of whites speedily followed. matthew toole, one of the parties named, had lived among the cherokee indians, and taken to "bed and board," as a wife, one of the swarthy damsels of that tribe--hence his qualification as interpreter. he lived on the eastern bank of the catawba river, in mecklenburg county, giving origin to the name of the ford which still bears his name. nathaniel alexander, the subscribing witness, was then an acting magistrate of the county, and a man of extensive influence. colonel patrick jack, the father of judge john f. jack, died in chambersburg, pa., on the th of january, , aged ninety-one years. his daughter, jane stewart, died in , also aged ninety-one years. his daughter mary (never married) died on the th of may, , aged eighty-five years. the family of judge john f. jack consisted of eight children, of whom, at the present time ( ) only four are living, viz.: martha mariah (mrs. dr. rhoton), of morristown, east tennessee; william pinkney jack, of russelville, ala.; john f. jack, of west point mississippi, both worthy and eminent lawyers in their respective locations; and sarah anne (mrs. dr. carriger), of morristown, tenn. few persons, in the early history of east tennessee, were held in as great estimation, and filled with universal acceptance as many important positions of public trust as judge john f. jack. the county seat of justice of campbell county, jacksboro, was named in his honor, and his descendants should hold in cherished remembrance his purity of life and unsullied integrity of character. genealogy of samuel wilson, sen. samuel wilson, sr., was one of the earliest settlers of mecklenburg county, and the patriarchal ancestor of numerous descendants, who performed important civil and military services in the revolutionary war. he emigrated from pennsylvania about , and purchased a large body of valuable lands in the bounds of hopewell church, in mecklenburg county. he was of scotch-irish descent, and inherited the peculiar traits of that liberty-loving, people. he was married three times, and was the father of thirteen children. his first wife was mary winslow, a sister of moses winslow, one of the early and leading patriots of rowan county, who died on the st of october, , in the eighty-third year of his age, and is buried in the graveyard of center church. samuel wilson, sr., died on the th of march, , in the sixty-eighth year of his age. his children, by the first wife, were: . mary; . violet; . samuel; . john. . benjamin wilson. mary, the eldest daughter, married ezekiel polk, the father of samuel polk, and grandfather of james k. polk, president of the united states in . ezekiel polk was a man of wealth and influence in mecklenburg county preceding the revolution, and owned a large body of the valuable lands in and around the present flourishing village of pineville. samuel polk inherited a portion of this land, lying in the "horse shoe bend" of little sugar creek, and immediately on the camden road, over which cornwallis marched with his army on his celebrated visit (the first and the last) to the "hornet nest" of america. . violet wilson married major john davidson, one of the signers of the mecklenburg declaration of independence. . samuel wilson, a soldier of the revolution, married hannah knox, a daughter of captain patrick knox, killed at the battle of ramsour's mill. he raised a large family, all of whom have passed away, falling mostly as victims of consumption. his daughter mary (or "polly") married her cousin benjamin wilson, (son of david wilson) who was killed by nixon curry, because he was to appear in court as a witness against him. . _major david wilson_, an ardent patriot, and one of the heroes under colonel locke at ramsour's mill, married sallie mcconnell, a sister of mrs. general james white, the father of the hon. hugh lawson white. (see sketch of his life, under "iredell county.") . mrs. adaline mccoy, of lincolnton, is a daughter, and worthy descendant of moses winslow wilson, a son of major david wilson. john and benjamin wilson, the remaining sons of samuel wilson, sr., by the first wife, never married. . after general davidson was killed at cowan's ford, on the morning of the st of february, , major david wilson, and richard barry, esq, both of whom participated in the skirmish at that place, secured the body of their beloved commander, and carried it to the residence of samuel wilson, sr., to receive the usual preparatory attentions for burial. mrs. davidson, who resided about ten miles distant, in the vicinity of center church was immediately sent for; she came as hastily as possible in the afternoon, under the charge of george templeton one of her neighbors, and received, on that solemn occasion, the heart-felt condolence and sympathy of numerous sorrowing friends and relatives. in consequence of this necessary delay, those true patriots and friends of the deceased (wilson and barry) moved with the body late in the evening of the same day, and committed it to the silent tomb, _by torchlight_, in hopewell graveyard. . _rebecca wilson_, the youngest daughter by the first wife, married john henderson. after the birth of two children, they set out from mecklenburg, with the intention of moving to tennessee, accompanied by a brother and sister of henderson. on the way, while they were stopping for dinner, they were suddenly attacked by indians. henderson and his wife were killed. the brother and sister each seized a child and made their escape. the children were brought back to mecklenburg county, and properly cared for by their relatives; but, after they grew up, and indian outrages having subsided, they returned to tennessee. the second wife of samuel wilson, sr., was a widow potts. having a feeble constitution, she lived but a short time, leaving a daughter, named margaret, who married john davidson, an uncle of the late william davidson, esq., of charlotte. after she was left a widow, she moved with her three children, samuel wilson, john (or "jackey") and mary davidson, to alabama, where a large number of her descendants may be now found in bibb and adjoining counties of that state. the children of major john davidson and violet wilson were: . isabella davidson married gen. joseph graham, of lincoln county, the father of the late hon. william a. graham and others. . rebecca davidson married capt. alexander brevard, a brother of dr. ephraim brevard, the reputed author of the mecklenburg declaration of the th of may, , and one of the "seven brothers in the rebel army," at one time. . violet davidson married william bain alexander, a son of john mcknitt alexander, one of the secretaries of the mecklenburg convention. . elizabeth davidson married william lee davidson, a son of general davidson, who fell at cowan's ford. . mary davidson married dr. william mclean, a distinguished physician during and after the revolution. . sarah davidson married alexander caldwell, a son of dr. david caldwell, an eminent presbyterian minister of guilford county. . margaret davidson married major james harris, of cabarrus county. . john (or "jackey") davidson, married sallie brevard, a daughter of adam brevard, a brother of dr. ephraim brevard. . robert davidson married margaret osborne, a daughter of adlai osborne, the grandfather of the late jas. w. osborne, of charlotte. . benjamin wilson davidson married elizabeth latta, a daughter of james latta, esq. the third wife of samuel wilson, sr., was margaret jack, a sister of captain jack, the bearer of the mecklenburg declaration to congress. by this marriage there were five children: . _sarah wilson_, married ben mcconnell, who had three children, charity, latta and wilson mcconnell. charity mcconnell married reese davidson, a nephew of general ephraim davidson. this family, and also that of wilson mcconnell, moved to tennessee. . _charity wilson_, died at the age of sixteen years. . _robert wilson_, married margaret alexander, a daughter of major thomas alexander, and grand-daughter of neil morrison, one of the mecklenburg signers. he left five daughters, and one son, who lost his life in the confederate cause. . _lillis wilson_, (frequently written "lillie,") married james connor, who emigrated from ireland when about twenty-one years of age; volunteered his services at the commencement of the revolutionary war, and fought through the struggle to its close. he died in april, , aged eighty-four years, and is buried in baker's graveyard. he left two children, henry workman and margaret jack conner. h. workman conner was a worthy and influential citizen of charleston, s.c., where he spent about fifty years of his life, and died in january, . margaret j. connor married j. franklin brevard, a son of capt. alexander brevard, of lincoln county. she was an estimable christian lady, survived her husband many years, was beloved by all who knew her, and died with peaceful resignation, on the th of october, , in the sixty-eighth year of her age. her only child, rebecca, married robert i. mcdowell, esq., of mecklenburg county. . _william jack wilson_, youngest child of samuel wilson, sr., by the third wife, married rocinda winslow, the youngest daughter of moses winslow. the house in which this old patriot then resided, has long since disappeared. it stood on the public road, about three miles southwest of center church. a large honey locust tree now ( ) nearly points out its original location. william j. wilson left four children: . dovey a., (mrs. dougherty); robert; . la fayette, and . james c. wilson. the house in which samuel wilson, sr., resided, and to which the body of general davidson was borne by david wilson and richard barry, before sepulture, was a two-story frame building. no portion of it now remains and the plow runs smoothly over its site. robert and william j. wilson built on the old homestead property. these two brothers were closely united in filial affection during their lives, and now lie, side by side, in hopewell graveyard. mrs. margaret jack wilson, third wife of samuel wilson, sr., is described by all who knew her, as a woman of uncommon energy, of an amiable disposition, charitable to the poor, and a truly humble christian. she died at the age of fifty-eight years, was never sick during her life, until a few days before her death, and is buried in baker's graveyard. when drawing near to the close of her earthly existence, she was asked if she had a desire to live longer; she replied, "no; she was like a ship long tossed at sea and about to land at a port of rest." in this same spot of ground, (baker's graveyard,) five miles northeast of beattie's foard, on the catawba, consecrated as the last resting-place of some of the earliest settlers of mecklenburg county, repose the mortal remains of the rev. john thompson, one of the first presbyterian missionaries in this section of the state, and who died in september, . no monumental slab or head-stone is placed at his grave. tradition says he built a cabin (or study-house) in the northwestern angle of the graveyard, and was buried beneath its floor, being the first subject of interment. john baker, who lived in the immediate vicinity, married his daughter, and dying a few years later, gave the permanent name to the burial-ground. here also repose the remains of _hugh lawson_, the grandfather of the hon. hugh lawson white, a native of iredell county. the only tablet to the memory of this early settler, is a rough slate rock, about one foot high and nine inches broad, on which are rudely chiseled the initial letters of his name, thus combined, hl. in subsequent years, after the erection of hopewell church, the most of the wilson family and relatives were buried in the graveyard at that place. captain charles polk's "muster roll." among the interesting revolutionary records of mecklenburg county, which have been preserved, is the "muster roll" of captain charles polk's company of "light horse," with the time of service and pay of each member thereof, as follows: "dr. the public of north carolina, "to captain charles polk, for services done by him and his company of light horse, who entered the th of march, . "captain, charles polk. st lieut, william ramsey. nd lieut., john lemmond. st sergt, john montgomery nd sergt., william galbraith (erased). drummer, hugh lindsay. john smith. john polk, sen. (erased). john wylie. john findley. john galbraith. james hall. john stansill. william ---- (illegible). john miller. humphrey hunter. henry carter. james maxwell. john maxwell. robert galbraith. john mccandlis. nicholas siler. samuel linton. thomas shelby. james alexander. robert harris, jun. john foard. jonathan buckaloe. charles alexander, sen. henry powell. william rea. samuel hughes. charles alexander, jun. william shields. charles polk, jun. john purser. william lemmond, 'clerk to the said company, and shurgeon to y'e same.'" remarks.--the whole expense of captain polk's company in this campaign for sixty-five days, including the hire of three wagons at s. each per day, and two thousand and five rations, at d. each, amounted to £ s. d. the account was proven, according to law, before colonel adam alexander, one of the magistrates of the county, and audited and countersigned by ephraim alexander, george mitchell and james jack, the bearer of the mecklenburg declaration to congress. the pay of a captain was then s. per day; of a st and nd lieutenant, s. each; of a first sergeant, s. d.; of a nd sergeant, s. d.; of the clerk and "shurgeon," s. d.; and of each private, s. james hall, one of the privates in this expedition, afterward became a distinguished presbyterian minister of the gospel, and was elected on two occasions by his own congregation, in pressing emergencies, to the captaincy of a company, and acted as chaplain of the forces with which he was associated. the late rev. john robinson, of poplar tent church, in cabarrus county, in speaking of him, said, "when a boy at school in charlotte (queen's museum), i saw james hall pass through the town, with his three-cornered hat, the captain of a company and chaplain of the regiment." in captain polk's manuscript journal of his march, under gen. rutherford, through the mountains of north carolina, then the unconquered haunts of wild beasts and savage indians, he says: "on september th, , mr. hall preached a sermon," prompted, as it appears, by the death of one of captain irwin's men on the day before. this was probably the first sermon ever heard in these secluded mountainous valleys, now busy with the hum of civilized life. (see sketch of his services under "iredell county.") humphrey hunter, first a private and afterward lieutenant in captain robert mebane's company in this expedition, also became an eminent minister of the gospel, and presided at the _semi-centennial_ celebration of the mecklenburg declaration of independence, on the th of may, . (see sketch of his services under gaston county.) william shields was the gallant soldier of general sumter's command, who discovered a bag of gold in the camp of the routed enemy after the battle of hanging rock. not less generous than brave, steady on the march, and true on the field, he voluntarily carried the gold to his commanding general, and requested him to use it in the purchase of clothing and shoes for his ragged and suffering fellow-soldiers. it is needless to say that this brave and meritorious officer faithfully applied it according to the request of the honest and generous soldier. thomas shelby, a relative of colonel isaac shelby, of king's mountain fame, james alexander, charles polk, jun., robert harris, william ramsey, john foard (one of the mecklenburg signers), john lemmond, john montgomery, william rea, and others on the list, will awaken in the minds of their descendants emotions of veneration for their patriotic ancestors, who, one hundred years ago--at the very dawn of the revolution, and before a _hesitating_ congress, proclaimed our national declaration, pledged their lives, fortunes and sacred honor in the cause of american freedom. president james k. polk. james knox polk, son of samuel polk, and grandson of ezekiel polk, was born on the nd of november, about eleven miles south of charlotte, on the camden road, on a plantation which, at his father's removal to tennessee in , became the property of nathan orr, and finally that of the late james hennigan, esq. the house in which james k. polk was born, stood about two hundred yards south of the present crossing place of little sugar creek, and about one hundred yards to the right of the public road in passing from charlotte. the lingering signs of the old family mansion are still visible; and the plow, in this _centennial year_, runs smoothly over its site, presenting a more vigorous growth of the great southern staple, _cotton_, than the adjoining lands. the plantation was a part of the valuable lands owned by ezekiel polk in the "providence" settlement, and near the present flourishing village of "pineville." the family mansion, around which "jimmy polk" sported with his younger brothers and sisters, and wended their way in frolicsome mood to a neighboring school, was an humble building, made by joining two hewn log houses together, with a passage between, in the common style of the first settlers. in mr. hennigan, the last owner of the property, moved one half of the building, apparently the better portion; but with a badly decayed roof, to his barn-yard, and near his handsome residence on the rising ground south-east of its original location, and re-covered it, where it may be seen at the present time. samuel polk, the father of james k. polk, married jane, a daughter of james knox, a soldier of the revolution, who lived at a place about midway between the residences of the late rev. john williamson and benjamin wilson davidson, esq., youngest son of major john davidson. he had ten children, of whom james k. was the eldest, and who early displayed quick, intuitive powers, he received the principal part of his education in north carolina, and graduated in at the state university, with the highest honors of his class. while at college, he laid the foundations of his future fame and usefulness. it is said he never missed a single recitation, or avoided a single duty during the whole course of his collegiate term. after graduating, he returned to tennessee, his father's adopted state, commenced the study of law in the office of the hon. felix grundy, and was admitted to the bar in . in , he entered the stormy sea of politics, in which he was destined to achieve a brilliant career. in , he was elected to congress, and in , was made speaker of the house of representatives, which honorable position he held for five sessions. after serving fourteen years, with distinguished ability and impartiality, he declined a re-election. during this long and laborious service, he was never known to be absent, for a single day, from the house. in , after an animated contest, he was elected governor of tennessee. in may, , he was nominated as a candidate for the presidency of the united states. his majority in the electoral college over henry clay for this high office was sixty-five votes. the great labor he performed at a period of unexampled danger to the republic, and of difficulties with foreign nations, operated seriously upon his debilitated system, and hastened his end. in may, , in accepting the nomination, he declared in advance, that, if elected, he would only serve _one term_. and in a letter addressed to the convention, through dr. j.g.m. ramsey, of knoxville, he re-iterated his determination, and voluntarily declined, when many of his friends deemed his name the only available means of success. his precarious and constantly declining state of health, forcibly admonished him of his early departure from the scenes of earth. he calmly met his approaching end, and died at nashville, on the th of june, , in the forty-fourth year of his age. when the mists of party and prejudice shall have subsided, and the dispassionate verdict of posterity be given, the services of james k. polk will be acknowledged as unsurpassed in the annals of our nation; and his noble and disinterested example of only serving _one term_, will be regarded by all pure-minded occupants of the presidential chair, as worthy of imitation. mecklenburg county is proud of her son! in the old "polk graveyard," nine miles from charlotte, is the tombstone of mrs. maria polk, a grand-aunt of president polk, containing a lengthy eulogy, in poetry and prose, of this good woman. the first sentence, "_virtus non exemptio a morte_"[h] is neatly executed on a semicircle, extending over the prostrate figure of a departed female saint, sculptured with considerable skill on the soapstone slab, but now scarcely visible on account of the over-spreading moss and lichen. immediately beneath the _sainted figure_ is the expression, _formosa etsi mortua_.[i] from the lengthy eulogy, the following extracts are taken: "here, unalarmed at death's last stroke, lies in this tomb, maria polk; a tender mother, virtuous wife. resigned in every scene of life. * * * * * "to heavenly courts she did repair; may those she loved all meet her there. "supported by the hope of a happy death, and a glorious resurrection to eternal life, she bore a tedious and painful illness with a truly christian fortitude. the last exercise of her feeble mind was employed in singing the rd of the second book of dr. watt's hymns, in which, anticipating the blessed society above, she exchanged the earthly for the heavenly melody." she died on the th of november, , in the forty-fifth year of her age. general william davidson. general william davidson was the youngest son of george davidson, and born in . his father moved from lancaster county, in pennsylvania, in , to north carolina, and settled in the western part of rowan county (now iredell.) here general davidson received his earliest mental training, and subsequently his principal and final education at queen's museum college in charlotte, where many of the patriots of mecklenburg and surrounding counties were educated. at the provincial congress which met at halifax, on on the th of april, , four additional regiments to the two already in service, were ordered to be raised, over one of which (the th) thomas polk was appointed colonel, james thackston lieutenant colonel, and william davidson major. with this regiment, under general francis nash, he marched to join the army of the north, under general washington, where he served until november , when the north carolina line was ordered south to reinforce general lincoln, at charleston. previous to this time he had been promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel in the line. as the troops passed through north carolina, colonel davidson obtained a furlough for a few days to visit his family, whom he had not seen for three years. this saved him from the fate which befell gen. lincoln and his army at charleston; for, when he approached that city, he found it so closely invested by the british army that he was prevented from joining his regiment. when lincoln surrendered, davidson returned to mecklenburg, and rendered important services in subduing the tories, who, encouraged by the success of the british arms, became numerous, daring and oppressive. a strong force of tories having assembled at coulson's mill, general davidson raised a troop of volunteers and marched against them. a fierce skirmish took place, in which he was severely wounded by a ball passing through his body near the kidneys. this wound nearly proved fatal, and detained him from the service about two months. after his recovery, he again took the field, having been promoted for his bravery to the rank of brigadier-general in the place of general rutherford, made a prisoner at the battle of camden. he was active, with general sumner and colonel davie, in checking the advance of the british, and throughout this darkest period of the revolution gave ample evidence of his untiring zeal in the cause of his country. after the battle of the cowpens, on the th of january, , in which general morgan, with an inferior force, chastised the temerity and insolence of tarleton, general davidson was actively engaged in assembling the militia of his district to aid general greene in impeding the advance of the british army in pursuit of general morgan, encumbered with more than five hundred prisoners, on his way to virginia. general greene, accompanied by two or three attendants, left his camp near the cheraws, rode rapidly through the country, and met general morgan at sherrill's ford, on the eastern bank of the catawba river, and directed his future movements. general davidson had placed guards at tuckasege, toole's, cowan's and beattie's fords. when cornwallis approached the catawba, on the evening of the th of january, he found it considerably swollen and impassable for his infantry. this providential obstacle caused him to fall back five miles from the river to jacob forney's plantation, a thrifty farmer of that neighborhood. general davidson had assembled a force of about three hundred and fifty men at cowan's ford. at half past two o'clock on the morning of the st of february, , cornwallis broke up his encampment at forney's and reached cowan's ford at daybreak. it was a dark morning, accompanied with slight drizzling rain. the light infantry, under colonel hall, entered first, followed by the grenadiers and the battalions. the picquet of the americans challenged the enemy; receiving no reply, the guard fired at the advancing enemy. this immediately called into action that portion of davidson's forces placed near the river, who kept up a galling fire from the bank. according to stedman, the english historian, who accompanied cornwallis, the tory guide, becoming alarmed at the firing, when the british army reached the middle of the river, turned about and left them. this caused colonel hall to lead them directly across to an unexpected landing-place. colonel hall was killed as he ascended the bank; the horse of lord cornwallis was shot in the river, and fell dead as he reached the bank; three privates were killed and thirty-six wounded. the diversion of the british army from the proper landing caused the americans to fire angularly and not directly upon their enemy, and hence was less effective in its results. general davidson, who was about half a mile in the rear with the larger portion of his forces, arrived at the scene of action just as the americans were fleeing before the fire of the well-organized and greatly superior british forces. in attempting to rally the americans, and venturing too near the british army, he received a fatal shot in his breast, and fell dead almost instantly from his horse. the loss of the americans in privates was only two killed and about twenty wounded. the british infantry waded the river in platoons, and reserved their fire until they ascended the eastern bank, and thus effected their passage. cornwallis remained only about three hours after the skirmish, for the purpose of burying his dead, and then proceeded in the direction of salisbury. soon after his departure david wilson and richard barry, both of whom were in the skirmish, secured the body of their beloved commander, conveyed it to the house of samuel wilson, sen., and buried it that night by _torch-light_ in the graveyard of hopewell church. thus fell in the prime of life, and at a moment of great usefulness to his country, this noble and patriotic soldier. right worthily is his name bestowed upon one of the most fertile counties of our state, and upon a seat of learning, located near the scene of his death, which will perpetuate his fame as long as liberty has a votary throughout all succeeding time. general george graham. general george graham was born in pennsylvania in , and came with his widowed mother and four others to north carolina, when about six years old. he was chiefly educated at "queen's museum," in charlotte, and was distinguished for his assiduity, manly behaviour and kindliness of disposition. he was early devoted to the cause of liberty, and was ever its untiring defender. there was no duty too perilous, no service too dangerous, that he was not ready to undertake for the welfare and independence of his country. in , when it was reported in charlotte that two tory lawyers, dunn and boothe, had proposed the detention of capt. jack on his way to philadelphia, and had pronounced the patriotic resolutions with which he was entrusted, as "treasonable," george graham was one of the gallant spirits who rode all night to salisbury, seized said offending lawyers, and brought them to mecklenburg for trial. here, after being found guilty of conduct "inimical to the cause of american freedom," they were transported to camden, s.c., and afterward to charleston, and imprisoned. such were the open manifestations of liberty and independence in different portions of north carolina in ! when cornwallis lay at charlotte in , graham took an active part in attacking his foraging parties, making it extremely difficult and hazardous for them to procure their necessary supplies. he was one of the thirteen brave spirits, under capt. james thompson, who dared to attack a foraging party of four hundred british troops at mcintire's branch, seven miles northwest of charlotte, on the beattie's ford road, compelling them to retreat, with a considerable loss of men and a small amount of forage, fearing, as they said, an ambuscade was prepared for their capture. after the war, he was elected major general of the north carolina militia. for many years, he was clerk of the court of mecklenburg county, and frequently a member of the state legislature. he was the people's friend, not their flatterer, and uniformly enjoyed the confidence and high esteem of his fellow-citizens. he lived more than half a century on his farm, two miles from charlotte. he died on the th of march, , in the sixty-eighth year of his age, and is buried in the graveyard of the presbyterian church at charlotte. william richardson davie. general william r. davie was born in egremont, near white haven, in england, on the th of june, . when he was only five years of age, he emigrated, with his father, archibald davie, to america, and was adopted by his maternal uncle, rev. william richardson, who resided on the catawba river, in south carolina. after due preparation at "queen's museum" in charlotte, he entered princeton college, where, by his close application, he soon acquired the reputation of an excellent student. but the din of arms disturbed his collegiate studies, so auspiciously commenced, and he forthwith exchanged the gown for the sword. the studies of the college were closed, and davie volunteered his services in the army of the north in . the campaign being ended, he returned to college, and graduated in the fall of that year with the first honors of the institution. he returned to north carolina, and commenced the study of the law in salisbury, but the struggle for life and liberty then going on, did not allow his chivalric spirit to repose in quietude while his country was in danger. actuated by urgent patriotic motives, he induced william barnett, of mecklenburg county, to raise, with as little delay as possible, a troop of horsemen. over this company, william barnett was elected captain, and davie, lieutenant. the commission of the latter is signed by governor caswell, and is dated the th of april, . this company joined the southern army, and became attached to pulaski's legion. davie's gallantry and activity were so conspicuous, that he soon rose to the rank of major. at the battle of stono, near charleston, he experienced his first serious conflict in arms, and was severely wounded in the thigh, which laid him up for some time in the hospital in that city. in this engagement, major davie also received a wound from a heavy cavalry charge of the enemy, which caused him to fall from his horse. he still held the bridle, but was so severely wounded that, after repeated efforts, he could not remount. the enemy was now close upon him and in a moment more he would have been made a prisoner. just at this time, a private, whose horse had been killed, and who was retreating, saw the imminent danger of his gallant officer, and returned at the risk of his life to save him. with great composure he raised major davie on his horse, and safely led him from the bloody field. "an action of courage worthy of rome in her palmiest days." in the haste and confusion of the retreat, this brave soldier disappeared. major davie made frequent inquiries for his preserver, to evince his gratitude to him and his family, for his timely and heroic aid; but in vain. at the siege of ninety-six, when davie was acting as commissary-general of the southern army, on the morning of the attack, a soldier came to his tent, and made himself known as the man who had assisted him in mounting his horse at stono. the soldier promised to call again, but, alas! he fell soon after in battle, which deprived major davie of the pleasure of bestowing upon him substantial tokens of his lasting gratitude. after his recovery, major davie returned to salisbury, and resumed the study of law. in , he obtained his license to practice, and soon became distinguished in his profession. but the camp rather than the court-house, still demanded his services. in the winter of , he obtained authority from the general assembly of north carolina to raise a troop of cavalry, and two companies of mounted infantry. but the authority only was granted. the state being too poor to provide the means, major davie, with a patriotism worthy of perpetual remembrance, disposed of the estate acquired from his uncle, and thus raised funds to equip the troops. with this force, he proceeded to the southwestern portion of the state and protected it from the predatory incursions of the british and tories. charleston having surrendered on the th of may, , and tarleton's butchery of colonel buford's regiment, in the waxhaws, on the th, induced general rutherford to order out the militia in mass, to oppose the advance of the conquerors. on the rd of june, nine hundred men assembled at charlotte, ready to defend their country. the militia were reviewed by general rutherford, and, after being addressed in strong, patriotic language by dr. whorter, president of the college in charlotte, were dismissed, with directions to hold themselves in readiness at a moment's warning. lord rawdon having advanced with the british army to waxhaw creek, general rutherford issued, on the th of june, his orders for the militia to rendezvous at mckee's plantation, eighteen miles north-east of charlotte. the orders were obeyed, and on the th eight hundred men were in arms on the ground. on the th the troops were organized. the cavalry, under major davie, was formed into two troops under captains lemmonds and martin; a battalion of three hundred light infantry was placed under colonel william davidson, a regular officer, and the remainder under the immediate command of general rutherford. on the th of june general rutherford marched within two miles of charlotte. here he learned that lord rawdon had retrograded from the waxhaws to camden. he then resolved to advance on the tories, who, it was well known, had assembled in strong force at ramsour's mill, near the present town of lincolnton. having issued orders on the th to colonel francis locke, captains falls and brandon, of rowan, and to major david wilson, of mecklenburg, and to other officers, to raise men and attack this body of tories, he marched on the th eleven miles, to tuckasege ford, on the catawba river. he sent an express on the same day to colonel locke to meet him with his forces three miles north-west of the river, at colonel dickson's plantation. the express, for some unknown reason, never reached colonel locke. this officer, failing to secure the co-operative aid of general rutherford, marched from mountain creek late on the evening of the th of june, and early on the morning of the th attacked and routed the tories before the arrival of general rutherford's forces. (for further particulars, see the "battle of ramsour's mill," under the head of lincoln county.) after the battle of ramsour's mill, general rutherford marched against the tories assembled under colonel bryan in the forks of yadkin river, while major davie was ordered to move with his mounted force and take position near the south carolina line, to protect this exposed frontier from the incursions of the british and the tories. he accordingly took position on the north side of waxhaw creek, where he was joined by major crawford, with a few south carolina troops and thirty-five indian warriors of the catawba tribe, under their chief, new river, and the mecklenburg militia under colonel hagins. on the th of july major davie surprised and captured at flat rock, a convoy of provisions, spirits and clothing, guarded by some dragoons and volunteers, on their way to the post at hanging rock, about four and a half miles distant. the capture was effected without loss; the spirits, provisions and wagons were destroyed, and the prisoners, mounted on the captured horses and guarded by dragoons under captain william polk, at dark commenced their retreat. on beaver creek, about midnight, they were attacked by the enemy in ambuscade, concealed under the fence in a field of standing corn. the rear guard had entered the lane when captain petit, the officer in advance, hailed the british in their place of concealment. a second challenge was answered by a volley of musketry from the enemy, which commenced on the right, and passed by a running fire to the rear of the detachment. major davie rode rapidly forward and ordered the men to push through the lane; but, under surprise, his troops turned back, and upon the loaded arms of the enemy. he was thus compelled to repass the ambuscade under a heavy fire, and overtook his men retreating by the same road they had advanced. the detachment was finally rallied and halted upon a hill, but so discomfited at this unexpected attack that no effort could induce them to charge upon the enemy. a judicious retreat was the only course left to avoid a similar disaster, which was effected; and major davie, having passed the enemy's patrols, regained his camp early on the next day without further accident. in this attack, the fire of the enemy fell chiefly upon those in the lane, who were prisoners (confined two on a horse with the guard). these were nearly all killed, or severely wounded. of the whigs, lieutenant elliott was killed, and captain petit, who had been sent in advance by major davie to examine the lane, the ford of the creek and the houses, and failing to do so, as carefully as was proper, paid the penalty of neglect of duty by being wounded with two of his men. major davie, who was noted for his vigilance, anticipated some attempt by the british and tories to recover the prisoners, and had taken, as he believed, all necessary precautions to prevent a surprise or ambuscade. major davie, in a manuscript account of this affair, now on file in the archives of the historical society at chapel hill, leaves this judicious advice: "it furnishes a lesson to officers of partisan corps, that every officer of a detachment may, at some time, have its safety and reputation committed to him, and that the slightest neglect of duty is generally severely punished by an enemy." rocky mount is on the west bank of the wateree river (as the catawba is called after its junction with wateree creek), thirty miles from camden, and was garrisoned by colonel turnbull with one hundred and fifty new york volunteers and some militia. its defences consisted of two log-houses, a loop-holed building and an _abattis_.[j] on the th of july, , general sumter and colonel neal, from south carolina, and colonel irwin, with three hundred mecklenburg militia, joined major davie. a council was held, and it was determined that simultaneous attacks should be made upon the british posts at rocky mount and hanging rock. general sumter was accompanied by colonels neal, irwin and lacy, and captain mclure, and some of his kinsmen, the gastons. having; crossed the catawba at blair's ford, he arrived early on the next day, and made vigorous attacks against the fort, but failed in capturing it, mainly for the want of artillery. the attack elicited the praise of even the enemy. early in the action, the gallant colonel neal was killed, with five whites and one catawba indian, and many were severely wounded. the british loss was ten killed, and the same number wounded. general sumter ordered a retreat, which was effected without further annoyance or loss. major davie, with about forty mounted riflemen, and the same number of dragoons, and some mecklenburg militia, under colonel hagins, approached hanging rock on the same day. while he was reconnoitering the ground, previous to making the attack, he was informed that three companies of bryan's tory regiment, returning from a foraging expedition, were encamped at a farmhouse near the post. major davie, with his brave associates, immediately fell upon them with vigor, both in front and rear, and all but a few of them were either killed or wounded. no time could be spared to take prisoners, as the engagement at the farm-house was in full view of the british post at hanging rock. the fruits of this victory were sixty valuable horses, and one hundred muskets and rifles. the whole camp of the enemy instantly beat to arms, but this brilliant affair was ended, and davie out of reach before the enemy's forces were in motion, or their consternation subsided from this daring and successful attack. major davie reached his camp safely without the loss of a single man. general sumter was thoroughly convinced that the ardent patriots of which his command consisted must be kept constantly employed, and that the minds of such men are greatly influenced by dashing exploits. he, therefore, resolved to unite with major davie and other officers, and make a vigorous attack against the post of hanging rock. this post derives its name from a huge conglomerate bowlder of granite, twenty-five or thirty feet in diameter, lying upon the eastern bank of hanging rock creek, with a concavity sufficiently large to shelter fifty men from the rain, near this natural curiosity lord rawdon, then commanding the british and tories in that section, had established a post, garrisoned by tarleton's legion of infantry, a part of brown's corps of south carolina and georgia provincials, and colonel bryan's north carolina loyalists, the whole under the command of major carden. battle of the hanging rock. "catawba's waters smiled again to see her sumter's soul in arms! and issuing from each glade and glen, rekindled by war's fierce alarms, thronged hundreds through the solitude of the wild forests, to the call of him whose spirit, unsubdued, fresh impulse gave to each, to all." on the th of august, , the detachments of the patriots met again at land's ford, on the catawba. major davie had not lost a single man in his last dashing exploit. the north carolina militia, under colonel irwin and major davie, numbered about five hundred men, officers and privates; and about three hundred south carolinians under colonels sumter, lacey and hill. the chief command was conferred upon colonel sumter, as being the senior officer. early in the morning, colonel sumter marched cautiously, and approached the british camp in three divisions, with the intention of falling upon the main body stationed at cole's old field. the right was composed of major davie's corps, and some volunteers, under major bryan; the center, of the mecklenburg militia, under colonel irwin; and the left, of south carolina refugees, under colonel hill. general sumter proposed that the detachments should approach in their divisions, march directly to the centre encampments, then dismount, and each division attack its camp. this plan was approved by all except major davie, who insisted on leaving their horses at their present position, and march to the attack on foot. he urged, as an objection against the former plan, the confusion always consequent upon dismounting under fire, and the certainty of losing the effect of a sudden and vigorous attack. he was, however, over-ruled, but the sequel proved he was right in his opinion. through the error of his guides, sumter came first upon bryan's corps, on the western bank of the creek, half a mile from the british camp. colonel irwin's mecklenburg militia, commenced the attack. the tories soon yielded, and fled toward the main body, many of them throwing away their arms without discharging them. these the patriots secured; and, pursuing this advantage, sumter next fell upon brown's corps, which, by being concealed in a wood, poured in a heavy fire upon the americans. the latter also quickly availed themselves of the trees and bushes, and returned the british fire with deadly effect. the american riflemen, taking deliberate aim, soon cut off all of brown's officers and many of his soldiers; and at length, after a fierce conflict, his corps yielded, and dispersed in confusion. the arms and ammunition procured from the enemy were of great service, for when the action commenced, sumter's men had not two rounds each. now was the moment to strike for decisive victory; it was lost by the criminal indulgence of sumter's men in plundering the portion of the british camp already secured, and drinking too freely of the liquor found there. sumter's ranks became disordered, and while endeavoring to bring order out of confusion, the enemy rallied. of his six hundred men only about two hundred, with major davie's cavalry, could be brought into immediate action. colonel sumter, however, was not to be foiled. with his small number of patriots he rushed forward, with a shout, to the attack. the enemy had formed a hollow square, with the field pieces in front, and in this position received the charge. the americans attacked them on three sides, and for a while the contest was severe. at length, just as the british line was yielding, a reinforcement under captains stewart and mcdonald, of tarleton's legion, made their appearance, and their number being magnified, colonel sumter deemed it prudent to retreat. all this was done about mid-day, but the enemy had been so severely handled that they did not attempt a pursuit. a small party appeared upon the camden road, but were soon dispersed by davie's cavalry. could sumter have brought all of his forces into action in this last attack, the rout of the british would have been complete. as it was, "he beat them back! beneath the flame of valor quailing, or the shock! he carved, at last, a heroe's name, upon the glorious hanging rock!" this engagement lasted about four hours, and was one of the best-fought battles between militia and british regulars during the war. sumter's loss was twelve killed and forty-one wounded. among the killed were the brave colonel mclure (lately promoted to that rank), of south carolina, and captain reid, of north carolina; colonel hill, captain craighead, major winn, lieutenants crawford and fletcher, and ensign mclure were wounded. colonel mclure, being mortally wounded, was conveyed under the charge of davie's cavalry to charlotte. he lingered until the th of august, on which day he died in liberty hall academy. "of the many brave men," said general davie, "with whom it was my fortune to become acquainted in the army, he was one of the bravest; and when he fell we looked upon his loss as incalculable." the british loss was much greater than that of the americans, sixty-two of tarleton's legion were killed and wounded. bryan's regiment of loyalists also suffered severely. major davie's corps suffered much while tying their horses and forming into line under a heavy fire from the enemy, a measure which he had reprobated in the council when deciding on the mode of attack. having conveyed his wounded to a hospital in charlotte, which his foresight had provided, major davie hastened to the general rendezvous at rugely's mill, under general gates. on the th of august, while on his way to unite his forces with those of general gates, he met a soldier in great speed, about ten miles from camden. he arrested him as a deserter, but soon learned from him that gates was signally defeated by the british on that day. major davie then retraced his steps and took post at charlotte. on the th of september, he was appointed by governor nash, colonel commandant of cavalry, with instructions to raise a regiment. he succeeded in raising only a part, and with two small companies, commanded by major george davidson, he took post at providence. on the st day of september, colonel davie attacked a body of tories at the plantation of captain wahab (now written walkup), in the southwestern corner of union county (then a part of mecklenburg), killed fifteen or twenty of their men, wounded about forty, and retreated in good order without any loss. in this dashing exploit, davie brought off ninety-six horses, one hundred and twenty stands of arms, and reached his camp the same evening, after riding sixty miles in less than twenty-four hours. generals sumner and davidson, with their brigades of militia, reached his camp in providence on the same evening. on the advance of the british army these officers retreated by way of phifer's to salisbury, ordering colonel davie, with about one hundred and fifty men, and some volunteers under major joseph graham, to hover around the approaching enemy, annoy his foraging parties, and skirmish with his light troops. on the night of the th of september, colonel davie entered the town of charlotte, determined to give the british army, which lay a few miles from that place, a _hornets-like reception_. the brilliancy and patriotic spirit of that skirmish was appropriately displayed on the very ground which, in may, , was the birth-place american independence. (see "skirmish at charlotte.") on the next day, colonel davie joined the army at salisbury, where the men and officers to raise new recruits had assembled. generals davidson and sumner continued their retreat beyond the yadkin river, while colonel davie returned to charlotte, around which place the activity of his movements, dashing adventures, and perfect knowledge of the country, rendered him extremely useful in checking the incursions of the enemy, repressing the tories and encouraging the friends of liberty. lord cornwallis sorely felt the difficulties with which his position at charlotte was surrounded, and, on hearing of the defeat and death of colonel ferguson, one of his favorite officers, he left that town late on the evening of the th of october, in great precipitation, recrossed the catawba at land's ford, and took position, for a few months, at winnsboro, s.c. the signal defeat of the british and tories at king's mountain--the conspicuous turning point of success in the american revolution, and the retreat of cornwallis, after his previous boast of soon having north carolina under royal subjection, greatly revived the hopes of the patriots throughout the entire south. general smallwood, of maryland, who had accompanied general gates to the south, had his headquarters at providence, and, in a short time, several thousand militia, under generals davidson, sumner, and jones, joined his camp. colonel davie, with three hundred mounted infantry, occupied an advanced post at land's ford. when general greene took command of the southern army in december, , he and colonel davie met for the first time. the commissary department having become vacant by the resignation of colonel thomas polk, general greene prevailed upon colonel davie to accept this troublesome and important office. although the duties of the office would prevent him from displaying that dashing patriotism so congenial to his chivalric spirit, yet he agreed to enter upon its arduous and unthankful responsibilities. colonel davie accompanied general greene in his rapid retreat from the catawba to the dan river. he was present at the battle of guilford, in march, ; at hobkirk's hill, in april; at the evacuation of camden, in may; and at the siege of ninety-six, in june. the war, having ended, colonel davie retired to private life and his professional pursuits. he took his first circuit in february, , and near this time he married sarah, eldest daughter of general allen jones, of northampton county, and located himself at halifax courthouse, where he soon rose to the highest eminence in his profession. colonel davie was a member of the convention which met at philadelphia, in may, , to form the federal constitution. the late judge murphy, in speaking of colonel davie, bears this honorable testimony to his abilities: "i was present in the house of commons, when davie addressed that body (in ,) for a loan of money to erect the buildings of the university, and, although more than thirty years have elapsed, i have the most vivid recollections of the greatness of his manner and the power of his eloquence upon that occasion. in the house of commons he had no rival, and on all questions before that body his eloquence was irresistible." in december, , he was elected governor of the state. after fulfilling other important national and state trusts, and losing his estimable wife in , colonel davie, under the increasing infirmities of old age, sought retirement. in he removed to tivoli, his country seat, near land's ford, in south carolina, where he died, in , in the sixty-fourth year of his age. he had six children: . hyder ali, who married elizabeth jones, of northampton county, n.c.; . sarah jones, who married william f. desaussure, of columbia, s.c.; . mary haynes; . martha; . rebecca; . frederick william. general michael mcleary. general michael mcleary was born in . he first entered the service as a private in captain william alexander's company, in the regiment commanded by colonel robert irwin, william hagins, lieutenant colonel, and james harris, major. the regiment was encamped on coddle creek, near which time colonel william davidson, a continental officer, was appointed to the command of a battalion. in a short time afterward, his command marched to ramsour's mill, to disperse a large body of tories, under colonel john moore, but failed to reach that place before they had been subdued and routed by colonel locke and his brave associates. general mcleary was in the fight against a considerable body of tories assembled at coulson's mill, at which place general davidson was severely wounded. after this service he again volunteered in captain william alexander's company, colonel irwin's regiment, watching the movements of the enemy. about two miles south of charlotte, lieutenant james taggart captured two wagons loaded with valuable supplies from camden for the british army, then encamped near the former place. in this dashing exploit, two of the british guard were killed, and the remainder made prisoners, who were afterward turned over to colonel davidson. at the same time, an express was captured from lord cornwallis to colonel turnbull, in command of the forces at camden. here, as elsewhere in the surrounding country, it will be seen the vigilant "hornets" of mecklenburg were engaged in their accustomed work. captain alexander's command continued to hang on the enemy's rear for the purpose of making rapid captures and picking up stragglers, and followed them to the old nation ford, on the catawba. colonel davidson having been promoted in the meantime to the rank of brigadier general, marched down and encamped near six mile creek, where he was joined by generals morgan and smallwood, in november, . near this time general morgan was ordered to move with a detachment to the relief of the upper districts of south carolina. he set off immediately, and remained there until after the battle of the cowpens, on the th of january, . general mcleary again volunteered in captain john brownfield's company, in general davidson's brigade, watching the movements of lord cornwallis in his pursuit of general morgan, encumbered with five hundred prisoners on his way to a place of safety in virginia. general davidson, anticipating the movements of cornwallis, had placed guards at four or five crossing-places on the catawba river, making his headquarters near the tuckasege ford, on the eastern bank of the river. on the st of january, he left his headquarters to inspect the position of his guard at cowan's ford. here the british army crossed at dawn of day, on the st of february, . at the close of the skirmish which ensued, general davidson was killed. general mcleary continued in service until after the battle of guilford, when he returned home, and was soon afterward discharged. he was highly respected, represented his county several times in the state legislature, and died at a good old age. major thomas alexander. major thomas alexander, born in , was one of the earliest and most unwavering patriots of mecklenburg county. he first entered the service in , as a private, in captain john springs' company, and marched to the head of the catawba river, to assist in protecting the frontier settlements, then greatly suffering from the murderous and depredating incursions of the cherokee indians. in he also volunteered in captain ezekiel polk's company, and marched against the tories assembled at the post of ninety, in south carolina. in he volunteered in captain william alexander's company, under colonels adam alexander and robert irwin, general rutherford commanding, and marched to the quaker meadows, at the head of the catawba, and thence across the blue ridge to the cherokee country. having severely chastised the indians and compelled them to sue for peace, the expedition returned. in , he volunteered under captain william polk and marched to south carolina, to subdue the tories on wateree river. soon after this service he was appointed captain of a company to guard the magazine in charlotte, which, on the approach of cornwallis, in september, , was removed to a place of safety on the evening before his lordship's arrival. after cornwallis left charlotte, captain alexander raised a company of mounted men to guard the tuckasege ford. he occupied this position until it was known cornwallis had crossed the catawba river, at cowan's ford. after the death of general davidson he placed himself under colonel lee, of the continental line, gen. pickens commanding, and marched to hillsboro, near which place they defeated colonel pyles, a tory leader, on haw river. after this service he volunteered under colonel davie and was with him at the battle of hanging rock. after gates' defeat he was appointed quarter-master, with orders to attend the hospital in charlotte. major alexander married jane, daughter of neil morrison, one of the signers of the mecklenburg declaration of independence, and died in , at the age of ninety-two years. in the "charlotte journal," of january th, , an obituary notice of this veteran patriot was published, in which it is stated, "he was allied by blood to the two most distinguished families of the period--the polks and alexanders, and in his own person blended many of the qualities peculiar to each. he was remarkable for the highest courage and the greatest modesty; for marked dignity of personal deportment, and a disposition the most cheerful, and a heart overflowing with kindness. he crowned all his virtues by a simple, unostentatious and humble piety, and concluded a life, protracted to a period far beyond that allotted to mankind, without a blot, and without reproach, and with the respect, the affection and veneration of all who knew him." captain william alexander. captain william alexander was born in bucks county, pennsylvania, in the year . he was long and well known in mecklenburg county, n.c., among numerous other persons bearing the same name, as "capt. black bill alexander," from being the reputed leader of a small band of ardent patriots who, in , _blackened their faces_, and destroyed the king's powder, on its way to hillsboro, to obey the behests of a cruel and tyrannical governor. (for further particulars, see sketch of "black boys" of cabarrus county.) he first entered the service of the united states as captain of a company, in , under colonel adam alexander, and marched to the head of the catawba river. the object of this expedition was to protect the valley of the catawba from the incursions and depredations of the cherokee indians during the time the inhabitants were gathering in their harvest. he again entered the service: as captain, under colonel adam alexander, general rutherford commanding, and marched to the head of the catawba river, and across the blue ridge mountains, against the cherokee indians, who were completely routed and their towns destroyed, compelling them to sue for peace. in he commanded a company under col. francis locke, and marched from charlotte for the relief of charleston, but finding the city closely invested by the british army, the regiment fell back to camden, and remained there until their three months' service had expired. he again served a four months' tour as captain, under general sumter, and was in the battles of rocky mount, hanging rock, and in the skirmish at wahab's (now written walkup's.) he also served six weeks as captain under colonel thomas polk, in the winter of - , known as the "snow campaign," against the tory leader, cunningham, in south carolina. he again served a three months' tour as captain in the wilmington expedition, general rutherford commanding, immediately preceding the battle of guilford, but was not in that action, on account of an attack of small-pox. he again marched with general rutherford's forces against the tories assembled at ramsour's mill, in lincoln county, but the action having taken place shortly before their arrival, they assisted in taking care of the wounded and in burying the dead. he again entered the service as captain, for ten months, under general sumter, in colonel wade hampton's regiment in south carolina, and was the first captain who arrived with his men at the place of rendezvous. he was also in the fight at the quarter house, monk's corner, capture of orangeburg, battle of eutaw, and in numerous other minor but important services to his country. captain william alexander resided on the public road leading to concord, six miles east of charlotte, where he died on the th of december, , aged about eighty-seven years. elijah alexander. elijah alexander, son of william alexander, blacksmith, was born in mecklenburg county, n.c., in . in , he moved to maury county, tenn., where he died at a good old age. in march, , colonel thomas polk called out detachments from the nearest companies of militia to serve as a guard over the public powder placed in the magazine in charlotte. he then volunteered for three months under captain thomas alexander. after cornwallis crossed the catawba river at cowan's ford, on the st of february, , at which place general davidson was killed, a call was made for more men to harass the progress of the british army. for this purpose, a rendezvous was made at the "big rock" in cabarrus county, under colonel william polk, major james harris and captain brownfield. at this time, the small-pox broke out in camp, from the effects of which moses alexander, a brother of governor nathaniel alexander, died. after the battle of guilford, on the th of march, , general greene returned to south carolina to recover full possession of the state. he then joined his army under captain james jack (the bearer of the mecklenburg declaration to congress in ) and in colonel thomas polk's regiment. the command marched from charlotte, along the "lawyer's road," to matthew stewart's, on goose creek, and thence towards camden, to fall in with general greene's army. they halted at the noted "flat rock," and eat beef butchered on that wide-spread natural table. the command then marched to rugeley's mill, where it remained a week or more. after this service he returned home and was honorably discharged. captain charles alexander. captain charles alexander was born in mecklenburg county, n.c., january th, . he first entered the service of the united states as a private in july, , in the company of captain william alexander, and colonel adam alexander's regiment, general rutherford commanding, and marched across the blue ridge mountains against the cherokee indians. the expedition was completely successful; the indians were routed, and their towns destroyed. he next served as a private for two months, commencing in january, , known as the "snow campaign," in captain william alexander's company, and colonel thomas folk's regiment, and marched to rayburn's creek, where the tories were dispersed. in one of the skirmishes, william polk was wounded in the shoulder. in october, , he again served under the same captain, and in colonel caldwell's regiment, but the command of the regiment during this tour of duty, was under major thomas harris, who marched to camden, s.c., and remained there about three months. in , he served in the cavalry company of captain charles polk, who marched to fort johnson, near the mouth of cape fear river, colonel thomas polk commanding. he again served as a private in , in the company of captain william gardner and lieutenant stephen alexander, general rutherford commanding, who marched to purysburg, s.c., and there joined the regulars under general lincoln, at a camp called the "black swamp." in , shortly after gates' defeat, he joined captain william alexander's company, and colonel thomas polk's regiment, under general davie, marched to the waxhaws, and was in the engagement fought there against the tories. he again served under captain william alexander, as one of the guard over wagons sent to fayetteville to procure salt for the army. in september, , he was elected captain of a cavalry company, under major thomas harris, and marched against the tories at raft swamp. besides the tours herein specified, captain alexander performed other important services, of shorter duration, in scouring the surrounding country, and protecting it against the troublesome tories. in , captain alexander moved to giles, now lincoln county, tenn., and in , to maury county, where he died at an extreme old age. the alexanders, who performed a soldier's duty in the revolutionary war, residing principally in mecklenburg county, were very numerous, several of whom can here receive only a passing notice. _john alexander_, son of james alexander, was in active service for upwards of five years. he was the husband of mrs. susanna alexander, long known and highly esteemed in mecklenburg county as the ministering angel, who was eminently instrumental in saving the life of captain joseph graham, after he was cut down by the british cavalry, near sugar creek church, and left by them, supposed to be dead. she found him by the roadside, conducted him to her house, dressed his wounds, made by ball and sabre, and tenderly cared for him during the night. on the next day, his symptoms becoming more favorable, she conveyed him to his mother's, about four miles distant, _on her own pony_. her husband died in . in , when eighty-six years of age, and in needy circumstances, she was granted a pension by the general government, in behalf of her husband's military services, and lived to be nearly one hundred years old, enjoying the kind regard and veneration of all who knew her. _dan alexander_, who moved to hardeman county, tenn., was born in mecklenburg county, in march, . he first entered the service in , for three months, in captain william alexander's company, (commonly called "black bill alexander,") and colonel irwin's regiment. in , he served under captain thomas alexander to assist in guarding the public magazine in charlotte. in this same year he served in the expedition to ramsour's mill, under general rutherford, and afterward, against tories assembled in the forks of the yadkin river, captured several and conveyed them to salisbury jail. soon afterward, he joined the command of colonel davie, and marched in the direction of camden, s.c. near the south carolina line, they met gates' retreating army. he represented gates as "wearing a _pale blue coat, with epaulettes, velvet breeches, and riding a bay horse_." colonel davie's command returned, and encamped ten miles north of the court house. his last important service was in forming one of the party dispatched by colonel mccall to surprise a guard of eighteen british grenadiers, stationed at hart's mill, near hillsboro. the movement was successful; several were killed, six made prisoners, and one escaped in the creek. _william alexander_, of rowan county, entered the service in , and marched under general rutherford's command against the cherokee indians, and in that expedition (sept. th,) was wounded in the foot at the "seven mile mountain." in , he was elected the captain of a company of spies, and was in the ten month's service under colonel wade hampton and general sumter, in south carolina, acting efficiently in this capacity, until the close of the revolution. joseph kerr--"the cripple spy." joseph kerr was born in chester county, pa., nov. rd, . at an early age moved with his parents to north carolina, and settled in mecklenburg county. he was a _cripple from infancy_, but becoming indignant at the ravages of the british and tories, and actuated with a true, patriotic spirit, he repaired to the camp of gen. mcdowell and offered his services as _a spy_. in this capacity gen. mcdowell accepted him, and immediately sent him to blackstock's ford, on tiger river, s.c., where the british and tories were encamped, about fifteen hundred strong. after secreting his horse he proceeded as _a poor cripple, and beggar-like_, made a full examination of the enemy's camp. furnished with this information, he quietly withdrew, returned quickly as possible to general mcdowell, and apprised him and captain steen of his discoveries. he was well mounted, and traveled day and night--a distance of ninety miles. general mcdowell's forces, upon this intelligence, marched in great haste, attacked the enemy near blackstock's ford, and routed them. in this engagement four of captain steen's men were killed and seven wounded. he took no prisoners and gave no quarters. kerr then returned to mecklenburg county, and soon after joined colonel williams' command as _a spy_. captain steen informed colonel williams that he might safely rely upon kerr in this kind of service. they then marched to join the _over-mountain boys_, under sevier, shelby and other officers. upon the junction of their forces, a council of war was immediately held, at which kerr was present. they learned that ferguson was about twenty miles from them, at peter quinn's old place, six miles from king's mountain. the result of the council of war was that he (kerr) should go and reconnoiter ferguson's camp. he did so without delay, and found the british and tories encamped--arms stacked, and about twelve hundred strong. as a _poor, innocent cripple_, they informed him they were ready and willing to give "protection" to all who would join them. he soon afterwards withdrew, mounted his fleet charger, and in a brief space of time reported to colonels shelby, sevier and other officers the enemy's strength and situation. acting upon his report, these officers marched that night a distance of twenty-seven miles, and reached the mountain on the next day, about three o'clock. after a brief consultation as to the plan of the engagement, ferguson was vigorously attacked on his boasted eminence of security, and, after a fierce conflict of about one hour, was completely conquered. ferguson and two hundred and twenty-five of his men were killed; one hundred and eighty wounded, and upwards of six hundred made prisoners. the loss of the whigs was twenty-eight killed and a great many wounded. colonel williams was severely wounded in the groin, from the effects of which he died a few hours after the battle. in a few days after this victory, kerr returned to mecklenburg county, to the house of his uncle, joseph kerr. the brave captain steen was afterwards killed by the tories. he was from union county, s.c., and not far from "thicketty mountain," in the district known as ninety-six. at the instance of captain barnett, in command of some refugees who returned with him to mecklenburg, kerr was sent to york county, s.c., to gain information of the enemy's force and position. his crippled condition readily gained him access to the camp of colonel floyd and major hook--the latter in charge of the dragoons. he was recognized by some of the tories, and came very near losing his life. he managed, however, to escape, and traveled all night in order to inform captain barnett of the enemy's strength. captain barnett immediately set out with thirty-one men, and uniting with captains bratton and mclure, completely surprised and routed the enemy, killing ninety-seven, among the number major hook and colonel ferguson, of the tory militia. this was kerr's last service as a spy. after the war he moved to tennessee, and died in white county, at a good old age. robert kerr. robert kerr, a soldier of the revolution, was born in december, , in chester county, pennsylvania, and came to north carolina with his parents when only three years old. he first entered the service in , in captain john mcknitt alexander's company, in the expedition, general rutherford commanding, against the cherokee indians, then severely molesting the frontier settlements. in , he was drafted into captain john brownfield's company, colonel frances locke's regiment, and marched by way of camden, to the defence of charleston. after his return, he served under the same officers in the battle of ramsour's mill, in lincoln county. when cornwallis was in charlotte in , he served under captain james thompson, the gallant leader of the spartan band against the foraging party at mcintire's farm, seven miles from charlotte, on the beattie's ford road. in december, , he joined the company of captain john sharpe, at which time, general davidson, with his accustomed vigilance and activity, announced that all who would then promptly volunteer for six weeks, such service should stand for a three months tour. on this occasion he volunteered, and served under captain william henry. after the death of general davidson at cowan's ford, he was placed in colonel locke's regiment, general pickens commanding, which forces were ordered to harass and impede the march of cornwallis to guilford court house. this was his last important military service. henry hunter. henry hunter was born in the county of derry, ireland, on the th of august, . about the time he became of age, he married martha sloan, and, after remaining a little upwards of one year longer in ireland, he emigrated to america, and landed at charleston, s.c., after a long and boisterous voyage of thirteen weeks. after reaching the shores of the new world, to which his fond anticipations of superior civil and religious privileges had anxiously turned, on surveying his situation, grim poverty stared him in the face; for, his stock of cash on hand was just "one silver half dollar." yet, being raised to habits of industry, he did not despair, feeling assured that, "where there is a _will_ there is a _way_" to act in earnest, and battle against the adverse fortunes of life. finding in charleston a wagon from north carolina, he made suitable arrangements with its owner, and accompanied it on its return to mecklenburg county, whither his mother and four brothers had emigrated several years before, and settled in the neighborhood of poplar tent church. here, by strict economy, and persevering industry, he was prospered as a farmer; blest in his "basket and his store," and soon enabled to purchase a comfortable homestead for himself and his rising family. when the war of the revolution broke out, being deeply imbued from childhood with the principles of liberty, and the justness of the american cause, he did not hesitate to assist in the great struggle for freedom. he first entered the service of the united states as a volunteer in captain william alexander's company, colonel george alexander's regiment, and marched to suppress a large body of tories assembled under colonel john moore at ramsour's mill, near the present town of lincolnton, but failed to reach that place before the battle had been fought and the tories signally routed by colonel locke and his brave associates. he next entered the service under captain thomas alexander, and was ordered to charlotte for the purpose of guarding the public magazine in that place. captain alexander succeeded in having it removed to a place of safety on the evening before the entrance of the british army into charlotte on the th of september, . he again entered the service a short time afterward, in captain william alexander's company, and colonel george alexander's regiment. the rendezvous of the regiment was about four miles south of charlotte. after this service, on account of severe local injury, he was honorably discharged by colonel alexander. henry hunter had twelve children, ten sons and two daughters. he was signally blest to see them all attain the age of maturity, and settle on comfortable homes around him. his wife, martha, the worthy partner of his joys and sorrows, and whose earthly pilgrimage was protracted beyond the usual bounds of life, died on the th of september, , in the eightieth year of her age. he was long a consistent member and ruling elder of the associate reformed presbyterian church. like a sheaf fully ripe in its season, he met his approaching end with peaceful resignation. on his tombstone, in a private cemetery, on the old homestead property, is the following inscription: "in memory of henry hunter, who departed this life on the th of may, , in the eighty-sixth year of his age, leaving a posterity of eleven children, and one hundred grand children, with thirty great-grand children to mourn his loss." james orr. james orr was born in pennsylvania in . he early espoused the cause of freedom, and first entered the service in a company of riflemen, commanded by captain robert mebane; marched to cross creek (now fayetteville), and thence to wilmington, to the assistance of generals ashe and moore. in , he volunteered under captain thomas polk, in colonel charles' corps of cavalry, general rutherford commanding, and marched against a body of tories assembled at cross creek, but they were dispersed before the expedition reached that place. again, in , he volunteered under captain mebane, and marched from charlotte to the quaker meadows, at the head of the catawba river, against the cherokee indians, committing murders and depredations on the frontier settlements. in he served under captain elaby, colonel hicks' regiment, in south carolina. in he served under captain william alexander, in colonel william davidson's battalion, general rutherford commanding, and marched against the tories assembled at ramsour's mill, in lincoln county; but the battle had been fought, and the tories subdued and routed, before the expedition reached that place. this was his last important service. skirmish at charlotte; or, first attack of the "hornets." after the battle of camden, cornwallis, believing that he would soon bring the rebels of north carolina into speedy submission to the british crown, left the scene of his conquest with as little delay as possible, and designated charlotte as the most suitable place for his headquarters. this town had been previously the rallying point, on many occasions, for the american forces, and from which they marched by companies, battalions and regiments, to the front, whenever their services were needed. cornwallis entered charlotte on the th of september, . his approach to the town was from the south, on trade street, and, after taking possession of the place, his army lay encamped eighteen days in the old field, or commons, nearly opposite the residence of the late m.l. wriston, with the exception of one regiment, which pitched their tents about midway between charlotte and colonel polk's mill (late bissell's). the head-quarters of his lordship was in the second house in the rear of the present springs building, with a front yard facing on trade street. many years after the war this building, in which cornwallis slept _unquietly (per noctem plurima volvens_), was moved round on tryon street, and constitutes a part of the house now ( ) occupied by mr. taylor, gunsmith, but so changed and remodeled that little of the original structure can be identified to remind us of the past. the skirmish at charlotte has been pronounced one of the most "brilliant affairs" of the revolution; and the correct account of it will be here given in general davie's own words, taken from his auto-biographical sketches in manuscript, and now on file in the archives of the historical society of the state university at chapel hill. he says: "charlotte, situated on a rising ground, contains about twenty houses, built on two streets, which cross each other at right angles, at the intersection of which stands the court-house. the left of the town, as the enemy advanced, was an open common on the woods, which reached up to the gardens of the village. with this small force, viz., one hundred and fifty cavalry and mounted infantry, and fourteen volunteers, under major graham, davie determined to give his lordship a foretaste of what he might expect in north carolina. for this purpose he dismounted one company, and posted it under the court-house, where the men were covered breast high by a stone wall. two other companies were advanced about eighty yards, and posted behind some houses, and in gardens on each side of the street. while this disposition was making, the legion (tarleton's) was forming at the distance of three hundred yards, with a front to fill the street, and the light infantry on their flanks. on sounding the charge, the cavalry advanced at full gallop within sixty yards of the court-house, where they received the american fire, and retreated with great precipitation. "as the infantry continued to advance, notwithstanding the fire of our advanced companies, who were too few to keep them in check, it became necessary to withdraw them from the cross street, and form them in line with the troops under the court-house. the flanks were still engaged with the infantry, but the centre was directed to reserve their fire for the cavalry, who rallied on their former ground, and returned to the charge. "they were again well received by the militia, and galloped off in great confusion, in presence of the whole british army. as the british infantry were now beginning to turn colonel davie's right flank, these companies were drawn off in good order, successively covering each other, and formed at the end of the street, about one hundred yards from the court-house, under a galling fire from the british light infantry, who had advanced under cover of the houses and gardens. the british cavalry again appeared, charging in column by the court-house, but upon receiving a fire, which had been reserved for them, they again scampered off. lord cornwallis, in his vexation at the repeated miscarriage of his cavalry, openly abused their cowardice. the legion, reinforced by the infantry, pressed forward on our flanks, and the ground was no longer tenable by this handful of brave men. "a retreat was then ordered on the salisbury road, and the enemy followed, with great caution and respect, for some miles, when they ventured to charge the rear guards. the guards were of course put to flight, but, on receiving the fire of a single company, they retreated. "our loss consisted of lieutenant locke, and four privates killed, and major graham and five privates wounded. the british stated their loss at twelve non-commissioned officers and privates killed, and major hanger, captains campbell and mcdonald, and thirty privates wounded." this action, although it subjects colonel davie to the charge of temerity, only to be excused by the event, and a zeal which we are always ready to applaud, furnishes a striking instance of the bravery and importance of the american militia. few instances can be shown where any troops, who in one action, changed their position twice in good order, although pressed by superior force, and charged three times by cavalry, thrice their own number, unsupported, in presence of an enemy's whole army, and finally retreating in perfect order. the graphic account of the skirmish at, and near charlotte, from colonel davie's manuscript sketches, corrects a mistake into which several historians have unintentionally fallen in stating that colonel francis locke was killed in the retreat near sugar creek church, when, on the contrary, it was one of his younger brothers, lieutenant george locke, a brave and meritorious officer. this statement is confirmed by the notice of the family of "hon. matthew locke," in wheeler's "historical sketches," by the sworn declaration of william rankin, of gaston county, who received his discharge from colonel locke in salisbury, near the time of the battle of guilford, in march, , and by the declaration of michael mcleary, of mecklenburg, who served under colonel locke after cornwallis crossed the catawba in february, , as will be found published in this work. the reader may be curious to know the estimate the british officers placed upon this affair--the hornets-like reception his lordship experienced on his entrance into charlotte. tarleton, in his "history of the southern campaign in , and ," page , says, "earl cornwallis moved forward as soon as the legion under major hanger joined him. a party of militia fired at the advanced dragoons and light infantry as they entered the town, and a more considerable body appeared drawn up near the courthouse. the conduct of the americans created suspicion in the british; an ambuscade was apprehended by the light troops, who moved forward, for some time, with great circumspection; a charge of cavalry, under major hanger, dissipated this ill-grounded jealousy, and totally dispersed the militia. the pursuit lasted sometime, and about thirty of the enemy were killed and taken. the king's troops did not come out of this skirmish unhurt; major hanger, and captains campbell and mcdonald were wounded, and twelve non-commissioned officers and men killed or wounded." stedman, the english historian who accompanied cornwallis in his southern campaign, says in his "american war," vol. ii, p. , "charlotte was taken possession of, after a slight resistance from the militia, towards the end of september. at this period, major hanger commanded, colonel tarleton being ill. in the centre of charlotte, intersecting the two principal streets, stood a large brick building, the upper part being the court-house, and the under part, the market house. behind the shambles, a few americans on horse-back had placed themselves. the legion was ordered to drive them off; but, upon receiving a fire from behind the stalls, this corps fell back. lord cornwallis rode up in person, and made use of these words: 'legion, remember you have everything to lose, but nothing to gain,' alluding, as was supposed, to the former reputation of this corps. webster's brigade moved on, and drove the americans from behind the court-house: the legion then pursued them, but the whole british army was actually kept at bay, for some minutes, by a few mounted americans, not exceeding twenty in number." stedman, who is generally accurate and impartial in his narratives, is mistaken in calling the old court-house a "brick building." it was, as previously stated, a wooden building, placed on brick pillars ten or twelve feet high, and hence the mistake. some allowance should also be made for stedman's mistake, as, very near that time, the fierce and buzzing attacks of the "hornets" greatly obscured the accuracy of his vision. upon the whole, the account we have of this skirmish, even under british _coloring_, and evasion of the _whole truth_, exemplifies the spirit and bravery of the "handful" of men who actually kept the whole british army in check for some time, and then retreated in good order. kendal, in his "life of jackson," chapter , in speaking of the military school in which the "hero of new orleans" was educated, says: "in the chieftains by which he was surrounded, the virtues of patriotism, disinterestedness, caution, enterprise and courage exhibited themselves in the highest perfection. as military leaders, marion was particularly distinguished for enterprise, vigilance and courage; sumter was his equal in enterprise and courage, but had less circumspection; davie, who was generally the leader of the waxhaw settlers, appears to have united the virtues of the two. perhaps in no instance, where the chief command was in him, did he fail to accomplish the object he undertook. his intelligence was accurate; his plans judicious, and kept profoundly secret; his movements rapid; his blows sudden as the lightning, and his disappearance almost as quick. to pursue him was useless, and it was seldom or never attempted. he frequently dared, with a handful of men, to face an army; and we have seen, by his encounter with the british van at charlotte, that he knew how to strike terror into an enemy he was not strong enough to conquer." the situation of cornwallis in charlotte was far from being agreeable. the sentinels placed around his encampment were frequently shot down, compelling him to have pits sunk, five or six feet deep, for their protection. he possessed, it is true, a few timid friends and supporters in the adjacent country, but these could not render him any material aid. the panic which had overspread south carolina, after the british successes in that state. had extended itself, though in a less degree, into north carolina, and had driven many of the wealthier class to "take protection," and thus save their property. but notwithstanding the terror of arms which preceded his arrival, cornwallis soon became convinced that his situation was surrounded with humiliating realities which he could not easily remove. the reasons assigned by tarleton are truthfully set forth, when he says, "charlotte town afforded some conveniences, blended with great disadvantages. the mills in its neighborhood were supposed of sufficient consequence to render it for the present an eligible position, and in future a necessary post, when the enemy advanced. but the aptness of its intermediate situation between camden and salisbury, and the quantity of mills did not counterbalance these defects." and again he says, "it was evident, and had been frequently mentioned to the king's officers, that the counties of mecklenburg and rohan (rowan) were more hostile to england than any others in america. the vigilance and animosity of these surrounding districts checked the exertions of the well-affected, and totally destroyed all communication between the king's troops and loyalists in other parts of the province. no british commander could obtain any information in that position which would facilitate his designs, or guide his future conduct." no higher encomium of the principles and patriotism of the people of north carolina could have been well given. it is the testimony of an eye-witness, and he a cruel enemy, with the best means of information before him. tarleton goes on to say, "the town and its environs abounded with inveterate enemies. the plantations in the neighborhood were small and uncultivated; the roads narrow and crossed in every direction; and the whole face of the country covered with close and thick woods. in addition to these disadvantages, no estimation could be made of the sentiments of half the inhabitants of north carolina whilst the royal army remained in charlotte." and, again, tarleton informs us, "the foraging parties were every day harassed by the inhabitants, who did not remain at home to receive payment for the product of their plantations, but generally fired from covert places to annoy the british detachments. ineffectual attempts were made upon convoys coming from camden, and the intermediate post at blair's mill, but individuals with expresses were frequently murdered. an attack was directed against the picket at polk's mill, two miles from the town. the americans were gallantly received by lieutenant guyon, of the rd regiment; and the fire of his party, from a loop-holed building adjoining the mill, repulsed the assailants. notwithstanding the different checks and losses sustained by the militia of the district, they continued their hostilities with unwearied perseverance; and the british troops were so effectually blockaded in their present position, that very few, out of a great many messengers, could reach charlotte in the beginning of october, to give intelligence of ferguson's situation." the repulse at mcintyre's, elsewhere noticed in these sketches, is a good illustration of what tarleton says in these quotations. truly, the "hornets" were enraged about that time--more vigilant and out-flying than ever before; but it should be borne in mind they were then fighting the invaders of their own soil, and in defence of the undisturbed enjoyments of "home, sweet home." stedman describes, in much the same terms as tarleton has done, the difficulties encountered by the british in procuring supplies for their army. he says: "in col. polk's mill were found , lbs. of flour and a quantity of wheat. there were several large cultivated farms in the neighborhood of charlotte. an abundance of cattle, few sheep; the cattle mostly milch cows, or cows with calf, which, at that season of the year, was the best beef. when the army was in charlotte we killed, upon an average, one hundred head per day. the leanness of the cattle will account for the number killed each day. at this period the royal army was supported by lord rawdon's moving with one half of the army one day, and colonel webster with the other half the next day, as a covering party to protect the foraging parties and cattle drivers." the english people had then, as now, the reputation of being great beef-eaters; nor should we blame them, as the florid complexion the englishman generally wears is mainly owing to the free use of this non-febrile and healthy food, washed down with a few potations of good old london ale. the surprise at mcintyre's compelled the british to move with greater forces in their foraging expeditions. it is seldom, in the historic annals of any people, that we find it required "one half" of a large army, in a sparsely settled country, to "protect the foraging parties and cattle drivers." it indicated a spirit of determined resistance by the patriots of mecklenburg and of the state generally, which can only be construed as a faithful maintenance of the principles of freedom proclaimed on the th of may, . after the victory of the whigs at king's mountain, and the loss of ferguson, one of his bravest officers, and his entire command, cornwallis concluded to leave the rebellious post he then occupied. william mccafferty, a resident scotchman, and a man of considerable wealth, was employed as the guide to lead the british army by the nearest road to winnsboro, s.c. tradition says, that after so bewildering the army in the swamps that much of their baggage was lost, he contrived to escape, and left them to find their way out, as best they could, by the returning light of day. as the british army progressed, passing through the steele creek neighborhood, they encamped about three days on spratt's plantation, waiting to cross the swollen catawba, and for the collection of additional supplies. a guard was placed around the encampment, and one of the number assigned to a position between the charlotte road and a neighboring cane-brake. on the second or third day the sharp crack of a rifle was heard up the charlotte road, and a small detachment of the british army was immediately dispatched to investigate its meaning. when the detachment arrived at the position of the sentinel, he was found dead, at the foot of a black oak, against which it is supposed he was leaning at the time. captain william alexander (better known as "black bill,") one of the "terrible mecklenburg whigs," fired the fatal shot from the adjoining cane-brake. many others of the sugar creek rebels were with captain alexander on this occasion, but he alone ventured within killing distance. long before tarleton and his dragoons could reach the scene of action, alexander and his party were entering the brushy woods of steele creek, on their way back to the whig settlements of upper sugar creek. the associates of alexander were the taylors, barnetts, walkers, polks, and other kindred spirits, who shot many of the sentries around the british encampment at charlotte, and seriously annoyed or cut off the enemy's foraging parties. the last one of the barnetts, belonging to this "terrible party," died in , at a good old age, within two miles of cook's mills, on big sugar creek. a singular incident, occurring at this period, is here deemed worthy of narration. a relative of the spratts, named elliott, was living on the plantation at the time the british army arrived there from charlotte. believing that they would capture him, if in their power, he broke and ran for the cane-brake, about a half or three-quarters of a mile below the spot where the sentinel was shot. as soon as the alarm was given of his departure, tarleton's terrible dragoons pursued him, but he succeeded in making good his escape into the densest part of the cane-brake thicket. while he was listening to the terrible denunciations of tarleton's dragoons on their arrival at the swampy and imperious thicket, and what they would do if they could only see a bush or a cane move, he felt perfectly safe as long as he could remain motionless in his muddy retreat. but when his fears had somewhat subsided in his place of concealment, still more alarming apprehensions of danger presented themselves, on his espying a venomous moccasin of the largest size, moving slowly along in the water and mud, and directing its course so near that, in all probability, it must strike him. he could not make the least defence against his ugly approaching visitor, for fear of exposing himself to the pistols of the british dragoons. all that he could do in this dreadful predicament was to wave his hand in a gentle manner towards the snake, which caused it to stop its course and throw itself into a coil, preparatory for battle. fortunately, just at this time, the british dragoons made their welcome departure, and elliott moved out of the way of his serpentine majesty. this was the _first_ and _last_ visit of lord cornwallis to "charlotte town." he came flushed with victory, and firmly anticipated similar success in north carolina. he departed laboring under vexation and sore disappointment; not without bestowing a characteristic name ("hornets' nest") upon the patriotic sons of mecklenburg around which appellation cluster many thrilling historical and traditional associations, destined to enshrine their memories in the hearts of their countrymen, throughout all coming time. surprise at m'intyre's; or, the "hornets" at work. after the british army had been in charlotte about a week, and having, in the meantime, consumed the most of their forage and provisions, lord cornwallis was placed under the necessity of procuring a fresh supply. he had already experienced something of the _stinging_ propensities of the "hornets" with which he was surrounded, and the fatalities of their attacks upon his sentries near his camp. in order to meet the emergency of his situation, he ordered out on the d day of october, , a strong foraging party, under major doyle, consisting of four hundred and fifty infantry, sixty cavalry, and about forty wagons, who proceeded up the road leading from charlotte to beattie's ford, on the catawba river, intending to draw their supplies from the fertile plantations on long creek. captain james thompson, and thirteen others who lived in that neighborhood, anticipating the necessity the british would be under to forage, had early in the morning assembled at mitchell's mill, (now frazier's) three miles from charlotte, at which farm the corn was pulled--at most other places it was standing in the field. captain thompson and his men were expert riflemen, and well acquainted with every place in the vicinity. at this place they lay concealed about an hour, when they heard the wagons and doyle's party passing by them and up the main road. as soon as the party had passed about half a mile, captain thompson and his brave followers started through the wood, and kept parallel with doyle's party, and _almost in sight_, reconnoitering the movements of the enemy until they reached mcintyre's farm, seven miles from charlotte. a boy plowing by the road-side, upon seeing the british soldiers pass by him, quickly mounted his horse, dashed through the nearest by-paths, and barely had time to warn the intervening families of the approach of the "red coats." after the foraging party reached mcintyre's, they left a part of their men and wagons to lay in supplies, while the other part passed on under doyle with the expectation of proceeding two or three miles further. for this reason, doyle was not _numbered with the slain_ in place of his second in command. thompson's party, finding some were halted at this place, moved directly towards the thicket down the spring branch, about two hundred yards from the house. the point of a rocky ridge, covered with bushes, passed obliquely from the road to the spring, and within fifty yards of the house which sheltered them from the view or fire of the enemy. they formed into a line about ten feet apart, and advanced silently to their intended positions. the british were soon engaged in their work of plunder; some were at the barn throwing down oats for the wagons, others were running after the chickens, ducks and pigs, while a third party were robbing the dwelling house, the inmates having previously fled out of danger. the soldiery, assisted by the dogs in chasing the poultry, had knocked over some bee-hives ranged along the garden fence. the enraged insects dashed after the men, and at once the scene became one of uproar, confusion and lively excitement. the officer in command, a portly, florid englishman, laughed heartily at the gestures and outcries of the routed soldiers. the attention of the guard was drawn to this single point, while, at a distance in the fields, the wagons were seen slowly approaching with their cumbrous loads. the owner of the plantation had cautiously approached, under cover, within gun-shot of his house; the rest of the party, his neighbors, with equal care, advanced sufficiently near for the sure action of their rifles. the distress and anger of the patriots were raised to the highest pitch when they saw the reckless merriment of their enemies, and the fruits of their industry thus suddenly withdrawn. their feelings could now be no longer restrained while they were anxious to try the effects of their trusty rifles. "boys," cried one of the sturdy farmers, "i can't stand this any longer--i'll take the captain--each one of you choose his man, and look out for yourselves." these words were scarcely uttered in a suppressed tone, when the sight of his unerring rifle was drawn upon the expanded breast of the portly englishman, who suddenly fell prostrate from the doorposts between which he was standing. in two instances, where two of the patriots were firing at the same man, and seeing him fall, the second one had to quickly change from his _sighted object_ and seek another. a sentinel placed near the spot to which they had advanced, appeared to be alarmed, although he had not seen them, probably thinking of the fate of others in his situation around the camp of cornwallis in charlotte. nor were his fears unduly excited. captain thompson, at the distance of seventy or seventy-five yards, killed him instantly, when his companions, with a precision of aim equally fatal, laid low on the earth his respective foe. to captain thompson is also ascribed the honor of mortally wounding the commanding officer, when he was standing near the barn door. he was conveyed to charlotte, with several others in similar condition, in one of the foraging wagons, and died of the wound received, at the house of samuel mccombs, two days after. when the smoke rose, after the first discharge of the rifles, the commander, nine men and two horses lay dead or wounded on the ground. the trumpets immediately sounded a recall. but by the time the scattered dragoons had collected and formed, a straggling fire from a different direction, into which the patriots had extended, showed the unerring aim of each american marksman, and greatly increased the confusion of the surprise. perfectly acquainted with every foot of the grounds, the patriots constantly changed their position, giving in their fire as they loaded, so that it appeared to the british they were surrounded by a large force. when that portion of doyle's command who had proceeded forward to forage upon other farms heard the firing, they immediately returned to the assistance of his party at mcintyre's branch. every preparation for defence, attack and retreat was made by the americans. the alternate hilly and swampy grounds and thickets, with woods on both sides of the public road, baffled the efficient action of the british dragoons. some dismounted, while others called out to "set on the hounds" against a foe scarcely visible, except from their deadly effects. the dogs, at first, seemed to take the track, and were followed by the soldiers. the foremost hound approached very near one of the patriots who had just discharged his rifle, and was in full retreat after his companions; but as soon as the hound came near with open mouth, he was shot dead by a pistol drawn from the breast of the rifleman. the next hound stopped at the dead body, and, after smelling it, gave a whining howl, and the whole pack retreated from the contest. a considerable number of the dragoons were killed. the leading horses in the wagons were killed before they could ascend the hill, thus blocking up the road. many of the soldiers in charge of the wagons cut loose some of the uninjured animals, and galloped after their retreating comrades. the precise loss of the british is not known. it is believed, however, from reliable tradition, that they had at least twenty killed and _a few_ wounded. that a british detachment of four hundred and fifty infantry and sixty cavalry should be compelled to desist from a foraging expedition and return to charlotte with only a small amount of provisions and a considerable loss of their number by a handful of patriots, well exemplifies the vigilance, pertinacity and courage of the "hornets" of mecklenburg in endeavoring to protect their homes, and repel the invaders of their soil. the country people, early advised of the advance of the foraging party, mounted their horses, rifle in hand, from every direction; and, occupying well protected positions along the main road, also faithfully endeavored to diminish the number of his majesty's forces, and hastened the retreat of the british into charlotte, the survivors swearing after their arrival that "every bush along the road concealed a rebel." the names of this gallant band of patriots, of "hornets' nest" notoriety, were: . james thompson, captain; . francis bradley; . george graham; . james henry; . thomas dickson; . john dickson; . george houston; . hugh houston; . thomas mclure; . john long; . john robinson; . george shipley; . edward shipley. remarks.--tradition says francis bradley was a large and very strong man, and a "terror" to the british as well as the tories. the british officers were extremely anxious to take him as a prisoner, for his activity in harassing their scouts and foraging parties, and more particularly for the fatal aim of his rifle in _picking off_ their sentries while their army was encamped at charlotte. the rifle he carried for six years during the revolution, and which did such _telling_ execution, was the property of major john davidson (now in possession of one of his grandsons,) who, being a staff officer, could not make it perform, as it should, its death-dealing mission upon the enemies of his country. about three weeks after the gallant affair at mcintyre's branch, bradley was attacked, overpowered and killed by four lurking and base-hearted tories (said not to be natives of the county). his mortal remains now repose in the graveyard at hopewell church, where also sleep many of his illustrious compatriots in arms. on his gravestone are sculptured two drawn and crossed swords, and beneath them the motto, _arma libertatis_. the inscription reads thus: "in memory of francis bradley, a friend of his country, and privately slain by the enemie of his country, november th, , aged years." the two dicksons moved to tennessee; the two houstons and mclure moved to kentucky; robinson settled on crowder's creek, gaston county. doyle, the british commander, before the close of the war was made a colonel, and afterward a brigadier-general. in he was styled sir john doyle, and governor of the islands of guernsey, jersey, alderney and sark, on the coast of france. surely, it could not have been for his gallant behavior at mcintyre's he acquired such honor and promotion! judge samuel lowrie. judge lowrie was born in new castle county, del., on the th of may, . his parents moved, when he was a child, to north carolina, and settled in rowan county. he was educated at clio academy (now in iredell county) under the rev. james hall, an eminent presbyterian minister of the gospel, and captain of a company during the revolutionary war. he studied law in camden, s.c., and, soon gaining eminence in his profession, was elected to the house of commons from mecklenburg county in ,-' and ' . in the last named year he was elected a judge of the superior court, which position he held until his death on the d of december, , in the sixty-third year of his age. in , he married margaret, eldest daughter of captain robert alexander, of lincoln county. his wife died, leaving him with several children. in , he again married, mary, daughter of marmaduke norfleet, of bertie county, n.c. he was a man of fine talents, and dignified the responsible position he held. he resided in mecklenburg county, about three miles north from the tuckasege ford, on the salisbury road, (now owned by robert s. mcgee, esq.) his mortal remains, with those of his first wife and three infant children, and other relatives, repose in the graveyard of goshen church, gaston county, n.c. the ladies of the revolutionary period. it has been well said that "patriotic mothers nursed the infancy of the republic." during the progress of british encroachment and arbitrary power, producing great colonial discontent, every sagacious politician could discern in the distant future the portentous shadow of the approaching conflict. in the domestic circle was then nurtured and imparted that love of civil liberty which afterwards kindled into a flame, and shed its genial and transforming light upon the world. the conversation of matrons in their homes, or among their neighbors, was of the people's wrongs and of the tyranny that oppressed them. under such early training their sons, when grown to manhood, deeply imbued with proper notions of their just rights, stood up in the hour of trial prepared to defend them to the last. the counsels and the prayers of mothers mingled with their deliberations, and added sanctity to all their patriotic efforts for american independence. they animated the courage, confirmed the self-devotion, and shared in the sacrifices of those who, in the common defence, "pledged their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor." among the widowed mothers who early instilled into their rising generation a deep love of their country, and a manful determination to defend their firesides and their homes, might be named mrs. steele, mrs. flinn, mrs. sharpe, mrs. graham, mrs. hunter, mrs. jackson and many others, as bright examples in mecklenburg, rowan and adjoining counties. in the hour of deepest gloom they frowned upon apathy in the common cause, materially assisted by their benefactions, and urged on the desponding in the path of patriotic duty. general moultrie, in his "memoirs of the american revolution," pays a handsome compliment to the ladies of that section of country in which his military services were performed. he says: "before i conclude my memoirs i must make my last tribute of thanks to the patriotic fair of south carolina and georgia for their heroism and virtue in those dreadful and dangerous times whilst we were struggling for our liberties. their conduct deserves the highest applause, and a pillar ought to be raised to their memory. their conduct was such as gave examples even to the men to stand firm; and they despised those who were not enthusiasts in their country's cause. the hardships and difficulties they experienced were too much for their delicate frames to bear; yet they submitted to them with a heroism and virtue that has never been excelled by the ladies of any country; and i can with safety say that their conduct during the war contributed much to the independence of america." nor were the young ladies of that period less patriotic than their venerable mothers. their kind sympathies and voluntary contributions were exhibited on every occasion, calling for prompt and beneficent action for the gallant soldier. with fair and willing hands they embroidered colors for military companies, and presented them with the animating charge, _never to desert them_. they formed themselves into associations throughout the colonies, renouncing the use of teas and other imported luxuries, and engaged to card, spin and weave their own clothing. and still further, to arouse a patriotic spirit in every hesitating or laggard bosom, we find in the "south carolina and american general gazette," of february th, , the following paragraph, illustrative of female patriotism under a manly and _singular_ incentive: "the young ladies of the best families of mecklenburg county, north carolina, have entered into a voluntary association that they will not receive the addresses of any young gentlemen of that place, except the brave volunteers who served in the expedition to south carolina, and assisted in subduing the scovillite insurgents. the ladies being of opinion that such persons as stay loitering at home, when the important calls of their country demand their military services abroad, must certainly be destitute of that nobleness of sentiment, that brave, manly spirit, which would qualify them to be the defenders and guardians of the fair sex. the ladies of the adjoining county of rowan have desired the plan of a similar association to be drawn up and prepared for signature." accordingly, at a meeting of the committee of safety, held in salisbury, may th, , we find the following entry in their minutes: "a letter from a number of young ladies in the county, directed to the chairman, requesting the approbation of the committee to a number of resolutions enclosed, entered into, and signed by the same young ladies being read, "_resolved_, that this committee present their cordial thanks to the said young ladies for so spirited a performance; look upon these resolutions to be sensible and polite; that they merit the honor, and are worthy the imitation of every young lady in america." and who were the young ladies of mecklenburg and rowan counties then prepared to sign such an association, and willing to bestow their fair hands, and pledge their loving hearts _only to those brave soldiers_, who, on the calls of duty, fought the battles of their country? imagination carries us back to that eventful period, and pictures to our admiring view, among others, the following daughters of western carolina, as actuated by such patriotic motives: miss elizabeth alexander, daughter of abraham alexander, chairman of the mecklenburg convention of the th of may, , who married william alexander, son of hezekiah alexander, one of the signers of the mecklenburg declaration. miss mary wilson, daughter of samuel wilson, sen., who married ezekiel polk, grandfather of james k. polk, one of our best presidents, who consented to serve _only for one term_. miss violet wilson, sister of the above, who married major john davidson, one of the signers of the mecklenburg declaration. miss jane morrison, daughter of neill morrison, one of the signers of the mecklenburg declaration, who married major thomas alexander. miss polk, daughter of colonel thomas polk, who married dr. ephraim brevard, one of the secretaries and signers of the mecklenburg declaration. miss margaret polk, sister of the above, who married nathaniel alexander, representative to congress from to , and in the latter year, elected governor of the state. miss jane brevard, daughter of john brevard, and sister of the "seven brothers in the rebel army," who married general ephraim davidson. miss mary brevard, sister of the above, who married general william davidson, killed at cowan's ford, on february st, . miss charity jack, sister of captain james jack, the bearer of the mecklenburg declaration to philadelphia, who married dr. cornelius dysart, a distinguished surgeon of the revolutionary army. miss lillis wilson, daughter of samuel wilson, sen., by the third wife (margaret jack), who married james connor, a native of ireland, who came to america when years old, volunteered in the army, and fought all through the revolutionary war. miss hannah knox, daughter of captain patrick knox, killed at the battle of ramsour's mill, who married samuel wilson, a soldier of the revolution. these are the names of a few of the patriotic young ladies, then on the theater of action, who would be willing to sign such an association, stimulate the "loitering young men" to a proper sense of their duty, and promote the cause of freedom by all _fair means_. mrs. eleanor wilson. the wives and mothers of mecklenburg county bore a large share of the trials and dangers of the revolution. among these, and as a fair type of many others that might be mentioned, was eleanor, wife of robert wilson, of steele creek--a woman of singular energy of mind, and warmly devoted to the american cause. her husband, with three brothers and other kinsmen, settled in mecklenburg about , having moved from the colony of pennsylvania. these brothers were scotch presbyterians, and arrayed by early religious education against tyranny in every form. at the convention in charlotte on the th of may, , zaccheus wilson, representing all his kinsmen, signed that declaration, pledging himself, and his extensive connections, to its support and maintenance. at this crisis of our history there were a considerable number of timid persons, who shook their heads and characterized the actors in this opening scene of the bloody drama of the revolution, as _madmen, rebels and traitors_. from the first to the last, mrs. wilson espoused the cause of liberty, and exulted in every patriotic success. animated by her enthusiasm, her husband and sons entered warmly into the contest. at the surrender of charleston, her sons, robert and joseph, were made prisoners, but having given their parols, were allowed to return home. but they had scarcely reached their home in mecklenburg when the british general issued his proclamation declaring the country subdued, and requiring every able-bodied militiaman to join the royal standard. refusing to fight against their country, and being no longer bound as they believed, by their parols, they immediately repaired to the standard of general sumter, and were with him in several battles. in the battle of the hanging rock, captain david reid, one of their kinsmen, was mortally wounded, and being in great agony, called for water, when robert wilson brought him some in his hat. in the same action, joseph, a little in advance, was assaulted by a tory, a powerful man, whom he knew; after a severe struggle, he killed him, and bore off his sword, now in possession of his son, david wilson, of maine county, tennessee. the elder robert wilson and his son john, having collected a supply of provisions and forage for general sumter's corps, from the neighborhood of steele creek, were hastening to meet them at fishing creek, and reached that vicinity a short time after the surprise. while engaged in this employment, the two wilsons and the supplies were captured. the prisoners were hurried to the rear, after having been brutally threatened with hanging on the nearest tree, and by a forced march reached camden next day, where they were added to a crowd of honorable captives, such as andrew jackson, colonel isaacs, general rutherford and others. in the meantime, cornwallis, leaving rawdon at camden, marched with the larger portion of his army to "rebellious" charlotte, to forage upon its farms, and to punish its inhabitants for their well-known resistance to royal authority. he reached charlotte on the th of september, , and during his stay of eighteen days, many scenes of rapine, house burnings and plunderings took place in and around that place. but the bold whigs of mecklenburg--the "hornets" of that section--although unable to keep the open field, were vigilant and at work, constantly popping the sentinels, and insolent dragoons of tarleton, sent out as scouts and on foraging excursions. becoming uneasy by these bold attacks of the rebels, frequently driving his foraging parties within sight of his camp, cornwallis, when he heard of the defeat of ferguson at king's mountain, concentrated his army, and, on the th of october, commenced his retrograde march towards winnsboro, s.c. during this march, the british army halted for the night at wilson's plantation, near steele creek. cornwallis and tarleton occupied the house of mrs. wilson, requiring her to prepare a meal for them as though they had been her friends. cornwallis, in the meantime, finding out that her husband and one of her sons were his prisoners in the camden jail, artfully attempted to enlist her in the king's cause. "madam, said he, your husband and son, are my prisoners; the fortune of war may soon place others of your sons--perhaps all your kinsmen, in my power. your sons are young, aspiring, and brave. in a good cause, fighting for a generous and powerful king, such as george iii., they might hope for rank, honor and wealth. if you could but induce your husband and sons to leave the rebels, and take up arms for their lawful sovereign, i would almost pledge myself that they shall have rank and consideration in the british army. if you, madam, will pledge yourself to induce them to do so, i will immediately order their discharge." to this artful appeal, mrs. wilson replied that "her husband and children were indeed dear to her, and that she was willing to do anything she thought right to promote their real and permanent welfare; but, in this instance, they had embarked in the holy cause of liberty; had fought and struggled for it during five years, never faltering for a moment, while others had fled from the contest, and yielded up their hopes at the first obstacle. i have," she continued, "seven sons who are now, or have been, bearing arms--indeed, my seventh son, zaccheus, who is only fifteen years old, i yesterday assisted to get ready to go and join his brothers in sumter's army. now, sooner than see one of my family turn back from the glorious enterprise, i would take these boys (pointing to three or four small sons) and would myself enlist under sumter's standard, and show my husband and sons how to fight, and, if necessary, to die for their country." "ah general," interrupted the cold-hearted tarleton, "i think you've got into a hornet's nest! never mind, when we get to camden, i'll take good care that old robin wilson never comes back." on the next day's march, a party of scouts captured zaccheus, who was found on the flank of the british army with his gun, endeavoring to diminish the number of his majesty's forces. he was immediately conducted to cornwallis, who, finding out his name, took him along as a guide to the best ford on the catawba. arriving at the river, the head of the army entered at the point designated by the lad, but the soldiers soon found themselves in deep water, and drawn by a rapid current down the stream. cornwallis, believing that the boy had purposely led him into deep water in order to embarrass his march, drew his sword, and swore he would cut off his head for his treachery. zaccheus replied that he had the power to do so, as he had no arms, and was his prisoner; "but, sir," said this resolute boy, "don't you think it would be a cowardly act for you to strike an unarmed boy with your sword. if i had but the half of your weapon, it would not be so cowardly, but then you know, it would not be so safe." cornwallis, struck by the boy's cool courage, calmed down, told him he was a fine fellow, and that he would not hurt a hair of his head. having discovered that the ford was shallow enough by bearing up the stream, the british army crossed over it safely, and proceeded to winnsboro. on this march, cornwallis dismissed zaccheus, telling him to go home and take care of his mother, and to tell her to keep her boys at home. after he reached winnsboro, he dispatched an order to rawdon, at camden, to send robin wilson and his son john, with several others, to charleston, carefully guarded. accordingly, about the th of november, wilson, his son, and ten others, set off under the escort of an officer and fifteen or twenty men. wilson formed several plans of making his escape, but owing to the presence of large parties of the enemy, they could not be executed. at length, being near fort watson, they encamped before night, the prisoners being placed in the yard, and the guard in the house and in the portico. in a short time the arms of the guard were ordered to be stacked in the portico, a sentinel placed over them, and all others were soon busily engaged in preparing their evening meal. the prisoners, in the meantime, having bribed a soldier to buy some whiskey, as it was a rainy day, _pretended_ to drink freely of it themselves, and one of them seemingly more intoxicated than the rest, insisted upon treating the sentinel. wilson followed him, as if to prevent him from treating the sentinel, it being a breach of military order. watching a favorable opportunity, he seized the sentinel's musket, and the drunken man suddenly becoming sober, seized the sentinel. at this signal, the prisoners--like vigilant hornets, rushed to the stacked arms in the portico, when the guard, taking the alarm, rushed out of the house. but it was too late; the prisoners secured the arms, drove the soldiers into the house at the point of the bayonet, and the whole guard surrendered at discretion. unable to take off their prisoners, wilson made them all hold up their right hands and swear never again to bear arms against the "cause of liberty, and the continental congress," and then told them they might go to charleston on parole; but if he ever found "a single mother's son of them in arms again, he would hang him up to a tree like a dog." wilson had scarcely disposed of his prisoners before a party of british dragoons came in sight. as the only means of escape, they separated into several small companies, and took to the woods. some of them reached marion's camp at snow island, and wilson, with two or three others, arrived safely in mecklenburg, over two hundred miles distant, and through a country overrun with british troops. mrs. wilson was the mother of eleven sons. she and her husband lived to a good old age, were worthy and consistent members of the presbyterian church, died near the same time, in , and are buried in steele creek graveyard. about , all the sons moved to tennessee, where at the present time, and in other portions of the west, their descendants may be counted by the hundreds. robert wilson, who was said to be the first man that crossed the cumberland mountains with a wagon, married jane, a daughter of william and ellen mcdowell, of york county, s.c. both jane and her mother went to king's mountain after the battle, and remained several days in ministering to the wants of the wounded soldiers. it was mainly on the account of robert wilson's distinguished bravery at king's mountain that william mcdowell gave him his daughter jane in marriage--a worthy gift, and worthily bestowed on a gallant soldier. queen's museum one of the most useful institutions of the revolutionary period, and around which cluster many patriotic associations, was the college in charlotte, known as queen's museum. as the early fount of educational training in mecklenburg, and the _nursery of freemen_, as well as of scholars, it should ever claim our warmest regard and veneration. a brief notice of its origin, progress and termination may be acceptable to the general reader. the counties of mecklenburg, rowan and other portions of the state, lying in the track of the southern tide of emigration from more northern colonies, were principally settled by the scotch-irish, who, inheriting an independence of character and free thought from their earliest training, soon became the controlling element of society, and directed its leading religious and political movements. they were not only the friends of a liberal education, but the early and unflinching advocates of civil and religious liberty. the "school-master was abroad in the land," and as duly encouraged as in our own day. wherever a preacher was established among them, to proclaim the gospel of salvation, there, with rare exceptions, soon sprang up into lively existence a good school, both of a common and classical order. prominently among these seminaries of learning may be named sugar creek, poplar tent, center, bethany, thyatira, rocky river, and providence, all located in mecklenburg and rowan counties. of all these, sugar creek was probably the oldest. the time of its commencement is not certainly known. after the death of the rev. alexander craighead, in , the first settled pastor of sugar creek, the rev. joseph alexander (a nephew of john mcknitt alexander) became his successor for a short time, previous to his removal to bullock's creek, s.c., where he ended his days. mr. alexander was a fine scholar, having graduated at princeton college, and through his influence, confirmed by that of the alexanders and polks, waightstill avery, dr. ephraim brevard and others, residing in or near charlotte, vigorous efforts were made to elevate the sugar creek school to the rank and usefulness of a college; nor were their efforts in vain. the colonial legislature which met at newbern, in december, , passed an act entitled "an act for founding, establishing and endowing of queen's college, in the town of charlotte." this charter, not suiting the intolerant notions of royalty, was set aside by the king and council; afterward amended; a second time granted by the colonial legislature, in , and a second time repealed by royal proclamation. "and," enquires a writer in the "university magazine," of north carolina, "why was this?" an easy answer is found in the third section of the act for incorporating the school at newbern, and afterward engrafted upon the act incorporating the edenton academy (which were the only two schools incorporated before queen's college), compared with the character of the leading men of mecklenburg, and the fact that several of the trustees of the new college were presbyterian ministers. no compliments to his queen could render _whigs_ in politics, and _presbyterians_ in religion, acceptable to george iii. a college, under such auspices, was too well calculated to insure the growth of the "_numerous democracy_." the section referred to in the charter of the newbern school, is in these words: "provided always, that no person shall be permitted to be master of said school, but who is of the established church of england, and who, at the recommendation of the trustees or directors, or a majority of them, shall be duly licensed by the governor! or commander-in-chief for the time being." "the presbyterians," says lossing, "who were very numerous, resolved to have a seminary of their own, and applied for an unrestricted charter for a college. it was granted; but notwithstanding it was called queen's college, in compliment to the consort of the king, and was located in a town called by her name, and in a county of the same name as her birth-place, the charter was repealed in by royal decree. the triple compliment was of no avail."[k] but queen's museum, or college, flourished without a charter for several years, in spite of the intolerance of the king and council. its hall became the general meeting-place of literary societies and political clubs preceding the revolution. the king's fears that the college would prove to be a fountain of republicanism, and calculated to ensure the growth of the "numerous democracy," were happily, for the cause of freedom, realized in the characters of its instructors and pupils. the debates, preceding the adoption of the mecklenburg declaration, were held in its hall, and every reader can judge of the patriotic sentiments which pervade that famous document. after the revolution commenced, the legislature of north carolina granted a charter, in , to this institution, under the name of "liberty hall academy." the following persons were named as trustees, viz.: isaac alexander, m.d., president; thomas polk, abraham alexander, thomas neal, waightstill avery, ephraim brevard, john simpson, john mcknitt alexander, adlai osborn, and the rev. messrs. david caldwell, james edmonds, thomas reese, samuel e. mccorkle, thomas h. mccaule and james hall. the academy received no funds or endowment from the state, and no further patronage than this charter. at the time the charter was obtained the institution was under the care of dr. isaac v. alexander, who continued to preside until some time in the year . from a manuscript in the university of north carolina, drawn up by adlai osborne, one of the trustees, it appears, the first meeting of the board of trustees was held in charlotte, on the rd day of january, . at this meeting isaac alexander, m.d., ephraim brevard, m.d., and the rev. thomas h. mccaule, were appointed a committee to frame a system of laws for the government of the academy. they were also empowered to purchase the lots and improvements belonging to colonel thomas polk, for which they were to pay him £ . the salary of the president was fixed at £ , to be occasionally increased, according to the prices of provisions, then greatly fluctuating in consequence of the war. in the month of april, , the system of laws, drawn up by the committee, was adopted without any material alteration. the course of studies marked out was similar to that prescribed for the university of north carolina, though more limited. shortly before these transactions, overtures were made to the rev. alexander mcwhorter, of new jersey, so favorably known to the churches by his missionary visit in and , with the rev. elihu spencer; and also by a more recent visit to the southern country, to encourage the inhabitants in the cause of independence, soliciting him to succeed dr. alexander in the presidency of the academy. dr. mcwhorter having declined accepting the presidency on account of the deranged state of his affairs at that time, mr. robert brownfield, a good scholar, and belonging to a patriotic family of mecklenburg, agreed to assume the duties of the office for one year. during the next year, the invitation to dr. mcwhorter was renewed, and a committee consisting of the rev. samuel e. mccorkle, and dr. ephraim brevard was sent to new jersey to wait upon him; and in the event of his still declining, to consult dr. witherspoon and professor houston, of princeton college (the latter, a distinguished son of old mecklenburg,) respecting some other fit person to whom the presidency should be offered. in compliance with this second invitation, dr. mcwhorter removed to charlotte and immediately entered upon the duties of his office with flattering evidences of success. many youths from mecklenburg and adjoining counties, yet too young to engage in the battles of their country, and others of older years, whose services were not imperiously needed on the tented field, flocked to an institution where a useful and thorough education could be imparted. but, owing to the invasion of the carolinas by cornwallis in the fall of , the operations of the academy were suspended and not resumed during the remainder of the war. after a short service in the presidency of the academy, dr. mcwhorter, to the great regret of the patrons of learning in the south, returned to new jersey. during the occupation of charlotte by the british army under lord cornwallis, liberty hall academy, which stood upon the lot now owned by a.b. davidson, esq., was used as a hospital, and greatly defaced and injured. the numerous graves in the rear of the academy, visible upon the departure of the british army, after a stay of eighteen days, bore ample evidence of their great loss in this "rebellious county"--the "hornet's nest" of america. after the close of the war, dr. thomas henderson, who had been educated at the academy, and who frequently represented mecklenburg in the legislature near the beginning of the present century, set up a high school, and carried it on with great reputation for a number of years. classical schools of a high order were numerous after the revolutionary war, principally under the direction of presbyterian clergymen. these early efforts in the cause of a sound and liberal education, constantly mingled with patriotic teachings, made a telling impress upon the revolutionary period, and greatly assisted in achieving our independence. chapter ii. cabarrus county. cabarrus county was formed in , from mecklenburg county, and was named in honor of stephen cabarrus, a native of france, a man of active mind, liberal sentiments, and high standing in society. he entered public life in , and was frequently elected a member from chowan county, and, on several occasions, speaker of the house of commons. the colonial and revolutionary history of cabarrus is closely connected with that of mecklenburg county. no portion of the state was more fixed and forward in the cause of liberty than this immediate section. in the convention at charlotte, on the th of may, , this part of mecklenburg was strongly represented, and her delegates joined heartily in pledging "their lives, their fortunes and most sacred honor" to maintain and defend their liberty and independence. the proceedings of that celebrated convention, its principal actors, and attendant circumstances, will be found properly noticed under the head of mecklenburg county. but there is one bold transaction connected with the early history of cabarrus, showing that the germs of liberty, at and before the battle of alamance, in , were ready to burst forth, at any moment, under the warmth of patriotic excitement, is here deemed worthy of conspicuous record. the "black boys" op cabarrus. previous to the battle of alamance, on the th of may, , the first blood shed in the american revolution, there were many discreet persons, the advocates of law and order, throughout the province, who sympathized with the justness of the principles which actuated the "regulators," and their stern opposition to official corruption and extortion, but did not approve of their hasty conduct and occasional violent proceedings. accordingly, a short time preceding that unfortunate conflict, which only smothered for a time the embers of freedom, difficulties arose between governor tryon and the regulators, when that royal official, in order to coerce them into his measures of submission, procured from charleston, s.c., three wagon loads of the munitions of war, consisting of powder, flints, blankets, &c. these articles were brought to charlotte, but from some suspicions arising in the minds of the whigs as to their true destination and use, wagons could not be hired in the neighborhood for their transportation. at length, colonel moses alexander, a magistrate under the colonial government, succeeded in getting wagons by _impressment_, to convey the munitions to hillsboro, to obey the behests of a tyrannical governor. the vigilance of the jealous whigs was ever on the lookout for the suppression of all such infringements upon the growing spirit of freedom, then quietly but surely planting itself in the hearts of the people. the following individuals, viz.: james, william and john white, brothers, and william white, a cousin, all born and raised on rocky river, and one mile from rocky river church, robert caruthers, robert davis, benjamin cockrane, james and joshua hadley, bound themselves by a most solemn oath not to divulge the secret object of their contemplated mission, and, in order more effectually to prevent detection, _blackened their faces_ preparatory to their intended work of destruction. they were joined and led in this and other expeditions by william alexander, of sugar creek congregation, a brave soldier, and afterward known and distinguished from others bearing the same name as "captain black bill alexander," and whose sword now hangs in the library hall of davidson college, presented in behalf of his descendants by the late worthy, intelligent and christian citizen, w. shakespeare harris, esq. these determined spirits set out in the evening, while the father of the whites was absent from home with two horses, each carrying a bag of grain. the white boys were on foot, and wishing to move rapidly with their comrades, all mounted, in pursuit of the wagons loaded with the munitions of war, fortunately, for their feet, met their father returning home with his burdens, and immediately demanded the use of his horses. the old gentleman, not knowing who they were (_as black as satan himself_) pleaded heartily for the horses until he could carry home his bags of meal; but his petitions were in vain. the boys (_his sons_) ordered him to dismount, removed the bags from the horses, and placed them by the side of the road. they then immediately mounted the disburdened horses, joined their comrades, and in a short space of time came up with the wagons encamped on "phifer's hill," three miles west of the present town of concord, on the road leading from charlotte to salisbury. they immediately unloaded the wagons, stove in the heads of the kegs, threw the powder into a pile, tore the blankets into strips, made a train of powder a considerable distance from the pile, and then major james white fired a pistol into the train, which produced a tremendous explosion. a stave from the pile struck white on the forehead, and cut him severely. as soon as this bold exploit became known to colonel moses alexander, he put his whole ingenuity to work to find out the perpetrators of so foul a deed against his majesty. the transaction remained a mystery for some time. great threats were made, and, in order to induce some one to turn traitor, a pardon was offered to any one who would turn king's evidence against the rest. ashmore and hadley, being half brothers, and composed of the same rotten materials, set out unknown to each other, to avail themselves of the offered pardon, and accidently met each other on the threshold of moses alexander's house. when they made known their business, alexander remarked, "that, by virtue of the governor's proclamation, they were pardoned, but they were the first that ought to be hanged." the rest of the "black boys" had to flee from their country. they fled to the state of georgia, where they remained for some time. the governor, finding he could not get them into his grasp, held out insinuations that if they would return and confess their fault, they should be pardoned. in a short time, the boys returned from georgia to their homes. as soon as it became known to moses alexander, he raised a guard, consisting of himself, his two brothers, john and jake, and a few others, and surrounded the house of the old man white, the father of the boys. caruthers, the son-in-law of white, happened to be at his (white's) house at the same time. to make the capture doubly sure, alexander placed a guard at each door. one of the guard, wishing to favor the escape of caruthers, struck up a quarrel with moses alexander at one door, while his brother, daniel alexander, whispered to mrs. white, if there were any of them within, they might pass out and he would not notice it; in the meantime, out goes caruthers, and in a few jumps was in the river, which opportunely flowed near the besieged mansion. the alarm was immediately given, but pursuit was fruitless. at another time, the royalists heard of some of the boys being in a harvest field and set out to take them; but always having some one in their company to favor their escape, as they rode up in sight of the reapers, one of them, duly instructed, waved his hand, which the boys understood as a signal to make their departure. on that occasion they pursued robert dairs so closely that it is said he jumped his horse thirty feet down a bank into the river, and dared them to follow him. and thus the "black boys" fled from covert to covert to save their necks from the blood-thirsty loyalists, who were constantly hunting them like wild beasts. they would lie concealed for weeks at a time, and the neighbors would carry them food until they fairly wearied out their pursuers. the oath by which they bound themselves was an imprecation of the strongest kind, and the greater part of the imprecation was literally fulfilled in the sad ends of hadley and ashmore. the latter fled from his country, but he lived a miserable life, and died as wretchedly as he had lived. hadley still remained in the country, and was known for many years to the people of rocky river. he was very intemperate, and in his fits of intoxication was very harsh to his family in driving them from his house in the dead hours of the night. his neighbors, in order to chastise him for the abuse of his family, (among whom were some of the "black boys"), dressed themselves in female attire, went to his house by night, pulled him from his bed, drew his shirt over his head and gave him a severe whipping. the castigation, it is said, greatly improved the future treatment of his family. he continued, however, through life, the same miserable wretch, and died without any friendly hand to sustain him or eye to pity his deplorable end. frequently, when the royalists ranged the country in pursuit of the "black boys," the whigs would collect in bodies consisting of twenty-five or thirty men, ready to pounce upon the pursuers, if they had captured any of the boys. from the allurements held out to the boys to give themselves up, they went, at one time, nearly to hillsboro to beg the pardon of the governor, (tryon), but finding out it was his intention, if he could get them into his hands, to have hanged every one of them, they returned, and kept themselves concealed until patriotic sentiment grew so rapidly from that time ( ) to the mecklenburg declaration, ( th of may, ), that concealment was no longer necessary. when the drama of the revolution opened, these same "black boys" stood up manfully for the cause of american freedom, and nobly assisted in achieving, on many a hard-fought battlefield, the independence of our country. dr. charles harris. dr. charles harris was born in the eastern part of mecklenburg county, (now cabarrus), on the rd of november, . he was distinguished as a patriot, a soldier and a physician. while pursuing his studies in charlotte, the invasion of the town by the british army, under lord cornwallis, caused him to exchange the gown for the sword. accordingly, when a call was made for troops to resist and hold in check the invaders of his country, he joined the corps of cavalry under col. william r. davie, and was with that brave and chivalric officer in much of his daring career. after the war was ended he resumed his studies at clio academy, in iredell county, (then a part of rowan) under the control of the rev. james hall. soon after this classical preparation he commenced the study of medicine under dr. isaac alexander, at camden, s.c. and graduated at philadelphia. on his return home, he settled in salisbury, and practiced there for some length of time with encouraging success. he then removed to favoni, his family seat in cabarrus county, where he ended his days. devoted to his profession he soon became unrivaled as a physician and surgeon. in a short time his reputation was widely extended over the surrounding country, and his skill and success justified this celebrity. he kept up for many years, a medical school, and instructed _ninety-three_ young men in the healing art. in his day and generation, good physicians and surgeons (especially the latter) were remarkably scarce--something like angels' visits, "few and far between." he was frequently called upon to perform surgical operations from fifty to one hundred miles from home. he possessed a cheerful temper, and suavity of manner which gained for him a ready admittance into the confidence and cordial friendship of all classes of society. but, before he had reached his "three-score years and ten," the infirmities of old age were rapidly stealing upon him, and admonishing him of his early departure from the scenes of earth. he died on the st of september, , leaving several children. one of his sons, the late william shakspeare harris, esq., widely known as a worthy and intelligent citizen, represented cabarrus county in the house of commons in . another son, charles j. harris, esq., resides at present about one mile from poplar tent church, and is a gentleman of great moral worth and christian integrity. on the tombstone of dr. harris is the following inscription: "this monument is erected to perpetuate the memory of charles harris, m.d., born rd of november, ; died st of september, , aged sixty-three years. dr. harris was engaged in the practice of medicine and surgery for forty years; eminent in the former, in the latter pre-eminent. he was a man of extensive reading, of an acute, inquisitive mind, friendly to all, and beloved by all. his heart entered deeply into the sufferings of his patients, mingling the medicine he administered with the feelings of a friend. he lived usefully, and died resignedly; and we humbly trust, through the sovereign virtue of the all-healing medicine of the great physician, he was prepared to rest in this tomb, 'where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.'" dr. charles harris was one of five brothers who emigrated from pennsylvania to north carolina, viz: robert, james, richard, thomas, and charles, the subject of this sketch. his father married the widow baker, a daughter of the rev. john thompson, who is buried in baker's graveyard, five miles east of beattie's ford, in iredell county. capt. thomas caldwell. capt. thomas caldwell, of irish parentage, was born in the eastern part of mecklenburg county, (now cabarrus), in . he early espoused the cause of liberty, and entered the service in , in capt. john springs' company as a private, and marched to the protection of the frontier settlements from the murderous and plundering incursions of the cherokee indians. he again joined the service in capt. ezekiel polk's company and marched against the tories in south carolina, near the post of ninety-six. in , he volunteered under captain william alexander, colonels adam alexander and robert irwin, general rutherford commanding; marched to the quaker meadows, at the head of the catawba river, and thence to the cherokee country, beyond the mountains. after severely chastising the indians, killing a few, and laying waste their country, causing them to sue for peace, the expedition returned. in , he was appointed captain by general thomas polk to assist in opposing the advance of lord cornwallis. after cornwallis left charlotte, in october, , he raised a company, placed himself under colonel williams, of south carolina, and fought under him and colonel lee, at pyles' defeat, on haw river. he also acted for some time as quartermaster, at the hospital, in charlotte. in he volunteered under colonel davie, and was with him at the battle of hanging rock. this was captain caldwell's last important service. the distinguished physician, dr. charles caldwell, also of irish parentage, and nearly related to captain thomas caldwell, was born in the immediate vicinity of poplar tent church, in cabarrus county, on land now owned by colonel thomas h. robinson, a worthy son of dr. john robinson, d.d., who so long and faithfully proclaimed the gospel of salvation to this congregation. no vestige of the family mansion now remains, but its site is easily recognized at the present time by a large fig bush, growing at or near where the chimney formerly stood, as a lingering memento of the past, and producing annually its delicious fruit. although this eminent physician, in his ardent pursuit of material philosophy, wandered for many years "after strange gods," until much learning made him mad; yet, it is pleasing to know, in his maturer age, and under calm reflection, the early gospel precepts so impressingly instilled into his youthful mind by his pious parents, yielded at length their happiest results, and that he died at the medical college of louisville, in kentucky, in , full of years and of honors, and in the faith of his fathers, many of whom sleep in the graveyard of poplar tent church. chapter iii. rowan county. rowan county was formed in from anson county. in surry, and in burke counties were severally taken off, previous to which separations anson county comprehended most of the western portion of north carolina and tennessee. like a venerable mother, rowan beholds with parental complacency and delight her prosperous children comfortably settled around her. salisbury, her capital, derives its name from a handsome town in england, situated on the banks of the classic avon, and near the noted salisbury plain, a dry, _chalky surface_, which accounts for the origin of its saxon name, which means a _dry town_. rowan was first settled by protestants, about - , from moravia, fleeing from the persecutions of ferdinand, the second, by the scotch, after the unsuccessful attempts of charles edward (commonly called the "pretender") to ascend the english throne, and by the irish, after the rebellion of the earls of tyrone and tyrconnell, who were offered their pardon on condition of their emigrating to america and in assisting to colonize the english possessions there. the staid prudence of the german, the keen sagacity of the scotch, and fiery ardor of the irish commingled on american soil, and were fit materials to form the elemental foundations of an _industrious, progressive_ and _independent_ nation. the early history of rowan, and of her distinguished sons, affords of itself ample materials to fill an instructive volume. within her borders resided such venerable patriots as matthew locke, moses winslow, griffith rutherford, john brevard, william sharpe, samuel young, william kennon, adlai osborne, francis mccorkle, james brandon, james mccay, and many others, all true and constant friends of liberty; but alas! how little of their eminent services has been preserved. even yet, it is believed, some one of her gifted sons might do much in collecting from traditional sources, and from her musty records a rich store of historical facts, hitherto unwritten, illustrative of the fair name and fame of her revolutionary career. in the struggles of the regulators against the extortions of governor tryon and the crown officers, the spirit of the people of rowan was plainly manifested. in march, , maurice moore, one of the colonial judges, attended salisbury to hold the superior court. he reported to governor tryon at newbern that "from the opposition of the people to the taxes, no process of the law could be executed among them." upon this information governor tryon repaired in person to salisbury. in his original journal, procured from the archives of the state paper office in london by the honorable george bancroft, late our envoy at that court, we can see his actions, and admire the spirit of a captain knox, who refused to join him with his troops. violent as were the acts of the regulators, the subsequent oppressive measures of the crown officers justified their conduct. the clerk of rowan county (thomas frohock) was allowed to charge _fifteen dollars_ for a marriage license. the effect of this official extortion was such as to constrain some of the inhabitants on the head-waters of the yadkin river to "_take a short cut_," as it was termed in uniting their conjugal ties for "better or for worse," as man and wife. the indignation of the people of rowan, guilford, orange, and other counties, was aroused against such official misconduct. on the th of march, , a public meeting was held in salisbury, when a large and influential committee was appointed, who, armed with the authority of the people, met the clerk, sheriff, and other officers of the crown, and compelled them to disgorge their unlawful extortions. by a writing signed by these officers, they agreed to settle and pay back all moneys received over and above, their lawful fees. this was indemnity for the past. the security for the future was, that when any doubt should arise as to fees, they should not be paid to the officers themselves, but to such other persons as were appointed by the people. matthew locke and herman husbands were among those selected to receive these lawful fees. an instance, says wheeler, "of more determined resistance, or of purer democracy, is not to be found in the annals of any people." most of the histories of the day have done the regulators great injustice, and denounced this whole body of men as composed of a factious and turbulent mob, who, without proper cause, disturbed the public tranquility. nothing could be more untrue or unjust. their assemblages were orderly, and some evidence of the temper and characters of the principal actors may be gathered from the fact that from these meetings, by a law of their own, they vigorously excluded all intoxicating drinks. but they had been oppressed and exasperated by the impositions of corrupt officers until forbearance, with them, had ceased to be a a virtue. on their side was the spirit of liberty, animating the discordant multitude, but, unfortunately, without trained leaders, or a sufficiency of arms, going forth to make its first essay at battle on american soil. redress of grievances was sought at first by the regulators in a quiet way, by resorting to the courts of law. the officers were indicted and found guilty, but the punishment was the mere nominal one of "a penny and costs." in short, all resorts to the tribunals of justice ended in a perfect mockery, and hastened the "war of the regulation" in north carolina. the public press of that day was used by the regulators in a peaceable way to set forth their grievances. their productions, circulated in manuscript, or in print, display no proofs of high scholarship, or of polished writing, but there is a truthful earnestness in some of them, and cogency of reasoning more effective than the skill of the mere rhetorician. sometimes they appeared in ballad form, and sometimes as simple narrative. the rough poet of the period (the american revolution can boast of many) was rednap howell, who taught the very children to sing, in doggerel verse, the infamy of the proud officials who were trampling on their rights. a short selection from the many similar ones will be here presented for the amusement of the reader. "says frohock to fanning, to tell the plain truth, when i came to this country, i was but a youth; my father sent for me; i wasn't worth a cross, and then my first study was stealing a horse, i quickly got credit, and then ran away, and haven't paid for him to this very day. says fanning to frohock, 'tis folly to lie, i rode an old mare that was blind of one eye; five shillings in money i had in my purse, my coat was all patched, but not much the worse; but _now_ we've got rich, and its very well known. that we'll do very well, _if they'll let us alone_." the truthful sentiment conveyed in the last line will find many fit illustrations in our own times. the power of the royal government was called into requisition to put down this "regulation" movement. the military spirit of tryon resolved to appeal to the sword. on the th of april, , he left newbern at the head of three hundred men, a small train of artillery, and with a considerable number of his adherents. general waddell was sent forward to salisbury to raise troops, munitions of war having been previously ordered from charleston. while he was in salisbury waiting for the arrival of this supply of warlike munitions, the "black boys" of what is now cabarrus county, under the lead of "black bill alexander," seized the convoy of wagons, and completely destroyed the "king's powder," well knowing it was intended to obey the behest of a tyrannical governor. when waddell advanced his troops from salisbury to join tryon, the bold sons of rowan rose in arms and ordered him back. on the th of may, , at potts' creek, he held a council of his officers, and they, believing "prudence to be the better part of valor," fell back, and recrossed the yadkin. waddell soon found that many of his own men sympathised with the cause of the regulators. he promptly sent a message to tryon, then encamped on eno, informing him of his critical situation. tryon hastened on with his forces, crossed haw river on the th of may, and, on the next evening, pitched his camp on the bank of the alamance. on the th of may, , the unfortunate battle of alamance was fought in which was shed the _first blood_ of the american revolution. after that disastrous event, in which, for want of skilful leaders, and concert among their men, the regulators were subdued, the bloody "wolf of north carolina," as tryon was called by the cherokee indians, advanced in all "the pomp and circumstance" of official station, and joined waddell on the th of june, near salisbury, about eight miles east of the yadkin river. he then marched by a circuitous route to hillsboro, where he had court held to try the regulators, by his pliant tool, judge howard. on the th he left hillsboro, and reached newbern on the th; and on the th left north carolina for the colony of new york, over which he had just been appointed governor. thus was our state rid of one who had acted the part of an oppressive ruler and a blood-thirsty tyrant. the efforts of tryon had been too successful in enlisting under his banners, before the designs of the british government were openly discovered, many of the bravest and best officers of his day. caswell, ashe, waddell, rutherford, and other distinguished persons who gave in their adhesion to governor tryon in , only three years later, at the first provincial congress, directly from the people, held at newbern on the th of august, , were found to be true patriots, when it became apparent the entire subjugation of the country was the object of the british crown. to the first assemblage of patriots, adverse to the oppressions of the british government, held at newbern in august, , the delegates from rowan were william kennon, moses winslow and samuel young. to the same place, in april, , the delegates were griffith rutherford, william sharpe and william kennon. to hillsboro, on the st of august, , the delegates were matthew locke, william sharpe, moses winslow, william kennon, samuel young and james smith. this provincial congress appointed as field officers and minute men, for salisbury district, thomas wade, of anson, colonel; adlai osborne, of rowan, lieutenant colonel; joseph harben, major. to halifax, on the d of april, , rowan sent rutherford griffith and matthew locke as delegates. at this assembly griffith rutherford was appointed brigadier general of the salisbury district; francis locke, colonel of rowan; alexander dobbins, lieutenant colonel; james brandon, st major; james smith, d major. to the congress at halifax, november th, , which formed the first constitution, the delegates were griffith rutherford, matthew locke, william sharpe, james smith and john brevard. in the royal government ceased in north carolina by the retreat of governor martin. the civil government, vested in: . a provincial council for the whole state, composed of two members from each judicial district, and one for the state at large, who was chairman and _de facto_ governor. . committees of safety for the towns; and . county committees of safety, a part of whose duty it was to arrest suspicious persons, and take especial care that the public interest suffered no detriment. the journal of the committee of safety for rowan county, from the th of august, , to the th of may, , has been preserved, and throws much light on the patriotic transactions of that exciting period in our revolutionary history. the journal in full may be seen in wheeler's "historical sketches." route of the british army through mecklenburg and rowan counties. after cornwallis effected his passage over the catawba river, at cowan's ford, on the st of february, , he only remained about three hours in attending to the burial of his dead. tarleton was dispatched in advance to pursue the whigs retreating in the direction of torrence's tavern. early in the morning of the same day a simultaneous movement was made by colonel webster, with his own brigade, the artillery, and a small supporting detachment to beattie's ford, six miles above cowan's ford, where a small guard had been placed on the eastern bank. colonel webster, with a view of dispersing the guard, fired several shots (six pounders) across the river, which had its intended effect, and thus enabled him to pass over without meeting with serious opposition. this was a mere feint, intended to create the impression that the whole british army would cross there. the two british forces pressing forward with as little delay as possible, united at torrence's, ten miles from cowan's ford, where a considerable body of the whig militia had hastily assembled; but having no one to assume command, and greatly discouraged by the death of general davidson on the approach of tarleton's cavalry, poured in one effective fire, killed seven of the british horsemen, wounded others, and then dispersed in all directions with a small loss. this skirmish, occurring soon after tarleton's defeat at the cowpens, led him to boast of it in his journal as a brilliant victory! lord cornwallis, in his general orders on the d of february, returns his "thanks to the brigade of guards for their cool and determined bravery in the passage of the catawba, while rushing through that long and difficult ford under a galling fire." another order, issued from his camp on the evening of the preceding day, does credit to his head as well as his heart, and shows that he was sometimes governed by the noble principles of moral rectitude. the order is in the following words: "headquarters, cross roads to salisbury, february st, . "lord cornwallis is highly displeased that several houses were set on fire during the march this day--a disgrace to the army. he will punish, with the utmost severity, any person or persons who shall be found guilty of committing so disgraceful an outrage. his lordship requests the commanding officers of corps to find out the persons who set fire to the houses this day." it is presumable his lordship never received the desired information. the order, no doubt, has reference to the burning of the houses of john brevard, who had "seven sons at one time in the rebel army," and of adam torrence, a staunch whig, where the skirmish had taken place. general greene, having been apprised of the battle of the cowpens, and the result, on the same day when cornwallis commenced his pursuit of general morgan, ordered general stevens to march with his virginia militia (whose term of service was almost expired) by way of charlotte, n.c., to take charge of morgan's prisoners, and conduct them to charlottesville, in virginia. general greene being anxious to confer with morgan, personally, left his camp on the pee dee, under the command of general huger and colonel o.h. williams, and started with one aid, and two or three mounted militia, for the catawba. on the route, he was informed of cornwallis' pursuit. general morgan had previously crossed the catawba at the island ford. on the st of january, general greene reached sherrill's ford, a few miles below the island ford, where he had an interview with morgan, and directed his future movements. the british army readied salisbury on that night, and on the next morning started in pursuit of green and morgan. these officers did not await the dawn, but crossed the yadkin river at the trading ford, six miles beyond salisbury, while his lordship was quietly slumbering, and dreaming, perhaps, of future conquest and glory! when cornwallis awoke on the morning of the third, he hastened to strike a fatal blow on the banks of the yadkin, but the americans were beyond his reach, and providence had again placed an impassable barrier of water between them. copious rains in the mountains had swollen the yadkin to a mighty river. the horses of morgan had forded the stream at midnight, and the infantry passed over in boats at dawn. these vessels were fastened on the eastern shore of the yadkin, and cornwallis was obliged to wait for the waters to subside before he could attempt to cross. again he had the americans _almost within his grasp_. a corps of riflemen were yet on the western side when o'hara, with the vanguard of the british army, approached, but these escaped across the river, after a slight skirmish. nothing was lost but a few wagons belonging to whig families, who, with their effects, were fleeing with the american army. lord cornwallis, after an ineffectual cannonade over the river, returned to salisbury, and, on the th, marched up the western bank of the yadkin, and crossed at the shallow ford, near the village of huntsville. dr. read, the surgeon of the american army, has left this record of the cannonading scene: "at a little distance from the river was a small cabin, in which general greene had taken up his quarters. at this building the enemy directed their fire, and the balls rebounded from the rocks in the rear of it. but little of the roof was visible to the enemy. the general was preparing his orders for the army, and his dispatches to the congress. in a short time the balls began to strike the roof, and clapboards were flying in all directions. but the general's pen never stopped, only when a new visitor arrived, or some officer for orders; and then the answer was given with calmness and precision, and greene resumed his pen." it is related as a truthful tradition that, after the british army reached salisbury, lord cornwallis, tarleton, and other royal officers, were hospitably entertained by dr. anthony newman, although he was a true whig. there, in presence of tarleton, and other spectators, dr. newman's two little sons were engaged in playing the game of the "battle of the cowpens," with grains of corn; red grains representing the british officers, and white grains the americans. washington and tarleton were particularly represented, and as one pursued the other, as in a real battle, the little fellows shouted, "hurrah for washington, tarleton runs! hurrah for washington." colonel william a. washington, it will be recollected, commanded the american cavalry. tarleton looked on for a while, but soon becoming irritated at the playful but truthful scene, he exclaimed: "see these cursed little rebels!" the pursuit of morgan by cornwallis was the most exciting and prolonged military chase of the american revolution. under various tangible interpositions of providence, the retreat, as we have seen, proved finally successful, and morgan's forces saved for the future service of his country. general griffith rutherford. general griffith rutherford was an irishman by birth, brave and patriotic, but uncultivated in mind and manners. he resided west of salisbury, in the locke settlement, and actively participated in the internal government of the county, associated with such early and distinguished patriots as moses winslow, alexander osborn, samuel young, john brevard, james brandon, william sharpe, francis mccorkle, and others. he represented rowan county in the provincial congress which met at halifax on the th of april, , and during this session he received the appointment of brigadier general of the "salisbury district." near the close of the summer of , he raised and commanded an army of two thousand four hundred men against the cherokee indians. after being reinforced by the guilford regiment, under colonel james martin, and by the surry regiment under colonel martin armstrong, at fort mcgahey, general rutherford crossed the "blue ridge," or alleghany mountains, at swannanoa gap, near the western base of which the beautiful swannanoa river ("nymph of beauty") takes its rise. after reaching the french broad he passed down and over that stream at a crossing-place which to this day bears the name of the "war ford." he then passed up the valley of "hominy creek," leaving pisgah mountain on the left, and crossed pigeon river a little below the mouth of east fork. he then passed through the mountains to richland creek, above the present town of waynesville; ascended the creek and crossed the tuckasege river at an indian town. pursuing his course, he crossed the cowee mountain, where he had a small engagement with the enemy, in which one of his men was wounded. as the indians carried off their dead and wounded, their loss could not be ascertained. thence he marched to the "middle towns," on the tennessee river, where, on the th of september, he met general williamson with troops from south carolina on the same mission of subduing the indians. in skirmishes at valley town, ellajay, and near franklin, general rutherford lost three men, but he completely subdued the indians. he then returned home by the same route, since known as "rutherford's trace." the rev. james hall, of iredell county, accompanied this expedition as chaplain. the uniforms of the officers and men was a hunting-shirt of domestic, trimmed with cotton: their arms were rifles, and _none knew better how to use them_. many of the hardy sons of the west there experienced their first essay in arms, and their bravery was nobly maintained afterwards at king's mountain, the cowpens, and elsewhere in the south. general rutherford commanded a brigade in the battle of camden, ( th of august, ), and was there made a prisoner. after he was exchanged he again took the field, and commanded the expedition which marched by way of cross creek (now fayetteville) to wilmington, when that place, on his approach, was evacuated by the british, near the close of the war. he frequently represented rowan county in the senate during and subsequent to the war, showing the high appreciation in which his services were held by the people. shortly after his last service in , he joined the strong tide of emigration to tennessee, where his well-earned fame and experience in governmental matters had preceded him. the knoxville _gazette_ of the th of september, , contains the following announcement: "on monday last the general assembly of this territory commenced their session in this town. general rutherford long distinguished for his services in the legislature of north carolina, is appointed president of the legislative council." general rutherford died in tennessee near the beginning of the present century, at a good old age, and it is to be regretted more has not been preserved of his life and services. locke family. matthew locke, one of the first settlers of rowan county, and the patriarchal head of a large family, was born in . he was an early and devoted friend of liberty and the rights of the people. his stability of character and maturity of judgment caused him to be held in high esteem in all controversial matters among his fellow citizens. in , during the "regulation" troubles, he was selected by the people, with herman husbands, to receive the lawful fees of the sheriffs, and other crown officers, whose exorbitant exactions and oppressive conduct were then everywhere disturbing the peace and welfare of society. in , he was a member of the colonial assembly, and in member of the provincial congress, which met on the th of november of that year, and formed the first constitution. from to he was a member of congress, and was succeeded by the hon. archibald henderson. he married a daughter of richard brandon, an early patriot of the same county. he died in , aged seventy-one years. matthew locke had at one time four sons in the revolutionary war. francis locke, his eldest son, was appointed by the provincial congress which met at halifax on the th of april, , colonel of the st rowan regiment, with alexander dobbins as lieutenant colonel; james brandon, st major, and james smith, d major. he was attached to general lincoln's army when general ashe was defeated at brier creek, and composed one of the members of the court-martial to inquire into that unfortunate affair. colonel locke commanded the forces which attacked and signally defeated a large body of tories assembled at ramsour's mill, under col. john moore. (for particulars, see "lincoln county"). another son, lieutenant george locke, a brave young officer, was killed by the british in the skirmish near charlotte, in september, . hon. francis locke, son of francis locke, the "hero of ramsour's mill," was born on the st of october, . he was elected judge of the superior court in , and resigned in , at which time he was elected a senator in congress in -' . he never married, and died in january, , in the forty-fourth year of his age. his mortal remains, with those of his father, colonel francis locke, repose in the graveyard of thyatira church, rowan county, n.c. hon. archibald henderson. (condensed from wheeler's "historical sketches.") hon. archibald henderson was born in granville county, n.c., on the th of august, ; studied law with judge williams, his relative, and was pronounced by the late judge murphy, who knew him long and well, to be "the most perfect model of a lawyer that our bar has produced." ... no man could look upon him without pronouncing him one of the great men of the age. the impress of greatness was upon his countenance; not that greatness which is the offspring of any single talent or moral quality, but a greatness which is made up by blending the faculties of a fine intellect with exalted moral feelings. although he was at all times accessible and entirely free from austerity, he seemed to live and move in an atmosphere of dignity. he exacted nothing by his manner, yet all approached him with reverence and left him with respect. his was the region of high sentiment; and here he occupied a standing that was pre-eminent in north carolina. he contributed more than any man, since the time of general davie and alfred moore, to give character to the bar of the state. his career at the bar has become identified with the history of north carolina: and his life and his example furnish themes for instruction to gentlemen of the bench and to his brethren of the bar. may they study his life and profit by his example! he represented his district in congress from to , and the town of salisbury frequently in the state legislature. he married sarah, daughter of william alexander, and sister of william alexander and nathaniel alexander, afterward governor of the state. he left two children, the late archibald henderson, esq., of salisbury, and mrs. boyden, wife of the late hon. nathaniel boyden. he died on the st of october, , in the fifty-fourth year of his age. richmond pearson. (condensed from wheeler's "historical sketches.") richmond pearson, late of davie county when a part of rowan, was born in dinwiddie county, va., in , and at the age of nineteen years came to north carolina and settled in the forks of the yadkin river. when the war of the revolution broke out he was a lieutenant in captain bryan's company (afterward the celebrated colonel bryan, of tory memory). after the declaration of independence, at the first muster which occurred, he requested some on whom he could rely to load their guns. when captain bryan came on the ground he ordered all the men into ranks. pearson refused, and tendered his commission to bryan, whereupon he ordered him under arrest. this was resisted, and he was told that the men had their guns loaded. they then came to a parley, and it was agreed by the crowd, as matters stood, that bryan and pearson, on a fixed day, should settle this national affair by a fair _fist fight_, and whichever whipped, the company should belong to the side of the conqueror, whether whig or tory. at the appointed time and place the parties met, and the lieutenant proved to be the victor. from this time the fork company was for liberty, and bryan's crowd, on dutchman's creek, were loyalists. the anecdote illustrates by what slight circumstances events of this period were affected. when cornwallis came south, pearson, with his company, endeavored to harass his advance. he was present at cowan's ford on the st of february, , where general davidson fell in attempting to resist the passage of the british. captain pearson was a successful merchant and an enterprising planter. he died in , leaving three sons and one daughter: st, jesse a.; d, joseph; d, richmond; and th, elizabeth pearson. jesse a. pearson was frequently a member of the general assembly from rowan county. in he marched as colonel of a regiment to the creek nation, under general joseph graham, and was afterward elected major general of the state militia. he died in , without issue. hon. joseph pearson was a member of the general assembly in the house of commons from rowan county in and , and a member of congress from to . he died at salisbury on the th of october, . he was thrice married. by his first wife, miss mclinn, he had no issue; by the second, miss ellen brent, he had two daughters--one, the wife of robert walsh, esqr., of philadelphia--the other, the wife of lieutenant farley, of the u.s. navy; and by the third wife (miss worthington, of georgetown), he left four children. richmond pearson married miss mclinn. he was never in public life, but was an active, enterprising man. he left the following children: st, sarah, who married isaac croom, of alabama; d. eliza, who married w.g. bently, of bladen county, n.c.; d. charles, who died without issue; th. hon. richmond m. pearson was born in june, , educated at statesville by john mushat, and graduated at chapel hill in . he studied law under judge henderson, and was licensed in . he entered public life in as a member to the state legislature from rowan county, and continued as such until . in he was elected one of the judges of the superior court, and in was transferred to the supreme court, which elevated position he now occupies; th. giles n. pearson married miss ellis, and was a lawyer by profession. he died in , leaving a wife and five children; th. john stokes pearson married miss beattie, of bladen county. he died in , leaving four children. the reader may be curious to know something of the fate of colonel samuel bryan, who commanded the tory regiment in the forks of the yadkin, which was so roughly handled and cut to pieces by colonel davie and his brave associates, at the battle of the hanging rock. about the time major craig evacuated wilmington in , colonel bryan, lieutenant colonel john hampton and captain nicholas white, of the same regiment, returned to the forks of the yadkin, were arrested and tried for high treason, under the act of , entitled "an act for declaring what crimes and practices against the state shall be treason," &c. judges spencer and williams presided. the prosecution was ably conducted by the attorney general, alfred moore, and the defence by richard henderson, john penn, john kinchen and william r. davie, truly a fine array of legal talent. public indignation was so greatly excited that governor burke found it necessary, after the trial, to protect the prisoners from violence by a military guard. colonel davie's defence of colonel bryan, in the argument made to the jury upon the occasion, was said to have been a brilliant exhibition of his forensic ability. for many years afterwards his services were required in all capital cases, and as a criminal lawyer he had no rival in the state. they were all convicted, had sentence of death passed upon them, were pardoned, and subsequently exchanged for officers of equal rank, who were at the time, confined within the british lines. mrs. elizabeth steele. the long, arduous and eventful retreat of general morgan through the carolinas, after the battle of the cowpens, and the eager pursuit of cornwallis to overtake him, encumbered with more than five hundred prisoners, on his way to a place of safety in virginia, affords many interesting incidents. general greene having met morgan on the eastern banks of the catawba river, at sherrill's ford, and directed his forward movements, proceeded to salisbury, a little in advance of his forces. it had been slightly raining during the day, and his wet garments, appearance of exhaustion and dejection of spirits at the loss of general davidson at cowan's ford, as he dismounted at the door of the principal hotel in salisbury, indicated too clearly that he was suffering under harassing anxiety of mind. dr. reed, who had charge of the sick and wounded prisoners, while he waited for the general's arrival, was engaged in writing the necessary paroles for such officers as could not go on. general greene's aids having been dispatched to different parts of the retreating army, he was alone when he rode up to the hotel. dr. reed, noticing his dispirited looks, remarked that he appeared to be fatigued; to which the wearied officer replied: "yes, fatigued, hungry, alone, and penniless!" general greene had hardly taken his seat at the well-spread table, when mrs. steele, the landlady of the hotel, entered the room and carefully shut the door behind her. approaching her distinguished guest, she reminded him of the despondent words he had uttered in her hearing, implying, as she thought, a distrust of the devotion of his friends to the cause of freedom. she declared money he should have, and immediately drew from under her apron two small bags full of specie, probably the earnings of several years, "take these, general," said she, "you need them and i can do without them." this offering of a benevolent heart, accompanied with words of kindness and encouragement, general greene accepted with thankfulness. "never," says his biographer, "did relief come at a more propitious moment; nor would it be straining conjecture to suppose that he resumed his journey with his spirits cheered and lightened by this touching proof of woman's devotion to the cause of her country." general greene did not remain long in salisbury; but before his departure from the house of mrs. steele, he left a memorial of his visit. seeing a picture of george iii. hanging against the wall, sent as a present to a connection of mrs. steele from england, he took it down and wrote with chalk on the back, "o george, hide thy face, and mourn," and replaced it with the face to the wall. the picture, with the writing uneffaced, is still in possession of a grand daughter. mrs. steele was twice married; her first husband was a gillespie, by whom she had a daughter, margaret, who married the rev. samuel e. mccorkle, a distinguished presbyterian minister; and richard gillespie, who was a captain in the revolution, and died unmarried. by her second husband, william steele, she had only one child, the hon. john steele, who died in salisbury on the th of august, . he was a conspicuous actor in the councils of the state and nation, and one whose services offer materials for an interesting and instructive biography. mrs. steele died in salisbury on the d of november, . she was distinguished not only for her strong attachment to the cause of freedom, but for the piety which shone forth brightly in her pilgrimage upon earth. among her papers was found, after her death, a written dedication of herself to her creator, and a prayer for support in the practice of christian duty; with a letter, left as a legacy to her children, enjoining it upon them to make religion the great work of life. chapter iv. iredell county. iredell county was formed in from rowan county, and named in honor of james iredell, one of the associate judges of the supreme court of the united states. at the time of the war of the revolution the county of rowan embraced all that beautiful and agricultural region extending from the foot of the blue ridge mountains, eastwardly, to where the yadkin river loses its name in the great peedee; comprising a territory equal in extent to several of the states of the american union, and presenting a varied topography, unsurpassed for bold mountain scenery and lovely landscapes spreading over the charming champaign country lying between the yadkin and catawba rivers. within this territory are now organized many counties, with attractive features, one of which is the county of iredell. colonel alexander osborn. alexander osborn was born in new jersey in , and emigrated to the western part of rowan county (now iredell) about . he was a colonel in the colonial government, and as such marched with a regiment of rowan troops to hillsboro in to assist governor tryon in suppressing the "regulation" movement. he married agnes mcwhorter, a sister of dr. alexander mcwhorter, president of queen's museum college in charlotte. his residence (called belmont) was one of the earliest worshiping places of the presbyterians of rowan county before the present "center church" was erected, and became by compromise the _central_ meeting-house of worship for a large extent of surrounding country. colonel osborn was a man of fine character and wielded a strong influence in his day and generation. in the graveyard of center church, on a double headstone, are the following records: "here lys the body of col. alexander osborn, who deceased july y'e th, , aged years;" and, separated by a dividing upright line, this record appears: "here lys the body of agnes osborn, who deceased july y'e th, ." from these records it would appear that this worthy couple left the scenes of earth for a brighter world only two days apart, and not on the same day, as stated by some authorities. they left one son, adlai osborn, who graduated at princeton college in . he was clerk of the court for rowan county under the royal government, and continued in that office until . he was a man of fine literary attainments, the warm friend of education, and one of the first trustees of the state university. he died in , leaving a large family, among whom were spruce mccay osborn, who graduated at chapel hill in ; studied medicine, entered the army as surgeon, and was killed at the massacre of fort mimms in the war of ; and edwin jay osborn, who was distinguished as a lawyer of eloquence and learning, and was the father of the late judge james w. osborn, of charlotte, one of mecklenburg's most worthy, gifted and lamented sons. captain william sharpe. captain william sharpe was born on the th of december, , and was the eldest son of thomas sharpe, of cecil county, maryland. at the age of twenty-one he came to north carolina and settled in mecklenburg county, where he married a daughter of david reese, one of the signers of the mecklenburg declaration of independence. he was a lawyer by profession and had a large practice. soon after his marriage he moved to the western part of rowan county (now iredell) and took an active and decided stand for liberty. the journal of the "committee of safety" for rowan county, from to , presents a noble record of his activity and influence. he was a member from rowan county to the provincial congress which met at newbern in april, ; and also of the congress at hillsboro, in august, . in november, , he was a member of the convention at halifax which formed our first state constitution. he acted as aid to general rutherford in his campaign against the cherokee indians in . in he was appointed with waightstill avery, joseph winston and robert laneer to form a treaty with the same tribe of indians. in he was appointed a member of the continental congress at philadelphia, and served until . he died in july, , in the th year of his age, leaving a widow and twelve children. two of his sons, william and thomas, were in the battle at ramsour's mill,--the former commanding a company with distinguished bravery, and, near the close of the action, shot down one of the tory captains which speedily terminated the fortunes of the day in favor of the american arms. his eldest daughter, matilda, married william w. erwin, of burke county, who, for more than forty years, was clerk of the superior court for that county, and in november, , was the delegate to the convention at fayetteville which ratified the federal constitution. like a faithful vine she raised fifteen children who have held honorable positions in society. his second daughter, ruth, married col. andrew caldwell, of iredell county, who was often a member of the state legislature. he was the father of the late judge david f. caldwell, the hon. joseph p. caldwell, dr. elam caldwell, of lincolnton, and others. major william gill, captain andrew carson, and others. many interesting events which transpired within the territory of "old rowan" during the war of the revolution, have unfortunately been buried from our view by those who have passed away. a few traditions still linger in the memory of the descendants of those who were actors in those scenes relating more particularly to the north-eastern portion of iredell, and of some of the families who resided there. and although such traditions can only be now presented as detached and fragmentary items of history, yet they are worthy of being preserved and placed on permanent record. the facts given in this sketch relate to that part of iredell lying between statesville, its county seat, and yadkinville, the county seat of yadkin county, and mostly near to the dividing line of these two counties. the numerous creeks and small streams which water this portion of iredell, empty into three large streams of about the same size, flowing through it, named south yadkin, rocky creek, and hunting creek. these streams mingle their waters in a common channel before their confluence with the great yadkin, in the county of davie. in the year , thomas young removed from mecklenburg, virginia, to north carolina, and settled on hunting creek, within three miles of the place where the counties of yadkin, davie, and iredell now form a common corner. he was then passed the age for military service, but had furnished three sons-in-law and two sons to the army of general washington, and a third son, at sixteen years of age, to the army at norfolk, va. one of his sons-in-law, major william gill, entered the service at the beginning of the war, and became connected with the staff of general washington. he served in the capacity of aid to the commander-in-chief through the war, and was with him at the surrender of cornwallis, at yorktown. from this point he returned to his family, in mecklenburg, va., who had not heard from him in two years. soon after the establishment of peace, major gill, with his family, and the other two sons-in-law of mr. young, viz: major daniel wright and dr. thomas moody, and his sons, william, henry, and thomas young, removed to north carolina and settled near him. major gill settled on rocky creek, near to the site of the present village of olin, and, at his death, was interred in the family burying ground on the lands of his father-in-law. the record on his tombstone states that he died on the th of september, , in the th year of his age. his commission is now in possession of his descendants, in iredell county. the part which major gill bore in the great struggle for independence, was once familiar in the traditions of his family, and must have been satisfactory to general washington, from the fact that he continued with him to the end of the war, and bore with him into retirement the commission which made him one of the military family of the father of his country. a single incident will show the spirit with which maj. gill bore himself on the battle-field. at the battle of brandywine, while discharging his duty, he became separated from his command, and, in the dense smoke of the conflict, rode into the ranks of the enemy. upon discovering his situation, the only means of escape which presented itself, was to leap his horse over a high rail fence, which was being scattered by the artillery of the enemy. this feat he accomplished successfully, and afterward received the congratulations of his general for the spirited adventure and escape. it has not been recorded in history that the mortal remains of a member of the staff of general washington repose on the banks of hunting creek, in the county of iredell, n.c. the tradition here given of the fact, can be yet fully attested by surviving members of the family of major gill, as well as by his commission. captain andrew carson was a younger son-in-law of mr. young, having married after the family removed to north carolina. he and his brother, lindsay carson, both joined the service in the southern army. and let it be recorded, in passing, that lindsay carson was the father of christopher houston carson, now widely known as "kit carson," the great indian scout, and that "kit" was born on hunting creek, within half a mile of the residence of mr. thomas young. andrew carson, like his nephew, "kit," was of an adventurous disposition, and was the bearer of dispatches from the commanding officers in the up-country to those in south carolina. this duty made him acquainted with the command of general francis marion, which suited his taste, and he connected himself with it. he was with the "swamp fox," so greatly dreaded by the british and the tories, in many of his stealthy marches and daring surprises, the recital of which would send the blood careering through the veins of his juvenile listeners, half a century ago. the memory of them now awakens a dim recollection of the thrill and absorbing interest then experienced. captain carson was connected with the command of baron dekalb, at the battle of camden, and was by the side of that noble officer when he was shot down while crossing a branch, and bore him out in his own arms. captain carson also sleeps in the same family cemetery with major gill. with a family thus engaged in the defence of their country, it will be readily understood that their parental home was no ordinary rendezvous for sympathisers in its vicinity. when mr. young settled in an almost unbroken forest on the banks of hunting creek, he located and constructed his improvements with the view of defence in cases of emergency. he built two substantial log houses, about forty feet apart, fronting each other, and closed the end openings with strong stockades. port holes were provided to be used for observation, or otherwise, as occasion might demand. the buildings are yet standing, in a good state of preservation. this was headquarters for the whigs for many miles around. it was the point for receiving and distributing information, as well as for concerting measures for the aid of the cause of freedom, and for depositing supplies for friends in the field. the brushy mountains were but a few miles distant, and were infested with tories, who made predatory incursions into this part of iredell, carrying off stock, devastating farms, and ambuscading and shooting whigs, who were especially obnoxious to them. mr. young's fortifications presented a rallying point for defence against such invasions, as fort dobbs did four miles north of statesville. he was himself a member of an association of eight neighbors, who were engaged in manufacturing powder in a rude way for the use of their home department. against this association the tories were extremely bitter, and conspired to kill them. they succeeded in murdering seven of them, and detailed one of their number to way-lay and shoot mr. young. the man assigned to this duty was named aldrich, who concealed himself in the woods near the dwelling of his intended victim, and watched for an opportunity to perpetrate the murderous deed. the habitual circumspection of mr. young foiled him in his purpose until he was discovered by a member of the family, and became so frightened as to induce him to abandon the effort. after peace had been proclaimed, captain andrew caldwell, who resided on rocky creek, and was the father of judge david f. and hon. joseph p. caldwell, and other sons well known in the public offices of iredell, was appointed the commissioner to administer the oath of allegiance in that part of the county. aldrich presented himself among them, but the recollection of his seven murders, still fresh in the memory of all, so aroused the indignation of captain caldwell and captain andrew carson, who was present, that instead of making him a loyal citizen of the united states, they went to work and forthwith hung him on one of the joists of the barn, in which they were transacting their lawful business. in many places, whigs who were past the age for service in the field, organized themselves into vigilance associations for the welfare of the country and their own protection. the duties devolving upon them rendered them familiar with events as they really transpired, and often caused them to pass through thrilling and adventurous scenes. they learned to know and how to trust each other. attachments thus formed by heads of families were strengthened, and more strongly united in ties of friendship after the restoration of peace. the descendants of these associated friends were educated to revere the memories of the fathers, and to cultivate the society and friendship of their children. the traditions of the "dark days" of the war were always topics of family and fireside conversation with the "old folks," and they always found attentive listeners in their posterity, upon whose youthful minds impressions then made were as enduring as time. captain alexander davidson. captain alexander davidson was one of the earliest settlers of the western part of rowan county (now iredell.) he took an active part in the revolutionary struggle for independence. when cornwallis was moving from charleston toward north carolina, and general gates was ordered to meet him, governor caswell, of north carolina, ordered a draft of men to strengthen gates' army. in response to this order the people in that part of iredell county bordering on the catawba river below the island ford, assembled at a central point, afterward known as brown's muster ground, when a company was formed under the draft and alexander davidson was elected its captain. soon afterward captain davidson marched his company to gates' rendezvous, when that officer moved his army to the unfortunate and sanguinary field of camden, s.c. in that disastrous engagement captain davidson's company took an active part, and the greater portion of them was cut to pieces. captain john davidson, a grand son of captain alexander davidson, now ( ) resides near statesville, in iredell county. he well remembers that the commission of his grand father, as captain of this company, and a diary of his services during the war of the revolution, were in the possession of his father's family until when they were taken to washington city by the late hon. j.p. caldwell and were not returned. captain john davidson is one of the most prominent and public-spirited citizens of iredell county, and implicit reliance may be placed in his statements. captain james houston. captain james houston was born in , and was an early and devoted friend of liberty. in the battle of ramsour's mill, near the present town of lincolnton, he took an active part, and by his undaunted courage greatly contributed to the defeat of the tories on that occasion. during the engagement captain houston was severely wounded in the thigh, from the effects of which he never fully recovered. seeing the man who inflicted the severe and painful wound he shot him in the back and killed him as he ran. when it was ascertained that cornwallis had crossed the catawba river at cowan's ford, and was approaching with his army, the family of captain houston conveyed him to the "big swamp" in the immediate vicinity, known as "purgatory," and there concealed him until the british had marched quite through the country. when the british army passed the residence of captain houston some of them entered the yard and house, and threatened mrs. houston with death if she did not quickly inform them where her husband was, and also where her gold and silver and china ware were kept, using, at the same time, very course and vulgar language. mrs. houston, knowing something of "woman's rights" in every civilized community, immediately asked the protection of an officer, who, obeying the better impulses of human nature, ordered the men into line and marched them off. mrs. houston and "aunt dinah" had taken the timely precaution to hide the china ware in the _tan vats_ and the _pewter-ware_ in the mud immediately beneath the pole over which it was necessary to walk in conveying provisions to captain houston in his place of concealment. the pole was put under the water and mud every time by aunt dinah when she returned, so that no track or trace could be discovered of her pathway into the swamp. captain james houston was the father of the late dr. joel b. houston, of catawba, and the grandfather of r.b.b. houston, esq., who now wares the gold sleeve buttons of his patriotic ancestor with his initials, j.h. engraved upon them. dr. j.h.g. houston, of alabama, who married mary jane simonton, is another grandson. the following is captain james houston's muster roll. captain, james houston; lieutenant, william davidson; david evins, david byers, robert byers, nat. ewing, alexander work, william creswell, william erwin, john hovis, john thompson, john beard, john poston, robert poston, paul cunningham, john m. connell, moses white, angus mccauley, robert brevard, adam torrence, sr., adam torrence, jr., charles quigley, james gulick, benjamin brevard, thomas templeton, john caldwell, joseph mccawn, james young, james gray, philip logan (irish), william vint, daniel bryson, john singleton. many of these have descendants in iredell at the present time, and they can refer with veneration to the names of their patriotic ancestors. captain james houston died on the d of august, , in the d year of his age, and is buried in center church, graveyard. rev. james hall, d.d. rev. james hall, a distinguished soldier of the revolution--the captain of a company and chaplain of a regiment at the same time--was born at carlisle, pennsylvania, on the d of august, . when he was about eight years old his parents, who were scotch-irish, removed to north carolina and settled in the upper part of rowan county, (now iredell), in the bounds of the congregation to which he afterward gave thirty-eight years of his ministerial life. secluded in the forests of rowan, and removed to a great extent from the follies of the great world, james hall grew up under the watchful care of pious parents, receiving such early instruction as the country schools then afforded. in his twenty-sixth year he commenced the study of the classics, and made rapid progress, as his mind was matured and his application close and unremitting. when duly prepared he entered princeton college, under the direction of president witherspoon, one of the signers of the national declaration of independence. he graduated in , in his thirty-first year. the theological reading of mr. hall was pursued under the direction of dr. witherspoon, that eminent minister and patriot, whose views in religion and politics were thoroughly imbibed by his student. in the spring of he was licensed by the presbytery of orange to preach the gospel of everlasting peace. during the exciting scenes of the revolution, in which he had been licensed and ordained, mr. hall held the office of pastor over the three congregations of fourth creek, concord and bethany, which extended from the south yadkin river to the catawba. after the revolution he served these three congregations until , when, wishing to devote more time to the cause of domestic missions, he was released from his connection, with fourth creek and concord. his connection with bethany continued until his death, in july, . a full account of mr. hall's patriotic services during the revolution would far transcend the prescribed limits of this sketch. the principles of civil and religious freedom which he received in his parental, as well as in his collegiate training, would not allow him to remain neuter or indifferent, when a cruel, invading foe was trampling on the just and dearest rights of his country. accordingly, in response to the warm, patriotic impulses of his nature, when general rutherford called out an army of over two thousand men from the surrounding counties to subdue the cherokee indians, who were committing numerous murders and depredations on the frontier settlements, mr. hall promptly volunteered his services, and was gladly accepted by the commanding officers as their chaplain. in the brief, diary notes of captain charles polk, (now before the author), who commanded a company in this expedition, he says: "on thursday, the th of september, we marched down the river three miles, to cowee town, and encamped. on this day there was a party of men sent down this river (_nuckessey_) ten miles, to cut down the corn; the indians fired on them as they were cutting the corn and killed hancock polk, of colonel beekman's regiment." on friday, the th, they remained encamped in cowee town. on saturday, the th, "we marched to nuckessey town, six miles higher up the river, and encamped. on sunday, the th, one of captain irwin's men was buried in _nuckessey_ town. on monday, the th, we marched five miles--this day with a detachment of twelve hundred men--for the valley towns, and encamped on the waters of tennessee river. mr. hall preached a sermon last sunday; in time of sermon the express we sent to the south army returned home. on tuesday, the th, we marched six miles, and arrived at a town called _nowee_, about o'clock; three guns were fired at robert harris, of mecklenburg, by the indians, said harris being in the rear of the army. we marched one mile from _nowee_ and encamped on the side of a steep mountain, without any fire." these extracts show that mr. hall was then at his post of duty, and ready to deliver religious instruction to the american army. the sermon was directly prompted by the death of a fellow soldier. who can tell how many hearts were touched and benefitted by the gospel truths proclaimed by the youthful preacher on that solemn occasion? the counsels of eternity can alone answer the question. in , when south carolina was overrun by the british and tories, mr. hall's spirit was stirred within him on receiving intelligence of the massacres and plunderings experienced by the inhabitants of the upper part of that state. under this state of feeling he assembled his congregation and addressed them in strong, patriotic language on what he believed to be their present duty. he pictured to their view, in a most thrilling manner, the wrongs and sufferings of their afflicted countrymen. the appeal to their patriotism was not made in vain. with as little delay as possible a company of cavalry, composed of choice young men from his congregation, was promptly raised. on its organization, mr. hall was unanimously chosen for their captain; all his excuses were overruled, and, in order to encourage his countrymen _to act_ rather than _to talk_, he accepted the command. "heart within, and god o'erhead." during this tour of service two of his men were taken prisoners. as he could not recover them by force of arms, their case was made the subject of prayer, both in his private devotions and in public with his company. in a few days afterward the prisoners made their escape and rejoined their fellow soldiers. they stated that, as their captors lay encamped one night on broad river, in south carolina, the sentinel placed at the door of the guard-house was observed to be drowsy; they remaining quiet, he soon fell asleep. when the prisoners discovered he was truly reposing in "balmy sleep," they quietly stepped over him as he lay with his gun folded in his bosom, and quickly ran for the river. the noise of their plunge into the water, aroused the attention of another more wakeful sentry; the alarm was given, and boats were manned for the pursuit, but the active swimmers reached the opposite bank in safety and thus effected their escape, to the great joy of the praying captain and his faithful company. in the winter of , when lord cornwallis was approaching the catawba river with his army, general davidson, who was in command of the whigs on the opposite or mecklenburg side of that stream, concentrated his forces, stationed at different points on the river, to resist him at cowan's ford. in order to strengthen himself as much as possible, he sent couriers to the adjoining counties, calling on the whigs to rally to his assistance. one of these couriers, sent to fourth creek church, (now statesville), in iredell county, arrived on the sabbath, while the pastor, the rev. james hall, was preaching. the urgency of his business did not permit him to delay in making known the nature of his mission, and, as the best course of doing so, he walked up to the pulpit and handed davidson's call to the pastor, the rev. james hall, whose patriotic record was well known. mr. hall glanced over the document, and understanding its purport, brought his discourse to a speedy close, descended from the pulpit, and read it to his congregation. after reading it he made a patriotic appeal to his audience to respond to this call of their country. whereupon, a member of the congregation moved that they organize by calling mr. hall, the pastor, to preside, and proceed to take such action as the circumstances demanded. the pastor accepted the position of president of the meeting, renewed his appeal to the patriotism of his people, and demonstrated his sincerity in calling for volunteers by placing his own name at the head of the list. his example was quickly followed by a sufficient number of his congregation to form a company. it was then decided to adjourn, and meet again at the church at o'clock next morning, mounted, with arms and supplied with ammunition, and five days rations, at which time they would elect officers and proceed to the scene of conflict. accordingly, on the following morning the pastor and the greater part of the male members of his congregation responded to roll call under the noble oaks, where then, and now, stands fourth creek presbyterian church, in the corporate limits of the town of statesville, the county seat of iredell. the assemblage proceeded immediately to the election of officers, when the rev. james hall, their pastor, was unanimously chosen captain. in accordance with the choice of his beloved congregation, so cordially given, mr. hall instantly assumed command, put his men in rapid motion, and, in due time, reported to general davidson and took his position in line, to resist the invaders of his country. this was the sort of patriotism that burned in the bosoms of the scotch-irish presbyterians between the yadkin and catawba rivers; which was enkindled by the pastors of the seven churches of mecklenburg, and burst forth into a flame upon the classic site of charlotte, on the th of may, . when the war of the revolution had ended, mr. hall devoted himself, with undivided energies, to his beloved work, the gospel ministry. the effects of the long and harassing war upon the churches in carolina were deplorable; the regular ordinances of the gospel had been broken up, and the preached word had become less valued. his efforts in promoting vital godliness met with the divine approbation, were attended with his blessing, and resulted in a revival of religion. one sphere of usefulness in which mr. hall excelled, was the education of young men. near the commencement of the war he conducted for a time a classical school, called clio's nursery, on snow creek, in iredell county. this he superintended with care, and through its agency brought out many distinguished men that might not otherwise have obtained an education. this eminent minister of the gospel died on the th of july, , in the eighty-second year of his age, and is buried in the graveyard of bethany church, in iredell county. hugh lawson white. hugh lawson white was born in iredell county in , on the plantation now owned by thomas caldwell, esq., about two miles west of center church, and five miles east of beattie's ford, on the catawba river. the old family mansion has long since disappeared, and the plow now runs smoothly over its site. his grandfather, moses white, emigrated to america from ireland about , and married a daughter of hugh lawson, one of the patriarchal settlers of the country. he had six sons, james, moses, john, william, david and andrew; many of whose descendants now reside in iredell county. james white, the father of hugh, was a soldier of the revolution. about he moved to knox county, east tennessee, and was one of the original founders of the present flourishing city of knoxville. when the creek (indian) war broke out he entered the army, was soon made a brigadier general, and was distinguished for his bravery, energy and talents. hugh l. white's education was conducted under the care of rev. samuel carrick, judge roane, and dr. patterson, of philadelphia. after completing his studies he returned home and commenced the practice of his profession. by close attention to business he soon acquired eminence, numerous friends, and a handsome competency. at the early age of twenty-eight he was elected one of the judges of the superior court. in he resigned his judgship and retired to his farm. there appears, says a writer on biography, always to be a congeniality between the pursuits of agriculture and all great and good minds. we do not pretend to analyze the _rationale_ of this, or why it is that patriotism exists with more elevation and fervency in the retirement of a farm than in the busy mart of crowded cities. the history of man proves this fact, that the noblest instances of self-sacrificing patriotism which have adorned the drama of human life, have been presented by those who are devoted to agricultural pursuits. it is the only pursuit that man followed in his state of primal innocence, and surviving his fall, allows the mind "to look through nature, up to nature's god." but his well-known abilities were too highly appreciated by his fellow-citizens to grant him a long retirement. soon after his resignation of the judicial robes he was elected a senator to the state legislature. in , when tennessee remodeled her judiciary department, and created the supreme court, judge white was unanimously chosen to preside over this important tribunal of justice. he could not with propriety refuse to accept a position so cordially tendered, and highly honorable in its character. for six years he presided over its deliberations with such fidelity and strict integrity as to win universal esteem and unfading honors for his reputation. at the same time he was elected president of the state bank. under his able management its character acquired stability and public confidence. the state of tennessee was then severely suffering from the hostile incursions and savage depredations of the creek indians. at the darkest period of the campaign, when general jackson was in the midst of a wild territory, and surrounded, not only by cruel savages, but enduring famine, disaffection and complaints, judge white left the supreme court bench, and with a single companion, sought and found, after days and nights of peril, the camp of the veteran jackson. he immediately volunteered their services, and they were gladly accepted. while judge white was absent on this campaign he lost several terms of his court; and as the judges were only paid for services actually rendered, the legislature resolved that there should be no deduction in his annual salary as judge. this continuance of salary, so gratefully offered, he declined to receive. in he was appointed, with governor tazewell of virginia, and governor king, of alabama, a commissioner under the convention with spain, which position he accepted and held until its term expired in . in , general jackson having resigned his seat as a senator in congress, judge white was unanimously elected to fill out his term. in he was unanimously elected for a full term; and in was chosen president of the senate. in he was voted for as president of the united states. he died, with the consciousness of a well spent life, at his adopted home in tennessee, on the th of april, , aged sixty-seven years. chapter v. lincoln county. lincoln county was formed in , from mecklenburg county, and named tryon, in honor of william tryon, at that time the royal governor, but his oppressive administration, terminating with cold-blooded murders at the battle of alamance in , caused the general assembly in to blot out his odious name and divide the territory into lincoln and rutherford counties. these names were imposed during the revolution when both of the honored heroes were fighting the battles of their country. lincoln county, separated from mecklenburg by the noble catawba river, has a revolutionary record of peculiar interest. in june, , the battle of ramsour's mill was fought, which greatly enlivened the whigs, and, in a corresponding degree, weakened the tory influence throughout the surrounding country. in january, , lord cornwallis, with a large invading army, passed through the county and camped for three days on the ramsour battle-ground. general o'hara, one of his chief officers, camped at the "reep place," about two miles and a half west of ramsour's mill. tarleton, with his cavalry, crossed the south fork, in "cobb's bottom," and passed over the ridge on which lincolnton now stands (before the place had a "local habitation and a name,") in approaching his lordship's headquarters. although lincoln county contained many who were misled through the artful influence of designing men, and fought on the _wrong side_, yet, within her borders were found a gallant band of unflinching patriots, both of german and scotch-irish descent, who acted nobly throughout the struggle for independence, and "made their mark" victoriously at ramsour's mill, king's mountain, the cowpens, and at other places in north and south carolina. lincoln county, as tryon, sent to the first popular convention, which met at newbern, on the th of august, , robert alexander and david jenkins. to hillsboro, august st, , john walker, robert alexander, joseph hardin, william graham, frederick hambright and william alston. to halifax, april th, , james johnston and charles mclean. to the same place, november th, , (which body formed the first state constitution,) joseph hardin, william graham, robert abernathy, william alston and john barber. several of these names will be noticed in the subsequent sketches. battle of ramsour's mill. the unsuccessful attempt made by general lincoln to take savannah, and the subsequent capture of the army under his command at charleston, induced sir henry clinton to regard the states of south carolina and georgia as subdued and restored to the british crown. the south was then left, for a time, without any regular force to defend her territory. soon after the surrender of charleston, detachments of the british army occupied the principal military posts of georgia and south carolina. col. brown re-occupied augusta; col. balfour took possession of ninety-six, on the wateree, and lord cornwallis pressed forward to camden. sir henry clinton then embarked with the main army for new york, leaving four thousand troops for the further subjugation of the south. after his departure the chief command devolved on lord cornwallis, who immediately repaired to charleston to establish commercial regulations and organize the civil administration of the state, leaving lord rawdon in command at camden. north carolina had not yet been invaded, and the hopes of the patriots in the south now seemed mainly to rest on this earliest pioneer state in the cause of liberty. charleston surrendered on the th of may, . on the th of the same month tarleton defeated col. buford in the waxhaw settlement, upwards of thirty miles south of charlotte, on his way to the relief of charleston. just before the surrender, a well organized force from mecklenburg, rowan and lincoln counties, left charlotte with the same object in view, but arrived too late, as charleston was then completely invested by the british army. and yet this force, after its return, proved of great service in protecting the intervening country, and prevented the invasion of north carolina until a few weeks after the battle of camden. at this critical period general rutherford ordered out the whole militia, and by the d of june about nine hundred men assembled near charlotte. on the next day the militia were addressed by the rev. alexander mcwhorter, the patriotic president of "liberty hall academy," (formerly "queen's museum"), after which general rutherford dismissed them, with orders to hold themselves in readiness for another call. major, afterward general, davie having recovered from his wounds received at stono, near charleston, again took the field, and part of his cavalry were ordered to reconnoiter between charlotte and camden. having heard that lord rawdon had retired with his army to hanging rock, general rutherford moved from his rendezvous to rea's plantation, eighteen miles north-east of charlotte, to mallard creek. on the th of june the troops under his command were properly organized. the cavalry, sixty-five in number under major davie, were equipped as dragoons, and formed into two companies under captains lemmonds and martin. a battalion of three hundred light infantry were placed under the command of general william davidson, a regular officer, who could not join his regiment in charleston after that place was invested. about five hundred men remained under the immediate command of general rutherford. on the evening of the th of june he received intelligence that the tories, under col. john moore, had embodied themselves in strong force at ramsour's mill, near the present town of lincolnton. he immediately issued orders to colonel francis locke, of rowan; major david wilson, of mecklenburg; also to captains falls, knox, brandon, and other officers, to raise men to disperse the tories, deeming it unwise to weaken his own force until the object of lord rawdon, still encamped at waxhaws, should become better known. on the th general rutherford advanced to a position two miles south of charlotte. on the th he was informed lord rawdon had retired towards camden. on the th he broke up his camp south of charlotte, and marched twelve miles to tuckasege ford, on the catawba river. on the evening of that day he dispatched an express to col. locke, advising him of his movements, and ordering him to unite with him (rutherford) at col. dickson's plantation, three miles northwest of tuckasege ford, on the evening of the th or on the morning of the th of june. the express miscarried, in some unaccountable way, and never reached colonel locke. when general rutherford crossed the river on the evening of the th, it was believed he would march in the night, and attack the tories next morning; but still supposing his express had reached colonel locke, he waited for the arrival of that officer at his present encampment in lincoln county, where he was joined by col. graham's regiment. at ten o'clock at night of the th, col. james johnston, a brave officer, and well acquainted with the intervening country, arrived at gen. rutherford's camp. he had been dispatched by colonel locke from mountain creek, sixteen miles from ramsour's mill, to inform gen. rutherford of his intention of attacking the tories next morning at sunrise, and requested his co-operation. gen. rutherford, still expecting his express would certainly reach col. locke soon after col. johnston left his encampment on mountain creek, made no movement until early next morning. in pursuance of the orders given to col. locke and other officers from headquarters at mallard creek, on the th of june, they quickly collected as many men as they could, and on the th major wilson, with sixty-five men, crossed the catawba at toole's ford and joined major mcdowell, from burke, with twenty-five horsemen. they passed up the river at a right angle with the position of the tories, for the purpose of meeting other whig forces. at mcewen's ford, being joined by captain falls with forty men, they continued their march up the east side of mountain creek, and on monday, the th, they united with col. locke, captain brandon and other officers, with two hundred and seventy men. the whole force now amounted to nearly four hundred men. they encamped on mountain creek at a place called the _glades_. the officers met in council and unanimously agreed it would be unsafe to remain long in their present position, and, notwithstanding the disparity of the opposing forces, it was determined that they should march during the night and attack the tories in their camp at an early hour next morning. it was said that the tories being ignorant of their inferior force, and being suddenly attacked would be easily routed. at this time, col. johnston, as previously stated, was dispatched from mountain creek to apprise general rutherford of their determination. late in the evening they commenced their march from mountain creek, and passing down the south side of the mountain they halted at the west end of it in the night when they again consulted on the plan of attack. it was determined that the companies under captains falls, mcdowell and brandon should act on horseback and march in front. no other arrangement was made, and it was left to the officers to be governed by circumstances after they reached the enemy. they accordingly resumed their march and by day light arrived within a mile of the tories, assembled in strong force, about two hundred and fifty yards east of ramsour's mill, and half a mile north of the present town of lincolnton. the tories occupied an excellent position on the summit of the ridge, which has a gentle slope, and was then covered with a scattered growth of trees. the foot of the hill on the south and east was bounded by a glade and its western base by ramsour's mill pond, the position was so well chosen that nothing but the most determined bravery enabled the whigs, with a greatly inferior force, to drive the tories from it, and claim the victory of one of the most severely contested battles of the revolution. the forces of colonel locke approached the battle ground from the east, a part of his command, at least, having taken "refreshments" at dellinger's tavern, which stood near the present residence of b.s. johnson, esq., of lincolnton. the companies of captains falls, mcdowell and brandon were mounted, and the other troops under col. locke were arranged in the road, two deep, behind them. under this organization they marched to the battle-field. the mounted companies led the attack. when they came within sight of the picket, stationed in the road a considerable distance from the encampment, they perceived that their approach had not been anticipated. the picket fired and fled to their camp. the cavalry pursued, and turning to the right out of the road, they rode up within thirty steps of the line and fired at the tories. this bold movement of the cavalry threw them into confusion, but seeing only a few men assailing them they quickly recovered from their panic and poured in such a destructive fire upon the horsemen as to compel them to retreat. soon the infantry hurried up to their assistance, the cavalry rallied, and the fight became general on both sides. it was in this first attack of the cavalry that the brave captain gilbraith falls was mortally wounded in the breast, rode about one hundred and fifty yards east of the battle ground, and fell dead from his horse. the tories, seeing the effect of their fire, came a short distance down the hill, and thus brought themselves in fair view of the whig infantry. here the action was renewed and the contest fiercely maintained for a considerable length of time. in about an hour the tories began to fall back to their original position on the ridge, and a little beyond its summit, to shield a part of their bodies from the destructive and unceasing fire of the whigs. from this strong and elevated position the tories, during the action, were enabled at one time to drive the whigs nearly back to the glade. at this moment captain hardin led a small force of whigs into the field, and, under cover of the fence, kept up a galling fire on the right flank of the tories. this movement gave their lines the proper extension, and the contest being well maintained in the center, the tories began to retreat up the ridge. before they reached its summit they found a part of their former position in possession of the whigs. in this quarter the action became close, and the opposing parties in two instances mixed together, and having no bayonets they struck at each other with the butts of their guns. in this strange contest several of the tories were made prisoners, and others, divesting themselves of their mark of distinction, (a twig of green pine-top stuck in their hats), intermixed with the whigs, and all being in their common dress, escaped without being detected. the tories finding the left of their position in possession of the whigs, and their center closely pressed, retreated down the ridge toward the pond, still exposed to the incessant fire of the whig forces. the whigs pursued their advantages until they got entire possession of the ridge, when they discovered, to their astonishment, that the tories had collected in strong force on the other side of the creek, beyond the mill. they expected the fight would be renewed, and attempted to form a line, but only eighty-six men could be paraded. some were scattered during the action, others were attending to their wounded friends, and, after repeated efforts, not more than one hundred and ten men could be collected. in this situation of affairs, it was resolved by colonel locke and other officers, that major david wilson of mecklenburg, and captain william alexander of rowan, should hasten to general rutherford, and urge him to press forward to their assistance. general rutherford had marched early in the morning from colonel dickson's plantation, and about six or seven miles from ramsour's, was met by wilson and alexander. major davie's cavalry was started off at full gallop, and colonel davidson's battalion of infantry were ordered to hasten on with all possible speed. after progressing about two miles they were met by others from the battle, who informed them the tories had retreated. the march was continued, and the troops arrived at the battleground two hours after the action had closed. the dead and most of the wounded were still lying where they fell. in this action the tories fought and maintained their ground for a considerable length of time with persistent bravery. very near the present brick structure on the battle-ground, containing within its walls the mortal remains of six gallant whig captains, the severest fighting took place. they here sealed with their life's blood their devotion to their country's struggle for independence. in addition to those from their own neighborhoods, the tories were reinforced two days before the battle by two hundred well-armed men from lower creek, in burke county, under captains whiston and murray. colonel john moore, son of moses moore, who resided six or seven miles west of lincolnton, took an active part in arousing and increasing the tory element throughout the county. he had joined the enemy the preceding winter in south carolina, and having recently returned, dressed in a tattered suit of british uniform and with a sword dangling at his side, announced himself as lieutenant colonel in the regiment of north carolina loyalists, commanded by colonel john hamilton, of halifax. soon thereafter, nicholas welch, of the same vicinity, who had been in the british service for eighteen months, and bore a major's commission in the same regiment, also returned, in a splendid uniform, and with a purse of gold, which was ostensibly displayed to his admiring associates, accompanied with artful speeches in aid of the cause he had embraced. under these leaders there was collected in a few weeks a force of thirteen hundred men, who encamped on the elevated position east of ramsour's mill, previously described. the tories, believing that they were completely beaten, formed a stratagem to secure their retreat. about the time that wilson and alexander were dispatched to general rutherford, they sent a flag under the pretense of proposing a suspension of hostilities for the purpose of burying the dead, and taking care of the wounded. to prevent the flag officer from seeing their small number, major james rutherford and another officer were ordered to meet him a short distance from the line. the proposition being made, major rutherford demanded that the tories should surrender in ten minutes, and then the arrangements as requested could be effected. in the meantime moore and welch gave orders that such of their own men as were on foot, or had inferior horses, should move off singly as fast as they could; so that, when the flag returned, not more than fifty men remained. these very brave officers, _before the battle_, and who misled so many of their countrymen, were among the first to take their departure from the scene of conflict, and seek elsewhere, by rapid flight, _more healthy quarters_. col. moore, with thirty of his followers, succeeded in reaching the british army at camden, where he was threatened with a trial by court-martial for disobedience of orders in attempting to embody the loyalists before the time appointed by lord cornwallis. as there was no perfect organization by either party, nor regular returns made after the action, the loss could not be accurately ascertained. fifty-six men lay dead on the side of the ridge, and near the present brick enclosure, where the hottest part of the fight occurred. many of the dead were found on the flanks and over the ridge toward the mill. it is believed that about seventy were killed altogether, and that the loss on either side was nearly equal. about one hundred were wounded, and fifty tories made prisoners. the men had no uniform, and it could not be told to which party many of the dead belonged. most of the whigs wore a white piece of paper on their hats in front, which served as a mark at which the tories frequently aimed, and consequently, several of the whigs, after the battle, were found to be shot in the head. in this battle, neighbors, near relatives and personal friends were engaged in hostile array against each other. after the action commenced, scarcely any orders were given by the commanding officers. they all fought like common soldiers, and animated each other by their example, as in the battle of king's mountain, a little over three months after. in no battle of the revolution, where a band of patriots, less than four hundred in number, engaged against an enemy, at least twelve hundred strong, was there an equal loss of officers, showing the leading part they performed, and the severity of the conflict. they were all "patriots, who perished for their country's right, or nobly triumphed on the field of fight." of the whig officers, captains falls, knox, dobson, smith, bowman, sloan, and armstrong were killed. captain william falls, who commanded one of the cavalry companies, was shot in the breast in the first spirited charge, as previously stated, and riding a short distance in the rear, fell dead from his horse. his body, after the battle was over, was wrapped in a blanket procured from mrs. reinhardt and conveyed to iredell (then a part of rowan) for burial. captain falls lived in iredell county, not far from sherrill's ford, on the catawba. there is a reliable tradition which states that when captain falls was killed a tory ran up to rob the body, and had taken his watch, when a young son of falls, though only fourteen years old, ran up suddenly behind the tory, drew his father's sword and killed him. captain falls was the maternal grandfather of the late robert falls simonton, who had the sword in his possession at the time of his death, in february, . captain patrick knox was mortally wounded in the thigh; an artery being severed, he very soon died from the resulting hemorrhage. captain james houston was severely wounded in the thigh, from the effects of which he never fully recovered. captain daniel mckissick was also severely wounded, but recovered, and represented lincoln county in the commons from to . captains hugh torrence, david caldwell, john reid, all of rowan county, and captain smith, of mecklenburg, came out of the conflict unhurt. william wilson had a horse shot down under him, and was wounded in the second fire. several of the inferior officers were killed. thirteen men from the vicinity of fourth creek [statesville] lay dead on the ground after the battle, and many of the wounded died a few days afterward. joseph wasson, from snow creek, received five balls, one of which it is said he carried _forty years to a day_, when it came out of itself. being unable to stand up he lay on the ground, loaded his musket, and fired several times. the brick monumental structure on the southern brow of the rising battle-ground, about fifty or sixty yards from the present public road, contains the mortal remains of six whig captains; also those of wallace alexander, and his wife, who was a daughter of captain dobson, one of the fallen heroes on this hotly-contested field of strife. the loss of the tories was greater in privates, but less in officers, than the whigs. captains cumberland, warlick and murray were killed, and captain carpenter wounded. captains keener, williams and others, including lieutenant-colonel john moore and major welch, escaped with their lives, but not "to fight another day." on the highest prominence of the battle-ground, in a thinly-wooded forest, is a single headstone pointing out the graves of three tories, probably subordinate officers, with the initials of their names inscribed in parentheses, thus: "[i.s.] [n.w.] [p.w.] "--with three dots after each name, as here presented. a little below are two parallel lines extending across the face of the coarse soap stone, enclosing three hearts with crosses between, as much as to say, _here lie three loving hearts_. near a pine tree now standing on the battle-ground, reliable tradition says a long trench was dug, in which was buried nearly all of the killed belonging to both of the contending forces, laid side by side, as the high and the low are perfectly equal in the narrow confines of the grave. incidents of the battle. early on the morning of the th of june, , when the tories were forming their forces in martial array near the residence of christian reinhardt, situated on the south-western brow of the battle-ground, he conducted his wife, with two little children in his arms, and several small negroes, across the creek to a dense cane-brake extending along and up the western bank of the mill pond as a place of safety. he then returned to his residence, and in a very short time the battle commenced. as the contest raged, and peal after peal of musketry reverberated over the surrounding hills and dales, his dwelling-house, smoke-house, and even his empty stables were successively filled with the dead, the dying and the wounded. when the battle was nearly over, and victory about to result in favor of the whigs, many of the tories swam the mill pond at its upper end, and thus made their escape. two of these fleeing tories, with green pine tops in their hats, [their badge of distinction], rushed through the cane-brake very near to mrs. reinhardt and her tender objects of care, exclaiming as they passed. "we are whipped! we are whipped!!" and were soon out of sight. during the unusual commotion and terrific conflict of arms, even the deer were aroused from their quiet retreat. one of these denizens of the cane-brake, with sprangling horns, dashed up near to mrs. reinhardt, and after viewing for a moment, with astonishment, the new occupants of their rightful solitude, darted off with a celebrity little surpassing that of the fleeing tories. as soon as the firing ceased, mrs. reinhardt came out of her covert with her little ones, and, on reaching the bridge, at the mill, found it had been torn up by the retreating tories, but, being met there by her husband, she was enabled to cross over, reach her home, and witness the mournful scene which presented itself. the tender sympathy of woman's heart, ever ready to minister to the wants of suffering humanity, was then called into requisition, and kindly extended. in a short time her house was stripped of every disposable blanket and sheet to wrap around the dead, or be employed in some other useful way. neighbors and relatives, a few hours before bitter enemies, were now seen freely mingling together and giving every kind attention to the sufferers, whether whig or tory, within their power. route of the british army through lincoln county. after the battle of the cowpens, on the th of january, , lord cornwallis left his headquarters at winnsboro, s.c., being reinforced by general leslie, and marched rapidly to overtake general morgan, encumbered with more than five hundred prisoners, and necessary baggage, on his way to a place of safety in virginia. his lordship was now smarting under two signal defeats (king's mountain and the cowpens) occurring a little more than three months apart. but the race is not always to the swift nor the battle to the strong. "man proposes, but god disposes." the original manuscript journal of lord cornwallis, now on file in the archives of the historical society of the state university at chapel hill, discloses, with great accuracy, the movements of the british army through lincoln, mecklenburg and rowan counties. on the th of january, , the headquarters of general leslie were at sandy run, chester county, s.c. on the th, at hillhouse's plantation, in york county, he returns his thanks to the troops under his command, and informs them that all orders in future will issue from lord cornwallis and the adjutant general. at eight o'clock at night, lord cornwallis issues his orders to the army to march at eight o'clock on the ensuing morning in the following order: . yagers; . corps of pioneers; . two three pounders; . brigade guards; . regiment of bose; . north carolina volunteers; . two six pounders; . lieutenant colonel webster's brigade; . wagons of the general; . field officers' wagons; . ammunition wagons; . hospital wagons; . regimental wagons; . provision train; . bat. horses; a captain, two subalterns, and one hundred men from col. webster's brigade, to form a rear guard. on the th the army camped at smith's house, near the cherokee iron works, on broad river. on the th the army camped at saunder's plantation, on buffalo creek. on the rd the army crossed the north carolina line, and camped at tryon old court house, in the western part of the present county of gaston. on the th the army arrived at ramsour's mill, near the present town of lincolnton. here cornwallis was compelled to remain three days to lay in a supply of provisions for his large army. to accomplish this, foraging parties were sent out in different directions to purchase all the grain, of every kind, that could be procured. ramsour's mill, surrounded with a guard of eight or ten men, was set to work, running _day and night_, converting the grain into meal or flour. general o'hara camped at the "reep place," two miles and a half northwest of ramsour's mill. his forces crossed the south fork, about a mile above the bridge, on the public road leading to rutherfordton. tarleton's cavalry crossed the same stream in "cobb's bottom," passing over the present site of lincolnton, to form a junction with cornwallis. this small divergence from the direct line of travel, and subsequent concentration at some designated point, was frequently made by sections of the british army for the purpose of procuring supplies. lord cornwallis, during his transitory stay, made his headquarters nearly on the summit of the rising ground, two hundred and fifty yards east of the mill, on which had been fought the severe battle between the whigs, under colonel francis locke, and the tories, under lieutenant colonel john moore (son of moses moore), in which the former were victorious. christian reinhardt, one of the first german settlers of the county, then lived near the base of the rising battle ground, and carried on a tan-yard. he owned a valuable servant, named fess, (contraction of festus,) whose whole _soul_ was exerted in making good _sole_ leather, and upper too, for the surrounding country. this servant, greatly attached to his kind master, was forced off, very much against his will, by some of the british soldiery on their departure; but his whereabouts having been found out, adam reep, and one or two other noted whigs, adroitly managed to recover him from the british camp, a few days afterward, and restored him to his rightful owner. the marquee of lord cornwallis was placed near a a pine tree, still standing on the battle ground, left there by the present owner of the property, (w.m. reinhardt, esq., grand son of christian reinhardt,) in clearing the land, as a memento of the past--where royalty, for a brief season, held undisputed sway, and feasted on the fat of the land. reliable tradition says that some of the british soldiery, while encamped on the ramsour battle ground, evinced a notable propensity for depredating upon the savory poultry of the good old house-wife, mrs. barbara reinhardt--in other words, they showed a fondness for procuring _fowl meat_ by _foul means_, in opposition to the principles of honesty and good morals. as soon as the depredations were discovered by mrs. reinhardt she immediately laid in her complaints at head-quarters. whereupon his lordship, placing greater stress upon the sanctity of the eighth commandment than his loyal soldiers, promptly replied, "madam, you shall be protected," and accordingly had a guard placed over her property until his departure. another incident relating to the advance of the british army is to the following effect. as tarleton's cavalry passed through the southern part of lincoln county (now gaston) they rode up to the residence of benjamin ormand, on the head-waters of long creek, and tied one of the horses, which they had taken, to the top of a small white oak, growing in his yard. this little revolutionary _sapling_ is still living in the serenity of a robust old age, and now measures, two feet from the ground, _twenty-seven feet in circumference!_ its branches extend all around in different directions from forty to fifty feet, and the tree is supposed to contain at least ten cords of wood. when tarleton's cavalry were on the point of leaving, they took the blanket from the cradle in which james ormand, the baby, was lying, and used it as a saddle-blanket, and the large family bible of benjamin ormand was converted into a _saddle!!_ the bible was afterward found near beattie's ford, on the catawba river, in the line of the british march, and restored to its proper owner. mr. z.s. ormand, a grandson of benjamin ormand, and a worthy citizen of gaston county, now lives at the old homestead, where the bible, considerably injured, can be seen at any time, as an abused relic of the past, and invested with a most singular history. tarleton's cavalry also seized and carried off the bedding and blankets in the house, and some of the cooking utensils in the kitchen. mr. ormand also informs the author that he frequently heard his grandmother, who then lived near steele creek church, say that she was present at the great meeting at charlotte, on the th of may, , and that she exhibited, on that occasion, _a quilt of her own manufacture_. she said it was a large turn out of people from all parts of the county, and was considered a suitable time for the _fair sex_ to exhibit productions of their own hands. having replenished his commissary department as much as possible while encamped on the ramsour battleground, and having experienced too much delay in his late march in consequence of the encumbrance of his baggage, cornwallis destroyed, before moving, all such as could be regarded as superfluous. the baggage at head-quarters was first thrown into the flames, thus converting the greater portion of his army into light troops, with a view of renewing more rapidly the pursuit of morgan, or of forcing general greene into an early action. it is said "pewter plates" were freely distributed among some "loyal" friends in the immediate vicinity, or thrown into the mill-pond; and large numbers of very strong glass bottles, originally filled with english ale, or _something stronger_, were broken to pieces on the rocks, fragments of which may be seen scattered around at the present time. thus disencumbered, cornwallis, early on the morning, of the th of january, broke up camp and marched to the catawba river, but finding it much swollen, and rendered impassable in consequence of heavy rains at its sources, he fell back to forney's plantation, five miles from the river. jacob forney was a thrifty, well-to-do farmer, and a well-known whig. the plantation is now ( ) owned by willis e. hall, esq. here the british army lay encamped for three days, waiting for the subsidence of the waters, and consumed, during that time, forney's entire stock of cattle, hogs, sheep and poultry, with all of which he was well supplied. (for further particulars, see sketch of "jacob forney, sen.") having dried their powder, and laid in an additional supply of provisions and forage, the british army was now prepared to renew more actively the pursuit of morgan. on the evening before the marching of the main army, colonel webster moved forward with the artillery, and a small detachment as a rear guard, and took position at beattie's ford. this was a mere feint, intended to create the impression that the whole british army would cross there, as it was the most eligible pass, and thus elude the vigilance of the whigs. at half-past two o'clock, on the morning of the st of february, , cornwallis broke up his camp at forney's plantation, and marched to a private crossing-place known as cowan's ford, six miles below beattie's ford. as he approached the river, a little before the dawn of a cloudy, misty morning, numerous camp fires on the eastern bank assured him his passage would be resisted; but general davidson had neglected to place his entire force, about three hundred and fifty in number, near the ford, so as to present an imposing appearance. as it was, only the companies of captain joseph graham, and of two or three other officers, probably not more than one third of the whole force on duty, actually participated in the skirmish which immediately took place; otherwise, the result might have been far more disastrous to the british army. the river at cowan's ford, for most of the distance across, has a very rugged bottom, abounding with numerous rocks, of considerable size, barely visible at the low water of summer time. with judicious forethought, cornwallis had hired the services of frederick hager, a tory, on the western bank, and, under his guidance, the bold britons plunged into the water, with the firm determination of encountering the small band of americans on the eastern bank. stedman, the english commissary and historian, who accompanied cornwallis in his southern campaigns, thus speaks of the passage of the river at cowan's ford: "the light infantry of the guards, led by colonel hall, first entered the water. they were followed by the grenadiers, and the grenadiers by the battalions, the men marching in platoons, to support one another against the rapidity of the stream. when the light infantry had nearly reached the middle of the river, they were challenged by one of the enemy's sentinels. the sentinel having challenged thrice, and receiving no answer, immediately gave the alarm by discharging his musket; and the enemy's pickets were turned out. no sooner did the guide (a tory) who attended the light infantry to show them the ford, hear the report of the sentinel's musket than he turned around and left them. this, which at first, seemed to portend much mischief, in the end, proved a fortunate incident. colonel hall, being forsaken by his guide, and not knowing the true direction of the ford, led the column directly across the river to the nearest part of the opposite bank." this direct course carried the british army to a new landing-place on the eastern, or mecklenburg side, so that they did not encounter a full and concentrated fire from the whigs. upon hearing the firing, general davidson, who was stationed about half a mile from the ford, (in the lucas house, still standing,) with the greater portion of the militia, hastened to the scene of conflict, evincing his well-established bravery, but it was too late to change the issue of the contest, and array any more effectual resistence. at this moment, general davidson arrived near the river, and in attempting to rally the whig forces for renewed action, received a fatal shot in the breast, fell from his horse, and almost instantly expired. the few patriots on the bank of the river nobly performed their duty, but had soon to retreat before vastly superior numbers. the british infantry waded the river, preceded by their tory guide, staff in hand, to show them the proper ford, and the statement made by some historians that general davidson was killed by this guide is not corroborated by stedman, the english historian; but, on the contrary, he leaves us to infer that the american general met his death at the hands of one of their own troops. the same authority states their own loss to be colonel hall and three privates killed, and thirty-six wounded. the horse of lord cornwallis was fatally shot and fell dead just as he ascended the bank. the horse of general o'hara, after tumbling over the slippery rocks several times, producing a partial submersion of his rider, finally reached the bank in safety. the british reserved their fire until they reached the eastern shore, and then pouring in two or three volleys into the ranks of the opposing whig forces, now considerably disconcerted, soon compelled them to retreat with small loss. colonel hall was buried on the edge of the alluvial land a short distance below the crossing-place, with a head and foot stone of rock from the adjoining hill, which were long visible and could be pointed out by the nearest neighbors; but these were finally concealed from view by successive overflows of sand from the swollen river. the privates of both contending forces were buried on the rising ground, near the scene of conflict, and with such haste on the part of the british interring party as to leave one of their mattocks behind them at the graves of their fallen comrades, eager to overtake the vigilant morgan. gen. joseph graham. (condensed from wheeler's "historical sketches.") general joseph graham was born in pennsylvania on the th of october, . his mother being left a widow with five small children, and slender means of support, removed to north carolina when he was about seven years of age, and settled in the neighborhood of charlotte. he received the principal part of his education at "queen's museum" in charlotte, (afterward called "liberty hall academy,") and was distinguished for his talents, industry and manly deportment. his thirst for knowledge led him at an early period to become well acquainted with all those interesting and exciting events which preceded our revolutionary struggle. he was present in charlotte on the th of may, , when the first declaration of independence was formally and publicly made. the deep impression made upon his mind by the solemn and illustrious decisions of that day gave good evidence that he was then preparing for the noble stand which he took during the war. he enlisted in the army of the united states in may, , at the age of nineteen years. he served in the fourth regiment of north carolina regular troops, under col. archibald lytle, acting as an officer in captain gooden's company. the troops to which he was attached were ordered to rendezvous at bladensburg, md. having marched as far as caswell county they received intelligence of the battle of monmouth, when he returned home on a furlough. he again entered the service on the th of november, , and marched under general rutherford to purysburg, on the savannah river, soon after the defeat of gen. ashe at brier creek. he was with the troops under gen. lincoln, and fought in the battle of stono, against gen. prevost, on the th of june, , which lasted one hour and twenty minutes. during nearly the whole of this campaign he acted as quartermaster. in july, , he was taken with the fever, and after two months' severe illness was discharged near dorchester, and returned home. after the surrender of charleston, and defeat of col. bufort at the waxhaw, he again entered the service as adjutant of the mecklenburg regiment, and spent the summer in opposing the advance of lord rawdon into north carolina, and assailing his troops, then within forty miles of charlotte. when it was understood that the british were marching to charlotte he was ordered by general davidson to repair to that place, and take command of such a force as he could readily collect, and join col. davie. _about midnight_ of the th of september, , col. davie reached charlotte. on the next day the british army entered charlotte, and received such a _stinging_ reception as to cause lord cornwallis to designate the place as the "hornets' nest of america." after a well-directed fire upon the british from the court house to the gum tree, gen. graham, with the troops assigned to his command, retreated, opposing tarleton's cavalry and a regiment of infantry for four miles on the salisbury road. on the plantation formerly owned by joseph mcconnaughey, he again formed his men, and attacked the advancing british infantry. after again retreating, he formed on the hill above where sugar creek church now stands. there, owing to the imprudent but honest zeal of major white, they were detained too long, for by the time they had reached the crossroads a party of british dragoons were in sight, and, after close pursuit for nearly two miles, overtook them. it was at this time that lieut. george locke, a brother of col. francis locke, of rowan county, was killed at the margin of a small pond, now to be seen at the end of alexander kennedy's lane. between that spot and where james a. houston now lives, gen. graham was cut down and severely wounded. he received nine wounds, six with the saber and three from musket balls. his life was narrowly and mercifully preserved by a large stock buckle which broke the violence of the stroke. he received four deep gashes of the saber over his head and one in his side; and three balls were afterward removed from his body. after being much exhausted by loss of blood, he reached the house of the late mrs. susannah alexander, where he was kindly nursed and watched during the night, and his wounds dressed as well as circumstances would permit. on the next day he reached his mother's residence, where the late major bostwick resided, and from that place transferred to the hospital in charlotte. thus, at the tender age of twenty-one years, we see this gallant young officer leading a band of as brave men as ever faced a foe, to guard the ground first consecrated by the mecklenburg declaration of independence, leaving his blood as the best memorial of a righteous cause, and of true heroism in its defence. as soon as he recovered from his wounds, he again entered the service of his country. gen. davidson, who had command of all the militia in the western counties of the state, applied to him to raise one or more companies, promising him such rank as the number of men raised would justify. through his great energy, perseverance and influence he succeeded in raising a company of fifty-five men in two weeks. these were mounted riflemen, armed also with swords, and some with pistols. they supplied themselves with their own horses and necessary equipments, and entered the field without commissary or quartermaster, and with every prospect of hard fighting, and little compensation. after tarleton's signal defeat at the cowpens, cornwallis resolved to pursue gen. morgan, encumbered with upwards of five hundred prisoners. at that time gen. greene had assumed command of the southern army, and stationed himself with a portion of it at hicks' creek, near to cheraw. after gen. morgan's successful retreat, gen. greene left his main army with gen. huger, and rode one hundred and fifty miles to join gen. morgan's detachment near the catawba river. the plan of opposing lord cornwallis in crossing the catawba was arranged by gen. greene, and its execution assigned to gen. davidson. lieutenant col. webster moved forward and crossed the catawba in advance with a detachment of cavalry co create the impression that the whole british army would cross there, but the real intention of cornwallis was to make the attempt at cowan's ford. soon after the action commenced, gen. davidson was killed, greatly lamented by all who knew him as a brave and generous officer. the company commanded by gen. graham commenced the attack upon the british as they advanced through the river, and resolutely kept it up until they ascended the bank. the british then poured in a heavy fire upon graham's men, two of whom were killed. col. william polk and rev. t.h. mccaule were near gen. davidson when he fell. col. hall and three or four of the british were killed and upwards of thirty wounded. the british were detained here about three hours in burying their dead and then resumed their march in pursuit of gen. morgan. the body of general davidson was secured by david wilson and richard barry, conveyed to the house of samuel wilson, sen., there dressed for burial, and interred that night in the graveyard of hopewell church. the north carolina militia were then placed under the command of general pickens, of south carolina, and continued to harass the british as they advanced toward virginia. general graham with his company, and some troops from rowan county, surprised and captured a guard at hart's mill, one mile and a-half from hillsboro, where the british army then lay, and the same day joined colonel lee's forces. on the next day, under general pickens, he was in the action against colonel pyles, who commanded about three hundred and fifty tories on their way to join tarleton. these tories supposed the whigs to be a company of british troops sent for their protection, and commenced crying, "god save the king." tarleton was about a mile from this place, and retreated to hillsboro. shortly afterward general graham was in an engagement under colonel lee, at clapp's mill, on the alamance, and had two of his company killed, three wounded and two made prisoners. again, a few days afterward, he was in the action at whitsell's mill, under colonel washington. as the term of service of his men had expired, and the country was annoyed with tories, general greene directed him to return with his company and keep them in a compact body until they crossed the yadkin, which they did on the th of march, . after the battle of guilford the british retired to wilmington, and but little military service was performed in north carolina during the summer of . about the st of september fannin surprised hillsboro and took governor burke prisoner. general rutherford, who had been taken prisoner at gates' defeat, was set at liberty, and returned home about this time. he immediately gave orders to general graham, in whose military prowess and influence he placed great confidence, to raise a troop of cavalry in mecklenburg county. these troops of dragoons, and about two hundred mounted infantry, were raised and formed into a legion, over which robert smith was made colonel and general graham major. they immediately commenced their march toward wilmington. south of fayetteville, with ninety-six dragoons and forty mounted infantry, made a gallant and successful attack against a body of tories commanded by the noted tory colonels, mcneil, ray, graham and mcdougal. this action took place near mcfalls' mill, on the raft swamp, in which the tories were signally defeated, their leaders dispersed, and their cause greatly damaged. in this spirited engagement one hundred and thirty-six whigs opposed and vanquished six hundred tories, reflecting great credit upon the bravery and military sagacity of general graham. a short time afterward he commanded one troop of dragoons and two of mounted infantry, and defeated a band of tories on alfred moore's plantation, opposite wilmington. on the next day he led the troops in person, and attacked the british garrison near the same place. shortly afterward he commanded three companies in defeating colonel gagny, near waccamaw lake. this campaign closed general graham's services in the revolutionary war, having commanded in fifteen engagements with a degree of courage, wisdom, calmness and success, surpassed, perhaps, by no officer of the same rank. hundreds who served under him have delighted in testifying to the upright, faithful, and undaunted manner in which he discharged the duties of his trying and responsible station. never was he known to shrink from any toil, however painful, or quail before any danger, however threatening, or stand back from any privations or sacrifices which might serve his country. after the close of the war he was elected the first sheriff of mecklenburg county, and gave great satisfaction by the faithful performance of the duties of that office. from to he was elected to the senate from the same county. about the year he was married to isabella, the second daughter of major john davidson. by this marriage he had twelve children. not long after his marriage he removed to lincoln county and engaged in the manufacture of iron. for more than forty years before his death he conducted a large establishment of iron works with great energy and success. in general graham commanded a regiment of north carolina volunteers against the creek indians, and arrived about the time the last stroke of punishment was inflicted upon this hostile tribe by general jackson, at the battle of the horse shoe. for many years after the war he was major general of the th division of the north carolina militia. by a life of temperance and regular exercise, with the blessing of god, he enjoyed remarkable health and vigor of constitution. on the th of october, , he made the following minute in his day-book: "this day i am seventy-seven years of age, _dei gratia_." he rode from lincolnton on the th of november, soon thereafter was struck with apoplexy, and on the evening of the th closed his eyes upon the cares and trials of a long, useful and honorable life. general joseph graham was the father of the late ex-governor william a. graham, one of north carolina's most worthy, honorable, and illustrious sons. brevard family. (condensed from wheeler's "historical sketches.") the brevard family acted a very conspicuous part during our revolutionary war. the first one of the name of whom anything is known was a huguenot who fled from france on the revocation of the edict of nantes in , and settled among the scotch-irish in the northern part of ireland. he there formed the acquaintance of a family of mcknitts, and with them set sail for the american shores. one of this family was a young and blooming lassie, "very fair to look upon." brevard and herself soon discovered in each other kindred spirits, and a mutual attachment sprung up between them. they joined their fortunes, determined to share the hardships and trials incident to a settlement in a new country, then filled with wild beasts and savages. they settled on elk river, in maryland. the issue of this marriage were five sons and one daughter; john, robert, zebulon, benjamin, adam, and elizabeth. the three elder brothers, with their sister and her husband, came to north carolina between and . the three brothers were all whigs during the revolution. john brevard, whose family is the immediate subject of this sketch, married a sister of dr. alexander mcwhorter, a distinguished presbyterian minister from new jersey, who had for a time the control of queen's museum in charlotte. soon after his marriage, brevard also emigrated to north carolina, and settled about two miles from center church, in iredell county. dr. mcwhorter was a very zealous whig, and it is said the british were anxious to seize him on account of his independent addresses, both in and out of the pulpit. but they failed in their endeavors, and, after the invasion of charlotte by cornwallis in , he returned to the north. at the commencement of the revolutionary war, john brevard, then an old and infirm man, had eight sons and four daughters, mary, ephraim, john, hugh, adam, alexander, robert, benjamin, nancy, joseph, jane and rebecca. he was a well known and influential whig, and early instilled his patriotic principles into the minds of his children. when the british army under cornwallis passed near his residence a squad of soldiers went to his house and burned every building on the premises to the ground. no one was at home at the time except his wife, then quite old and infirm, the daughters having been sent to a neighboring house across a swamp to preserve them from any indignities that might be offered to them by a base soldiery. when the soldiers came up a self-authorized officer drew a paper from his pocket, and after looking at it for a moment said, "these houses must be burned." they were accordingly set on fire. mrs. brevard attempted to save some articles of furniture from the flames, but the soldiers would throw them back as fast as she could take them out everything in the house was consumed. the reason assigned by the soldiery for this incendiary act was she then had "eight sons in the rebel army." mary, the eldest daughter of john brevard, married gen. davidson who was killed at cowan's ford on the catawba river. nancy married john davidson. they were both killed by the indians at the head of the catawba river. jane married ephraim, a brother of john davidson. though very young, he was sent by gen. davidson, on the night before the skirmish at cowan's ford, with an express to col, morgan, warning him of the approach of the british forces. rebecca married a jones and moved to tennessee. ephraim brevard, the eldest son, married a daughter of col. thomas polk. after a course of preparatory studies he went to princeton college. having graduated, he pursued a course of medical studies and settled as a physician in charlotte. being highly educated, and possessed of a superior mind, and agreeable manner, he exerted a commanding influence over the youthful patriots of that day. in the language of dr. foote, "he thought clearly; felt deeply; wrote well; resisted bravely, and died a martyr to that liberty none loved better, and few understood so well." (for further particulars respecting dr. brevard, see sketches of the signers of the mecklenburg declaration.) _john brevard, jr._, served in the continental army with the commission of lieutenant, displaying, on all occasions, unflinching bravery and a warm devotion to the cause of american freedom. _hugh brevard_, with several brothers, was at the battle of ramsour's mill. early in the war he was appointed a colonel of the militia, and was present at the defeat of general ashe at brier creek. he settled in burke county, and was elected a member of the legislature in and , was held in high esteem by his fellow citizens, and died about the close of the war. _adam brevard_ first served one year in the northern army under general washington. he then came south, and was present at the battle of ramsour's mill. he there had a button shot from his pantaloons, but escaped unharmed. he was a blacksmith by trade, and, after the war followed this occupation for a considerable length of time. being fond of reading he studied law in his shop, when not much pressed with business, and found a greater delight in the law-telling _strokes_ of a blackstone than in the hard-ringing strokes of a blacksmith's hammer. he finally abandoned his trade and engaged in the practice of the law, in which he was successful. he was a man of strong intellect, sound judgment, and keen observation. he wrote a piece called the "mecklenburg censor," abounding with sarcastic wit and well-timed humor, making him truly the "learned blacksmith" of mecklenburg county. _alexander brevard_ first joined the army as a cadet. he then received the commission of lieutenant, and soon afterward that of captain in the continental army. he was engaged in the battles of white plains, trenton, princeton, brandywine, monmouth, and germanton, and remained in the northern army under general washington until some time in the year , when, his health failing, he was sent into the country. after a short absence he reported himself for service to gen. washington. this illustrious and humane commander, seeing his slender figure and delicate appearance, remarked that he was unfit for hard service, and enquired of him where his parents lived. the reply was, in north carolina. gen. washington then advised him to return home. with this advice he complied, and his health, in the meantime, having improved in the genial climate of western north carolina, he immediately joined the southern army under general gates. being a captain in the regular service, and removed from his command, he was appointed quartermaster, and acted as such at the battle of camden. after the defeat of gen. gates, the southern army was placed under the command of gen. greene. alexander brevard was with this gallant commander in all his battles; so that, with little interruption, he was in active service _from the beginning to the end of the war_. he thought his hardest fighting was at the eutaw springs. he was there in command of his company, and in the hottest part of the fight, losing eighteen of his brave men. at one time he and his company were in a very critical situation. a division of the british army came very unexpectedly upon their rear while they were closely engaged in front; but, just at that moment, col. washington, perceiving their imminent danger, made an impetuous charge with his cavalry upon this division of the enemy. a portion of his men broke through, and formed again with the intention of renewing the charge. this was prevented by the retreat of the british into a position where it was impossible for the cavalry to pursue them. colonel washington was unhorsed and made a prisoner, but succeeded with his brave men in preventing the meditated attack in the rear. brevard had not observed this division of the enemy, and the first thing he saw was the flying caps and tumbling horses of the cavalry as they made their dashing charge upon them. this was the last important battle in which capt. brevard was engaged, fought on the th of september, , and near the close of the war. on all occasions he maintained an unflagging zeal and promptitude of action in achieving the independence of his country, and evincing a persistent bravery unsurpassed in the annals of the american revolution. after the war captain brevard married rebecca, a daughter of major john davidson, one of the signers of the mecklenburg declaration. major davidson suggested to himself and general joseph graham, another son-in-law, the propriety of entering into the manufacture of iron. they readily approved of the suggestion and went over into lincoln county. there they found general peter forney in possession of a valuable iron ore bank. with him they formed a copartnership and erected vesuvius furnace on the public road from beattie's ford to lincolnton--at present known as smith's furnace. after operating for a time altogether, forney withdrew. davidson and brevard then left graham in the management of vesuvius furnace, and built mount tirzah forge, now known as brevard's forge. the sons-in-law shortly afterward bought out davidson, and finally they dissolved. brevard then built a furnace on leeper's creek, above mount tirzah forge, and continued in the iron business until his death. captain brevard, being of a retiring disposition, never sought political favor, but preferred to discharge his obligations to his country rather by obeying than by making her laws. his manners were frank and candid, and the more intimately he was known the better was he beloved. the dishonest met his searching eye with dread, but the industrious and the honest ever found in him a kind adviser and beneficent assistant. long will he be remembered as a pure man, a faithful friend, and an upright citizen, conscientious in the discharge of all his obligations and in the performance of all his duties. he was for many years, a worthy elder in the presbyterian church, and died, as he had lived, a true christian, and with humble resignation, on the st of november, , in the seventy-fifth year of his age. his mortal remains repose in a private cemetery, selected by general graham and himself as a family burying ground, and near which has lately been built the church of macpelah. he left seven children--ephraim, franklin, harriet, robert, joseph, theodore and mary. franklin and joseph represented, at different times, the county of lincoln in the state legislature. _joseph brevard_, the youngest son of john brevard, sen., at the youthful age of seventeen, held the commission of lieutenant in the continental army. his brother alexander said he was at that time quite small and delicate, and that he always pitied him when it was his turn to mount guard. general ----, who was in command at philadelphia, discovering that he wrote a pretty hand, appointed him his private secretary. in this position he remained until he received the commission of lieutenant in the southern army, which he held until the close of the war. after the war he studied law, and settled in camden, s.c., where he took a high stand both as a lawyer and a citizen. after filling several offices of public trust, he was elected one of the judges, which position he occupied with distinguished honor. after a few years he resigned his judgeship, and was twice elected to congress from his district. he made a digest of the statute laws of south carolina, and also left one or two volumes of cases reported by himself. these books, particularly the latter, are still referred to as good legal authority. he died in camden, and has left a name cherished and honored by all those who remember his numerous virtues. such is a brief and imperfect sketch of that family whose name is prefixed. many events, of thrilling interest, connected with their revolutionary services, have, no doubt, sunk into oblivion; but enough has been presented to stimulate the rising generation to imitate their heroic example and admire their unfaltering devotion to the cause of american freedom. colonel james johnston. col. james johnston, one of the earliest patriots of "tryon," afterward lincoln county, was born about the year . his father, henry johnston, was of scottish descent. during the many civil and ecclesiastical troubles which greatly agitated england preceding the ascent of william, prince of orange, to the throne in , and the ruinous consequences of the defeat of charles edward, the "pretender," at the battle of culloden, in april, , a constant tide of emigration was flowing from scotland to the northern part of ireland, or directly to the shores of the new world, then holding forth to the disturbed population of europe peculiar features of attractiveness, accompanied with the most alluring prospects of future aggrandizement and wealth. among the families who passed over during this period were some of the extensive clan of johnstons (frequently spelled _johnstone_); also, the alexanders, ewarts, bells, knoxes, barnetts, pattons, wilsons, spratts, martins, with a strong sprinkling of the davidsons, caldwells, grahams, hunters, polks, and many others whose descendants performed a magnanimous part in achieving our independence, and stand high on the "roll of fame" and exalted worth. the name johnston in scotland embraces many distinguished personages in every department of literature. from one of the families who came directly to america in ("lord william johnston") have descended in different branches, the late general albert sidney johnston and general joseph e. johnston--illustrious, patriotic names the southern people and a disinterested posterity will ever delight to honor. the johnstons in their native "land o'cakes and brither scots," had the reputation of being "heady," strong-minded, proud of their ancestral descent, and were regarded, at times, as being rather "rebellious"--a trait of character which, in this last respect, some of their descendants strongly manifested in the late confederate struggle, but in accordance with the most honorable and patriotic motives. when henry johnston and his youthful wife settled on the western banks of the catawba river, the country was then covered with its native forests, and over its wide expanse of territory, as yet but little disturbed by the implements of husbandry, the indians and wild beasts held almost undisputed sway. the uplands were clothed with wild "pea vines," and other luxuriant herbage, and cattle literally roamed over and fed upon a "thousand hills." every water course, too, bristled with cane-brakes, indicating the great fertility of the soil, and the sure road, under proper industrial efforts, to agricultural prosperity. in the absence of family records we are left to infer col. johnston grew up to manhood, receiving as good an education as his own limited means and the opportunities of societies then afforded. it was then a gloomy period in our history. in the stamp act had been passed, which agitated the american colonies from one extremity to the other. the dark cloud of discontent hung heavily over our people, too truly foreboding the storm of open rupture, and approaching revolution. during this exciting period he imbibed those patriotic principles, which, in subsequent years, governed his actions, and prepared him to cast in his lot, and heartily unite with those who pledged "their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor" in the cause of american freedom. he emphatically belonged to that class of ardent young men of the revolutionary period "whose deeds were cast in manly mold, for hardy sports or contest bold." tradition speaks of the wife of henry johnston as dying comparatively young, leaving two children--james, the immediate subject of this sketch, and mary--who married moses scott, settled near goshen church, in the present county of gaston, and there ended her days. moses scott had three children--james j., william and abram scott. of these sons, james johnston scott married in , mary, a daughter of captain robert alexander, a soldier of the revolution, and of extensive usefulness. he (james) died in , in the twenty seventh year of his age, leaving two children--abram and mary scott, the former of whom in this centennial year ( ) still survives, having nearly completed his "three-score years and ten." col. johnston first entered the service as captain of a company, in the winter of , col. william graham commanding, against a large body of tories in the northwestern section of south carolina. this expedition is known in history as the "snow campaign," from the unusually heavy snow, of that winter, and, in conjunction with the troops of that state, drove the tory commanders, cunningham and fletcher, from the siege of the post of ninety six. on the retreat of these tory leaders they surprised and defeated them with a loss of four hundred of their followers. the reader may be curious to know the origin of the name "ninety six" applied to this post, now constituting the village of cambridge, in abbeville county. it was so called because it was ninety-six miles from the frontier fort, prince george, on keowee river, in the present county of pickens. no portion of south carolina suffered more during the revolution than the district around ninety-six. the tories were numerous, bold and vindictive, and for that reason the gallant whigs of that region frequently called upon their compatriots-in-arms in north carolina, more particularly in mecklenburg, lincoln and burke counties, for assistance in defending their homes and their property. in this same year ( ) gen. rutherford called out a strong force of infantry and cavalry from mecklenburg, rowan, tryon, (afterwards lincoln), and other western counties to subdue the "over-hill" cherokee indians, who were committing numerous depredations, and occasionally murdering the inhabitants on the frontier settlements. at that time the "blue ridge" constituted the bounds of organized civilization. the expedition, commanded by gen. rutherford, was completely successful, the indians were routed, their towns destroyed, and a considerable number killed and made prisoners. nothing short of this severe chastisement of the indians for their depredations and murders would serve to teach them of the supremacy of the white man, and cause them to sue for peace. on this occasion many of the western patriots experienced their first essay in arms, and learned something of the toils and dangers of the soldier's life. during the war several expeditions were sent from the border counties of north carolina to assist in pulling down the tory ascendancy of the disaffected portion of upper south carolina. in one of these expeditions col. johnston experienced an adventure--a passage at arms, which, as an incident of the war and characteristic of his bravery, is here worthy of narration. on pacolet river, near the place where the late dr. bivings erected a factory, col. johnston, in a skirmish, had a personal rencontre with patrick moore, a tory officer, whom he finally overpowered and captured. in the contest he received several sword cuts on his head, and on the thumb of the right hand. as he was bearing his prisoner to the whig lines, a short distance off, he was rapidly approached by several british troopers. he then immediately attempted to discharge his loaded musket against his assailants, but unfortunately it _missed fire_, in consequence of blood flowing from his wounded thumb and wetting the _priming_. this misfortune on his part enabled his prisoner to escape; and, perceiving his own dangerous and armless position, he promptly availed himself of a friendly thicket at his side, eluded his pursuers and soon afterwards joined his command. on the th of june, , gen. rutherford, whilst encamped near charlotte, received intelligence that the tories under col. john moore had assembled in strong force at ramsour's mill, near the present town of lincolnton. he immediately issued orders to col. francis locke, of rowan; to major david wilson, of mecklenburg, and other officers, to use every exertion to raise a sufficient number of men to attack the tories at that place. on the th of june gen. rutherford marched from his encampment, two miles south of charlotte, to the tuckasege ford, on the catawba. he had previously dispatched an express to col. locke, advising him of his movement, and ordered him to join his army on the th or morning of the th of june, a few miles beyond that ford. the express, in some unaccountable way, miscarried. the morning of the th being wet, gen. rutherford did not cross the river until evening and encamped three miles beyond on col. dickson's plantation. whilst there, waiting for col. locke's arrival, in obedience to the express, he received a notice from that officer, then encamped at mountain creek, informing him of his intention of attacking the tories on the next morning at sunrise, and requested his co-operation. this notice was delivered to gen. rutherford by col. johnston at o'clock of the night of the th of june, being selected for that duty by col. locke on account of his personal knowledge of the intervening country and undaunted courage. col. locke's encampment was then sixteen miles from ramsour's mill. late in the evening of the same day, and soon after the departure of col. johnston to gen. rutherford's camp, col. locke marched with his forces, less than four hundred in number, stopped a short time in the night for rest and consultation, and arrived within a mile of ramsour's at daylight without being observed by the tories. the battle soon commenced by the mounted companies of captains falls, mcdowell and brandon. the tories at first fought with considerable bravery, driving back the whig cavalry. these, however, soon rallied, and, being supported by the advancing infantry, pressed forward under their gallant leaders with a courage which knew no faltering and completely routed the tories, driving them, after an hour's contest, from their strong position, and capturing about fifty of their number. this victory, occurring soon after the surrender of charleston, when the tories had become bold and menacing in their conduct, greatly cheered the whigs throughout the entire south, animated them with fresh hopes, and nerved them on to future deeds of "noble daring." gen. rutherford, not leaving his encampment at col. dickson's before daylight of the morning of the th of june, failed to reach ramsour's mill until two hours after the battle. col. johnston there joined his command, and participated in the closing duties of this victorious engagement in the cause of american freedom. at the battle of king's mountain col. johnston commanded the reserves, about ninety in number, which were soon called into service after the battle commenced. the decisive and brilliant victory of that memorable day has been so frequently adverted to in history that it is deemed here unnecessary to enter into particulars. suffice it to say, it completely broke down the tory influence in western north carolina, and its more rampant manifestations in upper south carolina. it is known that cornwallis, then in charlotte, in a few days after hearing of the defeat and death of ferguson, one of his bravest officers, marched from that rebellious town in the night and hastily retreated to safer quarters in winnsboro, s.c. during the progress of the war col. johnston was frequently engaged in other minor expeditions, requiring promptitude of action and unflinching bravery, in assisting to disperse bodies of tories wherever they might assemble, and arrest obnoxious individuals when the peace and welfare of society demanded such service. at the provincial congress which met at halifax on the th of april, , colonel james johnston and colonel charles mclean were the delegates from tryon county. colonel mclean was an early and devoted friend of liberty. he resided on the headwaters of crowder's creek, in the present county of gaston, and commanded the first regiment which marched from lincoln county against the tories of upper south carolina. this provincial congress was one of the most important ever held in the state. the spirit of liberty was then in the ascendant, animating every patriotic bosom from the sea coast to the mountains. at this assembly the military organization of the state was completed, and the following patriotic resolution unanimously adopted: "_resolved_, that the delegates from this colony in the continental congress be empowered to concur with the delegates from the other colonies in declaring independence and forming foreign alliances, reserving to this colony the sole and exclusive right of forming a constitution and laws for this colony." this early action of the provincial congress of north carolina is the first public declaration, by proper legislative state authority, on record, preceding the virginia resolutions of the same character by more than a month, and of those of the national congress at philadelphia by nearly three months, now exulting in its _centennial celebration_. near the close of the revolution col. johnston acted for a considerable length of time as disbursing agent for the western division of the army. after the division of tryon county in into lincoln and rutherford counties, he was elected to the senate from the former county in , ' and ' . he also acted, for many years, as one of the magistrates of the county, and, by virtue of his office, was frequently called upon "_to make of twain one flesh_ in the holy bonds of matrimony." major john davidson, who knew col. johnston long and well, always summed up his estimate of his character by saying, "he was a most excellent man, and never shrunk from the performance of any duty when the welfare of his country demanded such service." several years previous to the revolution colonel johnston married jane ewart, eldest daughter of robert ewart, a most worthy lady of scotch-irish descent. in robert ewart was appointed with griffith rutherford, john brevard, hezekiah alexander, benjamin patton, and others, one of the committee of safety for the "salisbury district," which included rowan, mecklenburg and other western counties. the marriage connections of other members of the ewart family were as follows: margaret married joseph jack; mary married robert knox; rachel married thomas bell; betsy married jonathan price; sallie married thomas hill; robert married margaret adams. at the battle of king's mountain robert ewart, james ewart, robert knox, joseph jack, thomas bell, jonathan price, abram forney, peter forney, and other brave spirits, were in the company commanded by colonel james johnston, and performed a conspicuous part in achieving the glorious victory on that occasion. previous to the war colonel johnston purchased valuable land on the catawba river, one mile southwest of toole's ford, which became known in subsequent years as "oak grove" farm, deriving this name from several, native denizens of the forest which stood near the family mansion and cast around their beneficent shade. here he was blest with a numerous offspring, and permitted to enjoy much of that dignified ease and pleasures of a quiet home-life which his patriotic services had assisted to procure. for many years preceding his death he was a consistent member and ruling elder of the presbyterian church at unity, in lincoln county. his large experience, general intelligence, disinterested benevolence, unsullied integrity and great decision of character, all combined to make him eminently useful in the different relations of society and secure for him the high regard and esteem of all who knew him. colonel johnston died with calm resignation on the rd of july, , aged about sixty-three years. his wife died on the th of august, ; and both, with other members of the family, are buried in a private cemetery on the "oak grove" farm. genealogy of col. james johnston. col. james johnston (sketch of his life and services previously given) married jane ewart, an estimable lady, daughter of robert ewart, of scotch-irish descent, and one of the early patriots of mecklenburg county. their descendants were, first generation: . robert johnston, who married mary m, daughter of capt. john reid, a soldier of the revolution, a senator from lincoln county in and , and again in and , and former proprietor of the catawba springs. he raised a family of twelve children, all of whom attained the age of maturity and survived their parents. the first death in the family was that of the late rufus m. johnston, of charlotte. he was an industrious farmer, and upright member of society; for many years an elder of the presbyterian church at unity, and died with peaceful resignation on the rd of may, , in the seventy-seventh year of his age. his wife, mary died on the th of july, , and both are buried in a private cemetery on the old homestead property, now owned by their grandson, john r. johnston, esq. his descendants were, d generation: . sarah johnston married dr. benjamin johnson, of virginia. . james a. johnston married jane byers, of iredell county. . dr. sidney x. johnston married harriet k. connor, of lincoln county. . jane johnston married first, john d. graham, second, dr. william b. mclean, of lincoln county. . john r. johnston married first, delia torrence, second, laura e. happoldt, of burke county. . robert johnston married caroline shuford, of lincoln county. . dr. thos. johnston married dorcas luckey, of mecklenburg county. . harriet johnston married william t. shipp, of gaston county. . mary johnston married dr. william davidson, of mecklenburg county. . martha johnston married col. j.b. rankin, of mcdowell county. . col. william johnston, present mayor ( ) of charlotte, married ann graham, of mecklenburg county. . rufus m. johnston married cecilia latta, of york county, s.c. d. margaret ewart johnston married logan henderson, esq., youngest son of james henderson, who moved from pennsylvania to north carolina at the first settlement of the country. he was the brother of major lawson henderson, long and well known as one of the worthy citizens of lincoln county, and of col. james henderson, a brave officer killed at the battle of new orleans. the patriarchal ancestor, james henderson, became the owner of a large body of land on the south fork of the catawba river, in the present county of gaston, embracing a valuable water-power, at which he erected a grist mill, then a new and useful institution. he lived to an extreme old age, and is buried on a high eminence near the eastern bank of the river, where a substantial stone wall surrounds the graves of himself, adam springs, the next owner of the property, and a few others. in , logan henderson joined the tide of emigration to tennessee, and purchased much valuable land near murfreesboro, in rutherford county. in and near his last place of settlement, where most of his worthy descendants still reside. he died, after a brief illness, with calm composure, on the th of december, , in the sixty-second year of his age. his wife survived him many years, and died with peaceful resignation on the th of august, , in the seventy-fifth year of her age. their descendants were, second generation: . james f. henderson married amanda m. vorhees, of tennessee. . violet c. henderson married william f. lytle, of tennessee. . jane e. henderson married william s. moore, of tennessee. the remaining children of col. james johnston were: . james johnston, jr., a promising young man, died near the age of maturity, in , without issue. . henry johnston died in without issue. . martha johnston married dr. james m. burton. soon after marriage they moved to georgia, where they both died without issue. . jane johnston married rev. john williamson, pastor of hopewell church, in mecklenburg county, and died in without issue. . catharine johnston married john hayes, esq., who settled near toole's ford, on the catawba river, about one mile from the old homestead of col. james johnston. he was a worthy christian citizen, long a subject of patient suffering from disease, for many years an elder of the presbyterian church, and died peacefully on the th of april, , aged seventy-two years. his wife, catharine, a lady of great amiability and worth, died on the th of december, , aged seventy-four years. their descendants were, second generation: . jane c. hayes married dr. sidney j. harris, of cabarrus county. . martha e. hayes married william fulenwider, of lincoln county. . margaret j. hayes married dr. william adams, of york county, s.c. . minerva w. hayes married col. william grier, of mecklenburg county. . elizabeth l. hayes married charles l. torrence, of rowan county. . john l. hayes married matilda hutchinson, of mecklenburg county. . dr. william j. hayes married isabella alexander, great-grand daughter of john mcknitt alexander, a signer and one of the secretaries of the mecklenburg convention of the th of may, . . dr. william johnston, youngest son of col. james johnston, married nancy, daughter of gen. peter forney, of lincoln county. their descendants were, second generation: . annie c. johnston married dr. joseph w. calloway, of rutherford county. . jane c. johnston died at school in greensboro, guilford county. . martha s. johnston married richard r. hunley, esq., of alabama. . capt. james f. johnston, citizen of charlotte. . susan l. johnston, citizen of charlotte. . william p. johnston, (died young). . margaret johnston married col. peter f. hunley, of alabama. . gen. robert d. johnson married johncie evans, of greensboro, n.c. . dr. william h. johnston married cathleen gage, of chester county, s.c. . capt. joseph f. johnston married theresa hooper, of alabama. . catharine johnson died comparatively young. . bartlett s. johnston, now ( ) a merchant of new york city. most of the descendants of colonel james johnston performed a soldier's duty, and won military distinction in the late war between the states, but our prescribed limits forbid a more extended notice of their confederate services. this will be the noble task of some future historian, illustrating, as it would, much heroic bravery, chivalric daring, and perseverance under difficulties seldom surpassed in the annals of any people. the preceding sketch and genealogy will serve to perpetuate the name and indicate the relationship of different branches of the family. it should awaken in every descendant emotions of veneration for the memory of a common patriarchal ancestor, who was one of the earliest and most unwavering patriots of the revolutionary struggle for independence; contributed largely in council and in the field to its success, and whose mortal remains, with others of the family, now repose in the private cemetery of the "oak grove" farm, in gaston county, n.c. jacob forney, sr. (condensed from wheeler's "historical sketches.") among the early settlers of lincoln county (formerly tryon) was jacob forney, sr. he was the son of a huguenot, and born about the year . his life was checkered with a vicissitude of fortunes bordering on romance. at the revocation of the edict of nantes, in , his father fled from france, preferring self-expatriation to the renunciation of his religious belief, and settled in alsace, on the rhine where, under the enlightening influences of the reformation, freedom of opinion in matters of conscience was tolerated. the family name was originally spelt _farney_, but afterwards, in alsace, where the german language is generally spoken, was changed to _forney_. here his father died, leaving him an orphan when four years old. at the age of fourteen he left alsace and went to amsterdam in holland. becoming delighted whilst there with the glowing accounts which crossed the atlantic respecting the new world, and allured with the prospect of improving his condition and enjoying still greater political and religious privileges, he came to america by the first vessel having that destination, and settled in pennsylvania. here he remained industriously employed until his maturity, when he returned to germany to procure a small legacy. having adjusted his affairs there he again embarked for america on board of a vessel bringing over many emigrants from the canton of berne in switzerland. among the number was a blithesome, rosy-cheeked damsel, buoyant with the chains of youth, who particularly attracted young forney's attention. his acquaintance was soon made, and, as might be expected, a mutual attachment was silently but surely formed between two youthful hearts so congenial in feeling, and similarly filled with the spirit of adventure. prosperous gales quickly wafted the vessel in safety to the shores of america, and soon after their arrival in pennsylvania jacob forney and mariah bergner (for that was the fair one's name) were united in marriage. at this time the fertile lands and healthful climate of the south were attracting a numerous emigration from the middle colonies. influenced by such inviting considerations, forney joined the great tide of emigration a few years after his marriage, and settled in lincoln county (formerly tryon) about the year . the first settlers of lincoln county suffered greatly by the depredations and occasional murders by the cherokee indians. on several occasions many of the inhabitants temporarily abandoned their homes, and removed to the more populous settlements east of the catawba river. others, finding it inconvenient to remove, constructed rude forts for their mutual defence. a repetition of these incursions having occurred a few years after forney's arrival, he removed his family to a place of safety east of the river until the indians could be severely chastised by military force. on the next day he returned to his former residence, accompanied by two of his neighbors, to search for his cattle. after proceeding about a mile from home they spied a small indian just ahead of them running rapidly, and not far from the spot now well known as the "rocky spring camp ground." forney truly suspected more indians were in the immediate vicinity. after progressing but a short distance, he and his party discovered, in an open space beyond them, ten or twelve indians, a part of whom, at least, were armed with guns, apparently waiting their approach. forney being a good marksman, and having a courage equal to any emergency, was in favor of giving them battle immediately, but his two companions overruled him, contending it would be impossible to disperse such a large number. it was therefore deemed advisable to retreat, and make their way to the fort, about two miles in their rear, where several families had assembled. after proceeding a short distance the indians approached somewhat nearer and fired upon the party but without effect. forney directed his companies to reserve their fire until the indians approached sufficiently near to take a sure and deadly aim, and maintain an orderly retreat in the direction of the fort. soon after they commenced retreating the indians again fired upon them and unfortunately one of the party, richards, was dangerously wounded. at this critical moment, when one or two well directed fires might have repulsed their enemy, the courage of f----, the other companion, failed him, and he made his _rapid departure_. forney, however, continued his retreat, assisting his wounded companion as much as he could, and, although fired upon several times, managed to keep the indians at some distance off by presenting, his unerring rifle when their timidity was manifested by falling down in the grass, or taking shelter behind the trees, each one, no doubt, supposing the well-aimed shot might fell him to the earth. at length poor richards, becoming faint from loss of blood, and seeing the imminent danger of his friend's life, directed forney to leave him, and, if possible, save himself. this advice he reluctantly complied with and pursued his course to the fort. but the indians did not pursue him much farther, being probably satisfied with the murder of the wounded richards. in this unequal contest forney only received a small wound on the back of his left hand, but, on examination, discovered that several bullets had pierced his clothes. this adventure shows what cool, determined bravery may effect under the most discouraging circumstances, and that, an individual may sometimes providentially escape although made the object of a score of bullets or other missiles of destruction. when he reached the fort he found the occupants greatly frightened, having heard the repeated firing. after this adventure and narrow escape became generally known, a belief was widely entertained by the surrounding community that forney was _bullet-proof_. it was even affirmed, and received _additions by repeating_, that after he reached the fort and unbuttoned his vest, a _handful of bullets dropped out_. in subsequent years forney was accustomed to smile at this innocent credulity of his neighbors but frequently remarked that the impression of his being _bullet-proof_ was of great service to him on more than one occasion preceding and during the revolutionary war. few persons during the war suffered heavier losses than jacob forney. by persevering industry and strict economy he had surrounded himself and family with all the comforts, and, to some extent, luxuries of the substantial farmer. when cornwallis marched through lincoln county in the winter of , endeavoring to overtake morgan with his large number of prisoners captured at the cowpens, he was arrested in his progress by the swollen waters of the catawba river. being thus foiled in his expectations, supposing he had morgan _almost in his grasp_, cornwallis fell back about five miles from the river to forney's plantation, having been conducted there by a tory well acquainted with the neighborhood. here cornwallis remained encamped for three days, consuming, in the meantime forney's entire stock of cattle, hogs, sheep, geese, chickens, a large amount of forage, forty gallons of brandy, &c. his three horses were carried off, and many thousands of rails and other property destroyed. but the extent of his losses did not end here. cornwallis had been informed that forney had a large amount of money concealed somewhere in his premises, and that if diligent search were made it might be readily found. this information set the british soldiers to work, and, aided by the tory conductor's suggestions, they finally succeeded in finding his gold, silver and jewelry buried in his distillery, the greater portion of which he had brought with him from germany. whilst this work of search was going on without, his lordship was quietly occupying the upper story of the family mansion, making it his headquarters. forney and his wife being old, were _graciously_ allowed the privilege of living in the basement. as soon as he was informed his gold, silver and jewelry were found, amounting to one hundred and seventy pounds sterling, he was so exasperated for the moment that he seized his gun and rushed to the stair steps with the determination to kill cornwallis, but his wife quickly followed and intercepted him, thus preventing the most deplorable consequences--the loss of his own life, and perhaps that of his family. but the prudent advice of his wife, "heaven's last, best gift to man," had its proper, soothing effect, and caused him to desist from his impetuous purpose. it is hardly necessary to inform the reader he was punished in this severe manner because he was a zealous supporter of the cause of freedom, and his three sons were then in the "rebel army." the log house in which his lordship made his headquarters for _three days_ and _four nights_ is still in existence, though removed, many years since, from its original site to a more level location in the immediate vicinity. in this humble building he, no doubt, cogitated upon the speedy subjugation of the "rebels," and that subsequent glorification which awaits the successful hero. little did cornwallis then allow himself to think that he and his whole army, in less than nine months from that time, would have to surrender to the "rebel army," under washington, as prisoners of war! it is said cornwallis, after finishing his morning repast upon the savory beef and fowls of the old patriot's property, would come down from his headquarters, up stairs and pass along his lines of soldiers, extending for more than a mile in a northwest direction, and reaching to the adjoining plantation of his son peter, who kept "bachelor's hall," but was then absent, with his brother abram, battling for their country's freedom. about midway of the extended lines, and only a few steps from the road on which the british army was encamped, several granite rocks protrude from the ground. one is about four feet high, with a rounded, weather-worn top--a convenient place to receive his lordship's cloak. another rock, nearly adjoining, is about two feet and a half high, with a flat surface gently descending, and five feet across. at this spot cornwallis was accustomed to dine daily with some of his officers upon the rich variety of food seized during his stay, and washing it all down, as might be aptly inferred, with a portion of the forty gallons of captured brandy previously mentioned. this smooth-faced rock, on which his lordship and officers feasted for three days, is known in the neighborhood to this day as "cornwallis' table." on visiting this durable remembrance of the past quite recently, the writer looked around for a piece of some broken plate or other vessel, but sought in vain. the only mementoes of this natural table he could bear away were a few chips from its outer edge, without seriously mutilating its weather-beaten surface, now handsomely overspread with _moss_ and _lichen_. where once the tramp and bustle of a large army resounded, all is now quiet and silent around, save the singing of birds and gentle murmurs of the passing breeze in the surrounding forest. after cornwallis left, forney ascertained that the tory informer was one of his near neighbors with whom he had always lived on terms of friendship. considering the heavy losses he had sustained attributable to his agency, he could not overlook the enormity of the offence, and accordingly sent a message to the tory that he must leave the neighborhood, if not, he would shoot him at _first sight_. the tory eluded him for several days by lying out, well knowing that the stern message he had received _meant action_. at length forney, still keeping up his search, came upon him unawares and _fast asleep_. he was immediately aroused from his slumbers, when beholding his perilous situation, he commenced pleading most earnestly for his life, and promised to leave the neighborhood. forney could not resist such touching appeals to his mercy, and kindly let him off. in a few days afterward the tory, true to his promise, left the neighborhood and never returned. jacob forney, sr., died in , aged eighty-five. in his offspring flowed the blood of the huguenot and the swiss--people illustrating in their history all that is grand in heroic suffering and chivalric daring. his wife survived him several years; both were consistent and worthy members of the lutheran church, and are buried in the "old dutch meeting house" graveyard, about three miles from the family homestead, and near macpelah church. gen. peter forney. gen. peter forney, second son of jacob forney, sr., was born in tyron county (now lincoln) in april, . his father was the son of a french huguenot, and his mother swiss. his origin is thus traced to a noble class of people whose heroic bravery, unparalleled suffering and ardent piety are closely connected in all lands where their lots have been cast with the promotion of civil and religious liberty. gen. forney was one of the earliest and most unwavering whigs of the revolutionary struggle. he first entered the service about the first of june, , in capt. james johnston's company and col. william graham's regiment. the command marched to fort mcfadden, near the present town of rutherfordton, and found that the greater portion of the inhabitants had fled for protection against the cherokee indians. after remaining a short time at the fort, he joined a detachment of about one hundred men in pursuit of the indians, under captains johnston, cook and hardin. they marched about one hundred miles, and not being able to overtake them, the detachment returned to the fort. in , gen. forney volunteered as a lieut. in capt james reid's company, for the purpose of quelling a considerable body of tories assemble not far from the south carolina line. the detachment was commanded by col. charles m'lean, who marched into south carolina and pursued after the tories until it was ascertained gen. pickens, considerably in advance with his forces, had commenced the pursuit of the same, and was too far ahead to be overtaken. the detachment then returned to north carolina, and, having taken several prisoners on the way, suspected of being inimical to the american cause, capt. reid was ordered to convey them to salisbury. gen. forney still remained in service, and attached himself to capt. kuykendal's company until some time in june. after this time he was frequently out in short expeditions for the purpose of intimidating and keeping down the rising spirit of the tories, and arresting them, whenever the good of the country seemed to require it. in the fall of gen, forney volunteered with a party to go to kentucky (harrod station) and after staying there a short time returned home. at this time, there being a call made upon the militia to march to the relief of charleston, he volunteered as a lieut. in capt. neals' company, which was ordered to rendezvous at charlotte, whilst there, waiting for the assemblage of more troops, he was appointed captain by col. hampton and lieut. col. hambright, capt. neal being superseded in his command on account of intemperance. from charlotte the assembled forces march by way of camden to charleston, under the command of cols. hall, dickson and major john nelson, continental officers. the militia of north carolina, at the time, was commanded by gen. lillington. the term of service of gen. forney's company having expired shortly after his arrival at charleston, and the british being in considerable force off that city, he induced the greater portion of his company to again volunteer for about six weeks longer, until fresh troops, then expected, would come to their relief. in the spring of gen. forney, immediately after his return from charleston, volunteered under lieut. col. hambright, and went in pursuit of col. floyd a tory leader on fishing creek, s. c. hearing of their approach floyd hastily fled to rocky mount, and the expedition, not being able to accomplish anything more at that time, returned to north carolina. on the night of his arrival at home gen. forney was informed that the tories, under col. john moore, were embodied in strong force at ramsour's mill near the present town of lincolnton. on the next day he left home and went up the catawba river, when, encountering a considerable body of tories near mountain creek, he returned and immediately hastened to inform gen. rutherford. he found him encamped at col. dickson's, three miles northwest of tuckaseege ford, with a strong force. he then attached himself to his army, and marched early next morning to ramsour's, but did not reach there until two hours after the battle, the tories having been completely defeated by col. locke and his brave associates. the dead and wounded were still lying where they had fallen, and gen, rutherford's forces assisted in the closing duties of that brilliant victory. never afterwards in that county did tory-loyalism present a formidable opposition to the final success of the american arms. of the whig officers the brave captains falls, dobson, smith, knox, bowman, sloan and armstrong were killed, and captains houston and mckissick wounded. of the tories, captains murray, cumberland and warlick were killed, and capt. carpenter wounded. during the latter part of the year gen. forney was almost constantly in service in different portions of county. when cornwallis entered the county in the last week of january, , endeavoring to overtake gen. morgan with his prisoners captured at the cowpens, he was providentially arrested in his march by the swollen waters of the catawba river. he then fell back and encamped three days on the plantation of jacob forney, sr., a well to-do farmer and _noted whig_, consuming in the meantime, destroying or carrying off, every thing of value belonging to father or son, (gen. forney,) consisting of three horses, a large stock of cattle, hogs, sheep, fowls, forage, &c. after the british army moved from this encampment, gen. forney commanded a company and placed themselves on the eastern bank of the river, endeavoring to oppose their crossing, and remained there until the light troops, under col. hall, effected a passage at cowan's ford. the militia being repulsed, and gen. davidson killed, he fled to adam torrence's, hotly pursued by tarleton's troop of cavalry. at this place he found a considerable body of militia, but in great confusion in consequence of the death of gen. davidson, and greatly disheartened. after giving the british one discharge of their arms, and killing several, the militia were repulsed, with small loss, and fled in all directions. gen. forney then retreated across the yadkin, and remained on abbot's creek about six weeks, during which time he had no regular command, and co-operated with other soldiers, whenever it appeared any advantage could be rendered to the american cause. in the spring of , gen. forney commenced repairing his plantation which the british had entirely destroyed, together with that of his father's in the immediate vicinity, whilst encamped there. he remained at home until a call was made upon the militia to march to the relief of wilmington, when he again volunteered and commanded a company of dragoons, associated with captains white and lemmonds. in this expedition charles polk was appointed major of dragoons, gen. rutherford in chief command, and marched through the disaffected country around cross creek, (now fayetteville,) and on to the immediate vicinity of wilmington. here gen. rutherford created a belief before his arrival that his forces were much larger than they really were. in consequence of this belief major craig, in command of the post, deeming his situation then insecure, immediately evacuated wilmington and fled to charleston. this was the only post in north carolina held by the british, and with the flight of craig all military operations ceased within her borders. this campaign closed the revolutionary services of a gallant soldier and faithful patriot in the cause of american freedom. in gen. forney married nancy, daughter of david abernathy, a lady of great moral worth and christian benevolence. the natural goodness of her heart made her the "cheerful giver." her numerous acts of charity were free of all ostentation, and flowed silently forth like gentle streams from a pure fountain, imparting new vigor and refreshing everything in their course. after the close of the war, full of youthful enterprise, and anxious to engage in some useful business, he fortunately became the owner of the "big iron ore bank," seven miles east of lincolnton. this is one of the best and most extensive deposits of iron ore, of the variety known as "magnetic," in the state. aware of the inexhaustible supply of ore, gen. forney disposed of interests to other parties (brevard and graham) and they immediately proceeded to erect a furnace (called vesuvius) on anderson's creek, now owned by the heirs of the late j.m. smith, esq. after a few years the copartnership was dissolved, separate sites were purchased by forney and brevard, on leeper's creek, additional furnaces were erected and thus the manufacture of cast metal, under its various forms, was vigorously and successfully carried into operation. gen. forney commenced building his ironworks in , associated for several years with his brother abram, laid in a supply of the necessary stock, (ore and coal,) as recorded in a small account book, produced hammered iron in his forge on the th of august, . this is believed to be the _first_ manufacture of iron in the western part of the state. here gen. forney permanently settled for life, and prospered in his useful calling. his residence received the name of "mount welcome," an appellation appropriately bestowed, as his future history manifestly proved. the poor and needy of his own neighborhood were frequently the beneficiaries of his bounty; and the weary traveler was at all times made "welcome," and entertained beneath his hospitable roof "without money, and without price." gen. forney was elected as a member to the house of commons from to inclusively, and to the state senate in and . he was again called out from the shades of private life and elected as a representative to congress from to . he also served as elector in the presidential campaigns of jefferson, madison, monroe and jackson. with these repeated evidences of popular favor his public services ended. frequent solicitations were tendered to him afterwards, all of which he declined. the infirmities of old age were now rapidly stealing upon him, and rendering him unfit for the proper discharge of public duties. for several years previous to his decease his mental vigor and corporeal strength greatly failed. after a short illness, without visible pain or suffering, he quietly breathed his last on february st, , in the seventy-eighth year of his age. generosity, candor, integrity and freedom from pride or vain show were prominent traits in his character. let his name and his deeds and his sterling virtues be duly appreciated and faithfully imitated by the rising generation. major abram forney. major abram forney, youngest son of jacob forney, sr., was born in tryon county, (now lincoln) in october, . his father was a huguenot, and his mother swiss. his origin is thus connected with a noble race of people who were driven into exile rather than renounce their religious belief under the persecutions which disgraced the reign of louis xiv, of france. major forney first entered the service about the th of june, , as one of the drafted militia in capt. james johnston's company, and col. william graham's regiment. his company was then ordered to reinforce the troops at fort mcfadden, near the present town of rutherfordton, and remained there until about the st of august, when he returned home to prepare for the expedition against the cherokee indians. the militia of mecklenburg, rowan, lincoln and other counties were called out by orders from gen. rutherford, who marched to pleasant gardens, where he was joined by other forces. from that place major forney marched into the nation with a detachment under col. william sharpe as far as the hiwassee river, where they met with a portion of gen. williamson's army from south carolina. the expedition was completely successful; the indians were routed, their towns destroyed, a few prisoners taken, and they were compelled to sue for peace. the prisoners and property taken by gen. rutherford's forces were turned over to gen. williamson, as falling within his military jurisdiction. the expedition then left the nation, and he reached home on the th of october, . in february, , major forney again volunteered as a private in capt. james reid's company for the purpose of quelling some tories who had, or were about to embody themselves near the south carolina line. the detachment was commanded by col. charles mclean. the tories were commanded by a certain john moore, whom col. mclean pursued into south carolina until he ascertained gen. pickens was engaged in the same pursuit, and too far ahead to be overtaken. the detachment then returned to north carolina, and having taken several prisoners on the way, suspected of being inimical to the american cause, major forney was ordered to take them to salisbury. after this service he was dismissed and returned home in april, . at different times subsequently major forney volunteered in several short expeditions as far as the south carolina line, for the purpose of intimidating and keeping down the rising spirit of the tories, who were numerous in this section of country, and required a strict vigilance to hold them in a state of subjection. early in june, , when a call was made upon the militia, he volunteered in capt. john baldridge's company, marched to a temporary rendezvous at ramsour's, and thence to espey's, where they joined other troops under the command of col. william graham and lieut. col. hambright. the united forces then proceeded to lincoln "old court house," near moses moore's, the father of col. john moore, the tory leader, and marched and countermarched through that section of country. at this time, hearing that ferguson was coming on with a strong force, it was deemed advisable to retreat and cross the catawba at tuckaseege ford. col. graham then marched with his forces to that place, and there met some other troops from south carolina, under col. williams, retreating before cornwallis, whose army had just reached charlotte. the two forces then united under col. williams and marched up the west side of the catawba river, and thence across the country in a circuitous direction towards south carolina in the rear of ferguson, and thus were enabled to fall in with the "over mountain" troops under campbell, shelby, cleaveland, sevier, and others, at the cowpens, afterwards rendered famous by the battle fought there. the officers having agreed upon the plan of operations, a select portion of the combined forces marched rapidly in pursuit of ferguson, and found him encamped on king's mountain on the th of october, . the action immediately commenced, and resulted in one of the most decisive victories gained during the revolutionary struggle, and constitutes the _turning point_ of final triumph in the cause of american freedom. soon after the battle, major forney and capt. james johnston were appointed to number the dead on the british side. they soon found ferguson at the foot of the hill, dead, and covered with blood. his horse having been shot from under him, he continued to advance, sword in hand, cheering on his men by word and example, until five or six balls pierced his body and sealed his fate. major forney often stated he picked up ferguson's sword, intending to keep it as a trophy, but some subordinate officer getting hold of it, made off with it, and thus deprived him of his prize. an incident connected with the closing scenes of this memorable battle is here worthy of being recorded: as major forney was surveying the prisoners, through the guard surrounding them, he spied one of his neighbors, who only a short time before the battle had been acting with the whigs, but had been persuaded by some of his tory acquaintances to join the king's troops. upon seeing him major forney exclaimed, "is that you, simon?" the reply quickly came back, "yes, it is, abram, and i beg you to get me out of this _bull pen_; if you do, i will promise never to be caught in such a scrape again." accordingly, when it was made to appear on the day of trial that he had been unfortunately wrought upon by some tory neighbors, such a mitigation of his disloyalty was presented as to induce the officers holding the court-martial to overlook his offence and set him at liberty. soon afterward, true to his promise, he joined his former whig comrades, marched to the battle of guilford and made a good soldier to the end of the war. near the close of the year , hearing that col. morgan was preparing to go upon an expedition into south carolina, major forney attached himself to the command of capt. james little, with the intention of joining his forces, but did not come up with them until after the battle of the cowpens. he then returned home, and remained there until the th of january, , when all the whigs in his section of the country had to fly before cornwallis in pursuit of morgan with his large number of prisoners on their way to virginia. major forney then crossed the catawba, and joined a detachment of troops on its eastern bank under capt. henderson, placed as a guard by gen. davidson at cowan's ford, where it was expected the british might attempt to cross. having stood guard for some time at this point, and being relieved, he went a short distance to a house to procure refreshments of which he was much in need, and was not present when the guard was repulsed, and gen. davidson killed. he then fled with the other troops to adam torrence's, about ten miles distant, where a considerable body of militia had assembled, but were greatly disheartened on account of the death of gen. davidson. the day was damp and unfavorable to the use of firearms. the militia, without much order, fired once at the british, killing seven, and then dispersed in all directions. he then retreated until he reached gen. greene's army, in guilford county. from this place he was advised to return home, and in doing so was furnished with a ticket to procure provisions on the way. on the th of march, , the militia being again called out, major forney attached himself to the command of capt. samuel espey, acting as a sergeant. the company then joined a detachment of militia under gen. thomas polk, marched into south carolina, and came up with gen. greene's army at rugeley's mill. the army was then placed under the command of col. dudley, and remained under him until gen. greene commenced his march to the post of ninety six. at this time, capt. espey being compelled to leave the service in consequence of a wound received at the battle of king's mountain, went home with a part of his company, and then major forney joined the command of capt. jack, still acting as sergeant. soon afterward the expedition returned to charlotte, when he was dismissed by capt. jack, about the st of july, . in a short time afterward, major forney attached himself to the company of capt. john weir, under orders to proceed to wilmington. his company crossed the catawba at tuckaseege ford on the st day of november, , and encamped three or four miles beyond the river on the road leading to charlotte. on the next day the company marched through charlotte and encamped at col. alexander's, who had been ordered to take command of the detachment. whilst there intelligence was received of the return of gen rutherford's forces. major forney was then sent to that officer for orders; receiving these, the company recrossed the catawba. capt. loftin then took command in place of capt. weir, who had resigned and returned home. the company proceeded to form several stations in the county, and arrested some _suspected_ persons. capt. thomas mcgee having assumed command in place of loftin, resigning, marched with the prisoners to salisbury, and delivered them up to the proper authorities on the st of december, . again, when a call was made upon the militia in , to march against the cherokee indians, major forney was placed in command of a company, and ordered to rendezvous at ramsour's mill. he remained there from about the st of june until the st of august, when he marched to the head of the catawba and joined the troops of burke and wilkes. he then attached his company to col. joseph mcdowell's regiment, marched across the blue ridge and met with the rutherford troops on the swannanoa river, under the command of col. miller. after the junction of the rutherford troops, the expedition, under gen. charles mcdowell, marched into the nation, nearly on the trail of gen. rutherford in , but proceeded some farther than where his army halted. the expedition was entirely successful; took a few prisoners, returned home and were dismissed in october, . this was the last service of a brave soldier, who fought long, and fought well, for the freedom of his country. major abram forney died on the nd day of july, , in the ninety-first year of his age. his only surviving son, capt. abram earhardt forney, at the present time, ( ,) is still living at the old homestead, has already passed his "three score years and ten;" is an industrious farmer, and worthy citizen of lincoln county. remarks. among the curious revolutionary mementoes that capt. a.e. forney, son of major abram forney, has in his possession is a small _leather memorandum pocket-book_, filled originally with twenty-four blank leaves; also a _powder horn_, made by his father preparatory to an expedition to the mountains. the front, or opening sides, is handsomely ornamented with numerous small stars, arranged diagonally across the surface and around the borders. the back side has the patriot's initials, a.f. distinctly impressed, and immediately beneath, the year , the whole displaying considerable artistic skill; numerous entries appear on its pages, made at different times, and without reference to strict chronological order; brief notices of military and agricultural matters and occasionally a birth, death or marriage are harmoniously blended. on page is this entry: "the first snow in the year , was on december the rd day, and it was very deep." on the same page it is recorded: "april the th day, old john seagle departed this world, ." on page this entry appears: "may the rd day i sowed flax seed in the year ," and other entries relating to the same agricultural avocation are interspersed through the little book. the culture of flax was then an indispensible employment. our soldiers then wore _hunting shirts_, made of flax, to the battle fields. cotton was not generally cultivated until twenty years later. on page it is recorded: "may the st day there was a frost in the year ." on page is this entry: "be it remembered the battle between the whigs and tories (at ramsour's) was fought on the th day of june ." (signed) abram forney. had any doubt arisen as to the precise date of this important battle it could have been ascertained from this memorandum pocket-book of this distinguished patriotic soldier. on page is an entry which, on its realization, sent a thrill of joy throughout the land: "april the th day, great talk of peace in the year ." the definite treaty was not signed until the th of september following, and a new republic sprung into existence. genealogy of the forney family. jacob forney, sr., (sketch of his life previously given) married mariah bergner, a native of switzerland. their descendants were three sons, jacob, peter and abram, and four daughters. catherine married abram earhardt, elizabeth married john young, christina married david abernathy and susan married john d. abernathy. of the descendants of the daughters, who left the state soon after marriage, little is known. jacob forney, the eldest son, married mary corpening, of burke county, n.c. soon after the revolutionary war he purchased a valuable track of land on upper creek, five miles northwest of morganton, on which he settled and raised a large family. he lived a long, quiet and useful life. his tombstone, in a private cemetery on the old homestead property, bears this inscription: "sacred to the memory of jacob forney, born nov. th, , died nov. th, , aged eighty-six years and one day." he had eleven children: . elizabeth e. forney, (died young.) . thomas j. forney married s.c. harris, of montgomery county. . isaac newton forney, married m.l. corpening, of burke county. . marcus l. forney married s. connelly, of burke county. . albert g. forney married eglantine logan, of rutherford county. fatima e. forney married h. alexander tate, of burke county. . peter bergner forney married m.s. connelly, of caldwell county. . james harvey forney married emily logan, of rutherford county. . daniel j. forney married s.c. ramsour, of lincoln county. . mary l. forney married w.p. reinhardt, of catawba county. . catharine s. forney married a.t. bost, of catawba county. . _general peter forney_, (sketch of his life previously given) married nancy, daughter of david abernathy, of lincoln county. he had twelve children: . daniel m. forney married harriet brevard, of lincoln county. . mary forney married christian reinhardt, of lincoln county. . moses forney, (died in alabama unmarried.) . jacob forney married sarah hoke, of lincoln county, . joseph forney (died comparatively young.) . eliza forney married st, henry t. webb, esq., of north carolina, and nd, dr. john meek, of alabama. . susan forney married bartlett shipp, esq., of lincoln county. . lavinia forney married john fulenwider, of lincoln county. . nancy forney married dr. william johnston, of lincoln county. . caroline forney married ransom g. hunley, of south carolina. . sophia g. forney married dr. c.l. hunter, of lincoln county. . j. monroe forney married sarah fulenwider, of cleaveland county. . _major abram forney_, (sketch of his life previously given,) married rachel gabriel, of lincoln county. he only had two children: . abram earhardt forney, a worthy citizen of the same county, and now ( ) considerably past his "three score years and ten," and ., john w. forney, who died comparatively young. daniel m. forney, eldest son of gen. peter forney, received the appointment of major in the war of , and proceeded to the scene of conflict in canada. he served as a representative to congress from to , and as a senator from lincoln county to the state legislature from to . in , he moved to lowndes county, ala., where he died in october, , in the sixty-fourth year of his age. he had seven children: . eloise forney married gen. jones withers, of mobile, ala. . mariah forney married judge moore, of alabama, . alexander b. forney, (died comparatively young.) . harriet forney, (died young.) . macon forney, (died young.) . susan forney, married dr. b.c. jones, of alabama. . emma forney married col. m. smith, of alabama. . _mary forney_, who married christian reinhardt, had five sons and four daughters. one of the sons, franklin m. reinhardt, who remained in the state, was a worthy member of society, highly esteemed by all who knew him, and remarkable for his benevolent disposition and liberality to the poor. he married sarah, daughter of the late david smith, of lincoln county. he died on the th of june, , in the sixty-second year of his age. . _jacob forney_, who married sarah hoke, daughter of the late daniel hoke, formerly of lincoln county, n.c., was an enterprising, useful and highly respected member of society, possessed many noble traits of character, and raised a large and interesting family. he moved in , from lincoln county to alabama, and settled in jacksonville, where he died on the th of april, , in the sixty-ninth, year of his age. he had nine children: . daniel p. forney, of jacksonville, alabama. . joseph b. forney married mary whitaker, of alabama. . william h. forney married eliza woodward, of alabama. . barbara ann forney married p. rowan, esq., of alabama. . gen. john h. forney married septima rutledge, grand-daughter of edward rutledge, one of the signers of the declaration of independence. . emma e. forney married st, col. rice, nd, rev. thomas a. morris. . col. george h. forney, (killed at spotsylvania court house, va.) . catharine amelia forney, married j.m. wylie, esq., of alabama. . mariah louisa forney, ("ida") married r.d. williams, esq., of alabama. the sons of jacob forney won military distinction and renown in the late confederate war. our prescribed limits forbid a more extended notice of their gallant services. their chivalric courage and "deeds of noble daring" will justly claim the careful study of some future historian. . _eliza forney_ married st, henry y. webb, esq., of granville county, n.c. he was educated at the university of north carolina, was a member of the legislature in ; appointed by president monroe, territorial judge of alabama; elected to the same position by the state convention of , and died in september, . eliza forney, by first marriage with henry y. webb, esq., had five children. . frances ann webb married col. john r. hampton formerly of charlotte, n.c., now a worthy and highly respected citizen of bradley county, ark. his wife frances, died in , leaving three children, of whom only one, (susan) widow of dr. greene newton, at present survives. . william p. webb, esq., married martha bell, of alabama. his children are: . james e. webb, of hale county, alabama, married zemma creswell. . frances e. webb married robert crawford, of st. louis, mo. . judge william h. webb married "donna louise abrigo," of monterey, mexico. . rev. frank bell webb, pastor of the presbyterian church, at union springs, ala. . wert webb, commission merchant of st. louis, mo., and two daughters, now in their minority. . col. james d. webb, of the st alabama regiment, married jessie walton. he was frequently a member of the legislature of alabama, and was highly esteemed for his purity of character. he died of wounds received in battle, july rd, , near winchester, tenn., where he is buried. he left a widow and six children. . susan e. webb died in , at the age of twelve years. . dr. henry y. webb, married elizabeth s. alexander, a great-grand daughter of abraham alexander, chairman of the mecklenburg convention of the th of may, . most of the alexanders in the united states have descended from seven brothers who fled from scotland to the north of ireland on account of civil and religious persecutions. from to , many of their descendants emigrated to america, one of whom was william alexander, who inherited an estate and earldom in scotland, and became lord stirling, a distinguished general in the revolutionary war. after a short sojourn in pennsylvania, many of the alexander families and their descendants emigrated south, and formed numerous settlements in mecklenburg and adjoining counties. descendants of eliza forney ( nd marriage) and dr. john meek were: . samuel t. meek, married miss cabeen, of south carolina. . john a. meek, of franklin, ky., married miss newton, of arkansas. . lavinia meek married, st, col. harry williams, of louisiana and nd, e.b. cryer, of trenton, louisiana. . nancy, and , sarah meek. bartlett shipp, who married susan forney, served in the state legislature from to , and was one of the delegates from lincoln county in , to amend the constitution. he was an able lawyer, had a large practice for many years, and died in lincolnton, on the th of may, , in the eighty fourth year of his age. his descendants were: . eliza shipp married william preston bynum, esq., at present one of the judges of the supreme court of north carolina. . william m. shipp, esq., married st, catharine cameron, of hillsboro, and d, margaret iredell, of raleigh. . susan shipp married v.q. johnson, esq., of virginia. descendants of john fulenwider and lavinia forney were: . john m. fulenwider married frances hudson, of alabama. . eliza fulenwider married l.m. rudisill, esq., of catawba county, n.c. . robert fulenwider married mary sellers of alabama. . daniel fulenwider married mary ann leslie of alabama. . jane fulenwider married joshua kirby, of alabama. . fannie fulenwider, married james gore, of alabama. . louisa fulenwider married robert loyd, of alabama. . mary fulenwider, (unmarried.) for descendants of dr. william johnston and nancy forney see "genealogy of colonel james johnston." descendants of ransom g. hunley and carolina forney, were: . richard r. hunley married martha s. johnston, of lincoln county. . col. peter f. hunley married margaret johnston, of lincoln county. . mary hunley married gen. e.w. martin, of alabama. . annie hunley married alfred agee, esq., of alabama. . ransom hunley, (died young.) descendants of dr. c.l. hunter and sophia g. forney, were: . nancy jane hunter, (died young.) . caroline elmina hunter, (died young.) . henry stanhope hunter (severely wounded in the late war.) . capt. george william hunter, mortally wounded in the battle at chancellorsville, va. . sophia f. hunter married john h. sharp, esq., of norfolk, va. chapter vi. gaston county. gaston county was formed in , from lincoln county, and derives its name from william gaston, one of the most distinguished men of north carolina, and late one of the judges of the supreme court. in the language of one who knew him well (the late chief justice ruffin) "he was a great judge, and a good man." its capital, dallas, is named in honor of the hon. george m. dallas, vice-president of the united states in . the territory embraced in this county, contained many true and gallant whigs during the revolutionary war. sketches of some of these will appear in the present chapter. rev. humphrey hunter. [condensed from wheeler's "historical sketches."] rev. humphrey hunter was born in ireland, near londonderry, on the th of may, . his paternal grandfather was from glasgow, in scotland. his maternal grandfather was from brest, in france. his descent is thus traced to the scotch-irish, and huguenots of france, forming a race of people who greatly contributed to the spread of civil and religious liberty wherever their lots were cast. in america, the asylum of the oppressed of all nations, many of their descendants occupy proud positions on the page of history, and acted a magnanimous part in the achievement of our independence. at the early age of four years, humphrey hunter was deprived by death of his father. in a short time afterward, his mother joined the great tide of emigration to the new world, and in may , embarked on the ship helena, bound for charleston, s.c. after a long and boisterous voyage, the vessel at length reached its destination in safety. his mother then procured a cheap conveyance and proceeded to the eastern part of mecklenburg county, (now in cabarrus) where she purchased a small tract of land, and spent the remainder of her days. in the manuscript journal of the rev. humphrey hunter, we are furnished with some interesting facts respecting his life and services. he informs us he grew up in the neighborhood of poplar tent, inhaling the salubrious air of a free clime, and imbibing the principles of genuine liberty. at this stage of his early training, he pays a beautiful tribute to the patriotism of the mothers of the revolution. he says: "neither were our mother's silent at the commencement of the revolution." "go son, said his mother, and join yourself to the men of our country. we ventured our lives on the waves of the ocean in quest of the freedom promised us here. go, and fight for it, and rather let me hear of your _death_ than of your _cowardice_." in a short time afterward this patriotic advice of his mother was called into action. "orders were presently issued," continues his journal, "by colonel thomas polk to the several militia companies of the county for two men, selected from each _beat_ or district to meet at the court house in charlotte, on the th day of may, , in order to consult upon such measures as might be thought best to be pursued. accordingly, on said day, a far greater number than two out of each company were present." drawn by the great excitement of the occasion, surpassing that of any other preceding it, he attended the convention on the appointed day. he was then a few days over twenty years of his age, and mingled with the numerous crowd of interested spectators. he then had the pleasure of listening to the reading of the _first declaration of independence_ in the united states, and joined in the shout of approval which burst forth from the assembled multitude. in a short time after the convention in charlotte, col. thomas polk raised a regiment of infantry and cavalry, and marched in the direction of cross creek (now fayetteville) to disperse a body of tories. in this service, he joined a corps of cavalry under captain chas. polk. soon after the return of this expedition, he commenced his classical studies at clio academy, in the western part of rowan county, (now iredell) under the instruction of the rev. james hall. about this time the cherokee indians were committing numerous depredations and occasional murders near the head sources of the catawba river. upon this information, gen. rutherford called out a brigade of militia from guilford, mecklenburg, rowan, lincoln and other western counties, composed of infantry and three corps of cavalry. in one of the companies commanded by captain, afterwards col. robert mebane, he acted as lieutenant. two skirmishes took place during this campaign, in which several indians were killed and a considerable number made prisoners, among the latter, hicks and scott, two white traders, who had married indians and espoused their cause. after his return from the cherokee expedition, he resumed his classical education at queen's museum, in charlotte, under the control of dr. alexander mcwhorter, an eminent presbyterian clergyman from new jersey. in the summer of , this institution, having assumed in , the more patriotic name of "liberty hall academy," was broken up by the approach of the british army under lord cornwallis. the school, then in a flourishing state, was dismissed; the young men were urged by dr. mcwhorter with patriotic appeals, to take up arms in defence of their country; and upon all he invoked the blessings of heaven. at this time gen. gates was on his way to the southern states. under orders from gen. rutherford, a brigade was promptly raised to rendezvous at salisbury. in this brigade hunter acted for a short time as commissary, and afterward as lieutenant in the company of capt. givens. this force first marched from salisbury down the northeast side of the yadkin, scouring the tory settlements of the uwharrie and deep rivers, previous to its junction with gen. gates at cheraw. from this place gen. gates moved forward to clermont, where he arrived on the th of august. on the th he marched towards camden, progressing as far as the gum swamp, where sharp skirmishing took place in the night between advanced parties of the americans and the british. on the th of august, , the unfortunate battle of camden was fought. a contagious panic seized most of the militia early in the action, and a precipitate retreat was the natural consequence. the regulars of maryland and delaware, with a small portion of the north carolina militia, firmly stood their ground until surrounded with overwhelming numbers. the subject of this sketch was there made a prisoner and stripped of most of his clothes. soon after his surrender he witnessed the painful incidents of battle, resulting in the death of baron dekalb. he informs us he saw the baron without suite or aid, and without manifesting the designs of his movements, galloping down the line. he was soon descried by the enemy, who, clapping their hands on their shoulders in reference to his epaulettes, exclaimed "a general, a rebel general." immediately a man on horseback (not tarleton) met him and demanded his sword. the baron reluctantly presented the handle towards him, inquiring in french, "are you an officer, sir." his antagonist not understanding the language, with an oath, more sternly demanded his sword. the baron then rode on with all possible speed, disdaining to surrender to any one but an officer. soon the cry, "a rebel general," sounded along the line. the musketeers immediately, by platoons, fired upon him. he proceeded about twenty-five rods, when he fell from his horse, mortally wounded. presently he was raised to his feet, stripped of his hat, coat and neck-cloth, and placed with his hands resting on a wagon. his body was found, upon examination, to have been pierced by seven musket balls. whilst standing in this position, and the blood streaming through his shirt, cornwallis, with his suite, rode up. being informed that the wounded man was baron de kalb, he addressed him by saying: "i am sorry, sir, to see you; not sorry that you are vanquished, but sorry to see you so badly wounded." having given orders to an officer to administer to the wants of the baron, cornwallis rode on to secure the fruits of his victory. in a short time the brave and generous de kalb, who had served in the armies of france and embarked in the american cause, breathed his last. he is buried in camden, where a neat monument has been erected to his memory. after being confined seven days in a prison-yard in camden, hunter was taken, with many other prisoners, including about fifty officers, to orangeburg, where he remained until the th of november following, _without hat or coat_. on that day, without any intention of transgressing, he set out to visit a friendly lady in the suburbs who had promised to give him a homespun coat. before he reached her residence, he was stopped by a horseman, armed with sword and pistols, who styled himself a lieutenant of the station at the court house, under col. fisher. the horseman blustered and threatened, and sternly commanded him to march before him to the station to be tried for having broken his parole. no excuse, apology or confession would be received in extenuation of his transgression. "to the station," said the horseman, "you shall go--take the road." the tory loyalist was evidently exercising his brief authority over a real whig. up the road his prisoner had to go, sour and sulky, with much reluctance, being hurried in his march by the point of the tory's sword. hunter pursued his course, but constantly on the look-out for some means of self-defence. fortunately, after they progressed a short distance, they approached a large fallen pine tree, around which lay a quantity of pine-knots, hardened and blackened by the recent action of fire. hunter, in an instant, saw "his opportunity," immediately jumped to the further side of said tree, and, armed with a good pine-knot, prepared for combat. the tory instantly fired one of his pistols at him, but without effect. he then leaped his horse over the tree. hunter, with equal promptness, exchanged sides, being fired at a second time by his would-be conqueror, but again without effect. much skilful maneuvering took place, whilst the tory was thus kept at bay. hunter then commenced a vigorous warfare with the pine-knots so opportunely placed at his command, and dealt them out with profuse liberality. the accurate aim of two or three pine-knots against the horseman's head soon disabled him and brought him to the ground. he was then disarmed of his sword, and capitulated on the following terms: that hunter should never make known the conquest he had gained over him, and give back the captured sword; and that he, (the tory loyalist) would never report to headquarters that any of the prisoners had ever crossed the boundary line, or offended in any other manner. but secrecy could not be preserved, for during the combat the horse, without his rider, galloped off to the station and created considerable anxiety respecting the horseman's fate. all serious apprehensions, however, were soon removed as the dismounted horseman presently made his appearance, with several visible bruises on his head, bearing striking proof of the effective precision of the pine-knots. a close examination was soon instituted at the station, and numerous searching questions propounded to the wounded horseman, when the history of the contest had to be given, and all concealment no longer attempted. the rencounter took place on a friday evening. on the sabbath following, orders were issued by col. fisher to all the prisoners to appear at the court house on monday by twelve o'clock. on the evening of that sabbath, hunter, expecting close confinement, or, perhaps, the loss of his life, made his escape with five or six others from mecklenburg, and commenced their way to north carolina. they concealed themselves by day to avoid the british scouts sent in pursuit, and traveled during the night, supporting themselves principally on the _raw corn_ found by the way-side. on the ninth night after they set out from orangeburg, they crossed the catawba and arrived safely in mecklenburg county. after remaining a few days at his mother's residence, he again entered the service, and joined a cavalry company, acting as lieutenant under colonel henry lee. in a short time, the battle of the eutaw springs, the last important one in the extreme south, took place. in this engagement, where so much personal bravery was displayed, he performed a gallant part, and was slightly wounded. with this campaign, his military services ended. among the variety of incidents which occurred during this year he was gratified in revisiting his old prison-bounds, and in witnessing the reduction of the station at orangeburg. but greater still was the gratification he experienced in again beholding the identical sword he had taken from his tory antagonist, as previously stated. soon after the close of the war he resumed his classical studies under the instruction of the rev. robert archibald, near poplar tent church. during the summer of , he entered the junior class at mount zion college, in winnsboro, s.c., and graduated in july, . in a short time afterward he commenced the study of theology under the care of the presbytery of south carolina, and was licensed to preach in october, . in he removed from south carolina to the south-eastern part of lincoln county (now gaston) where he purchased a home for his rising family. his ministerial labors extended through a period of nearly thirty-eight years, principally at goshen and unity churches in lincoln county (under its old boundaries) and steele creek church, in mecklenburg county. in he married jane, daughter of dr. george ross, of laurens district, s.c.--an estimable lady, noted for her amiable disposition, numerous acts of charity, and fervent piety. in his preaching mr. hunter was earnest, persuasive and often eloquent. he possessed, in a remarkable degree, a talent for refined sarcasm, and knew how to use most effectively its piercing shafts against the idle objections, or disingenuous cavils of all triflers with the great truths of religion. in his advanced years the infirmities of old age greatly contracted the extent of his useful labors without impairing the vigor of his mental powers or the fervency and faithfulness of his preaching. he died, with christian resignation, on the st of august, , in the rd year of his age. the rev. humphrey hunter had ten children, of whom, at the present time ( ) only one, the author and compiler of these sketches, survives. dr. william m'lean. dr. william mclean was born in rowan county, n.c., on the nd day of april, . his father, alexander mclean, was a native of ireland, who emigrated to america, landing at philadelphia, between the years and . some time after his arrival in pennsylvania he married elizabeth ratchford, whose father emigrated from england shortly after mclean left ireland. three of his daughters, jane, margaret and agnes, were born in that state. he then joined the great tide of emigration to the more enticing fields and genial climate of the southern colonies, and settled in the dobbin neighborhood, eight miles from salisbury, rowan county, n.c. here he remained for a few years, during which time his eldest son john, and william, the immediate subject of this sketch, were born. he then moved to a tract of land he purchased near the junction of the south fork with the main catawba river, in tryon, (now gaston county,) where three more sons were born, alexander, george and thomas. this place he made his permanent abode during the remainder of his life, surrounded with the greater portion of his rising family. he attained a good old age, his wife surviving him a few years; both were consistent members of the presbyterian church, and are buried at the old "smith graveyard," near the place of his last settlement. soon after the revolutionary war, alexander mclean, jr., moved to missouri, and george mclean to tennessee. thomas mclean, the youngest son, retained the old homestead, where, at an advanced age, he ended his earthly existence. although only thirteen years old at the time of the battle of king's mountain, he could give a glowing account of the heroic bravery which characterized that brilliant victory in which many of his neighbors, under the brave lieut. col. hambright and maj. chronicle, actively participated. john mclean, the eldest son, performed a soldier's duty on several occasions during the war. upon the call of troops from north carolina for the defence of charleston, he attached himself to col. graham's regiment, under gen. rutherford, and was there captured. immediately after being exchanged, he returned to north carolina and joined the command of capt. adlai osborne, and about three month's afterward was killed in a skirmish at buford's bridge, s.c. after the removal of alexander mclean to his final settlement on the south fork of the catawba, as previously stated, william assisted him on the farm, and when a favorable opportunity offered, went to school in the neighborhood, acquiring as good an education as the facilities of the country then afforded. his instructor for the last three months in this early training was a mr. blythe, who, noticing his rapid advancement in learning, and capacity for more extended usefulness, advised him to go to queen's museum, in charlotte. this institution was then in high repute under the able management of dr. alexander and rev. alexander mcwhorter, a distinguished presbyterian clergyman from new jersey. dr. mclean complied with the advice of his instructor, and became a pupil of queen's museum. in this venerated institution, shedding abroad its enlightening influence on western north carolina, many of the leading patriots of the revolution acquired their principal educational training. its president, dr. mcwhorter, was not only an eminent preacher of the gospel, but was also an ardent patriot, and never failed, on suitable occasions, to discuss the politics of the day, and instil into the minds of his youthful pupils the essential principles of civil and religious liberty. his sentiments in this respect were so generally known, that it is said cornwallis previous to his entrance into charlotte in , was extremely anxious to _enfold him in his embraces_. dr. mclean remained in this institution of learning about two years and then returned home. having made up his mind to become a physician during his collegiate course, he gathered all the medical books he could procure at that period, and diligently devoted his time to their study. in this stage of his early preparation for future usefulness, dr. joseph blythe, a distinguished surgeon in the continental army, wrote to him in terms of warmest friendship, and offered him the position of "surgeon's mate." this offer he accepted, repaired to charlotte, and they both marched with the army to james island, near charleston. in this immediate vicinity at stono (the narrow river or inlet, which separates john's island from the main land) a severe but indecisive battle had been fought between a detachment of general lincoln's army and the british, under general prevost, in june, . at the time of dr. mclean's arrival at james island, many soldiers were sick with the pestilential "camp fever" of that sultry climate, or were suffering from the wounds of battle at the army hospital. some of these sufferers were from lincoln and mecklenburg counties, with whom he was personally acquainted. under judicious medical treatment he was pleased to see most of them, in a short time, restored to health and ready for the future service of their country. in the summer and fall of dr. mclean was constantly with the southern army watching the movements of ferguson in the upper tory settlements of south carolina, previous to his defeat and death at king's mountain. after that battle he went to charlotte to wait on the sick and the wounded at that place. in he was with general greene's army, near camden, and at other military encampments requiring his services. in all of these responsible positions he continued to faithfully discharge the duties of "surgeon's mate," or assistant surgeon, until the close of the revolution. having completed his preparatory studies dr. mclean went to the medical university of pennsylvania at philadelphia, and received from that venerable institution his diploma in . in a short time after his arrival at home he purchased a farm in the "south point" neighborhood, soon engaged in an extensive practice (frequently charitable) and became eminent in his profession. on the th of june, , dr. mclean married mary, daughter of major john davidson, one of the signers of the mecklenburg declaration of independence. in he was elected to the senate from lincoln county. in he delivered an address at king's mountain, commemorative of the battle at that place, and caused to be erected, at his own expense, a plain headstone of dark slate rock, with appropriate inscriptions on both sides. the inscription on the east side reads thus: "sacred to the memory of major william chronicle, capt. john mattocks, william robb and john boyd, who were killed here on the th of october, , fighting in defence of america." the inscription on the west side reads thus: "colonel ferguson, an officer belonging to his brittanic majesty, was here defeated and killed." dr. mclean, after a life of protracted usefulness, died with peaceful resignation on the th of october, , in the seventy-second year of his age. his wife survived him many years, being nearly ninety-seven years old at the time of her death. they were both long, worthy and consistant members of the presbyterian church, dignified their lives with their professions, and are buried in bethel graveyard, york county, s.c. major william chronicle. major william cronicle, the soldier and martyr to the cause of liberty at king's mountain, was born in the south eastern part of lincoln county (now gaston) about . his mother was first married to a mr. mckee in pennsylvania, who afterwards removed to north carolina and settled in mecklenburg county. by this marriage she had one son, james mckee, a soldier of the revolution, and ancestor of the several families of that name in the neighborhood of armstrong's ford, on the south fork of the catawba. after mckee's death, his widow married mr. chronicle, by whom she had an only son, william, who afterward performed a magnanimous part in defence of his country's rights. the site of the old family mansion is still pointed out by the oldest inhabitants with feelings of lingering veneration. "there," they will tell you, "is the spot where old mr. chronicle lived and his brave son, william, was brought up." the universal testimony of all who knew major chronicle represented him as the constant, never-tiring advocate of liberty, and as exerting a powerful influence in spreading the principles of freedom throughout the whole lower portion of old lincoln county. his jovial turn of mind and winning manners, by gaining the good will of all, greatly assisted in making successful his appeals to their patriotism, and promoting the cause of liberty in which he had so zealously embarked. major chronicle's first service was performed as captain of a company at purysburg in south carolina. early in the fall of , a regiment was raised in lincoln county, over which col. william graham was appointed colonel; frederick hambrite, lieut. colonel, and william chronicle, major. it is well known that col. graham, on account of severe sickness in his family, was not present at the battle of king's mountain. the immediate command of the regiment, assisted by col. dickson of the county, was then gallantly assumed by these officers, and nobly did they sustain themselves by word and example, in that ever-memorable conflict. major chronicle was brave, perhaps to a fault, energetic in his movements, self possessed in danger, and deeply imbued with the spirit of liberty. his last words of encouragement in leading a spirited charge against the enemy, were "come on my boys, never let it be said a fork boy run," alluding to south fork, near which stream most of them resided. this patriotic appeal was not given in vain. it nerved every man for the contest. onward his brave boys steadily moved forward, major chronicle in the advance, and approached within gun-shot of the british forces. just at this time, a few sharp shooters of the enemy discharged their pieces, and retreated. the brave chronicle fell mortally wounded, receiving a fatal ball in the breast. almost at the same time, capt. john mattocks and lieutenants william rabb and john boyd, also fell. major chronicle was only about twenty-five years old at the time of his death. the late capt. samuel caldwell and his brother william, were both in this battle. william caldwell brought home major chronicle's horse; his sword and spurs passed into the hands of his half brother, james mckee, and the venerated memorials are still in possession of one of his sons, who moved many years ago to tennessee. captain samuel martin. captain samuel martin was a native of ireland, and born in the year . when a young man, he emigrated to america, and first settled in pennsylvania. after remaining a short time in that state, he joined the great tide of emigration to the southern colonies. he first entered the service as a private in captain robert alexander's company, in june , colonel graham's regiment, and marched to fort mcgaughey, in rutherford county, and thence across the blue ridge mountains against the cherokee indians, who were committing murders and depredations upon the frontier settlements. in january , he attached himself to the command of captain william chronicle, and marched to the relief of the post of ninety six, in abbeville county, s.c., and after this service he returned to north carolina. about the st of november, , his company was ordered to charlotte, at that time a place of rendezvous of soldiers for the surrounding counties, and while there he received a special commission of captain, conferred on him by general rutherford. with his special command he marched with other forces from charlotte by way of camden, to the relief of charleston, and fell in with col. hampton, at the governor's gate, near that city. finding that place completely invested by the british army, he remained but a short time, and returned to north carolina with colonel graham's regiment, about the st of june, . being informed on the night of his arrival at home that the tories were embodied in strong force at ramsour's mill, near the present town of lincolnton, he immediately raised a small company and joined general davidson's battalion, general rutherford commanding, encamped at colonel dickson's plantation, three miles northwest of tuckaseege ford. general rutherford broke up his encampment at that place, early on the morning of the th of june, , then sixteen miles from ramsour's mill, and marched with his forces, expecting to unite with colonel locke in making a joint attack upon the tories, but failed to reach the scene of conflict until two hours after the battle. the tories had been signally defeated and routed by colonel locke and his brave associates, and about fifty made prisoners, among the number a brother of colonel moore, the commander of the tory forces. immediately after this battle he received orders from colonels johnston and dickson to proceed with his company to colonel moore's residence, six or seven miles west of the present town of lincolnton, and arrest that tory leader, but he had fled with about thirty of his follower's to camden, s.c., where cornwallis was then encamped. soon after this service captain martin was ordered to proceed with his company to rugeley's mill, in kershaw county, s.c. here colonel rugeley, the tory commander, had assembled a considerable force, and fortified his log barn and dwelling house. colonel washington, by order of general morgan, had pursued him with his cavalry, but having no artillery, he resorted to an ingenious stratagem to capture the post without sacrificing his own men. accordingly he mounted a _pine log_, fashioned as a cannon, elevated on its own limbs, and placed it in position to command the houses in which the tories were lodged. colonel washington then made a formal demand for immediate surrender. colonel rugeley fearing the destructive consequences of the formidable cannon bearing upon his command in the log barn and dwelling house, after a stipulation as to terms, promptly surrendered his whole force, consisting of one hundred and twelve men, without a gun being fired on either side. it was upon the reception of the news of this surrender that cornwallis wrote to tarleton, "rugeley will not be made a brigadier." after this successful stratagem, seldom equaled during the war, captain martin was ordered to march with his company in pursuit of colonel cunningham, (commonly called "bloody bill cunningham") a tory leader, encamped on fishing creek, but he fled so rapidly he could not overtake him. during the latter part of august and the whole of september, captain martin was rarely at home, and then not remaining for more than two days at a time. about the last week of september he marched with his company by a circuitous route, under colonel graham, to the cowpens. there he united with colonels campbell, shelby, sevier, cleaveland and other officers and marched with them to king's mountain. in this battle captain martin acted a conspicuous part, was in the _thickest of the fight_, and lost six of his company. after this battle he continued in active scouting duties wherever his services were needed. when cornwallis marched through lincoln county in pursuit of general morgan, encumbered with upwards of five hundred prisoners, captured at the cowpens, he was ordered to harass his advance as much as possible. a short time after cornwallis crossed the catawba at cowan's ford, he marched as far as salisbury, when he was ordered by colonel dickson to convey some prisoners to charlotte. having performed this service, he proceeded to guilford court house, but did not reach that place until after the battle. he then returned home, and was soon after discharged. in october , captain martin, when _one hundred and one years_ old, was granted a pension by the general government. he was a worthy and consistent member of the associate reformed church, and died on the th of november, , aged _one hundred and four years!_ he married in ireland, margaret mccurdy, who also attained an extreme old age, and both are buried in goshen graveyard, in gaston county. captain samuel caldwell. samuel caldwell was born in orange county, n.c., on the th of february, , and moved to tryon county, afterward lincoln, in . he first entered the service in captain gowen's company in , and marched against the cherokee indians beyond the mountains. in , he volunteered (in captain william chronicle's company) in the "nine months service," and joined general lincoln's army at purysburg, s.c. in march, , he joined captain isaac white's company, and marched to king's mountain. in the battle which immediately followed, he and his brother, william actively participated. shortly after this celebrated victory, he attached himself to captain montgomery's company and was in the battle of the cowpens, fought on the th of january, . soon afterward he marched to guilford, and was in the battle fought there on the th of march, . in the following fall, he substituted for clement nance, in captain lemmonds cavalry company in the regiment commanded by col. robert smith and major joseph graham. at the raft swamp, they attacked and signally defeated a large body of tories; and in two days afterward defeated a band of tories on alfred moore's plantation opposite wilmington. on the next day, the same troops made a vigorous attack on the garrison, near the same place. after this service, he returned home and was frequently engaged in other minor but important military duties until the close of the war. after the war, captain caldwell settled on a farm three miles southwest of tuckaseege ford where he raised a large family. he was a kind and obliging neighbor, attained a good old age, and is buried in the graveyard of goshen church, gaston county n.c. captain john mattocks. captain john mattocks was one of the brave soldiers who fell at king's mountain. he belonged to a family who resided a few miles below armstrong's ford, on the south fork of the catawba river, at what is now known as the "alison old place." there were three brothers and two sisters, sallie and barbara. the whole family, men and women, had the reputation of being "_uncommonly stout_." john and charles mattocks were staunch whigs, ever ready to engage in any enterprise in defence of the freedom of their country, but edward mattocks (commonly called ned mattocks) was a tory. all of the brothers were at the battle of king's mountain, in which captain charles mattocks was killed early in the action when pressing forward with undaunted courage against the enemy. among the severely wounded, was ned mattocks, the tory brother. after the battle and signal victory, charles mattocks, fearing his brother might be hung with some others who suffered this penalty on the next day, kindly interceded in his behalf, took him home and nursed him carefully until he recovered of his wound. it is said, this _extraction of blood_ so effectually performed by some one of the gallant whigs on that occasion, completely _cured_ ned mattocks of _toryism_ and caused him never afterward to unite with the enemies of his country. the whole surviving family a few years after the war moved to georgia, where they have descendants at the present time. major chronicle, captain mattocks, william rabb and john boyd, all from the same south fork neighborhood, are buried in a common grave at the foot of the mountain. a plain head-stone of dark slate rock, commemorates the hallowed spot with the following inscription: "sacred to the memory of major william chronicle, captain john mattocks, william rabb, john boyd, "who were killed here fighting in defence of america, on the th of october, ." many fragmentary but interesting incidents connected with the battle of king's mountain have come down to our own time and unfortunately, many others have been buried in oblivion. the following incident was related to the author by a grandson of a brave soldier in that battle. moses and james henry both actively participated in that hotly contested engagement. a few days after the battle, as james henry was passing through the woods near the scene of conflict, he found a very fine horse, handsomely equipped with an elegant saddle, the reins of the bridle being broken. the horse and equipments were, as he supposed, the property of an officer. he took the horse home with him, considerably elated with his good luck; but his mother met him at the gate, and immediately inquired whose horse it was he had in charge, he replied, he supposed it belonged to some british officer. "james," said the mother, "turn it loose and drive it off from the place, for i will not have the hands of my household stained with british plunder." the incident illustrates the noble christian spirit which actuated our good mothers of the revolutionary period. the other brother, moses henry, evinced great bravery in the same engagement, and was mortally wounded. he was taken to the hospital in charlotte, and was attentively waited upon by dr. william mclean until he died. his widow, with several others under similar bereavement, was granted a liberal allowance by the county court of lincoln. moses henry is the grandfather of col. moses henry hand, a worthy citizen of gaston county, n.c. william rankin. william rankin was born in pennsylvania, on the th of january, , and at an early age joined the tide of emigration to the southern states, and settled in "tryon," afterward lincoln county, n.c. he first entered the service as a private in captain robert alexander's company, colonel william graham's regiment, and marched to montfort's cove against the cherokee indians. in he volunteered under the same officer, and marched by way of charlotte and camden to the relief of charleston, but finding the city completely invested by the british army, the regiment returned to north carolina. in , he again volunteered under major dickson, and marched against col. floyd, a tory leader of upper south carolina. after this service he returned home, and soon afterward marched under the same officer, general rutherford commanding, to ramsour's mill, where a large body of tories had assembled under colonel john moore. the forces under general rutherford were encamped on colonel dickson's plantation, three miles north-west of tuckaseege ford, and about sixteen miles from ramsour's. early on the morning of the th of june, , they broke up camp and moved forward, but did not reach the battle-field until two hours after the action had taken place, and the tories defeated by colonel locke and his brave associates, with a force greatly inferior to that of the enemy. immediately after this battle, he substituted for henry e. locke, in captain william armstrong's company, marched to park's mill, near charlotte, and thence to general rutherford's army, encamped at phifer's plantation. the tories having assembled a considerable force at coulson's mill, general davidson with a detachment of troops vigorously attacked them, in which skirmish he (davidson) was severely wounded, detaining him from the service about two months. soon afterward he marched with general rutherford's command to camden and participated in the unfortunate battle at that place on the th of august, . while the british army were in charlotte he served under captain forney and major dickson, watching the movements of the enemy. shortly afterward he volunteered under captain james little, marched to rocky mount, and thence to the eutaw springs. in this battle, one of the most severely contested during the revolution, his company was placed under the command of colonel malmedy, a frenchman. soon after his return home he was placed in charge of a considerable number of prisoners, and in obedience to orders, conveyed them to salisbury. here he remained until his time of service expired, and then received his discharge from colonel locke. william rankin attained the good old age of nearly ninety-three, and was at the time of his death the last surviving soldier of the revolution in gaston county. he married mary moore, a sister of general john moore, also a soldier of the revolution. his wife preceded him several years to the tomb. his son, colonel richard rankin, is now ( ) living at the old homestead, having passed "his three score years and ten." he served several times in the state legislature, is an industrious farmer and worthy citizen of gaston county. gen. john moore. general john moore was born in lincoln county, when a part of anson, in . his father, william moore, of scotch-irish descent, was one of the first settlers of the county and a prominent member of society. he had four sons, james, william, john and alexander, who, inheriting the liberty-loving principles of that period, were all true patriots in the revolutionary war. john moore performed a soldier's duty on several occasions and was one of the guards stationed at tuckaseege ford, watching the movements of lord cornwallis after his entrance into lincoln county. he also acted for a considerable length of time as commissary to the army. general moore married a sister of general john adair, of kentucky, by whom he had many children. several years after her death, he married mary scott, widow of james scott, and daughter of captain robert alexander by whom he had two children, lee alexander and elizabeth moore. he was a member of the house of commons as early as , and served for many years subsequently with great fidelity and to the general acceptance of his constituents. to remove a false impression, sometimes entertained by persons little conversant with our revolutionary history, it should be here stated that general john moore was in no way related to the _colonel john moore_, (son of moses moore), who lived about seven miles west of lincolton, and commanded the tory forces in the battle of ramsour's mill. general moore, after a life of protracted usefulness, died in , with christian resignation, aged about seventy-seven years, and lies buried near several of his kindred in goshen graveyard, gaston county, n.c. elisha withers. elisha withers was born in stafford county, va., on the th of august, . his first service in the revolutionary war was in , acting for twelve months as commissary in furnishing provisions for the soldiers stationed at captain robert alexander's, near the tuckaseege ford on the catawba river, their place of rendezvous. after this service, he was drafted and served a tour of three months under captain thomas loftin and lieut. robert shannon, and marched from lincoln county to guilford court-house under colonels locke and hunt. his time having expired shortly before the battle, he returned home. he again served another tour, commencing in august, , as a substitute for james withers, under captain james little, at the eutaw springs, where he was detailed with a few others, to guard the baggage wagons during the battle. he again volunteered under captain thomas loftin and lieut. thomas mcgee and was actively engaged in the "horse service," in several scouting expeditions until the close of the war. after the war, he was for a long time known as "old constable withers," was highly respected, and died at a good old age. chapter vii. cleaveland county. cleaveland county was formed in , from lincoln and rutherford counties and derives its name from col. benjamin cleaveland, of wilkes county, who, with a detachment of men from that county and surry, under the commands of himself, and major joseph winston, performed a magnanimous part in the battle of king's mountain. shelby, the capital of this county, derives its name from col. isaac shelby, a sketch of whose services with those of colonels campbell, graham, hambright and williams will appear in the present chapter. battle of king's mountain. "o'er the proud heads of free men, our star banner waves; men firm as their mountains, and still as their graves, to-morrow shall pour out their life-blood like rain; we come back in triumph, or come not again." after the defeat of general gates at camden, on the th of august, , and the surprise and defeat of gen. sumter, two days after at fishing creek, by col. tarleton, the south was almost entirely abandoned to the enemy. it was one of the darkest periods of our revolutionary history. while cornwallis remained at camden, he was busily employed in sending off his prisoners to charleston and orangeburg; in ascertaining the condition of his distant posts at ninety-six and augusta, and in establishing civil government in south carolina. yet his success did not impair his vigilance in concerting measures for its continuance. west of the catawba river, were bands of active whigs, and parties of those who were defeated at camden, were harrassing their enemies and defending on every available occasion, the suffering inhabitants of the upper country. cornwallis, becoming apprised of this rebellious spirit of upper carolina, detached col. patrick ferguson, one of his most favorite officers, with one hundred and ten regulars and about the same number of tories, under captain depeyster, a loyalist, with an ample supply of arms and other military stores. he was ordered to embody the loyalists beyond the catawba (or wateree as the same river is called opposite camden) and the broad rivers; intercept the "mountain men", who were retreating from camden, and also, the americans under col. clarke, of georgia, falling back from an unsuccessful attack upon augusta. ferguson's special orders were to crush the spirit of rebellion still too rife and menacing; and after scouring the upper part of south carolina, toward the mountains of north carolina, to join his lordship at charlotte. he at first made rapid marches to overtake the mountain men--the "hornets," from the "switzerland of america," and cut off col. clarke's forces. failing in this, he afterward moved more slowly and frequently halted to collect all the tories he could persuade to join him. he crossed broad river, ravaging the country through which he marched. about the last of september he encamped at gilberttown, near the present town of rutherfordton. la his march to this point, his force-increased to upwards of one thousand men. all of his tory recruits were furnished with arms, most of them with rifles, and a smaller portion with muskets, to the muzzles of which they fixed the large knives they usually carried with them to be used as bayonets, if occasion should require. although ferguson failed to overtake the detachment of "mountain men," previously alluded to, he took two of them prisoners who had become separated from their command. these he paroled and sent off, enjoining them to tell the officers on the western waters that if they did not desist from their opposition to the british arms, and take protection under the royal standard, he would march his army over the mountains and lay waste their country with fire and sword. this was no idle threat, and its execution would have been attempted had not a brief stay in gilberttown satisfied him from the reports of his spies that a storm of patriotic indignation was brewing among and beyond the mountains that was destined soon to descend in all its fury upon his own army. he knew that most of the inhabitants were of scotch-irish and huguenot descent, mingled with many germans, whose long residence in the wilds of america had greatly tended to increase their love of liberty. as soon as general mcdowell heard that gates was defeated, he broke up his camp at smith's ford on broad river, and passed beyond the mountains, accompanied by a few of his unyielding patriots. while there in consultation with colonels sevier and shelby as to the best means for raising troops and repelling the invaders, the two paroled men arrived and delivered the message from ferguson. it produced no terrific effects on the minds of these well-tried officers, but on the contrary tended to stimulate and quicken their patriotic exertions. it was soon decided that each one should use his best efforts to raise all the men that could be enlisted, and that these forces should assemble at the sycamore shoals of the watauga river, on the th of september. the plans for raising a sufficient number of men to accomplish their purpose were speedily devised and carried into execution. to col. sevier was assigned the duty of communicating with col. mcdowell and other officers in voluntary exile beyond the mountains. to col. shelby was assigned a similar duty of writing to col. campbell of the adjoining county of washington, in virginia. among the refugees beyond the mountains was col. clarke, of georgia, with about one hundred of his overpowered but not subdued men. their story of the sufferings endured by the whig inhabitants of upper south carolina and georgia served to arouse and intensify the state of patriotic feeling among the hardy sons of western north carolina. the enlisted troops assembled at the sycamore shoals, marched from that place on the th of september. they were all mounted, and unencumbered with baggage expecting to support themselves partly by their trusty rifles from the game of the forest, as they progressed and partly by compelling the tories to minister to their wants. the assembled forces placed under marching orders, were as follows: from washington county, va., under col. william campbell, four hundred men. from sullivan county, n.c. (now in tennessee) under col. isaac shelby, two hundred and forty men. from washington county, n.c. (now in tennessee) under col john sevier, two hundred and forty men. from burke and rutherford counties, n.c., under col. charles mcdowell, one hundred and sixty men. on the second day's march, two of their men deserted, and went ahead to the enemy. it is probable their report of the whig strength accelerated ferguson's retreating movements. on the th of september, they crossed the mountains and were joined at the head of the catawba river by col. benjamin cleaveland and major joseph winston, with three hundred and fifty men from wilkes and surry counties. upon the junction of these forces, the officers held a council and as they were all of equal grade, it was agreed that a messenger be dispatched immediately to head-quarters, supposed to be between charlotte and salisbury to get general sumner or gen. davidson to assume the chief command. they were now in col. charles mcdowell's military district, and being the senior officer, the chief command properly devolved upon him, unless his right, for the present, should be waived, and by agreement, turned over to another. col. shelby proposed, mainly through courtesy, that col. william campbell, who had met them with the largest regiment from a sister state, should assume the chief command until the arrival of some superior officer. this proposition was readily assented to, and col. charles mcdowell volunteered his services to proceed to headquarters, and requested his brother, major joseph mcdowell, to take command of his regiment until his return. on the th of october the riflemen--the "mountain boys,"--advanced to gilberttown, unwilling that ferguson should be at the trouble to "cross the mountains and hang their leaders," as boastfully promulgated only a few days before. ferguson's abrupt departure and retrograde movement from gilberttown, like that of cornwallis from charlotte two weeks later, clearly betrayed his apprehensions of formidable opposition by the enraged "hornets" of the mountains. pursuit was immediately determined upon, and the whig forces reached the celebrated cowpens on the th of october, where they were joined by col. james d. williams, of south carolina, with nearly four hundred men, and about sixty men from lincoln county, under lieut. colonel hambright. (col. william graham, of the same regiment, on account of severe sickness in his family, was not in the battle fought on the next day.) it is also known a company was raised under capt. shannon, from the same county, but failed to reach the battle-ground in time for the engagement. on the evening of the th of october the colonels in council unanimously resolved that they would select all the men and horses fit for service, and immediately pursue ferguson until they should overtake him, leaving the remaining troops to follow after them as fast as possible. accordingly, nine hundred and ten men a mounted infantry, were selected, who set out about eight o'clock on the same evening and marched all night, taking fergusons trail toward deer's ferry, on broad river. night coming on, and it being very dark, they got out of the right way, and for some time were lost, but before daylight they nearly reached the ferry. the officers thinking it probable that the enemy might be in possession of the eastern bank of the river, directed the pilot to lead them to the cherokee ford, about one mile and a half below. it was on the morning of the th of october, before sunrise, when they crossed the river and marched about two miles to the place where ferguson had encamped on the night of the th. there they halted a short time and took such breakfast as their wallets and saddlebags would afford. every hour the trail of the enemy became more clearly visible, which served to quicken their movements and exhilarate their patriotic spirits. about the time they marched from the cowpens they were informed a party of four or five hundred tories were assembled at major gibbs, about four miles to the right; these they did not turn aside to attack. the riflemen from the mountains had turned out to _catch ferguson_. this was their rallying cry from the day they left the sycamore shoals, on the watauga, to the present opportune moment for accomplishing their patriotic purpose. for the last thirty six hours they had alighted from their horses but once at the cowpens for one hour's rest and, refreshment. as soon as their humble repast was finished on the morning of the th, at ferguson's encampment, on the th just alluded to, the riflemen resumed their eager march. the day was showery, which compelled them to use their blankets and overcoats to prevent their arms from getting wet. after marching about ten miles, the riflemen met a young man named john fonderin, riding in great haste from ferguson's camp, then scarcely three miles distant col. hambright being acquainted with him and knowing that he had relatives in the enemy's camp, caused him to be arrested. upon searching his person, he was found to have a fresh dispatch from ferguson to cornwallis, then at charlotte, in which he manifested great anxiety as to his situation and earnestly solicited aid. the contents of the dispatch was read to the privates, without stating ferguson's superior strength to discourage them. col. hambright then interrogated the young man as to ferguson's uniform. he replied by saying, "ferguson was the best uniformed man on the hill, but they would not see his uniform as be wore a checked shirt (duster) over it." col. hambright immediately called the attention of his men to this distinguishing feature of ferguson's dress. "well _poys_, says he, in broken german, _when you see that man mit a pig shirt on over his clothes you may know who him is_." accordingly after the battle, his body was found among the dead, wearing the checked shirt, now crimsoned with blood and pierced with numerous balls. after a brief consultation of the chief officers upon horseback, the plan of attack was quickly arranged. several persons present were well acquainted with the ground upon which the enemy was encamped. orders were promptly given and as promptly obeyed. the whig forces moved forward over king's creek, and up a ravine, and between two rocky knobs, when soon the enemy's camp was seen about one hundred poles in front. ferguson, aware that he was hotly pursued by a band of patriots of determined bravery, had chosen this mountain elevation as one from which he boastingly proclaimed he could not be driven. it was about o'clock in the afternoon when the whig forces reached the battle ground. the rain had ceased, the clouds had nearly passed away, the sun now shone brightly, and nature seemed to smile propitiously upon the sanguinary conflict soon to take place. on the march, the following disposition was made of the whig forces. the central column was commanded by colonels campbell and shelby; the right, by colonel sevier and major mcdowell; and the left by colonels cleaveland and williams. in this order the whig forces advanced and came within a quarter of a mile of the enemy before they were discovered. colonels campbell's and shelby's regiments commenced the attack, and kept up a galling fire on the enemy, while the right and left wings were advancing forward to surround them, which was done in about five minutes. the fire soon became general all around and maintained with the greatest bravery. the engagement lasted a little over an hour, during which time, a heavy and incessant fire was kept up on both sides. the whigs, in some parts where the british regulars fought, were forced to give way two or three times for a short distance, before the bayonet charges of the enemy, but soon rallied and returned with additional ardor and animation to the attack. the troops of the right having gained the summit of the mountain, compelled the enemy to give way and retreat along the top of the ridge, where col. cleaveland commanded and were soon stopped by his brave men. some of the regiments suffered severely under the galling fire of the enemy, before they were in a proper position to engage in the action. the men led by col. shelby and major mcdowell were soon closely engaged and the contest throughout was very severe, and hotly contested. as ferguson would advance towards campbell, sevier, hambright and winston, he was quickly pursued by shelby, cleaveland, mcdowell and williams. thus ferguson continued to struggle on, making charges with the bayonet and then retreating to make a vigorous attack at some other point; but, his men were rapidly falling before the fatal aim and persistent bravery of the whigs. even after ferguson was severely wounded and had three horses shot from under him, he continued to fight on, and animate his men by his example and unyielding courage--"extricate himself, he could not, and surrender, he would not," although requested to do so, near the close of the action by captain de peyster, his second in command. at length he received a fatal shot in the breast, which closed his earthly career forever. captain de peyster then look command, and immediately ordered a white flag to be raised in token of surrender. the firing however did not entirely cease until cols. shelby and sevier went inside the lines and ordered the men to desist. the whigs were still greatly exasperated when they called to remembrance tarleton's cruelty at buford's defeat, where no quarter was given. the victory was complete, and reanimated the whigs throughout the whole country. the tory element of western carolina, before strong and menacing, was broken up and greatly humbled, and cornwallis himself when he received intelligence of the battle and its result, became so seriously alarmed at his perilous situation in a land of _assailing hornets_, that he suddenly decamped from charlotte to safer quarters at winnsboro, south carolina. according to the official statement furnished to gen. gates, encamped at hillsboro, and signed by colonels campbell, shelby and cleaveland, the enemy sustained the following loss: "of the regulars, one major, one captain, two lieutenants and fifteen privates killed, thirty-five privates wounded and left on the ground not able to march; two captains, four lieutenants, three ensigns, one surgeon, five sergeants, three corporals, one drummer and fifty-nine privates taken prisoners. "loss of the tories, two colonels, three captains and two hundred privates killed; one major, and one hundred and twenty-seven privates wounded and left on the ground not able to march; one colonel, twelve captains, eleven lieutenants, two ensigns, one quarter-master, one adjutant, two commissaries, eighteen sergeants and six hundred privates taken prisoners. "total loss of the enemy eleven hundred and five men at king's mountain." the loss on the whig side was, one colonel, one major, one captain, two lieutenants, four ensigns, and nineteen privates killed, one major, three captains, three lieutenants, and fifty-three privates wounded. total whig casualties, twenty-eight killed and sixty wounded. of the latter, upwards of twenty died of their wounds, making the entire whig loss about fifty men. the victory of king's mountain was the "turning point of the fortunes of america," and foreshadowed more clearly than ever before, _final success_. as soon as the battle was over, a guard was placed around the prisoners and all remained on the mountain that night. on the next day, after the dead were buried and the wounded properly cared for, the cumbrous spoils of victory were drawn into a pile and burned. colonels campbell, shelby and cleaveland then repaired, with as little delay as possible, to the headquarters of general gates, at hillsboro, and made out to that officer on the st of november, an official statement of their brilliant victory. col. sevier, major mcdowell and other officers returned to the mountains and to their own neighborhoods, ready at all times, to obey any future calls of their country. the prisoners were turned over to the "mountain men" for safe keeping. having no conveyances, they compelled the prisoners to carry the captured arms (about fifteen hundred in number) two guns each being assigned to most of the men. about sunset the whigs who had fought the battle, being extremely hungry, had the pleasure of meeting the footmen, who had been left behind at green river on their march to king's mountain, pressing forward with a good supply of provisions. having appeased the cravings of hunger, they all marched to bickerstaff's old field, in rutherford county, where the principal officers held a court-martial over the "most audacious and murderous tories." thirty-two were condemned to be hung; after nine were thus disposed of, three at a time, the remainder, through mitigating circumstances and the entreaties of their whig acquaintances, were respited. several of the tories, thus leniently dealt with, afterward joined the whig ranks, and made good soldiers to the end of the war. in , through the instrumentality of dr. william m'lean, of lincoln county, a head-stone of dark slate rock, was erected at king's mountain, near the spot where ferguson fell. it bears this inscription: on the east: "sacred to the memory of maj. wm. chronicle, capt. john mattocks, william robb and john boyd, who were killed at this place on the th of october, , fighting in defence of america." on the west side:--"col. ferguson, an officer of his brittanic majesty, was defeated and killed at this place on the th of october, ." incidents: among the captured tories were captain w---- g---- and his lieutenant j---- l----, both of whom were sentenced to be hung next morning at sunrise. they were first tied separately, with leather strings, and then closely together. during the night they managed to crawl to the waters edge, near their place of confinement, and wet their strings; this soon caused them to stretch so greatly as to enable the _leather-bound prisoners_ to make their escape, and thereby deprive the "mountain boys" of having some contemplated fun. like the irishman's pig, in the morning "they came up _missing_." as a foraging party of tories, belonging to ferguson's army, was passing up king's creek, they took old arthur patterson and his son thomas prisoners; who, being recognized as noted whigs, were carried to ferguson's camp, threatened with hanging, and a guard placed over them. as the battle waxed warm and the issue of the contest seemed to be turning in favor of the american arms a call was made upon the guard to fall into line and assist their comrades in averting, if possible, their approaching defeat. during the commotion the old man patterson moved gently to the back ground and thus made his escape. thomas patterson, not liking the _back movement_, watched his opportunity, _between fires_ and charge of the enemies' position, dashed off boldly to the whig lines, about one hundred yards distant, and reached them safely. he immediately called for a gun, which being furnished he fought bravely to the close of the engagement. for several particulars connected with the battle of kings mountain, hitherto unknown, the author acknowledges his indebtedness to abraham hardin, esq., a native of lincoln county, n.c., and relative of col. hambright, now ( ) a worthy, intelligent, and christian citizen of york county, s.c., aged eighty-seven years. colonel william campbell. colonel william campbell was a native of augusta county, va. he was of scottish descent (his grandfather coming from inverary) and possessed all the fire and sagacity of his ancestors. he assisted in raising the first regular troops in virginia in , and was honored with a captain's commission. in he was made lieutenant colonel of the militia of washington county, va., and on the resignation of evan shelby, the father of governor shelby, he was promoted to the rank of colonel, that rank he retained until after the battles of king's mountain and guilford court-house, in both of which he distinguished himself, when he was promoted by the virginia legislature, for gallantry and general high merit, to the rank of brigadier general in the continental service. la fayette, perceiving his fine military talents, gave him the command of a brigade of riflemen and light infantry, and he was ordered to join that officer below richmond, who was covering washington's approach to yorktown in september , previous to the surrender of cornwallis at yorktown on the th of october following. colonel campbell, suffering from the severe wound received in the battle of guilford, was taken ill and soon after died at la fayette's head-quarters, about twenty-five miles above williamsburg, in the thirty-sixth year of his age. his military career was short, but brilliant; and on all occasions, bravery, unsullied patriotism and manly rectitude of conduct marked his movements. la fayette's general order, on the occasion of his decease is most highly complimentary to his efficient services and exalted worth. he is buried at rocky mills, in hanover county, va. about forty years afterward, his remains were removed to washington county, to repose with those of his family. col. campbell married a sister of patrick henry and left but one child, the mother of the late hon. william c. preston and col. john s. preston, both of columbia, s.c. he was a man of high culture, a good classical scholar, but was chiefly given to the accurate sciences and _practically_ to land surveying for himself and his kindred who were large land-holders in virginia, east tennessee and kentucky. when under thirty years of age, he commanded a company in the point pleasant expedition on the kenhawa river, in which occurred one of the most sanguinary battles in the history of indian warfare and there acquired that early experience in arms which qualified him to perform a conspicuous part in the revolutionary war. when the emergency arose for expelling the boasting ferguson from the soil of the carolinas, col. sevier sought the assistance and co-operation of col. campbell, of virginia, whose bravery and gallantry had become widely known. on the first application, col. campbell deemed it imprudent to withdraw his forces from their place of rendezvous, for fear of an attack from the neighboring indians, but on a second urgent application, his assent yielded to the appeals of patriotism and he promptly marched with his regiment to co-operate with colonels sevier, shelby and other officers to gain an undying fame, and glorious victory at king's mountain. the preceding statement of facts, corrects an error into which several historians have unintentionally fallen by confounding lieut. col. campbell, a brave officer of a south carolina regiment, who was mortally wounded at the battle of the eutaw springs, with col. wm. campbell, of virginia, one of the heroes of king's mountain, who died a natural death in his native state a few weeks before the surrender of cornwallis at yorktown. the two officers were of no close family relationship, but resembled each other in unflinching bravery and genuine exhibitions of true patriotism. colonel isaac shelby. col. isaac shelby was born in maryland, near the north mountain, a few miles from hagerstown, on the th of december, . he was the son of general evan shelby, a native of wales, who came to america when a mere youth. general shelby was distinguished for his indomitable courage, iron constitution, and clear intellect. he served as a captain of rangers under gen. braddock, and acted bravely in the attack under general forbes in , in which he led the advance, and took from the french fort du quesne. in , he removed to the west and in , commanded a company under colonel lewis and governor dunmore against the indians, on the scioto river. he was in the sanguinary battle of kenhawa, october th, , when colonels lewis, fleming and field were killed and he was left the commanding officer. in , he led a strong force against the chickamauga indians, on the tennessee river; and for his services and gallantry, was appointed a brigadier general by the state of virginia; the first officer ever vested with that grade on the western waters. thomas shelby, a brother of gen. evan shelby, joined the great tide of southern emigration and settled on caldwell's creek, in the eastern part of mecklenburg county (now cabarrus) about . he died near the beginning of the revolutionary war, leaving four sons, william, john, evan and thomas. one of these sons (thomas) served as a private in captain charles polk's company in the spring of , in the wilmington campaign. col. isaac shelby, the immediate subject of this sketch was born to the use of arms, blessed with a strong constitution and capable of enduring great exposure and fatigue. his whole educational training was such as fitted him for the stirring scenes in which he was destined by providence to become so prominent an actor. his first essay in arms was as a lieutenant in a company commanded by his father, in the celebrated battle, previously mentioned, at the mouth of the kenhawa, the most sanguinary conflict ever maintained against the northwestern indians, the action lasting from sunrise to sunset, with varying success. night closed the conflict and under its cover, the celebrated chief _cornstalk_, who commanded the indians, abandoned the ground. in july, , he was appointed captain of a company of minute men by the virginia committee of safety. in , he was appointed by governor henry, a commissary of supplies for an extensive body of troops to guard the frontiers and one of the commissioners appointed to form a treaty with the cherokees at the long island of the holston river. in , he was elected a member of the virginia legislature from washington county, and was appointed by thomas jefferson, then governor of that state, a major in the escort of guards for the commissioners, engaged in running the line between virginia and north carolina. on the completion of that line, his residence was found to be in north carolina, which circumstance induced richard caswell, then governor of the state, to appoint him colonel of the militia of sullivan county. in the summer of , he was engaged in kentucky in surveying, locating and securing the lands which five years previously, he had marked out, and improved. it was at this time, that he heard of the surrender of charleston. this disaster aroused his patriotic spirit, and caused him to return home, determined to enter the service of his bleeding country and never to leave it until her liberty and independence were secured. on his arrival at home, he found a requisition from general charles mcdowell to furnish all the aid in his power to check the enemy, who flushed with their late success in overrunning south carolina and georgia, had entered north carolina with a similar object in view. he immediately sought enlistments from the militia of sullivan county and in a few days crossed the mountains at the head of two hundred and forty riflemen. he reported to gen. mcdowell near the cherokee ford, on broad river, and was by that officer detached, with colonels sevier and clarke, to surprise and take a fort held by captain patrick moore, a noted tory leader, on the palcolet river. this service was promptly executed without losing any of his men. the fort was surrounded, and, after a short parley as to terms the enemy surrendered as prisoners of war. captain moore, one british major, ninety-three tories and two hundred and fifty stands of arms and their ammunition greatly needed at that time, were the fruits of this victory. it was at this period that major ferguson of the british army, in his progress to the mountains of north carolina, made several attempts to surprise col. shelby, but in every instance, he was baffled through his vigilance and activity. on the first of august, , the advance of the british force came up and attacked shelby at cedar springs. the situation had been chosen by shelby and his martial, adventurous spirit did not avoid the issue of battle. a sharp and animated conflict ensued, which lasted half an hour, when the whole force of ferguson advanced to the scene of action. shelby deemed it prudent to retreat before superior numbers, carrying off as the fruits of his victory thus far obtained, fifty prisoners, including two british officers. the enemy made a rapid pursuit, but shelby, availing himself of every advantageous ground, completely eluded their efforts to overtake him and soon afterward joined gen. mcdowell with only a loss of ten or twelve killed and wounded. on the th of august, , colonels shelby, williams and clarke, under orders from gen. mcdowell, again attacked, with seven hundred mounted men, a large body of tories near musgrove's mill, on the south side of the ennoree river. on the night of the th of august, these officers left smith's ford on broad river, took a circuitous route through the woods to avoid ferguson, whose whole force lay between, and at dawn of day, after riding about forty miles, attacked the patrol of the tories, about half a mile from their camp. a brisk skirmish ensued, several were killed, and the patrol driven in. at this moment, a countryman living near informed col. shelby the enemy on the night before had been re-inforced by a body of six hundred regulars (the queen's american regiment from new york) under col. innis. this was unexpected news. fatigued as were their horses, retreat was impracticable; and to attack an enemy of such superior force, would have been an act of rashness and the certain defeat of his own little band of patriots. col. shelby met the trying emergency with unflinching courage and great promptness of action. it was agreed that colonel williams should have the chief command. accordingly, the whole whig force, except capt. inman's command, was ordered to form a breastwork of old logs and brush, and make as brave a defence as circumstances permitted. capt. inman, with twenty-five men was directed to proceed to the ford of the river, fire across upon the enemy, and retreat when they appeared in strong force. this stratagem being the suggestion of the brave capt. inman, was successful. col. innis immediately crossed the river to dislodge the "rebels." capt. inman and his little force instantly retreated, hotly pursued by innis until within the area of the patriot ambuscade when a single shot by col. shelby gave the signal for attack. the whig riflemen, with sure and steady aim, opened a destructive fire which was kept up for an hour, during which time col. innis was wounded; all the british officers except a subaltern were killed or wounded. the tory captain, hawsey, and major fraser, of the british regulars, with sixty-three privates were killed, and one hundred and sixty made prisoners. the american loss was only four killed and nine wounded. in the pursuit captain inman was killed fighting hand to hand with the enemy. after this victory col. williams, with the prisoners, encamped at the cedar spring, in spartanburg county and from thence proceeded to charlotte, n.c. colonels williams and clarke then returned to the western frontier and the prisoners under maj. hammond marched to hillsboro. excited by this brilliant victory col. shelby prepared to attack the british force at ninety-six, about thirty miles distant, when an express arrived from gen. mcdowell, with a letter from governor caswell, dated on the battle ground of camden, informing him of gates' defeat and advising him to get out of the way. this advice came in good time, for on the next day a strong detachment from ferguson's army sallied forth to overtake the victors, but through the energy and activity of col. shelby the designs of the enemy were completely baffled. the brilliancy of the affair shone more brightly by the dark gloom which now overspread the public mind in consequence of the defeat of gen. gates at camden. this caused gen. mcdowell to disband for the present his little force and retire beyond the mountains. the whole country was now apparently subjugated, the hopes of the patriot were dimmed, and many took protection under the british standard. but the brave spirits of the west, as firm as their native mountains, were still undismayed; and, if for a moment subdued, they were not conquered, and the fire of freedom glowed deeply in their patriotic bosoms. at this gloomy period, col. shelby, in consultation with col. charles mcdowell, proposed to colonels sevier and campbell to raise a force as quickly as possible from their several counties, and attack the boasting ferguson. a concert of action, and junction of their forces were promptly agreed upon, the battle of kings mountain followed soon thereafter, and the result is well known. it will be seen, the first movement for organizing forces and bringing to a speedy accomplishment this most decisive victory of the south originated in western north carolina. inspired by this victory, the forces of north carolina assembled under general davidson at new providence, in mecklenburg county, near the south carolina line. gen. smallwood, with morgan's light corps and the maryland line advanced to the same point. gen. gates, with the remnant of his army, and general stevens with levies from virginia enabled general greene, after he assumed the chief command in december, , to hold cornwallis in check and frustrate his design, at that time, of marching to charlotte. it was at the suggestion of col. shelby that general greene sent out the expedition which achieved the brilliant victory at the cowpens. in , col. shelby served under gen. marion, and with col. mayhem, was in the skirmish near monk's corner. on attacking this post it immediately surrendered with one hundred and fifty prisoners. soon afterward he obtained leave of absence from gen. marion to attend the general assembly of north carolina, of which he was a member from sullivan county. in he was again a member, and was appointed a commissioner to settle the preemption claims upon the cumberland, and lay off the lands allotted to the officers and soldiers south of where nashville now stands. he returned to boonsboro on the april following where he married susanna hart, whose father was one of the partners of judge henderson. the liberties of his country being nearly established he devoted himself to his farm on the first pre-emption and settlement granted in kentucky. in may, , he was elected the first governor of the new state. in , a stormy period in our history, he was again elected to the same position. when the war with great britain broke out his well known energy and revolutionary fame induced the legislature of kentucky to solicit his services in the field. at the head of four thousand volunteers he marched to the shores of lake erie to assist gen. harrison in the celebrated battle of the thames. for his bravery in this battle, congress honored him with a gold medal. in president monroe appointed him his secretary of war, but on account of his advanced age he declined the honor. his last public act was that of holding a treaty with the chickasaw indians, in , in which general jackson was his colleague. in he was attacked with a paralytic affection but his mind still remained unimpaired. in july, , he expired from a stroke of apoplexy, in the seventy-sixth year of his age, enjoying the love and respect of his country and consoled by the rich hopes of a joyful immortality. worthily is his name preserved in north carolina in a region that witnessed his exalted patriotism and valor. colonel james d. williams. col. james d. williams, a brave and meritorious officer, was mortally wounded at king's mountain, near the close of the action. he died on the next morning, and is buried within two miles of the place where he so gallantly fell. tradition says his first words, after reviving a little, were, "for god's sake, boys, don't give up the hill." he was a native of granville county, n.c. he moved to laurens county, s.c., in , and settled upon little river. he early espoused the patriot cause, and was active in raising troops and defending the territory of the "ninety-six" district, abounding with many evil-disposed loyalists. he first appears as a colonel of militia in april, . in the spring of , he went into actual service, and was probably at the siege of savannah. he was with gen. sumter in , and in the early part of that year he was in the battle of musgrove's mill, on the ennoree river. after that engagement he went to hillsboro, where he raised a corps of cavalry, and returned to south carolina. during ferguson's movements, after crossing the wateree with the intention of embodying the loyalists, and intercepting the "mountain men," col. williams continually hovered around his camp, prepared to strike a blow when he could, and cripple his advance. colonel williams was a worthy member and elder of the presbyterian church, and was highly esteemed by all who knew him. it is to be regretted more has not been preserved of his efficient military services. colonel william graham. colonel william graham was the son of archibald graham, of scotland. he was born in augusta county, va., in . he emigrated to north carolina several years previous to the revolutionary war, became the owner of much valuable land, and finally settled on first broad river, then tryon county, but now in cleaveland. his patriotic principles soon became known, and were called into active service at the commencement of the revolution. as the commanding officer, he had the general superintendence of several forts, erected on and near the frontier settlements, as protections against the hostile cherokee indians. whilst in command of fort mcfadden, near the present town of rutherfordton, he formed the acquaintance of mrs. susan twitty, widow of william twitty, and, as the "darts of cupid" are often irresistible, he married her, and the union proved to be a happy one. in the provincial congress which met at halifax on the th of nov., , when the first state constitution was formed, colonel graham was one of the delegates from lincoln county, his colleagues being joseph hardin, robert abernathy, william alston and john barber. in the expedition which marched in , under general rutherford, against the cherokee indians, colonel graham commanded the regiment which went from lincoln and rutherford counties. this expedition, as is well known, was completely successful, and caused the indians to sue for peace. in the expedition which marched for the relief of charleston, in the spring of , from charlotte, the place of rendezvous for several counties, colonel graham led the regiment from lincoln county. on the arrival of the several forces at charleston, they found the city so completely invested by the british army that they could not render assistance to the american garrison. soon after his return home, colonel graham again marched with his regiment, general rutherford commanding, against a large body of tories assembled at ramsour's mill under lieut. colonel john moore, (son of moses moore) near the present town of lincolnton. general rutherford, with some mecklenburg troops, crossed the catawba river at tuckaseege ford, on the evening of the th of june, , and camped at colonel joseph dickson's plantation, three miles northwest of the ford. on the morning of the th, gen. rutherford marched, at an early hour, with the expectation of co-operating with colonel locke, of rowan county, in making a combined attack against the tories, but failed to reach the battleground until about two hours after the close of that sanguinary engagement, in which the tories were signally defeated. when a call was made upon the commanding officers of the militia of lincoln county (under its old limits) in september, , for troops to oppose the boasting ferguson, colonel graham marched with his regiment, and joined colonels campbell, sevier, shelby and others at the "cowpens," where, a little more than three months afterward, general morgan gained a brilliant victory; but, it is known, in consequence of severe sickness in his family, colonel graham did not participate in the battle which took place on king's mountain on the afternoon of the th of october, , and which resulted so gloriously for the american arms. during the year , the province of north carolina, ever in the van of early patriotic movements, formed "associations" throughout her territory, mainly as _tests of patriotism_. the county of cumberland formed an association on the th of june, . the county of tryon (embracing lincoln and rutherford) formed a similar "association" on the th of august following, which was signed by the "committee of safety," and ordered to be "signed by every freeholder in the county." among the forty-eight signatures may be conspicuously noticed those of william graham, charles mclean, (who at one time commanded the lincoln regiment), frederick hambright, (see sketch of his services in this volume) john walker, jacob forney, (father of gen. peter forney), thomas espey, (brother of capt. samuel espey, severely wounded at the battle of king's mountain), andrew neal, joseph neal, john dellinger, george dellinger, joseph hardin, jacob costner, valentine mauney, peter sides, joseph kuykendall, james coburn, james miller and others. one of the signers, peter sides, (properly seitz) belonged to a family from switzerland--all true whigs, and worthy representatives of the land of william tell. colonel william graham died in april, , in the eighty-seventh year of his age, and is buried at the old homestead, on first broad river, in cleaveland county, n.c. lieutenant-colonel frederick hambright. lieutenant-colonel hambright was born in germany in , emigrated to pennsylvania about , and after remaining there a short time removed to virginia about , where he married sarah hardin, with whom he lived happily until her death during the revolution. a few years after his marriage he moved to tryon county in north carolina, being accompanied by his brothers-in-law, colonel joseph hardin, john hardin and benjamin hardin; also, by james kuykendall, nathaniel henderson, robert leeper, and others. he first settled at the fort, erected near the mouth of the south fork of the catawba river, as a protection against the attacks of the indians. from that place he soon afterward moved to long creek, in the same county, and was living there when the battle of king's mountain took place, in which he so gallantly participated. a short time previous to that battle he had purchased a tract of land on king's creek, and had built a cabin upon it, preparatory to a future removal of his family. colonel hambright was twice married. by the first marriage to sarah hardin, previously noticed, he had twelve children, of whom six were raised, viz: . john h. hambright, who fought at king's mountain. . elizabeth. . frederick. . sarah. . benjamin, and . james hambright. of these, elizabeth married joseph jenkins, and sarah peter eaker, both of whom have worthy descendants. by the second wife, mary dover, whom he married in , he had ten children, of whom eight were raised. mrs. susannah dickson, the tenth child by the second wife, and the youngest of the twenty-two children, is still living and retains in her memory many interesting traditions of the revolution. colonel hambright early displayed a fervent patriotic zeal for the independence of his adopted country. in he received the appointment of lieutenant-colonel, and was throughout the war an active and courageous officer. he was constantly watching the movements of the tories, whose malicious influence and plundering habits seriously disturbed the peace and welfare of society. his name soon became a "terror to the tories, who well knew the determination of his character and the vigilance and prowess of his arms in arresting disaffected persons, and defeating their designs." at the battle of king's mountain col. william graham, having charge of the lincoln regiment, not being present on account of sickness in his family, the command devolved on col. hambright and most nobly and courageously did he sustain the responsible position. no portion of the advancing whig columns evinced more irresistible bravery, and suffered more severely than the troops under his immediate command. major william chronicle, one of his most efficient and gallant officers, fell early in the action. there, too, captain john mattocks, lieutenants robb and boyd, and others, all from the same neighborhood, lost their lives in that fiercely contested battle, which resulted so gloriously for the cause of liberty. in this conflict colonel hambright was severely wounded by a large rifle ball passing through the fleshy part of the thigh. it was soon discovered by the soldiers near him that he was wounded and bleeding profusely. samuel moore, of york county, south carolina, requested him to to be taken from his horse; he refused by saying, "he knew he was wounded but was not sick or faint from the loss of blood--said he could still ride very well, and therefore deemed it his duty to fight on till the battle was over." and most nobly did he remain in his place, encouraging his men by his persistent bravery and heroic example until signal victory crowned the american arms. at the close of the action, when colonel hambright alighted from his horse, the blood was running over the top of the boot on the wounded leg. he was then conveyed to the cabin erected on his own land, as previously stated, before the war, where he was properly cared for until he was partially recovered. although the wound, in process of time, seemed to have healed, yet its deep-seated injury caused him to falter in his walk during the remainder of his life. the reason he assigned for refusing to be taken from his horse when severely wounded does honor to his exalted patriotism. he said if he had complied his men would neglect to _load_ and _fire_ as often as they should; would gather around him to administer to his wants, and thus fail to do their whole duty in opposing and conquering the enemy. such true devotion to the cause of freedom is worthy of our warmest admiration, and forcibly illustrates the heroic spirit which animated the band of patriots who achieved, on king's mountain, one of the most important and decisive victories of the american revolution. colonel hambright was long a worthy member and elder of the presbyterian church at shiloh, in the present limits of cleaveland county. on his tombstone we have this plain inscription: "in memory of colonel frederick hambright, who departed this life, march (figures indistinct) , in the ninetieth year of his age." chapter viii. burke county. burke county was formed in from rowan county, and was named in honor of the celebrated orator and statesman, edmund burke, an irishman by birth, and possessed of all the warm and impetuous order of his countrymen. he early employed his pen in literature, and his eloquence in politics. having been introduced to the marquis of rockingham, he made him his secretary and procured his election to the house of commons. he there eloquently pleaded the cause of the americans. during his political career he wrote much, and his compositions rank among the purest of english classics. this true friend of america died on the th of july, , in the seventieth year of his age. at the commencement of the revolutionary war the territory now lying on and near the eastern base of the "blue ridge," or alleghany chain of mountains, constituted the borders of civilization, and suffered frequently from marauding bands of cherokee indians, the great scourge of western north carolina. the whole country west of tryon county (afterward lincoln) was sparsely settled with the families of adventurous individuals, who, confronting all dangers, had carved out homes in the mountains and raised up hardy sons, deeply imbued with the spirit of liberty, prepared to go forth, at a moment's warning, to fight the battles of their country. battle of the cowpens. "there was greene in the south; you must know him,-- whom some called a 'hickory quaker;' but he ne'er turned his back on the foemen, nor ever was known for a _shaker_." after the unfortunate battle of camden, on the th of august, , where gen. gates lost the laurels he had obtained at saratoga, congress perceived the necessity of appointing a more efficient commander for the southern army. accordingly gen. washington was directed to make the selection from his well-tried and experienced officers. whereupon the commander-in-chief appointed general nathaniel greene, late the quartermaster general, on the th of october, , who, in a few days afterward, set out for his field of labor. as he passed through delaware, maryland and virginia, he ascertained what supplies it was likely could be obtained from those states; and leaving the baron steuben to take charge of the defence of virginia he proceeded to hillsboro, then the temporary seat of government for north carolina. gov. nash received him with much joy, as the safety of the state was in imminent danger. after a short stay in that place he hastened on to charlotte, the headquarters of the southern army. gen. gates there met him with marked respect, without displaying any of those feelings which sometimes arise from disappointed ambition, and immediately set out for the headquarters of washington, then in new jersey, to submit to an inquiry into his conduct, which had been ordered by congress. gen. green took charge of the southern army in the town of charlotte on the rd day of december, . after surveying his troops and supplies he found himself at the head of about two thousand men, one half of whom were militia, with only a sufficiency of provisions for three days, in an exhausted country, and with a scanty supply of ammunition. with the quick eye of military genius, he determined at once to divide his army, small as it was, and provide the needful supplies in different localities. relying upon gen. davidson's militia, as a central force and protection, to be called out upon emergencies from the surrounding counties, he led the largest portion of his army under himself, and encamped on hick's creek, opposite cheraw, and about seventy miles to the right of cornwallis, who was then at winsboro, south carolina. while encamped at this place he was joined by the legionary corps of cavalry under lieutenant-colonel henry lee, more familiarly known as "light horse harry," and father of the late distinguished gen. robert e. lee, of the confederate army, whose memory the southern people and an _impartial world_ will ever delight to honor! the other detachment of the army, about one thousand strong, under brig. gen. morgan was placed about fifty miles to the left to disperse bands of tories and protect the country between the broad and pacolet rivers. gen. morgan's division, near the close of , consisted of four hundred of continental infantry under lieutenant-colonel howard, of the maryland line, two companies of the virginia militia under captains triplett and tate, and about one hundred dragoons under lieutenant-colonel william washington. this force, at the time just mentioned, was considerably augmented by north carolina militia under major mcdowell--"mountain boys," ever reliable, and some georgia militia, under major cunningham. gen. morgan encamped on the northern bank of pacolet river, and near pacolet springs. from this point col. washington frequently sallied forth to disperse bodies of tories who assembled at different places and plundered the whig inhabitants. he attacked and defeated two hundred of them at hammond's store, and soon afterward a section of his command dispersed another tory force under the "bloody bill cunningham." cornwallis, who was still at winnsboro, perceived these successes with alarm, and fearing an attack upon his important post at ninety-six, determined to disperse the forces under morgan or drive them into north carolina before he should rally the mountain men in sufficient numbers to cut off his communication with his post at augusta. he accordingly dispatched tarleton with his legion and a strong force of infantry, with two field pieces, to compel morgan to fight or hastily retreat. tarleton's entire force consisted of about eleven hundred well-disciplined men, and in every respect he had the advantage of morgan. it is related of tarleton that when he heard of morgan's forces being encampted near the post of ninety-six, he begged of lord rawdon the privilege of attacking the american officer. "by heaven, my lord, said he, i would not desire a finer feather in my cap than colonel morgan. such a prisoner would make my fortune. ah, ban," (contraction of banastre, tarleton's christian name) replied rawdon, "you had better let the old wagoner alone." as no refusal would satisfy him, permission was given, and he immediately set out with a strong force in pursuit of morgan. at parting tarleton said to rawdon with a smile, "my lord, if you will be so obliging as to wait dinner, the day after to-morrow, till four o'clock, colonel morgan shall be one of your lordship's guests." "very well, ban, said rawdon, we shall wait; but remember, morgan was brought up under washington." tarleton commenced his march from winnsboro on the th of january, , cornwallis following leisurely in the rear with the main army. he crossed broad river near turkey creek, and advanced with all possible speed in the direction of morgan's camp. that officer was at first disposed to dispute tarleton's passage of the pacolet river, but being informed of the superiority of his numbers, and that a portion of the british army had already crossed above him, he hastily retreated northward, and took post for battle on the north side of thicketty mountain, near the cowpens. tarleton pressed eagerly forward in pursuit, riding all night, and making a circuit around the western side of the mountain. at eight o'clock in the morning he came in sight of the advanced guard of the patriots, and fearing that morgan might again retreat and get safely across broad river, he resolved to attack him immediately, notwithstanding the fatigued condition of his troops. tarleton was evidently disposed to view morgan as "flying game," and he therefore wished to "bag him" while clearly within scope of his vision. the sequel will show how sadly he was mistaken. the americans were posted upon an eminence of gentle ascent, covered with an open wood. they were rested and refreshed after their retreat from the pacolet. and, now expecting the enemy, they were drawn up in battle order. tarleton was rather disconcerted when he found that morgan was prepared to fight him, for he expected to overtake him on a flying retreat. it was now about nine o'clock. the sun was shining brightly over the summits of thicketty mountain, and imparted a glowing brilliancy to the martial array in the forests below. on the crown of the eminence were stationed two hundred and ninety maryland regulars, and on their right the two companies of virginia militia under major triplet. these composed the rear line of four hundred and thirty men under lieutenant-colonel howard. one hundred and fifty yards in advance of this line was a body of about three hundred militia under colonel andrew pickens, all experienced riflemen, and burning with a spirit of revenge on account of numerous cruelties previously inflicted by the british and tories. this brave officer had arrived during the night, with his followers, and joined morgan. about one hundred and fifty yards in advance of this first line, were placed the best riflemen of the corps under mcdowell and cunningham. the action soon commenced. at a signal from tarleton, his advance gave a loud shout and rushed furiously to the contest, under cover of their artillery, and a constant discharge of musketry. the riflemen under mcdowell and cunningham delivered their fire with terrible effect, and then fell back to the flanks of the first line under pickens. the contest was close and severe, with alternate wavings of the british and american lines, under successive attacks of the bayonet, which the prescribed limits of this work forbid to be presented in all their animating details. suffice it to say, tarleton here met a "foeman worthy of his steel;" and the americans, at the cowpens, on the th of january, , gained one of the most triumphant victories of the revolutionary war. almost the whole of the british infantry, except the baggage guard, were either killed or taken. two pieces of artillery, eight hundred muskets, two standards, thirty-five wagons and one hundred dragoon horses fell into the hands of the americans. notwithstanding the cruel warfare which tarleton had waged against the americans, to the honor of the victors it is said not one of the british prisoners was killed, or even insulted after they had surrendered. the loss of the americans in this decisive battle was twelve killed and about sixty wounded. the loss of the british was ten officers and ninety privates killed, and twenty-three officers and five hundred privates taken prisoners. at the close of the action, washington, with his cavalry, pursued tarleton, who now in turn, had become "flying game." in his eagerness of pursuit of that officer, washington had dashed forward considerably in advance of his squadron, when tarleton and two of his aids turned upon him, and just as an officer on tarleton's right was about to strike him with his sabre, his sergeant dashed up and disabled the assailant's sword arm. an officer on tarleton's left was about to strike at the same moment, when washington's little bugler, too small to wield a sword, wounded the assailant with a pistol ball. tarleton, who was in the center, then made a thrust at him, which washington parried, and wounded his enemy in the hand. tarleton wheeled, and, as he retreated, discharged a pistol, wounding washington in the knee. during that night and the following morning, the remnant of tarleton's forces crossed broad river at hamilton's ford, and reached the encampment of cornwallis at turkey creek, about twenty-five miles from the cowpens. this _hand-wound_ of tarleton, inflicted by washington, gave rise, on two different occasions, to sallies of wit by two american ladies, daughters of colonel montford, of halifax county, north carolina. when cornwallis and his army were at halifax, on their way to virginia, tarleton was at the house of an american citizen. in the presence of mrs. willie jones, tarleton spoke of colonel washington as an illiterate fellow, hardly able to write his name. "ah! colonel," said mrs. jones, "you ought to know better, for you bear on your person proof that he knows very well how to make his mark!" at another time, tarleton was sarcastically speaking of washington in the presence of her sister, mrs. ashe. "i would be happy to see colonel washington," he said, with a sneer. mrs. ashe instantly replied: "if you had looked behind you, colonel tarleton, at the battle of the cowpens, you would have enjoyed that pleasure." stung with this keen wit, tarleton placed his hand on his sword with an inclination to use it. general leslie, who was present, remarked, "say what you please, mrs. ashe, colonel tarleton knows better than to insult a lady in my presence." the victory of the cowpens gave great joy to the friends of liberty throughout the whole country. congress received information of it on the th of february following, and on the th of march voted an award of a gold medal to morgan; a silver medal to howard and washington; a sword to col. pickens, and a vote of thanks to the other officers and men engaged in the battle. at this time, cornwallis was advancing triumphantly in the direction of north carolina, having placed south carolina and georgia, as he thought, in submission at his feet. the defeat and death of ferguson, one of his most efficient officers, at king's mountain, and now of tarleton, his favorite partisan, greatly withered his hopes of strong tory cooperation. his last hope was the destruction of greene's army by his own superior force, and, with that design in view, he broke up his encampment near turkey creek, and like saul, "yet breathing out threatenings and slaughter" against morgan's little army, he commenced that pursuit of the "hero of the cowpens," who, encumbered with his five hundred prisoners, under various providential interpositions, made good his retreat into virginia, constituting one of the most thrilling and successful military achievements of the american revolution. general daniel morgan. general daniel morgan was born in bucks county, pennsylvania, in , and moved to virginia in . he was a private soldier under general braddock, and after the defeat of that officer returned to his occupation of a farmer and a wagoner. when the war of the revolution broke out, he joined the army under general washington, at cambridge, and commanded a corps of riflemen. he was with general montgomery at quebec, and with general gates at saratoga, in both of which battles he greatly distinguished himself. for his bravery he was promoted to the rank of brigadier general, and joined the army in the south. after the battle of camden, when general greene assumed the chief command, general morgan was detached to raise troops in the western part of the state and in south carolina. he soon became distinguished as a partisan officer, inspiring confidence and arousing the despondent whigs to a more active sense of duty. his victory at the cowpens was justly considered as one of the most brilliant and decided victories of the revolution, and congress accordingly voted him a gold medal. at the close of the war, he returned to his farm. in he was appointed by general washington to quell the whisky insurrection in western virginia, and after the difficulties were settled, he was elected a member of congress and served from to . his health failing, he declined a re-election. his farm in clarke county, a few miles from winchester, va., was called saratoga. in , he removed to winchester, where he died on the th of july, , in the sixty-seventh year of his age. in early life, general morgan was dissipated; yet the teachings of a pious mother always made him reverential when his thoughts turned toward the deity. in his latter years he professed religion and became a member of the presbyterian church in winchester. "ah!" he would often exclaim when talking of the past, "people said old morgan never feared--they thought old morgan never prayed--they did not know old morgan was miserably afraid." he said he trembled at quebec, and in the gloom of early morning, when approaching the battery at cape diamond, he knelt in the snow and prayed; and before the battle at the cowpens, he went into the woods, ascended a tree, and there poured out his soul in prayer to the almighty ruler of the universe for protection. colonel charles m'dowell and brothers. (condensed from wheeler's "historical sketches.") colonel charles mcdowell and his brothers, joseph and william, were sons of joseph mcdowell and margaret o'neal, who emigrated from ireland and settled in winchester, va. here, charles and joseph were born, the former in . soon afterward, joseph mcdowell, sr., moved to burke county, n.c. in june, , colonel charles mcdowell being joined by colonels isaac shelby and john sevier from tennessee, and by colonel clarke, of georgia, near the cherokee ford on broad river, in south carolina, he determined to attack a post held by the enemy on pacolet river, in spartanburg county. the position was strongly fortified under the command of captain patrick moore, a distinguished loyalist. on being surrounded, the enemy, after some parley as to terms, surrendered as prisoners of war. one british sergeant major, ninety-three loyalists, two hundred and fifty fire-arms and other munitions of war were the fruits of this victory. soon afterward col. mcdowell detached shelby to watch the movements of ferguson, and attack him. on the st of august, , shelby met the advance guard of ferguson at cedar spring, about six hundred strong, when a spirited contest commenced; but on the enemy being reinforced, shelby made good his retreat, carrying off from the field twenty prisoners, including two british officers. on learning that a body of five hundred tories had assembled on the south side of enoree river, near musgrove's mill, colonel mcdowell detached colonels shelby, williams and clarke to attack them. colonel ferguson, with his whole force, lay encamped between them. they left the camp on the th of august at smith's ford on broad river, and taking a circuitous route through the woods, avoided ferguson's forces. they rode hard all night, and at daybreak encountered a strong patrol party of the enemy. a skirmish immediately ensued and the tories retreated. they then advanced on the main body of the tories. at this juncture a countryman living near, a friend of liberty, came to shelby and informed him that the enemy had been reinforced the evening before, by six hundred regular troops, and the queen's american regiment from new york, commanded by colonel innis, marching to join ferguson. here was a position that would have tried the talent and nerve of the most skillful and brave officer. advance was hopeless, and retreat impossible. but shelby was equal to the emergency. he immediately commenced forming a breast-work of brush and old logs, while he detailed twenty-five tried men to reconnoiter and skirmish with the enemy as soon as they crossed the enoree river. the drums and bugles of the enemy were soon heard marching upon this devoted band. captain inman had been ordered to fire and retreat. this stratagem, suggested by captain inman himself, was successful in its object. the enemy advanced in rapid pursuit and in great confusion, believing that the whole american force was routed. when they approached the rude breast-work of shelby, they received from his riflemen a most destructive fire, which carried great slaughter among them. this was gallantly kept up; all the british officers were killed or wounded, and hawsey, the tory leader, shot down. the enemy then began a disorderly retreat. the americans now in turn pursued, and in this pursuit the brave captain inman was killed, fighting hand to hand with the enemy. colonel shelby commanded the right wing, colonel clarke the left, and colonel williams the center. the british loss in this brilliant and well-planned battle, was sixty-three killed and one hundred wounded and prisoners; the american loss was only four killed, including captain inman, and captain clarke wounded. the triumphant victors were about to remount and advance on the british post at ninety six, when an express arrived from colonel mcdowell, with a letter from governor caswell, informing them of the defeat of general gates at camden on the th of august, and advising the retreat of our troops, as the british, flushed with victory, would advance in strong force and cut off all detachments of our people. with ferguson near him, colonel shelby, encumbered with more than two hundred prisoners, acted with energy and promptness. he distributed the prisoners among the companies, each behind a private, and without stopping day or night, retreated over the mountains to a place of safety. this rapid movement saved his men and himself. on the next day major depeyster, of ferguson's forces, with a strong body of men, made an active but fruitless search. in consequence of the panic after gates' defeat on the th of august, , and the surprise and dispersion of sumter's forces at fishing creek by tarleton's cavalry on the th following, colonel mcdowell disbanded, for a time, his little army, and he himself retreated over the mountains. this was a dark and doleful period of american history. the british flag floated in triumph over charleston and savannah. the troops of lord cornwallis, with all the pomp and circumstance of glory, advanced from the battle-field of camden to charlotte, with the fond expectation of soon placing north carolina under his subjection. many of the brave had despaired of final success, and the timid, and some of the wealthy, to save their property, had taken "protection" under the enemy. colonel ferguson, with chosen troops, was ravaging the whole western portion of upper south carolina, subduing in his progress to western north carolina, all opponents of english power, and encouraging, by bribes and artifice, others to join the royal standard. under all these discouraging circumstances the brave "mountain boys," and other kindred spirits of the west never despaired. on the mountain heights of north carolina, and in her secure retreats, like warsaw's "last champion," stood the stalwart soldiers of that day: "oh heaven! they said, our bleeding country save! is there no hand on high to shield the brave? what though destruction sweep these lovely plains!-- rise, fellow-men! our country yet remains; by that dread name, we wave the sword on high, and swear for her to live! for her to die!" if the sky was then gloomy, a storm was gathering in these mountain retreats which was soon to descend in all its fury on the heads of the enemies of our country. in a short time afterward the battle of king's mountain was fought and won by the patriots, which spread a thrill of joy throughout the land. colonel charles mcdowell was elected the first senator to the state legislature from burke county in , and successively from to . from to , he was succeeded in the same position by his brother, major joseph mcdowell. about this period, at three or four different times, all three of the members of the assembly to which the county was entitled were of this family, which proved their great popularity and worth. major joseph mcdowell also served as a member of congress from to , and from to . he lived on john's river, and died there. his family returned to virginia, where some of his descendants may still be found. one of his sons, hugh harvey, settled in missouri, and joseph j. mcdowell, in ohio, who was a member of congress from that state from to . general charles mcdowell married grace greenlee, the widow of captain john bowman, who fell at the battle of ramsour's mill. by this union he had several children, one of whom was the late captain charles mcdowell, who resided on the catawba river, near morganton. general charles mcdowell died on the st of march, , aged about seventy-two years. chapter ix. wilkes county. wilkes county was formed in , from surry, and named in honor of john wilkes, a distinguished statesman and member of parliament. he was a fearless political writer, and violently opposed to the oppressive measures of great britain against her american colonies. in he published in the "north briton" newspaper a severe attack on the government, for which he was sent to the tower. acquitted of the charge for which he was imprisoned, he sued for and recovered five thousand dollars damages and then went to paris. in he returned to england and was soon after elected a member of parliament. in his private character he was licentious, but his eminent talents, energy, and fascinating manners made him a great favorite with the people. he died at his seat in the isle of wight in , aged seventy years. colonel benjamin cleaveland. colonel benjamin cleaveland, one of the distinguished heroes of king's mountain, and in honor of whom cleaveland county is named, lived and died in wilkes county at a good old age. in he first entered the service as ensign in the second regiment of troops, and acted a brave and conspicuous part in the battle's of king's mountain and guilford court house. a serious impediment in his speech prevented him from entering public life. he is frequently spoken of in the mountain country as the "hero of a hundred fights with the tories." he was for many years the surveyor of wilkes county and resided at the "little hickerson place." among other singular incidents in his remarkable career, as preserved by general william lenoir, and recorded in wheeler's "historical sketches," we give place to the following: "riddle knob, in watauga county, derives its name from a circumstance of the capture of colonel benjamin cleaveland, during the revolution, by a party of tories headed by men of this name, and adds the charm of heroic association to the loveliness of it unrivaled scenery. cleaveland had been a terror to the tories. two notorious characters of their band, (jones and coil) had been apprehended by him and hung. cleaveland had gone alone, on some private business, to new river, and was taken prisoners by the tories, at the 'old fields, on that stream. they demanded that he should furnish passes for them. "being an indifferent penman he was some time in preparing these papers, and he was in no hurry as he believed that they would kill him when they had obtained them. while thus engaged captain robert cleaveland, his brother, with a party followed him, knowing the dangerous proximity of the tories. they came up with the tories and fired on them. colonel cleaveland slid off the log to prevent being shot, while the tories fled, and he thus escaped certain destruction. "some time after this circumstance the same riddle and his son, and another were taken and brought before cleaveland, and he hung all three of them near the mulberry meeting-house, now wilkesboro. the depredations of the tories were so frequent, and their conduct so savage, that summary punishment was demanded by the exigencies of the times. this cleaveland inflicted without ceremony." colonel john sevier. colonel john sevier was born in shenandoah county, virginia, in . his father descended from an ancient family in france, the name being originally spelled xavier. about young sevier joined an exploring and emigrating party to the holston river, in east tennessee, then a part of north carolina. he assisted in erecting the first fort on the watauga river, where he, his father, his brother valentine, and others settled. whilst engaged in the defence of the watauga fort, in conjunction with captain james robertson, so known and distinguished in the early history of middle tennessee, he espied a young lady, of tall and erect stature, running rapidly towards the fort, closely pursued by indians, and her approach to the gate cut off by the savage enemy. her cruel pursuers were doubtless confident of securing a captive or a victim to their blood-thirty purposes; but, turning suddenly, she eluded the savages, leaped the palisades of the fort at another point, and gracefully fell into the arms of captain john sevier. this remarkably active and resolute woman was miss catharine sherrill, who, in a few years after this sudden leap and rescue, became the devoted and heroic wife of the gallant captain and future colonel, general, governor and people's friend, john sevier. she became the mother of ten children, who could gratefully rise up and call her blessed. during sevier's visit to his family in virginia in , governor dunmore gave him a captain's commission. through his own exertions he raised a company and was in the sanguinary battle of point pleasant, on the kenhawa, in which james robertson and valentine sevier actively participated. the first settlers on the holston, watauga and other tributary streams, were so far beyond the influence of the state laws of north carolina as to induce them in to form a temporary government for their better protection and security. the people enjoyed the advantages of this "watauga government," as it was called, from until , at which date colonel sevier procured the establishment of courts and the extension of state laws over "washington district," then in north carolina, embracing an interesting section of country in which he and other pioneers of civilization had cast their lots. these hardy pioneers opened roads across the mountains, felled the forests, built forts and houses, subdued the earth, and began rapidly to replenish it, for they married and were given in marriage. the state of north carolina, several years afterward, with a motherly forgiveness, passed laws to confirm marriages and other deeds of these wayward children in the wilderness. colonel sevier served in the expedition under colonel christian to chastise the indians for their numerous murders and depredations. in , he raised troops, entered the indian territory, and fought the successful battle of boyd's creek. a few days after this battle, he was joined by colonel arthur campbell with a virginia regiment, and colonel isaac shelby with troops from sullivan county, then in north carolina. these active officers scoured the cherokee country, scattered hostile bands, destroyed most of the indian towns, and, after inflicting this severe chastisement, returned to their homes with greater assurance of peace and security. the former part of the year , was one of gloom and despondency in the southern states. charleston surrendered, gates defeated, and other minor reverses; tories becoming daring and insolent; the british overrunning south carolina and georgia; the indians upon the borders, bribed and inflamed against the americans--all tended to increase the gloom and darken the prospect of achieving our independence. but amidst all the obscurity which shrouded the sun of american independence, there was a gallant band of patriots in the mountains of north carolina and upper south carolina, who never quailed in duty before the enemy, struck a severe blow at every opportune moment, and never despaired of final success. in the brilliant victory of king's mountain, col. sevier, with his regiment, displayed the most consummate bravery. in june of the same year, he marched into south carolina and assisted col. mcdowell and other officers in the successful battle of musgrove's mill. in , colonel sevier was appointed by general greene a commissioner to treat with the chiefs of the cherokees and other tribes of indians, which trust he faithfully performed. during the years and , he was almost constantly engaged in leading expeditions into the cherokee country. on the th of december, , a convention of five delegates from each county of the extreme western portion of north carolina, met at jonesboro, now in tennessee, of which body col. sevier was made president. they formed a constitution for a new state, to be called "frankland," which was to be received or rejected by another body of similar powers, "fresh from the people," to meet at greenville in november . this anomalous state of things, as might be expected, caused governor caswell, who was both a soldier and a statesman, to issue his proclamation "against this lawless thirst for power." the prescribed limits of this sketch forbid a full recital of all the angry discussions and violent acts of the opposing parties which unfortunately, for about three years, seriously disturbed the peace and welfare of western north carolina. in , colonel sevier was elected the senator from greene county to the legislature of north carolina. in , he was elected a member of congress. he was twice elected governor of tennessee. in , he was elected a representative to congress, and in , re-elected to the same position. in , he was appointed by president madison a commissioner to adjust difficulties with the creek indians. whilst engaged in the performance of this arduous duty, he was taken seriously ill, and soon thereafter died near fort decatur, ala., on the th of september, , aged about eighty-one years. gen. gaines, then in command of the regular troops near that place, though quite ill at the time, paid the last sad tribute of respect to a brave fellow-soldier, and had him buried with the honors of war. general william lenoir. general william lenoir was born in brunswick county, virginia, on the th of may, . he was of french (huguenot) descent, and the youngest of a family of ten children. when he was about eight years old his father removed to a place near tarboro, n.c., where he resided until his death, a short time afterward. he received no other education than his own limited means and personal exertions enabled him to procure. when about twenty years of age he married ann ballard, of halifax, n.c.--a lady possessing, in an eminent degree, those domestic and heroic virtues which qualified her for sustaining the privations and hardships of a frontier life, which it was her lot afterward to encounter. in march gen. lenoir removed with his family to wilkes county (then a part of surry) and settled near the place where wilkesboro now stands. previous to leaving halifax he signed the paper known as the "association," containing a declaration of patriotic principles and means of redress, relative to the existing troubles with great britain. soon after his removal to surry he was appointed a member of the "committee of safety" for that county. he took an early and active part in repelling the depredating and murderous incursions of the cherokee indians upon the frontier settlements. in this kind of service he was actively engaged until the celebrated expedition, under gen. rutherford, completely subdued the indians, and compelled them to sue for peace. from the termination of this campaign, in which he acted as a lieutenant under captain benjamin cleaveland, to the one projected against major ferguson, he was almost constantly engaged in capturing and suppressing the tories, who, at that time, were assuming great boldness, and molesting the persons and property of the whig inhabitants. in the expedition to king's mountain gen. lenoir held the appointment of captain in colonel cleaveland's regiment, which united with the other whig forces at the head of the catawba river. when it was ascertained it would be impossible to overtake ferguson, now evidently showing signs of fear, with the footmen, it was decided by a council of the officers, that as many as could procure horses should do so, and thus, as mounted infantry, advance rapidly upon the retreating enemy. accordingly, gen. lenoir and his company offered their services, joined the select spartan band of _nine hundred and ten_ brave spirits, and pressed forward without delay to the scene of action. in the brilliant achievement on king's mountain, gen. lenoir was wounded in the arm and in the side, but not severely, and a third ball passed through his hair, just above where it was tied. he was also at the defeat of col. pyles, on haw river, where his horse was shot and his sword broken. at a later period he raised a company and marched towards dan river with the hope of joining general greene, but was unable to effect a junction in time. he performed many other minor but important services, which it is here unnecessary to enumerate. general lenoir served as major general of the militia about eighteen years. in a civil capacity he also discharged many high and responsible duties. he filled, at different times, the offices of register, surveyor, commissioner of affidavits, chairman of the county court, and clerk of the superior court for wilkes county. he was one of the original trustees of the state university, and the first president of the board. he was also a member of both the state conventions which met for the purpose of considering the constitution of the united states. he served for many years in both branches of the state legislature. during the last seven years of his services in the senate, he was unanimously chosen speaker of that body, and performed the duties of that important station with great satisfaction, firmness and impartiality. in private life general lenoir was no less distinguished for his moral worth and generous hospitality than in public life for his unbending integrity and enlarged patriotism. his mansion was open at all times, not only to a large circle of friends and relatives, but to the stranger and the traveller. to the poor he was kind and charitable, and in his will made liberal provision for those of his own neighborhood. during his last illness he suffered much pain which he bore with christian resignation. he often said "he did not fear to die--death had no terrors for him." he died, with calm composure, at his residence at fort defiance, on the th of may, , aged eighty-eight years. his remains were interred in the family burying ground which occupies the spot where fort defiance was erected during the revolutionary war. chapter x. miscellaneous. lord cornwallis. the readers of american history, and more particularly those of the southern states, will doubtless be gratified to know something of _the end_--the closing career, and "shuffling off of this mortal coil" of lord cornwallis and colonel tarleton, the two british officers, who remained the longest time among them; sometimes conquering all before them, and again retrograding, until their capture and surrender at yorktown, in virginia, on the th of october, . charles cornwallis, son of the first earl of cornwallis, was born in suffolk on the st of december, . he was educated at westminster and st. john's college, cambridge. he entered the army in , and succeeded to the title and estates of his father in . he was the most competent and energetic of all the british generals sent to america during the revolution, but the cruelties exercised by his orders on a few occasions, have left an indelible stain upon his character. it was in pursuance of one of his orders, issued soon after the battle of camden, that the unfortunate colonel isaac hayne was executed by that tyrannical british officer, lord rawdon. notwithstanding this cruel tragedy, which might have resulted otherwise had he been present, cornwallis possessed some fine traits of character, had an amiable disposition, was greatly beloved by his men, and was bitterly opposed to _house-burning_ when the fortunes of war were in his favor. in , he and three other young peers, joined lord camden in protesting against the taxation of the american colonies. mansfield, the chief justice, is said to have sneeringly remarked: "poor camden could only get four boys to join him." although opposed to the course of the british ministry, yet, when hostilities commenced, he did not refuse to accept active employment against america. soon after the war he was appointed governor-general of the east indies, which position he held for six years. during that time, he conquered the renowned tippoo sultan, for which service he was created a marquis and master of the ordnance. he was lord lieutenant of ireland from to , and was instrumental in restoring peace to that country, then distracted by rebellion. he signed the treaty of amicus in , and in was again appointed governor general of india. on his arrival at calcutta, his health failed and he died at ghazepore on the th of october, , aged sixty-seven years. colonel tarleton. colonel banastre tarleton was born in liverpool, england, on the st of august, . he commenced the study of the law, but when the war in america broke out he entered the british army and came to this country with lord cornwallis. he served with that officer in all his campaigns in the south, and by his daring intrepedity, and indomitable energy, greatly contributed to the success of the british arms at camden. he possessed a sanguinary disposition, as was exhibited in the cruel massacre of col. buford's regiment at the waxhaws. in tracing his history in america, we look in vain for any redeeming traits in his character. the ardor of his temper and military ambition received a severe check at the battle of the "cowpens" on the th of january, . the capitulation of the british army at yorktown, closed his military services in america. on his return to england, he received, as might be expected, numerous honors. in , he married the daughter of the duke of ancaster. he died on the th of january, , in the seventy-ninth year of his age, _without_ issue, and _without_ any lingering affection of the american people. the cherokee indians. "we, the rightful lords of yore, are the rightful lords no more; like the silver mist, we fail, like the red leaves in the gale-- fail, like shadows, when the dawning waves the bright flag of the morning." in every history of the united states the different tribes of indians--the native "sons of the forest" and "rightful lords of the soil," from main to florida and from the atlantic ocean to the great mississippi valley--justly claim conspicuous notice, whether considered as prowling enemies or warm-hearted friends. as the tuscaroras of eastern and middle carolina were one of the most powerful of the indian tribes, exercising a dominant sway over much of its undulating and semi-tropical territory early in the last century, so the cherokees were the most powerful tribe of western carolina and the adjoining region, preceding and during our revolutionary war, frequently requiring the strong arm of military force to chastise them and teach them, by dear experience, the superiority and growing destiny of their "pale faced" neighbors. the native land of the cherokees was the most inviting and beautiful section of the united states, lying upon the sources of the catawba and yadkin rivers--upon keowee, tugaloo, etowab, coosa and flint, on the east and south, and several of the tributaries of the tennessee, on the west and north. if to this list be added the names of hiwassee, enoree, tallulah, swannanoa and watauga, all streams originating and flowing through this mountainous country in rapid, frolicksome mood, we have an assemblage of musical sounds, (omitting the hard-sounding _flint_,) only equaled in beauty and soft cadence upon the ear, by the grand and picturesque scenery with which they are surrounded. according to adair, one of the earliest settlers of south carolina, and who wrote of the four principal tribes, (cherokees, shawnees, chickasaws and choctaws,) in , "the cherokees derive their name from _cheera_, or _fire_, which is their reputed lower heaven, and hence they call their _magi, cheera-tah-gee_, men possessed of the divine fire." within twenty miles of old fort loudon, built on the tennessee in , says the same authority, "there is a great plenty of whetstones for razors, of red, white and black colors. the silver mines are so rich that by digging about ten yards (thirty feet) deep, some desperate vagrants found at sundry times, so much rich ore as to enable them to counterfeit dollars to a great amount, a horse load of which was detected in passing for the purchase of negroes at augusta." "a tradition, says dr. ramsey, (annals of tennessee,) still continues of the existence of the silver mine mentioned by adair." after the whites had settled near, and began to encroach upon the "over-hill towns," their inhabitants withheld all knowledge of the mines from the traders, fearing their cupidity for the precious metals might lead to their appropriation by others, and the ultimate expulsion of the natives from the country. the history of the cherokees is closely identified with that of the early settlements of the frontiers of the carolinas, georgia, virginia and tennessee, and all suffered from their vigorous and frequent hostile and murderous incursions. they were formidable for their numbers, and passionate fondness for war. they were the mountaineers of aboriginal america, and like all other inhabitants of an alpine region, cherished a deep affection for their country, and defended it with a lasting devotion and persevering tenacity. little of their early history can be gathered from their traditions, extending back scarcely a century preceding the revolution. _oka-na-sto-ta_, one of their distinguished chiefs, visited england during the reign of george the second. from his time they date the declension of their nation. his place of residence was at _echota_, one of the over-hill towns. of the _tumuli_, or mounds scattered through the country, and other ancient remains, they know nothing, and considered them, when they took possession of the country, as vestiges of a more numerous population than themselves, and farther advanced in the arts of civilization. the several indian tribes in america have been compared to the fragments of a vast ruin. and though these vestiges of a remote period in the past may not awaken the same grand associations in the mind of the beholder as the majestic ruins of greece and rome, yet they cannot fail to excite feelings of veneration for the memory of a numerous people, whose lingering signs of greatness are widely visible from the western borders of north carolina to the gulf of mexico, and throughout the mississippi valley. as early as the year , two deputations attended washington city from the cherokee nation; one from the lower towns, to make known to the president their desire to remove west of the mississippi, and pursue the hunter's life; the other deputation, representing in part the cherokees belonging to the above settlement, to make known their desire to remain in the lands of their fathers, and become cultivators of the soil. the president answered their petitions as follows: "the united states, my children, are the friends of both parties. as far as can be reasonably asked, they are willing to satisfy the wishes of both. those who remain may be assured of our patronage, our aid, and good neighborhood." the treaties formed between the united states and the cherokee nation, in the years and , made provision for those desiring to remain, agreeably to the promise of the president; and they thus became citizens of the united states, each family being allowed a reservation of six hundred and forty acres of land. the whites claimed the same lands under a purchase made of the state. suits were instituted in favor of the indians, and by our courts were decided in their favor. afterward they sold their reservations to the commissioners of the state, and purchased lands in the white settlement, and in the neighborhood of the hunting grounds reserved for them by treaties concluded with the cherokee nation between the years and ; which privilege as a part of their nation they now enjoy. the cherokees now own in haywood county, a tract of seventy-two thousand acres of land, well adapted in the vallies for farming, and on the mountains for wild game and sports of the chase. _qualla town_, their metropolis, is chiefly inhabited by the former sovereigns of the country, among whom are a few catawbas. the qualla town people are divided into seven clans or divisions, over each of which a chief presides. about the year the principal chief of this settlement, by the name of "drowning bear" (or you-na-guskee) becoming convinced that _intemperance_ would destroy himself and his people, determined, if possible, to bring about a work of reform. he accordingly directed his clerk to write in the indian language an agreement which translated reads as follows: "the undersigned cherokees, belonging to the town of qualla, agree to abandon the use of spirituous liquors." this instrument of writing was immediately signed by the old and venerable chief, and the whole town. this wise proceeding has worked a wonderful change for the better in their condition. they are now a temperate, orderly, industrious and peaceable people. one of the most wonderful achievements of our age is the invention of the cherokee alphabet. the invention was made in by _guess_, (se-qua-yah) _a half breed_ indian, his father being a white man and his mother a cherokee. he was at the time not only perfectly unacquainted with letters but entirely so with every other language except his own. the first idea of the practicability of such a project was received by looking at an old piece of printed paper and reflecting upon the very singular manner (to him) by which the white people could place their thoughts on paper and communicate them to others at a distance. a thought struck him that there surely must be some mode by which the indians could do the same. he first invented a distinct character for each word, but soon found the number so great that it was impossible to retain them in the memory. after several months' labor he reduced his original plan so as to give to each character a _syllabic sound_, and ascertained there were but eighty-six variations of sounds in the whole language; and when each of these was represented by some particular character or letter, the language was at once reduced to a system, and the extraordinary mode of now writing it crowned his labors with the most happy success. considerable improvement has been made in the formation of the characters, in order that they might be written with greater facility. one of the characters, being found superfluous, has been discarded, reducing the number to eighty-five. guess emigrated to the west in . it has been much regretted that he did not remain in north carolina to witness the advantages and blessings of his discovery. the bible, newspapers and other literature are now published in the _musical_ cherokee language. the catawba indians, contiguous to our southern borders, and once so numerous and powerful, have dwindled down to a diminutive remnant--mostly half breeds. they inhabited in their palmiest days much of the territory south of the tuscaroras, and adjoining the cherokees. for their general adherence to the patriots in the revolution they have always received the fostering care of the state. they own a tract of land ten miles square in the south-east corner of york county, south carolina. they speak a different language from the cherokees, but possessing a similarity of musical sounds. they gave origin to the name of the noble river along whose banks, in its southern meanderings and its larger tributaries their lingering signs of former habitation are frequently visible, informing us here they once flourished in their simple avocations and enjoyments of the forest, and now excite our commiseration in their gradual decay and probable future extinction. conclusion. in conclusion, the author would remark that other historic materials are on hand, in a partial state of preparation, which may hereafter be published. the history of "liberty's story" in the "old north state," with all its grand array of early patriotic developments, has never been fully presented to the world. the field of research is still far from being exhausted, and it is hoped others--descendants, it may be, of our illustrious forefathers, will prosecute the same line of investigation as herein attempted. for the present, this series of sketches, with their unavoidable omissions and imperfections, craving indulgent criticism, will come to an end. notes [a: bancroft, i., p. .] [b: bancroft. vol. ii., p. .] [c: wheelers sketches, i., p. .] [d: wheeler's sketches, i., p. .] [e: wheeler's sketches, i., p. .] [f: foote's sketches of north carolina, p. .] [g: general moultrie, in sneaking of this engagement in his "memoirs of the american revolution," says: "when general sumter began this attack he had not more than ten rounds of ball to a man; but before the action was over, he was amply supplied with arms and ammunition from the british and tories that fell in the beginning."] [h: "virtue affords no exemption from death."] [i: "beautiful, although dead."] [j: tarleton's southern campaigns, p. .] [k: lossing's "pictorial field book of the revolution," vol. ii, p. .] transcriber's note: inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have been preserved. obvious typographical errors have been corrected. italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal signs=. [illustration: "wheel about, and march back to the house, or i shall shoot," said the tory. page .] sarah dillard's ride. a story of the carolinas in . by james otis. [illustration] with six page illustrations by j. watson davis. a. l. burt company, publishers, - duane street, new york. copyright, , by a. l. burt. copyright, , by a. l. burt. sarah dillard's ride. by james otis. note. "they were men admirably fitted by their daily pursuits for the privations they were called upon to endure. they had neither tents, baggage, bread, nor salt, and no commissary department to furnish regular supplies. potatoes, pumpkins, roasted corn, and occasionally a bit of venison supplied by their own rifles, composed their daily food. such were the men who were gathering among the mountains and valleys of the upper carolinas to beat back the invaders."--_lossing's "field-book of the revolution."_ contents. chapter i. page a britisher's threat chapter ii. the tory's purpose chapter iii. a desperate venture chapter iv. the struggle chapter v. sarah dillard chapter vi. greene's spring chapter vii. at watuga chapter viii. the prisoner chapter ix. king's mountain chapter x. a hot chase chapter xi. success list of illustrations. page "you are grown timorous indeed, evan, if you can imagine that noise to be caused by the redcoats." "take your hands off! i am not to be treated as a prisoner," ephraim cried. nathan did as his comrade suggested, and save for a slight creaking now and then, the work was carried on. the colt darted forward at full speed with mrs. dillard. "wheel about, and march back to the house, or i shall shoot," said the tory. nathan and evan crept within three feet of the tory. sarah dillard's ride. chapter i. a britisher's threat. in the year there was in north carolina, west of broad river, and near the site of what is now known as rutherfordton, a settlement called gilbert town. within five or six miles of this village on a certain september day in the year above mentioned, two lads, equipped for a hunting trip, had halted in the woods. one was nathan shelby, a boy sixteen years of age, and nephew of that isaac shelby whose name is so prominent in the early history of north carolina; the other, evan mcdowells, son of colonel charles mcdowells, was one year younger than nathan. but for the fact that these two lads were sorely needed at their homes, both would have been enrolled either among the american forces, or with those hardy pioneers who were then known as mountain men, for the time was come when the struggling colonists required every arm that could raise a musket. on the previous month the american forces under general gates had been defeated by cornwallis at camden. tarleton had dispersed sumter's forces at rocky mount, and the southern colonists appeared to have been entirely subdued by the royal troops. general cornwallis, now at camden, was bending his efforts to establish the king's government in south carolina, and in punishing those "rebels" who, despite their many reverses, were yet among the mountains awaiting a favorable opportunity to strike another blow in behalf of freedom. it was at this time, and especially in the carolinas, as if the attempt to free the colonists from the oppressive yoke of the british had utterly failed, and even the most sanguine despaired of being able to accomplish anything in that section until general washington should lend them some assistance. nathan and evan, lads though they were, understood full well the situation of affairs, and as they sat upon the trunk of a fallen tree, resting from the labor of seeking food--for this hunting trip had been made for serious purposes, rather than in pursuit of sport--the two spoke concerning the reverses which had been visited upon the patriots. "it is as if we were already whipped into submission," evan said sadly, "for how is it possible our people shall gather in such force as to be able to offer successful resistance?" "that seems indeed true," nathan replied, "and yet will colonel william campbell of virginia remain idle? do you believe my uncle, colonel shelby, or lieutenant-colonel john sevier, have laid down their arms? or even if those three are subdued, is it likely, think you, that your father will rest content while the king's forces overrun the country at their pleasure?" "there are matters which cannot be mended, however brave men may be, and it seems to me that now has come the time when we must say that the struggle for liberty can no longer be continued." "if all who have for four years opposed the king's will were as faint-hearted as you, evan, then indeed had the rebellion been crushed before it was well begun." "but tell me, nathan, how may the americans, with but few men, scanty equipments, and little or no money, even attempt to hold their own against the royal forces, which outnumber us mayhap ten to one?" "that i cannot do, and perchance even your father might find it difficult to make reply to such question, but this much i believe to be a certainty. the desire for freedom has not been crushed out from the hearts of the american people, and while it remains strong as at present, some way will be found whereby we shall have at least the semblance of an army again." "i would i could believe you." "is your mother thus despondent?" "i cannot say, nathan. it is now near two weeks, as you know, since i have seen her." "but think you she has lost all hope? she, who has dared to burn charcoal in the fireplace of her own home, while the britishers were about, in order to carry it to your father, who was making gunpowder in a cave among the mountains." "my mother is brave, which is more, mayhap, than can be said for her son." "ay; had she not been, when your father's cattle were driven off by the british skirmishers, she had hardly called the neighbors together, and by such show of strength recovered the property. with women like your mother, and men such as your father and my uncle isaac, i tell you, evan, the cause of liberty is not lost." "but it would seem as if we were further from our purpose now than four years ago, when a declaration of our independence was read throughout the colonies. then we had more money, and it was not as difficult to find recruits. now ten dollars in paper is hardly worth two cents--in fact, i am told that even the troops consider it too cumbersome for its value to repay them for carrying it around." "that is the case only with the paper money." [illustration: "you are grown timorous indeed, evan, if you can imagine that noise to be caused by the redcoats."--page .] "ay, nathan; and as for gold and silver, we still trust to that on which is stamped the king's image. but it is not for you and i to talk of political matters, when both are really in the same way of thinking; the only difference between us is that i, who was never so courageous as you, have grown faint-hearted." evan ceased speaking very suddenly, for at that instant both the lads heard the hoof-beats of horses in the distance, and started up in what was very like alarm as they listened, while exchanging inquiring glances. "it must be that the british are coming this way," evan said, turning as if to flee; but his companion clutched him by the arm, saying with a laugh: "you are grown timorous indeed, evan, if you can imagine that noise to be caused by the redcoats. surely there are none nearabout here, and even though there were, it is not likely they would attempt to make their way through this wood." evan ceased his efforts to flee, but turned as if unwilling, with a forced smile upon his face. "of course it must be as you say, nathan, for the britishers would have no business here; yet it is even true they may be nearabout, for we have heard that general cornwallis was bent on sending a force into this section, and he is not wise who refuses to take heed of any warning in these times." "you need not set me down as one who makes light of the information which has been brought by those whom we could trust; but i refuse to be alarmed without cause, and the idea that the britishers would ride into this thicket is--they _are_ redcoats! it is _i_ who am playing the fool by setting myself up as an authority on those matters of which i know nothing!" the foremost of a mounted band had come into view, causing this sudden change in nathan's speech, and the two boys gazed in alarm at the rapidly advancing horsemen, for now was it too late to make any attempt at flight. both knew, from reports which had been spread through the country, of outrages committed among even those who were not in arms, what it might mean to fall into the hands of the enemy, who were bent on subjugating the country by any means, however harsh, and they had good reason to expect brutal treatment once they were caught in the clutches of the king's troops. involuntarily the lads clasped hands. although armed, there was no thought in the mind of either that resistance might be offered, and indeed it would have been in the highest degree foolhardy to have done other than they did at this moment--quietly await that foe from which escape was impossible. where they stood the forest was open and free from underbrush, therefore while the troopers were yet a quarter of a mile away they were in full view, their red coats showing in vivid contrast among the green leaves, and before the advance squad were yet arrived at where the boys were standing, the entire company could be seen. fully two hundred men, a goodly portion of whom were tories, clad in the ordinary garb of the country, and the remainder wearing the king's uniform, made up the party. among the foremost of the riders was one clad in the habiliments of a major, and from what had been told by those who brought the information of general cornwallis' movements, the boys knew at once that this must be patrick ferguson of the seventy-first royal regiment. it was this officer who accosted the frightened lads, by asking in a loud voice which had in it much of menace: "what are you two doing here armed? rebel spawn no doubt, who lie in wait to do mischief when it may be accomplished without danger to yourselves." "we are out hunting, and if it please you, sir, in order to get meat for the family," nathan replied, speaking stoutly, although he was inwardly quaking with fear. "tell me no lies or it shall go the worse with you. how long has it been that you of the carolinas must search for food in the forests?" "since his majesty's troops overrode the colony, quartering themselves upon those whose store of provisions was already scanty." "be careful how you speak! i am not in a mood to hear insolence from those who rebel against their lawful king," and the major made a threatening gesture, bending from his horse as if he would strike the boys. evan stepped back a pace in fear; but nathan boldly held his ground as he asked bravely: "think you, sir, that two lads like us may do the king harm?" major ferguson's face reddened with rage, and motioning for one of the troopers to advance, he said: "disarm and bind these insolent cubs who dare bandy words with their betters. they shall talk in a different strain before i am done with them." "would you make prisoners of us who are not soldiers?" nathan asked even as the man seized him by the arm. "would you carry away from their homes two boys upon whom a family is depending for food?" "where are your fathers?" major ferguson asked sharply. "i have none," nathan replied. "my mother is a widow." "and yours?" he continued, turning toward evan. "colonel charles mcdowells." "as rank a rebel as lives in the carolinas. see that you bind them well, my man, for i doubt not these two, innocent as they would appear, have already had their fingers in the rebel broth." "since you are bent on making us prisoners, sir, it is useless to deny that we have done aught against the king, save it be a crime to perform our share in feeding those dependent upon us." "if those who make up the ragamuffin following of _mister_ washington could not depend on such as you to provide for the women and children, they might be forced to remain at home where they belong, instead of hatching treason, and i could then, perhaps, clear this portion of the colonies of every male inhabitant who is old enough to be of service in any capacity. before i have performed my mission you of the carolinas shall understand what rebellion means, for it is my purpose to teach you a lesson." having said this the valiant major turned his horse that he might speak with some of his followers, and the trooper who was bidden to disarm and bind the lads had well-nigh finished with the task. nathan and evan were rudely searched, and with such effect that even their spare flints were taken from them. their hands were bound behind their backs securely with leathern straps; the fowling pieces and the scanty store of ammunition were taken charge of by one of the troopers, and he who had been detailed to seize them stood as if awaiting orders of his commander. "keep up a brave heart, evan," nathan whispered courageously. "do not give yonder redcoated brute the satisfaction of seeing that we are afraid." "we are likely to be carried very far from home, nathan, and it may be that much suffering is in store for us." "of that there can be little doubt; but no good will come to us by showing the white feather, for of how much weight, think you, tears and prayers be upon such as our captor. it would please him were we to give free rein to our sorrow, and i am not minded he shall have such gratification from me." "but surely there is no reason why you should anger him by bold speaking--that will not avail us." "no more than it would if we pleaded for mercy, and there is much satisfaction to be gained by depriving him of the pleasure that would come with the sight of our tears. hold firm, evan mcdowells, as your father and your mother would do were they in like situation, and mayhap the time will come when this major ferguson's grasp will be so far lessened that we shall see a chance of slipping through his fingers." "i have little hope of any such good fortune," evan replied, with a long-drawn sigh, and then both the boys fell silent. the horsemen had dismounted, and it was evident that a prolonged halt would be made. the major gave no further orders concerning his prisoners, and the trooper stood guard over them four or five paces away, giving no apparent heed to the conversation in which they had been indulging. during half an hour the situation remained unchanged, and then came into view two hundred or more men on foot, the greater number wearing scarlet uniforms, the remainder being evidently tories. at first glance the boys believed this last body of britishers had come by accident upon the halting-place; but as the men exchanged salutations with the members of the advance party, it could be seen that they all formed one company under the leadership of major ferguson, and had been temporarily separated because of the more rapid traveling of the horsemen. when another half-hour had been spent here the order was given to resume the march, and an officer in the uniform of a captain brought word from the major to the man who was guarding the boys, that he would be relieved from duty, one of the foot-soldiers taking his place. when the change of guards had been effected, nathan and evan were ordered into line midway of the column, and thus hemmed in on every side they were forced to advance, traveling with difficulty, and even pain, because their arms were fettered. as a rule, the men gave very little attention to these young prisoners, save when one or the other of the boys fell slightly in the rear, and then a blow from the butt of a musket would warn him that he must keep pace with the remainder of the troop or suffer because of inability to do so. now that the lads were completely surrounded by foes, no conversation of a private nature was possible, and in silence they marched on, with ample food for unpleasant thoughts. the only question in the minds of both was as to the destination of this body of britishers, for there seemed little reason why so many men should penetrate this mountainous portion of the carolinas, where there was no important stronghold to be captured. until five o'clock in the afternoon the troop advanced steadily, and then the foot-soldiers were arrived at a small valley where the horsemen had already apparently halted for the night. fires were kindled here and there; some of the soldiers were engaged in cooking, others in caring for the horses, and all so intent upon making themselves comfortable that it was as if the prisoners had been forgotten by everyone save him who was charged with their custody. when an hour had passed the lads were still standing where they had been halted, and nathan said with a mirthless laugh: "it looks as though we might be forced to keep our feet until morning, for so nearly as i can make out food has been served to all save ourselves and our guard." "i am counting on being relieved before many more moments pass," the soldier said petulantly, for nathan had spoken so loudly that he could not fail to hear the remark. "and are we to be starved because we neither wear red coats nor are willing to march shoulder to shoulder with them?" "it matters not to me what disposition may be made of you, so that i am given an opportunity of getting my rations," the soldier said, and a moment later one of his comrades came up, musket in hand, to relieve him. to this last guard nathan repeated his question as to the probability of their being provided with supper, and the soldier replied carelessly: "i am not the quartermaster of this detachment, and if i was i question whether much time would be spent over such as you." then he fell to pacing to and fro, watching his comrades as they lounged around the campfire; but all the while keeping close guard over the two lads, who were so weary from the hunting of the forenoon and the march of the afternoon that it is questionable whether they could have fled even if the opportunity presented itself. "i had expected to be ill-treated," nathan said with an assumption of carelessness to his comrade; "but did not count on being starved. it is a pity, since we were to be made prisoners, that this gallant major ferguson could not have come up after we had partaken of dinner, for it seems as if many hours had passed since we ate breakfast." evan was on the point of making some reply to this mournful remark when from the distance he observed a lad, who, coming directly across the valley, was halted by the sentinels stationed around the encampment. "look there!" he said, in a low tone of excitement. "if i mistake not, it is ephraim sowers, and what may he be doing here among the redcoats?" "it is as i have always believed," nathan cried, forgetting that the man who acted as their guard could hear every word he spoke. "ephraim is neither more nor less than a tory, and i venture to say he comes now to give information concerning our friends." "it is not the first time he has met this detachment of men," evan added, "see! he speaks now with one of the soldiers as to an old acquaintance." "who may say for how long he has acted the spy? when it was told on the day before yesterday that he had gold in his possession, i would not believe it; but now it is plain to be seen that there was truth in the statement, and we can say how he earned it." this ephraim sowers was the son of one who claimed to be "a man of peace;" one who by many a loud word had declared that he believed it a sin to resort to arms, whatever the provocation, and, living a near neighbor to the mcdowells, was in a position, if it so pleased him, to give much of valuable information to the enemy. until this moment, however, there had been no suspicion that he might be tempted to play the part of spy, and his son's arrival at this encampment told the boys as plainly as words could have done how it was general cornwallis had reliable knowledge concerning that portion of the colony, for he had given good proof that he knew who among the inhabitants favored the king or the "rebels." ephraim advanced leisurely, and with the air of one who believes he is expected, until his eyes rested upon the prisoners; then he started suddenly, a flush as of shame came over his face for the instant, and straightening himself defiantly, he walked up with a vindictive smile until he was within half a dozen paces of the two lads. "i had thought that the sight of a redcoat was so displeasing that it went against your stomachs," he said tauntingly, "and yet i find you hobnobbing with major ferguson's men." "it seems that you know who commands this detachment," evan said sternly, forgetting all his fears now in the anger he felt that this lad whom he had once trusted should have been all the while a tory. "i'll warrant you two know as much." "ay; but we are here as prisoners, and you have come as a visitor--one who has seen these men before, to judge from the manner in which you accosted them." "well, what does that prove?" ephraim asked, an evil look coming into his eyes. "it proves you to be a spy, and when we shall make known what has been seen this night, i am thinking neither you nor your peace-loving father will find the carolinas a pleasant abiding place." "and i am thinking that when such rebels as you have the chance to tell what has been seen, the rebellion will have been crushed out, for now that you are here, if my words go for anything, you will not soon be set at liberty." chapter ii. the tory's purpose. until the moment when ephraim sowers had revealed his true self by coming into the british camp as a spy, neither nathan nor evan had felt any grave anxiety regarding the future. they knew full well that the redcoats were not given to being friendly in their intercourse with the so-called rebels, and that such persons as they took were treated with roughness, if not absolute harshness. such treatment as had previously been dealt out to captured americans the boys could endure without a murmur, therefore there was no painful anxiety regarding the outcome of the matter; but when ephraim sowers appeared, the situation of affairs seemed to be decidedly changed. now that he had been recognized by these two, the news that he was a tory and in league with the britishers would be carried to all that country roundabout where he lived, whenever nathan and evan were set free. it was only reasonable to suppose he had some slight degree of influence in the camp, having served major ferguson as a spy, and these two lads might safely count on his doing whatsoever was in his power to have them held prisoners, even if worse did not follow, and it was evident nathan feared this last possibility, for he said in a low tone to his comrade, when the young tory had walked away with a swagger in the direction of major ferguson's tent: "no good will come to us through having seen that villain." "on such a point there need be little discussion, for i am of the same mind, and it will be exceedingly fortunate if he leaves this encampment without having worked us some harm, although i cannot say in what way it might be done." "for his own safety, should he ever count on returning home, we must be silenced, evan, and i am thinking ephraim sowers knows in this encampment enough of his own kidney who would aid him in thus doing." "do you mean that he would dare to kill us?" and now evan looked up in alarm. "he would dare do anything when there was no danger of his receiving bodily injury. but don't let me play upon your fears, for there is no reason why we should look abroad for trouble when we have sufficient of it close around us. we will trust to the chances that that young tory is powerless, or too much occupied just at present, to give evil heed to us." "the last is what we should not take into consideration, for however actively engaged he may be it is necessary for his own safety, should he ever return among his neighbors, to prevent us from telling what we have just learned." "if you refuse such comfort as i try to give, then we will put it that he will be content so long as we are held prisoners here, and who shall say that we may not soon find an opportunity for escape? captives while on the march are not like to be kept under overly strict guard." "where did the tory go? i was so bewildered both by seeing him here and realizing what his coming might mean, as to be almost in a daze while he was making his threats." "i fancied i saw some one nearabout major ferguson's tent beckoning for the scoundrel, and he hurried away as if bent on visiting the commander. i venture to predict we shall see him again before he leaves this locality." then the lads fell to speculating as to how long young sowers had been engaged as a british spy; what might be the result of major ferguson's march through the mountains, and in other ways discussing the situation as if they were to be spectators rather than participants in whatever might occur. when half an hour had passed, much to their surprise, for the boys had come to believe they would not be given food that night, rations were served out to them, and they were partaking of the limited meal with such keenness of appetite and eagerness as to be unaware of ephraim sowers' return until he stood close beside them. "well, have you finished giving major ferguson all the information he desired?" nathan asked curtly, only glancing toward the newcomer sufficiently to discover his identity. "i may have told him some things that wouldn't be pleasant for you to hear," the tory replied surlily. "of that i have no question, for it is easy to guess that you have done all the injury to your neighbors of which your tongue was capable." "i have given the major such a good account of you two that he won't be likely to part company with you for some time to come." "we are not surprised, because it was only what might have been expected after we found you were playing the part of spy," evan said, determined to so far hide his fears that this vicious enemy should not suspect what was in his heart. "i am ready to do whatsoever i can against the enemies of the king," evan replied, assuming what he intended should be a dignified attitude. "his majesty must rest content now, if he knows that you stand ready to aid his officers by playing the spy upon those who have befriended you when you were in need." nathan spoke distinctly and deliberately, in a tone so loud that all might hear, and ephraim's face crimsoned with mingled rage and shame, for he knew full well that but for the aid afforded him by nathan's uncle during the previous winter his sufferings might have been great indeed. "i shall do all in my power to overthrow the wicked plans of the rebels, and more particularly will i exert myself against the mountain men," he cried, in a fury of passion, whereat evan added quietly: "we can well fancy that, for master isaac shelby is a mountain man, and but for him you would have starved. let me see: vipers have been supposed to be the only living things that would sting the hand which feeds them." "i shall sting you even worse than i have already done!" ephraim cried, shaking his clinched hand in impotent rage, and so threatening was his attitude that the soldier on guard seized him, as if fearing the boy would strike the helpless prisoners. "take your hands off!" ephraim cried, literally trembling with passion. "i am not to be treated as a prisoner in this camp after all i have done." "very true," the soldier replied quietly. "you shall not be deprived of your liberty save when it becomes necessary to prevent you from striking helpless captives, and that i would not allow my own comrade to do." "i had no idea of touching them." "your actions told a different story, and even though these two lads be rebels, they shall be treated decently while i am on guard over them." "i will see them hanged, and that before long!" ephraim screamed. the soldier released his hold of the infuriated tory, but took the precaution of stepping directly in front of nathan and evan, as if to afford protection; while ephraim, standing a few paces away, poured out a flood of invective, during the course of which much information was gained by those whom he menaced. [illustration: "take your hands off! i am not to be treated as a prisoner," ephraim cried.--page .] "i didn't come to this place empty-handed!" he cried, "nor will my visit be of little concern to the rebels! i brought major ferguson information that clarke and his men are in camp at greene's spring, and to kill and capture them all will be a simple matter for this troop." "you have dared bring the enemy down upon your mother's own cousin," evan cried in astonishment. "he is no cousin of mine once he raises his hand against the king." "i'll venture to say there will be little desire on his part to claim relationship after he knows the part you have been playing," nathan replied with a laugh, which yet further increased the tory's wrath. "but have a care, ephraim sowers. the men in this colony are not easily whipped into submission, nor do they readily forget an enemy, and if it should so chance, as it has many times since ' , that the king's forces were driven out of the carolinas, your life would not be an enviable one." "if anything of that kind should happen, and i am ready to wager all i possess it never will, you won't be here to know what comes to me, for before then i will take good care you are put where all rebels should be--under the sod." "if the king's officers will commit, or permit, murder at your request, then must they give up all claim to the name of soldiers," and now evan was rapidly becoming as excited as the tory. "it may be you can succeed in having us killed; but the reckoning will come, ephraim sowers, and the longer it is deferred the more must you pay." "i will settle with you first after my own fashion, and when that has been done we will see what your ragamuffin friends are able to do about it." ephraim would doubtless have indulged in further threats, but just at that instant a soldier came up from the direction of major ferguson's tent, and the vindictive lad was summoned to the commander's quarters. "it seems that his footing here is not so secure that he can give his tongue free rein many minutes at a time," nathan said in a tone of relief as the spy walked reluctantly away, literally forced so to do by the messenger who had come in search of him. "it is not his words which trouble me," evan said mournfully. "just now he is in a position to work us great injury, and by yet further provoking his wrath we have made of him even a more bitter enemy than he naturally was." "i question if that could be possible." "yet you cannot dispute his power to work us harm." "neither do i. if he be willing, as it appears he has shown himself, to betray the whereabouts of colonel clarke's forces, knowing full well that this troop can readily cut them down, it is certain we stand a good show of learning how great is his power for mischief." "for myself i have little concern at this moment, because of the knowledge that our friends are in such peril." "and yet there is nothing we can do to aid them." "unless it might be we could escape." evan said suddenly, lowering his voice to a whisper lest the sentinel should overhear his words. "it is only needed that you look about in order to see how much hope there is of such a possibility," nathan said despondently. "even though we were fresh, instead of so weary that i question if we could travel a single mile further, and if we might so far elude the sentinel as to gain the cover of the thicket, it would be impossible to continue the flight two miles, for the tories in this troop know the country as well, if not better, than we." "i was not so foolish as to believe that escape might be possible, but only spoke because my thoughts were with those who are threatened, and my desire is to aid them." "i wish it might be done," nathan replied with a long-drawn sigh, and then the two fell silent, each occupied with his own gloomy thoughts. an hour passed, and nothing more had been seen or heard of the tory spy. even though they were in such desperate straits, the boys began unconsciously to yield themselves up to slumber, and after a time, bound as they were, both were reclining upon the green turf in at least partial repose. when morning came they ached in every limb, with arms so benumbed that it was as if those useful members had been paralyzed. they had slept fitfully, and were hardly more refreshed than when the halt was called after the day's march. scanty rations were served out to them, and to the intense relief of both the lads a captain, more humane that his commander, ordered that the bonds be taken from their arms. they were to be tied together in such manner that any attempt at flight would be useless, and yet the labor of marching would be much lightened. the prisoners had expected another visit from the tory before the troop started; but in this they were happily disappointed, and when the march was begun they almost believed ephraim sowers had been left behind, until shortly before noon they saw him riding with the mounted detachment. "he is most likely guiding the force to greene's spring," nathan said bitterly. "he counts on seeing those who have played the part of friends to him shot down, and even though their blood will be upon his head, he is well pleased." to the relief of both the boys, their enemy did not come near where they were, and it was reasonable to suppose major ferguson, although not prone to be overcareful of the feelings of his "rebel" prisoners, had given sowers orders to put a check upon his tongue. when noon came the detachment of foot soldiers arrived at martin drake's plantation, where the cavalry had already halted and were actively engaged in wantonly destroying property. outbuildings were torn down, lambs, chickens, and geese were being slaughtered although they were not needed for food, and the household furniture which, rude though it was, represented all that went to make up the interior of the home, was thrown about the grounds, or chopped into kindlings, from sheer desire to work destruction. the horsemen could not have been at this place more than an hour when the foot soldiers came up, and yet in that short time they had completely wrecked the dwelling portion of the plantation, and caused such a scene of devastation as would lead one almost to believe that a desperate conflict had raged at that point. "all this must be pleasing to ephraim sowers," evan said bitterly, "for it was martin drake's wife who tended him when he was ill with the fever, and this may be a satisfactory way of requiting her." "have you seen him since we halted?" "no, and i am hoping he has gone ahead with the advanced detachment, for it seems certain all of the horsemen are not here." although master blake's live stock had been slaughtered in such quantities that there was treble the amount of food the troop could consume, the boys were given nothing more than cornbread for dinner, and hardly so much of that as would suffice to satisfy their hunger. not until everything portable had been destroyed, the doors torn from the house, and the windows shattered, was the march resumed, and then the prisoners heard the tory who was acting as guide say that at nightfall they would camp on captain dillard's plantation. there was in this information a ray of hope, so far as warning colonel clarke's men of what threatened, for captain dillard was in his command, and if information could be conveyed to the mistress of the house it was possible she might send a message ahead. this much in substance nathan had suggested to his comrade; but evan failed to see any possibility that good might be effected so far as the friends of the cause were concerned. "even though mrs. sarah dillard can be told all that we know, it is not likely she will have an opportunity of sending a messenger from the plantation. ephraim sowers knows full well where the captain may be found, and will warn major ferguson against permitting any person to leave the place." "if dicey langston, a girl only sixteen years old, could baffle cunningham's band, who gave themselves the name of the bloody scouts, as she did on that night when alone she crossed the ennoree, swollen though the waters were, what may sarah dillard do when she knows her husband's life hangs in the balance?" "it is not a question of what she would do, but of what she can," evan replied gloomily. "thanks to ephraim sowers, the commander of this force will know only too well how eager she must be to send news ahead of his whereabouts, and will take precautions accordingly." "that is as may be. we can at least hope for the best," nathan replied bravely, and then word was given for the troop to resume the march. during the afternoon the british soldiery came upon two plantations, the buildings of which they utterly wrecked, shooting from sheer wantonness the live stock that could not be run down without too much labor, and seeming eager in every way to mark their trail by destruction. it was an hour before sunset when the boys saw in the distance the buildings of the dillard plantation, and knew that the time was near at hand when, if ever, they must get word to that little band whose lives were in such deadly peril. ephraim sowers was nowhere to be seen; but slight comfort could be derived from this fact, for it seemed reasonable to suppose he was making himself obnoxious in the dwelling of those people whom he had once claimed as his friends, but was now visiting as their bitterest enemy. "keep your wits about you for the first opportunity to gain speech with sarah dillard," nathan whispered to his comrade, and evan sighed as he nodded in reply, for it seemed to him there was little chance they would be permitted to hold a conversation with any acquaintance, because of the probable fact that ephraim sowers would guard against such a proceeding. the prisoners were marched directly up to the dwelling, and there, with the windows and doors flung wide open, they had a full view of the entire interior, but their enemy was nowhere to be seen. this, to evan, unaccountable absence, troubled him not a little, for he believed it betokened yet more mischief on the part of the vindictive tory, but nathan was not so ready to take alarm. "it may be that he is keeping out of sight, hoping sarah dillard will still look upon him as a friend, and, in case the captain should succeed in escaping, confide the secret of his whereabouts to him." the mistress of the house was doing all in her power to satisfy the exacting demands of the officers who had quartered themselves upon her, as the boys could see while they remained halted near the doorway. it appeared that such servants as she had were not sufficient in numbers to please these fastidious red-coated gentlemen, and they had insisted that mrs. dillard should perform her share of waiting upon them. now one would call out some peremptory order, and then follow it with a demand that the mistress of the house give it her especial attention, while, despite such insolence, sarah dillard moved with dignity here or there, as if it were pleasure rather than necessity which caused her to so demean herself. on the outside roundabout the soldiers were engaged in their customary diversion of killing every animal which came within range of their guns, and a huge bonfire had been built of the corncribs, near which a score or more of men were preparing the evening meal. a spectator would have said that the dwelling itself was spared only because in it the officers had taken up their quarters, and once they were ready to depart it would be demolished as the other structures surrounding it had been. during half an hour or more the boys stood close by the door under close guard, and then one of the officers appeared to have suddenly become conscious of their existence, for he called in a loud tone to mrs. dillard: "we desire of you, madam, some apartment which will serve as a prison for two rebel cubs that we have lately taken. can the cellar be securely fastened?" "there is only a light lattice-work at the windows, which might readily be broken out if your prisoners made an effort at escape," mrs. dillard replied. "but surely you have some apartment which will answer our purpose? if not, the men can speedily nail bars on the outside of one of the chamber windows." "there is a room above, the window of which is already barred, that may serve your purpose," mrs. dillard said, as she glanced toward the boys with a certain uplifting of the eyes, as if to say that they should not recognize her as an acquaintance. "show it to me and we will soon decide if that be what is required, or whether we shall call upon our troopers to turn carpenters," the officer said with a laugh, as if believing he had given words to some witticism, and in silence mrs. dillard motioned one of the servants to lead the way to the floor above. the brief survey which he made appeared to satisfy the britisher, for on his return he said to major ferguson, who was seated at the head of the table, giving his undivided attention to the generous supply of food which the mistress of the house had been forced to bring out: "there is but one window in the room of which our fair hostess spoke, and that overlooks the stable-yard; it is barred on the outside with oaken rails stout enough to resist the efforts of any three of our troopers, i should say. the door can be not only bolted, but locked on the outside, and in my opinion there should be no need of a sentinel stationed inside the building." "if such is the case, why spend so much breath in describing the dungeon," major ferguson said with a laugh. "it is enough for our purpose if the lads cannot break out, and the sooner they are lodged within the sooner you will be ready to hold your peace, thus giving me an opportunity of enjoying this admirable game pie. put the rebels away and sit down here, for it may be many days before another such chance presents itself." word was passed to the soldier who had the prisoners in charge for him to take them to the upper floor, and this trifling matter having been arranged, the gallant british officers turned their attention once more to converting their hostess into a servant. chapter iii. a desperate venture. the meaning look which mrs. dillard had bestowed upon the prisoners, brief though it was, sufficed to revive their spirits wonderfully. not that there was any promise in it; but it showed they were recognized by the hostess and, knowing her as they did, the boys knew that if there was a loophole of escape for them she would point it out. while preceding the soldier up the stairs it was much as though they were guests in sarah dillard's home, and there came with the fancy a certain sense of relief and security such as had not been theirs for many hours. the apartment selected to serve as prison was by no means dismal; it was cleanly, like unto every other portion of sarah dillard's home, and sufficiently large to permit of moderate exercise, with a barred window overlooking the stable-yard which allowed all that took place in the rear of the dwelling to be seen. "i shouldn't mind being a rebel myself for a few hours in order to get such quarters as these," the soldier said as he followed the boys into the chamber. "not a bad place in which to spend the night." "with a couple of blankets a body might be very comfortable," nathan replied in a cheery tone, for despite the dangers which threatened that little band at greene's spring, despite ephraim sowers' avowed enmity and probable ability to do harm, despite the fact that he was a prisoner, this enforced visit to captain dillard's house was so much like a home-coming that his spirits were raised at once. "and you have the effrontery to ask for blankets after getting such a prison as makes a soldier's mouth water," the britisher said with a certain rough good-nature in his tone. "you rebels have a precious queer idea of this sort of business, if you can complain because of lack of blankets." "i am not complaining," nathan replied with a laugh. "of course there is no situation which cannot be bettered in some way, and i was simply speaking of how this might be improved. we are satisfied with it, however, as it is." "and so you had better be, for i am thinking there are not two rebel prisoners as comfortably bottled up, and by this time to-morrow night you will be wishing yourselves back," replied the guard. then the soldier locked and barred the door on the outside, trying it again and again to make certain it could not readily be forced open, and a few seconds later the sound of his footsteps told that the boys were comparatively alone for the time being. now was come the moment when they should make known the danger which threatened the friends of freedom through ephraim sowers' perfidy, for every second might be precious if a warning message could be sent, and involuntarily both the lads ran to the window, looking eagerly out through the bars in the hope of seeing some member of the household whose attention might be attracted. major ferguson's subordinates were not so careless as to allow their prisoners many opportunities of such a nature. all the servants, and in fact every person on the plantation, was kept busily engaged waiting upon the redcoats, a goodly number of whom could be seen in the stable-yards, which knowledge caused evan to say mournfully: "we are not like to get speech with any one who could carry word to greene's spring. it stands to reason ephraim sowers has warned the britishers that such an attempt might be made, and you may be certain, nathan, no one can leave the plantation without major ferguson's permission." "it is possible he can prevent a message being carried; but i shall not give up hope yet awhile." "before many hours have passed the troop, or at least a portion of it, will set out to slaughter our friends. i would i knew where that tory spy was at this moment!" "most likely he has gone ahead to make sure his victims do not escape. we shall hear of him again 'twixt now and daybreak." "i am afraid so," evan replied with a long-drawn sigh, and then, leaning his forehead against the wooden bars, he gazed out longingly in the direction his feet would have taken had he been at liberty. with two hours' start he might save the lives, perhaps of a hundred men, all of whom could be accounted his friends, and yet because of one lad's wickedness that little band of patriots was in imminent danger of being massacred. from the apartments below the coarse laugh and coarser jest of a britisher could be heard, telling that the enemy were still bent on making themselves as obnoxious to the inmates of the household as was possible, while now and then from the outside came sounds of the splintering of wood or the cackling of poultry as the soldiery continued their work of wanton destruction. both officers and men grew more nearly quiet as the shadows of night began to lengthen. the britishers were weary with asserting their pretended right as victors, and the stable-yard was well-nigh deserted of its redcoated occupants. the young prisoners were standing near the window in silence, when a slight noise as of some animal scratching at the door attracted their attention, and instantly the same thought came into the mind of each. sarah dillard, freed for the time being from the exacting demands of the unwelcome visitors, had come, perchance, to point out some way of escape. now was arrived the moment when they might reveal to this brave woman the dangers which threatened, and yet for the instant nathan hesitated so to do, because it appeared to him that he would be distressing her needlessly, since it was hardly probable she could find means of conveying the warning to those in peril. by making her acquainted with all that threatened he would be doing no more than to increase her distress of mind. evan, however, was not looking so far into the future. he only realized that perhaps now was the moment when he would make known ephraim sowers' perfidy, and crept noiselessly toward the door, whispering eagerly: "is that you, mistress dillard?" "yes, boys, and i have come in the almost vain hope that it may be possible to serve you, although i know not how. when did you fall into the hands of the enemy?" "have you seen ephraim sowers here?" evan asked, heeding not the question. "no. has he also been made prisoner?" "it is far worse than that. he is a spy in the service of the redcoats, and has revealed to them the whereabouts of colonel clarke's band." "that is impossible, for the entire company were here not more than eight hours ago, and with them was my husband." "then the miserable spy is mistaken, and these britishers will have their journey for their pains," nathan whispered in a tone of intense relief. "ephraim has told major ferguson that they were encamped at greene's spring, and there----" "and it is to greene's spring they are going!" mrs. dillard cried unconsciously loud. "how could any spy have learned of their intended movements?" "you must remember that ephraim sowers has not been looked upon as a spy. perchance no one except the britishers knew it until we two saw him coming into the camp where we were prisoners," and nathan spoke hurriedly. "it is not for us to speculate how our friends have been betrayed; but to give the warning to them without loss of time." mrs. dillard did not reply immediately, and the prisoners could well fancy that she was trying to decide how the danger might best be warded off. "is it not possible for you to release us?" nathan asked after a brief pause. "if either evan or i were at liberty we might be able, by rapid running, to cover the distance between here and greene's springs before the redcoats could arrive there, for it is not likely they will start very early in the night." "to escape from the window while the soldiers are in the stable-yard is impossible," mrs. dillard replied, much as though speaking to herself, "and as for getting you out by this way i am powerless. one of the officers has a key to the door, and even if it was in our possession, there is little chance you could make your way through the house secretly." "but something must be done, and at once," nathan whispered in an agony of apprehension, and at that moment the sound of footsteps on the floor below caused mrs. dillard to beat a retreat. the boys could hear the swish of her garments as she ran through the hallway, and it was as if the good woman had no more than hidden herself from view before the heavy footsteps of a man on the stairs told that some one of the britishers was coming to make certain the prisoners were securely confined. creeping noiselessly away from the door lest the redcoat should enter and find them in a position which betokened that they had been holding converse with some one on the outside, the lads remained silent and motionless until the noise of footsteps told that this cautious britisher, having satisfied himself all was as it should be, had returned to the floor below. then the lads stole softly back near the door where they awaited the coming of the woman whom they hoped might show them the way to freedom, even though at the time it seemed impossible she could do so. the moments passed like hours while she remained absent, and then once more they heard a faint scratching at the door which told of her return. "tell me all you know regarding this boy sowers being a spy," mrs. dillard whispered when she was once more where private conversation could be carried on, and nathan said nervously: "why speak of him at a time when every moment is precious? instead of giving such as that villain a place in our thoughts we should be trying to form some plan whereby the lives of our friends may be saved." "it is yet too early in the night for us to make any move," the brave woman replied as if her mind was already made up to a course of action. "until the men have quieted down somewhat we cannot so much as cross the yard without being challenged, and i would know all that may be told before setting out for greene's spring." "do you count on making such a venture?" evan asked in surprise. "some one must do it, and since i cannot set you free, i must act as messenger." "but there is hardly one chance in a hundred you will succeed." "yet i shall try to take advantage of that hundredth chance." "but how may you get there? it is twenty miles over a rough mountain road." "even though it were ten times as far, and the peril greater an hundredfold, do you not think i would brave it in the hope of saving the lives of those brave men?" evan ceased to find objections to her plan; but asked how she might be able to make the journey. "there is in the stable a colt which the britishers will hardly attempt to drive away because he has not yet been broken. i shall do my best at riding him, and trust in the good god for protection." nathan was not a cowardly lad; his acquaintances spoke of him as one having much courage, and yet he trembled at the thought of this woman attempting to bridle an unbroken colt, and then ride him twenty miles over the rough mountain roads where only the steadiest of horses might safely be used. he would have said something in the hope of dissuading her from her purpose; but it was as if his tongue refused its office, for sarah dillard would ride that night not only to save a hundred or more friends of freedom, but to save the life of her husband. "tell me all you know of the spy, so that i may warn our people against him with fair proof." neither evan nor nathan made any attempt at giving advice; the woman's courage so far eclipsed theirs that it was as if she should command and they obey--as if they had no right even to offer a suggestion. obedient to her wishes they repeated all they had heard the vindictive tory say, and described in detail his reception at major ferguson's camp. "if you could only take us with you, or what would be better, so manage it that we might go in your stead," nathan said when his account of ephraim sowers was brought to an end. "i would willingly do so if it might be possible; but i can see no way to accomplish such a purpose." "yet there are many chances against your being able to ride the colt, however willing you may be," evan said, as if hoping such suggestion might cause her to devise another means of forwarding the warning. "i know full well how many chances there are against success, and yet because it is the only hope, i shall venture." but little conversation was indulged in after this assertion, which seemed prompted by despair. nathan told the brave woman all he knew regarding the most direct path through the thicket to the american encampment, and evan warned her to be on the alert for sowers nearabout the spring, where both he and his comrade believed the spy had gone to make certain his intended victims did not escape. then all fell silent as if awed by the dangers which were to be voluntarily encountered, and presently the boys knew from the faint sounds that sarah dillard had stolen swiftly away without so much as a word of adieu. "she will never be able to get an unbroken colt out of the stable, even if she succeeds in bridling him," evan whispered, and nathan replied with a certain hopefulness in his tone, although he was far from believing the venture might succeed: "it is possible the task may be accomplished. i have more faith in her gaining the mastery of the colt for a certain time than i have of her being able to keep him on the trail. there are many places 'twixt here and greene's spring where a single misstep, such as an untrained animal is likely to make, will send them both into eternity." as if by a common impulse the boys moved toward the window, and there stood gazing out, waiting for the appearance of the brave woman who had not only to master an untamed horse, but to keep herself concealed from view while surrounded by enemies. the troopers' steeds had been stabled in the huge barns to the right of the dwelling, where were kept the draft animals, and, as the boys well knew, captain dillard's saddle horses and the colt to which his wife had referred, were housed in the small building directly across the stable-yard from the improvised prison. this particular portion of the plantation appeared to be entirely abandoned by redcoats; but the officers in the dwelling were so near at hand that any unusual noise in or around the yard would immediately attract their attention, even though the sentinels were remiss in their duty, and it seemed well-nigh impossible that sarah dillard could so much as lead the most steady animal out into the open without betraying her movements to the enemy. "she won't be able to bridle the colt without something of a fight," evan said half to himself, and nathan added as if he would find some ray of hope in the gloom which surrounded them: "it is fortunate that the stable has no floor, and the colt may do considerable prancing around without giving an alarm." "yet it is not likely she can ride him out without a certain amount of noise." "i know the venture is a desperate one," nathan replied mournfully; "but i am forcing myself to believe it may succeed." at this instant a dark form was seen moving cautiously around the corner of the house in the direction of the small stable, and the boys knew that the desperate venture was begun. although the night had fully come it was not so dark but that surrounding objects could be seen with reasonable distinctness, and from the moment sarah dillard thus came in view the prisoners were able to follow her every movement. no frontiersman could have made his way across the yard with less noise than she did; not so much as the breaking of a twig betrayed her movements, and if this stealing out of the house had been the only difficult part of her task, then one might say she would accomplish it readily. the boys hardly dared to breathe as she came from the shadows of the building, moving with reasonable rapidity across the yard until she was lost to view in the gloom of the stable, and then, although no creaking of hinges betrayed her purpose, both knew she had effected an entrance. it was only the easiest portion of the work which had been accomplished, however, and the prisoners stood with every nerve strained to its utmost tension as they listened for what would betoken that the struggle with the untamed animal had begun. once, just for an instant, they saw her form at the door, and then she suddenly disappeared as if the colt had pulled her back; but as yet, even though on the alert, they could hear nothing unusual, and unless the british officers grew suspicious because of her absence, she was yet in safety. one, two, three moments passed almost as if they were hours, and then the brave woman could be seen fondling and petting the colt, who already wore the bridle, as she peered out from the doorway to learn if the coast was yet clear. "she has bridled him, and without making a noise," evan whispered in a tone of astonishment. "it was easier to do that in the darkness than it would have been in the light, and if she is wise she will mount inside, instead of trying to do so out here." it was as if nathan had no more than spoken when with a bound the colt, bearing on his back the woman who was risking her life to save her husband, came over the threshold, rearing straight up on his hind feet until there seemed every danger he would topple backward; but yet his rider kept her seat. "i had never believed a woman could do that," evan exclaimed in a whisper. "perhaps this one might not have been able to but for the necessity. it hardly seems possible she can get out of the yard without detection, for the sound of his hoofs as he rears and plunges must of necessity bring the redcoats out in the belief that their own horses have been stampeded." the colt struggled desperately to free himself from the strange burden upon his back, and yet, singularly enough, never once did he come down upon the ground with sufficient force to cause alarm. he alternately reared and plunged while one might have counted ten, his rider clinging to him meanwhile as if she had been strapped securely down, and then with a bound he cleared the stack of brush which was piled just behind the stable, disappearing an instant later amid the forest, which on this side the plantation had been left standing within a hundred yards of the dwelling. "she is off, and headed in the right direction," nathan said in a tone of amazement, as if it was almost incredible the feat had been accomplished, and the words were no more than uttered before out of the house came trooping half a dozen men, alarmed by the thud of the animal's hoofs. "they have heard her," evan cried in an agony of apprehension, "and now the chase will begin, for they must understand what her purpose is in thus running away." fortunately for the safety of that little band at greene's spring, the britishers were not so well informed by the noise of all that had taken place as evan believed. the thud of the colt's feet had simply caused them to believe there might be a disturbance among their own animals, and they were very far from suspecting the real truth of the matter. they went hurriedly toward the barns wherein their horses were stabled, however, and seeing this both the boys believed that chase was about to be given. "if she can keep the colt straight on the course, i have no fear they will overtake her," nathan said, much as though speaking to himself; "but it is not probable the beast will be so tractable." now the prisoners watched in anxious suspense to see the first of the troop ride out in pursuit, and as the moments passed their spirits increased almost to bewilderment because no such move was made. finally, one by one, the redcoats returned to the house as if satisfied everything was as it should be, and evan whispered, as if doubting the truth of his own statement: "it must be that they fail to suspect anything is wrong. there is yet a possibility, nathan, that sarah dillard will accomplish the task which half an hour ago i would have said was absolutely beyond her powers." "and if she can bridle and mount the beast, i am tempted to believe she may reach greene's spring in time, for certain it is that up to this moment no one suspects that she has left the plantation." "i could----" evan ceased speaking very suddenly, and it was with difficulty he could repress a cry of fear, for at this instant the key was turned in the lock, the door flung open, and as the prisoners suddenly faced around, they saw before them ephraim sowers, looking satisfied and triumphant. chapter iv. the struggle. the first and most natural thought that came into the minds of the boys, as they turned to see their enemy standing in the doorway, was that he had discovered the flight, and, perhaps, counted on doing something toward checking it even now, when sarah dillard must have been a mile or more away. almost as soon as this idea presented itself, however, both realized that if the grinning tory had even so much as a suspicion of the real state of affairs he would be urging the troopers on in pursuit, rather than standing idly there. the young scoundrel remained for an instant in the doorway enjoying his triumph, and nathan found it difficult to repress a smile of satisfaction as he saw the spy thus unsuspicious, while sarah dillard was speeding toward greene's spring to carry the warning which, if told, would most likely save the lives of a hundred men. ephraim, firmly convinced that nothing could avert the fate shaped by him for colonel clarke and his force, was enjoying the situation as pictured in his mind, to the utmost of his mean nature, and the boys almost forgot they were prisoners in the pleasure born of the knowledge that the tory might yet be outwitted. "what are you fellows doing over there by the window?" ephraim asked peremptorily after surveying the two in silence fully a moment. "have the britishers any law or rule which forbids one deprived of liberty from seeking fresh air whenever he may be so fortunate as to get an opportunity?" nathan asked sharply. "hark you, nathan shelby, i am tired of hearing your long-winded speeches, and we will have done with them from this out--at least, so long as i am the master." "so long as you are the master!" evan repeated in a tone of contempt. "we haven't been aware that such was the case." "then you may know it now for a certainty. i am counting on you two trying to escape, and therefore have come to stand guard in this room." "and a valiant guard you will be, ephraim sowers, if your courage is no greater than it was one year ago, when you fled in hot haste from what proved to be a turkey-cock, thinking you saw the head of an indian among the weeds," nathan said jeeringly, and the spy retorted angrily: "have a care over your tongue, my bold rebel! matters have changed now from what they were forty-eight hours ago. you are among those who obey the king, and do not allow sedition-breeders free rein of their tongues." "and now hark you, master sowers," nathan cried, losing his temper somewhat because of the air of authority which this fellow assumed. "'rebels and sedition-breeders' are names which have too much meaning in these days for you to let them fall so trippingly from your tongue! have a care, you tory sneak, lest even while acting the part of guard over your betters, you come to grief! i'm not minded to take many threats from a coward and a spy." "in this case, however, you will take whatsoever i choose to give, nathan shelby, for it needs only that i raise my voice to bring here those who would shoot you down did you so much as lift your hand against me." "and it is such knowledge which makes you so wondrous brave," evan said with a laugh of scorn which did more to rouse the young spy's anger than words could have done. he struggled for an instant to speak; but stammered and hesitated as the blood rushed into his face until, losing the last semblance of patience, he motioned for them to move back toward the window from which they had just come. "if this is what you mean, we are willing to take our stations here without your running the risk of bursting because of your own sense of importance," nathan said as he moved back a few paces, evan following the example. "have a care, however, that you do not attempt to give such orders as we shall be indisposed to obey, lest it seem as if your authority amounted to nothing." by this time ephraim so far regained the mastery over himself as to be able to speak, and he cried in a fury: "we'll soon see whether you dare disobey, and to that end i will keep you busy for an hour or more, until you have learned that i am really the master. now then, you rebels, remember that the king's troops are near at hand to shoot you down at the first sign of insubordination, and take good heed to move exactly as i command." ephraim straightened his body with a consequential air, and stood for an instant as if reflecting upon how he had best prove his authority, while the two prisoners gazed at him in astonishment that he should thus dare trust himself unarmed alone with them. "stand straight and look me in the face!" he commanded. "if the day's march was not enough to break your spirits, we will see what a little exercise will do for you now. keep step, and travel around this room until i give you permission to stop." "do you think we are to be bullied by such as you?" nathan asked in great astonishment. "if you think it is wise, refuse to do as i say, and before five minutes have gone by you will learn the result of disobedience." neither evan nor nathan moved, but stood looking inquiringly into each other's eyes with an expression on their faces which would have warned the tory of mischief had he been less deeply occupied with his own fancied importance. "fall into line and march, or it will be the worse for you!" he cried, advancing threateningly with upraised hand until he was within striking distance of the prisoners, and for an instant it appeared as if he intended to inflict punishment then and there. whatever idea may have been in his mind cannot be said, yet it hardly seems possible he would have attempted personal violence while alone with those whom he had wronged, even though the soldiers were so near at hand. it is certain, however, the boys fully believed he would carry out the implied threat, and without thinking of the possible consequences, or stopping to realize what might be the result if this spy was roughly handled, as if with one accord they leaped upon him, nathan taking the precaution of clapping his hand over the bully's mouth at the first onset in such manner that it was impossible for him to speak or make an outcry. even a stronger lad than ephraim sowers would have gone down before this sudden attack as quickly as did he, and in a twinkling the prisoners held him upon the floor in such fashion that only one arm remained free. evan sat upon his feet, while nathan, in addition to covering his mouth, held his right arm firmly. with his left hand ephraim struck out to the best of his ability, but without accomplishing anything whatsoever, and he was permitted to thus thrash around, doing no harm to any save himself, until he had been thoroughly wearied by the struggle. "i reckon we have got time enough to teach you quite a lesson," nathan whispered with but slight show of anger. "you are supposed to be guarding us prisoners, and the redcoats will give little heed to you for some hours to come. while we are alone you shall get a taste of what you would deal out to others." as a matter of course ephraim made no reply, because it was impossible so to do; but his captors could read in his eyes the threats his tongue was powerless to utter. "i know what you would say, my fine tory spy. you have in your mind the thought that we must in time let you up, and then it shall be your turn, for the soldiers will be called in to perform what you fail in doing. how well would that plan work if we did our duty, and killed you here and now? it is what should be done to a lad who, having received nothing but favors in this section of the colony, betrays to their death a hundred or more of his neighbors." anger had rapidly died out of ephraim's eyes as nathan spoke, for by the tone of the latter, one would have said that he was in deadly earnest, and really questioned whether or no it was not his duty to take this worthless life. "it would not be a hard matter to let his life-blood out," evan added, intent only on doing his share toward frightening the spy, "and perhaps it will be best even though he had not betrayed colonel clarke and his men, for we can have a very fair idea of what he will be, once power is his." "find something with which to tie his feet and hands, and then we will contrive a gag so that it is not necessary to sit over him in this fashion." evan obeyed the command by tearing from the lad's hunting-shirt two or three strips of material sufficiently stout to resist all his struggles, and in a comparatively short space of time the tory was bound hand and foot, with one sleeve of his own garment stuffed inside his mouth as a gag. he was powerless now either to move or speak, and only when the work was accomplished did the boys fully realize that they had, perhaps, injured themselves by thus temporarily turning the tables. "it would have been better had we let him go his own gait," evan said in a whisper as he drew nathan toward the window where the helpless tory could not overhear his words. "of course we cannot hope to keep him here longer than morning, and it is hardly likely the redcoats will suffer him to be absent so many hours without making certain he is safe. once the troopers come we shall suffer for this bit of pleasantry." "they are not like to put in an appearance for several hours yet, more especially if the villain gave out that he would stand guard until weary of the sport." "yet the end must finally come." nathan started as if a sudden thought had flashed upon him, and turned quickly toward the window as he seized one of the heavy bars. "have you any idea that it might be possible to pull that down?" evan asked wonderingly. "hark you, lad," and now nathan appeared like one laboring under great excitement. "why might we not escape? the britishers will have no care for us while it is believed that sneak is acting as sentinel, and if one of these bars could be removed, we might count on at least an hour's start." "but there is no hope of our being able to remove the barrier." "who shall say until it has been tried?" "i am certain that with our bare hands we might tug and strain until morning without so much as loosening one of the fastenings." it was as if this suggestion excited nathan to a yet more brilliant flight of fancy in the line of escape, for suddenly he darted toward the door where he stood a moment in the attitude of a listener, and then retracing his steps, whispered to evan: "it is almost certain the britishers are on the floor below. this tory has the key of the door in his pocket----" "surely you are not thinking of attempting to make your way down past all those who have taken possession of the house?" "by no means; yet what will prevent our venturing into some of the chambers nearby, where perchance we shall find what will serve as a lever to remove these bars." evan seized his comrade's hands ecstatically. there was every reason to believe such a venture might be made, and without waiting to discuss it he began searching ephraim's pockets for the key. this was soon found. a bulky iron instrument fashioned by hand, and mostlike brought from the mother country, it could not well be concealed. cautiously, lest the slightest grating of the iron should give the alarm, the boys shot the bolt back; the door was opened, and they were at last free of the upper portion of the house. it was not safe to loiter in their work, however, for at any moment some one might come from below to ascertain what ephraim was doing, and the boys moved as swiftly as they did noiselessly until, when hardly more than a minute had elapsed, they had in their possession such tools as it seemed positive would enable them to effect the purpose. an old musket barrel, and a strip of oak which went to make up a quilting-frame, were the articles which the lads brought into the room, carefully barring the door behind them and replacing the key in ephraim's pocket. these implements would serve to pry off the bars of the window, but whether it might be done silently or not was a matter that could only be determined by experiment. the helpless spy was watching their every movement, and by bending over him now and then the lads could see, even in the gloom, an expression of anger in his eyes. he must have realized now that the chances in favor of their escape were brought about wholly through his desire to gloat over those whom he believed were in his power. it can readily be believed, however, that the two lads did not spend much time upon the spy. had there been a possibility of taking him with them, they would have run many risks in order to accomplish such a purpose; but since that was out of the question, and he powerless for harm during a certain time at least, they could not afford to waste precious moments upon him. "i will use this bar as a lever, and do you stand by with the musket-barrel to hold such advantage as may be gained," nathan said. "it is reasonable to suppose there will be some creaking as the nails are forced out; but that we cannot prevent." "work as cautiously as may be possible, for we have ample time." the lower bar was within three inches of the window-ledge, and upon this nathan determined to direct his efforts, since it would probably be the most easily removed. the stout quilting-frame was inserted beneath it edgewise, which brought one end some distance into the room, the window-ledge serving as a fulcrum. evan stood near at hand, ready with the musket-barrel in case a shorter lever could be used to better advantage, and, after listening for an instant to make certain that none of the enemy were nearabout on the outside, the boys began that work which it was hoped would open the door to freedom. slowly and steadily the bar was raised upward as the hand-fashioned nails bent under the strain, and then came a creaking as the iron was drawn through the wood; not loud, but sounding in the ears of the anxious lads to be of such volume that it seemed positive an alarm would be given. both ceased their efforts, and stood near the window listening. no unusual sounds betokened that the redcoats had heard the warning noise. all was still save for the sounds of revelry in the apartment below, and the hum of the soldiers' voices nearabout the stables on the other side of the dwelling. "try it again," evan whispered with feverish eagerness. "we have raised it half an inch already, and as much more of a strain will leave it in such shape that it can be readily pushed aside." [illustration: nathan did as his comrade suggested, and save for a slight creaking now and then, the work was carried on.--page .] nathan did as his comrade suggested, and save for a slight creaking now and then, the work was carried on in almost perfect silence until the bar hung only by the points of the nails. it remained simply to force it outward with their hands, at the same time preventing it from falling to the ground. with this removed, the aperture would be sufficiently large to admit of their crawling through, and the time had come, thanks to the spy who would have taken their lives had his power been sufficient, that they might follow on the trail of sarah dillard to greene's spring, if her mad ride had not led her to death elsewhere. "there is no reason why we should waste any time here," evan said hurriedly, nervous now that the moment for action had arrived. "the redcoats may come at any moment to see how their spy is faring, and it would be a grievous disappointment to find ourselves checked at the instant when it seems as if we were freed." "i have got just one word to say to that tory villain, and then i am ready," nathan replied. "do you push off the bar, taking good care that it does not drop from your hands, while i warn him of what will surely be his fate if he continues on the road he has chosen." evan acted upon this suggestion as nathan kneeled by the side of ephraim and whispered: "you can have the satisfaction of knowing that we would yet be fast prisoners but for your having come to bully us. until the moment you threatened to strike i had no idea escape would be possible; but the opportunity has arrived, and we shall take advantage of it. now hark you, master sowers, and remember all i say, for there be more than evan and i who will carry out this threat. continue your spying upon the americans, serve the britishers longer, and you shall be marked for what may be worse than death. when the life of such as you is necessary in the cause of freedom no one would hesitate to take it, coward and sneak though you be. turn about from your ways this moment, or expect that the hand of every mountain man and every american soldier will be against you." ephraim twisted about as if it would have pleased him right well could he have spoken at that moment, but the gag choked his words, and he perforce remained silent however much he would have liked to use his voice. then all was ready for the flight. the bar had been removed, and evan stood beside the window impatient to be off, fearing each instant lest one of the enemy should ascend the stairs. "go you ahead," nathan whispered, "and if when you reach the ground the redcoats appear, do your best to make good your escape, thinking not of me." "i will never desert a comrade." "you must in this case, if it so be opportunity for flight presents itself. it is not your life nor mine, evan, which is of moment now. we must remember only those who are in such great peril, for i have many doubts as to whether sarah dillard can force that colt over the mountain road. hesitate no longer; but set out, and from this instant cease to think of anything save that you are to arrive at colonel clarke's encampment without loss of time." thus urged, evan delayed no longer than was necessary, but a certain number of seconds were spent in the effort to force his body through the narrow aperture, because of the awkward position which the circumstances demanded. with nathan's help he pushed his feet through first, and when half his body was outside, allowed himself to slip down at the expense of severe scratching from the bar, which yet remained in position above, until he hung by his hands on the window-ledge. "the distance is not great," nathan whispered encouragingly, "and you should be able to drop without making much noise. do not speak once you are on the ground; but get behind the smaller stable as soon as may be, and if in five minutes i do not join you, push on toward greene's spring alone." "you will not delay?" "not so much as a minute. now drop." a slight jar, such as might have been made by a child leaping from a height of ten feet, was all that came back to the anxious listener at the window to tell of his comrade's movements, and then he in turn set about following the example. now it was that ephraim made strenuous efforts to free himself. he writhed to and fro on the floor as if bending all his energies to break the bonds which confined his limbs, and so fearful was nathan lest the tory spy should succeed in his purpose, that he turned back to make certain the boy was yet helpless. "i am almost tempted to pay off the score 'twixt you and i before leaving; but it would be cowardly to strike one who is helpless, i suppose," the lad said half to himself, and then turned resolutely, as if finding it difficult to resist the temptation, setting off on the road to freedom. it was not as easy to force himself out between the ledge and the bar as in the case of evan, because of his being considerably larger, and the clothing was literally torn from his back before he was finally in a position where nothing more was required than to drop to the ground. it appeared to him as if he made double as much noise as had his comrade, and before daring to creep across the stable-yard to the rendezvous agreed upon, he remained several seconds on the alert for the slightest sound betokening the movements of the britishers. no unusual noise came upon his ear, and saying to himself that it was hardly possible he and evan had succeeded in making their escape with so little difficulty, he pushed cautiously forward until, when he was within the gloom of the building, his comrade seized him by the hands. this was no time for conversation, nor was it the place in which to loiter. advantage must be taken of every second from this instant until they had carried the warning to colonel clarke's men, or learned that sarah dillard had succeeded in her ride, and nathan pressed evan's hand in token that they should push forward without delay. the direct trail was well defined, and the boys struck into it an hundred yards or more from the stable, when nathan whispered triumphantly: "now that we have succeeded in making our escape, evan, it is only a question of endurance, and we must not think of self until after having met sarah dillard, or had speech with colonel clarke." chapter v. sarah dillard. nathan and evan had good cause for self-congratulations. the escape had been accomplished almost as if the enemy themselves contributed to its success, and so long as the two remained within earshot of the plantation, nothing was heard to betoken that their flight had been discovered. thanks to the fact that ephraim sowers had taken it upon himself to wreak a little private revenge simply because the lads had discovered his true nature, the britishers would rest content, believing their prisoners were secure under his guard, and it might be several hours before any member of major ferguson's party had sufficient curiosity to inquire regarding the young tory's absence. unless, perchance, he was to act as guide for the party who would march to greene's spring, neither englishman nor tory would have use for the spy before daylight, and it was quite within the range of possibility that he might remain gagged and bound upon the floor of the improvised prison until the troop was ready to resume the march next morning. once they were clear of the dwelling nathan and evan wasted little thought on ephraim. when the time should come that they might make known his true character among those who had befriended the lad, then would they remember him to some purpose; but while they were pressing forward through the thicket at full speed, now catching a glimpse of the footprints of sarah dillard's horse, and again being convinced that he had left the trail, it was as if ephraim had no existence. many times before the first three miles of distance had been traversed did they speculate as to the probable time when major ferguson would send forward those men who were to butcher or capture the little band of americans at the spring; but without arriving at any definite conclusion. from the dillard plantation to the encampment concerning which ephraim had given information, was no less than twenty miles, and in case the horsemen should be selected to do the bloody work, about three hours would be required for the journey. if the foot-soldiers were chosen for the task, then six hours would be none too long; but neither of the boys believed the infantry would take part in the proposed maneuver, otherwise the men would most likely have set out before dark. "we can hold certain that the horsemen will make the attack, and i am guessing they will not start before eleven o'clock to-night. they may then fall upon our men between two and three in the morning, when it is said sleep weighs heaviest upon the eyelids, and if neither sarah dillard nor we succeed in getting through to give the alarm, there is little doubt but that all under colonel clarke's command will fall victims." "we _must_ get through," evan cried with energy, and nathan added: "we shall do it, lad; never you fear, for there is like to be nothing that can stop us, unless by some unfortunate chance the troopers begin their journey before we have reckoned on." then once more the boys trudged on in silence until, perhaps ten minutes later, they were brought to a sudden standstill by sounds in the distance which seemed to proclaim the movement of some heavy body through the underbrush. unarmed as they were, flight was their only defence, and the two bent forward in the attitude of listeners, keenly on the alert for the first indication as to the character of this noisy traveler. at one moment nathan would announce positively that the disturbance was caused by some animal, and again he felt equally certain he could hear in the distance the sound of human voices. "there is only one thing of which i am fully convinced," he said after being thus forced to change his opinion several times. "whoever may be out there yonder is a stranger in this section of the colony, otherwise he would be more careful in proclaiming his whereabouts in such fashion." "in that case we may safely venture to creep up nearer," evan suggested. "so far as i can make out, that disturber of the peace neither lessens nor increases his distance, and we might wait here until the troopers come up without being any the wiser." to this nathan agreed, and the two advanced cautiously pace by pace until suddenly, and at the same instant, a low exclamation of surprise burst from the lips of both. they had recognized sarah dillard's voice, and knew without waiting for further proof that her mad ride had come to a sudden and untimely end. now the two pressed forward at a run, slackening not the pace until they were where such a view could be had of the struggling animal and the courageous woman as was possible in the gloom. "who is it?" she called, hearing the advance of the boys, and there was a ring of alarm in her tone which told that she feared the redcoats might have pushed forward to make the attack. "it is nathan shelby and evan mcdowells," the former cried, and gained some idea of the good woman's surprise when she failed for a moment to speak. "step out here where i may see you; but take care not to further alarm the colt," she said, distrusting the announcement even though she recognized the voice. the boys obeyed, and when mrs. dillard had the proof of her own eyes as to their identity, she demanded to be told how they had succeeded in escaping. "the britishers must have left the plantation, otherwise how could you be here?" "if major ferguson's troop had gone we should have been forced to accompany them, else ephraim sowers has less influence than he believes." then, without waiting for further questioning, and in as few words as possible, nathan explained all, so far as he knew, that had taken place at the plantation immediately after the departure of mrs. dillard, asking as he concluded the story: "was it not possible for you to keep the colt on the trail?" "he threw me when he got nearabout this point; but i contrived to retain hold of the bridle, and have kept him with me, although thus far it has availed me little, since i am unable to remount." "suppose you let either evan or i ride him? there will be less likelihood of his throwing one of us." "i question if you could come so near doing it as i can, for he is acquainted with me, and would not allow either of you to approach him." "i can ride any horse that another can bridle," nathan replied confidently, as he went toward the colt, who during this brief conversation had been standing comparatively quiet. it was much as if he had heard the rash assertion, and was determined to prove it false, for the boy had no sooner begun to advance than he reared and plunged in such a frantic manner that mrs. dillard well-nigh lost her hold of the bridle. "it is useless for you to attempt it," she said as soon as the animal had quieted down somewhat. "he has been accustomed to no one but me, and because i had been able to lead him by the halter, did i venture to put on the bridle." "there seems little chance you will be able to mount," evan said after a brief pause, "and every moment increases the danger to those at greene's spring. no one can say how soon the britishers may set out, and there are not less than eighteen miles to be traversed." "i know it," mrs. dillard cried like one nearly frantic with apprehension. "i know it, and yet what may be done? it is certain neither of you boys can come as near managing the horse as i, and yet, i am unable to remount." "would you venture to lead him back?" "to what end?" "evan and i might push forward on foot, trusting to getting through in time." "and there is little chance you could succeed, lads. eighteen miles over this rough road would require certainly no less than six hours, and before that time has passed the redcoats must have overtaken you." then mrs. dillard turned her attention to soothing the colt, and during five minutes or more the boys waited with ill-concealed impatience as he alternately advanced to receive her caresses, and then reared and plunged when she attempted to throw her arm over his neck. "it is better we push ahead, trusting to the poor chance of arriving in time, than to stand here idle," nathan said at length. "i do not believe you could force him to keep the trail even though you succeed in remounting." "it must be done," mrs. dillard cried sharply. "there is no other means by which we may be certain of warning those who are in danger, and the colt shall be made to perform his part." "how can we help you?" the anxious woman looked about her an instant as if trying to decide how the task might be accomplished, and then she said in the tone of one who ventures upon an experiment: "suppose you two come up gently toward him, one on each side, with the idea of seizing him by the bridle. if that could be done, and you were able to hold him a few seconds, i promise to get upon his back." "and perhaps only to have your brains dashed out the next instant." "there is no reason why we should speculate as to the result. i must mount him, boys, and he must be made to go forward. it is our only hope, and when so many lives hang in the balance it surely seems as if the good lord would permit that i should do what at this moment appears to be impossible." neither evan nor nathan believed they could on foot traverse the distance which lay between them and greene's spring before the britishers should arrive, and yet at the same time they had little hope the restive animal would be brought into submission; but at the moment it seemed to be the only alternative, and without delay they set about acting upon mrs. dillard's suggestion. making a short detour through the bushes, they came up on his flank, on either side, while the animal reared and plunged until it seemed certain he would shake off the woman's hold upon the bridle. then with a sudden dash both boys gained his head at the same instant, and this much of the work was accomplished. now the animal redoubled his efforts to escape, frightened by the touch of strangers; but the boys held bravely on, at times raised high from the ground, until it became a question as to whether the bridle would stand the strain which was put upon it. "don't let go," nathan cried as the colt made a more furious leap, forcing evan to jump quickly aside lest he be struck by the animal's hoofs. "don't let go, and we may possibly so far tire him out that mrs. dillard can mount." "she could not ride this beast even though he was saddled," evan muttered, now losing all hope that the message might be delivered in time. during such while as the boys had been struggling with the colt, mrs. dillard stood dangerously near his flanks, watching for an opportunity, and evan had no more than uttered his gloomy prediction when, clutching the animal's mane with her left hand, she vaulted on to his back, seizing the bridle as she leaped. "now if you can head him up the trail, you may let go," she said hurriedly; but nathan was not minded captain dillard's wife should ride to what seemed almost certain death without another protest from him. "the colt is maddened by his struggles with us, and in far more dangerous a condition than when you first mounted. it is madness to think of attempting to make your way through the thicket in the darkness. i implore you to give over the attempt, and let us press on as best we may afoot." "now you are asking that i leave these brave men, and among them my husband, to be surprised by an enemy that knows no mercy, for it is positive you could not get through in time. turn the colt, if it so be you can, and once he is headed in the right direction, jump aside." "shall we do it?" evan asked, for even now it was in his mind to disobey the brave woman's commands. [illustration: the colt darted forward at full speed with mrs. dillard.--page .] "ay, i see no other course," nathan replied, and then he devoted all his energies toward carrying out her instructions. not less than five minutes were spent in the battle between the boys and the animal, and then the former were the conquerers so far as having turned him around was concerned. "now stand ready to let him go, and leap back out of the way," mrs. dillard cried. "then do you press on at your best speed in case i am thrown again, and forced to give over this method of traveling." "are you ready?" evan cried. "ay, when you say the word." "let go!" as the boys leaped back the colt darted forward at full speed, wildly lashing out with his hind feet, and in a twinkling the animal and his rider were lost to view in the gloom. "she will have earned captain dillard's life, whether it be saved or not; but it will be at the expense of her own, for there is not a man in the carolinas who can keep that beast on this mountain trail." "it would have been better if we had not met her," evan said gloomily, "for then she would have been forced to go back, instead of riding to her death as she is now doing." to this nathan made no reply, and while one might have counted twenty the two lads stood on the trail in the darkness as if there was nothing more for them to do this night. it was evan who first aroused himself to a full realization of the situation, and he said, much like one who awakes from a troubled dream: "it is not for us to waste precious time here, nathan. believing that sarah dillard cannot gain greene's spring, we must press forward at the best of our ability, for there is a slight hope we may arrive in time to give the alarm, although it hardly seems possible at this moment." "you are right, evan, and from this instant there shall be no halting," nathan cried, as he set out with a regular, swinging gait, which promised to carry him at a speed of not less than three miles an hour. now, being fully convinced that the safety of colonel clarke's men depended entirely upon themselves, they hastened onward without thought of fatigue, making no halt save now and then when they stopped to refresh themselves with water from a mountain stream. the gloom was now so dark that it was impossible to distinguish any imprints on the trail, and, consequently, the lads could form no idea as to whether sarah dillard was yet keeping in the direct course, or if the colt swerved from one side to the other, carrying her amid the underbrush, where she must inevitably be killed. until they believed midnight was come nathan and evan had pressed steadily forward, and then came that sound which told them all their efforts were vain. from the rear could be heard faintly the sound of horses' hoofs, and involuntarily the two halted. "the britishers are coming!" evan whispered, and nathan's voice was tremulous as he replied: "they started even sooner than i feared, and all our efforts are vain so far, for it is not less than six miles from here to greene's spring." "and our friends will be butchered!" "there is hardly one chance in a hundred but that the surprise will be complete, in which case we know what must be the result." they had ceased to believe in even the possibility that sarah dillard might have accomplished the journey in safety, and accepted it as a fact that the plans of the enemy, laid on information brought by ephraim sowers, would be carried through successfully. nearer and nearer came the horsemen until the two lads could hear the hum of conversation among the men before they realized the necessity of concealing themselves. no good could be accomplished, so far as those at greene's spring were concerned, by their capture, and it was reasonable to suppose much harm might come to themselves after they were carried back to where ephraim sowers might wreak his vengeance upon them. until this evening the young tory had had no cause for enmity save on account of their having discovered his true character; but now, after remaining gagged and bound a certain number of hours, he must be panting for revenge, and it might be that major ferguson would not check him. so long had they thus remained as if dazed that there was hardly time to conceal themselves in the underbrush a few feet distant from the trail before the foremost of the horsemen came into view. the enemy were riding in couples, and from his hiding-place evan counted ninety pairs of riders before the whole of the troop had passed. then it seemed as if fortune was determined to play her most scurvy trick upon these two lads, whose one desire was to save the lives of their friends. evan, who had crouched on one knee when he first sank behind the bushes, endeavored to change his position in order to relieve the strain upon his limb, and by so doing slipped on a rotten branch, which broke beneath his weight with a report seemingly as loud as that of a pistol-shot. instantly the troopers halted immediately opposite, and before the boys could have taken refuge in flight, two having dismounted, plunged into the underbrush. all this had been done so quickly that the fugitives literally had no time to flee, and hardly more than thirty seconds elapsed from the breaking of the twig until each lad was held roughly and firmly in the clutch of a soldier. "what's wrong in there?" an officer from the trail shouted, and one of the captors replied as he dragged his prey out into the open: "we have found a couple of young rebels, and they look much like the two we left behind us at the plantation." word was passed ahead for the entire troop to halt, and an officer whom the boys afterward recognized as a tory by the name of dunlap, who held the king's commission as colonel, came riding back. "who are you?" he asked as the troopers forced their prisoners in front of them on the trail where they might most readily be seen. "nathan shelby and evan mcdowells." "how is it you are here? are you not the same who were taken prisoners this evening and confined in the dillard house?" "we are," nathan replied without hesitation. "how did you escape?" "ephraim sowers was sent, or came of his own will, to make us march around the room by way of punishment." "no such orders as that could have been given by major ferguson." "i know not how that may be; but ephraim acted the part of jailer, and commanded us to do his bidding, which was none other than that we march around the room even though we had been afoot all day." "that doesn't explain how you escaped?" "ephraim was unarmed, but threatened to strike us when we refused. the result was the same as if almost any one else had been in our position. we made ephraim a prisoner, and then, by forcing off one of the wooden bars, slipped out of the window." "then the boy is yet there?" the colonel said, as if in surprise that such should be the case. "ay, if he has not been released. we left him safely enough." nathan believed that he and evan would be roughly treated so soon as that which they had done was made known; but the troopers appeared to think it a laughing matter, and even the colonel who was in charge of the detachment did not look upon it with any great degree of severity, for he said after a brief pause: "ephraim must remain where he is until our return, and perhaps after this night he will be more careful when he puts himself into the power of his enemies. you who have taken the prisoners shall guard them until we have finished our work, and then it is likely we will have more to keep them company. mount, and see to it that the rebels do not make their escape again." the troopers obeyed, pulling the two lads after them into the saddle, with many a threat as to what would be the result if there was any resistance, until nathan said, but without show of temper or impatience: "we are willing to ride, and shall not be so foolish as to resist when the odds are so strongly against us." "we are not in the humor to put up with any more rebel tricks this night, and at the first show of an attempt to escape i shall use my knife in a way that won't be pleasant," the trooper replied as he put spurs to his horse, and the detachment rode three or four miles further before slackening pace. then they were come in the vicinity of greene's spring, and the boys who had already braved so much in the hope of being able to warn their friends in danger, believed that the time was very near at hand when they must perforce see colonel clarke's men ruthlessly cut down or captured. chapter vi. greene's spring. many wild plans came into nathan's mind during the short time the main body of the detachment were halted while skirmishers went ahead to ascertain if ephraim had correctly described the situation of affairs. it seemed to him at this moment as if he must do something toward warning the friends of freedom of the danger which menaced, and was ready to act, whatever might be the cost to him. once he said to himself that he would wait until they were come nigh to the encampment, and then he and evan should cry aloud at the full strength of their lungs, even though the britishers killed them an instant later--their lives would count for but little if these others who were so necessary to the colonists might be saved. a moment's reflection served to convince him that such a plan was impracticable, and in casting it aside he came to believe that possibly he and evan might succeed in getting hold of one of the troopers' muskets sufficiently long to discharge it. anything which would make noise enough to arouse the sleeping men might answer his purpose, and yet he racked his brain in vain to hit upon that which should give promise of being successful. neither he nor evan had an opportunity for private conversation. the two troopers held the lads six or eight feet from each other, as if suspecting they might plot mischief if allowed freedom of speech, and therefore it was they had no opportunity of comparing plans which had for their end only the welfare of colonel clarke's forces. at the expiration of ten minutes word was passed along the line for the men to advance slowly, and every precaution was taken as the command was obeyed, to prevent even so much as the rattle of their accoutrements, lest by such means the americans be apprised of the horrible fate in store for them. soon the detachment was come within a quarter of a mile, as nearly as evan and nathan could judge, of the spot colonel clarke had selected for the encampment, and now no man spoke above a whisper. "this is serious business on which we are bent this night," the trooper who held nathan captive whispered threateningly, and standing so near evan that he also might overhear the words, "and the lives of two boys like you would not be allowed to come betwixt us and our purpose. therefore take heed, lads, that our orders are to kill you in cold blood rather than allow any alarm to be given. now if it so chanced that you struck your foot against my musket, or shouted, or did anything to break the silence, i should consider it my duty to obey the commands, and as soon as might be one or both of you would be past all danger. take an old soldier's advice, and make the best of a bad matter. it is no longer possible you can warn your friends, and the most you could accomplish would be your own death." there was little need for the trooper to make this plain statement of the situation, for both the boys understood full well how summarily they would be dealt with in case they failed to obey any orders given by the men. now whispered commands came down the line for the soldiers to dismount, and for every fifth trooper to remain in the rear to care for the horses. when this command had been obeyed, and the animals tied with their heads together in groups of five, it was found that the man who held evan prisoner was thus detailed to care for the animals, while his comrade belonged to the force which would advance. therefore it was that nathan's captor turned him over to the other trooper, saying as he did so: "if you have any doubts as to being able to keep these young rebels in proper subjection, i will truss them up before leaving; but it seems to me one englishman can care for five horses and two boys, without any very great amount of difficulty." "i am not afraid but that it can be done after some sort of fashion, yet i had rather not kill a lad even though he be a rebel, so if it is all the same to you, pass a couple of those saddle-straps over their arms, and i'll be more certain of keeping them here without using a bullet." the trooper did as he was requested, and the boys were fettered in such a manner as precluded all possibility of escape. with both arms stretched to their sides flight was out of the question, and the hearts of the lads were heavy in their breasts, for they must remain in the rear while the redcoats went on to do the slaughtering. "i could kill ephraim sowers and never believe i had committed a murder," nathan whispered when the two, placed back to back, were fastened to a convenient tree. "all the blood spilled this night will be upon his head, and that brave men should meet their death through such as him makes it all the more pitiful." "there is a chance sarah dillard succeeded in getting through to the spring," evan whispered in a tremulous tone. "i cannot believe it. the captain himself would never have made such a doubtful venture, and surely a woman could not succeed where he must have failed." now those of the troopers who had not been detailed to the care of the horses, were ordered forward, and soon only the animals, with perhaps twenty men to guard them, remained in this portion of the thicket. not a sound betrayed the movements of the redcoats as they advanced to do what seemed little less than murder. even the boys, knowing how many were making their way through the underbrush, listened in vain for the slightest noise which should tell of the progress. a band of indians could hardly have moved more stealthily, and unless the members of the little encampment were already on the alert, the doom of all was sealed. the suspense of the boys became so great as the moments passed that they could not carry on a conversation. speculations were vain when in a few seconds the dreadful reality would be upon them, and their hearts beat so violently that it was as if the blood must burst from their veins. the seconds passed like moments, and yet all too swiftly as the lads realized what time must bring to their friends. it seemed to nathan as if they had remained there silent and motionless fully an hour listening for the first sound of the conflict, or the massacre, whichever it might be, and yet all was as silent as when the troopers left. he began to fancy that both sarah dillard and ephraim sowers had been mistaken in believing colonel clarke's men were encamped at the spring, and when this thought had grown in his mind until it was almost a well-defined hope, the first musket-shot rang out. "the murderers have begun," he said to his comrade in a voice so choked by emotion that the words sounded strange and indistinct. then came a volley--a second and a third, and the troopers who held the horses started in astonishment, perhaps fear, for this was not the absolute surprise on which they had counted. now the rattle of musketry increased until there could be no question but that it was a conflict, and not a massacre, which was taking place. by some means the patriots had been warned in due season, and were ready to meet the foe, as they ever had been. "it is sarah dillard's ride that has saved them!" evan exclaimed as if questioning the truth of his own statement, and straightway nathan fell to weeping, so great was the relief which came upon him as he realized that the friends of freedom had been prepared for the foe. the troopers nearabout the boys were so excited and astonished, because what they had counted on as being a complete surprise proved to have been a failure, that no one heard evan's remark, and the prisoners could have shouted for very joy when the men began speculating one with the other as to how word might have been sent to the patriots. "it is certain they were ready to receive us," one man said as if in anger because the plan was miscarrying. "that firing is being done by men who were ready for battle as were ours. there has been a traitor in the camp." "how might that be?" another asked fiercely. "at the last halting-place we were twenty miles from the rebel encampment, and certain it is no one could have ridden ahead of us." "these two boy did succeed in escaping, despite the fact that major ferguson believed them to be safe in the chamber of the dwelling." "ay; but what does that prove? we overtook them on the way, and surely you cannot claim that they might have walked twenty miles from the time of escaping until they were recaptured?" the rattle of musketry increased, and to the eager ears of the boys it seemed as if the noise of the conflict was approaching, which would indicate that the britishers were being driven back. "does it appear to you as if we heard those sounds more clearly?" nathan asked, hoping he had not been mistaken, and yet feeling almost certain the patriots could do but little more than hold their own. "i am positive of it!" evan cried with a ring of joy and triumph in his tone. "now and then i can hear voices even amid the tumult, and that was impossible five minutes ago." one of the troopers, overhearing this remark, said to his comrade gloomily: "the rebels are getting the best of us, who counted on taking them completely by surprise." "there is no doubt of that," the other soldier replied, and straightway the men began making the horses ready for departure, as if they expected their comrades would come back in full flight, and need the means of continuing it. when five minutes more had passed there was no longer any question as to the result of the combat. by this time the british were so near where the horses had been left that now and then stray bullets whistled among the branches above the heads of the prisoners, and the two lads began debating how it might be possible for them to escape when the troop should be in full flight. however kind fortune had been to the americans on this night, she was not so indulgent as to give the lads their liberty. as could be told from the rattle of musketry, the british made a stand after fifteen minutes' or more of hot fighting, and the americans, having accomplished as much, and, perhaps, even more than they had expected, were willing the invaders should draw off if such was their disposition. in less than half an hour from the time they set out to massacre the supposedly sleeping encampment, the redcoats had returned, and, standing by their horses, awaiting the command to mount. now it was that even in the gloom the boys could see how many of the animals were without riders. there had been no empty saddles when the troop rode up, and now on looking around there was hardly a squad of horses where more than two out of five had a man standing by his side. "the slaughter was not wholly among our friends," evan whispered to nathan, and the latter, bent only on trying to escape, said hurriedly: "think of nothing but yourself just now. there must be a chance for us to give them the slip amid all this confusion." he had no more than spoken before one of the officers came up and asked of those standing near by: "who had charge of these lads?" the two troopers who had made the capture replied to the question, and then came the order: "see to it that you hold them fast. there is no reason why your own beasts should carry double while there are so many spare horses; but lash them firmly to the saddles, for major ferguson must have speech with them by daylight." "we are to suffer because the britishers have been repulsed," evan whispered, and nathan replied manfully: "much can be endured, knowing as we do all that has taken place this night. while i am not hankering to come into the power of ephraim sowers again, as most like we shall, it will be less painful now this bloody plan has gone awry." considerable time was spent before the remnants of the detachment began the return march. there were many wounded to be cared for, and a number so badly injured that they must remain behind. some of the dead were to be buried, and the soldiers who had fallen nearest the encampment must have the last office performed for them by those whom they would have massacred. finally all was in readiness. nathan and evan, each on a trooper's horse with his feet tied beneath the saddle, were given a place just in advance of their captors and about midway of the troop. colonel dunlap and his officers set out in advance. the command to "march" was given, and the crestfallen redcoats turned their faces toward captain dillard's plantation. now it was impossible for the prisoners to speak one with the other; during four hours they endured a most painful journey, bound in such manner that their limbs became cramped, and it was as if all the blood in their bodies had been forced toward their heads. the lads were hardly conscious during the last hour of that painful march, and when, arriving at the plantation, the ropes were unloosed, they would have fallen to the ground but for the assistance of those who guarded them. ephraim sowers was awaiting the return of those who had gone out because of the information he brought, and he gave vent to a loud cry of vindictive joy when he saw them bringing the two he most desired to see. he was near at hand when the prisoners reeled helplessly in the saddles, and as they were laid upon the ground the young spy advanced as if to kick them; but was forced back by one of the soldiers, who said sharply: "none of that, you young renegade. we who wear the king's uniform are not a band of painted savages; but men who fight fairly, never disgrace themselves by striking a helpless or an unarmed man." "these rebels belong to me. i was in charge of them when they escaped, and shall work my will on them!" ephraim cried in a rage as he attempted to force himself past the soldier. "not while i am standing nearby, unless you have major ferguson's written permission, and that i much misdoubt you will get." it was useless for ephraim to insist that these lads were his special property, and after learning that some of the men looked with favor upon his intention of torturing them as punishment for their having escaped, he went post haste to the commander. some of the redcoats had given the prisoners water, and in a short time they revived sufficiently to be conscious of all that was going on about them. it was at the moment ephraim returned that they sat upright, and to their surprise he made no attack upon them, but contented himself by saying threateningly: "before this day comes to an end i will have got even with you for last night's work, and you may be certain i shall settle the score with full measure." "since you failed in sending death to those at greene's spring, we can well afford to listen to your threats," nathan replied, and then refused to so much as look toward the spy. from the fact that ephraim lingered nearby it seemed positive he must have received some promise regarding the custody of the prisoners from major ferguson; but yet as the time passed he made no effort to interfere with them, and when the detachment had been at the plantation an hour or more, a messenger came with orders that the two lads be taken into the house, where the commander would have speech with them. "now has come the time when we shall see how far that tory sneak may be allowed to go," nathan whispered to his comrade. "do not give him the satisfaction of knowing that we suffer, whatever he may find an opportunity of doing." "i shall keep my thoughts on sarah dillard's ride and its result, and then all pain will be blunted," evan replied, after which the two followed limpingly (for the blood was not yet circulating properly in their veins) the messenger who had come for them. major ferguson, colonel dunlap, captain depuyster, and four or five other officers were in the dining-room of captain dillard's home when the boys entered, and from the conversation which was being had at that moment nathan believed they were discussing the question of how colonel clarke might have been warned. this supposition seemed to be correct when the major asked abruptly: "after you lads escaped from this building, did you meet any one on the road to greene's spring?" for an instant nathan hesitated to tell that which was a falsehood; but it must be done unless he would betray the woman whose brave ride of the night previous had saved so many lives, and there was only the slightest pause before he replied: "from the time we got away from ephraim sowers until your men recaptured us, we saw no person save those who belonged to the plantation." "when did you last see the mistress of the house, mrs. dillard?" "we saw her when we were taken upstairs." "did you have any further communication with her?" "she spoke with us while we were in the room--she standing on the outside of the locked door." "will you swear that she did not enter the room?" "yes; for if she had been able to do that much, i have no doubt she would have aided us to escape." "did you have no assistance when you got out of the room which had been converted into a prison?" "none except from your spy, ephraim sowers," nathan replied, and then he told of the circumstances of the affair, showing that but for the young tory's vindictiveness the boys would yet have remained in confinement. "will you swear that you sent no word to colonel clarke's forces?" "yes, sir," both the lads replied at the same instant, and with such emphasis that there could be no question but that they were telling the truth. then the officer questioned them concerning where they would have gone but for having been overtaken by the troopers; inquired concerning their families, and such other seemingly unimportant matters, to all of which they gave truthful replies. perhaps twenty minutes had thus been spent when major ferguson turned his head from them as if the interview was at an end, and nathan, with a mind fully made up to make known the threats in which ephraim had indulged, asked: "is it to be, sir, that the boy who would have ill-treated us when we were supposed to be powerless, will have an opportunity now to take his revenge?" "who gave you to understand anything of the kind?" "he himself, sir. he has already boasted that we shall suffer for what we did to him, although it was no more than one soldier might do to another. he was in our power, and we could have abused him; yet we stayed our hands, save so far as to put him in such condition that an alarm could not be given." "i ought to have you hanged offhand." "but we have done nothing, sir, save to escape from one who would have tortured us." "you are rebels, and that is sufficient reason why you merit death; but there is work i would have you do, and for that reason your lives will be spared. i wish to send a message to all those rebels round about who are now in arms against the king, and if you swear to faithfully repeat my words, you shall go free from this plantation within an hour." the boys could hardly believe their ears were not deceiving them. that they should be set free at so small a price, and in face of all the threats ephraim sowers had made, was news so joyful as to be incredible, and their astonishment was such that neither made reply until the major asked impatiently: "well, well, do you refuse to do even that much in order to earn your liberty?" "indeed we do not, sir," nathan cried eagerly. "we are willing to repeat whatsoever you desire, and to as many as you shall say, no matter how far it may be necessary to travel." "are you acquainted with all the rebel leaders hereabouts?" "with nearly all of them, sir; and i promise that captain dillard, colonel mcdowells, or colonel campbell--all three gentlemen with whom we have acquaintance--will put us on the way to find those others in this section." "and you swear faithfully to repeat every word of the message i give you, to each of those rebels who is in command of a dozen or more men?" "yes, sir." "mind, i am saying that you deserve to be hanged; but at the same time i am in need of messengers, and believe that even though you are among the enemies to the king, i can trust you two." "we will perform all that we promise, sir." "and see to it that you do. i am sent into this portion of the carolinas by general cornwallis to crush the spirit of rebellion, and here i shall stay until my work be finished. therefore if you lads attempt to play me false there will come a reckoning, for we shall meet again." "even though we be rebels in the sight of the king, we hold to our word, and that both of us have given. we will swear to it in whatsoever manner may be most convincing to you, sir." "i shall take your word, knowing that the time will speedily come when i can punish you to the fullest extent if you break it. now say to all the rebels in and about this section of the colonies, even though you are forced to travel many a day, that i have come from general cornwallis' army unhampered by any orders other than those to crush out the spirit of rebellion, and that if they do not desist from their armed resistance to the king's commands and take protection under my standard, i will march my army over the mountains, hang their leaders, and lay waste their country with fire and sword." these words he required the boys to repeat for him twice over, and that done, he added: "remember what will be the result if you attempt to deceive me. now go, and see to it that you rest not until the message be delivered to all those in rebellion within a circle of fifty miles. captain depuyster, will you take care that they have safe conduct outside our line of sentinels. if the boy sowers chooses to follow them in the hope of getting his revenge, it will not be in my power to prevent him." then with a gesture nathan and evan were dismissed, and they walked out of the room as if in a daze, for it did not seem to them possible they had thus been dismissed from captivity. chapter vii. at watuga. captain depuyster, who had been charged by major ferguson with seeing that the boys were passed through the line of sentinels surrounding the encampment, lingered behind for a moment to speak with the commander, and the newly-released prisoners were still in such a maze of bewilderment at having been given their liberty that they failed to realize there might be necessity for a captain's escort. they went out of the dwelling, past the sentinels at the door in silence; it was as if neither dared to speak lest the sound of his voice might cause the british commander to reconsider his determination. without so much as looking behind them to learn if captain depuyster was following, for as a matter of fact they hardly heard the command which major ferguson gave relative to their departure, they went straight from the door toward the trail which led to greene's spring; but before having advanced twenty paces they were brought to a halt as ephraim sowers stepped in front of them. "have a care you rebels!" the tory cried threateningly. "don't get the idea that you can run away whenever the fancy takes you, for i am not to be caught at a disadvantage every hour in the day, as i was last night." "if we come in contact with you again there will be more damage done than when we contented ourselves with making you prisoner," nathan said sharply. "stand aside, or it will be the worse for you." ephraim looked up in surprise that the prisoners should have retained such an independent bearing after their interview with the major, for he counted upon their having been reduced to abject submission. he was not to be frightened by their threats, however, now that he was in the open air with the redcoated soldiery all around him; and instead of obeying nathan's command he brandished his fists as he cried: "get back to the house until i can learn what is to be done with you." "we will give you the information without any necessity for your returning," evan said with a laugh, which only served to irritate the tory. "we have major ferguson's permission to depart, and count on doing so without allowing ourselves to be delayed by such as you." "major ferguson's permission to depart!" ephraim repeated stupidly. "step aside, or we may be called upon to put you out of our path with more force than is agreeable." "you lie when you say the major has released you!" "hark you, ephraim sowers; i am not minded to get into a brawl hereabouts; but so much as repeat that word, and i shall give no heed as to the consequences," nathan said sternly. "you and i have a long reckoning to be settled, and i do not desire to begin it now; yet i shall if you are not choice of your words." ephraim looked from one to the other questioningly, as if trying to decide how he might best reduce these lads to the proper state of submission, and then called peremptorily to a soldier who was passing near by: "hello there! here are two prisoners who count on escaping by pretending that major ferguson has given them permission to depart. come and take them in charge." "are these your orders, or do you repeat some other's words?" "don't stop to talk; but lay hold of these two rebels, lest by sheer boldness they succeed in making off." "best keep a quiet and civil tongue in your head, youngster, for i am not minded to take orders from one who does such dirty work as you," the soldier said surlily, and passed on, leaving ephraim crimson with rage. near by where the boys had been halted was a stack of muskets, and running quickly up to them the tory seized one, regardless of the fact that by so doing he allowed all the others to fall to the ground. then, turning suddenly, he aimed the weapon full at the two lads, crying as he did so: "wheel about, and march back to the house, or i shall shoot. don't think you can get the upperhand of me as readily as you did last night, for i am not minded to deal gently with you now." "ho, there! guard!" a voice cried. "seize that lad and let him be deprived of his liberty until he has sense enough to keep in his own station." the soldier who had refused to obey ephraim wheeled about suddenly upon receiving this command from captain depuyster, who had just come from the dwelling, and before the young tory was well aware of the change in the position of affairs, he was being marched toward the stables, the trooper's hand clutching his collar so tightly as to render breathing a difficult operation. "you can go on now, and see to it that you do not loiter, until you have repeated major ferguson's words to the rebels round about." once more the boys set their faces toward greene's spring, and as they marched rapidly away the captain followed them until they were past the line of sentinels. then he turned on his heel, and the two who had so lately been prisoners slackened not their pace until a mile or more was traversed, when as if with one accord they came to a halt, in order to congratulate each other upon the fortunate and unexpected turn of affairs. it is not necessary to repeat here what they said, for one can well fancy how extravagant were their words and demonstrations of joy at finding themselves free when it had seemed positive they were doomed to a long term of imprisonment, during which time ephraim sowers might often play the part of jailer. they hugged each other as if the thankfulness in their hearts could be thus shown better than by words, and laughed loud and long at the discomfiture of the tory spy, who had counted so certainly on making them atone for their treatment of him. in fact, so elated were the lads that their words as well as gestures were extravagant; perhaps half an hour had thus been spent before either bethought himself that it was necessary they should push ahead with all speed, for no rations had been served since the night previous, and food was not to be obtained until they were among friends once more. once the boys were well on the journey, and after the first excess of joy had passed away, both realized their extreme weariness. the previous day was spent in marching. no sleep had come during the night, and much excitement had tended to increase their fatigue. now twenty miles must be traversed, without food, before they could gain the needed rest, and it is not strange that when another hour passed they found it difficult to continue the advance. more than once evan urged that a halt be made for two or three hours, lest they should not be able to hold out until the end; but nathan steadily refused to listen to any suggestions, and they toiled painfully on, stumbling here or staggering there, hardly conscious of their movements. it was as if in a dream that they finally saw that band of americans who had repulsed the british forces a few hours previous, and then all was a blank, for consciousness literally deserted them. during the remainder of the day and all of the following night the weary lads slept. the sun was rising, and colonel clarke's men were making ready for a change of camp, when captain dillard awakened the lads by shaking each gently by the arm, as he cried in a cheery tone: "rise up, or sleep will wear your eyes out. unless i am much mistaken you are more in need of food just now than of additional slumber, and it is time you were stirring." the boys sprang to their feet refreshed by the long repose, and ravenously hungry, but so eager were they to learn the particulars of the combat which they had heard from the distance that neither realized his need of food. "you shall hear it all very shortly; but it will be on full stomachs, for i am not minded to have you starve yet awhile, and it is sarah's right to tell the story." "then mrs. dillard _did_ get here in time?" nathan cried. "ay, lads, else were we like to have been murdered while we slept. and a brave ride it was; but i am not the one to tell it. come over by the fire, and after you have filled yourselves up i will put you in the way to listen to all which i know you are eager to hear." half an hour later, after they had literally obeyed the injunction to "fill themselves up," the boys and captain dillard were pressing on in advance of the american force, to the dwelling where mrs. dillard had sought shelter, and before noon they had arrived at their destination. there was much to be told on both sides, and as the quickest method of gaining the information he desired, nathan first explained how they had left the british camp, and gave all the details of their advance from the time of parting with mrs. dillard on the mountain trail. then it was his turn to act the part of listener, and eagerly did he and evan drink in the vivid account of that night ride, and the combat which ensued. it seemed as if the colt recognized the uselessness of struggling further against the determined woman who was bent on riding him, for when the boys had let go their hold he darted forward straight as an arrow over the trail, and at full speed. there were many places where the narrow road ran along the side of the mountain, when a single misstep would have thrown him headlong over the cliffs, and yet no mountaineer's steed ever traveled with a surer footing, and at so swift a pace. once only did he make any effort at throwing his rider. then, fortunately, it was in a valley where there were no trees, and sarah dillard was sufficiently expert an equestrienne to baffle him. during ten minutes or more the steed plunged and kicked, and then, as if again becoming convinced that he must carry the life-saving message, he darted onward, slackening not the pace until they were arrived in the midst of the encampment. the amazement of the patriots at seeing the hostess from whom they had so lately parted at such an hour, can well be fancied, and it may also be readily understood that, having accomplished the dangerous journey, sarah dillard lost no time in making known the fateful news which she brought. one word was sufficient to these men who were inured to hardships of every kind and accustomed to face danger in every form. within five minutes after mrs. dillard's arrival they were prepared to give major ferguson's force a warm reception, and so sure were the men in their ability to hold the encampment against the enemy, that a squad of four was sent, as escort to the brave rider, a dozen miles or more away where dwelt one in whose fidelity to the cause there could be no question. the colt, so captain dillard said, had done his share in saving the lives of an hundred men, and he should be called upon to perform no meaner work so long as he might live, than that of bearing on his back the woman who had literally taken her life in her hands when she set out on that perilous ride. as to the combat, the captain dismissed it with few words: "we were ready for the redcoats when they came up, and had been for two hours or more. when the horses were picketed our scouts brought us word, and then it was only a question of figuring in our own minds how long it would take them to creep up on us. "we could see the britishers as they surrounded the encampment; but never a man raised his gun until they had their muskets at their shoulders, and then we sent a volley among them that mowed down a full half of those in the front rank. i thought at the moment that they would retreat without so much as firing a shot, because of the astonishment which must have come over them. fancy, every redcoat there felt certain in his own mind that we would be taken wholly by surprise--that they had simply to fire into a crowd of sleeping men, and it would have staggered the best of soldiers to have a shower of bullets sent among them thus suddenly. "they did give us a volley, however--perhaps half a dozen of them during fifteen minutes that passed from the time we first opened fire until the last musket was discharged, and then i can say truthfully that fully half their number was left behind, for, as we figured it, not more than two hundred came out, and we found dead and wounded ninety-eight. as for ourselves, but one man was harmed by british lead, and he got a bullet through his arm in such fashion that he will not be off duty a single day." "we have buried the dead, sent the disabled over the mountains where they will be well cared for, and now stand prepared to meet major ferguson's force again. but tell me what is the message which he charged you to deliver to all the rebels within fifty miles?" "we are to say to those who fight in the cause of freedom, that major ferguson has come from cornwallis' army unhampered by any orders other than those to crush out the spirit of rebellion, and if you do not desist from your armed resistance to the king's commands, and take protection under his standard, he will march his army over the mountains, hang your leaders, and lay waste the country with fire and sword." "the gentleman has considerable to say for himself, eh?" and captain dillard indulged in a hearty laugh. "i wonder if major ferguson of the seventy-first regiment thinks the men hereabout are of such milk-and-water natures that he can disperse them with a word. if i am not mistaken he tried to lay waste greene's spring with fire and sword, and got decidedly the worst of the attempt. it may so chance that he will fail the next time he tries the same game. however, it is not for you to question his method of making war until after you have paid the price of your release. get you gone as soon as may be, lads, and we will utilize the gallant major's paroled prisoners to the calling together of our men, at the same time his threatening words are repeated. you shall be supplied with horses, and i will write down a list of those 'rebels' holding command nearabout, so that each and every one of them may be visited. having repeated the threat, you shall then say that colonel clarke has heard the message, and gone on to watuga, where he awaits the coming of those who resist the king's commands. in other words, lads, we will make watuga a rendezvous, and the time for all to be there is not later than the th of september." "now get you gone, for there be many miles of traveling, and many days to be spent ere your mission is ended and you have the right to call yourselves free lads once more. ride with all speed, and waste not an hour, for the time has come when general cornwallis shall be taught a lesson, or i am mistaken in my neighbors." thus it was that nathan and evan set off on their long and devious journey with no more of a halt than was necessary to relate their story and hear that which captain and mrs. dillard had to tell. to repeat in detail all their wanderings would form dry reading, therefore let us simply recount what was done from that day until the twenty-fifth of september, when, as captain dillard had arranged, the patriots assembled at watuga. they repeated major ferguson's message to colonel william campbell of washington county, in virginia, and he promised to join the patriots with four hundred men. they had speech with nathan's uncle, colonel isaac shelby, who agreed to bring two hundred and forty from sullivan county in north carolina. lieutenant-colonel john sevier, who received them most hospitably, declared that he, with two hundred and forty of his neighbors from washington county, in north carolina, would start at once for watuga. colonel charles mcdowells, evan's father, returned answer that he, with an hundred and sixty from the counties of burke and rutherford, would join the force, and colonel cleaveland answered for three hundred and fifty from the counties of wilkes and surry; but agreed to join force with the other americans somewhere on the catawba river. colonel james williams urged that the force march to the cowpens, on broad river in south carolina, where he would add four hundred trained soldiers to the command. it was not until the morning of the th of september that nathan and evan completed their work of repeating major ferguson's message and summoning the mountain men to the rendezvous. then they were free, so far as the british officer could have any claim upon them, and believed themselves entitled to a place in the ranks by virtue of what they had done for the cause. many miles had been traversed, some on horseback, many in boats, and not a few afoot. they were received everywhere with the utmost hospitality, and perhaps never were two lads shown more respect than they, because of the fact that they were doing, and had done, the work of men, although only boys. they were justly proud on the day of their arrival at watuga, to be received by these sturdy patriots like equals, and to be besieged on every side with questions as to the general feeling among the people of the districts which they had visited. evan's father gave them a place in his troop, and when some of the men insisted that the boys should be allowed to play the part of officers because of the particular and difficult work they had performed, colonel mcdowells replied: "if it is the purpose of the lads to serve their country, they can best do so with muskets in their hands, but if they simply desire to parade themselves before the people in fine feathers, the carolinas is no place for them. they had better go where they can have better fare and more opportunity for admiration." it troubled the boys but little that, after having been intrusted with important business, they were to have no more responsible part than that of private soldiers, for they knew full well that neither was fitted for a command, and it sufficed that the privilege was given them to serve the cause in howsoever humble capacity. they were in the ranks on that th day of september when the little force went out from watuga down the catawba river, and by the th of october, when the patriots had arrived at the cowpens where colonel williams kept his word by marching up with twenty men more than he had promised, it was said among the men as well as the officers that there were no more promising soldiers in the force than these two lads whose first experience in military matters had been gained as prisoners. during this time they made diligent inquiries of all who might have such information concerning ephraim sowers, but without learning anything whatsoever. "don't let that fret you, lads," captain dillard said when they went into camp at the cowpens, and learned from the scouts that major ferguson's force was encamped not more than thirty miles distant near the cherokee ford of broad river. "don't let that fret you. unless i am very much mistaken, we shall not remain here many hours, for there is a council of war being held, and from what i know of our commanding officers, we shall give the gallant major all the hot work he can desire. then, if your tory spy be not weak-kneed, you will have an opportunity of coming face to face with him, for once we have met this gentleman who proposes to lay waste our country with fire and sword, we shall not leave him until after having made the acquaintance of a goodly number of his men." "but ephraim sowers is not a soldier," evan said with a laugh, "and i am of the opinion that he is weak-kneed." "even then the chances are he yet remains with ferguson's troop, for hark you, lad, the tories have joined the major in such numbers that hereabouts in the carolinas are none left at their homes. the spy must stick to his red-coated friends whom he served so well, or have a mighty lonesome time of it by himself. if i had played his part, doing all in my power to bring about the death of those who had befriended me, i should make it my business to keep ever within sight of a red uniform, lest some of those whose death i had sought to compass might fall upon me. you shall see ephraim sowers and have a long talk with him." "you speak, captain, as if there could be no question of the result, once we are come up with the force." "neither is there, lad. we of the carolinas have each a home to protect, and so many wrongs to avenge that there can be no backward move on our part once the fight is opened." "how many men think you major ferguson can muster?" "in regulars and tories from fourteen to fifteen hundred." "and our own forces?" "not far from seventeen hundred." "then we are the stronger?" "not so, nathan, my boy. did we number two thousand the force would hardly be equal, because of disparity of weapons. the king's troops are well equipped, and they bring with them muskets and ammunition in plenty for the tories who join them. we have only such as each man can provide, and some of us so poorly armed that half a dozen rounds would see the powder-horns and shot pouches emptied. but we are fighting for the cause, and they for the king. in that you have the whole story, and therefore this i say: when we come face to face with major ferguson, as i believe we shall within twenty-four hours, we will stay with him so long that you will have ample time in which to seek out this spy who would have compassed the death of us at greene's spring." chapter viii. the prisoner. nathan and evan were enjoying to the utmost this conversation with captain dillard. it is true they had seen him seldom since the first greeting after sarah dillard's ride; but on each occasion he had appeared much as if trying to show the world that he had espoused respect and admiration for these two lads. this was particularly pleasing to the boys, because captain dillard was one who was choice of his associates, and it was often said that "dillard's friendship was given only to brave men." nathan and evan were proud at being seen with this gallant carolinian as if they were his bosom friends, and when a messenger came from colonel mcdowells summoning them to an interview with the commander of the forces from burke and rutherford, they were not well pleased at being obliged to part company from the man who among all the troops they most admired. with evident reluctance they rose to their feet, and while walking toward colonel mcdowells' quarters, nathan said: "i don't think we did any very gallant deed, evan, when we turned the tables on ephraim sowers, or aided sarah dillard to remount the colt. neither have we done anything of which to boast in repeating major ferguson's message, or summoning friends of the cause to the rendezvous; but yet because of all those adventures have we been marked out before the entire camp as lads with whom captain dillard is pleased to hold conversation, and even though we had suffered much, such a reward would be sufficient." "the captain believes we shall come up with the britishers within twenty-four hours," evan said, as if he had not heard his comrade's remark. "ay, and it is said they are only twenty miles away, eager to meet us." "then there is like to be battle." "ay; how else could it be when both sides are ready to fight?" "and shall you rejoice at finding yourself standing musket in hand before the foe?" "of a verity i shall! why not? would you avoid the encounter if it could be done honorably?" and halting suddenly, nathan looked his comrade full in the face. "it is a shameful thing for a lad to say, of that i am well aware," evan replied hesitatingly; "but i grow timorous at the thought, and have great fear lest i shall betray some signs of cowardice." nathan laughed long and loud. "when captain charles mcdowells' son, he whose grandmother has proven herself on more than one occasion to be as brave as the most courageous men, speaks of showing cowardice, there is reason for laughing." "but i have never stood in line with soldiers during the heat of battle, and fear much lest i should shame my father." "you never have done so yet, lad, and i will answer for it that he has no cause to blush in your behalf. put such idle fancies from your mind, and when the hour comes that we meet major ferguson's force, never fear but that you will be foremost among the friends of freedom." evan would have said more regarding this sudden timorousness which had come upon him, but for the fact that they were then arrived at colonel mcdowells' tent, and the subject of the interview for which he had summoned them was so startling and unexpected as to drive all other thoughts from the boy's mind. "you two, who claim the right to be called soldiers, although never having marched in the ranks until the day we left watuga, know full well that the britishers are within thirty or forty miles of us at this moment." the colonel paused as if for reply, and evan said: "we have heard it so spoken among the men, sir." "you understand, also, that we are like to measure strength with them before many hours?" "yes, sir." "while i cast no discredit on your courage, i am free to say that men who have had more experience in this business will be of greater service to us in time of battle than you lads." "but surely, father, you won't say that we shall not bear our share in the combat," evan cried, suddenly forgetting the fears of which he had made mention to his comrade. "it is not my purpose to prevent you from bearing your full share of danger, and in fact i now propose to place you in a position more perilous than, perhaps, would be your regular stations in the regiment. i simply wish to explain why i called upon you for a certain service, rather than men who may be needed elsewhere." the boys looked in bewilderment at the colonel, trying in vain to understand the meaning of this vague explanation, and after a brief pause he continued: "it has been proposed that we send out a certain number of men to gain all possible information regarding the strength and disposition of the enemy. to such suggestions i have argued that we could ill afford to spare even two soldiers, and yet i know it is necessary we should have such knowledge. therefore have i said to those who are associated with me in the command, that we would hold those who had already proven themselves, and send out such as yet had a name to win. the mission is one of extreme danger, and requires most careful work. if you lads shrink not from the task, i would have you volunteer to set about it, for this is a service to which i would not order any person. go, if you can, of your own free will; but if the undertaking seems too dangerous, no one shall taunt you for having refused." "where are we to go, sir?" evan asked. "as near to major ferguson's encampment as may be necessary in order to learn exactly the number and disposition of his men." "when are we to start?" "as soon as may be. there is no time for delay, since we must push forward steadily, and not allow it to be believed that we shrink from the battle." "then it would be best evan and i did not spend any further time in asking questions," nathan interrupted. "we will be off at once." "and you have no hesitation about the matter, young shelby?" colonel mcdowells asked as he gazed at the boys sharply. "both evan and i are ready to do all that may be in our power, and even though the task was one which we shrank from, both of us have too much pride to allow that fact to become known. however, this doesn't seem as dangerous as when we set out about making our escape from the dillard plantation, and there is no reason why we should falter. my only fear is lest we may not be sufficiently well versed in military matters to bring such information as is required." "keep your eyes and ears open, remembering everything which is seen and heard, and i doubt not but that you can perform the mission as well as the ablest soldier among us. it is necessary you exercise great prudence, however, for should major ferguson detect you in loitering around his encampment, he would be justified in hanging you as spies with but scant ceremony." "have you any further orders, sir?" evan asked nervously, for this reminder of the peril they were about to incur was not pleasing. "none," and the colonel rose to his feet as he held out both hands to the boys. a fervent hand-clasp was the only token of parting, and the lads went directly from this interview to prepare themselves for the journey. captain dillard came up as they were refilling the powder horns, and counting out an additional store of bullets. "so the colonel has sent his son rather than risk the life of one of the men," he said half to himself, and evan looked up with a smile as he replied: "when favors are to be bestowed, captain, it is right the father should remember first his son." "and this is a favor with a vengeance," dillard muttered, after which, realizing he had been imprudent in thus voicing his apprehensions, he whistled a cheery tune as if there was no reason why he or any other in the encampment should be gloomy. in less than ten minutes the boys had made their preparations for the scout, and were debating as to the best course to be pursued. "make straight for cherokee ford, lads, and trust to luck for all the remainder. i do not mean that you are to go blindly ahead without taking due precautions; but it seldom pays at such times to map out an elaborate plan, for much depends upon accident." then the captain turned abruptly away, most likely to avoid a leave-taking, and the two boys marched side by side out of the encampment, the men following them with their eyes but speaking no word, for each understood upon what a perilous venture they were embarked. it was nightfall, and the young scouts were unfamiliar with the country over which it would be necessary to travel. they knew, however, that a well-defined trail led from the cowpens to cherokee ford, and along this they advanced at a smart pace, for it seemed necessary the journey should be performed during the hours of darkness. neither felt inclined for conversation. the silence of the men as they left the encampment struck them much like predictions of evil, and they were weighted down by a sense of danger in the air everywhere around them. at near midnight they made the first halt, and up to that time not more than half a dozen words had been exchanged. now it was as if the nearness of the foe revived their courage rather than depressed them, and they discussed the situation as calmly as they might have spoken of the most ordinary affair. "we must have been five hours on the march, and covered no less than seventeen or eighteen miles," nathan suggested. "surely we are that far from the encampment, and it stands us in hand to have an eye out for redcoats, because they or the tories will likely be scouting nearabout their halting place." "and by going blindly ahead we may come upon them sooner than would be pleasant," nathan added with a laugh. "now it is my proposition that we tarry here until daybreak, rather than run our noses into trouble." "father said we were to perform the mission as quickly as might be." "true; but yet he did not propose that we discover the foe by running into their very midst." "we are yet a good dozen miles from cherokee ford, and by waiting here until daybreak will be forced to spend three or four hours before we can hope to see the main body." "if it is your belief that we should push on yet further, i am ready," nathan replied in a tone of content, and thus it was decided that they should not make camp until having arrived at least six miles nearer the supposed location of the britishers. after fifteen minutes had been spent in resting the lads set forward again, and, as nearly as they could judge, it was two o'clock in the morning when evan announced that he was ready to make a lengthy halt. creeping into the thicket a few yards from the trail where they could remain concealed from view, and yet be enabled to see any who might pass, the boys set about gaining such repose as might be possible. one slept while the other watched, and every half-hour they changed positions, so that by daybreak each had had his share of slumber. when the first grey light of dawn appeared they set out for the final and most perilous stage of the journey, advancing cautiously, halting to listen at every unfamiliar sound, and oftentimes making a detour through the thicket when there was a sharp bend in the trail which might have led them suddenly upon a scouting party of the foe. by such method their progress was exceedingly slow, and by sunrise they had advanced no more than three miles. now if the information brought to the american encampment was correct, they were close upon the britishers, and might at any moment expect to see a scarlet coat through the foliage. "we must take some chances in order to push ahead more rapidly, or we shall not be able to return before to-morrow morning," nathan whispered impatiently, after they had literally crawled through the thicket half an hour more, and the words were hardly uttered when the sounds of footsteps upon the beaten path a short distance in advance of them, caused both to suddenly seek a hiding-place. it is well the lads were on the alert, for within a few seconds four britishers came down the trail in a leisurely fashion, as if out for no other purpose than that of a stroll, and evan gripped nathan's arm hard as he saw in the rear of these men none other than ephraim sowers. the young tory was walking slowly, as if displeased with himself for having ventured away from the camp, while the britishers were in the best of spirits, laughing and chatting merrily without paying any attention to their gloomy-visaged companion. it was when he arrived at a point directly opposite the hidden scouts that ephraim stopped, leaned his musket against a rock, and seated himself upon a fallen tree-trunk, as he said petulantly: "i am tired of this wandering around when we are like to come upon a party of rebels at any minute." "then why do you follow? no person prevents you from returning to the camp," one of the soldiers said with a laugh. "i am minded to go back alone, and you know full well the orders were that no man should stray very far from the mountain." "then you are not disobeying, since i'll go bail there's little of the man about you." "how dare you speak in that way when major ferguson is nearby to overhear the words?" and now ephraim displayed anger. "don't pride yourself, lad, on being the especial pet of the major. he is not given to much affection for cowards, even though they be spies, and i am willing to wager considerable that no member of the command would be reproved for speaking harshly to such as you." during this brief conversation the soldiers had continued to advance, while ephraim remained sitting upon the log, and when the last remark was made the redcoats were hidden from view by the foliage. the young tory kicked idly at the earth in front of him, looked up and down the trail as if in search of something entertaining, and then leaned lazily back against a convenient bush. the footsteps of the soldiers sounded fainter and fainter in the distance, telling that the men were continuing to advance, until finally all was silent. the two lads were within forty feet of the boy who would have done the cause of freedom such grievous wrong, and each instant those who might lend him a helping hand were drawing further away. nathan glanced at evan with a question in his eye, and the latter understood it as well as if he had spoken. "it might be done," he whispered cautiously; "but we should not neglect the work which was set us." "it is not safe to advance while these men are between us and major ferguson's force, therefore unless we make him prisoner it is necessary to remain idle." "what could be done with him?" "i'll venture to say he might be frightened into telling all we would know." nathan hesitated an instant. they had been sent out solely to gain some knowledge of the enemy's force and disposition. to take this boy a prisoner, even though he was their bitterest foe, seemed to be deviating from the course colonel mcdowells had marked out, but yet, as nathan said, they must remain idle there until these four men should return. therefore it would not be such a woeful waste of time. "if we can do it without giving the alarm, i am ready," evan whispered, and instead of replying, nathan began creeping cautiously in the direction of the tory, who sat with his back turned toward them. many a time had these two lads crept quietly upon a flock of wild turkeys without alarming the shy birds, and to go through the same maneuvers when a dull boy like ephraim sowers was the game to be stalked did not prove difficult. side by side they advanced with hardly so much as disturbing a single twig, and had gained the cover of a bush within three feet of him before he so much as changed his position. then he started to his feet, and the two in hiding crouched yet closer to the ground, fearing lest he had grown suspicious; but it was merely to change his position, and after looking up and down the trail, muttering threats against the soldiers because they continued their stroll when it was not to his liking, he reseated himself without having so much as touched his musket. [illustration: nathan and evan crept within three feet of the tory.--page .] it was possible the redcoats might even now be retracing their steps, and whatever the lads counted on doing must be done without loss of time. nathan pressed evan's hand in token that he was ready for the venture, and the latter nodded his head. the two rose to their feet, standing motionless a single instant, and then, darting forward with a sudden spring, they landed directly upon the unsuspecting tory. nathan had counted upon covering the spy's mouth with his hand; but missed the aim, and ephraim was enabled to utter one shrill cry, after which he was powerless to do more than breathe. "work quickly now, for the soldiers may have heard that, and we are like to be prisoners ourselves instead of capturing this sneak," nathan whispered. "we must tie his hands again, and contrive something for a gag quickly." as deftly, and yet more rapidly than on that night when sarah dillard rode the unbroken colt, evan bound the prisoner, and from the time they first leaped upon him until ephraim's hands were tied and his mouth choked by a portion of his own garments, no more than three minutes had passed. "take his musket, for it must appear as if he had gone back to the camp, and see to it that you wipe out all traces of a struggle, while i carry him into the thicket." then the boy lifted ephraim to his shoulder as if he had been no more than a package of bulky merchandise, and while evan carried out the instructions to the best of his ability, the spy was taken an hundred yards or more into the thicket. here nathan halted until his comrade joined him, when the two continued the flight until they were fully half a mile from the trail, and all this while ephraim sowers was unable to give vent to his anger or his fears. "that was a neat job, and one that need not interfere with the purpose of our journey," nathan said in a tone of exultation, as he wiped the perspiration from his face and sat down where he could look full at the discomfited tory. "by this means we have made certain of coming face to face with ephraim sowers again, for i misdoubt if he would have been found in the battle unless peradventure the britishers were getting much the best of it." "now that we have got the sneak, what is to be done with him?" "tie him up here until we have concluded our work, and then carry him back to the men of colonel clarke's command, who have a score to settle because of his efforts to deliver them over to their butchers." the expression in ephraim's eyes gave good token of the terror which was in his heart, and in furtherance of the plan he had lately conceived nathan took the gag from the boy's mouth. "those men would murder me!" ephraim screamed as soon as his mouth was freed from the gag. "ay, so it appears to me, else will they be more forgiving than i can well believe," nathan replied calmly, as if in his mind the spy was already doomed. "would you take me, who has never done you any wrong, to where i shall be killed?" he whined. "how much wrong would you have done had we not set upon you the night the force at greene's spring were to be massacred?" evan asked sternly. "when we were again captured was it in your mind to treat us as friends?" "i would not have killed you." "then you lied in order to frighten us." "i did want to make you weaken, but had no thought of doing you a wrong." "such a controversy is useless, and we have not the time to spend upon it," nathan interrupted. "colonel clarke's men are doubtless eager to meet with this tory who devoted so much of his time to them, and if it so be we are forced to continue on in order to gain information concerning the britishers, we can do no other than deliver him up to them." "what is it you want to know?" ephraim asked, a ray of hope coming into his eyes. "we are sent to learn concerning the british forces. how many there are, where they are encamped, and such other matters as may be necessary for the guidance of those who direct the attack." "is there to be a battle?" ephraim asked eagerly. "not before we have had time to deliver you over to those who will thank us for so doing." the gleam of hope died away very suddenly, and the spy, knowing full well what would likely be his fate, did he fall into the hands of the men who would have been killed or captured had his plans not failed, now gave evidence of the liveliest terror. "if you will save my life, i swear to tell you all i know about major ferguson's forces, and none can give the information better, for i have been with them every hour since you were allowed to leave dillard's plantation." "it might be that we could take advantage of the offer, if it was possible to believe a single word you uttered," nathan said, as if debating whether to accept the proposition or not. "i swear to you that every word shall be true, and if you hold me prisoner it will be easy to know whether i have told the truth or not," ephraim pleaded. "promise that if i give all the information needed you will save my life, and you shall have such a description of the camp as could not be gotten by scouting around it for a week." "shall we accept the offer, evan?" nathan asked, as if it was a matter of indifference to him, and ephraim cried imploringly: "give me one chance! don't turn me over to those who have good reason for murdering me! i will answer every question truly, and you shall keep me prisoner until it has been proven that all i said was correct." chapter ix. king's mountain. having brought ephraim sowers into that frame of mind where he could be utilized, nathan made the pretense of consulting with evan as to the advisability of accepting the spy's information. "if evan will agree to it, we may promise that you shall not be given up to colonel clarke's men, although, as a matter of course, we have no intention of setting you at liberty." "all i ask is that you put me under the charge of colonel charles mcdowells, you promising me in his name that i shall receive the same treatment as any other prisoner." "it is a great deal you are asking, ephraim sowers, after all you have done and tried to do; but it may be that we can arrange it. come this way, evan," and nathan stepped aside a few paces to give the tory an idea that considerable argument would be necessary in order to induce his comrade to enter into the agreement. "can we believe what he says?" evan asked when he and nathan stood at such a distance from the prisoner that their words could not be overheard. "i do not understand how he would dare to tell a lie. when our men advance it will be known if he has given the correct information, and we will make it plain that should he tell us anything which was proven to be incorrect, then our promises are withdrawn." "go on, and arrange the matter as soon as you can, for no one can say when some of the redcoats may come this way on a scout, and if we should chance to fall into the hands of the enemy now, i think that tory sneak would kill us, if the murder could be compassed." the two remained as if in conversation a moment longer, and then returning to the terrified spy, nathan said in a solemn tone: "we have agreed that if you give us all the information in your power concerning major ferguson's force, and you claim to know everything regarding it, we will carry you as prisoner to evan's father, promising in his name that you shall be treated the same as any britisher that might be captured. should, however, it be discovered that you played us false in the slightest detail, it will be the same as if our promise had not been given, and you will be turned over to colonel clarke's men." "i am not likely to tell that which is not true when my life depends upon the truth," ephraim said in a tone which convinced his hearers that, perhaps for the first time in his life, he was resolved to make a correct statement. "well," evan said impatiently after a brief pause. "why don't you begin?" "what shall i tell you?" "how many men has major ferguson?" "i must not be held as to the truth of numbers, for i only know what i heard a commissary sergeant say, which was that there were eleven hundred and twenty all told upon the mountain." "what mountain?" "the force is encamped on the summit of king's mountain, which is about twelve miles north of the cherokee ford." "how far from here?" "i should say less than an hour's march." "have the troops any other weapons than muskets?" "no." "how many are the king's soldiers, and how many tories?" "there are not above two hundred of his majesty's troops." "have you any idea why the major chanced to take that place as an encampment?" "our scouts have brought in the word that the rebels were gathering in large numbers, and the major established his camp where it could not well be attacked." "how long has he been there?" "two days." "do you know if he intends making a move soon?" "i have heard it said in the camp that we were like to stay there a long while--at least until reinforcements can be sent by general cornwallis." "beside the men who came out with you on the trail, how many are scouting around in this neighborhood?" "there are perhaps twenty who set out this morning." "are they soldiers or tories?" "i suppose you would call them tories, but nevertheless they are royalists." "there is a distinction without a difference in those terms, ephraim," nathan said grimly, "but i'll venture to say there are very few who are both tory and spy, with an inclination to bring death upon those who had befriended them." "in taking to major ferguson information as to colonel clarke's force i only did my duty, for i was serving the king, and should look upon all those who offer armed resistance to his laws as enemies." "you were not so strict in your allegiance last winter, when you begged for food." ephraim winced but made no reply, and evan said thoughtfully: "it appears to me we have gotten all the information he has to give, and it stands us in hand to return to camp as soon as may be, if you think we are justified in pinning our faith upon his statements." "i swear that i have told you only the truth," ephraim cried, beginning to fear lest his captors might recede from the position they had taken. "if there are twenty britishers scouting around the mountain i do not believe we can learn any more than he has told us," nathan said half to himself, "and it appears to me as if we had good reason for believing our mission had been fulfilled." "then let us lose no time in retracing our steps, for there yet remains twenty-six or twenty-seven miles to be traversed nightfall." "where are your forces encamped?" ephraim asked. "at the cowpens, on broad river. i heard captain depuyster say, when it was told him that some of the rebels--i mean your friends--were gathered there, that it was twenty-eight miles away." "then you know the exact distance it is necessary for you to walk before sunset," nathan replied. "we shall not be so cruel as to confine your arms, but you must march not more than three paces in advance of us, and remember, ephraim sowers, if you make any movement which has the appearance as if you were trying to give us the slip, we shall fire with intent to kill, and at such short range there can be little doubt as to the accuracy of our aim. are you ready, evan?" "yes, and the sooner we set out the better i shall be pleased." but for the fact that the young tory was dependent upon these two for his life, he would have remonstrated against being forced to make so long and hurried a journey; but under the circumstances he did not dare say a single word which might sound like a complaint. he waited meekly until nathan pointed out the direction to be pursued, and then set off as if eager to arrive at the destination, his captors meanwhile keeping their eyes upon him and being on the alert for any attempt at escape. there is little to tell regarding this long tramp, a portion of which was made through the thicket, and the remainder over the trail, save to say that both the prisoner and his captors were nearly exhausted before it came to an ending. twice only did they halt, and then not more than ten minutes at a time, lest by remaining quiet too long their wearied limbs should become stiffened. evan and nathan had brought with them a scanty supply of food, and this they shared with ephraim; but it was so small in quantity that it served hardly more than to whet their appetites, and when, shortly after sunset, they were arrived at the american encampment, it seemed to all three as if they were literally on the verge of exhaustion. the coming of the boys was hailed with shouts of joy by the men, and when it was learned who they brought with them as prisoner, it appeared much as if the promise ephraim's captors had made would avail him nothing. before they could make their way to colonel mcdowells' quarters the three were surrounded by a throng of hungry men, who insisted that the tory should be hanged offhand for his crime; and but little attention was paid to the entreaties of nathan and evan, who announced again and again that they had pledged their word for his safety. "we have sworn that he shall be put into the custody of colonel charles mcdowells, and trusting in our word he has given us valuable information concerning the enemy," nathan cried at the full strength of his lungs, when the throng became so great that they were forced to come to a halt. "hang the spy! he is one who brought ferguson's troopers down to greene's spring that clarke's men might be massacred. hang him!" ephraim kneeled upon the ground, clinging to the legs of the boys, alternately praying that they would guard him and reminding them of the promises made. "although he merits death we will keep faith with him, and he who lays a hand on the tory must first dispose of us!" evan cried. the men were in no mood to listen to reason, and it is more than likely the boys would have failed in their purpose but that colonel william campbell, hearing the tumult, came quickly up to learn the cause. hurriedly and in the fewest possible words nathan explained the situation of affairs, and ephraim's life was saved for the time being, for the colonel, calling for the virginia force, formed a guard around the prisoner and his captors, holding the mob in check until all were arrived at colonel mcdowells' quarters. here ephraim was delivered to evan's father and colonel james williams, and these two officers decided that the young scouts had acted wisely in returning, for they placed every dependence in the statements made by ephraim, who, as colonel williams said, "had for the first time the truth frightened out of him." the lads were directed to go in search of food, and when, an hour later, they returned to colonel mcdowells' quarters, ephraim was nowhere to be seen. "what have you done with the tory?" evan asked, fearing for the instant lest his father had forgotten that their word was pledged for his safe keeping. "it was best he should not remain in camp, for the men were grown so excited that i doubt if i could have held them in check. your spy has been sent away where we can make certain he will be held in safe custody." then the colonel asked for the details of the journey just ended, and when this had been given, he startled them by saying: "since receiving the information from ephraim sowers, it has been decided that we will set out at once in pursuit of the enemy, lest major ferguson change his plans, and lead us a long chase. we have nine hundred men well mounted, and these will start within an hour, continuing the march until they shall come up with the enemy; meanwhile the footmen, and those whose animals are not in the best of condition, will follow as fast as possible." "do you intend to attack the britishers, intrenched as they are on the mountain?" evan asked in surprise. "ay, lad, we will set upon them wherever they may be found, and whip them too, till there shall be no more left of this force which has come to lay waste the country with fire and sword." "but what of nathan and i?" evan asked anxiously. "are we to be left behind?" "it is time you had some rest, lads, and better you should follow with those who march afoot." "in that case, sir, we might miss the battle," nathan interrupted. "perhaps it were better if you did." "we have thought, sir, evan and i, that because of working hard for the cause, we would be given the first opportunity to show what we might do." "and you are eager to go into the combat?" colonel mcdowells asked of his son. "it would sadden me if i was not allowed to do so, sir, although, as i have confessed to nathan several times, i fear my courage may fail me." "if it does, you will be the first mcdowells who has shown the white feather, and perhaps it is time we should know whether you are of the right strain. you shall ride with the advance forces," colonel mcdowells said decidedly, and then turned away. chapter x. a hot chase. the two lads were well content with the assurance given by colonel mcdowells, even though each would have been forced to admit, in event of close questioning, that, while eager to bear a full share of all the dangers, the prospect of taking part in a pitched battle brought with it a certain degree of nervous apprehension. it was known because of what ephraim sowers had told, and could have been well understood even though the tory lad had not chosen to purchase safety by revealing the secrets of those whom he claimed as friends, that major ferguson's force was intrenched after such fashion as was possible, and, in addition, the position was rendered yet stronger by being on the mountain, up which the "rebels" must climb in order to make an attack. another advantage which the britishers had, was in point of weapons and ammunition. they were thoroughly well equipped with the best quality of arms, with powder and ball in abundance, while the friends of liberty had but a scanty supply of either. despite such facts, however, not a man among those who had sworn to relieve the colonies from the yoke of the oppressor counted the odds. the only thought was that at last the britishers were where a battle could not be avoided, and the mountain men were determined that the conflict should result in a victory for the "rebels." the troop did not begin the march as soon as colonel mcdowells had proposed, however. although the colonists were few in numbers and with scanty outfit, there was much to be done by way of preparation for the unequal struggle, and when an hour had elapsed they were yet in camp, but nearly ready to set out. during such time nathan and evan had nothing to do save watch the movements of those around them, without being able to take any part in the work, and although both were in need of repose, it was impossible to rest at a time when they were laboring under the mental excitement caused by the knowledge of what was before them. now and then one or another of the men would question the lads regarding their reconnoissance of major ferguson's camp, when ephraim sowers was captured, and in the course of such conversations the two boys soon learned where their prisoner had been taken. one of the squad which had been charged with conveying the young tory beyond reach of those who would have hanged him without loss of time, returned to camp in order to accompany his comrades on the march which it was believed would be ended by a battle, and displayed no little curiosity as to how ephraim had been captured. "to hear the young villain talk, one would think a dozen men couldn't overpower him. he declared that his reluctance to shed the blood of former playmates saved you lads from death." "it would seem that he has recovered somewhat from his fears," nathan replied with a hearty laugh. "when i last saw him he was playing the part of coward to perfection." "he insists that you took advantage of his former friendship, and while calling for assistance, basely fell upon him when he was giving the aid you begged for." to nathan there was something extremely comical in such a story as told by ephraim sowers, who never displayed the slightest semblance of courage save when there was no possible chance he could come to any harm. evan's anger was aroused, however, and without delay he not only explained how they had captured the tory, but gave additional details concerning the incident at captain dillard's house, when ephraim suddenly found the tables turned upon him. "he could not have attempted to do a more deadly wrong than when he gave information which he fully believed would result in the death or capture of colonel clark's force at greene's springs," evan said in conclusion, "and while nathan and i have given our word that he shall be held safe from personal harm, i hope careful watch will be kept upon him. insignificant though the lad is, he may be able to do us very much injury." "joseph abbott has been detailed to guard him," the trooper said thoughtfully, "and perhaps a more steady man should have been assigned to the work. abbott means well; but is inclined to be careless, although it's certain he understands how necessary it is the tory be held safely this night." "yes, and for many a long day to come," nathan added gravely. "until the britishers have been driven from the carolinas, ephraim must be held close prisoner, because it is in his power to give them all needful information as to our probable movements. there can be no question but that his father aids in the work, and while it is not generally understood that such is the case, much harm can be done." the trooper felt confident that abbott could be relied upon for twenty-four hours at least, because he would remain at his own home, and surely there he should be able to make certain the prisoner did not escape. then the conversation turned upon the probable battle, and this was of such vital interest to the boys that, for the moment, they almost forgot such a lad as ephraim sowers ever had an existence. it was fated, however, that they were to drop him from their thoughts for some time to come, and soon there was more reason than ever before to fear his power of working mischief. word had been passed for the horses to be saddled preparatory to beginning the march toward king's mountain, and nathan and evan were attending to the steeds which had been provided for them, when a sudden commotion on the outskirts of the encampment caused every member of the troop to look about him in alarm. the sound of voices in loud, angry conversation could be heard; but it was not possible for the lads to distinguish any words save these: "he should have been hanged! it was little less than a crime to allow him to live!" "of whom are they speaking?" evan asked in surprise. "it can be none other than ephraim, and yet i had supposed he would be forgotten, until after the battle." "the men must have learned more of his doings, for certain it is that no one has given him a thought during the last half-hour." a moment later it became evident that whatever had caused this last outburst against the tory spy was of considerable importance, for the cries of anger were redoubled as a full third of the little army ceased their work of preparation to gather around the officers' quarters. "something has gone wrong!" nathan exclaimed as the confusion increased. "when the command has been given for us to saddle, the men would not spend valuable time crying out against such as ephraim sowers. can it be possible he has escaped?" "that is an idle proposition, for joseph abbott could not have been so careless," evan replied; but there was a sudden tremor of his voice which told that he was not as confident as the words implied. the boys no longer gave any heed to their steed; but pressed on toward the throng which was surging around the officers' quarters, until it was possible to hear yet more of that which the excited men said. "abbott was the last man in the carolinas who should have been trusted with such a duty!" "if we had hanged the villain it would not now be possible for him to do us so much mischief!" "now that the britishers are certain to be warned of our movements, there is little hope of taking them by surprise!" these and similar remarks gave the eager, perturbed boys a fair idea of what had occurred; but yet nathan would not credit that which appeared to be a fact until having more definite assurance that the young tory was in a condition to work wrong to the patriots of the carolinas. "what has happened?" he asked of a man who was insisting that the officers were guilty of a great crime when they prevented the men from hanging the prisoner. "happened?" the man repeated angrily. "that young tory whose neck should have been stretched an hour ago, has given joseph abbott the slip, an' is most likely on his way to king's mountain in order to inform major ferguson of what we would have done this night!" "ephraim escaped?" evan repeated in dismay, and immediately there came to him the knowledge of all it might be possible for the tories to effect. it was certain that once major ferguson had been warned of the proposed attack, it would be so guarded against that a heavy loss of life on the part of the americans must inevitably be the result, and prudence would dictate that the movement be abandoned. insignificant though ephraim sowers was, he now had it in his power to save the king's troops from severe loss, and could, most likely, thwart the patriots at the very moment when they might strike such a blow as would free the carolinas from the invaders. the escape of the tory was the most disastrous happening that could have been brought about by the enemies of the colonies, and the knowledge that it was possible only by sheer carelessness on the part of a true friend to the cause, served to aggravate the offense which had been committed. here and there a man swore to hang joseph abbott if he dared to show himself in this section of the country again, and the more hot-headed demanded that colonel campbell and colonel mcdowells should suffer in some way because of having interposed to save the prisoner's life when there were troopers standing by ready to execute him. during ten minutes or more the tumult was great; all discipline had been lost sight of, and there seemed every danger much mischief would be done by those justly angry men who believed themselves thus prevented from breaking the rule of the king in the carolinas at the very moment when it might have been successfully accomplished. during this time nathan and evan had been forcing their way toward that point where colonel mcdowells and colonel campbell were facing the angry soldiers, believing for the moment that an attack was about to be made upon them, and then it was evan's father spoke for the first time since the lads had come within earshot. "i am ashamed that men of the carolinas will thus cry out for the death of a boy, how ever much injury he may have done, or can yet do us. we war against the representatives of the king, not with children." "it was he who would have compassed our death!" one of colonel clark's men shouted vindictively. "very true, and it is right that he be deprived of his liberty; but more than that would have been a stain upon your honor such as could never be rubbed out." "if he had been held prisoner we should have remained silent," another soldier cried. "now he is turned lose to carry major ferguson such information as will put to naught all our efforts." "is abbott here to say how the lad escaped?" colonel campbell asked. "his wife came with the news that her husband has gone on the trail of the viper." "then who shall say that such mischief has been done?" colonel mcdowells cried, his voice taking on a more hopeful ring. "to hear such bewailing as you men are indulging in, one would say there is no remedy left us. it is probably true the tory has escaped; but he cannot have very much of a start, since no more than three hours are passed since he was led from this camp. there are twenty-eight miles between us and king's mountain. we are ready to set out at once. will you admit that such horses as are owned by you may not cover that distance before a boy can do so on foot? shame upon you for thus showing the white feather when there is a possibility of repairing the mischief!" some of the throng stepped back a few paces as if regretting that they had been so loud spoken; but the greater number remained in front of the two officers in a defiant and angry attitude. "where is evan mcdowells?" the colonel cried, raising his voice that the question might be heard throughout the encampment, and he had no sooner spoken than evan and nathan forced their way through the crowd until standing directly before the officer, who added to the insubordinate men, "my son and nathan shelby--the same lads who captured the tory--shall go out in search of him. half a dozen more will be sent in as many different directions, and instead of standing here indulging in vain words, we may repair the mischief. this, however, i demand, and will consider him my personal enemy who disobeys what is a positive command: when the spy is retaken, see to it, each and every one, that his life be held sacred! these boys gave him an assurance, in return for certain information, that he should not come to harm, and i will never allow such pledge to be broken." "we shall only be safe when he is dead!" a trooper cried in a surly tone. "and you are willing, angus mcleod, to admit that you are afraid of a boy!" "ay, colonel mcdowells, of such a boy as is that young tory. while he lives we know full well all our doings will be carried to the king's officers." "how may that be now that we have come to know him for what he is? a month ago it was different, because you allowed him in and around your encampment; but to-day, with full knowledge of his character, how can he do you harm? when he is taken, as i feel certain he must be within a short time, turn him over to me; i will be personally responsible that he no longer has the power to work us an injury." then turning from the discontented men as if he had done with them, the colonel said to evan and nathan: "lads, now has come the time when you may perform such a service for the carolinas as, perhaps, is not within the power of any other. i do not hold that you are more skillful or keen on the trail than your companions; but there is in my mind the belief that you will succeed where older searchers may fail. set out immediately; spare not your horses, nor yourselves, until ephraim sowers is once more your prisoner." "but in event of our being so fortunate as to come upon him, sir, we shall be deprived of taking part in the battle," evan said mournfully, and his father replied quickly, but in a whisper: "there will be no battle if he escapes to carry information to major ferguson." "there will be in case we shall make him prisoner within a few hours." "in that event you may leave him with abbott, whom, i dare venture to say, will not give way to carelessness again, or in the custody of any whom you know to be true. we shall ride the direct trail to king's mountain, and you should be able to overtake us if the work be performed quickly." there was no thought in the mind of either lad that such an order as the colonel had given could be slighted, and while it would have grieved them to the heart had an engagement come off while they were absent from the troop, neither hesitated. as they turned to leave, colonel campbell gave orders to several of the men that they ride at once in pursuit of the late prisoner, and nathan whispered to his comrade while they walked as quickly as the throng would permit toward where their horses had been left: "i am not positive, evan, how we might carry ourselves in the midst of a battle. while neither of us would admit to being cowardly, it is possible we showed a certain amount of fear when brought face to face with the king's troops. now we have one more opportunity of proving ourselves equal to the part of men, without chance of displaying the white feather." "i fail to understand the meaning of so many words," evan replied petulantly. "to me the only thing certain is, that we may not follow where much honor is to be won." "if it should so chance that we come upon ephraim sowers, when others failed of finding him, we will gain more credit than if we rode in the front ranks of those whom i hope will charge major ferguson's force before to-morrow night. let us give over repining at what cannot be changed, and set ourselves about the task of running that miserable tory down!" evan was not disposed to look at the matter in such a light, although never for a moment did he dream of disobeying his father's commands. to him this setting off on a blind search for the young spy was simply shutting themselves out from all chance of riding with the men of the carolinas when they charged the enemy, and it seemed for the moment as if no greater misfortune could befall them. however, he made no protest against whatever his comrade suggested, although confident that with a start in his favor of even one hour, it would be impossible for them to overtake ephraim sowers, more particularly since half a dozen men were to join in the hunt, and without loss of time the two lads made ready for the search. there was no thought of making provisions for any lengthy absence; the work, to be of any avail, must be done before midnight, and if at that time the tory was yet at liberty, then might the searchers return to their comrades, for it would be good proof ephraim had succeeded in eluding them so far as to be able to give major ferguson information of what was afoot. therefore the only care was to make certain their supply of ammunition would be sufficient for a spirited attack or resistance, after which they rode through the encampment, and half a mile beyond were halted by mrs. abbott, who was returning slowly to her home. "are you young gentlemen setting out in search of the tory?" she asked when the two lads halted in response to her signal. "we are, and many others will ride on the same errand." "the soldiers were so angry with joseph that i had no opportunity to repeat all the message he sent. it was not through the fault of my husband that the prisoner escaped; he was left bound by the hands as when brought to our house, while we made ready a room in which he could be safely kept, and by some means managed to free himself." "we have no time for such unimportant particulars," nathan interrupted. "the main fact is that he is free, and we are among those charged with the search for him." "joseph set out on the same errand within five minutes after his escape was discovered, and he bade me say to whosoever might come, that the trail led over the hills to the westward. you will have no difficulty in following it, and should come up with my husband before riding very far." "we thank you for the information, and would ride ahead if you are able to direct us to your home," nathan replied. mrs. abbott, who appeared to be in deepest distress because the prisoner intrusted to her husband's keeping had made his escape, gave the boys ample directions for finding the house and as the two rode rapidly forward nathan said in a hopeful tone: "there is yet a chance, evan, that we shall succeed where the others failed, thanks to our having met abbott's wife. if the trail is well-defined, we shall be able to ride it down, capture the spy, and return to the encampment before our people have set out. "that is what we should do, but whether we can or not is quite another matter," evan replied gloomily. "it is a pity we promised the tory our protection, otherwise he would have been beyond all power for harm long ere this." "and would you like to remember that we captured a lad who was once our friend, for others to hang in cold blood?" "almost anything would be better than that we were shut out from following those with whom we should ride this night." "i am counting that we will yet bear them company," nathan replied cheerily. "even a tory cannot make his way across the country without leaving a trail, and now that we know where it may be taken up, the rest ought to be easy." "unless he has suddenly lost his senses, we cannot follow him on horseback. if i was trying to escape from mounted men, it would not be difficult to strike such a course as should be impossible for them to follow." "that he did not do so at the start is positive, else abbott would never have sent such word by his wife," nathan replied, heeding not the petulance of his comrade. "if we hold to it that ephraim sowers has made his escape, then is he the same as free, but i shall continue to claim we have fair chance of overtaking him, until we know beyond a peradventure that he cannot be found. every second is of value to us now, and we'll waste no more time in idle talk." with this remark, which evan might well have construed as a rebuke, nathan struck his horse sharply with the spurs, and the two quickly left mrs. abbott far in the rear. chapter xi. success. in silence the two lads rode on at the full speed of their horses until they were come to the home of the man who had caused so much trouble through his carelessness, and here nathan dismounted, leading his steed by the bridle as he made a complete circuit of the building. to boys who had been taught the art of woodcraft because it was absolutely necessary they should be expert in following a trail or hiding one, it was a simple matter to ascertain where the tory had made his escape from the house, and at what point he struck into the woods, although a person ignorant of such matters might have looked in vain for any token of the flight. "there's no need of spending much time over such a plain sign as that," evan said, now recovered somewhat from his petulance, for hope that they might soon recapture the spy had sprung up in his heart. "i never would have believed ephraim sowers was such a simple as to thus give information regarding his movements! surely he knew abbott would set out at once in pursuit, and yet has made no attempt to hide his trail." "he is a coward who allows his fears to blind him from anything except immediate danger. having seen an unexpected opportunity to escape, he takes advantage of it, and thinks only of putting a great distance between himself and his enemies. we shall soon ride him down!" "unless he gathers his wits, and takes to the thicket where we cannot follow." "then it will be necessary to make our way on foot, and i'll warrant that we travel as fast as he can. but i'm not allowing he'll gather his wits until having come to a british camp." during this brief conversation nathan remounted, and the two rode along the trail, having no difficulty in keeping well in view the signs left by both the pursued and the pursuer. abbot had taken good care not to cover the footsteps of the tory, and to leave ample token of the course he was following; therefore it was certain the lads must soon come upon one or the other, since they were well mounted. there was one danger evan had failed to realize, but which was strong in nathan's mind. if ephraim could retain his liberty until night came, then would it be well-nigh impossible to follow him during the hours of darkness; and this very important fact may have been in the spy's mind when he pushed on regardless of thus giving good proof as to his whereabouts to those who might come in pursuit. therefore it was nathan rode on at the best speed of his horse, and his comrade found it difficult to maintain the pace, consequently there was no opportunity for conversation during twenty minutes or more, at the end of which time they were come up with abbott. that the trooper was suffering keenest mental distress because of his carelessness, which had permitted of the spy's escape, could readily be seen even during the hurried interview they held with the man. "you are come in good time, for the tory can't be more than a mile ahead of us," he said with a sigh of relief. "the sun will not set for two hours, and long before then you should have him in your keeping once more." "you will follow as close as may be, for we count on turning him over to you again in order that we may ride to king's mountain with the american force," nathan replied, not averse to giving his horse a brief breathing spell. "you may be certain he won't get out of my sight again! any other might have had the same misfortune as i. his hands were bound, and i left him in an upper room while i made ready the chamber that was to serve as prison." "why did you not keep him with you?" evan asked sharply. "that is what should have been done, as i now know full well; but at the time it seemed as if the lad was as secure as if surrounded by a troop of soldiers. certain it is he can't free his hands, and, therefore, must necessarily travel slowly. i suppose every man at the camp bears down heavily upon me?" nathan would have evaded this question; but evan was minded that the careless soldier should be made to realize how great was his offence, therefore he answered bluntly: "i believe of a verity you would have been hanged had it been possible for the men to get hold of you when the news of the escape was first brought in. if ephraim sowers succeeds in remaining at liberty, the attack upon king's mountain will be abandoned, and that at a time when it might have been a success but for your carelessness." "see here, abbott," nathan added soothingly, "it is not for me to deny the truth of what evan says; but he is describing that first moment of disappointment. your comrades have grown more calm by this time, and if it so be we overhaul the tory, it is colonel mcdowell's orders that he be given into your custody again." "i'll shoot the villain rather than let him get a dozen yards from me, if he falls into my clutches once more, an' i've sworn not to go home inside of forty-eight hours without him." it was in evan's mind to say that it would have been better had abbott kept a close watch of his prisoner, in which case such desperate measures would not now be necessary; but he realized in time to check his speech, that harsh words were of no avail now the mischief was done, and contented himself with the caution: "it will be well to remember how much trouble has been caused, if we are so fortunate as to catch the tory. my fear is that he may succeed in giving us the slip after all, in which case the attack on major ferguson's force is frustrated even before being made." the horses had been allowed as long a resting spell as nathan thought necessary, and he brought the interview to an end by saying as he tightened rein: "we shall ride the trail at our best pace, and do you follow on until finding that we are forced to leave the steeds, when it will be known that there is no longer a hope of taking him in time to set the fears of our people at rest before the hour for making an advance. in event of our coming upon him, we shall be glad to turn him over to your keeping once more, as soon as may be possible." "i'll keep mighty near your horses' heels, unless you ride at a better gait than i believe will be possible. don't hesitate to shoot him down if you get within range and find there's a chance of his getting the best of the chase." "there's no need to give us such advice," evan replied grimly. "do your part at holding him, if it so be you have another chance." nathan had urged his steed forward, and the two spurred on at a sharp trot, each rider's eyes fastened upon the ground where could be plainly seen, by those accustomed to such work, the footprints of the tory. evan was rapidly recovering from the fit of petulance which had seized upon when it appeared most likely they would be shut out from riding into battle with the american force. now it began to seem possible they might perform the task set them and return to the encampment before the advance was begun, unless it so chanced that ephraim sowers suddenly showed sufficient wit to seek refuge in a thicket where the horses could not follow. something of this kind evan said to his comrade as they rode on the trail nearly side by side, and the latter replied cheerily: "the miserable tory don't dare do anything of the kind lest he lose his way. i venture to say his only thought is that abbott will set out in pursuit of him, rather than spend time by going to the encampment, therefore he has only to fear what one man afoot may be able to do. it hasn't come into his thick head that the woman could be sent with a message, while her husband took to the trail, therefore he will hold to the open path until hearing the hoof-beats of our horses." and this was indeed what ephraim sowers did, as his pursuers soon learned. nathan and evan rode swiftly and in silence during twenty minutes or more after leaving abbott, understanding full well that the trail was growing fresher each instant; and then the former saw a certain suspicious movement of branches at one side of the path some distance away. "he has seen us!" the lad cried excitedly, spurring his horse forward until he came to that point where the trail suddenly branched off toward the thicket. there could be no question but that the tory had failed of hearing the noise of the pursuit until his enemies were close upon him, and then he did what he should have done an hour before. there was not a second to be lost, for once the lad was so far in advance that his movements could not be followed by the motion of the foliage, it would be like the proverbial hunt for a needle in a haystack to find him. "look after the horses!" nathan cried, reining in his steed and leaping to the ground musket in hand, and even before evan could come up, although but a few paces in the rear, isaac shelby's nephew had disappeared in the thicket. young mcdowells was not disposed to obey this command strictly. he cared for the steeds by hurriedly tying their bridles to the trunk of a tree, and after a delay of no more than half a minute, followed his comrade into the forest, with musket in hand ready to be discharged at the first glimpse of the fugitive. so close behind nathan was evan, that he could readily follow his movements by the commotion among the underbrush, and, with a sudden burst of speed, regardless of possible accident, he succeeded in coming close to his comrade's heels. "have you lost sight of him?" he asked breathlessly. "not a bit of it!" was the cheery reply. "there is little fear he can give us the slip now we are so near!" "why don't you fire on the chance of winging him? i can give you my loaded musket when yours is empty." "there's no need of wasting a cartridge upon him; we shall soon bring the villain in sight." it was not possible to carry on any extended conversation while running at full speed among the foliage, at great risk of falling headlong over a projecting root, or being stricken down by a low-hanging limb. they were gaining in the chase as could readily be seen, and when perhaps ten minutes had passed the lads were so near that it seemed certain ephraim could be no more than a dozen yards in advance. "no one can say what accident may happen at any moment to give him an advantage!" evan said sharply, speaking with difficulty because of his heavy breathing. "you must bring him down soon, or we may get back to the encampment too late!" no suggestion could have been made which would have had greater weight than this; and, raising his voice, at the same time priming the musket as he ran, nathan cried: "come to a halt, ephraim sowers, or i shall fire! at this short range there is little danger but that my bullet will strike its target, with such good token of your whereabouts as you are giving us." the tory made no reply; and the waving of the bushes could still be seen, thus showing that he had not obeyed the command. "do not delay, but shoot at once, and then exchange muskets with me!" evan cried in an agony of apprehension, lest some unforeseen chance give the fugitive such an advantage as they could not overcome. nathan hesitated no longer. raising the weapon he fired in a line with the moving foliage, and the report of the musket was followed by a scream as of pain. "i'm sorry i didn't wait a few minutes longer!" the lad cried, in a tone of deepest regret. "of course we were bound to stop him; but it might have been done without killing!" evan shared his comrade's regrets, believing ephraim had been seriously if not dangerously wounded, and the two ran forward with all speed, fully expecting to find their enemy disabled or dead. therefore was their surprise all the greater when the swaying of the branches told that the tory was yet able to keep his feet, and once more nathan shouted, this time in a tone of anger: "halt, or i shall fire again! give me your musket, evan, and do you load this one! work quickly, for i'm not minded to linger over the task of stopping him!" the exchange of weapons was made without delay, and once more nathan fired. again came a scream as of pain from the fugitive; but this time the pursuers were not troubled in mind lest they had needlessly inflicted pain. nathan leaped forward as he discharged the musket, and an instant later stood face to face with ephraim sowers, who, with a rotten branch upraised as a club, stood at bay where a perfect network of trees, that had most likely been overturned by the wind, barred his further passage. "i'll beat your brains out!" ephraim screamed viciously, brandishing his poor apology for a weapon. "don't make the mistake of thinkin' i'll be carried back among them rebels!" "you had better give in peaceably, for we shan't spend much time in arguing the matter," nathan said decidedly; but yet he did not advance for the very good reason that he was virtually unarmed, having dropped his musket at the moment of emptying it, in order that he might not be impeded in his movements. because he remained motionless, ephraim believed the lad was afraid, and pressed his supposed advantage by crying, in a tone that was very like the snarl of a cat: "keep your distance or i'll kill you! this club will stand me as good a turn as the empty muskets do you, an' i count on using it!" by this time evan came into view carrying both weapons, and, seeing that the game was brought to bay without opportunity of continuing the flight, said quietly: "keep your eye on him, nathan, and i'll soon put in a charge that will bring him to terms." he had begun to load the musket as he spoke, doing so with deliberation as if there was no good reason why he should make haste; and such leisurely movements had even more effect upon the tory than did the show of ammunition. "i didn't count you had more than a single charge," he said, with a whine. "it seemed odd to me that you should suddenly have plucked up so much courage," nathan replied scornfully. "even though our ammunition had been exhausted, you could not have held us back with that rotten club. load carefully, evan, for i don't want to make any mistake as to aim!" "are you countin' on killin' me?" ephraim cried, in an agony of terror, flinging down his poor weapon and holding out both hands in supplication. "would you murder a fellow who never did you any harm?" "you are the veriest coward in the carolinas;" and nathan spoke in a tone of such contempt that even the thick-skinned tory winced. "come out here, and we'll make certain of taking you back to broad river!" the tory meekly obeyed, making no show of protest lest he might bring down the anger of his captors upon himself; and evan said, as he finished loading both weapons: "do you walk ahead, nathan, and let him follow. i'll come close at his heels, and we'll spend no more time over this job than may be necessary. abbott should be near at hand by the time we get back to the trail." ephraim obeyed in silence and, because he neither begged nor whined, the boys feared lest he had some plan of escape in his mind. "do not take your eyes from him for a single instant," nathan cried warningly as he led the way in the manner suggested by evan, "and shoot at the first suspicious move he makes. we have done this work in short order, and now it will be because of our own carelessness if the troop sets off without us." "don't think that i'm going to be so foolish as to make another try at gettin' away," ephraim said sulkily. "there's no show for me in this section of the country while the king's troops are so far away, an' i ain't countin' on takin' the chances of bein' shot." "we shan't be so foolish as to take your word for it," evan replied. "i'll admit that you won't make much of a fist toward escaping; but time is precious with us just now, and we can't afford to waste any in chasing you." from that moment until they were come to the trail where the horses had been left, no word was spoken; and then the lads were greeted by a cry of joy and triumph from abbott, who had just come into view. "i knew you'd overhaul him!" the trooper said exultantly; "and if he gives me the slip again there'll be good reason for my bein' hanged!" "do you think it will be safe for us to leave him here with you?" nathan asked, as if undecided what course he ought to pursue. "i'll answer for him with my life! don't think there is any chance of slipping up on the work again, after all that's been in my mind since he got away." after a brief consultation the two lads concluded it would be safe to leave the prisoner with abbott, particularly since colonel mcdowells had so instructed them; and in less than two hours from the time of leaving the encampment, they were riding back at full speed, hoping it might be possible to arrive before the force had started on the march toward king's mountain. and in this they were successful. the soldiers were on the point of setting out when the lads arrived, and the reception with which they were met can well be imagined. as soon as their story could be told, and it was generally understood there was no longer any reason to fear that ephraim sowers might carry information of their movements to major ferguson, the command was in motion, with nathan and evan riding either side of colonel mcdowells. * * * * * in the report of the battle, which is signed by colonel benjamin cleaveland, colonel isaac shelby, and colonel william campbell, is the following account: "we began our march with nine hundred of the best men about eight o'clock the same evening, and, marching all night, came up with the enemy about three o'clock p.m. of the seventh, who lay encamped on the top of king's mountain, twelve miles north of the cherokee ford, in the confidence that they could not be forced from so advantageous a post. previous to the attack, on our march, the following disposition was made: colonel shelby's regiment formed a column in the center, on the left; colonel campbell's regiment another on the right, with part of colonel cleaveland's regiment, headed in front by major joseph winston; and colonel sevier's formed a large column on the right wing. the other part of colonel cleaveland's regiment, headed by colonel cleaveland himself, and colonel williams' regiment, composed the left wing. in this order we advanced, and got within a quarter of a mile of the enemy before we were discovered." evan and nathan rode by the side of the latter's uncle, and as colonel shelby's and colonel cleaveland's regiments began the attack, they were the first in action. "i am growing timorous," evan whispered to nathan as the troops began the ascent of the hill, and the latter replied: "a fellow who spends twenty-four hours in walking, and twenty-four hours in riding, without repose, can well be forgiven for losing some portion of his courage. my own knees are not oversteady, and i am beginning to wonder whether they will bear me out when we are within range of british lead." five minutes later major ferguson's force opened fire, and colonel isaac shelby had no cause to complain of the lads' behavior. as evan afterward admitted, he was hardly conscious of what he did from the moment he saw the first man fall. one of the troopers reported to colonel mcdowells, who asked concerning his son after the engagement was at an end: "the two boys fought side by side, and like veteran soldiers. i saw them making their way up the hill when the shot was flying around them like hail, and it was as if neither realized the peril, or, realizing it, as if he heeded not the possibility that death might come at any instant. never faltering, they continued the ascent, pressing close on isaac shelby's heels until they were the foremost, fighting hand to hand with the britishers. "they were within a dozen feet of colonel williams when he received his death wound, and then the redcoats were pressing us so hotly that no man dared step aside to aid the officer. yet these two went out of their course to give him succor, and, finding that he was already unconscious, pressed forward once more. i was just behind them when we arrived at the spot where major ferguson lay dead." "evan feared his courage might fail him when in the heat of action," the colonel said half to himself, and the trooper replied with emphasis: "it must have increased rather than failed, colonel, for those two lads shamed many a man of us during the hour and five minutes which we spent grappling with the britishers. twice were we forced to fall back; but they remained in the front line, and each time when we rallied they were first to take the forward step. not until colonel depuyster hoisted the white flag did i see them cease their efforts, and then, the excitement being gone, it was as if both of them collapsed, and little wonder, colonel, for if you will stop to think, these lads spent forty-eight hours riding and walking before going into as hot an engagement as we in the carolinas have ever experienced." the battle of king's mountain came to an end as the trooper had said, in one hour and five minutes after it began, and when the american forces were drawn up in line it was found that of the nine hundred, only twenty were killed; but more than five times that number had been wounded. of the king's soldiers, four officers and fifteen privates were killed, and thirty-five privates seriously wounded. eighteen officers and fifteen privates were taken prisoners. of the tories, five officers and two hundred and one men were killed; one officer and one hundred and twenty-seven men wounded, while forty-eight officers and six hundred men were taken prisoners. according to the official report of that engagement, only twenty of major ferguson's force escaped, and among that number, one--ephraim sowers--could be accounted for as already a prisoner in the hands of the americans. the historian, lossing, writes regarding this engagement: "no battle during the war was more obstinately contested than this; for the americans were greatly exasperated by the cruelty of the tories, and to the latter it was a question of life or death. it was with difficulty that the americans, remembering tarleton's cruelty at buford's defeat, could be restrained from slaughter, even after quarter was asked. "on the morning after the battle a court-martial was held, and several of the tory prisoners were found guilty of murder and other high crimes and hanged. colonel cleaveland had previously declared that if certain persons, who were the chief marauders, and who had forfeited their lives, should fall into his hands, he would hang them. ten of these men were suspended upon a tulip tree, which is yet standing--a venerable giant of the forest. this was the closing scene of the battle on king's mountain, an event which completely crushed the spirits of the loyalists, and weakened, beyond recovery, the royal power in the carolinas. intelligence of the defeat of ferguson destroyed all cornwallis' hopes of tory aid. he instantly left charlotte, retrograded, and established his camp at winnsborough, in fairfield district, between the wateree and broad rivers." it was because of sarah dillard's ride that the battle of king's mountain became possible, and consequently it was through her indirectly that the royal power in the carolinas was "weakened beyond recovery." in telling the story of her brave act, it has been necessary to introduce the two lads who bore so honorable a part in that brief campaign, and also the tory spy, but it is not possible within the limits of this tale to follow the adventures of the two young americans who, before the independence of the united states was gained, made for themselves most enviable records among most gallant men. at some time in the future, when the reader shall be ready to go into the more important engagements with evan and nathan, a further account of their deeds will be set down, and then can be described all which ephraim sowers finally did to clear his name of the taint which had been put upon it by his own deeds. it suffices now to say that the spy was held as prisoner by colonel mcdowells for two months or more, when, agreeably to his sworn promise that he would never do aught against the cause of freedom, he was released with the understanding that he should leave the carolinas forever. within one week after the battle of king's mountain nathan and evan were regularly enrolled among the soldiers under colonel charles mcdowells' command, and when general cornwallis surrendered were among the troops who had contributed to that officer's discomfiture. it was on the day set for the formal surrender at yorktown when the two lads were standing side by side in the ranks, that evan whispered to his comrade: "who ever dreamed on that night when ephraim sowers lorded it over us at captain dillard's home that we should stand here waiting to see the proudest general among all the britishers give up his sword to the 'rebel' commander?" "do you know that this victory was really begun when sarah dillard rode over the mountain trail to greene's spring, for from that moment all general cornwallis' power in the south began to wane." the end. a. l. burt's catalogue of books for young people by popular writers, - duane street, new york books for boys. =joe's luck=: a boy's adventures in california. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . the story is chock full of stirring incidents, while the amusing situations are furnished by joshua bickford, from pumpkin hollow, and the fellow who modestly styles himself the "rip-tail roarer, from pike co., missouri." mr. alger never writes a poor book, and "joe's luck" is certainly one of his best. =tom the bootblack=; or, the road to success. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . a bright, enterprising lad was tom the bootblack. he was not at all ashamed of his humble calling, though always on the lookout to better himself. the lad started for cincinnati to look up his heritage. mr. grey, the uncle, did not hesitate to employ a ruffian to kill the lad. the plan failed, and gilbert grey, once tom the bootblack, came into a comfortable fortune. this is one of mr. alger's best stories. =dan the newsboy.= by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . dan mordaunt and his mother live in a poor tenement, and the lad is pluckily trying to make ends meet by selling papers in the streets of new york. a little heiress of six years is confided to the care of the mordaunts. the child is kidnapped and dan tracks the child to the house where she is hidden, and rescues her. the wealthy aunt of the little heiress is so delighted with dan's courage and many good qualities that she adopts him as her heir. =tony the hero=: a brave boy's adventure with a tramp. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . tony, a sturdy bright-eyed boy of fourteen, is under the control of rudolph rugg, a thorough rascal. after much abuse tony runs away and gets a job as stable boy in a country hotel. tony is heir to a large estate. rudolph for a consideration hunts up tony and throws him down a deep well. of course tony escapes from the fate provided for him, and by a brave act, a rich friend secures his rights and tony is prosperous. a very entertaining book. =the errand boy=; or, how phil brent won success. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth illustrated, price $ . . the career of "the errand boy" embraces the city adventures of a smart country lad. philip was brought up by a kind-hearted innkeeper named brent. the death of mrs. brent paved the way for the hero's subsequent troubles. a retired merchant in new york secures him the situation of errand boy, and thereafter stands as his friend. =tom temple's career.= by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . tom temple is a bright, self-reliant lad. he leaves plympton village to seek work in new york, whence he undertakes an important mission to california. some of his adventures in the far west are so startling that the reader will scarcely close the book until the last page shall have been reached. the tale is written in mr. alger's most fascinating style. =frank fowler, the cash boy.= by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . frank fowler, a poor boy, bravely determines to make a living for himself and his foster-sister grace. going to new york he obtains a situation as cash boy in a dry goods store. he renders a service to a wealthy old gentleman who takes a fancy to the lad, and thereafter helps the lad to gain success and fortune. =tom thatcher's fortune.= by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . tom thatcher is a brave, ambitious, unselfish boy. he supports his mother and sister on meagre wages earned as a shoe-pegger in john simpson's factory. tom is discharged from the factory and starts overland for california. he meets with many adventures. the story is told in a way which has made mr. alger's name a household word in so many homes. =the train boy.= by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . paul palmer was a wide-awake boy of sixteen who supported his mother and sister by selling books and papers on the chicago and milwaukee railroad. he detects a young man in the act of picking the pocket of a young lady. in a railway accident many passengers are killed, but paul is fortunate enough to assist a chicago merchant, who out of gratitude takes him into his employ. paul succeeds with tact and judgment and is well started on the road to business prominence. =mark mason's victory.= the trials and triumphs of a telegraph boy. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . mark mason, the telegraph boy, was a sturdy, honest lad, who pluckily won his way to success by his honest manly efforts under many difficulties. this story will please the very large class of boys who regard mr. alger as a favorite author. =a debt of honor.= the story of gerald lane's success in the far west. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . the story of gerald lane and the account of the many trials and disappointments which he passed through before he attained success, will interest all boys who have read the previous stories of this delightful author. =ben bruce.= scenes in the life of a bowery newsboy. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . ben bruce was a brave, manly, generous boy. the story of his efforts, and many seeming failures and disappointments, and his final success, are most interesting to all readers. the tale is written in mr. alger's most fascinating style. =the castaways=; or, on the florida reefs. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this tale smacks of the salt sea. from the moment that the sea queen leaves lower new york bay till the breeze leaves her becalmed off the coast of florida, one can almost hear the whistle of the wind through her rigging, the creak of her straining cordage as she heels to the leeward. the adventures of ben clark, the hero of the story and jake the cook, cannot fail to charm the reader. as a writer for young people mr. otis is a prime favorite. =wrecked on spider island=; or, how ned rogers found the treasure. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . ned rogers, a "down-east" plucky lad ships as cabin boy to earn a livelihood. ned is marooned on spider island, and while there discovers a wreck submerged in the sand, and finds a considerable amount of treasure. the capture of the treasure and the incidents of the voyage serve to make as entertaining a story of sea-life as the most captious boy could desire. =the search for the silver city=: a tale of adventure in yucatan. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . two lads, teddy wright and neal emery, embark on the steam yacht day dream for a cruise to the tropics. the yacht is destroyed by fire, and then the boat is cast upon the coast of yucatan. they hear of the wonderful silver city, of the chan santa cruz indians, and with the help of a faithful indian ally carry off a number of the golden images from the temples. pursued with relentless vigor at last their escape is effected in an astonishing manner. the story is so full of exciting incidents that the reader is quite carried away with the novelty and realism of the narrative. =a runaway brig=; or, an accidental cruise. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this is a sea tale, and the reader can look out upon the wide shimmering sea as it flashes back the sunlight, and imagine himself afloat with harry vandyne, walter morse, jim libby and that old shell-back, bob brace, on the brig bonita. the boys discover a mysterious document which enables them to find a buried treasure. they are stranded on an island and at last are rescued with the treasure. the boys are sure to be fascinated with this entertaining story. =the treasure finders=: a boy's adventures in nicaragua. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . roy and dean coloney, with their guide tongla, leave their father's indigo plantation to visit the wonderful ruins of an ancient city. the boys eagerly explore the temples of an extinct race and discover three golden images cunningly hidden away. they escape with the greatest difficulty. eventually they reach safety with their golden prizes. we doubt if there ever was written a more entertaining story than "the treasure finders." =jack, the hunchback.= a story of the coast of maine. by james otis. price $ . . this is the story of a little hunchback who lived on cape elizabeth, on the coast of maine. his trials and successes are most interesting. from first to last nothing stays the interest of the narrative. it bears us along as on a stream whose current varies in direction, but never loses its force. =with washington at monmouth=: a story of three philadelphia boys. by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . three philadelphia lads assist the american spies and make regular and frequent visits to valley forge in the winter while the british occupied the city. the story abounds with pictures of colonial life skillfully drawn, and the glimpses of washington's soldiers which are given show that the work has not been hastily done, or without considerable study. the story is wholesome and patriotic in tone, as are all of mr. otis' works. =with lafayette at yorktown=: a story of how two boys joined the continental army. by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . two lads from portmouth, n. h., attempt to enlist in the colonial army, and are given employment as spies. there is no lack of exciting incidents which the youthful reader craves, but it is healthful excitement brimming with facts which every boy should be familiar with, and while the reader is following the adventures of ben jaffrays and ned allen he is acquiring a fund of historical lore which will remain in his memory long after that which he has memorized from textbooks has been forgotten. =at the siege of havana.= being the experiences of three boys serving under israel putnam in . by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . "at the siege of havana" deals with that portion of the island's history when the english king captured the capital, thanks to the assistance given by the troops from new england, led in part by col. israel putnam. the principal characters are darius lunt, the lad who, represented as telling the story, and his comrades, robert clement and nicholas vallet. colonel putnam also figures to considerable extent, necessarily, in the tale, and the whole forms one of the most readable stories founded on historical facts. =the defense of fort henry.= a story of wheeling creek in . by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . nowhere in the history of our country can be found more heroic or thrilling incidents than in the story of those brave men and women who founded the settlement of wheeling in the colony of virginia. the recital of what elizabeth zane did is in itself as heroic a story as can be imagined. the wondrous bravery displayed by major mcculloch and his gallant comrades, the sufferings of the colonists and their sacrifice of blood and life, stir the blood of old as well as young readers. =the capture of the laughing mary.= a story of three new york boys in . by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "during the british occupancy of new york, at the outbreak of the revolution, a yankee lad hears of the plot to take general washington's person, and calls in two companions to assist the patriot cause. they do some astonishing things, and, incidentally, lay the way for an american navy later, by the exploit which gives its name to the work. mr. otis' books are too well known to require any particular commendation to the young."--=evening post.= =with warren at bunker hill.= a story of the siege of boston. by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . "this is a tale of the siege of boston, which opens on the day after the doings at lexington and concord, with a description of home life in boston, introduces the reader to the british camp at charlestown, shows gen. warren at home, describes what a boy thought of the battle of bunker hill, and closes with the raising of the siege. the three heroes, george wentworth, ben scarlett and an old ropemaker, incur the enmity of a young tory, who causes them many adventures the boys will like to read."--=detroit free press.= =with the swamp fox.= the story of general marion's spies. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this story deals with general francis marion's heroic struggle in the carolinas. general marion's arrival to take command of these brave men and rough riders is pictured as a boy might have seen it, and although the story is devoted to what the lads did, the swamp fox is ever present in the mind of the reader. =on the kentucky frontier.= a story of the fighting pioneers of the west. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . in the history of our country there is no more thrilling story than that of the work done on the mississippi river by a handful of frontiersmen. mr. otis takes the reader on that famous expedition from the arrival of major clarke's force at corn island, until kaskaskia was captured. he relates that part of simon kenton's life history which is not usually touched upon either by the historian or the story teller. this is one of the most entertaining books for young people which has been published. =sarah dillard's ride.= a story of south carolina in . by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "this book deals with the carolinas in , giving a wealth of detail of the mountain men who struggled so valiantly against the king's troops. major ferguson is the prominent british officer of the story, which is told as though coming from a youth who experienced these adventures. in this way the famous ride of sarah dillard is brought out as an incident of the plot."--=boston journal.= =a tory plot.= a story of the attempt to kill general washington. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "'a tory plot' is the story of two lads who overhear something of the plot originated during the revolution by gov. tryon to capture or murder washington. they communicate their knowledge to gen. putnam and are commissioned by him to play the role of detectives in the matter. they do so, and meet with many adventures and hairbreadth escapes. the boys are, of course, mythical, but they serve to enable the author to put into very attractive shape much valuable knowledge concerning one phase of the revolution."--=pittsburgh times.= =a traitor's escape.= a story of the attempt to seize benedict arnold. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "this is a tale with stirring scenes depicted in each chapter, bringing clearly before the mind the glorious deeds of the early settlers in this country. in an historical work dealing with this country's past, no plot can hold the attention closer than this one, which describes the attempt and partial success of benedict arnold's escape to new york, where he remained as the guest of sir henry clinton. all those who actually figured in the arrest of the traitor, as well as gen. washington, are included as characters."--=albany union.= =a cruise with paul jones.= a story of naval warfare in . by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "this story takes up that portion of paul jones' adventurous life when he was hovering off the british coast, watching for an opportunity to strike the enemy a blow. it deals more particularly with his descent upon whitehaven, the seizure of lady selkirk's plate, and the famous battle with the drake. the boy who figures in the tale is one who was taken from a derelict by paul jones shortly after this particular cruise was begun."--=chicago inter-ocean.= =corporal lige's recruit.= a story of crown point and ticonderoga. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "in 'corporal lige's recruit,' mr. otis tells the amusing story of an old soldier, proud of his record, who had served the king in ' , and who takes the lad, isaac rice, as his 'personal recruit.' the lad acquits himself superbly. col. ethan allen 'in the name of god and the continental congress,' infuses much martial spirit into the narrative, which will arouse the keenest interest as it proceeds. crown point, ticonderoga, benedict arnold and numerous other famous historical names appear in this dramatic tale."--=boston globe.= =morgan, the jersey spy.= a story of the siege of yorktown in . by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "the two lads who are utilized by the author to emphasize the details of the work done during that memorable time were real boys who lived on the banks of the york river, and who aided the jersey spy in his dangerous occupation. in the guise of fishermen the lads visit yorktown, are suspected of being spies, and put under arrest. morgan risks his life to save them. the final escape, the thrilling encounter with a squad of red coats, when they are exposed equally to the bullets of friends and foes, told in a masterly fashion, makes of this volume one of the most entertaining books of the year."--=inter-ocean.= =the young scout=: the story of a west point lieutenant. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . the crafty apache chief geronimo but a few years ago was the most terrible scourge of the southwest border. the author has woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the incidents of geronimo's last raid. the hero is lieutenant james decker, a recent graduate of west point. ambitious to distinguish himself the young man takes many a desperate chance against the enemy and on more than one occasion narrowly escapes with his life. in our opinion mr. ellis is the best writer of indian stories now before the public. =adrift in the wilds=: the adventures of two shipwrecked boys. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . elwood brandon and howard lawrence are en route for san francisco. off the coast of california the steamer takes fire. the two boys reach the shore with several of the passengers. young brandon becomes separated from his party and is captured by hostile indians, but is afterwards rescued. this is a very entertaining narrative of southern california. =a young hero=; or, fighting to win. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this story tells how a valuable solid silver service was stolen from the misses perkinpine, two very old and simple minded ladies. fred sheldon, the hero of this story, undertakes to discover the thieves and have them arrested. after much time spent in detective work, he succeeds in discovering the silver plate and winning the reward. the story is told in mr. ellis' most fascinating style. every boy will be glad to read this delightful book. =lost in the rockies.= a story of adventure in the rocky mountains. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . incident succeeds incident, and adventure is piled upon adventure, and at the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced breathless enjoyment in this romantic story describing many adventures in the rockies and among the indians. =a jaunt through java=: the story of a journey to the sacred mountain. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . the interest of this story is found in the thrilling adventures of two cousins, hermon and eustace hadley, on their trip across the island of java, from samarang to the sacred mountain. in a land where the royal bengal tiger, the rhinoceros, and other fierce beasts are to be met with, it is but natural that the heroes of this book should have a lively experience. there is not a dull page in the book. =the boy patriot.= a story of jack, the young friend of washington. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . "there are adventures of all kinds for the hero and his friends, whose pluck and ingenuity in extricating themselves from awkward fixes are always equal to the occasion. it is an excellent story full of honest, manly, patriotic efforts on the part of the hero. a very vivid description of the battle of trenton is also found in this story."--=journal of education.= =a yankee lad's pluck.= how bert larkin saved his father's ranch in porto rico. by wm. p. chipman. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "bert larkin, the hero of the story, early excites our admiration, and is altogether a fine character such as boys will delight in, whilst the story of his numerous adventures is very graphically told. this will, we think, prove one of the most popular boys' books this season."--=gazette.= =a brave defense.= a story of the massacre at fort griswold in . by william p. chipman. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . perhaps no more gallant fight against fearful odds took place during the revolutionary war than that at fort griswold, groton heights, conn., in . the boys are real boys who were actually on the muster rolls, either at fort trumbull on the new london side, or of fort griswold on the groton side of the thames. the youthful reader who follows halsey sanford and levi dart and tom malleson, and their equally brave comrades, through their thrilling adventures will be learning something more than historical facts; they will be imbibing lessons of fidelity, of bravery, of heroism, and of manliness, which must prove serviceable in the arena of life. =the young minuteman.= a story of the capture of general prescott in . by william p. chipman. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this story is based upon actual events which occurred during the british occupation of the waters of narragansett bay. darius wale and william northrop belong to "the coast patrol." the story is a strong one, dealing only with actual events. there is, however, no lack of thrilling adventure, and every lad who is fortunate enough to obtain the book will find not only that his historical knowledge is increased, but that his own patriotism and love of country are deepened. =for the temple=: a tale of the fall of jerusalem. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by s. j. solomon. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "mr. henty's graphic prose picture of the hopeless jewish resistance to roman sway adds another leaf to his record of the famous wars of the world. the book is one of mr. henty's cleverest efforts."--=graphic.= =roy gilbert's search=: a tale of the great lakes. by wm. p. chipman. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . a deep mystery hangs over the parentage of roy gilbert. he arranges with two schoolmates to make a tour of the great lakes on a steam launch. the three boys visit many points of interest on the lakes. afterwards the lads rescue an elderly gentleman and a lady from a sinking yacht. later on the boys narrowly escape with their lives. the hero is a manly, self-reliant boy, whose adventures will be followed with interest. =the slate picker=: the story of a boy's life in the coal mines. by harry prentice. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this is a story of a boy's life in the coal mines of pennsylvania. ben burton, the hero, had a hard road to travel, but by grit and energy he advanced step by step until he found himself called upon to fill the position of chief engineer of the kohinoor coal company. this is a book of extreme interest to every boy reader. =the boy cruisers=; or, paddling in florida. by st. george rathborne. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . andrew george and rowland carter start on a canoe trip along the gulf coast, from key west to tampa, florida. their first adventure is with a pair of rascals who steal their boats. next they run into a gale in the gulf. after that they have a lively time with alligators and andrew gets into trouble with a band of seminole indians. mr. rathborne knows just how to interest the boys, and lads who are in search of a rare treat will do well to read this entertaining story. =captured by zulus=: a story of trapping in africa. by harry prentice. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this story details the adventures of two lads, dick elsworth and bob harvey, in the wilds of south africa. by stratagem the zulus capture dick and bob and take them to their principal kraal or village. the lads escape death by digging their way out of the prison hut by night. they are pursued, but the zulus finally give up pursuit. mr. prentice tells exactly how wild-beast collectors secure specimens on their native stamping grounds, and these descriptions make very entertaining reading. =tom the ready=; or, up from the lowest. by randolph hill. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this is a dramatic narrative of the unaided rise of a fearless, ambitious boy from the lowest round of fortune's ladder to wealth and the governorship of his native state. tom seacomb begins life with a purpose, and eventually overcomes those who oppose him. how he manages to win the battle is told by mr. hill in a masterful way that thrills the reader and holds his attention and sympathy to the end. =captain kidd's gold=: the true story of an adventurous sailor boy. by james franklin fitts. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . there is something fascinating to the average youth in the very idea of buried treasure. a vision arises before his eyes of swarthy portuguese and spanish rascals, with black beards and gleaming eyes. there were many famous sea rovers, but none more celebrated than capt. kidd. paul jones garry inherits a document which locates a considerable treasure buried by two of kidd's crew. the hero of this book is an ambitious, persevering lad, of salt-water new england ancestry, and his efforts to reach the island and secure the money form one of the most absorbing tales for our youth that has come from the press. =the boy explorers=: the adventures of two boys in alaska. by harry prentice. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . two boys, raymond and spencer manning, travel to alaska to join their father in search of their uncle. on their arrival at sitka the boys with an indian guide set off across the mountains. the trip is fraught with perils that test the lads' courage to the utmost. all through their exciting adventures the lads demonstrate what can be accomplished by pluck and resolution, and their experience makes one of the most interesting tales ever written. =the island treasure=; or, harry darrel's fortune. by frank h. converse. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . harry darrel, having received a nautical training on a school-ship, is bent on going to sea. a runaway horse changes his prospects. harry saves dr. gregg from drowning and afterward becomes sailing-master of a sloop yacht. mr. converse's stories possess a charm of their own which is appreciated by lads who delight in good healthy tales that smack of salt water. =guy harris=: the runaway. by harry castlemon. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . guy harris lived in a small city on the shore of one of the great lakes. he is persuaded to go to sea, and gets a glimpse of the rough side of life in a sailor's boarding house. he ships on a vessel and for five months leads a hard life. the book will interest boys generally on account of its graphic style. this is one of castlemon's most attractive stories. =julian mortimer=: a brave boy's struggle for home and fortune. by harry castlemon. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . the scene of the story lies west of the mississippi river, in the days when emigrants made their perilous way across the great plains to the land of gold. there is an attack upon the wagon train by a large party of indians. our hero is a lad of uncommon nerve and pluck. befriended by a stalwart trapper, a real rough diamond, our hero achieves the most happy results. =by pike and dyke=: a tale of the rise of the dutch republic. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by maynard brown. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "boys with a turn for historical research will be enchanted with the book, while the rest who only care for adventure will be students in spite of themselves."--=st. james's gazette.= =st. george for england=: a tale of cressy and poitiers. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "a story of very great interest for boys. in his own forcible style the author has endeavored to show that determination and enthusiasm can accomplish marvellous results; and that courage is generally accompanied by magnanimity and gentleness."--=pall mall gazette.= =captain bayley's heir=: a tale of the gold fields of california. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by h. m. paget. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "mr. henty is careful to mingle instruction with entertainment; and the humorous touches, especially in the sketch of john holl, the westminster dustman, dickens himself could hardly have excelled."--=christian leader.= =budd boyd's triumph=; or, the boy firm of fox island. by william p. chipman. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . the scene of this story is laid on the upper part of narragansett bay, and the leading incidents have a strong salt-water flavor. the two boys, budd boyd and judd floyd, being ambitious and clear sighted, form a partnership to catch and sell fish. budd's pluck and good sense carry him through many troubles. in following the career of the boy firm of boyd & floyd, the youthful reader will find a useful lesson--that industry and perseverance are bound to lead to ultimate success. =lost in the canyon=: sam willett's adventures on the great colorado. by alfred r. calhoun. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . this story hinges on a fortune left to sam willett, the hero, and the fact that it will pass to a disreputable relative if the lad dies before he shall have reached his majority. the story of his father's peril and of sam's desperate trip down the great canyon on a raft, and how the party finally escape from their perils is described in a graphic style that stamps mr. calhoun as a master of his art. =captured by apes=: the wonderful adventures of a young animal trainer. by harry prentice. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . philip garland, a young animal collector and trainer, sets sail for eastern seas in quest of a new stock of living curiosities. the vessel is wrecked off the coast of borneo, and young garland is cast ashore on a small island, and captured by the apes that overrun the place. very novel indeed is the way by which the young man escapes death. mr. prentice is a writer of undoubted skill. =under drake's flag=: a tale of the spanish main. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "there is not a dull chapter, nor, indeed, a dull page in the book; but the author has so carefully worked up his subject that the exciting deeds of his heroes are never incongruous nor absurd."--=observer.= =by sheer pluck=: a tale of the ashanti war. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . the author has woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the details of the ashanti campaign, of which he was himself a witness. "mr. henty keeps up his reputation as a writer of boys' stories. 'by sheer pluck' will be eagerly read."--=athenæum.= =with lee in virginia=: a story of the american civil war. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "one of the best stories for lads which mr. henty has yet written. the picture is full of life and color, and the stirring and romantic incidents are skillfully blended with the personal interest and charm of the story."--=standard.= =by england's aid=; or, the freeing of the netherlands ( - ). by g. a. henty. with illustrations by alfred pearse. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "it is an admirable book for youngsters. it overflows with stirring incident and exciting adventure, and the color of the era and of the scene are finely reproduced. the illustrations add to its attractiveness."--=boston gazette.= =by right of conquest=; or, with cortez in mexico. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by w. s. stacey. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "the conquest of mexico by a small band of resolute men under the magnificent leadership of cortez is always rightfully ranked among the most romantic and daring exploits in history. 'by right of conquest' is the neatest approach to a perfectly successful historical tale that mr. henty has yet published."--=academy.= =for name and fame=; or, through afghan passes. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms of excitement of a campaign, but, what is still more useful, an account of a territory and its inhabitants which must for a long time possess a supreme interest for englishmen, as being the key to our indian empire."--=glasgow herald.= =the bravest of the brave=; or, with peterborough in spain. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by h. m. paget. mo cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "mr. henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work--to enforce the doctrine of courage and truth, mercy and loving kindness, as indispensable to the making of a gentleman. boys will read 'the bravest of the brave' with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite sure."--=daily telegraph.= =the cat of bubastes=: a story of ancient egypt. by g. a. henty. with illustrations. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "the story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred cat to the perilous exodus into asia with which it closes, is very skillfully constructed and full of exciting adventures. it is admirably illustrated."--=saturday review.= =bonnie prince charlie=: a tale of fontenoy and culloden. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "ronald, the hero, is very like the hero of 'quentin durward.' the lad's journey across france, and his hairbreadth escapes, makes up as good a narrative of the kind as we have ever read. for freshness of treatment and variety of incident mr. henty has surpassed himself."--=spectator.= =with clive in india=; or, the beginnings of an empire. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "he has taken a period of indian history of the most vital importance, and he has embroidered on the historical facts a story which of itself is deeply interesting. young people assuredly will be delighted with the volume."--=scotsman.= =in the reign of terror=: the adventures of a westminster boy. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by j. schÃ�nberg. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "harry sandwith, the westminster boy, may fairly be said to beat mr. henty's record. his adventures will delight boys by the audacity and peril they depict. the story is one of mr. henty's best."--=saturday review.= =the lion of the north=: a tale of gustavus adolphus and the wars of religion. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by john schÃ�nberg. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "a praiseworthy attempt to interest british youth in the great deeds of the scotch brigade in the wars of gustavus adolphus. mackey, hepburn, and munro live again in mr. henty's pages, as those deserve to live whose disciplined bands formed really the germ of the modern british army."--=athenæum.= =the dragon and the raven=; or, the days of king alfred. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by c. j. staniland. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "in this story the author gives an account of the fierce struggle between saxon and dane for supremacy in england, and presents a vivid picture of the misery and ruin to which the country was reduced by the ravages of the sea-wolves. the story is treated in a manner most attractive to the boyish reader."--=athenæum.= =the young carthaginian=: a story of the times of hannibal. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by c. j. staniland. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "well constructed and vividly told. from first to last nothing stays the interest of the narrative. it bears us along as on a stream whose current varies in direction, but never loses its force."--=saturday review.= =in freedom's cause=: a story of wallace and bruce. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "it is written in the author's best style. full of the wildest and most remarkable achievements, it is a tale of great interest, which a boy, once he has begun it, will not willingly put one side."--=the schoolmaster.= =with wolfe in canada=; or, the winning of a continent. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "a model of what a boys' story-book should be. mr. henty has a great power of infusing into the dead facts of history new life, and as no pains are spared by him to ensure accuracy in historic details, his books supply useful aids to study as well as amusement."--=school guardian.= =true to the old flag=: a tale of the american war of independence. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "does justice to the pluck and determination of the british soldiers during the unfortunate struggle against american emancipation. the son of an american loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls among the hostile red-skins in that very huron country which has been endeared to us by the exploits of hawkeye and chingachgook."--=the times.= =a final reckoning=: a tale of bush life in australia. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by w. b. wollen. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "all boys will read this story with eager and unflagging interest. the episodes are in mr. henty's very best vein--graphic, exciting, realistic; and, as in all mr. henty's books, the tendency is to the formation of an honorable, manly, and even heroic character."--=birmingham post.= for sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publisher, =a. l. burt, - duane street, new york=. transcriber's note: minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained as printed. words printed in italics are noted with underscores: _italics_. reminiscences of the guilford grays, co. b, th n.c. regiment, by john a. sloan. washington, d.c.: r. o. polkinhorn, printer. . contents. chapter i. organization of the grays--general joab hiatt--original members-- election of officers--drill--arms received--first public parade --"jake causey"--exercises at edgeworth--may queen; presentation of banner. chapter ii. the greys celebrate fourth of july--visit the orange guards at hillsboro--dinner and ball--celebrate d february at greenboro--the "boom" of war--secession of the gulf states--correspondence between gov. ellis and secretary holt--organization of the confederacy at montgomery--we celebrate our own anniversary--our visitors--the ladies--feasting and dancing--"call" on gov. ellis for troops--ellis' response. chapter iii. effect of lincoln's call for troops--gov. ellis convenes the legislature--the greys ordered to report at goldsboro with three days rations--ordered to report at fort macon--ladies' aid society --political excitement--north carolina secedes--new recruits--the greys sworn in--arrival at fort macon--latham's woodpeckers--assigned to the th regiment--assigned finally to the th regiment--deaths --new recruits--routine duty at the fort--sports and past-times. chapter iv. election of regimental officers--ordered to new berne--burnside approaches--fleet arrives on the th--the morning of the th--the battle--the retreat--at kinston--changes and promotions--expiration of enlistments--regiment reorganized--grays reorganized as company b-- election of commissioned and non-commissioned officers. chapter v. more recruits--sam'l park weir--leave north carolina for virginia--the seven pines--the seven days fight--malvern hill. chapter vi. marching in the rain--from drury's bluff to petersburg--riddling the "daniel webster"--shelling mcclellan's camp--ordered to richmond--at rapidan station--discharges and deaths--regimental band formed--first maryland campaign--across the potomac--two grays captured--lost in the woods--turn up in loudon county, va.--at harper's ferry--surrender of harper's ferry. chapter vii. battle of sharpsburg--the th regiment in the fight--complimentary notice by president davis, gen. lee and others--cook's heroism-- casualties--captain wm. adams--recross the potomac--rest at occoquan --election of officers to fill vacancies--deaths. chapter viii. mcclellan moves southward--our march through the valley--at upperville --return to paris--cedar mountain--col. cooke promoted--major j. a. gilmer made colonel--on to fredericksburg--incidents on the march-- burnside advances--battle of fredericksburg--casualties. chapter ix. muster roll of grays in december, --ordered to richmond--to petersburg--take cars for north carolina--at burgaw--the sweet potato vine--on to charleston, s.c.--the alligators of pocataligo--in camp at coosawhatchie--more deaths--return to north carolina--on the old grounds near kinston. chapter x. the affair at bristow station. chapter xi. the affair at bristow--gallant conduct of color-guard w. c. story-- losses of the grays--lieut. mcknight killed--sergeant-major r. d. weatherly mortally wounded--the affair a criminal blunder--president davis' comments--the surprise at kelly's ford--meade crosses the rapidan--lee advances--meade's retreat--in winter quarters near orange court-house. chapter xii. company promotions--our "fighting parson" appointed chaplain--new recruits--transfers--deaths--virginia xmas hospitality--visited by rev. j. h. smith, of greensboro. chapter xiii. relative strength of the two armies in may--their respective positions --the wilderness--private williams receives a wound--casualties. chapter xiv. the enemy re-enforced by burnside's corps--heth and wilcox overpowered --critical situation--general lee charges with the texas brigade--enemy routed--longstreet wounded--night march--moving towards spottsylvania court-house--fortifying at spottsylvania. chapter xv. barlow's attack upon our left--the little brick church--the enemy's advance on ewell at the salient--gen. lee exposes himself--terrific conflict--heth's division moved to the left--the enemy repulsed--rest for a few days--grant's desperate attack on the th. chapter xvi. grant abandons his plans--moves towards bowling greene--on the road to hanover junction--weary marches--a. "georgy" soldier's costume--his idea of music and medicine--anecdote of general grant--grant changes his tactics--engagement at attlee's station--brush at tolopotomy creek--skirmish at pole--green church--lieut. campbell mortally wounded. chapter xvii. the army at cold harbor--battle at pharr's farm--casualties--at cold harbor--lieut. frank hanner's death. chapter xviii. marching towards the james--our brigade in the chickahominy swamps-- cavalry skirmish at hawe's shops--sergeant w. m. paisley mortally wounded--ordered to support the cavalry on the st.--fighting under difficulties--on the lines near petersburg. chapter xix. the crater--warren's corps seize the weldon railroad--the th at ream's station--the grays lose heavily--warren holds the railroad. chapter xx. in the trenches before petersburg--casualties--the federals cross to the north side of the james--skirmish near battery no. --at hatcher's run--at burgess' mill--in line of battle--building winter quarters--on a raid at bellfield--the enemy in full flight--grant creeping up on our lines. chapter xxi. in winter quarters at hatcher's run--a midnight tramp--an affair at hare's hill--our picket line in the hands of the enemy--recaptured-- at fort euliss--our lines broken--the retreat--fight at sutherland's tavern--sorely pressed--reach deep creek--camp near goode's bridge --we celebrate--reorganization of the regiment--a halt at amelia court-house--wagon trains attacked and burned--every man for himself--reach appomattox--in line of battle--awaiting orders. chapter xxii. to the reader--the morning of the th--preparations to attack--a flag of truce--negotiations between generals grant and lee--the surrender --the guilford grays present at appomattox--comrades--closing scene --retrospect. chapter xxiii. the names of all who were at any time on our rolls, and a sketch of the military record of each member--battles fought. preface. i hope no one will think that i aspire to the severe dignity of a historian in these rambling reminiscences which are to follow. i am well content to take an humbler part. with the political questions of the past, with the conduct of politicians and statesmen, with the skill of military leaders, with the criticism of campaigns, with the causes and effects of the civil war, i have here no concern, much less with the personal interests and rivalries of individuals. but for all this, the writer hopes that these contributions will not be unfavorably received by those who were actors in the scenes which are here recalled. he hopes that what is lacking of the general history of those eventful times will be compensated for in the details touching the history of the guilford grays themselves. from the period when our company was called into the field by gov. ellis, down to the surrender at appomattox, the writer kept a record of those events which came under his own observation, and which he thought might prove useful and interesting in future time. "_forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit._" these records up to the capture of newberne were lost, and for this period of our history i have relied principally upon my memory. from the battle of newberne to the final catastrophe, i have accurate notes of the most important events and incidents in which the grays participated and shared. to the memory of my comrades who fell, and as a testimonial to those who survive, these reminiscences are dedicated. to the derelict in duty, if such there may have been, the writer will have naught to say. let their names stand forever in the shadows of oblivion. john a. sloan. reminiscences of the guilford grays. chapter i. in the year eighteen hundred and sixty the military spirit was rife in the south. the clouds were threatening. no one knew what a day would bring forth. the organization, the equipment and drill of volunteer companies was, accordingly, the order of the times. the first assembly to perfect the organization of the guilford grays was held in the court-house in greensboro, n.c., on the evening of the th of january, . the meeting was presided over by general joab hiatt--now deceased--a favorite and friend of the young men. gen. hiatt won his military laurels as commander of the militia, in the piping times of peace. whoever has seen him arrayed in the gorgeous uniform of a militia brigadier on the field of the general muster cannot fail to recall his commanding presence. he was the proper man to fill the chair at our first meeting. james w. albright (who is still in the flesh) acted as secretary. the usual committees were appointed. a constitution and by-laws were drafted and adopted. the constitution provided for a volunteer company of infantry, to be known as the guilford grays. each member was required to sign the constitution and by-laws. the following is a complete list of the signers, in the order of their signatures: john a. sloan, william p. wilson, thomas j. sloan, jos. m. morehead, john sloan, david gundling, henry c. gorrel, william u. steiner, otto huber, james r. pearce, jas. t. morehead, jr., p. b. taylor, chas. a. campbell, j. h. tarpley, william adams, james w. albright, maben lamb, james thomas, edward g. sterling, jos. h. fetzer, william p. moring, wilbur f. owen, george h. gregory, david n. kirkpatrick, andrew d. lindsay, john donnell, benjamin g. graham, w. w. causey, william l. bryan, chas. e. porter, john d. smith, james r. cole, john h. mcknight, jed. h. lindsay, jr., w. c. bourne, john a. gilmer, jr., samuel b. jordan. the foregoing persons signed the constitution and by-laws on the th of january, , when the company was first organized, and are entitled to the honor of being the "original panel." the company was organized by the election of the following commissioned and non-commissioned officers, viz.: john sloan, captain; william adams, st lieutenant; james t. morehead, d lieutenant; john a. pritchett, d lieutenant; henry c. gorrell, ensign (with rank of lieutenant); w. c. bourne, orderly sergeant; william p. wilson, d sergeant; samuel b. jordan, d sergeant; geo. w. howlett, th sergeant; thos. j. sloan, corporal; benjamin g. graham, d corporal; george h. gregory, d corporal; silas c. dodson, th corporal. the following musicians were selected from the colored troops: jake mebane, fifer; bob hargrove, kettle-drummer; cæsar lindsay, base-drummer. the anniversary of the battle of guilford court-house is an honored day among the people of old guilford. it was the turning point in the future of lord cornwallis. when the earl of chatham heard the defeat announced in the house of parliament, he exclaimed: "one more such victory would ruin the british." this battle was fought by general greene on the th of march, . on this anniversary, the th of march, , our officers received their commissions from governor ellis. this is the date of our formal organization. friday night of each week was set apart for the purpose of drill and improvement. our drill-room was in the second story of tate's old cotton factory, where we were instructed in the various manoeuvers and evolutions, as then laid down in scott's tactics. early in april we received our arms, consisting of fifty stand of old flint-and-steel, smooth-bore muskets, a species of ordnance very effective at the breech. they were supposed to have descended from , and to have been wrested by order of the governor from the worms and rust of the arsenal at fayettsville. by the first of may we had received our handsome gray uniforms from philadelphia. these uniforms, which we so gaily donned and proudly wore, consisted of a frock coat, single-breasted, with two rows of state buttons, pants to match, with black stripe, waist belt of black leather, cross belt of white webbing, gray cap with pompon. our first public parade was a day long to be remembered. it occurred on the th day of may, . the occasion was the coronation of a may queen in the grove at edgeworth female seminary. the grays were invited by the ladies to lend their presence at the celebration, and it was whispered that we were to be the recipients of a banner. it will be readily imagined that we were transported with the anticipation of so joyous a day. we did our best to make ourselves perfect in the drill and manual--for would not all eyes be upon us? the day came at last, and at a.m. we assembled in front of the court-house. the roll was called and no absentees noted. the uniforms were immaculate, our officers wore the beautiful swords presented to them by the fair ladies of greensboro female college, the musket barrels and bayonets flashed and gleamed in the glorious may sunshine, and with high heads in jaunty caps, and with the proud military step, as we supposed it ought to be, we marched now in single file, and now in platoons, down the street towards the edgeworth grounds, keeping time to the music of "old jake," whose "spirit-stirring fife" never sounded shriller, and whose _rainbow-arched_ legs never bore him with such grandeur. when we arrived at our destination, we found the beautiful green grounds, which were tastefully decorated, already filled with happy spectators. the young ladies, whose guests we were to be, were formed in procession, and were awaiting the arrival of the queen and her suite. the appearance of this distinguished cortege on the scene was the signal for the procession to move. the following was the order of procession: first. fourteen of her maids of honor. second. ten floras, with baskets of flowers, which they scattered in the pathway. third. sceptre and crown-bearer. fourth. the queen, with lady hope and the archbishop on either side. fifth. two maids of honor. sixth. ten pages. seventh. the military (grays). as the queen advanced to the throne, erected in the centre of the grove, the young ladies greeted her with the salutation: "you are the fairest, and of beauty rarest, and you our queen shall be." lady hope (miss mary arendell) addressed the queen: "o, maiden fair, with light brown hair!" the archbishop (miss hennie erwin) then proceeded to the crowning ceremony, and miss mary morehead was crowned queen of may. after these pleasant and ever-to-be-remembered ceremonies, the queen (miss mamie) in the name of the ladies of the seminary, presented to the grays a handsome silk flag, in the following happy speech: "in the name of my subjects, the fair donors of edgeworth, i present this banner to the guilford grays. feign would we have it a "banner of peace," and have inscribed upon its graceful folds "peace on earth and good-will to man;" for our womanly natures shrink from the horrors of war and bloodshed. but we have placed upon it the "oak," fit emblem of the firm heroic spirits over which it is to float. strength, energy, and decision mark the character of the sons of guilford, whuse noble sires have taught their sons to know but one fear--the fear of doing wrong." * * * * * * cadet r. o. sterling, of the n.c. military institute, received the banner at the hands of the queen, and, advancing, placed it in the hands of ensign h. c. gorrell, who accepted the trust as follows: "most noble queen, on the part of the guilford grays i accept this beautiful banner, for which i tender the thanks of those whom i represent. your majesty calls to remembrance the days of 'auld lang syne,' when the banners of our country proudly and triumphantly waved over our own battle-field, and when our fathers, on the soil of old guilford, 'struck for their altars and their fires.' here, indeed, was fought the great battle of the south; here was decided the great struggle of the revolution; here was achieved the great victory of american over british generalship; here was evidenced the great military talent and skill of nathaniel greene, the blacksmith boy, whose immortal name our town bears. "if any earthly pride be justifiable, are not the sons of guilford entitled to entertain it? if any spot on earth be appropriate for the presentation of a "banner of peace," where will you find it, if it be not here, five miles from the battle-field of martinsville; here at guilford court-house in the boro of nathaniel greene; here in the classic grounds of old edgeworth, surrounded with beauty and intelligence; in the presence of our wives, our sisters, and our sweethearts. and who could more appropriately present this banner than your majesty and her fair subjects? you are the daughter of a revolutionary mother to whom we would render all the honor due-- 'no braver dames had sparta, no nobler matrons rome. then let us laud and honor them, e'en in their own green homes.' "they have passed from the stage of earthly action, and while we pay to their memories the grateful tribute of a sigh, we would again express our thanks to their daughters for this beautiful banner, and as a token of our gratitude, we, the guilford grays, do here beneath its graceful folds pledge our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor, and swear for them to live, them to love, and, if need be, for them to die. "noble queen, we render to you, and through you to your subjects, our hearty, sincere, and lasting thanks for this entertainment; and to the rulers, in your vast domain, for the privilege of trespassing upon their provinces which lie under their immediate supervision. "in time of war, or in time of peace, in prosperity or adversity, we would have you ever remember the guilford grays--for be assured your memories will ever be cherished by them." this beautiful banner was designed by dr. d. p. weir and executed in philadelphia--the size is feet by , being made of heavy blue silk. on the one side is a painting in oils, representing the coat-of-arms of north carolina encircled by a heavy wreath of oak leaves and acorns. above is a spread eagle with scroll containing the motto, "e pluribus unum," a similar scroll below with words, "greensboro, north carolina." the other side, similar in design, except within the wreath the words, "presented by the ladies of edgeworth female seminary, may th, ;" on the scroll above, "guilford grays," and on scroll below, "organized march th, ," all edged with heavy yellow silk fringe, cord and tassel blue and gold, the staff of ebony, surmounted with a heavily plated battle axe. this flag is still preserved and in the writer's possession. chapter ii. more than a year in advance of the national paper, attributed to mr. jefferson, the people of mecklenburg county declared themselves a free people and took the lead in throwing off the british yoke. on the th day of july, , the national declaration, adopting (?) some of the language of the mecklenburg convention, "rang out" the glad tidings "that these united colonies are, and, of right, ought to be, _free_ and _independent_ states." to celebrate the "glorious fourth," the good people of alamance county unveiled and dedicated a monument at alamance church to the memory of colonel arthur forbis, a gallant officer of the north carolina troops, who fell mortally wounded at the battle of guilford, march th, . by invitation of the committee--rev. c. h. wiley and dr. d. p. weir--the grays participated. invitations of this kind were never declined. the day was intensely hot, and the distance from greensboro being too far for a march in those days, wagons were furnished for our transportation. the exercises of the occasion were opened with prayer by rev. e. w. caruthers. he was followed by gov. john m. morehead, who, taking the sword which the brave forbis had carried while he was an officer, with it lifted the veil from the monument. the governor's remarks were just such as those who knew him would have expected of him. the exercises were closed by rev. samuel paisley, that venerable man of god. the grays, after firing a salute and performing such duties as were required, returned to greensboro, having spent an interesting "fourth." on the st of october, in the same year, we visited by invitation the orange guards, a military organization at hillsboro, n.c. the occasion was their fifth anniversary. we took the morning train to hillsboro, and in a few hours reached our destination. we found the guards at the depot awaiting our arrival. lieutenant john w. graham, on behalf of the guards, received us with a most cordial welcome. lieutenant james t. morehead, jr., responded upon the part of the grays. we were then escorted to quarters, which were prepared for us, at the orange hotel, where we enjoyed the delicacies, luxuries, and liquids so bountifully "set out" at this famed hostelry, then presided over by the genius of messrs. hedgpeth and stroud. in the afternoon we were escorted to the hillsboro military institute, and gave the young gentlemen there an opportunity of observing our _superior_ skill, both in the manual and the evolutions. at night the chivalry and beauty of "ye ancient borough" assembled in the odd fellows' hall to do us honor at a ball, "and then the viols played their best; lamps above and laughs below. love me sounded like a jest, fit for yes, or fit for no." as aurora began to paint the east in rosy colors of the dawn, we boarded the train for home. some with aching heads, some with aching hearts. the orange guards were closely and intimately associated with us during the entire four years of the war. we entered the service about the same time, at the same place, and served in the same regiment. our friendships were there renewed, and many, so many, are the memories sweet and sad, which we mutually share. our marches, our wants, our abundance, our sorrows, and our rejoicings--each and all, they were common to us both. in love and allegiance to our native state we marched forth to take our places among her gallant sons, be it for weal or woe; hand-in-hand together till appomattox court-house, we struggled and endured. there like a vesture no longer for use, we folded and laid away our tattered and battle-stained banner, to be kept forever sacred, in the sepulchre of a lost cause. my diary intimates no occasion for even a "skirmish" until the d of february, , when we again donned the gray to honor the memory of "george w." and his little hatchet. we were entertained during the day with an address at the court-house by jas. a. long, esq., on the all-absorbing _question_ of the times. the congress of the united states had assembled as usual in december, and was at this time in session. the clouds surcharged with sectional hate and political fanaticism were now lowering over us, and the distant mutterings of that storm which had been heard so long, and against which the wise and patriotic had given solemn warning, foreboded evil times. south carolina had already, on the th of december, adopted her ordinance of secession; mississippi on the th of january; florida followed on the th, alabama on the th, georgia on the th, louisiana on the th, and texas on the st of february. events now crowded upon each other with the rapidity of a drama. on the th of january, , governor ellis telegraphed hon. warren winslow of north carolina, at washington, to call on general winfield scott and _demand_ of him to know if he had been instructed to garrison the forts of north carolina. the governor stated that he was informed that it was the purpose of the administration to coerce the seceded states, and that troops were already on their way to garrison the southern forts. on the th, governor ellis addressed the following letter to president buchanan: "your excellency will pardon me for asking whether the united states forts in this state will be garrisoned with federal troops during your administration. should i receive assurances that no troops will be sent to this state prior to the th of march next, then all will be peace and quiet here, and the property of the united states will be protected as heretofore. if, however, i am unable to get such assurances, i will not undertake to answer for the consequences. believing your excellency to be desirous of preserving the peace, i have deemed it my duty to yourself, as well as to the people of north carolina, to make the foregoing inquiry, and to acquaint you with the state of the public mind here." on the th day of january, j. holt, secretary of war (_ad interim_), in behalf of the president, replied as follows: "it is not his (buchanan's) purpose to garrison the forts to which you refer, because he considers them entirely safe under the shelter of that _law-abiding_ sentiment for which the people of north carolina have ever been distinguished." the congress of delegates from the seceded states convened at montgomery, alabama, on the th of february, , and on the th, jefferson davis, of mississippi, was chosen by this body for president, and alexander h. stephens, of georgia, for vice president of the confederate states. on the th of february mr. davis was inaugurated and the provisional government was instituted. on the th of march, "at the other end of the avenue," abraham lincoln, nominated by a sectional convention, elected by a sectional vote, and that the vote of a minority of the people, was inducted into office. eager now were the inquiries as to the probabilities of a war between the sections. everything was wrapped in the greatest uncertainty. north carolina still adhered to the union. the anniversary of our company occurring on the th of march, which was now near at hand, we determined to celebrate the occasion. we accordingly issued invitations to the rowan rifles, of salisbury, the blues and grays, of danville, va., and the orange guards, of hillsboro, to be present with us. the danville grays, commanded by capt. claiburne, arrived on the evening of the th, the rowan rifles, capt. mcneely, accompanied by prof. neave's brass band, greeted us on the morning of the th; the orange guards, capt. pride jones, brought up the rear a few hours afterwards. our visiting companies were welcomed, and the hospitalities of the city extended in an appropriate address by our then worthy mayor, a. p. eckel, esq. special addresses of welcome were made to the danville companies by john a. gilmer, jr.; to the rowan rifles, by lieut. james t. morehead, jr.; and to the orange guards, by lieut. wm. adams. having formed a battalion, under the command of col. r. e. withers, who had accompanied the danville companies, we paraded the streets some hours. we repaired, by invitation of prof. sterling, to the edgeworth grounds, where we found a bountiful lunch ready for us, prepared by the hospitable hostess. from edgeworth we marched to the college, and passed in review before the bright eyes and smiling faces of the assembled beauty of that institution. at night our guests were entertained at a sumptuous collation in yates' hall, prepared by the ladies of our city. after we had refreshed the inner man, and regaled ourselves at the groaning tables, we moved, by way of a temporary bridge, constructed from the third-story window of the yates building to the large hall in the garrett building adjacent. here, under the soul-stirring music discoursed by the salisbury band, the feet began to twinkle and sound in quadrille, and continued until "the jagged, brazen arrows fell athwart the feathers of the night." on the next day all departed for their homes. ah! who surmised so soon to leave them again, and on so different a mission! we now pass from these holiday reflections, which are germane only to the introduction of these reminiscences, and arrive at the period when our _law-abiding_ old state called her sons to arms; when we pledged our _most_ sacred honor in the cause of freedom, and willingly made the sacrifice:-- "all these were men, who knew to count, front-faced, the cost of honor-- nor did shrink from its full payment." on friday, the th day of april, , general g. t. beauregard, then in command of the provisional forces of the confederate states at charleston, s.c., opened fire upon fort sumter. then, on the th, came the proclamation of mr. lincoln, calling for , troops. as this levy could only mean war, virginia determined to cast her lot with the confederate states, and, accordingly, on the th added herself to their number. this proclamation was the out-burst of the storm, and with lightning speed the current of events rushed on to the desolating war so soon to ensue. on the th of april, governor ellis received from mr. cameron, secretary of war, the following telegram, viz.: war department, washington, d.c., _april th, _. to j. w. ellis: call made on you by to-night's mail for two regiments of military for immediate service. simon cameron, _secretary of war_. _governor_ ellis immediately telegraphed back the following reply: executive department, raleigh, n.c., _april th, _. to simon cameron, _secretary of war_. sir: your dispatch is received, and if genuine, which its extraordinary character leads me to doubt, i have to say in reply, that i regard that levy of troops made by the administration for the purpose of subjugating the states of the south as in violation of the constitution, and as a gross usurpation of power. i can be no party to this wicked violation of the laws of the country, and to this war upon the liberties of a free people. _you can get no troops from north carolina._ i will reply more in detail when i receive your "call." john w. ellis, _governor of north carolina_. it is to be remarked that as early as the th of march, senator thos. l. clingman had dispatched gov. ellis, to wit: "it is believed that the north carolina forts will immediately be garrisoned by lincoln." chapter iii. mr. lincoln's "call" for troops excited indignation and alarm throughout the south; and "law-abiding" north carolina had now to decide what it was her duty to do. on the th of april, gov. ellis issued a proclamation convening the general assembly to meet in special session on the first day of may. on the evening of the day of the issuing of the proclamation, capt. john sloan, commanding the grays, received orders from gov. ellis, "to report with his company, with three days' rations, at goldsboro, n.c." this order was countermanded on the following morning, "to report to col. c. c. tew, commanding the garrison at fort macon." in obedience to this order the guilford grays, on friday night, april th, , left greensboro for fort macon. thus the rubicon was crossed; thus did north carolina find herself in armed conflict with the united states; and thus were the guilford grays precipitated in the contest in which they were to suffer and endure for four long years. our departure was the occasion of different and conflicting emotions. the grays, young, ardent, and full of enthusiasm, were the most light-hearted and happy of all, and marched with as little thought of coming trouble, as if on the way to some festive entertainment. not so with mothers, sisters, and sweethearts--for except our captain, none of as were married--nature seemed to have granted to these a vision of the future, which was denied to us, and while they cheered us on with encouraging words, there was manifest in their expression a deep but silent under-current of sad forebodings, not unaccompanied with tears. we marched to the depot with drums beating, and with _that_ flag flying, which but twelve months before the girls had given us as a "banner of peace." previous to our departure on friday night the company assembled in the court-house, when lieut. john a. pritchett and orderly sergeant w. h. bourne, resigned their offices. john a. gilmer, jr., was elected to fill the vacancy of lieutenant, and wm. p. wilson that of orderly sergeant. the following is the roll of members who left for fort macon on the night mentioned: john sloan, captain; william adams, st lieutenant; james t. morehead, jr., d lieutenant; john a. gilmer, jr., d lieutenant; john e. logan, m. d., surgeon; henry c. gorrell, ensign; william p. wilson, orderly sergeant; john a. sloan, d sergeant; geo. w. howlett, d sergeant; samuel b. jordan, th sergeant; thos. j. sloan, corporal; benjamin g. graham, d corporal; edward m. crowson, d corporal; j. harper lindsay, jr., th corporal. privates: hardy ayres, james ayers, william l. bryan, peter m. brown, john d. collins, allison c. cheely, chas. a. campbell, h. rufus forbis, rufus b. gibson, walter green, frank a. hanner, alfred w. klutts, andrew d. lindsay, john h. mcknight, j. w. mcdowell, james r. pearce, chas. e. porter, william u. steiner, edw. g. sterling, john e. wharton, richard b. worrell, robert d. weatherly, samuel p. weir, a. lafayette orrell, james gray, samuel robinson, j. frank erwin, joseph e. brown, edward switz, thos. d. brooks, w. g. duvall. a few days after our departure, the ladies of greensboro organized a committee, consisting of mrs. d. p. weir, mrs. r. g. sterling, mrs. t. m. jones, mrs. a. p. eckel, and mrs. j. a. gilmer, to see that we were supplied with provisions and such clothing as was needful, and nobly did these blessed ladies--three of whom have since "crossed the river; resting under the shade on the other side"--perform their work of love. we were constantly receiving boxes, containing, not only every comfort, but luxuries and dainties, from this committee, in addition to those sent us by the dear ones in our private homes. in the meanwhile our newspapers and politicians were urging immediate action upon the part of our state. the following quotation from _the patriot_ of may d, , will serve to show the state of public opinion at that time. _the patriot_ says: "our streets are filled with excited crowds, and addresses were made during the day by governor morehead, hons. r. c. puryear, john a. gilmer, sr., rob't. p. dick, and thomas settle. these speeches all breathed the spirit of resistance to tyrants, and our people were told that the time had come for north carolina to make common cause with her brethren of the south in driving back the abolition horde." on the th day of may, (being the th anniversary of the mecklenburg declaration of independence), north carolina severed her relations with the federal union, and made "common cause with her brethren of the south." during the months of may and june our company received many volunteer recruits, all, with one or two exceptions, coming from guilford county. below are their names and the dates of their enlistment: edward b. higgins, j. t. edwards, h. m. boon, richard g. boling, l. g. hunt. john w. nelson, jas. a. orrell, chas. w. westbrooks, jos. w. rankin, c. w. stratford, william m. summers and jas. s. scott, on the first of may. a. f. coble, r. s. coble, robert l. donnell, mike gretter, g. d. hines, robert a. hampton, isaac f. lane, walter d. mcadoo, on the th, wash. d. archer, on the th of june. james m. hardin, t. m. woodburn, on the th. wilbur f. owen, hal puryear, rob't. b. mclean, edward b. lindsay, s. a. hunter, w. i. l. hunt, w. c. clapp, israel n. clapp, jas. c. davis, david h. edwards, w. c. story, andy l. stanley, rob't. b. tate, on the th, jas. m. marsh on the th, john w. mcnairy, h. smiley forbis, william dennis, john w. reid on the th, thos. j. rhodes on the th, and on the th of july, jas. l. wilson. a large majority of the members of the grays were sworn in, some two months after our arrival at the fort, as twelve months state troops. some few at this time returned to their homes, and others enlisted in different commands. ensign h. c. gorrell returned to greensboro, raised a company for active service, was elected its captain, and assigned to the d north carolina regiment. he was killed june st, , while gallantly leading a charge against one of the enemy's strongholds on the chickahominy. our surgeon, dr. john e. logan, remained with us about four months as surgeon of the post. he was then assigned to the th north carolina regiment in active service, and, later during the war, to the th north carolina, where he served as surgeon until the close of the war. the war fever had now reached its height, and companies were forming throughout the state, and rapidly hastening to virginia, which was soon to become the theatre of active operations. in the meanwhile, the seat of government was transferred from montgomery, alabama, to richmond, va., where, on the th day of july, , the first confederate congress convened. on our arrival at fort macon, on the night of the th of april, we found our old friends, the orange guards, also the goldsboro rifles and the wilson light infantry, in quiet possession of the citadel. the united states garrison, consisting of sergeant alexander, supported by one six-pounder mounted on the inner parapet to herald the rising of the sun, and the going down of the same, had surrendered on the th, without bloodshed, to capt. pender, of beaufort. the sergeant was paroled, and allowed to leave the fort with his flag and side-arms. the ordnance was retained. on the next morning we saw floating from the flagstaff over the fort the pine tree flag, with the rattlesnake coiled around the base. this was the state flag. about ten days afterwards for some cause, and by what authority is not known, the state flag was pulled down and a confederate flag run up in its place. north carolina had not yet seceded, and this was looked upon as an unwarrantable assumption of command, and some of our company left for home, but returned when the state afterwards seceded. a few weeks afterwards our garrison was reinforced by capt. latham's (artillery) "woodpeckers," from craven. this command received its very appropriate nickname from the fact that, when they entered the fort, they wore very tight-fitting scarlet caps. (this company, with a detail from the th n.c. regiment, did splendid service at the battle of newberne.) some time in june we were assigned to the th north carolina regiment; but, for some reason unknown to us, we were taken from this regiment, and another company substituted. on the d we were placed, with five other companies, in a battalion, commanded by col. geo. b. singletary. our position was retained in this battalion until some time in september, when we were assigned to the th north carolina regiment, which was organized with col. singletary as colonel, capt. john sloan (of the grays) lieut.-colonel, and lieut. thomas c. singletary as major. seven companies of this regiment were then in camp near newberne, and the remaining three companies--one of which was the grays, and designated in the regiment as company "b"--were on detached service at fort macon, where we remained until the th of february, . owing to the promotion of capt. sloan to the lieut.-colonelcy of the regiment, lieut. william adams was elected captain of the grays and sergeant william p. wilson elected d lieutenant. private william cook died in greensboro of typhoid fever, on the th of june, having been a member of the company about one month. on the st of july, private george j. sloan, after severe illness, died at the fort. on the st of august the following new members enlisted, viz.: jno. t. sockwell, r. d. brown, frank g. chilcutt, george w. lemons, james h. gant, richard smith, and l. l. prather. our special employment at the fort, outside of the military routine, and to relieve its tedium, was "totin" sand bags. thad coleman was our chief of ordnance, and as the duties of this office were important and imperative, sergeant howlett and private a. d. lindsay were detailed as assistants or aids-de-camp. while waiting the arrival of our artillery to equip the fort, capt. guion, our civil engineer, instructed our chief of ordnance and his aids to erect embrasures and traverses, of sand bags, on the parapets. the bags were first tarred, then filled with sand and carried by the men to the parapets. this interesting recreation was indulged in during the dog-days of the hottest august that our boys ever experienced. at the early dawn of every morning, upon the parapet, with a pair of opera glasses, intensely scanning the horizon of the deep, deep blue sea, might have been observed the inclined form of capt. guion, on the look-out for a united states man-of-war. but whether a man-of-war or the "idly-flapping" sail of some crab hunter hove in sight, the order for more sand bags was placed on file at the ordnance department. we built traverses day after day. we pulled them down and built them up again, exactly as they were before. at length the raw material, of bag, failed, and sergeant-aid-de-camp howlett was dispatched under sealed orders to greensboro on some mysterious errand. we employed our leisure time which we now enjoyed (thanks to the bag failure and the mysterious errand of sergeant howlett), in citing delinquents to appear before a court-martial of high privates, which we now organized. among the culprits were sergeant howlett and private summers. it had transpired that sergeant howlett's mysterious errand had been to fill a requisition, made by capt. guion and approved by lieut. coleman, chief of ordnance, for a grover and baker sewing machine (extra size) to be employed in the furtherance of the tarred sand-bag business. the prisoner was tried, convicted, and sentenced to change his sleeping quarters to no. - / . this casemate was occupied by harper lindsay, ed. higgins, tom. sloan, jim. pearce, and mcdowell. any man was entitled to all the sleep he could get in these quarters. private summers, who had obtained leave to visit home on what he represented as _urgent_ business, was also arraigned in due form. the charges and specifications amounted substantially to this, that he went home to see his sweetheart. he was permitted by the court to defend with counsel. "long" coble appeared for him, and in his eloquent appeal for mercy--in which his legs and arms played the principal part of the argument--he compared the prisoner to a little ship, which had sailed past her proper anchorage at home and cast her lines at a neighbor's house. the evidence being circumstantial he was acquitted, but was ever known afterwards as "little ship" summers. he served faithfully during the entire war; has anchored _properly_ since, and the little "crafts" around his happy home indicate that he has laid the keels for a navy. running the "blockade" to beaufort was another favorite amusement. the popular and sable boatman for this "secret service" was cæsar manson. cæsar's knowledge of the waters of the sound was full and accurate, and his pilotage around the "pint o' marsh" was unerring. privates mcdowell, jim pearce, and ed higgins employed cæsar a dark, rainy night on one of these secret expeditions to beaufort. owing to the fog on the sound and the _fog_ in the boat, the return of the party was delayed till late in the night. the faithful sentinel, mike wood (of the goldsboro rifles), being on post at the wharf that night, and this fact being known to prudent cæsar, he steered for the creek to avoid him. as these festive revellers were wading ashore, mike, hearing the splashing in the water, sung out, "who comes there!" receiving no reply, he cocked his gun, and became very emphatic. pearce, knowing that mike would shoot, answered very _fluently_, while in the water to his waist, "don't you shoot me, mike wood, i am coming in as fast as i can." mike escorted the party to head quarters, and they performed some one else's guard duty for several days. we must not forget to mention our genial commissary, capt. king, and his courteous assistant, mike gretter, of the grays. "billy" king and his little cosey quarters were just outside the fort, and so convenient of a cold frosty morning, to call upon him and interview his _vial_ of distilled fruit, hid away in the corner. _vive le roi, billie._ on the th of september, private james davis died at the fort. on september the th, private ed. sterling, who was absent on furlough, died at his home in greensboro, n.c. on the th of october, the u.s. steamer "union" was wrecked off bogue banks near the fort. her crew was brought to the fort and confined there for a short time. what is of more interest was, that we received valuable stores from the wreck, among others, elegant hair mattresses, which now took the place of our shucks and straw. these days at the fort were our halcyon days, as the dark hours were to us yet unborn. the war had been so far a mere frolic. in the radiant sunshine of the moment, it was the amusing phase of the situation, not the tragic, that impressed us. chapter iv. on the th of november, lieut.-col. john sloan was ordered to report for duty, to his regiment at newberne. some time in december col. george singletary resigned and lieut.-col. john sloan was elected colonel of the regiment; maj. t. c. singletary was elected lieutenant-colonel, and lieut. john a. gilmer, of the grays--who had been acting as adjutant of the regiment at newberne--was elected major. the promotion of lieut. gilmer made a vacancy in the offices of our company, and sergeant john a. sloan--at the time sergeant-major of the fort--was elected to fill it. on the th of february, , we were ordered to join our regiment then encamped at fort lane, on the neuse river, below newberne, north carolina. about mid-day we filed through the sally-port and bade a long and sad farewell to fort macon. we were transported by boat to morehead city, and thence by rail to newberne. we arrived at fort lane late in the evening, and in the pouring rain, marched to our quarters. our position in camp was assigned us, and we began to make ourselves comfortable in our new home. we had much baggage, more than would have been allowed an entire corps a year afterwards. every private had a trunk, and every mess a cooking-stove, to speak nothing of the extras of the officers. all this portable property we turned over to gen. burnside, later in the season, for want of convenient transportation. we had scarcely made ourselves snug in our winter quarters when we learned that a large land and naval force, conjoined under command of gen. burnside, was approaching newberne. the fleet arrived in neuse river on the th of march, and the land forces were in our front on the following day. on the night of the th we left our quarters and moved down the south bank of the neuse a short distance, where we were placed in line of battle, in entrenchments which had previously been constructed under the orders of gen. l. o. b. branch, commanding our forces--our regiment being the extreme left of the lines, and resting upon the river. the morning of the th broke raw and cold, the fog was so dense that we could not see fifty yards beyond our works. as soon as it lifted, a skirmish began upon the right of our lines between the opposing pickets. about the same time the gunboats, which were creeping slowly up the river, began to shell the woods. under cover of this random firing the land forces advanced. our pickets along the entire line were rapidly driven in, and the battle of newberne began. it is not my purpose here to venture a description of this engagement or to make any remarks by way of criticism. after repeated attacks, the right of the confederate lines gave way, which exposed our portion of the lines to an enfilade fire; the enemy took immediate advantage of their success, and were now endeavoring to turn our flank and get in our rear. we were ordered to fall back a short distance, and made a stand a few hundred yards to the rear in the woods. meanwhile the guns in fort lane had been silenced by the shots from the enemy's fleet; this gave the boats an unobstructed passage to newberne. had they succeeded in reaching newberne ahead of us, they would have destroyed the bridges and thus cut off our retreat, and forced a surrender of our entire command. under these new and trying circumstances, a devil-may-care retreat was ordered, with instructions to reform at the depot in newberne. we stood not upon the order of going but "went," rivaling in speed the celerity of the famed north carolina militia at the battle of guilford court-house. before leaving our entrenchments, private s. h. hunter was struck by a fragment of shell, which had exploded near us, and killed. this was the only casualty in our company and the first. poor hunter was struck on the head and rendered unconscious. he was carried from the field and brought with us to kinston in an ambulance, but died on the way. his remains were conveyed under escort to greensboro. sergeant samuel b. jordan was captured on the retreat. he was exchanged and paroled afterwards, but his term of enlistment having expired, he did not again enlist. the company, or at least a portion of it, reformed at the depot in newberne. from here we continued our retreat unmolested to kinston, where we arrived at a late hour in the night. while at the depot in newberne a special train was ordered for the transportation of the sick and wounded. some few others apparently healthy and able-bodied, but constitutionally exhausted, sought shelter on this train. among these was my _body-guard_ "bill," who, with prudential forecast, had secured a berth early in the action and "held his ground" until the train reached greensboro. bill says he simply went home to inform "mar's" robert that "mar's" john was safe and "untouched." he returned in due season and enlisted with me "durin" the war, was faithful to the end, and is part of our history. we remained in and around kinston performing picket duty on the roads leading toward newberne until the d of march. about the th we changed our camp to "black-jack," and on the th we moved to southwest church. the muster-roll of our company at this period contained one hundred and twenty names, but of this number, owing to the measles, whooping-cough, itch, and other "diseases dire," only seventy-three were reported for duty. on the th of march, mike gretter was detached and appointed brigade commissary sergeant, in which position he served during the entire war. on the st of april, a. d. lindsay--a graduate of the sand-bag department of fort macon--was appointed ordnance sergeant of our regiment. about the th of april, our st lieutenant, james t. morehead, jr., resigned, to accept the position of captain in the th north carolina regiment. he was afterwards elected lieutenant-colonel of the d regiment, and after the death of col. owens, was promoted to the colonelcy. colonel morehead was wounded at spottsylvania court-house, gettysburg, and hares' hill, at which latter place he was made a prisoner in a gallant charge of his command, and was held until after the war. private john w. nelson was detailed as permanent teamster to regimental quarter-master, some time in april, and acted as such until the th of march, , when he died in the hospital at charleston, s. c. the expiration of the term of enlistment of the twelve months' men was now near at hand; and to provide measures to levy new troops, and to hold those already in the field, president davis was authorized by an act of congress "to call out and place in the military service for three years all white male residents between the ages of and years, and to continue those already in the field until three years from the date of enlistment, but those under years and over were to remain days." under this act our company lost privates r. b. jones, w. d. hanner, w. hopkins, w. c. winfree, and w. burnsides, all of whom were over years of age. w. burnsides rejoined us in april, . private john e. wharton substituted p. a. ricks on the st of may, and returned to guilford, where he raised a company and re-entered the service as its commandant. private ed. lindsey, who left us, being under years of age, was made a lieutenant in capt. wharton's company. ed. was killed in the month of april . on the th of april, the th north carolina regiment reorganized. major john r. cooke, who was at that time chief of artillery on gen. holmes' staff, was elected colonel, r. w. singletary re-elected lieutenant-colonel, and john a. gilmer, jr., re-elected major. the regiment was then assigned to gen. robert ransom's brigade, under whose command we remained until the st of june. on the d of april, our company reorganized as company "b." william adams was re-elected captain, john a. sloan was elected st lieutenant, john h. mcknight d lieutenant, and frank a. hanner, d lieutenant junior; benjamin g. graham was appointed orderly sergeant, samuel b. jordan (still prisoner) d sergeant, thos. j. sloan, d sergeant, george w. howlett, th sergeant, will u. steiner, th sergeant, ed b. crowson, st corporal, jed h. lindsay, jr., d corporal, john d. collins, d corporal, and chas. a. campbell, th corporal. lieutenant w. p. wilson declined re-election in the company to accept the position of adjutant of the regiment, tendered him by col. cooke, which office he filled with much credit to himself and regiment. he died in greensboro on march d, , after a severe illness. from the th to the th of may, we assisted in tearing up and destroying the a. & n.c. railroad from kinston to core creek. we made up our minds if burnside pursued us again, he should come slowly, and on foot. chapter v. from february to the tenth of may, the following men had joined our company: benjamin burnsides, henry coble, r. l. coltrain, john coltrain, d. l. clark, john cannady, w. w. underwood, jas. hall, jas. r. wiley, hugh hall, wash. williams, lewis n. isley, stephen d. winbourne, w. w. mclean, geo. h. woolen, wm. mcfarland, sam'l young, lemuel may, thos. l. greeson, rasper poe, b. n. smith, j. m. edwards, john h. smith, r. l. smith, wm. seats, paisley sheppard, newton kirkman, james lemons, wm. horney, silas c. dodson (rejoined), jas. e. mclean, wm. may, s. f. mclean, e. f. shuler, and j. j. thom. samuel park weir, who had acted as chaplain to our company, in connection with his duties as a private soldier, was transferred, in may, to the th north carolina regiment, to accept the office of lieutenant in one of the companies of that regiment. when the war commenced, sam was at the theological seminary in columbia, s.c. leaving his studies, he shouldered his musket and entered the ranks of the grays in april, . at the battle of fredericksburg, dec. th, , as his regiment was passing in our rear, at the foot of marye's hill, sam halted a moment to speak to col. gilmer, who had been wounded as we were moving into our position, and was advising him to leave the field. while thus conversing with the colonel and the writer, he was struck by a minie-ball, and instantly killed, falling lifeless at our feet. his remains were carried to greensboro, and buried in the presbyterian burying-grounds. on the front line, he crossed the silent stream, leaving behind him the fragrant memory of a name engraven to remain in the affections of his comrades, and an example of modesty, purity, courage, and devotion to principle unsurpassed. he sleeps the sleep of the blessed, and no spot of earth contains a more gallant soldier, a truer patriot, or a more faithful and sincere friend-- "sleep, soldier! still, in honored rest, your truth and valor wearing: the bravest are the tenderest-- the loving are the daring." on the st of may we folded our tents, made our preparations for a hasty adieu to north carolina, and left kinston for the seat of war in virginia. we reached richmond about one o'clock on the first of june. as we neared the city, we could hear distinctly the guns of the battle of seven pines, and as soon as we reached the depot, we were ordered to the battle-field. we were marched rapidly through richmond, all anxious to take part in the battle now raging. before we arrived on the field, the fight had been fought and won, and our services were not called for. on the following day we were assigned to gen. j. g. walker's brigade, and ordered into camp at drury's bluff, where we remained, constructing fortifications, until the latter part of june. while in camp here, b. n. smith substituted paul crutchfield. dr. l. g. hunt, acting surgeon of our company, was appointed assistant surgeon of the regiment. "gwyn," with his amiable and handsome hospital steward, c. m. parks, of the orange guards, continued to prescribe "them thar pills" until the war ended. on the th of june, , the memorable "seven days' fight" around richmond began. the grays formed a portion of the reserve under gen. holmes, and were marched from battle-field to battle-field, receiving the shells of the enemy, and acting as targets for their sharp shooters. on the th, gen. holmes crossed from the south side of the james river, and on the th, being re-enforced by gen. wise's brigade, moved down the river road with a view to gain, near to malvern hill, a position which would command the supposed route of mcclellan's retreating army. we were posted on this road at new market, which was supposed to be the route mcclellan would pursue in his retreat to the james. our generals and their guides, being ignorant of the country, subsequently learned there was another road running by the willis church which would better serve the purpose of the retreating foe, and we were moved to a position on this road. here we remained under the fire of the enemy's gun-boats, whose huge, shrieking shells crashing through the trees and bursting in our midst, inspired a degree of terror not justified by their effectiveness. the dust created by our march gave the enemy a knowledge of our position, and caused the gun-boats to open this heavy fire upon us. instead of finding the enemy a straggling mass, as had been reported, they were entrenched between west's house and malvern hill, commanding our position with an open field between us. general holmes' artillery opened fire upon the enemy's infantry, which immediately gave way, and simultaneously their batteries, of twenty-five or thirty guns, and their gun-boats made a cross-fire upon us. their force, both in infantry and artillery, being vastly superior to ours, any attempt upon our part to make an assault being considered worse than useless, we were withdrawn at night-fall. the enemy kept up their cannonading until after dark. on the st of july, late in the afternoon, line of battle was formed and orders were issued for a general advance at a given signal, and the bloody battle of malvern hill began. several determined efforts were made to storm crews hill; "brigades advanced bravely across the open field raked by the fire of a hundred cannon and the muskets of large bodies of infantry. some were broken and gave way; others approached close to the guns, driving back the infantry, compelling the advance batteries to retire to escape capture and mingling their dead with those of the enemy. for want of co-operation the assaults of the attacking columns were too weak to break the enemy's line, and after struggling gallantly, sustaining and inflicting great loss, they were compelled successively to retire. the firing continued until after p.m., but no decided result was gained. at the cessation of firing several fragments of different commands were lying down and holding their ground within a short distance of the enemy's line, and as soon as the fighting ceased an informal truce was established by common consent. parties from both armies, with lanterns and litters, wandered over the field seeking for the wounded, whose groans could not fail to move with pity the hearts of friends and foe." mcclellan withdrew with his army during the night, and hastily retreated to harrison's landing on the james. chapter vi. early on the next morning the rain began to fall in torrents, and continued for forty-eight hours, rendering the roads almost impassable. it was reported that the enemy were crossing the james, and we were ordered back to our camp near drury's bluff. about sun-down we commenced our weary and hard march. our men were worn out by continuous marching and loss of sleep, still we plodded along, reaching our camp, miles distant, about o'clock in the morning thoroughly drenched. col. cooke had gone ahead of us, and having aroused the men left in charge of the camp, had great blazing fires in front of our tents awaiting our arrival. on the th, we left drury's bluff and marched to petersburg, spending a day there; on the morning of the th we were ordered to fort powhatan on the james below city point. about daylight on the morning of the th we were placed in ambush on a high bluff on the river with instructions to fire into any vessel that might attempt to pass. we had not been long in our position when a transport called the "daniel webster" was spied approaching us. when she steamed up opposite us, the batteries which had accompanied us let loose the "dogs of war," and riddled her cabins and hull. she floated off down the river disabled, but we had no means of knowing what damage we had done to the crew. very soon the gun-boats below opened fire upon us, and, for a mile below, the woods and banks of the river were alive with shot and shell. we withdrew our artillery and made a similar attempt the next day, but found no game. we returned to petersburg and remained in camp there until the th of august, picketing up and down the james river. on the st of july we were sent down the river as support to the artillery which had been ordered to coggins' point to shell mcclellan's camp. on the night of the st of august we had about fifty pieces of our artillery in position; we could not show ourselves in the daytime, as the enemy had their balloons up and could almost see the "promised land" around richmond. about o'clock in the morning we opened fire upon mcclellan's camp on the opposite bank of the river. his camp fires and the lights from the shipping in the river formed a grand panorama. after a few shots from our artillery, these lights quickly disappeared. we kept up a constant fire for several hours, withdrew, and at daylight took up the line of march for petersburg. after we had retired far out of reach of their guns, the enemy opened the valves of their ordnance and belched forth sounds infernal, but their gunpowder and iron was all wasted upon imaginary forces. on the th of august we were ordered to richmond, remaining there, at camp lee, until the th, when we boarded the train for rapidan station, on the orange & alexandria railroad. we remained in camp at this point until the st of september. sergeant geo. w. howlett, being disabled for service in the field on account of his eyes, left us on the d of july. private r. l. coltrain was discharged by surgeon's certificate about the same time. corporal john d. collins, on detail as one of the color-guard--and who, in the absence of the regular color-guard of the regiment, had carried our flag in the battles around richmond--died of typhoid fever, while we were encamped at drury's bluff. on the th of august, private w. c. clapp died at his home, and private john h. smith at the hospital in petersburg. on the th, hal puryear substituted a most excellent soldier in the person of louis lineberry. about this time a regimental band was formed, and the grays furnished as their quota: ed. b. higgins, samuel lipsicomb, and thomas j. sloan; each of whom became excellent "tooters." after the series of engagements at bull run and on the plains of manassas, the condition of maryland encouraged the belief that the presence of our army would excite some active demonstration upon the part of her people, and that a military success would regain maryland. under these considerations, it was decided by our leaders to cross the army of northern virginia into western maryland, and then, by threatening pennsylvania, to induce the federal army to withdraw from our territory to protect their own. gen. j. g. walker, our brigadier--now in command of the division--ordered us from our camp at rapidan station, on the morning of september st, and we set out with the army of northern virginia on what is termed the "first maryland campaign." our first day's march halted us at warrenton. on the th, we reached the battle-field of manassas, finding many of the enemy's dead still unburied, from the engagement a few days previous. on the th, we passed through the villages of haymarket and new baltimore, and rested at leesburg on the evening of the th. mcclellan was ignorant of lee's plans, and his army remained in close vicinity to the lines of fortifications around washington, until the sixth. early next morning (sunday), we forded the potomac at noland's ferry, and were occupying the shores of "my maryland." our band struck up the "tune," but the citizens we came in contact with did not seem disposed to "come." we had evidently crossed at the wrong ford. on the next day, the th, we arrived at a small place called buckettown, where we rested until the morning of the ninth. about o'clock, we reached frederick city; here we found the main army, and our division was assigned to gen. longstreet's corps. in a skirmish with the enemy's cavalry, near the city, jas. a. orrell and thos. r. greeson were captured. on the night of the th, we, in company with our division, were quietly marched to the mouth of the monocacy river to destroy the aqueduct. we were tramping all night and accomplished nothing; the manoeuver, as it afterward appeared, was but a feint to draw the attention of the enemy away from the movements of "stonewall's" corps, then marching on harper's ferry. about daylight next morning we found ourselves again in the vicinity of buckettown; we proceeded some miles further, where we formed a line of battle, and rested on our arms in this position all day in full view of the enemy, who were posted on the hills beyond us, and to the east of buckettown. as soon as night came, we started off hurriedly in the direction of frederick; having gone in this course some three miles we countermarched and took the road for point of rocks on the potomac. just as day was breaking, on the morning of the th, after a rapid march, we reached point of rocks and recrossed the potomac. we were completely bewildered as to our course, and no one seemed to know what all this manoeuvering would lead to. during the day, we ascertained we were on the road leading to harper's ferry, but our course was so repeatedly changed that we had but this consolation, that "if we did not know where we were, or where we were going, the yankees didn't, for the devil himself could not keep track of us." at night we reached hillsboro, in loudon county. va., and camped near there. on the th, we were in the vicinity of harper's ferry, and at night took possession of loudon heights, on the east side of the shenandoah, and were in readiness to open fire upon harper's ferry. general mclaws had been ordered to seize maryland heights, on the north side of the potomac, opposite harper's ferry. finding them in possession of the enemy, he assailed their works and carried them; they retreated to harper's ferry, and on the th, its investment by our forces was complete. as soon as we gained our position, which was accomplished by a circuitous route up the steep and ragged mountain, the enemy in and around harper's ferry opened fire upon us from their batteries. owing to the extreme elevation, most of their shells fell short; a few burst over us, but did no damage. the batteries attached to our division were carried by hand to the top of the heights, and placed in position. early on the morning of the th, the attack upon the garrison began. stonewall jackson's batteries opened fire from bolivar heights, in conjunction with ours and the artillery on maryland heights; in about two hours, "by the grace of god," as jackson had foretold, the garrison, consisting of , men, surrendered. seventy-three pieces of artillery, , small arms, and a large quantity of military stores fell into our hands. on the night of the th we made our descent from the heights, crossed the mountain and resumed our march. about midday of the th we reached shepherdstown, crossed the potomac and went into camp near sharpsburg, maryland. chapter vii. on the morning of the th of september, just before day-break, we were aroused from our slumbers and moved to a position in line of battle on the extreme right of the confederate lines. at early dawn the enemy opened their artillery from both sides of the antietam, the heaviest fire being directed against our left. under cover of this fire a large force of infantry attacked gen. jackson's division, and for some time the conflict raged with fury and alternate success. gen. early, in command of ewell's division, was sent to their support, when jackson's division was withdrawn, its ammunition being nearly exhausted. the battle was now renewed with great violence, and the troops of mclaws and j. g. walker were brought from the right. with these re-enforcements gen. early attacked resolutely the large force opposed to him, and drove them back in some confusion beyond the position our troops had occupied at the beginning of the engagement. this attack upon our left was speedily followed by one in heavy force on the centre, and our regiment was double-quicked one and a half miles to near the centre, and placed in line about one mile to the left of the town of sharpsburg. the gallant and conspicuous part which the th regiment took in the fight, capt. graham, of the orange guards, describes graphically as follows: "forming in a corn-field we advanced under a heavy fire of grape and canister at a quick step up a little rise and halted at a rail fence, our right considerably advanced. after holding this position for half an hour or more our front was changed so as to be on a line with the other troops. in the meantime we had suffered heavily, and i think had inflicted equally as much damage. [on this first advance capt. adams was shot down.] about o'clock the enemy having retired behind the hill upon which they were posted, and none appearing within range in our front, col. cooke ordered us to fall back some twenty steps in the corn and lie down so as to draw them on; he, in the meantime, regardless of personal danger from sharpshooters, remained at the fence beside a small tree. after remaining there some minutes, the enemy attempted to sneak up a section of artillery to the little woods upon our left. colonel cooke, watching the movement, ordered the four left companies of our regiment up to the fence and directed them to fire upon this artillery. at the first fire, before they had gotten into position, nearly every horse and more than half the men fell, and the infantry line which had moved up to support them showed evident signs of wavering. col. cooke seeing this, and having received orders to charge if opportunity offered, immediately ordered a charge. without waiting a second word of command we leaped the fence and 'made at them,' and soon we had captured three guns and had the troops opposed to us in full retreat. a battery posted near a little brick church upon a hill to our left was playing sad havoc with us, but supposing that would be taken by the troops upon our left--who we concluded were charging with us--we still pursued the flying foe. numbers of them surrendered to us and they were ordered to the rear. we pushed on and soon wheeled to the right, drove down their line, giving them all the while an enfilade fire, and succeeded in breaking six regiments who fled in confusion. after pushing on this way for a while we found ourselves opposed by a large body of troops behind a stone wall in a corn-field. stopping to contend with these, we found that we were almost out of ammunition. owing to this fact, and not being supported in our charge, we were ordered to fall back to our original position. this of course was done at double-quick. as we returned we experienced the perfidy of those who had previously surrendered to us, and whom we had not taken time to disarm. they, seeing that we were not supported, attempted to form a line in our rear, and in a few minutes would have done so. as it was we had to pass between two fires: a part of the troops having been thrown back to oppose our movement on their flank, and these supposed prisoners having formed on the other side. a bloody lane indeed it proved to us. many a brave man lost his life in that retreat. at some points the lines were not sixty yards distant on either side. arriving at our original position, we halted and reformed behind the rail fence. we opened fire with the few remaining cartridges we had left and soon checked the advance of the enemy, who did not come beyond the line which they occupied in the morning. in a short while all our ammunition was exhausted. courier after courier was sent after ammunition, but none was received. four or five times during the afternoon, couriers came from gen. longstreet, telling col. cooke to hold his position at all hazards, 'as it was the key to the whole line.' cooke's reply was, 'tell gen. longstreet to send me some ammunition. i have not a cartridge in my command, but i will hold my position at the point of the bayonet.'" mr. davis, in his history, says: "_col. cooke, with the th north carolina regiment, stood boldly in line without a cartridge._" "about o'clock in the afternoon we were relieved, and moved to the rear about one mile. after resting half an hour and getting fresh ammunition, we were again marched to the front, and placed in line in the rear of the troops who had relieved us. here we were subjected to a severe shelling, but had no chance to return the fire. after nightfall we rejoined our division on the left, and with them bivouaced upon the battle-field." general r. e. lee, in his report of this battle, makes complimentary mention of our regiment, and says, further, "this battle was fought by less than forty thousand men on our side, all of whom had undergone the greatest labors and hardships in the field and on the march. nothing could surpass the determined valor with which they met the large army of the enemy, fully supplied and equipped, and the result reflected the highest credit on the officers and men engaged." general mcclellan, in his official report, states that he had in action in the battle , men of all arms. lee's entire strength was , . "these , confederates were the very flower of the army of northern virginia, who, with indomitable courage and inflexible tenacity, wrestled for the mastery in the ratio of one to three of their adversaries; at times it appeared as if disaster was inevitable, but succor never failed, and night found lee's lines unbroken and his army still defiant. the drawn battle of sharpsburg was as forcible an illustration of southern valor and determination as was furnished during the whole period of the war, when the great disparity in numbers between the two armies is considered. the grays went into this battle with men, rank and file. capt. william adams, privates jas. e. edwards, a. f. coble, james m. edwards, r. leyton smith and samuel young were killed on the field. privates peter m. brown, benjamin burnsides and robert l. donnell were badly wounded and fell into the hands of the enemy. r. l. donnell died of his wounds at chester, pa., november th, . privates w. d. archer, walter d. mcadoo, j. e. mclean, samuel f. mclean, l. l. prather and w. w. underwood were wounded and sent to the hospital. w. w. underwood died of his wounds september th, . privates paul crutchfield, h. rufus forbis, rufus b. gibson, james m. hardin, james l. wilson and william mcfarland were exchanged and returned to their company the following november, except mcfarland, who was reported dead. on account of the forced and continuous march from rapidan, many of our men from sheer exhaustion and sickness were compelled to fall out of ranks, among them some of the best soldiers in the company. captain adams, as before stated, fell early in the action. he was carried from the field and buried in the cemetery at shepherdstown. his remains were afterwards removed and interred in the cemetery at greensboro. he was a brave and gallant officer, and fell front-faced with his armor on. the other members of the company who were killed, wrapped in their martial garb, sleep in some unknown grave, on the spot where they fell, amid the carnage and gore of the battle-field: "whether unknown or known to fame-- their cause and country still the same-- they died, and wore the gray." on the th we occupied the position of the preceding day. our ranks were increased during the day, and our general forces were augmented by the arrival of troops; but our army was in no condition to take the offensive, and the army of mcclellan had been too severely handled to justify a renewal of the attack, consequently the day passed without any hostile demonstrations. during the night our army was withdrawn from sharpsburg, and at day-break on the morning of the th we recrossed the potomac at shepherdstown. after fording the river, we halted a short distance on the hills near by, and were engaged in drying our clothing and making a breakfast from our scanty rations of pop-corn and hard tack, when a force of the enemy, (porter's corps,) who had the temerity to cross the river in pursuit, made their appearance. gen. a. p. hill, in charge of the rear guard of the army, met them, made a charge upon them and drove them into the river. in his report of this engagement he says: "the broad surface of the potomac was blue with the floating bodies of our foe. but few escaped to tell the tale. by their own account they lost three thousand men, killed and drowned. some two hundred prisoners were taken." the condition of our troops now demanding repose, we were ordered to the occoquan, near martinsburg. on our march another attempt to harass our rear was reported, and we were sent back to the vicinity of shepherdstown; finding "all quiet on the potomac," the march was again resumed at night, and on the st we went into camp near martinsburg. after spending a few days here we were moved to the neighborhood of bunker hill and winchester, and remained in camp until the d of october. on the d of september, while in camp near martinsburg, the grays proceeded to fill the offices made vacant by the battle of the th. lieut. j. a. sloan was promoted to captain; d lieut. mcknight to st lieutenant; frank a. hanner to d lieutenant; and sergeant b. g. graham to junior d lieutenant. j. harper lindsay was appointed orderly sergeant. corporals wm. m. paisley and a. c. cheely were made sergeants. privates r. d. weatherly, thos. j. rhodes and h. rufus forbis were appointed corporals. on the th of september, private r. d. brown died at the hospital in petersburg, va.; on the th, private r. l. coble, at frederick city, md.; on the th, hugh hall in hospital at richmond; and on the th, privates wm. seats and wm. h. mclean died in hospital at winchester, va. chapter viii. about the middle of october, mcclellan moved his army across the potomac, east of the blue ridge, and bent his course southward. later in the month, he began to incline eastwardly from the mountains, and finally concentrated his forces in the neighborhood of warrenton, virginia. on the th of november he was relieved of the command of the army of the potomac, and gen. burnside, "under federal dispensation," became his successor. the indications were that fredericksburg was again to be occupied. gen. lee, with his usual foresight, divining his purpose, promptly made such disposition as was necessary to forestall him. mclaw's and ransom's divisions were ordered to proceed at once to that city. on the morning of the d we broke up our camp at winchester, and after a long but pleasant day's march, reached the vicinity of millwood; from thence we journeyed on to paris, in loudon county. our march through this arcadia of virginia, with its picturesque scenery, and along those splendid and wonderful turnpikes, as they stretched out before us, formed a panorama never to be forgotten. the giant hills stood around like sentinels wrapped in their everlasting silence; behind these, still bolder hills, and again behind these, the blueness of the distant mountains. the day was glad with the golden brightness of an october sun, and as i gazed upon these mountains, clothed in their autumnal beauty, and in their everlasting fixity of repose, i could but contrast this grandeur and silence with the too recent scenes of blood and tumult upon the hills of antietam. how brief, how insignificant is man's existence! encamped so high above the world filled us with a sense of exaltation and awe. fires were soon lighted, and the men, weary with marching, wrapped in their blankets, stretched themselves upon the ground to sleep, perchance to dream of firesides in distant homes where-- "belike sad eyes with tearful strain, gazed northward very wistfully for him that ne'er would come again." the next morning broke cold and threatening. we resumed our march and had proceeded but a few miles when the rain began to fall. later in the day it came down in torrents, and the wind was blowing gales. about dark, in the midst of this storm, we were halted in a large hickory grove on the side of the blue ridge, near the small village of upperville. our men comprehended the situation at once, and, though thoroughly drenched and chilled, soon had their axes ringing in the forest, and large log fires were ablaze over the camp. the storm continued with fury all night, to sleep was impossible, and we were forced to pass the most disagreeable night we had ever experienced. on the th we retraced our steps to paris. on the following morning, acting as an escort to a foraging party, we proceeded to middleboro. at night we returned to camp, rich in wagon loads of corn and provender, also securing a large lot of fine beeves. on the next day, leaving paris, we moved by way of salem in the direction of culpepper court-house, which place we reached on the d of november, and remained there until the th. sergeant harper lindsay, while here, accepted the position of adjutant of the th north carolina regiment, and sergeant chas. campbell was promoted to orderly sergeant in his stead. on the night of the th, after a tiresome day's march, we went into camp on the top of cedar mountain. we were halted on a bleak and barren hill with no fuel within our reach. col. cooke, under the circumstances, suspended "special orders" in reference to destroying private property, and gave the men permission to burn the rails from the fences near by. for this necessary disobedience some spiteful person reported him and he was placed in arrest, from which he was released next day without a court martial. after our company had made its fires and were busy trying to make a supper from their scanty rations, i strolled over to cooke's headquarters and found him sitting moodily over _his_ fire of _rails_. we began to discuss the officers of the brigade, and while he was idly turning a splinter he held in his fingers, it fell from his hand and stuck upright in the ground. he turned quickly to me, slapped me on the back and laughingly said: "john, that is an omen of good luck." i surmised to what he had reference--a probability of his promotion had been whispered--and replied, i did not take much stock in splinters, but i hoped in this instance the omen might be realized. in a few moments, several men from the regiment, with their canteens, passed near us and one of them, a lank, lean soldier, inquired of cooke if he could tell him where the spring of water was. with some irritability in his tone he replied, "_no_, go hunt for it." the thirsty questioner, possibly recognizing him, made no reply, but turned away thinking, no doubt, under other circumstances, he would have answered him differently. the soldier had gone but a short distance when cooke called him back, apologized for his hasty speech and indifference, and informed him kindly where he could find the water. not many days afterwards the splinter omen was interpreted, and col. john e. cooke, of the th north carolina regiment (though junior colonel of the brigade), was promoted for gallantry to brigadier general, and assigned to the command of gen. j. g. walker's brigade, who was transferred to the mississippi department. i have introduced these incidents, merely to illustrate the noble traits of character of this gallant and courteous gentleman and soldier, who was acknowledged by gen. lee himself to be _the_ brigadier of his army. of his services with his north carolina brigade history already leaves him a record. he is a man of chivalric courage, and possesses that magnanimity of heart which ever wins the affections of a soldier. he was beloved by his entire command. a truer sword was not drawn in defence of the south and her cause, and a more untarnished blade never returned to its scabbard when the unhappy conflict was over. upon the promotion of col. cooke--lieut.-col. singletary having resigned on account of wounds--major john a. gilmer was promoted to colonel, capt. george f. whitefield, of company c, to lieutenant-colonel, and capt. jos. c. webb, of the orange guards, to major. the brigades in our division were also changed, and under the reassignment of regiments, cooke's command consisted entirely of north carolina troops, and was _well known_ in lee's army as "_cooke's north carolina brigade_." on the th of november we were moved to madison court-house, where we remained until the th. about the th the army of the potomac was reported in motion, and their gun-boats and transports had entered aquia creek in their "on to fredericksburg." on the morning of the th, our division received marching orders, and we also set out for fredericksburg. the weather was very cold, and our march was made through rain and sleet; the ground was frozen, and some of our men being barefooted, their feet cut by the ice, left their bloody tracks along the route. the men, under all these hardships and exposures, were in excellent spirits, and no one escaped their gibes and jokes. every few miles, growing in the corner of the fences and in the old field, the persimmon tree ever dear to a north carolinian's soul appeared, and immediately discipline was forgotten, ranks broken, and the tree besieged. sam hiatt once remarked that the green persimmon was invaluable to an ordinary soldier, as a few of them would always draw his stomach to the proportions suited to a confederate ration. on long marches the brigades marched by turns to the front. on one occasion, while we were seated on both sides of the road waiting for the rear brigades to pass to the front, a young and clever officer of our command, who had assiduously cultivated his upper lip, and by the aid of various tonsorial applications made pretense of possessing a mustache, stepped out into the middle of the road and commenced, as is usual with beginners, to toy with his hairs; presently a rough specimen of a soldier came trotting along astride of a pack mule, and as he neared the officer he halted his steed with a loud and long "whoa!" leaning forward, with a quizzical look, he politely but firmly requested the officer "to please remove that mustache from the main highway and allow him and his mule to pass." [the mustache was _raze-rd_ at fredericksburg.] on the d we reached the vicinity of fredericksburg, and employed the interval--before the advance made by the enemy on the th of december--in strengthening our line, which reached from the rappahannock, about one mile above fredericksburg, along the hills in rear of that city to the richmond & fredericksburg railroad. about o'clock on the morning of the th, burnside, "whose turn it now was to wrestle with general lee," massed his forces under cover of the houses of fredericksburg and moved forward with his grand divisions to seize marye's and willis' hills-- "with a hundred thousand men for the rebel slaughter-pen, and the blessed union flag a-flying o'er him." at the foot of marye's hill ran the telegraph road along which, for some four hundred yards, is a stone revetment. on the crest of the hill, at intervals, in pits, were posted nine guns of the washington artillery, under col. walton. three regiments of cobb's brigade and commanded by him, were in position behind this stone wall at the foot of the hill. some two hundred yards in a ravine, and immediately behind the washington artillery, lay our (cooke's) brigade. about one o'clock all the guns on stafford heights were directed against our guns on marye's hill, endeavoring to draw their fire so as to cover the advance of their infantry. our artillery, instead of replying, remained silent until their infantry had deployed, when they poured a storm of canister into them. french's division came first, and they were swept away before the deployment was completed. the battle now lulled for some twenty minutes, when the enemy "entered the ring" with hancock to the front. about this time our brigade was moved to the crest of the hill. the th, th and th regiments were halted on the hill on the line of the batteries, while our regiment ( th), in the midst of a terrific fire, passed rapidly through the washington artillery, and double-quicked down the steep incline into the telegraph road and joined in the fire. during our advance col. gilmer was severely wounded in the leg, but succeeded in reaching the foot of the hill. hancock was repulsed with terrible slaughter. gen. cobb had been previously killed, and gen. kershaw now took command of the troops in the road. after we had reached our position behind the stone wall, gen. cooke received a severe wound in the head and was carried from the field. the command of the brigade now devolved upon col. hall of the th regiment, who moved his and the other regiments of the brigade into the telegraph road. the enemy now made his third effort, when howard's and sturgis' and getty's divisions advanced bravely to the desperate work assigned them. we took heavy toll from their columns, and, like their predecessors, they fell back in confusion. lastly came the sixth and final assault by humphrey's division, of hooker's corps, and charge it did, as game as death. they, too, had to bite the dust, and their broken and shattered columns fled in disorder to the city, leaving the field strewn with their slain. about o'clock we threw forward our pickets and, in the darkness, many of their raw recruits came into our lines, their guns and accoutrements perfectly new; some of them had not fired a shot and could scarcely tell their nativity. we remained in line of battle during the night, expecting and hoping for a renewal of the assault on the next day. the th (sunday) came, however, and went away without a renewal. on the th we were moved a few hundred yards farther to our left, and remained in this position until the morning of the th, when it was discovered that the enemy, availing himself of the darkness of the night, had recrossed the river. "a river has always been considered a good line of defence by most writers on the art of war, provided certain principles be observed in defending. when napoleon crossed the danube, in , in the presence of the archduke charles, who was a good general, he was forced to retreat to the islands of lobau and enzersdorf, after the bloody days of essling. had not the archduke assumed the offensive so _vigorously_, the emperor's loss would not have been so great, and he could have remained on the left bank." this later "essling" army was fairly and terribly beaten, forced to recross the river, after great loss of life and labor, and was spared (thanks to his bridges and darkness of the night) utter annihilation. burnside testified, before the committee on the conduct of the war, that he had, in round numbers, one hundred thousand men, all of whom were engaged in this battle, and that he failed because it was found impossible to get the men up to the works; that the confederates' fire was too hot for them. of lee's forces, only about twenty thousand men were actively engaged. the casualties in our company, owing to the protection afforded us by the stone wall behind which we were posted, were comparatively few. private william d. archer, a splendid specimen of a soldier, was killed; privates james m. hardin severely, and frank g. chilcutt slightly, wounded. on the th, we were removed to near hamilton's crossing, and remained in camp there until the d day of january, . while here, some of our officers and men were in demand, and lieut. b. g. graham was detailed as brigade ordnance officer. silas c. dodson was appointed clerk in the commissary department under major hays, and david h. edwards, quartermaster-sergeant. on the th of december, private john w. reid was transferred to the th north carolina regiment, having been elected to the position of lieutenant in one of its companies. on the th, corporal will l. bryan, having contracted a severe cold on the march from madison court-house, died in camp. private thos. j. rhodes was appointed corporal in his stead. chapter ix. the muster-roll of the grays, in camp near fredericksburg, numbered, on the st day of december, for duty, two commissioned officers, four sergeants, four corporals, and thirty-eight privates; on detached service, six privates; sick (present), three privates; sick and wounded (absent) twenty-three privates; total present and absent, rank and file, eighty-nine. on the third of january, , we were ordered to hold ourselves in readiness to march, and about o'clock we were on the road leading towards richmond. the first day's march found us encamped on the telegraph road, miles from fredericksburg. we arrived at richmond on the th, passed through the city, and made camp on the richmond & petersburg turnpike. the following day we registered at petersburg, camping just outside of the city limits, and remaining there until the th. next morning ( th) we boarded the cars for north carolina, and reached the city of goldsboro on the evening cf the th--being our first visit to the state since our summary expulsion from newberne by burnside. the th found us on the outskirts of the straggling little village of kenansville; thence onward, we marched through a sparsely-settled country to south washington, where we remained until the st of february. from south washington, we moved about miles eastward to the scattered town of burgaw, where we remained until the th. it was here at burgaw that our foot-sore and weary boys found realized those blissful dreams which sometimes hover over the hard couch of a soldier and lure him into the fable land of unknown joys from which he hears "the horns of elfland faintly blowing." it was here that we found the sweet potato, the perfectly cultured sweet potato, as it only grows and ripens in that portion of eastern north carolina. imagine, if you can, the solid comfort--after the many hardships and adventures of the bustling year of --it would afford a native carolina "cornfed," to be able to sit down under his own pines "an' hear among their furry boughs the baskin' west wind purr contented," and occupy his leisure moments in roasting a genuine yam. there were no armed blue-coats here, like little miss muffet's spider, to frighten us away. we were in a land untouched as yet by the foot of war; no war-dog had bayed here--it was still the domain of ancient peace; and the little villages slept in the hollows of the pine-clad hills, or perched in security upon the uplands. it was also at that delightful season of the year when the women and children were no longer vexed with the cares of agricultural pursuits. the sweet potato crop had been dug, the virgin dip had been scooped out of the last box, and nothing now remained but to enjoy in peace the products of honest industry. on the night of the th we left these plaintive pines, marched to wilmington, and were soon aboard of the cars destined for charleston, s.c. about mid-day of the d--after slight detentions at marion court-house and florence--we arrived at the depot in charleston. while here awaiting orders--the men remaining upon the open flat cars--several impudent and inquisitive idlers, necessary adjuncts to every depot, gathered around us. among them happened to be a well-dressed, dapper fellow, in his home-guard-suit-of-gray and snow-white "b'iled" shirt. being of an inquisitive nature, and seeking information, he had the rashness to address jim pearce, and inquire of him: "_whose command? where are you stationed, sir?_" jim, who was sitting on the edge of the car, idly dangling his feet, seemed to "take him in" at once, and rising to the dignity of a full-fledged veteran, replied (very feelingly): "_stationed! stationed, sir! stationed, the h--l-fire!_ we have chased and been chased by the yankees from beyond the shores of maryland to this city, and we are _still_ on the wing!" as the cars moved off, jim gave him a quizzical lookout of his left eye, smiled, and faintly whispered "stationed?" it is a peculiar trait of the faculty of memory that it is very prone to gather up the "unconsidered trifles of life," and to let slip many of its apparently more important events. but my reader must remember that war is not all tragedy,--that there are smiles as well as tears in the drama. the evening of the d found us at pocataligo, a small railway station on the charleston & savannah railroad. remaining here a few days, we next located at coosawhatchie, another depot, eight miles away, and about sixty miles from charleston. having an ample supply of tents, we laid out a regular camp; with no battle to fight, and very light picket duty to perform, we passed a quiet and pleasant time, until the d of april. the country around coosawhatchie is low and marshy; the lakes and streams abound with alligators; the forests of live-oak, shrouded and festooned with a gray moss, present a weird and picturesque appearance; the products are rice, pinders, and grits; the pasturage is confined to a few lean, lank cattle, called by the natives "high-walk." we relied upon the markets of charleston and savannah for our commissary stores, and the morning train rarely failed to bring us fresh shad. our provident surgeon had a good supply of wet groceries, which sustained our _sick_, and our stay in south carolina wore pleasantly, having no special fighting to do. while in camp at coosawhatchie, the writer and a comrade (maj. webb) mounted our horses one bright sunday morning to enjoy the charming beauty of the day, and the invigorating influences of the sea air. after riding for about two hours over the level country with its monotonous aspect, we came suddenly and unexpectedly upon one of those charming country seats, which were once the pride and delight of the landed proprietor. the mansion, situated upon a gentle elevation, was of old-time construction with the wide hall, large rooms and broad staircases, and colonade of immense pillars supporting the roof of the front porch. it was embowered in thick clusters of live oaks which stood round in a kind of outer park, while the inner park was composed of terraces covered with flowers and shrubbery, while thickets of rose gardens seemed to stretch in every direction. an aged negro was the only living being about the place. he told us that the place was called "roseland;" that old massa was dead; that the two boys were in the army, and that miss minnie was at school in raleigh, n.c. "a merry place, 'tis said, in days of yore: but something ails it now."-- vandal hands had done their accustomed work. the beautiful grounds were sadly disfigured; the shrubbery was broken down; the crops and forage had been gathered by alien hands, and only the poor ghost remained of this once peaceful and happy home. during our encampment in south carolina, we were notified of the death of private r. g. boling, at hospital in richmond. jas. h. gant died on the th of february; about the same time, isaac f. lane died at leesburg, n.c.; his remains were carried to guilford. on the st of march, james m. lemons died at his home. on the th of april, jas. s. hall died in hospital at hardyville, s.c., and was buried in the cemetery at charleston. private sam smith, unfit for active service, substituted jas. e. lloyd, and private jas. r. wiley was discharged upon surgeon's certificate on the th of february. on the th of march, corporal r. d. weatherly was promoted to sergeant-major of the regiment, and private william c. story was appointed corporal in his stead. on the d of april, we received orders to return to north carolina. we left coosawhatchie the same day, arrived at charleston, s.c., the following day, and on the th reached wilmington, n.c. we remained in camp near wilmington until the th of may, when we moved to magnolia. remaining here a few days, we were moved to goldsboro; from here we were ordered to our old tramping-grounds near kinston, where we arrived on the th. meanwhile, a detachment of the enemy from newberne, on a raiding expedition, had encountered general ransom's brigade near gum swamp. general ransom undertook to drive them within their lines, and made a feint upon newberne. we formed a portion of the troops engaged in this expedition, and succeeded in driving the enemy within their lines, and destroying the block-houses they had made for their defence. we gained nothing by this tramping, except a few cases of malarial fever, occasioned by our swamp-wading. with the exception of an occasional skirmish with the enemy's cavalry on batchelor's creek, there is nothing worthy of mention during our encampment in the vicinity of kinston. we remained here until the th of june, when once more we received orders to proceed to virginia. chapter x. in the latter part of april, , the army of the potomac, under the command of major-general hooker, occupied its position in front of fredericksburg. here he constructed a formidable line of earthworks; from which secure position, he purposed to move on general lee's flank. with this view, he crossed the rappahannock and took position at chancellorsville. meanwhile, general lee, watching him, was entrenched on the line of hills south of the rappahannock, near fredericksburg. on the d of may, these two confronting armies met each other, and commenced the memorable engagements of chancellorsville. "on this field the star of confederate destiny reached its zenith, when the immortal jackson fell wounded at the head of his victorious troops; it began to set on the th of may, when jackson was no more." general lee, deeming the true policy now to take the aggressive, at once set to work to manoeuver so as to draw hooker's army from fredericksburg, and remove hostilities beyond the potomac. in pursuance of this design, our army--now reorganized into three corps, respectively commanded by lieutenant-generals longstreet, ewell, and a. p. hill--early in june moved northward, with the view of marching into maryland and pennsylvania. on our arrival at richmond, on the th of june, we were assigned to heth's division of a. p. hill's corps--which corps still occupied the lines in front of fredericksburg, the corps of ewell and longstreet having advanced as far as culpepper court-house. on the night of the th, hooker retired from his position, and on the th the corps of a. p. hill left for the valley. at the urgent request of general elzey, in command at richmond, our brigade (cooke's) was retained there, and davis' mississippi brigade was assigned to heth's division in our stead; through which circumstance, we failed to participate in the pennsylvania campaign and to share in the fatal battle of gettysburg. on the th of june we were sent to the south anna bridge, on the virginia central road, to repel a threatened attack from the enemy's cavalry. remaining here until the th, we returned to richmond, and were ordered to chapin's bluff, on the james. john f. mcquiston joined the company here. we remained at the bluff only a few days, when we were again returned to richmond, and camped in the vicinity until the th of july. on the th, we moved to taylorsville, on the r. & f.r.r. remaining here until the st of august, we moved to fredericksburg, and picketed the various fords on the rappahannock. on the th, we retraced our steps to taylorsville, went into camp in pine forest near the railroad, and passed the time quietly until the th of september. on the th of july, the shattered remnant of our army recrossed the potomac into virginia. general meade, now in command of the federal troops, advanced east of the mountains, and general lee, so as to confront him, moved his army, and established a line of defence along the rapidan river. in this position the two armies remained, in comparative quiet, about two months. early in october, general lee, with ewell's and hill's corps, crossed the rapidan to attack meade's flank, or force him to retire from his position. the grays, having been encamped at gordonsville since the th of september, were ordered to rejoin their corps, and on the th of october we left gordonsville, marching _via_ madison court-house, where we camped on the th. on sunday morning ( th), we reached culpepper court-house. just before our arrival it was ascertained that meade was on the farther side of the rappahannock river, which would render it necessary for our troops to make another flank movement. on monday, the th, therefore, we started for warrenton. passing near salem, we camped that night at amisville. the next day, passing warrenton springs, we reached warrenton. on the morning of the th, we resumed our march, and about ten o'clock we came upon a little place called grinage. here we found the deserted camp of the enemy. their camp-fires were still burning, many articles of camp equipage were lying around, everything showing that a panic had seized them and that their retreat was hasty and terrified. we hastened on in pursuit, at a rapid rate, capturing their stragglers at every turn. at the same time, we knew that ewell was driving another corps of the enemy on our right up the orange & alexandria railroad. our men were in the highest spirits, confident not only of victory, but of destroying or capturing everything in front of us. we knew the river in their rear was swollen, and possibly the bridges gone, and there would be no outlet for them. governor vance's faithful ship, the "advance," had come in "heavily laden," and we were proudly and splendidly dressed in some of the gray cloth of its cargo, which, but a few days before, we had received; our hopes were buoyant, our rations plentiful, and it is easy to imagine with what pace we kept up the pursuit. reasonable expectations doomed to a speedy and bitter disappointment! after keeping up the pursuit at this rapid rate for some three hours along the main road leading to bristoe station, our brigade filed out into the woods upon our right when we arrived within a short distance of the station. cooke's brigade formed the advance of the pursuing column, kirkland's brigade followed, then came the remainder of a. p. hill's corps. at the time we filed to our right in the woods, kirkland's brigade moved up and filed off to the left of the road; the rest of our corps was halted and _remained_ in the road in the rear. our brigade (cooke's) was immediately thrown into line of battle, the th n.c. regiment on the extreme right, the th n.c. next, the th n.c. next, and the th n.c. next, with their left resting upon the main road. in this position we were ordered to move forward. advancing some five hundred yards through a dense forest of pines, we were halted near a small stream in an open field. about yards in our front and to our left upon a hill, we could see several brigades of the enemy; while in the road in their front a large wagon train was hurriedly moving off. about this time a battery of guns concealed in the woods opened a heavy fire upon our right flank, seemingly to cover the retreat of their wagon train. just then a courier from gen. heth handed to gen. cooke orders from gen. hill to advance; in the meanwhile a message was received from col. hall, commanding our right flank, informing gen. cooke that the enemy had driven in his skirmishers and was pressing him on his flank. thereupon cooke sent heth's courier back to him with the information that the enemy were in force upon his right, and before he could advance that his flank must be protected. the courier from gen. heth returned a second time with orders to advance, and while delivering the orders one of gen. lee's staff-officers rode up, and being informed of our situation, said to cooke that _he_ would go to gen. hill for him. before he had time to reach gen. hill, a courier arrived _direct_ from hill to gen. cooke with orders to _advance at once_. cooke replied, "i will do so, and if i am flanked i will face about and cut my way out," and immediately gave the command "forward!" advancing at a quick step up a slight elevation we came in full view of the enemy. simultaneous with our advance five pieces of our artillery, posted in the main road upon our left, opened fire on the enemy in sight, who retired apparently in confusion. about yards in the valley in our front ran the track of the orange & alexandria railroad. the road here formed an embankment from six to eight feet high, extending far enough to overlap our brigade and a portion of kirkland's on our left. the space between us and the railroad was a barren, open field, descending with a gradual declivity to the railroad embankment. across and beyond the railroad about yards, upon a considerable elevation, were extensive woods and thickets; here the enemy had posted their artillery. in front of these woods, and on the face of the hill descending to the railroad embankment, was posted what we then supposed was the enemy's skirmish line, but which proved to be a decoy, for the troops which had retired at the firing of our artillery in the road, and a large body of those who had been retreating before ewell, had stretched themselves behind the railroad embankment, forming their real line of battle, which consisted of the entire second corps and one division of the th corps of meade's army. we had advanced rapidly some yards when our regiment, being slightly in advance, was halted until the regiments upon our right and left came up. here we discovered for the first time the real position of the enemy behind the railroad embankment. we were going down the hill; they, secure behind the bank, had only to lie down on the slope, rest their muskets on the track of the railroad and sweep the open field as we attacked. the attack was made. "not tho' the soldier knew, some one had blundered: their's not to make reply, their's not to reason why, their's but to do and die; into the valley of death, into the mouth of hell, stormed at with shot and shell, marched the six hundred." chapter xi. we had scarcely emerged from the woods and began to advance down the hill, when gen. cooke, in command of the brigade, was shot and fell from his horse severely wounded. col. gilmer, in command of our regiment, was shot down about the same moment. the command of the brigade now devolved upon col. hall, of the th n.c. regiment, and the command of our regiment fell upon lieut.-col. whitfield. we were now suffering from the terrific fire of the enemy's artillery posted in the thickets on the elevation beyond the railroad, and from the murderous fire of their infantry in safe position behind the embankment. col. whitfield seeing that our entire force would soon be annihilated by the concentrated fire of the enemy, reported to col. hall that the brigade must either retreat or make a charge. col. hall thought a charge was the best to be done, and col. whitfield gave the order to advance. in a moment we were double-quicking down the hill, our men falling at every step. when we came to within a few yards of the railroad, the enemy rose up from behind the embankment and poured a volley into our ranks which almost swept the remnant of us out of existence. at this juncture some of our company sought shelter in a little shanty on our left, where they were afterwards captured by the enemy. col. whitfield was now shot down, and major webb assumed the command. in our perilous condition but two courses were open, either to surrender or to take our chance in a retreat up the hill, the descent of which had been so disastrous. major webb chose the latter and gave the order to fall back. during our advance our colors were cut down three times. the third time they were caught up by corporal william c. story, of the grays, on the color-guard, and carried by him during the rest of the fight. for his gallantry upon this occasion he was complimented in special orders, and was afterwards appointed ensign of the regiment, with the rank of lieutenant. the cause of the war may be forgotten, but the achievements of each soldier are the common property and common glory of the country, and are imperishable. the calm and cool courage displayed by this young lad of guilford, who bore so well the brunt of this hard-fought field is worthy of the heroes who fell at culloden. he bore the flag of his country's trust until the surrender. he returned to his home broken down in health, and in a few months surrendered to his last enemy--death! in the quiet church yard at tabernacle, in the southeastern part of guilford, story sleeps near those who loved him. in this consecrated spot may memory come to embalm his name, and love bedew with her fondest tears the turf which wraps his clay. we continued to fall back, under a continuous deadly fire, until we had passed the brow of the hill, and were under shelter. "they that had fought so well came back from the mouth of hell-- all that was left of them." during the night the enemy continued their retreat toward centreville. we, with litters and canteens of water, repaired to the battle-field to care for our wounded, where "death wagged his slim jaws gleefully over his feast," and gorged himself with many more victims ere the dawn of the th. the grays went into this battle with three commissioned officers, four sergeants, four corporals, and fifty-two privates. killed: first lieutenant john h. mcknight; privates john cannady, henry crider, and john t. sockwell were killed on the field. wounded: capt. john a. sloan, corporal c. w. stratford, sergeant chas. a. campbell; privates emsley f. shuler, w. burnsides, henry g. coble, lewis n. isley, wm. d. dennis, l. l. lineberry, j. w. mcdowell, robt. b. mclean, william may, cyrus crowson, a. l. orrell, rufus b. gibson, samuel gray, r. s. smith, w. m. summers, were wounded. sergeant e. m. crowson was wounded, taken prisoner, and died of his wounds at point lookout, jan. , . private h. rufus forbis died of his wounds at richmond, oct. , . joseph e. rankin died of wounds, october . w. f. hunter died of his wounds, nov. , and john w. mcnairy lost a leg. prisoners: sergeant w. u. steiner (wounded and captured); privates h. m. boon, paul crutchfield, jno. coltrain, geo. w. lemons, james m. marsh, james a. orrell, wilbur f. owen, jas. r. pearce, andrew l. stanley, paisley sheppard, t. m. woodburn, r. b. worrell, geo. h. woolen, thos. r. greeson, and jas. l. wilson were captured and carried to point lookout. walter greene, who was detached as courier to gen. cooke, was shot from his horse, and severely but not seriously wounded. sergeant-major robert d. weatherly was mortally wounded, and died of his wounds in richmond, october , . he served in the ranks of the grays from their organization as private and corporal, until the st of march, when he received the appointment of sergeant-major of our regiment. bob was a noble boy, and bravest of the brave. fear was no word in his vocabulary. he was always at his post, and though slight in stature, his form was ever seen in the thickest of the fight. his remains were carried to greensboro, and buried in the presbyterian church-yard. john h. mcknight, at the outbreak of the war, was quietly pursuing his studies at trinity college. when we received our orders to go to fort macon, he left his books and joined his company at the depot, on the night of the th of april, , and served as private, corporal, and sergeant until september th, when he was promoted to st lieutenant. he fell at bristoe mortally wounded, foremost in the charge; was left on the field, and captured by the enemy. on the morning of the th, we found his body in the thicket beyond the railroad, where the enemy had left him to die. here we buried him. his remains were afterwards removed, and interred in the cemetery at greensboro. these two noble boys sleep among their loved ones, where, each returning spring, loving hands may plant the flowers which speak of the resurrection of the true and just, and of the land where eternal summer reigns. "may young april o'er their lowly mounds shake the violets from her hair, and glorious june with fervid kiss ever bid the roses blossom there." a worse-managed affair than this fight at bristoe station did not take place during the war. with the rest of our corps in the rear, at a moment's call, cooke's and kirkland's north carolina brigades were made to fight this battle alone. president davis characterized it "as a rash and ill-conducted affair." col. taylor says that "too few of our corps was engaged; it was unpardonable mismanagement, and there was no earthly excuse for it." gen. lee said to the officer who essayed to explain to him this occurrence: "bury your _poor dead_, and say nothing more about it." this terminated gen. lee's attempt to bring on a pitched battle with gen. meade. on the following day we were busy burying our dead. our wounded were all cared for, and sent off in ambulances and wagons. on the th, we were employed in destroying the railroad track, which we did most effectually, as far down as rappahannock station. on the th, we crossed the rappahannock river, went into camp, and remained until the th of november. on the th, our forces met with another surprise at kelley's ford, on the rappahannock river, which resulted in the loss of several hundred of our men and some few pieces of artillery. the loss of this position made it necessary to abandon the design of our making an attack, and on the th we were withdrawn to near culpepper court-house; at night we fell back across robertson river. this position not being regarded as favorable, we returned to the south side of the rapidan on the following night. we picketed along this river, above rapidan station, until the th of november. at this time, the army under gen. meade crossed the rapidan, and we were busy getting ready for a counter-move, as he was supposed to be moving down the river. at the dawn of day, on the th, we were on our way to meet meade's army. the weather was intensely cold, and our men suffered greatly. we proceeded to advance towards fredericksburg. in the evening we met the enemy, and had quite a skirmish, losing several men from the regiment. on saturday, a position was selected on the line of mine run, and in a short while we were strongly entrenched, and anxious for the enemy to attack us. on monday, the th, the enemy being in our immediate front, we certainly expected an attack. they were found to be busily entrenching, also, and tuesday passed without any demonstration. as gen. meade seemed reluctant to bring on an engagement, gen. lee determined to assail him; consequently, during the night, he made necessary arrangements for a grand battle. when dawn broke over the hills on the morning of the d of december, meade's camps were found deserted, and his army fast making their way back to the river. we immediately made pursuit, but he had too much the start and reached the north side of the rapidan before we could overtake him. both armies then retired to their original positions on the rapidan. we returned to our winter quarters which we had prepared, about - / miles south-east from orange c.h. we were then, in turn, employed in picketing along the rapidan until the th of february, when we were relieved by kirkland's north carolina brigade, and we again sought shelter in our log cabins. chapter xii. on the th of december, lieutenant frank a. hanner was promoted to st lieutenant, vice lieutenant mcknight killed. orderly sergeant chas. a. campbell to d lieutenant, jr.; sergeant william m. paisley was appointed orderly sergeant; corporal c. w. stratford, sergeant, and privates alfred w. klutts and rufus b. gibson were promoted to corporals. during the month of december, under special orders no. , lee's headquarters, a general court martial was convened for our (heth's) division. capt. j. a. sloan was detailed as judge-advocate; col. r. mayo, of the th virginia regiment, as president, and sergeant william u. steiner, of the grays, appointed recorder. with the exception of a temporary suspension in february and again in march, to accompany our several commands on expeditions made at those times, the court was in regular session at orange court-house. in the meanwhile lieutenant banner was in command of the grays. on the th of january, private chas. w. westbrooks, our company chaplain, and known as our "fighting parson," was discharged by order of the secretary of war, and received an appointment as regular chaplain in the army. charlie preached as he shot without fear and to the mark. on the th of january, private henry g. kellogg, at home on surgeon's certificate, was permanently detailed in the commissary department at salisbury, north carolina. on the th of february, w. h. donnell joined the company. on the th, corporal thomas j. rhodes was promoted to sergeant, and private richard s. smith was appointed corporal. on the st of march, preston p. dick joined the company. at the same time private henry w. ayer, who joined the grays in may, , was transferred to company "c," th n.c. regiment. on the th, h. smiley forbis died of disease at hospital in lynchburg, va. on the st, private a. laffayette orrell was transferred to the c.s. navy, "or words to that effect." on the th of april, private pleasant ricks died in camp of typhoid fever. on the th, e. tonkey sharpe was detached, by order of gen. heth, for duty with the provost guard. on our return from the mine run "freeze-out," we planned, built, and improved our winter quarters, and soon had a city of log cabins. it was now our turn to watch the wary "yank" on the borders of the rapidan, and we picketed up and down the stream in the cold and ice until early in february, when kirkland's n.c. brigade was sent to our relief. while we were in camp near orange court-house in december, , the good mothers, wives, and daughters of virginia, with the ready hands and loving hearts that had always characterized them from the beginning to the end of the fearful struggle, bethought themselves to give lee's army a christmas dinner. every pantry, turkey-roost, and hog-pen in the dear old state was called upon to furnish its quota for the feast. our infinitesimal ration dimmed with the prospect, and we looked forward to that day, which ever stirs all the better and sweeter impulses of our humanity, with longing desires. in our log cabins we lay upon our hard beds and dreamed of its past celebrations, of its anthems and its carols; we thought of its bays and its wreaths of evergreen; its sprigs of holly in the parlor, and the sacred immortelles around the portraits of the lost ones; its gift-giving and all those interchanges of tokens that make friendship sweet; its suppressions of self; its lessons of generosity, and its going out to others. need you wonder, under these circumstances, that lee's hungry rebels were all anticipation. the day was ushered in with a snow storm, but, nothing daunted, our brigade wagon was soon on its way to the depot to receive our share of the feast; but, unfortunately, these same pantrys, turkey-roosts, and hog-pens had been invaded so often before that our part of the grand dinner assumed microscopic proportions, and the wagon returned with about a half-bushel measure of dissected gobblers--our christmas dinner! "o, ever thus, from childhood's hour"-- early in february we received a most delightful and interesting visit from greensboro's eminent divine, rev. j. henry smith, who preached for as in the large log tabernacle erected by the boys for divine service. during his visit the cry of the "philistines be upon you" from the other side of the river was heard, and we were ordered out to resist the threatened attack. the parson exhibited an eagerness to become a "soldier of lee" for the occasion. after spending two days and nights of bitter cold weather on the banks of the rapidan, the enemy making no further demonstrations, we were returned to our quarters. on the th of february, three formidable columns of cavalry, under the command respectively of generals kilpatrick, custer, and col. dahlgren, proceeded by different routes towards richmond to surprise and, if possible, capture the city; and, if successful, to sack and burn the city, pillage the buildings, and kill "old jeff davis and his cabinet." in the meanwhile two corps of the enemy crossed the river and proceeded to madison court-house; their object being, by a feint, to cover their cavalry demonstration upon richmond. two days later another army corps left for madison, and our corps (hill's) was ordered to follow them. we left our camp before day on the morning of march st and reached madison late in the evening, after a long and weary march in the rain and mud. on our arrival we found that the enemy had retired, and were returning to their former position on the rapidan. the weather turned very cold during the night, and the next morning we retraced our steps through snow and ice to our camp, the men suffering greatly from fatigue and cold. we remained quietly in our winter quarters until the th of may. sometime in march, , major-general ulysses s. grant was appointed lieutenant-general and assumed command of the armies of the united states. in april he made his headquarters at culpepper court-house, and took personal command of the army of the potomac. during the months of march and april re-enforcements were gathered from the four quarters of the globe and sent to this army. chapter xiii. on the st day of may, the official return of the army of the potomac showed, present for duty, one hundred and forty-one thousand one hundred and sixty men, of all arms. general lee had, in round numbers, sixty-four thousand men. i give the relative strength of the two armies, in order that the reader may have a proper appreciation of the difficulties which beset our army in thwarting the designs of our wily adversary, in the campaign we were now just entering. that the brilliant genius of our immortal lee, made amends for paucity in numbers, and proved more than a match for brutal force, the bloody field extending from the wilderness to the james river will attest. on the d of may, our army held the south bank of the rapidan river. its right rested near the mouth of mine run; its left extended as far as liberty mills, on the road to gordonsville. grant, with his main body encamped in culpepper county, occupied the north hank of the rapidan. on the th of may, grant crossed his forces to the south side, and began his advance into the "wilderness." running eastwardly to fredericksburg, from orange court-house, are two parallel roads; the one nearest the river is called the "stone turnpike," and the other the "plank-road." as soon as grant's movements were known, our army was put in motion. on the morning of the th, our division (heth's) and wilcox's, of a. p. hill's corps, moved eastwardly along the "plank-road." simultaneously ewell's corps moved on the stone turnpike. that night we bivouacked at verdiersville, near where we fought the battle of mine run. the "wilderness" is an almost impenetrable thicket of undergrowth; and our sagacious lee resolved to fight grant in these pathless woods, where their artillery would be least available, and where their massive columns would be most embarrassed in their movements. on the morning of the th, we resumed our march, with kirkland's brigade, of our division, in front. about one o'clock, our advance-guard came upon a body of the enemy, and a spirited musketry fire was opened in our front. kirkland's brigade at once deployed on both sides of the "plank-road," and cooke's brigade was thrown into line of battle with our regiment ( th), on the left of the road. about three o'clock, our skirmishers were driven in by a massive column of the enemy, who advanced firing rapidly. thus commenced the "wilderness" fight; and the bloody contest continued until near sundown. this stubborn and heroic resistance was made by the divisions of heth's and wilcox's, fifteen thousand strong, against the repeated assaults of four divisions of hancock's and one division of sedgwick's corps, numbering about forty-five thousand men. after dark, we were relieved by kirkland's brigade. as we were retiring from our position, we got into a country-road, parallel to the "plank-road," and had proceeded but a short distance, when my attention was directed to a similar body of troops, marching quietly in the road with us; the night was very dark, and it was difficult to distinguish friend from foe. i felt some anxiety, as they seemed to possess uniform knapsacks and were of better appearance than our men, to know who they were. i therefore approached their column, and found to my utter astonishment that they were "blue-coats." i immediately rushed to col. whitfield, and informed him of our situation. he replied, "impossible!" on close inspection, he found that they were really federal troops. he drew his pistol, and, in a surprised and excited manner, called out: "yes, they are yankees! shoot them, boys! shoot them!" some few guns were fired; but as the surprise was so great both upon our part and that of our "yankee brethren," a hasty retreat was made on both sides, and each soon lost the other in the darkness. they were evidently on the wrong road "to get out of the wilderness." we soon reached the "plank-road," and were marched to the rear about one and a-half miles to a ridge, upon which our line was established. our men began at once to fortify; and while we had no implements for the purpose, we succeeded, by the aid of our bayonets and tin-cups, to build what proved to be on the following day a great protection. during the progress of the battle on the th, there came a lull in the firing and an almost deathlike stillness prevailed, as though the god of war had stopped a minute to take a long breath, and pull himself together for a fresh start. presently, a sharp, quick report of a rifle from the other side broke the stillness. simultaneously with the report, private wash williams was struck and painfully wounded. he uttered a long, loud yell, which seemed to reverberate up and down the lines for at least a mile. almost immediately afterwards, a gun was fired from our side, and some one on the yankee line mimicked the cry of williams perfectly. this incident created general laughter on both sides, thus giving the opposing forces an idea of each other's position, and the contest opened in good earnest. our casualties in this, the first of the series of battles of this campaign, were as follows: privates sam'l f. mclean and louis lineberry were killed. sergeant c. w. stratford, corporal a. w. klutts, privates frank g. chilcutt, william horney, r. b. tate, jas. m. hardin, wash. williams, thos. r. greeson, sam'l hiatt, john r. siler, and jas. l. wilson were wounded. chilcutt lost an arm, horney lost a leg, and r. b. tate died of his wounds in july, . chapter xiv. at dawn on the morning of the th the enemy, having been re-enforced by the th army corps under gen. burnside, and a fresh division commanded by wadsworth, advanced. the intervening space between the position now held by our brigade, and the point at which we fought on the th, was occupied by our (hill's) corps camped in irregular order, and in no condition for an assault; consequently, when the enemy made their advance and attacked, these forces were thrown into confusion and driven back to the line where our brigade had formed the night previous. after a severe contest a portion of heth's and wilcox's divisions were overpowered and forced to fall back; our brigade, under protection of our hastily constructed earthworks, held its position. the condition of affairs was now assuming a very critical phase, when kershaw's brigade of south carolinians, of longstreet's corps, arrived upon the scene and for a short while arrested their further advance. the repulsed portions of our divisions were in considerable disorder, and the battle began to rage with intense fury. general lee, anxious and appreciating the impending crisis, rode up with hat in hand, dashed among the men, and calling upon them to rally, said he would lead the charge. the reins of his horse were seized by the men and he was told he must go "to the rear," or they would not go forward. being evidently touched at this manifestation of anxiety upon the part of his men the great, grand, and towering old hero waved his hand and retired. in a few moments anderson's gallant texas boys came up at a double-quick, deployed into line of battle, and, with longstreet at their head, went forward with a yell. major webb, while standing on our works cheering, was severely wounded and retired to the rear. in a short while the ground lost by our troops was recovered, and the enemy forced back to the position originally held by them. general longstreet now took the defensive, and about mid-day made an attack on their rear and left flank. the assault resulted in their utter rout, and they were forced back some distance in rear of the lines occupied by them on the th. so far, this movement was a complete success, and longstreet began preparations to follow up his advantages with a flank movement by the brock road. while advancing at the head of gen. jenkins' brigade, a portion of his flanking column, which had continued through the woods in the former charge, mistaking the brigade for the enemy fired into them, killing gen. jenkins, and seriously wounding gen. longstreet. this unfortunate and strange fatality checked our forward movement, and afforded the enemy time and opportunity to rally and reform behind their entrenchments. at dark we began to move slowly to the right, and after we had proceeded about one mile a rebel yell, as if a rushing mighty wind, rolled down upon us from the right of our lines. our army now was in a continuous line of battle, and the cheering was taken up spontaneously by brigade after brigade until it swelled into one exulting roar of defiance. at first it seemed like the soft murmuring of the wind in the tree tops, and as it came nearer it made one vast tempest of sound, and thus it swayed back and forth for some time. its effect was tragic in the extreme, and i readily recall the sensation it produced upon all at the time. the enemy's pickets thought we were making a grand charge and fled so precipitately to their main line that, as the prisoners we captured the next day informed us, they were fired into by their own men and many of them killed. on the morning of the th an advance was made and grant was found to have retired from his line of works on his right. we had several skirmishes, and desultory firing continued during the day. he now attempted by a flank movement to secure possession of spottsylvania court-house, and warren's corps, of his advance guard, marched out of the wilderness by the brock road. on his arrival at the po river, on the following day, he found in his path, ready to dispute his passage, gen. r. h. anderson's division of longstreet's corps. each army, now forming on its advance guard as a nucleus, swung round, and on the th confronted each other in line of battle. on our march on the th we were interrupted by several skirmishes, and were frequently shelled by the enemy. in the evening we reached spottsylvania court-house, and were placed in line, without regard to alignment, a short distance to the left of the court-house building, where we at once proceeded to fortify. we were moved afterwards to different parts of the lines, but finally took our position not far from where we first halted. chapter xv. on the th barlow's division made an attack upon our left and obtained temporary possession of a portion of ewell's line. gen. lee said that these lines must be re-established, if he had to attend to it in person. our (heth's) division was called upon to do the work. we received our orders and were soon in readiness. advancing cautiously for some little time, we came upon the enemy about one mile this side of a branch of the po, we deployed into line and began to push them back. they finally halted in some earth-works, freshly thrown up, in front of mrs. graves' house, in front of which was a large open field. as soon as we got into the road running parallel to these works, we were halted and reformed, and, after some little delay, we were ordered to charge their works and drive them away. we charged across the open field under a heavy fire of artillery from their batteries on the hills beyond the little stream, which ran a short distance in the rear of their earth-works. before we reached the works they, deeming "prudence the better part of valor," fled and made good their retreat, leaving behind them one piece of artillery, their dead and wounded, and several prisoners. we remained several hours at their works under a heavy shelling; some few of the shells exploding in our ranks. gen. cooke was slightly wounded in the charge, and ensign w. c. story, after we reached the works. we were finally withdrawn and marched back to our position on the main lines, after we had recovered the lost ground and forced the enemy to relinquish their temporary advantage. the th was passed in comparative quiet, with the exception of our usual salutation from the enemy's batteries. they made daily practice on our works, and endeavored to batter down and destroy the buildings in the village. they appeared to have a special spite at the little brick church immediately in rear of our regiment, occupied by our surgeon (dr. hunt) as a _dispensary_. "gwin" had hardly "opened up" when a wicked shell came thundering through the gable, and he concluded to vacate, which he did in considerable disorder. when we quit our lines the little church was sadly in need of a contribution box. during the night of the th the enemy, under the cover of the dense woods, advanced without discovery, and massed a large force in ewell's front at the point known as the "salient," which was occupied by gen. edward johnson's division. on the next morning at daylight these troops vigorously attacked and overran this portion of our lines and captured most of the division, including its commander, who was quietly enjoying his breakfast. general lee at once hurried troops from our right and left, and made dispositions to dispute their further progress. as harris' mississippi brigade was coming up at double quick, gen. lee, already in a very exposed position, now joined them and started to the front with them. the minies were flying fast and thick, and shot and shell ploughing the ground and bursting in the air. as they neared the lines a round-shot struck immediately in front of the grand old chieftain, and caused him to halt and take breath. the officers and men now plead and insisted that he should retire from this exposed position. he, in his calm manner, his feelings exhibiting a purity and nobleness of heart never witnessed in any hero of ancient or modern time, replied: "if you will promise to drive _those people_ from our works i will go back." the brigade quickly shouted the promise, and in a moment commenced the most terrific musketry-fire that took place during the war. "from the side of the salient in the possession of the federals, and the new line forming the base of the triangle occupied by the confederates, poured forth, from continuous lines of hissing fire, an incessant hail of deadly missiles. no living man nor thing could stand within the doomed space embraced within those angry lines; even large trees were felled, their trunks cut in twain by the bullets of small arms. never did the troops on either side display greater valor and determination. after several hand-to-hand conflicts, while we failed to dislodge the enemy, the assault which threatened such serious consequences was checked, and the result of the advantage to the enemy was limited to the possession of the narrow space of the salient and the capture of johnson's division. the loss of this fine body of troops was seriously felt by gen. lee, and, though his army was sadly reduced by this and a week's incessant fighting, his lines, thus forcibly rectified, proved thereafter impregnable." while this desperate attack was going on, our (heth's) division and mahone's were moved to the left near the fredericksburg road, to make a feint and create a diversion. we leaped over our works, and formed inside of them, to make the movement, and bravely did the boys move off, although nothing is so demoralizing to troops as to leave breastworks to do battle inside of them. we attacked the enemy, and drove them from two lines into a third. finding that they were getting re-enforcements, and in a fortified position, we were gradually withdrawn to our former position on the main lines. several days of comparative quiet now ensued, during which time grant was refurnishing his decimated brigades with heavy re-enforcements from washington. in his official report to the th congress, he said: "the time from the th to the th was consumed in manoeuvering and awaiting the arrival of re-enforcements." after covering the entire front of our army with _double_ lines, he still had a large reserve force with which to extend his flank and compel a corresponding move upon our part, in order to keep between him and richmond. on the th, gen. grant made his final and desperate attack, by hurling division after division against our lines. he commenced the attack in the morning, and soon the battle became continuous along the lines, and raged with the utmost fury and desperation. the cannon's shot and shell seemed winged with impetuous rage, and with hissing red flame bellowed through the air and over hill and plain, withering and blasting everything in their flight. war had now indeed stalked forth unmasked from his infernal den. in the smoke and carnage, grant drove his troops mercilessly up to the slaughter, but it produced no impression, and the hopeless task was relinquished. we had now completed twelve days of battle at spottsylvania, and at no time, day or night, did the firing on the lines entirely cease. chapter xvi. general grant, giving up all hope of succeeding in his plans by direct assault, on the night of the th began a flank movement in the direction of bowling green, hoping thereby to interpose between our army and the long-coveted richmond. on the st, wright's corps began the initiative and moved southward. to counteract and defeat this new purpose, general lee, at midnight, dispatched longstreet's corps on the road leading to hanover junction. on the day and night of the st, ewell's and hill's (our) corps marched for the same point. the twelve long days and nights, in the trenches at spottsylvania, of weary watching and desperate fighting, was telling on our men, and nothing but the indomitable courage and hope of success, which at all times and under all circumstances characterized the starved and ragged confederates, sustained them. they placed every confidence in their great and good leader, and looked forward to the time when the sunlight of this hope, with its golden radiance, would remove the veil and permit them to look out on the long and lovely paths that wind, amid beauty, to the far-off but glittering temples of their dreams, and find them realities. "what can we not endure, when pains are lessened by the hope of cure?" during the day and the night of the d, we continued our toilsome march. on these long marches, to prevent straggling, we are frequently halted for a rest, and this opportunity is taken by those who have fallen back to catch up with their commands. any one passing through the troops at this time, be he officer or private, had to run the gauntlet of the gibes and witticisms of the men. on one occasion, while thus resting, a very tall, lean, lank soldier of the th "georgy regiment," appeared in the road, dragging along his weary length. his long black tousled hair hung in uncombed ringlets from the holes in his rimless hat; his coat or jacket, a very scant pattern of gray jeans, seemed to be widely at variance with his copperas-colored breeches, as the leather strings attached to them by thorns, to serve as "gallasses," failed to effect a compromise between the two; the pants, from his oft-repeated restings, had been badly attacked and routed in the rear, and, from long use, "swunk up" in apparent fright from his sockless pedal extremities, whose coverings of untanned leather were held together by a withe as a shoe-string. in form and stature, he was modeled strictly after the heron. his avoirdupois gave evidence of unswerving observance of forty days' lenten season, and that in soul and body he had, and was now, wrestling with that plague incident and concomitant to the experience of every soldier, called the "dia-ree." as he approached near where our regimental band was seated, at the head of the regiment, he appeared to halt from sheer exhaustion, and, as he did so, he came to an order and leaned in rest upon his gun. near him stood, leaning on his drum, the tall bass-drum beater (bill burroughs) of the band. bill was a fellow of "infinite jest," and possessed one of those large souls, full of sympathy and concern for the woes of others. he turned to this gaunt straggler, supposing him to be "somebody's darling," and entered into conversation with him. the "poor fellow" in detail related his hairbreadth escapes from battle, hunger, exposure, &c. when he had scarcely told all, bill remarked to him that he ought to take notes for some _future historian_, and by all means to keep a diary. he raised his head, and as his eyes dimmed with the starting tear, now coursing down his bronzed and furrowed cheek, he replied, "lord! stranger, that's what ails me now, i have had _it_ nigh-on-to four months." the generous _cords_ of burroughs' haversack and canteen were unloosed and their gratuitous contents speedily disappeared. the order was now given to "fall in." the "georgy" fellow shouldered his gun, and bill swung his big drum on his back. just as they parted the soldier extended his long bony fingers and grasped the hand of his good samaritan, thanked him kindly, and, in subdued tones of feigned grief, said: "my stranger friend, i am so much obleeged to you; can you not further oblige me by picking a tune for a sick man on that _thare instrument_." thus agreeably employed our history leaves them--and we return to the course of our story. on the morning of the d we reached the north anna river in advance of the enemy, and about daylight crossed to the south side. warren's corps crossed at jericho ford without opposition. hancock's corps attempted to cross lower down, at the county bridge. our brigade obstinately resisted them, and they did not succeed in crossing until the th. general cooke relates an interesting incident which occurred during the progress of grant's army to the north anna, as told by a prominent citizen of caroline county, va., who was captured by grant in the march. he says: "grant had halted at a house on the roadside with a number of his officers around him with whom he was discussing with deep interest the movements in progress. during the discussion grant pulled out his watch, and opening it, said: 'gentlemen, if we do not hear firing in ten minutes we will _at last_ have gotten ahead of lee!' he stood quietly, watch in hand, an occasional remark, only, breaking the silence, when, scarcely five minutes having elapsed, the booming of guns was heard in the direction of hanover junction. he closed his watch and impatiently remarked, 'i'll be _damned_ if he has not beaten us again!' and so it was, as our brigade was at the time resisting hancock." general lee, on the next day, did not further dispute in force the crossing of the enemy, but formed his lines with his left resting on little river, and his right near the north anna below the enemy, covering hanover junction. here he awaited attack. owing to our well-selected position, grant could not get at our flanks; and to take us by direct assault, after his bitter experience at spottsylvania, caused him to "pause, ponder, study, and plan." perceiving he had made a blunder, and that his army was in a position of much peril, he, on the night of the th, recrossed to the north side of the river, and made another _detour_ to the eastward, as far down as the pamunkey river. on the th he crossed the pamunkey at hanovertown. on the th his advance ran against our brigade, on the left of our lines, at atlee's station, where we entertained him for some little time to his discomfiture. the next day we had a sharp engagement near tolopotomy creek, and on june st, they attacked us in heavy force at pole-green church, the skirmish continuing for some time. our brigade and regiment suffered considerably from their shells and sharpshooters. lieutenant chas. a. campbell was mortally wounded and was carried to the rear, where he died the next day. campbell was one of the "original panel," serving as private until april, , corporal until august, when he was promoted to sergeant. he was wounded at the battle of sharpsburg. on his return to his command, november st, he was appointed orderly sergeant, serving as such until the th of december, when he was promoted to junior d lieutenant. with the exception of a short furlough from camp at orange court-house, he was always at his post, ready and cheerful at all times to perform his duties. soon after he was shot down, he was carried to the field hospital, where he died and was buried the following day. as he passed me on his litter, he stretched out his almost pulseless arm and remarked, "goodbye, captain; if i don't come back, tell them i fell fighting at the front." god's peace be with him in his rest, lone dweller in the stranger's land. chapter xvii. on the d of june the two armies were brought face to face at cold harbor, where but two years before "little mc" had struggled in vain for the mastery. on the night of the d our brigade was placed in line on the extreme left, with our regiment upon what is known as pharr's farm. as soon as we were halted we began to fortify, and by early dawn had constructed good temporary works. owing to the dense, heavy body of woods the enemy were enabled to make near approaches in our front, and previous to their advance, on the following morning, we could hear distinctly the orders given by their officers. after some little firing by their sharpshooters, about o'clock, they began to attack, and kept up their assaults until late in the evening. brigade after brigade was hurled against us, until the ground in our front was literally covered with their dead and wounded. their assaults were repulsed along the whole line. finally, when the order was given to renew the attack, their men sullenly and emphatically refused to move forward under our withering fire. the prisoners we captured denounced and cursed grant for this slaughter, and dubbed him the "champion butcher." in the evening a battery of artillery was sent to our aid. they came up at a gallop and endeavored to take position on a slight elevation, in the skirt of pines, immediately in rear of our regiment. before they had time to unlimber, every horse in the battery was shot down. the men then endeavored to run the guns forward by hand, when nearly all the men were killed or wounded. one gun only was gotten in position, and it rendered but little service before it was dismantled. having been under constant fire, and firing rapidly all day ourselves--each man averaging two hundred rounds of cartridges--it became necessary to replenish our ammunition. an attempt to go to the rear, or to leave our works in any direction, was almost certain death. lieut.-col. whitfield, who was now in command of our regiment, disliked to force a detail to go to the wagons for ammunition, and therefore called for volunteers. a sufficient number came forward at once, and set out on their perilous expedition; among the number was private r. f. hampton, of the grays. in due time they all returned, each bringing a supply of cartridges, but waited some distance back of us for a lull in the firing so as to run the gauntlet of the sharpshooters to the lines. several were badly wounded in making the trip, among the number private r. f. hampton, who had almost reached the lines when he was shot down by a sharpshooter, mortally wounded, and afterwards died of his wounds. during the battle, private w. j. hunt was killed, and dan'l. b. coltrain and benjamin burnsides severely wounded. private hunt, when shot, was standing near me. we were trying to locate a sharpshooter in our front, who had become very troublesome by the accuracy of his aim. we had been exposed in our position but a few moments, when a minie-ball pierced his head, scattering his brains in my face, and he sunk down lifeless at my feet. lieutenant-colonel whitfield was severely wounded in the head, and was carried from the field. the command now devolved upon capt. herring, the senior officer, who acted as colonel, and captain sloan, next in rank, as major. on the following morning, we found that the enemy, under cover of darkness, had left our front; and we were moved to the right, and placed in position immediately at cold harbor, with our respective lines so near as to be able to converse with each other. we remained here in line of battle, under constant fire; happily, our immediate command had no serious casualties. grant used every expedient to break through our lines, but he had so mercilessly slaughtered and cowed his men in his first charges at cold harbor, that his men refused to charge a second time. so determined was he to clean us up, at all hazards, that he remarked he would do so, "if it took him all summer." the sequel proved that he did not overestimate the time, but the process cost considerable bloodshed. stanton (secretary of war) says, officially, that grant's force, on the st of may, was over one hundred and twenty thousand men. shortly afterwards, the th army corps was sent to him. this army, then aggregating over one hundred and forty thousand men, with a reserve to draw from of one hundred and thirty thousand more, in round numbers, was ruthlessly hurled against lee's less than fifty thousand men. lee had no reserve--the cradle and the grave had long since mustered, and our ports were closed to mercenary hirelings. their own historians prove and show that their "butcher" slaughtered nearly one hundred thousand men in his "on to richmond," from the wilds of the "wilderness" to the desolated fields of cold harbor. in other words, he sacrificed about twice as many men as lee had, in order to take a position he could have taken at first without firing a gun or losing a man. on the d of june, lieut. frank a. hanner, who had been for some weeks confined by disease in the hospital at richmond, died. he served as private until april, ; at the reorganization of the twelve-months' troops, he was elected d lieutenant; was promoted to senior d, september th, , and again on the th of october, , to st lieutenant. on the st of june, private joel j. thorn was appointed corporal. chapter xviii. the army of the potomac having now apparently had sufficient amusement on this portion of its constituted "all summer route," again adopted "little mc's" tactics, "sought water," and on the th of june began its march towards the historic james. on the th and th, by means of his pontoon bridges near wilcox's landing, grant crossed to the south side of the river. on the evening of the th his advance made a feint demonstration against petersburg, and on the th made his attack in force. this attack was promptly met, and successfully repulsed by our forces under gen. beauregard. our brigade, as yet, in the swamps of the chickahominy, was almost daily employed in skirmishes with the enemy's cavalry. on the th of june we came across a large force of cavalry at gary's farm. they had met a small force of our cavalry and had been driving them. when we arrived they dismounted and sent their horses to the rear, formed their lines and showed fight. after a sharp struggle their lines gave way, and we pursued them some distance through the woods. their sharpshooters were armed with seven shooters, and they used them against us on our advance with telling effect. when they reached their horses they quickly remounted and were soon beyond our reach. orderly sergeant william m. paisley and private henry j. coble were wounded. we had advanced in line but a short distance, when sergeant paisley, at the head and slightly in advance of his company, was shot by a sharpshooter, and fell mortally wounded. he was carried from the field and sent to the hospital in richmond, there he suffered and lingered until the th of july, when he died in the arms of his broken-hearted father, who carried his remains to guilford, and interred them at alamance church. he was among the first of guilford's gallant boys who went forth to do battle for truth and right. he kept his vows to his god and his southland sacred alike, and at his post, on the front line in the fight, fell wounded to the death. "on other brows let careless fame her fadeless wreath of laurel twine, enough for thee--thy epitaph! first in the foremost line." after this encounter we were granted a short respite until the st, when our cavalry was routed by the enemy at yellow tavern, and our brigade was ordered to their support. when we reached there, we found in slowly retiring before the enemy in a dense woods. gen. cooke at once ordered forward his sharpshooters, and very soon a spirited fight began. our regiment was thrown into line and we began to press them back. as they had been driving our cavalry they were loth to retire, and fought us obstinately. cooke then ordered his whole brigade into line. they, seeing now that they could not cope with us in fair fight, set fire to the woods and leaves in our front, and we were forced to advance through fire and smoke, our men suffering terribly from the heat, the day, besides, being exceedingly hot. we had been in too many hot places to be afraid of fire, so we made at them with a yell, and soon had their lines broken and in rapid retreat, with our cavalry--who had recovered--in pursuit of them. our loss was not so great, but the men experienced great thirst, and many were scorched by the fires; in some instances the cartridges were exploded in their boxes. about the th gen. butler, having pontooned the james river at deep bottom, crossed a heavy force to the north side. our brigade was ordered to reconnoitre this force, and some fighting ensued. we found them in force and strongly fortified, and an attack was deemed inadvisable, so we were withdrawn and ordered to petersburg. we reached petersburg on the st of july, and were placed on the lines a short distance from the city, to the left of the weldon railroad. on the th of july, private daniel w. mcconnell was appointed orderly sergeant. we remained near petersburg comparatively quiet until the th of july, when grant crossed another corps at deep bottom, to attack our pontoons at drury's bluff, and prevent lee from sending re-enforcements to the north side of the river. our brigade was ordered back in haste to this point, and, although the enemy had gained some partial success, we drove him back and defeated the expedition. as events afterwards proved, these movements were only feints to draw our troops from petersburg to better enable grant to carry out his plans to make a breach in our lines in front of petersburg. uniform failure had now rendered him desperate, and grant concluded the only wise thing now to do, was to "blow us up." burnside was duly appointed "blower." chapter xix. on the night of the th, hancock's corps was secretly withdrawn from the north side, and every preparation was made for the great forthcoming event. grant had constructed a mine under one of our forts in front of petersburg, the main gallery of which was five hundred and twenty-two feet in length, with eight side galleries; in each of these galleries was placed about fourteen hundred pounds of powder. gen. burnside, in charge of this new feature of warfare, was to explode the "infernal machine," and walk into petersburg with his colored troops, supposedly unmolested. about daylight on the morning of the th, this famous mine--afterwards known as the "crater"--was exploded with a great noise, as of a "rushing mighty wind, and there was a great earthquake, and the sun became black." about one hundred of our men and three or four guns were moved out of their places into the air, and when the smoke cleared away an opening about one hundred and fifty feet long, sixty feet wide, and thirty feet deep appeared in place of our earthworks. simultaneously with this explosion the enemy opened a terrific fire along their whole front, and the white division selected for this occasion came slowly through the abattis up to this _hole_, where they were met by a merciless fire from our artillery, enfilading them right and left, with our infantry in their front. they were badly led, and, being demoralized, they faltered and sought shelter in the crater. next came the "nigger" division, and the "colored troops fought bravely," until the withering fire from our guns created a panic, when into the crater pell-mell they rushed, white and black, a disordered, mangled, quivering mass; our shot, shells, balls, and canister creating a perfect carnival of death. some few endeavored to leave the crater and run back, but they were immediately shot down. those who witnessed the scene say it was beyond the power of words to describe. our lines were soon re-established, and our brigade was sent to relieve the troops holding the lines where the mine was sprung. thus ended this "miserable affair." the space between the two lines, as now formed, was so close as to endanger any exposure whatever, and we had to hug our earthworks very closely. our company was in line immediately at the crater. in our front, and almost under our noses, lay the bloated, festering bodies of their dead, exposed to the scorching rays of a july sun. to make our situation still more interesting, it was supposed that the battery on our right was also mined; and we were daily and nightly in fear of another explosion, and to be landed--no telling where. we remained in this position for a week, when grant asked for a truce to bury his dead. we were then moved a short distance to our right, where we remained until about the middle of august. while on these lines, we literally lived under the ground. we had to pass to and from the front in covered ways; our rations were all prepared in the rear, and sent to us. we were compelled to sleep in bomb-proofs to avoid their mortar shells, with which they enlivened the scene at night. on the th of august, warren's corps seized a portion of the weldon railroad near petersburg, when we were withdrawn from our position in front of the city and moved to this point. on the th, this success was followed up by an attempt under gen. hancock to take possession of ream's station, farther south, on the same road. a. p. hill's corps was selected to drive him from this position. on our arrival we were deployed in line, and ordered to go forward. the undergrowth and fallen trees over which we had to climb our way retarded our advance, and gen. cooke ordered the th and th regiments forward first. when they had gotten sufficiently advanced, he directed the other two regiments of our brigade, the th and th, to advance. when we reached the enemy's works, we found them heavily manned with infantry and artillery. nothing daunted, however, we still advanced through shot and shell until we came to a hand-to-hand fight across the breastworks. the two other regiments now came up and in a few moments the enemy broke and fled in confusion, leaving their guns. the colors of the th, carried by sergeant richards, of the orange guards, were the first seen on their works. we pursued them, and turned their own guns upon them; but having no friction primers, we could not use them to advantage. we captured over two thousand prisoners and twelve pieces of artillery. our loss in this brilliant dash was very heavy, and north carolina's troops alone, consisting of cooke's, mcrea's, and lane's brigades, were engaged. the th regiment came out of the fight with less than seventy-five men! the grays lost in killed, private john coltrain; in wounded, sergeants william u. steiner and a. c. cheely, privates hardy ayers, james s. scott, emsley w. stratford, and wash. williams. warren had now made good his hold upon the railroad, and these events did not materially affect the general result. the enemy's left gradually reached farther westward, until, in october, it was established on the left bank of hatcher's run, eight miles southwest of petersburg. chapter xx. on the th of august, we returned to our position in the trenches, where we remained until the latter part of september. on the th, robert t. heath and james hacket joined the grays. the casualties in the campaign so far had sadly reduced our ranks. at the battle of ream's station, capt. herring, senior officer of the regiment, was wounded, when capt. j. a. sloan, next in rank, took command of the regiment, and sergeant thomas j. rhodes commanded the grays. our muster-roll on the st of august contained sixty names rank and file. one captain, one sergeant, two corporals, and sixteen privates were reported for duty. one officer and thirty-five men absent, wounded, and prisoners; four men on detached service. on the th of september, private geo. h. woolen died while a prisoner of war at point lookout, md. on the th, samuel e. b. gray was killed in the trenches before petersburg, and on the th, private wm. n. kirkman. about the same time, sergeant daniel mcconnell, while lying sick in the field hospital in rear of our lines, was seriously injured by a shell passing through the hospital and so near to him as to cause a paralysis of his limbs, from which he died. on the night of the th of september, butler, with the corps of birney and ord, crossed to the north side of the james, and moved up the river, with the view of attacking fort harrison, near chapin's farm. a portion of his force made a feint upon the newmarket road, and while this engagement was in process, a column moved on the fort and captured it. this resulted in giving to the enemy a secret lodgment on the north side of the james, and a position very menacing to richmond. on the th, we were moved still further to the right; and on the next day, were engaged in a spirited skirmish near battery no. , on our advanced lines. every few days, we were moved still farther to the right, skirmishing and picketing, until we reached hatcher's run, about the st of december. about daylight, on the morning of the th of october, three corps of the enemy moved towards the boydton plank-road with a view to turn our right flank and get possession of the southside railroad, which was now lee's principal communication. when they reached the boydton road, they found our troops entrenched at every point. hancock's corps continued to advance in the direction of stony creek, supposing this to be the termination of our lines, and thereby creating a gap between his right and the left of the th army corps. mahone's division, taking advantage of this opening in their lines, assailed hancock's right, and drove gibbons' division some distance back. meanwhile, hampton with his cavalry began to attack his rear. our brigade was moved up the creek (hatcher's run) as far as burgess' mill, and was placed in position to be ready on the next morning to charge the enemy from their position on the other side of the creek. the only means of crossing the stream was a narrow country bridge, which was guarded by their sharpshooters, and beyond on the hills, about one hundred yards off, was posted their artillery. the charge was to be made at daylight; and with this _pleasant_ prospect before us, you may imagine we passed a _comfortable_ night in anticipation. when morning came, our sharpshooters were advanced, and found, to our comfort and delight, that grant had withdrawn his troops during the night, and retraced his steps to their intrenchments in front of petersburg. he had been completely frustrated, and thus failed in his flank movement. on the following day we were in position on the left of hatcher's run, and as active operations were considered closed for the winter, we began to build winter quarters. in a short while we had comfortable cabins, in which we remained quietly until the th of december. on the th of december the d army corps, by way of diversion, made a raid on the petersburg & weldon railroad, and a. p. hill's corps was ordered to meet them. on the evening of the th we quit our comfortable quarters, and in the sleet and driving snow, marched until o'clock a.m. of the th, when we bivouacked till morning. we then marched on, in the bitter cold, to bellfield, when we found the enemy were retreating up the jerusalem plank-road. from here we were ordered back to jarratt's station to try to intercept them. just as we reached this point we encountered a large force of their cavalry. pegram's artillery was thrown forward, and our brigade, concealed in the pines, clad with ice and sleet, was thrown into line as support. the enemy were not aware of our presence, and charged upon the artillery. our skirmishers received the charge. seeing that the battery was supported, they began to retreat. we pursued them across the railroad and pushed forward rapidly for several miles, hoping to intercept their infantry, but we found the pursuit useless. as darkness was now upon us, we halted for the night, and next morning resumed our march for our camp, which we reached, hungry and almost frozen, on the th. grant behaved himself now tolerably well until sunday morning, february th, when, becoming restless, he began one of his periodical movements, and succeeded in getting very near our lines before we were aware of his movements. about the middle of the day davis' mississippi brigade, which was a mile to our left, was marched down to our position and relieved us. we were then marched up the lines some two miles, where we crossed our works and formed a line outside of them. we then marched to the front about one mile, when we turned to the right, and forming line of battle, began to advance and soon struck the skirmish line of the enemy, which we drove with our line of battle some distance, until we came in view of their line posted upon a hill in a field behind earthworks. we were ordered to charge. we started up the hill, and when we had gone some distance, and seeing the brigade on our left was not charging with us, we fell back to the edge of the woods. the enemy now made a strong demonstration on our right flank, and to prevent this movement we had to fall back to our reserve line, when a georgia brigade took the place of ours. as they were ordered forward a portion of our regiment, among them the grays, thinking the order came from our commanding officer, advanced with this brigade and fought through the remainder of the day. after dark we were returned to our breastworks, and when we reached them we found that we had been fighting in front of our former position, and had been moved two miles up the lines to be marched back again to fight in the place of other troops who had been moved into our earth works, and almost directly in front of our camp. [there are some things past finding out and beyond explanation, but as the deductions of a citizen soldier are at no time of valuable consideration, i forbear.] on the following day we were returned to our quarters, where we enjoyed quiet and rest until the latter part of march. while we were in the heat of the battle of the th of february, some few of the new recruits who had recently joined our brigade, not exactly fancying the shot and shell which were flying around, thought the rear was a safer place, and suiting the action to the thought, "dusted." gen. lee with several of his staff was seated on horseback in rear of our lines and in proximity to the battle, awaiting the issue, when observing these men crossing the works without their guns, in seeming alarm and haste, he rode toward them, endeavoring to halt and return them to their command, when one of the "dusters," in grave alarm, raised his hands and voice in terror, exclaiming: "great god, old man, get out of the way, you don't know nothing," continued his rapid flight too terrified to recognize or obey chieftain or orders. chapter xxi. the grays were in winter quarters on the left side of hatcher's run, one mile and a half below burgess' mill. while here we received orders at midnight on the th of march, to be in readiness to move in the direction of petersburg. leaving the sick and wounded to take care of the camp and the lines in our immediate front, we began our march, not knowing the cause of this seeming untimely order. after two hours rapid marching we reached petersburg, and bivouacked near the water-works. about daylight we were quietly marched into our trenches in front of and to the right of hare's hill. the troops who had just occupied these trenches where we now were had been marched out, and were in readiness, under general gordon, to make a prearranged sortie upon the federal forts on hare's hill. the attack was made in force about daylight. our troops gained possession of the enemy's works, but were soon compelled to abandon them, owing to the superior force of the enemy and to the fact that our forces were bewildered in the darkness. about two o'clock p.m. we were ordered back to our camp on hatcher's run. before reaching it, however, we were informed that our sick and wounded had been routed, and that the enemy was in possession of our picket line. gen. cooke immediately ordered out his sharpshooters, and by a flank movement drove off the enemy and regained possession of his line. next morning the sharpshooters were relieved by the regular pickets, under command of capt. john a. sloan of the grays, who held the lines against repeated attacks until the first of april. at midnight of the first of april our brigade was relieved by davis' mississippi brigade. our brigade now crossed the creek and took position in fort evliss. as soon as day dawned the enemy, being on three sides of us, opened fire upon us with artillery and infantry. although protected to some extent, some of our men were killed by their shells during the morning. in the meanwhile a desperate fight was going on between fort evliss, the position we were occupying, and petersburg. our position in the fort was only tenable, provided the troops on our left held their position. consequently, the issue of the fight was awaited by us with much anxiety. just before sunrise a courier dashed into the fort with news that the lines had been broken and our troops were in retreat. we were, in consequence, immediately withdrawn from our works, and began our retreat from petersburg. after retreating some five miles, being pressed sorely by the enemy, two regiments of our brigade were deployed as skirmishers. arriving now at southerland's tavern, on the southside road, we formed line of battle and awaited the enemy's advance. they soon came up flushed with success, and attacked with great confidence. but we repulsed them with heavy loss, capturing many prisoners. reinforcements coming up we were flanked and compelled again to retreat. after following us cautiously for some hours, and night coming on, the enemy abandoned further pursuit. we now endeavored to cross the river so as to join the main army, from which we had been separated by the break in the lines that morning. we followed up our retreat until two o'clock that night, when we halted and rested on our arms until morning. at sunrise we began our journeyings again, reaching deep creek, unmolested, about nine o'clock. we wandered up this creek about three miles, fording it at this point. we then endeavored to make goode's bridge on the appomattox, but night overtaking us, we camped at the cross-roads near goode's bridge, at one o'clock at night we received marching orders. after three hours hard marching through fields, bog, and fen, we came upon the advance of the main army, which had just crossed the appomattox on a pontoon bridge. we were delighted to meet our old comrades once more after a three days' separation. what added to the interest of the occasion in a private way was the fact that major webb had found a canteen full of _something_, and my ever faithful "bill" had captured a hen's nest and scouped in half a dozen or more of eggs. we celebrated our deliverance and _reunion_. at the suggestion of the officers of our regiment, it was agreed, there being only about seventy men for duty, that we should form a battalion of two companies, the officers giving up their rank temporarily, and the non-commissioned officers going into the ranks. lieut.-col. j. c. webb commanded the battalion. major calvin herring took command of the first company, and capt. john a. sloan took command of the second. this organization was maintained until the surrender. on the night of the fourth we camped at amelia court-house, in the woods just outside of the town, and rested on our arms in line of battle. the next day was consumed in protecting our wagon trains from the frequent attacks of the enemy's cavalry. we now continued our march, fighting by day and retreating by night. our provision train was burned by the enemy near rice's station, and our rations that night consisted of one quart of corn per man in lieu of meal. the next day we passed through farmville. having been the rear guard for several days, we were now relieved by scales' north carolina brigade. organization and discipline was now rapidly giving away. we were skirmishing and fighting to protect ourselves at every point in a kind of guerrilla warfare, every man, for the most part, doing his fighting on his own hook. saturday night, april the th, we camped in about three miles of appomattox court-house. before day next morning we were hastily ordered up and moved to the front. we were rapidly marched up the road filled with ambulances and wagons until we came within full view of appomattox court-house, where we could plainly see the federal line of battle on the hills at and beyond the court-house. we were immediately thrown into line of battle on the right of the road and ordered to hold ourselves in readiness to advance at any moment. on the front line we awaited further orders. chapter xxii. reader! the writer said, when he began the "reminiscences of the guilford grays," that it was not his purpose to undertake the severe labors of the historian, but to confine himself to the humbler task of relating what, has been part of his own experience. to make the thread of narrative continuous and intelligible, it deserves to be mentioned, however, that it has been necessary to allude to portions of the history of those eventful times in which the grays were only generally interested, which the circumstance will justify. the writer closes this, his last chapter, with the consciousness that he has been actuated by the very kindest feelings to all, and that if an intimation has escaped him which may have injuriously touched the feelings of any one, none such was intended. how he has performed his work, the reader will judge. this much he will say for himself, that he has attempted to do it faithfully and--lovingly. but little more now remains to be said. the morning of the th of april presented a spectacle never to be forgotten by those who saw it. general gordon was at the front with a meagre two thousand men; behind us smoked the remnants of the wagon-trains; in the rear, drawn up and ready again to strike, was the shattered wreck of longstreet's once grand and noble command. about ten o'clock dispositions were made for attack, when gordon was ordered to advance. _in vain! alas, in vain! ye gallant few!_ suddenly a _halt_ was called, a flag of truce appeared upon the scene, hostilities ceased, and a dreamy sadness filled the april air. the grand old army of northern virginia was environed! "i have done what i thought best for you," "the gray-headed man" said to his men. "my heart is too full to speak, but i wish you all health and happiness." the negotiations relating to the surrender had been instituted on the th by a note from general grant to general lee. the correspondence was continued until the th, when the terms proposed by general grant were accepted. on the th, general lee issued his farewell address to his army. on the afternoon of the th, the gallant gordon spoke most eloquently to the little remnant massed in the open field. the sun hid his face in sullen sympathy behind the clouds, night settled drearily over the camp, and the brave old army fell asleep. "hushed was the roll of the rebel drum, the sabres were sheathed and the cannon was dumb; and fate, with pitiless hand, had furled the flag that once challenged the gaze of the world." on the th, the army of northern virginia was marshaled for the last time, not to do battle, but to stack its arms and pass out of existence--forevermore. of the guilford grays who were present at the final scene of this eventful history, the following answered to roll-call: captain jno. a. sloan, lieut. rufus b. gibson, st sergeant thomas j. rhodes, sergeant joel j. thom; privates peter m. brown, lewis n. isley, jas. m. hardin, walter green, e. tonkey sharpe, geo. w. lemons, silas c. dodson, and samuel m. lipscomb. on the th, printed certificates, certifying that we were paroled prisoners of war, were issued and distributed among us, bearing date april th, , appomattox court-house, granting us "permission to go home, and remain there undisturbed." comrades! we entered the service in the bloom of youthful vigor and hope, with cheerful step and willing heart, leaving happy homes in peace and prosperity behind. we took the field for a principle as sacred as ever led a hero to the cannon's mouth, or a martyr to the place of execution. this principle was honor and patriotism; a firm determination to defend to the last that constitution which our fathers had handed down and taught us to revere as the only safeguard of our personal rights and liberties. after four long years, we returned to our homes in tattered and battle-stained garments, footsore, weary, and with aching hearts. we returned to see poverty, desolation, and ruin; to find the hearts of our loved ones buried in the graves of the dead confederacy. aye! and we have seen other sorrows. we have seen that constitution subverted under the forms of law; we have seen the rights of individuals and communities trampled in the dust without hope of redress. nay, more! we have seen the government of the fathers removed from existence, and an engine of oppression, no longer a union of states, but a _nation_, like the devil-fish of the sea, reaching its hideous and devouring arms in all directions from one common centre, knowing only one law of action and of motive--_the insatiate greed of avarice and plunder_. but though the confederacy went down in fire and smoke, in blood and in tears, that truth, which was the guiding-star of the devoted soldiers who fought its battles, and of those at home who toiled and prayed for its success--that truth did not lower its standard or surrender its sword at appomattox. we submit to the inevitable. we submit in dignity and in silence. but because we accept, with becoming minds and conduct, that subjugation which the fortune of war has entailed upon us, shall we therefore pronounce the word "craven?" _shall we now recant?_ shall we now solemnly declare that we did not believe what we professed to fight for? shall we thus insult, either in word or act, the memories of the dead heroes--and we dare maintain they died heroes--who sleep on a thousand hillsides and in the valleys of our common country? should we thus prostrate ourselves to invite the scorn and contempt which even our enemies would have the right to bestow upon us? _never!_ a thousand times never! "will not history consent, will not mankind applaud, when we still uphold our principles as right, our cause as just, our country to be honored, when those principles had for disciple, that cause for defender, that country for son--robert lee? "not to his honor shall extorted tributes carve the shaft or mould the statute; but a grateful people will in time give of their poverty gladly that, in pure marble or time-defying bronze, future generations may see the counterfeit presentment of this man--the ideal and consummate flower of our civilization; not an alexander, it may be; nor napoleon, nor timour, nor churchill--greater far than they, thank heaven--the brother and the equal of sidney and of falkland, of hampden and of washington!" "he sleeps all quietly and cold beneath the soil that gave him birth, then brake his battle-brand in twain and lay it with him in the earth." a word to the survivors of the guilford grays, and i close these reminiscences. from the period of the outbreak of the war in april, , to the surrender of the confederate army in april, , the muster-rolls of the grays have contained one hundred and eighty names. of this number, some were transferred to other commands, some were discharged for physical disabilities and other causes. a large proportion sleep, unmindful of the rude farmer's ploughshare upon the fields made memorable by their deeds. some rest under the shades of the trees in the quiet cemeteries of your forest-green city, and some in the sacred churchyards of your historic country. oh! they suffered a sad, dark fate--fallen in unsuccessful war! on each return of spring, come and bring flowers, nature's choicest, and scatter them on their graves. so long as tears fall, come and shed them there, and show to the world that we, of all men, are not ashamed of their memories or afraid to vindicate their motives. and as we stand upon this hallowed ground, let us bury all animosities engendered by the war. in the grave there can be no rancorous hates; between the sleepers there is perpetual truce. shall the living have less? savages, only, perpetuate immortal hates. then permit no "barbarian memory of wrong" to lodge in our breasts while we keep vigils over these graves of our illustrious dead. to you who stood by me through all these eventful scenes, and came up out of the great tribulation, i pray heaven's choicest blessings ever attend you--and now--_adieu_. chapter xxiii. the roll. captain john sloan.--elected lieutenant-colonel of the th north carolina regiment, september, ; promoted to colonelcy december, ; resigned april, ; died since war. st lieutenant william adams.--elected captain, vice capt. john sloan promoted, october th, ; killed at battle of sharpsburg september th, .[ ] [ ] william adams was born in greensboro on the th of february, . in june, , he graduated at the university of the state. shortly after his return from the university, he entered the office of r. p. dick, esq., as a student of the law. he was licensed to practice in the county courts in december, , and was admitted to the bar at february term, , at the formation of the grays in , he was chosen and appointed st lieutenant. on the night of the th of april, , he left with the grays for fort macon. on the th of october, , he was unanimously elected to the captaincy of the grays, _vice_ capt. john sloan, promoted to lieutenant-colonelcy of the th regiment. on the d of april, the grays reorganized under the conscript act, and capt. adams was re-elected without opposition, his men having implicit confidence in his skill, ability, and courage. at the battle of sharpsburg, he fell wounded to the death, a martyr to the cause he loved so well. young in years, high in hopes, illustrious in daring and chivalrous deeds, he fills a soldier's grave in the quiet country of his native town--mourned by all who knew him. d lieutenant jas. t. morehead, jr.--resigned april th, ; appointed captain in the th north carolina regiment; promoted to lieutenant-colonel in the d regiment, and after the death of colonel owens, became its colonel; wounded at spottsylvania, gettysburg, and captured at hare's hill. d jr. lieutenant john a. gilmer, jr.--detailed as adjutant of the th north carolina regt. september, ; elected major december, ; promoted to colonelcy november, ; wounded at battle of fredericksburg, december th, ; severely wounded at bristow, october th, ; resigned, on account of wounds, january, . logan, jno. e., m.d.--entered the service as surgeon of the grays; remained at fort macon about four months; appointed surgeon of the th north carolina regiment; transferred to the th north carolina regiment, where he served as surgeon until close of the war. st sergeant william p. wilson.--enlisted april , ; elected d lieutenant jr., vice j. a. gilmer promoted, september, ; appointed adjutant of th north carolina regiment, at reorganization of state troops, april, ; died of disease at greensboro march , . d sergeant john a. sloan.--enlisted april , ; appointed sergeant-major of the post at fort macon may, ; elected d lieutenant january , ; elected st lieutenant, april , ; promoted to captain september , ; judge advocate of heth's division court-martial; surrendered at appomattox court-house. d sergeant geo. w. howlett.--enlisted april , ; discharged on account of affection of his eyes july , . th sergeant sam'l b. jordan.--enlisted april , ; captured at battle of new berne march , ; exchanged and discharged at reorganization of state troops april , ; died since the war. st corporal thos. j. sloan.--enlisted april , ; detached at general ransom's head-quarters february, ; appointed sergeant april, ; detailed as musician august , . d corporal benj. g. graham.--enlisted april , ; appointed sergeant january, ; appointed orderly-sergeant april , ; elected d lieutenant september , ; detailed as ordnance officer december, ; resigned november , . d corporal silas c. dodson.--returned to his home from fort macon; re-enlisted may , ; detailed as clerk commissary department december , ; surrendered at appomattox court-house. th corporal ed. b. crowson.--enlisted april , ; appointed sergeant august , ; captured at bristow october , ; died in prison at point lookout january , . privates: ayers, hardy.--enlisted april , ; wounded at ream's station august , ; died since the war. ayers, james.--enlisted april , ; discharged, for disability may , . archer, w. d.--enlisted june , ; wounded at sharpsburg september , ; killed at fredericksburg december , . ayer, henry w.--enlisted may , ; transferred to company c, th regiment, north carolina troops, march , ; died since the war. bryan, will l.--enlisted april , ; appointed corporal september , ; died of disease in camp near fredericksburg december , . brown, peter m.--enlisted april , ; severely wounded at sharpsburg september , ; detailed on provost guard february , ; surrendered at appomattox court-house. boon, henry m.--enlisted may , ; captured at bristow october , . boling, rich'd g.--enlisted may , ; died of disease in general hospital, richmond, va., january , . brown, r. d.--enlisted august , ; died of disease in hospital, petersburg, va., september , . burnsides, benj. f.--enlisted february , ; wounded at sharpsburg september , ; detailed as teamster during ; wounded at d cold harbor june , . burnsides, w. w.--enlisted july th, ; discharged under conscript act, may d, ; rejoined the company april th, ; wounded at bristow october th, . campbell, chas. a.--enlisted april th, ; appointed corporal april , ; appointed sergeant august , ; promoted to orderly-sergeant november , ; wounded at sharpsburg september , ; elected d lieutenant december , ; killed at pole green church, on skirmish-line, june , . collins, john d.--enlisted april , ; appointed corporal april , ; transferred to the color-guard in may; died of disease in camp at drury's bluff, july , . cheely, allison c.--enlisted april , ; appointed corporal august , ; promoted to sergeant november , ; detailed as chief of ambulance corps, september, ; wounded at ream's station, august , (arm amputated). coble, alfred f.--enlisted may , ; killed at sharpsburg, september , . coble, robert s.--enlisted may , ; died of disease at frederick city, september , . coble, henry i.--enlisted february , ; wounded at bristow, october , ; wounded at gary's farm, june , . clapp, william c.--enlisted june , ; died at his home of disease, august , . clapp, israel n.--enlisted june , ; discharged (for disability) may , ; died since the war. cook, william.--enlisted april , ; died of disease at greensboro, n.c., june , . chilcutt, frank g.--enlisted august , ; wounded at battle of wilderness may , ; (arm amputated.) crider, henry.--enlisted april , ; killed at bristow october , . crutchfield, paul.--enlisted june , , as a substitute for b. n. smith; captured at sharpsburg september , ; released in october; captured again at bristow october , . coltrain, john.--enlisted february , ; captured at bristow october , ; exchanged and returned to his company june , ; killed at ream's station august , . cannady, john.--enlisted february , ; killed at bristow october , ; (a christian, a hero, a friend.) coltrain, rob't. l.--enlisted february , ; discharged (disability) july , . clark, d. logan.--enlisted february , ; discharged (disability) june, . crowson, cyrus m.--enlisted august , ; wounded at bristow october , ; shot through both legs. coltrain, dan'l b.--enlisted october , ; wounded at d cold harbor june , . donnell, rob't. l.--enlisted may , ; wounded and captured at sharpsburg september , ; imprisoned at chester, pa., where he died of his wounds november , . davis, jas. c.--enlisted may , ; died of disease at fort macon september , . dennis, william.--enlisted july , . dennis, james.--enlisted july , ; discharged (disability) may , . dennis, wm. d.--enlisted june , ; wounded in the face at bristow, october , . donnell, wm. h.--enlisted february , . dick, preston p.--enlisted march , . edwards, james t.--enlisted may , ; killed at sharpsburg september , . edwards, jas. m.--enlisted march , ; killed at sharpsburg september , . edwards, david h.--enlisted june , ; detailed as courier to general l. o. b. branch, may , ; appointed regiment-quartermaster sergeant, december , ; captured at bristow october , . forbis, h. rufus.--enlisted april , ; captured at sharpsburg, september , ; exchanged and returned to his company november ; appointed corporal december , ; wounded at bristow october , ; died of his wounds in hospital at richmond, october , . forbis, h. smiley.--enlisted june , ; died of disease in lynchburg, va., march , . gorrell, henry c.--ensign, with rank of lieutenant; resigned at fort macon, may, ; re-entered the service as captain; killed near richmond in a gallant charge at the head of his company, june , . gibson, rufus b.--enlisted april , ; captured at sharpsburg; exchanged and returned to his company november , ; appointed corporal december , ; wounded at bristow; elected d lieutenant november , . greene, walter.--enlisted april , ; appointed courier to general cooke december, ; wounded at bristow; surrendered at appomattox court-house. gretter, mike.--enlisted april , ; acting commissary sergeant at fort macon; appointed brigade commissary-sergeant march , . gray, sam'l e. b.--enlisted february , ; wounded at bristow october , ; killed on the lines near petersburg september , . gant, jas. h.--enlisted august , ; died of disease in hospital at richmond february , . greeson, thos. r.--enlisted february , ; captured at frederick city september , ; returned to his company february , ; wounded at wilderness may , . hanner, frank a.--enlisted april , ; elected d lieutenant jr., at reorganization of company, april , ; promoted to senior d lieutenant september , ; promoted to st lieutenant october , ; died of disease in hospital at richmond june , . higgins, ed. b.--enlisted may , ; detailed as musician august , . hunt, l. g.--enlisted may , ; acted as surgeon of the company at fort macon; appointed assistant surgeon of th regiment, north carolina troops, june , . hood, abe.--enlisted april, ; discharged under conscript act may , . hanner, w. d.--discharged under conscript act may , . hopkins, w.--discharged under conscript act may , . hampton, robert f.--enlisted may , ; wounded at d cold harbor, june ; ; died of wounds. hardin, james m.--enlisted june , ; captured at sharpsburg, september , ; wounded at battle of fredericksburg, december , ; detailed as teamster, july , ; returned to duty april d, ; wounded at battle of the wilderness, may th, ; surrendered at appomattox. hunt, w. l. j.--enlisted september , , detailed as pioneer november , ; killed at d cold harbor, june , . hunter, s. a.--enlisted april , ; killed at battle of newberne, march , . hunter, w. f.--enlisted june , ; wounded at bristow october , ; died of wounds in hospital at richmond, november , . hiatt, samuel s.--enlisted june , ; wounded at the wilderness, may , . hall, james s.--enlisted february , ; died of disease at hardyville, s.c., april , ; buried in magnolia cemetery, charleston, s.c. heath, robert f.--sent to the company from camp holmes, raleigh, north carolina, under bounty act, aug. , . hackett, jas.--sent to the company from camp holmes, raleigh, north carolina, under bounty act, august , . hall, hugh a.--enlisted february , ; died of disease in hospital at richmond, september , . horney, wm. a.--enlisted may , ; detailed as nurse in hospital near danville, va.; returned to duty november , ; appointed clerk at brigade headquarters, december, ; wounded at the wilderness, may , (leg amputated.) isley, lewis n.--enlisted february , ; wounded at bristow october , ; surrendered at appomattox. jones, r. b.--discharged under conscript act may , . klutts, alfred w.--enlisted april , ; appointed corporal december , ; wounded at wilderness may , . kirkman, newton w.--enlisted march , ; killed on the lines in front of petersburg september , . kirkman, frank n.--discharged under conscript act may , . kellogg, henry g.--enlisted august , ; detailed at brigade commissary department january, , until january, , when, by special order, he was detailed in commissary department at salisbury, n.c., under capt. a. g. brenizer. lindsay, r. henry--enlisted april , ; transferred to captain evans' cavalry company may, ; died in camp shortly afterwards. lindsay, andrew d.--enlisted april , ; appointed ordnance-sergeant of th north carolina regiment april , ; served as such during the entire war; died since the war. lindsay, jed h. jr.--enlisted april , ; appointed corporal ; appointed sergeant april , ; promoted to orderly-sergeant september , ; appointed adjutant of th north carolina regiment november , ; died since the war. lane, isaac f.--enlisted may , ; died of disease at leesburg, n.c., february , ; (his remains were carried to guilford.) lindsey, ed. b.--enlisted june , ; discharged--under age--by conscript act may , ; re-entered the service as lieutenant in th north carolina cavalry regiment; killed in april, . lemons, geo. w.--enlisted august , ; captured at bristow october , ; surrendered at appomattox. lemons, jas. m.--enlisted may , ; died of disease at his home march , . lineberry, louis s.--enlisted august , , as a substitute for h. s. puryear; wounded at bristow, october , ; killed at wilderness, may , . lipsicomb, samuel b.--enlisted april , ; detailed as musician in regiment band, august , ; surrendered at appomattox. lloyd, thos. e.--enlisted january , , as a substitute for samuel smith. mcknight, john h.--enlisted april , ; appointed sergeant at fort macon; elected d lieutenant, jr., april d, ; promoted to st lieutenant september , ; killed at bristow october , . mcdowell, j. w.--enlisted april , ; wounded at bristow october , . mcadoo, walter d.--enlisted may , ; wounded at sharpsburg september , ; transferred to d north carolina regiment february , . mclean, robert b.--enlisted june , ; wounded at bristow october , ; wounded at wilderness may , . mclean, samuel f.--enlisted may , ; killed at wilderness may , . marsh, james m.--enlisted june , ; captured at bristow october , ; exchanged and returned to company june , . mcnairy, john w.--enlisted june , ; wounded at bristow october , (leg amputated). mclean, joseph e.--enlisted may , ; wounded at sharpsburg september , ; detailed on ambulance corps july , . mclain, wm. h.--enlisted february , ; died of disease at winchester, va., october , . mcfarland, wm. h.--enlisted february , ; captured at sharpsburg september , . mcconnell, daniel w.--enlisted july , ; appointed orderly-sergeant july , ; killed at petersburg august, . may, lemuel--enlisted february , ; with the exception of a furlough for days--january , , from orange c.h.--was never absent from his post. may, william--enlisted may , ; wounded at bristow october , . mcquiston, john f.--enlisted june , . nelson, john w.--enlisted may , ; detailed as teamster; died of disease in hospital, charleston, s.c., march , . orrell, jas. a.--enlisted may , ; captured at bristow october , . orrell, a. laf't.--enlisted april , ; wounded at bristow october , ; transferred to confederate states navy march , . owen, wilbur f.--enlisted june , ; captured at bristow october , . porter, chas. e.--enlisted april , ; discharged (disability) may , ; died of disease in greensboro. pearce, jas. r.--enlisted april , ; captured at bristow october , . puryear, h. s.--enlisted may , ; substituted lineberry august , . prather, l. l.--enlisted august , ; wounded at sharpsburg september , ; discharged (disability) march , . poe, wm. e.--enlisted february , . paisley, wm. m.--enlisted april , ; appointed corporal august , ; sergeant september , ; promoted to orderly-sergeant december , ; mortally wounded at gary's farm june , ; died of wounds in hospital at richmond july , . rankin, jos. w.--enlisted may , ; wounded at bristow october , ; died of wounds in hospital at richmond october , . reid, john w.--enlisted june , ; transferred to th north carolina regiment; promoted to lieutenant in company k december , . rhodes, thos. j.--enlisted june , ; appointed corporal, december , ; sergeant, february , ; promoted to orderly-sergeant, september, ; surrendered at appomattox. ricks, pleas. a.--enlisted may , , as a substitute for jno. e. wharton; died of disease in hospital at lynchburg, va., march , . sloan, geo. j.--enlisted april , ; died of disease at fort macon, july , . smith, john h.--enlisted february , ; died of disease at petersburg, august , . sterling, ed. g.--enlisted april , ; died of disease in greensboro, september , . steiner, wm. u.--enlisted april , ; appointed corporal june ; sergeant, april , ; wounded at bristow, october , ; recorder for heth division court-martial; wounded at ream's station, august , . sweitz, edward--enlisted april , , as a substitute for j. h. tarpley. stratford, c. w.--enlisted may , ; appointed corporal, august , ; sergeant, december , ; wounded at bristow, october , ; wounded at wilderness, may , . stratford, emsley f.--enlisted may , ; wounded at ream's station, october , . summers, wm. m.--enlisted may , ; wounded at bristow, october , . scott, jas. s.--enlisted may , ; wounded at ream's station august , ; wounded on the lines near burgess' mills; died of wounds may , . siler, john r.--enlisted july , ; wounded at wilderness may , . stanley, andy l.--enlisted june , ; captured at bristow, october , . (the "champion forager" of cooke's n.c. brigade.) smith, richard s.--enlisted august , ; wounded at bristow october , ; appointed corporal february , . smith, samuel--enlisted august , ; broken down in health he furnished a substitute in the person of thomas e. lloyd january , . smith, b. n.--enlisted february , ; substituted paul crutchfield june , . smith, r. leyton--enlisted february , ; killed at sharpsburg september , . story, wm. c.--enlisted june , ; appointed corporal march , ; detailed on color-guard; complimented in special orders for gallantry at bristow; wounded at spottsylvania court-house may , ; appointed ensign, with rank of lieutenant, june . seats, wm.--enlisted february , ; died of disease at winchester, va., january, . sockwell, john t.--enlisted august , ; killed at bristow october , . sheppard, paisley--enlisted february , ; captured at bristow october , ; died while prisoner at camp lookout. shuler, emsley f.--enlisted may , ; wounded and disabled at bristow october , . sharpe, e. tonkey--enlisted may , ; detailed as provost guard april , ; surrendered at appomattox. tate, robert b.--enlisted june , ; wounded at wilderness may , ; died of wounds june (?), . thom, joel j.--enlisted may , ; appointed corporal june , ; appointed sergeant ; surrendered at appomattox. wiley, jas. r.--enlisted february , ; discharged (disability) february , . underwood, w. w.--enlisted february , ; wounded at sharpsburg september , ; died of wounds in hospital at richmond september , . wharton, john e.--enlisted april , ; substituted p. a. ricks may , ; organized a company soon thereafter and re-entered the service as captain in th north carolina cavalry. worrell, r. b.--enlisted april , ; captured at bristow october , . weatherly, robert d.--enlisted april , ; appointed corporal november , ; appointed sergeant-major of th north carolina regiment march , , mortally wounded at bristow october , ; died of wounds in hospital at richmond october , ; buried at greensboro, n.c. weir, samuel park--entered the service as chaplain of the grays april , ; transferred in may, , to take position of lieutenant in th regiment, north carolina troops; killed, instantly, at fredericksburg december , . westbrooks, chas. w.--enlisted may , ; performed the duties of soldier and chaplain until december , ; appointed corporal august , ; appointed chaplain in p.a.c.s.a. january , . woodburn, t. m.--enlisted june , ; captured at bristow october , . wilson, jas. l.--enlisted july , ; captured at sharpsburg september , ; exchanged november , ; wounded at wilderness may , . winfree, w. c.--enlisted february, ; discharged under conscript act may , . williams, wash. j.--enlisted february , ; wounded at wilderness may , ; wounded at ream's station august , . winbourne, steph. d.--enlisted april , . woolen, geo. h.--enlisted april , ; captured at bristow, october , ; died in prison at point lookout, september , . young, sam'l. s.--enlisted february , ; killed at sharpsburg, september . . brown, jos. e.--served with the company until june, . brooks, thos. d.--served with the company until june, . robinson, samuel--served with the company until june, . erwin, frank.--served with the company until june, . duvall w. g.--served with the company until june, . gregory, geo. h.--enlisted in th virginia artillery and served through the war. albright, jas. w.--entered the service in may, ; served as ordnance officer in th virginia artillery. pritchett, jno. a.--resigned as lieutenant, april , , and did not re-enter the service. causey, w. w.--did not go into service. cole, jas. r.--left his studies at trinity college, and served with the company at fort macon until june, , when he joined his brother's cavalry company. bourne, w. c.--was orderly-sergeant in ante-bellum days resigned at outbreak of the war. kirkpatrick, david n.--did not go into service. lamb, maben--did not go into service. moring, wm. p.--did not go into service. morehead, jos. m.--did not go into service. tarpley, j. h.--substituted ed. sweitz april , . fitzer, jos. h.--did not enter the service. donnell, jno. d.--did not enter the service. huber, otto--did not enter the service. gundling, david--did not enter the service. battles in which the grays (company b, th north carolina troops) participated in from to . new berne, n.c. march , . seven days' battles around richmond june to july , . harper's ferry, va. september , . sharpsburg, md. september , . fredericksburg, va. december , . bristow station, va. october , . mine run, va. november to december , . wilderness, va. may and , . graves' farm, va. may , . spottsylvania court-house, va. may , . attlee's station, va. may , . pole green church, va. june , . cold harbor ( d), va. june , . gary's farm, va. june , . yellow tavern, va. august , . ream's station, va. august , . bellfield, va. december , . hatcher's run, va. february , . fort euliss, va. march to april , . sutherland's tavern, va. april , . a card to the public. last may i issued to our people a card in which i stated that it was my purpose to prepare and publish a work to be entitled: "north carolina in the war between the states." i also stated that "the effort will be made to give, in a connected form, all the events pertaining to the history of the war, so far as they relate to north carolina." since the publication of the card, i have been steadily engaged in the work proposed. owing to the aid of many friends, and the material furnished by them, together with the rich supply of documents to be had here (washington), and the material which i had already collected myself, i have been able to make more rapid progress than i anticipated when i began my undertaking. if no unforeseen event occurs, i expect to have the work ready for the printer in the summer of . i again _earnestly_ request all friends who desire to see vindicated the name and fame of those gallant north carolinians who aided in our great struggle for constitutional freedom, to send me any material they may have on hand, or any information in their possession which they may judge would be of interest. "let those who made the history tell it as it was." address-- john a. sloan, no. d street, washington, d.c. transcriber's note: inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have been preserved. obvious typographical errors have been corrected. italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal signs=. [illustration: sandy looked around quickly and saw sidney standing with his rifle aimed and resting on the branch of the tree.--page . _with the regulators._] the boy spies with the regulators the story of how the boys assisted the carolina patriots to drive the british from that state. by james otis a. l. burt company publishers new york copyright by a. l. burt under the title of with the regulators the boy spies with the regulators contents. chapter page i. ourselves ii. a treasonable act iii. promises iv. the rescue v. at brunswick vi. besieged vii. timely aid viii. sandy wells ix. tryon's demonstration x. the long night xi. the trial xii. the proclamation xiii. war declared xiv. the convoy xv. the battle the boy spies with the regulators chapter i. ourselves. it is not for one like me to make any pretense at trying to fashion a scholar's story out of the poor efforts of sidney hubbard, and myself, clare butler, to second the brave work of those noble men who, by enduring countless hardships and sparing not their own blood, finally rid the carolinas of those leeches who claimed to be the king's servants--governor william tryon, edmund fanning and others of like brood. i count to set down on these pages such an account as i may be able to give concerning what we of the carolinas did in those dark days eight years before the first patriot blood was shed at lexington, and this task is to be performed simply that my descendants may, by reading our story, use their utmost efforts to preserve the fair country which has cost their forefathers so much of blood, anguish and bodily suffering. to begin, sidney hubbard is my first cousin, his mother and mine being sisters. we lived, in , on the alamance, near where, later, was fought what may rightly be termed the first battle in the struggle of the colonies for independence. our fathers were humble farmers, with a scanty store of this world's goods, and continually ground down by those whom the king had set in authority over us, chief among which may be reckoned the irishman tryon, and fanning, who was born on long island, if i remember rightly. i cannot set down in my own words a picture of the carolinas at the time when sidney hubbard and i were come sixteen years of age, therefore, in order that all the conditions of public affairs may be fully understood, i shall copy here what was written many years later by one who may justly style himself a historian:[ ] "the passage of the stamp act produced great uneasiness in the public mind in north carolina, as well as in the other provinces. already the extortions of public officers in the exactions of fees for legal services had greatly irritated the people, and they regarded the requirements of the stamp act as a more gigantic scheme for legal plunder.... william tryon had been acting governor and commander-in-chief of the province from the death of governor dobbs, april st, , and now began his career of misrule in america. he was appointed governor toward the close of the year. this was the same tryon, afterward governor of new york, haughty, innately cruel, fond of show, obsequious when wishing favors, and tyrannical when independent; he was entirely incompetent to govern a people like the free, outspoken colonists of the upper carolinas. "for several years previous to the stamp act excitement, rebellion had been ripening among the people in the western counties. the rapacity of public officers, and the corrupt character of ministers of justice, weighed heavily upon the property and spirits of the people. the most prominent evils complained of were the exorbitant charges of the clerks of the superior courts, whereby these courts had become instruments of oppression; and oppressive taxes exacted by the sheriffs, and the outrages committed by those officers when their authority was questioned in the least. these evils everywhere existed, and every petition of the people for redress appeared to be answered by increased extortions." it was william husband, a quaker from pennsylvania, who banded our people together in what was called "a regulation," and each member signed an agreement to pay no more taxes "until satisfied they were legal; to pay officers no more fees than the strict letter of the law required, unless forced to, and then to show open resentment; to be cautious in the selection of representatives, and to petition the governor, council, king and parliament for a redress of grievances; to keep up a continual correspondence with each other; to defray all necessary expenses, all differences in judgment to be submitted to the whole regulation, the judgment of the majority to be final." each member was bound by a solemn oath to stand faithful to the cause until matters had been brought to a true and just regulation. meetings were held regularly in the vicinity of hillsborough, and in a few weeks the regulation was a permanent and a powerful body. about this time "the pride and folly of governor tryon led him to demand" from the assembly an appropriation of twenty-five thousand dollars that he might build a palace, and this burden, together with the many which had been laid upon us, was most oppressive. "the inhabitants of north carolina were now thoroughly awakened to the conviction that both the local and imperial government were practically hostile to the best interests of the colonists. the taxes hitherto were very burdensome; now the cost of the palace, and the appropriation to defray the expenses of running the dividing line between their province and the hunting-grounds of the cherokees, made them insupportable. a poll tax of one dollar and fifty cents was levied on every male, white or black, between the ages of sixteen and sixty years of age. "the rapacity of public officers appeared to increase, and the people saw no prospect of relief. among the most obnoxious men who had grown rich by extortionate fees, was edmund fanning, a lawyer of ability. he was regarded as a co-worker with the government. the people detested him, and avoided no occasion to express their displeasure. his first open rupture with the regulators was in the spring of . tryon issued a proclamation, half menacing and half persuasive, evidently intended to awe the regulation and persuade the other inhabitants to avoid that association. he sent his secretary, david edwards, to cooperate with fanning in giving force to the proclamation among the people. "they directed the sheriff to appoint a meeting of the vestry-men of the parishes and the leading regulators, to consult upon the public good and settle all differences. fair promises dispelled the suspicions of the regulators, and their vigilance slumbered while awaiting the day of meeting. they were not yet fully acquainted with the falsity of their governor, or they would never have heeded the fair words of his proclamation. they were soon assured of the hollowness of his professions, for, while they were preparing, in good faith, to meet government officers in friendly convention, the sheriff, at the instigation of fanning, proceeded, with thirty horsemen, to arrest herman husband and william hunter on a charge of riotous conduct. "these, the most prominent men among the regulators, were seized and cast into hillsborough jail. the whole country was aroused by this treachery, and a large body of the people, led by ninian bell hamilton, a brave old scotchman of threescore-and-ten-years, marched toward hillsborough to rescue the prisoners." some idea may be had of our unhappy province, by aid of the above account, written in all fairness, and yet not stating our grievances as thoroughly as they should be set down, and now i feel warranted in saying that from the day of masters husband's and hunter's arrest sidney hubbard and i began to prove ourselves _men_ of the carolinas. we were both just turned sixteen, sidney being but two days older than i, and already had the sheriff warned us that we must pay the taxes which had been assessed, or be sent to jail where many a poor wretch was confined, simply because he had not the money with which to satisfy the governor's unjust demands. it was on the day after the arrest of our neighbors that we two lads met old jacob peyster, a god-fearing man, and one who was ready and willing to lay down his life for the good of the carolinas. "why are ye abroad this morning?" he asked, reining in a mettlesome horse which he had raised from a colt, and we were forced to bring our steeds to a halt, or give fair proof that we lacked good breeding. "we came out to learn if there was any news concerning those honest men whom the king's knaves took into custody yesterday," sidney made answer before i, who was ever slow of speech, could do so much as open my mouth. "masters husband and hunter have been clapped in prison at hillsborough," the old man said sorrowfully, "and unless the true men of the carolinas take the matter in hand, they are like to be held by the brute tryon till the little property they own has passed into the hands of his majesty's gluttons." "you speak as if there was some hope the men of the carolinas would resist this outrage," sidney cried excitedly. "aye, lad, and so they will. hamilton, the scotchman, is in arms and enlisting under his flag those who love the colony better than they do the king. have you youngsters paid the tax which is levied on all who have lived sixteen years or more?" "it is not likely that i shall be able to do so," i hastened to make answer. "my father cannot give me the money, and the little i had hoarded up from the sale of my furs, went toward paying the last levy made against our poor home." "it looks much as though both clare and i might soon join masters husband and hunter at hillsborough, for i have heard it said that but a short time will be allowed us of the carolinas in which to gather the money to pay the tax, so eager is governor tryon to build his palace," and as he spoke sidney tried in vain to appear unconcerned, but i, who knew that which was in his mind, had good proof that he was in deadly fear of the arrest concerning which he spoke so glibly. "aye, lads, the time will be made short indeed. i hear that lawyer fanning is issuing warrants for those who are not down on the governor's books as having paid the unjust assessment. you are like to be deprived of liberty soon, unless----" "unless what?" sidney asked eagerly as master peyster hesitated. "perhaps it is wrong for me to speak further without knowing of what minds are your parents." "that can be easily learned; our fathers have not the money with which to pay their own tax, after giving up all they owned to aid in satisfying the thirst for gold with which the king's officers in this colony are afflicted," sidney said with a laugh which had in it nothing of mirth. "then how will you answer the collectors?" old jacob asked, eying us sharply. "if it so be i can find a hiding-place, there will be no answer given," i made haste to reply. "sidney and i were discussing the matter even as we met you." "by joining the force which ninian hamilton is gathering you may be free from the sheriffs for a time; but it is possible that by so doing you will be charged with treason." "do you count on serving with him, master peyster?" sidney asked, and the old man replied quickly, "i have already set down my name as one who will serve the colonies to the best of my poor powers, for i am of the regulation, as are your fathers. i am but now summoning all of the association to the rescue of those who are so unjustly imprisoned--those who were taken because they put faith in tryon's sworn word." "where may master hamilton's force be found?" i asked eagerly, for now my mind was made up to join those who would measure strength against the king. my plight could not well be worse in case i should be charged with treason, for of a verity the inability to raise such an amount of money as the hungry officeholders demanded was, in the carolinas, a greater crime than that of conspiring against the king himself. "the rendezvous is near chapel hill, where the highway crosses the new hope river. you will not be welcomed, however, unless you go armed, for the association can provide neither weapons nor money." having said this much old jacob spurred his horse on, as if afraid of saying anything which might influence us in our decision; but he need not have been so particular, because even before he ceased speaking both sidney and i were resolved. the dear lad turned to me with a question in his eyes when master peyster rode away, and i answered it by saying: "there is naught else left for us to do. from what the old man said we know that the sheriff's officers will soon be at our heels, and anything is better than rotting in hillsborough jail." "then we have only to turn back for our weapons, and the treason is complete," he said with a laugh, wheeling his horse around as he spoke. i could see nothing of mirthfulness in the act we were about to commit, although i was none the less determined to join master hamilton's forces. this hurried visit to our homes would be the last, perhaps, forever, and even under the most favorable circumstances, hiding as we should be from the sheriff's officers, neither sidney nor i would be able to visit our loved ones, save by stealth, until many months had passed. i say again, it was a desperate act for two lads hardly more than sixteen years of age, and yet there appeared to be no alternative. we rode to our homes swiftly, and without indulging in conversation; each of us had so much food for thought that he could not speak of ordinary matters. the hubbard plantation was no more than two miles from my home, and it came first on our road. i remained outside, not dismounting, while sidney entered, and when perhaps half an hour had passed he joined me, turning his head ever so little lest i should see traces of tears on his cheeks. he had with him his rifle, a brace of pistols which had been his father's, a new hunting knife, and a package which i fancied was made up of provisions. "did your father make any protest?" i asked while he was mounting. "he set off for the rendezvous an hour ago," sidney replied, doing his best to suppress a sob. "mother believed it was best for me to join him rather than go to hillsborough jail, and did what she might to hasten my departure." when he was mounted we rode on to my home, and he remained outside while i broke the news to my mother. she, dear soul, was not surprised. old jacob had stopped there to summon father, who was one of the regulators, and almost before i could speak she clasped me to her bosom, saying gently and lovingly: "yes, you must go, my boy, and my share of the heavy burden which the lord has laid upon the colony will be to remain here alone, trembling at every sound lest it betokens the coming of some one who brings tidings that my son or my husband has been killed. if perchance such a blow is dealt me, i shall know that you died like brave men in the performance of duty--for it is your duty to aid the oppressed. do not delay, gather up such articles as will be needed, and then kiss me farewell; i cannot linger on the parting." in less than half an hour i joined sidney, giving no heed as to whether he could see the tears in my eyes, and during a full hour we rode at a gentle pace towards the rendezvous without speaking. in that time it seemed to me that i had passed the age of boyhood and was become a man, for of a verity i had set my face towards a man's work whether i might accomplish it or no. then we both struggled to throw off the grief which enveloped us until the day was like unto the night, and spoke of what might be done if all who had joined the regulation came forward in response to duty, little dreaming of that dreadful day when so many of our friends and neighbors would lie stark and cold upon the field of battle. it was but natural that we should speak of the possible glory to be won, and not to be wondered at that each of us believed he could perform all which might be required. we had yet to learn how great was the task set the men of the carolinas before the yoke of the oppressors was finally thrown off. from our homes to new hope river was but little more than twelve miles, and when we judged that half the distance had been traversed we drew rein to give the horses a breathing spell, for they had traveled ten miles or more before we came upon old jacob. we drew from our store of provisions sufficient for the noonday meal, picketed the horses where they might feast on the rich grass, and gave ourselves up to a brief time of repose. the meal had no more than been eaten, however, when hoof-beats in the distance told that a horseman was approaching, and i seized my rifle, for the sorrows which had been mine during the day made me apprehensive of danger from every point. "don't be foolish," sidney said sharply. "it will be said that we are afraid of our own shadows, if some friend finds us ready for an attack. there are others beside ourselves who will ride to new hope river this day, and he who comes is most likely one of master hamilton's party." "if so he is headed in the wrong direction," i replied; but i drew back from my weapon nevertheless, and an instant later regretted having done so when sandy wells, one of the sheriff's officers, rode up beside us. "we are well met, young sirs," he said in a mocking tone as he drew from his pocket two folded papers. "i was but this moment counting the miles 'twixt me and your homes, for if i mistake not you are clare butler," he said looking at me, and, turning toward my comrade, added, "you are sidney hubbard." it was useless to deny the fact, since sandy knew our faces full well, and i asked, steadying my voice till it sounded reasonably firm: "what have we two lads to do with so gallant an officer as you, sir?" "nothing whatsoever, if it so be you have paid the poll tax which his worshipful excellency has levied on all males, white or black, between the ages of sixteen and sixty." "you must know we have not paid that extortion to provide the governor with a palace, for it is hardly more than six weeks since a levy was made of two shillings to the acre of all tilled lands, and we, who owned not a single rod, were forced to help our fathers pay that," i said stoutly, noting the fact that sidney was drawing his rifle toward him. "then must i serve these warrants to the end that i may legally take you to hillsborough until such time as you shall pay the just and lawful demands of his worshipful excellency, governor tryon." "and how may we come by the money while we are shut up in jail?" i asked, beginning to have an inkling of what sidney would do. "that is not for me to say, my pert gentleman. if you cannot pay the tax, here is my authority for taking you to hillsborough," and the conceited rascal proceeded to read in a loud voice the documents he had drawn from his pocket. i could understand but little of their purport, so filled were they with attorney's words and phrases, nor did i cudgel my brains overmuch, because of what i could see out of the tail of my eye. sidney had his rifle in hand, and the expression on his face told me that he had no intention of going to hillsborough as sandy wells' prisoner. footnote: [ ] benson j. lossing, "field book of the revolution." chapter ii. a treasonable act. so great was my excitement, knowing sidney meditated an attack upon the king's officer, which could be called neither more nor less than rank treason and would put us beyond the pale of ordinary offenders, that i could not understand one word sandy wells was reading. his voice came to me like the droning of bees in the summer, and it sounded far off. i could neither hear nor think; but all my faculties were centered in my eyes as i watched sidney's stealthy movements. without really having the power of connected thought, i realized that to resist the sheriff's officer was an offense which governor tryon would never pardon, particularly since that officer was engaged in the effort to collect taxes. from the moment we made forcible resistance we would be the same as outlawed, and shut off from the possibility of returning again to our homes until the king's rule had been set aside in the carolinas. desperate indeed would be our position once an overt act against the recognized authority of the colony had been committed, and yet i would not have checked sidney by so much as a hair's breadth had it been possible. sandy wells continued to read as if delighting in the sound of his own voice, and my comrade made his preparations leisurely, being slightly in the rear of the sheriff's officer where he could not well be seen, while the latter's eyes were fixed upon the paper. when sidney cautiously drew himself up to his feet by aid of an overhanging bough, clutching his rifle firmly, i knew the struggle was about to begin, and during an instant there was a film before my eyes, red like blood. then everything came plain within my line of vision; the tremor of fear passed away, and i was on the alert to second anything sidney should attempt, even though our lives might be the forfeit. sandy wells had nearly come to an end of the warrants which had been filled out that two lads who could not pay the sum of three dollars might be thrust into jail, when sidney, his rifle leveled at the officer's head, said sharply and sternly: "do not so much as move, master wells, else i will send a bullet into your brain. be careful not to take your hands from that piece of stamped paper, or i shall believe that you mean mischief!" sandy looked around quickly; only his eyes moved, for he must have understood that my comrade meant every word which had been spoken, and he saw sidney standing with his rifle aimed and resting on the branch of the tree. at such short range there could be no mistake as to the course of the bullet, and, realizing this, the officer's face grew white with fear, for of a verity he was standing very near to death at that moment. "would you resist me in the performance of my sworn duty?" he asked, his voice trembling and his teeth literally chattering with fear. "that is what i count on doing. neither clare nor i will be taken to hillsborough jail simply because we cannot pay the poll tax." "do you know that this is treason, now the warrants have been read?" "i can well fancy that lawyer fanning will twist it in that way." "not only is it treason against the king, but you are laying yourself open to the penalties made and provided for resisting an officer of the colony." "you cannot serve tryon and the colony at the same time, master wells, and that you know right well. does it so chance that you have any weapons about you?" "i am armed, as you may well see." "i am more concerned to know if you have other weapons which cannot be seen. keep your hands on that paper, master wells, while clare lays violent hands upon your sacred person in order to learn to what extent you are fitted out for taking into custody two lads whose only crime is their lack of money." "you might have been forgiven the tax; but that which you are about to do will bring you close to the gallows," sandy cried in impotent rage. "even while standing there we shall be no nearer death than you are at this instant if it so be you so much as raise a finger. clare, take away his rifle, and search him for other weapons." i lost no time in doing his bidding, for now was sidney hubbard the leader and commander. sandy, the livid hue of fear yet on his cheek, offered no resistance as i made thorough search, bringing to light two pistols and a long knife which would have served at a pinch as sword, and sidney cried derisively as i laid the weapons at his feet: "you were bravely armed, master wells, for the arrest of two boys who are worth in the eyes of governor tryon's law but one dollar and a half per head, and in fact, not the value of a penny." "i shall live to see you hanged!" sandy snarled. "in which case, as i figure it, you will live to a green old age, and it may be, suffer not a few discomforts before you die." "now that you two villains have robbed me, i suppose i may go my way," master wells cried as sidney lowered his rifle. "not unless your way is the same as ours, for i am not minded to set you loose until after learning what captain hamilton has to say on the subject." "what?" sandy cried in mingled rage and surprise. "would you also take me prisoner?" "it is no more than you would have done by us, and surely turn about is fair play." now it was that i lost courage. the crime of resisting one of the sheriff's officers was as great as i felt willing to commit; but to actually take him prisoner seemed the height of folly. sidney seemed to read my thoughts in my eyes, for he said quietly, thus showing himself to be the brave soldier he afterward proved: "we can make matters no worse by taking him to master hamilton, and it seems to me wise that we get that gentleman's opinion before setting this worthy officer loose to spread the tiding of our misdeeds. fanning and tryon can never overlook the fact that we have refused to pay the tax; but i'm thinking it won't trouble them greatly if master wells suffers a little discomfort." sandy began to bluster, threatening us with the direst vengeance of his master and himself; but sidney soon cut the flow of words short by saying sternly: "you will mount your horse, master wells, and also do well to remember that a silent tongue oftentimes stands a man as friend." our prisoner ceased his threats, probably understanding that sidney's temper was none of the best once it had been aroused, and clambered into the saddle obediently, my comrade holding his rifle ready for immediate use in case the fellow made any attempt at leaving us. once sandy had mounted, sidney fastened his legs beneath the animal's belly, as a precaution against escape, and, bringing up his own steed, seated himself in the saddle as he slipped the bridle of the prisoner's horse over his arm. if it had been possible to do so without being overheard by master wells, i would have tried to dissuade my comrade from this last portion of the business, for it seemed to me that by carrying him to the rendezvous we were but bringing additional trouble upon our own heads without due justification. i was unwilling, however, to let sandy suspect that there was any difference of opinion between us, therefore held my tongue, meekly climbing into the saddle when sidney showed himself impatient to continue the journey. the one fear in my mind as we set out, sidney leading the way with our prisoner and i bringing up the rear, was that master hamilton and his associates would reprove us severely for having brought the officer to the rendezvous, for it seemed certain that sandy would hamper the regulators to considerable extent. however, the deed was done, and i question whether i could have changed the situation in the slightest, however good an argument i might have brought to bear. therefore it was that i resolved to give sidney the leadership, obeying his orders scrupulously, and standing by him as a comrade should in case our actions were condemned by the regulation. sandy wells evidently had no desire for conversation, and we two lads could not speak one with another save he heard every word, therefore the three of us rode forward in silence, keeping a sharp lookout both ahead and behind lest we might inadvertently come upon one of the officer's friends. there is little need for me to set down all the thoughts and fears which came into my mind as we rode forward, for there is more of importance than my timorousness to be written before i shall come to an end of the sufferings endured by the people of the carolinas in that struggle which, god be praised, finally resulted in the freedom of this fair country. it is enough if i pass over the remainder of our journey in silence, and describe our reception when we were in the midst of the men of carolina who, having chosen master hamilton as their leader, were in the act of what governor tryon was pleased to term "open rebellion." the people were gathered in a thick bit of woods near-by the highway, and we were forced to give an account of ourselves to the sentinels before being allowed to ride into the midst of the large assembly, which was little less than a veritable army. the first person we saw was my father, and toward him sidney rode, telling our story in few words, after which he asked: "does it please you that master wells be kept a prisoner, sir?" "i am at a loss to give you an answer, lad," my father replied in evident perplexity. "it has only been decided that we would release those who are confined in hillsborough jail, and i cannot guess how the gentleman will view your bold act. give him into my charge, and we will soon have the case before the regulation." he laid hold of sandy's bridle, leading the horse further into the woods, while we lads were forced to remain where we had halted, because of the crowd which suddenly gathered to learn how we had chanced to come in company with a sheriff's officer. once our story was told it could plainly be seen that we had won the good opinion of those who listened, for without exception each man bestowed praise upon us, until my cheeks were flushed a deep red from hearing myself spoken of as a brave lad who would one day do his full share toward freeing the carolinas from the money-gluttons who were impoverishing the people. well, we were made much of, and all with whom we spoke agreed that we should be allowed to become members of the regulation, as if we were indeed men grown; but i observed with sorrow that every one treated it as a matter of course that we could not return to our homes until great changes had taken place in the colony. the idea that years might elapse before i could see my mother again had in it sufficient to prevent me from being puffed up with pride because of what was said concerning me, and when the gentlemen were come to an end of questioning us i unsaddled my horse, taking up quarters at the foot of a huge gum tree. in this army which had gathered responsive to the call of master hamilton, there were no tents or camp equipage of any kind. each man brought everything he might need, including provisions, and the place where the regulators encamped had more the appearance of being used for religious or social purposes, than as a military rendezvous. here and there, wherever it best pleased them, were the recruits which had been so hastily brought together. horses were picketed where the best feeding places could be found, and their owners lay under the shade of the trees, walked as fancy dictated, or gathered in little squads, having no care save to keep within the lines marked out as the bounds of the encampment. twenty or more sentinels paced to and fro, rather for the purpose of marking the limits of the camp than because any attack was to be apprehended, and these were not so strict in their duty as to prevent those from straying outside the lines who felt the inclination to do so. sidney found a friend with whom he went away hoping to gain speech with our general, master hamilton, and i remained alone a good hour or more, when my father came up in search of me. "the prisoner will be held until after we have marched to hillsborough," he said by way of explaining what had been decided upon, and added with a sigh: "it is to be regretted that your evil fortune brought you in sandy wells' path, my son." "it was he who crossed our path, sir," i said, trying to speak in a cheery tone, although my heart was like lead in my bosom. "it recks little which way it was. what affects us is, that you and sidney will be forced to remain in hiding, no one knows how long--certainly until some arrangement can be made to obtain pardon for what has been done." "i thought the regulators had assembled for the purpose of taking into their own hands the government of the colony, in which case there can be no question but that our sins against the person of sandy wells will be forgiven." "it is not probable that the regulation will be able to effect any very radical change in the condition of affairs. we shall march to hillsborough to demand the release of the prisoners, and if they are given liberty, there is no longer any pressing need for us to remain under arms." "might the regulators not also demand that we be pardoned?" i asked, growing cold with fear. "i question if the gentlemen would be willing, after this display of force in order to demand justice, to ask that an offender against the laws of the colony be forgiven." "then what is to become of us?" i cried in fear. "surely these gentlemen will not deliver us up to the king's officers!" "certainly not; your deliverance must come about without the aid of the regulation, however. if it becomes necessary for you to remain in hiding, go with all speed to your uncle's home in virginia, on the bank of the dan river, and there remain until word comes from me that you may safely return." there was no longer an opportunity for him to give me the advice which i needed. word was passed from one to another that the order had been given to begin the march toward hillsborough, and in a few moments all was bustle and confusion as each member of the party made his preparations for the journey. half an hour later the regulators were in line, awaiting the final word, and a goodly array they presented. there were upwards of four hundred horsemen, all fully armed, and at their head master hamilton, a patriarch of seventy years. the word was given, and we set off at a gentle pace, sidney and i riding side by side, and a short distance in advance of us, sandy wells, guarded by two men. the rebellion against the king's authority was begun, and from that day we might be counted by those in office as traitors to his majesty; but it could never be said that there was any treachery in our hearts against the colony of the carolinas which we were ever ready to defend with our heart's blood. the march had been begun near nightfall in order that we might arrive at hillsborough early in the morning, and since the distance was but twenty miles, we were put to it to keep the animals back, instead of trying to urge them forward. some of the men fell asleep in their saddles; but neither sidney nor i had any desire for slumber because of the disquiet in our hearts. with the exception of master hamilton, who would likely be charged with having stirred up the people to sedition, we were in a worse plight than the others, and whichever way the matter turned, it was probable we must hide ourselves in virginia for a time. with the rising of the sun our party halted on the bank of the eno, opposite hillsborough, and there discovered that the king's officers had received news of our coming, being greatly disturbed thereat. twenty or more men were standing near the edge of the river on the hillsborough side, and foremost among them was attorney fanning, he who was equally guilty with governor tryon in burdening us with taxes which were beyond our power to pay. to have seen him then, when he was in fear of his life, one would have said that the regulators of the carolinas had no warmer friend than he. when we were drawn up in line, waiting for the word to ford the river, fanning shouted, holding up a bottle of rum in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other: "we have been waiting for you, my brave hamilton, knowing that you will not willingly do that which will cause blood to flow. let's you and i have a glass together, and decide this troublesome business without such a warlike parade." "you may keep your liquor for those who do not know you as well as do i," master hamilton cried scornfully, and our people set up a shout of satisfaction. master fanning waved his hands as if asking for silence, and after a time, when those on our side of the river were inclined to hear what kind of a proposition tryon's tool had to make, he called out as if addressing his best friend: "send a horse over that i may cross, my worthy master hamilton. i fain would give your people some refreshments," and here he held up the bottles again, "in addition to having a friendly chat with you." some of our men would have made a contemptuous reply, but the others motioned for silence in order that master hamilton might act as spokesman, which was his right. "i'll send no horse," our brave leader cried. "you're none too good to wade, and wade you shall if you come over!" i supposed attorney fanning would go back to his home in anger after receiving such a reply, and said as much to sidney; but no sooner had i spoken than the lawyer waded into the stream, and over he came, holding out his bottles as if believing that master hamilton would be rejoiced at having an opportunity of drinking with him. our leader waved him away in short order, and then the scheming rascal went from man to man of the front rank, asking each to have a glass of liquor in token of friendship; but none would accept, and more than one gave him such insults as a truckling knave like himself deserved. before he had come to an end of the line, and when it must have been made plain that not one of the regulators cared to bestow the commonest civility upon him, he espied sandy wells. "what, have you resigned your office?" the attorney asked sharply, and our prisoner replied whiningly: "i'm held here by force, good master fanning, having been taken prisoner by two lads." our people burst into laughter at this mournful reply, and hoping, most likely, to curry favor with the regulators, the lawyer said with a grin: "if two lads took you prisoner, i'd advise you to hold your tongue about it. not many hours since you declared yourself to be a match for any three men in the carolinas, providing you were not come upon in ambush." "i was taken by surprise, even while reading the warrants for their arrest, and it's by no means to my shame, since i never dreamed they would be bold enough to make an attack upon the representative of our worthy sheriff." "you'd best give over reading warrants, sandy," some person shouted, and fanning laughed at the gibe as he continued on along the line of horsemen, trying in vain to find one who would drink with him. i must set down here, at risk of interfering somewhat with the thread of the story, two verses which were afterward written about this effort of the attorney's to curry favor with those who had come in the name of justice to rescue innocent men from prison: "at length their head man they sent out to save their town from fire; to see ned fanning wade eno, brave boys, you'll all admire. "with hat in hand, at our command, to salute us every one, sir, and after that, kept off his hat, to salute old hamilton, sir." i must admit that the poetry is not what might be called exceedingly fine; but it was made next night in camp by one of our regulators, and because of such fact i think it well to set it down in this story. well, bow and cringe as he might, our people would not listen to fanning, and master hamilton told him sharply to get to the rear lest he be trampled under the feet of the horses. "we'll have neither you nor your liquor," he cried angrily, "and unless you get out of sight i'll not be answerable for the temper of these good friends who have come in search of masters husband and hunter." chapter iii. promises. "the sooner we march into hillsborough and make an attack on the jail, the better for the cause," sidney hubbard whispered to me when fanning had come to understand that not one in all our company was willing to hob-nob with him. "to sit idly here is much like admitting we are afraid to do that which we have threatened, or as if we doubted the righteousness of our mission." it was not for one like me, who knew nothing whatsoever of warfare, to criticize what master hamilton might see fit to do, and yet i held much the same opinion as did sidney. it would have been more to my liking had we crossed the river at full speed, surrounded the jail, and forced the keepers to deliver up the keys without parley. i would have had the matter settled in one way or another, within ten minutes, and surely there would be no more treason in the act if done quickly, than if we dawdled around half a day listening to the vaporings of those who claimed to be loyal servants of the king. we were yet drawn up in line, gazing at the town as if trying to decide whether we would go forward or back, when master david edwards, governor tryon's secretary, rode up opposite us, halted an instant to view the scene properly, and then began fording the stream. "whether yonder royalist will try to frighten or cajole us, he is setting about the business in proper fashion," sidney whispered approvingly. "he can't be accused of wasting time." "hush!" i said, laying my hand on his to still him. "i would hear his speech with master hamilton, for if i mistake not he will settle the matter in short order, one way or another." the secretary had by this time crossed the river and was spurring his horse toward where master hamilton was posted, and as sidney and i watched he saluted our commander courteously, not in lick-spittle fashion as had fanning. "why this war-like array, sir?" he asked, and master hamilton replied: "we have come for our friends who were made prisoners even while depending upon the governor's assurance that he wished simply to hold a parley. it was a breach of faith not seemly in one who represents his majesty, and we will never brook such high-handed proceedings." "in that you are to be commended, sir," the secretary replied, speaking fair and softly; "but i warrant you have not fully considered what may be the result of such show of force. your friends have been taken into custody in what appeared to his excellency like a lawful manner, and it is meet they should be released with due form, else may you plunge this fair colony into all the horrors of civil war. for the sake of the people, master hamilton, i beg of you to withdraw, at least until his majesty's judges have time to deliberate upon the matter." "we are here, and can work our will, therefore it would be little less than folly to abandon the advantage." "you need not do so. i pledge my word as a gentleman that all the grievances of the people shall be redressed, if you allow this unhappy business to be settled in lawful fashion. retire, and the matter will speedily be arranged as you desire. by so doing you may avoid bloodshed and the charges of treason." "and we have your sacred word, master edwards, that all this shall be done without loss of time?" one of the party who sat near our commander asked. "aye, sir," the secretary cried, raising his voice that all might hear, "the affair shall be inquired into as soon as may be." "there are other matters that need attention, sir," master hamilton said stoutly. "money has been extorted by edward fanning, from very many here, and without color of lawfulness." "master fanning shall answer to the judges of this colony, and, if found guilty of illegal proceedings, will be punished as should be the lowest of our citizens," master edwards cried, holding up his right hand as if taking a solemn oath. "and will you also pledge yourself that whatsoever has been done by those who belong to the regulation, in the effort to gain redress, remains in abeyance until the first question has been settled?" our commander asked, and the secretary replied in the affirmative. "here is one of your tax-collectors who, while attempting to arrest two lads, was himself made prisoner," and master hamilton pointed toward sandy wells. "such resistance might be given the name of treason, if you were inclined to play us false." "the act shall pass as if it had never been committed, provided that you release your prisoner. go to your homes, and at the earliest possible moment governor tryon will take the necessary steps to have all this unhappy business disposed of to your satisfaction." master hamilton wheeled his horse around, and, addressing our party, cried: "you hear, gentlemen all, what the representative of the governor has promised in the name of his master. are you agreed to do as he proposes to the end that bloodshed may be averted?" "we are agreed," our people cried as if with one voice, and an instant later sandy wells was allowed to ride out from among the party, when he forded the river hurriedly as if fearing some one might try to hold him back. "we yet have his weapons as spoils of war," sidney said gleefully to me, "and i warrant you he will not venture near alamance for many days to come." "think you we shall go free after having raised our hands against him?" i asked, hardly able to believe that such good fortune might be ours. "we have the secretary's solemn word for it," sidney replied, and he had no more than spoken when the command was given for our people to wheel about in the direction of maddock's mill. the return was made at a rapid pace, and when we were arrived at this place a general halt was called, the assembly being told that the regulation would be in session at george sally's house next day "to consult upon the public good." sidney and i thought just then more about our own bodies than the burning questions of the hour, and after taking care of our horses we camped in a grove near the mill, with nothing save the bushes to shelter us from dew and sun. we slept nearly eighteen hours, which atoned for the repose that was lost during the march to hillsborough, and then, on the morning after our appearance before hillsborough, were ready to discuss the condition of the "rebellion." that we were included in the truce was a matter of rejoicing, for it had seemed certain we would become fugitives, hiding on the dan river; but both of us decided that it would not be well to venture within reach of sandy wells, unless we were so well armed as to be able to care for ourselves. as a matter of course we two lads went to george sally's with the regulators, but neither of us ventured to take any part in the proceedings, although much was done of which we did not approve. in the first place the regulation prepared a petition to be presented to governor tryon, begging that messrs. husband and hunter be speedily released in accordance with the promise made by master edwards; that the taxes of those who, by reason of their poverty, could not raise the required amount of money, be abated; and that master fanning and other court officers be restrained from oppressing the people by exorbitant fees whenever a legal document was required or served. as i chanced to know full well, neither my father nor master hamilton approved such a course as pleading with the governor after showing his minions that the regulation was sufficiently strong to make demands; but the majority of the gentlemen were in favor of proving that the regulators were not disposed to transgress the laws, and the petition was written out by malichi tyke, who had once served as clerk of courts. sidney and i were both very much dissatisfied with the turn of affairs, although we took good care not to give words to our discontent in the hearing of the gentlemen who formed the regulation. in our opinion we should have encamped near about hillsborough until all which master edwards promised had been performed, for governor tryon could better be moved by a show of force than an humble petition. however, as sidney wisely said, it was no real concern of ours, since the elders of the association would contrive to manage affairs after their own fashion, without giving overly much heed to boys or hot-heads, and if we wished to be numbered among the regulators it stood us in hand to obey the voice of the majority without grumbling. it was also decided at this meeting in george sally's barn, that masters rednap howell and james hunter be appointed deputies of the regulation to present the petition to governor tryon, and that they set out at once for brunswick, where his excellency then was. now the upper carolina was not in as peaceful a state as could have been desired. some of the more wealthy inhabitants favored the representatives of the king, and upheld them in all their iniquitous proceedings; calling themselves royalists, and us of the regulation rebels. they oftentimes, when a fair opportunity presented itself, took the right to discipline the people who grumbled against the money-gluttons. it was not impossible that some of these aristocrats might meet our deputies, and, being the stronger in numbers, attempt to prevent them from appearing before tryon, therefore to put a check upon such a possibility it was decided that at least two others should accompany masters howell and hunter. it was my father who proposed that sidney and i be chosen as the escort, giving as a reason why we two lads should be selected, that it was possible, despite the promise of master edwards, sandy wells might try to make trouble for us because of our taking him prisoner. it was better, so he urged, that we be kept out of sight until the regulation had accomplished its work, and by accompanying the deputies to brunswick, sandy would not readily find us. master howell himself seconded the proposition, kindly stating that he desired no abler escort than our two selves, and thus was the matter settled, much to my satisfaction, even though there was more than the shadow of a suspicion in my mind as to the reception with which we might meet. the regulation also decided that we four should set out as soon as master malichi tyke had made a fair copy of the petition, and he was so expeditious with the work that everything was in readiness for our departure on the following morning. we had before us a ride of about two hundred miles, and to sidney and me, who had never before traveled an eighth part of that distance from home, the journey offered much in the way of novelty. there were no preparations to be made save saddling our horses: we would sleep wheresoever night overtook us, and procure food at such dwellings as we came across, or, failing in this, depend upon finding game enough to satisfy our wants. "remember that masters howell and hunter are to be obeyed strictly by you, lads," my father said to us as we were saddling the steeds, "and do not put me to shame by behaving other than as gentlemen." as a matter of course we promised faithfully to heed his words, and with high anticipations set off, riding immediately behind those whom we were supposed to guard. during this first day, when we were yet within our own home neighborhood, the ride was without especial incident, save that at nightfall, when we were encamped in a lean-to which sidney and i had put up while the gentlemen were cooking a couple of hares i had killed late in the afternoon, master howell amused himself with writing the verses i shall set down below, and which i afterward saw in a pamphlet entitled "a fan for fanning," that had been printed in boston in : "when fanning first to orange came, he looked both pale and wan; an old patched coat upon his back-- an old mare he rode on. "both man and mare wa'n't worth five pounds, as i've been often told, but by his civil robberies he's laced his coat with gold." when these lines had been read to us master hunter declared that it was no more than right master howell should touch up thomas frohock, who, as clerk of the superior court in salisbury, had done quite as much as fanning to extort money from the people, and then it was that our deputy wrote these verses, which were afterward published in the same pamphlet of which i have spoken: "says fanning to frohock, to tell the plain truth, when i came to this country i was but a youth; me father sent for me; i wa'n't worth a cross, and then my first study was to steal for a horse. i quickly got credit, and then ran away, and haven't paid for him to this very day. "says fanning to frohock, 'tis a folly to lie; i rode an old mare that was blind of an eye; five shillings in money i had in my purse, my coat it was patched, but not much the worse: but now we've got rich, and 'tis very well known that we'll do very well if they'll let us alone." master howell laughingly said that as poetry the verses were of little account; but the sentiment could not be bettered, according to my ideas, and before we went to sleep that night i could repeat the lines without missing a word. we set out on our journey next morning shortly after sunrise, and, just before noon, when we were looking for a place in which to camp, two men, attended by a negro slave, undertook to make us explain our business. the whites had halted in the middle of the road, with the black immediately behind them, and when we advanced made a great showing of pistols. "halt, gentlemen, and make us acquainted with your destination and your purpose in traveling this way!" one of them cried peremptorily, and in a twinkling sidney and i, who were slightly in the rear of the deputies, had our rifles ready for use. "why shall we make explanations to you or any other in the carolinas?" master hunter cried angrily. "fair and softly, good sir," the spokesman said, looking well to the priming of his weapon. "we are told that there are in the carolinas those who speak against his majesty the king, and with such as they we would have a few words." "except we are so minded, you will have no words with us," master howell said sharply, and i observed that he was fingering his revolver as if itching to draw it from the holster. "you will at least explain from what part of the colony you have lately come," the stranger said, this time speaking in a more gentle tone. "i am willing to give you so much information as that; but no more, for i deny that any person, save the king's representatives, have the right to question me. we are lately from hillsborough." the two strangers exchanged glances, and he who had first spoken said quietly: "i have heard that the good people near there talk of banding together to resist the king's officers in their duty of collecting lawful taxes." "it can now be seen how much the governor's secretary meant when he gave us such fair promises," sidney whispered. "edwards himself has sent these fellows in advance to prevent us from going to brunswick." there was much the same thought in my own mind; but i made no answer just then, for the very good reason that master hunter was replying to what was little less than a question. "our people have banded together; but it is for the purpose of declaring ourselves against _unlawful_ taxation." "and you are one of the so-called regulators, i may suppose?" the stranger said with a sneer. sidney and i moved nearer until we were almost side by side with our deputies, for now did it seem certain that we were fallen upon those who would make trouble. "we have not come out either for the purpose of discussing politics with strangers, or indulging in a brawl," master hunter said stoutly, drawing his pistols deliberately. "it is our purpose to ride forward without too great delay, and if you oppose us the blood which is shed will be upon your heads." "might it not interest you to know who we are?" the stranger asked menacingly. "not a whit; _we_ are peaceful travelers who pursue our journey without molesting any man who does not seek a brawl. we shall go forward at whatever cost." now it was that i believed a fight would be begun in a twinkling, and my rifle was raised, ready to do my share, when we heard the trampling of horses' hoofs in the distance. "there is some treachery afoot," master howell said in a low tone. "these fellows have kept us in conversation until the remainder of the party can come up. it would be useless to oppose an overwhelming force." "true," master hunter added, and then, as if seized by a sudden thought, he added in a low tone to me, who sat nearest him, "you two lads may perchance escape and carry to our companions of the association the information of our trouble. back your horses off till you are partially screened by the trees, and then ride at full speed." "there are four of us, and each one ready to give a good account of himself," sidney said, much as if he was eager to take part in a fray where blood must inevitably be spilled. "do not stop to argue, lad. it is necessary the regulation know that our passage is barred by some treachery of edwards and fanning, and you must carry the news." i remembered what my father had said, and pulled my horse back, step by step, until he was amid the bushes that bordered the road on either side. the strangers gave but little heed to my maneuvers, probably because they believed that a lad like me was of but little importance as compared with the deputies--i had no doubt but that they were acquainted with the purpose of masters howell and hunter--and, therefore, i was soon partially screened from view. sidney delayed until a party of horsemen numbering four or five came into view, and then he wheeled around suddenly, riding at full speed past me as a couple of pistol balls whistled by his head. i joined him, as may be supposed, and we rode at a sharp pace for a mile or more, when we pulled up as if by common consent. no chase had been given, and thus was i all the more strongly convinced that these highwaymen knew full well who were acting as deputies of the regulation. we two lads looked at each other in silence as our horses came to a standstill, and not until perhaps a minute had passed did we speak. "the regulators did well to listen to such knaves as edwards and fanning!" sidney said angrily. "we should have released the prisoners when it was in our power. now the poor men will remain in jail until the brute tryon gets tired of holding them." "it is childish to cry over spilled milk!" i replied, angry because my comrade was inclined to give way to repinings when they could be of no avail. "it is our duty to get speech with master hamilton without delay." "yes," sidney cried scornfully, "and while we are riding toward maddock's mill, where i question if any of the regulators can be found, those scoundrels will carry our companions to some jail in which they may die before we learn of their whereabouts." "we can only do as master hunter commanded," i replied meekly, realizing the truth of all sidney had said. "i don't count on anything of the kind; but intend to turn back." "to what purpose?" i cried, now thoroughly alarmed, for i knew my comrade well enough to understand that he did not make such assertions without fully intending to carry out whatever plan might be in his head. "it stands to reason that those fellows who have taken the deputies prisoners came from near about hillsborough, in which case they will camp somewhere on the road to-night. it is not probable they count two lads as of any great importance, and will never suspect us of coming back once we get away." "well?" i asked, determined that he should unfold his scheme without assistance from me. "i shall turn back, follow those fellows if possible, and try to come upon them unawares to-night, when there should be a chance to aid our friends." "suppose you fail?" i asked, turning over in my mind the possibilities of his being able to accomplish anything of importance. "if i find that they are on the alert against a rescue, or if there are too many, it will yet be time to turn my horse's head toward maddock's mill." chapter iv. the rescue. when sidney had thus announced his purpose i asked myself what might be the chances of success, and after due reflection it appeared to me as if the possibilities were rather in his favor, because it did not seem probable the royalists would anticipate any attempt at a rescue. they must have overheard the command given us to ride back with all speed, and could hardly suppose two lads like ourselves would take the chances of making an attack, therefore we were likely to find them off their guard. yes, so i decided, the scheme might be worked if we proceed cautiously, and even in case we found it impossible to do anything, the delay would be trifling, provided sidney was willing to give over the effort if a rescue could not be brought about that same night, therefore i asked: "will you agree to set your horse's head toward maddock's mill by sunrise, in case you fail in the purpose during this night?" "yes, that much i promise, for i'm of the opinion that unless the work can be done before to-morrow morning there is no chance for us to carry it through without assistance." "then i shall do what i may toward aiding you." he clasped me by the hand, saying as he did so: "i knew full well you would not ride away and leave me to make the venture alone." "i am taking no part in it save as your assistant. you are the leader, and i shall simply obey orders, because i have no head for such work, while you are a born soldier." sidney laughed loud and long at my words, and said when it was possible for him to speak: "now you are talking nonsense. if we free masters howell and hunter from the governor's friends, it will simply be a case of good fortune, rather than anything deserved because of the intellect brought to bear on the matter. let us make camp here for a time; the horses need rest and food." "are you not afraid that our enemies will get too much the start on us?" "i am reckoning that we were near their camping-place when the two showed themselves. if they count on carrying our friends back to hillsborough to give them quarters with masters husband and william hunter, this road is the one they must take, and we shall see the party ride by. in case they have a comfortable halting place, i am counting that the return journey will not be begun until to-morrow morning." i understood from this remark that sidney had already settled all the details in his mind, and, therefore, since i refused to take any part in making his plans, there was nothing for me to do save patiently hold my tongue. we unsaddled the horses, led them into the forest where was a small clearing covered with rich grass, and made a hearty dinner for ourselves from the contents of our haversacks. when this was done we had nothing with which to occupy our attention, save the task of keeping watch over the highway to make certain the enemy did not pass without our knowledge. although i had so readily agreed to aid my comrade, i was far from feeling comfortable in mind regarding the outcome. i knew full well that even in event of success we must run many chances of losing our lives, for now that the royalists had begun to make prisoners of citizens of the carolinas without legal warrant, they would not hesitate to take the lives of two lads who might interfere with their plans. to risk our lives in a battle where glory might be won, was one thing; but to be killed like thieves in the night, when none of our friends would be able to say whether we died like heroes or cowards was quite another matter. do not let it be understood that i was regretting having agreed to the venture; on the contrary, i would have acted in the same manner had the question been put at that late moment, yet i weighed the possibilities once more, and found them less promising than when first considering the proposition. we did not indulge in conversation to any extent during that afternoon. now and then sidney spoke of the treachery displayed by master edwards, and the possible fate of the deputies in case we failed to rescue them; but for the greater portion of the time we remained silent, each giving way, perhaps, to gloomy forebodings. the sun was no more than an hour high when my comrade said as he rose to his feet and set off toward the clearing where the horses had been left: "i reckon the time has come for us to make a start. we'll ride to the place where the villains met us, and then you shall take to the woods with the horses, while i follow the trail on foot." "why should we not boldly ride down the road until we find ourselves somewhere near their camping-place?" i asked, even after having promised myself to take no part in the plan of rescue. "because i'm of the opinion that we shall find the villains within half a mile or less of where we were halted, and it would be a most serious mistake to let them see us." as he had proposed so we did, and i soon had good reason for congratulating myself that my advice was not taken. the hoof-prints of the horses told us plainly when we were come to the scene of the encounter, and then, leading both animals, i struck into the woods, advancing slowly because of the underbrush, while my comrade pushed rapidly ahead. the night had not yet come when sidney returned, and as i involuntarily came to a halt he whispered: "they are camped half a mile further on. there are six horses picketed near by, in addition to those ridden by the deputies, therefore i reckon that the odds are not heavily against us." "did you see our friends?" "yes; they are in a lean-to, tied, and guarded by the negro. we can take the horses within two hundred yards of the place, where is a good bit of grass which will keep them quiet; but it is well to wait here a couple of hours." once more we came to a halt, and while waiting until the time for action should come i asked sidney to tell me how he proposed to set about the rescue. "i shall find no fault with your plans, for you are the leader; but it is necessary i know fully your purpose, in order to play my part properly." "we'll leave our horses hobbled, so that we may unfasten them quickly. then, say in two hours, you and i are to creep around to where their animals are tethered. we must procure two, with saddles and bridles, and bring them to where ours are. not till then are we to give the deputies any idea of our having disobeyed orders. we should be able to get them away safely, and a start of five minutes will be enough. the rising of the moon is to be our signal for work." "what about the negro who is on guard?" "unless he is different from every other black i ever saw, he will be asleep. if not, or if one of the white men has taken his place, we must fall upon him in such a way that he can make no noise, after which a gag will do the rest." "where are the others?" "in a lean-to nearer the road, and a good fifty yards from where our friends are lying." the two hours which followed were the longest i have ever known, although since that time i have been engaged in many and more dangerous ventures. each second seemed like a minute, and i began to think that we had been mistaken in the belief that the moon rose at ten minutes past nine o'clock. the soughing of the wind through the trees sounded in my ears like a prophecy of evil, and the cry of a night-bird came to me like the shout of an enemy. had we been forced to remain there inactive an hour longer, i believe of a verity that the courage would have oozed out of my finger-ends entirely; but, fortunately, before i was overcome by timorousness the time for action had arrived. sidney led the way through the underbrush, gliding noiselessly along as if we were stalking a deer, and i copied his every movement. in order to get at the horses we were forced to make a detour through the forest to the rear of the place where the deputies were held prisoners, and this required a good half hour of most laborious work. once we were there, however, it became evident that the royalists counted on beginning a journey very shortly, for the animals were not only saddled, but bridled, and we understood that the remainder of our task must be performed quickly, or it might chance that our enemies took to the road before we could warn masters howell and hunter of the help which was near at hand. now we did not dare carry our plan to the extent of taking the animals over to where our steeds were hobbled; but fastened them by the bridles in the rear of the lean-to, and then crept cautiously forward. it was so dark in this place, owing to the foliage, that although the moon was half an inch high, we could not distinguish objects five paces distant, and sidney let the way by the sense of touch, rather than because of any aid from his eyes. when we were close at the rear of the lean-to i could hear the sound of heavy breathing; but nothing more, and sidney whispered in my ear: "i will make my way through the brush, and you are to wait here. if i should be captured, do your best to carry the information to maddock's mill. don't try to aid me." i made up my mind on the instant that i would do my full share in a fight before leaving the brave lad to his fate, and as the thought formed itself in my mind he disappeared through the branches which went to make up the shelter. i listened with painful intentness; but could hear no more than a faint rustling of the brush, and then a man crept slowly out into my arms. it was master howell, and when i would have conducted him to where the horses were tethered, he motioned for me to remain quiet. another moment of most painful suspense, during which my heart beat so loudly that it seemed certain our enemies would be aroused by the noise, and then master hunter appeared, followed closely by sidney. we four crept softly to where the two horses were standing, and my comrade explained to the deputies that we must keep within the thicket until having come to where our steeds had been left. "we had best turn in the other direction, keeping under cover until you ride by, when we can dash out," master howell said, and i was mystified by his words. "but we shall not ride past here," sidney replied in a cautious tone. "to do so would be going directly away from maddock's mill!" "our destination is brunswick," master howell said, as if that was sufficient explanation. "brunswick!" i repeated in astonishment. "surely you are not counting on trying to continue the journey after all that has happened?" "of a verity we are," master hunter said emphatically. "it is not in our minds to ride back with the story that we allowed ourselves to be frightened by six men after two lads have shown themselves so brave and so quick-witted. go for your horses, and, having mounted them, ride directly out on the main road, moving cautiously until arriving opposite where these scoundrels are encamped. then use your spurs; we will join you some distance on." "but think of the danger which you incur!" i pleaded, although it would have been more seemly for a lad like myself to keep a silent tongue and obey orders. "we count on presenting this petition to the governor if it be possible to arrive at brunswick," master howell said sharply, and then, by way of putting an end to the conversation, the gentlemen began leading the animals back past the lean-to from which we had so lately rescued them. there was nothing left for sidney and i but to perform the parts assigned us, although i am certain there was much the same thought in his mind that filled mine, which was that the latter portion of this venture would be needlessly dangerous and ill-advised. we did not speak one with another, however, until we had found our horses and made them ready for the journey, when sidney said solemnly: "if i had fancied the deputies would have continued on toward brunswick, of a verity we would be well toward maddock's mill by this time. even if we two get past the camp in safety, we're likely to fall into the hands of others who are ready and willing to deprive honest men of their liberty." but for the fact that the deputies awaited our coming as the signal for them to come out of the forest into the road, i would have urged my comrade to leave them then and there that we might save our own skins by joining the members of the regulation, wherever they might be by this time. then, feeling in our hearts that there was no good reason for exposing ourselves to this additional danger, we led the steeds down the road to a point, as nearly as sidney could determine, opposite the encampment of the enemies. we mounted in silence, and loosened our weapons that they might be ready to hand, after which sidney started with a rush. it can well be fancied that i clapped the spurs to my horse, for the hindermost in this race was likely to be the one who would suffer severely, and we clattered past the camp at the best possible speed. when a mile or more had been traversed we heard the hoof-beats of horses both before and behind, telling that the deputies had taken to the road, and also that the royalists were in full pursuit. masters howell and hunter must have checked the speed of their steeds somewhat in order to allow us to come up, after which all four settled down to such a race as i never rode before, for liberty, perhaps like itself, was the stake. not until our horses were so nearly blown that it became absolutely necessary, did we draw rein, and then it was no longer possible to hear the sounds of pursuit. "we have out-ridden them, that is all," master howell said in a quiet tone, as if he was not greatly interested in the final result. "we will give the nags time to breathe, and then push on again. for a time our traveling must be done by night." "if you count so surely that there are others on the road who will try to prevent us from gaining brunswick, why is it not reasonable to suppose governor tryon may play us false?" i asked timidly, for i feared the gentlemen might think me a coward, and yet was i determined they should discuss the possible dangers which awaited us at the journey's end. "i think it very likely he will treat us as rebels rather than deputies," master howell replied quietly. "and yet you make every effort to give him the opportunity?" i cried in dismay. "aye, lad. we accepted the mission, and having done so it became our bounden duty to perform it whatever might be the result. before the people of the carolinas can force the representatives of the king to treat us fairly and honestly, many a good gentleman must come to grief, and it is not for us to hold back." there was no reply to be made to such a remark as this, and i would have held my peace but that the gentlemen insisted on being told why we had worked to rescue them, instead of pushing on toward maddock's mill. "all the credit belongs to sidney," i replied, determined that my comrade should have the praise. he argued that we would be wasting but little time by trying to effect a rescue, and in case of failure we could have carried out your orders within six hours from the moment they were given. sidney claimed that he could not have made the attempt unless i had been willing to remain with him, and regarding this we fell into quite a discussion, which lasted until we heard once more the trampling of horses in the distance. it was high time we continued the race, and, the horses having had quite a breathing spell, we sent them ahead once more at their best pace. after this we stopped twice to give the animals water, and once to breathe them, before the gray light told that a new day was upon us. then it was that master howell proposed we take to the thicket, and after we were screened by the trees we led the horses a mile or more parallel with the road. then we crossed over to the other side, taking good care to cover such hoof-prints as had been left on the highway. after these precautions it seemed as if we might consider ourselves reasonably well hidden from those who came in pursuit, and surely i was not sorry of an opportunity for rest. we had been in the saddle not less than eighteen hours, and during six or seven hours more were so strung up by excitement that it was as if we had been two days without repose. fortunately the deputies had not been despoiled of their haversacks when taken prisoners, therefore we had food sufficient to provide us with one hearty meal, and this we ate immediately after the horses were picketed where was grass in abundance. not until we were eating did sidney ask masters howell and hunter anything concerning their adventure, and soon we were in possession of all the facts. the deputies, finding themselves opposed by six horsemen, surrendered immediately after sidney and i rode away. they were asked no questions, nor was there an attempt to search them. the royalist led the prisoners to the lean-to, tied their hands and feet, and left them in charge of the negro, giving orders for him to shoot with intent to kill if either made any effort to cry out for help in case travelers passed that way. neither master howell nor master hunter had any definite idea as to what the scoundrels intended to do with them; but both believed that but for the rescue they would have been taken to hillsborough and there lodged in jail on a charge of sedition or treason. "yes, i recognized one of them," master howell said in reply to my question. "he who appeared to be the leader i have seen in fanning's office, therefore there was no question in my mind but that the party set out from hillsborough in advance of us. some one at maddock's mill played the traitor." "why did they wish to prevent you from presenting the petition to governor tryon?" i asked in amazement. "i do not believe that was their purpose. it could make but little difference if tryon heard of our wrongs; but it might create a sentiment in our favor among the honest people of brunswick if we told there what has occurred at hillsborough. the scheme unquestionably was to prevent information of the outrages being carried into the lower carolina." "do you think we are in danger from others?" i asked. "probably not, yet we will travel by night from this out in order to guard against a possible attack. if those fellows sent word ahead that we were on the road and must be stopped, then will there be men ready to detain us; but i am disposed to think that they believed it was in their power to bring our journey to a close, and we shall meet with no serious impediment between here and brunswick." "the governor may close our mouths by sending us to prison as traitors to the king," sidney suggested. "we shall take good care, my lad, to talk with many citizens of brunswick before presenting ourselves before him. if it is known generally that we are in town as deputies from the regulation, who have come in consequence of certain promises made by the governor's secretary, i do not believe even william tryon will dare cause our arrest without first showing some proof that we are plotting against the king. he will commit deeds in hillsborough which he would be afraid to commit in brunswick or newbern." "in other words," master hunter added with a laugh, "we are thrusting our heads in the lion's mouth because we believe he dare not make a meal of us until after we have gone back into upper carolina." with this the conversation came to a close. master howell insisted that we must get all the sleep possible before nightfall, and to such end he proposed that we draw lots to decide who should first go on guard, after which the others were to lie down. no one questioned the necessity of standing watch. in the first place the horses were to be prevented from straying, and then again it was of the highest importance we should know if a party of horsemen rode past our camping place toward brunswick, otherwise we might find ourselves following the enemy, instead of being followed. it was decided by lot that i take the first watch, and at the end of two hours master howell was to be aroused. those who had the privilege of sleeping soon stretched themselves out in the most comfortable positions that were possible, and ten minutes later i was the only member of the party awake. chapter v. at brunswick. during my time of standing sentinel i neither saw nor heard anything to cause alarm or suspicion; but i never had a harder task than that of keeping my eyes open while the others were sleeping. it was as if until my companions lost themselves in slumber i had no sense of weariness, and then, suddenly, i was overcome to such an extent that it seemed almost impossible i could perform the duties of sentry. i walked to and fro briskly; repeated to myself this hymn or that verse, and now and then groomed the horses in the hope of arousing myself; but all to no purpose. my eyelids drooped as if weighted with lead, and not until i had switched my face sharply with a bit of brush, striking my bare eyeball inadvertently, was i awakened. then the pain kept me awake until i judged that the time of my vigil had come to an end. master howell arose reluctantly when i shook him vigorously, and asked as he stretched his limbs and yawned prodigiously, whether i had heard anything which might concern us. sixty seconds later i was sleeping soundly, and not until late in the afternoon was i sensible that the life yet remained within my tired body. then i was surprised by seeing meat cooking before a fire; but soon learned that master hunter had been out in search of game, and, fortunately for us, had come across a deer within half a mile of our camping place. after partaking of a hearty meal the difficulties and dangers of our way seemed to have lessened, and i looked forward to the night's work as a task which might have within it somewhat of pleasure. because we had not heard horsemen passing our resting-place, it was believed that our enemies had abandoned the chase, and immediately the late dinner was eaten we set forth, taking less precautions than before, for now it seemed as if we must have outrun danger. in order that i may not make too many words of what is of little consequence, no further record of the journey shall be made, save to say that on a certain day, near about noon, we rode into brunswick despite the efforts of master edwards and attorney fanning to check us. at the inn, the landlord of which was an acquaintance of master howell's, it was given out with considerable emphasis, as if there was something in our official position of which to be proud, that we had come as deputies from the regulation to petition the governor, and i venture to say that before nightfall every citizen of brunswick was well aware of what had been done in upper carolina to preserve the rights of the people. it was only natural the brunswickers should be curious to know all that this association so lately sprung into existence was doing, and even we lads were questioned eagerly by those who, because of press of numbers around the deputies, could not otherwise learn of the organized resistance against unjust taxation. thus it came about as master howell and hunter desired, that the citizens were well informed as to the reason of our coming before we had asked for an audience with the representative of his majesty in the carolinas. not until the following morning did we present ourselves at the governor's residence, and then we were admitted after being allowed to cool our heels in the guard-room for an hour or more. sidney and i had not supposed that we would accompany our companions on this visit of state; but it served the purpose of our gentlemen to introduce us as deputies of equal importance with themselves, with the view, most likely, of giving us lads that fancied protection which would be thrown around the messengers of a reasonably powerful association. there could be no doubt but that the governor knew by this time why we had visited brunswick, and, while not daring, perhaps, to refuse us an audience, satisfied his narrow mind and tyrannical disposition by making us wait in the room occupied by the guard for a certain length of time. when finally we were admitted to his presence we saw a cruel-faced man, clad carelessly in a dressing-gown, seated at a table in that room which served him as a library, and ranged around the apartment were six soldiers fully armed, fitting protectors for such as he. as if with the view of proving that we were of but little consequence in comparison with his greatness, he did not so much as glance at us when we first entered; but remained as if engrossed with certain papers that were spread out on the table, until ten minutes or more had elapsed, when he looked up, surveying us with a scornful expression. certain it is that he did not frighten either of the party by his lordly manner, and such fact must have been apparent on our faces, for he finally asked in a loud voice, perhaps hoping to cause alarm by his roar, why we had presented ourselves. master howell acted as spokesman, and he advanced a pace as he said boldly: "may it please your excellency, we, the deputies of a certain association well known in upper carolina as the regulation, have ventured to present ourselves with a petition from the regulators, on the strength of a recommendation from your excellency's secretary, master david edwards." "your association may be well known in the backwoods; but we have yet to learn of it here," the governor cried angrily. "that you may do by a perusal of this petition, your excellency," master howell said quietly as he laid a folded paper on the table in front of tryon. "two of our people have been imprisoned without due warrant, and when four hundred or more gentlemen of upper carolina presented themselves at hillsborough for the purpose of restoring our friends to liberty, master edwards urged us to the present procedure, promising faithfully in your name that this matter, together with others of an unlawful nature, should receive your prompt attention." at this speech, which savored little of fear, the governor took up the petition, glancing at it carelessly, and then throwing it contemptuously on the table, cried in a voice which quivered with passion: "return to your homes, and smother this rebellion in the bud, else the penalty will be great. there shall be no association banded against the laws of his most gracious majesty! see to it that your fellows disperse at once, and have a care how you meet in opposition to our will!" "i pray your excellency to read that which we have brought at risk of our lives," master howell said firmly. "you will see that we do not rebel against his majesty's laws; but rather against those who exceed them unlawfully." "go home and pay your taxes, or i will sweep the upper carolina with my troops till it is a wilderness!" the governor cried as if beside himself with rage, and it appeared to me that he was about to give yet more rein to his passion when an officer entered hurriedly, whispering a few words in the angry man's ear. "admit him at once," was the command, and then, to my astonishment and fear, in walked one of those two cavaliers who had opposed our passage and afterward made prisoners of the deputies. the newcomer had all the appearance of one who has traveled far and fast, and after looking around hurriedly as if to satisfy himself that we were really there, he laid a paper on the table in front of the governor. then, at a sign from tryon, he backed out of the room as if in the presence of royalty itself, and the governor hastily took up the written message. it must have contained something which did not please him, for his brows wrinkled as he read, and after coming to the end he perused it once more with greatest care. although having had no experience in such matters, i understood full well that this missive had been sent by david edwards, and could reason out all the circumstances readily. most likely a messenger had been sent back to hillsborough within a very short time after the escape of the deputies, and even while a portion of the party were pursuing us. knowing as he did, that the regulation was sufficiently strong to dominate upper carolina if it was forced to extremities, master edwards had unquestionably sent a full account of all that had happened to the governor, in order that the latter might not do anything rashly. that my reasoning was correct i understood when, after some reflection, tryon, turned toward us once more with something like a smile of friendliness on his cruel face. "you will excuse me, gentlemen, for having diverted my attention even momentarily from your affair. in these times, when treason is rearing its head against his most gracious majesty a moment's delay may have fatal results. i will read your petition." then, as if he had but just understood our request, he perused the document we brought, and having done so said condescendingly: "this matter shall receive our immediate attention. return to your homes; explain to your associates that their welfare has my best care, and assure them that within a month i will make a personal visit to hillsborough. then these complaints shall be inquired into by impartial judges, and that which is wrong or unjust will be remedied without loss of time." he bowed, to intimate that the audience was at an end, and we went out of the room, not backward, as had the messenger from edwards; but as gentlemen should, in a manner calculated to show that we stood on terms of equality with all there. but for the manner in which he first received us, i would have said that the troubles of our people were well-nigh at an end; but, believing he had spoken us fairly at the last only because of realizing that the regulation was of great strength, i fancied we had accomplished nothing of good by our coming. when we were at the inn once more, and could hold converse without fear of eavesdroppers, i learned that the deputies were of much my way of thinking, for master howell said with a grim laugh: "at least, we have pinned tryon down to the promise that he will come to hillsborough within a month." "and then i warrant you that those whose names are on the rolls of the associations will find themselves fast beset by fanning's henchmen. our last condition will be worse than the first." "he will need to bring a strong following with him." "not so, my friend," master hunter replied gravely. "the weak-kneed among us will profess to believe in his promises, and the regulation will be reduced to less than an hundred. he may work his will until again are the people so oppressed that alleged rebellion becomes necessary if we would save ourselves from prison." it was not a cheerful ending to our long journey; but there was nothing more that we could do, save make the people of brunswick understand yet more thoroughly the situation of affairs in those countries where fanning and frohock held the courts of law in their hands. during the remainder of this day, in accordance with master howell's suggestion, we talked with such of the citizens as came to question us, and by nightfall the brunswickers must have had a fairly good idea of the situation in upper carolina, where already had four hundred gentlemen declared they would resist the misrule which was crushing them to the earth. one more day we spent in the town, and then it was as if the citizens had learned all they wished concerning our affairs, for our questioners ceased to be curious, and master hunter declared that the time had come when we should return. "we will set out to-morrow morning," he said, and master howell nodded to show that he was of the same mind. "having described to the association our journey, and that which has taken place here, there will be nothing to do until the governor institutes the promised inquiry into the wrongs of the people." "which will result in yet greater oppression," master howell added moodily. "we at least have done our duty, and will again be in the front ranks of the association when the time is ripe for action." well, all was done as master hunter had said. we were on the return journey shortly after sunrise, and allowed the horses to take that pace which best pleased them, for we had no need to make great speed. our haversacks had been well filled at the inn, and we would have no need of searching for game until two days had passed, when it was reasonable to suppose we should be in that section of the country where the planters would provide us with food and shelter. there was no thought in our minds that any effort would be made to stop us, for now were we carrying a message from the governor, and such an one as would go far toward soothing our neighbors who had so lately been in arms against those who represented the government. at noon we halted an hour to rest the animals, who were yet quite fresh for the journey, and to partake of the noonday meal. then we rode leisurely forward again until about five o'clock in the afternoon, when we were arrived at a plantation where was promise of comfortable accommodations for the night. "it is better to halt here, at the expense of two or three hours, rather than push on and sleep in the open air," master howell said as he reined his horse in at the door of the dwelling. a white man and a negro, one an indentured servant and the other a slave as we afterward learned, appeared in response to our summons, and from them we learned that the planter and his family were in newbern on a visit to relatives; but this did not prevent us from receiving such hospitality as is famous in the carolinas. the negro led our horses to a stable of logs which was situated fifty feet or more in the rear of the main buildings, and the white servant ushered us into a sitting-room that gave access to the broad, vine-covered veranda overlooking the main road. in this last place we were served with light refreshments until a hearty meal could be prepared, and my comrade and i congratulated ourselves on having come across such a lodging, when we had expected to sleep in the thicket where flies and mosquitoes would disturb our repose. our weapons, saddle-bags and haversacks had been brought into the sitting-room, and we could come at our belongings, if we so desired, by simply stepping through the open window. the deputies were taking their ease in a couple of hammocks, and we two lads were lounging in huge chairs when the clatter of horses' hoofs aroused us all to curiosity. peering out through the vines which formed a curtain in front of the veranda, i saw five horsemen, the leader that same man who had brought the message to the governor while we were having audience, ride past in hot haste and halt a few yards beyond the path leading to the house as they carefully scanned the road. "yonder men have been following on our trail," i said, giving words to the thought which was caused by their movements. "having over-ridden it, they will turn back." it was as i said. the horsemen rode slowly back to the house-path, gazed toward the building, and continued on at a walk in the direction from which they had come. "can it be that tryon would try to prevent us from reaching hillsborough?" master hunter said half to himself, and master howell replied grimly: "those fellows have followed us by his orders, or those of fanning and edwards, you may be certain, for they have no personal quarrel with us. it is now known where we are, and i'm of the opinion that we had best make preparations for defense." "but it is to the interest of the governor that we report to the association his reply to our petition," master hunter continued with the air of one trying to read a riddle. "so it seems to us who are not in the secret. we need not try to solve the problem until preparations for defense have been made, since it is positive those fellows are on our trail." i failed to understand how we might turn another's house into our castle; but master howell was not troubled by such trifles. entering the sitting-room hurriedly, he summoned the white servant who was supposed to be making ready a meal for us, and hurriedly explained to him the situation, concluding by saying: "it is likely that we shall be attacked before morning. what would your master do if he were at home?" the fellow shook his head in perplexity, and master howell added: "having given us shelter we are his guests, and as such he would be bound to aid us, provided we had proven ourselves honest citizens of carolina. so much, and no more, you shall do. i am of the opinion that they will take away the horses, if possible, and to check such an attempt the animals must be brought nearer the house where we can defend them." "there is no other stable, sir." "is there not a store-room where we can stable them for the night? you can cleanse it to-morrow morning with this to lighten the task," and master howell held out three silver coins. the servant clutched the money eagerly as he said: "peter the negro, and myself, are the only servants on the plantation. the horses might be brought into the room which is used as a kitchen during the winter. there is no floor, and a few armfuls of straw would make them comfortable." "these lads shall assist you in caring for them at once, and look to it that the saddles and bridles are also brought into the house. do all you can to aid us, and double that amount of silver shall be yours when we ride away." it is easier to bribe an indentured servant than a slave, because the former may be able to purchase his freedom, and this fellow showed every desire to aid us. sidney and i followed him to the rear of the building while masters howell and hunter remained on the veranda with their rifles in hand, and in a few seconds the negro was made to understand what we would do. he brought straw while we led the animals into the house, and when so much had been accomplished the servants and us lads brought a supply of water from the well, filling every convenient vessel, for there was in my mind the thought that we might be called upon to stand a siege. when we had done this much, and we spent not less than half an hour in the work, sidney and i went through the house to the veranda where we found the deputies on guard. i reported as to the arrangements we had made, and master howell said approvingly: "it is well. we are now prepared to give those gentleman a warm reception, unless they have some means which we have overlooked of getting into the house. you lads are to stand guard at the rear of the building, and if a stranger appears, call upon him to halt; if he then advances you will be warranted in shooting. in case the governor thinks to make way with us he will find that he has undertaken quite a task." "by calling out the soldiers he could soon put an end to our return," sidney suggested. "that is exactly what he won't do, especially after we have made our story so public in brunswick. it is not in tryon's nature to come out like a gentleman in his usurpation of authority; but he must needs scheme to carry his ends by trickery. if he can dispose of us through the agency of these fellows, well and good, for there is little chance he can be connected with the crime. have no fear that any public movement will be made to deprive us of freedom or life." we lads took our rifles and went to the back porch, where we were screened by the vines, and while the white servant prepared supper and the black acted as assistant, we watched for the enemy, feeling ill at ease, as well we might. after having come to believe that our troubles were at an end with the delivery of the petition, i was particularly cast down at thus learning that our enemies were inclined to pursue us yet further. it had an ugly look, as if fanning and edwards, with the possible consent of the governor, were seeking to take our lives, although, study the matter as i would, it was beyond my poor powers to make out how the rule of the king in the carolinas would be strengthened by our death. it seemed more as if the discontent round about hillsborough would be increased in case we were slain, and that the regulators would make every effort to avenge the murder of their deputies. it was all a riddle to me, and after turning the matter over and over again in my mind, i asked sidney what he made of it. "nothing whatsoever," he replied with a long-drawn breath. "i cannot solve the riddle; but this much is certain, that those fellows who followed our trail to this house are the same who made prisoners of masters howell and hunter, and unless we are willing to go to prison somewhere between here and hillsborough, we stand a good chance of being shot." "why do you say 'somewhere between here and hillsborough'?" i asked in perplexity. "because if we are not murdered outright, it will be to tryon's interest to keep us well hidden from the regulators, who would use every effort to free us, and we could not be imprisoned secretly either at brunswick or hillsborough." chapter vi. besieged. while we lads crouched amid the vines which covered the porch of the dwelling wherein we had entrenched ourselves without due authority from the owner, watching intently for some token that our enemies were creeping up on us, the question came into my mind as to whether a goodly portion of the present trouble did not come from the fact that master james hunter was one of the deputies appointed by the association. then there came back to me all i had heard regarding the arrest of masters husband and william hunter, a cousin of deputy hunter. it was said by some that fanning had particular reasons for desiring the imprisonment of james, while he did not have a speaking acquaintance with william. when the arrest was made, or rather when the two regulators were taken into custody to convenience messrs. fanning and edwards, the wrong hunter was taken, and he against whom the attorney had been working was appointed one of two to represent the regulation at an interview with the governor. it was a vile act, throwing two men into jail on a charge of seditious conduct, simply to pleasure a couple of villains; but even this was not the worst of our treatment at the hands of governor tryon and his minions. i could fill an hundred pages like this with accounts of injustice done us of the carolinas, and yet set nothing down which might not be verified by reliable witnesses, while every item would be the record of an outrage as gross as that committed in the imprisonment of masters husband and hunter. if it could have been known throughout all the colonies what we of the carolinas suffered under the misrule of william tryon, then would that declaration of liberty which was made in , have been brought about five years earlier. however, it is not for me to hark back to the beginning of our troubles; i have set down these thoughts because they came into my mind like a flood while sidney hubbard and i remained on the alert against those who, unquestionably, had been instigated by men whose duty it was to protect the people, instead of riding them down like foxes on the hunting field. i had been disheartened by the sudden turn in affairs, and the predictions made by sidney, until it was to me as if the efforts to assert our rights as honest men would result in the death or imprisonment of all concerned in the undertaking. meanwhile, as i thus agitated myself about affairs which would be regulated by providence, we two lads kept close watch but without seeing or hearing anything of those horsemen, who, as we knew full well, were lurking near at hand to work us some mischief. when the white servant had prepared our supper, masters howell and sidney went inside the dwelling to partake of the meal, leaving master hunter and me on guard, and, later, we two were relieved by the others to take our places at the table. while master james hunter and i were eating, i ventured to ask him what he thought of the situation, and received as reply: "we are better off here than on the road, although it seems likely our return will be greatly delayed." "meaning that you believe those men whom we saw will spend much time trying to capture us?" "we shall not be able to continue our journey save at the expense of an encounter with those villains, and whether we ever see home again depends, as i believe, upon our being the best marksmen." such a prediction did not tend to raise my spirits, as can well be imagined, and straightway all desire for food fled from me. i left the table without ceremony, and rejoined sidney, full of determination to shoot with true aim if one of our enemies would present himself as a target. until the sun had gone down we watched in vain, and while the twilight was gathering master howell announced his intention of venturing out to reconnoiter, for it seemed necessary we should know what disposition had been made of their forces. sidney insisted that he or i should be allowed to perform such task, arguing with great force, so i thought, that it would be of but little consequence if one of us lads was captured, while it could not be reckoned anything short of a disaster if harm befell either of the deputies. master howell turned a deaf ear to his arguments and entreaties, replying again and again that he would not put a dangerous duty upon a boy when he was able to perform the task himself. even while we strove to restrain him, he went out into the night, as if bent on visiting the stable, and when he had arrived at that building it was no longer possible for us to distinguish his form. master hunter kept watch alone at the front of the house, and in the rear sidney and i strained our ears for some token of disaster or success. the deputy had been absent a full half hour, during which time we heard nothing save the movements of the servants, or the stamping of the horses in the winter kitchen, and then suddenly, as if he had risen from the ground, appeared master howell. we lads raised our rifles, not knowing for the instant whether it was friend or foe who had come upon us so silently, and then we heard his voice: "i have returned; do not fire." he stood on the porch an instant to tell us in whispers the result of his investigations. "they have surrounded the buildings in such manner that we cannot leave secretly, and appear to be content with that. as i look at the matter, they, having trapped us, are waiting for reinforcements, or, possibly, officers of the law." "but you have said that governor tryon does not dare to cause our arrest now that the people of brunswick have heard all the story," i suggested, not a little alarmed by the information that the enemy appeared well content to wait until we might be captured with greater ease. "it was my proposition that tryon would not dare arrest us in brunswick; but now we have left that place, he might work his will without the people being any the wiser." there was in master howell's tone that which convinced me he was seriously disturbed by the condition of affairs, and i understood such was really the case when he added: "i think it is high time we held a conference of war, and one of you lads had best come with me to the front veranda, while the other remains here on guard." i motioned sidney to accompany master howell, and he, eager to hear all which might be said, readily acceded to the mute suggestion. in another moment i was alone, peering out into the darkness with every faculty on the alert, and thus i remained until half an hour or more had passed, when my comrade returned. "well?" i asked impatiently, burning to learn the result of the conference, for i had worked myself into a fever, trying to imagine what else we might do save await the preparations of our enemies. "it is decided that we leave this place about midnight," he said in a cautious whisper; "that is, if you agree to the proposition." "if i agree!" i repeated in nervous petulance. "what can i have to do with any plan which may be proposed?" "if we set out it will be at risk of our lives, and the deputies have decided that no move shall be made unless all four of us are fully agreed that nothing different can be done." "but how may we go or come at our pleasure if the house is surrounded?" "we can saddle the horses, and mount while yet in the building. then it is a case of starting with a rush, hoping that in the darkness those fellows will not be able to shoot us down." "we are to run away, then?" i asked in surprise, for it had been in my mind that both master howell and master hunter would insist on fighting, however great the odds. "it seems necessary to do so if we would see our friends again, and the deputies believe it is of the utmost importance the regulation be acquainted with the fact that all manner of treachery will be brought to bear, rather than do us justice. therefore we will run instead of fight. our horses are as fresh as theirs, and we may be able to give them the slip. in case we are brought to bay, it is better, so the gentlemen have decided, that we stand opposed to five or six men, rather than a large body. are you agreed?" "it is useless to ask such a question. i shall do whatsoever the deputies think best." "then, if that be your mind, the time may come when you will be called upon to act what appears to me like a cowardly part." i was amazed by this remark, and it can be readily supposed that i insisted upon an immediate explanation. "the deputies are agreed that in case we are brought to a standstill, you and i are to make our way to maddock's mill without regard to them. they will fight, whatsoever the odds, for the sole purpose of allowing us to escape." "why have they grown so careful of us?" i cried, never dreaming of that which would have come instantly into the mind of a quicker-witted lad. "it is that we may carry the news to our friends. masters howell and hunter will sacrifice their lives in order that the members of the association may be informed of the exact situation of affairs." i made no promises; timorous though i was, there could be, so i said to myself, no time when i would feel warranted in leaving comrades or companions struggling against a superior force. the regulation might forever remain in ignorance of what had been said at brunswick, before i would write myself down such a coward as to seek safety while others of my party were in peril. luckily sidney did not exact a promise from me on this score, and when master howell came to where we stood, he believed i had fully agreed to all the propositions. "sidney and i will saddle the horses when the time comes, and you and hunter will only leave your posts in order to mount and make the rush. there is opportunity for us to gain a couple of hours' sleep. i will stand guard in front, sidney is to remain here, and in due time you and hunter shall act as sentinels." i was not disposed for slumber; but this was virtually a command, and without hesitation i went into the sitting-room. here i soon fell asleep, despite the fear in my heart, and when master howell aroused me, at the expiration of two hours, it was as if i had but just closed my eyes. then i performed the part of sentinel, when the hours seemed as long as the time of repose had been short, and it was as if the night had passed before master hunter came to announce that the moment for action had arrived. then he went back, leaving me with the blood bounding through my veins, and my heart throbbing violently, for i believed that one or more of us would soon be in another world. as had been agreed upon, master howell and sidney made ready the horses, and the words were passed to the front veranda that that post be vacated. now we moved swiftly, mounting the horses while they were within the makeshift of a stable, and when all were in the saddle master howell paused to say: "i will lead the way, then comes clare, sidney, and lastly hunter. ride in close order, and at full speed." the indentured servant stood near the door, yet holding the money which had been paid him according to promise, and our leader rode out into the darkness. at a foot pace we went around the building, until coming to the path leading into the road, when master howell struck the spurs deep, his horse darting off like an arrow sent from a bow. at that same instant came the crack of a rifle; i heard the ball whistling a few inches above my head, and said to myself that if the enemy shot as well as that in the beginning, they must succeed in winging all of us before we were well under way. the fever of excitement was so great upon me that i cannot well say exactly what happened during five minutes after we emerged from the stable. i only know that a volley of musketry rang out; that i fired point-blank at a man who suddenly appeared from out a clump of bushes, and cheered when he fell. then it was as if a fierce conflict was being waged all around us, and that we rode through the showers of bullets until gaining the main road, when our animals stretched themselves to the race. i came out from the dream into which i had been plunged, when master howell shouted to know who had been hurt, and each in turn declared that he was not even scratched. it seemed almost impossible we could have come through that shower of bullets without being riddled, yet such was the case, and then i wondered whether the horses had fared as well. my steed was going true; i could feel the play of his muscles beneath me, and knew beyond a peradventure that he like myself was yet sound in wind and limb. "they aimed too high!" master howell cried exultantly. "if the scoundrels had turned their attention to crippling the animals, our chances would have been slim. huzza for the regulation!" then we four who had ridden out from the shadow of death gave voice to our triumph, and from the rear came a yell of rage, telling us that it yet remained to shake off the pursuers who were bent on taking us, dead or alive. "keep your horses well in hand," master hunter cried. "there's a long race ahead of us, and we must not wind the beasts." our leader set the pace, riding only to keep beyond rifle range, and we four came alongside each other until we filled the road so completely that had any unfortunate been ahead on foot we must have trampled him down. it was possible now to converse, and i fancied also that the animals traveled more easily by thus being in company. when an hour had passed and we were come to a stream, the deputies and i dismounted, standing side by side in the road, while sidney gave the horses water enough to wet their throats, and loosened the girths that they might regain their wind, for all four were well nigh blown. we there stood ready to fire in case the pursuers came up before the steeds were ready for the road again, and word had been passed that we should give our attention to crippling the enemy's horses rather than the men. during fifteen minutes did we remain with rifles in hand ready to be drawn to the shoulder at the first show of a pursuer, and then the chase was resumed. we had gained a long start of governor tryon's minions; but the halt would enable him to cut down the advantage, and again we rode at racing speed until once more it became necessary to halt. in this manner was the night spent; we favoring the faithful animals as much as possible, and while they rested, standing shoulder to shoulder ready for a battle. when morning dawned we could see no signs of the enemy in the road, and this fact troubled me not a little, because i feared that they had taken a short cut unknown to us, and we would soon find them in advance to check our flight. by riding until nearly noon we arrived at the plantation of william payne, on whom master howell could rely fully, and here we came to a halt, counting to give the horses a long rest. our host had two sons, and with such an accession to our numbers we were not greatly dismayed by the prospect of another siege, therefore we dismounted, and my timorousness vanished as i realized that we were now so far from brunswick there was little fear but that word could be sent to the members of the association even though we should be disabled. while we ate dinner, which had been hurriedly prepared, and the sons of our host cared for our leg-weary steeds, master howell told all the story of our adventures, and the owner of the plantation proposed that one of his boys take a fresh horse for the purpose of making his way to maddock's mill with the tidings. after some little discussion our deputies agreed to this proposition, and before we stretched ourselves out to sleep the lad rode away, counting to change horses at the house of a friend, forty miles distant. our mission was thus virtually accomplished, and we composed ourselves for slumber with the satisfaction of knowing that the duty due the association was the same as performed. our host and his son agreed to stand watch while we slept, and nothing disturbed us until well into the night, when i was aroused by hearing the owner of the plantation as he entered the room to awaken the deputies. then i overheard the following conversation: "your pursuers are here. the hoof-prints of your horses could be plainly seen on the lane, and all hands were in front of the house before seeming to realize the situation." "where are they now?" master howell asked quietly as he arose with difficulty from the bed, for his joints were stiff and lame after the hard race. "i forbade their coming nearer, and warned the party to leave my premises. they asked if two men and two lads were here, and i, fearing lest they might pursue my son, told them the truth." "that was well done," master howell replied approvingly. "now they may besiege us once more, and we will make no effort to get away unless, perchance, you object to our resisting the governor's servants from your house." "do as you will with me and mine. my wrongs are not less than yours, and now is the time when we of the carolinas must prove ourselves men, or expect to remain under the yoke forever." "you may be set down as a traitor to the king if we make this house our castle," master hunter suggested; but stout master william payne was not to be frightened. "i can't say that i have any quarrel with the king himself; but against his representatives in the carolinas my hand shall never be lowered. i aroused you only that you may be prepared in case an attack is made." "we will let the boys sleep, while hunter and i have a look around," our deputy said in a low voice, and the three men left the room softly, believing we lads were yet asleep. when they were gone sidney said as he turned to face me, for we had been sleeping in the same bed: "so it seems that we are besieged again." "did you hear all master payne said?" "every word." "we are like to make quite a halt here." "and can well afford to do so, now that word has been sent on ahead. young payne will readily arrive at maddock's mill by to-morrow afternoon, if he gets a fresh horse during the night, and we shall soon have reinforcements enough to settle as many as have come." "if we must fight to get back home, what will be the result once we arrive there?" i asked, a new fear coming over me. "that is something concerning which we need not trouble ourselves for the present," sidney replied carelessly. "then i'm of the mind that fanning will speedily find a chance to clap us into jail on a charge of treason, unless the association holds together to the bitter end." such mournful conversation might have been continued a long while but for the fact that it was interrupted by a volley of musketry, succeeded by straggling shots which told that our people were replying only when they saw a target. "it's to be a battle instead of a siege!" sidney cried as he hurriedly dressed himself, i following his example; but the firing had ceased by the time we gained the kitchen, which apartment was directly below our chamber. here we found master howell and our host, one at the door and another peering out of a loophole cut in the shutters of a window, and i knew full well that master hunter and young payne were on guard at the front of the building. "where can we be of service, sir?" i asked, and master payne replied with a grim laugh: "i reckon you lads will not be needed, save, perhaps, to stand guard later. the gentlemen from brunswick fired in order to learn if we were prepared to receive them, and i'll answer for it that at least one knows to his cost that we're not to be caught napping." "how many do they number?" sidney asked, and master howell said gravely: "not less than a dozen. the reinforcements have evidently responded to the summons sent from our last halting place." "we should be able to hold our own until some of the regulators arrive?" "aye, lad, and that is causing me no little uneasiness. by protecting ourselves we shall be giving tryon an excuse for breaking his word, and before this business comes to an end the upper carolina will be overrun by the king's soldiers. it is beginning to be rebellion in good earnest!" chapter vii. timely aid. it appeared to me that master howell was trying to "lock his stable door after the horse had been stolen," when he mourned the fact that what we were doing in our own defense might be taken as open rebellion. to my mind the people had rebelled openly and with emphasis when the regulators rode, four hundred strong, to release masters husband and hunter. we four who had visited brunswick to lay before the governor a petition couched in most respectful language, could not be accused of aiding and abetting rebellion when we objected to being shot down or taken prisoners by strangers who had no lawful warrant to deprive honest citizens of their lives or liberty. as the matter presented itself to my view, those on the outside were the ones who acted in a rebellious manner, and there was no honest judge in the country who would not rule that we had every right to protect ourselves. something of this kind i said to master howell when he appeared to be bowed down with grief because, as he declared, our people were making a show of what might be called treason, and to my great surprise i found that we who were fighting our way from brunswick to hillsborough did not have any place in what it might please the governor to term "open rebellion." "we four are of no consequence in the outcome of this matter," master howell said, condescending to explain to me the situation as it appeared to him, "and yet through us, or, rather, through our distress, will the king's officers most likely declare the upper carolina under military rule. if we could continue our journey to maddock's mill without interruption, all would be well. or, if we fought for our lives from this moment until we were killed or come to our journey's end, it would also be of no moment. that which distresses me is, that young payne will give the regulators an account of our troubles, and those gentlemen will ride in full force to aid us. then has come the time for governor tryon's minions to declare that the colony is in revolt, and the fact that four hundred armed men have banded together to regulate affairs outside their own country is fair proof that the cry of treason has good foundation." "well, and what then?" i made bold to say. "then will the king's troops be sent to hillsborough and the surrounding towns. fanning and edwards can work their will on the people, with an armed force at their backs, and when the regulators oppose the military it will be represented that the whole colony is in revolt." "that was much the condition of affairs when we left maddock's mill," i ventured to suggest. "aye, lad; but then we had not opposed ourselves to the king's forces. now it will be necessary to begin what can be called by no other name than that of treason." "it alarms you that such should be the case, master howell?" i said in a questioning tone. "not for myself, lad, not for myself, nor for any of us who are brought to a stand in this house. it is the women and small children of whom i am thinking. we can fight to the bitter end; but they will suffer an hundred deaths while the english soldiers overrun the colony." "then would it have been better had we surrendered when we were first besieged." it was as if this remark stimulated the deputy. his eyes brightened, he straightened himself suddenly, and said as if speaking to a vast assembly, instead of one timorous lad: "not so, clare. i was but considering the sufferings of our own people, and that should not be reckoned as against the grand result. this is indeed open rebellion, and the news of our oppression will flash from province to province until the entire country is aroused. then, perhaps not until after we are dead, but at some time in the near future, will the rule of the king come to an end in america. we are the instruments selected to begin the way for freedom, and in future ages we will be spoken of as those who brought into existence a free country which shall be as a beacon light to those who are ground beneath the heel of selfish kings!" from, that instant it was as if master howell's entire nature had changed. he appeared to be exulting in the danger which surrounded us, and was eager for the fray. we stood watch until daylight, and then it was possible to see that master payne's dwelling was surrounded by fifteen or twenty men, some wearing uniforms, and others clad only in the garb of planters. the fact of there being soldiers among our besiegers told plainly that tryon himself planned the outrage, and when such was apparent i heard master hunter say in a low tone to master howell: "from this day the regulation will remain under arms until all the colonies are prepared to take up the struggle against the king's minions! instead of 'regulators' we should call ourselves 'sons of liberty.'" and thus it was that the association known as sons of liberty sprang into existence at the home of a planter in the carolinas--that association which was speedily to extend throughout all the colonies as far east as massachusetts, and south to the limits of the country. as when we made the last stand, there was no disposition on the part of the enemy to make an attack. we had bettered our situation, and increased the number of rebels, therefore tryon's minions probably believed it necessary to strengthen their ranks. during this day we remained on guard and alert, while our enemies were posted just beyond rifle range in such manner as to encircle us completely. by making a rush after dark, as had been done before, we might readily have broken through the thin line; in fact such a move was suggested by sidney, but master howell said firmly as if he had finally committed his life and fortune to that final result he foresaw: "we will wait for the regulators. since tryon wishes to force us into open rebellion, he shall be gratified. shoot down yonder villains if it so be you can; but here we remain until overpowered, or rescued by those who will speedily come to avenge the wrongs which are perpetrated upon all the colony." we had no opportunity to open fire on the enemy during the day; but when night came, and they drew more closely the circle of guards, we found a target now and then, thus reducing the number until i believe of a verity we might have ventured out and beat them off in a hand-to-hand fight. it is not well that i spend too many words on the situation at the payne plantation, for the story is one of careful watch only, with now and then the report of a rifle to tell that we were on the alert. the enemy took turns at using us for targets; but, sheltered as we were behind the walls, they did no injury, while i am confident we disabled not less than four during the time of our arrival and noon of the third day. then we saw a cloud of dust in the distance, heard the shouts of horsemen, and soon saw a body of gentlemen full four hundred strong ride down like a whirlwind upon fugitives who had lately been our besiegers. we sallied forth, and before the fray was come to an end our friends had seven prisoners. none were killed outright so far as i could learn; the remainder had taken the alarm in time to seek safety by flight, and our road to maddock's mill lay open before us. young payne had discharged his mission well; the regulation was in session considering an arrest which had been made for non-payment of taxes, and, waiting only long enough to secure a supply of provisions, had set off for our relief. the entire party camped on the plantation that night, and before morning came, their plans for the future were fully formed. it was decided that the gentlemen composing the regulation should remain under arms until governor tryon fulfilled his promise, or ignored it altogether, and during this time of waiting all efforts should be directed toward protecting those who refused to pay the unjust tax. on this evening sidney and i were regularly admitted to the ranks of the sons of liberty, as if we were indeed men in age, and so wrought up was i by master howell's words, that i persuaded myself the colonies would speedily be freed from the rule of a master who had set over us such men as tryon, edwards and fanning. we left master payne's plantation next morning at sunrise, and in due time arrived at maddock's mill, where it had been decided the regulation would have its headquarters. it was no slight task to provide food and shelter for such a number; but once it was known that the governor evidently intended to play fast and loose with the people of our section, every one, including those who had not deemed it right to join the regulation, set about bringing in stores of food for both men and horses. then the men began building shelters, working in squads of five, three, or two, as was mutually agreed upon, and soon the neighborhood of maddock's mill resembled a military encampment. the rebellion began to assume decided form. as may be fancied, sidney and i were camp-mates. we built for ourselves a lean-to which would shelter us from the rain at least, and in the rear of it made an enclosure into which the horses could be brought at night. it was not believed safe for us to go home, even for a few hours, because edwards and fanning had men out in every direction picking up a victim here and there, and we lads knew full well that sandy wells would take full advantage of the opportunity in case he came upon us where we could not defend ourselves. the regulators were waiting to learn whether tryon would keep the word given to the deputies, and a dull time of it we lads had meanwhile. since one day was passed much as another, with nothing by way of excitement save when news came of this or that high-handed proceeding on the part of the secretary and the attorney, i propose to set down here simply an account of the general happenings in the neighborhood. the regulators had scouts out in every direction, and therefore it was we learned, early in july, when we were heartily tired with lounging around camp while it seemed necessary the most active measures should be taken, that governor tryon, with an escort of an hundred and sixty soldiers, had arrived in hillsborough. this was in accordance with his promise, and those who hoped the colony would not be forced to resist the king's laws were filled with joy, particularly when the governor issued a proclamation declaring that he had come to right the wrongs complained of in the petition delivered to him at brunswick. not a word in his official note to the people was said regarding the regulators; but the citizens were requested to keep the peace until such time as the several complaints could be acted upon by the courts of law, and it was promised that if they remained quiet all should be done in accordance with the wishes of the majority. when this proclamation was sent out over the colony there were many who urged that the regulation be dissolved, lest the fact of so many armed men remaining together might be construed by the governor as outright treason. as a matter of fact an hundred or more did leave the encampment, returning to their homes, and but for the earnest entreaties of general hamilton, the deputies, my father, and several others, the sons of liberty would have dispersed simply because tryon and his crew wished it so. before one week had passed after the issuance of the proclamation, it could readily be seen that our burdens were to be increased instead of lightened. twenty or more of those who had left the regulation and returned home were arrested for non-payment of the poll tax levied to build tryon's palace. edwards and fanning no longer spoke of pacifying, but of subduing, the people, and warrants were sworn out daily for the purpose of putting into prison those who were absolutely unable to pay the amount demanded. fanning's fees were increased until they amounted to ten times as much as the law allowed for court services, and the poor wretch with money or lands who fell into his hands was unmercifully shorn of all his possessions before being set free. the wickedness was increased twenty-fold, and no man could say at what moment the prison-doors might open to receive him, save we who remained banded together in the encampment at maddock's mill. then governor tryon proceeded to frighten the wretched people by marching with his soldiers from hillsborough to mecklenburg, and there coaxing or scaring twenty or more timorous souls to enlist in the army he said should be raised to subdue "the rebellion in upper carolina." then he marched to salisbury and back to hillsborough, enlisting recruits wherever men or lads could be cajoled or frightened, and, with an army of an hundred and sixty trained soldiers and about fifty feeble-minded colonists, he proceeded to play the part of king; but with rather poor success. by this time such of the sons of liberty as had returned to their homes and were yet at liberty came back to maddock's mill prepared to remain until matters were of a different complexion, and once more the defenders of the colony presented a formidable front to the tyrant. we numbered upwards of three hundred and eighty, and by advice of general hamilton our camp was moved nearer hillsborough in order that we might protect the country roundabout. in answer to what he was pleased to term a "threat," on our part, tryon called out the militia of the colony, threatening direst vengeance upon those who dare disregard the call. by such means he added twenty or more to his army, and once again were the sheriffs sent to collect taxes, each officer guarded by a squad of ten soldiers. now was come the time when the regulation believed something more should be done than remaining idly in camp. we were told off into squads of twenty-five, and day after day we rode here or there as our scouts reported the movements of the sheriff, driving back the officials and their guards as if they had been so many sheep. when the guard of the tax-collectors were increased in numbers, our detachments were added to, and in every case we sent back the scurvy rascals. sometimes they plucked up courage to exchange shots with us, when we always managed to disable one or more; but as a rule they beat a hasty retreat whenever we came in sight. we had orders not to shoot unless we were attacked, and it was hard at times to obey, particularly when, in the course of our forays, sidney and i saw sandy wells at the head of a dozen soldiers destroying the household goods of a widow with one son of seventeen, who could not pay the money demanded. before the middle of august, however, we made the governor and his crew understand that we were masters of that section of country, and instead of sending out sheriffs on fruitless errands, tryon set about strengthening his position as if fearing we might attempt to capture hillsborough. that town was a fortified camp, and none of the royalists dared ride three miles in either direction. it goes without saying that neither edwards, fanning, nor any member of the sheriff's posse trusted himself outside the town. general hamilton had given orders that we were to capture any of tryon's officers which we might come across, and keen were all for such game. i would willingly have given my horse and rifle, all the property i owned, for the privilege of bringing into camp as my prisoner the attorney fanning. although we were under strict orders not to shed blood, save in defense of our own, i question if that black-hearted lawyer's life would have been worth a moment's purchase once he was in our power. among tryon's many proclamations at this time was one which stated that on the twenty-second of september would be begun the trials of those who were confined in jail for any offense, and without question the case of masters husband and william hunter would then be called. it also pleased the representative of the king to declare that "since charges had been preferred against edmund fanning, attorney, he would be called upon to render an account of his doings." no one among the sons of liberty believed the wretch who had caused so much misery would be regularly tried; but all were curious to see how tryon might save his minion when so many and such serious charges could, and would, be made against him. i have tried to set down here an outline of what sidney and i did during all that long summer while we waited for the royal governor to do us justice, which had been so long withheld. and by telling it in the fewest possible words, we are now come to three days before the time set for the trials, or, in other words, to the nineteenth of september, in the year of grace . the sons of liberty were resolved that there should be ample evidence against fanning, whatever the cost, therefore from among the members of the association eight were selected who could swear truthfully that the attorney had defrauded them of several considerable sums of money. it was believed that, unless protected in some manner, these witnesses would be arrested immediately they showed themselves in hillsborough, therefore the officers of the regulation prepared a paper stating that in case these men, whose names were set down therein, should be interfered with in any manner while they were in town to serve as witnesses, the regulators would immediately make an assault. it was further stated that the lives of the governor and his associates depended entirely upon the manner in which our people were treated, for it would be the duty of every son of liberty to seek out the principal officials during the assault, for the purpose of shooting them down. this was open rebellion, and no mistake; but in order to prevent tryon from declaring that we had intimidated the courts of justice, there was added to the document the agreement that no member of the association would interfere in any manner whatsoever with the judges or the officials of the court, while the cases were being conducted in a way agreeably with the laws of the king. this document was sent to the governor by one of our scouts who, going into town, secretly gave it to a royalist for transmission, and, before it could be delivered the venturesome man had rejoined us. nor was this all the association did in order to secure fair and impartial trials for fanning as well our friends. it was decided by the association in council, that while we remained at such a distance from hillsborough tryon might take upon himself the risk of conducting matters without regard to our just demands; therefore the camp was moved once more, and this time to a small hill overlooking the town, and hardly more than half a mile from the court-house. here we felled trees to serve as breastworks, and otherwise guarded against an attack, for many of us believed that as soon as the sons of liberty showed themselves, the so-called king's forces would make a desperate attack, alleging as the reason therefor that they were in fear we might attempt to take possession of the town. it was on the morning of the twentieth of september when we rode up the hill in full view of governor tryon's forces; but no demonstration was made against us. the people could see that we were preparing to resist an attack; but they remained as if paralyzed with astonishment. near nightfall came a mounted soldier bearing a white flag, who demanded in the governor's name the reason for our display of force, and general hamilton replied to the question. "this is no display of force," he said. "we have come as citizens of upper carolina to safeguard several witnesses, and have no mind to interfere in any way with the proceedings. say to governor tryon that we shall remain until the close of the session, and that never a man of us will ride into town while the people are given the rights accorded to them by the king and parliament. if, however, there should be an attempt to deprive a witness of his liberty, we shall ride down like a whirlwind, carrying out to the utmost the plan which we have already had the honor to submit to the governor." the man rode back, and before night came we could see that tryon's residence was guarded by three-score men, a fact which caused master howell to say scornfully: "i wonder if the coward thinks to save himself from our vengeance, with sixty recruits? we will overturn them, if there be any act of treachery, before william tryon can sign his name!" after that we waited in anxious suspense, but constantly on the alert, for the day when law and order would be established in upper carolina, or it might be known beyond a peradventure that we must depend upon ourselves entirely for liberty and the opportunity to live upon our own lands. chapter viii. sandy wells. as early as sunrise on the morning of september twenty-first, twenty-eight hours or more before the time set for the trial of our friends, the people from the country roundabout began to gather, every man, woman and child eager to learn at the earliest possible moment what might be the outcome of this first attempt to check the course of the king's minions. before nightfall it was said that there were not less than three thousand people in and around hillsborough. on every hand as far as the eye could reach, the visitors were camped; some brought two or three bed-quilts, which they put up on crotched sticks and a long sapling as a ridge-pole, a tent that was made to accommodate as many as could crawl beneath it. others utilized their carts as sleeping quarters, the body of the vehicle serving as the upper story of the dwelling, and the ground immediately beneath it as the ground floor; to the wheels were tethered the horses or oxen, and he who slept in the "chamber" of such a lodging was in danger of being awakened many times while the cattle munched at the hay which served as a bed. now a few of the visitors reckoned on sleeping upon the ground wherever darkness overtook them, and many there were who had believed it would be possible to get a shelter in the town, never dreaming that nearly every man, woman and child in upper carolina would come to the trial, during which was to be settled the question of their individual rights. some of the visitors had brought with them a goodly supply of provisions, while others, more improvident, came with nothing save a hearty appetite, and these last went from party to party asking food as of right, until all appeared to be supplied. every house in the town was filled to overflowing, so i was told, at nine o'clock on the morning of the day before the trial was to take place. every tree which could be seen from our camp had one or more beneath the shelter of its branches, and in order to prevent our encampment from being literally over-run, it was necessary to station fifty men as guards to keep back our friends. take it all in all it was such a sight as i had never seen before, and do not expect to witness again. i had not believed there were so many people in the upper carolina as were now gathered here, and every one appeared to be feverishly eager to make certain masters husband and hunter would receive a fair trial. sidney and i had come off from sentinel duty at sunrise, when the crowd began to pour in, and we stood literally fascinated by the scene, never so much as thinking of breakfast, until the forenoon was nearly half spent, by which time the valley between us and the town was densely packed with human beings. "i wonder what tryon thinks of this scene?" my comrade said musingly as he looked across the sea of heads from which came a perfect babel of noise. "he must realize by this time that his imitation army could not make much progress against such a gathering." "aye, and yet it is to his advantage, if he counts on playing us false," i replied, seized by a sudden thought. "the regulators could not enter the town whatever might be the necessity for their so doing, save at the expense of trampling hundreds beneath the feet of their horses." "that is a danger which i had not considered," my comrade said with a long indrawing of the breath as when one brings himself to face a sudden and immediate danger. "governor tryon is guarded by his enemies, and yet if they turned upon him he would be swept from off the face of the earth like so much chaff before the wind." "the disaster would be appalling if these people should take it into their heads to rise against him!" i cried, shuddering as if the work of slaughter was about to begin. "the soldiers could mow great swaths through the crowd at every discharge of their muskets, and hundreds would be killed before the remainder found space in which to move." "he will not dare work an injustice upon the prisoners!" sidney cried after a long pause, and i, sickening as i realized what might happen if a sudden panic arose, or in case an act of violence was committed, drew my comrade away from contemplation of the scene, as i said: "why speculate as to possibilities? no disaster can come upon them during this day at least, and there is time enough in which to cross a bridge when we have arrived at it. let us go in search of something to eat." it was not necessary to spend very much time in this last quest; each visitor who had relatives among the regulators brought something in the way of provisions as a treat, with the result that our larder was filled to running over, and it was almost impossible to take a dozen steps in either direction without receiving a hearty invitation "to have something from home." up to this time none of sidney's relatives or mine had put in an appearance, and i was feeling decidedly disappointed, although i had no good reason for believing that my mother would come all the way from alamance simply to learn what might be the result of governor tryon's investigations. when we had satisfied our hunger, however, and were about to visit general hamilton's headquarters in order to learn whether we would be called upon for further guard duty that day, i was rejoiced beyond words to see my mother, in company with sidney's parents, looking here and there anxiously, disappointed at not readily finding father or myself. it is not necessary to say that within a very few seconds i was clasped in her dear arms, and for the time being i almost forgot that such a tyrant as tryon ever had an existence. when i had spent an hour in her company, my father joined us, and at the same moment sidney shouted for me to come with him--where, i did not at the instant understand. "it is my intention to stay very near my mother this day," i said petulantly, as he went toward the river even while i was advancing. "she will be setting out for home immediately after the trials have been brought to a close, and i have no idea of wasting even a moment which might be spent in her company." "give her a chance to talk with your father," sidney said laughingly. "it appears to me as if the visitors were in some mischief down this way, and i cannot find any of the regulators who are willing to look into the matter." "if it was of consequence there would be no lack of men to attend to it," i said petulantly, and then i became interested immediately as i saw a throng of an hundred or more, who appeared to be deeply intent upon something in their midst. "most likely they are having some kind of a game," sidney said when i came alongside; "but just before you showed yourself i fancied i heard cries for help, and it seems as if we should know the reason for the gathering. unless we of the association have our eyes about us this day there will be rough play which may develop into a fight, as i heard general hamilton say." by this time we were among those of the throng who were in the outer ring, and i heard such cries as: "drown the scoundrel!" "be sure he don't get away till we from chatham have put our mark on him!" "he's needed a lesson this many a day, and now is the time to give it to him!" the crowd was so dense as each member of it pressed toward the center, that sidney and i were forced to literally fight our way forward, and no less than ten minutes were spent in such task, during which time we plainly heard cries for help in a voice which sounded strangely familiar to me. then, finally, we were in the very midst of the gathering, and had before us what promised to be a tragedy which might bring shame and reproach upon us all, unless it was speedily checked. as many men as could seize upon him, held in their grasp sandy wells, whose legs and arms were tied securely, and whose clothing had been torn to tatters by the rough usage he had received. his captors were industriously engaged in kicking him when we gained a place by his side, and at every blow they called aloud the name of some citizen of the carolinas who had been ill-treated at his hands. "we're going to square accounts for all our neighbors, and then dump you in the river," one of the men cried vindictively, and i could see a huge rock, around which was a rope, lying near at hand to fasten on his body when the tormentors were ready to put an end to their victim. now it cannot be supposed that either sidney or i had any affection for the sheriff's officer; but yet we could not stand idly by while he was being murdered. in addition to such pity as common humanity dictated, it suddenly occurred to me that if the mob killed an officer of the law the regulation would be accused by governor tryon of having committed the deed, and then would be good reason why the entire upper portion of the colony should be put under strict martial rule. if this murder was done the sons of liberty would be branded as assassins, and with some reason, therefore i whispered to sidney, although without the slightest idea as to how we two might prevent the enraged men from working their will: "we must put an end to this, and that right quickly, else will the man be killed before our eyes." there was in his mind the same thought as had come into mine, and he turned to look me full in the face as he said, almost shouting in order that i might hear the words above the uproar: "it may cost us our lives to interfere! i do not recognize any of these men, and they will refuse to listen." at this moment sandy wells caught sight of us, and, stretching out his bound hands, cried imploringly: "save me, lads! for god's sake don't allow me to be murdered!" "that we won't!" i cried, suddenly forgetting that i was running my nose into very serious danger until we could make that maddened desperate mob understand who we were, which last would require some time while the tumult was so great. forcing myself with a rush between two of those who had a hold upon sandy, i seized the prisoner by the arm as i cried with the full force of my lungs: "you are ruining the cause of freedom when you lay violent hands upon this man! have a care, or there'll be mischief done to more than him!" i had hardly finished speaking before half a dozen rushed forward, one seizing me by the throat, despite all sidney's efforts to hold him back, and crying: "here's another of tryon's friends! we'll drop him into the stream to bear the tax-collector company!" i tried in vain to speak; but the fellow had my throat as if in a vise, and it was impossible to so much as whisper. as the mob pressed yet further i was forced downward until i lay across sandy's body, and sidney strove valiantly to make himself heard as he cried: "he whom you have there is clare butler, one of the regulators! i am sidney hubbard, also a member of the association! do you hear? we are of the regulation, and are trying to prevent you from bringing yet greater wrongs upon the colony!" before it was possible for sidney to utter many words the men had bound me hand and foot, after the same fashion as was sandy, and at that moment i believed, and feel certain to this day, that death was very near me. it was only a question as to whether my comrade could make himself heard before i was pitched overboard. already i could hear shouts from those in the rear demanding that i be "finished" before sandy's score was paid off, and more than one threatened to take a hand in the business if it was not brought to a speedy close. "drown the villain! let tryon understand that he can't play fast and loose with us!" one of the crowd shouted, and another added: "waste no time over him; but let us pay our dues to the tax-collector while he is drowning." those in the rear were so eager to expedite matters that they flung themselves forward until the men who held me were forced to turn and defend themselves lest they be trodden under foot, and this temporary delay, i firmly believe, was all that saved my life. had the members of the mob not fought with each other to gain a better place in which to witness the spectacle, of a verity i would have been flung into the river. "we are two lads who acted as escort to the deputies when they went to brunswick!" sidney shouted during a momentary lull in the tumult, and one of those nearest him caught the import of the words. "who are you?" the man cried, and sidney replied, yelling in the fellow's ear to make certain the words were understood: "regulators! members of the association! but for the lad you are threatening to drown, the deputies might not have escaped from those whom tryon sent in pursuit of us!" now it was sidney had assistance in his efforts to procure for us a hearing, for the man set about making his neighbor acquainted with the facts, and in a twinkling a third understood that they had been trying to kill their friends. when perhaps five minutes had passed, and time moved slowly to me who was expecting each instant that some impatient one would pitch me over the river bank, those in the middle of the throng came to know what we had been trying to tell them, and in a very few seconds afterward i was released from my bonds. "it was a close shave for you," he who had been holding me by the throat said, as i stood before him gasping for breath. "we made certain you were trying to save the tax-collector." "that is exactly what we were doing," i replied, speaking with difficulty because my windpipe was sore from the pressure so lately put upon it. "then you must be friendly to tryon, else you would not speak a good word for that villain whom we count on killing as we would a rat!" "it must not be done!" i cried frantically, raising my voice so that those in the immediate vicinity might hear. "if you kill him it will be said that it was done by orders of the regulation, and tryon will have right on his side when he overruns the country with soldiers. to raise your hands against an officer of the county is to weave a noose for those brave men in prison who will look to-morrow for your assistance! nothing would please tryon better than to have a reasonable excuse for throwing us all into jail!" then, as my voice failed, sidney took up the theme: "how much do you harm tryon by killing sandy wells? the governor cares nothing about such as he, and would gladly reward the man who, by committing murder almost in the encampment of the regulators, should give the king's minions power over us! turn the tax-collector over to us. we will take him to general hamilton, who is bound to see that he be held a prisoner, and to-morrow, if tryon and fanning play us false, we shall have one on whom to retaliate." "keep him till to-morrow!" a voice cried, and straightway i began to have hope that we might finally succeed in our purpose. some of the mob came to understand that which we would beat into their thick skulls, and with the knowledge of what the murder of a king's officer might mean for all in that section, whether innocent or guilty, came the impulse to wash their own hands of any participation in the outrage. for the time being they forgot their victim while discussing each with another the situation as we had shown it, and now was come the time when i could cut sandy's bonds. "get to your feet and keep close behind sidney and me," i whispered. "do as i bid you, and it may be that we three can make our way inside the lines of the encampment." "i'll do whatever you say," sandy replied in the tone of one whose life has just been saved, as indeed his had, and i whispered in sidney's ear, for the tumult had so far subsided that it was possible to speak with some degree of privacy: "work gradually toward the encampment while you talk. if we can attract the attention of the regulators our point is gained." then i turned to argue with the man nearest me, showing him how much it would advantage us if we could have the tax-collector as our prisoner until the trial in the court had come to an end, and all the while pressing gently forward, step by step, toward our line of guards. sandy, knowing that his only chance for life was in keeping close to us lads, for if he had attempted to gain the village an hundred hands would have been laid upon him in anger, obeyed my commands to the letter, pressing me so hard at times that i found it difficult to keep my footing. in this manner we succeeded, after more than an hour had passed, in approaching within twenty feet of the encampment line, and the remainder of the task was simple. we had but to attract the attention of the guard, and in a twinkling half a dozen regulators were on the spot. hurriedly i told our friends of what had been on foot, and sandy wells was marched directly within the lines, while those who would follow were forced by the guards to keep their distance. the men who had come to our rescue believed it proper the prisoner should be taken to that lean-to known as "headquarters," and soon the miserable wretch was telling his story to our commander. "why did you show yourself such a simpleton as to venture into the midst of those whom you had harassed?" the old general asked with a laugh, for i believe he was secretly pleased at seeing the tax-collector in such a plight. "i came across the river to speak with some friends of mine who were come----" sandy began, and one of our party interrupted him by saying: "i didn't suppose you had a friend outside of hillsborough, and but precious few in the town!" "this was a family from chatham whom i have known many years----" "i venture to say you never tried to collect illegal taxes from them!" "let the man tell the story," general hamilton interrupted, and sandy continued: "they were so near the town that i didn't think any one would dare lay hands on me; but before i was comfortably seated under their wagon half a dozen men seized me. i was dragged up the stream to that point where the bank is high and steep, and there the life was nearly kicked out of me." sandy concluded the story by explaining how we had chanced to go to his rescue, and what happened after we arrived at the scene. "you two lads have done well!" the old general said emphatically. "it would have been a sorry day's work for the people in this section if yonder rascal had been killed. the one question now in my mind is, what we shall do with him. i don't want such scurvy knaves in camp." hearing this sandy dropped on his knees, begging the general not to send him outside the lines of the encampment lest he be killed, and, after waiting a moment without hearing anything by way of suggestion as to what should be done with the fellow, sidney said: "if it please you, master hamilton, clare and i will take charge of him until to-morrow. i think he will do as we command, and it's only a question of keeping him away from the visitors." "you may take him and welcome," the general said in a tone of relief. "it may not be safe to make too great a display of the rascal even in camp, for we have among us many whom he has wofully distressed." "always acting under orders, sir, always under orders!" sandy cried, yet on his knees. "you would be more of a man if you took your orders from a different source," the general said sharply, and then motioned for us to lead him away. "you lads have saved my life," sandy began when we three were walking toward the lean-to sidney and i had built, "and if i can ever do anything in return, you shall understand that i know how to be grateful." "we've done nothing for which we expect to be rewarded," sidney replied with a gesture of impatience. "you can't fancy that we bear you any very good-will, therefore what we did was for the good of the colony." "never mind why you did it; i shall never forget what i owe." then we were come to the lean-to, and once there the question arose as to what we should do with our charge. if he was left to wander around the encampment alone, some of the men would undoubtedly ill-treat him, and we were not disposed to waste time which should be spent in the company of our dear ones, looking after him. it was sandy himself who solved the question for us, by saying: "leave me here; i can hide beneath the brush which forms your bed, and you may be certain i shan't be such a fool as to venture out." it was a good idea, and after he had burrowed beneath the pine branches until no trace of him could be seen, i went to seek my mother. chapter ix. tryon's demonstration. although we, meaning sidney and i, had saved a man's life, it was but a trifling incident to the majority, so intense was the interest in the outcome of the trial to be held on the morrow. the welfare of the colony, and, perhaps, the lives of hundreds of our people depended upon what would be done next day in the hillsborough court-house, and with such a great stake at hazard, the citizens might well be excused for giving but little heed to the fact that a tax-collector had been very near death. those who paid any particular attention to the events which i have just set down, viewed the entire proceeding as but the first move in the game betwixt rulers and those who are ruled, and if any disquietude was felt, it arose from the fact that the more superstitious took sandy wells' escape from death as a token that our oppressors would win the legal battle, or contrive some way by which it might be turned into a farce. when i rejoined my parents i found them looking decidedly uncomfortable in mind, and it was possible to guess the reason for their anxiety when mother said to me in a low tone as she clasped my hand lovingly: "my son, in case it should not be prudent to return home at once, i feel confident you will conduct yourself as if my eyes were upon you all the time." "then father thinks tryon will get the best of us to-morrow?" i cried, looking up quickly. "it is possible that, despite all our show of force, the king's party may outwit us, or force the judges to decide in tryon's favor," my father replied thoughtfully. "if that should happen the people would make quick work of the traitors," i said, thinking of the scene i had just witnessed. "no one can say when or how a gathering like this is to be swerved from its purpose. within four and twenty hours the situation may appear entirely different to those who now cry out against the king's minions." "but the regulators will hold steadfast," i said quickly. "having announced themselves as true sons of liberty, they cannot give up the struggle while right is on their side." "i know not what may be the result of to-morrow's trial," my father replied gravely, "and it is of little use to speculate, as i have already been led to do by certain questions your mother asked. we shall know the outcome in due season." "but you have intimated to her that it may be several weeks before i return home, as if believing the result will be in favor of tryon's party," i insisted. "i have said that it might become necessary for the regulation to remain in session some time and of course, since you are a member, it will be needful to remain in camp." i understood that father had indulged in more forebodings while conversing privately with mother, than he cared to have made known to me, and was not surprised thereat. it had been in my mind for many hours that the governor could and would influence the decision of the court, if he believed it might be done with safety so far as he personally was concerned, and it would not have caused me astonishment had i been told that the case was already settled without regard to any evidence which might be submitted. the judges upon the bench would be chief justice martin howard, with maurice moore and richard henderson as his associates. it had been said more than once that to these gentlemen tryon's desire was of more importance than the king's written law, and even general hamilton was quoted as having declared that the words of the decisions in the cases which were to come up on the morrow would have been dictated by the man who made of justice a mockery. however, when i looked around upon the vast assembly, and realized that the governor knew beyond a peradventure that all these people would cry out against any additional wrongs, even to the extent of resorting to arms, i could not believe he would dare trifle with them. mother, observing the mood into which i had fallen, bade me forget her words, but not the substance of them, and to change the current of thought suggested that father and myself escort her around the encampment in order that she might meet our friends. we were on the point of acceding to what was really a proposition, when one of the regulators came up hurriedly with the word: "the members of the association are ordered to fall into line, mounted, and fully armed." it was a command to be obeyed on the instant, and as i ran toward my camp to make preparations, i wondered what could have happened to give color to such a warlike proceeding. so far as i was able to see, everything appeared in much the same condition as when we had rescued sandy, yet there could be no question but that danger threatened from some quarter. sidney was by my side before i arrived at the lean-to, and his first question was as to whether i knew the meaning of the command. "i can see nothing to cause alarm, and yet general hamilton is far too cautious to do anything unnecessarily which might provoke a conflict," i replied. "at such a time as this it needs but a spark to set all these men aflame, for after the many wrongs committed in the king's name they are like to so much tinder, and our forming into ranks will arouse them at once." "if sandy wells can stir up the visitors to the point of murder, it stands our officers in hand to go slowly and with exceeding caution," sidney said in so grave a tone that i looked at him in surprise. when we began saddling our horses, which had been kept within the enclosure that day lest they might be frightened away, or stolen, the collector was alarmed, and, poking his head out from under the brushpile, asked in a voice trembling with apprehension: "what is the matter? have any others from the sheriff's office been so reckless as to follow my example by coming across the river?" "we don't know what is on foot," sidney replied; "but certain it is that we are called out for duty. take my advice and keep under cover till night, when we will make an effort to send you over to the town." sandy disappeared like a flash, and despite the fears in my mind i could not repress the smile which was provoked by a glimpse of his face. the day was exceedingly warm, and his hiding-place must have been close indeed, for not a breath of air could reach him beneath all that brush. his cheeks were flushed crimson, and the perspiration oozed from every pore, only to be covered with pine needles which adhered to the skin as if glued there. we were not long in answering the call, and once my comrade and i were on the brow of the hill overlooking the town, where the command was being formed, it was possible to understand why we had been summoned. across that sea of heads, just in front of the court-house, was governor tryon's army, drawn up as if for action. we could see that every man was fully armed, and all the officers in position, ready for immediate movement. "what is the meaning of that display of force?" i asked in surprise, and the man nearest me replied grimly: "that is what all of us would like to know. it may be that tryon is only showing the visitors what he can muster in case of a riot, and yet such would be a foolish move, for it simply proves that this multitude could make short work of them. if i stood in tryon's shoes i should hesitate about showing my hand so plainly." "the fellow is no fool, however much of a knave he may be," one of the regulators who had heard the reply said quickly. "i warrant those soldiers are not there to overawe the people." "then why have they been called out?" sidney asked impatiently. "in my opinion they will march across the river, or, at least, to a point mighty near this camp." "meaning that the governor counts on showing fight?" i asked in dismay. "you are getting beyond me; but the question is likely to be answered very soon, for the men are in motion." as he spoke the command wheeled into files, and advanced in order of fours directly toward us. at the head of the column rode three officers tricked out with gold lace and feathers; but we could see readily that tryon himself was not among them. by this time the people, who had been aroused by seeing us form in line as if to resist an attack, now perceived what was happening on the other side of the river, and straightway a murmuring sound arose which was at the same time menacing and disquieting. i could see that the male visitors were hurrying the women and children around to the other side of the hill, as if expecting a battle was imminent, while the younger men and older lads were collecting into a solid mass. "if yonder fellows were armed, tryon's recruits would have a rough time of it," sidney said with a laugh as he pointed at the throng which was edging toward the hill as if to support us. "god forbid that such should be the case, else hillsborough would be a shambles this night," a horseman near me said in a low tone. "if tryon begins blood-letting to-day, he and we alike will rue it." the soldiers advanced in something like regular order until they were come to the river bank, and there, not more than two hundred yards from where the regulators and their horses remained like statues, they came to a halt. the three officers who had led the column rode into the stream to a point midway across the ford, where they also halted. "it is a parley!" i heard some one near me mutter, and then came a cry from that officer whose uniform bore the greatest amount of gold lace: "is there any one who professes to command your force?" general hamilton, attended by master james hunter and my father, rode to the line of the encampment, and the old scotchman lifted his hat in answer to the question. "who am i addressing?" the officer asked, and then it was that i recognized him as the governor's secretary. "that you know full well, david edwards!" our old commander shouted; "but lest you may think i'm afraid to bring myself under the ban of your mock court, i'll repeat it. i am ninian bell hamilton, a freeholder of this colony, president of that association known as the regulation, and bending the knee to no one outside of bonny scotland!" what a shout went up from the people as the old gentleman thus boldly announced himself! it was as if the hill literally trembled because of the tumult, and not until a good five minutes had passed was it possible for master edwards to make himself heard. then, when the people were hoarse from much shouting, the secretary cried: "in the name of the king i bid you disperse!" "wherefore?" general hamilton asked sharply. "is it not allowed that the people may assemble when their court of law is about to decide upon the fate of two most worthy members of this colony?" "it is not lawful to menace the king's officers while they are in discharge of their duty." "it is you who are menacing, my good man. we have come here in orderly fashion, and were doing our best to preserve order when you marched out in full war array." "you are inciting the people to deeds of violence. it is hardly an hour since one of his majesty's officers was foully murdered by you who call yourselves regulators, and i demand that those who had any hand in that cowardly deed be delivered up to his excellency's guard, whereof i am temporarily in command." "whatever is the rascal talking about?" i heard general hamilton mutter; but after master hunter had spoken with him, he looked around as if in search of some person. i made bold to spur my horse forward a few paces, believing i understood what the general would have, and immediately he motioned me nearer. "have you that rascally tax-collector in your charge, my lad?" "aye, sir; that is to say, he was in our camp half an hour since." "bring him out here, and we will see if he's the man yonder popinjay prates about so loudly." i rode back to our lean-to without loss of time, and once there called to sandy. he poked his head out from amid the brush like a turtle, and because of the pine needles which covered his face the best friend he had in the world would have failed to recognize him. "the governor's troops have sent for you," i said curtly, intent only on performing my duty in the shortest possible space of time. "you are to come with me." "i don't dare, lad, i don't dare!" he cried in an agony of terror. "you alone amid all this throng cannot protect me!" "there will be no throng where you are to go. the regulators are drawn up in line, and i give you my word they will brook no interference from those who were near to doing murder." instead of coming out, he drew back till i could see no more than the top of his head, and i was angered because of the delay. "the general has sent for you, and i am not willing to waste time. if you are not by my side before it is possible to count ten, i'll put a bullet into your head as you lie there!" although i would not have done such a thing to save my right hand, the coward must have believed i was in deadly earnest, for he crept out, shaking with fear like a man suffering from an ague fit. "now march by the side of my horse, holding to the stirrup," i said sharply. "it will be well so long as you obey orders; but once i see any show of running away, my bullet will make a target of your carcass." "how could i run away while on every hand are those who would murder me?" he asked with a whine. "if the people see me i am undone." "the governor's troops have come to conduct you to the town, and surely you may trust them!" i cried. sandy shook his head doubtfully; he was in that frame of mind where he trusted no one, and his terror was so great as to excite pity. i contrived, however, by a liberal use of threats, to keep him by me until i had arrived at general hamilton's side, and then the old scotchman bade me advance with sandy until i was midway between himself and the three officers. "is that the man you accuse us of murdering?" the general asked when i had obeyed his order, and i could see a look of surprise come over master edwards' face. "is it sandy wells, of the sheriff's office?" he asked; but my prisoner remained silent, whereupon i prodded him in the side, whispering as i did so: "speak out, man! do you distrust your own friends?" "i'm not certain if i have any," he said mournfully, and then so far plucked up courage as to reply in a thin, tremulous voice: "aye, sir, i am sandy wells." "we heard that you had been murdered," master edwards said, much as if disappointed because such was not the fact. "i was indeed very near death; but those who call themselves regulators rescued me from the vile men who accuse me of having worked them harm because of obeying the sheriff's orders." "is that the man you declared had been murdered?" general hamilton shouted, and after some delay master edwards replied: "that is the man." "send him forward, lad, and let those brave gentlemen take the fellow without delay to his excellency, who will be in distress of mind until after having assured himself that he is in the land of the living." master edwards wheeled about as if to join his force, and general hamilton shouted: "turn back, david edwards, and take him who has caused you so much trouble! why do you not grasp the gallant gentleman's hand?" "come back, please, dear master edwards!" sandy shouted. "else i shall be killed, for the regulators evidently will have no more of me!" at this pathetic appeal the people burst into a roar of laughter which was like unto the shrieking of a hurricane, and not until he had crossed to the other side of the river did master edwards turn his head. then his cheeks were flaming red as with shame, and i fearing lest we might let slip this opportunity of safely delivering our prisoner, said to sandy: "run forward, man, now that you have the opportunity! it is not certain sidney and i can smuggle you into the town, and you may come to grief on this side the river, no matter how close you hide yourself." the tax-collector hesitated only an instant, and then seeing that there were none between him and the line of red-coated soldiers, took to his heels, crying at the full force of his lungs: "wait for me, master edwards! for the love of heaven don't leave me here to be murdered, dear master edwards!" "wait for the lost sheep which we have restored to you, master secretary!" general hamilton shouted, and the people were once more convulsed with laughter. they roared and shrieked in mirth until sandy was by the side of the angry secretary, and jeered both the tax-collector and the soldiers until the governor's guard fairly ran toward the court-house. meanwhile i had ridden back to my place in the line, and, arriving there, heard one horseman say to his neighbor: "there will be no further thought of foul play, now that the people are amused; but if those two lads had not rescued the tax-collector when he was nigh to death, we should have a pretty hornets' nest about our ears by this time." it filled me with pride as i realized that sidney and i had done so much for the cause, and i could well understand how important was our work of mercy, by glancing at the governor's troops. had sandy wells been killed, as he would have been but for us two lads, then had tryon such a weapon against us as must have doomed the regulation to everlasting shame and contempt. we held our line until the governor's soldiers disappeared behind the court-house, and then the command was given to break ranks, after which general hamilton rode up to sidney and me, saying as he faced about to check our forward movement: "i thank you, lads, in the name of the regulation, for having made it possible for us to throw ridicule upon the enemy. may you ride long in the ranks of the sons of liberty!" i was as proud as any turkey cock at being publicly praised by one of the foremost men in the colony, and when we were alone in our lean-to sidney said: "i reckon we ought to be well satisfied with ourselves. there's many a one in this company who would give half he possessed to win such words as we received from the general." "but for you sandy would have been killed, and the governor had just cause to imprison every regulator he could come at. i have taken my share of the praise, but without having earned it." "i say you're entitled to as much as myself," the lad cried hotly. "i had no idea anything very serious was on foot when i dragged you from your mother, and once we were in the crowd it was impossible to do other than exactly as we did." sidney's generous heart prompted him to give me a full share in the work when i had but followed him, and during the remainder of that day i took good care to make every one who spoke of the matter understand exactly the position of affairs. when my horse had been tethered i sought out mother once more, and she sang my praises till my cheeks were red with something very like shame, for she would not listen to the explanations i made; but insisted on calling me "a brave lad" who was an honor to his parents. a stranger who had come suddenly upon us during the afternoon of this day would have found it difficult to believe that we were ready for, and expecting, mischief on the morrow. the scene on the hill and nearabout the river was rather one of peace and good-will. neighbors and friends seemed bent on a holiday, with no thought of care, and yet their merry-making was carried on between two small armies, each prepared to meet the other in deadly conflict if provocation was given. it was a scene of gaiety which might be entirely changed by the morrow, and then instead of smiles one could expect to see tears; instead of laughter, to hear groans of agony, unless god should put it in the heart of william tryon to deal justly and lawfully by those over whom the king had set him. it was with some such thoughts as these that i looked down from the brow of the hill upon the joyous throng, and my heart grew sick with apprehension as i speculated upon that which the morrow's sun might bring to light. chapter x. the long night. the excitement of the people appeared to increase rather than diminish as the night approached. the appearance of the king's soldiers had disturbed them in their merry-making, and brought to their minds the possibilities of the morrow. a view of the two armed bodies, drawn up one against the other, told more clearly of the danger which threatened than words could have done, and the cautious began to ask if it would not be well to send the women and children away. dull-witted though i am, i could not fail to observe the people casting furtive glances toward the town, as if fearing to see issuing from it those who would work some injury in the name of the king. the sounds of laughter were replaced by deep mutterings, and instead of lounging here or there with their families, the men and boys moved restlessly from one point to another, watching jealously every motion of the regulators. it was much as if we were all walking to and fro in a magazine of powder, each with a lighted match in his hand, and that the explosion was a foregone conclusion, the only question being as to exactly when it would occur. i understood that others besides myself took much the same view of the situation, when the officers of the regulation gave orders concerning that which should be done during the night. all the company were ordered to go on duty at sunset, remaining under arms until morning, ready for any sudden emergency. the men were especially commanded not to stray away from the limits of the encampment, and forty were told off to do guard duty when ten could have patrolled the camp thoroughly under ordinary circumstances. all these preparations told that our leaders were anxious regarding the possibility of treachery on the part of the royalists, which was not to be wondered at in view of all that had happened. when it was reported in hillsborough that sandy wells had been murdered, tryon and fanning saw an opportunity of setting us down before the world at large as murderers and knaves who should, in justice to a law-abiding community, be committed to jail. when they learned that we had kept our hands clean, that we had done our best to preserve the peace, it might well be expected some other plan to ruin us would be tried, and general hamilton was far too wise a man to neglect any opportunity for additional defense. it was also evident that the people generally were of the belief that the royalists would attempt to do us a mischief, and, as i have said, they moved around restlessly, watching keenly all that was taking place on the opposite side of the river. had the king's troops come toward the ford a second time, i believe of a verity that trouble would have ensued even though the soldiers advanced with peaceful intent. sidney and i were stationed as sentinels at that part of the line which overlooked the town, with orders to observe closely all that might be taking place on the opposite side of the river, and to report immediately at headquarters any unusual movement, either on the part of the royalists or visitors. every inch of the line which marked the bounds of the encampment was constantly traversed that night. the guards were stationed twenty feet apart, and it was expressly commanded that each man should advance until he met the sentinel on his right, when he was to wheel about and proceed in the opposite direction until meeting the regulators on his left, continuing this throughout the hours of darkness. the numerous fires kindled by the visitors with which to cook supper, or keep off the insects, served to illumine the scene, and on the opposite side of the river one could see the streets closely packed with human beings, who counted to spend the night in the open air. it was eight o'clock in the evening, and i was yet doing guard duty, when a sudden outburst of noise from near about the court-house startled us, for it seemed to be the signal of that uprising or outbreak which we had been fearing might occur before morning. at first it was no more than angry cries and yelps of pain; but these increased steadily until it seemed as if a riot was well under way. there was no need of carrying any information to the headquarters' shanty. general hamilton was on the guard line very near to my post, within two minutes after the first cries were heard, and he remained there in a listening attitude, turning his head this way and that like the dog who seeks to find a lost trail. a dozen or more of the chief men were with him, and i heard one of them ask anxiously: "can you guess why trouble should have begun at this time? i believed all the hot heads among our friends were on this side of the river." "so they are, else would the brawl have been fanned into a battle long before this. master hunter," he cried sharply to the deputy, "form your men into line at the river bank to prevent any from leaving the encampment, and lose no time in doing so." at the call for the guards to advance into line i stepped forward; but stopped very suddenly as the general seized me by the collar of my shirt. "you and the comrade who aided in saving sandy wells' life are to wait here that i may have a moment's speech with you." then, raising his voice, he cried, "hunter, give the word as soon as you have a force at the riverbank sufficient to hold this throng in check!" "the entire regulation will be none too many for such service as that." "station the guards first, and then call out the remainder of the force. it stands us in hand to hold all on this side the river, and also keep peace among them." i was at some little trouble to find sidney, he having gone to the further end of the line when the word was given to "fall in"; but i succeeded in withdrawing him from the ranks just as the men went forward into position at the river bank. when we two lads stood before him, the general said in a low tone as if to prevent any other from hearing the discourse: "it is in my mind that yonder riot has been begun by orders of tryon or fanning, that they may have some excuse for filling the jail before morning, as well as to cast discredit upon the regulation. you lads have shown yourselves quick-witted, and i have no doubt that you will be able to hold your own in case tryon and his crew are provoking a brawl. cross the river at once; mingle with those who are taking part in the disturbance, and learn all you can regarding the beginning of the trouble." "our lines are in position!" master hunter cried, and the general replied: "very well. hold the people here, and allow none to cross save the two who may speedily come with my permission to do as they please." we lads waited twenty seconds or more to learn if master hamilton had any further commands for us, and since he did not speak, sidney plucked me by the sleeve as a signal that we should set out. the general was looking at us when we moved off, therefore did i know that we had received all the orders he had to give. on coming to the water's edge we walked up the stream until finding master hunter, and then, in a low tone, explained what we had been ordered to do. he immediately directed the men to give us passage, and hurriedly we forded the stream, bending our steps toward the court-house after having gained the opposite bank. it was not a simple matter to make our way through the crowded street. by this time nearly all the people who had encamped in the open air were astir, and every man and boy was pressing eagerly forward to that point from whence came the outcries. by dint of using our elbows sharply, and forcing aside without ceremony those who barred the way, we succeeded, at the risk of embroiling ourselves in private quarrels, in gaining a position near the center of the disturbance, when it was possible to perceive at a glance that general hamilton was correct in his surmises. the visitors were not raising their hands against the soldiers save when great provocation was given; but here and there i could see those who were in some way connected with the government, and among them sandy wells, making their way from point to point, dealing blows and uttering insults well calculated to raise a disturbance. whenever one of the visitors attempted to defend himself, or would have punished the insulter, the minions of tryon raised a great hue and cry to bring the solders to that point, after which they slipped off to create a disturbance at some other point. but for the fact that the visitors had been warned against giving the governor an opportunity for complaint, a riot would have been begun within a very few minutes, and with such a degree of violence that it might have increased to a regular battle; but as it was, our people behaved with remarkable moderation. i believed that we might do much good by advice, and suggested to sidney that we go hastily around among the throng, explaining what was the evident purpose of the governor's minions, at the same time advising every one to cross the river immediately, lest by their behavior tryon should have some color of a reason for postponing the cases which had been set down for a hearing next day. he was of my opinion, and without delay we began our work, hurrying here or there with such good effect that the people began to fall back before the mischief breeders, instead of pressing forward. this was not at all to the liking of those who desired to provoke a breach of the peace, and they redoubled their efforts, offering yet greater indignities to the unresisting citizens. foremost among these was sandy wells, and i made it my business to gain a position close by his side, when i said, holding him by the arm until the words had been uttered: "sidney hubbard and i saved your life this day, as you well know. it can readily be seen what you are trying to do, and unless you cease your efforts i will take good care before the sun sets to-morrow, to inflame every man's mind against you. that fate which was escaped this afternoon shall overtake you within the next four and twenty hours, even though tryon gives you shelter in his own quarters." sandy was a rank coward, as i well knew, and when my hold of his sleeve was relaxed he slunk away among the soldiers, nor did i see him again that night. during more than an hour sidney and i continued our efforts, sometimes threatened by the soldiers or tryon's emissaries, and then the throng had so far dispersed that there were not enough hot-heads left to make any very great disturbance, even though they felt disposed to resist the troops. "now the enemies of the colony can do no more than foment an ordinary brawl, which is not what tryon most desires, and i believe our work here is done in accordance with the general's orders," sidney said to me as we met among the foremost of the small crowd, within a short distance of where the uniformed men were drawn up in line. "if we are recognized you may be certain those fellows will use every effort to lodge us in jail, and it is wise to beat a retreat while we may." i was of much the same opinion, and, after gathering half a dozen of the wilder spirits in our wake, we set off toward the ford, hooted and jeered at by those who had most signally failed in the task assigned them. the sudden change in the situation of affairs was truly surprising. when we two lads first crossed the river we found the streets literally choked with men, women and children who counted on remaining there with the hope of gaining admittance to the court-house as soon as the day dawned; but now it was as if the earth had opened and swallowed all these people. we did not meet with twenty as we went toward the ford; they had wisely crossed the river, and, once on the opposite side, the regulators would keep them quiet. we had checked the governor's scheme, not through force of arms, but simply by removing those who might unwittingly have aided him in his unlawful efforts. once the visitors were on that side of the river held by the regulators, they were unable to go back; but all who called themselves sons of liberty would be forced to remain on duty during the entire night in order to hold in check those who counted themselves friendly to the cause. as a matter of course sidney and i reported to general hamilton as soon as possible, and when we had concluded our story the old scotchman said in a tone of satisfaction: "i knew full well i could depend upon you lads to do whatsoever was wise. by sending the people over here you have accomplished a good work, and once again is tryon defeated by your unaided efforts. the regulation has good reason to count you as valuable members, and when the time comes that this colony can reward the services of those who have aided her, as come it will in due season, i hope i may be alive to make certain you are not neglected." according to my way of thinking we were already rewarded by such words as these, and but for the darkness master hamilton would have seen my cheeks crimsoned with shame because he had given us far more than we deserved. it was but natural that there should be considerable confusion on our side of the river; all who had lately changed their camping places were seeking for new quarters, and already the slope of the hill outside the lines of our encampment was literally covered with human beings. the late comers were compelled to find a resting-place on the other side of the elevation, and thus were our horsemen literally hemmed in. if it should become necessary to make a quick movement, it would require some time to clear the ground in order to avoid trampling the visitors beneath the hoofs of our horses. every member of the regulation was now doing guard duty, and as soon as sidney and i had concluded our interview with the general, we joined our comrades, when the weary work of pacing to and fro was resumed. at the river front remained a line of regulators who allowed any person to come over; but refused passage to such as would have gone back, and thus we held the key to the situation so far as keeping the peace was concerned. until this last move of governor tryon's i think the majority of our people believed the king's officers would not dare do other than give the prisoners a fair trial, although perhaps no one was convinced that it was more than a farce to bring fanning before the bar. now, however, when we had good proof as to the lengths tryon was ready to go, and could see plainly that he was using every effort to place the regulation in a false light before the world, there was much doubt as to the outcome of the cases in court. the regulators on duty discussed the matter among themselves as if it was a foregone conclusion that might, not right, would rule, and such of the visitors as i heard conversing were loud in their declarations that justice must prevail even though it should be purchased by force. "there is likely to be hot times to-morrow," sidney said to me as we halted an instant when everything seemed peaceful. "if we are brought face to face with tryon's army, much blood will be shed on both sides before the question is settled definitely." "but that blood will cement the colonies in such manner that oppression in one will be felt by all the others. we shall have effected a union, and what are our lives in comparison to such a consummation?" a voice said, and, turning, i saw master james hunter, who had come up in time to overhear our conversation. "then you believe we shall fight a battle to-morrow, sir?" i made bold to say, and he replied with a sigh: "of that i am not so certain. if we do, the colonies will declare for freedom against the king's rule. if peace is preserved throughout the morrow, then must greater wrongs be endured in order to provoke the people into demanding their full rights." having said this the deputy continued on his rounds, and we two lads no longer had any desire to discuss the situation, for it had become so grave, according to master hunter, that a bloody battle between us and those on the opposite side of the river seemed suddenly to be really desirable. during the remainder of that long night we lads did our full share of guard duty, i dwelling upon the possibilities until the old timorousness came upon me, and i was almost a coward. it seemed to me that death would come within a few hours, and i was already marked out as one of his victims. i found myself wondering if i could march up to the guns of the enemy without betraying the cowardice in my heart, and otherwise spending the time in a very foolish fashion for one who must play the part of soldier. never had the dawning of a new day been so much of a relief to me as then. the gray light of morning revealed the multitude sleeping peacefully, and on the opposite bank not even a wreath of smoke showed above the chimney-tops. the scene brought relief to me, and by the time the sun rose i was able to keep down the fear in my heart, so that no one might suspect that i was in very fact a coward. it was a wonderful scene when the visitors awakened to life, and began making ready for the coming events which were of concern to all dwelling in america. this day's sun would see the dawn of freedom, or a postponement of that spirit which must in the near future descend upon our people. the officers of the regulation went from camp to camp, cautioning the visitors against making any demonstration before the trials at the court-house were brought to a close, and at the ford a group of our best citizens was performing the same task. if the citizens of upper carolina made any error on this day it would not be from lack of advice from those who were in a position to know what might be best for the colony. the one aim of the people was to reach the court-house in order to gain admission as spectators, and although the building would not accommodate one in every hundred who were eager to enter, the thousands flocked thither, jostling and pushing each other in order to get a position among the foremost. general hamilton did all a man could to persuade them into remaining at a respectful distance, pointing out the uselessness of expecting to gain admittance; but yet they made their way into the town until our encampment was deserted by all save the better informed--say five hundred men, women and children. we of the regulators were ordered to get breakfast as best we might, and then fall into the ranks again, for we were to remain under arms the entire day lest our force might be needed in defense of the citizens. "are we like to be called upon for any serious service, sir?" i asked of master hunter, who chanced to pass where i was partaking of the morning meal with my parents, and he replied: "it is hardly probable. tryon will not attempt any more tricks, now that the time of opening court is so near at hand, and i believe our people will keep the peace, at least until after the decision of the judges is made known." then the deputy called my father aside, and the two held such long and earnest converse that i believed our officers were of the opinion the trial would be no more than a farce. this idea was strengthened in my mind when mother showed such tender affection as i would leave her to take my place in the line which was being formed. she bade me farewell as if believing we might never meet again, and despite all her efforts the tears came as she spoke. i was not heartened by this evidence of fear, as may well be imagined, and hurried away to feed my horse in order that i might hide the evidences of my own emotion. half an hour later we of the regulation were in something approaching a military formation, with our horses tethered just in the rear where we might be able to get at them without loss of time, and then came the most trying moment of all-waiting for governor tryon to show how far he dared to go in opposition to the law and the rights of the people. the square around the court-house was black with citizens awaiting an opportunity to enter the building. in the midst of this mass could be seen two files of soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder in order to keep open a passage for the officers and witnesses, and a short distance away were the governor's troops under arms in case it should please our oppressor to order an attack upon the helpless throng. chapter xi. the trial. now the trial was so near at hand--when in a few hours we should know beyond a peradventure to what lengths tryon would go in his villainy towards the people of the carolinas we no longer discussed the possibilities of the near future. if masters husband and william hunter were set free, as indeed could be the only just verdict of the judges, and if fanning was convicted of having extorted money from the people without even the color of the law to sustain him, then would our colony be peaceful; but i question if one among all those horsemen who awaited the signal to disperse quietly or to ride to their deaths, believed that justice would triumph. even two lads like sidney and myself understood that the governor would deny us our rights, and the thoughts of what might come to those we loved before the sun had disappeared behind the hills, rendered us dumb. i did not see any of the gentlemen conversing. i threw myself at full length on the grass close by sidney's side, and would hardly have heard him had he spoken. my eyes were fixed upon the court-house, surrounded as it was by that vast throng of people, and i noted every movement, however slight. when the judges and the officers of the court marched through the lane formed by the weapons of the soldiers, i saw them plainly, and could almost imagine that the voice of the sheriff rang in my ears as he uttered the words which opened the sitting. my father and four other regulators had gone into town in order to give evidence against fanning, and to combat the charge of "riotous conduct" which had been preferred against our friends. all the other gentlemen of our company remained on the hillside, save master hamilton, who stood on the highest point in the encampment where he might see any signal which our people should give. the forenoon passed, and i remained like one in a stupor. the noon hour went by, and i had no sensation of hunger. some of our companions ate; but they were the ones known to be lukewarm to the cause. as i came afterward to know, it was near about two o'clock in the afternoon when a low hoarse murmur which was like unto nothing save the growl of an enraged beast sounded on our ears. it rose louder and louder, gathering in angry menace each instant, until it was of such volume, that one could hardly have heard a peal of thunder above it, and then we knew full well that governor tryon had trampled all the laws under his foot--that it was our duty to become rebels in fact, by rushing upon the villainous representative of the king and cutting him down. then came one from the town running at full speed, and when having come near enough to make his voice heard, he shouted: "master husband has been acquitted; but both william and james hunter and master hamilton have been adjudged guilty, and are fined one thousand pounds each, in addition to imprisonment for six months!" "but james hunter and master hamilton had not been even charged with crime!" one of the regulators cried, doubting the truth of the news. "very true; yet they were tried just the same. master james hunter was taken into custody as he entered the court-room to give evidence against fanning, and a warrant is already issued for master hamilton," the messenger added. then sidney shouted: "what about fanning? has he been acquitted?" "it is much the same. he was tried on seven counts for extortion, found guilty, and sentenced to pay one penny on each indictment. seven pence to be paid by the rascally lawyer, and one thousand pounds each by the hunters and master hamilton!" "and the people?" master howell demanded. "what do they say?" "you can hear for yourself," the man replied, forced to shout even though he stood close beside us by this time, because of the tumult in the vicinity of the court-house. "before the trial had come to an end the building was filled with soldiers, while the remainder of the governor's force encircled it. if a fight is begun our friends will be shot down by hundreds, with no opportunity to strike a blow save with their bare fists." without waiting for the word of command every regulator mounted his horse, and all of us waited for the signal from our commander, who had drawn near to hear the report made by the messenger. he stood with his chin on his breast like one stunned, neither looking up nor speaking, while the cries from the opposite side of the river increased in fury each instant. "are we to sit here while our friends are imprisoned without cause?" a horseman near me asked angrily, and master hamilton raised his head as if to make reply, when some one shouted: "here comes master husband! they have set him free!" the man who had been in jail nearly six months for having dared to say that tryon had no authority to levy a tax to build himself a palace, could be seen walking rapidly toward the ford, and all understood that nothing would be done by us until he arrived. master hamilton rode down to meet him, and the two remained in private converse five minutes or more before coming up to where we awaited them with the utmost impatience. then it was that our commander spoke: "gentlemen, it is our duty to prevent the people of upper carolina from beginning a conflict with the king's troops. we must not permit ourselves to commit any act of violence against the governor until after due deliberation, for all which we do now is the same as if we moved against the king. by master husband's advice, we shall ride into town, and do our best to prevent a conflict which would cost the lives of hundreds of our friends and neighbors. i beseech you that, however great the provocation, all this company keep well together in military formation, and obey every order to the letter. later, when some of those who are absent can take part in our deliberations as is their right, we will settle upon a course of action." some one offered master husband a horse, on which he rode by the side of our leader as we crossed the river and went from thence to the court-house, or, i should say, as near as it was possible to advance. the vast throng were inflamed by anger. they shouted threats against the soldiers, who were evidently alarmed by the demonstration, and had general hamilton given the signal to make an attack, i believe of a verity that every man, whether armed or not, would have joined the fray. at seeing us ride up the citizens shouted yet more loudly; but when we halted, they turned about to learn the reason of our delay in giving tryon a lesson, and master hamilton cried out to them, speaking so loudly that every word must have been heard by those who yet remained in the court-room. "we, the regulation, beg that you will not put your lives in jeopardy while unprepared for battle. if you will disperse, each sending his women and children home out of danger, the regulators will meet you in solemn deliberation this evening when our plan of action shall be decided upon." "and are we to let tryon and fanning sneak away?" one of the throng asked angrily. "not so, my friend. while the regulators are under arms you know full well that no one can leave hillsborough without our permission. the cause will not suffer by this delay, and we shall be in better position to demand that which you have failed of receiving this day--justice. send your families home, collect your weapons, and join us who have sworn to drive the oppressors out of upper carolina." if tryon was in the court-room, as many of the throng declared, then he had heard every word spoken by our commander, and i venture to say he felt ill at ease, for it was plain to be seen that if the regulators should be reinforced by these men who were raising their voices against the farce of a trial, he stood in great danger of being made prisoner. he might use the court-house as a fortification, and could hold it two or three days, perhaps; but we would take good care that he did not send any messengers to brunswick or newberne, and there could be but one ending to the affair. the people seemed to understand all this, for straightway they began to move toward the river, followed by their families, and in less than half an hour few save the regulators remained around the building. the soldiers who had been stationed outside now crowded inside the court-house, never waiting for orders to move, and we were left like jailers who are satisfied with holding their prisoners in closed cells. master hamilton told off a dozen men for sentinels at each side of the building, and as many more in the rear, with orders to shoot down any who attempted to escape from the windows, while the main portion of our force remained thirty yards or more from the front doors. it looked much as if an attack was to be made upon the king's representatives despite all master hamilton had said regarding the advisability of waiting for reflection and concerted plans. our commander remained by himself, midway between the front rank and the building, as if expecting that which occurred before we had been in position five minutes. then it was that david edwards, the governor's secretary, appeared at one of the windows, and cried warningly: "in the name of his excellency, governor william tryon, i bid ye disperse! those who remain do so under the pain and penalty of being adjudged in rebellion against his most gracious majesty." "we are in rebellion against tyranny and injustice," master hamilton replied in a loud voice which had in it no tone of menace. "it is our purpose to remain here until the wrong committed this day has been righted, and he who ventures out from among you in the meantime will do so at the expense of his life." "but this is neither more nor less than armed rebellion against the king," edwards cried as if suddenly understanding that we were in a position to enforce our demand. "i repeat that we are not here against the king, but to uphold the laws which tryon and his minions have trampled in the dust. we of the regulators number five hundred men; within two hours we shall have as many more in our ranks, and it does not need much calculation on your part to prove that the power is with us, as the rebellion against his majesty is with you." master edwards disappeared, and i was expecting each moment that the soldiers within the building would open fire upon us, when my father appeared at the door, holding up his hand to attract attention. "it is william butler, one of the regulators!" master hamilton shouted for the benefit of those who might not have recognized my father. "let him come out!" our commander advanced to my father's side, and the two held long converse, after which both came forward toward our troop. then appeared once more at the window, master edwards, who cried out: "will you allow that i hold a conference with you in private?" "meaning in your own name, or that of the governor?" master hamilton asked sharply. "i would bring to you a message from his excellency." "you may come," our commander said after whispering with my father; "but i shall repeat at my pleasure, to these gentlemen, all which you may say." again the secretary disappeared, to show himself at the door a moment later, and general hamilton remained motionless, forcing master edwards to approach him. the two gentlemen saluted, exchanged a few words, and then half a dozen of our leaders were summoned to what appeared to be a council of war participated in by representatives of both armies. much time was spent by these gentlemen in consultation; but, finally, it appeared as if some plan had been arranged to the satisfaction of all. master edwards returned to the court-house; our leaders fell back into line, where we remained half an hour or more wondering what was to be the upshot of the matter, when suddenly masters james and william hunter, and three other citizens who had been held prisoners, came out of the door. while one might have counted five we were held speechless with astonishment, and then our people began to cheer, for it seemed at the moment as if we had in fact beaten the governor in a game of his own making. before the shouts died away the command was given for the sentinels to come in; the troop was formed in fours, and we rode away, heading for the encampment on the hill. our leaders were grave, probably because they alone knew at what price this temporary triumph had been purchased; but the remainder of the party were wild with joy, for we imagined ourselves victors. before fording the river we were joined by nearly an hundred mounted men who had obeyed master hamilton's instructions to take their families home and return armed, and throughout the night we received accessions to our force until the regulators were more than a thousand strong. it can well be supposed that all the company were burning with curiosity to learn more concerning the bargain which had resulted in the release of the prisoners; but our commander gave no sign of being in haste to explain matters. "the regulation will meet to-night, and the whole matter shall be laid before it," he said gravely when master howell, bolder than the others, ventured to ask for particulars. sidney and i, when we were occupying our old lean-to once more, speculated earnestly as to what the people had, through master hamilton, promised as the price of the prisoners' release; but we had made little headway when master james hunter, the deputy, approached our shelter on his way across the encampment. after our experience in his company he seemed rather like a comrade than a mere acquaintance, and sidney did not hesitate about asking the questions we were so eager to have answered. "as yet we have really made no bargain, lads," master hunter said as he seated himself in a friendly way near us. "the governor promised, for the sole purpose of averting bloodshed, so he declared, to release those of us who were sentenced to imprisonment and fine, in consideration of the regulators returning to camp, and keeping with them such as might arrive bent on rebellious acts, until to-morrow morning. then, so the secretary stated, some proposal looking to peace will be made." "it seems much as if tryon was backing down from the high horse he has been riding in the carolinas," sidney said with a laugh. "he had no choice in this case," master hunter replied. "the regulators held him like a rat in a trap, and if a battle had ensued his own precious body would have been endangered. my only fear is that he counts, by such delay, on getting the best of us in some way." "we shall be stronger to-morrow morning than we are now," i ventured to suggest. "the people are coming in rapidly, and soon we shall outnumber his force five to one." "all of which is very true, and because he must have understood that such would be the case, i am the more suspicious of his honesty in this matter." then it was i dared ask master hunter to tell us all that had occurred in the court-house, and he began by saying: "there is very little to the story, lad, for unless i'm much mistaken, tryon, edwards and fanning had the program arranged last night. when i entered the room the sheriff made me prisoner without so much as producing a warrant. not until late in the forenoon were the others brought in, and then the story of our misdeeds was quickly told by men like sandy wells. our defense was cut down in every way; we were not allowed to call our witnesses, and checked when we would have argued our case. there was no verdict given when the trial closed. the case of fanning was called, and of all the witnesses we had brought, only two were allowed to give in their testimony. fanning argued that he was forced to charge extortionate fees in order to gain a livelihood; that it was generally understood court officers should demand sufficient to provide them with a fair salary, and then pleaded guilty as to the indictments so far as the facts were concerned, but insisted he was innocent according to the spirit of the law." "i suppose _he_ was allowed ample time in which to argue his case," sidney interrupted. "as to that you may be certain; it was only the witnesses appearing against him who were admonished not to waste the court's time. then we were sentenced, and after ten minutes or more the judges had agreed that fanning should pay seven pence for the crime of extorting hundreds of pounds from the poor. we would have been sent into the prison at once but for the fact of your arrival. it could readily be seen that tryon was really alarmed by the cries of those outside, and when the regulators arrived he went into the next room with the judges, fanning and edwards. the rest you know as well as i. we who sat in the dock were ordered to follow the secretary, and, to our great surprise, were set free." "then we are to remain here quietly until tomorrow morning?" sidney asked. "that is the proposition." "and what will the governor be doing meanwhile?" "i cannot say. it is possible he has troops on the way from brunswick or newberne, as master husband suggests; but i am not of the same opinion. he would most certainly have brought to hillsborough all the force that could be raised, before the trial began, for it must be humiliating to be obliged to make any terms with us." "he counts on some treachery i'll be bound!" sidney exclaimed, and master hunter said with a sigh: "i have the same fear, lad. to release us after we had been sentenced was a harder task for him than if he had set husband and my brother free last week. we shall find that he can play double, while our people hold so strictly to the truth that they are not willing to believe a lickspittle like the governor would stoop to tell a deliberate lie." having said this master hunter went on his way, and we lads could do no more than speculate upon the probability of our having put tryon in such a trap that he would be forced to deal honestly with us. late that evening, when there were not less than one hundred armed men in the encampment, the regulation was called to order, and master hamilton opened the meeting by telling the same story we two lads had previously heard from master hunter. he concluded by saying: "believing that humanity demanded us to avert bloodshed at any price short of honor, the officers of the regulation decided on a truce of twenty hours in consideration of the freedom of the prisoners. we ask you to hold the promise we made as if each of you had personally given his word to it. to-morrow we shall have another proposition from the governor, and then will be the time when we must decide as to our future course." many gentlemen spoke on the same subject, all agreeing that we could do no less than adhere strictly to the promise our commander had given, and then the meeting was dissolved. having had no sleep on the previous night, i was right glad to crawl into the bed of pine branches which sidney and i called our own, and not until the sun showed his face next morning did i awaken. because a truce had been declared, there was no need of standing guard, and all our company enjoyed a full night's rest. as soon as breakfast had been eaten we lounged around the camp, remaining where we could overlook the town, and waited for some word from the governor, speculating meanwhile as to what proposition it might please him to make. noon came, and no messenger appeared. at one o'clock my father was sent across the river to learn why we had not heard from tryon, and he returned with a reply that we "would be well satisfied in a few hours." this message was given by a servant at the governor's headquarters; my father had seen neither the governor, his secretary, nor fanning. there was no little grumbling because we were thus kept waiting when the truce was for twenty hours only; but never a man dreamed of breaking his word. such perfidy as that was left for his excellency, william tryon, he who claimed to be the king's honorable representative. my mother had gone home; she went away the afternoon previous when the women and children were asked to leave the vicinity, and as we waited for that message which was so long delayed, i was truly thankful she had not remained, for it came into my mind that there would be a troublous, rather than a peaceful, ending. the sun was no more than half an hour high in the heavens when we saw one who appeared to be a servant, come out of the governor's house and walk swiftly toward the ford. it did not seem possible tryon would send other than one of his officers on a mission to the regulation, and yet i believed that now was come the time when we were to hear from his excellency. the man halted at the opposite bank of the river, unfolded a huge document, and began reading that which told us to what a depth of infamy william tryon was willing to descend in order to carry his point. chapter xii. the proclamation. it can well be understood with what eagerness we listened to the messenger as he read from the paper in a loud tone; but he remained at such a distance that i found it impossible to catch every word, although the general purport was made sufficiently plain. the fellow, whom we afterward came to know was one of the clerks from the sheriff's office, regaled us with a high-sounding proclamation from the governor, in which his excellency graciously pardoned all the regulators save thirteen, whose names were twice repeated in order that there should be no mistake. i set them down here that the world may know who were the patriots of upper carolina in the opinion of william tryon: "james hunter, ninian bell hamilton, peter craven, isaack jackson, herman husband, matthew hamilton, william payne, malichi tyke, william moffat, christopher nation, solomon goff, john o'neil, and rednap howell." when the clerk ceased reading and marched back from whence he came, we on the hillside looked at each other in silent amazement while one might have counted twenty, and then on the instant every tongue was loosened. all that had been gained by the truce was an act of outlawry against our best men, and fanning was still the trusted servant of the king! the one thought in the minds of all was to seize the person of the villain who held a commission from the crown as governor of the carolinas, and a thousand voices were crying out against delay. the officers of the regulation held a brief consultation, and then came that command which all expected and demanded. "to horse, gentlemen! the moment has arrived when we must declare ourselves against the king, unless he redresses our wrongs by recalling such officials as have misruled the colony!" general hamilton cried in a loud tone, and he had no more than concluded before every regulator was in the saddle burning to avenge the insult offered by tryon. the earth literally trembled beneath the hoofs of a thousand horses as we rode at full speed to the ford, then across the river, and on to the governor's residence. the royal "army" remained on guard until we were come to within an hundred yards, and then they scattered like chaff before the wind, running in every direction, crying for quarter. no attention was given to the cowards. tryon, fanning and edwards were the men we counted on teaching a lesson, and the dwelling was surrounded in a twinkling. fifty gentlemen entered the building, some of them to reappear a few moments later with the fellow who had read the proclamation. "tryon! tryon!" our people shouted in anger, and then came the truth which, in our simplicity and honesty, we had not suspected. "tryon and his henchmen left town last night escorted by twenty men!" one of those who had come out with the prisoner shouted, and we who heard the words gazed in open-mouthed astonishment, failing on the instant to understand that the villainous representative of the king had simply proposed the truce in order that he might save his own precious body. the clerk, fearing for his life, and hoping to save it by answering the questions which were literally hurled at him, told the entire story twenty times over, until we came to realize that the three rascals had set off at full speed immediately after sunset on the day previous. by this time they were half-way to brunswick, and however good our steeds, there was no possibility we could overtake them. unless we might hold the governor of the colony as our prisoner, rebellion would avail us little, save that we should retain possession of upper carolina until such time as he could send an overwhelming force against us. there was not a man in the ranks of the regulators who did not realize that tryon had outwitted us, and that our only hope lay in remaining together year after year until the other colonies should be willing to join us in the struggle for liberty. and in the meantime, while holding out against the king, how might we gain means of subsistence? the richest among us owned only so much land, and this could not be tilled if we were forced to fight day after day to retain possession of a small extent of territory. when all this was fully understood as we sat in our saddles near about the governor's house, i saw this man and that, the bravest among us, give way to tears, and for the time being it seemed to me that the cause of liberty was crushed. i could not then foresee that in the principal towns of the eastern colonies would spring up branches of our association, styled "sons of liberty," who would resist, as we had done, the unjust demands of an unjust king until the beacon lights of rebellion were kindled on every hill. i could not foresee that massacre at lexington and at concord which was needed to arouse the people until no sacrifice appeared too great, so that we purchased liberty for those who should live after us. in silence, each man hanging his head as if having suffered an ignominious defeat, instead of allowing ourselves to be tricked because of believing that a gentleman's word was sacred, we returned to the encampment on the hill, and were there formed in line for what i believed would be the last time. there were more than sidney and myself who looked as if bowed down with sorrow, and when we most needed words of encouragement they came from our commander, that noble old man who was, by the proclamation of one false to all the instincts of a gentleman, an outlaw on whose head a price was shortly to be set. "gentlemen of the regulation," general hamilton began, speaking loud and clear as becomes an honest man who knows in his heart that he is in the true path, "we have been deceived, and are thereby cast down by sorrow. at a time when it appeared as if we held the threads which could be woven fairly to the interests of this colony, we have, by trusting in the words of one who has no honor in his heart, lost all our advantage; but we would be proving ourselves faint-hearted indeed if such a misfortune was accepted as final defeat. now more than ever, must we struggle against wrong and oppression. it is not necessary you should again swear to be true to the cause; neither will it be of service to remain together just now, therefore i have this to propose, and it is for you to decide if it be the proper course: let us disperse, each going to his home, there to remain one month; at the expiration of such time we will meet at maddock's mill to settle upon a further course of action." the idea that we should remain as the regulation, subject at any time to a call from our leaders, heartened us wonderfully, and with one accord our people agreed that master hamilton's plan should be adopted. we broke ranks, each vowing friendship for his comrades, and entire devotion to the cause, and then went our several ways home firmly believing that in due course of time the purpose of the regulation would be accomplished. and now has come the time when i must hasten over the months and even years, without entering into details as to what sidney or i did while we waited an opportunity to strike a blow for our distressed country. true to the proposition of master hamilton, we met once each month, either at maddock's mill, or some other place equally central, and thus kept pace with the events which particularly concerned us of the carolinas. tryon remained in newbern in his palace which had been paid for by money wrung from a people who at times actually suffered for food, and flattered himself that he had finally destroyed the germs of rebellion that had been sowed by his own tyranny. contrary to our expectations, he did not make any decided effort to get into his clutches those of the regulation whom he had declared outlaws, and it was quite as well that he remained quiet on that score, for a thousand of the king's soldiers could not have taken them from us. the sheriffs of the counties in the upper carolinas, knowing full well that the regulation was neither crushed nor disheartened, no longer attempted to collect the unjust taxes, and thus it was that our people had been benefited in some slight degree. we cultivated our lands, moved about at will without fear of being molested during nearly two years, and then, on a certain day in september, sidney came to my home in hot haste, acting as messenger of the regulation. word had come from newbern that the superior court was to be convened on the th day of the month, and then would efforts be made to secure the bodies of those whom tryon had styled "outlaws." master hamilton, who yet remained in command of the regulators, despite his many years, had decided that our wisest method of procedure was to interfere at the outset, claiming that we had the right to make certain that justice, not the will of governor tryon, should influence the decisions given by judges who were inclined to listen to the orders of the governor rather than the evidence before them. it can well be supposed that neither my father nor myself lost any time in saddling our horses, and within twenty-four hours we were at the old encampment which overlooked the town of hillsborough. this time we were perfect masters of the situation. tryon, believing the regulation had been crushed out of existence, neglected to send soldiers to overawe us, and twenty of our people took possession of the court-house, while the remainder occupied the hill on the opposite side of the river ready to cross whenever a signal should be given that the services of armed men were necessary. because of our superior numbers, there was little chance the king's minions could do very much harm, therefore we were not held to rigid military discipline, and sidney hubbard and myself had no difficulty in obtaining permission to accompany that party which was to make certain no wrongs were inflicted upon us in the name of the law. when we arrived at the court-house, having left our horses on the opposite side of the river, we found there but one judge, and he the man above all others who was ready to give such verdicts as would please the governor. it is needless for me to set down the fact that this man was richard henderson. seeing our party enter the building fanning took it upon himself to ask that we be put out, and not allowed to enter even the yard, because, as he said, there were outlaws among us who had come for no other purpose than to create a disturbance. all those of whom he thus spoke had suffered many wrongs at the hands of this same attorney, and foremost in the list of the oppressed were herman husband, the two hunters, and rednap howell, not one of whom felt inclined to take additional abuse from such a traitor as fanning. that they acted hastily in the matter, i must admit; but at the same time one should remember the wrongs they had received. the miserable cur of an attorney had no sooner ceased speaking than the gentlemen i have named, aided by all the regulators present, seized fanning roughly and literally dragged him into the courtyard, where sidney and i were set over him as guards until such time as our people might be at liberty to attend to him properly. because of being thus occupied, i did not see that which followed; but later in the day my comrade and i were told that our people demanded the trial of those belonging to the regulation who had been declared outlaws, which was no more than just, since the court had been called together for that sole purpose. it was not the purpose of judge henderson to give the regulators a fair trial, and, therefore, in order to outwit us, he declared the court adjourned for the day. then he left the building, walking swiftly through the yard as if expecting to be roughly treated, and once he was out of sight our party set about giving fanning a lesson. he was taken across the river to our encampment, being dragged by the heels a portion of the way, and there we held a little court of our own, the decisions of which i dare venture to say were more in accordance with strict justice than any judge richardson would have delivered. it was decided that fanning should be beaten with rods in the presence of the regulation, and masters husband and james hunter were the gentlemen selected to inflict the punishment, therefore it can well be fancied that it was done in proper fashion. we kept the attorney with us during the night, and next morning all our company rode over to hillsborough, only to find that the brave judge had run away during the night, after declaring that the court was adjourned until one year from that day. he could not pronounce the sentences which tryon demanded, therefore had no idea of being forced to act honestly for once in his life. well, some of the hotter heads, taking advantage of the general confusion, utterly destroyed fanning's house, beating him again before setting the scoundrel at liberty. this done we went home once more, agreeing to meet each month as before. i can best tell the remainder of my story, up to the time when governor tryon decided to wage war upon us, by quoting from a history of the carolinas which i have lately seen; and while it is written from the standpoint of the royalists, it is correct as to the acts and movements of our enemy: [ ] "judge henderson, who was driven from the bench, called upon tryon to restore order in his district. the governor perceived that a temporizing policy would no longer be expedient, and resolved to employ the military force to subdue the rebellious spirit of the regulators. he deferred operations, however, until the meeting of the legislature, in december. "herman husband was a member of the lower house, from orange, and there were others in that body who sympathized with the oppressed people. various measures were proposed to weaken the strength of the regulators; and among others, four new counties were formed of portions of orange, cumberland, and johnson. these counties were named guilford, chatham, wake and surrey. finally, when the legislature was about to adjourn without authorizing a military expedition, information came that the regulators had assembled at cross creek, with the intention of marching upon newbern, having heard that husband had been imprisoned." now at this point i must interrupt the historian in order to explain that we of the regulation did indeed make this march. we knew full well that tryon both hated and feared herman husband, and, therefore, kept one or more of our people in newbern all the time the legislature was assembled in order that the news, if there was any of importance, might be sent without loss of time to our leaders. it is a fact that tryon even went so far as to prefer charges against master husband, and that the council caused his arrest and imprisonment. word to this effect was brought to us at once, and we set out for cross creek; but governor tryon had his spies out, and when it was known that the regulators, a thousand strong, were riding to aid one of their number who was illegally deprived of his liberty, the council made haste to examine the charges against master husband. they finally decided, in order to save their own worthless skins, that the charges were not sustained, and set the prisoner at liberty, imploring him to ride with all speed in order to prevent us from entering newbern. he met us at cross creek, and we escorted him home; but this time it was decided that the regulation go into camp at maddock's mill, and there remain ready for war until it was learned how far our enemy proposed to go in his effort to exterminate us, for that was what he had boldly said he would do. now we will copy once more from the printed story of our struggle: "the assembly immediately voted two thousand dollars for the use of the governor. the alarmed chief magistrate fortified his palace, and placed the town in a state of defense. he also issued a proclamation, and orders to the colonels of the counties in the vicinity, to have the militia in readiness. these precautions were unnecessary, for the regulators, after crossing the haw, a few miles above pittsborough, to the number of more than one thousand, met husband on his way home, and retraced their steps. "the governor soon issued another proclamation, prohibiting the sale of powder, shot, or lead, until further notice. this was to prevent the regulators supplying themselves with munitions of war. this measure added fuel to the flame of excitement, and finally, the governor becoming again alarmed, he made a virtual declaration of war, through his council. that body authorized him to raise a sufficient force to march into the rebellious districts and establish law and order. "the governor issued a circular to the colonels, ordering them to select fifty volunteers from their respective regiments and send them to newbern. with about three hundred militiamen, a small train of artillery, some baggage wagons, and several personal friends, tryon left newbern on the th of april. on the th of may he encamped on the eno, having been reinforced by detachments on the way. general hugh waddel was directed to collect the forces from the western counties, rendezvous at salisbury, and join the governor in orange county." it goes without saying that while these preparations were being made, whereby tryon counted on driving us from the face of the earth, our spies were scattered around the country plentifully, and, therefore, we knew exactly the size of his force, and how it was made up, when he went into camp. colonel joseph leech commanded the infantry, captain moore the artillery, and captain neale a company of rangers. on his way to the eno tryon was joined by a detachment from hanover, under colonel john ashe; another from carteret, under colonel craig; another from johnston, under colonel william thompson; another from beaufort, under colonel needham bryan; another from wake, under colonel johnson hinton; and at his camp on the eno he was joined by fanning, with a corps of clerks, constables, sheriffs and others. footnote: [ ] lossing's "field book of the revolution." chapter xiii. war declared. at last the regulation had forced governor tryon to acknowledge it as an adversary, and this afforded the members no slight amount of satisfaction. until he marched out of newbern with the militia, it had been his good pleasure to treat us as a lot of malcontents who should be dealt with by constables or sheriffs, and in his proclamations, or statements made to the people of other colonies, he was careful to so word his communications as to make it appear that the people of the upper carolinas, instead of being banded together for a specific purpose, were simply rioting and plundering. and i doubt not but that many of the colonists considered us a gang of bullies who had set their faces against law and order, never understanding that ours was a purpose which lay close to the heart of every true citizen, until that day came when he marched out against us. we, the regulators, were encamped on william payne's plantation when the news came that our enemy had left newbern after giving orders that he be joined on the route to the eno by this force or that, and master rednap howell said gleefully as he heard of that movement which might result in the death of many of our company: "it is the first cheering news we have had brought to us during the past two years. now must it be known in the other colonies that we are standing up for liberty, and, instead of believing us to be a few hot-heads, the people will understand that our party is a strong one, otherwise there would be no need for the governor to come out with such a force." and master butler added: "tryon must fight this time, instead of sitting in his palace and ordering that this or that gentleman be thrown into prison. we have more than half attained our end when the other colonies understand for what principle we are holding out." in fact, this move of tryon's caused the greatest possible satisfaction among our people, who had been running hither and thither for the past two years without opportunity of making public the oppression against which they had risen in arms. never a member of our party who questioned as to what our leaders would do; it was to all of us a settled fact that we would meet the government as speedily as might be, and in anticipation of the command we began furbishing up our equipments, or looking after the horses to make certain they were in condition for a forced march. by this time sidney and i were eighteen years of age, and no longer considered ourselves boys. since having been permitted to join the regulation we had been credited with doing good work, never flinching from a severe task or holding back because of danger, and thus we rode with the company as equals. i believe we two lads were more eager than any of our companions to meet tryon's forces in the open field; for it was our firm belief that the regulators would win the first battle fought and we burned with impatience to show what we could do as soldiers. "i never felt well inclined toward governor tryon until this moment," sidney said in a matter-of-fact tone as we overhauled our saddle-girths to make certain they were in good condition. "now it is very much as if he had suddenly become our friend, because of having boldly taken the field against us." "according to the report of our scouts, he must outnumber us two to one," i ventured to suggest. "the result will be the same if four against one is the odds. we must win, and what a relief it will be to ride forward with a definite aim, instead of going here and there without effecting anything, as we have been doing these two years past." "i agree with you on the last, sidney; but holding our own against twice our force is a different matter." the lad looked at me scrutinizingly for an instant, and then asked banteringly: "are you beginning to show the white feather just when our affairs look the most promising, clare?" "not a bit of it," i replied indignantly. "to my mind it is no evidence of cowardice to count well the situation and strength of the enemy." "but you went farther, and was near to questioning whether tryon's force might not worst us, simply because of its size." "and why might i not question it? a full thousand of his men are citizens of the carolinas, and should be our equals in both riding and fighting." "so they would were the cause the same; but they fight on the side of oppression, while we are striving to do that which shall be of benefit to every person in the american colonies." i did not attempt to continue what was rapidly becoming an argument, simply because it was useless just then. i believed it was folly to claim that gentlemen of the carolinas who did not hold to our opinions were our inferiors: but knew full well that it would be impossible to persuade my comrade to look at the matter in the same light i did. it is a sad mistake to think that ourselves and our adherents are better men than those who oppose us, and that, i think, has been fully proven by this time. i was ready to say that our cause was just, while theirs was not, and further than such a statement i would not go. finding that i was not inclined for a wordy quarrel, sidney ceased boasting of what the regulators could do, and set about speculating as to whether tryon would remain on the eno until we could come up with him, until suddenly, at the moment our people were least expecting it, word was passed through the camp that we were to fall into line, unmounted, to hear an important announcement from the commander. "i wish we had been summoned to appear ready for marching," my comrade said almost petulantly as he made his preparations for obeying by washing his hands, which were covered with the grease he had been applying to his bridle. "this talk of an 'announcement' has in it a suspicion that the regulators are not to break camp immediately." "don't begin to look after trouble," i replied with a laugh, knowing well sidney's disposition. "if we do not set out this night, the regulators will take the road to-morrow, and i'll warrant we see tryon's soldiers in good time." there were many others besides sidney who felt a certain degree of irritation because we were to hear words, instead of commands which would result in setting the entire company in motion toward the enemy; but all of us soon learned that master hamilton had no idea of trying to evade a pitched battle. "since this association was formed, it has been the custom to discuss any important movement with all the company, therefore have you been summoned," our commander said when we had been formed in a hollow square with him in our midst. "it is not necessary for me to promise that you shall be led against the enemy at the earliest fitting moment, and i also declare that you shall not be allowed to hurl yourselves upon the government troops like an unruly mob. when we have made ready, governor tryon shall see us. our scouts have brought in the information that general waddel is halted with a small force at salisbury, awaiting the arrival of powder from charleston. the regulators need that powder, and i propose that we take it. two hundred men well mounted will be sufficient for the enterprise, and in order that there shall be no charge of favoritism made against me, instead of detailing a force of such size, i ask that the best mounted among you step three paces to the rear, in token that you are willing to make the venture." the old gentleman had hardly more than ceased speaking when the entire company moved back as if with one accord, thus showing that every man of us was eager for active service, and that each one believed his horse superior to all the others. master hamilton laughed heartily, and then asked that none but the youngest volunteer for the service, and do so by stepping forward into the former position. once more was the square formed in the first position, for not a man was willing to be left behind at such a time. it was positive that all the company could not be spared for a service which might be performed by two hundred men, and i wondered how the matter could be arranged without causing jealousy. then our commander explained that it would be unwise to go for the powder with such a large company, and announced that since we could not settle the matter among ourselves, he would be forced to decide for us. "we will begin with william husband and count from one to five in regular order," he said at length. "every fifth man is to fall out of line and make immediate preparations for a forced march." sidney was standing by my side, and, fearing lest one should be taken and the other left, i whispered hurriedly to him: "move up until you are the fifth from me, and then if one goes the other will be with him. i would be as sad to leave you behind, as you would to see me stay in case you drew the lucky number." he agreed at once, for sidney was a true comrade in every sense of the word, and hardly had he taken up a new position when master husband began the count. my breath came thick and fast as the numbers sounded nearer and nearer, so fearful was i lest the number should doom me to stay in camp when glory might be earned, and i had so worked myself into a fever that when the man standing next beside me spoke the word "four," it was almost impossible for me to add the next number. i fell out of line silently, and one of those who had been selected to remain behind, thinking i was afraid to venture on the enterprise, whispered eagerly: "i'll swap my new saddle for your old one, if you'll give me your chance." "i'd not consent if you threw into the bargain the best horse in the company," i replied, and an instant later sidney and i were shaking hands vigorously in token of delight because of our good fortune. it can well be supposed that we were not many moments making ready for the expedition, and when we came to the center of the encampment, where the lucky ones were assembling, it was learned that master rednap howell had been selected as the leader of our party. the only orders master hamilton had to give were announced in the hearing of all. we were to ride toward salisbury until arriving at the bank of the yadkin, which river was to be crossed in order that we might come upon general waddel from cabarras county, thus hoping to give him the impression that the regulators were south of him, instead of in the course taken up by tryon. master hamilton was good enough to explain that he believed beyond a peradventure we would soon fight with the governor's forces; but it was his hope that we might meet them elsewhere than near about our own homes. a ride of between eighty and ninety miles was before us; but we gave little heed to the distance, since each yard traversed brought us so much nearer the enemy, and i venture to say that a more eager, happy party of men never set out to provoke a battle. when i say that the regulators were in sore need of powder, it can be understood that this venture of ours meant more than the worrying of general waddel; we were depending upon him for ammunition with which to wage battle against tryon. in less than an hour from the time when we had been summoned to hear master hamilton's announcement, our company of two hundred were riding away from the encampment, envied by every man who was forced to remain behind. many a time since governor tryon gave us the slip at hillsborough had we ridden across the country in company; but never before with the certainty before us that we might measure strength with the oppressors of the colony if it so pleased us, and this fact it was which put us in such wondrous spirits. it was the first opportunity we had had of striking a blow, and we were determined to give a good account of ourselves, regardless of the numbers to which we might find ourselves opposed. we rode at an easy pace, believing there was no urgent need for haste; but did not draw rein until sunset, when master howell gave the word to halt and unsaddle. "there is plenty of water and grass here," he said in explanation, "and the animals need a rest, not having the same spur to exertion as was given us with the news that waddel might be where we could get at him." each man carried his share of the provisions, and as soon as the horses had been cared for, we ate a hearty supper, knowing that many hours might elapse before another opportunity for satisfying hunger presented itself. at the end of two hours we were in the saddle again, and we rode until near two o'clock in the morning, with but one short halt, when the company had arrived at the bank of the yadkin. now was come the time when scouts should be sent out lest we come upon the enemy before gaining possession of the powder, and it was near daybreak before the march was resumed. by that time we had learned that general waddel's force was in salisbury, and counting on remaining there until the ammunition train came up. two miles below was a ford where we might cross the river without swimming the horses, and when the sun showed himself we were headed at full speed for the road leading from charlotte to salisbury, over which it had been reported that the powder would be sent. our horses were well blown; but we had made good time, and the only thing which might prevent the venture from being a success, was that general waddel had already received the ammunition. "if it turns out that we are too late to intercept the convoy, we must try conclusions with waddel," one of our party said when we were waiting on the west side of the river for our people to get into line, and, overhearing the remark, master howell said emphatically: "don't fear that we'll miss of getting our hands on the powder. we'll have a try for it even though it becomes necessary to face all the men tryon has brought with him." but that we were in an enemy's country our people would have cheered this statement; but as it was the men contented themselves with raising their hats to such a leader, and then we rode on, now intent only on finding a hiding-place where we might remain until scouts had been sent out to learn the condition of affairs. eager though sidney and i were to come face to face with those who wore the king's uniform, both were well pleased when the word was given to halt and make camp under cover. we had ridden nearly four and twenty hours, and although our hearts were stout for a battle, our bodies were sadly in need of a rest. we had halted by the side of the road between charlotte and salisbury, along which the powder must pass if it had not done so already, and on either side the highway were groves of live oak where five hundred men and horses might readily have found a hiding-place. five were told off as sentinels to give the alarm when the ammunition train came in sight, and five more were detailed to scout in the direction of charlotte to make certain the powder was yet to the south of our hiding-place. neither sidney nor i envied those who were obliged to remain in the saddle yet longer. if, four and twenty hours previous, there had been an opportunity to act as scouts, we two lads would have been willing to fight for the honor; but now we congratulated each other on the possibility of gaining a little sleep before the battle was begun. we tethered our horses near by; placed saddles and bridles where they might be come at in a hurry, and laid ourselves down in a thicket of small oaks, falling asleep almost as soon as we touched the ground. it was sunset when i awakened, and looked about me fearing, by some unlucky chance, the company had got away without my knowledge; but my mind was soon set at rest by seeing a score or more of men lounging near at hand as if discussing some matter of importance. without stopping to awaken sidney, i went toward them, and soon learned that our journey had not been in vain. the scouts had come in with the report that the powder and its convoy had not yet arrived at charlotte, therefore we had only to wait patiently for the desired opportunity. i was also told that master howell had stationed guards three miles down the road, in order that we might have timely warning of the movements of the train, and there was nothing for us to do but pass the time as best we might, providing all hands were ready for a quick jump at the word of command. when we first halted i was so sore in body from long riding that i believed four and twenty hours of a rest would not be sufficient to satisfy me; but within half an hour after awakening and being told that there was no doubt as to the coming of our game, i was eager to be in the saddle once more. although our sentinels were four miles away, and would come into camp at their best pace on hearing or seeing the ammunition train, the word was passed that no man should speak above a whisper, while the horses were to be guarded closely lest by whinnying they betray our whereabouts. then came a most trying time of waiting, when we crouched in the darkness close by our accouterments that there might be no delay in laying hands on them immediately the alarm was given, and expecting each instant to be engaged in deadly conflict. sidney and i were side by side, not making any attempt to start a conversation because our nerves were strung too tightly to admit of anything like ordinary topics, and i do not remember of passing such dreary, dismal moments. one had ample time in which to figure all the chances in favor of his being killed or wounded, and to speculate upon the probabilities of success. it seemed as if each moment was ten times its usual length, while the hours were like entire days. once when i believed it must be near morning, and was looking up at the sky for the first faint light of the coming dawn, i heard master howell say that it yet lacked a quarter of an hour to being midnight, and then both patience and courage oozed out at my finger ends. the cold chill of fear ran up and down my spine, and i believe that had the enemy made his appearance just at that moment, i should have been forced to fight against an inclination to run away. it is needless and impossible to try to give any correct story as to that night when we waited for the enemy, fearing because success was so necessary to our cause, that, by some blunder or unforeseen accident, we might fail. the sun had risen, showing haggard faces amid that thicket of live oaks, when we heard among the underbrush some distance away, that crashing which tells of a heavy body trying to force its way through the foliage. every man of us sprang to his feet and held his horse's bridle ready, when we saw one of the scouts in company with a sentinel. "the train will be here within an hour!" was the whisper, and even though the time when we might meet the foe was so far in the future, i ran with all speed to saddle my steed, exulting and at the same moment timorous. chapter xiv. the convoy. after the first flush of excitement had died away, leaving in its stead that tremulous calm which is caused by exceeding great courage or abject fear, we of the regulation went about our task in proper order and with due precaution. it was sidney who, when i was exultant and excited to the verge of doing some foolish thing, brought me to a realization of the situation by saying scornfully: "i'm beginning to grow ashamed of the regulators. to see them running around here as if bereft of reason simply because a rascally corporal's guard of a convoy is coming this way, one would say they had never seen service. is there like to be so much of credit in the capture of ten or twenty men by a force of two hundred, that each fellow burns with a desire to be in the front rank?" for a moment i was ashamed at having shown so much emotion over what was really nothing more than an incident, and then there came to my mind the knowledge that this capture meant more to us of the regulation than would the taking of a force twice our size, and i said decidedly, angry with myself for having been disconcerted by sidney's scorn: "one whose heart is with the cause cannot fail of being excited and anxious at such a time, no matter how small may be the force with which we are to contend. it is the idea that the powder is sadly needed by our people, which causes our company to be unduly excited. every man realizes the importance of doing the task well, and, quite naturally, fears lest it be not performed thoroughly." sidney had no reply to make, and i fancy he was somewhat ashamed of having spoken disparagingly of his companions. then the word was passed in a whisper for each man to conceal himself and his horse as near the edge of the road as possible, remaining there in readiness to spring out at the first word of command. a squad of ten was sent a quarter of a mile to the north in order to intercept any who might succeed in making their way past the main body, and our preparations were complete. i understood that the word for the attack would not be given until the convoy was opposite the center of our line, so that we might completely encircle it to prevent escape in either direction. then came half an hour of suppressed excitement, during which i could distinctly hear the beating of my own heart, and finally, the rumble of wheels in the distance, proclaiming the near approach of our prey. the train consisted of two heavily laden carts convoyed by twenty men, as i could see when the force was nearly opposite my hiding-place, and these details had no more than been noted when master howell's voice rang out like a trumpet: "at them, lads! at them, and make certain none escape you!" to those we were about to attack it must have seemed as if the thicket itself suddenly sprang out toward them, and before they had time to draw up in line ready to receive us, the party was completely surrounded. i would have been ashamed had there been no show of resistance, for the convoy was made up of carolinians, and, whether they were for the king or the people, it behooved them to display courage. at the word we could have shot all the little company down, most likely at the first volley, and in order to save bloodshed master howell cried sharply: "surrender, you of the convoy! we are full two hundred strong, and there is no good reason why you should throw away your lives!" while one might have counted ten a deep silence, save for the pawing or stamping of the horses, fell upon all that gathering in the road, and then the leader of the convoy, having seen that there was no hope of accomplishing anything by resistance, said curtly: "we can do no less than obey your order to surrender." "lay your arms on the wagons, after having dismounted, and then march toward the south." no one spoke while this command was being obeyed until, the men having marched down the road a dozen yards or more from the hindermost wagon, master howell called upon them to halt. then ten men were told off with orders to guard the prisoners, and when this squad had taken position near the convoy, our leader said in the tone of one who has already mapped out his course of action: "you will march your squad well to the westward of salisbury, and endeavor to gain our headquarters. do not take any chances of coming in contact with waddel's force, and see to it that not a man escapes. you may set off at once, gentlemen." the prisoners were first searched to make certain they had no weapons concealed about them, and then the little party rode slowly up toward salisbury counting on striking into the thicket before coming within dangerous distance of the town. when the party had disappeared in the distance, we set about taking possession of the ammunition. as a matter of course it was impossible for us to take the wagons with us, therefore each man was ordered to carry such portion of the powder as he could strap to his saddle, and we set about the work, the greater number of us stripping off our outer shirts, which we converted into bags by tying up the neck and sleeves. so great was the supply that even when each trooper had all he could conveniently carry, there yet remained a full third of the whole, and this we proceeded to destroy by pouring it into the tiny creek which bordered the western side of the road. then the horses were unharnessed and set free from the carts, which we left where they were in the highway, and our company formed in line once more. i had supposed that we would be ordered to join the main body of regulators; but in this i speedily found myself mistaken, for we rode directly to the yadkin river, and crossed it, going immediately into camp in a grove of live oaks. once this had been done master howell sent off five men as scouts, and soon we came to know that this last detachment was gone to spy upon general waddel's force. "yes," our leader said decidedly in reply to a question from one of the older men, "i count on attacking the force which is now at salisbury. it would be little less than criminal to let slip such an opportunity as is now before us. waddel is short of ammunition, now we have captured his supply, and i'm of the opinion that he will make an effort to join tryon, in which case we have him at our mercy. it will not cause us more than two days in time, and we shall be doing great service by preventing the union of the forces." now indeed were we doing something in aid of the cause, and my heart leaped high with joy, for it was reasonable to suppose that, in case our leader accomplished all he had set himself, the main body of the regulators could readily take care of governor tryon's army. it was at this time, although we did not come to know of it until after several days, that master rednap howell showed himself to be a great leader, inasmuch as he caused to be conveyed to general waddel, without trouble or inconvenience to ourselves, that information which we desired him to have, and the task was performed in this fashion: those who had in charge the captured convoy were instructed to allow one of them to escape, after the party were so far north of salisbury that there would be little likelihood of pursuit, and then it was certain the fugitive would take refuge with waddel's force. all this was done in accordance with master howell's orders, and thus it came about that when we were on the easterly bank of the yadkin, the general came to the conclusion that his wisest course would be to join tryon with the least possible delay, regardless of the fact that the powder had been lost. within twelve hours after we had made a camp in ambush, one of our spies came hot foot from salisbury with the word that the king's forces at that town were making ready for the march. in addition to this information we learned considerably to our surprise, that waddel's men were in a state of disorder nearly approaching mutiny. with but few exceptions they were members of the militia, and openly avowed that they would not fight under any consideration; others were favorably inclined toward the regulation, and already had many deserted. we were unprepared for such good news; but it did not require much reflection for master howell to hit upon a course of action which promised success. without delay two of our party, the eldest among us, were sent with all speed under a flag of truce for an interview with the general. they were instructed to warn the commander to remain where he was, or retreat to the coast, as might best please him, otherwise we would at once engage him. it was only natural waddel should believe that the entire force of regulators was within striking distance, and while his men were so sadly disorganized he could not well risk an encounter. we remained in hiding, ready to mount at a moment's notice, and before our messengers returned one of the scouts came in with the word that the militia was crossing the river, evidently bent on making at least one effort to join tryon. five minutes after this information was received we were riding out of the thicket toward that road which it would be necessary for the general to take if he counted on meeting the governor, and within two hours we were in advance of the king's poor soldiers, ready and eager for an engagement. it was only natural that sidney and i should be among those who most desired to be led against the enemy, for now, the first time in two years, might we add to whatsoever good reputation we had made as regulators, and we put aside the possible danger in the belief that we would succeed in distinguishing ourselves. skirmishers were sent out to learn when the enemy approached, and the remainder of us waited in anxious expectancy the moment when we might come face to face with the foe. in this we were doomed to disappointment, however. waddel also had skirmishers in advance, and immediately his men came in touch with ours they retreated, and soon word was brought that the entire force was retreating across the river again. now began a chase, when our horses were fresh, but handicapped considerably by the loads of powder they carried, and we were positive success would be ours whenever we could come within range of the foe. all evidence of military formation was lost sight of as we forded or swam our horses across the river, and in less than half an hour we were among the rear guard; but even this did not satisfy master howell. he believed the time had come when we might make prisoners of the entire force, and panted for the glory of capturing general waddel himself. to effect this fifty of us whose horses were fleetest, and among the number sidney and i, were directed to make a detour across the country in order to strike the enemy in front before he could gain shelter in salisbury, holding him there at whatsoever cost until the force was absolutely surrounded. how we rode that day! the horses were sent forward at racing speed, regardless of the danger that they might be foundered by carrying such a weight, and sidney and i were among the foremost when we broke cover directly in advance of the retreating column. "look after the general!" sidney shouted as we pressed on, our horses running neck and neck. "now has come the time when we can make names for ourselves which will not soon be forgotten!" we could see the leader and his officers plainly, and rode directly toward them without taking heed as to whether we were followed; but there yet remained a sufficient number of the men who were loyal to the king to prevent us from carrying out the plan. we speedily found ourselves confronted by a squad of twenty or more who stood bravely in line while their officers rode swiftly away, and this little party must be attended to before it might be safe to push on in pursuit of the prize. we drew back within the shelter of a clump of trees, where we were joined by a dozen or more of our men, and then began the first real fight in which i ever took part. there was no room in my mind for fear. i thought only of what might be done if we could disperse the party, and i fired and reloaded without realizing that my one desire was to take human lives. the militia held their ground well, and both sides were at a disadvantage because of trying to take aim while in the saddle. with such marksmen as we had among us that squad of the king's men should all have been disabled within ten minutes, and yet half an hour passed without any perceptible advantage on either side. three of our men were down, and four of theirs had dismounted or been knocked out of the saddle; but by such time the general and his officers had surely succeeded in making good their escape. from the sounds of firing which came from every direction we knew full well that all our party was engaged, and the question had just come into my mind as to whether this force of waddel's had been as badly demoralized as we were led to believe, when i heard shouts in the rear, and a moment later saw master howell ride up with eight or ten men at his back. "throw down your arms, and surrender!" he cried to our adversaries. "the remainder of the command have yielded, and you can do tryon no good by holding out longer!" in a twinkling the men came forward empty-handed, and the fight was won; but i failed to feel any great elation because of what we had lost, while sidney was furious with rage. "but for their holding out, we two might have captured waddel with, perhaps, some of his officers. it is a clear case of cheating, and we have got the worst of it!" "don't look a gift horse in the mouth," i cried laughingly, for my sorrow was dissipated by sidney's rage. "we never counted very surely on capturing the general, and should thank our lucky stars that we have deprived him of his force, for thus have we weakened tryon." he would not be consoled for the lost opportunity of distinguishing himself, and for a moment i really believed he was on the point of striking the disarmed men who had baffled his desires. there was no reason why we should not feel proud of our work. we had captured the ammunition, which was the first task set us, and, in addition held as prisoners a force which governor tryon counted on as adding to his own. surely we had done well, and if the remainder of the regulators could do as much, then was it certain tryon would be driven in shame from this portion of the colony. now it was that we had more prisoners than were convenient. as a matter of fact it would be impossible to feed them during the march to the alamance where we counted on meeting our companions-in-arms, to say nothing of providing them with horses, for not more than half the number were mounted, therefore master howell called for a consultation in which all hands were to take part. it was not necessary to spend very much breath over the question as to whether we would try to hold them captives. they must be disposed of in some manner, and without loss of time; but yet our duty was to make certain they did not join tryon. after hearing such propositions as our people had to make, and some of them were wild indeed, master howell raised the question as to whether it would not be wise to release them on parole? this was the solution to the whole matter, and if he had so stated it at first, we would have decided within a few seconds. on being consulted, our prisoners declared that they would readily take an oath not to bear arms against us until after having been properly exchanged, and all seemed pleased at being able to get out of the scrape so easily. the men were formed in a hollow square, and each was required to repeat the oath master howell administered, after which we parted company, the paroled force going toward charlotte, and we riding at full speed toward the alamance, for it was to be expected that tryon would go there to seek us. i would it were possible for me to set down all the details of our movements; but the yarn has already been spun out to such a length that much which might, possibly, be interesting to strangers must be omitted. it suffices to say that within three days after this encounter with general waddel's force, we of the two hundred which had been sent out to gather in a supply of ammunition rejoined the main body of regulators, and much rejoicing was there in camp after our story had been told. it was as if each of us had done something remarkable, to judge of the treatment we received, and certain it was that those who had been weak-kneed regarding our chances of a successful opposition to tryon, straightway became convinced that we could force him to retreat when the two forces came together. during our absence it had been decided by our leaders that we would await the enemy on the banks of the alamance, and there was no good reason to change the plan after we returned. we now had plenty of powder, and the women from roundabout melted lead into bullets until our wants were fully supplied. we had already fought and captured a full third of the force governor tryon counted on bringing with him, and this was done by only two hundred of our people, therefore it seemed positive that when we met them, a thousand regulators against no more than fifteen hundred militia and a few companies of soldiers, the result would be in our favor. twenty men or more were sent out as scouts and the remainder of our company lounged idly in camp, when, as a matter of fact, every moment should have been spent in fortifying the position. more than one of our people suggested that it would be a good plan to throw up breastworks, but our leaders gave no heed to the suggestion, and for the reason that they were suddenly plunged into distress not unmixed with dismay. our old commander, the man upon whom all relied at such a time, was taken with a most serious illness, and it was believed that his days on this earth were few. it was necessary to carry the old gentleman to a dwelling, and half a dozen of our best men undertook this duty, leaving the command of the force to herman husband, that member of the force in which we placed implicit confidence. as i look back upon that time, when all were confident regarding the future, it seems indeed strange that we should have selected as master hamilton's successor the only member of our company who would play us false. it was as if the gallant master hamilton had but just been carried away from us, when the scouts came in with the news that tryon was approaching, having heard of general waddel's defeat. then it was we leaned upon master husband, that man for whom we had risked our lives three several times in order that he might be spared imprisonment, and learned in the end that he was no more than a broken reed. chapter xv. the battle. it was as if we had no sooner learned that tryon was near at hand than he came almost upon us. just at sunset on the th day of may in the year of grace , our scouts came in with the report that the governor's force was encamped hardly more than six miles away, and was sending out skirmishers to ascertain our position. master husband's opinion was, and now he had become the leader we learned that he could be very obstinate once his mind was made up, that our scouts should be drawn in lest, peradventure, some of them be captured. thus it was we remained all in ignorance of what the enemy might be doing until, at about eight o'clock in the evening, our sentinels captured two of the king's men who were out reconnoitering, bringing them into camp. these were none other than colonel john ashe and captain john walker. now has come the moment when i must write of what we did to disgrace the regulation, because surely it was a disgrace for civilized men claiming to be at war, to act as did the regulators through the advice, or, i might almost say, the commands of, master husband. as we learned afterward, our new leader fancied he had cause for enmity against the two gentlemen whom our sentinels had taken prisoners, and within half an hour after they were brought into camp, he ordered both tied to a tree and severely whipped. it was an outrage which cannot be excused, however partial one may feel toward that organization which first nourished the spirit of liberty among the american people. yet it was done, and to master husband must be given the blame. in the carolinas colonel ashe and captain walker were looked upon as worthy gentlemen even by those whose politics were of a different complexion, and that we should flog them like slaves, nay, even in a more brutal fashion than one would whip his own chattels, was dire disgrace. had master husband delayed even ten minutes after making the proposal for punishment, our people would have cried out against the outrage; but it seemed almost as if the regulators were paralyzed by the mere suggestion of such an act as had never before disgraced them, and a few of the meaner spirits carried the order into execution while the remainder of the company were literally stupefied. this was the first wrong done, so far as i knew, by the regulation, and nineteen out of every twenty condemned it as brutal and uncalled-for. when the punishment was concluded, however, kindly hands took charge of the unfortunate gentlemen, and if words could have soothed their wounds, then of a verity had they been made whole while yet the sting of the lash was upon their flesh. master husband knew full well that he was censured by the majority of the company, and it was as if from that moment he took the entire command into his hands, determined that we should have no voice in whatsoever was done. thus it was that that brave company of gentlemen followed blindly a leader who was very shortly to prove himself a rank coward, raising no mutiny as would have been done under other circumstances, because we were facing the enemy and bickerings might bring about a disaster. when some of us would have accompanied colonel ashe and captain walker to tryon's camp under a flag of truce, master husband sternly forbade any such procedure, and declared that he should hold the gentlemen prisoners until after the enemy had retreated, or been whipped in battle. next morning, instead of sending out skirmishers, our leader appeared to think that a written notice from him would be sufficient to disperse the king's men, and accordingly he wrote what it pleased him to call a "proclamation," setting forth the fact that the governor had come contrary to law into counties over which he had abandoned control, and demanded that he should send answer within four hours explaining when it would please him to retreat. we had among us the reverend david caldwell of orange, that good minister who followed such of his congregation as belonged to the regulation, knowing full well a battle was imminent, and believing he might acceptably serve god and his fellow-man at the time when death was about to seize upon some of us. master caldwell had been among those who spoke the loudest against master husband's brutality of the previous evening; but now he accepted the position of messenger in the hope that he might prevail upon tryon to draw off and thus avert bloodshed. the good man disdained to use a flag of truce; but set off trusting that his cloth would protect him, as indeed it did, for he was speedily given audience with the enemy. governor tryon received the clergyman graciously; but excused himself from making a reply to the ill-advised proclamation until noon of the following day, because, as he said, until then there would not be time to discuss the matter with such of his officers as were entitled to consideration. however, he gave the parson the most positive assurance that no blood should be shed unless the regulators began the battle; in other words, he bound himself to keep his force in leash unless we made an unprovoked assault. when master caldwell came within our lines again, he had a long interview with master husband, the substance of which none of us knew thoroughly; but it was whispered among the more knowing, that the parson had insisted on liberty being given to the two prisoners, and our leader had flatly refused. master howell and a dozen others who had shared the command of the company with general hamilton, were loud in their complaints because master husband refused to send out scouts, and, finally, after no little bickerings which would have swelled into open mutiny but for the situation of affairs, they left the bigoted man to himself, and sent secretly a dozen or more to spy upon the enemy. by this means we knew that during the night governor tryon's force had crossed the alamance and marched silently along the salisbury road until within half a mile of our camp, where they were formed in battle order by daybreak. all this we of the rank and file knew; but our leader remained in ignorance, and had no suspicion that parson caldwell paid a second visit to the governor before breakfast was served our men, receiving from him another promise that blood would not be shed by his force without provocation; but now, having gained the position he desired, tryon demanded as the price of peace, that the regulation should surrender unconditionally. this he charged master caldwell to repeat to our leader, and when master husband heard it he showed himself, for a short time, as one who understood somewhat of warfare, for as soon as might be thereafter he marched us down the road until we were halted within three hundred yards of the governor's army. now did it appear as if the battle was to be fought by words rather than bullets, for tryon sent forward under flag of truce a magistrate from orange county, who read a lot of high-sounding words to the effect that we were ordered by the chief ruler of the colony to disperse within an hour. then was come the time when we should have set spurs to our horses and dashed into the king's lines, for of a verity could we have put them in full flight within ten minutes; but master husband, beginning to feel the influence of that cowardly fit which so beset him shortly afterward, ordered robert thompson, a gentleman well known among us all as being of a most peaceful and amiable disposition but prone at all times to speak his mind, to go into the governor's lines and learn what arrangements might be made for the settlement of the difficulty. this command was given secretly, else would master thompson never have been allowed to go forth on such an errand when we were prepared and eager to measure strength with the enemy. however, he went, and we remained in the saddle mystified, wondering why any parley should be held, until we saw our comrade halt in front of the governor himself. now this which i am to about to relate was afterward told me by a member of tryon's force. as a matter of course all that we of the regulation could see was the movements of the men. when master thompson advanced to the governor, he was told abruptly, and without even the ordinary civility which is due from one gentleman to another, to make his way to the rear as a prisoner. indignant because of such perfidy, he told the brute tryon some very plain truths regarding his actions in the carolinas, and wheeled about to return to our lines. my eyes were upon him at the moment, and sidney had expressed his satisfaction at seeing master thompson coming toward us in such a resolute manner, when i saw tryon seize a musket from the hands of a militiaman, and shoot the regulator dead. at the same instant it was as if the governor realized what he had done, for the smoke of the musket had hardly more than cleared away before we saw a flag of truce advance; but the murder of robert thompson was sufficient to arouse us all, and an hundred rifles were immediately emptied upon the bearer of the flag. then it was that we would have advanced without waiting for orders from master husband, but that parson caldwell rode swiftly up and down the line between us and the enemy, imploring the regulators to disperse rather than bring civil war upon the colony. we could not fire upon a man like master caldwell, neither was it in our hearts to ride him down, as we must have done had a charge been made at that moment; but tryon, losing his senses through rage, as it seemed to me, gave the word for the militia to fire. not a man obeyed the order. parson caldwell continued to urge that we have forbearance, and again tryon called out for his men to shoot, this time addressing the artillery as well as militia. it was as if both sides were listening to the entreaties of the clergyman, when the bully tryon, maddened with rage, rose in his stirrups as he shouted frantically: "fire! fire on them or on me!" this order was given to the entire force, and the men obeyed. how many of our people fell i know not. on the instant there came before my eyes a red mist; my brain swam, and i only know that there was but one desire in my heart, which was to kill--to kill the brute who had neither the instincts of a man nor the courage of a woman! we regulators fired rapidly as we could load and discharge our pieces, and then suddenly sidney shouted: "come forward, lads! spur your horses hard and we may take those cannon, for the men who work them act faint-hearted! follow me!" an hundred or more of us responded to this call. riding forward at full speed we literally swept the cannoneers from their pieces, and this done, after many lives had paid the price, we saw that man to whom general hamilton had entrusted the command of the gallant regulators, ride like a coward down the road a short distance, and then into the thicket. verily i believe there was not one among us save he who would have shown the white feather even in order to save his own life, and we cursed him--while we battled against the enemy we cursed him! what followed i know not of my own knowledge. it was as if a fever had seized upon me, and when reason returned sidney and i were in the jail at hillsborough, where we remained many a long, dreary month before finally being allowed to return to our homes under parole. here is an account as i have seen it set down by another who wrote at a later day, when all the facts were known, and in his words shall be told the remainder of the distressing story which began so bravely, and ended in shame and in death. [ ] "some young men among the regulators rushed forward and took possession of the cannons. they did not know how to manage them, and soon abandoned them. the military now fired with vigor, and the regulators fell back to a ledge of rocks on the verge of a ravine, not, however, until their ammunition was exhausted. "nine of the regulators and twenty-seven of the militia fell in that conflict, and a great number on both sides were wounded. tryon, in his report, said, 'the loss of our army in killed, wounded, and missing amounted to about sixty men.' "the admitted excesses of the regulators afford no excuse for the cruelty of tryon after the battle on the alamance. with the implacable spirit of revenge, he spent his wrath upon his prisoners, and some of his acts were worthy only of a barbarian. he exacted an oath of allegiance from the people; levied contributions of provisions; chastised those who dared to offend him; and at hillsborough he offered a large reward for the bodies of husband and other regulators, 'dead or alive.' "at hillsborough he held a court-martial for the trial of his prisoners. twelve were condemned to suffer death; six were reprieved, and the others were hung. his thirst for revenge satiated, tryon returned to his palace at newbern, where he remained but a short time, having been called to the administration of affairs in the province of new york. "the movements of the regulators and the result of the battle on the alamance form an important episode in the history of our revolution. their resistance arose from oppressions more personal and real than those which aroused the people of new england. it was not wholly the abstract idea of freedom for which they contended; their strife consisted of efforts to relieve themselves of actual burdens. while the tea-duty was but a 'pepper-corn tribute,' imposing no real burden upon the industry of the people in new england, extortion in every form, and not to be evaded, was eating out the substance of the working men in north carolina. implied despotism armed the new englanders; actual despotism panoplied the carolinians. each were equally patriotic, and deserve our reverent gratitude. the defeat on the alamance did not break the spirit of the patriots; and many, determined no longer to suffer the oppressions of extortioners, abandoned their homes, with their wives and children, went beyond the mountains, and began settlements in the fertile valleys of the tennessee." footnote: [ ] lossing's "field book of the revolution." the end. the boy spies series these stories are based on important historical events, scenes wherein boys are prominent characters being selected. they are the romance of history, vigorously told, with careful fidelity to picturing the home life, and accurate in every particular. handsome cloth bindings price, cents per volume the boy spies at the battle of new orleans. a story of the part they took in its defence. by william p. chipman. the boy spies at the defence of fort henry. a boy's story of wheeling creek in . by james otis. the boy spies at the battle of bunker hill. a story of two boys at the siege of boston. by james otis. the boy spies at the siege of detroit. a story of two ohio boys in the war of . by james otis. the boy spies with lafayette. the story of how two boys joined the continental army. by james otis. the boy spies on chesapeake bay. the story of two young spies under commodore barney. by james otis. the boy spies with the regulators. the story of how the boys assisted the carolina patriots to drive the british from that state. by james otis. the boy spies with the swamp fox. the story of general marion and his young spies. by james otis. the boy spies at yorktown. the story of how the spies helped general lafayette in the siege of yorktown. by james otis. the boy spies of philadelphia. the story of how the young spies helped the continental army at valley forge. by james otis. the boy spies of fort griswold. the story of the part they took in its brave defence. by william p. chipman. the boy spies of old new york. the story of how the young spies prevented the capture of general washington. by james otis. the navy boys series a series of excellent stories of adventure on sea and land, selected from the works of popular writers; each volume designed for boys' reading. handsome cloth bindings price, cents per volume the navy boys in defence of liberty. a story of the burning of the british schooner gaspee in . by william p. chipman. the navy boys on long island sound. a story of the whale boat navy of . by james otis. the navy boys at the siege of havana. being the experience of three boys serving under israel putnam in . by james otis. the navy boys with grant at vicksburg. a boy's story of the siege of vicksburg. by james otis. the navy boys' cruise with paul jones. a boy's story of a cruise with the great commodore in . by james otis. the navy boys on lake ontario. the story of two boys and their adventures in the war of . by james otis. the navy boys' cruise on the pickering. a boy's story of privateering in . by james otis. the navy boys in new york bay. a story of three boys who took command of the schooner "the laughing mary," the first vessel of the american navy. by james otis. the navy boys in the track of the enemy. the story of a remarkable cruise with the sloop of war "providence" and the frigate "alfred." by william p. chipman. the navy boys' daring capture. the story of how the navy boys helped to capture the british cutter "margaretta," in . by william p. chipman. the navy boys' cruise to the bahamas. the adventures of two yankee middies with the first cruise of an american squadron in . by william p. chipman. the navy boys' cruise with columbus. the adventures of two boys who sailed with the great admiral in his discovery of america. by frederick a. ober. the boy allies (registered in the united states patent office) with the navy by ensign robert l. drake handsome cloth binding, price cents per volume frank chadwick and jack templeton, young american lads, meet each other in an unusual way soon after the declaration of war. circumstances place them on board the british cruiser "the sylph" and from there on, they share adventures with the sailors of the allies. ensign robert l. drake, the author, is an experienced naval officer, and he describes admirably the many exciting adventures of the two boys. the boy allies on the north sea patrol; or, striking the first blow at the german fleet. the boy allies under two flags; or, sweeping the enemy from the seas. the boy allies with the flying squadron; or, the naval raiders of the great war. the boy allies with the terror of the sea; or, the last shot of submarine d- . the boy allies under the sea; or, the vanishing submarine. the boy allies in the baltic; or, through fields of ice to aid the czar. the boy allies at jutland; or, the greatest naval battle of history. the boy allies with uncle sam's cruisers; or, convoying the american army across the atlantic. the boy allies with the submarine d- ; or, the fall of the russian empire. the boy allies with the victorious fleets; or, the fall of the german navy. the boy allies with (registered in the united states patent office) the army by clair w. hayes handsome cloth binding, price cents per volume in this series we follow the fortunes of two american lads unable to leave europe after war is declared. they meet the soldiers of the allies, and decide to cast their lot with them. their experiences and escapes are many, and furnish plenty of the good, healthy action that every boy loves. the boy allies at liege; or, through lines of steel. the boy allies on the firing line; or, twelve days battle along the marne. the boy allies with the cossacks; or, a wild dash over the carpathians. the boy allies in the trenches; or, midst shot and shell along the aisne. the boy allies in great peril; or, with the italian army in the alps. the boy allies in the balkan campaign; or, the struggle to save a nation. the boy allies on the somme; or, courage and bravery rewarded. the boy allies at verdun; or, saving france from the enemy. the boy allies under the stars and stripes; or, leading the american troops to the firing line. the boy allies with haig in flanders; or, the fighting canadians of vimy ridge. the boy allies with pershing in france; or, over the top at chateau thierry. the boy allies with the great advance; or, driving the enemy through france and belgium. the boy allies with marshal foch; or, the closing days of the great world war. the boy scouts series by herbert carter handsome cloth binding, price cents per volume the boy scouts' first camp fire; or, scouting with the silver fox patrol. the boy scouts in the blue ridge; or, marooned among the moonshiners. the boy scouts on the trail; or, scouting through the big game country. the boy scouts in the main woods; or, the new test for the silver fox patrol. the boy scouts through the big timber; or, the search for the lost tenderfoot. the boy scouts in the rockies; or, the secret of the hidden silver mine. the boy scouts on sturgeon island; or, marooned among the game fish poachers. the boy scouts down in dixie; or, the strange secret of alligator swamp. the boy scouts at the battle of saratoga. a story of burgoyne's defeat in . the boy scouts along the susquehanna; or, the silver fox patrol caught in a flood. the boy scouts on war trails in belgium; or, caught between the hostile armies. the boy scouts afoot in france; or, with the red cross corps at the marne. our young aeroplane scout series (registered in the united states patent office) by horace porter handsome cloth binding, price cents per volume a series of stories of two american boy aviators in the great european war zone. the fascinating life in mid-air is thrillingly described. the boys have many exciting adventures, and the narratives of their numerous escapes make up a series of wonderfully interesting stories. our young aeroplane scouts in france and belgium; or, saving the fortunes of the trouvilles. our young aeroplane scouts in germany. our young aeroplane scouts in russia; or, lost on the frozen steppes. our young aeroplane scouts in turkey; or, bringing the light to yusef. our young aeroplane scouts in england; or, twin stars in the london sky patrol. our young aeroplane scouts in italy; or, flying with the war eagles of the alps. our young aeroplane scouts at verdun; or, driving armored meteors over flaming battle fronts. our young aeroplane scouts in the balkans; or, wearing the red badge of courage. our young aeroplane scouts in the war zone; or, serving uncle sam in the cause of the allies. our young aeroplane scouts fighting to the finish; or, striking hard over the sea for the stars and stripes. our young aeroplane scouts at the marne; or, harrying the huns from allied battleplanes. our young aeroplane scouts in at the victory; or, speedy high flyers smashing the hindenburg line. the jack lorimer series volumes by winn standish handsomely bound in cloth full library size-- captain jack lorimer; or, the young athlete of millvale high. jack lorimer is a fine example of the all-around american high-school boy. his fondness for clean, honest sport of all kinds will strike a chord of sympathy among athletic youths. jack lorimer's champions; or, sports on land and lake. there is a lively story woven in with the athletic achievements, which are all right, since the book has been o.k.'d by chadwick, the nestor of american sporting journalism. jack lorimer's holidays; or, millvale high in camp. it would be well not to put this book into a boy's hands until the chores are finished, otherwise they might be neglected. jack lorimer's substitute; or, the acting captain of the team. on the sporting side, the book takes up football, wrestling, tobogganing. there is a good deal of fun in this book and plenty of action. jack lorimer, freshman; or, from millvale high to exmouth. jack and some friends he makes crowd innumerable happenings into an exciting freshman year at one of the leading eastern colleges. the book is typical of the american college boy's life, and there is a lively story, interwoven with feats on the gridiron, hockey, basketball and other clean, honest sports for which jack lorimer stands. the big five motorcycle boys series by ralph marlow it is doubtful whether a more entertaining lot of boys ever before appeared in a story than the "big five," who figure in the pages of these volumes. from cover to cover the reader will be thrilled and delighted with the accounts of their many adventures. the big five motorcycle boys on the battle line; or, with the allies in france. the big five motorcycle boys at the front; or, carrying dispatches through belgium. the big five motorcycle boys under fire; or, with the allies in the war zone. the big five motorcycle boys' swift road chase; or, surprising the bank robbers. the big five motorcycle boys on florida trails; or, adventures among the saw palmetto crackers. the big five motorcycle boys in tennessee wilds; or, the secret of walnut ridge. the big five motorcycle boys through by wireless; or, a strange message from the air. the broncho rider boys series by frank fowler a series of stirring stories for boys, breathing the adventurous spirit that lives in the wide plains and lofty mountain ranges of the great west. these tales will delight every lad who loves to read of pleasing adventure in the open; yet at the same time the most careful parent need not hesitate to place them in the hands of the boy. the broncho rider boys with funston at vera cruz; or, upholding the honor of the stars and stripes. when trouble breaks out between this country and mexico, the boys are eager to join the american troops under general funston. their attempts to reach vera cruz are fraught with danger, but after many difficulties, they manage to reach the trouble zone, where their real adventures begin. the broncho rider boys at keystone ranch; or, three chums of the saddle and lariat. in this story the reader makes the acquaintance of three devoted chums. the book begins in rapid action, and there is "something doing" up to the very time you lay it down. the broncho rider boys down in arizona; or, a struggle for the great copper lode. the broncho rider boys find themselves impelled to make a brave fight against heavy odds, in order to retain possession of a valuable mine that is claimed by some of their relatives. they meet with numerous strange and thrilling perils and every wideawake boy will be pleased to learn how the boys finally managed to outwit their enemies. the broncho rider boys along the border; or, the hidden treasure of the zuni medicine man. once more the tried and true comrades of camp and trail are in the saddle. in the strangest possible way they are drawn into a series of exciting happenings among the zuni indians. certainly no lad will lay this book down, save with regret. the broncho rider boys on the wyoming trail; or, a mystery of the prairie stampede. the three prairie pards finally find a chance to visit the wyoming ranch belonging to adrian, but managed for him by an unscrupulous relative. of course, they become entangled in a maze of adventurous doings while in the northern cattle country. how the broncho rider boys carried themselves through this nerve-testing period makes intensely interesting reading. the broncho rider boys with the texas rangers; or, the smugglers of the rio grande. in this volume, the broncho rider boys get mixed up in the mexican troubles, and become acquainted with general villa. in their efforts to prevent smuggling across the border, they naturally make many enemies, but finally succeed in their mission. the boy chums series by wilmer m. ely in this series of remarkable stories are described the adventures of two boys in the great swamps of interior florida, among the cays off the florida coast, and through the bahama islands. these are real, live boys, and their experiences are worth following. the boy chums in mystery land; or, charlie west and walter hazard among the mexicans. the boy chums on indian river; or, the boy partners of the schooner "orphan." the boy chums on haunted island; or, hunting for pearls in the bahama islands. the boy chums in the forest; or, hunting for plume birds in the florida everglades. the boy chums' perilous cruise; or, searching for wreckage on the florida coast. the boy chums in the gulf of mexico; or, a dangerous cruise with the greek spongers. the boy chums cruising in florida waters; or, the perils and dangers of the fishing fleet. the boy chums in the florida jungle; or, charlie west and walter hazard with the seminole indians. the girl comrade's series all american authors all copyright stories a carefully selected series of books for girls, written by popular authors. these are charming stories for young girls, well told and full of interest. their simplicity, tenderness, healthy, interesting motives, vigorous action, and character painting will please all girl readers. handsome cloth binding. price, cents. =a bachelor maid and her brother.= by i. t. thurston. =all aboard. a story for girls.= by fanny e. newberry. =almost a genius. a story for girls.= by adelaide l. rouse. =annice wynkoop, artist. story of a country girl.= by adelaide l. rouse. =bubbles. a girl's story.= by fannie e. newberry. =comrades.= by fannie e. newberry. =deane girls, the. a home story.= by adelaide l. rouse. =helen beaton, college woman.= by adelaide l. rouse. =joyce's investments. a story for girls.= by fannie e. newberry. =mellicent raymond. a story for girls.= by fannie e. newberry. =miss ashton's new pupil. a school girl's story.= by mrs. s. s. robbins. =not for profit. a story for girls.= by fannie e. newberry. =odd one, the. a story for girls.= by fannie e. newberry. =sara, a princess. a story for girls.= by fannie e. newberry. the girl chum's series all american authors. all copyright stories. a carefully selected series of books for girls, written by popular authors. these are charming stories for young girls, well told and full of interest. their simplicity, tenderness, healthy, interesting motives, vigorous action, and character painting will please all girl readers. handsome cloth binding. price, cents. =benhurst, club, the.= by howe benning. =bertha's summer boarders.= by linnie s. harris. =billow prairie. a story of life in the great west.= by joy allison. =duxberry doings. a new england story.= by caroline b. le row. =fussbudget's folks. a story for young girls.= by anna f. burnham. =happy discipline, a.= by elizabeth cummings. =jolly ten, the; and their year of stories.= by agnes carr sage. =katie robertson. a girl's story of factory life.= by m. e. winslow. =lonely hill. a story for girls.= by m. l. thornton-wilder. =majoribanks. a girl's story.= by elvirton wright. =miss charity's house.= by howe benning. =miss elliot's girls. a story for young girls.= by mary spring corning. =miss malcolm's ten. a story for girls.= by margaret e. winslow. =one girl's way out.= by howe benning. =pen's venture.= by elvirton wright. =ruth prentice. a story for girls.= by marion thorne. =three years at glenwood. a story of school life.= by m. e. winslow. for sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers. a. l. burt company, - east d street. new york the little brown jug at kildare by meredith nicholson the house of a thousand candles illustrated by howard chandler christy mo, cloth $ . the port of missing men illustrated by clarence f. underwood mo, cloth $ . rosalind at red gate illustrated by arthur i. keller mo, cloth $ . zelda dameron illustrated by john cecil clay mo, cloth $ . the main chance illustrated by harrison fisher mo, cloth $ . poems mo, cloth net, $ . the bobbs-merrill company indianapolis [illustration] the little brown jug at kildare _by_ meredith nicholson with illustrations by james montgomery flagg oh, for you that i never knew, only in dreams that bind you!-- by spring's own grace i shall know your face when under the may i find you! --_h. c. bunner_ indianapolis the bobbs-merrill company publishers copyright the bobbs-merrill company september the little brown jug at kildare contents chapter page i two gentlemen say good-by ii the absence of governor osborne iii the jug and mr. ardmore iv duty and the jug v mr. ardmore officially recognized vi mr. griswold forsakes the academic life vii an affair at the state house viii the labors of mr. ardmore ix the land of the little brown jug x professor griswold takes the field xi two ladies on a balcony xii the embarrassments of the duke of ballywinkle xiii miss dangerfield takes a prisoner xiv a meeting of old friends xv the prisoner in the corn-crib xvi the flight of gillingwater xvii on the road to turner's xviii the battle of the raccoon xix in the red bungalow xx rosae mundi xxi good-by to jerry dangerfield [illustration] the little brown jug at kildare chapter i two gentlemen say good-by "if anything really interesting should happen to me i think i should drop dead," declared ardmore as he stood talking to griswold in the railway station at atlanta. "i entered upon this life under false pretenses, thinking that money would make the game easy, but here i am, twenty-seven years old, stalled at the end of a blind alley, with no light ahead; and to be quite frank, old man, i don't believe you have the advantage of me. what's the matter with us, anyhow?" "the mistake we make," replied griswold, "is in failing to seize opportunities when they offer. you and i have talked ourselves hoarse a thousand times planning schemes we never pull off. we are cursed with indecision, that's the trouble with us. we never see the handwriting on the wall, or if we do, it's just a streak of hieroglyphics, and we don't know what it means until we read about it in the newspapers. but i thought you were satisfied with the thrills you got running as a reform candidate for alderman in new york last year. it was a large stage and the lime-light struck you pretty often. didn't you get enough? no doubt they'd be glad to run you again." ardmore glanced hastily about and laid his hand heavily on his friend's shoulder. "don't mention it--don't think of it! no more politics in mine. the world may go hang if it waits for me to set it right. what i want is something different, a real adventure--something with spice in it. i have bought everything money can buy, and now i'm looking for something that can't be tagged with a price." "there's your yacht and the open sea," suggested griswold. "sick of it! sick to death of it!" "you're difficult, old man, and mighty hard to please. why don't you turn explorer and go in for the north pole?" "perfectly bully! i've thought of it a lot, but i want to be sure i've cleaned up everything else first. it's always up there waiting--on ice, so to speak--but when it's done once there will be nothing left. i want to save that for the last call." "you said about the same thing when we talked of thibet that first evening we met at the university club, and now the grand lama sings in all the phonographs, and for a penny you can see him in a kinetoscope, eating his luncheon. i remember very well that night. we were facing each other at a writing-table, and you looked up timidly from your letter and asked me whether there were two _g's_ in aggravate, and i answered that it depended on the meaning--one _g_ for a mild case, two for a severe one--and you laughed, and we began talking. then we found out how lonesome we both were, and you asked me to dinner, and then took me to that big house of yours up there in fifth avenue and showed me the pictures in your art gallery, and we found out that we needed each other." "yes, i had needed you all right!" and ardmore sniffed dolefully, and complained of the smoke that was drifting in upon them from the train sheds. "i wish you wouldn't always be leaving me. you ought to give up your job and amuse me. you're the only chap i know who doesn't talk horse or automobile or yacht, or who doesn't want to spend whole evenings discussing champagne vintages; but you're too good a man to be wasted on a college professorship. better let me endow an institution that will make you president--there might be something in that." "it would make me too prominent, so that when we really make up our minds to go in for adventures i should be embarrassed by my high position. as a mere lecturer on _the libeling of sunken ships_ in a law school, i'm the most obscure person in the world. and for another thing, we couldn't risk the scandal of tainted money. it would be nasty to have your great-grandfather's whisky deals with the mohawk indians chanted in a college yell." the crowd surged past them to the washington express, and a waiting porter picked up griswold's bags. "wish you wouldn't go. i have three hours to wait," said ardmore, looking at his watch, "and the only atlanta man i know is out of town." "what did you say you were going to new orleans for?" demanded griswold, taking out his ticket and moving toward the gate. "i thought you exhausted the creole restaurants long ago." "the fact is," faltered ardmore, coloring, "i'm looking for some one." "out with it--out with it!" commanded his friend. "i'm looking for a girl i saw from a car window day before yesterday. i had started north, and my train stopped to let a south-bound train pass somewhere in north carolina. the girl was on the south-bound sleeper, and her window was opposite mine. she put aside the magazine she was reading and looked me over rather coolly." "and you glanced carelessly in the opposite direction and pulled down your shade, of course, like the well-bred man you are--" interrupted griswold, holding fast to ardmore's arm as they walked down the platform. "i did no such thing. i looked at her and she looked at me. and then my train started--" "well, trains have a way of starting. does the romance end here?" "then, just at the last moment, she winked at me!" "it was a cinder, ardy. the use of soft coal on railways is one of the saddest facts of american transportation. i need hardly remind you, mr. ardmore, that nice girls don't wink at strange young men. it isn't done!" "i would have you know, professor, that this girl is a lady." "don't be so irritable, and let me summarize briefly on your own hypothesis: you stared at a strange girl and she winked at you, safe in the consciousness that she would never see you again. and now you are going to new orleans to look for her. she will probably meet you at the station, with her bridesmaids and wedding cake all ready for you. and you think this will lead to an adventure--you defer finding the north pole for this--for this? poor ardy! but did she toss her card from the window? why new orleans? why not minneapolis, or bangor, maine?" "i'm not an ass, grissy. i caught the name of the sleeper--you know they're all named, like yachts and tall buildings--the name of her car was the _alexandra_. i asked our conductor where it was bound for, and he said it was the new orleans car. so i took the first train back, ran into you here, and that's the whole story to date." "i admire your spirit. new orleans is much pleasanter than the polar ice, and a girl with a winking eye isn't to be overlooked in this vale of tears. what did this alleviating balm for tired eyes look like, if you remember anything besides the wicked wink?" "she was bareheaded, and her hair was wonderfully light and fluffy, and it was parted in the middle and tied behind with a black ribbon in a great bow. she rested her cheek on her hand--her elbow on the window-sill, you know--and she smiled a little as the car moved off, and winked--do you understand? her eyes were blue, grissy, big and blue--and she was perfectly stunning." "there are winks and winks, ardy," observed griswold with a judicial air. "there is the wink inadvertent, to which no meaning can be attached. there is the wink deceptive, usually given behind the back of a third person, and a vulgar thing which we will not associate with your girl of the _alexandra_. and then, to be brief, there is the wink of mischief, which is observed occasionally in persons of exceptional bringing up. there are moments in the lives of all of us when we lose our grip on conventions--on morality, even. the psychology of this matter is very subtle. here you are, a gentleman of austerely correct life; here is a delightful girl, on whom you flash in an out-of-the-way corner of the world. and she, not wholly displeased by the frank admiration in your eyes--for you may as well concede that you stared at her--" "well, i suppose i did look at her," admitted ardmore reluctantly. "pardonably, no doubt, just as you would look at a portrait in a picture gallery, of course. this boarding-school miss, who had never before lapsed from absolute propriety, felt the conventional world crumble beneath her as the train started. she could no more have resisted the temptation to wink than she could have refused a caramel or an invitation to appear as best girl at a church wedding. thus wireless communication is established between soul and soul for an instant only, and then you are cut off forever. perhaps, in the next world, ardy--" griswold and ardmore had often idealized themselves as hopeless pursuers of the elusive, the unattainable, the impossible; or at least ardmore had, and griswold had entered into the spirit of this sort of thing for the joy it gave ardmore. they had discussed frequently the call of soul to soul--the quick glance passing between perfect strangers in crowded thoroughfares, and had fruitlessly speculated as to their proper course in the event the call seemed imperative. a glance of the eye is one thing, but it is quite another to address a stranger and offer eternal friendship. the two had agreed that, while, soul-call or no soul-call, a gentleman must keep clear of steamer flirtations, and avoid even the most casual remarks to strange young women in any circumstances, a gentleman of breeding and character may nevertheless follow the world's long trails in search of a never-to-be-forgotten face. the fact is that ardmore was exceedingly shy, and a considerable experience of fashionable society had not diminished this shortcoming. griswold, on the other hand, had the virginian's natural social instinct, but he suffered from a widely-diffused impression that much learning had made him either indifferent or extremely critical where women are concerned. ardmore shrugged his shoulders and fumbled in his coat pockets as though searching for ideas. an austere composure marked his countenance at all times, and emphasized the real distinction of his clean-cut features. his way of tilting back his head and staring dreamily into vacancy had established for him a reputation for stupidity that was wholly undeserved. "please limit the discussion to the present world, professor." when ardmore was displeased with griswold he called him professor, in a withering tone that disposed of the academic life. "we shall limit it to new orleans or the universe, as you like." "i'm disappointed in you, grissy. you don't take this matter in the proper spirit. i'm going to find that girl, i tell you." "i want you to find her, ardy, and throw yourself at her feet. be it far from me to deprive you of the joy of search. i thoroughly admire your resolute spirit. it smacks of the old heroic times. nor can i conceal from you my consuming envy. if a girl should flatter me with a wink i should follow her thrice round the world. she should not elude me anywhere in the copernican system. if it were not the nobler part for you to pursue alone, i should forsake my professorship and buckle on my armor and follow your standard-- with the winking eye for my battle-cry." and griswold hummed the words, beating time with his stick, much to ardmore's annoyance. "in my ignorance," griswold continued, "i recall but one allusion to the wink in immortal song. if my memory serves me, it is no less a soul than browning who sings: 'all heaven, meanwhile, condensed into one eye which fears to lose the wonder, should it wink.' you seem worried, ardy. does the wink press so heavily, or what's the matter?" "the fact is, i'm in trouble. my sister says i've got to marry." "which sister?" "mrs. atchison. you know nellie? she's a nice girl and she's a good sister to me, but she's running me too hard on this marrying business. she's going to bring a bunch of girls down to ardsley in a few days, and she says she'll stay until i make a choice." griswold whistled. "then, as we say in literary circles, you're up against it. no wonder you're beginning to take notice of the frolicsome boarding-school girl who winks at the world. i believe i'd rather take chances myself with that amiable sort than marry into your newport transatlantic set." "well, one thing's certain, grissy. you've got to come to ardsley and help me out while those people are there. nellie likes you; she thinks you're terribly intellectual and all that, and if you'll throw in a word now and then, why--" "why, i may be able to protect you from the crafts and assaults of your sister. you seem to forget, ardy, that i'm not one of your american leisure class. i'm always delighted to meet mrs. atchison, but i'm a person of occupations. i have a consultation in richmond to-morrow, then me for charlottesville. we have examinations coming on, and, while i like to play with you, i've positively got to work." "not if i endow all the chairs in the university! you've not only got to come, but you're going to be there the day they arrive." thomas ardmore, of new york and ardsley, struck his heavy stick--he always carried a heavy stick--smartly on the cement platform in the stress of his feeling. he was much shorter than griswold, to whom he was deeply attached--for whom he had, indeed, the frank admiration of a small boy for a big brother. he sometimes wondered how fully griswold entered into the projects of adventure which he, in his supreme idleness, planned and proposed; but he himself had never been quite ready to mount horse or shake out sail, and what griswold had said about indecision rankled in his heart. he was sorry now that he had told of this new enterprise to which he had pledged himself, but he grew lenient toward griswold's lack of sympathy as he reflected that the quest of a winking girl was rather beneath the dignity of a gentleman wedded not merely to the law, but to the austere teaching profession as well. in his heart he forgave griswold, but he was all the more resolved to address himself stubbornly to his pursuit of the deity of the car _alexandra_, for only by finding her could he establish himself in griswold's eyes as a man of action, capable of carrying through a scheme requiring cleverness and tact. ardmore was almost painfully rich, but the usual diversions of the wealthy did not appeal to him, and, having exhausted foreign travel, he spent much time on his estate in the north carolina hills, where he could ride all day on his own land, and where he read prodigiously in a huge library that he had assembled with special reference to works on piracy, a subject that had attracted him from early youth. it was this hobby that had sealed his friendship with griswold, who had relinquished the practice of law, after a brilliant start in his native city of richmond, to accept the associate professorship of admiralty in the law department of the university of virginia. marine law had a particular fascination for griswold from its essentially romantic character. as a law student he had read all the decisions in admiralty that the libraries afforded, and, though faithfully serving the university, he still occasionally accepted retainers in admiralty cases of unusual importance. his lectures were constantly attended by students in other departments of the university for sheer pleasure in griswold's racy and entertaining exposition of the laws touching the libeling of schooners and the recovery of jettisoned cargoes. henry maine griswold was tall, slender and dark, and he hovered recklessly, as he might have put it, on the brink of thirty. he stroked his thin brown mustache habitually, as though to hide the smile that played about his humorous mouth--a smile that lay even more obscurely in his fine brown eyes. he did violence to the academic traditions by dressing with metropolitan care, gray being his prevailing note, though his scarfs ventured upon bold color schemes that interested his students almost as much as his lectures. the darkest fact of his life--and one shared with none--was his experiments in verse. from his undergraduate days he had written occasionally a little song, quite for his own pleasure in versifying, and to a little sheaf of these things in manuscript he still added a few verses now and then. "don't worry, ardy," he was saying to his friend as "all aboard" was called, "and don't be reckless. when you get through looking for the winking eye, come up to charlottesville and we'll plan _the true life of captain kidd_ that is some day going to make us famous." "i'll wire you later," replied ardmore, clinging to his friend's hand a moment after the train began to move. griswold leaned out of the vestibule to wave a last farewell to ardmore, and something very kind and gentle and good to see shone in the lawyer's eyes. he went into the car smiling, for he called ardmore his best friend, and he was amused by his last words, which were always ardmore's last in their partings, and were followed usually by telegrams about the most preposterous things, or suggestions for romantic adventures, or some new hypothesis touching captain kidd and his buried treasure. ardmore never wrote letters; he always telegraphed, and he enjoyed filing long, mysterious and expensive messages with telegraph operators in obscure places where a scrupulous ten words was the frugal limit. griswold lighted a cigar and opened the afternoon atlanta papers in the smoking compartment. his eye was caught at once by imperative head-lines. it is not too much to say that the eye of the continent was arrested that evening by the amazing disclosure, now tardily reaching the public, that something unusual had occurred at the annual meeting of the cotton planters' association at new orleans on the previous day. every copy-reader and editor, every paragrapher on every newspaper in the land had smiled and reached for a fresh pencil as a preliminary bulletin announced the passing of harsh words between the governor of north carolina and the governor of south carolina. it may as well be acknowledged here that just what really happened at the cotton planters' convention will never be known, for this particular meeting was held behind closed doors, and as the two governors were honored guests of the association, no member has ever breathed a word touching an incident that all most sincerely deplored. indeed, no hint of it would ever have reached the public had it not been that both gentlemen hurriedly left the convention hall, refused to keep their appointments to speak at the banquet that followed the business meetings, and were reported to have taken the first trains for their respective capitals. it was whispered by a few persons that the governor of south carolina had taken a fling at the authenticity of the mecklenburg declaration of independence; it was rumored in other quarters that the governor of north carolina was the aggressor, he having--it was said--declared that a people (meaning the freemen of the commonwealth of south carolina) who were not intelligent enough to raise their own hay, and who, moreover, bought that article in ohio, were not worth the ground necessary for their decent interment. it is not the purpose of this chronicle either to seek the truth of what passed between the two governors at new orleans, or to discuss the points of history and agriculture raised in the statements just indicated. as every one knows, the twentieth of may (or was it the thirty-first!), , is solemnly observed in north carolina as the day on which the patriots of mecklenburg county severed the relations theretofore existing between them and his majesty, king george the third. equally well known is the fact that in south carolina it is an article of religious faith that on that twentieth day of may, , the citizens of mecklenburg county, north carolina, cheered the english flag and adopted resolutions reaffirming their ancient allegiance to the british crown. this controversy and the inadequacy of the south carolina hay crop must be passed on to the pamphleteers, with such other vexed questions as andrew jackson's birthplace--more debated than homer's and not to be carelessly conceded to the strutting sons of waxhaw. griswold read of the new orleans incident with a smile, while several fellow-passengers discussed it in a tone of banter. one of them, a gentleman from mississippi, presently produced a flask, which he offered to the others, remarking, "as the governor of north carolina said to the governor of south carolina," which was, to be sure, pertinent to the hour and the discussion, and bristling with fresh significance. "they were both in atlanta this morning," said the man with the flask, "and they would have been traveling together on this train if they hadn't met in the ticket office and nearly exploded with rage." the speaker was suddenly overcome with his own humor, and slapped his knee and laughed; then they all laughed, including griswold. "one ought to have taken the lower berth and one the upper to make it perfect," observed an alabama man. "i wonder when they'll get home." "they'll probably both walk to be sure they don't take the same train," suggested a commercial traveler from cincinnati, who had just come from new orleans. "their friends are doing their best to keep them apart. they both have a reputation for being quick on the trigger." "bosh!" exclaimed griswold. "i dare say it's all a newspaper story. there's no knife-and-pistol nonsense in the south any more. they'll both go home and attend to their business, and that will be the last of it. the people of north carolina ought to be proud of dangerfield; he's one of the best governors they ever had. and osborne is a first-class man, too, one of the old palmetto families." "i guess they're both all right," drawled the mississippian, settling his big black hat more firmly on his head. "dangerfield spoke in our town at the state fair last year, and he's one of the best talkers i ever heard." therefore, as no one appeared to speak for the governor of south carolina, the drummer volunteered to vouch for his oratorical gifts, on the strength of an address lately delivered by governor osborne in a lecture course at cincinnati. being pressed by the mississippian, he admitted that he had not himself attended the lecture, but he had heard it warmly praised by competent critics. the mississippian had resented griswold's rejection of the possibility of personal violence between the governors, and wished to return to the subject. "it's not only themselves," he declared, "but each man has got the honor of his state to defend. suppose, when they met in the railway office at atlanta this morning, dangerfield had drawed his gun. do you suppose, gentlemen, that if north carolina had drawed south carolina wouldn't have followed suit? i declare, young man, you don't know what you're talking about. if bill dangerfield won't fight, i don't know fightin' blood when i see it." "well, sir," began the alabama man, "my brother-in-law in charleston went to college with osborne, and many's the time i've heard him say that he was sorry for the man who woke up charlie osborne. charlie--i mean the governor, you understand--is one of these fellows who never says much, but when you get him going he's terrible to witness. bill dangerfield may be governor of north car'line, and i reckon he is, but he ain't governor of south car'line, not by a damned good deal." the discussion had begun to bore griswold, and he went back to his own section, having it in mind to revise a lecture he was preparing on _the right of search on the high seas_. it had grown dark, and the car was brilliantly lighted. there were not more than half a dozen other persons in his sleeper, and these were widely scattered. having taken an inventory of his belongings to be sure they were all at hand, he became conscious of the presence of a young lady in the opposite section. in the seat behind her sat an old colored woman in snowy cap and apron, who was evidently the young lady's servant. griswold was aware that this dusky duenna bristled and frowned and pursed her lips in the way of her picturesque kind as he glanced at her, as though his presence were an intrusion upon her mistress, who sat withdrawn to the extreme corner of her section, seeking its fullest seclusion, with her head against a pillow, and the tips of her suède shoes showing under her gray traveling skirt on the further half of the section. she twirled idly in her fingers a half-opened white rosebud--a fact unimportant in itself, but destined to linger long in griswold's memory. the pillow afforded the happiest possible background for her brown head, her cheek bright with color, and a profile clear-cut, and just now--an impression due, perhaps, to the slight quiver of her nostrils and the compression of her lips--seemingly disdainful of the world. griswold hung up his hat and opened his portfolio; but the presence of the girl suggested ardmore and his ridiculous quest of the alluring blue eye, and it was refreshing to recall ardmore and his ways. here was one man, at least, in this twentieth century, at whose door the time spirit might thump and thunder in vain. the black woman rose and ministered to her mistress, muttering in kind monotone consolatory phrases from which "chile" and "honey" occasionally reached griswold's ears. the old mammy produced from a bag several toilet bottles, a fresh handkerchief, a hand mirror and a brush, which she arranged in the empty seat. the silver trinkets glowed brightly against the blue upholstery. "thank you, aunt phoebe, i'm feeling much better. just let me alone now, please." the girl put aside the white rose for a moment and breathed deeply of the vinaigrette, whose keen, pungent odor stole across the aisle to griswold. she bent forward, took up the hand mirror, and brushed the hair away from her forehead with half a dozen light strokes. she touched her handkerchief to the cologne flask, passed it across her eyes, and then took up the rose again and settled back with a little sigh of relief. in her new upright position her gaze rested upon griswold's newspapers, which he had flung down on the empty half of his section. one of them had fallen open and lay with its outer page staring with the bold grin of display type. two governors at war! what did the governor of north carolina say to the governor of south carolina? the color deepened in the girl's face; a slight frown gathered in her smooth forehead; then she called the colored woman and a brief colloquy followed between them. in a moment griswold was addressed in a tone and manner at once condescending and deferential. "if yo' please, suh, would yo' all 'low my mistus t' look at yo' newspapahs?" "certainly. take them along." and griswold, recalled from a passage in his lecture that dealt with contraband munitions of war, handed over the newspapers, and saw them pass into the hands of his fellow-passenger. he had read the newspapers pretty thoroughly, and knew the distribution of their contents, so that he noted with surprise the girl's immediate absorption in the telegrams from new orleans relating to the difficulty between the two governors. as she read she lost, he thought, something of her splendid color, and at one point in her reading her face went white for a moment, and griswold saw the paper wrinkle under the tightening grasp of her hands. the tidings from new orleans had undoubtedly aroused her indignation, which expressed itself further in the rigid lines of her figure as she read, and in the gradual lifting of her head, as though with some new resolution. she seemed to lose account of her surroundings, and several times griswold was quite sure that he heard her half exclaim, "preposterous! infamous!" when she had finished the new orleans telegrams she cast the offending newspapers from her, then, recalling herself, summoned the black woman, and returned them to griswold, the dusky agent expressing the elaborate thanks of her race for his courtesy. the girl had utterly ignored griswold, and she now pulled down the curtain at her elbow with a snap and turned her face away from him. professor griswold's eyes wandered repeatedly from his manuscript to the car ceiling, then furtively to the uncompromisingly averted shoulder and head of the young lady, then back to his lecture notes, until he was weary of the process. he wished ardmore were at hand, for his friend would find here a case that promised much better than the pursuit to which he had addressed himself. the girl in this instance was at least a self-respecting lady, not given to flirtations with chance travelers, and the brown eyes, of which griswold had caught one or two fleeting glimpses, were clearly not of the winking sort. the attendance of the black mammy distinguished the girl as a person of quality, whose travels were stamped with an austere propriety. her silver toilet articles testified to an acquaintance with the comforts if not the luxuries of life. the alligator-hide suit-case thrust under the seat bore the familiar label of a swiss hotel where griswold had once spent a week, and spoke of the girl's acquaintance with an ampler world. when phoebe had brought it forth the initials "b. o." in small black letters suggested baltimore and ohio to griswold's lazy speculations, whereupon he reflected that while baltimore was plausible, the black servant eliminated ohio; and as every virginian knows every other virginian, he tried to identify her with old dominion family names beginning with o, but without result. he finally concluded that, while her name might be beatrice or barbara, it could not be bessie, and he decided that very likely the suit-case belonged to her brother benjamin, in whom he felt no interest whatever. he went out to supper, secured the only remaining table for two, and was giving his order when the young lady appeared. she had donned her hat, and as she stood a moment in the entrance, surveying the line of tables, her distinction was undeniable. there were but two vacant places in the car, one facing griswold, the other across the aisle at a larger table where three men were engaged in animated discussion. the girl viewed the prospect with evident disappointment as the waiter drew out the vacant chair at griswold's table. she carried herself bravely, but wore still a _triste_ air that touched griswold's sympathy. he rose, told the waiter that he would sit at the other table, and the girl murmured her thanks with a forlorn little smile as she took his seat. the appearance of griswold aroused the mississippian to a renewal of the discussion of the new orleans incident. he was in excellent humor, and had carried to the car a quart bottle, which he pushed toward griswold: "as the governor of north carolina said to the governor of south carolina--" "no, thank you," and as he spoke griswold's eyes fell upon the girl, and he saw annoyance written fleetingly on her face. "you needn't be afraid of that whisky. it's all right," the mississippian protested. "i'm confident of that; but some other time, thank you." "well, sir," the mississippian declared, "after you left us a while ago we got to talking about dangerfield and his trouble with osborne. there's something back of this rumpus. you see, if they lived in the same state you might account for a fierce rivalry between them. both of 'em, for example, might have the senatorial bee in their bonnets; but either one of 'em could make the senate any time he pleased. i guess they're the two biggest men in the south right now. they're too big to be touchy about any small matter; that's why i reckon there's something behind this little racket over there at new orleans. no passing remark would send men off that way, so wild that they wouldn't travel on the same train together. why, gentlemen--" "please pass the salt," interposed griswold. the mississippian enjoyed the sound of his own voice, which boomed out above the noise of the train with broad effects of dialect that these types will not be asked to reproduce. griswold's eyes had again met those of the girl opposite, and there was, he felt, a look of appeal in them. the discussion distressed her, just as the telegrams from new orleans in the afternoon papers had distressed her, and griswold began at once to entertain his table companions with his views on a number of national political issues, that were as vital to arizona or wyoming as to the carolinas. he told stories to illustrate his points, and told them so well that his three companions forgot the estrangement of the belligerent governors. griswold ran on in the low, musical voice that distinguishes the cultivated virginian in any company anywhere in the world, and the noisy loquacity of the mississippian went down before him. he was so intent on holding their attention that his dishes were taken from him almost untouched. the others lingered until his coffee was brought. he was so absorbed that he failed to see the smile that occasionally passed over the girl's face as some fragment of one of his stories found its way to her. he had undertaken to deflect the talk from a channel which had, it seemed, some painful association for her, but he had done more in unwittingly diverting her own thoughts by his droll humor. he did not cease until she had left the car, whereupon he followed his trio of auditors to the smoking compartment, and there suffered the mississippian to hold uninterrupted sway. when he went back into the car at eleven o'clock he found the girl and her maid still sitting in their sections, though most of the other berths, including his own, had been made up. the train was slowing down, and, wishing a breath of air before retiring, he went to the rear platform of the sleeper, which was the last car of the train. the porter had opened the door in the vestibule to allow the brakeman to run back with his torpedoes. the baggage car had developed a hot box, and, jumping out, griswold saw lanterns flashing ahead where the trainmen labored with the sick wheel. the porter vanished, leaving griswold alone. the train had stopped at the edge of a small town, whose scattered houses lay darkly against the hills beyond. the platform lamps of a station shone a quarter of a mile ahead. the feverish steel yielded reluctantly to treatment, and griswold went forward and watched the men at work for a few minutes, then returned to the end of the train. he swung himself into the vestibule and leaned upon the guard rail, gazing down the track toward the brakeman's lantern. then he grew impatient at the continued delay and dropped down again, pacing back and forth in the road-bed behind the becalmed train. the night was overcast, with hints of rain in the air, and a little way from the rear lights it was pitch dark. griswold felt sure that the train would not leave without the brakeman, and he was further reassured by the lanterns of the trainmen beside the baggage car. suddenly, as he reached the car and turned to retrace his steps, a man sprang up, seemingly from nowhere, and accosted him. "i reckon y'u're the gov'nor, ain't y'u?" "yes, certainly, my man. what can i do for you?" replied griswold instantly. "i reckoned it was y'u when y'u fust come out on the platform. i'm app'inted to tell y'u, gov'nor, that if y'u have bill appleweight arrested in south car'lina, y'u'll get something one of these days y'u won't like. and if y'u try to find me y'u'll get it quicker. good night, gov'nor." "good night!" stammered griswold. the least irony had crept into the word governor as the man uttered it and slipped away into the darkness. the shadows swallowed him up; the frogs in the ditch beside the track chanted dolorously; then the locomotive whistled for the brakeman, whose lantern was already bobbing toward the train. as griswold swung himself into the vestibule the girl who had borrowed his newspapers turned away hurriedly and walked swiftly before him to her section. the porter, who was gathering her things together, said, as she paused in the aisle by her seat: "beginnin' to get ready, miss osbo'n. we're gwine intu columbia thirty minutes late all account dat hot box." griswold passed on to the smoking compartment and lighted a cigar. his acquaintances of the supper table had retired, and he was glad to be alone with his thoughts before the train reached columbia. he dealt harshly with himself for his stupidity in not having associated the girl's perturbation over the breach between the governor of north carolina and the governor of south carolina with the initials on her traveling bag; he had been very dull, but it was clear to him now that she was either the daughter or some other near relative of governor osborne. in a few minutes she would leave the train at columbia, where the governor lived, and, being a gentleman, he would continue on his way to richmond, and thence to the university, and the incident would be closed. but griswold was a lawyer, and he had an old-fashioned southern lawyer's respect for the majesty of law. on the spur of curiosity or impulse he had received a threatening message intended for the governor of south carolina, who, from the manner of the delivery of the message, had been expected on this train. griswold argued that the man who had spoken to him had been waiting at the little station near which they had stopped, in the hope of seeing the governor; that the waiting messenger had taken advantage of the unexpected halt of the train, and, further, that some suggestion of the governor in his own appearance had deceived the stranger. he felt the least bit guilty at having deceived the man, but it was now clearly his duty to see that the governor was advised of the threat that had been communicated in so unusual a manner. he was pondering whether he should do this in person or by letter or telegram, when the rattle of the train over the switch frogs in the columbia yards brought him to the point of decision. the porter thrust his head into the compartment. "columbia, sah. yo' berth's all ready, sah. yo' gwine t' richmond--yes, sah." his hands were filled with the young lady's luggage. the lettering on the suit-case seemed, in a way, to appeal to griswold and to fix his determination. "porter! put my things off. i'll wait here for the morning train." chapter ii the absence of governor osborne griswold spent the night at the saluda house, columbia, and rose in the morning with every intention of seeing governor osborne, or some one in authority at his office, as soon as possible and proceeding to richmond without further delay. as he scanned the morning newspaper at breakfast he read with chagrin this item, prominently head-lined: governor osborne, who was expected home from the cotton planters' convention yesterday morning has been unavoidably detained in atlanta by important personal business. miss barbara osborne arrived last night and proceeded at once to the governor's mansion. several matters of considerable importance await the governor's return. among these is the matter of dealing with the notorious bill appleweight. it is understood that the north carolina officials are unwilling to arrest appleweight, though his hiding-place in the hills on the border near kildare is well known. although he runs back and forth across the state line at pleasure, he is a north carolinian beyond question, and it's about time governor dangerfield took note of the fact. however, the governor of south carolina may be relied on to act with his usual high sense of public duty in this matter. professor griswold was not pleased to learn that the governor was still absent from the capital. he felt that he deserved better luck after the trouble he had taken to warn the governor. his conscience had got the better of his comfort--he knew that, and he wrote a telegram to the law firm at richmond with which he was consultant, asking that a meeting with certain clients arranged for to-day be deferred twenty-four hours. it was now tuesday; he had no further lectures at the university until the following monday, and after he had taken his bearings of columbia, where it occurred to him he had not an acquaintance, he walked toward the capitol with a well-formed idea of seeing the governor's private secretary--and, if that person appeared to be worthy of confidence, apprising him of the governor's danger. standing in the many-pillared portico of the capitol, griswold turned to look down upon columbia, a city distinguished to the most casual eye by streets an acre wide! and having an historical imagination and a reverence for the past, griswold gave himself for a moment to memory, hearing the tramp of armed hosts, and the thunder of cannon, and seeing flames leap again in the wake of battle. it was a glorious day, and the green of late may lay like a soft scarf upon the city. the sky held the wistful blue of spring. griswold bared his head to the faint breeze, or perhaps unconsciously he saluted the bronze figure of hampton, who rides forever there at the head of his stubborn legion. he turned into the capitol with a little sigh, for he was a son of virginia, and here, in this unfamiliar scene, the past was revivified, and he felt the spell of things that were already old when he was born. it was not yet nine o'clock when he entered the governor's office. he waited in the reception-room, adjoining the official chamber, but the several desks of the clerical staff remained unoccupied. he chafed a bit as time passed and no one appeared, for his north-bound train left at eleven, and he could not fairly be asked to waste the entire day here. he was pacing the floor, expecting one of the clerks to appear at any moment, when a man entered hurriedly, walked to the closed inner door, shook it impatiently, and kicked it angrily as he turned away. he was a short, thick-set man of thirty-five, dressed in blue serge, and his movements were quick and nervous. he growled under his breath and swung round upon griswold as though to tax him with responsibility for the closed door. "has no one been here this morning?" he demanded, glaring at the closed desks. "if you don't count me i should answer no," replied griswold quietly. "oh!" the two gentlemen regarded each other for a moment, contemptuous dislike clearly written on the smaller man's face, griswold half-smiling and indifferent. "i am waiting for the governor," remarked griswold, thinking to gain information. "then you're likely to wait some time," jerked the other. "the whole place seems to be abandoned. i never saw such a lot of people." "not having seen them myself, i must reserve judgment," griswold remarked, and the blue serge suit flung out of the room. presently another figure darkened the entrance, and the colored servant whom griswold had seen attending miss osborne on the train from atlanta swept into the reception-room and, grandly ignoring his presence, sat down in a chair nearest the closed door of the inner chamber. griswold felt that this was encouraging, as implying some link between the governor and his domestic household and he was about to ask the colored woman if she knew the business hours of the office when the closed door opened and miss osborne appeared on the threshold. the colored woman rose, and griswold, who happened to be facing the door when it swung open with such startling suddenness, stared an instant and bowed profoundly. "i beg your pardon, but i wish very much to see governor osborne or his secretary." miss osborne, in white, trailing a white parasol in her hand, and with white roses in her belt, still stood half withdrawn inside the private office. "i am very sorry that governor osborne and his secretary are both absent," she answered, and the two eyed each other gravely. griswold felt that the brown eyes into which he looked had lately known tears; but she held her head high, with a certain defiance, even. "that is unfortunate. i stopped here last night on purpose to see him, and now i fear that i must leave--" and he smiled the griswold smile, which was one of the secrets of his popularity at the university--"i must leave columbia in a very few minutes." "the office does not keep very early hours," remarked the girl, "but some one will certainly be here in a moment. i am sorry you have had to wait." she had not changed her position, and griswold rather hoped she would not, for the door framed her perfectly, and the sunlight from the inner windows emphasized the whiteness of the snowy gown she wore. her straw hat was shaped like a soldier's campaign hat, with sides pinned up, the top dented, and a single feather thrust into the side. "it was not i," said griswold, "who so rudely shook the door. i beg that you will acquit me of that violence." the girl did not, however, respond to his smile. she poked the floor with her parasol a moment, then raised her head and asked: "who was it, if you please?" "a gentleman with a brown beard, a red necktie, and a bad disposition." "i thought as much," she said, half to herself, and her eyes were bent again upon the point of her parasol, with which she was tracing a design in the rug. she lifted her head with the abruptness of quick decision, and looked straight at griswold. the negress had withdrawn to the outer door, by which she sat with sphinx-like immovability. "i am miss osborne. governor osborne is my father. would you mind telling me whether your business with my father is--" she hesitated, and her eyes met griswold's. "miss osborne, as i have no acquaintances here, let me introduce myself. my name is griswold. my home is charlottesville. pardon me, but you and i were fellow-passengers from atlanta yesterday evening. i am unacquainted with your father, and i have no business with him except--" he was not yet clear in his mind whether to tell her that her father's life was threatened; it did not seem fair to alarm her when he was powerless to help; but as he weighed the question the girl came out into the reception-room and sat down near the window. "won't you have a seat, mr. griswold? may i ask you again whether you know the gentleman who came in here and beat the door a while ago?" "i never saw him before in my life." "that is very well. and now, mr. griswold, i am going to ask you to tell me, if you will, just what it is you wish to say to my father." she was very earnest, and the request she made rang the least bit imperiously. she now held the white parasol across her lap in the tight clasp of her white-gloved hands. "i should not hesitate--" began griswold, still uncertain what to do. "you need not hesitate in the fear that you may alarm me. i think i know"--and she half-smiled now--"i think perhaps i know what it is." "my reason for wishing to see your father is, then, to warn him that if a criminal named appleweight is brought back from his hiding-place on the north carolina frontier, and tried for his crimes in south carolina, the governor of that state, your father, will be made to suffer by appleweight's friends." "that is what i thought," said the girl, slowly nodding her head. "and now, to be quite honest about it, miss osborne, i must confess that i received this warning last night from a man who believed me to be the governor. to tell the truth, i told him i was the governor!" the girl's eyes made a fresh inventory of griswold, then she laughed for the first time--a light laugh of honest mirth that would not be gainsaid. the beautiful color deepened in her cheeks; her eyes lighted merrily, as though at the drollery of griswold standing, so to speak, _in loco parentis_. "i have my own confession to make. i heard what you said to that man. i had gone to the rear platform to see what was the matter. the stop there in that preposterous place seemed interminable. you must have known that i listened." "i didn't suppose you heard what that man said to me or what i said to him. i don't know how i came to palm myself off as the governor--i am not in the habit of doing such things, but it was due, i think, to the fact that i had just been saying to a friend of mine at atlanta--" he ceased speaking, realizing that what he might have said to ardmore was not germane to the point at issue. his responsibility for the life and security of governor osborne of the sovereign state of south carolina was at an end, and he was entering upon a social chat with governor osborne's daughter. some such thought must have passed through her mind, too, for she straightened herself in her chair and dropped the point of her parasol to the floor. but she was the least bit curious, in spite of herself. the young man before her, who held his hat and gloves so quietly and who spoke with so nice a deference in a voice so musical, was beyond question a gentleman, and he had stopped at columbia to render her father a service. there was no reason why she should not hear what he had said to his friend at atlanta. "what had you been saying, mr. griswold?" "oh, really nothing after all! i'm ashamed of it now! but he's the most amusing person, with nothing to do but to keep himself amused. we discuss many daring projects, but we are never equal to them. i had just been telling him that we were incapable of action; that while we plan our battles the foe is already breaking down the outer defenses and beating in the gates. you see, we are both very ridiculous at times, and we talk that sort of idiocy to keep up our spirits. and having berated my friend for his irresolution, i seized the first opportunity to prove my own capacity for meeting emergencies. the man flattered me with the assumption that i was the governor of south carolina, and i weakly fell." distress was again written in miss osborne's face. she had paid little heed to the latter half of griswold's recital, though she kept her eyes fixed gravely upon him. in a moment the gentleman in blue serge who had manifested so much feeling over the governor's absence strode again into the room. "ah, miss osborne, so you are back!" he bowed over the girl's hand with a great deal of manner, then glanced at once toward the door of the private office. "hasn't your father come in yet? i have been looking for him since eight o'clock." "my father is not home yet, mr. bosworth." "not home! do you mean to say that he won't be here to-day?" "i hardly expect him," replied the girl calmly. "very likely he will be at home to-night or in the morning." griswold had walked away out of hearing; but he felt that the girl purposely raised her voice so that he might hear what she said. "i must know where he is; there's an important matter waiting--a very serious matter it may prove for him if he isn't here to-day to pass on it. i must wire him at once." "very good. you had better do so, mr. bosworth. he's at the peach tree club, atlanta." "atlanta! do you mean to say that he isn't even in this state to-day?" "no, mr. bosworth, and i advise you to telegraph him immediately if your business is so urgent." "it isn't my business, barbara; it's the state's business; it's your father's business, and if he isn't here to attend to it by to-morrow at the latest, it will go hard with him. he has enemies who will construe his absence as meaning--" he spoke rapidly, with rising anger, but some gesture from the girl arrested him, and he turned frowningly to see griswold calmly intent upon an engraving at the further end of the room. the colored woman was dozing in her chair. before bosworth could resume, the girl spoke, her voice again raised so that every word reached griswold. "if you refer to the appleweight case, i must tell you, mr. bosworth, that i have all confidence that my father will act whenever he sees fit." "but the people--" "my father is not afraid of the people," said the girl quietly. "but you don't understand, barbara, how much is at stake here. if some action isn't taken in that matter within twenty-four hours your father will be branded as a coward by every newspaper in the state. you seem to take it pretty coolly, but it won't be a trifling matter for him." "i believe," replied the girl, rising, "that you have said all that i care to hear from you now or at any further time, mr. bosworth, about this or any other matter." "but, barbara--" miss osborne turned her back and walked to the window. bosworth stared a moment, then rushed angrily from the room. griswold abandoned his study of the picture, and gravely inclined his head as bosworth passed. then he waited a minute. the girl still stood at the window, and there was, griswold felt, something a little forlorn in her figure. it was quite time that he was off if he caught his train for richmond. he crossed the room, and as he approached the window miss osborne turned quickly. "it was kind of you to wait. that man is the state's attorney-general. you doubtless heard what he said to me." "yes, miss osborne, i could not help hearing. i did not leave, because i wished to say--" the associate professor of admiralty in the department of law of the university of virginia hesitated and was lost. miss osborne's eyes were brown, with that hint of bronze, in certain lights, that is the distinctive possession of the blessed. health and spirit spoke in her bright color. she was tall and straight, and there was something militant in her figure as she faced griswold. "i beg to say, miss osborne, that if there is any way in which i can serve you, my time is wholly at your disposal." "i thank you. i fear that you have already given yourself too much trouble in stopping here. my father will wish to thank you on his return." her lips trembled, and tears were bright in her eyes. then she regained control of herself. "mr. griswold, i have no claim whatever on your kindness, but i am in very great distress. i don't see just where i can turn for aid to any one i know. but you as a stranger may be able to help me--if it isn't asking too much--but then i know it is asking too much!" "anything, anything whatever," urged griswold kindly. "mr. bosworth, the attorney-general, warns me that if my father does not use the power of the state to capture this outlaw appleweight, the results will be disastrous. he says my father must act immediately. he demanded his address, and, and--i gave it to him." "but you must remember, miss osborne, that the attorney-general probably knows the intricacies of this case. he must have every reason for upholding your father; in fact, it's his sworn duty to advise him in such matters as this." "there's another side to that, mr. griswold," and the girl's color deepened; but she smiled and went on. it was quite evident that she was animated now by some purpose, and that she was resolved to avail herself of griswold's proffered aid. "i have my own reasons for doubting mr. bosworth's motives; and i resent his assumption that my father is not doing his full duty. no one can speak to me of my father in that way--no one!" "certainly not, miss osborne!" "this whole matter must be kept as quiet as possible. i can appeal to no one here without the risk of newspaper publicity which would do my father very great injury. but if it is not altogether too great a favor, mr. griswold, may i ask that you remain here until to-night--until my father returns? his secretary has been ill and is away from town. the other clerks i sent away on purpose this morning. father had left his office keys at home, and i came in to see if i could find the papers in the appleweight case. they are there, and on the top of the packet is a requisition on the governor of north carolina for appleweight's return." "signed?" "signed. i'm sure he had only deferred acting in the case until his return, and he should have been back to-day." "but of course he will be back; it is inconceivable that he should ignore, much less evade, a duty as plain as this--the governor of a state--it is preposterous! his business in atlanta accounts for his absence. governor osborne undoubtedly knows what he is about." "my father is not in atlanta, mr. griswold. he is not at the peach tree club, and has not been. i have not the slightest idea where my father is!" the echoing whistle of the departing virginia express reached them faintly as they stood facing each other before the open window in the governor's reception-room. chapter iii the jug and mr. ardmore mr. thomas ardmore, of new york and ardsley, having seen his friend griswold depart, sought a book-shop where, as in many other book-shops throughout the united states, he kept a standing order for any works touching piracy, a subject, which, as already hinted, had long afforded him infinite diversion. he had several hours to wait for his train to new orleans, and he was delighted to find that the bookseller, whom he had known only by correspondence, had just procured for him, through the dispersion of a georgia planter's valuable library, that exceedingly rare narrative, _the golden galleons of the caribbean_, by dominguez y pascual--a beautifully bound copy of the original madrid edition. with this volume under his arm ardmore returned to the hotel where he was lodged and completed his arrangements for leaving. it should be known that mr. thomas ardmore was a person of democratic tastes and habits. in his new york house were two servants whose sole business it was to keep himself and his wardrobe presentable; yet he preferred to travel unattended. he was, by nature, somewhat secretive, and his adventurous spirit rebelled at the thought of being followed about by a hired retainer. his very wealth was, in a way, a nuisance, for wherever he went the newspapers chronicled his movements, with speculations as to the object of his visit, and dark hints at large public gifts which the city honored by his presence at once imagined would be bestowed upon it forthwith. the american press constantly execrated his family, and as he was sensitive to criticism he kept very much to himself. it was a matter of deep regret to ardmore that his great-grandfather, whose name he bore, should have trifled with the morals of the red men, but he philosophized that it was not his fault, and if he had known how to squeeze the whisky from the ardmore millions he would have been glad to do so. his own affairs were managed by the bronx loan and trust company, and ardmore took little personal interest in any of his belongings except his estate in north carolina, where he dreamed his dreams, and had, on the whole, a pretty good time. when he had finished packing his trunk he went down to the dinner he had ordered to be in readiness at a certain hour, at a certain table, carefully chosen beforehand; for ardmore was very exacting in such matters and had an eye to the comforts of life, as he understood them. as he crossed the hotel lobby on his way to the restaurant he was accosted by a reporter for the atlanta _palladium_, who began to question him touching various ardmores who were just then filling rather more than their usual amount of space in the newspapers. ardmore's family, with the single exception of his sister, mrs. atchison, bored him immensely. his two brothers and another sister, the duchess of ballywinkle, kept the family name in display type a great deal of the time, and their performances had practically driven thomas ardmore from new york. he felt keenly his shame in being brother-in-law to a dissolute duke, and the threatened marriage of one of his brothers to a chorus girl had added, he felt, all too great a burden to a family tree whose roots, he could not forget it, were soaked in contraband rum. the reporter was a well-mannered youth and ardmore shook his hand encouragingly. he was rather curious to see what new incident in the family history was to be the subject of inquisition, and the reporter immediately set his mind at rest. "pardon me, mr. ardmore, but is it true that your sister, the duchess of ballywinkle, has separated from the duke?" "you may quote me as saying that while i am not quite sure, yet i sincerely hope the reports are true. to be frank with you, i do not like the duke; in fact, strictly between ourselves, i disliked him from the first," and ardmore shook his head gravely, and meditatively jingled the little gold pieces that he always carried in his trousers pockets. "well, of course, i had heard that there was some trouble between you and your brother-in-law, but can't the _palladium_ have your own exact statement, mr. ardmore, of what caused the breach between you?" ardmore hesitated and turned his head cautiously. "you understand, of course, that this discussion is painful to me, extremely painful. and yet, so much has been published about my sister's domestic affairs--" "exactly, mr. ardmore. what we want is to print _your_ side of the story." "very decent of you, i'm sure. but the fact is--" and ardmore glanced over his shoulder again to be sure he was not overheard--"the fact is--" and he paused, batting his eyes as though hesitating at the point of an important disclosure. "yes, mr. ardmore," encouraged the reporter. "well, i don't mind telling _you_, but don't print this. let it be just between ourselves." "oh, of course, if you say not--" "that's all right; i have every confidence in your discretion; but, if this will go no further, i don't mind telling you--" "you may rely on me absolutely, mr. ardmore." "then, with the distinct understanding that this is _sub rosa_--now we _do_ understand each other, don't we?" pleaded ardmore. "perfectly, mr. ardmore," and the perspiration began to bead the reporter's forehead in his excitement over the impending revelation. "then you shall know why i feel so bitter about the duke. i assure you that nothing but the deepest chagrin over the matter causes me to tell you what i have never revealed before--not even to members of my family--not to my most intimate friend." "i appreciate all that--" "well, the fact is--but please never mention it--the fact is that his grace owes me four dollars. i gave it to him in two bills--i remember the incident perfectly--two crisp new bills i had just got at the bank. his grace borrowed the money to pay a cabman--it was the very day before he married my sister. now let me ask you this: can an american citizen allow a duke to owe him four dollars? the villain never referred to the matter again, and from that day to this i have made it a rule never to lend money to a duke." the reporter stared a moment, then laughed. he abandoned the idea of getting material for a sensational article and scented the possibilities of a character sketch of the whimsical young millionaire. "how about that story that your brother, samuel ardmore, is going to marry the chorus girl he ran over in his automobile?" "i hope it's true; i devoutly do. i'm very fond of music myself, and, strange to say, nobody in our family is musical. i think a chorus girl would be a real addition to our family. it would bring up the family dignity--you can see that." "the wires brought a story this afternoon that your cousin, wingate siddall--he _is_ your cousin, isn't he--?" "i'm afraid so. what's siddy's latest?" "why, it's reported that he's going to cross the atlantic in a balloon. can you tell us anything about that, from the inside?" "well, the ocean is only four miles deep; i'd take more interest in cousin siddy's ballooning if you could make it a couple of miles more to the dead men's chests. and now, much as i'd like to prolong this conversation, i've got to eat or i'll miss my train." "if you don't mind saying where you are going, mr. ardmore?" "i'd tell you in a minute, only i haven't fully decided yet; but i shall probably take the sambo flyer at : , if you don't make me lose it." "you have large interests in arkansas, i believe, mr. ardmore?" "yes; important interests. i'm searching for the original fiddle of the arkansaw traveler. when i find it i'm going to give it to the british museum. and now you really must excuse me." ardmore looked the reporter over carefully as they shook hands. he was an attractive young fellow, alert and good humored, and ardmore liked him, as, in his shy way, he really liked almost every one who seemed to be a human being. "i'll tell you what i'll do with you. if you'll forget this rot we've been talking and come up to ardsley as soon as i get home, i'll see if i can't keep you amused for a couple of weeks. i don't offer that as a bribe; my family affairs are of interest to nobody but hostlers and kitchen maids. wire me at ardsley when you're ready, throw away your lead-pencil, then come on and i'll show you the finest collection of books on captain kidd in the known world. what did you say your name is? collins, frank collins? i never forget anything, so don't disappoint me." "that's mighty nice of you, but i don't have much time for vacations," replied the reporter, who was, however, clearly pleased. "if the office won't give you a couple of weeks, wire me and i'll buy the paper." the young man laughed outright. "i'll remember; i really believe you mean for me to come." "of course i do. it's all settled; make it next week. good-by!" ardmore ate his dinner oblivious of the fact that people at the neighboring tables turned to look at him. he overheard his name mentioned, and a woman just behind him let it be known to her companions and any one else who cared to hear that he was the brother-in-law of the duke of ballywinkle. another voice in the neighborhood kindly remarked that ardmore was the only decent member of the family, and that he was not the one whose wife had just left him, nor yet the one who was going to marry the chorus girl whose father kept a delicatessen shop in hoboken. it is very sad to be unable to dine without having family skeletons joggle one's elbow, and ardmore was annoyed. the head waiter hung officiously near; the man who served him was distressingly eager; and then the voice behind him rose insistently: "--worth millions and yet he can't find anybody to eat with him." this was almost true and a shadow passed across ardmore's face and his eyes grew grave as he humbly reflected that he was indeed a pitiable object. he waved away his plate and called for coffee, and at that moment a middle-aged man appeared at the door, scanned the room for a moment and then threaded his way among the tables to ardmore. "i heard you were here and thought i'd look you up. how are you, ardy?" "very well, thank you, mr. billings. have you dined? sorry; which way are you heading?" the new-comer had the bearing of a gentleman used to consideration. he was, indeed, the secretary of the bronx loan and trust company, whose business was chiefly the administration of the ardmore estate, and ardmore knew him very well. he was afraid that billings had traced him to atlanta for one of those business discussions which always vexed and perplexed him so grievously, and the thought of this further depressed his spirits. but the secretary at once eased his mind. "i'm looking for a man, and i'm not good at the business. i've lost him and i don't understand it, i don't understand it," and the secretary seemed to be half-musing to himself as he sat down and rested his arms on the table. "you might give me the job. i'm following a slight clue myself just at present." the secretary, who had no great opinion of ardmore's mental capacity, stared at the young man vacantly. then it occurred to him that possibly ardmore might be of service. "have you been at ardsley recently?" he asked. "left there only a few days ago." "you haven't seen your governor lately, have you?" "my governor?" ardmore stared blankly. "why, mr. billings, don't you remember that father's dead?" "i don't mean your father, ardy," replied billings with the exaggerated care of one who deals with extreme stupidity. "i mean the governor of north carolina--one of the american states. ardsley is still in north carolina, isn't it?" "oh, yes; of course. but bless your soul, i don't know the governor. why should one?" "i don't know why, ardy; but people sometimes do know governors and find it useful." "i'm not in politics any more, mr. billings. what's this person's name?" "dangerfield. don't you ever read the newspapers?" demanded the secretary, striving to control his inner rage. he was in trouble and ardmore's opaqueness taxed his patience. and yet tommy ardmore had given him less trouble than any other member of the ardmore family. the others galloped gaily through their incomes; tommy was rapidly augmenting his inheritance from sheer neglect or inability to scatter his dividends. "no; i quit reading newspapers after the noble duke of ballywinkle didn't break the bank at monte carlo that last time. i often wish, mr. billings, that the mohawks had scalped my great-grandfather before they bought his whisky. that would have saved me the personal humiliation of being brother-in-law to a duke." "you mustn't be so thin-skinned. you pay the penalty of belonging to one of the wealthiest families in america," and billings' tone was paternal. "so i've heard, but i'm not so terribly proud of it. what about this governor?" "that's what troubles me--what of the governor?" billings dropped his voice so that no one but ardmore could hear. "he's missing--disappeared." "that's the first interesting thing i ever heard of a governor doing," said ardmore. "tell me more." "he's had a row with the governor of south carolina at new orleans. i was to have met him here on an important matter of business this afternoon, but he's cleared out and nobody knows what's become of him. his daughter, even, who was in new orleans with him, doesn't know where he is." "when was she in new orleans with him?" asked ardmore, looking at his watch. "she--who?" asked billings, annoyed. "why, the daughter!" "i don't know anything about the daughter, but if i could find her father i'd give him a piece of my mind," and the secretary's face flushed angrily. "well, i suppose she isn't the one i'm looking for, anyhow," said ardmore resignedly. "i should hope not," blurted billings, who had not really taken in what ardmore said, but who assumed that it must necessarily be something idiotic. "she had fluffy hair," persisted ardmore to this serious-minded gentleman whose life was devoted to the multiplication of the ardmore millions. ardmore's tone was that of a child who persists in babbling inanities to a distracted parent. "better let girls alone, tommy. mrs. atchison told me you were going to marry daisy waters, and i should heartily approve the match." "did nellie tell you that? i wonder if she's told daisy yet? you'll have to excuse me now, for i'm taking the sambo flyer. i'd like to find your governor for you; and if you'll tell me when he was seen last--" "right here, just before noon to-day, and a couple of hours before i reached town. his daughter either doesn't know where he went or she won't tell." "ah! the daughter! she remains behind to guard his retreat." "the daughter is still here. she's a peppery little piece," and billings looked guardedly around the room. "that's she, alone over there in the corner--the girl with the white feather in her hat who's just signing her check. there--she's getting up!" ardmore gazed across the room intently, then suddenly a slight smile played about his lips. to gain the door the girl must pass by his table, and he scrutinized her closely as she drew near and passed. she was a little girl, and her light fluffy hair swept out from under a small blue hat in a shell-like curve, and the short skirt of her tailor-made gown robbed her, it seemed, of years to which the calendar might entitle her. "she gave me the steadiest eye i ever looked into when i asked her where her father had gone," remarked billings grimly as the girl passed. "she said she thought he'd gone fishing for whales." "so she's miss dangerfield, is she?" asked ardmore indifferently; and he rose, leaving on the plate, by a sudden impulse of good feeling toward the world, exactly double the generous tip he had intended giving. billings was glad to be rid of ardmore and they parted in the hotel lobby without waste of words. the secretary of the bronx loan and trust company announced his intention of remaining another day in atlanta in the hope of finding governor dangerfield, and he was so absorbed in his own affairs that he did not heed, if indeed he heard, ardmore's promise to keep an eye out for the lost governor. like most other people the secretary of the bronx loan and trust company did not understand ardmore, but thomas ardmore, having long ago found himself ill-judged by the careless world, lived by standards of his own, and these would have meant nothing whatever to billings. ardmore's effects had been brought down and were already piled on a carriage at the door. in his pocket was his passage to new orleans and a state-room ticket. at the cashier's desk miss dangerfield paid her bill, just ahead of him. "if any telegrams come for my father please forward them to raleigh," said the girl. the manager came out personally to show her to her carriage, and having shut the door upon her, he wished ardmore, who stood discreetly by, a safe journey. "off for new orleans, are you, mr. ardmore?" asked the manager courteously. "no," said ardmore, "i'm going to raleigh to look at the tall buildings," whereat the manager returned to his duties, gravely shaking his head. at the station ardmore caught sight of miss dangerfield, attended by two porters, hurrying toward the tar heel express. he bought a ticket to raleigh, and secured the last available berth from the conductor on the platform at the moment of departure. ardmore did not like to be hurried, and this sudden change of plans had been almost too much for him, but he was consoled by the reflection that after all these years of waiting for just such an adventure he had proved himself equal to an emergency that required quick thought and swift action. he had not only found the girl with the playful eye, but he had learned her identity without, as it were, turning over his hand. not even griswold, who was the greatest man he knew--griswold with his acute legal mind and ability to carry through contests of wit with lawyers of highest repute--not even griswold, ardmore flattered himself, could have managed better. the state-room door stood open, and from his seat at the farther end of the car ardmore caught a fleeting glimpse of miss dangerfield as she threw off her jacket and hat; then she summoned the porter, gave him her tickets, bade him a smiling good night and the door closed upon her. the broad grin on the porter's face--a grin of delight as though he had spoken with some exalted deity--filled ardmore with bitterest envy. he went back to smoke and plan his future movements. for the first time in his life he faced to-morrow with eager anticipations, resolved that nothing should thwart his high resolves, though these, to be sure, were somewhat hazy. then, from a feeling of great satisfaction, his spirit reacted and he regretted that he had been deprived of the joy of prolonged search. if he could only have followed her until, at the last moment, when about to give up forever and accept the frugal consolations of memory, he met her somewhere face to face! these reflections led him to wonder whether he might not have been mistaken about the wink after all. griswold, with his wider knowledge of the world, had scouted the idea. very likely if one of those blue eyes had actually winked at him it had been out of mere playfulness, and he would never in the world refer to it when they met. billings had applied the term peppery to her, and he felt that he should always hate billings for this; billings was only a financial automaton anyhow, who bought at the lowest and sold at the highest, and bored one very often with strangely-worded papers which one was never expected to understand. he did not know why billings was so anxious to find miss dangerfield's father, but as between a man of billings' purely commercial instincts and the governor of a great state like north carolina ardmore resolved to stand by the dangerfields to the end of the chapter. he was proud to remember his estate at ardsley, which was in governor dangerfield's jurisdiction, and had been visited by the game warden, the state forester, and various other members of the governor's official household, though ardmore could not remember their names. he had never in his life visited raleigh, but far down some dim vista of memory he saw sir walter covering a mud-puddle with his cloak for queen elizabeth. it was a picture of this moving incident in an old history that rose before him, as he tried vainly to recall just how it was that sir walter had lost his head. he wondered whether miss dangerfield's name was elizabeth, though he hoped not, as the name suggested a town in new jersey where his motor had once broken down on a rainy evening when he was carrying griswold to princeton to deliver a lecture. ardmore smoked many pipes and did not turn in until after midnight. the car was hot and stuffy and he slept badly. at some hour of the morning, being again awake and restless, he fished his dressing-gown and slippers out of his bag and went out on the rear platform. his was the last car, and he found a camp-stool and crouched down upon it in a corner of the vestibule and stared out into the dark. the hum and click of the rails soothed him and he yielded himself to pleasant reveries. griswold was well on his way back to virginia, he remembered--"dear old grissy!" he murmured; but he resolved to tell griswold nothing of the prosperous course of his quest. griswold would never, he knew, countenance so grave a performance as the following of a strange girl to her home; but this would be something for later justification. ardmore was half-dozing when the train stopped so abruptly that he was pitched from the camp-stool into a corner of the entry. he got himself together and leaned out into the cool moist air. the porter came out and stared, for a gentleman in a blue silk wrapper who sat up all night in a vestibule was new to his experience. "what place is this, porter?" "kildare, sah. this place is wha' we go from south c'lina into n'oth c'lina. ain't yo' be'th comfor'ble, sah?" "perfectly; thank you." kildare was a familiar name, and the station, that lay at the outskirts of the town, and a long grim barracks-like building that he identified as a cotton mill, recalled the fact that he was not far from his own ample acres which lay off somewhere to westward. he had occasionally taken this route from the north in going to ardsley, riding or driving from kildare about ten miles to his house. in this way he was enabled to go or come without appearing at all in the little village of ardsley. the porter left him. he felt ready for sleep now, and resolved to go back to bed as soon as the train started. just then a dark shadow appeared in the track and a man's voice asked cautiously: "air y'u the conductor?" the questioner saw that he was not, before ardmore could reply, and hesitated a moment. "the porter's in the car; you can get aboard up forward," ardmore suggested. "be gov'nor dangerfield on this train?" asked the man, whom ardmore now saw dimly outlined in the track below. "certainly, my friend. the governor's asleep, but i'm his private secretary. what can i do for you?" "well, hyeh's somethin' fer 'im--it's confidential. sure, air ye, th' gov'nor's in they?" the man--a tall bearded countryman in a slouch hat, handed up to ardmore a jug--a plain, brown, old-fashioned american gallon jug. "it's a present fer gov'nor dangerfield. he'll understand," and the man vanished as mysteriously as he had appeared, leaving ardmore holding the jug by its handle, and feeling a little dazed by the transaction. the train lingered, and ardmore was speculating as to which one of the carolina commonwealths was beneath him, when another figure appeared below in the track--that of a bareheaded, tousled boy this time. he stared up at ardmore sleepily, having apparently been roused on the arrival of the train. [illustration] "air y'u the gov'nor?" he piped. "yes, my lad; in what way can i serve you?" and ardmore put down his jug and leaned over the guard rail. it was just as easy to be the governor as the governor's private secretary, and his vanity was touched by the readiness with which the boy accepted him in his new rôle. his costume, vaguely discernible in the vestibule light, evidently struck the lad as being some amazing robe of state affected by governors. the youngster was lifting something, and he now held up to ardmore a jug, as like the other as one pea resembles another. "pa ain't home and ma says hyeh's yer jug o' buttermilk." "thank you, my lad. while i regret missing your worthy father, yet i beg to present my compliments to your kind and thoughtful mother." he had transferred his money to his dressing-gown pocket on leaving his berth, and he now tossed a silver dollar to the boy, who caught it with a yell of delight and scampered off into the night. ardmore had dropped the jugs carelessly into the vestibule, and he was surveying them critically when the train started. the wheels were beginning to grind reluctantly when a cry down the track arrested his attention. a man was flying after the train, shouting at the top of his lungs. he ran, caught hold of the rail and howled: "the gov'nor ain't on they! gimme back my jug." "indian-giver!" yelled ardmore. he stooped down, picked up the first jug that came to hand, and dropped it into the man's outstretched arms. the porter, having heard voices, rushed out upon ardmore, who held the remaining jug to the light, scrutinizing it carefully. "please put this away for me, porter. it's a little gift from an old army friend." then mr. ardmore returned to his berth, fully pleased with his adventures, and slept until the porter gave warning of raleigh. chapter iv duty and the jug mr. thomas ardmore, one trunk, two bags, and a little brown jug reached the guilford house, raleigh, at eight o'clock in the morning. ardmore had never felt better in his life, he assured himself, as he chose a room with care and intimated to the landlord his intention of remaining a week. but for the ill luck of having his baggage marked he should have registered himself falsely on the books of the inn; but feeling that this was not quite respectable he assured the landlord, in response to the usual question, that he was not ardmore of new york and ardsley but an entirely different person. "well, i don't blame you for not wanting to be taken for any of that set," remarked the landlord sympathetically. "i should think not!" returned ardmore in a tone of deep disgust. the guilford house coffee was not just what he was used to, but he was in an amiable humor and enjoyed hugely the conversation of the commercial travelers with whom he took his breakfast. he did not often escape from himself or the burden of his family reputation, and these strangers were profoundly entertaining. it had never occurred to ardmore that man could be so amiable so early in the day and his own spirits rallied as he passed the sugar, abused the hot bread and nodded his approval of bitter flings at the inns of other southern towns of whose existence he only vaguely knew. they spoke of the president of the united states and of various old world monarchs in a familiar tone that was decidedly novel and refreshing; and he felt that it was a great privilege to sit at meat with these blithe spirits. commercial travelers, he now realized, were more like the strolling players, the wandering knights, the cloaked riders approaching lonely inns at night, than any other beings he had met out of books. it was with the severest self-denial that he resisted an impulse to invite them all to visit him at ardsley or to use his house in fifth avenue whenever they pleased. when the man nearest him, who was having a second plate of corn cakes and syrup, casually inquired his "line," ardmore experienced a moment of real shame, but remembering the jug he had acquired in the night he replied: "crockery." "mine's drugs. do you know billy gallop?--he's in your line." "should say i did," replied ardmore unhesitatingly. "i took supper with him in philadelphia sunday night." "how's trade?" "bully," replied ardmore, reaching for the syrup, "i broke my record yesterday." the drug man turned to listen to a discussion of the row between governors osborne and dangerfield precipitated by one of the company who had fortified himself with a newspaper, and ardmore also gave ear. "whatever did happen at new orleans," declared a maiden lane jewelry representative, "you can be quite sure that dangerfield won't get the hot end of the poker. i've seen him, right here at raleigh, and he has all the marks of a fighting man. he'd strip at two hundred, and he's six in his socks." "pshaw! those big fellows are all meat and no muscle," retorted the drug man. "i doubt if there's any fight in him. now osborne's a different product--a tall lean cuss, but active as a cat. a man to be governor of south carolina has got to have the real stuff in him. if it comes to a show-down you'll see dangerfield duck and run." this discussion was continued at length, greatly to ardmore's delight, for he felt that in this way he was being brought at once into touch with miss dangerfield, now domiciled somewhere in this town, and to whom he expected to be properly introduced just as soon as he could devise some means to that end. as he had not read the newspapers he did not know what the row was all about, but he instinctively aligned himself on the dangerfield side. the osbornes were, he felt, an inferior race, and he inwardly resented the imputations upon governor dangerfield's courage. "i wonder if the governor's back yet?" asked one man. "the morning paper says not, but he's expected to-day," replied the man with the newspaper. "about the first thing he'll have to do will be to face the question of arresting appleweight. i was in columbia the other day and everybody was talking of the case. they say"--and the speaker waited for the fullest attention of his hearers--"they say osborne ain't none too anxious to have appleweight arrested on his side of the line." "why not?" demanded ardmore. "well, you hear all kinds of things. it was only whispered down there, but they say osborne was a little too thick with the appleweight crowd before he was elected governor. he was their attorney, and they were a bad lot for any man to be attorney for. but they haven't caught appleweight yet." "where's he hiding; don't the authorities know?" "oh, he's up there in the hills on the state line. his home is as much on one side as the other. he spends a good deal of time in kildare." "kildare?" asked ardmore, startled at the word. "yes, it's the county seat, what there is of it. i hope you never make that town!" and the inquirer bent a commiserating glance upon ardmore. "well, they use jugs there, i know that!" declared ardmore; whereat the table roared. the unanimity of their applause warmed his heart, though he did not know why they laughed. "you handle crockery?" asked a man from the end of the table. "well, i guess dilwell county consumes a few gross of jugs all right. but you'd better be careful not to whisper jugs too loud here. there's usually a couple of revenue men around town." they all went together to the office, where they picked up their sample cases and sallied forth for a descent upon the raleigh merchants; and ardmore, thus reminded that he was in the crockery business, and that he had a sample in his room, sat down under a tree on the sidewalk at the inn door to consider what he should do with his little brown jug. it had undoubtedly been intended for governor dangerfield, who was supposed to be on the train he had himself taken from atlanta to raleigh. there had been, in fact, two jugs, but one of them he had tossed back into the hands of the man who had pursued the train at kildare. ardmore smoked his pipe and meditated, trying to determine which jug he had tossed back; and after long deliberation, he slapped his knee, and said aloud: "i gave him the wrong one, by jing!" the boy had said that his offering contained buttermilk, a beverage which ardmore knew was affected by eccentric people for their stomach's sake. he had sniffed the other jug and it contained, undeniably, an alcoholic liquid of some sort. jugs had not figured prominently in ardmore's domestic experiences; but as he sat under the tree on the curb before the guilford house he wondered, as many other philosophers have wondered, why a jug is so incapable of innocency! a bottle, while suggestive, is not inherently wicked; but a jug is the symbol of joyous sin. even the soberest souls, who frown at the mention of a bottle, smile tolerantly when a jug is suggested. jugs of many centuries are assembled in museums, and round them the ethnologist reconstructs extinct races of men; and yet, even science and history, strive they never so sadly, can not wholly relieve the jug of its cheery insouciance. a bottle of inferior liquor may be dressed forth enticingly, and alluringly named; but there's no disguising the jug; its genial shame can not be hidden. there are pleasant places in america where, if one deposit a half-dollar and a little brown jug behind a certain stone, or on the shady side of a blackberry bush, jug and coin will together disappear between sunset and sunrise; but lo! the jug, filled and plugged with a corn-cob, will return alone mysteriously, in contravention of the statutes in such cases made and provided. too rare for glass, this fluid, which bubbles out of the southern hills with as little guilt in its soul as the brooks beside which it comes into being! but, lest he be accused of aiding and abetting crime against the majesty of the law, this chronicler hastens to say that on a hot day in the harvest field, honest water, hidden away in a little brown jug in the fence corner, acquires a quality and imparts a delight that no mug of crystal or of gold can yield. as mr. ardmore pondered duty and the jug a tall man in shabby corduroy halted near by and inspected him carefully. mr. ardmore, hard upon his pipe, had not noticed him, somewhat, it seemed, to the stranger's vexation. he patrolled the sidewalk before the inn, hoping to attract ardmore's attention, but finding that the young man's absorption continued he presently dropped into a neighboring chair under the maple tree. "good morning," said ardmore pleasantly. the man nodded, but did not speak. he was examining ardmore with a pair of small, shrewd, gray eyes. in his hands he held a crumpled bit of brown paper that looked like a telegram. "well, i reckon you jest got to town this mornin', young fella." "yes, certainly;" ardmore replied promptly. he had never been addressed in quite this fashion before, but it was all in keeping with his new destiny and he was immediately interested in the stranger, who was well on in middle age, with a rough grizzled beard, and a soft hat, once black, that now struggled for a compromise tint between yellow and green. "ever been hyeh befo'?" "never; but i'm crazy about the place and i'll be seen here a good deal hereafter." ardmore produced his cigar-case and extended it to the stranger. the man, awed by the splendor of the case, accepted a cigar a little gingerly. "drummer, i reckon?" "commercial traveler, we prefer to be designated," replied ardmore with dignity. "i guess drummer's good enough down hyeh. what y'u carry?" "jugs. i'm in the jug business. never had any business but jugs." the man paused in lighting his cigar, stared at ardmore over the flaming match, drew the fire into the cigar several times, then settled back with his hands in his pockets. "full 'r empty?" "the jugs? oh, empty jugs; but it's no affair of mine what becomes of the jugs afterwards." "y'u likely got samples with y'u?" "well, not many. you see my line is so well known i don't have to carry samples any more. the trade knows our goods." "stop at kildare on the way up?" and the stranger looked about guardedly. "certainly, my friend, i always 'make' kildare," replied ardmore, using a phrase he had acquired at breakfast. "train runs through the' pretty late at night?" "beastly. but i hardly ever sleep, anyhow. a man in my splendid health doesn't need sleep. it's a rotten waste of time." silence for several minutes; then the stranger leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, and said in a low tone: "i got a telegram hyeh says y'u got a jug thet y'u ain't no right t' last night at kildare. i want thet jug, young fella." "now that's very unfortunate. ordinarily i should be delighted, but i really couldn't give away my kildare jug. now if it was one of my other jugs--even my omaha jug, or my dear old louisville jug--i shouldn't hesitate a minute, but that old kildare jug! my dear man, you don't know what you ask!" "y'll give me thet jug or it'll be the worse for y'u. y'u ain't in thet game, young fella." "not in it! you don't know whom you are addressing. i'm not only in the game, but i'm in to the finish," declared ardmore, sitting upright in his chair. "you've got the wrong idea, my friend, if you think you can intimidate me. that jug was given me by a friend, a very old and dear friend--" "a friend of yourn!" the keen little gray eyes were blinking rapidly. "one of the best friends i ever had in this world," and ardmore's face showed feeling. "he and i charged side by side through the bloodiest battles of our civil war. i will cheerfully give you my watch, or money in any sum, but the jug--i will part with my life first! and now," concluded ardmore, "while i should be glad to continue this conversation, my duties call me elsewhere." as he rose, the man stood quickly at his side, menacingly. "give me thet jug or i'll shoot y'u right hyeh in the street." "no, you wouldn't do that, old corduroy. i can see that you are kind and good and you wouldn't shoot down an unarmed man. besides it would muss up the street." "y'u took thet jug from my brother by lyin' to 'im. he's telegraphed me to git it, and i'm a-goin' to do it." "your brother sent you? it was nice of him to ask you to call on me. why, i've known your brother intimately for years." "knowed my brother?" and for the first time the man really seemed to doubt himself. "wheh did y'u know bill?" "we roomed together at harvard, that's how i know him, if you force me to it! we're both hasty pudding men. now if you try to bulldoze me further, i'll slap your wrists. so there!" ardmore entered the hotel deliberately, climbed to his room and locked the door. then he seized the little brown jug, drew the stopper and poured out a tumblerful of clear white fluid. he took a swallow and shuddered as the fiery liquid seemed instantly to cause every part of his being to tingle. he wiped the tears from his eyes and sat down. the corn-cob stopper had fallen to the floor, and he picked it up and examined it carefully. it had been fitted tightly into the mouth of the jug by the addition of a bit of calico, and he fingered it for a moment with a grin on his face. he was, considering his tranquil past, making history rapidly, and he wished that griswold, whom he imagined safely away on his law business at richmond, could see him now, embarked upon a serious adventure, that had already brought him into collision with a seemingly sane man who had threatened him with death. griswold had been quite right about their woeful incapacity for rising to emergencies, but the episode of the jugs at kildare was exactly the sort of thing they had discussed time and time again, and it promised well. his throat was raw, as though burned with acid, and it occurred to him for an anxious moment that perhaps he had imbibed a poison intended for the governor. he was about to replace the cob stopper when, to his astonishment, it broke in his fingers, and out fell a carefully folded slip of paper. he carried it to the window and opened it, finding that it was an ordinary telegraph blank on which was written in clear round characters these words: the appleweight crowd never done you harm. if you have any of them arrested you will be shot down on your own doorstep. when mr. thomas ardmore had read this message half a dozen times with increasing satisfaction he folded it carefully and put it away in his pocket-book. taking half a sheet of note paper he wrote as follows: appleweight and his gang are cowards. within ten days those that have not been hanged will be in jail at kildare. he studied the phraseology critically and then placed the paper in the cob stopper whose halves he tied together with a bit of twine. as the jug stood on the table it was, to all appearances, exactly as it had been when delivered to ardmore on the rear of the train at kildare, and he was thoroughly well pleased with himself. he changed the blue scarf with which he had begun the day for one of purple with gold bars, and walked up the street toward the state house. this venerable edifice, meekly reposing amid noble trees, struck agreeably upon ardmore's fancy. here was government enthroned in quiet dignity, as becomes a venerable commonwealth, wearing its years like a veteran who has known war and tumult, but finds at last tranquillity and peace. he experienced a feeling of awe, without quite knowing it, as he strolled up the walk, climbed the steps to the portico and turned to look back from the shadow of the pillars. he had never but once before visited an american public building--the new york city hall--and he felt that now, indeed, he had turned a corner and entered upon a new and strange world. he had watched army maneuvers abroad with about the same attention that he gave to a ballet, and with a like feeling of beholding a show contrived for the amusement of spectators; but there was not even a policeman here to represent arsenals and bayonets. the only minion of government in sight was the languid operator of a lawn-mower, which rattled and hummed cheerily in the shadow of the soldiers' monument. there was something fine about a people, who, as he learned from the custodian, would not shake down these historic walls obedient to the demands of prosperity and growth, but sent increased business to find lodgment elsewhere. he ascended to the toy-like legislative chambers, where flags of nation and state hung side by side, and where the very seats and desks of the law-makers spoke of other times and manners. mr. ardmore, feeling that he should now be about his business, sought the governor's office, where a secretary, who seemed harassed by the cares of his position, confirmed ardmore's knowledge of the governor's absence. "i didn't wish to see the governor on business," explained ardmore pleasantly, leaning upon his stick with an air of leisure. "he and my father were old friends, and i always promised my father that i would never pass through raleigh without calling on governor dangerfield." "that is too bad," remarked the young man sympathetically, though with a preoccupation that was eloquent of larger affairs. "could you tell me whether any members of the governor's family are at home?" "oh, yes; mrs. dangerfield and miss jerry are at the mansion." "miss jerry?" "miss geraldine. we all call her miss jerry in north carolina." "oh, yes; to be sure. let me see; it's over this way to the mansion, isn't it?" inquired ardmore. "no; out the other end of the building--and turn to your right. you can't miss it." the room was quiet, the secretary a young man of address and intelligence. here, without question, was the place for ardmore to discharge his business and be quit of it; but having at last snatched a commission from fleeting opportunity it was not for him to throw it to another man. as he opened the door to leave, the secretary arrested him. "oh, mr.--pardon me, but did you come in from the south this morning?" "yes; i came up on the tar heel express from atlanta." "to be sure. of course you didn't sit up all night? there's some trouble brewing around kildare. i thought you might have heard something, but of course you couldn't have been awake at two o'clock in the morning?" the secretary was so anxious to acquit him of any knowledge of the situation at kildare that it seemed kindest to tell him nothing. the secretary's face lost its anxiety for a moment, and he smiled. "the governor has an old friend and admirer up there who always puts a jug of fresh buttermilk on board when he passes through. the governor was expected home this morning, and i thought maybe--" "you're positive it's always buttermilk, are you?" asked ardmore with a grin. "certainly," replied the secretary with dignity. "governor dangerfield's sentiments as to the liquor traffic are well known." "of course, all the world knows that. but i'm afraid all jugs look alike to me; but then, the fact is i'm in the jug business myself. good morning." the governor's mansion was easily found, and having walked about the neighborhood until his watch marked eleven ardmore entered the grounds and rang the bell at the front door. once within, the air of domestic peace, the pictures on the walls, a whip and a felt hat with a blue band, on the hall table, and a book on a chair in the drawing-room, turned down to mark the absent reader's place, rebuked him for his impudence. if he had known just how to escape he would have done so; but the maid who admitted him had said that miss dangerfield was at home, and had gone in search of her with ardmore's card. he deserved to be sent to jail for entering a gentleman's house in this way. he realized now, when it was too late, that he ought to have brought letters to one of the banks and been introduced to the dangerfields by some gentleman of standing, if he wished to know them. the very portraits on the walls, the photographs on the mantel and table frowned coldly upon him. the foundations of his character were set in sand; he knew that, because he had found it so easy to lie, and he had been told in his youth that one sin paved the way for another. he would take the earliest train for ardsley and bury himself there for the remainder of his days. he had hardly formed this resolution when a light step sounded in the hall, and miss geraldine dangerfield stood at the threshold. his good resolutions went down like a house of cards. "miss dangerfield," he began, "i had the pleasure of meeting your father in new orleans the other day, and as i was passing through town unexpectedly, i thought i should give myself the pleasure of calling on him. he said that in case i found him absent i might call upon you. in fact, he wrote a line on a card for me to present, but i stupidly left it at my hotel." they faced each other in the dim, cool room for what seemed to him endless centuries. she was much younger than he had imagined; but her eyes were blue, just as he remembered them, and her abundant light hair curled away from her forehead in pretty waves, and was tied to-day with a large bow of blue ribbon. for an instant she seemed puzzled or mystified, but her blue eyes regarded him steadily. the very helplessness of her youth, the simplicity of her blue linen gown, the girlish ribbon in her hair, proclaimed him blackguard. "won't you please sit down, mr. ardmore?" and when they were seated there was another pause, during which the blue eyes continued to take account of him, and he fingered his tie, feeling sure that there was something wrong with it. "it's warm, isn't it?" "i suppose it is. it's a way summer has, of being mostly warm." he was quite sure that she was laughing at him; there was a tinge of irony in the very way in which she pronounced "wa'm," lingeringly, as though to prolong her contempt for his stupidity in not finding anything better to say. she had taken the largest chair in the room, and it seemed to hide her away in its shadows, so that she could examine him at her leisure as he sat under a window in the full glare of its light. "i enjoyed meeting your father so much, miss dangerfield. i think we are always likely to be afraid of great men, but your father made me feel at home at once. and he tells such capital stories--i've been laughing over them ever since i left new orleans." "father has quite a reputation for his stories. when did you leave new orleans, mr. ardmore?" "sunday night. i stopped in atlanta a few hours and came on through. what a fine old town atlanta is; don't you think so?" "i certainly do not, mr. ardmore. it's so dreadfully northernized." when she said "no'thenized" her intonation gave the word a fine cutting edge. "i suppose, mr. ardmore, that you saw papa at the luncheon at the pharos club in new orleans?" "why, yes, miss dangerfield. it was there i met the governor!" "are you sure it was there, mr. ardmore?" "why, i think that was the place. i don't know my new orleans as i should, but--" ardmore was suddenly conscious that miss dangerfield had risen and that she stood before him, with her fair face the least bit flushed, her blue eyes alight with anger, and that the hands at her sides were clenched nervously. "my father was not at luncheon at the pharos club, mr. ardmore. you never saw my father in your life. i know why it is you came here, and if you are not out of that door in one second i shall call the servants and have them throw you out." she ceased abruptly and turned to look into the hall where steps sounded. "is that you, jerry?" "yes, mama; i'll be up in just a minute. please don't wait for me. it's only the man to see about the plumbing." the lady who had appeared for an instant at the door went on slowly up the stairs, and the girl held ardmore silent with her steady eyes until the step died away above. "i know what you want my father for. mr. billings and you are both pursuing him--it's infamous, outrageous! and it isn't his fault. i would have you know that my father is an honorable man!" the bayonets were at his breast: he would ask for mercy. "miss dangerfield, you are quite mistaken about me. i shall leave raleigh at once, but i don't want you to think i came here on any errand to injure or annoy your father." "you are one of _those_ ardmores, and mr. billings represents you. you thought you could come here and trick me into telling where my father is. but i am not so easily caught. my mother is ill because of all this trouble, and i must go to her. but first i want to see that you leave this house!" "oh, i'm sorry you are in trouble. on my honor, miss dangerfield, i know nothing of billings and his business with your father." "i suppose you will deny that you saw mr. billings in atlanta yesterday?" "why, no. i can't exactly--" "you'd better not! i saw you there talking to him; and i suppose he sent you here to see what you could find out." the room whirled a moment as she dealt this staggering blow. billings, of the bronx loan and trust company, had said that miss dangerfield was peppery, but his employment of this trifling term only illustrated his weak command of the english language. it is not pleasant to be pilloried for undreamed-of crimes, and ardmore's ears tingled. he must plunge deeper and trust to the gods of chance to save him. he brought himself together with an effort, and spoke so earnestly that the words rang oddly in his own ears. "miss dangerfield, you may call me anything you please, but i am not quite the scoundrel you think me. it's true that i was not in new orleans, and i never saw your father in my life. i came to raleigh on a mission that has absolutely nothing to do with mr. billings; he did not know i was coming. on the way here a message intended for your father came into my hands. it was thrown on the train at kildare last night. i had gone out on the platform because the sleeper was hot, and a warning to your father to keep his hands off of appleweight was given to me. here it is. it seems to me that there is immediate danger in this, and i want to help you. i want to do anything i can for you. i didn't come here to pry into your family secrets, miss dangerfield, honestly i didn't!" she took the piece of paper into her slim little hands and read it, slowly nodding her head, as if the words only confirmed some earlier knowledge of the threat they contained. then she lifted her head, and her eyes were bright with mirth as ardmore's wondering gaze met them. "did _you_ get the jug?" "i got two jugs, to tell the truth; but when they seemed dissatisfied and howled for me to give one back, i threw off the buttermilk." "you threw back father's buttermilk to the man who gave you the applejack? oh! oh!" miss jerry dangerfield sat down and laughed; and ardmore, glad of an opportunity to escape, found his hat and rushed from the house. chapter v mr. ardmore officially recognized "she never did it; she never, never did!" mr. ardmore, from a bench in the state house park, thus concluded a long reverie. it was late afternoon, and he had forgotten luncheon in his absorption. there was no manner of use in recurring again to that episode of the lonely siding. he had found the girl--(indubitably the girl)--but not the wink! miss jerry dangerfield was not the winking sort; he was well satisfied on that point, and so thoroughly ashamed into the bargain that he resolved to lead a different life and be very heedful of the cry of the poor in the future. his emotions had never been taxed as to-day, and he hoped that he might never again suffer the torture he had experienced as he waited in the governor's drawing-room for miss dangerfield to appear. after that agony it had been a positive relief to be ordered out of the house. her anger when she caught him lying about having met her father in new orleans was superior to any simulated rage he had ever seen on the stage, and no girl with a winking eye would be capable of it. he was not clever; he knew that; but if he had had the brains of a monkey he would not have risked his foolish wits against those of a girl like geraldine dangerfield, who had led him into an ambush and then shot him to pieces. "she threatened to have the servants throw me out!" he groaned. and her slight, tense figure rose before him, and her voice, still the voice of young girlhood, rang in his ears. as she read the threatening message from kildare he had noted the fineness of her hands, the curve of her fair cheek, the wayward curls on her forehead, and he remembered all these things now, but more than anything else her wrath, the tiny fists, the flashing eyes as she confronted him. as he sat dejectedly on his park bench he was unaware that miss geraldine dangerfield, walking hurriedly through the park on her way from the governor's mansion to the state house, passed directly behind him. his attitude was so eloquent of despair that it could not have failed to move a much harder heart than that of miss dangerfield, yet she made no sign; but a few minutes later the private secretary came out on the steps of the state house, and after a brief survey of the landscape crossed the lawn and called ardmore by name. "i beg your pardon, but miss dangerfield wished me to say that she'd like to see you for a minute. she's at the governor's office." a prisoner, sentenced to death, and unexpectedly reprieved with the rope already on his neck, could not experience greater relief than that which brought mr. thomas ardmore to his feet. "you are sure of it--that there's no mistake?" "certainly not. miss dangerfield told me i was to bring you back." enthroned at the secretary's desk, a mass of papers before her, miss geraldine dangerfield awaited him. he was ready to place his head on the block in sheer contrition for his conduct, but she herself took the initiative, and her tone was wholly amiable. "this morning, mr. ardmore--" "oh, please forget this morning!" he pleaded. "but i was rude to you; i threatened to have you thrown out of the house; and you had come to do us a favor." "miss dangerfield, i can not lie to you. you are one of the most difficult persons to lie to that i have ever met. i didn't come to raleigh just to warn your father that his life was threatened. i can't lie to you about that--" "then you _are_ a spy?" and miss dangerfield started forward in her chair so suddenly that ardmore dropped his hat. "no! i am not a spy! i don't care anything about your father. i never heard of him until yesterday." "well, i like that!" ejaculated miss dangerfield. "oh, i mean that i wasn't interested in him--why should i be? i don't know anything about politics." "neither does father. that's why he's governor. if he were a politician he'd be a senator. but"--and she folded her hands and eyed him searchingly--"here's a lot of telegrams from the sheriff of dilwell county about that jug. how on earth did you come to get it?" "lied, of course. i allowed them to think i was intimately associated in business with the governor, and they began passing me jugs. then the man who gave the jug with that message in the cork got suspicious, and i dropped the buttermilk jug back to him." "you traded buttermilk for moonshine?" "i shouldn't exactly call it moonshine. it's more like dynamite than anything else. i've written a reply to the note and put it back in the cork, and i'm going to return it to kildare." "what answer did you make to that infamous effort to intimidate my father?" demanded miss dangerfield. "i told the appleweight gang that they are a lot of cowards, and that the governor will have them all in jail or hanged within ten days." "splendid! perfectly _splendid_! did you really say that?" "what else could i do? i knew that that's what the governor would say--he'd have to say it--so i thought i'd save him the trouble." "where's the jug now, mr. ardmore?" "in my room at the hotel. the gang must have somebody on guard here. a gentleman who seemed to be one of them called on me this morning, demanding the jug; and if he's the man i think he is, he's stolen the little brown jug from my room in the hotel by this time." miss dangerfield had picked up a spool of red tape and was unwinding it slowly in her fingers and rewinding it. they were such nice little hands, and so peaceful in their aimless trifling with the tape that he was sure his eyes had betrayed him into imagining she had clenched them in the quiet drawing-room at the mansion. this office, now that its atmosphere enveloped him, was almost as domestic as the house in which she lived. the secretary had vanished, and a sabbath quiet was on the place. the white inner shutters swung open, affording a charming prospect of the trees, the lawn and the monument in the park outside. and, pleasantest of all, and most soothing to his weary senses, she was tolerating him now; she had even expressed approval of something he had done, and he had never hoped for this. she had not even pressed him to disclose his real purpose in visiting raleigh, and he prayed that she would not return to this subject, for he had utterly lost the conceit of his own lying gift. miss dangerfield threw down the spool of tape and bent toward him gravely. "mr. ardmore, can you keep a secret?" "nobody ever tried me with one, but i think i can, miss dangerfield," he murmured humbly. "then please stand up." and ardmore rose, a little sheepishly, like a schoolboy who fears blame and praise alike. miss dangerfield lifted one of the adorable hands solemnly. "i, acting governor of north carolina, hereby appoint you my private secretary, and may god have mercy on your soul. you may now sit down, mr. secretary." "but i thought there was a secretary already. and besides, i don't write a very good hand," ardmore stammered. "i am just sending mr. bassford to atlanta to find papa. he's already gone, or will be pretty soon." "but i thought your father would be home to-night." miss dangerfield looked out of the open window upon the park, then into the silent outer hall, to be sure she was not overheard. "papa will not be at home to-night, or probably to-morrow night, or the night afterward. i'm not sure we'll wait next christmas dinner for papa." "but of course you know where he is! it isn't possible--" and ardmore stared in astonishment into miss dangerfield's tranquil blue eyes. "it _is_ possible. papa is ducking his official responsibilities. that's what's the matter with papa! and i guess they're enough to drive any man into the woods. just look at all this!" miss dangerfield rested one of those diminutive hands of hers on the pile of documents, letters and telegrams the secretary had left behind him; with a nod of the head she indicated the governor's desk in the inner room, and it, too, was piled high with documents. "i supposed," faltered ardmore, "that in the absence of the governor the lieutenant-governor would act. i think i read that once." "you must have read it wrong, mr. ardmore. in north carolina, in the absence of the governor, i am governor! don't look so shocked; when i say i, i mean i--_me!_ do you understand what i said?" "i heard what you said, miss dangerfield." "i mean what i said, mr. ardmore. i have taken you into my confidence because i don't know you. i don't know anything about you. i don't want to know anything about you. i'd be ashamed to ask anybody i know to help me. the people of north carolina must never know that the governor is absent during times of great public peril. and if _you_ are afraid, mr. ardmore, you had better not accept the position." "there's nothing i wouldn't do for you," blurted ardmore. "i'm not asking you--i _would_ not ask you--to do anything for me. i am asking you to do it for the old north state. our relations, mr. ardmore, will not be social, but purely official. do you accept the terms?" "i do; and i warn you now that i shall never resign." "i have heard papa say that life is short and the tenure of office uncertain. i can remove you at any time i please. now do you understand that this is a serious business? there's likely to be a lot of trouble, and no time for asking questions, so when i say it's so it's so." "it's so," repeated ardmore docilely. "now, here's the sheriff at kildare, on our side of the line, who writes to say that he is powerless to catch appleweight. he's afraid of the dark, that man! you see, the grand jury in dilwell county--that's kildare, you know--has indicted appleweight as a common outlaw, but the grand jurors were all friends of appleweight and the indictment was only to satisfy law-and-order sentiment and appease the woman's civic league of raleigh. now, papa doesn't--i mean _i_ don't want to offend those appleweight people by meddling in this business. papa wants governor osborne to arrest appleweight in south carolina; but i don't believe governor osborne will dare do anything about it. now, mr. ardmore, i am not going to have papa called a coward by anybody, particularly by south carolina people, after what governor osborne said of our state." "why, what did he say?" "he said in a speech at charleston last winter that no people who fry their meat can ever amount to anything, and he meant us! i can never forgive him for that; besides, his daughter is the stuck-upest thing! and i'd like barbara osborne to tell me how _she_ got into the colonial dames, and what call _she_ has to be inspector-general of the granddaughters of the mexican war; for i've heard my grandfather dangerfield say many a time that old colonel osborne and his south carolina regiment never did go outside of charleston until the war was over and the american army had come back home." one tiny fist this time! ardmore was sure of it. her indignation against the osbornes was so sincere, the pouting petulance to which it diminished so like a child's, and the gravity of the offense so novel in his simple experiences, that ardmore was bound in chains before her speech was finished. the little drawl with which she concluded gave heightened significance to her last three words, so that it seemed that all the veterans of the war with mexico trudged by, bearing the flag of north carolina and no other banner. "governor osborne is a contemptible ruffian," declared ardmore with deep feeling. miss dangerfield nodded judicial approval, and settled back in her chair the better to contemplate her new secretary, and said: "i'm a daughter of the confederacy and a colonial dame. what are you?" "i suppose you'll never speak to me again; papa sent three expensive substitutes to the civil war." "three! horrible!" "two of them deserted, and one fell into the potomac on his way south and was drowned. i guess they didn't do you folks much harm." "we'll forgive you that; but what did your ancestors do in the revolution?" "i'm ashamed to say that my great-grandfather was a poor guesser. he died during washington's second administration still believing the revolution a failure." "do you speak of the war of as the rebellion or as the war between the states? i advise you to be careful what you say," and miss jerry dangerfield was severe. "i don't believe i ever mentioned it either way, so i'm willing to take your word for it." "the second form is correct, mr. ardmore. when well-bred southern people say rebellion they refer to the uprising of against the british oppressor." "good. i'm sure i shall never get them mixed. now that you are the governor, what are you going to do first about appleweight?" "i've written--that is to say, papa wrote before he went away, a strong letter to governor osborne, complaining that appleweight was hiding in south carolina and running across the state line to rob and murder people in north carolina. papa told governor osborne that he must break up the appleweight crowd or he would do something about it himself. it's a splendid letter; you would think that even a coward like governor osborne would do something after getting such a letter." "didn't he answer the letter?" "answer it? he never got it! papa didn't send it; that's the reason! papa's the kindest man in the world, and he must have been afraid of hurting governor osborne's feelings. he wrote the letter, expecting to send it, but when he went off to new orleans he told mr. bassford to hold it till he got back. he had even signed it--you can read it if you like." it was undoubtedly a vigorous epistle, and ardmore felt the thrill of its rhetorical sentences as he read. the official letter paper on which it was typewritten, and the signature of william dangerfield, governor of north carolina, affixed in a bold hand, were sobering in themselves. the dignity and authority of one of the sovereign american states was represented here, and he handed the paper back to miss dangerfield as tenderly as though it had been the original draft of magna charta. "it's a corker, all right." "i don't much like the way it ends. it says, right here"--and she bent forward and pointed to the place under criticism--"it says, 'trusting to your sense of equity, and relying upon a continuance of the traditional friendship between your state and mine, i am, sir, awaiting your reply, very respectfully, your obedient servant.' now, i wouldn't trust to his sense of anything, and that traditional friendship business is just fluffy nonsense, and i wouldn't be anybody's obedient servant. i decided when i wasn't more than fifteen years old, with a lot of other girls in our school, that when we got married we'd never say obey, and we never have, though only three of our class are married yet, but we're all engaged." "engaged?" "of course; we're engaged. i'm engaged to rutherford gillingwater, the adjutant-general of this state. you couldn't be my private secretary if i wasn't engaged; it wouldn't be proper." the earth was only a flying cinder on which he strove for a foothold. she had announced her engagement to be married with a cool finality that took his breath away; and not realizing the chaos into which she had flung him, she returned demurely to the matter of the letter. "we can't change that letter, because it's signed close to the 'obedient servant' and there's no room. but i'm going to put it into the typewriter and add a postscript." she sat down before the machine and inexpertly rolled the sheet into place; then, with ardmore helping her to find the keys, she wrote: i demand an imediate reply. "_demand_ and _immediate_ are both business words. are you sure there's only one _m_ in immediate? all right, if you know. i reckon a postscript like that doesn't need to be signed. i'll just put 'w. d.' there with papa's stub pen, so it will look really fierce. now, you're the secretary; you copy it in the copying press and i'll address the envelope." "don't you have to put the state seal on it?" asked ardmore. "of course not. you have to get that from the secretary of state, and i don't like him; he has such funny whiskers, and calls me little girl. besides, you never put the seal on a letter; it's only necessary for official documents." she bade him give the letter plenty of time to copy, and talked cheerfully while he waited. she spoke of her friends, as southern people have a way of doing, as though every one must of course know them--a habit that is illuminative of that delightful southern neighborliness that knits the elect of a commonwealth into a single family, that neither time and tide nor sword and brand can destroy. ardmore's humility increased as the names of the great and good of north carolina fell from her lips; for they were as strange to him as an abysinnian dynasty. it was perfectly clear that he was not of her world, and that his own was insignificant and undistinguished compared with hers. his spirit was stayed somewhat by the knowledge that he, and not the execrable gillingwater, had been chosen as her coadjutor in the present crisis. his very ignorance of the royal families of north carolina, which she recited so glibly, and the fact that he was unknown at the capital, had won him official recognition, and it was for him now to prove his worth. the political plot into which he had been most willingly drawn pleased him greatly; it was superior to his fondest dream of adventure, and now, moreover, he had what he never had before, a definite purpose in life, which was to be equal to the task to which this intrepid girl assigned him. "well, that's done," said miss jerry, when the letter, still damp from the copy-press, had been carefully sealed and stamped. "governor osborne will get it in the morning. i think maybe we'd better telegraph him that it's coming." "i don't see much use in that, when he'll get the letter first thing to-morrow," ardmore suggested. "it costs money to telegraph and you must have an economical administration." "the good of it would be to keep him worried and make him very angry. and if he told barbara osborne about it, it would make her angry, too, and maybe she wouldn't sleep any all night, the haughty thing! hand me one of those telegraph blanks." the message, slowly thumped out on the typewriter, and several times altered and copied, finally read: raleigh, n. c. the honorable charles osborne, governor of south carolina, columbia, s. c.: have written by to-night's mail in appleweight matter. your vacillating course not understood. william dangerfield, governor of north carolina. "i reckon that will make him take notice;" and miss jerry viewed her work with approval. "and now, mr. ardmore, here's a telegram from mr. billings which i don't understand. see if you know what it means." ardmore chuckled delightedly as he read: can not understand your outrageous conduct in bond matter. if payment is not made june first your state's credit is ruined. where is foster? answer to atlanta. george p. billings. "i don't see what's so funny about that! mr. bassford was walking the floor with that message when i came to the office. he said papa and the state were both going to be ruined. there's a quarter of a million dollars to be paid on bonds that are coming due june first, and there isn't any money to pay them with. that's what he said. and mr. foster is the state treasurer, and he's gone fishing." "fishing?" "he left word he had gone fishing. mr. foster and papa don't get along together, and mr. bassford says he's run off just to let those bonds default and bring disgrace on papa and the state." ardmore's grin broadened. the appleweight case was insignificant compared with this new business with which he was confronted. he was vaguely conscious that bonds have a way of coming due, and that there is such a thing as credit in the world, and that it is something that must not be trifled with; but these considerations did not weigh heavily with him. for the first time in his uneventful life vengeance unsheathed her sword in his tranquil soul. billings had always treated him with contempt, as a negligible factor in the ardmore millions, and here at last was an opportunity to balance accounts. "i will show you how to fix billings. just let me have one of those blanks." and after much labor, and with occasional suggestions from miss jerry, the following message was presently ready for the wires: your infamous imputation upon my honor and that of the state shall meet with the treatment it deserves. i defy you to do your worst. if you come into north carolina or bring legal proceedings for the collection of your bonds i will fill you so full of buckshot that forty men will not be strong enough to carry you to your grave. "isn't that perfectly grand!" murmured jerry admiringly. "but i thought your family and the bronx loan and trust company were the same thing. that's what rutherford gillingwater told me once." "you are quite right. billings works for us. before i came of age he used to make me ask his permission when i wanted to buy a new necktie, and when i was in college he was always fussing over my bills, and humiliating me when he could." "but you mustn't make him so mad that he will cause papa trouble and bring disgrace on our administration." "don't you worry about billings. he is used to having people get down on their knees to him, and the change will do him good. when he gets over his first stroke of apoplexy he will lock himself in a dark room and begin to think hard about what to do. he usually does all the bluffing, and i don't suppose anybody ever talked to him like this telegram in all his life. where is this man foster?" "just fishing; that's what mr. bassford said, but he didn't know where. father was going to call a special session of the legislature to investigate him, and he was so angry that he ran off so that papa would have to look after those bonds himself. then this appleweight case came up, and that worried papa a great deal. here's his call for the special session. he told mr. bassford to hold that, too, until he came back from new orleans." ardmore read governor dangerfield's summons to the legislature with profound interest. it was signed, but the space for the date on which the law-makers were to assemble had been left blank. "it looks to me as though you had the whole state in your hands, miss dangerfield. but i don't believe we ought to call the special session just yet. it would be sure to injure the state's credit, and it will be a lot more fun to catch foster. i wonder if he took all the state money with him." "mr. bassford said he didn't know and couldn't find out, for the clerks in the treasurer's office wouldn't tell him a single thing." "one should never deal with subordinates," remarked ardmore sagely. "deal with the principals--i heard a banker say that once, and he was a man who knew everything. besides, it will be more fun to attend to the bonds ourselves." he seemed lost in reverie for several minutes, and she asked with some impatience what he was studying about. "i was trying to think of a word they use when the government has war or any kind of trouble. it's something about a corpse, but i can't remember it." "a corpse? how perfectly horrid! can it be possible, mr. ardmore, that you mean the writ of habeas corpus?" the twinkle in his eye left her unable to determine whether his ignorance was real, or assumed for his own amusement. "that's it," beamed ardmore. "we've got to suspend it if worst comes to worst. then you can put anybody you like into a dungeon, and nobody can get him out--not for a million years." "i wonder where they keep it?" asked jerry. "it must be here somewhere. perhaps it's in the safe." "i don't think it's a thing, like a lemon, or a photograph, or a bottle of ink; it's a document, like a thanksgiving proclamation, and you order out the militia, and the soldiers have to leave their work and assemble at their armories, and it's all very serious, and somebody is likely to get shot." "i don't think it would be nice to shoot people," said jerry. "that would do the administration a terrible lot of harm." "of course we won't resort to extreme measures unless we are forced to it. and then, after we have exhausted all the means at our command, we can call on the president to send united states troops." he was proud of his knowledge, which had lingered in his sub-consciousness from a review of the military power of the states which he had heard once from griswold, who knew about such matters; but he was brought to earth promptly enough. "mr. ardmore, how dare you suggest that we call united states troops into north carolina! don't you know that would be an insult to every loyal son of this state? i should have you know that the state of north carolina is big enough to take care of herself, and if any president of the united states sends any troops down here while i'm running this office, he'll find that, while our people will gladly die, they never surrender." "oh, i didn't mean anything like that by what i said," pleaded ardmore, frightened almost to tears. "of course, we've got our own troops, and we'll get through all our business without calling for help. i shouldn't any more call on the president than i'd call on the czar of russia." she seemed satisfied with this disclaimer, and produced a diary in which governor dangerfield had noted his appointments far into the future. "we'll have to break a lot of engagements for papa. here's a speech he promised to make at wilmington at the laying of the corner-stone of the new orphan asylum. that's to-morrow, and papa can't be there, so we'll send a telegram of congratulation to be read instead. then he was to preside at a convention of the old fiddlers' association at goldsboro the next day, and he can't do that. i guess we'd better telegraph and say how sorry he is to be delayed by important official business. and here's--why, i had forgotten about the national guard encampment, that's beginning now." "do you mean the state militia?" ardmore inquired. "why, of course. they're having their annual encampment over in azbell county at camp dangerfield--they always name the camp for the governor--and father was to visit the camp next saturday for his annual inspection. that's near your county, where your farm is; didn't you know that?" ardmore was humble, as he always was when his ignorance was exposed, but his face brightened joyfully. "you mustn't break that engagement. those troops ought to be inspected. inspecting his troops is one of the most important things a governor has to do. it's just like a king or an emperor. i've seen emperor william and king humbert inspect their soldiers, and they go galloping by like mad, with all the soldiers saluting, and it's perfectly bully. and then there have to be maneuvers, to see whether the troops know how to fight or not, and forced marches and sham battles." "papa always speaks to the men," suggested jerry, a little abashed by the breadth and splendor of ardmore's knowledge. his comparison of the north carolina militia with the armies of europe pleased her. "i think the ladies of the royal family inspect the troops, too, sometimes," he continued. "the queens are always honorary colonels of regiments, and present them with flags, which is a graceful thing to do." "colonel gillingwater never told me that, and he's the adjutant-general of the state and ought to know." "what's he colonel of?" asked ardmore gloomily. "he was colonel in the spanish war, or was going to be, but he got typhoid fever, and so he couldn't go to cuba, and papa appointed him adjutant-general as a reward for his services; but everybody calls him colonel just the same." "it looks like a pretty easy way of getting a title," murmured ardmore. "i had typhoid fever once, and nearly died, and all my hair came out." "you oughtn't to speak that way of my fiancé. it's quite impertinent in a mere private secretary to talk so." "i beg your pardon. i forgot that you were engaged. you'll have to go to camp dangerfield and inspect the troops yourself, and they would a lot rather have you inspect them than have your father do it." "you mustn't say things like that! i thought i told you your appointment carried no social recognition. you mustn't talk to me as though i was a girl you really know--" "but there's no use of making-believe such things when i do know you!" "not the least little tiny bit, you don't! do you suppose, if you were a gentleman i knew and had been introduced to, i would be talking to you here in papa's office?" "but i pretend to be a gentleman; you certainly wouldn't be talking to me if you thought me anything else." "i can't even discuss the matter, mr. ardmore. a gentleman wouldn't lie to a lady." "but if you know i'm a liar why are you telling me these secrets and asking me to help you play being governor?" and ardmore, floundering hopelessly, marveled at her more and more. "that's exactly the reason--because you came poking up to my house and told me that scandalous fib about meeting papa in new orleans. mr. bassford is a beautiful liar; that's why he's papa's secretary; but you are a much more imaginative sort of liar than mr. bassford. he can only lie to callers about papa being engaged, or write encouraging letters to people who want appointments which papa never expects to make; but you lie because you can't help it. now, if you're satisfied, you can take those telegrams down to the telegraph office, and you'd better mail that letter to governor osborne yourself, for fear the man who's running the lawn-mower will forget to come for it." the roll of drums and the cry of a bugle broke in upon the peace of the late afternoon. miss jerry rose with an exclamation and ran out into the broad portico of the state house. several battalions of a tide-water regiment, passing through town on their way to camp dangerfield, had taken advantage of a wait in raleigh to disembark and show themselves at the capital. they were already halted and at parade rest at the side of the street, and a mounted officer in khaki, galloping madly into view, seemed to focus the eyes of the gathering crowd. he was a gallant figure of a man; his mount was an animal that realized job's ideal of a battle-horse; the soldiers presented arms as the horseman rode the line. miss dangerfield waved her handkerchief, standing eagerly on tiptoe to make her salutation carry as far as possible. "who is that?" asked ardmore, with sinking spirit. "why, rutherford gillingwater, of course." "fours right!" rang the command a moment later, and the militiamen tramped off to the station. it was then that ardmore, watching the crowd disperse at the edge of the park, saw his caller of the morning striding rapidly across the street. ardmore started forward, then checked himself so suddenly that miss jerry dangerfield turned to him inquiringly. "what's the matter?" she demanded. "nothing. i have been robbed, as i hoped to be. over there on the sidewalk, beyond the girl in the pink sunbonnet, goes my little brown jug. that lank individual with the shabby hat has lifted it out of my room at the hotel, just as i thought he would." chapter vi mr. griswold forsakes the academic life miss osborne had asked griswold to await the outcome of the day, and, finding himself thus possessed of a vacation, he indulged his antiquarian instincts by exploring columbia. the late afternoon found him in the lovely cathedral churchyard, where an aged negro, tending the graves of an illustrious family, leaned upon his spade and recited the achievements and virtues of the dead. men who had been law-makers, others who had led valiantly to battle, and ministers of the prince of peace, mingled their dust together; and across the crisp hedges a robin sang above timrod's grave. as the shadows lengthened, griswold walked back to the hotel, where he ate supper, then, calling for a horse, he rode through the streets in a mood of more complete alienation than he had ever experienced in a foreign country; yet the very scents of the summer night, stealing out from old gardens, the voices that reached him from open doorways, spoke of home. as he reached the outskirts of town and rode on toward the governor's mansion, his mood changed, and he laughed softly, for he remembered ardmore, and ardmore was beyond question the most amusing person he knew. it was unfortunate, he generously reflected, that ardmore, rather than himself, had not been plunged into this present undertaking, which was much more in ardmore's line than his own. there would, however, be a great satisfaction in telling ardmore of his unexpected visit to columbia, in exchange for his friend's report of his pursuit of the winking eye. he only regretted that in the nature of things columbia is a modern city, a seat of commerce as well as of government, a place where bank clearings are seriously computed, and where the jaunty adventurer with sword and ruffles is quite likely to run afoul of the police. yet his own imagination was far more fertile than ardmore's, and he would have hailed a troop of mail-clad men as joyfully as his friend had he met them clanking in the highway. thus, modern as we think ourselves, the least venturesome among us dreams that some day some turn of a street corner will bring him face to face with what we please to call our fate; and this is the manifestation of our last drop of medieval blood. the grimmest seeker after reality looks out of the corner of his eye for the flutter of a white handkerchief from the ivied tower he affects to ignore; and, in spite of himself, he is buoyed by the hope that some day a horn will sound for him over the nearest hill. miss osborne met him at the veranda steps. indoors a mandolin and piano struck up the merry chords of _the eutaw girl_. "my young sisters have company. we'll sit here, if you don't mind." she led the way to a quiet corner, and after they were seated she was silent a moment, while the light from the windows showed clearly that her perplexity of the morning was not yet at an end. the music tinkled softly, and a breeze swept in upon them with faint odors of the garden. "i hope you won't mind, mr. griswold, if i appear to be ashamed of you. it's not a bit hospitable to keep you outside our threshold; but--you understand--i don't have to tell you!" "i understand perfectly, miss osborne!" "it seems best not to let the others know just why you are here. i told my sisters that you were an old friend--of father's--who wished to leave a message for him." "that will do first rate!" he laughed. "my status is fixed. i know your father, but as for ourselves, we are not acquainted." he felt that she was seriously anxious and troubled, and he wished to hearten her if he could. the soft dusk of the faintly-lighted corner folded her in. behind her the vines of the veranda moved slightly in the breeze. a thin, wayward shaft of light touched her hair, as though searching out the gold. when we say that people have atmosphere, we really mean that they possess indefinite qualities that awaken new moods in us, as by that magic through which an ignorant hand thrumming a harp's strings may evoke some harmony denied to conscious skill. he heard whispered in his heart a man's first word of the woman he is destined to love, in which he sets her apart; above and beyond all other womenkind--she is different; she is not like other women! "it is nearly nine," she said, her voice thrilling through him. "my father should have been here an hour ago. we have heard nothing from him. the newspapers have telephoned repeatedly to know his whereabouts. i have put them off by intimating that he is away on important public business, and that his purpose might be defeated if his exact whereabouts were known. i tried to intimate, without saying as much, that he was busy with the appleweight case. one of the papers that has very bitterly antagonized father ever since his election has threatened to expose what the editor calls father's relations with appleweight. i can not believe that there is anything wrong about that; of course there is not!" she was controlling herself with an effort, and she broke off her declaration of confidence in her absent father sharply but with a sob in her voice. "i have no doubt in the world that the explanation you gave the newspapers is the truth of the matter. your father must be absent a great deal--it is part of a governor's business to keep in motion. but we may as well face the fact that his absence just now is most embarrassing. this appleweight matter has reached a crisis, and a failure to handle it properly may injure your father's future as a public man. if you will pardon me, i would suggest that there must be some one whom you can take into your confidence--some friend, some one in your father's administration that you can rely on?" "yes; father has many friends; but i can not consider acknowledging to any one that father has disappeared when such a matter as this appleweight case is an issue through the state. no; i have thought of every one this afternoon. it would be a painful thing for his best friends to know what is--what seems to be the truth." her voice wavered a little, but she was brave, and he was aware that she straightened herself in her chair, and, when wayward gleams of light fell upon her face, that her lips were set resolutely. "you saw the attorney-general this morning," she went on. "as you suggested, he would naturally be the one to whom i should turn, but i can not do it. i--there is a reason"--and she faltered a moment--"there are reasons why i can not appeal to mr. bosworth at this time." she shrugged her shoulders as though throwing off a disagreeable topic, and he saw that there was nothing more to be said on this point. his heart-beats quickened as he realized that she was appealing to him; that, though he was only the most casual acquaintance, she trusted him. it was a dictum of his, learned in his study and practise of the law, that issues must be met as they offer--not as the practitioner would prefer to have them, but as they occur; and here was a condition of affairs that must be met promptly if the unaccountable absence of the governor was to be robbed of its embarrassing significance. as he pondered for a moment, a messenger rode into the grounds, and miss osborne slipped away and met the boy at the steps. she came back and opened a telegram, reading the message at one of the windows. an indignant exclamation escaped her, and she crumpled the paper in her hand. "the impudence of it!" she exclaimed. he had risen, and she now turned to him with anger and scorn deepening her beautiful color. her breath came quickly; her head was lifted imperiously; her lips quivered slightly as she spoke. "this is from governor dangerfield. can you imagine a man of any character or decency sending such a message to the governor of another state?" she watched him as he read: raleigh, n. c. the honorable charles osborne, governor of south carolina, columbia, s. c.: have written by to-night's mail in appleweight matter. your vacillating course not understood. william dangerfield, governor of north carolina. "what do you think of that?" she demanded. "i think it's impertinent, to say the least," he replied guardedly. "impertinent? it's the most contemptible, outrageous thing i ever heard of in my life! governor dangerfield has dilly-dallied with that case for two years. his administration has been marked from the beginning by the worst kind of incompetence. why, this man appleweight and his gang of outlaws only come into south carolina now and then to hide and steal, but they commit most of their crimes in north carolina, and they always have. talk about a vacillating course! father has never taken steps to arrest those men out of sheer regard for governor dangerfield; he thought north carolina had some pride, and that her governor would prefer to take care of his own criminals. what do you suppose appleweight is indicted for in this state? for stealing one ham--one single ham from a farmer in mingo county, and he's killed half a dozen men in north carolina." she paced the corner of the veranda angrily, while griswold groped for a solution of the problem. the telegram from raleigh was certainly lacking in diplomatic suavity. it was patent that if the governor of north carolina was not tremendously aroused, he was playing a great game of bluff; and on either hypothesis a prompt response must be made to his telegram. "i must answer this at once. he must not think we are so stupid in columbia that we don't know when we're insulted. we can go through the side door to father's study and write the message there," and she led the way. "it might be best to wait and see what his letter is like," suggested griswold, with a vague wish to prolong this discussion, that he might enjoy the soft glow of the student lamp on her cheek. "i don't care what his letter says; it can't be worse than his telegram. we'll answer them both at once." she found a blank and wrote rapidly, without asking suggestions, with this result: the honorable william dangerfield, raleigh, n. c.: your extremely diverting telegram in appleweight case received and filed. charles osborne, governor of south carolina. she met griswold's obvious disappointment with prompt explanation. "you see, the governor of south carolina can not stoop to an exchange of billingsgate with an underbred person like that--a big, solemn, conceited creature in long frock-coat and a shoestring necktie, who boasts of belonging to the common 'peo-pull.' he doesn't have to tell anybody that, when it's plain as daylight. the way to answer him is not to answer at all." "the way to answer him is to make north carolina put appleweight in jail, for crimes committed in that state, and then, if need be, we can satisfy the cry for vengeance in south carolina by flashing our requisition. there is a rule in such cases that the state having the heaviest indictments shall have precedence; and you say that in this state it's only a matter of a ham. i am not acquainted with the south carolina ham," he went on, smiling, "but in virginia the right kind of a ham is sacred property, and to steal one is a capital offense." "i should like to steal one such as i had last winter in richmond," and miss osborne forgot her anger; her eyes narrowed dreamily at an agreeable memory. "was it at judge randolph wilson's?" asked griswold instantly. "why, yes, it was at judge wilson's, mr. griswold. how did you know?" "i didn't know; i guessed; for i have sat at that table myself. the judge says grace twice when there's to be ham--once before soup, then again before ham." "then thanksgiving after the ham would be perfectly proper!" miss osborne was studying griswold carefully, then she laughed, and her attitude toward him, that had been tempered by a certain official reserve, became at once cordial. "are you the professor griswold who is so crazy about pirates? i've heard the wilsons speak of you, but you don't look like that." "don't i look like a pirate? thank you! i had an appointment at judge wilson's office this morning to talk over a case in which i'm interested." "i remember now what he said about you. he said you really were a fine lawyer, but that you liked to read about pirates." "that may have been what he said to you; but he has told me that the association of piracy and law was most unfortunate, as it would suggest unpleasant comments to those who don't admire the legal profession." "and you are one of those tide-water griswolds, then, if you know the randolph wilsons. they are very strong for the tide-water families; to hear them talk you'd think the people back in the virginia hills weren't really respectable." "it's undeniably the right view of the matter," laughed griswold, "but now that i live in charlottesville i don't insist on it. it wouldn't be decent in me. and i have lots of cousins in lexington and through the valley. the broad view is that every inch of the old dominion is holy ground." "it is an interesting commonwealth, mr. griswold; but i do not consider it holy ground. south carolina has a monopoly of that;" and then the smile left her face and she returned to the telegram. "our immediate business, however, is not with virginia, or with south carolina, but with the miserable commonwealth that lies between." "and that commonwealth," said griswold, wishing to prolong the respite from official cares, "that state known in law and history as north carolina, i have heard called, by a delightful north carolina lady i met once at charlottesville, a valley of humility between two mountains of conceit. that seems to hit both of us!" "north carolina isn't a state at all," miss osborne declared spitefully; "it's only a strip of land where uninteresting people live. and now, what do you say to this telegram?" "excellent. it's bound to irritate, and it leaves him in the dark as to our--i mean governor osborne's--intentions. and those intentions--" during this by-play he had reached a decision as to what should be done, and he was prepared to answer when she asked, with an employment of the pronoun that pleasantly emphasized their relationship: "what _are_ our intentions?" "we are going to catch appleweight, that's the first thing--and until we get him we're going to keep our own counsel. let me have a telegraph blank and i will try my hand at being governor." he sat down in the governor's chair, asked the name of the county seat of mingo and wrote without erasure or hesitation this message: to the sheriff of mingo county, turner court house, s. c.: make every possible effort to capture appleweight and any of his gang who are abroad in your county. swear in all the deputies you need, and if friendliness of citizens to outlaws makes this impossible wire me immediately, and i will send militia. any delay on your part will be visited with severest penalties. answer immediately by telegraph. charles osborne, governor of south carolina. "that's quite within the law," said griswold, handing barbara the message; "and we might as well put the thing through at a gallop. i'll get the telegraph company to hold open the line to turner court house until the sheriff answers." as barbara read the message he saw her pleasure in the quick compression of her lips, the glow in her cheeks, and then the bright glint of her bronze-brown eyes as she finished. "that's exactly right. i didn't know just how to manage such a thing, but i see that that is the proper method." "yes; the sheriff must have his full opportunity to act." "and what then, if the sheriff refuses to do anything?" "then--then"--and griswold's jaw set firmly, and he straightened himself slightly before he added in a quiet tone--"then i'm going down there to take charge of the thing myself." "oh, that is too much! i _didn't_ ask that; and i must refuse to let you take any such responsibility on yourself, to say nothing of the personal danger. i merely wanted your advice--as a lawyer, for the reason that i dared not risk father's name even among his best friends here. and your coming to the office this morning seemed so--so providential--" he sought at once to minimize the value of his services, for he was not a man to place a woman under obligations, and, moreover, an opportunity like this, to uphold the dignity, and perhaps to exercise the power of a state, laid strong hold upon him. he knew little enough about the appleweight case, but he felt from his slight knowledge that he was well within his rights in putting spurs to the sheriff of mingo county. if the sheriff failed to respond in proper spirit and it became necessary to use the militia, he was conscious that serious complications might arise. he had not only a respect for law, but an ideal of civic courage and integrity, and the governor's inexplicable absence aroused his honest wrath. the idea that a mere girl should be forced to sustain the official honor and dignity of a cowardly father further angered him. and then he looked into her eyes and saw how grave they were, and how earnest and with what courage she met the situation; and the charm of her slender figure, that glint of gold in her hair, her slim, supple hands folded on the table--these things wrought in him a happiness that he had never known before, so that he laughed as he took the telegram from her. "there must be no mistake, no failure," she said quietly. "we are not going to fail; we are going to carry this through! within three days we'll have appleweight in a north carolina jail or a flying fugitive in governor dangerfield's territory. and now these telegrams must be sent. it might be better for you to go to the telegraph office with me. you must remember that i am a pilgrim and a stranger and they might question my filing official messages." "that is perfectly true. i will go into town with you." "and if there's an official coach that everybody knows as yours, it would allay suspicions to have it," and while he was still speaking she vanished to order the carriage. in five minutes it was at the side door, and griswold and barbara, fortified by the presence of phoebe, left the governor's study. "if they don't know me, everybody in south carolina knows phoebe," said barbara. "a capital idea. i can see by her eye that she's built for conspiracy." griswold's horse was to be returned to town by a boy; and when this had been arranged the three entered the carriage. "the telegraph office, tom; and hurry." chapter vii an affair at the state house barbara filed the messages herself with the manager of the telegraph company, who lifted the green shade from his eyes and smiled upon her. "we'll rush them, miss osborne. shall i telephone the answers if they come to-night? no; your father likes his telegrams delivered, i remember." "i will call for them," said griswold. "governor osborne was only at home a few hours this evening and he left me in charge of these matters." the manager's face expressed surprise. "oh! i didn't know the governor was at home," he remarked, as he finished counting the words and charging them against the state's account. "i will send them myself, and ask the operators at the other end to look lively about the answers. you are mr.--" "this is major griswold," said barbara, conferring the title with a vague feeling that it strengthened her cause. "major," repeated the manager, and he nodded to griswold with an air that implied his familiarity with official secrets. "you will call? in a couple of hours, major." as barbara and griswold turned to leave, a young man who had been writing a message at the standing desk in the lobby lifted his hat and addressed barbara. he was a reporter for the columbia _intelligencer_, and his manner was eager. "oh, miss osborne, pardon me, but i've been trying to get you on the telephone. can you tell me where your father is to-night?" "father was in town only a few hours, and then left on state business." the young man glanced from one to the other. he was a polite youngster and miss barbara osborne was--miss barbara osborne, and this, to the people of south carolina, was a fact of weight. still the reporter twirled his hat uncertainly. "well, i thought i had met all the trains, but i guess i missed the governor." "no; you didn't miss him," smiled barbara, "father drove in from the country and went back the same way. he didn't come into town at all." the news instinct is the keenest with which man may be blessed, and the reporter scented events. griswold, seeing the light flash in the young man's eye, felt that here was an opportunity to allay public criticism. "governor osborne is engaged upon important public business. he will be absent from town for a day--perhaps a week. he will not return to columbia until the business is thoroughly disposed of." "may i ask if it's the appleweight case? the raleigh papers have wired for information and we'd like to know here." "i can not answer that question. it's enough that the governor is absent on state business, and that the business is important. you may print that in the _intelligencer_ and repeat it to raleigh. there is no harm in that, is there, miss osborne?" "no; certainly not," barbara replied. "but the papers all over the state are talking about the appleweight gang. they intimate that those people enjoy immunity from prosecution and that the governor--you will pardon me, miss osborne--will take no steps to arrest them for personal reasons." "your question is quite proper," replied griswold. "the governor's acts are subject to scrutiny at all times and it is just as well to have this matter understood now. i am employed by the governor as special counsel in some state matters. my name is griswold. take out your book and come to the desk here and i will give you a statement which you may publish as by the authority of the governor." the three found seats at a table and griswold dictated while the reporter wrote, barbara meanwhile sitting with her cheek resting against her raised hand. she was experiencing the relief we all know, of finding a strong arm to lean upon in an emergency, and she realized that griswold was not only wise, but shrewd and resourceful. "please print this exactly as i give it: it having been intimated in certain quarters that the appleweight gang of outlaws, which has been terrorizing the north carolina frontier for several years, enjoys immunity from prosecution in south carolina owing to the fact that governor osborne was at some time attorney for appleweight, governor osborne begs to say that steps have already been taken for the arrest of this man and his followers, dead or alive. the governor presents his compliments to those amiable critics who have so eagerly seized upon this pretext for slurring his private character and aspersing his official acts. the governor has no apologies to proffer the people of south carolina, who have so generously reposed in him their trust and confidence. he is intent upon safe-guarding the peace, dignity and honor of the state through an honest enforcement of law and he has no other aim or ambition." griswold took the reporter's note-book and read over this pronunciamiento; then he handed it to barbara, who studied it carefully. "i think that sounds just right, only, why not substitute for 'honest' the word 'vigorous'?" "excellent," assented griswold, and thus amended the statement was returned to the reporter. "now," said griswold to the young man, "you are getting a pretty good item that no other paper will have. please wire your story to raleigh; governor osborne is very anxious that the people up there shall understand fully his attitude in the appleweight matter." "i reckon this will wake up old dangerfield all right," said the reporter, grinning. "he'll be paralyzed. may i use your name in this connection, sir?" "not at all. my engagement with governor osborne is of the most confidential character and our purposes would be defeated by publicity. remember, you get the exclusive use of this story--the return and immediate departure of the governor, his statement to the people in the appleweight case--all with the understanding that you use what you have to the best advantage." "this is all right, is it, miss osborne?" asked the reporter. "major griswold has full authority to act, and you need question nothing he tells you," barbara replied. "i suppose the governor didn't see the attorney-general to-day?" asked the reporter detainingly, as barbara rose. she exchanged a glance with griswold. "father didn't see mr. bosworth at all, if that's what you mean!" "didn't see him? well, bosworth didn't exactly tell me he had seen him to-day, but i asked him about the appleweight case an hour ago at his house and he said the governor wasn't going to do anything and that was the end of it so far as the administration is concerned." "print his story and see what happens! we have no comment to make on that, have we, miss osborne?" "nothing at all," replied barbara scornfully. "i'm at the saluda house at present. see me to-morrow and i may have another story for you!" and griswold shook the reporter warmly by the hand as they parted at the carriage door. "home," said barbara for the reporter's benefit, and then, to griswold: "i must speak of another matter. drive with me a little way until we can throw the reporter off." she spoke quietly, but he saw that she was preoccupied with some new phase of the situation, and as the carriage gained headway she said earnestly: "that young man told the truth--i am sure of it--about mr. bosworth. i knew he would do something to injure father if he could, but i did not know he had the courage to go so far." "it's only politics, miss osborne," said griswold lightly. "besides, you may be sure the _intelligencer_ will print the governor's side of it in its largest type." "no; it is not politics. it is more despicable, more contemptible, more ungenerous even than politics. but he shall be punished, humiliated for his conduct." "you shall fix his punishment yourself!" laughed griswold; "but the state's business first. we have a little more to do before i am satisfied with the day's work." "yes, of course. we must leave nothing undone that father would do were he here to act for himself." "we must be even more careful in his absence to safeguard his honor than the case really requires. we not only have his public responsibility but our own into the bargain in so far as we speak and act for him. and there's always the state--the palmetto flag must be kept flying at the masthead." their eyes met as they passed under an electric lamp and he saw how completely she was relying on his guidance. they were now at the edge of town and she bade him stop the carriage. "we must go to the state house," said griswold. "we must get that requisition, to guard against treason in the citadel. assuming that governor osborne really doesn't want to see appleweight punished we'd better hold the requisition anyhow. it's possible that your father had it ready--do pardon me!--for a grand-stand play, or he may have wanted to bring appleweight into the friendlier state;--but that's all conjectural. we'd better keep out of the principal streets. that reporter has a sharp eye." she gave the necessary directions and the driver turned back into columbia. it was pleasant to find his accomplice in this conspiracy a girl of keen wit who did not debate matters or ask tiresome questions. the business ahead was serious enough, though he tried by manner, tone and words to minimize its gravity. if the attorney-general was serving a personal spite, or whatever the cause of his attitude, he might go far in taking advantage of the governor's absence. griswold's relation to the case was equivocal enough, he fully realized; but the very fact of its being without precedent, and so beset with pitfalls for all concerned, was a spur to action. in the present instance a duly executed requisition for the apprehension of a criminal, which could not be replaced if lost, must be held at all hazards, and griswold had determined to make sure of the governor's warrant before he slept. "have you the office keys?" he asked. "yes; i have been afraid to let go of them. there's a watchman in the building, but he knows me very well. there will not be the slightest trouble about getting in." the watchman--an old confederate veteran--sat smoking in the entrance and courteously bade them good evening. "i want to get some papers from father's office, captain." "certainly, miss barbara." he preceded them, throwing on the lights, to the governor's door, which he opened with his own pass key. "it's pretty lonesome here at night, miss barbara." "i suppose nobody comes at night," remarked griswold. "not usually, sir. but one or two students are at work in the library, and mr. bosworth is in his office." the veteran walked away jingling his keys. barbara was already in the private office bending over the governor's desk. she found the right key, drew out a drawer, then cried out softly. she knelt beside the desk, throwing the papers about in her eagerness, then turned to griswold with a white face. "the drawer has been opened since i was here this morning. the requisition and all the other papers in the case are gone." griswold examined the lock carefully and pointed to the roughened edges of the wood. "a blade of the shears there, or perhaps the paper cutter--who knows? the matter is simple enough, so please do not trouble about it. wait here a moment. i want to make some inquiries of the watchman." he found the old fellow pacing the portico like a sentry. he pointed out the attorney-general's office, threw on a few additional lights for griswold's guidance, and resumed his patrol duty outside. the attorney-general's door was locked, but in response to griswold's knock it was opened guardedly. "i am very sorry to trouble you, mr. bosworth," began griswold, quietly edging his way into the room, "but one never gets wholly away from business these days." he closed the door himself, and peered into the inner rooms to be sure the attorney-general was alone. bosworth's face flushed angrily when he found that a stranger had thus entered his office with a cool air of proprietorship; then he stared blankly at griswold for a moment before he recalled where he had seen him before. "i don't receive visitors at night," he blurted, laying his hand on the door. "i'm engaged, and you'll have to come in office hours." he shook the door as though to call griswold's attention to it. "do you see this thing--it's the door!" he roared. "i have seen it from both sides, mr. bosworth. i intend to stay on this side until i get ready to go." "who the devil are you? what do you mean by coming here at this time of night?" "i'm a lawyer myself, if you will force the ignoble truth from me. now, when you are perfectly quiet, and once more the sane, reasonable human being you must be to have been trusted with the office you hold, we'll proceed to business. meanwhile, please put on your coat. a man in his shirt-sleeves is always at a disadvantage; and we virginians are sticklers for the proprieties." the attorney-general's fury abated when he saw that he had to deal with a low-voiced young man who seemed unlikely to yield to intimidation. griswold had, in fact, seated himself on a table that was otherwise covered with law books, and he sniffed with pleasure the familiar atmosphere of dusty law calf, which no one who has had the slightest acquaintance with a law office ever forgets. to his infinite amusement bosworth was actually putting on his coat, though it may have been a little absent-mindedly to give him an opportunity to decide upon a plan for getting rid of his visitor. however this may have been, bosworth now stepped to the side of the room and snatched down the telephone receiver. griswold caught him by the shoulder and flung him round. "none of that! by calling the police you will only get yourself into trouble. i'm bigger than you are and i should hate to have to throw you out of the window. now"--and he caught and hung up the receiver, which was wildly banging the wall--"now let us be sensible and get down to business." "who the devil are you?" demanded bosworth, glaring. "i'm special counsel for governor osborne in the appleweight case. there's no use in wasting time in further identification, but if you take down that volume on admiralty practice just behind you, you will find my name on the title page. or, to save you the trouble, as you seem to be interested in my appearance, i will tell you that my name is griswold and that my address is charlottesville, virginia." "you are undoubtedly lying. if you are smart enough to write a book you ought to know enough about legal procedure to understand that the attorney-general represents the state and special counsel would not be chosen without his knowledge." "allow me to correct you, my learned brother. you should never misquote the opposing counsel--it's one of the rules of the game. what i said a moment ago was that i represented the governor--governor osborne. i didn't say i represented the state, which is a different matter, and beset with _ultra vires_ pitfalls. there is no earthly reason why a governor should not detach himself, so to speak, from his office and act _in propria persona_, as a mere citizen. his right to private remedy is not abridged by the misfortune of office-holding. whether he can himself be made defendant in an action at law touches that ancient question, whether the monarch or the state can be sued. that's a question law students have debated from the beginning of time, but we must not confuse it with the case at issue. the governor, as a citizen, may certainly employ such counsel as he pleases, and just now i represent him. of course, if you want me to furnish a brief--" griswold's manner was deliberate and ingratiating. he saw that the attorney-general had not the slightest sense of humor and that his play upon legal phrases was wasted. bosworth grinned, but not at the legal status of monarchs and states. he had thought of a clever stroke and he dealt the blow with confidence. "let us assume," he said, "that you represent mr. osborne. may i ask the whereabouts of your client?" "certainly. you may ask anything you please, but it will do you no good. it's an old rule of the game never to divulge a client's secret. governor osborne has his own reasons for absenting himself from his office. however, he was at home to-night." "i rather guess not, as i had all the trains watched. you'll have to do a lot better than that, mr. griswold." "he has issued a statement to the public since you lied to the _intelligencer_ reporter about him to-day. i suppose it's part of your official duty to misrepresent the head of the state administration in the press, but the governor is in the saddle and i advise you to be good." the attorney-general felt that he was not making headway. his disadvantage in dealing with a stranger whose identity he still questioned angered him. he did not know why griswold had sought him out, and he was chagrined at having allowed himself to be so easily cornered. "you seem to know a good deal," he sneered. "how did you get into this thing anyhow?" "my dear sir, i was chosen by the governor because of my superior attainments, don't you see? but i'm in a hurry now. i came here on a particular errand. i want that requisition in the appleweight case--quick!--if you please, mr. bosworth." he jumped down from the table and took up his hat and stick. "mr. griswold, or whoever you are, you are either a fool or a blackguard. there isn't any requisition for appleweight. the governor never had the sand to issue any, if you must know the truth! if you knew anything about the governor you would know that that's why osborne is hiding himself. he can't afford to offend the appleweights, if you must know the disagreeable truth. your coming here and asking me for that requisition is funny, if you had the brains to see it. poor old osborne is scared to death and i doubt if he's within a hundred miles of here. you don't know the governor; i do! he's a dodger, a trimmer and a coward." "mr. bosworth," began griswold deliberately, "that requisition, duly signed and bearing the seal of the secretary of state as by the statutes in such cases made and provided, was in governor osborne's desk this morning at the time you were so daintily kicking the door in your anxiety to see the governor. it has since been taken from the drawer where the governor left it when he went to new orleans. you have gone in there like a sneak-thief, pried open the drawer and stolen that document; and now--" "it's an ugly charge," mocked the attorney-general. "it's all of that," and griswold smiled. "but you forget that you represent mr. osborne. on the other hand i represent governor osborne, and if i want the appleweight papers i had every right to them." "after office hours, feloniously and with criminal intent?" laughed griswold. "we will assume that i have them," sneered bosworth, "and such being the case i will return them only to the governor." "then,"--and griswold's smile broadened--"if it comes to concessions, i will grant that you are within your rights in wishing to place them in the governor's own hands. the governor of south carolina is now, so to speak, _in camera_." "the governor is hiding. he's afraid to come to columbia, and the whole state knows it." "the papers, my friend; and i will satisfy you that the governor of south carolina is under this roof and transacting business." "here in the state house?" demanded bosworth, and he blanched and twisted the buttons of his coat nervously. "the governor of south carolina, the supreme power of the state, charged with full responsibility, enjoying all the immunities, rights and privileges unto him belonging." it was clear that bosworth took no stock whatever in griswold's story; but griswold's pretended employment by the governor and his apparent knowledge of the governor's affairs, piqued his curiosity. if this was really the griswold who had written a widely accepted work on admiralty and who was known to him by reputation as a brilliant lawyer of virginia, the mystery was all the deeper. by taking the few steps necessary to reach the governor's chambers he would prove the falsity of griswold's pretensions to special knowledge of the governor's whereabouts and plans. he stepped to an inner office, came back with a packet of papers and thrust a revolver into his pocket with so vain a show of it that griswold laughed aloud. "what! do you still back your arguments with fire-arms down here? it's a method that has gone out of fashion in virginia!" "if there's a trick in this it will be the worse for you," scowled bosworth. "and pray, remember on your side, that you are to give those documents into the hands of the governor. come along." they met the watchman in the corridor and he saluted them and passed on. bosworth strode eagerly forward in his anxiety to prick the bubble of griswold's pretensions. griswold threw open the door of the governor's reception-room, and they blinked in the stronger light that poured in from the private office. there, in the governor's chair by the broad official desk, sat barbara osborne reading a newspaper. "your excellency," said griswold, bowing gravely and advancing; "i beg to present the attorney-general!" "barbara!" the papers fell from the attorney-general's hands. he stood staring until astonishment began to yield to rage as he realized that a trap had been sprung upon him. the girl had risen instantly and a smile played about her lips for a moment. she had vaguely surmised that griswold would charge bosworth with the loss of the papers, but her associate in the conspiracy had now given a turn to the matter that amused her. "barbara!" blurted the attorney-general, "what game is this--what contemptible trick is this stranger playing on you? don't you understand that your father's absence is a most serious matter and that in the present condition of this appleweight affair it is likely to involve him and the state in scandal?" barbara regarded him steadily for a moment with a negative sort of gaze. she took a step forward before she spoke and then she asked quickly and sharply: "what have you done, mr. bosworth, to avert these calamities, and what was in your mind when you pried open the drawer and took out those papers?" "i was going to use the requisition--" "how?" "why, i expected--" "mr. bosworth expected to effect a _coup_ for his own glory during the governor's absence," suggested griswold. "how?" and barbara's voice rang imperiously and her eyes flashed. "send this unknown person, this impostor and meddler, away and i will talk to you as old friends may talk together," and he glared fiercely at griswold, who stood fanning himself with his hat. "i asked you how you intended to serve my father, mr. bosworth, because you sent me this afternoon a letter in which you threatened me--you threatened me with my father's ruin if i did not marry you. you would take advantage of my trouble and anxiety to force that question on me when i had answered it once and for all long ago. before this stranger i want to tell you that you are a despicable coward and that if you think you can humiliate me or my father or the state by such practices as you have resorted to you are very greatly mistaken. and further, mr. bosworth, if i find you interfering again in this matter i shall print that letter you wrote me to-day in every newspaper in the state! now, that is all i have to say to you, and i hope never to see you again." "before you go, mr. bosworth," said griswold, "i wish to say that miss osborne has spoken of your conduct with altogether too much restraint. i shall add, on my own account, that if i find you meddling again in this appleweight case, i shall first procure your removal from office and after that i shall take the greatest pleasure in flogging you within an inch of your life. now go!" the two had dismissed him, and before bosworth's step died away in the hall, griswold was running his eye over the papers. "that man will do something nasty if he is clever enough to think of anything." "he's a disgusting person," said barbara, touching her forehead with her handkerchief. "he's all of that," remarked griswold, as he retied the red-tape round the packet of papers. "and now, before we leave we may as well face a serious proposition. your father's absence and this fiction we are maintaining that he is really here can not be maintained forever. i don't want to trouble you, for you, of course, realize all this as keenly as i. but what do you suppose actually happened at new orleans between your father and the governor of north carolina?" she leaned against her father's desk, her hands lightly resting on its flat surface. she was wholly serene now, and she smiled and then laughed. "it couldn't have been what the governor of north carolina said to the governor of south carolina in the old story, for father is strongly opposed to drink of all kinds. and in the story--" "i've forgotten where that story originated." "well, it happened a long time ago, and nobody really knows the origin. but according to tradition, at the crisis of a great row between two governors, the ice was broken by the governor of north carolina saying to the governor of south carolina those shocking words about it's being a long time between drinks. what makes the new orleans incident so remarkable is that father and governor dangerfield have always been friends, though i never cared very much for the dangerfields myself. the only tiffs they have had have been purely for effect. when father said that the people of north carolina would never amount to anything so long as they fry their meat it was only his joke with governor dangerfield--but it did make north carolina awfully mad. and jerry--she's the governor's daughter--refused to visit me last winter just on that account. jerry dangerfield's a nice little girl, but she has no sense of humor." chapter viii the labors of mr. ardmore while he waited for miss jerry dangerfield to appear mr. thomas ardmore read for the first time the constitution of the united states. he had reached the governor's office early, and, seeking diversion, he had picked up a small volume that bore some outward resemblance to a novel. this proved, however, to be johnston's _american politics_, and he was amazed to find that this diminutive work contained the answers to a great many questions which had often perplexed him, but which he had imagined could not be answered except by statesmen or by men like his friend griswold, who spent their lives in study. he had supposed that the constitution of a great nation like the united states would fill many volumes, and be couched in terms bewildering and baffling; and it was perhaps the proudest moment in mr. ardmore's life when, in the cool and quiet of the may morning, in the historic chambers of the governor of north carolina, it dawned upon him that the charter of american liberty filled hardly more space than the stipulations for a yacht race, or a set of foot-ball rules; and that, moreover, he understood the greater part of it, or thought he did. such strange words as "attainder" and "capitation" he sought out in the dictionary, and this also gave him a new sensation and thrill of pleasure at finding the machinery of knowledge so simple. he made note of several matters he wished to ask griswold about when they met again; then turned back into the body of the text and had read as far as burr's conspiracy when jerry came breezily in. he experienced for the first time in his life that obsession of guilt which sinks in shame the office-boy who is caught reading a dime novel. jerry seemed to tower above him like an avenging angel, and though her sword was only a parasol, her words cut deep enough. "well, you are taking it pretty cool!" "taking what?" faltered ardmore, standing up, and seeking to hide the book behind his back. "why, this outrageous article!" and she thrust a newspaper under his eyes. "do you mean to say you haven't seen the morning paper?" "to tell you the truth, miss dangerfield, i hardly ever read the papers." "what's that you were reading when i came in?" she demanded severely, withholding the paper until she should be answered. "it's a book about the government, and the powers reserved to the states and that sort of thing. i was just reading the constitution; i thought it might help us--i mean _you_--in your work." "the constitution help me? hasn't it occurred to you before this that what i'm doing is all against the constitution and the revised statutes and all those books you see on the shelf there?" "but the constitution sounds all right. it seems remarkably reasonable. you couldn't ask anything fairer than that!" "so are the ten commandments fair enough; but you're on the wrong track, mr. ardmore, if you're trying to support the present administration with stupid things in books. i don't follow precedents, mr. ardmore; i create them." "but i should think you would have to be awfully careful not to mix up the business of the executive and judicial branches of the government. i think i heard grissy speak of that once, though i'm not certain. grissy knows more than almost any other living man." "i don't doubt that your friend is a well-educated person, but in times like these you've got to rise above the constitution; and just now it's more convenient to forget it. there's a constitution of north carolina, too, if you're looking for constitutions, but in good society such things are not mentioned. papa always refers to the constitution with tears in his eyes when he's making speeches, but papa's very emotional. if i could make a speech i should tell the people what i think of them--that they're too silly and stupid for words." "you are right, miss dangerfield. i have felt exactly that way about the people ever since i was defeated for alderman in new york. but let me have the paper." she turned to the morning mail while he read, and opened the envelopes rapidly. such of the letters as she thought interesting or important she put aside, and when ardmore finished reading a double-leaded telegram from columbia, in which the governor of south carolina was quoted as declaring his intention of taking immediate steps for the apprehension of appleweight, she was still reading and sorting letters, tapping her cheek lightly meanwhile with the official paper-knife. "here, mr. ardmore," she said, drawing a paper from her pocket, "is the answer to that telegram we sent yesterday evening. suppose you read that next, and we can then decide what to do." she was making the letters into little piles, humming softly meanwhile; but he felt that there was a storm brewing. he read the message from columbia a number of times, and if the acting governor had not been so ominously quiet he would have laughed at the terse sentences. "there must be a mistake about this. he wouldn't have used 'diverting' that way; that's insulting!" "so you appreciate its significance, do you, mr. ardmore? the iron enters your soul, does it? you realize that i have been insulted, do you?" "i shouldn't put it that way, miss dangerfield. governor osborne would never have sent a message like that to you--he thought he was sending it to your father." "he's insulted me and every other citizen in the old north state; that's who he's insulted, mr. ardmore. let me read it again;" and she repeated the telegram aloud: "'your extremely diverting telegram in appleweight case received and filed.' i think it's the _extremely_ that's so perfectly mean. the _diverting_ by itself would not hurt my feelings half so much. he's a good deal smarter man than i thought he was to think up a telegram like that. but what do you think of that piece in the newspaper?" "he says he's going to catch appleweight dead or alive. that sounds pretty serious." "i think it's a bluff myself. that telegram we sent him yesterday must have scared him to death. he was driven into a corner and had to do something to avoid being disgraced, and it's easy enough to talk big in the newspapers when you haven't the slightest intention of doing anything at all. i've noticed that father talks the longest and loudest about things he doesn't believe at all." "is it possible?" whispered ardmore incredulously. "of course it's possible! father would never have been elected if he'd expressed his real sentiments; neither would anybody else ever be elected if he said beforehand what he really believed." "that must have been the reason i got defeated for alderman on the reform ticket. i told 'em i was for turning the rascals out." "that was very stupid of you. you've got to get the rascals to elect you first; then if you're tired of office and don't need them any more you bounce them. but that's political practice; it's a theory we've got to work out now. governor osborne's telegram is much more important than his interview in the newspapers, which is just for effect and of no importance at all. he doesn't say the same things in the telegram to father that he said to the reporter. a governor who really meant to do anything wouldn't be so ready to insult another governor. the newspapers are a lot of bother. i spent all yesterday evening talking to reporters. they came to the house to ask where papa was and when he would be home!" "what did you tell them?" "i didn't tell them anything. i sent out for two other girls and we all just talked to them and kept talking, and gave them lemon sherbet and ginger cookies; and eva hungerford played the banjo--you don't know eva? of course you don't know anybody, and i don't want you to, for it would spoil you for private secretary. but eva is simply killing when she gets to cutting up, and we made those reporters sing to us, and all they say in the papers, even the opposition papers, this morning is that governor dangerfield is in savannah visiting an old friend. they all tell the same story, so they must have fixed it up after they left the house. but what were you doing, mr. ardmore, that you didn't come around to help? it seems to me you don't appreciate the responsibilities of being secretary to a governor." "i was afraid you might scold me if i did. and besides i was glued to the long distance telephone all evening, talking to my manager at ardsley. he read me my letters and a lot of telegrams that annoyed me very much. i wish you wouldn't be so hard on me, for i have trifling troubles of my own." "i didn't suppose you ever had troubles; you certainly don't act as though you ever had." "no one who has never been brother-in-law to a duke has the slightest idea of what trouble is." "i've seen the duke of ballywinkle's picture in the papers and he looks very attractive." "well, if you'd ever seen him eat celery you'd change your mind. he's going down to ardsley to visit me; for sheer nerve i must say my relations beat the world. i got my place over here in north carolina just to get away from them, and now my sister--not the duchess, but mrs. atchison--is coming down there with a lot of girls and ballywinkle has attached himself to the party. they'll pass through here to-day, and they'll expect to find me at ardsley." "if the duke's really coming to our state i suppose we ought to recognize him officially," and jerry's eyes were large with reverie as she pondered her possible duty. "do something for him!" blazed ardmore. "i hope _you_ don't labor under the delusion that a duke's any better than anybody else? if you'd suffered what i have from being related to a duke you'd be sorry to hear he was even passing through your state, much less stopping off for a couple of weeks." "because you don't like him is no reason why every one else should feel the same way, is it? i've read about the duke of ballywinkle and he belongs to one of the oldest families in england, and i've seen pictures of ballywinkle castle--" "worse than that," grinned ardmore with rising humor, "i had to chip in to pay for it! and the plumbing isn't yet what it ought to be. the last time i was over there i caught cold and nearly died of pneumonia. i make it a rule now never to visit dukes. you never know what you'll strike when you stay in those ancestral castles, even when they've been restored with some silly american girl's grandfather's money. those places are all full of drafts and malaria and ghosts, and they make you drink tea in the afternoon, which is worse than being haunted." "i suppose we might invite his grace to inspect our militia," persisted jerry. "it would sound well in the papers to have a real duke inspect the north carolina troops." "it would sound better than he would look doing it, i can tell you that. old wellington may have been all right, but these new dukes were never made for horseback." "he might appear in a carriage, wearing his orders and ride the lines that way, with all the troops presenting arms." "or you might pin his debts on him and mount him on a goat on the rifle-range and let the sharp-shooters pepper away at him! please let us not talk about ballywinkle any more; the thought of him gives me that sinking feeling." he had opened an atlas and was poring over it with a magnifying glass. "it's positively funny," he murmured, laughing a little to himself, "but i know something about this country over here. here's ardsley, in the far corner of dilwell county, and here's kildare." "yes; i understand maps. dilwell is green, and there's the state line, and that ugly watery sort of yellow is mingo county, south carolina, and turner court house is the county seat of it. those little black marks are hills on the border, and it's right there that these appleweight people live, and dance on the state line as though it were a skipping-rope." "that's exactly it. now what we want to do is to arrest appleweight and put him in jail in south carolina, which relieves the governor of north carolina, your honored father, of all embarrassment." she snatched the paper-cutter and took possession of the map for a moment, then pointed, with a happy little laugh. "why, that will be only too easy. you see there's azbell county, where the militia is encamped, just three counties away from dilwell, and if we needed the soldiers it wouldn't hurt the troops to march that far, would it?" "hurt them, nothing!" exclaimed ardmore. "it will be good for them. you have to give orders to the adjutant-general, and, being engaged to him, he would be afraid not to obey your orders, even if you told him to go in balloons." "well, of course, i'd send him an official order; and if he was disobedient i could break our engagement. when i broke my engagement with arthur treadmeasure, it was only because he was five minutes late coming to take me to a dance." "you were perfectly right, miss dangerfield. no gentleman would keep you waiting." "but he didn't keep me waiting! i was sick in bed with a sore throat, and mama wouldn't let me go; but i thought it was very careless and taking too much for granted for him to think he could come poking along any time he pleased, so i ended everything." it would have interested ardmore to know the total of miss dangerfield's engagements, but the time did not seem propitious for such inquiries; and, moreover, his awe of her as a young person of great determination and force of character increased. she spoke of employing the armed forces of the state as though playing with the militia were a cheerful pastime, like horseback riding or tennis. his heart sank as he foresaw the possibility of the gallant gillingwater coming out of the appleweight affair with flying colors, a hero knighted on the field for valor. the remembrance of gillingwater receiving the salutes of the militia and riding off to the wars to the beat of drums had deprived ardmore of sleep all night. "well, there's the map, and there's that insulting telegram; what are you going to do about it?" asked jerry. she seemed to be honestly inviting suggestions, and the very thought of this affected him like wine. he deliberated for several minutes, while she watched him. a delicious country quiet lay upon the old state house; in the tranquil park outside the birds whistled their high disdain of law and precedent. it was no small thing to be identified with a great undertaking like this, with the finest girl in the world; and he could not help thinking of the joy of telling griswold, the sober professor and sedate lawyer, of this adventure when it should be happily concluded. never again should grissy taunt him with his supineness before the open door of opportunity! "a governor," he began, "is always a dignified person who doesn't bother his head about little things like this unless everybody else has gone to sleep. now, who's the chief of police in a county like dilwell--what do you call him?" "do you mean the sheriff, mr. ardmore?" "certainly. now, give me those telegraph blanks, and i'll drop him a few lines to let him know that the government at raleigh still lives." it is in the telegram alone that we americans approach style. our great commanders did much to form it; our business strategists took the key from them. "i propose to fight it out on this line, if it takes all summer" is not more admirable than "cancel order our number six hundred and eighteen," or "have drawn at sight." through the most familiar and commonplace apparatus clicks and ticks the great american epic in phrases concise, unequivocal and apt. von moltke, roused at night with news of war, merely waved his hand to the long-prepared orders in his chiffonier and went to sleep again; but the great prussian has his counterpart in the american magnate who ties up a railroad by telegraph over his after-dinner coffee. telegrams were, however, with mr. thomas ardmore, something more than a form of communication or a mere literary exercise. letter-writing seemed to him the most formidable of human undertakings, but with a pad of telegraph blanks under his hand his spirit soared free. all untrammeled by the horror of the day tariff, whose steep slopes have wrought so much confusion and error among the economical, he gave to the wires and the wireless what he never would have confided to a stamp. he wrote and submitted to miss jerry dangerfield the following: to the sheriff of dilwell county, kildare, n. c.: what is this i hear about your inability to catch appleweight and the rest of his bunch? your inattention to your duties is a matter of common scandal, and if you don't get anxious pretty soon i shall remove you from your job and then some. i shall be down soon to see whether you are pitching quoits at the blacksmith shop or fishing for lobsters in raccoon creek, instead of attending to your knitting. your conduct has annoyed me until i am something more than vexed by your behavior. the eyes of the great north state are upon you. wire me at length just what you propose doing or not doing in this matter. william dangerfield, governor of north carolina. "what do you think of that?" he asked, his pride falling as she scanned the paper carefully. "isn't it pretty expensive?" jerry inquired, counting the words to ten and then roughly computing the rest. "i'll take care of that, miss dangerfield. what i want to know is whether you think that will make the sheriff sit up." "well, here's what father sent him only about a week ago. i found it in his private letter book, and it's marked confidential in red ink." she read: "'act cautiously in appleweight case. indictment by grand jury is undoubtedly faulty and foster threatens trouble in case parties are arrested.' "and there's more like that! papa never intended to do anything, that's as plain as daylight. mr. foster, the treasurer, comes from that county. he thought papa was going to have to do something, so he's holding back the payment of the state bonds just to frighten papa. you see, the state owes the bronx loan and trust company that two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and if it isn't paid june first the state will be everlastingly disgraced." "oh, yes; i'd forgotten about that." "i don't see how you could forget about it. that must be almost as much money as there is in the world, mr. ardmore." "we've got to raise it, anyhow, even if we go to the pawn-shop. i pawned my watch once when i was in college and billings--he was my guardian--had shut me off. grissy--he's my friend--grissy says pawnbroking is only a more vulgar form of banking. there was a fellow in my class at college who pawned his pawn ticket to get money to pay his laundress, and then gave the new ticket to a poor blind man. he's a big man in wall street--has a real genius for finance, they say. but please don't worry about this rascal foster. we'll put some digitalis into the state's credit when the time comes." "i think your telegram to the sheriff is all right," said jerry, reading it again. "if you'll go to the door and whistle for the messenger we'll get it off. i'll sign it with the rubber stamp. papa hardly ever signs anything himself; he says if you don't sign documents yourself you can always repudiate them afterward, and papa's given prayerful thought to all such things." ardmore addressed himself once more to the map. it was clear that the appleweight gang was powerful enough to topple great states upon their foundations. it had, to ardmore's own knowledge, driven a governor into exile, and through the wretched foster, who was their friend, the credit of the state was gravely menaced. the possibilities of the game fascinated ardmore. he was eager for action on the scene of this usurpation and defiance. responsibility, for the first time, had placed a warrant of trust in his hands, and, thus commissioned, the spurs of duty pricked his sides. "i'll wait for the sheriff's answer, and if he shows no signs of life i'll go down there this afternoon." "then you will undoubtedly be shot!" jerry declared, as though announcing a prospect not wholly deplorable. "that has its disagreeable side, but a great many people have to be shot every year to keep up the average, and if the statistics need me i won't duck. i'll call up my man on the telephone this forenoon and tell him to put my forester at ardsley to work. he's a big fellow who served in the german army, and if he's afraid of anything i haven't heard of it. if we can drive the gang into south carolina, right along here, you see"--and miss dangerfield bent her pretty head over the map and saw--"if we can pass the chief outlaw on to governor osborne, then so much the better, and that's what we will try to do." "but you're only the private secretary, and you can't assume too much authority. i shall have to go to kildare to visit my aunt, who is a nice old lady that lives there. the fried corn mush and syrup at her house is the best i ever tasted, and if papa should come when he sees that something is being done quite different from what he intended, then i should be there to explain. if you should be killed, mr. ardmore, no one would be there to identify you, and i have always thought it the saddest thing in the world for any one to die away from home--" "it would be sad; but i hope you would be sorry." "i should regret your death, and i'd make them give you a perfectly beautiful military funeral, with chopin's funeral march, and your boots tied to the saddle of your horse." "but don't let them fuss about pulling off the boots, miss dangerfield, if i die with them on. it would be all right for you to visit your aunt, but i shouldn't do it if i were you. i once visited my aunt, mrs. covington-burns, at newport for a week. it was a deep game to get me to marry my aunt's husband's niece, whose father had lost his money, and the girl was beginning to bore my aunt." "was she a pretty girl?" asked jerry. "she was a whole basket of peaches, and i might have married her to get away from my aunt if it were not that i have made it a life-long rule never to marry the orphaned nieces of the husbands of my aunts. it's been a good rule to me, and has saved me no end of trouble. but if my sister doesn't change her mind, and if she really comes through raleigh to-day in her car with those friends of hers, she will be delighted to have you join her for a visit at ardsley. and then you would be near at hand in case some special edict from the governor seemed necessary." "but wouldn't your sister think it strange--" "not in the least, miss dangerfield. nothing is strange to my sister. nobody ever sprang a surprise on nellie yet. and besides, you are the daughter of the governor of a great state. she refuses to meet senators, because you can never be sure they are respectable, but she rather prides herself on knowing governors. governors are very different. since i read the constitution i can see very plainly that governors are much nearer the people, but i guess the senators are nearer the banks." "well, i have some shopping to do, and it's ten o'clock. it would be hospitable to ask you to luncheon, but mama cries so much because she doesn't know where papa is that our meals at the executive mansion are not exactly cheerful functions. and besides"--and she eyed ardmore severely as she rose and accepted her parasol from him--"and besides, you know our relations are purely official. you have never been introduced to me, and socially you are not known to us." chapter ix the land of the little brown jug caboose , with three box-cars and a locomotive attached, lay in the southeastern yards at raleigh late in the evening of the same day. in the observatory sat mr. thomas ardmore, chatting with the conductor, while they waited for the right of way. mr. ardmore's pockets were filled with papers, and he held half a dozen telegrams in his hand. the freight cars behind him were locked and sealed, and a number of men lounging near appeared to be watching them. the reply of the sheriff of dilwell county had precipitated the crisis. that official succinctly replied to ardmore's message: be good and acquire grace. while this dictum had aroused miss dangerfield's wrath and indignation, it calmed her fellow conspirator, and for hours ardmore had poured forth orders by telegraph and telephone. no such messages as his had ever before radiated from raleigh. the tolls would have bankrupted the commonwealth if ardmore had not cared for them out of his private purse. his forester, with an armed posse from ardsley, was already following the streams and beating the brush in search of appleweight. one car of ardmore's special train contained a machine gun and a supply of rifles; another abundant ammunition and commissary supplies, and the third cots and bags. the men who loafed about the train were a detail of strike-breakers from a detective agency, borrowed for the occasion. cooke, the conductor of the train, had formerly been in the government secret service, and knew the carolina hill country as he knew the palm of his hand. ardmore had warned his manager and the housekeeper on his estate to prepare for the arrival of mrs. atchison, whose private car had come and gone, carrying miss geraldine dangerfield on to ardsley. ardmore had just received a message from his sister at some way station, reporting all well and containing these sentences: "she is rather different, and i do not quite make her out. she has our noble brother-in-law a good deal bewildered." cooke ran forward for a colloquy with the engineer over their orders; the guards climbed into one of the box-cars, and the train moved slowly out of the raleigh yards to the main line and rattled away toward kildare, with mr. ardmore, pipe in mouth, perched in the caboose cupola. a caboose, you may not know, is the pleasantest place in the world to ride. essentially a thing of utility, it is not less the vehicle of joy. neither the captain of a trading schooner nor the admiral of a canal fleet is more sublimely autocratic than the freight conductor in his watch-tower. the landscape is disclosed to him in leisurely panoramas; the springs beneath are not so lulling as to dull his senses. if he isn't whipped into the ditch by the humor of the engineer, or run down and telescoped by an enemy from behind, he may ultimately deliver his somber fleet to its several destinations; but he is the slave of no inexorable time-table, and his excuses are as various as his cargoes. not captain kidd nor another of the dark brotherhood sailed forth with keener zest for battle than mr. ardmore. indeed, the trailing smoke of the locomotive suggested a black flag, and the thought of it tickled his fancy. above bent the bluest sky in the world; fields of corn and cotton, the brilliant crimson of german clover, and long stretches of mixed forest held him with enchantment. in a cornfield a girl plowing with a single steer--a little girl in a sunbonnet, who reached wearily up to the plow handles--paused and waved to him, and he knew the delight of the lonely mariner when a passing ship speaks to him with flags. and when night came, after the long mystical twilight, the train passed now and then great cotton factories that blazed out from their thousand windows like huge steamships. when they sought a lonely siding to allow a belated passenger train to pass, the conductor brewed coffee and cooked supper, and ardmore called in the detectives and trainmen. the sense of knowing real people, whose daily occupations were so novel and interesting, touched him afresh with delight. these men said much in few words. the taciturnity of cooke, the conductor, in particular, struck ardmore as very fine, and it occurred to him that very likely men who have had the fun of doing things never talk of their performances afterward. one of the detectives chaffed cooke covertly about some adventure in which they had been jointly associated. "i never thought they'd get the lead out of you after that business in missouri. you were a regular mine," said the detective to cooke, and cooke glanced deprecatingly at ardmore. "he's the little joker, all right." "you can't kill him," remarked the detective. "i've seen it tried." before the train started the detectives crawled back into their car, and cooke drew out some blankets, tossed them on a bench for ardmore, and threw himself down without ado. ardmore held to his post in the tower, as lone as the lookout in a crow's-nest. the night air swept more coolly in as they neared the hills, and the train's single brakeman came down as though descending from the sky, rubbed the cinders from his eyes, and returned to his vigil armed with a handful of ardmore's cigars. for the greater part of the night they enjoyed a free track, and thumped the rails at a lively clip. shortly after midnight ardmore crawled below and went to sleep. at five o'clock cooke called him. "we're on the switch at kildare. one of your men is here waiting for you." big paul, the german forester, was called in, and ardmore made his toilet in a pail of water while listening to the big fellow's report. cooke joined in the conversation, and ardmore was gratified to see that the two men met on common ground in discussing the local geography. the forester described in clear, straight-forward english just what he had done. he had distributed his men well through the hills, and they were now posted as pickets on points favorable for observation. they had found along the streams four widely scattered stills, and these were being watched. paul drew a small map, showing the homes of the most active members of the appleweight gang, and ardmore indicated all these points as nearly as possible on the county map he had brought with him. "here's raccoon creek, and my own land runs right through there--just about here, isn't it, paul? i always remember the creek, because i like the name so much." "you are right, mr. ardmore. the best timber you have lies along there, and your land crosses the north carolina boundary into south carolina about here. there's mingo county, south carolina, you see." "well, that dashes me!" exclaimed ardmore, striking the table with his fist. "i never knew one state from another, but you must be right." "i'm positive of it, mr. ardmore. one of my men has been living there on the creek to protect your timber. some of these outlaws have been cutting off our wood." "it seems to me i remember the place. there's a log house hanging on the creek. you took me by it once, but it never entered my head that the state line was so close." "it runs right through the house! and some one, years ago, blazed the trees along there, so it is very easy to tell when you step from one state to another. my man left there recently, refusing to stay any longer. these appleweight people thought he was a spy, and posted a notice on his door warning him to leave, so i shifted him to the other end of the estate." "did you see the sheriff at kildare?" "i haven't seen him. when i asked for him yesterday i found he had left town and gone to greensboro to see his sick uncle." ardmore laughed and slapped his knee. "who takes care of the dungeon while he's away?" "there are no prisoners in the kildare jail. the sheriff's afraid to keep any; and he's like the rest of the people around here. they all live in terror of appleweight." "appleweight is a powerful character in these parts," said cooke, pouring the coffee he had been making, and handing a tin cupful to ardmore. "he's tolerable well off, and could make money honestly if he didn't operate stills, rob country stores, mix up in politics, and steal horses when he and his friends need them." "i guess he has never molested us any, has he, paul?" asked ardmore, not a little ashamed of his ignorance of his own business. "a few of our cows stray away sometimes and never come back. and for two years we have lost the corn out of the crib away over here near the deer park." "they've got the juice out of it before this," remarked cooke. "that would be nice for me, wouldn't it?" said ardmore, grinning--"to be arrested for running a still on my place." "we don't want to lose our right to the track, and we must get out of this before the whole community comes to take a look at us," said cooke, swinging out of the caboose. ardmore talked frankly to the forester, having constant recourse to the map; and paul sketched roughly a new chart, marking roads and paths so far as he knew them, and indicating clearly where the ardsley boundaries extended. then ardmore took a blue pencil and drew a straight line. "when we get appleweight, we want to hurry him from dilwell county, north carolina, into mingo county, south carolina. we will go to the county town there, and put him in jail. if the sheriff of mingo is weak-kneed, we will lock appleweight up anyhow, and telegraph the governor of south carolina that the joke is on him." "we will catch the man," said paul gravely, "but we may have to kill him." "dead or alive, he's got to be caught," said ardmore, and the big forester stared at his employer a little oddly; for this lord proprietor had not been known to his employees and tenants as a serious character, but rather as an indolent person who, when he visited his estate in the hills, locked himself up unaccountably in his library and rarely had the energy to stir up the game in his broad preserves. "certainly, sir; dead or alive," paul repeated. cooke came out of the station and signaled the engineer to go ahead. "we'll pull down here about five miles to an old spur where the company used to load wood. there's a little valley there where we can be hidden all we please, so far as the main line is concerned, and it might not be a bad idea to establish headquarters there. we have the tools for cutting in on the telegraph, and we can be as independent as we please. i told the agent we were carrying company powder for a blasting job down the line, and he suspects nothing." paul left the caboose as the train started, and rode away on horseback to visit his pickets. the train crept warily over the spur into the old wood-cutters' camp, where, as cooke had forecast, they were quite shut in from the main line by hills and woodland. "and now, mr. ardmore, if you would like to see fire-water spring out of the earth as freely as spring water, come with me for a little stroll. the thirsty of dilwell county know the way to these places as city topers know the way to a bar. we are now in the land of the little brown jug, and while these boys get breakfast i'll see if the people in this region have changed their habits." it was not yet seven as they struck off into the forest beside the cheerful little brook that came down singing from the hills. ardmore had rarely before in his life been abroad so early, and he kicked the dew from the grass in the cheerfullest spirit imaginable. within a few days he had reared a pyramid of noble resolutions. life at last entertained him. the way of men of action had been as fabulous to him as the dew that now twinkled before him. griswold knew books, but here at his side strode a man who knew far more amazing things than were written in any book. cooke had not been in this region for seven years, and yet he never hesitated, but walked steadily on, following the little brook. presently he bent over the bank and gathered up a brownish substance that floated on the water, lifted a little of it in his palm and sniffed it. "that," said cooke, holding it to ardmore's nose, "is corn mash. that's what they make their liquor out of. the still is probably away up yonder on that hillside. it seems to me that we smashed one there once when i was in the service; and over there, about a mile beyond that pine tree, where you see the hawk circling, three of us got into a mix-up, and one of our boys was killed." he crossed the stream on a log, climbed the bank on the opposite shore, and scanned the near landscape for a few minutes. then he pointed to an old stump over which vines had grown in wild profusion. "if you will walk to that stump, mr. ardmore, and feel under the vines on the right-hand side, your fingers will very likely touch something smooth and cool." ardmore obeyed instructions. he thrust his hand into the stump as cooke directed, thrust again a little deeper, and laughed aloud as he drew out a little brown jug. cooke nodded approvingly. "we're all right. the revenue men come in here occasionally and smash the stills and arrest a few men, but the little brown jug continues to do business at the same old stand. they don't even change the hiding-places. and while we stand here, you may be pretty sure that a freckled-faced, tow-headed boy or girl is watching us off yonder, and that the word will pass all through the hills before noon that there are strangers abroad in old dilwell. if you have a dollar handy, slip it under the stump, so they'll know we're not stingy." ardmore was scrutinizing the jug critically. "they're all alike," said cooke, "but that piece of calico is a new one--just a fancy touch for an extra fine article of liquor." "i'll be shot if i haven't seen that calico before," said ardmore; and he sat down on a boulder and drew out the stopper, while cooke watched him with interest. the bit of twine was indubitably the same that he had unwound before in his room at the guilford house, and the cob parted in his fingers exactly as before. on a piece of brown paper that had been part of a tobacco wrapper was scrawled: this ain't yore fight, mr. ardmore. wher's the guvner of north carolina? "that's a new one on me," laughed cooke. "you see, they know everything. mind-reading isn't in it with them. they know who we are and what we have come for. what's the point about the governor?" "oh, the governor's all right," replied ardmore carelessly. "he wouldn't bother his head about a little matter like this. the powers reserved to the states by the constitution give a governor plenty of work without acting as policeman of the jungle. that's the reason i said to governor dangerfield, 'governor,' i said, 'don't worry about this appleweight business. time is heavy on my hands,' i said. 'you stay in raleigh and uphold the dignity of your office, and i will take care of the trouble in dilwell.' and you can't understand, cooke, how his face brightened at my words. being the brave man he is, you would naturally expect him to come down here in person and seize these scoundrels with his own hands. i had the hardest time of my life to get him to stay at home. it almost broke his heart not to come." and as they retraced their steps to the caboose, it was ardmore who led, stepping briskly along, and blithely swinging the jug. chapter x professor griswold takes the field barbara and griswold stopped at the telegraph office on their way back to the executive mansion, and were met with news that the sheriff of mingo had refused to receive griswold's message. "his private lines of communication with the capital are doubtless well established," said griswold, "and bosworth probably warned him, but it isn't of great importance. it's just as well for appleweight and his friends, high and low, to show their hands." when they were again on the veranda, griswold lingered for a moment with no valid excuse for delay beyond the loveliness of the night and his keen delight in barbara's voice and her occasional low laughter, which was so pleasant to hear that he held their talk to a light key, that he might evoke it the more. professor griswold's last flirtation was now so remote that he would have been hard put to say whether the long-departed goddess' name had been evelyn or laura. he had so thoroughly surrendered himself to the exactions of the law that love and marriage held small place in his speculations of the future. he had heard himself called a bachelor professor with the humorous tolerance of one who is pretty sure of himself, and who is not yet reduced to the cynical experiment of peering beneath the top layer of his box of strawberries to find the false bottom. he recalled the slender manuscript volume of verses in his desk at home, and he felt that it would be the easiest thing in the world to write a thousand songs to-night, beside which the soundest brief ever filed in any court would be the silliest of literary twaddle. "you have done all that could be asked of you, mr. griswold, and i can not permit you to remain longer. father will certainly be here to-morrow. i assure you that it is not like him to avoid his public obligations. his absence is the most unaccountable thing that ever happened. i have my difficulties here at home, for since my mother's death i have had the care of my young sisters, and it is not pleasant to have to deceive them." "oh, but your father isn't absent! he is officially present and in the saddle," laughed griswold. "you must not admit, even to me, that he is not here in full charge of his office. and as for my leaving the field, i have not the slightest intention of going back to virginia until the appleweight ghost is laid, the governor of north carolina brought to confusion, and the governor of south carolina visibly present and thundering his edicts again, so to speak, _ex cathedra_. my own affairs can wait, miss osborne. my university may go hang; my clients may be mulcted in direst damages, but just now i am your humble servant, and i shall not leave your service until my tasks are finished. i am consulting not my duty, but my pleasure. the joy of having a hand in a little affair like this, and of being able to tell my friend tommy ardmore about it afterward, would be sufficient. ardmore will never speak to me again for not inviting him to a share in the game." he was more buoyant than she had seen him, and she liked the note of affection that crept into his tone as he spoke of his friend. "ardmore is the most remarkable person alive," griswold continued. "you remember--i spoke of him this morning. he likes to play the inscrutable idiot, and he carries it off pretty well; but underneath he's really clever. the most amazing ideas take hold of him. you never could imagine what he's doing now! i met him accidentally in atlanta the other day, and he was in pursuit of a face--a girl's face that he had seen from a car window for only an instant on a siding somewhere." "he must have a romantic temperament," suggested barbara. "quite that. his family have been trying to marry him off to some one in their own set ever since i have known him, but he's extremely difficult. one of the most remarkable things about him is his amazing democracy. he owns a palace on fifth avenue, but rarely occupies it, for he says it bores him. he has a camp in the adirondacks, but i have never known him to visit it. his place in north carolina pleases him because there he commands space, and no one can crowd him or introduce him to people he doesn't want to meet. he declares that the most interesting people don't have more than a dollar a day to spend; that the most intelligent and the best-looking girls in america clerk in shops and work in factories. a philanthropic lady in new york supplies him every christmas with a list of names of laundry girls, who seem to appeal particularly to ardy's compassion, though he never knew one in his life, but he admires them for the zeal with which they destroy buttonholes and develop the deckle-edge cuff; and he has twenty-dollar bills mailed to them quite mysteriously, and without any hint of who santa claus really is." "but the girl he saw from the car window--did she also appeal to him altruistically?" "no; it was with her eye. he declared to me most solemnly that the girl winked at him!" griswold was aware that miss osborne's interest in ardmore cooled perceptibly. "oh!" she said, with that delightful intonation with which a woman utterly extinguishes a sister. "i shouldn't have told you that," said griswold, guiltily aware of falling temperature. "he is capable of following a winking eye at a perfectly respectful distance for a hundred years, and of being entertained all the time by the joy of pursuit." "it seems very unusual," said barbara, with cold finality. griswold remembered this talk as, the next day, aboard the train bound for turner court house, the seat of mingo county, south carolina, he pondered a telegram he had received from ardmore. he read and re-read this message, chewing cigars and scowling at the landscape, and the cause of his perturbation of spirit may be roughly summarized in these words: on leaving the executive mansion the night before, he had studied maps in his room at the saluda house, and carefully planned his campaign. he had talked by telephone with the prosecuting attorney of mingo county, and found that official politely responsive. so much had gone well. then the juxtaposition of ardmore's estate to the border, and the possible use of the house as headquarters, struck in upon him. he would, after all, generously take ardmore into the game, and they would uphold the honor and dignity of the great commonwealth of south carolina together. the keys of all ardmore's houses were, so to speak, in griswold's pocket, and invitations were unnecessary between them; yet, at atlanta ardmore had made a point of asking griswold down to help while away the tedium of mrs. atchison's house party, and as a matter of form griswold had wired from columbia, advising ardmore of his unexpected descent. even in case ardmore should still be abroad in pursuit of the winking eye, the doors of the huge house would be open to griswold, who had entered there so often as the owner's familiar friend. these things he pondered deeply as he read and re-read ardmore's reply to his message, a reply which was plainly enough dated at ardsley, but which, he could not know, had really been written in caboose as it lay on a siding in the southeastern yards at raleigh, and thence despatched to the manager at ardsley, with instructions to forward it as a new message to griswold at columbia. the chilling words thus flung at him were: professor henry maine griswold, saluda house, columbia, s. c.: i am very sorry, old man, but i can not take you in just now. scarlet fever is epidemic among my tenants, and i could not think of exposing you to danger. as soon as the accursed plague passes i want to have you down. ardmore. an epidemic that closed the gates of ardsley would assume the proportions of a national disaster; for even if the great house itself were quarantined, there were lodges and bungalows scattered over the domain, where a host of guests could be entertained in comfort. griswold reflected that the very fact that he had wired from columbia must have intimated to ardmore that his friend was flying toward him, pursuant to the atlanta invitation. griswold dismissed a thousand speculations as unworthy. ardmore had never shown the remotest trace of snobbishness, and as far as the threatened house party was concerned, griswold knew mrs. atchison very well, and had been entertained at her new york house. the patronizing tone of the thing caused griswold to flush at every reading. if the ardsley date-line had not been so plainly written; if the phraseology were not so characteristic, there might be room for doubt; but ardmore--ardmore, of all men, had slapped him in the face! but, scarlet fever or no scarlet fever, the pursuit of appleweight had precedence of private grievances. by the time he reached turner court house griswold had dismissed the ungraciousness of ardmore, and his jaws were set with a determination to perform the mission intrusted to him by barbara osborne, and to wait until later for an accounting with his unaccountable friend. arrived at turner's, griswold strode at once toward the court house. the contemptuous rejection of his message by the sheriff of mingo had angered griswold, but he was destined to feel even more poignant insolence when, entering the sheriff's office, a deputy, languidly posed as a letter "v" in a swivel-chair, with his feet on the mantel, took a cob pipe from his mouth and lazily answered griswold's importunate query with: "the sheriff ain't hyeh, seh. he's a-visitin' his folks in tennessy." "when will he be back?" demanded griswold, hot of heart, but maintaining the icy tone that had made him so formidable in cross-examination. "i reckon i don't know, seh." "do you know your own name?" persisted griswold sweetly. "go to hell, seh," replied the deputy. he reached for a match, relighted his pipe, and carefully crossed his feet on the mantel-shelf. the moment griswold's steps died away in the outer corridor the deputy rose and busied himself so industriously with the telephone that within an hour all through the mingo hills, and even beyond the state line, along lonely trails, across hills and through valleys, and beside cheery creeks and brooks, it was known that a strange man from columbia was in mingo county looking for the sheriff, and appleweight, _alias_ poteet, and his men were everywhere on guard. griswold liked the prosecuting attorney on sight. his name was habersham, and he was a youngster with a clear and steady gray eye. instead of the southern statesman's flowing prince albert, he wore a sack-coat of gray jeans, and was otherwise distinguished by a shirt of white and blue check. he grinned as griswold bent a puzzled look upon him. "i took your courses at the university two years ago, professor, and i remember distinctly that you always wore a red cravat to your wednesday lectures." "you have done well," replied griswold, "for i never expected to find an old student who remembered half as much of me as that. now, as i understood you over the telephone, appleweight was indicted for stealing a ham in this county by the last grand jury, but the sheriff has failed or refused to make the arrest. how did the grand jury come to indict if this outlaw dominates all the hill country?" "the grand jury wanted to make a showing of virtue, and it was, of course, understood between the foreman, the leader of the gang, and the sheriff that no warrant could be served on appleweight. i did my duty; the grand jury's act was exemplary; and there the wheels of justice are blocked. the same thing is practically true across the state line in dilwell county, north carolina. these men, led by appleweight, use their intimate knowledge of the country to elude pursuers when at times the revenue men undertake a raid, and the county authorities have never seriously molested them. now and then one of these sheriffs will make a feint of going out to look for appleweight, but you may be sure that due notice is given before he starts. three revenue officers have lately been killed while looking for these men, and the government is likely to take vigorous action before long." "we may as well be frank," said griswold in his most professional voice. "i don't want the federal authorities to take these men; it is important that they should not do so. this is an affair between the governors of the two carolinas. it has been said that neither of them dares press the matter of arrest, but i am here in governor osborne's behalf to give the lie to that imputation." "that has undoubtedly been the fact, as you know," and habersham smiled at his old preceptor inquiringly. "osborne once represented the appleweights, and he undoubtedly saved the leader from the gallows. that was before osborne ever thought of becoming governor, and he acted only within his proper rights as a lawyer. i don't recall that anything in professional ethics requires us to abandon a client because we know he's guilty. if such were the case we'd all starve to death." "governor osborne has been viciously maligned," declared griswold. "while he did at one time represent these people--no doubt thoroughly and efficiently--he holds the loftiest ideal of public service, and it was only when his official integrity was brought into question by unscrupulous enemies that he employed me as special counsel to carry this affair through to a conclusion. that accounts for my presence here, habersham, and, with your assistance, i propose to force governor dangerfield's hand. suppose all these people were arrested in mingo county under these indictments, what would be the result--trial and acquittal?" "just that, in spite of any effort made to convict them." "well, governor osborne is tired of this business and wants the appleweight scandal disposed of once and for all." "that's strange," remarked habersham, clearly surprised at griswold's vigorous tone. "i called on the governor in his office at columbia only ten days ago, and he put me off. he said he had to prepare an address to deliver before the south carolina political reform association, and he couldn't take up the appleweight case; and i called on bosworth, the attorney-general, and he grew furiously angry, and said i was guilty of the gravest malfeasance in not having brought those men to book long ago. when i suggested that he connive with the governor toward removing our sheriff, he declared that the governor was a coward. he seemed anxious to put the governor in a hole, though why he should take that attitude i can't make out, as it has been generally understood that governor osborne's personal friendliness for him secured his nomination and election to the attorney-generalship, and i have heard that he is engaged to the governor's oldest daughter." "he is a contemptible hound," replied griswold with feeling, "and at the proper time we shall deal with him; but it is of more importance just now to make appleweight a prisoner in north carolina. if he's arrested over there, that lets us out; and if the north carolina authorities won't arrest their own criminals we'll go over into dilwell county and show them how to be good. the man's got to be locked up, and he'd look much better in a north carolina jail, under all the circumstances." "that's good in theory, but how do you justify it in law?" "oh, that's the merest matter of formulæ! my dear habersham, all the usual processes of law go down before emergencies!" the airiness of griswold's tone caused the prosecutor to laugh, for this was not the sober associate professor of admiralty whose lectures he had sat under at the university of virginia, but a different person, whose new attitude toward the law and its enforcement shocked him immeasurably. "you seem to be going in for pretty loose interpretations, and if that plaster bust of john marshall up there falls from the shelf, you need not be surprised," and habersham still laughed. "i might be impudent and cite you against yourself!" "that would constitute contempt of court, and i can not just now spare your services long enough for you to serve a jail sentence. go on now, and tell me what you have done and what you propose." "well, as i told you over the telephone, we hear a great deal about appleweight and his crowd, but we never hear much of their enemies, who are, nevertheless, of the same general stock, and equally determined when aroused. ten of these men i have quietly called to meet at my farm out here a few miles from town, on thursday night. they come from different points over the country, and we'll have a small but grim posse that will be ready for business. you may not know it, but the appleweights are most religious. appleweight himself boasts that he never misses church on sunday. he goes also to the mid-week service on thursday night, so i have learned, and thereby hangs our opportunity. mount nebo church lies off here toward the north. it's a lonely point in itself, though it's the spiritual center and rendezvous for a wide area. if appleweight can be taken at all, that's the place, and i'm willing to make the trial. whether to stampede the church and make a fight, or seize him alone as he approaches the place, is a question for discussion with the boys i have engaged to go into the game. how does it strike you?" "first rate. ten good men ought to be enough; but if it comes down to numbers, the state militia can be brought into use. the south carolina national guard is in camp, and we can have a regiment quick enough, if i ask it." habersham whistled. "osborne is certainly up and doing!" he exclaimed, chuckling. "i suppose he has tossed a quarter, and decided it's better to be good than to be senator. by the way, that was a curious story in the newspapers about dangerfield and osborne having a row at new orleans. i wonder just what passed between them?" griswold was conscious that habersham glanced at him a little curiously, with a look that implied something that half formed itself on the prosecuting attorney's lips. "i know nothing beyond what i read in the newspapers at the time. some political row, i fancy." "i suppose governor osborne hasn't discussed it with you since his return to columbia?" asked habersham carelessly. the shadow of a smile flitted across his face but vanished quickly as though before a returning consciousness of the fact that he was facing henry maine griswold, who was first of all a gentleman, and not less a scholar and a man of the world, who was not to be trifled with. "no," replied griswold, a little shortly. "i was appealed to in rather an unusual way in this matter of appleweight. it is quite out of my line as a legal proposition, but there are other considerations of which i may not speak." "pardon me," murmured habersham; but he asked: "what was governor osborne doing when you left columbia?" "when i left columbia," remarked griswold, and it was he that smiled now, "to the best of my knowledge and belief the governor of south carolina was deeply absorbed in knitting a necktie, the color of which was, i think, the orange of a blue ridge autumn sunset. and now, if you will kindly give me pen and paper, i will communicate the appleweight situation and our prospects to my honored chief." chapter xi two ladies on a balcony the outer aspect of ardsley is, frankly, feudal. the idea of a north carolina estate had grown out of ardmore's love of privacy and his wish to get away from new york where his family was all too frequently struck by the spot light. the great tract of land once secured he had not concerned himself about a house, but had thrown together a comfortable bungalow which satisfied him for a year. but ardmore's gentle heart, inaccessible to demands of many sorts, was a defenseless citadel when appeals were made to his generosity. a poor young architect, lately home from the ecole des beaux arts, with many honors but few friends, fell under ardmore's eyes. the towers and battlements that soon thereafter crowned the terraced slopes at ardsley, etching a noble line against the lovely panorama of north carolina hills, testified at once to the architect's talent for adaptation and ardmore's diminished balances at the bronx loan and trust company. on a balcony that commanded the sunset--a balcony bright with geraniums that hung daringly over a ravine on the west, mrs. atchison and miss jerry dangerfield were cosily taking their tea. their white gowns, the snowy awning stirring slightly in the hill air, the bright trifles of the tea-table mingled, in a picture of charm and contentment. "i wonder," said mrs. atchison abruptly, "where tommy is." "i have no definite idea," said jerry, pouring cream, "but let us hope that he is earning his salary." "his salary?" and mrs. atchison's brows contracted. "do you mean that my brother is taking pay for this mysterious work he is doing?" "he shall be paid in money," replied jerry with decision. "as i have only the barest acquaintance with mr. ardmore, never, in fact, having seen him until a few days ago, it would be very improper for me to permit him to serve me except under the rules that govern the relations of employer and employee." mrs. atchison smiled with the wise tolerance of a woman of the world; and she was a lady, it must be said, who had a keen perception of that sane and ample philosophy of life which proceeds, we may say, for the sake of convenience, from the sense of humor. she did not like to be puzzled; and she had never in her life been surprised, least of all by any word or deed of her singular brother tommy. she liked and even cultivated with daring the inadvertent turns in a day's affairs. the cool fashion in which her brother had placed the daughter of the governor of north carolina in her hands on board her car at raleigh had amused her. she had learned nothing from jerry of the beginnings of that young woman's acquaintance with the master of ardsley--an acquaintance which seemed to be intimate in certain aspects but amazingly distant and opaque in others. miss geraldine dangerfield, like mrs. atchison herself, was difficult to surprise, and tommy ardmore's sister admired this in any one and she particularly admired it in jerry, who was so charming in so many other ways. mrs. atchison imagined that jerry's social experience had been meager, and yet the girl accepted the conditions of life at ardsley as a matter of course, and in the gatherings of the house party jerry--there was no denying it--held the center of the stage. the men, including the duke of ballywinkle, hung upon her lightest word, which often left them staggering; and she frequently flung the ball of conversation into the blue ether with a careless ease that kept expectancy a-tiptoe in the minds and hearts of all the company. "i hope," said mrs. atchison, putting down her cup and gazing dreamily into the west, "that you have not given tommy any commission in which he is likely to fail. if it were a matter of finding a fan you had left behind somewhere, or even of producing an extinct flower from the andes, he would undoubtedly be faithful to the trust imposed on him; but in anything that is really serious, really of importance one should never depend on tommy." this was, as the lady knew, almost vulgarly leading; but jerry folded her arms, and spoke out with charming frankness. "i have heard my father say," said jerry, "that incapable men often rise to great opportunities when they are pushed. mr. ardmore has undertaken to perform for me a service of the greatest delicacy and not unattended with danger. you have been kind to me, mrs. atchison, and as you are my chaperon and entitled to my fullest confidence it is right for you to know just how i came here, and why your brother is absent in my service." for once curiosity bound mrs. atchison in chains of steel. "tell me nothing, dear, unless you are quite free to do so," she murmured; but her heart skipped a beat as she waited. "i should not think of doing so except of my own free will," declared jerry, carelessly following the flight of a hawk that flapped close by toward the neighboring woods. "it may interest you to know that just now your brother, mr. thomas ardmore, is the governor of north carolina. he does not exactly know it, for at raleigh i myself was governor of north carolina at the time we met and i only made mr. ardmore my private secretary; but when it became necessary to take the field i placed him in full charge, and he is now not only governor of the old north state, but also the commander-in-chief of her troops in the field." with a nice feeling for climax jerry paused, picked a lump of sugar from the silver bowl on the tea-table, bit the edge of it daintily, and tossed it to the robins that hopped on the lawn beneath. mrs. atchison moved forward slightly, but evinced no other sign of surprise. the hour, the scene, the girl were all to her liking. she would even prolong the delight of hearing the further history of her brother's amazing elevation to supreme power in an american commonwealth--it was so foreign to all experience, so heavy with possibilities, so delicious in that it had happened to tommy of all men in the world! "i trust," she said, smiling a little, "that tommy will not prove unworthy of the confidence you have reposed in him." "if he does," said jerry, slapping her hands together to free them of an imaginary sugar crumb, "i shall never, never marry him." "then may i ask, miss dangerfield, if you and he are engaged?" "not at all, mrs. atchison! not only are we not engaged, but he has never even proposed to me. besides, i am engaged to colonel rutherford gillingwater, our adjutant-general." "then if you are engaged to this military person, just wherein lies the significance of your threat never to marry my brother?" "that," said jerry, "is perfectly easy of explanation. your brother and i have met only a few times, and i never become engaged to any man whom i have not known for a week at least. marriage is a serious matter and while the frequent breaking of engagements is painful in the extreme, i think one can not be too careful in assuming the marriage bond." mrs. atchison wondered whether the girl was amusing herself at her expense, but jerry's tone was grave and jerry's eyes were steady. jerry was a new species, and she had appeared at a fortunate moment when mrs. atchison had almost concluded that the world is a squeezed lemon. "in view of the fact that you are engaged to dillingwater--" began mrs. atchison, anxious for further disclosures touching jerry's ideas on matrimony. "colonel rutherford gillingwater, please!" corrected jerry. "--i don't quite grasp this matter of your attitude toward my brother. unless i misunderstood you, you remarked a moment ago that unless he succeeded in his present undertaking you would never marry him." "that is exactly what i said, and i meant ever word of it," declared jerry. "i will not conceal from you, mrs. atchison, my determination that your brother shall be my second husband." there was no question of mrs. atchison's complete surprise now. "your _second_ husband, child?" "my second husband, mrs. atchison. life is short at best, and i was told by my old mammy when i was a little child--she turned out afterward to be a real voodoo woman--that i should be married twice. i am very superstitious and that made a great impression on my mind. it is not in keeping with my ideas of life, mrs. atchison, to be long a widow, so that i think it perfectly right to choose a second husband even before i am quite sure that i have chosen wisely for my first." "has the military person weak lungs?" "no; but his mind is not strong. anything sudden like apoplexy would be sure to go hard with him." "then you should be careful not to shock him. it would be almost criminal to break your engagement with him." "that rests entirely with him, mrs. atchison. the man i love must be brave, tender and true. after our present difficulties are over i shall know whether rutherford gillingwater is the man i believe i am going to marry in october." "but you spoke a moment ago of tommy's official position. is this arrangement a matter of general knowledge in north carolina?" "no; it is not. you and he and i are the only persons who know it. papa does not know it yet; and when papa finds it out it may go hard with him. you see, mrs. atchison"--and jerry leaned forward and rested an elbow on the tea-table and tucked her little chin into the palm of her hand--"you see, papa is very absent-minded, as great men often are, and he went away and forgot to perform some duties which the honor and dignity of the state require to be performed immediately. there are some wicked men who have caused both north carolina and south carolina a great deal of trouble, but they must not be punished in this state, but in south carolina, which is just over there somewhere. there are many reasons for that which would be very tiresome to tell you about, but the principal one is that barbara osborne, the daughter of the governor of south carolina, is the snippiest and stuck-upest person i have ever known, and while your brother and i are in charge of this state i have every intention of annoying her in every way i can. when mr. ardmore has caught those wicked men i spoke of, who really do not belong in this state at all, they will be marched straight into south carolina and then we shall see what governor osborne does about it; and we will show barbara osborne, whose father never had to paper _his_ dining-room, after the war between the states, with bonds of the confederacy--we will show her that there's a good deal of difference between the dangerfields and the osbornes, and between the proud old north state and the state of south carolina." "and you have placed this business, requiring courage and finesse, in tommy's hands?" "that is exactly what i have done, mrs. atchison. your brother is no great distance from here, and we have exchanged telegrams to-day; but when i told you a moment ago that i did not know his whereabouts exactly i spoke the truth. your brother's appearance on the scene at the beginning was most providential. the stage was set, the curtain waited"--jerry extended her arms to indicate a breadth of situation--"but there was no valiant hero. i needed a leading man, and mr. ardmore walked in like a fairy prince ready to take the part. and what i shall say to you further, as my chaperon, will not, i hope, cause you to think ill of me." "i love you more and more! you may tell me anything you like without fear of being misunderstood; but tell me nothing that you prefer to keep to yourself." "if you were not mr. ardmore's sister i should not tell you this; and i shall never tell another soul. i was coming home from a visit in baltimore and the train stopped somewhere to let another train pass. the two trains stood side by side for a little while and in the window of the sleeper opposite me i saw a young man who seemed very sad. i thought perhaps he had buried all his friends, for he had the appearance of one lately bereaved. it has always seemed to me that we should do what we can to cheer the afflicted, and this gentleman was staring out of his window very sadly, as though he needed a friend, and as he caught my eye it seemed to me that there was an appeal in it that it would have been unwomanly for me to ignore. so, just as my train started, at the very last moment that we looked at each other, i winked at that gentleman with, i think, my right eye." miss geraldine dangerfield touched the offending member delicately with her handkerchief. mrs. atchison bent forward and took both the girl's hands. "and that was tommy--my brother tommy?" "that gentleman has proved to be mr. thomas ardmore. i had not the slightest idea that i should ever in the world see him again. my only hope was that he would go on his way cheered and refreshed by my sign of good-will, though he was either so depressed or so surprised, that he made no response. i never expected to see him again in this world; and when i had almost forgotten all about him he coolly sent in his card to me at the executive mansion in raleigh. and i was very harsh with him when i learned who he was; for you know the ardmore estate owns a lot of north carolina bonds that are due on the first of june, and mr. billings had been chasing papa all over the country to know whether they will be paid; and i supposed that of course your brother was looking for papa, too, to annoy him about some mere detail of that bond business, for the state treasurer, who does not love papa, has gone away fishing and mr. billings is perfectly wild." "delicious!" exclaimed mrs. atchison. "perfectly delicious! and i am sure that when tommy explained his real sentiments toward mr. billings you and he became friends at once." "not at once, for i came very near having him thrown out of the house; and i laughed at him about a jug that was given to him on the train at kildare with a message in it for papa. you know when you are governor people always give you presents--that is, your friendly constituents do. the others give you only unkind words. the temperance people send you jugs of buttermilk on board your train as you pass through the commonwealth and others send you applejack. your brother gave back the buttermilk and kept the jug of applejack which had a warning to father in its corn-cob stopper. i thought it was very funny, and i laughed at your brother so that he was scared and ran out of the house. then afterwards i looked out of the window of papa's office and saw mr. ardmore sitting on a bench in the state house yard looking ever so sad and dejected, and i sent the private secretary out to get him; and now we are, i think, the best of friends, and mr. ardmore is, as i have already told you, the governor of north carolina to all intents and purposes." "may i call you jerry? thank you, dear. let me tell you that i am thirty-two and you are--?" "seventeen," supplied jerry. "and this is the most amusing, interesting and exciting thing i have heard in all my life. it might be difficult ordinarily for me to forgive the wink, but your explanation lifts it out of the realm of social impropriety into the sphere of generous benevolence. and if, after colonel gillingwater has gone to his reward, you should marry my brother, i shall do all in my power to make your life in our family happy in every way." "your brother does not seem particularly proud of his family connection," said jerry. "he spoke of you in the most beautiful way, but he seems distressed by the actions of some of the others." mrs. atchison sighed. "tommy is right about us. we are a sad lot." "but he is very hard on the duke. since i came to ardsley his grace has treated me with the greatest courtesy, and he has spoken to me in the most complimentary terms. he is beyond question a man of kind heart, for he has promised me his mother's pearl necklace, which had been in her family for four hundred years." "i should not hesitate to take the necklace, jerry, if he really produces it, for my sister, his wife, has never had the slightest glimpse of it, and it is, i believe, in the hands of certain english trustees for the benefit of the duke's creditors. i dislike to spoil one of his grace's pretty illusions, but unless mr. billings softens his heart a great deal toward the duke i fear that you will not get the pearls this summer." "i must tell you as my chaperon, mrs. atchison, that the duke has already offered to elope with me. he told me last night as we were having our coffee on the terrace, that he would gladly give up his wife, meaning, i suppose, your sister, and the ardmore millions for me; but while i think him fascinating i want you to feel quite safe, for i promise you i shall elope with no one while i am your guest." mrs. atchison's face had grown a little white and she compressed her lips in lines that were the least bit grim. "the scoundrel!" she exclaimed half under her breath. "to think that he would insult a child like you! he is hanging about us here in the hope of getting more money, while my poor sister, his wife, is in an english sanatorium half crazed by his brutality. if tommy knew this he would undoubtedly kill him!" "that would be very unnecessary. a duke, after all, is something, and i should hate to have the poor man killed on my account. and besides, mrs. atchison, i am perfectly able to take care of myself." "i believe you are, jerry. but it's a terrible thing to have that beast about, and i shall tell him to-night that he must leave this place and the country." "but first," said jerry, "i have an engagement to ride with him after dinner to see the moon, and the opportunity of seeing a moon with a duke of ancient family, here on the sacred soil of north carolina, is something that i can not lightly put aside." "you can not--you must not go!" "leave it to me," said jerry, smiling slightly; "and i promise you that the duke will never again insult an american girl. and now i think i must dress for dinner." she rose and turned her eyes dreamily to the tower above, where the north carolina state flag flapped idly in the breeze. this silken emblem with its single star miss geraldine dangerfield carried with her in her trunk wherever she traveled; and having noted ardsley's unadorned flagstaff, she had, with her own hands, unfurled it, highly resolved that it should remain until the rightful governor returned to his own. a few minutes later, as mrs. atchison was reading the late mail in her sitting-room, she took up a new york newspaper of the day before and ran over the head-lines. "lost: a governor" was a caption that held her eye, and she read a special despatch dated raleigh with deepest interest. governor dangerfield, the item hinted, had not yet returned from new orleans where he had gone to attend the cotton planters' convention, and where, moreover, he had quarreled with the governor of south carolina. the cowardly conduct of both governors in dealing with the appleweight band of outlaws was recited at length; and it was also intimated that governor dangerfield was deliberately absenting himself from his office to avoid meeting squarely the appleweight issue. mrs. atchison smiled to herself; then she laughed merrily as she rang for her maid. "little jerry's story seemed highly plausible as she told it; and yet she is perfectly capable of spinning romance with that pretty mouth of hers, particularly when backed by those sweet and serious blue eyes. tommy and jerry! the combination is irresistible! if she has really turned the state of north carolina over to my little brother something unusual will certainly happen before long." and mrs. atchison was quite right in her surmise, as we shall see. chapter xii the embarrassments of the duke of ballywinkle mr. frank collins, of the atlanta _palladium_, trod the ties beyond kildare with a light heart, gaily swinging a suit-case. he had walked far, but a narrow-brim straw hat, perched on the back of his head, and the cheery lilt of the waltz he whistled spoke for a jaunty spirit. as his eye ranged the landscape he marked a faint cloud of smoke rising beyond a lonely strip of wood; and coming to a dilapidated piece of track that led vaguely away into the heart of the forest, he again noted the tiny smoke-cloud. on such a day the half-gods go and the gods arrive; and the world that afternoon knew no cheerfuller spirit than the _palladium's_ agile young commissioner. mr. collins was not only in capital health and spirits but he rejoiced in that delicious titillation of expectancy which is the chief compensation of the journalist's life. his mission was secret, and this in itself gave flavor to his errand; and, moreover, it promised adventures of a kind that were greatly to his liking. as the woodland closed in about him and the curving spur carried him farther from the main right of way he ceased whistling and his steps became more guarded. suddenly a man rose from the bushes and leveled a long arm at him detainingly. "stop, young man, stop where you are!" "hello!" called collins, pausing. "well, i'm jiggered if it ain't old cookie. i say, old man, is the untaxed juice flowing in the forest primeval or what brings you here?" cooke grinned as he recalled the reporter, whom he remembered as a particularly irrepressible specimen of his genus whom he had met while pursuing moonshiners in georgia. the two shook hands amiably midway of the two streaks of rust. "young man, i think i told you once before that your legs were altogether too active. i want you to light right out of here--skip!" "not for a million dollars. our meeting is highly opportune, cookie. it's not for me to fly in the face of providence. i'm going to see what's doing down here." "all right," replied cooke. "take it all in and enjoy yourself; but you're my prisoner." "oh, that will be all right! so long as i'm with you i can't lose out." "march!" called cooke, dropping behind; and thus the two came in a few minutes to the engine, the cars and the caboose. from the locomotive a slight smoke still trailed hazily upward. thomas ardmore, coatless and hatless, sat on the caboose steps writing messages on a broad pad, while a telegraph instrument clicked busily within. one of his men had qualified as operator and a pile of messages at his elbow testified to ardmore's industry. ardmore clutched in his left hand a message recently caught from the wire which he re-read from time to time with increasing satisfaction. it had been sent from ardsley and ran: i shall ride to-night on the road that leads south beyond the red bungalow, and on the bridle-path that climbs the ridge on the west, called sunset trail. a certain english gentleman will accompany me. it will be perfectly agreeable to me to come back alone. g. d. ardmore was still writing when cooke stood beneath him under the caboose platform. "i beg your pardon, mr. ardmore, but this is our first prisoner." ardmore signed a despatch and then looked up and took the pipe from his mouth. collins lifted his hat politely. "ah, mr. ardmore, you see i have taken advantage of your exceedingly kind invitation to look you up in north carolina." "he was looking for you very hard when i found him, mr. ardmore," interposed cooke. "your appearance delights me," said ardmore, extending his hand to the reporter. "it was nice of you to walk out here to find me. wouldn't they put you up at the house?" "well, the fact is i didn't stop there. my paper sent me in this general direction on business, but i had every honorable intention of making you that visit after i finished my assignment. but cookie here says i'm arrested." "he's a dangerous character and can't be allowed to run loose in these parts. i'm going to tie him up," said cooke. "may i ask you, mr. collins, just what you are doing here?" inquired ardmore. "you may, and i'll bet a boiled goose that cooke and i are on the same job." "what are you looking for?" demanded ardmore's chief of staff. "it's a big story if i get it, and i have every intention of getting it," said collins guardedly. "out with it!" commanded ardmore. "the fact is, then, that i'm looking for a person of importance." "go right on, please." "and that person is the governor of north carolina, who is mysteriously absent from raleigh. he attended the cotton planters' convention in new orleans. he got as far as atlanta on his way home and then disappeared. i need not say to gentlemen of your intelligence that a lost governor is ripe fruit in my business, and i have reason to believe that for some purpose of his own the governor of north carolina is hiding in this very neighborhood." cooke glanced at ardmore for instructions, but the master of ardsley preferred to keep the matter in his own hands. "so you want to find the governor of north carolina, do you? well you shall not be disappointed. you are too able and zealous to be wasted on journalism. i have a feeling that you are destined to higher things. something told me when we met in atlanta that fate had set us apart for each other. that was why i asked you to visit me when i really didn't know but that, after learning where the spoons are kept, you would skip without leaving your subsequent address. but now there is important business on hand and the state of north carolina will take the liberty of borrowing you from georgia until the peace of the old north state is restored. and now, collins, i will make a disclosure that will undoubtedly startle you a good deal, but you are no longer employed by the atlanta _palladium_, and your obligations to that journal must be transferred to the state in which you now stand. you came here, collins, to look for the governor of north carolina, and your wits and your argus-nose for news have served you well. you have found the governor of north carolina: i am he!" collins had stood during this recital in the middle of the track, with his legs wide apart, calmly fanning himself with his hat; but as ardmore proceeded the reporter's hand dropped to his side, and a grin that had overspread his face slowly yielded to a blank stare. "would you mind repeating those last words?" "_i_ am the governor of north carolina, mr. collins. the manner in which i attained that high office is not important. it must suffice that i am in sole charge of the affairs of this great state, without relief from valuation or appraisement laws and without benefit of clergy. and we have much to do here; mere social conversation must await an ampler time. i now appoint you publicity agent to the governor. your business is to keep the people fooled--all the people all the time. in other words, you are chief liar to the administration, a position of vast responsibility, for which you have, if i am a judge of character, the greatest talents. you will begin by sending out word that governor dangerfield has given up all other work at present but the destruction of the appleweight gang. these stories that the governor has hidden himself to dodge certain duties are all punk--do you understand?--he is serving the people as he has always served them, faithfully and with the noblest self-sacrifice. that's the sort of stuff i want you to jam into the newspapers all over the world. and remember--my name does not appear in the business at all--neither now nor hereafter." "but by the ghost of john c. calhoun, don't you see that i'm losing the chance of my life in my own profession? there's a story in this that would put me to the top and carry me right into new york," and collins glanced about for his suit-case, as though meditating flight. "your appointment has gone into effect," said ardmore with finality, "and if you bolt you will be caught and made to walk the plank. and so far as your future is concerned, you shall have a newspaper of your own anywhere you please as soon as this war is over." the three men adjourned to the caboose where ardmore told collins all that it seemed necessary for the newspaper man to know; and within half an hour the new recruit had entered thoroughly into the spirit of the adventure, though his mirth occasionally got the better of him, and he bowed his head in his hands and surrendered himself to laughter. thereafter, until the six o'clock supper was ready, he kept the operator occupied. he sent to the _palladium_ a thoroughly plausible story giving prominence to the appleweight case and laying stress on governor dangerfield's vigorous personality and high sense of official responsibility. he sent queries to leading journals everywhere, offering exclusive news of the rumored disappearance of north carolina's governor. his campaign of publicity for the state administration was broadly planned, though he was losing a great opportunity to beat the world with a stunning story of the amazing nerve with which ardmore, the young millionaire, had assumed the duties of governor of north carolina in the unaccountable absence of governor dangerfield from his capital. the whole thing was almost too good to be true, and collins put away the idea of flight only upon realizing the joyous possibilities of sharing, no matter how humbly, in the fate of an administration which was fashioning the drollest of card houses. he did not know, and was not to know until long afterward, just how the young master of ardsley had leaped into the breach; but ardmore was an extraordinary person, whose whims set him quite apart from other men, and while, even if he escaped being shot, the present enterprise would undoubtedly lead to a long term in jail, collins had committed himself to ardmore's cause and would be faithful to it, no matter what happened. ardmore took collins more fully into his confidence during the lingering twilight, and the reporter made many suggestions that were of real value. meanwhile cooke's men brought three horses from the depths of the forest, and saddled them. cooke entered the caboose for a final conference with ardmore and a last look at the maps. "too bad," remarked the acting governor, "that we must wait until to-morrow night to pick up the appleweights, but our present business is more important. it's time to move, cooke." they rode off in single file on the faintest of trails through the woods, cooke leading and ardmore and collins following immediately behind him. the great host of summer stars thronged the sky, and the moon sent its soft effulgence across the night. they presently forded a noisy stream, and while they were seeking the trail again on the farther side an owl hooted a thousand yards up the creek, and while the line re-formed cooke paused and listened. then the owl's call was repeated farther off and so faintly that cooke alone heard it. he laid his hand on ardmore's rein: "there's a foot-trail that leads along that creek, and it's very rough and difficult to follow. half a mile from here there used to be a still, run by one of the appleweights. we smashed it once, but no doubt they are operating again by this time. that hoot of the owl is a warning common among the pickets put out by these people. wireless telegraphy isn't in it with them. every appleweight within twenty miles will know in half an hour how many there are of us and just what direction we are taking. we must not come back here to-night. we must put up on your place somewhere and let them think, if they will, we are guests of yours out for an evening ride." "that's all right. unless we complete this job in about two days my administration is a fizzle," said ardmore, as they resumed their march through the forest. there was a wilder fling to the roll of the land now, but the underbrush was better cleared, and the trail had become a bridle-path that had known man's care. "this is some of paul's work," said ardmore; "and if i am not very much mistaken we are on my land now and headed straight enough for the wagon-road that leads south beyond the red bungalow. these roads in here were planned to give variety, but i never before appreciated how complicated they are." the path stretched away through the heavy forest, and they climbed to a ridge that commanded a wide region that lay bathed in silver moonlight, so softly luminous that it seemed of the stuff of shadows made light. westward, a mile distant, lay ardsley, only a little below the level of the ridge and touched with a faint purple as of spring twilight. ardmore sat his saddle, quietly contemplating the great house that struck him almost for the first time as imposing. he felt, too, a little heartache that he did not quite understand. he was not sure whether it was the effect of the moon, or whether he was tired, or what it was, though he thought perhaps the moon had something to do with it. his own house, of which he was sincerely fond, seemed mistily hung between heaven and earth, in the moonlight, a thing not wholly of this world; and in his depression of spirit he reflected for a moment on his own aimless, friendless life; he knew then that he was lonely and that there was a great void in his mind and heart and soul and he knew also that jerry dangerfield and not the moon was the cause of his melancholy. "we'd better be moving," suggested cooke. "it's too bad to leave that picture," remarked collins, sighing. "had i the lyre of gray i should compose an _ode on a distant prospect of ardsley castle_, which would ultimately reach the school readers and bring me fame more enduring than brass." "did you say brass?" ironically scoffed cooke. whereupon the _palladium's_ late representative laughed softly and muttered to himself, "proud pile, by mighty ardmore's hand upreared!" "cut it out," commanded cooke, "or i'll drop you into the ravine. look below there!" looking off from the ridge they saw a man and a woman riding along a strip of road from which the timber had been cut. the night was so still, the gray light so subdued, that the two figures moved as steadily and softly as shadow pictures on a screen. the slow even movement of the riders was interrupted suddenly. the man, who was nearer the remote observers, had stopped and bent toward the woman as though to snatch her rein, when her horse threw up its head and fell back on its haunches. then the woman struck the man a blow with her riding-crop, and galloped swiftly away along the white ribbon-like road. in the perfect night-silence it was like a scene of pantomime. "that's all right!" cried cooke. "come along! we'll cut into that road at the bungalow." they swung their horses away from the ridge and back into the bridle-path, which once more dipped sharply down into heavy timber, cooke leading the way, and three of the best hunters known to the ardsley stables flew down the clear but winding path. the incident which the trio had witnessed required no interpretation: the girl's blow and flight had translated it into language explicit enough. ardmore thanked his german forester a thousand times for the admirable bridle-path over which they galloped, with its certain footing beneath and clean sweep from the boughs above. the blood surged hotly through his heart, and he was angry for the first time in his life; but his head was cool, and the damp air of the forest flowing by tranquilized him into a new elation of spirit. jerry dangerfield was the dearest and noblest and bravest girl in the world--he knew that: and she was clever and resourceful enough to devise means for preserving her father's official and private honor; and not less quick to defend herself from insult from a titled scoundrel. she was the most inexplicable of girls; but at the same time she was beyond any question the wisest. the thought that he should now see her soon, after all the years that had passed since he had introduced her to his sister at raleigh, filled him with wild delight, and he prayed that in her mad flight from the duke of ballywinkle no harm might come to her. the three men rode out into the broad highway at the red bungalow and paused to listen. "he hasn't got here yet. only one person has passed and these must be the tracks of the girl's horse," said cooke, who had dismounted and struck matches, the better to observe the faint hoof-prints in the hard shell road. "he'll be along in a minute. let us get into the shadow of the bungalow, and when he comes we'll ride out and nail him. the bungalow's a sort of way house. i often stop here when i'm out on the estate and want to rest, i have the key in my pocket." as ardmore's keys jingled in the lock cooke cried out softly. their quarry was riding swiftly toward them, and he drew rein before the bungalow as cooke and collins rode out to meet him. "i say," panted the duke. "you are our prisoner. dismount and come into this house." "prisoner, you fool! i'm a guest at ardsley and i'm looking for a lady." "that's a very unlikely story. collins, help the gentleman down;" and the reporter obeyed instructions with so much zeal that the noble gentleman fell prone, and was assisted to his feet with a fine mockery of helpfulness. "i tell you i'm looking for a lady whose horse ran away with her! i'm the duke of ballywinkle and brother-in-law to mr. ardmore. i'll have you sent to jail if you stop me here." "come along, duke, and we'll see what you look like," said cooke, leading the way to the bungalow veranda. within ardmore was lighting lamps. there was a long room finished in black oak, with a fireplace at one end, and a table in the center. the floors were covered with handsome rugs and the walls were hung with photographs and etchings. ardmore sat on the back of a leather settee in a pose assumed at the moment of the duke's entrance. it was a pose of entire nonchalance, and ardmore's cap, perched on the back of his head, and his brown hair rumpled boyishly, added to the general effect of comfort and ease. the duke blinked for a moment in the lamplight, then he roared out joyously: "ardy, old man!" and advanced toward his brother-in-law with outstretched hand. "keep him off; he's undoubtedly quite mad," said ardmore, staring coldly, and bending his riding-crop across his knees. "collins, please ride on after the lady and bring her back this way." cooke had seated the prisoner rather rudely in a chair, and the noble duke, having lost the power of speech in amazement and fright, rubbed his eyes and then fastened them incredulously on ardmore; but there was no question about it, he had been seized with violence; he had been repudiated by his own brother-in-law--the useless, stupid tommy ardmore, who, at best, had only a child's mind for pirate stories and who was indubitably the most negligible of negligible figures in the drama of life as the duke knew it. "cooke," began ardmore, addressing his lieutenant gravely from his perch on the settee, "what is the charge against this person?" "he says he's a duke," grinned cooke, taking his cue from ardmore's manner. "and he says he's visiting at ardsley." "that," said ardmore with decision, "is creditable only to the gentleman's romantic imagination. his face is anything but dukely, and there's a red streak across it which points clearly to the recent sharp blow of a weapon; and no one would ever strike a duke. it's utterly incredible," and ardmore lifted his brows and leaned back with his arms at length and his hands clasping the riding-crop, as he contemplated with supreme satisfaction the tell-tale red line across the duke's cheek. the duke of ballywinkle leaped to his feet, the color that suffused his pale face hiding for the moment the mark of the riding-stick. "what the devil is this joke, ardy?" screamed the duke. "you know i'm a guest at your house; you know i'm your sister's husband. i was riding with miss dangerfield and her horse ran away with her, and she may come to harm unless i go after her. this cut on the face i got from a low limb of one of your infernal trees. you are putting me in a devil of an embarrassing position by holding me here." he spoke with dignity, and ardmore heard him through in silence; but when he had finished, the master of ardsley pointed to the chair. "as i understand you, you are pleading not guilty; and you pretend to some acquaintance with me; but i am unable to recall you. we may have met somewhere, sometime, but i really don't know you. the title to which you pretend is unfamiliar to me; but i will frankly disclose to you that i, sir, am the governor of north carolina." "the what?" bleated the duke, his eyes bulging. "i repeat, that i am the governor of north carolina, and as a state of war now exists in my unhappy kingdom, i, sir, have assumed all the powers conferred upon the three coördinate branches of government under the american system, namely, or if you prefer it, i will say, to wit: the legislative, the executive and the judicial. it is thus not only my privilege but my painful duty to pass upon your case in all its sad aspects. as i have already suspended the writ of habeas corpus and set aside the right to trial by jury we will consider that i sit here as the supreme court." "for god's sake, ardy--" howled the duke. "that remark i will not now construe as profanity, but don't let it occur again. the first charge against you is that of insulting a woman on the sunset trail in the estate called ardsley, owned by a person known in law as thomas ardmore. there are three witnesses to the fact that you tried to stop a woman in the road, and that streak on your face is even more conclusive. are you guilty or not guilty?" "you are mad! you are crazy!" shouted the duke; but his face was very white now, and the mark of the crop flamed scarlet. "you are guilty, beyond any question. but the further charge against you that you pretend to be--what did he say his name was, cooke?--that you pretend to be the duke of ballywinkle must now be considered. that is quite right, is it; you say you are the duke?" "yes; you fool!" howled the duke. "i'll have the law on you for this! i'll appeal to the british ambassador." "i advise you not to appeal to anybody," said ardmore, "and the british ambassador is without jurisdiction in north carolina. you have yourself asserted that you are the duke of ballywinkle. why ballywinkle? why not argyll; why not westminster? why not, if duke you must be, the noble duke of york?" the duke of ballywinkle sat staring, stupefied. the whole thing was one of his silly brother-in-law's stupid jokes; there was no question of that; and tommy ardmore was always a bore; but in spite of the comfort he derived from these reflections the duke was not a little uneasy; for he had never seen his brother-in-law in just this mood, and he did not like it. ardmore was carrying the joke too far; and there was an assurance in ardmore's tone, and a light in ardmore's eyes that were ominous. cooke had meanwhile lighted his pipe and was calmly smoking until his chief should have his fling. ardmore now drew from his pocket johnston's _american politics_ with an air of greatest seriousness. "cooke," he said, half to himself as he turned the pages, "do you remember just what the constitution says about dukes? oh, yes; here we are! now, mr. duke of ballywinkle, listen to what it says here in section ix of the constitution of the united states, which reads exactly as follows in this book: 'no title of nobility shall be granted by the united states: and no person holding any office of profit or trust under them, shall, without the consent of the congress, accept of any present, emolument, office, or title, of any kind whatever, from any king, prince, or foreign state.' and it says in section x that 'no state shall grant any title of nobility.' now, mr. ballywinkle, it is perfectly clear that this government can't recognize anything that it can't create, for that would be foolish. as i, the governor of north carolina, can't make a duke, i can't see one. you are therefore wholly illegal; it's against the most sacred law of the land for you to be here at all; and, painful though it is to me, it is nevertheless my duty to order you to leave the united states at once, never to return. in fact, if you ever appear in the united states again, i hereby order that you be hanged by the neck until you be dead. one of mr. cooke's men will accompany you to new york to-morrow and see to it that you take passage on a steamer bound for a british port. the crime of having insulted a woman will still hang over you until you are well east of sandy hook, and i advise you not to risk being tried on that charge in north carolina, as my people are very impulsive and emotional and lynchings are not infrequent in our midst. you shall spend to-night in my official caboose some distance from here, and your personal effects will be brought from ardsley, where, you have said, you are a guest of mr. thomas ardmore, who is officially unknown to me. the supreme court will now adjourn." cooke pulled the limp, bewildered duke to his feet, and dragged him from the bungalow. as they stepped out on the veranda collins rode up in alarm. "i followed this road to a cross-road where it becomes a bridle-path and runs off into the forest. there i lost all trace of the lady, but here is her riding-crop." "cooke, take your prisoner to the caboose; and collins, come with me," commanded ardmore; and a moment later he and the reporter rode off furiously in search of jerry dangerfield. chapter xiii miss dangerfield takes a prisoner a dozen men carrying rifles across their saddle-bows rode away from habersham's farm on the outskirts of turner court house and struck a rough trail that led a devious course over the hills. at their head rode the guide of the expedition--a long silent man on a mule. griswold and habersham followed immediately behind him on horseback. their plans had been carefully arranged before they left their rendezvous, and save for an occasional brief interchange between the prosecuting attorney and the governor's special representative, the party jogged on in silence. habersham's recruits were, it may be said, farmers of the border, who had awaited for years just such an opportunity as now offered to avenge themselves upon the insolent appleweights. nearly every man of the party had some private score to settle, but they had all been sworn as special constables and were sobered by the knowledge that the power of the state of south carolina was back of them. thus, at the very hour that mr. ardmore and his lieutenants rode away from the lonely anchorage of the caboose, professor griswold and his cavalcade set out for mount nebo church. while the master of ardsley was revenging himself upon the duke of ballywinkle, his dearest friend, against whom he had closed the doors of his house, was losing no time in setting forth upon a mission which, if successful, would seriously interfere with all mr. ardmore's hopes and plans. ardmore's scarlet fever telegram no longer rankled in the breast of the associate professor of admiralty of the university of virginia, for griswold knew that no matter what might be the outcome of his effort to uphold the dignity of the sovereign state of south carolina, his participation in any such adventure would so cover his friend with envy that he would have him forever at his mercy. thomas ardsley deserved punishment--there was no doubt of that, and as professor griswold was not more or less than a human being, he took comfort of the reflection. the guide of the expedition pushed his mule forward at a fast walk, making no excuses to griswold and habersham for the roughness of the trails he chose, nor troubling to give warning of sharp turns where a horse, being less wise than a mule, tobogganed madly before finding a foothold. occasionally a low hanging limb switched the associate professor sharply across the face, but his temper continued serene where the trail was darkest and steepest, and he found himself ignoring habersham's occasional polite questions about the university in his effort to summon up in memory certain ways of barbara osborne which baffled him. he deplored the time he had given to the study of a stupid profession like the law, when, if he had applied himself with equal diligence to poetry, he might have made for himself a place at least as high in belles-lettres. in his college days he had sometimes thrummed a guitar, and there was a little song in his heart, half formed, and with only a line or two as yet tangible, which he felt sure he could write down on paper if it were not that the bugles summoned him to war; it was a song of a white rose which a lover wore in his heart, through winter and summer, and it never changed, and the flight of the seasons had no manner of effect on it. "check up, cain't you?" snarled the man on the mule, laying hold of griswold's rein; and thus halted, griswold found that they had been circling round a curiously symmetrical, thickly wooded hill, and had finally come to a clearing whence they were able to gaze far off toward the north. "we are almost out of bounds," said habersham, pointing. "over there somewhere, across the hills, lies north carolina. i am as thoroughly lost as you can possibly be; but these men know where they are. how far is it, billy"--he addressed the silent guide--"to mount nebo?" "about four mile, and i reckon we'd better let out a leetle now or they'll sing the doxology before we git thar." "what's that light away off there?" asked habersham. the guide paused to examine it, and the faint glow far down the vale seemed to perplex him. he spoke to one or two other natives and they viewed the light ruminatively, as is their way. "thet must be on ardmore's land," said the leader finally. "it shoots out all sorts o' ways round hyeh, and i reckon thet's about wheh raccoon creek cuts through." "that's very likely," said habersham. "i've seen the plat of what ardmore owns on this side the border at the court house, and i remember that there's a long strip in mingo county that is ardsley land. ardmore has houses of one kind and another scattered all over the estate and those lights may be from one of them. you know the place, don't you?" "yes; i've visited there," admitted griswold. "but we'd better give it a wide berth. the whole estate is simply infested with scarlet fever. they're quarantined." "i guess that's a joke," said habersham. "there's a big party on there now, and i have seen some of the guests in turner's within a day or two." "within how many days?" demanded griswold, his heart sinking at the thought that ardmore had lied to him to keep him away from ardsley--from ardmore's house! the thought of it really hurt him now. could it be possible that ardmore had guests so distinguished that he, griswold, was not worthy to make their acquaintance! he experienced a real pang as he thought that here he was, within a short ride of the home of his dearest friend, the man whom most he loved of all men, and that he had been denied the door of that friend's house. "come on!" called habersham. half the company rode ahead to gain the farther side of the church; the remainder, including griswold and habersham, soon dismounted and tied their horses out of sight of the country road which they had latterly been following. "we are in plenty of time," said habersham, looking at his watch. "the rest of the boys are closing in from the other side and they will be ready for appleweight when he finishes his devotions. we've been studying the old man's habits and he has a particular place where he ties his horse back of the church. it's a little apart from the fence where most of the congregation hitch and he chose it, no doubt, because in case of a surprise he would have plenty of room for maneuvering. two men are going to lay for him, seize and gag him and carry him into the wood back of the church; and then we're off across the state line to lock him up in jail at kildare and give governor dangerfield the shock of his life." "it sounds simple enough; but it won't be long before appleweight's friends miss him. you must remember that they are a shrewd lot." "we've got to take our chances. let's hope we are as shrewd as they are," replied habersham. they moved softly through the wood and presently the faint sound of singing reached them. "old rabdick has finished his sermon and we'll know the worst in a few minutes." one of the party had already detached himself and crept forward toward the church, to meet his appointed comrade in the enterprise, who was to come in from the other side. the clapboard church presented in the moonlight the austerest outlines, and as the men waited, a rude though unseen hand was slamming the wooden shutters that protected the windows from impious violence. "we could do with less moon," muttered habersham, as he and griswold peered through the trees into the churchyard. "there goes bill appleweight now," whispered one of the natives at his elbow, and griswold felt his heart-beats quicken as he watched a tall figure silhouetted against the church and moving swiftly toward the rear of the building. at the front of the church voices sounded, as the departing worshipers rode or drove slowly away. habersham laid his hand suddenly on griswold's arm. "they've got him! they've nailed him! see! there! they're yanking him back into the timber. they've taken him and his horse!" griswold saw nothing but a momentary confusion of shadows, then perfect silence hung over the woods behind the little church. the congregation was slowly dispersing, riding away in little groups. suddenly a voice called out in the road a hundred yards beyond the church: "hey there! where's bill?" "oh, he's gone long ago!" yelled another. in a moment more the church door slammed and a last figure rode rapidly away. "now we'll see what's happened," said habersham. "it looks almost too easy." the members of griswold's party who had been thrown round to the farther side of the church began to appear, one at a time. there was no nervousness among any of the band--a fact that impressed griswold. they were all risking much in this enterprise, but they were outwardly unperturbed, and chewing their tobacco silently while they awaited the return of the two active agents in the conspiracy who had dealt directly with appleweight. habersham counted heads, and announced all present or accounted for. the tall leader who had ridden the mule was the first to rise out of the underbrush, through which he had crawled circuitously from the rear of the church. his companion followed a few seconds later. "we've got bill, all tied and gagged and a-settin' of his hoss," drawled the leader, "and the hoss is tied to the back fence. rest o' his boys thought he'd gone ahead, but they may miss him and come back. he's safe enough, and ef we keep away from him we'll be ready to light out ef the gang scents trouble and comes back to look fer bill." "you're sure he's tied up so he can't break away or yell?" "he's as good as dead, a-settin' of his hoss in the thicket back theh." "and now," said habersham, "what we've got to do is to make a run for it and land him across the border, and stick him into a north carolina jail, where he rightfully belongs. the question is, can we do it all in one night, or had we better lock him up somewhere on this side the line and take another night for it? the sheriff over there in kildare is appleweight's cousin, but we'll lock him up with bill, to make a family party of it." "we'd better not try too much to-night," counseled griswold. "it's a big thing to have the man himself. if it were not for the matter of putting governor dangerfield in a hole, i'd favor hurrying with appleweight to columbia, just for the moral effect of it on the people of south carolina. we'd make a big killing for the administration that way, habersham." "yes, you'd make a killing all right, but you'd have bill appleweight on your hands, which governor osborne has not until lately been anxious for," replied habersham, in a low tone that was heard by no one but his old preceptor. "you'd better get over the idea that we're afraid of this outlaw," rejoined griswold. "the governor of north carolina dare not call his soul his own where these hill people are concerned; but the governor of south carolina is a different sort." "the governor of north carolina is filling the newspapers with his own virtuous intentions in the matter," remarked habersham, "but his sudden zeal puts one upon inquiry." "i hope you don't imply that the motives of the governor of south carolina are not the worthiest?" demanded griswold hotly. "most certainly not!" returned the prosecuting attorney; but a smile flitted across his face--a smile which, in the darkness, griswold did not see. "the two governors are very different men--wholly antipodal characters, in fact," and again habersham smiled to himself. while they thus stood on south carolina soil, waiting for the safe and complete dispersion of the mount nebo congregation before seizing the captive they had gagged and tied at the rear of the little church, the fates were ordering a very different termination of the night's business. miss jerry dangerfield, galloping away from the duke of ballywinkle, with no thought but to widen the distance between them, turned off at the first cross-road, which began well enough, but degenerated rapidly into a miserable trail, through which she was obliged to walk her horse. before she was aware of it she was in the midst of a clearing where laborers had lately been cutting timber, and she found, on turning to make her way out, that she was quite lost, for three trails, all seemingly alike, struck off into the forest. she spoke aloud to the horse to reassure herself, and smiled as she viewed the grim phalanx of stumps. she must, however, find her way back to ardsley, for there were times when jerry dangerfield could be very serious with herself, though it rarely pleased her to be serious with other people; and she knew that the time had long passed for her return to the house. if her conspiracy with thomas ardmore had proved successful, the duke would not return to the great house; but her own prolonged absence was something that had not been in her program. she did not know then that three men had witnessed her flight from the duke, or that they had taken swift vengeance upon him for his unpardonable conduct in the moon-blanched road. it was not jerry's way to accept misfortune tamely, and after circling the wall of timber that shut her in, in the hope of determining where she had entered, she chose a trail at random and plunged into the woods. she assumed that probably all the roads and paths on the estate led more or less directly to the great house or to some lodge or bungalow. she had lost her riding-crop in her mad flight, and she broke off a switch, tossing its leaves into the moonlight and laughing softly as they rained about her. jerry began whistling gently to herself, for she had never been lost before, and it is not so bad, when you have a good horse, a fair path, sweet odorous woods and the moon to keep you company. she forded a brook that was silver to eye and ear, and let her horse stand midway of it for joy in the sight and sound. she had kept no account of time, but rather imagined that it had not been more than half an hour since the duke of ballywinkle left her so unceremoniously. suddenly ahead of her through the woods floated the sound of singing--one of those strange, wavering _pieux cantiques_ peculiar to the south. she rode on, thinking to find help and a guide back to ardsley; then the music ceased, and lights now flashed faintly before her, but she went forward guardedly. "i'm much more lost than i thought i was, for i must be away off the estate," she reflected. she turned and rode back a few rods and dismounted, and tied her horse to a sapling. she was disappointed at not finding a camp of ardmore's wood-cutters, to whom she would unhesitatingly have confided herself; but it seemed wise now to exercise caution in drawing to herself the attention of strangers. she did not know that she had crossed the state line and was in south carolina, or that the singing she had heard floated from the windows of mount nebo church. she became now the astonished witness of a series of incidents that occurred so swiftly as fairly to take her breath away. a tall, loosely articulated man came from the direction of the church and walked toward her. she knelt at the tree and watched, the moonlight giving her a clear view of a rustic somewhat past middle age, whose chief characteristics seemed to be a grizzled beard and long arms that swung oddly at his side. the brim of his wool hat was turned up sharply from his forehead, and she had a glimpse of the small, keen, gray eyes with which he swept the forest before him. he freed a horse which she had not before noticed, and she concluded that he would not approach nearer, for she expected him to mount and ride away to join others of the congregation whom she heard making off in a road beyond the church. then, with a quickness and deftness that baffled her eyes, two men rose beside him just as he was about to mount; there was no outcry and no sound of scuffling, so quick was the descent and so perfect the understanding between the captors. in a moment the man was gathered up, bound, and flung on his saddle. she had a better view of him, now that he was hatless, though a gag had been forced into his mouth and a handkerchief tied over his eyes, so that he presented a grotesque appearance. jerry was so absorbed that she forgot to be afraid; never in her life had she witnessed anything so amazing as this; and now, to her more complete bewilderment, the captors, after carefully inspecting their work and finding it satisfactory, seemed to disappear utterly from the face of the earth. [illustration] in the woods to her left she thought she heard a horse neigh; then she saw shadows moving in that direction; and again, from the road, she heard the brief debate of the two men as to the whereabouts of "bill"; and it struck jerry humorously that he would not soon see his friends unless they came and helped him out of his predicament. it may help to an understanding of miss jerry dangerfield's character if it is recorded here that never in her short life had she failed to respond to the call of impulse. she was lost in the woods, and strange men lurked about; a man had been attacked, seized, and left sitting in a state of absurd helplessness on a horse presumably his own, and there was no guessing what dire penalty his captors had in store for him. he certainly looked deliciously funny as he sat there in the shadows, vigorously twisting his arms and head in an effort to free himself. quiet reigned in the neighborhood of the church; the lights had blinked out; the bang of the closing shutters reassured jerry, and she crept on her knees toward the unconscious captive, loosed his horse's rein and led it rapidly toward her own horse, a little farther back in the woods. her blindfolded prisoner, thinking his original captors were carrying him off, renewed his efforts to free himself. he tested the ropes and straps with which he was fastened by throwing himself first to one side, then to the other, as far as his gyves would permit, at the same time frothily chewing his gag. jerry gained her own saddle in the least bit of a panic, and when she had mounted and made sure of the leading-strap with which her prisoner's horse was provided, she rode on at a rapid walk until she reached the clearing, where the stumps again grimly mocked her. she stopped to listen, and heard through the still night first one cry and then many voices in various keys of alarm and rage. then she bent toward the prisoner, tore the bandage from his eyes, and with more difficulty freed him of the gag. he blinked and spluttered at this unexpected deliverance, then blinked and spluttered afresh at seeing that his captor was a young woman, who was plainly not of his world. jerry watched him wonderingly, then addressed him in her most agreeable tone. "you were caught and tied by two men over there by a church. i saw them, and when they went off and left you, i came along and brought you with me, thinking to save your life. i want to get home as quickly as possible, and though i do not know you, and am quite sure we never met before, i hope you will kindly guide me to ardsley, and thereby render me a service i shall always deeply appreciate." mr. bill appleweight, _alias_ poteet, was well hardened to the shocks of time, but this pleasant-voiced girl, coolly sitting her horse, and holding his own lank steed by a strap, was the most amazing human being that had yet dawned on his horizon. he was not stupid, but jerry's manner of speech had baffled more sophisticated minds than appleweight's, and the sweet sincerity of her tone, and her frank countenance, hallowed as it was by the moonlight, wrought in the outlaw's mind a befuddlement not wholly unlike that which had possessed the wits of many young gallants south of the potomac who had laid siege to jerry dangerfield's heart. but the cries behind them were more pronounced, and appleweight was nothing if not a man of action. "take these things off'n me," he commanded fiercely, "and i'll see y' safe to ardsley." "not in the least," replied jerry, who was herself not unmindful of the voices behind. "you will kindly tell me the way, and i will accommodate my pace to that of your own somewhat ill-nourished beast. and as there's a mob looking for you back there, all ready to hang you to one of these noble forest trees, i advise you to use more haste and less caution in pointing the way." appleweight lifted his head and took his bearings. then he nodded toward one of the three trails which had so baffled jerry when first she broke into the clearing. "thet's the nighest," said appleweight, "and we'd better git." she set the pace at a trot, and was relieved in a few minutes to pass one or two landmarks which she remembered from her flight through the woods. as they splashed through the brook she had forded, she was quite confident that the captive was playing her no trick, but that in due course she should strike the highroad to ardsley which she had abandoned to throw off the duke of ballywinkle. it was now ten o'clock, and the moon was sinking behind the forest trees. jerry took advantage of an occasional straight strip of road to go forward at a gallop, but these stretches did not offer frequently, and the two riders kept pretty steadily to a smart trot. they presented a droll picture as they moved through the forest--the girl, riding cross-saddle, with the stolen captive trailing after. occasionally mr. appleweight seemed to be talking to himself, but whether he was praying or swearing jerry did not trouble herself to decide. it was enough for her that she had found a guide out of the wilderness by stealing a prisoner from his enemies, and this was amusing, and sent bubbling in her heart those quiet springs of mirth that accounted for so much in jerry dangerfield. as they walked their horses through a bit of sand, the prisoner spoke: "who air y'u, little gal?" jerry turned in the saddle, so that appleweight enjoyed a full view of her face. "i am perfectly willing to tell you my name, but first it would be more courteous for you to tell me yours, particularly as i am delivering you from a band of outlaws who undoubtedly intended to do you harm." "i reckon they air skeered to foller us, gal. they air afeard to tackle th' ole man, onless they jump in two t' one; and they cain't tell who helped me git away." he laughed--a curious, chuckling laugh. he had ceased to struggle at his bonds, but seemed resigned to his strange fate. he had not answered jerry's question, and had no intention of doing so. the sudden attack at the church had aroused all his cunning. appleweight, _alias_ poteet, was an old wolf, and knew well the ways of the trapper; but the bold attempt to kidnap him was a new feature of the game as heretofore played along the border. he did not make it out; nor was he wholly satisfied with the girl's explanation of her own presence in that out-of-the-way place. she might be a guest at ardsley, as she pretended, but women folk were rarely seen on the estate, and never in such remote corners of it as mount nebo church. as he pondered the matter, it seemed incredible that this remarkable young person, whose innocence was so beguiling, should be in any way leagued with his foes. he had several times called out directions as they crossed other paths in the forest, and they now reached the main trunk road of the estate. the red bungalow, jerry knew, was not far away. her prisoner spoke again. "little gal, i'm an ole man, and i hain't never done y'u no harm. your haouse is only a leetle way up thar, and i cain't be no more use to y'u. i want t' go home, and if y'u'll holp me ontie this yere harness--" and he grinned as he viewed his bonds in the fuller light of the open road. then hoof-beats thumped the soft earth of another of the trails that converged at this point, and ardmore and collins flashed out upon jerry and her captive, amid a wild panic of horses. appleweight twisted and turned in his saddle but jerry instantly held up her hand and arrested the inquiries of her deliverers. "mr. ardmore, this gentleman was most rudely set upon by two strangers as he was leaving a church over there somewhere in the woods. i was lost, and as his appearance at the time and place seemed almost providential, i begged him to guide me toward home, which he has most courteously done," and jerry, to give the proper touch to her explanation, twitched the strap by which she held her prisoner's horse, so that it danced, adding a fresh absurdity to the wobbling figure of its bound rider. "you are safe!" cried ardmore in a low tone, to which jerry nodded carelessly, in a way that directed attention to the more immediate business at hand. he was not at once sure of his cue, but there seemed to be something familiar in the outlines of the man on horseback, and full identification broke upon him now with astounding vividness. "jugs," he began, addressing the prisoner smilingly, "dear old jugs, to think we should meet again! since you handed me that jug on the rear end of the train, a few nights ago, life has had new meanings for me, and i'm just as sorry as can be that i gave you the buttermilk. i wouldn't have done such a thing for billions in real money. and now that you have fallen into the excellent hands of miss dangerfield--" "dangerfield!" screamed the prisoner, lifting himself as high in the saddle as his bonds would permit. "certainly," replied ardmore. "your rescuer is none other than miss geraldine dangerfield." "why, gal," began the outlaw, "ef your pa's the guv'nor of no'th caroline, him an' me's old frien's." "then will you kindly tell me your name?" asked jerry. "allow me to complete the introductions," interrupted collins, who had hung back in silence. "unless my eyes deceive me, which is wholly improbable, this is a gentleman whom i once interviewed in the county jail at raleigh, and he was known at that time as william appleweight, _alias_ poteet." "you air right," admitted the prisoner without hesitation, and then, addressing jerry: "yer pa would be glad to know his dorter had helped an ole frien' like me, gal. ye may hev heard him speak o' me." "but how about that message in the cork of the jug you put on the train at kildare?" demanded ardmore. "and why did you send your brother to try to scare me to death at raleigh?" "that is not the slightest importance," interrupted jerry, gently playing with the tether which held mr. appleweight; "nor does it matter that papa and this gentleman are friends. if this is, indeed, the famous outlaw, mr. william appleweight, then, papa or no papa, friend or no friend, he is a prisoner of the state of north carolina." "pris'ner!" bawled appleweight,--"an' you the guv'nor's gal--" "you have hit the situation exactly, mr. appleweight; and as far as the office of governor is concerned, it is capably filled by the young gentleman on your left, mr. thomas ardmore. let us now adjourn to his house, where, if i am not mistaken, a bit of cold fowl is usually to be found on the sideboard at this hour. but hold"--and jerry checked her horse--"where can we lodge this gentleman, mr. ardmore, until we decide upon his further fate?" "we might put him in the wine cellar," suggested ardmore. "no," interposed collins. "i fancy that much of your fluid stock has paid revenue tax, and most of it has passed none too lightly through the custom-house. it would be unwarrantably cruel to lock mr. appleweight in such quarters, with the visible marks of taxation all around him. still, the sight of the stamps would probably destroy his thirst, though his rugged independence might so far assert itself that he would smash a few of your most expensive importations out of sheer deviltry." "he shall be treated with the greatest consideration," said jerry, and thereafter, no further adventure befalling them, they reached ardsley, where their arrival occasioned the greatest excitement. chapter xiv a meeting of old friends habersham's men had proved exceedingly timid when it came to the business of threshing the woods for appleweight, whom they regarded with a new awe, now that he had vanished so mysteriously. they had searched the woods guardedly, but the narrow paths that led away into the dim fastnesses of ardsley were forbidding, and these men were not without their superstitions. they had awaited for years an opportunity to strike at the appleweight faction; they had at last taken their shot, and had seemingly brought down their bird; but their lack of spirit in retrieving the game had been their undoing. they had only aroused their most formidable enemy, who would undoubtedly lose no time in seeking revenge. they were a dolorous band who, after warily beating the woods, dispersed in the small hours of the morning, having found nothing but appleweight's wool hat, which only added to their mystification. "we ought to have taken him away on the run," said habersham bitterly, as he and griswold discussed the matter on the veranda of the prosecutor's house and watched the coming of the dawn. "i didn't realize that those fellows lived in such mortal terror of the old man; but they refused to make off with him until the last of his friends had got well out of the way. i ought to have had more sense myself than to have expected the old fox to sit tied up like a calf ready for market. we had all his friends accounted for--those that weren't at prayer meeting were marked down somewhere else, and we had a line flung pretty well round the church. appleweight's deliverance must have come from somewhere inside the ardmore property. perhaps the game warden picked him up." "perhaps the indians captured him," suggested griswold, yawning, "or maybe some martian came down on a parachute and hauled him up. or, as scarlet fever is raging at mr. ardmore's castle,"--and his tone was icy--"appleweight was probably seized all of a sudden, and broke away in his delirium. let's go to bed." at eight o'clock he and habersham rode into turner court house, and griswold went at once to the inn to change his clothes. no further steps could be taken until some definite report was received as to appleweight's whereabouts. the men who had attempted the outlaw's capture had returned to their farms, and were most demurely cultivating the soil. griswold was thoroughly disgusted at the ridiculous failure of habersham's plans, and not less severe upon himself for failing to push matters to a conclusion the moment the outlaw was caught, instead of hanging back to await the safe dispersion of the mount nebo congregation. it had been the most puerile transaction possible, and he was aware that a report of it, which he must wire at once to miss barbara osborne, would not impress that young woman with his capacity or trustworthiness in difficult occasions. the iron that had already entered into his soul drove deeper. he had ordered a fresh horse, and was resolved to return to mount nebo church for a personal study of the ground in broad daylight. as he crossed the musty parlor of the little hotel, to his great astonishment miss osborne's black phoebe, stationed where her eyes ranged the whole lower floor of the inn, drew attention to herself in an elaborate courtesy. "miss barb'ra wish me t' say she done come heah on business, and she like fo' to see yo' all right away. she done bring huh seddle, and war a-gwine ridin' twell you come back. she's a-gittin' ready, and i'll go tell huh you done come. she got a heap o' trubble, thet young missis, so she hev," and the black woman's pursed lips seemed to imply that professor griswold was in some measure responsible for miss osborne's difficulties. as he stared out into the street a negro brought a horse bearing a better saddle than mingo county had ever boasted, and hitched it near the horse he had secured for himself. an instant later he heard a quick step above, and miss osborne, sedately followed by the black woman, came down-stairs. she smiled and greeted him cordially, but there was trouble in her brown eyes. "i didn't warn you of my coming. i didn't want to be a nuisance to you; but there's a new--a most unaccountable perplexity. it doesn't seem right to burden you with it--you have already been so kind about helping me; but i dare not turn to our oldest friends--i have been afraid to trust father's friends at all since mr. bosworth acted so traitorously." "my time is entirely at your service, miss osborne; but i have a shameful report to make of myself. i must tell you how miserably i have failed, before you trust me any further. we--that is to say, the prosecuting attorney of this county and a party he got together of appleweight's enemies--caught the outlaw last night--took him with the greatest ease--but he got away from us! it was all my fault, and i'm deeply disgusted with myself!" he described the capture and the subsequent mysterious disappearance of appleweight, and confessed the obvious necessity for great caution in further attempts to take the outlaw, now that he was on guard. barbara laughed reassuringly at the end of the story. "those men must have felt funny when they went back to get the prisoner and found that he had gone up into the air. but there's a new feature of the case that's more serious than the loss of this man--" and the trouble again possessed her eyes. "well, it's better not to have our problems too simple. any lawyer can win an easy case--though i seem to have lost my first one for you," he added penitently. she made no reply, but drew from her purse a cutting from a newspaper and handed it to him. "that's from last night's columbia _vidette_, which is very hostile to my father." he was already running over the heavily leaded column that set forth without equivocation the fact that governor osborne had not been in columbia since he went to new orleans. it scouted the story that he was abroad in the state on official business connected with the appleweight case--the yarn which griswold had forced upon the friendly reporter at the telegraph office in columbia. the governor of a state, the _vidette_ went on to elaborate, could not vanish without leaving some trace of himself, and a _vidette_ representative had traced the steps of governor osborne from new orleans until--the italics are the _vidette's_--he had again entered south carolina _under cover of night and for purposes which, for the honor of the state, the vidette hesitated to disclose_. the writer of the article had exhausted the possibilities of gentle suggestion and vague innuendo in an effort to create an impression of mystery and to pique curiosity as to further developments, which were promised at any hour. griswold's wrath was aroused, not so much against the newspaper, which he assumed had some fire for its smothered trifle of smoke, but against the governor of south carolina himself, who was causing the finest and noblest girl in the world infinite anxiety and pain. "the thing is preposterous," he said lightly. "the idea that your father would attempt to enter his own state surreptitiously is inconceivable in these days when public men are denied all privacy, and when it's any man's right to deceive the press if he finds it essential to his own comfort and peace; but the intimation that your father is in south carolina for any dishonorable purpose is preposterous. one thing, however, is certain, miss osborne, and that is that we must produce your father at the earliest possible moment." "but"--and barbara hesitated, and her eyes, near tears as they were, wrought great havoc in griswold's soul--"but father must not be found until this appleweight matter is settled. you understand without making me speak the words--that he might not exactly view the matter as we do." it was a painful subject; and the fact that she was driven by sheer force of circumstances to appeal to him, a stranger, to aid her to perform a public service in her father's name rallied all his good impulses to her standard. it was too delicate a matter for discussion; it was a thing to be ignored; and he assumed at once a lighter tone. "come! we must solve the riddle of the lost prisoner at once, and your father will undoubtedly give an excellent account of himself when he gets ready. meanwhile the fiction that he is personally carrying the war into the appleweight country must be maintained, and i shall step to the railway station and wire the columbia newspaper in his name that he is in mingo county on the trail of the outlaws." the messages were composed by their joint efforts at the station, with not so much haste but that an associate professor of admiralty, twenty-nine years old, could defer in the most trifling matters to the superior literary taste of a girl of twenty whose brown eyes were very pleasant to meet in moments of uncertainty and appeal. he signed the messages charles osborne, governor, with a flourish indicative of the increased confidence and daring which miss osborne's arrival had brought to the situation. "and now," said griswold, as they rode through the meager streets of turner's, "we will go to mount nebo church and see what we can learn of appleweight's disappearance." "the north carolina papers are making a great deal of governor dangerfield's activity in trying to put down outlawry on the border," said barbara. "marked copies of the newspapers are pouring into papa's office. i can but hold mr. bosworth responsible for that. we may count upon it that he will do all in his power to annoy us"--and then, as griswold looked at her quickly, he was aware that she had colored and averted her eyes; and while, as a lawyer, he was aware that words of two letters might be provocative of endless litigation of the bitterest sort, he had never known before that _us_, in itself the homeliest of words, could cause so sweet a distress. it seemed that an interval of several years passed before either spoke again. "we are quite near the estate of your friend, mr. ardmore, aren't we?" asked barbara presently. "i fancy we are," replied griswold, but with a tone so coldly at variance with his previous cordial references to the master of ardsley that barbara looked at him inquiringly. "i'm sorry that i should have given you the impression, miss osborne, that mr. ardmore and i are friends, as i undoubtedly did at columbia. he has, for some unaccountable reason, cut my acquaintance in a manner so unlike him that i do not pretend to explain it; nor, i may add, is it of the least importance." "i was a little surprised," returned barbara, with truly feminine instinct for mingling in the balm of consolation the bitterest and most poisonous herbs, "that you should have had for a friend a man who frankly follows girls whose appearance he fancies. even mr. ardmore's democratic enthusiasm for the down-trodden laundry girl does not wholly mitigate the winking episode." "he had, only a few days ago, invited me to visit him, though i had been to his house so often that the obscurest servant knew that i was privileged even beyond the members of mr. ardmore's own family in my freedom of the place. when i saw that his house would be a convenient point from which to study the appleweight situation, i wired him that i was on the way, and to my utter amazement he replied that he could not entertain me--that scarlet fever was epidemic on the estate--on those almost uncounted acres!" and with a gulp and a mist in his eyes, griswold drew rein and pointed, from a hill that had now borne them to a considerable height, toward ardsley itself, dreamily basking in the bright morning sunlight within its cincture of hills, meadows and forest. "i never saw the place before! it's perfectly splendid!" cried barbara, forgetting that griswold must be gazing upon it with the eyes of an exile viewing grim, forbidding battlements that once hailed him in welcome. "it's one of the most interesting houses in america," observed griswold, who strove at all times to be just. "there's a flag flying--i can't make out what it is," said barbara. "it's probably to give warning of the scarlet fever; it would be like ardy to do that. but we must hurry on to mount nebo." he knew the ways of ardsley thoroughly; better, in fact, than its owner ever had in old times; but in his anger at ardmore he would not set foot on the estate if he could possibly avoid doing so in reaching the scene of the night's contretemps. he found without difficulty the trail taken by habersham's men, and in due course of time they left their horses a short distance from the church and proceeded on foot. "it seems all the stupider in broad daylight," said griswold, after he had explained just what had occurred, and how the captors, in their superstitious awe of appleweight, had been afraid to carry him off the moment they were sure of him, but had slipped back among their fellows to wait until the coast was perfectly clear. to ease his deep chagrin barbara laughed a good deal at the occurrence as they tramped over the scene discussing it. they went into the woods back of the church, where griswold began to exercise his reasoning powers. "some one must have come in from this direction and freed the man and taken him away," he declared. he knelt and marked the hoof-prints where appleweight had been left tied; but the grass here was much trampled, and griswold was misled by the fact, not knowing that news of appleweight's strange disappearance had passed among the outlaw's friends by the swift telegraphy of the border, and that the whole neighborhood had been threshed over hours before. it might have been some small consolation to griswold had he known that appleweight's friends and accomplices were as much at a loss to know what had become of the chieftain as the men who had tried so ineffectually to kidnap him. from the appearance of the trampled grass many men had taken a hand in releasing the prisoner, and this impression did not clarify matters for griswold. "where does this path lead?" asked barbara. "this is ardsley land here, this side of the church, and that trail leads on, if i remember, to the main ardsley highway, with which various other roads are connected--many miles in all. it's inconceivable that the deliverers of this outlaw should have taken him into the estate, where a sort of police system is maintained by the forestry corps. i don't at all make it out." he went off to explore the heavy woods on each side of the trail that led into ardsley, but without result. when he came gloomily back he found that in his absence barbara had followed the bridle-path for a considerable distance, and she held out to him a diminutive pocket handkerchief, which had evidently been snatched away from its owner--so barbara explained--by a low-hanging branch of an oak, and flung into a blackberry bush, where she had found it. it was a trifle, indeed, the slightest bit of linen, which they held between them by its four corners and gravely inspected. "feminine, beyond a doubt," pronounced griswold sagely. "it's a good handkerchief, and here are two initials worked in the corner that may tell us something--'g. d.' it probably belongs to some guest at ardsley. and there's a very faint suggestion of orris--it's a city handkerchief," said barbara with finality, "but it has suffered a trifle in the laundry, as this edge is the least bit out of drawing from careless ironing." "and i should say, from a certain crispness it still retains, that it hasn't been in the forest long. it hasn't been rained on, at any rate," added griswold. "but even the handkerchief doesn't tell us anything," said barbara, spreading it out, "except that some woman visitor has ridden here within a few days and played drop the handkerchief with herself or somebody else to us unknown." "she may have been a scarlet fever patient from ardsley; you'd better have a care!" and griswold's tone was bitter. "i'm not afraid; and as i have never been so near ardsley before, i should like to ride in and steal a glimpse. there's little danger of meeting the lord of the manor, i suppose, or any of his guests at this hour, and we need not go near the house." he saw that she was really curious, and it was not in his heart to refuse her, so they followed the bridle-path through the cool forest, and came in due course to the clearing where jerry had first confessed herself lost, and thereafter had suffered the captured outlaw to point her the way home. "the timber has been cut here since my last visit, but i remember the bridle-paths very well. they all reach the highroad of the estate ultimately. we may safely take this one, which has been the most used and which climbs a hill that gives a fine outlook." the path he chose had really been beaten into better condition than either of the others, and they rode side by side now. a deer feeding on a grassy slope raised its head and stared at them, and a fox scampered wildly before them. it seemed that they were shut in from all the world, these two, who but a few days before had never seen each other, and it was a relief to him to find that she threw off her troubles and became more animated and cheerful than he had yet seen her. his comments on her mount, which was sorry enough, were amusing; and she paused now and then to peer into the tops of the tallest trees, under the pretense that appleweight had probably reverted to the primordial and might be found at any minute in one of the branches above them. her dark green habit, and the soft hat to match, with its little feather thrust into the side, spoke for real usage; and the gauntleted hand that swung lightly at her side inadvertently brushed his own once--and he knew that this must not happen again! when their eyes met it was with frank confidence on her part, and it seemed to him that they were very old friends, and that they had been riding through this forest, or one identical with it, since the world began. it is thus that a man with any imagination feels first about a woman who begins to interest him--that there was never any beginning to their acquaintance that can be reckoned as time and experience are measured, but that he has known her for countless years; and if there be a poetic vein in him, he will indulge in such fancies as that he has seen her as a priestess of aphrodite in the long ago, dreaming upon the temple steps; or that he has watched her skipping pebbles upon the violet storied sea against a hazy background of cities long crumbled into dust. such fancies as these are a part of love's gentle madness, and luckier than she knows is the girl who awakens in a lover this eager idealization. if he can turn a verse for her in which she is added to the sacred nine, personifying all sweet, gentle and gracious things, so much the better. just what he, on the other hand, may mean to her; just what form of deification he evokes in her, he can never know; for the women who write of such matters have never been those who are sincere or worth heeding, and they never will be, so long as woman's heart remains what it has been from the beginning--far-hidden, and filled with incommunicable secret beliefs and longings, and tremulous with fears that are beyond man's power to understand. griswold had missed the white rose that he had begun to associate with barbara, and he grew suddenly daring and spoke of it. "you haven't your rose to-day." "oh, i'm beyond the source of supply! i have a young friend, a girl, who makes her living as a florist--not a purely commercial enterprise, for she experiments and develops new varieties, and is quite wonderful; and that white rose is her own creation--it is becoming well known. she named it for me, and she sends me at least one every day--she says it's my royalty--if that's what you lawyers call that sort of thing." "we lawyers rarely have anything so interesting as that to apply the word to! so that rose is the barbara?" and it gave him a feeling of recklessness to find himself speaking her name aloud. "there are large conservatories on the estate, over there somewhere; i might risk the scarlet fever by attacking the gardener and demanding a barbara for you." "i'm afraid my little flower hasn't attained to the grandeur of ardsley," she laughed. "but pray, where are we?" they had reached the highroad much sooner than griswold had expected, and he checked his horse abruptly, remembering that he was _persona non grata_ on this soil. "we must go back; i mustn't be seen here. the workmen are scattered all about the place, and they all know me." "oh, just a little farther! i want to see the towers of the castle!" if she had asked him to jump into the sea he would not have hesitated; and he was so happy at being with her that his heart sang defiance to ardmore and the splendors of ardsley. they were riding now toward the red bungalow, where he had often sprawled on the broad benches and chaffed with ardmore for hours at a time. tea was served here sometimes when there were guests at the house; and griswold wondered just who were included in the party that his quondam friend was entertaining, and how mrs. atchison was progressing in her efforts to effect a match between daisy waters and her brother. the drives were nearly all open to the public, so that by the letter of the law he was no intruder; but beyond the bungalow he must not go. sobered by the thought of his breach with ardmore, he resolved not to pass the bungalow whose red roof was now in sight. "it's like a fairy place, and i feel that there can be no end to it," barbara was saying. "but it isn't kind to urge you in. we certainly are doing nothing to find appleweight, and it must be nearly noon." it was just then--he vividly recalls the moment--as griswold felt in his waistcoat for his watch--that miss jerry dangerfield, with thomas ardmore at her side, galloped into view. they were racing madly, like irresponsible children, and bore boisterously down upon the two pilgrims. jerry and ardmore, hatless and warm, were pardonably indignant at thus being arrested in their flight, and the master of ardsley, feeling for once the dignity of his proprietorship, broke out stormily. "i would have you know--i would have you know--" he roared, and then his voice failed him. he stared; he spluttered; he busied himself with his horse, which was dancing in eagerness to resume the race. he quieted the beast, which nevertheless arched and pawed like a war-horse, and then the master of ardsley bawled: "grissy! i say, grissy!" miss osborne and professor griswold, on their drooping mingo county nondescripts, made a tame picture before ardmore and his fair companion on their ardsley hunters. the daughter of the governor of south carolina looked upon the daughter of the governor of north carolina with high disdain, and it need hardly be said that this feeling, as expressed by glacial glances, was evenly reciprocal, and that in the contemptuous upward tilt of two charming chins the nicest judgment would have been necessary to any fair opinion as to which state had the better argument. the associate professor of admiralty was known as a ready debater, and he quickly returned his former friend's salutation, and in much the contumelious tone he would have used in withering an adversary before a jury. "pardon me, but are you one of the employees here?" "why, grissy, old man, don't look at me like that! how did you--" "i owe your master an apology for riding upon his property at a time when pestilence is giving you cause for so much concern. the death-rate from scarlet fever is deplorably high--" "oh, grissy!" cried ardmore. "you have addressed me familiarly, by a nickname sometimes used by intimate friends, though i can't for the life of me recall you. i want you to know that i am here in an official capacity, on an errand for the state of south carolina." miss dangerfield's chin, which had dropped a trifle, pointed again into the blue ether. "you will pardon me," she said, "but an agent of the state of south carolina is far exceeding his powers when he intrudes upon north carolina soil." "the state of south carolina does what it pleases and goes where it likes," declared miss barbara osborne warmly, whereupon mr. ardmore, at a glance from his coadjutor, waxed righteously indignant. "it's one thing, sir, for you to ride in here as a sight-seer, but quite another for you to come representing an unfriendly state. you will please choose which view of the matter i shall take, and i shall act accordingly." griswold's companion spoke to him earnestly in a low tone for a moment, and then griswold addressed ardmore incisively. "i don't know what you pretend to be, sir; but it may interest you to know that _i_ am the governor of south carolina!" "and this gentleman," cried jerry, pointing to ardmore with her riding-crop, "though his hair is mussed and his scarf visibly untied, is none other than the governor of north carolina, and he is not only on his own property, but in the sovereign state of which he is the chief executive." professor griswold lifted his hat with the least flourish. "i congratulate the state of north carolina on having reposed authority in hands so capable. if this young lady is correct, sir, i will serve official notice on you that i have reason to believe that a person named appleweight, a fugitive from justice, is hiding on your property and in your state, and i now formally demand that you surrender him forthwith." "if i may introduce myself," interposed jerry, "i will say to you that my name is geraldine dangerfield, and that this appleweight person is now at mr. ardmore's house." "i suppose," replied miss osborne with gentle irony, "that he has the pink parlor and leads the conversation at table." "you are quite mistaken," replied ardmore; "but if it would afford you any satisfaction to see the outlaw you may look upon him in my wine cellar, where, only an hour ago, i left him sitting on a case of chateau bizet ' . my further intentions touching this scoundrelly south carolinian i need not now disclose; but i give you warning that the appleweight issue will soon and forever be terminated and in a manner that will greatly redound to the credit and the glory of the old north state." professor griswold's hand went to his mustache with a gesture that smote ardmore, for he knew that it hid that inscrutable smile that had always baffled him. "i trust," said griswold, "that the prisoner, whom we can not for a moment concede to be the real appleweight, will not be exposed to scarlet fever, pending a settlement of this matter. it is my understanding that the bizet ' is a fraudulent vintage that has never been nearer france than paris, illinois, and if the prisoner in your cellar drinks of it i shall hold you officially responsible for the consequences. and now, i have the honor to bid you both good morning." he and barbara swung their horses round and retraced their way, leaving ardmore and jerry gazing after them. when the shabby beasts from the stable at turner court house had borne miss osborne and griswold out of sight beyond the bungalow, ardmore turned blankly to jerry. "have i gone blind or anything? unless i'm crazy that was dear old grissy, but who is that girl?" "that is miss barbara osborne, and i hope she has learned such a lesson that she will not be snippy to me any more, if she _is_ the president-general of the daughters of the seminole war." "but where do you suppose she found grissy?" "i don't know, i'm sure; nor, mr. ardmore, do i care." "he said he represented the state of south carolina--do you suppose the governor has really employed him?" "i do not," said jerry emphatically; "for he appears intelligent, and intelligence is something that would never appeal to governor osborne. it is quite possible," mused jerry aloud, "that miss osborne's father has disappeared like mine, and that she is running his office with mr. griswold's aid. if so, we shall probably have some fun before we get through with this." "if that's true we shall have more than fun!" exclaimed ardmore, thoroughly aroused. "you don't know grissy. he's the smartest man alive, and if he's running this appleweight case for governor osborne, he'll keep us guessing. why did i ever send him that scarlet fever telegram, anyhow? he'll fight harder than ever for that and all i wanted was to keep him away until we had got all through with this business here so i could show him what a great man i had been and how i had been equal to an opportunity when it offered." "i wish you to remember, mr. ardmore, that you still have _your_ opportunity, and that i expect you to carry this matter through to a safe conclusion and to the honor of the old north state." "i have no intention of failing, miss dangerfield;" and with this they turned and rode slowly back toward the house. professor griswold and miss osborne were silent until the forest again shut them in. then, in a sequestered spot, griswold suddenly threw up his head and laughed long and loud. "it doesn't strike me as being so amusing," remarked miss osborne. "they have appleweight in their wine cellar and i don't see for the life of me how we are going to get him out." "what's funny, miss osborne, is ardy--that he and i should be pitted against each other in a thing of this kind is too utterly ridiculous. ardy acting as governor of north carolina beats anything that ever happened on this continent. but how do you suppose he ever met miss dangerfield, who certainly is a self-contained young woman?" "the answer to that riddle is so simple," replied miss osborne, "that i am amazed that you fail to see it for yourself. miss dangerfield is undoubtedly the girl with the winking eye." "oh, no!" protested griswold. "i don't hesitate to announce that as a fact. miss geraldine dangerfield, beyond any question, is the young lady whom mr. ardmore, your knight errant friend, went forth for to seek. just how they met we shall perhaps learn later on. but just now it seems rather necessary for us to adopt some plan of action, unless you feel that you do not wish to oppose your friend." "oppose him! i have got to whip him to the dust if i shake down the very towers of his stronghold! it's well we have the militia on the road. with the state army at our back we can show tommy ardmore a few things in state administration that are not dreamed of in his philosophy." "do you suppose they really have appleweight?" asked barbara. "not for a minute! they told us that story merely to annoy us when they found what we were looking for. that touch about the wine cellar is characteristically ardmoresque. if they had appleweight you may be sure they wouldn't keep him on the premises." whereupon, they rode back to turner court house much faster than they had come. chapter xv the prisoner in the corn-crib jerry and ardmore sat at a long table in the commodious ardsley library, which was a modification of a gothic chapel. it was on the upper floor, with broad windows that had the effect of bringing the landscape indoors, and the north carolina sky is, we must concede, a pleasant thing to have at one's elbow. a large accumulation of mail from the governor's office at raleigh had been forwarded, and jerry insisted that it must be opened and disposed of in some way. governor dangerfield was, it appeared, a subscriber to a clipping bureau, and they had been examining critically a batch of cuttings relating to the new orleans incident. most of them were in a frivolous key, playfully reviving the ancient query as to what the governor of north carolina really said to the governor of south carolina. others sought causes for the widely-reported disappearance of the two governors; and still other reports boldly maintained that governors dangerfield and osborne were at their capitals engaged in the duties of their respective offices. "it's a good thing we got hold of collins" observed ardmore, putting down a clipping from a new york paper in which the reports of governor dangerfield's disappearance were analyzed and tersely dismissed; "for he knows how to write and he's done a splendid picture of your father on his throne attending to business; and his little stingers for osborne are the work of genius." "there's a certain finish about mr. collins' lying that is refreshing," replied jerry, "and i can not help thinking that he has a brilliant future before him if he enters politics. nothing pains me more than a careless, ill-considered, silly lie, which is the best that most people can do. but it would be very interesting to know whether governor osborne has really disappeared, or just how your friend the virginia professor has seized the reins of state. do you suppose he got a jug from somewhere, and met miss osborne and--" "do you think--do you think--she may have--er possibly--closed one eye in his direction?" asked ardmore dubiously. "mr. ardmore"--and jerry pointed at him with a bronze paper-cutter to make sure of his attention--"mr. ardmore, if you ever imply again by act, word or deed that i winked at you i shall never, never speak to you again. i should think that a man with a nice sister like mrs. atchison would have a better opinion of women than you seem to have. i never saw you until you came to my father's house to tell me about the jug--and you know i didn't. and as for that barbara osborne, while i don't doubt that even in south carolina a daughter of the seminole war might wink at a gentleman in a moment of extreme provocation, i doubt if she did, for she lacks animation, and has no more soul than a gum overshoe." the obvious inconsistency of this pronouncement caused ardmore to frown in the stress of his thought; and he stared helplessly along the line of the accusing paper-cutter into jerry's eyes. "oh, cheer up!" she cried in her despair of him; "and forget it, forget it, forget it! i'll say this to you, mr. ardmore, that if i ever winked at you--and i never, never did--i'm sorry i did it! some time when you haven't so much work on your hands as you have this morning just think that over and let me know where you land. and now, look at these things, please." "what is all this stuff?" he demanded, as she tossed him a pile of papers. "they refer to the application for pardon of a poor man who's going to be hanged for murder to-morrow unless we do something for him; and he has a wife and three little children, and he has never committed any other crime but to break into a smoke-house and steal a side of bacon." "did he shoot in self-defense, or how was it?" asked ardmore judicially. "he killed a painless dentist who pulled the wrong tooth," answered jerry, referring to the papers. "if that's all i don't think we can stand for hanging him. i read a piece against capital punishment in a magazine once and the arguments were very strong. the killing of a dentist should not be a crime anyhow, and if you know how to pardon a man, why let's do it; but we'd better wait until the last minute, and then send telegram to the sheriff to stop the proceedings just before he pulls the string, which makes it most impressive, and gives a better effect." "i believe you are right about it," said jerry. "there's an old pardon right here in this bundle which we can use. it was made out for another man who stole a horse that afterwards died, which papa said was a mitigating circumstance; but the week before his execution the man escaped from jail before papa could pardon him." "suppose we don't let them hang anybody while we're running the state," suggested ardmore; "it's almost as though you murdered a man yourself, and i couldn't tie my neckties afterwards without a guilty feeling. i can't imagine anything more disagreeable than to be hanged. i heard all of _tristan und isolde_ once, and i have seen half an ibsen play, and those were hard things to bear, but i suppose hanging would be just as painful and there would be no supper afterwards to cheer you up." "you shouldn't speak in that tone of _afterwards_, mr. ardmore," said jerry severely. "it isn't religious. and while we're on the subject of religion, may i ask the really, truly wherefore of miss daisy waters' sudden return to newport?" and jerry's tone and manner were carelessly demure. "she went home," replied ardmore, grinning; "she left ardsley for two reasons, one of which she stated at the breakfast table and the other she handed me privately." "she said at the breakfast table that she was called home by incipient whooping cough in the household of her brother-in-law's cousin's family." "as she has no brother-in-law, that can not be true. what she said to me privately was that the house party had grown very much larger than mrs. atchison had originally planned it, and that i am so busy that so many guests must be a burden." jerry stroked her cheek reflectively. "i thought miss waters wouldn't last long after i asked her if rusty nail water really would remove freckles. my own freckles are exactly seven in number and i am not ashamed of them, but miss waters seemed very sensitive on the subject, though i thought her freckles useful in diverting attention from her drugstore hair." "did you say seven?" inquired ardmore, gazing eagerly into jerry's face. "i make it only six, and there's one away over there under your left eye that seems very lonesome, as though it suffered keenly from being so far away from its brothers and sisters on the other side of your nose." "mr. ardmore"--and jerry again indicated the person addressed by pointing with the paper-cutter--"mr. ardmore, it is downright impudent of you to talk to me about my appearance in any terms, but when you speak of my face as though it were a map in a geography and of my freckles as though they were county seats, or lakes, or strange places in china, then i must protest with all my strength. if you don't change the subject immediately i shall refuse to pardon this person who killed the painless dentist, and he shall be hanged by the neck till he be dead; and you, mr. thomas ardmore, will be guilty of his murder." the discussion of miss jerry dangerfield's freckles ceased abruptly on the appearance of big paul, the forester. "a body of south carolina militia is marching across country from the south. one of my men heard of it down at turner court house last night and rode to where the troops were encamped. he learned that it was a practice march for the militia. there's several companies of infantry, so he reports, and a piece of artillery." "bully for old grissy!" exclaimed ardmore. "they're coming this way, are they, paul?" and the three bent over the map. "that is the place, sir. they seem to be planning to get around turner's without stirring up the town. but it would take a good deal to wake up turner's," laughed the big german. jerry placed her finger on the state line. "if they dare cross that--if they as much as dare!" "if they dare we shall show them a few things. take all the men you need, paul, to watch their movements. that will do." the forester lingered. "you remember that we spoke the other day of the log house on raccoon creek, where the appleweights had driven off our man?" "yes, paul. it is where the state line crosses the heavy woods and the farthest outpost, so to speak, on my property. when you cross the little creek, you're in south carolina. you said some of these appleweight fellows had been cutting off the timber down there, if i remember rightly." "yes, sir," replied the forester, twirling his cap awkwardly. "but some of the people on the estate have said--" he broke off in an embarrassment so unlike him that jerry and ardmore looked at him curiously. "well, paul, what's the matter? if the cabin has been burned down it's no serious matter." "why, sir; some of the men passing there at night say they see lights and hear sounds in the cabin, though no one from the estate goes there. a child died in the house last spring and--well, you know how some of these people are!" "ghosts!" cried ardmore. "the property is growing more valuable all the time! tell them that whoever captures the ghost and brings it here shall have a handsome present. so far it's only a light in an abandoned house--is that it?" "well, they say it's very strange," and it was clear that the german was not wholly satisfied to have his employer laugh off the story. "cheer up, paul. we have bigger business on hand than the chasing of ghosts just now. when we get through with these other things i'll go over there myself and take a look at the spook." as paul hurried away, jerry seized a pen and wrote this message: rutherford gillingwater, adjutant-general, camp dangerfield, azbell, n. c.: move all available troops by shortest route to kildare at once and report to me personally at ardsley. make no statements to newspapers. answer. dangerfield, governor. "i guess that will bring him running," said ardmore, calling a servant and ordering the message despatched immediately. "but when he comes, expecting to report to the governor and finds that he isn't here, what do you suppose he will do?" "mr. ardmore," began jerry, in the tone of sweet tolerance with which one arraigns a hopeless child, "mr. ardmore, there are times when you tax my patience severely. you don't seem to grasp the idea that we are not making explanations to inferiors in our administration. colonel gillingwater will undoubtedly be a good deal surprised to get that message, but when the first shock is over he will obey the orders of his commander-in-chief. and the fact that he is ordered to report to ardsley will not be lost on him, for he will see in that a possible social opportunity, and a chance to wear some of his uniforms that he has never worn before. he will think that papa is really here to test the efficiency of the troops, and that as papa is a guest at ardsley, which we know he isn't, there will probably be some great social functions in this house, with papa's staff dressed up and all shiny in gold braid. since rutherford gillingwater had the typhoid fever during the spanish war i have not been sure that he is as much interested in fighting as he is in the purely circus work of being a soldier. i just now recall that when papa was about to order out the troops to stop a railroad strike last spring, rutherford gillingwater went to all the trouble of having tonsilitis and was so ill that he could hardly leave his room even after the strike had been settled by arbitration. if he knew that there was likely to be a terrible battle over here instead of nice long dinners and toasts to "the old north state," "our governor," and "the governor's daughter," his old wounds, that he never had, might trouble him so that they'd have to wrap him up in cotton and carry him home." before luncheon a message was received from gillingwater, to this effect: governor william dangerfield, ardsley, n. c.: en route with our entire available force in the field. i am riding ahead with all speed, and will report at ardsley at nine o'clock. is full military dress _de rigueur_? gillingwater, adjutant-general. "isn't that just like rutherford! he's afraid he won't be dressy enough; but if he knew that the south carolina troops might shoot holes in his uniform he wouldn't be due here for a couple of weeks, instead of at nine o'clock to-night;" and jerry laughed merrily. they debated more seriously this telegram from collins at raleigh sent the previous evening: can't maintain this bluff much longer. even the friendly newspapers are growing suspicious. state credit jeopardized by disappearance of treasurer foster. billings, of bronx loan and trust, here in a great fury over bond matter. do you know governor's whereabouts? "things are certainly growing more exciting," was ardmore's comment. "i suppose even a gifted liar like collins can't muzzle the press forever." "you can't go on fooling all north carolina all the time, either," said jerry, "and i suppose when papa gets tired of being scared he will turn up in raleigh and tell some plausible story about where he has been and what has happened. when it comes to being plausible no one can touch papa." "maybe he's dead," suggested ardmore gloomily. "that's a real inspiration on your part, mr. ardmore; and it's very sweet of you to mention it, but i have no idea that any harm has come to papa. it's too much trouble to get elected governor, without dying in office, and besides, papa is none too friendly with the lieutenant governor and would never think of allowing such a person to succeed him. but those bonds seem rather serious and i don't like the idea of your mr. billings making a fuss at raleigh." "that will be all right," remarked ardmore, blotting the last of a number of telegrams which he had been writing, and pressing a button. "it's much more important for us to get appleweight into a south carolina jail; and it's not going to be so easy to do, now that grissy is working on the other side, and angry at me about that scarlet fever telegram." "there may be trouble," said ardmore to his guests as they sat at luncheon. "but i should hate to have it said that my guests could not be taken care of here perfectly. i beg that you will all remain." "if there's to be a row, why don't you call the police and be done with it?" asked a sad young member of the company. his motor number had so often figured in reports of speed law violations that he was known as eighteen eighty. "i thought you came down here for quiet and not to get into trouble, ardy." "if i miss my steamer nine days from to-day, and meanwhile have to eat horse meat, just as they did in the siege of paris, i shall be greatly provoked, to say the least," remarked mrs. atchison pleasantly; for her brother's amazing awakening delighted her and it was a cheering experience that he promised, of civil war, battle, murder and sudden death. "i think i shall spend more time in america after this," remarked eighteen eighty. "i did not know that amusing things ever happened over here. what did you say the name of this state is?" "the name of this state," replied miss dangerfield, "is north carolina, and i have my opinion of any native american who runs around europe all the time, and who can visit a place in this country without even knowing the name of the state he is in." "but there's really no difference between north and south carolina, is there?" persisted eighteen eighty. jerry put down her fork, and folded her hands beside her plate, while she addressed the offender. "mr. number something, the difference between the old north state and south carolina is not merely geographical--it is also intellectual, ethical and spiritual. but may i ask you whether you know of which state you are a citizen?" a laugh rose as the sad young man flushed and looked inquiringly about. "i voted you in my precinct that time i ran for alderman in new york," said ardmore, "but that's no sign you had a right to vote there. i shot ballywinkle through the booth at the same time. i was a reform candidate and needed votes, but i hoped bally would get arrested and be sent to jail. my impression is that you are really a citizen of rhode island, which is where newport is." the debate as to eighteen eighty's legal residence was interrupted by the arrival of a summons for ardmore, who hurriedly left the table. big paul awaited him below, mounted and holding a led-horse. "there's a line of the south carolina militia crawling through the woods toward raccoon creek. they insist that it's a practice skirmish and that they've come over here because the landscape is naturally adapted to their purposes." "it's awfully nice of them to like my scenery. you'd better send your best man out to meet colonel gillingwater of the north carolina militia, and tell him to march all his troops into the estate by the north gates, and to be in a hurry. tell him--tell him governor dangerfield is anxious to have the staff present in full uniform at a grand ball at ardsley to-night." ardmore rode off alone toward raccoon creek to catch a view of the enemy. how far would griswold go? this question he kept debating with himself. his late friend was a lawyer and a serious one whom he had not believed capable of seizing the militia of one state and using it to make a military demonstration against another. ardmore could go as far as griswold; yet he was puzzled to know why griswold was in the field at all. miss dangerfield's suggestion that griswold's interest in the daughter of the governor of south carolina accounted for his presence on the border seemed plausible at first; and yet the more he thought about it the less credible it seemed, for he was sure that griswold had talked to him about women with the frankness that had characterized all their intercourse, and ardmore racked his brains in his effort to recall the few affairs to which the associate professor of admiralty had pleaded guilty. memory brought these back to him slowly. there was an old point comfort affair, dating back to griswold's student days, and to which he had referred with no little feeling once or twice; and there was a york harbor affair, that came a little later; and there was the girl he had met on a steamer, about whom griswold had shown sensitiveness when ardmore had made bold to twit him. but ardmore could not account for miss osborne, unless his friend had been withholding his confidence while seemingly wholly frank; and the thought that this must be true widened the breach between them. and when he was saying to himself that the daughters of governors are not in the habit of picking up cavaliers and intrusting state affairs to them and that it was almost inconceivable that the conscientious griswold, at the busiest season at the university, should have taken employment from the governor of south carolina, he found that he had struck a stone wall, and he confessed to himself that the situation was beyond him. these reflections carried him far toward raccoon creek, and when he had reached that tortuous stream he dismounted and tied his horse, the more freely to examine the frontier. the raccoon is never more than eighty feet wide, but filled with boulders round which the water foams in many curves and splashes, running away in the merriest ripples, so that it is never wholly tranquil. by jumping from boulder to boulder he crossed the turbulent tide and gained the other side with a sense of entering the enemy's country. "now," he muttered, "i am in south carolina." he drew out his map and held it against a tree the better to study it, reassuring himself that his own property line embraced several sections of the forest on the south side of the state boundary. "if grissy shoots me, it will be on my own land," he said aloud. he cautiously followed the stream until, several hundred yards farther on, and overhanging the creek, he came upon the log cabin in which big paul had reported the presence of a ghost. paul's story had not interested him particularly, but now that he was in the neighborhood he resolved to visit the cabin and learn if possible how ghosts amuse themselves by day. he had thrust a revolver into his pocket before leaving the house and while he had no idea that ghosts may be shot, he now made sure that the weapon was in good order. as he sat on a log slipping the cylinder through his fingers he heard whistling farther along the creek, followed quickly by the snapping of twigs under a heavy tread, and a moment later a tall, slender man broke into view. the stranger was dressed like a countryman, but he was unmistakably not of the ardsley force of workmen, for these wore a rough sort of uniform. his hands were thrust carelessly into the side pockets of a gray jeans coat. they were thrust in deep, so that the coat sagged at the pockets. his trousers were turned up from a pair of rough shoes and he wore a gray flannel shirt, the collar of which was guiltless of a tie. he was smooth shaven, and carried in his mouth a short pipe, which he paused to relight when about a dozen yards from ardmore. then, as he held the lighted match above the pipe bowl for an instant to make sure his tobacco was burning, ardmore jumped up and covered him with the pistol. "i beg your pardon," said the master of ardsley, "but you're my prisoner!" the stranger shook the flame out of the match-stick carefully and threw it away before turning toward his captor. "young man," he said with perfect self-possession, "don't fool with that gun; it might go off." his drawl was characteristic of the region; his tone was one of amused tolerance. ardmore was short of stature, and his knickerbockers, leggings and norfolk jacket were not wholly consonant with the revolver, which, however, he leveled very steadily at the stranger's head. "you are an intruder on my property," said the master of ardsley, "and unless i'm much mistaken you have been playing ghost in that cabin. i've heard about you. your gang has been cutting off my timber about long enough, and this game of playing ghost to scare my men won't do." "stealing your timber?" and the stranger was clearly surprised. he held his pipe in his hand with his thumb over the bowl and seemed to take a more serious interest in his captor. "and now," continued ardmore, "i'm about tired of having this end of the country run by the appleweights, and their disreputable gang, so i'm going to lock you up." the stranger turned toward the cabin, one corner of which was plainly visible, and shrugged his shoulders. "i have nothing to do with the appleweights, and i assure you i am not a timber thief." "then you must be the one who has lifted a few steers out of my herd. it makes no difference just what branch of the business you are engaged in, for we're picking up all the gang and you've got to come along with me." the captive showed signs of anger for the first time. his face flushed, and he took a step toward ardmore, who immediately threw up the revolver so that it pointed at the man's head. "stop right there! we've got old man appleweight, so you've lost your leader, and i tell you the jig's up. we'll have you all in jail before another twenty-four hours has passed." "i judge from the tone of your remarks that you are ardmore, the owner of ardsley. am i right?" "you are quite right. and you are a member of a disreputable gang of outlaws that has been bringing shame upon the state of north carolina. now, i want you to march straight ahead of me. step lively now!" and ardmore flourished the pistol menacingly. "march!" [illustration] the man hesitated, flung up his head defiantly, then moved slowly forward. the flush in his face had deepened and his eyes flashed angrily; but ardmore, his cap on the back of his head, himself presented a figure so severe, so eloquent of righteous indignation, that the stranger tamely obeyed him. "we will cross the creek right here," he ordered; "it's a pretty jump there from that boulder--there, that was bully! now right along there over the log--see the trail! good!" it was warm and the captive was perspiring freely. he moved along docilely, and finding that he manifested no inclination to bolt, ardmore dropped the revolver to his side, but with his finger on the trigger. he was very proud of himself; for while to miss jerry dangerfield undoubtedly belonged the honor of capturing the thief appleweight, yet he had single-handed arrested a member of the famous gang, and he had already resolved upon a convenient method of disposing of his prisoner. they paused while ardmore mounted his horse, silencing the captive, who took the opportunity to break out protestingly against what he termed an infamous outrage upon personal liberty. "you've taken me from one state into another without due process of law," declared the stranger, thinking to impress ardmore, as that young gentleman settled himself in his saddle. "go right on now; that's a good fellow," replied the master of ardsley, lifting the revolver warningly. "whether it's north carolina or south dakota--it doesn't make a particle of difference to me. as i remarked before, it's my property, i tell you, and i do what i please here." "i'll show you whether you do or not," snorted the prisoner, who was trudging along doggedly with the nose of ardmore's horse occasionally poking his back. they soon reached a field where some laborers were at work, and ardmore called them to him for instructions. "boys, this is one of the timber thieves; put him in that corn-crib until i come back for him. the nights are warm; the sky is perfectly clear; and you will kindly see that he does not lack for food." two of the men jumped forward and seized ardmore's prisoner, who now broke forth in a torrent of wrath, struggling vigorously in the hands of the sturdy fellows who had laid violent hands on him. "that's right, boys; that's right; easy there! now in he goes." a series of corn-cribs fringed the field, and into one of these, from which half the corn had been removed, the prisoner was thrust sprawling upon the yellow ears, and when he rose and flung himself round, the door of the corn-crib slammed in his face. he bellowed with rage now, seeing that his imprisonment was a serious matter, and that it seemed likely to be prolonged indefinitely. "they always told me you were a fool," he howled, "but i didn't know that anything as crazy as you are was loose in the world." "thank you. the head of your gang is much more polite. he's sitting on his case of chateau bizet in my wine cellar, playing solitaire." "appleweight in your wine cellar!" bawled the captive in astonishment. "certainly. i was afraid to lock him in a room with bath for fear it might give him hydrophobia; but he's perfectly content in the wine cellar." "what are you going to do with him?" "i haven't decided yet just what to do with him, but the scoundrel undoubtedly belongs in south carolina, and i have every intention of making his own state punish him." the prisoner leaned heavily against his prison door and glared out upon his jailer with a new, fierce interest. "i tell you i've nothing to do with the appleweights! i don't want to reveal my identity to you, you young beggar; but i demand my legal rights." "my dear sir," retorted ardmore, "you have no legal rights, for the writ of habeas corpus doesn't go here. you seem rather intelligent for a barn burner and timber thief. come now, what is your name?" the prisoner gazed down upon the imperturbable figure of his captor through the slats of the corn-crib. ardmore returned his gaze with his most bland and child-like air. many people had been driven to the point of madness by ardmore's apparent dullness. the prisoner realized that he must launch a thunderbolt if he would disturb a self-possession so complete--a tranquillity as sweet as the fading afternoon. "mr. ardmore, i dislike to do it, but your amazing conduct makes it necessary for me to disclose my identity," and the man's manner showed real embarrassment. "i knew it; i knew it;" nodded ardmore, folding his arms across his chest. "you're either the king of siam or the prince of petosky. as either, i salute you!" "no!" roared the captive, beating impotently against the door of the cage with his hands. "no! i'm the governor of south carolina!" this statement failed, however, to produce the slightest effect on mr. ardmore, who only smiled slightly, a smile less incredulous than disdainful. "oh, pshaw! that's nothing," he replied; "_i'm_ the governor of north carolina!" and mounting his horse he gravely lifted his hat to the prisoner and galloped away. while mr. ardmore was securing his prisoner in the corn-crib it may be interesting to return for a moment to the haunted log cabin on raccoon creek, the interior of which was roughly but comfortably furnished. above were two small sleeping-rooms, and beside the bed in each stood a suit-case and a hand-satchel. in each room hung, on convenient hooks, a long, black frock-coat, a pair of trousers of light cloth, and a broad-brim black felt hat. coat, trousers and hat were exactly alike. in the room below sat a man in his shirt-sleeves, his feet on a cheap deal table, blowing rings from a cigar. he presented a picture of the greatest ease and contentment, as he occasionally stroked his short brown beard, or threw up his arms and clasped his hands about his head or caught lazily at the smoke rings. on the table lay an array of playing cards and poker chips. "it's too good to last forever," the lone occupant reflected aloud, stifling a yawn, and he reached out, with careless indifference, toward a bundle of newspapers tied together with a piece of twine and drew one out and spread it across his knees. he yawned again as though the thought of a world whose affairs were stamped in printer's ink bored him immensely; and then the bold head-lines that shouted at him across half a quarter of the sheet caused him to gasp, and his feet struck the bare floor of the cabin resoundingly. he now bent over the paper with the greatest eagerness, muttering as he read, and some of his mutterings were, it must be confessed, not without profane embellishment. two cowardly governors missing scandal affecting two state executives is the appleweight case responsible? rumors of fatal duel on state line he read breathlessly the startling story that followed the head-lines, then rose and glanced anxiously at his watch. "am i drunk or mad? i must find osborne and get out of this." he leaped to the open door, and gazed into the forest from a little platform that commanded all sides of the cabin. and there, to his utter amazement, he saw men in khaki emerging cautiously from the woods. they were unmistakably soldiers of some sort, for an officer was giving sharp commands, and the line opened out like a fan along the creek. the observer of this maneuver mopped his head with his handkerchief as he watched the alert movements of the figures in khaki. he was so absorbed that he failed to hear stealthy steps at the rear of the platform, but he was now rudely aroused by two uniformed youngsters with s. c. n. g. on their caps, who sprang upon him and bore him with a crash to the puncheon floor. "you're our prisoner!" shouted one of them, rising when he found that the prisoner yielded without resistance. "what for?" blurted the captive, sitting up and rubbing his elbow. "for being bill appleweight, _alias_ poteet. get up, now, and come with us to headquarters, or my instructions are to break your head." "who in the devil are you?" panted the prisoner. "well, if it's anything to you, we're the south carolina militia, so you'd better get up and climb." chapter xvi the flight of gillingwater "it will be better for me to break the news to colonel gillingwater," said jerry, "and you must go out and meet the troops yourself, with mr. cooke and that amusing mr. collins. there is no telling what effect my tidings will have on rutherford, or what he will decide to do. he has never before been so near trouble as he is now, and i may have to give him first aid to the injured when he finds out that the south carolina troops are on raccoon creek, all ready to march upon our sacred soil." "but suppose your adjutant-general shouldn't go back to his troops after he sees you, then what am i to do?" "if you don't see him by ten o'clock you will take personal command and exercise your own discretion as to the best method of landing appleweight in a south carolina jail. after that we must find papa, and it will be up to him to satisfy the newspapers and his constituents with some excuse for his strange disappearance." collins had come from raleigh on the evening train, and he had solemnly assured ardmore that the present state of affairs could not be maintained another twenty-four hours. he had exhausted his professional resources, and the north carolina newspapers of all shades of opinion were clamoring for the truth, and were insisting that, for the honor and dignity of the state, governor dangerfield should show himself in raleigh. even the metropolitan press, which collins had filled for several days with blithe stories of the administration's vigorous policy in the appleweight case, had refused further matter from him. "we've got to find dangerfield or bust. now, where is that eminent statesman, ardmore? you can't tell me you don't know; but if you don't, miss dangerfield does, and she's got to tell." "she hasn't the slightest idea, but if the newspapers find out that he's really and truly missing, he will have to show up; but first we've got to take appleweight off that case of chateau bizet and lodge him in the jail at turner court house, and let governor osborne have the odium of incarcerating the big chief of the border, to whom he is under the greatest political obligations." "but it's all over the country now that osborne hasn't been seen in columbia since he and dangerfield had that row in new orleans. cranks are turning up everywhere, pretending to be governors of various states, and old dangerfield is seen on all the outgoing steamers. there's been nothing like it since the kidnapping of charley ross." ardmore drew on his riding-gloves reflectively, and a delighted grin illuminated his countenance. "i caught a lunatic down on the raccoon this afternoon who said _he_ was the governor of south carolina, and i locked him up." "well, he may be osborne," remarked collins, with journalistic suspicion. "and he may be a swiss admiral or the king of mars. i guess i'm a governor myself, and i know what a governor looks like and acts like--you can't fool me. i put this impostor where he'll have a chance to study astronomy to-night." "then he isn't on that case of chateau bizet with appleweight?" "no; i locked him up in a corn-crib until i get time to study his credentials. come along now!" ardmore, collins and cooke rode rapidly away through the wide gates of the estate along the sapphire road, over which, by his last bulletin, the adjutant-general of north carolina was marching his troops. they had left cooke's men with paul's foresters to guard the house and to picket the banks of the raccoon in the immediate neighborhood of the camp of the south carolinians. "i guess those fellows can hold 'em till morning," said cooke. "we've got to clean up the whole business by to-morrow night. you can't have two states at war with each other this way without shaking up the universe, and if federal troops come down here to straighten things out it won't be funny." they had ridden about a mile, when cooke checked his horse with an exclamation. "there's somebody coming like the devil was after him. it must be gillingwater." they drew rein and waited, the quick patter of hoofs ringing out sharply in the still night. the moonlight gave them a fair sweep of the road, and they at once saw a horseman galloping rapidly toward them. "lordy, the man's on fire!" gasped ardmore. "by george, you're right!" muttered collins, moving nervously in his saddle. "it's a human sunburst." "it's only his gold braid," explained the practical cooke. "he must have on solid gold armor, then," declared collins. seeing three men drawn across the road, the horseman began to check his flight. "men!" he shouted, as his horse pawed the air with its forefeet, "is this the road to ardsley?" "right you are," yelled cooke, and they were aware of a flash, a glitter that startled and dazzled the eye, and colonel rutherford gillingwater thundered on. ardmore looked at his watch. "he's undoubtedly a man of action, if i ever saw one; and i think we are to be congratulated on having so gallant a commander for our troops," said the master of ardsley; but the sight of rutherford gillingwater had filled his soul with jealous forebodings. he had heard that women are prone to fall in worship before warriors in their battle armor, and he was sure that jerry dangerfield was a girl of infinitely kind heart, who might not, when face to face with the issue, subject the man she had engaged to marry to any severe test. they rode on, however, and saw presently the lights of camp-fires, and a little later were ceremoniously halted at the roadside by an armed guard. it had been arranged that collins, who had once been a second lieutenant in the georgia militia, should be presented as an officer of the regular army, detailed as special aide to governor dangerfield during the encampment, and that in case gillingwater failed to return promptly he should take command of the north carolina forces. an open field had been seized for the night's camp, and the tents already shone white in the moonlight. the three men introduced themselves to the militia officers, and collins expressed their regret that they had missed the adjutant-general. "governor dangerfield wished you to move your force on to ardsley should we fail to meet colonel gillingwater; and you had better strike your tents and be in readiness to advance in case he doesn't personally return with orders." captain collins, as he had designated himself, apologized for not being in uniform. "i lost my baggage train," he laughed, "and governor dangerfield is so anxious not to miss this opportunity to settle the appleweight case that i hurried out to meet you with these gentlemen." "appleweight!" exclaimed the group of officers in amazement. "none other than the great appleweight!" responded collins. "the governor has him in his own hands at last, and is going to carry him across the border and into a south carolina bastile, as a little pleasantry on the governor of south carolina." "he's had a sudden change of heart if he's captured appleweight," remarked a major incredulously. "his policy has always been to let old bill alone." "it's only a ripple of the general reform wave that's sweeping the country," suggested ardmore cheerfully. "turn the rascals out; put the rascals in; keep the people hopeful and the jails full. that's the dangerfield watchword." "well, i guess dangerfield knows how to drive the hearse if there's got to be a funeral," observed the quartermaster. "the governor's not a man to ride inside if he can find another corpse." and they all laughed and accepted the situation as promising better diversion than they had expected from the summer maneuvers. the militia officers gave the necessary orders for breaking the half-formed camp, and then turned their attention to the entertainment of their guests. ardmore kept track of the time, and promptly at ten o'clock collins rose from the log by the roadside where they had been sitting. "we must obey the governor's orders, gentlemen," said collins courteously, "and march at once to ardsley. i, you understand, am only a courier, and your guest for the present." "if you please," asked cooke, when the line had begun to move forward, "what is that wagon over there?" he pointed to a mule team hitched to a quartermaster's wagon that a negro was driving into position across the rough field. it was piled high with luggage, a pyramid that rose black against the heavens. one of the militia officers, evidently greatly annoyed, bawled to the driver to get back out of the way. "pardon me," said collins politely, "but is that your personal baggage, gentlemen?" "that belongs to colonel gillingwater," remarked the quartermaster. "the rest of us have a suit-case apiece." "do you mean," demanded ardmore, "that the adjutant-general carries all that luggage for himself?" "that is exactly it! but," continued the quartermaster loyally, "you never can tell what will happen when you take the field this way, and our chief is not a man to forget any of the details of military life." "in washington we all think very highly of colonel gillingwater," remarked collins, with noble condescension, "and in case we should become involved in war he would undoubtedly be called to high rank in the regular establishment." "it's too bad," said cooke, as the three drew aside and waited for a battery of light artillery to rumble into place behind the infantry, "it's too bad, collins, that it didn't occur to you to impersonate the president of the french republic or emperor william. you'll be my death before we finish this job." "this won't be so funny when dangerfield gets hold of us," grinned the reporter. "we'd better cheer up all we can now. we're playing with the state of north carolina as though it were a bean-bag. but what's that over there?" the pyramidal baggage wagon had gained the road behind them, and lingered uncertainly, with the driver asleep and waiting for orders. the conspirators were about to gallop forward to the head of the moving column, when collins pointed across the abandoned campground to where a horseman, who had evidently made a wide detour of the advancing column, rode madly toward the baggage wagon. "the gentleman's trying to kill his horse, i should judge," murmured ardmore. "by jove!" "it's gillingwater!" chorused the trio. the rider in his haste had overlooked the men in the road. he dashed through the wide opening in the fence, left by the militiamen, took the ditch by the roadside at a leap, wakened the sleeping driver on the wagon with a roar, and himself leaped upon the box and began turning the horses. "what do you think he's doing?" asked cooke. "he's in a hurry to get back to mother's cooking," replied ardmore. "he's seen miss dangerfield and learned that war is at hand, and he's going to get his clothes out of danger. lordy! listen to him slashing the mules!" "but you don't think--" the wagon had swung round, and already was in rapid flight. collins howled in glee. "come on! we can't miss a show like this!" "leave the horses then! there's a hill there that will break his neck. we'd better stop him if we can!" cried cooke, dismounting. they threw their reins to the driver of the wagon, who had been brushed from his seat by the impatient adjutant-general, and was chanting weirdly to himself at the roadside. the wagon, piled high with trunks and boxes, was dashing forward, gillingwater belaboring the mules furiously, and, hearing the shouts of strange pursuers, yelling at the team in a voice shrill with fear. "come on, boys!" shouted ardmore, thoroughly aroused, "catch the spy and traitor!" the road dipped down into the shadow of a deep cut, where the moon's dim rays but feebly penetrated, and where the flow of springs had softened the surface; but the pursuers were led on by the rumble of the wagon, which swung from side to side perilously, the boxes swinging about noisily and toppling threateningly at the apex. down the sharp declivity the wagon plunged like a ship bound for the bottom of the sea. the pursuers bent gamely to their task in the rough road, with cooke slightly in the lead. suddenly he shouted warningly to the others, as something rose darkly above them like a black cloud, and a trunk fell with a mighty crash only a few feet ahead of them. the top had been shaken off in the fall, and into it head first plunged ardmore. "there's another coming!" yelled collins, and a much larger trunk struck and split upon a rock at the roadside. clothing of many kinds strewed the highway. a pair of trousers, flung fiercely into the air, caught on the limb of a tree, shook free like a banner, and hung there somberly etched against the stars. ardmore crawled out of the trunk, screaming with delight. the fragrance of toilet water broke freshly upon the air. "it's his ammunition!" bawled ardmore, rubbing his head where he had struck the edge of a tray. "his scent bottles are smashed, and it's only by the grace of providence that i haven't cut myself on broken glass." "thump! bump!" sounded down the road. "are those pants up there?" asked cooke, pointing, "or is it a hole in the sky?" "this," said collins, picking up a garment from the bush over which it had spread itself, "has every appearance of being his little nightie. how indelicate!" "no," said ardmore, taking it from him, "it's a kimona of the most expensive silk, which the colonel undoubtedly wears when they get him up at midnight to hear the reports of his scouts." they went down the road, stumbling now and then over a bit of debris from the vanished wagon. "it's like walking on carpet," observed cooke, picking up a feathered chapeau. "i didn't know there were so many clothes in all the world." they abandoned the idea of farther pursuit on reaching a trunk standing on end, from which a uniform dress-coat drooped sadly. "this is not our trouble; it's his trouble. i guess he's struck a smoother road down there. we'd better go back," said cooke. "whom the gods would destroy they first dress in glad rags," piped collins. they sat down and laughed until the negro approached warily with the horses. "he's lost his raiment, but saved his life," sputtered collins, climbing into his saddle. "he's lost more than that," remarked ardmore, and his flushed countenance, noted by the others as he lighted a cigarette, was cheerfuller than they had ever seen it before. in a moment they had climbed the hill and were in hot pursuit of the adjutant-general's abandoned army. chapter xvii on the road to turner's "who goes there?" "a jug." "what kind of a jug?" "a little brown jug from kildare." thus mr. thomas ardmore tested his pickets with a shibboleth of his own devising. the sturdy militiamen of north carolina patrolled the northern bank of raccoon creek at midnight, aware that that riotous flood alone separated them from their foes. the terraces at ardsley bristled with the guns of the first light battery, while, upon a cot in the wine cellar beneath, mr. bill appleweight, _alias_ poteet, slept the sleep of the just. he was rudely aroused, however, at one o'clock in the morning by ardmore, cooke and collins, and taken out through the kitchen to one of the ardsley farm wagons. big paul held the reins, and four of cooke's detectives were mounted as escort. ardmore, cooke and collins were to accompany the party as a board of strategy in the movement upon turner court house, south carolina. appleweight, the terror of the border, blinked at the lanterns that flashed about him in the courtyard. he had been numbed by his imprisonment, and even now he yielded himself docilely to the inevitable. his capture in the first instance at mount nebo had been clear enough, and he could have placed his hand on the men who did it if he had been free for a couple of hours. this he had pondered over his solacing solitaire as he sat on the case of chateau bizet in the ardsley wine cellar; but the subsequent events had been altogether too much for him. he had been taken from his original captors by a girl, and while the ignominy of this was not lost on the outlaw, his wits had been unequal to the further fact, which he had no ground for disbelieving, that this captivity within the walls of ardsley had been due to a daughter of that very governor of north carolina whom he had counted his friend. why the girl had interested herself in his seizure and incarceration; why he had been carried to the great house of a new york gentleman whom he had never harmed in the least; and why, more than all, he should have been locked in a room filled with bottles bearing absurd and unintelligible titles, and containing, he had learned by much despairing experiment, liquids that singularly failed to satisfy thirst--these were questions before which appleweight, _alias_ poteet, bowed his head helplessly. "the road between kildare and turner's is fairly good," announced cooke, "though we've got to travel four miles to strike it. griswold evidently thinks that holding the creek is all there is of this business, and he won't find out till morning that we've crawled round his line and placed appleweight in jail at turner's where he belongs." "you must have a good story ready for the press, collins," said ardmore. "the north carolina border counties don't want appleweight injured, and governor dangerfield don't want any harm to come to him--you may be sure of that, or bill would have been doing time long ago. the moral element in the larger cities and the people in boston and springfield, massachusetts, who only hear of appleweight in the newspapers, want him punished, and we must express to them our righteous indignation that he has been kidnapped and dragged away from our vengeance by the governor of south carolina, who wants him in his own state merely to protect him. we can come pretty near pleasing everybody if you work it right, collins. our manner of handling the matter will do much to increase governor dangerfield's popularity with all classes." "gentlemen, it was very impolite of you not to tell me you were ready to start!" and jerry came briskly from the side entrance, dressed for the saddle and nibbling a biscuit. "but you are not to go! i thought that was understood!" cried ardmore. "it may have been understood by you, mr. ardmore, but not by me! i should never forgive myself if, after all the trouble i have taken to straighten out this little matter, i should not be in at the finish. will you kindly get me a horse?" miss dangerfield's resolution was not to be shaken, and a few minutes later the party moved out from the courtyard. cooke rode several hundred yards ahead; then two detectives preceded the wagon, in which appleweight sat on a cross-seat with two more of cooke's men on a seat just behind him. he was tied and gagged, and an old derby hat (supplied by paul) had been clapped upon the side of his head at an angle that gave him a jaunty air belied by his bonds. though his tongue was silenced, his eyes were at once eloquent of wonderment, resignation and impotent rage. beside the wagon rode miss jerry dangerfield, alert and contented. ardmore and collins were immediately behind her, and she indulged the journalist in some mild chaff from time to time, to his infinite delight, though considerably to ardmore's distress of heart; for, though no words had passed between him and jerry as to the disgraceful flight of the adjutant-general, yet the master of ardsley was in a jealous mood. the moon had left the conspirators to the softer radiance of the stars, but there was sufficient light for ardmore to mark the gentle lines of jerry's face, as she lifted it now and then to scan the bright globes above. paul drove his team at a trot over the smooth road of the estate to a remote and little-used gate on the southern side, but still safely removed from the south carolina pickets along the raccoon. "it's all right over there," remarked collins, jerking his head toward the creek. "the fronting armies are waiting for morning and battle. i suppose that when we send word to griswold that appleweight is in a south carolina jail it will change the scene of operations. it will then be governor osborne's painful task to dance between law-and-order sentiment and the loud cursing of his border constituents. the possibilities of this rumpus grow on me, ardmore." "there is no rumpus, mr. collins," said jerry over her shoulder. "the governor of north carolina is merely giving expression to his civic pride and virtue." leaving ardsley, they followed a dismal stretch of road until they reached the highway that connects turner's and kildare. "it's going to be morning pretty soon. we must get the prisoner into turner's by five o'clock. trot 'em up, paul," ordered cooke. they were all in capital spirits now, with a fairly good road before them, leading straight to turner's, and with no expectation of any trouble in landing their prisoner safely in jail. a wide publication of the fact that appleweight had been dragged from north carolina and locked in a south carolina jail would have the effect of clearing governor dangerfield's skirts of any complicity with the border outlaws, while at the same time making possible a plausible explanation by governor dangerfield to the men in the hills of the contemptible conduct of the governor of south carolina in effecting the arrest of their great chief. they were well into south carolina territory now, and were jogging on at a sharp trot, when suddenly cooke turned back and halted the wagon. "there's something coming--wait!" "maybe bill's friends are out looking for him," suggested collins. "or it may be grissy," cried ardmore in sudden alarm. "your professor is undoubtedly asleep in his camp on the raccoon," replied collins contemptuously. "do not be alarmed, mr. ardmore." cooke impatiently bade them be quiet. "if we're accosted, what shall we say?" he asked. "we'll say," replied jerry instantly, "that one of the laborers at ardsley is dead, and that we are taking his remains to his wife's family at turner's. i shall be his grief-stricken widow." the guards already had appleweight down on the floor of the wagon, where one of them sat on his feet to make sure he did not create a disturbance. at her own suggestion jerry dismounted and climbed into the wagon, where she sat on the side board, with her head deeply bowed as though in grief. "pretty picture of a sorrowing widow," mumbled collins. ardmore punched him in the ribs to make him stop laughing. to the quick step of walking horses ahead of them was now added the whisper and creak of leather. "hello, there!" yelled cooke, wishing to take the initiative. "hey-o!" answered a voice, and all was still. "give us the road; we're taking a body into turner's to catch the morning train," called cooke. "who's dead?" "one of ardmore's dutchmen. shipping the corpse back to germany." the party ahead of them paused as though debating the case. the north-bound party was a blur in the road. their horses sniffed and moved restlessly about as their riders conferred. "give us the road!" shouted cooke. "we haven't much time to catch our train." "who did you say was dead?" "karl schmidt," returned paul promptly. ardmore's heart sank, fearful lest an inspection of the corpse should be proposed. but at this moment a wail, eerie and heart-breaking, rose and fell dismally upon the night. it was jerry mourning her dead husband, her slight figure swaying back and forth over his body in an abandon of grief. "de poor vidow--she be mit us," called out big paul, forsaking his usual excellent english for guttural dialect. "who are _you_ fellows?" demanded cooke, spurring his horse forward. the horsemen, to his surprise, seemed to draw back, and he heard a voice speak out sharply, followed by a regrouping of the riders at the side of the road. "we been to a dance at turner's, and air goin' back home to kildare," came the reply. "that seems all right," whispered ardmore to collins. "thus," muttered collins, "in the midst of death we are in life," and this, reaching jerry, caused her to bend over the corpse at her feet as though in a convulsive spasm of sorrow, whereupon, to add color to their story, paul rumbled off a few consolatory sentences in german. "give us the road!" commanded cooke, and without further parley they started ahead, closing about the wagon to diminish, as far as possible, the size of the caravan. paul kept the horses at a walk, as became their sad errand, and jerry continued to weep dolorously. they passed the horsemen at a slight rise in the rolling road. the party bound for turner's moved steadily forward, the horsemen huddled about the wagon, with jerry's led horse between ardmore and collins at the rear. at the top of the knoll hung the returning dancers, well to the left of the road, permitting with due respect the passing of the funeral party. one of the men, ardmore could have sworn, lifted his hat until the wagon had passed. then some one called good night, and, looking back, ardmore saw them--a dozen men, he judged--regain the road and quietly resume their journey toward kildare. "pretty peaceable for fellows who've been attending a dance," suggested collins, craning his neck to look after them. cooke turned back with the same observation, and seemed troubled. "i was afraid to look too closely at those men. they seemed rather too sober, and i was struck with the fact that they bunched up pretty close, as though they were hiding something." "they were afraid of the corpse," remarked collins readily. "to meet a dead man on a lonely road at this hour of the morning is enough to sober the most riotous." "one fellow lifted his hat as we passed, and i thought--" "well, what did you think, mr. ardmore?" demanded cooke impatiently. "well, it may seem strange, but i thought there was something about that chap that suggested grissy. it would be like grissy to lift his hat to a corpse under any circumstances. he has spent a whole lot of time in paris, and besides, he never forgets his manners." "but suppose it was griswold," said cooke, wishing to dispose of the suspicion, "what could he be doing out here? _he_ hasn't appleweight--we know that; and he has just now missed his chance of ever getting him." they paused to allow jerry to resume her horse, and one of the detectives joined in the conference to venture his opinion that the men they had passed were in uniform. "they looked like militia to me," and as he was a careful man, cooke took note of his remark, though he made no comment. "suppose they were in uniform," said jerry lightly; "they can do no harm, and as we are now in south carolina, and they are not our troops, it would not be proper for us to molest them. let us go on, for mr. appleweight's widow is not anxious to miss her train back to the fatherland." "if they were a detail of the enemy's militia, they would have held us up," declared cooke with finality. but as they moved on toward turner's, ardmore was still troubled over what had seemed to him the remarkable parisian courtesy of the returning reveler who had lifted his hat as the corpse passed. grissy, he kept saying over and over to himself, was no fool by any manner of means, and he was unable to conjecture why the associate professor of admiralty, known to be detached on special duty for the governor of south carolina, should be riding to kildare, unless he contemplated some _coup_ of importance. the stars paled under the growing light of the early summer dawn. appleweight, with shoulders wearily drooping, contemplated the attending cortege with the gaze of one who sullenly accepts a condition he does not in the least understand. a few early risers saw the strange company enter and proceed to the jail; but before half the community had breakfasted, bill appleweight, the outlaw, was securely locked in jail in turner court house, the seat of mingo county, in the state of south carolina, and the jailer, moreover, was sharing the distinguished captive's thraldom. collins, at the railway station, was announcing to the world the fact that at the very moment when governor dangerfield was about to seize appleweight and punish him for his crimes, the outlaw had been kidnapped in north carolina and taken under cover of night to a jail in south carolina where governor osborne might be expected to shield him from serious prosecution with all the power of his high office. chapter xviii the battle of the raccoon mrs. atchison met the returning adventurers at the door. "your conduct, jerry dangerfield, is beyond words!" she exclaimed, seizing the girl's hands. "and so you really locked that horrid person in a real jail! well, we shan't miss him! we have been kept up all night by the arrival here of other prisoners--brought in like parcels from the grocer's." "more prisoners!" shouted ardmore. "dragged here at an unearthly hour of the morning, and flung into the most impossible places by your soldiers! you can hear them yelling without much trouble from the drawing-room, and we had to give up breakfast because the racket they are making was so annoying." the captain of the battery whose guns frowned upon the terraces came up and saluted. "mr. ardmore," he said, "i have been trying for several hours to see governor dangerfield, but this lady tells me that he has left ardsley." "that is quite true; the governor was called away last night on official business, and he will not return for an hour or two. you will kindly state your business to me." the captain was peevish from loss of sleep, and by no means certain that he cared to transact business with mr. ardmore. he glanced at miss dangerfield, whom he had met often at raleigh, and the governor's daughter met the situation promptly. "captain webb, what prisoners have you taken, and why are they not gagged to prevent this hideous noise?" seemingly from beneath the ample porte-cochère, where this colloquy occurred, rose yells, groans and curses, and the sound of thumps, as of the impact of human bodies against remote subterranean doors. "they're trying to get loose, miss dangerfield, and they refuse to stay tied. the fiercest row is from the fellows we chucked into the coal bins." "it's excellent anthracite, the best i can buy; they ought to be glad it isn't soft coal," replied ardmore defensively. "who are they?" "they're newspaper men, and they're most terribly enraged," answered captain webb. "we picked them up one at a time in different places on the estate. they say they're down here looking for governor dangerfield." collins grinned his delight. "oh, perfect hour!" he sang. "we'll keep them until they promise to be good and print what we tell them. the little squeaky voice you hear occasionally--hark!--that's peck, of the consolidated press. he scooped me once on a lynching, and here is where i get even with him." "you have done well, captain webb," said jerry with dignity, "and i shall urge your promotion upon papa at the earliest moment possible. are these newspaper gentlemen your only prisoners?" "no; we gathered up two other parties, and one of them is in the servants' laundry; the other, a middle-aged person, i lodged in the tower, where he can enjoy the scenery." he pointed to the tower, from which the flag of north carolina waved gently in the morning breeze. "the prisoner up there made an awful rumpus. he declares he will ruin the whole state of north carolina for this. here is his card, which, in a comparatively lucid interval, he gave me to hand you at the earliest possible moment," and captain webb placed a visiting card in ardmore's hands. a smile struggled for possession of ardmore's countenance, but he regained control of himself promptly, and his face grew severe. he gave the card to jerry, who handed it to mrs. atchison, and that lady laughed merrily. "your prisoner, captain webb, is george p. billings, secretary of the bronx loan and trust company of new york. what was he doing when you seized him?" demanded ardmore. "he was chasing the gentleman who's resting on the anthracite. he chased him and chased him, around a tea-house out here somewhere on the place; and finally this person in the coal hole fell, and they both rolled over together. the gentleman in the coal hole declares that he's foster, the state treasurer of north carolina, but his face got so scratched on the shrubbery that he doesn't look in the least like mr. foster." "i have sent him witch hazel and court plaster, and we can get a doctor for his wounds, if necessary," said mrs. atchison. a sergeant rushed up in hot haste with a demand from colonel daubenspeck, of the north carolina first, to know when governor dangerfield could be seen. "the south carolina pickets have been withdrawn, and our officers want orders from the governor in person," said the messenger. "then they shall have orders!" roared ardmore. "if our men dare abandon their outposts--" he turned and rode furiously toward the border, and in his rage he had traversed a thousand yards before he saw that jerry was close behind him. as they passed the red bungalow the crack of scattering rifle-shots reached them. "go back! go back! the war's begun!" cried ardmore; but, though he quickened the pace of his horse, jerry clung to his side. "if there's war, and i hope there is, i shall not shrink from the firing line, mr. ardmore." as they dashed into their own lines they came upon the regimental officers, seated in comfortable chairs from the red bungalow, calmly engaged in a game of cards. "great god, men!" blurted ardmore, "why do you sit here when the state's honor is threatened? where was that firing?" "you seem rather placid, gentlemen, to say the least," added jerry, coldly bowing to the officers, who had risen at her approach. "unless i am greatly mistaken, that is the flag of south carolina i see flaunted in yonder field." and she pointed with a gauntleted hand to a palmetto flag beyond the creek. "it is, miss dangerfield," replied the colonel politely, "and you can see their pickets occasionally, but they have been drawn back from the creek, and i apprehend no immediate advance." "no advance! who are we to wait for them to offer battle? who are we to play bridge and wait upon the pleasure of a cowardly enemy?" and jerry gazed upon the furious ardmore with admiration, as he roared at the officers, who stood holding their caps deferentially before the daughter of their commander-in-chief. ardmore, it was clear, they did not take very seriously, a fact which she inwardly resented. "i don't think it would be quite fair," said the colonel mildly, "to force issues to-day." "not force issues!" yelled ardmore. "with your brave sons of our old north state, not force battle! in the name of the constitution, i ask you, why not?" "for the reason," replied the colonel, "that the south carolina troops ate heavily of green apples last night in an orchard over there by their camp, and they have barely enough men to maintain their pickets this morning. these, you can see, they have withdrawn a considerable distance from the creek." "then tell me why they have been firing upon our lines? why have they been permitted to shoot at our helpless and unresisting men if they are not ready for war?" "they were not shooting at our men, mr. ardmore. their pickets are very tired from loss of sleep, and they were trying to keep awake by shooting at a buzzard that hung over a field yonder, where there is, our scouts inform us, a dead calf lying in one of your pastures." "they shall have better meat! buzzards shall eat the whole state of south carolina before night! colonel, i order you to prepare at once to move your troops across that creek." the colonel hesitated. "i regret to say, sir, that we have no pontoons!" "pontoons! pontoons! what, by the shade of napoleon, do you want with pontoons when you have legs? again, sir, i order you to advance your men!" it was at this crisis that jerry lifted her chin a trifle and calmly addressed the reluctant colonel. "colonel daubenspeck, in my father's name, i order you to throw your troops across the raccoon!" a moment later the clear notes of the bugle rose above the splash and bubble of the creek. there was no opportunity for a grand onward sweep; it must be a scramble for the southern shore over the rocks and fallen timber in that mad torrent. and the raccoon is a stream from all time dedicated to noble uses and destined to hold mighty kingdoms in leash. one might well hesitate before crossing this wayward rubicon. the mississippi is merely an excuse for appropriations, the potomac the sporting ground of congressmen and shad. no other known stream is so happily calculated as the foamy raccoon to delight at once the gods of battle and the gentle sons of song. it marks one of those impatient flings of nature in which, bored with creating orderly, broadly-flowing streams, or varying the landscape with quiet woodlands or meadows, she abandons herself for a moment to madness and, shaking water and rock together as in a dice-box, splashes them out with joyous laughter. jerry dangerfield, seated upon her horse on a slight rise under a clump of trees a little way back from the stream, coolly munched a cracker and sipped coffee from a tincup. ardmore, again calm, now that daubenspeck had been spurred to action, smoked his pipe and watched the army prepare to advance. beyond the creek, and somewhat removed from it on the south carolina side, a rifle cracked, and far against the blue arch a huge, black, languorous object, rising with a last supreme effort, as though to claim refuge of heaven, fell clawing at space with sprawling wings, then collapsed and pitched earthward until the trees on the farther shore hid it from sight. a feeble cheer rose in the distance. "they sound pretty tame over there," remarked ardmore critically. "there's no ginger in that cheer." "the ginger," suggested colonel daubenspeck ironically, "is probably all in their stomachs." one gun from the battery was brought down and placed on a slight eminence to support the advance, for which all was now in readiness. the bugle sang again, and the men of one company sprang forward and began leaping from rock to rock, silently, steadily moving upon the farther shore. here and there some brown khaki-clad figure slipped and splashed into the stream with a wild confusion of brown leggings; but on they went intrepidly. the captain, leading his men through the torrent, was first to gain the southern shore. he waved his sword, and with a shout his men clambered up the bank and formed in neat alignment. this was hardly accomplished before a uniformed figure dashed from a neighboring blackberry thicket and waved a white handkerchief. he bore something in his hand, which to ardmore's straining vision seemed to be a small wicker basket. "it's a flag of truce!" exclaimed colonel daubenspeck, and a sigh that expressed incontestable relief broke from that officer. "the cowards!" cried ardmore. "does that mean they won't fight?" "it means that hostilities must cease until we have permitted the bearer of the flag to carry his message into our lines." the man with the basket was already crossing the creek in charge of a corporal. "i have read somewhere about being careful of the greeks bearing gifts," said jerry. "there may be something annoying in that basket." the bearer of the basket gained the north carolina shore and strode rapidly toward miss dangerfield, ardmore and colonel daubenspeck. he handed the trifle of a basket to the colonel, who gazed upon its contents for a moment with unspeakable rage. the color mounted in his neck almost to the point of apoplexy, and his voice bellowed forth an oath so bleak, so fraught with peril to the human race, that jerry shuddered and turned away her head as from a blast of flame. the colonel cast the wicker basket from him with a force that nearly tore him from his saddle. it struck against a tree, spilling upon the earth six small, hard, bright green apples. "my letter," said the emissary soberly, "is for mr. thomas ardmore, and, unless i am mistaken, you are that gentleman." ardmore seized a long envelope which the man extended, tore it open, and read: thomas ardmore, esq., acting governor of north carolina, in the field: sir--as i understand the present unhappy differences between the states of north and south carolina, they are due to a reluctance on the part of the governor of north carolina to take steps toward bringing to proper punishment in north carolina an outlaw named appleweight. i have the honor to inform you that that person is now in jail at kildare, dilwell county, north carolina, properly guarded by men who will not flinch. if necessary i will support them with every south carolinian able to bear arms. this being the case, a _casus belli_ no longer exists, and to prevent the effusion of blood i beg you to cease your hostile demonstrations on our frontier. our men seized a few prisoners during the night, and i am willing to meet you to arrange an exchange on the terms proper in such cases. i am, sir, your obedient servant, henry maine griswold, for the governor of south carolina. "the nerve of it! the sublime cheek of it!" exclaimed ardmore, though the sight of griswold's well-known handwriting had shaken him for the moment. "as a bluffer your little friend is quite a wonder," was jerry's only comment when she had read the letter. ardmore promptly wrote on the back of griswold's letter this reply: henry maine griswold, esq., assistant professor of admiralty, camp buzzard, s. c.: sir--appleweight is under strong guard in the jail at turner court house, mingo county, south carolina. i shall take pleasure in meeting you at ardsley at five o'clock this afternoon for the proposed exchange of prisoners. to satisfy your curiosity the man appleweight will be produced there for your observation and identification. i have the honor, sir, to remain, with high regard and admiration, your obliged and obedient servant, thomas ardmore, acting governor of north carolina. "putting 'professor' on that will make him crazy," remarked ardmore to jerry. the messenger departed, but recrossed the raccoon shortly with a formal note agreeing to an armistice until after the meeting proposed at ardsley. "colonel daubenspeck, you may withdraw your men and go into camp until further orders," said jerry, and the notes of the bugle singing the recall rose sweetly upon the air. "by george," said ardmore, as he and jerry rode away, "we'll throw it into old grissy in a way that will jar the professor. but when it comes to the exchange of prisoners, i must tell the boys to bring up that chap i locked in the corn-crib. i had clean forgotten him." "i don't think you mentioned him, mr. ardmore, but i suppose he's one of the appleweight ruffians." "undoubtedly," replied ardmore, whose spirits had never been higher, "though the fellow was not without his pleasant humor. he insisted with great vigor that he is the governor of south carolina." "i wonder"--and jerry spoke wistfully--"i wonder where papa is!" "well, he's not in the corn-crib; be sure of that." "papa looks every inch the statesman," replied jerry proudly, "and in his frock-coat no one could ever mistake him for other than the patriot he is." chapter xix in the red bungalow "what do you think," cried mrs. atchison, glowing before jerry and ardmore on their return; "we have a new guest!" "in the coal cellar?" inquired her brother. "no, in the blue room adjoining miss dangerfield's! and what do you think! it is none other than the daughter of the governor of south carolina." "oh, nellie!" gasped ardmore. "why, what's the matter?" demanded mrs. atchison. "i had gone in to turner's to look at that memorial church we're building there, and i learned from the rector that miss osborne, with only a maid, was stopping at that wretched hole called the majestic hotel. i had met miss osborne in washington last winter, and you may forget, tommy, that on our mother's side i am a daughter of the seminole war, a society of which miss osborne is the president-general. i hope miss osborne's presence here will not be offensive to you, miss dangerfield. she seemed reluctant to come, but i simply would not take no, and i am to send for her at four o'clock." "miss osborne's presence is not only agreeable to me, mrs. atchison," responded jerry, "but i shall join you in welcoming her. i have heard that the ancestor through whom barbara osborne derives membership in the daughters of the seminole war was afterward convicted of robbing an orphan of whose estate he was the trusted executor, and such being the case i feel that the commonest christian charity demands that i should treat her with the most kindly consideration. i shall gather some roses, with your permission, and have them waiting in her room when she arrives, with my card and compliments." ardmore had rarely been so busy as during the afternoon. several more newspaper correspondents were found prowling about the estate, and they were added to the howling mob in the ardsley cellars. collins searched them and read their instructions with interest. they were all commissioned to find the lost governors of north and south carolina; and a number were instructed to investigate a rumor that north carolina was about to default her bonds through malfeasance of the state treasurer. it was clear from the fact that practically every newspaper in new york had sent its best man to the field that the world waited anxiously for news from the border. "it has all happened very handily for us," said collins; "we've got the highest-priced newspaper talent in the world right under our hands, and before we turn them loose we'll dictate exactly what history is to know of these dark proceedings. those fellows couldn't get anything out of either kildare or turner's for some time, as paul's men have cut the wires and cooke has operators at the railway stations to see that nothing is sent out." "when we've settled with griswold and proved to him that he's lost out and that the real mr. appleweight is in his jail, not ours, we'll have to find governor dangerfield and be mighty quick about it," replied ardmore. "paul says there's a battery of south carolina artillery guarding the dilwell county jail, and that they've fooled the people into thinking they're north carolina troops, and nobody can get within four blocks of the jail. they must have somebody in jail at kildare. i don't like the looks of it. i hope those men we left guarding old appleweight in the mingo jail know their business. it would be nasty to lose that old chap after all the trouble he's given us." "they'll keep him or eat him, if i know old cookie." jerry--a pleasing figure to contemplate in white lawn and blue ribbons--suggested that the meeting take place in the library, as more like an imperial council chamber; but ardmore warmly dissented from this. a peace should never be signed, he maintained, in so large a house as ardsley. at appomattox and in many other cases that he recalled, the opponents met in humble farmhouses. it would be well, however, to have the meeting on the estate, for the property would thus become historic, but it would never do to have it take place in the ardsley library. "there should be great difficulty in securing pens and paper," ardmore continued, "and we must decline to accept the swords of our fallen foes." they finally agreed on the red bungalow as convenient and sufficiently modest for the purpose. and so it was arranged. a few minutes before five the flag of north carolina was hung from the wide veranda of the bungalow. at the door stood an armed militiaman. colonel daubenspeck had been invited to be present, and he appeared accompanied by several other officers in full uniform. word of the meeting place had been sent through the lines to the enemy, and the messenger rode back with griswold, who was followed quickly by the adjutant-general of south carolina and half a dozen other officers. the guard saluted as griswold ran up the steps of the veranda, and at the door ardmore met him and greeted him formally. at the end of a long table jerry dangerfield sat with her arms folded. she wore, as befitting the occasion, a gray riding-dress and a gray felt hat perched a trifle to one side. she bowed coldly to griswold, whose hand, as he surveyed the room and glanced out at the flag that fluttered in the doorway, went to his mustache with that gesture that ardmore so greatly disliked; but griswold again bowed gravely to his adversaries. "miss dangerfield, and gentlemen," began griswold, with an air of addressing a supreme tribunal, "i believe this whole matter depends upon the arrest of one appleweight, a well-known outlaw of north carolina--" "i beg your pardon--" it was jerry who interrupted him, her little fists clenching, a glint of fire in her eyes. "it is for me to ask your pardon, miss dangerfield! let us agree that this person is an unworthy citizen of any state, and proceed. it has been your endeavor to see this man under arrest in south carolina, thus relieving north carolina or her chief executive of responsibility for him. we, on our side, have used every effort to lodge appleweight in jail on your side of the state line. am i correct?" jerry nodded affirmatively. "then, miss dangerfield, and gentlemen, i must tell you that you have lost your contention, for appleweight spent last night in jail at kildare, and to secure his safe retention there, we generously lent your state a few of our militia to guard him. the proceeding was a trifle irregular, we admit--the least bit _ultra vires_--but the peculiar situation seemed to justify us." "there are not two bill appleweights," remarked colonel daubenspeck. "i assure you that the real criminal spent last night in jail at turner court house, guarded by trustworthy men, and we are able to produce him." "the quickest way to settle this point, professor griswold, is by bringing in your man," remarked ardmore icily. "on the other hand"--and griswold's tone was confident--"as there is no reason for doubt that we have the real appleweight, and as we are on your territory and in a measure your guests, it is only fair that you produce the man you believe to be appleweight, that we may have a look at him first." "certainly," said jerry. "our prisoner does not deny his identity. it gives us pleasure to produce him." at a nod from colonel daubenspeck the orderly at the door ran off to where cooke and the prisoner waited. in the interval there was a general exchange of introductions at the bungalow. the adjutant-general of south carolina was in a merry mood and began chaffing ardmore upon the deadly character of apples found in his orchard beyond the raccoon. "i deeply regret," said ardmore, rubbing his chin, "that the adjutant-general of north carolina is suffering from a severe attack of _paralysis agitans_ and will be unable to meet with us." "i deplore the fact," replied the adjutant-general of south carolina, "for one of our scouts picked up a darky in the highway a while ago who had on a uniform dress-coat with the initials 'r. g.' sewed in the pocket." "if you will return that garment to me, general," said ardmore, "i will see that it reaches colonel gillingwater by special messenger, where, upon his couch of pain, he chafes over his enforced absence from the field of danger." steps sounded on the veranda and all rose as cooke appeared in the door, leading his handcuffed prisoner, who stood erect and glared at the company in gloomy silence. "this man," said ardmore, "we declare to be bill appleweight, _alias_ poteet. i ask you, sir,"--he addressed the prisoner--"to state whether you are not known by one or both of these names?" the man nodded his head and grumbled a reluctant affirmative. "professor griswold," ardmore went on, "the gentleman in charge of the prisoner is roger cooke, for many years in the secret service of the united states. he now conducts a private agency and is in my employ. mr. cooke, i will ask you whether you identify this man as appleweight?" "there is no doubt of it whatever. i have known him for years. i once arrested him for moonshining and he served a year in the penitentiary as the result of that arrest. you will pardon me, sir," cooke continued, addressing griswold directly, "but this is undoubtedly the man you had yourself captured at mount nebo church two nights ago, but who was taken from you, as you may not know, by miss geraldine dangerfield. she was lost in the woods and came upon the captive much to her own surprise." griswold lifted his brows in amazement and turned toward jerry. "if that is the case, miss dangerfield, i salute you! i am sorry to confess, however, that i did not myself see the man who was captured by my friends at the church, owing, it appears, to miss dangerfield's prompt and daring action, and the regrettable cowardice of my men. i want to say to you, gentlemen, in all frankness, that i am greatly astonished at what you tell me. our prisoner is about the same height as this man, has the same slight stoop in the shoulders, and the same short beard; but there the resemblance ends." ardmore was trying not to show too plainly his joy at griswold's discomfiture. none of the south carolina officers had ever seen appleweight, as they lived remote from the scene of his exploits. habersham's men, who had so signally failed in the descent upon mount nebo church, had taken to the woods on the appearance of the state soldiery along the border, and could not be found to identify the man seized at the house on the creek. habersham had discreetly declined to support griswold's venture at the last moment; to do so would, he pleaded, ruin his chances of political preferment in the future; or worse things might, indeed, happen if he countenanced and supported the armed invasion of north carolina by south carolina militia. the zealous young militiamen who had captured the stranger in the house on the creek had pronounced the man appleweight, and their statement had been accepted and emphasized when the man was taken before griswold, to whom he had stubbornly refused to make any statement whatever. "now that you can not deny that we have the real appleweight," began jerry, "who is, you must remember, a prisoner of the state of south carolina, and must be returned to the mingo county jail at once, i think we may as well look at your prisoner, professor griswold. he may be one of mr. appleweight's associates in business; but as we are interested only in the chief culprit, the identity of the man you hold is of very little interest to us." "if," said griswold, "he is not appleweight, the original blown in the bottle--" "jug, if you please!" interposed ardmore very seriously. "then we don't care about him and i shall make you a present of him." "or," remarked ardmore, "i might exchange him for a ruffian i captured myself down on the raccoon. he seemed quite insane, declaring himself to be the governor of south carolina and i locked him up in a corn-crib for safe keeping." "any man," said jerry, lifting her chin slightly, "who would impersonate the governor of south carolina would, beyond question, be utterly insane and an object of compassion. professor griswold, will you please produce your imaginary appleweight, as at this hour mrs. atchison usually serves tea. let us therefore make haste." one of griswold's retinue ran off to summon the prisoner, who was guarded by half a dozen soldiers near at hand. the company in the bungalow were all laughing heartily at some sally by the adjutant-general of south carolina, who insisted upon giving a light note to the proceedings, when hurried footsteps sounded on the veranda and a sergeant appeared in the doorway and saluted. the adjutant-general, annoyed at being interrupted in the telling of a new story, frowned and bade the sergeant produce his prisoner. at once a man was thrust into the room, a tall man, with a short, dark beard and slightly stooping shoulders. the strong light at his back made it difficult for the people grouped about the table to see his face clearly, but the air somehow seemed charged with electricity, and all bent forward, straining for a sight of the captive. as he stood framed in the doorway his face was slowly disclosed to them, and there appeared to be a humorous twinkle in his eyes. before any one spoke, he broke out in a hearty laugh. then a cry rose piercingly in the quiet room--a cry of amazement from the lips of jerry dangerfield, who had taken a step forward, "oh, papa!" she cried. "the governor!" roared colonel daubenspeck, leaping across the table. "it's governor dangerfield!" shouted half a dozen men in chorus. at this moment mrs. atchison and miss barbara osborne stole softly in and ranged themselves at the back of the room. the governor of north carolina alone seemed to derive any pleasure from the confusion and astonishment caused by his appearance. he crossed to the table and took his daughter's hand. "jerry, what part do you play in these amateur theatricals?" jerry rose, thrusting her handkerchief into her sleeve, and her lips trembled slightly, though whether with mirth or some soberer emotion it would be difficult to say. the room at once gave her attention, seeing that she was about to speak. "papa, before these people i am not ashamed to confess that during your absence from the seat of government i took it upon myself to fill your office to the best of my ability, finding that many important matters were pressing and that you had gone into exile without leaving your address behind. i made mr. ardmore, the gentleman on my left in the pearl-gray suit and lavender tie, first private secretary, and then, when occasion required, acting governor, though in reality he did nothing without my entire approval. i am happy to say that nothing has been neglected and your reputation as a great statesman and friend of the people has not suffered at our hands. we arrested mr. appleweight, who is standing there by the fireplace, and landed him in the mingo county jail as a joke on governor osborne, and to appease the demands of the press and the woman's civic league of raleigh. the copies of our correspondence on this and other matters will tell you the story more completely. and as for governor osborne, i have taught him a lesson in the etiquette that should obtain between governors that he is not likely to forget. you will find that we have not hesitated to grant pardons, and we have filled, in one instance, the office of justice of the peace, made vacant by resignation. the key to your desk, papa, is behind the clock on the mantel in your private room." "ladies and gentlemen," began the governor of north carolina, laying a hand upon the table, and with the other seizing the lapel of his rough, brown coat--a pose made familiar by all his photographs--"the jails of north carolina are more uncomfortable than i had believed them to be, and i have taken a slight cold which compels me to be briefer than this interesting occasion demands. you have witnessed here an exhibition of filial devotion that has, i am sure, touched us all. it is well worth while for me to have suffered arrest and imprisonment to realize the depth of my daughter's love, and the jealousy with which she has safeguarded my private and public honor." he felt for a handkerchief and touched it gently to his eyes; but collins declared afterward that governor dangerfield was exactly like his daughter and that one never could be sure that his mirth was genuine. "i was aware only yesterday, when i saw a newspaper for the first time in a week, that political capital was being made of my absence from raleigh; and that my dear friend, the governor of south carolina, also, was being called to account for flinching in the face of imperative duty." "your friend, governor?" cried ardmore, unable to restrain himself. "certainly, mr. ardmore," continued governor dangerfield. "that angry parting of ours at new orleans was all for effect to get space in the newspapers. we had confided to each other that the cares of state had worn us to an intolerable point and that we must have rest. brother appleweight had, i confess, given us both a great deal of annoyance, and to be frank, neither osborne nor i wished to take the initiative in his case. so we resolved to disappear, and go to some quiet place for rest. we outfitted with old clothes and came to the border. governor osborne has a farm over there somewhere in mingo county and we made it our headquarters; but in roaming about we came upon that charming shanty of yours, mr. ardmore, down on the raccoon. the house was deserted, and finding the marks of the official survey running clearly through the timber, we were amused to find that the house was partly in north, partly in south carolina. the thing touched our fancy. a negro cooked for us--what has become of him i do not know. we cut ourselves off from the mail and telegraph and received no newspapers until a packet came yesterday, and it was only a few minutes after i saw from the head-lines of the _vidette_ what a row was going on that i realized that strange things may happen when the king goes a-hunting." as he paused, miss osborne stepped forward, the men making way for her. "if this be true, governor dangerfield, may i ask you, sir, what has become of my father?" governor dangerfield smiled. "i regret, miss barbara, that i can not answer that question; i must refer it to my daughter." "miss osborne," responded jerry, "while i should be glad, to assist you in recovering your father as a slight return for your having placed mine in the dilwell county jail and kept him there all night, i regret that i am unable to be of the slightest help to you." the perspiration was beading ardmore's brow, but he smiled as though in joy at jerry's readiness. "we have taken a number of prisoners," said ardmore, meeting the governor's glance, "and while i do not think governor osborne can possibly be of the number, yet i shall be glad to produce them all. there's a person in the corn-crib a little way across country whom i captured myself. i believe he's now tied to a mulberry tree a little way down the road, as he pretended to be the governor of south carolina and i feared that he might do himself some harm." before he ceased speaking big paul strode in, an angry and crestfallen man following at his heels. "oh, father!" it was barbara osborne's voice; but whatever of anger or joy there may have been in her words and tone was lost in the shout of laughter that broke from governor dangerfield. the governor of south carolina was in no such high humor. he sputtered, swore, stamped his foot and struck the table with his clenched hand as he demanded to know the meaning of the outrageous indignity to which he had been subjected. the more his friend stormed the more governor dangerfield roared with laughter, but when he could control himself he laid an arresting arm on governor osborne's shoulder, and spoke to barbara. "barbara, may i ask whether you, like my own jerry, have been protecting your father's fair name during his absence; and does that account for my night spent in the jail at kildare? if so--" governor dangerfield's laughter got the better of him, but barbara, with dignity, turned to her father. "it is quite true, that finding your absence occasioning serious remark, while your attorney-general took advantage of your absence to annoy me in a most cowardly fashion, with the kind help of professor griswold, i did all in my power to thwart your enemies, and to show the people of south carolina that you were not a man to evade the responsibilities of your office. as to the details of these matters i prefer, father, to speak to you in private." "professor griswold?" repeated governor osborne haughtily. "i believe i have not the honor of the gentleman's acquaintance;" whereupon, to ease the situation, ardmore presented his old friend. "governor osborne, allow me to present professor henry maine griswold, associate professor of admiralty in the university of virginia, and the author of--" "griswold?" the anger slowly left governor osborne's face. "do i understand that you belong to the virginia tide-water family of that name? then, sir, without hesitation i offer you my hand." "osborne," cried governor dangerfield, "we have every reason to be proud of our daughters. they have done their best for us; and they seem to have acted wisely in accepting aid from these gentlemen; and now, what is to be done with bill appleweight." "we have with us that requisition you left on your desk," exclaimed barbara, turning to her father. "i'm afraid that won't help," laughed governor osborne, "that requisition, barbara, is purely pickwickian in character." "the disposition of appleweight," said cooke, "is a matter of delicacy for both of you gentlemen, and you will pardon me for thrusting myself forward, but that this affair may end happily for all, neither north nor south carolina should bear the burden of prosecuting a man to whom--we may say it as between friends here--the governors of both states are under some trifling obligations." the governor of north carolina exchanged a glance and a nod with the governor of south carolina. "therefore," resumed cooke, "we must hit upon a plan of action that will eliminate both states from the controversy. i will, with your permission, turn appleweight over to the united states revenue officers who are even now in this neighborhood looking for him." "no!" cried jerry. "we shall do nothing of the kind! i met mr. appleweight under peculiar circumstances, but i must say that i formed a high opinion of his chivalry and i beg that we allow him to take a little trip somewhere until the woman's civic league of raleigh and the carping massachusetts press have found other business, and he can return in peace to his home." "that," said governor osborne, "meets my approval." "and i," ardmore added, "will give him my private caboose in which to cruise the larger canadian cities." two more prisoners were now brought in. "governor dangerfield," continued ardmore, "here is your state treasurer, who had sought to injure you by defaulting the state bonds due to-day, which is the first of june. and that frowsy person with mr. foster is secretary billings, of the bronx loan and trust company, who has treated me at times with the greatest injustice and condescension. whether treasurer foster has the money with which to meet those bonds i do not know; but i do know that i have to-day paid them in full through the buckhaw national bank of raleigh." colonel daubenspeck leaped to his feet and swung his cap. he proposed three cheers for jerry dangerfield; and three more for barbara osborne; and then the two governors were cheered three times three; and when the bungalow had ceased to ring, it was seen that ardmore and griswold were in each other's arms. "surely, by this time," said mrs. atchison, "you have adjusted enough of these weighty matters for one day, and i beg that you will all dine with us at ardsley to-night at eight o'clock, where my brother and i will endeavor to mark in appropriate fashion the signing of peace between your neighboring kingdoms." "for governor osborne and myself i accept, madam," replied governor dangerfield, "providing the flowing frock-coats, which are the vesture and symbol of our respective offices, are still in the log house on the raccoon where i became a prisoner." chapter xx rosÃ� mundi mrs. atchison and ardmore had given their last touches to the preparations for the dinner. every window of the great house shone and a myriad of lanterns illuminated the lawns and terraces. the flags of north and south carolina were everywhere entwined; nor were the stars and stripes neglected. they surveyed the long table in the dining-room, where gold and silver and crystal were bright upon the snowy napery. "the matter of precedence is serious, tommy," urged mrs. atchison. "i can not for the life of me remember what two monarchs do about entering a room at the same time." "nor do i, nellie," said ardmore; "unless they sprint for the door and the one who gets through first takes the head of the table. still, that would be undignified, particularly if the kings were old and fat, and if they bumped going through the door and took a header it would jar the divine right." "here in democratic america," said griswold, joining them, "there can be no such preposterous idea of precedence." "i should think better of that notion, professor griswold," laughed mrs. atchison, "if i had never seen the goats carefully shepherded to keep them away from the lambs at functions in washington. democracy may be a political triumph, but it is certainly deficient socially. personally i have always wished to bring myself in touch with the poor. ardy is quite right that our own kind are distinctly uninteresting." "you ought to remember, nellie, that your idea of going slumming in a purple coupé and dressed up in your best rags is not well calculated to inspire confidence and affection among the submerged. but how to handle two governors has me fussed. you are the hostess, and it's for you to decide which excellency shall take you in. i see no way out but to match for it." "that will be unnecessary," said mrs. atchison, "for the doors and the hall are broad enough for a dozen governors to march in abreast." "that would never do, nellie! you don't understand these things. you can't hitch up a brace of american governors in a team and drive them like a pair of horses. at least, speaking for the old north state, i will say that we can never consent to any such compromise." "and i, speaking for the great palmetto commonwealth, not less emphatically reject the idea!" declared griswold. "then," said mrs. atchison, "there is only one possible solution. when the rest of us have entered the dining-room and taken our places, a bugle will sound; the governor of north carolina shall enter from the north door; the governor of south carolina from the south door, and advance to seats facing each other midway of the table. professor griswold, you are an old friend of the family, and you shall yourself take me in to dinner." the members of mrs. atchison's house party, well distributed among the official guests, were still somewhat at a loss to know what had happened, but it seemed to be in the air that tommy ardmore had at last done something, though just what was not wholly clear. it was sufficiently obvious, however, that the little girl with blue eyes who had the drollest possible way of talking, and whom one never seemed able to take off guard, had seized strong hold upon the master of ardsley; and she, on her part, treated him with the most provoking condescension. it was agreed by all that miss osborne was distinguished and lovely and that professor griswold did not seem out of place at her side. the talk grew general after the first restraint was over, and mrs. atchison dropped just the right word here and there to keep the ball rolling. governor osborne had generously forgotten and forgiven his painful incarceration in the corn-crib, and he and governor dangerfield vied with each other in avowing their determination to live up to the high standards that had been set for them by their daughters. both governors had at almost the same moment turned down their glasses. it even seemed that they had been drilled in the part, so dexterous were they in reversing them, so nimbly did they put from them the hope of wine. the members of the house-party noted this act of the two governors with well-bred surprise; and ardmore was grieved, feeling that in some measure the illustrious guests were criticizing his hospitality. the butler at this moment spoke to him, and much relieved he smiled and nodded. a moment later two jugs, two little brown jugs, were carried in, and one was placed quietly in front of each governor at precisely the same moment. expectation was instantly a-tiptoe. "gentlemen," said ardmore, addressing the governors, "these jugs have just been left at the house by our old friend, mr. bill appleweight, _alias_ poteet, with his compliments, for the governors of the two greatest states in the union. i note that there's a bit of pink calico around the stopper of governor dangerfield's jug, while governor osborne's is garnished with blue and white gingham." governor osborne rose. "in politics," he began, resting his hand gently on the jug, "it would be a fine thing if we could all live up to our noblest ideals, but unfortunately we must be all things to all men. what i have here is not merely the testimonial of a valued constituent, but something much subtler than that, ladies and gentlemen--a delicate proof that those of us who would command the good-will and suffrages of the people must keep a careful eye on the weather-vane. this jug, which you probably all believe contains the rude product of some hidden still, is as equivocal as a political platform. i will illustrate my meaning." all eyes were bent upon the governor of south carolina as he picked up the jug, twisted the cob stopper for a moment, and then poured into a tumbler which the butler placed for him, a clear white fluid; then, turning the stopper slightly, he poured into another glass a thick milk-like liquid. "when among my constituents i almost invariably call for a gourd for drinking purposes in preference to a tumbler; but in this company i shall abandon a custom of the plain people and yield to the habits of the sons of mammon. i am here, i take it, once more in my official capacity as governor of south carolina, and as i am not one to offend the best sentiments of my people, i pledge you, my friends, not in the untaxed corn whisky of appleweight's private still, but in the excellent and foamy buttermilk of mrs. appleweight's homely churn." as he concluded, governor dangerfield rose and performed exactly the same solemn rite with the jug before him, pouring whisky into one glass, buttermilk into the other, and leaning across the table he touched his tumbler of buttermilk to that extended by governor osborne. when the applause that greeted this exchange of courtesies had subsided, governor dangerfield was still standing, and in a quiet conversational tone, and with a manner engagingly frank, he said: "before it seemed expedient to follow the reform bandwagon, i held certain principles touching the drinking habit. but the american bar has destroyed drinking as a fine art, and it has now become a vulgar habit. in the good old times no gentleman ever jumped at his liquor. he took it with a casual air, even with a sanctifying reluctance. the idea of rushing into a public place and gulping your liquor is repugnant to the most primary of the instincts that govern gentlemen. to precipitate a gill of applejack into that most delicate organism, the human stomach, without the slightest warning, is an insult to the human body,--ay, more, it is an outrage upon man's very soul. the aim of liquor, ladies and gentlemen, is to stay and lift the spirit, not to degrade it. drinking at proper intervals ceased to be respectable at a fixed date in human progress--to be exact, at the moment when it was no longer a mere incident of personal or social recreation but had become a sociological and political issue, staggering drunkenly under a weary burden of most painful statistics." "you are eminently right, governor dangerfield," said the governor of south carolina, helping himself to the salted almonds; "but you have used a phrase which piques my curiosity. will you kindly enlighten us as to how you interpret proper intervals?" "with greatest pleasure," responded governor dangerfield. "i remember, as though it were yesterday, my venerable grandfather saying that no gentleman should ever approach the sideboard oftener than once before breakfast, and he was himself a very early riser. i discount this, however, because he always slept with a jug of cuban rum--the annual offering of a west indian friend--easily within his reach at the head of his bed. it was his practice for years to sip a little rum and water while he shaved. he was a gentleman if ever i knew one and as i look upon him as a standard authority in all matters of deportment and morals, i may safely cite him further in answer to your question. "during the long open season in our country my grandfather constantly rode over the plantation in immaculate white duck followed by a darky on a mule carrying a basket. on our ancestral estate there were many springs giving the purest and coldest of water, and these were providentially scattered at the most convenient intervals for my grandfather's comfort. and as a slight return to nature for what she had done for him in this particular, my grandfather, in his early youth, had planted mint around all these springs. i need hardly point out the advantages of this happiest of combinations--a spring of clear, icy water; the pungent bouquet of lush mint; the ample basket home by a faithful negro, and my grandfather, in his white duck suit and a panama hat a yard wide, seated by the mossy spring, selecting with the most delicate care the worthiest of the fragrant leaves. "now"--and governor dangerfield smiled--"i can see that you are all busy guessing at the number of stops made by my grandfather in the course of a day, and i hasten to satisfy your curiosity. my grandfather always started out at six o'clock in the morning, and the springs were so arranged that he had to make six stops before noon, and four in the afternoon; but at five o'clock, when he reached home all fagged out by a hard day's work and sorely needing refreshment, a pitcher of cherry bounce was waiting for him on the west gallery of the house. after that he took nothing but a night-cap on retiring for the night. to my friend, the governor of south carolina, i need offer no apologies for my grandfather, once a senator in congress, and a man distinguished for his sobriety and probity. he was an upright man and a gentleman, and died at ninety-two, full of years and honors, and complaining, almost with his last breath, of a distressing dusty feeling in the throat." when, as time passed, it seemed that every one had told a story or made a speech, it was ardmore's inspiration that griswold should sing a song. the associate professor of admiralty in the university of virginia had already pledged the loyalty of his state to her neighbors and twin sisters, the carolinas, and barbara, who wore a great bunch of her own white roses, had listened to him with a new respect and interest, for he spoke well, with the special grace of speech that men of his state have, and with little turns of humor that kept the table bubbling merrily. "i shall comply with your request, my friends, if you can bear with the poor voice of one long out of tune, and if our host still has in the house a certain ancient guitar i remember from old times. but i must impose one condition, that i shall not again in this place be called by my academic title. i have known wars and the shock of battle along the raccoon"--here his hand went to his lips in the gesture that had so often distressed ardmore--"and i have known briefly the joy of a military title. miss osborne conferred on me in an emergency the noble title of major, and by it i demand hereafter to be known." the governor of south carolina was promptly upon his feet. "henry maine griswold," he said in his most official manner, "i hereby appoint you a major on my staff with all the rights, privileges and embarrassments thereunto belonging, and you shall to-morrow attend me personally in my inspection of our troops in the field." as the guitar was placed in griswold's hands, ardmore caused all the lights to be turned out save those on the table. in the soft candle-glow ardmore bent his face upon jerry, who had been merrily chaffing him at intervals, but who feigned at other times an utter ignorance of his presence on earth. as griswold's voice rose in the mellow dusk it seemed to ardmore that the song spoke things he could not, like his friend, put into utterance, and something fine and sweet and hallowed--that sweet sabbath of the soul that comes with first love--possessed him, and he ceased looking at jerry, but bent his head and was lost in dreams. for the song and the voice were both beyond what the company had expected. it was an old air that griswold sang, and it gave charm to his words, which were those of a man who loves deeply and who dares speak them to the woman he loves. they rose and fell in happy cadences, and every word rang clear. in the longer lines of the song there was a quickening of time that carried the sense of passion, and griswold lifted his head when he uttered them and let them cry out of him. one of barbara's white roses had fallen into her lap and she played with it idly; but after the first verse it slipped from her fingers and she folded her arms on the table and bent her gaze on the quiet flame of the candle before her. and this was the song that griswold sang: fair winds and golden suns down the year's dim aisles of gray depart; but you are the dear white rose of the world that i hide in my heart. last leaves, and the first wild snow, and the earth through an iron void is whirled; but safe from the tempest abide in my heart, o dear white rose of the world! blithe air and flashing wing, and awakened sap that thrills and flows; but hid from the riot, and haste of the spring sleeps one white rose. o scattered leaves of days! o low-voiced glories that fade and depart! but changeless and dear through the changing year blooms one white rose in my heart. the last words hung tremulously, tenderly, on the air, and left a spell upon the company that no one seemed anxious to break; then there was long applause and cries of encore; but ardmore, who knew that his friend had been greatly moved, drew attention away from him to collins, who had just entered the room. the correspondent had been called away shortly before from the table, and he wore the serious air of one heavy with news. "i beg to report that i have just completed a treaty with the journalists assembled in the cellar." "i hope, mr. collins, that the journalists' convention below stairs realized that the lobster we sent them for supper was not canned, and that the mushrooms were creamed for their refreshment by mrs. atchison's special command. it is not for us to trifle with the dignity of the press," said jerry. "the reputations of two governors and of two states are in their hands," said the governor of south carolina, with feeling. "it would be a distressing end of my public services if the truth of all these matters should be known. the fact that governor dangerfield and i had merely withdrawn from public life for a little quiet poker in the country would sound like the grossest immorality to my exacting constituency." "both yourself and governor dangerfield will be relieved to know that they have accepted my terms and all is well," responded collins. "they will tell the waiting world that you have both been the guests of mr. ardmore, and that the troops assembled on the raccoon are merely at their usual summer maneuvers. as for appleweight, it has seemed expedient that he should be dead, and the man who has been called by that name of late is only an impostor seeking a little cheap notoriety. the boys are very sick of the cellar, and they would do even more than this to get away." "mr. collins," said governor dangerfield, rising, "your great merits shall not go unrewarded. i have carelessly neglected to appoint a delegate from north carolina to the annual conference of the supreme lodge of the society of american liars shortly to meet at lake placid, new york. as a slight testimonial of my confidence and admiration, i hereby appoint you to represent the old north state at that meeting, and your expenses shall be paid from the public purse." "the boys wish to see your excellencies before they leave," said collins when he had acknowledged the governor's compliment; and as he spoke the sound of great cheering broke through the windows, and mrs. atchison promptly rose and led the way to the broad terraces which were now gay with colored lanterns. "speech! speech!" cried the corps of correspondents. then ardmore seized governor osborne's hand and led him forward to the balustrade; but before the governor of south carolina could speak the group of newspaper men began chanting, in the manner of a college antiphonal: what did he say to you? what did he say to you? _what did who say?_ what did the governor of north carolina say to the governor of south carolina? "gentlemen," began governor osborne, speaking with great deliberation, "i am profoundly touched by the cordiality of your greeting. (applause.) amid the perplexities of my official life i am deeply sensible always of the consideration and generosity of our free and untrammeled american press. (cheers.) without your support and approval, my best aims, my sincerest endeavors in behalf of the people, must fall short and fail of their purpose. (a voice: you're dead right about that.) i am proud of this opportunity to greet this most complimentary delegation of men distinguished in the noble profession of which greeley, raymond and dana were the high ornaments. (cheers.) i look into your upturned faces as into the faces of old friends. but i dare not--(a voice: oh, don't be afraid, governor!)--i dare not take too personally this expression of your good-will. it is not myself but the great state of south carolina that you honor, and on behalf of mine own people, who have always stood sturdily for the great principles of the constitution; (cheers) who have failed in no hour of the country's need, but have tilled their fields in peace and defended them in the dark days of war, i thank you, my friends, with all my heart, again and again." (applause and cheers.) what did you say to him? what did you say to him? _what did who say?_ what did the governor of north carolina say to the governor of south carolina? "on an occasion so purely social as this," began governor dangerfield, balancing himself lightly upon the balustrade, "it would be most indelicate for me to discuss any of the great issues of the day. (a voice: oh, i don't know!) i indorse, with all the strength of my being, and with all the sincerity of which my heart is capable, the stirring tribute paid to your noble profession by my friend, known far and near, and justly known, as the great reform governor of south carolina. (cheers.) i am proud that the american press is incorruptible. (cheers.) great commercial nation though we be, the american newspaper--the american newspaper, i say, is one thing that is never for sale. (applause and cheers.) the temptation is strong upon me to take advantage of this gathering of representative journalists to speak--not of the fathers of the constitution, not of jefferson or jackson, but of living men and living issues (cheers and cries of let 'er go!); but the hour is late (a voice: oh, not on broadway, william!) and, to repeat, it would be the height of impropriety--a betrayal of the bountiful hospitality we have all enjoyed (a voice: our lobster was all right. another voice, with ironical inflection; _this_ lobster is all right!), a betrayal, i say, of hospitality for me to do more, gentlemen, than to thank you, and to say that in your strong hands the liberties of the people are safe indeed." (prolonged cheering.) as the correspondents marched away to take the special train provided for them at kildare by ardmore, they continued to cheer, and they were still demanding, as long as their cries could be heard at ardsley: what did he say to him? what did he say to him? _what did who say?_ what did the governor of north carolina say to the governor of south carolina? with a sigh ardmore left them at the great gates of ardsley and returned to the house to find jerry; but that young woman was the center of a wide circle of admiring militia officers, and the master of ardsley was so depressed by the spectacle that he sought a dim corner of the grounds where there was a stone bench by a fountain, and there, to his confusion, he beheld miss barbara osborne and henry maine griswold; and miss osborne, it seemed, was in the act of fastening a white rose in professor griswold's coat. chapter xxi good-by to jerry dangerfield the next morning ardmore knocked at griswold's door as early as he dared, and went in and talked to his friend in their old intimate fashion. the associate professor of admiralty was shaving himself with care. "you won't have any hard feelings about that scarlet fever business, will you, grissy? it was downright selfish of me to want to keep the thing to myself, but i thought it would be fun to go ahead and carry it through and then show you how well i pulled it off." "don't ever refer to it again, if you love me," spluttered griswold amiably, as he washed off the lather. "i, too, have ruled over a kingdom, and i have seen history in the making, _quorum pars magna fui_." "but i say, grissy, there is such a thing as fate and destiny and all that after all; don't you believe it?" "don't i believe it! i know it!" thundered griswold, reaching for a towel. he lifted a white rose from a glass of water where it had spent the night and regarded it tenderly. "the right rose under the right star, and the thing's done; the rose, the star and the girl,--the combination simply can't be beat, ardy." ardmore seized and wrung his friend's hand, for the twentieth time; but he was preoccupied, and griswold, fastening his collar at the mirror, hummed softly the couplet: with the winking eye for my battle-cry. "grissy!" shouted ardmore, "she never did it!" "oh--bless my soul, what was i saying! why, of course she wasn't the one! not miss dangerfield--never!" "well, you like her, don't you?" demanded ardmore petulantly. "of course i like her, you idiot! she's wonderful. she's--" he frowned upon the scarf he had chosen with much care, snapped it to shake the wrinkles out, humming softly, while ardmore glared at him. "she's wise," griswold resumed, "with the wisdom of laughter--accept that, with my compliments. it's not often i do so well before breakfast. and now if you're to be congratulated before i go back to the groves of academe pray bestir yourself. at this very moment i have an engagement to walk with a lady before breakfast--thanks, yes, that's my coat. good-by!" breakfast was a lingering affair at ardsley that morning. the two governors and the national guard officers who had spent the night in the house were not in the slightest hurry to break up the party, for such a company, they all knew, could hardly be assembled again. the governors were a trifle nervous as to the attitude of the press, in spite of collins' efforts to dictate what history should say of the affair on the raccoon; but before they left the table the raleigh morning papers were brought in and it was clear that the newspaper men were keeping their contract. "i congratulate you, dangerfield," said governor osborne. "i only hope that the columbia and charleston papers have done half as well by me." both governors had decided upon an inspection of such portions of their militia as were assembled on the raccoon, and a joint dress parade was appointed for six o'clock. ardmore, anxious to make every one at home, saw the morning pass without a chance to speak to jerry; and when he was free shortly before noon he was chagrined to find that she had gone for a ride over the estate with her father, governor osborne, barbara and griswold. he went in pursuit, and to his delight found her presently sitting alone on a log by the raccoon, having dismounted, it appeared, to rescue a fledgling robin whose cries had led her away from her companions. she pointed out the nest and directed him to climb the tree and restore the bird. this done he sat down beside her at a point where the raccoon curved sweepingly and swung off abruptly into a new course. "i hope your father didn't scold you for anything we did," he began meekly. "no; he took it all pretty well, and promised that if i wouldn't tell mama what he had been doing--about coming down here with governor osborne just to settle an old score at poker--mama doesn't approve of cards, you know--that he would make me a present of a better riding horse than the one i now have, and he might even consider a trip abroad next summer." "oh, you mustn't go abroad! it's--it's so lonesome abroad!" "how perfectly ridiculous! has it never occurred to you that i am never lonesome, not even when i'm alone." "well," said ardmore, who saw that he was headed for a blind alley, "i'm glad your father was not displeased with our work." "he'll think we did pretty well after he's read our correspondence in his letter books. i told him the stamp we stamped his name with worked better with the red ink pad than with the black one, which ought, at any rate, to be clear enough to a man of papa's intelligence." "did you tell him about that railroad lawyer from new york who wanted to suppress the law which compels all locomotive whistles to be tuned to e flat?" "no; that man sent me a ten-pound box of candy, which was highly improper, considering papa's position, and i should have scorned to accept the candy only i had forgotten to keep his card." "and besides," added ardmore gently, "you had eaten the candy. don't you remember that you left nothing but a few burnt almonds which you wanted to keep for eating filapenas?" "don't be silly!" ejaculated jerry contemptuously. "it's a good thing all this fuss about the appleweight people is over or i should be worse than silly. my mind was not intended for such heavy work." [illustration] "i think you have a good mind, mr. ardmore," said jerry, with the air of one who makes concessions. "you really did well in all these troubles, and you did much better than i thought you would the day i hired you for private secretary. i think i could safely recommend you to any governor in need of assistance." "you talk as though you were getting ready to discharge me," said ardmore plaintively, "and i don't want to lose my job." "you ought to have something to do," said jerry thoughtfully. "as near as i can make out you have never done anything but study about pirates and collect pernicious books on the sinful life of captain kidd. you should have some larger aim in life than that and i think i know of a good position that is now open, or will be as soon as papa has cleared out the peanut shells we left in his desk. i think you would make an excellent adjutant-general with full charge of the state militia. you have already had experience in the handling of troops, and as rutherford gillingwater never did anything but get typhoid fever to earn the place, i see no reason why papa should not appoint you to the position." "but you have to get rid of gillingwater first," suggested ardmore, his heart beating fast. "if you mean that he has to be removed from office, i will tell you now, mr. ardmore, that rutherford gillingwater will no longer sign himself adjutant-general of north carolina. i removed him myself in a general order i wrote yesterday afternoon just before i told papa that you and i could not act as governor any longer, but that he must resume the yoke." "but that must have been a matter of considerable delicacy, miss dangerfield, when you consider that you are engaged to marry mr. gillingwater." "not in the least," said jerry. "i broke our engagement the moment i saw that he came here the other night all dressed up to eat and not to fight, and he is now free to engage himself to that thin blonde at goldsboro whom he thinks so highly intellectual." jerry held up her left hand and regarded its ringless fingers judicially, while ardmore, his heart racing hotly against all records, watched her, and with a particular covetousness his eyes studied that trifle of a hand. then with a quick gesture he seized her hand and raised her gently to her feet. "jerry!" he cried. "from the moment you winked at me i have loved you. i should have followed you round the world until i found you. if you can marry a worthless wretch like me, if--oh, jerry!" she gently freed her hand and stepped to one side, bending her head like a bird that pauses alarmed, or uncertain of its whereabouts, glancing cautiously up and down the creek. "mr. ardmore," she said, "you may not be aware that when you asked me to be your wife--and that, i take it, was your intention--you were standing in south carolina, while i stood with both feet on the sacred soil of the old north state. under the circumstances i do not think your proposal is legal. moreover, unless you are quite positive which eye it was that so far forgot itself as to wink, i do not think the matter can go further." the slightest suggestion of a smile played about her lips, but he was very deeply troubled, and, seeing this, her eyes grew grave with kindness. "mr. ardmore, if your muscles of locomotion have not been utterly paralyzed, and if you will leave that particular state of the union which, next to massachusetts, i most deeply abhor, i will do what i can in my poor weak way--as father says in beginning his best speeches--to assist you to the answer." then for many æons, when he had his arms about her, a kiss, which he had intended for the lips that were so near, somehow failed of its destination, and fell upon what seemed to him a rose-leaf gone to heaven, but which was, in fact, jerry dangerfield's left eye. his being tingled with the most delicious of intoxications, to which the clasp of her arms about his neck added unnecessary though not unwelcome delight. then she drew back and held him away with her finger-tips for an instant. "mr. thomas ardmore," she said, with maddening deliberation, "it may not be important, but i must tell you in all candor that it was the other eye." [illustration] available by internet archive (https://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustration. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/derelictsaccount spru derelicts [illustration: the chase of the lilian] derelicts an account of ships lost at sea in general commercial traffic and a brief history of blockade runners stranded along the north carolina coast - by james sprunt author of "chronicles of the cape fear river" [illustration] wilmington, n.c. copyright by james sprunt the lord baltimore press baltimore, md., u.s.a. to j. g. deroulhac hamilton alumni professor of history university of north carolina whose genius for things historical inspired me with a desire to contribute some reminiscences of a strange traffic through a beleagured city to the history of the lower cape fear. "some night to the lee of the land i shall steal, (heigh-ho to be home from the sea!) no pilot but death at the rudderless wheel, (none knoweth the harbor as he!) to lie where the slow tide creeps hither and fro and the shifting sand laps me around, for i know that my gallant old crew are in port long ago-- forever at peace with the sea!" _the song of the derelict._ lieutenant-colonel john mccrae. foreword. about twenty-five years ago i wrote for the _southport leader_ a series of stories of the cape fear blockade from my personal experiences as a participant in the blockade runners _advance_, _eugénie_, _north heath_, _lilian_, _susan beirne_, and finally in the _alonzo_, which greatly interested the cape fear pilots who had taken part with me in this hazardous service and were found entertaining by some other readers. later, in the year , i contributed at the request of chief justice walter clark for his admirable _north carolina regimental histories_ an account of my personal adventures and observations in the _north heath_, _lilian_, and _susan beirne_, in the capacity of purser, or paymaster, at the age of seventeen and a half years, and as prisoner of war on the _keystone state_ and the _glaucus_, federal cruisers, and later prisoner of war in fort macon and in fortress monroe. again, in , i wrote in the _cape fear chronicles_ at some length on this interesting phase of cape fear history, in the form largely of personal reminiscences, which have been most generously commented upon by eminent writers and historians; and now, at the end of the skein, i have endeavored, in this unpretentious little volume, to reveal some secrets of old ocean which it has kept hidden in its bosom for more than half a century. i have desired to refrain from repetition, but in several instances it was unavoidable. this compilation of new stories and twice-told tales is now presented in more portable form than in the original bulky volumes. the title, _derelicts_, is general, but much space has been given to blockade runners destroyed or left as derelicts along the cape fear coast during the war between the states. some space has also been given to a few sea tales not dealing directly with derelict ships. the northern navy doubtless contributed more than any other arm of the federal forces to the final defeat of the southern confederacy, and this was because the south at the beginning of hostilities did not possess a single ship of war. a dozen such ships as the ironclad _merrimac_, which type originated in the south during the war and later revolutionized the navies of the world, could probably have entirely destroyed the federal fleet of inefficient ships in the second year of the war, raised the blockade, and compelled the recognition of the great powers. the errors of the confederacy were numerous, but its failure to buy or build promptly an efficient navy proved irremediable and fatal. "yet with its limited resources," says chief justice clark in concluding his history, "the confederacy was on the very eve of success, but some unexpected fatality intervened. at shiloh within half an hour of the capture of the federal army with grant and sherman at its head, a single bullet, which caused the death of albert sidney johnston, changed the history of the continent. at chancellorsville, one scattering volley, fired by mistake of his own men, took the life of stonewall jackson, when, but for that fatality, the capture of hooker and his whole army was imminent. the unexpected humiliation of the federal government in surrendering mason and slidell to british threats avoided a war with that power, and, with it, the independence of the south, which would have come with the command of the seas, within the power at that time of britain's fleet. if stuart's cavalry had been on hand at gettysburg, or even a competent corps commander, to have held our gains of the first two days, in all human probability the war would have ended in a great southern victory at that spot. had mr. davis, when he sent his commissioners to england to negotiate a loan of $ , , acceded to the pressure of foreign capitalists to make it $ , , , not only would the southern finances not have broken down (which was the real cause of our defeat) and the southern troops have been amply supplied, but european governments would have intervened in favor of southern independence ere they would have suffered their influential capitalists to lose that sum." notwithstanding the increasing effectiveness of the blockade and the serious reverses which followed chancellorsville to appomattox, a buoyant optimism as to the ultimate triumph of the southern cause prevailed among the blockade runners; and it was not until the failure of wilkinson in the _chameleon_, and maffitt in the _owl_, to enter charleston, which was captured after the fall of wilmington, that hope gave place to despair, for then, to quote captain wilkinson, "as we turned away from the land, our hearts sank within us, while the conviction forced itself upon us that the cause for which so much blood had been shed, so many miseries bravely endured, and so many sacrifices cheerfully made, was about to perish at last." james sprunt. wilmington, n.c., january , . marine wanderers. years before the beginning of the great war i took passage from new york for liverpool in one of the most beautiful examples of marine architecture of that era. when we were about a thousand miles from queenstown, our port of call, we sighted a vessel in distress, dismasted and water-logged, crowded as we thought with passengers. our course was changed to carry us nearer the vessel, when we perceived that what we thought were human beings on deck were the bare ribs of a barque from st. john's, new brunswick, loaded with timber, and that the dynamic force of the sea had broken away the vessel's bulwarks, leaving the frame standing, which resembled a crowd of men. a derelict abandoned upon the wide ocean, staggering like a drunken man on the heaving bosom of the sea, a menace to every vessel upon the great highway of commerce, this mass of unwieldy timber was a greater danger in the darkness than any other peril of the ocean. to my surprise and indignation our captain turned away from the wreck without attempting its destruction by dynamite as he was in duty bound to compass. we were one of the famous flyers of that day and could not afford, he said, to reduce our record of speed by any delay. three months after this incident i was returning homeward on the same steamer, and when we were at least , miles from queenstown i sighted, through a powerful binocular, a wreck ahead, and as we approached nearer i said to the first officer, "that is the derelict we passed three months ago." he laughed at the idea of such a thing. "why," said he, "she is thousands of miles away in another current if she is still afloat." but my observation was correct. we ran close to the same vessel that we had seen three months before. what destruction of life and property she had wrought meantime, no one could tell, and we again disgraced the service by leaving her untouched. the meaning of a derelict in law is a thing voluntarily abandoned or willfully cast away by its proper owner; especially a ship abandoned at sea. mr. william allingham, author of _a manual of marine meteorology_, whom i quote at length, says in _chambers's edinburgh journal_, february, : "every storm that travels over the waters which divide, yet unite, the new world and the old, leaves in its wake some sailing ship abandoned by her crew. as a rule these dreaded derelicts are of wooden build and laden with cargoes of lumber. often they have carried costly cargoes under every sky with credit to themselves and profit to their owners, but the increasing infirmities of age have caused them to engage in the lowliest forms of ocean-carrying. under the adverse influence of a careering cyclone these gallant craft meet their fate. the savage sea opens wide their straining seams; the pumps, clatter as they may, are quite unable to cope with the ingress of sea water; and the disheartened crews seek safety in a passing ship at the first opportunity. thus it happens that many a lumber-laden sailing ship drifts deviously at the will of wind and current, a menace to safe navigation, until her hull is driven into fragments by the combined forces of Æolus and neptune, or reaches land after a solitary drift of many weary leagues of sea. "quite naturally, the north atlantic holds the record for drifting derelicts, inasmuch as it is the great ocean highway of the nations. during the five years to not fewer than derelict ships were reported to the hydrographer at washington, then capt. (now admiral) richardson clover, u.s. navy, as in evidence between the fifty-second meridian of west longitude and the east coast of north america. of this large number were identified by name, and the remainder were either capsized or battered out of recognition. on an average there were about twenty derelicts drifting in the north atlantic at any instant, and the life of each was one month. the washington hydrographic office receives reports from shipmasters under every flag setting forth the appearance and the geographical position of every derelict sighted during the passage across, and this information is published in the weekly hydrographic bulletins and the monthly pilot charts, which are freely distributed among navigators visiting american ports by the branch offices of that department of the united states navy. the british board of trade also furnishes shipmasters in united kingdom ports with similar printed information, and the british meteorological office has followed suit by graphic representation on their monthly pilot charts of the north atlantic. "many derelicts disappear within a few days of abandonment, but some drift several thousand miles before the end comes. a vessel left to her fate near new york, for example, may drift southward with the labrador current until not far from cape hatteras. thence she finds a way into the relatively warm waters of the gulf stream, and may eventually drift ashore on the west coast of europe. should the derelict happen to get into the sargasso sea, an area in mid-atlantic of light winds and variable currents, made memorable by the pen of julius chambers, she will probably travel in a circle for a long series of days. "the schooner _w.l. white_, abandoned during the blizzard of march, , just eastward of the delaware capes, made tracks for the banks of newfoundland; there she remained for many days, right on the route of palatial passenger liners; then she got another slant to the northeast, and eventually drove ashore at haskeir island, one of the hebrides, after traversing , miles in days. her timber cargo was salved by the islanders in fairly good condition. "metal ships are seldom left derelict; but there are not wanting remarkable verified drifts even of this class. in october, , the british iron barque _ada iredale_ was abandoned, with her coal cargo burning fiercely, when , miles east of the marquesas islands, south pacific. she moved slowly westward with the south equatorial current, traveled , miles in days, and was then picked up by a french warship, which towed her to tahiti. after the fire had died out the hull was repaired; she was fitted with new masts and rigging, and has ever since been known as the _annie johnson_ of san francisco, cal. on her being boarded some time ago, she was still doing well and quite a handsome vessel. in april, , the _falls of afton_ was precipitately abandoned while on the way from glasgow to calcutta with a valuable cargo. a few days later she was picked up by a french vessel and taken to madeira. since that time she has had many successful voyages; but the master at the time of her abandonment suffered severely under the finding of a court of inquiry. "ships which have been abandoned more than once in their career are not unknown. in november, , the iron ship _duncow_ stranded close to dunkirk harbor during heavy weather. the crew sought safety on shore, and the ship afterwards floated. belgian fishermen boarded the derelict, obtained the services of a tug, and took her to terneuzen, thus assuring for themselves salvage payment, which could not have been legally claimed had she reached a french port. in this vessel, while carrying timber from puget sound to australia, went ashore not far from her destination. she again floated off after abandonment; and once again a tugboat earned salvage by bringing the derelict into port uninjured. "derelict ships add to the difficulties of trans-atlantic navigation; hence the demand of the shipping industry for specially constructed derelict destroyers, such as the american _seneca_, to patrol the atlantic, experience having shown that a derelict is not nearly so impossible to locate as is sometimes alleged. the barque _siddartha_ was abandoned near the azores in february, . she drifted slowly to the northeast until within miles of queenstown, and there she hovered over the liner tracks for several successive weeks. moved by a joint appeal of the white star and cunard companies, the british admiralty sent out two warships in quest of the derelict, and she was soon anchored in bantry bay. this vessel, while derelict, was reported to the united states hydrographic office by more than sixty ships. in february, , the barque _birgitte_ was abandoned on the western side of the atlantic: and on the st of march she was sighted about , miles west of cape clear. drifting slowly eastward, almost continuously on the routes followed by the large trans-atlantic liners, this derelict was found by a tugboat and towed into queenstown. forty-three vessels had reported her to washington during the interval. at nighttime and in thick weather such dangers may be passed quite close without any one's having an inkling of their proximity. about the same date, but more to the northeast, the russian barque _louise_ was abandoned. she apparently went north as far as the faroe islands, under the influence of the gulf stream extension; thence proceeded eastward; and was picked up by two steam trawlers when sixteen miles from aalesund, norway, and thence towed into that port, after a drift of approximately , miles. the american schooner _alma cumming_ was left to her fate in february, , off chesapeake bay. after the end of may nothing was heard from her until march, , when she was about miles off the cape verde islands. she was then totally dismasted, had evidently been unsuccessfully set on fire by some passing ship, and her deck was level with the sea surface. in august she was observed ashore on an island off the san blas coast, isthmus of panama, with the natives busily engaged annexing all they could from the wreck. on the st of march, , in deg. n., deg. w., the russian steamer _korea_ was abandoned by her crew; and two days later, about a degree farther east, the steamer _ionian_ sustained considerable damage by collision with the derelict. "some of the reports of alleged derelict ships are as thrilling as a nautical novel. in may, , the _integrity_ fell in with a derelict close to jamaica, the decks and hull of which were showing a rich crop of barnacles. her cabin was full of water, but a trunk was fished up which contained coins, rings, and watches. this salvage realized , pounds. in august, , the schooner _lancaster_ sighted a dismasted derelict, the _glenalvon_, on board of which several skeletons of men were discovered, but not a morsel of food. an open bible, it is reported, lay face downward on the cabin table alongside a loaded revolver and a bottle containing a piece of paper on which was written: "jesus, guide this to some helper! merciful god, don't let us perish!" all the bodies were reverently committed to the deep, and the derelict left for whatever the future had in store for her. "in the nova scotia barque _l.e. cann_ was towed into a united states port by a steamship which had found her adrift. later on in dry dock, fifteen auger holes were located in her hull, below the water line. they had all been bored from the inside, and subsequent inquiry revealed the fact that her former captain had conspired with a resident of vera cruz to load the vessel with a bogus cargo, insure it heavily, scuttle her when in a suitable position at sea, and divide the insurance money. unfortunately for these partners in crime, the barque did not lend herself to their nefarious operations nearly as well as was expected. "in the austrian barque _vila_, carrying a cargo of bones, which were said to have been gathered from the battle fields of egypt, was found derelict by a norwegian steamer and towed into new york. not a word has ever been heard as to the fate of this vessel's crew. presumably they took to the boats for some reason, and disappeared without leaving a trace. about the same time the sailing vessel _c.e. morrison_ was fallen in with, a drifting derelict and set on fire. the crew of a destroyer first salved a bank-book, a sextant, fifty charts, and some pictures, all of which were eventually returned to their rightful owner, captain hawes, who had been compelled to leave his vessel without standing on the order of his going. in the derelict and burning barkantine _celestina_, bound from swansea to the strait of magellan, was boarded by a boat's crew of the barque _annie maud_. a written message was found on the cabin table stating that she had been abandoned in open boats. the fire having been partially subdued, sail was made on the prize, and volunteers navigated her to rio janeiro. "the _marie celeste_ is a mystery of the sea. this brig left america for gibraltar; and nothing more was heard of her until she was sighted approaching the strait in a suspicious manner, when she was found to be derelict. her hull was sound, there was no sign of an accident aloft, and her boats were in their appointed places. some remains of a meal on the cabin table were still fresh, and a watch was ticking unconcernedly; yet her captain and his wife and daughter, together with the crew, had disappeared forever. "nautical novelists have made moving pictures of drifting derelicts, and hoaxers have also utilized them. in some witty person closely copied parts of a soul-stirring yarn by clark russell, and the alleged modern experience was telegraphed round the world, appeared in the press, and was then decisively contradicted. it was asserted that the norwegian ship _elsa anderson_ arrived at galveston with an english-built brig in tow, which had apparently been burned and sunk more than a half century previously. a submarine seismic disturbance was invented to account for the vessel's return to the surface. the hull was covered with strange sea shells, and in the hold were chests containing many guineas bearing date , several watches, and a stomacher of pearls! one of three skeletons was said to be that of a man over seven feet in height. this hoax was successful until it reached galveston. then the authorities denied that the story had the slightest foundation in fact. six years later a similar hoax was perpetrated, which ought immediately to have been recognized as merely a variant of _the frozen pirate_, by the above-mentioned eminent nautical novelist. it was gravely asserted that the barque _silicon_, on her way from the united states to greenland, had picked up an old-fashioned derelict ship near the greenland coast. when access to the hold was gained, the salvors, so ran the hoax, discovered that she was laden with furs in good condition; and her log book showed that she had been abandoned by her crew in . like the ship imagined by clark russell, she was said to have been fast in the ice in the far north. one of the most ridiculous derelict-ship hoaxes of the past century had quite a boom in . a burning derelict, read an astonished world, had been passed between the cape of good hope and australia, with her lower holds full of coal and petroleum, and the between-decks portion crammed with the dead bodies of people who had met their fate by suffocation while on their way from russia to brazil. the burning cargo had generated gas which suffocated the emigrants; the bodies had swollen out of human shape, and subsequent explosions had torn many limb from limb! this tissue of falsehoods appeared in many of the world's daily papers without comment. "h.m.s. _resolute_, since broken up, was one of the most famous of derelicts. she was abandoned in deg. min. n., deg. min. w., drifted southward in the center of a solid sheet of ice, and was eventually picked up by an american whale-ship off cape mercy, in deg. n. after having been refitted by the united states government, she was presented to england with impressive ceremony. a desk of the president of the united states, in the white house, washington, d.c., was made from the timbers of the _resolute_, and sent by her majesty queen victoria in memory of that courtesy and loving-kindness of america to england. it is a substantial token of the good will existing between the two kindred peoples." the gifted editor of our national geographic society's admirable magazine, gilbert h. grosvenor, in the september number, , page , says on the subject of "strange stories of derelicts," "how hard it is sometimes to send a ship to the bottom is strikingly shown by the experience of the _san francisco_ in destroying the derelict three-master _drisko_ a decade or so ago. that derelict was only tons, but she was lumber laden. the officers of the _san francisco_ first tried to tow her to port, but found that impossible. then they attached three -pound guncotton bombs to her keel and set them off, but still she floated. five more bombs were set off; these broke her back and frames, but still she refused to go to the bottom. then the _san francisco_ rammed her amidships and broke her in two, releasing the cargo; but even after that it took several shells to drive the afterpart of the staunch old schooner down into the jurisdiction of davy jones. "even in peace times ships are often reported missing, and appear to have been 'sunk without trace.' it is believed that most of such catastrophes are the result of collisions with derelicts. how many more such collisions there will be in the future may be imagined when it is stated that for two years the number of derelicts has greatly increased and the steps for their destruction have been much reduced. "in peace times," continues mr. grosvenor, "there is no other menace to navigation as dangerous as the derelict, unless it be the submerged iceberg, such as sunk the _titanic_. refusing to stay in one location, yielding to no law of navigation, hiding most of her bulk beneath the waves, the lonely, desolate, moss-covered, weed-grown derelict, with deck or keel all but awash, comes out of the night or through the fog as an assassin out of a lonely alley, and woe to the sailor who has not detected her approach. "drifting hither and yon, now forced on by the wind of a stormy sea, now caught in a current and driven along, these rudderless, purposeless, wanderers cover many a weary mile, with only screaming sea birds to break the monotony of the roaring gale or the soft surge of a placid sea. sighted frequently for weeks together, now and again they disappear, often reappearing suddenly hundreds of miles away. as many as a thousand have been reported in a single year in the north atlantic. the majority of them frequent the gulf stream. "examining the records of the hydrographic office, one finds that in six years twenty-five derelicts were reported as having drifted at least a thousand miles each; eleven have , miles apiece to their credit, while three sailed , rudderless miles. "the classic story of the wanderings of a derelict is that of the _fannie e. wolston_. abandoned october , , off cape hatteras, she traveled northward in the gulf stream. when off norfolk, va., she changed her course and headed across the broad atlantic toward the shores of africa. on june , , she was sighted half way across. then she headed southward for more than miles; then shifted her course to the northeast for another miles, retraced her track for several hundred miles, turned again and went in the opposite direction, like a shuttle in the loom instead of a ship upon the sea. then she took another tack and headed west for nearly miles; then shaped her course north for miles, and then headed east again for miles; so that in january she was almost in the same latitude and longitude that she had been in the previous june. in the following may she was a thousand miles away from where she had been in january, on the border of cancer and midway between florida and africa. again she headed toward america for miles, and repeated her shuttle-in-the-loom performance. then followed many long months of erratic zigzags and she was sighted for the last time miles off savannah, ga. she had remained afloat and had out-generaled the waves for two years and a half, during which time she had sailed more than , aimless miles. "in normal times," continues mr. grosvenor, "the hydrographic office of the navy department keeps careful check on the derelicts. every ship that sights one of these menaces to navigation reports its location. the names of some of them remain visible, while others are susceptible of identification by their appearance. the hydrographic office gives each wreck and derelict a serial number and plots its position on a map. each report is registered with an identification number. in this way, by a system of cross checking, it is possible to identify each derelict, to determine the direction of its drift, and usually to get it so well located that the coast guard cutters may run it down and sink it." on january , , i addressed an inquiry to the coast and geodetic survey, washington, on the subject of international protection of commerce in the destruction of derelicts, ice observation, etc., to which i received the following courteous reply from commodore bertholf, dated february , : " . your letter of january , addressed to the coast geodetic survey, seeking information on the subject of an arrangement between our federal government and the government of great britain prior to the great war for the protection of commerce in the destruction of derelicts, has reached this office by reference. " . in reply i beg to state that article vi of the international convention for the safety of life at sea, which was signed by the delegates of the various countries on january , , provided for an international service of derelict destruction, study and observation of ice conditions, and an ice patrol. " . article vii of this convention invited the united states to undertake this international service, and provided that the high contracting powers which were interested in this international service contribute to the expense of maintaining this international service in certain proportions. " . while article vi of the convention provided that the new international service should be established with the least possible delay, the convention, as a whole, could not come into force until july , , and if the organization of the international service were deferred until after that date, the consequence would be that the two ice seasons of the years and would not be covered by the proposed international ice patrol, and, therefore, the british government, acting on behalf of the other maritime powers, requested the united states to begin this international ice patrol and observation without delay and under the same conditions as provided in the convention. the president directed this to be done, and the coast guard undertook the work and performed the ice patrol during the seasons of , , and . it was intended that the coast guard should also undertake the international service of derelict destruction at the conclusion of the ice patrol each year, but owing to the outbreak of the war in europe in , the international service of derelict destruction was never begun. " . as pointed out above, the international ice patrol and ice observation service was begun in and was continued during and , but for obvious reasons the patrol was discontinued in and has not as yet been resumed. " . of course, as you are aware, the various coast guard cutters recover or destroy such derelicts as may be found within a reasonable distance of our coast. " . i am sending you under separate cover a copy of the international convention for the safety of life at sea, also copies of revenue-cutter service bulletins nos. , , and , covering reports of ice patrol for the years , , and , respectively. the report of the ice patrol for has not yet been published. "respectfully, "(signed) e.p. bertholf, "_commodore commandant_." lost liners. about forty years ago the fine british barque _david g. worth_, commanded by capt. thomas williams, and owned by the writer, james sprunt, sailed from wilmington, n.c., with a full cargo of naval stores bound for the united kingdom. the owner had spent $ , for extensive repairs in london on the previous voyage, and the ship was in every respect staunch and strong and classed a lloyd's and / ii french veritas. the captain's wife accompanied him, and the crew numbered sixteen. from the day of her departure from wilmington bound to bristol up to the present time, not a word, not a sign of her, has ever come to light. as mr. joseph horner said in _lost liners_: "we only know she sailed away "and ne'er was seen or heard of more." "lost absolutely, in the fullest and most awful sense of the term! swallowed up wholly, mysteriously, by the devouring sea! such has been the fate of many gallant ships; no single survivor to tell the story; no boat or piece of wreckage, no bottle, not a sign or syllable from the vasty deep to reveal the nature of the awful catastrophe by which vessel, cargo, crew, and passengers were blotted out of existence! there is a weirdness, an awful terror, in such mysterious disappearances. they fill the imagination with horror, and cause mental tension in the minds of relatives of the lost far harder to bear than when the fate of a wrecked vessel is told by survivors. the sinking of the _royal charter_, or of the _london_, or of the _northfleet_, though gruesome and harrowing, does not produce in the mind that sense of pain which comes with the recollection of the fate of the _president_, or of the _pacific_, or of the _city of boston_." continuing, mr. horner in _chambers's journal_ says: "the number of vessels which have so mysteriously disappeared at sea that not a trace of them or of their crew or passengers has ever been found is larger than most people imagine. in the north atlantic service alone, from the year , when the _president_ disappeared with souls, to , when the _thanemore_ of the johnston line, with lives, never came to port, there have been, inclusive of these, no fewer than big steamers absolutely and completely blotted out of human knowledge, together with their crews and passengers, numbering in all , . at a very moderate estimate, the value of these vessels with their cargoes could not have been less than £ , , . the sum of human agony involved is terrible to contemplate. and every year vessels are posted up as missing. "the _president_, one of the earliest atlantic liners, was the first steamer to be lost and never heard of again. she sailed from new york on the th of march, , with souls on board. she was a nearly new vessel, having left the mersey on her first voyage on the th of july, . the commander was lieutenant roberts, r.n., a man of iron will and resource. he had taken the _sirius_ on her first voyage from queenstown to new york in in eighteen and a half days. the _sirius_ was the first steamer owned by an english company which crossed the atlantic, and but for the determination of lieutenant roberts the crew would not have proceeded; they became mutinous, and said it was utter madness to go on in so small a craft. he insisted and had resort to firearms, and so brought the little vessel to her destination. "after the loss of the _president_ in , thirteen years elapsed in which only one life was lost by the wreck of an atlantic steamer. it is a curious coincidence that, after the _president_ was lost and never heard of, the next great loss of life, which occurred in , was also that of a vessel which disappeared without leaving a trace. this was the _city of glasgow_, which sailed with souls on board. the _pacific_, of the collins line, left liverpool on the th of june, , and with her living freight of was never more heard of. in the year an anchor liner, the _tempest_, mysteriously disappeared with souls. the _city of boston_ of the inman line, with persons, was never heard of after leaving port on the th of january, . a board stating that she was sinking was found in cornwall on february , . the allan liner _huronian_ left glasgow in february, , for st. john's and disappeared. the british gunboat _condor_ was lost in the pacific in . besides these, the names of many lesser-known vessels swell the long list of tragic disappearances. "the white star cattle steamer _naronic_, with a crew of sixty hands and seventeen cattlemen, was lost in february or march, , while on a voyage from liverpool to new york. she was a month overdue before very much anxiety was felt, as it was known that heavy weather had been experienced in the atlantic, and it was thought that she might have broken down and was making for the azores. a boat with the name _naronic_ on it was subsequently found half full of water and abandoned. in this case the vessel was a new one, launched in may of the previous year. she was built with bulkheads and all modern improvements, was feet long, and had engines of , horsepower. yet she disappeared, perhaps , miles from new york, that being the location of the abandoned boat." probably the most mysterious disappearance of recent times is that of the united states collier transport _cyclops_, which sailed from barbados for baltimore march , , and has not been heard of since. the official information respecting this important vessel is fragmentary and disconnected. in december, , she reached bahia, brazil, and was ordered to take on a cargo of manganese at rio de janeiro for the return voyage. the navy department exchanged several messages regarding her cargo with the commander in chief of the pacific fleet, and, on february , the latter sent the following message concerning damage to one of her engines: "starboard high pressure engine found to be damaged on board u.s.s. _cyclops_ during passage bahia, brazil, to rio de janeiro. board of investigation reports accident due to loosening of nuts on follower ring studs, resulting in breaking of follower ring. cylinder is broken into two parts by plane of fracture passing from inboard upper edge down and outboard at angle of about degrees. cylinder cover and piston ring broken and piston rod bent just below piston, which is damaged. so far as now determined, responsibility seems to be upon engineer officer watch lieut. l.j. fingleton, who did not stop engines nor report noise. board recommends that new cylinder, piston rod and piston, piston rings and follower be manufactured. that cylinder cover be repaired by welding upon return united states. repair of cylinder by welding believed possible. can not be made here. engine compounded and vessel will proceed thus when loaded." she reached barbados safely and began her voyage from there to baltimore. being overdue, the navy department sent the following message to the naval stations at key west, charleston, guantanamo, navy radio san juan, and the u.s.s. _albert_: march , . "u.s.s. _cyclops_ sailed from barbados march for baltimore. now about ten days overdue. endeavor communicate _cyclops_ by radio and ascertain location and condition." the following day the navy department sent a similar message to the commander of squadron i, patrol force, atlantic fleet. on march the station at charleston, s.c., reported that at intervals for twenty-three hours messages by radio had been sent in an endeavor to locate the _cyclops_, but without success. commander belknap directed that calls be continued, and on march the navy department sent the following message to the governor of the virgin islands: "u.s.s. _cyclops_ sailed from barbados march for baltimore. has not yet arrived. have you any information regarding this vessel passing st. thomas?" the reply was "no information regarding u.s. s. _cyclops_." every station within radio communication of her route and every ship within call during the time of her passage, including foreign ships, was asked for any fragment of information. the search was continued as long as it seemed possible to gain news of her, but nothing definite was ever heard. the only suggestion of how she may have been lost is contained in a message to the navy department from the first naval district, received june , : "mr. freeman, now in boston, telephone address held in this office, states log of u.s.s. _amalco_ shows that on night of march u.s.s. _cyclops_ was about five miles distant. march heavy gale damaged the _amalco_. capt. c.e. hilliard, of the _amalco_, now at woodbrook avenue, baltimore, md." on april the commander in chief of the pacific fleet sent to the navy department the following statement of her cargo: "u.s.s. _cyclops_ had by tally of bucket , , by draft in feet , tons manganese, distributed number one hold , ; number two hold , ; number three , ; number four , ; number five , . cargo stowed direct on wood dunnage in bottom of hold. reports differ as to whether cargo was trimmed level or left somewhat higher in middle. incline to latter belief. reported also vessel had , tons of water, mostly in double bottoms. so far as ascertained, no steps taken to prevent increasing of metacentric height, and this must have been considerably increased." what caused the catastrophe will probably never be known, but with one of her engines reported out of order she was not in the best condition to weather the storm reported by the _amalco_, and it is not unlikely that a sudden shifting of her cargo caused her to capsize and to be instantly engulfed. exactly one hundred days from the date of her sailing the following order was issued: "from: secretary of the navy. "to: bureau of medicine and surgery (via bureau of navigation). "subject: re official declaration of death of men on board the navy collier _cyclops_. "i. the following named enlisted men in the u. s. navy and marine corps should be officially declared dead as of june , , deaths having occurred in the line of duty through no misconduct of their own:" (here followed a list of the crew and passengers of the navy collier _cyclops_ at the time of disappearance.) "(signed) franklin d. roosevelt, "_acting_." in his annual report for the secretary of the navy states "_cyclops_ was finally given up as lost and her name stricken from the registry." causes of the destruction of lost ships. since the veil that conceals the catastrophes that sent the missing vessels to their doom can never be lifted, a wide field of surmise is open. we can only guess at the causes of these losses by considering what has taken place in the case of vessels which have received serious injuries the nature of which is known. i quote mr. horner in giving the following as the possible causes which may account for the total disappearance of liners: "capsizing; damage from within, as explosion, breakdown of machinery, or fire; damage from without, as collision with an iceberg or with a derelict hulk; and mysterious causes. "in reference to explosions, there are two possible causes. one is due to the steam boilers, the other to coal gas generated in the bunkers. accidents from both causes have frequently occurred; and though it is not easy to see how the force could be sufficiently great to rend a vessel asunder without affording time for the use of boats or life-saving appliances, yet the possibility must be admitted. boilers are always in the bottom of the vessel, and it is quite conceivable that one or more boiler explosions would rupture the sides and let the water in in large volumes. in the case of a tug in the harbor at cardiff this actually happened. and although the loss of no big vessel has been traced to this cause, it must be admitted that the cause would be sufficient, and the end would be sudden. "explosions of coal gas have occurred; and in past years, when less attention was paid to ventilation than at the present time and when vessels were built of wood, it is within the bounds of possibility that an explosion might have torn a hole or started planks, or might have given rise to a fire of large extent. if to this is added the terror of rough weather at night, when most of those on board would be asleep, the chances of any vestige remaining would be slender. "breakdowns of machinery alone would hardly account for the loss of vessels, but they might do so indirectly--first, by leaving a vessel exposed to the mercy of rough weather; secondly, by damaging the hull and letting the water in. fractures of propeller shafts or of propeller blades are not infrequent occurrences. neither is damage to a rudder. it is quite conceivable that a vessel disabled thus for several days and encountering exceptionally heavy weather, might be overwhelmed by the sheer force of the waves. in rough weather the chance of a disabled vessel being seen in mid-atlantic if she drifts out of the regular routes is very slender. steamers for many years past have been entirely dependent on their machinery, having no sails to fall back on. only in recent years have the most modern and best liners been fitted with twin screws and double sets of engines, one of which remains available if the other is damaged. a disabled vessel might, therefore, in the past have suffered badly if she drifted out of the trade routes, and might have gone down in bad weather. "damage to machinery may also be sufficient to explain the loss of a vessel by causing her to sink at once. the _city of paris_, of the inman line, had a big smash in one of her engine rooms on the th of march, . she was coming home in fine weather, and when she was near the irish coast the starboard engines broke down in consequence of the fracture of the starboard propeller shaft, and the sea filled the engine room. then the massive fragments of the wrecked engine hammering against the bulkhead smashed that and allowed the water to flow into the engine room, completely filling that also. in about ten minutes both engine rooms were filled with water, adding , tons to the vessel's weight. yet she still floated securely, and the outer skin was not damaged in the least. the water-tight compartments kept the _city of paris_ afloat for three days until help came to tow her into queenstown. at queenstown the openings in the sea connections of the vessel were closed with the assistance of divers. the water was pumped out of the engine rooms, and with her port engines and one screw the vessel renewed her voyage and went on safely and quietly to liverpool without harm to anyone. in the case of the p. and o. steamer _delhi_, which stranded on december , , off cape spartel, on the morocco coast, all the passengers were rescued, including the duke of fife and the princess royal and her daughters. "capsizing is not so likely a cause as some others, but it is possible. the _captain_ capsized, with the loss of hundreds of lives. the type was, however, very different from that of the liner. but the draught of a vessel diminishes toward the close of her voyage, as coal is reduced. some vessels are unsteady, and it is conceivable that heavy weather, shifting cargo, and insufficient ballast may cause a vessel to roll over on her beam ends and capsize. there is little doubt that the _wartah_ capsized by reason of top-heaviness. one of her life buoys was reported as being found (december, ) at waiuku, new zealand. "but the most probable cause of unexplained losses of ships at sea is fire, or it is one, at least, which divides probabilities with explosions and icebergs. even on the supposition of an explosion, it seems almost inexplicable that no trace of a sunken vessel should ever afterwards be seen. a missing liner or other large vessel is a source of interest to all seafaring men, and a keen outlook is kept on the track which the vessel was known to have taken. any stray spar or belt or bit of wreckage, therefore, could scarcely escape observation. if a vessel sinks in mid-ocean some portions float. but if a vessel is burned everything would probably be consumed, as the vessel would burn to the water's edge. boats might or might not be launched, according to the rapidity of the rush of the flames, the state of the weather, etc. if boats are launched, say, a thousand miles from land, the chances of rescue or of making land are remote. fire, therefore, seems adequate enough to account for the loss of some of the numerous vessels which have never been heard from after leaving port. "considering other possible external causes of the total disappearance of liners, heavy weather must be regarded as a probable reason in some instances. although we do not admit that the roughest weather would harm a modern liner, we must remember that the older vessels were not as large and powerful as those of the present time. the _pacific_, for example, which disappeared in , was not nearly half the length of the latest vessels. bulkheads had not been brought to the perfect condition of security which they have now attained. not infrequently even now steamers become water-logged and reach a sinking condition and their crews are happy if rescued. it may well have happened that vessels have foundered in mid-ocean in consequence of not being able to receive assistance, while the sailors could not take to their boats with any hope of living in the tempest. "uncharted rocks also cause the loss of vessels, as in the case of the _pericles_. but her captain was a man of resource and no lives were lost. "icebergs are a probable cause for the loss of some vessels, especially of liners running to canadian ports. the damage to the _arizona_ may be instanced, and many other vessels have had hairbreadth escapes. a vessel insufficiently secured by bulkheads would stand a poor chance in collision with an iceberg. "tidal waves are probably accountable for some unexplained losses. there are three classes of such waves--those due to submarine seismical disturbances, solitary waves occurring in an otherwise calm sea (the origin of which is obscure), and cyclonic waves. each is very dangerous, the first and last chiefly in the vicinity of coasts, the second out at sea. it was a seismic wave which wrought such havoc at lisbon in and in japan in , when , people were killed. but the effects of these do not usually extend far out to sea, as do those of solitary waves. many records of the latter have been given where the decks of vessels have been swept of all hands and of all deck erections. in all hands were washed off the decks of the _rosario_. in the master and half the crew of the _loch torridon_ were swept off the deck by a tidal wave. in the _umbria_ was flooded by two great waves. in the _normania_ was struck by a solid wall of water reaching as high as the bridge, smashing the cabin on the promenade deck, and carrying away the music room and the officers' quarters. the height of tidal waves ranges from forty to eighty feet. the cunarder _etruria_ was struck by a tidal wave on the th of october, , when a canadian gentleman was killed and several wounded. the captain's port bridge and stanchions were carried away. though such waves would not greatly endanger the huge modern liners, they might have swamped their predecessors by breaking through the decks or rushing down hatchways and skylights. many vessels have been lost by being pooped by vast storm waves, which are not as high as many tidal waves. "in reference to mysterious agencies, these can be dismissed in the present state of knowledge. the secrets of the sea have been investigated so well that no destructive agent is likely to exist that is not known to science. collision with a whale would not damage a liner, though it would be bad for the whale. the sea serpent may be dismissed without comment. the eruption of submarine volcanoes may be dangerous to small vessels, but the idea of harm from them can not be entertained in connection with the atlantic service. so that, after all, we are driven back for the solution of these disappearances to the same causes which are known to have wrecked so many vessels. among these must be included collision with derelict wrecks, which have been known to drift about in the atlantic for over a twelvemonth, and unhappily the malicious placing of explosives among the cargoes of liners, as was done at bremerhaven in ." during the war between the states, on the th of august, , the writer was captured after bombardment for five hours while serving as purser of the confederate steamer _lilian_, engaged in running the federal blockade off wilmington, n.c., and made a prisoner of war. subsequently he escaped to halifax, nova scotia, and reported to a prominent citizen of that town who was acting as the confederate states representative. he was one of the most popular southern sympathizers; a man of fine presence, good business qualifications, courteous and amiable to a degree. he was trusted by all, and he acted as banker for nearly every southerner who came his way. halifax was then the center of large confederate interests. several confederate war steamers were there, among them the _chickamauga_ and the _tallahassee_. it was the rendezvous of blockade runners who had escaped from confinement or who had been discharged after detention by the federals for several months. k---- was attentive to all of them. when the war ended k---- suddenly disappeared with the cash entrusted to him by confiding confederates. several years after, there was a great explosion upon the dock where a german mail steamer was loading for sea which produced a sensation throughout the world. an infernal machine intended to wreck the liner had prematurely exploded on the quay and killed and maimed a large number of persons, among whom was the shipper, under an assumed name. this man, mortally wounded, was eagerly questioned by the police as to his diabolical plans and his accomplices; the only clue they obtained from his incoherent ravings was an intimation that he had been connected in some way with the confederacy, and strangely enough he said something about captain maffitt and my ship the _lilian_. the authorities took photographs of him, which were imperfect because of the reclining position of the dying man. further investigation after his death revealed one of the most fiendish plots in commercial history; large shipments of bogus goods had been made by the liner, and heavily insured by this stranger, who had designed a clock machine intended, it was said, to explode three days after the sailing of the steamer, and sink her with all on board. for many months the secret service detectives were working on this case; at length one of them came to wilmington and questioned me about the man, whose picture was exhibited. neither i nor any of the pilots at smithville could identify him, although his face was strangely familiar to me. the detective went away, but returned in a few weeks and asked me if i had known a man named k----. "yes," i at once replied, "and he was the author of this awful crime." such proved to be the case. it was the old story of depraved associates and the downward road to ruin. to the rescue. i have said in _chronicles of the cape fear river_, pages - , that a public service which measures its efficiency by the number of human lives saved from the perils of the sea is to be classed among the highest humanities of a great government, and that an important arm of great reach and efficiency is the admirable service of the u.s.s. _seminole_ on this station. the activities of this ship in assisting vessels in distress are so continuous as to be classed by her efficient commander as all in the day's work. in the four months from december , , this ship assisted nine vessels in distress at sea and destroyed a tenth, the _savannah_, a dangerous derelict. a typical case is described in the recent rescue in a gale of wind three hundred miles off cape fear, of the british mail and passenger steamer _korona_, bound from st. thomas, west indies, for new york, whose boilers broke down, rendering the ship helpless without motive power, wallowing in a heavy sea which threatened to engulf her. the story of this splendid rescue of a hundred human lives is told in the matter-of-fact official report of capt. eugene blake, jr., of the _seminole_, and in the letter of thanks to the secretary of the navy, which follows, with the acting secretary's reply: "wilmington, n.c., "_april , _. "_seminole._ "from: commanding officer. "to: commandant, fifth naval district. "subject: report of search and tow of canadian s.s. _korona_. " . at a.m. on the morning of march , the following message was transmitted to the _seminole_ from the communication officer at district headquarters: "'march , : _korona_ boilers out of commission. needs assistance. position, latitude - n., longitude - w., noon, today. signed, doyle, master.' " . the _seminole_ left the berkley oil docks at a.m. the same morning and proceeded at top speed for the reported position of the _korona_, passing through the gulf stream from a.m. to a.m. of the morning of march . " . at a.m. in the forenoon of march , intercepted a radiogram from the porto rican s.s. co.'s steamer _coamo_ that she had the _korona_ in tow, and was proceeding with her to the westward. communication by radio was immediately established with the _coamo_, and the position, course, and speed ascertained. it was also learned that as the coamo was bound to the southward for porto rico, she was anxious to be relieved of the tow. arrangements were therefore made to meet the _coamo_ at the nearest possible meeting point and at that morning the course of both vessels was changed to effect this meeting at about that evening. the _seminole_ was run under forced draft in order to take advantage of the weather, which was then favorable to picking up the disabled vessel. " . at . p.m. march , the _coamo_ with _korona_ in tow was sighted bearing almost dead ahead, and at . p.m. the _coamo_ had been relieved of the tow and the _seminole's_ hawser shackled into the starboard chain of the _korona_. the _korona's_ master stated that his port of destination was new york and requested to be towed to the northward. hampton roads was accordingly selected as the port of destination and the course shaped for diamond shoals buoy. " . the weather, which up to this time had been fine, commenced to show signs of a decided change, and the storm warning received the following morning, march , confirmed the prediction of an approaching gale. the wind, however, was from southwest to south, and, being favorable, good progress was made, at an estimated speed of five or six knots from the time the _korona_ was picked up until midnight of march . " . by this time the wind had shifted to west and was blowing a strong gale, and the _seminole_ was unable to hold up to her course with the tow. we were shipping heavy seas at frequent intervals and were practically hove to and drifting to leeward. about a.m. march , the wind shifted to northwest with slightly increased force, and the _seminole_ was put before the gale with engines turning over at dead slow speed, sufficient to keep the _korona_ astern, to act as a drag. this is an unfavorable position for the _seminole_ because she rolls to a dangerous angle in a following sea and takes much water in the waist, but it was the best that could be accomplished under the circumstances. the tow seemed to be fairly comfortable. " . during the night of march and daylight of march , the _seminole_ with tow lost about miles in a general southeasterly direction. " . on march , picked up an s.o.s. call from the steamer _alapaha_ in our immediate vicinity; in fact this steamer reported herself in sight at one time during the day, but as she was going to leeward faster than the _seminole_ and reported no immediate danger to her crew, there seemed no reason for abandoning one vessel for a doubtful chance of picking up the other. it was also learned that the coast guard cutter _yamacraw_ was proceeding to her assistance. " . the weather moderated slightly during the afternoon of march , and at . p.m. the _seminole_ with tow was brought up head to wind and sea on course northwest, making little if any progress. the gale increased again in force from p.m. to midnight, and at a.m. march west was the best heading that could be held. " . during the worst of the gale this night the _seminole's_ air pump stopped, and the two vessels fell off into the trough of the sea and at one time were in imminent danger of collision. the _seminole_ being the lighter and naturally in the weather position, drifted faster than the _korona_, but was worked clear by setting the staysails and getting a few turns out of the engine at the critical moment. as soon as the _seminole_ was to leeward of the _korona_, the engine was stopped and in the course of an hour the air pump was repaired. " . the northwest weather continuing throughout march with gale force, it was decided to make wilmington, n.c., and a westerly course was maintained throughout the day. " . about p.m. on march the _korona_ managed to get a small head of steam on one boiler, and, after coupling up propeller, which had been disconnected on taking up the tow, was able to turn her engine over at slow speed. this materially lightened the weight of the tow and we were able to make way at a speed between four and five knots. " . continued at this rate of speed through march and with very slowly moderating weather, and at . p.m. on the st got on sounding, sighting frying pan shoal buoy at . p.m. that date. " . during the night of march a moderate northerly gale developed, but the tow, being under the lee of frying pan shoal, was easily manageable. speed was regulated to arrive off cape fear river entrance at daylight, and upon reaching that point the heavy hawser was unshackled and the _korona_ towed up the river to wilmington with a lighter line and short scope. " . arrived off wilmington at . p.m., where _korona_ was turned over to her agents, alexander sprunt & sons co., the _seminole_ proceeding to her wharf at the custom-house. " . a coast guard statistical report of this assistance is attached. "eugene blake, jr." "_april , ._ "sir: as agents in wilmington, n.c., of the quebec steamship co., owners of the british steamer _korona_, as agents of lloyds, as agents of the london salvage association, and as official agents of the british ministry of shipping, and in behalf of capt. austin doyle, his officers and crew and passengers of the british steamer _korona_, numbering in all a hundred persons, we desire to express to you and to captain blake, his officers and crew of the u.s.s. _seminole_, through you, our deep sense of gratefulness for the rescue from imminent peril in a heavy sea of the disabled steamer _korona_ while on her voyage from st. thomas to new york; and for their splendid seamanship in averting collision and in towing her under great difficulties to this port of refuge. "tossed upon a raging sea without motive power, the _korona_ was in great danger, and her rescue after four days' continuous assistance adds another high record of splendid achievement by the u.s.s. _seminole_ and her devoted men. "permit us, sir, to thank you cordially in the names of all concerned for this added admirable and effective example of the highest degree of humanity and efficiency in an important arm of the u.s. navy. "yours very respectfully, "(signed) alexander sprunt & son. "to the honorable josephus daniels, "_the secretary of the navy_, "_washington_, d.c." "navy department, "_washington, april , _. "dear sirs: receipt is acknowledged of your letter of april , expressing gratitude for the rescue of the disabled steamer _korona_ by the u.s.s. _seminole_. "your letter of appreciation has been forwarded to the commanding officer of the u.s.s. _seminole_ via the commodore commandant of the coast guard service and the commandant of the fifth naval district, under whose orders the u.s.s. _seminole_ is operating. "it is a great pleasure to know that the work of our salvage and rescue ships is appreciated, and i thank you very sincerely for your expression of thanks and recognition of the excellent seamanship and devotion to duty shown by the captain, officers, and crew of the u.s.s. _seminole_. "very truly yours, "(signed) franklin d. roosevelt, "_acting secretary of the navy_. "messrs. alexander sprunt & son, "_wilmington, north carolina_." derelict blockade runners. for many years the summer visitors on wrightsville beach have looked out upon the hurrying swell of the broad atlantic and have felt the fascination of the long lines of crested breakers like neptune's racers charging and reforming for the never-ending fray; and, when the unresting tide receded, they have seen the battered hulks of some of the most beautiful ships that ever shaped a course for wilmington in the days of the southern confederacy. they represented an epoch that is unique in our country's history, for, in the modern art of war the conditions which then prevailed can never occur again. some of these wrecks may be visible for a hundred years to come, and, as nearly every one who knew these vessels and of their last voyage has passed away, i have thought it might interest some of our people, and perhaps future generations, to know something of these ships, which i still remember distinctly and with whose officers i was more or less familiar. so that i have noted from memory and from official records of the four years' war, the tragedies which involved the destruction of these fine vessels between topsail inlet and lockwood's folly. these will comprise about thirty ships, nearly all of the steamers that were stranded on our coast during the war while running for the cape fear bar under a heavy bombardment by the federal cruisers. many millions were lost with the destruction of these blockade runners, and possibly valuable metal might be recovered now, in the present high prices for all war supplies. the average cost of one of the blockade runners was $ , in gold. they were mostly built of thick iron, which does not corrode like steel in salt water. the cargoes comprised perishable and imperishable goods, and they were often as valuable as the vessels which carried them. when these ships were stranded so high upon the beach that neither federals nor confederates could salve them, the guns from both sides were used to destroy them, so that neither could profit by a rescue. the bombshells set some of the ships on fire, but none were totally destroyed, because the breakers extinguished the fires when the superstructure was burned away, so it is very probable that some of them still contain cargoes of value. for more than fifty years these melancholy tokens of distress have settled in the shifting sands. "together," said mr. george davis, attorney-general of the confederacy, "they stand for warning and for woe; and together they catch the long majestic roll of the atlantic as it sweeps through a thousand miles of grandeur and power from the arctic toward the gulf. it is the playground of billows and tempests, the kingdom of silence and awe, disturbed by no sound save the seagull's shriek and the breakers' roar." it might be interesting to add later an account of the ships that were captured at sea, numbering over a hundred during the four years of the cape fear blockade, and to attempt, at the request of my friend, professor deroulhac hamilton, of the university of north carolina, a short history of this remarkable traffic (through the beleaguered city of wilmington) which almost wholly sustained the confederate states commissariat during the last two years of the war. the "fannie and jennie." the _fannie and jennie_ was a side-wheel confederate steamer of note, engaged in running the blockade for about a year during the four years' war. she was of good speed, fourteen knots, and was commanded, it is said, by captain coxetter, of charleston. during the night of february , , she made the land to the northward of wrightsville beach, but her pilot, burriss, was not sure of his position, so he anchored the ship and made a landing in the surf to ascertain his bearings. it having been the intention of the captain to make the land about two miles north of fort fisher, he then proceeded down the beach in the darkness. unhappily, however, she stood too close in shore, and grounded repeatedly, and at about midnight stranded on a shoal a mile or two to the southward of where lumina now stands. at daylight she was discovered by the federal cruiser _florida_, commanded by capt. peirce crosby, who made me a prisoner of war a few months later. captain crosby, desiring to save the _fannie and jennie_ and realize big prize money, ran a hawser from his ship to the stranded vessel, intending to pull her off into deep water, when a confederate flying battery of whitworth guns of long range, from fort fisher, opened fire from masonboro beach, and with great precision cut off one of the _florida's_ paddle-wheel arms, broke a second one, and cut a rim of the wheel in two; also, one of the confederate shells exploded on board the _florida_ and came near destroying her. the _florida_ returned the fire, which so alarmed the captain and crew of the _fannie and jennie_ that some of them attempted to reach the beach in boats. in this attempt captain coxetter and his purser were drowned in the breakers, the others gaining the shore; the rest of the crew, twenty-five in number, who remained on board were made prisoners by the federals. captain coxetter had in his keeping a very valuable gold jewelled sword, which was to be delivered to gen. r.e. lee as an expression of the admiration of many prominent english sympathizers. it is still on board this wreck, which lies near a line of breakers to the south of lumina. the _fannie and jennie_ was loaded with a valuable cargo, five days out from nassau bound to wilmington, when she was stranded. the "emily of london." during the month of january, , while my ship was in st. george, bermuda, loading for wilmington, i met frequently an attractive young virginian named selden, of the confederate signal service, who had been detailed as signal officer on the fine new steamer _emily of london_; and i became most favorably impressed with this courteous christian gentleman and with the superior qualities of his beautiful vessel. all of her appointments were first-class, and her equipment was superior to that of any other blockade runner of the fleet. as she lies now in sight of my cottage on wrightsville beach, visible at every turn of the tide, i often wonder what became of selden, for i never learned his fate after the stranding and loss of his fine ship a mile or so above the wreck of the _fannie and jennie_, on the same night, february , . the only particulars of the stranding of the _emily_ are embodied in the official report of her discovery on the beach by captain crosby, of the federal cruiser _florida_, who found her ashore between masonboro inlet and wrightsville beach after her captain and crew had abandoned her. she was then set on fire by bombshells from the cruiser _florida_, a loud explosion on board of the wrecked vessel indicating that her cargo was probably partly composed of explosives for the confederacy. captain crosby adds that she was a new and very handsome steamer, expensively fitted out. it is presumed that the _emily's_ captain and crew, numbering about fifty men, succeeded in reaching the protection of the confederates. the "ella." an ex-confederate officer describing wilmington during the blockade, among many interesting things, said the following: "owing to the configuration of the coast it was almost impossible to effect a close blockade. the cape fear had two mouths, old inlet, at the entrance of which fort caswell stands, and new inlet, nine miles up the river, where fort fisher guarded the entrance. from the station off old inlet, where there were usually from five to six blockaders, around to the station off new inlet, a vessel would have to make an arc of some fifty miles, owing to the frying pan shoals intervening, while from caswell across to fisher was only nine miles. the plan of the blockade runners coming in was to strike the coast thirty or forty miles above or below the inlets, and then run along (of course at night) until they got under the protection of the forts. sometimes they got in or out by boldly running through the blockading fleet, but that was hazardous; for, if discovered, the ocean was alive with rockets and lights, and it was no pleasant thing to have shells and balls whistling over you and around you. the chances were then that if you were not caught you had, in spite of your speed, to throw a good many bales of cotton overboard. "the wreck of these blockade runners not infrequently occurred by being stranded or beached, and highly diverting skirmishes would occur between the blockaders and the garrisons of the forts for the possession. the fleet, however, never liked the whitworth guns we had, which shot almost with the accuracy of a rifle and with a tremendous range. the soldiers generally managed to wreck the stranded vessel successfully, though often-times with great peril and hardship. it mattered very little to the owners then who got her, as they did not see much of what was recovered--the soldiers thinking they were entitled to what they got at the risk of their lives. but a wreck was a most demoralizing affair. the whole garrison generally got drunk and stayed drunk for a week or so afterwards. brandy and fine wines flowed like water; and it was a month perhaps before matters could be got straight. many accumulated snug little sums from the misfortunes of the blockade runners, who generally denounced such pillage as piracy; but it could not be helped. "we recollect the wrecking of the _ella_, off bald head, in december, . she belonged to the bee company, of charleston, and was a splendid new steamer, on her second trip in, with a large and valuable cargo almost entirely owned by private parties and speculators. she was chased ashore by the blockading fleet, and immediately abandoned by her officers and crew, whom nothing would induce to go back in order to save her cargo. yankee shells flying over, and through, and around her, had no charms for these sons of neptune. captain badham, however, and his company, the edenton (n. c.) battery, with captain bahnson, a fighting quaker from salem, n.c., boarded and wrecked her under the fire of the federals, six shells passing through the _ella_ while they were removing her cargo. the consequence was that for a month afterwards nearly the whole garrison was on 'a tight,' and groceries and dry goods were plentiful in that vicinity. the general demoralization produced by 'london dock' and 'hollands' seemed even to have affected that holy man, the chaplain, who said some very queer graces at the headquarters mess table." the "modern greece." one of the earliest strandings of friendly steamers near new inlet, or cape fear main bar, was that of the _modern greece_, which was also the most important and interesting. on the morning of the th of june, , at . o'clock the _modern greece_ had safely evaded many federal cruisers and was within three miles of fort fisher, headed for new inlet, when she was seen by one of the federal blockaders, the _cambridge_, which immediately gave chase and pelted the _modern greece_ with bombshells. the _cambridge_ was joined by the federal cruiser _stars and stripes_, which also opened fire on the _modern greece_, the latter being then run ashore to avoid capture, her crew escaping in their boats to the shore. in the meantime fort fisher was firing at the enemy and also at the _modern greece_ where she was stranded, in order to prevent the federals from hauling her off. the crew of the _modern greece_ was in great peril during this bombardment, as part of her valuable cargo consisted of a thousand tons of powder for the confederacy and many guns. the garrison at fort fisher subsequently landed a large amount of clothing and barrels of spirits, and the spirits flowed like water for several weeks to the scandal of the fort and its defenders. its potent influence was also felt in wilmington. the _modern greece_ was a large british propeller of about , tons net register, one of the largest blockade runners of the war. she now lies deep in the sand near fort fisher. the "elizabeth." one of the regular passenger and freight boats which ran between new orleans and galveston before the war was named _atlantic_. she became a famous blockade runner under her original name, which was changed later to _elizabeth_. i think she was commanded for several voyages by the celebrated capt. thomas j. lockwood of southport and charleston, whose capable brother-in-law, george c. mcdougal, was her chief engineer. mr. mcdougal was a man of fine qualities, quiet and retiring in his demeanor. he made in various steamers sixty successful runs through the blockade. for more than twenty-five years after the war i enjoyed the privilege of his intimate confidences, and i have no hesitation in saying that he was to my mind the most remarkable man who had been engaged in blockade running. on the th of september, , the _elizabeth_ sailed from nassau with a general cargo, mostly steel and saltpeter, bound for wilmington, but through some unknown cause ran ashore at lockwood's folly, twelve miles from fort caswell. the captain set her on fire and burned her on the th, the crew escaping to the shore. a man who gave his name as norris or morris was captured, second officer on the _douro_, stranded october , , and he told the commander of the cruiser _nansemond_ that he was a federal spy and that he was on the _elizabeth_ when she was stranded, and he exhibited eight ounces of laudanum and two ounces of chloroform which he said he bought in nassau to put in the whisky and water of the firemen of the _elizabeth_ and of the _douro_ so as to cause the capture of these vessels, but he did not explain why the _elizabeth_ went ashore while he was in her. the "georgiana mccaw." about the year there flourished in wilmington the historical and literary society, composed of about fifty eminent citizens of education and refinement. in those days our representative men found pleasure and relaxation from the drudgery of business or the strain of professional life in the congenial company which assembled for mutual benefit once a month in the lecture room of the presbyterian church on orange street. such men as doctor wilson, father of the president, doctor derosset, alfred martin and his son e.s. martin, who sometimes represented opposing views, doctor wood, edward cantwell, doctor morrelle, alexander sprunt, henry nutt, and many others, engaged in learned discussions of subjects suggested by the title of this organization. on a certain occasion one of the gentlemen named, to whose patriotic ardor we were almost wholly indebted for the closure of new inlet and the consequent benefit to cape fear commerce, rose in his usual dignified and impressive manner with an air of extraordinary importance and mystery. said he, "mr. chairman, i hold in my hands a relic of prehistoric times, cast up by the heaving billows off federal point, formerly known as confederate point. it is a piece of corroded brass upon which is inscribed a legend as yet indecipherable; in all probability it long antedates the coming of columbus." a curious group immediately surrounded the learned member with expressions of awe and admiration, and after several speeches had been made, by resolution unanimously adopted, mr. e.s. martin and two other members were entrusted with the precious relic for its elucidation by conferring with the antedeluvian societies of the north. at the following monthly meeting mr. martin reported for his committee that their efforts to identify the relic through reference to archæological societies in the north had been futile, but that a profane scotchman had informed them that the piece of metal was no more than a part of the bow or stern escutcheon of the stranded blockade runner _georgiana mccaw_, the palm tree in the center surrounded by the motto "let glasgow flourish," being the coat of arms of glasgow,[ ] scotland, the home port of the said blockade runner. alas! it was only another case of bill stubbs, his mark, but we never took the antedeluvians of the north into our confidence about it. the official report of acting master everson, u. s. navy, commanding the federal cruiser _victoria_, dated off western bar, wilmington, n.c., june , , addressed to the senior officer of the blockading squadron, is as follows, with reference to the stranding of the _georgiana mccaw_: "sir: i have the honor to report that at a.m., of this date, and while drifting in three and a half fathoms water, bald head light bearing east, saw white water near the beach to the south and westward, which i supposed to be a steamer. i immediately steamed ahead at full speed toward the beach in order to cut her off. "on near approach i discovered her to be a side-wheel steamer, steering for the bar. "as he crossed my bow i rounded to in his wake and discharged at him my starboard -inch gun, loaded with one -second shell and stand of grape, and kept firing my -pound rifle as i continued the chase, until . a.m. she struck on the bar. i immediately ordered the first and second cutters to board and fire her, the former under command of acting master's mate william moody, the latter under charge of acting third assistant engineer thomas w. hineline. "on arrival on board they found that two boats, with their crews, had escaped to the shore. "they, however, succeeded in capturing twenty-nine of the crew, including the captain and most of the officers, together with three passengers. "they fired her in several places, and she continued to burn until a.m., when she was boarded from the shore. at daylight fort caswell and the adjacent batteries opened fire on our boats with shot and shell, which compelled them to return without accomplishing her destruction. "she proved to be the _georgiana mccaw_ of liverpool, tons burden, from nassau, bound to wilmington, n.c. "her cargo consists of about tons provisions, etc. "i would add, sir, that too much credit can not be awarded to acting master's mate william moody and acting third assistant engineer thomas w. hineline for their perseverance and energy displayed, and their cool and gallant conduct while under fire of the enemy." the "wild dayrell." one of the most prominent personalities of the blockade era was thomas e. taylor, a young englishman, aged twenty-one, who was sent by a wealthy liverpool firm to direct in person the movements of steamers which they had bought or builded for this dangerous traffic. he began with the old steamer _dispatch_, which was found to be too slow and after one or more voyages was sent back to england. his employers then began building lighter, faster boats specially adapted to the purpose, until they owned and operated a fleet of fifteen steamers. one of them, the _banshee_, was the first steel vessel that crossed the atlantic, and mr. taylor came in her to wilmington. his agreeable manners and courteous deportment attracted the favorable recognition of general whiting and of colonel lamb, whose personal and official regard was of great value to mr. taylor. he wrote an interesting book after the war from which i take the following incidents in his eventful career. "as soon as the nights were sufficiently dark we made a start for wilmington, unfortunately meeting very bad weather and strong head winds, which delayed us; the result was that instead of making out the blockading fleet about midnight, as we had intended, when dawn was breaking there were still no signs of it. captain capper, the chief engineer, and i then held a hurried consultation as to what we had better do. capper was for going to sea again, and if necessary returning to nassau; the weather was still threatening, our coal supply running short, and, with a leaky ship beneath us, the engineer and i decided that the lesser risk would be to make a dash for it. 'all right,' said capper, 'we'll go on, but you'll get d----d well peppered!' "we steamed cautiously on, making as little smoke as possible, whilst i went to the mast-head to take a look around; no land was in sight, but i could make out in the dull morning light the heavy spars of the blockading flagship right ahead of us, and soon after several other masts became visible on each side of her. picking out what appeared to me to be the widest space between these, i signaled to the deck how to steer, and we went steadily on, determined when we found we were perceived to make a rush for it. no doubt our very audacity helped us through, as for some time they took no notice, evidently thinking we were one of their own chasers returning from sea to take up her station for the day. "at last, to my great relief, i saw fort fisher just appearing above the horizon, although we knew that the perilous passage between these blockaders must be made before we could come under the friendly protection of its guns. suddenly, we became aware that our enemy had found us out; we saw two cruisers steaming toward one another from either side of us, so as to intercept us at a given point before we could get on the land side of them. it now became simply a question of speed and immunity from being sunk by shot. our little vessel quivered under the tremendous pressure with which she was being driven through the water. "an exciting time followed, as we and our two enemies rapidly converged upon one point, others in the distance also hurrying up to assist them. we were now near enough to be within range, and the cruiser on our port side opened fire; his first shot carried away our flagstaff aft on which our ensign had just been hoisted; his second tore through our forehold, bulging out a plate on the opposite side. bedding and blankets to stop the leak were at once requisitioned, and we steamed on full speed under a heavy fire from both quarters. suddenly, puffs of smoke from the fort showed us that colonel lamb, the commandant, was aware of what was going on and was firing to protect us; a welcome proof that we were drawing within range of his guns and on the landward side of our pursuers, who, after giving us a few more parting shots, hauled off and steamed away from within reach of the shells which we were rejoiced to see falling thickly around them. "we had passed through a most thrilling experience; at one time the cruiser on our port side was only a hundred yards away from us with her consort a hundred and fifty on the starboard, and it seemed a miracle that their double fire had not completely sunk us. it certainly required all one's nerve to stand upon the paddle box, looking without flinching almost into the muzzles of the guns which were firing at us; and proud we were of our crew, not a man of whom showed the white feather. our pilot, who showed no lack of courage at the time, became, however, terribly excited as we neared the bar, and whether it was that the ship steered badly, owing to being submerged forward, or from some mistake, he ran her ashore whilst going at full speed." on the following voyage mr. taylor says: "it was a critical time when daylight broke, dull and threatening. the captain was at the wheel and i at the mast-head (all other hands being employed at the pumps, and even baling), when, not four miles off, i sighted a cruiser broadside on. she turned round as if preparing to give chase, and i thought we were done for, as we could not have got more than three or four knots an hour out of our crippled boat. to my great joy, however, i found our alarm was needless, for she evidently had not seen us, and instead of heading turned her stern toward us and disappeared into a thick bank of clouds. "still we were far from being out of danger, as the weather became worse and worse and the wind increased in force until it was blowing almost a gale. things began to look as ugly as they could, and even captain capper lost hope; i shall never forget the expression on his face as he came up to me and said, in his gruff voice, 'i say, mr. taylor, the beggar's going, the beggar's going,' pointing vehemently downwards. 'what the devil do you mean?' i asked. 'why, we are going to lose the ship and our lives, too,' was the answer. it is not possible for any one unacquainted with capper to appreciate this scene. sturdy, thickset, nearly as broad as he was long, and with the gruffest manner but kindest heart--a rough diamond and absolutely without fear. with the exception of steele he was the best blockade-running captain we had. "in order to save the steamer and our lives we decided that desperate remedies must be resorted to, so again the unlucky deck cargo had to be sacrificed. the good effect of this was soon visible; we began to gain on the water, and were able, by degrees, to relight our extinguished fires. but the struggle continued to be a most severe one, for just when we began to obtain a mastery over the water the donkey engine broke down, and before we could repair it the water increased sensibly, nearly putting out our fires again. so the struggle went on for sixty hours, when we were truly thankful to steam into nassau harbor and beach the ship. it was a very narrow escape, for within twenty minutes after stopping her engines the vessel had sunk to the level of the water. "after this i made a trip in a new boat that had just been sent out to me, the _wild dayrell_. and a beauty she was, very strong, a perfect sea boat, and remarkably well engined. "our voyage in was somewhat exciting, as about three o'clock in the afternoon, while making for fort caswell entrance (not fort fisher), we were sighted by a federal cruiser that immediately gave chase. we soon found, however, that we had the heels of our friend, but it left us the alternative of going out to sea or being chased straight into the jaws of the blockaders off the bar before darkness came on. under these circumstances what course to take was a delicate point to decide, but we solved the problem by slowing down just sufficiently to keep a few miles ahead of our chaser, hoping that darkness would come on before we made the fleet or they discovered us. just as twilight was drawing in we made them out; cautiously we crept on, feeling certain that our enemy astern was rapidly closing up on us. every moment we expected to hear shot whistling around us. so plainly could we see the sleepy blockaders that it seemed almost impossible we should escape their notice. whether they did not expect a runner to make an attempt so early in the evening, or whether it was sheer good luck on our part, i know not, but we ran through the lot without being seen or without having a shot fired at us. "our anxieties, however, were not yet over, as our pilot (a new hand) lost his reckoning and put us ashore on the bar. fortunately, the flood tide was rising fast, and we refloated, bumping over stern first in a most inglorious fashion, and anchored off fort caswell before p.m.--a record performance. soon after anchoring we saw a great commotion among the blockaders, who were throwing up rockets and flashing lights, evidently in answer to signals from the cruiser which had so nearly chased us into their midst. "when we came out we met with equally good luck, as the night was pitch dark and the weather very squally. no sooner did we clear the bar than we put our helm aport, ran down the coast, and then stood boldly straight out to sea without interference; and it was perhaps as well we had such good fortune, as before this i had discovered that our pilot was of very indifferent caliber, and that courage was not our captain's most prominent characteristic. the poor _wild dayrell_ deserved a better commander, and consequently a better fate than befell her. she was lost on her second trip, entirely through the want of pluck on the part of her captain, who ran her ashore some miles to the north of fort fisher; as he said in order to avoid capture--to my mind a fatal excuse for any blockade-running captain to make. 'twere far better to be sunk by shot and escape in the boats if possible. i am quite certain that if steele or capper had commanded her on that trip she would never have been put ashore, and the chances are that she would have come through all right. "i never forgave myself for not unshipping the captain on my return to nassau; my only excuse was that there was no good man available to replace him, and he was a particular protégé of my chief. but such considerations should not have weighed, and if i had had the courage of my convictions it is probable the _wild dayrell_ would have proved as successful as any of our steamers." the rest of the story of the loss of the fine steamer _wild dayrell_, which was accidentally run ashore at stump inlet february , , is told in the official report of lieut. commander f.a. roe of the u.s. cruiser _sassacus_ to admiral s.p. lee, as follows: u.s.s. "sassacus." off stump inlet, n.c., _february , _. "sir: i have to report that about o'clock a.m., on the morning of the st instant, in about the parallel of topsail inlet, n.c., i discovered a steamer close inshore, showing heavy columns of smoke. i headed for her at once, and, upon approaching, found her ashore at the mouth of stump inlet. her crew were busy throwing overboard her cargo, a portion of which was scattered along the beach. when within reach of my guns, her crew and people fled in their boats, when i fired a few guns to disperse any enemies that might be hovering near. i boarded and took possession of the steamer, which proved to be the blockade runner _wild dayrell_. all the papers which i could find i herewith transmit. she was inward bound, two days from nassau. i found her furnaces filled with fuel and burning, with the intention of destroying her boilers. i hauled her fires and found her machinery and the vessel in perfect order, with a portion of her cargo, consisting of assorted merchandise, still on board. i immediately got our hawsers and attempted to pull her off, but failed, owing to the falling of the tide. i made another attempt at o'clock a.m. on the morning of the d, but parted the hawser. the weather looking bad, i put to sea until daylight, when i returned and assumed a new position to endeavor to get her off. "in the meantime, i commenced to lighten the vessel by throwing overboard about tons of coal. at high water, about p.m. of the d, i commenced tugging at her again, when, after some time, the current sweeping me close to the shoal to leeward, the _sassacus_ struck twice lightly. i cut the hawser and steamed up to a new position and anchored. during this trial, the u.s.s. _florida_, commander crosby, came in and anchored, with offers of assistance to us. during this trial the wind blew fresh from the southward and westward in heavy flaws, which was the principal cause of my failure to get her off. i then steamed up to a new position to try her again. on the d, while getting on board our hawsers to the prize, with the assistance of the boats of the _florida_, my cable suddenly parted and i was forced to steam out to keep from fouling the _florida_, which was anchored near, and in so doing parted the hauling lines of the hawsers, which were being hauled in by the _florida's_ men on board the prize. "during this last operation the enemy appeared and opened fire with musketry upon the _sassacus_ and the boats coming from the prize. both vessels promptly opened fire and the enemy were driven off. "i would here observe that the cable of this vessel parted unduly, without having been strained by any swell or heavy wind, thus losing the anchor and about five fathoms of cable. we were anchored in two and three-quarter fathoms water; the cable was undoubtedly bad. "upon consultation with commander crosby we decided that it was impossible to get the steamer off, and that we must destroy her. accordingly, i gave the signal to the men on board of her to set fire to her thoroughly and return aboard, which was done. both vessels then opened fire upon the steamer, and she was riddled at about the water line with raking shots from the _sassacus_. no attempt was made to save her cargo, as i deemed it impracticable to do so. not one-half of her cargo had been thrown overboard and the rest, which i deemed very valuable merchandise, was consumed with the vessel. valuable time would have been lost in the effort, and to pillage her would have demoralized my men for healthy action in some future similar service. having effected this duty, i put to sea at about eight o'clock of the evening of the d. "i transmit herewith an appraisement of value of the steamer and cargo, made by a board ordered upon that service. "i have the honor to be, sir, "very respectfully, "your obedient servant, "f.a. roe, "_lieutenant commander_. "acting rear admiral s.p. lee, "_comdg. north atlantic blockading squadron, hampton roads_." the "general beauregard." of the steamer _general beauregard_ i have but little information, although i remember her as a valuable ship. the _richmond whig_ of december , , states that according to the _wilmington journal_ this steamer was chased ashore by the federal blockaders on the night of the th instant some distance above fort fisher, near battery gatlin, and that she had been set on fire. captain ridgely of the federal cruiser _shenandoah_ (which chased my ship the _lilian_ for five hours later) reported to admiral s.p. lee, december , , that on the evening of the th of december, , between seven and eight o'clock, the cruiser _howquah_ saw the _general beauregard_ coming down the beach heading for cape fear or new inlet. he gave chase and opened fire on him. the _beauregard_ being impeded by a heavy sea and finding escape impossible, ran ashore at the point already described. the next morning the cruiser, accompanied by the _tuscarora_, tried to board the _beauregard_, but they were attacked by two confederate batteries, one to the north and another to the south of the stranded vessel, and driven off, the _tuscarora_ being struck by a confederate shell in her quarter. the _beauregard_ is still conspicuous on carolina beach at all stages of the tide, showing her battered hull high above the level of the sea. the "douro." in the spring of this fine steamer was captured at sea by the federal cruisers, sent to a port of adjudication in the north, condemned and sold at auction, taken to the british provinces (halifax, i think) and there purchased, it was said, by the confederate government. at all events she was fitted out for the same service and in a few weeks reappeared at nassau, where i saw her as a confederate steamer under the confederate flag. on the night of the th of october, , the _douro_ attempted to run the blockade at new inlet, loaded with a valuable cargo of bales of cotton, boxes of tobacco, tierces of tobacco, and a quantity of turpentine and rosin, belonging to the confederate government. at . of the same night she eluded the federal fleet and was running up the beach towards masonboro in two and one-half fathoms of water, when she was pursued by the cruiser _nansemond_, which tried to get between the _douro_ and the beach, but failed because of shoal water. had the _douro_ kept on her course she would have escaped, but, taking a panic, she reversed her course, and headed back for the bar at new inlet, was then intercepted by the _nansemond_ and run ashore, instead of facing the gun fire of the fleet with a chance of getting under fort fisher's protection. the captain and most of the crew escaped in the _douro's_ boats, but five, remaining on board, were captured by the cruiser _nansemond_. it was said at the time that this fine ship (a propeller) was owned in wilmington and that her cargo was for the confederate government. she now lies just above the _hebe_ between fort fisher and masonboro inlet. the "dee." two of the finest blockade runners, sister ships, called the _don_ and the _dee_, met at last with disaster. the _don_, after running the gauntlet some ten or twelve times, was captured at sea. she had been commanded from her first voyage to the one before the last by captain roberts, so-called, really captain hobart, of the royal british navy, who later became hobart pasha, admiral in chief of the turkish navy. he was a son of the earl of buckinghamshire. the _dee_ was commanded for three successful voyages by capt. george h. bier, formerly a lieutenant in the u.s. navy. at o'clock a.m. february , , the u.s.s. _cambridge_ on the blockade off new inlet discovered the _dee_ from hamilton, bermuda, loaded with pig lead, bacon, and military stores, bound for wilmington, ashore and on fire about a mile to the southward of masonboro inlet. the _cambridge_ at once boarded the stranded vessel and attempted to salve her, but the fire was too hot and the ship too deeply embedded in the sand to haul her off into deep water. she was accordingly bombarded and abandoned. the _dee's_ crew escaped to the shore, with the exception of seven men, who fell into the hands of the federals. it is not known whether the _dee_ ran ashore from accident or design. steamer "nutfield." i learn from official reports that after captain roe of the u.s.s. _sassacus_ had practically destroyed the _wild dayrell_ by gun fire he stood out to sea and regained his position in the outer line of cruisers, known as the bermuda line or track, and that at daylight of the th of february, , he discovered a blockade runner to the northward, which proved to be the fine new iron steamer _nutfield_ of tons (unusually large size), from bermuda bound for wilmington. the _sassacus_, being the faster ship, increased her speed to thirteen knots, and at noon succeeded in getting in range of the _nutfield_ with her -pounder rifle guns, which did such execution that the hard pressed _nutfield_ changed her course, heading for the land, and ran ashore at new river inlet. the _nutfield's_ crew set her on fire and fled precipitately in their boats for the beach. one of the _nutfield's_ boats capsized in the surf and the federals tried to rescue the crew but only succeeded in saving the purser, the others being supposedly drowned. efforts were made by the _sassacus_ for two days to haul off the _nutfield_, which was a very valuable prize, being loaded with an assorted cargo of merchandise, drugs, munitions of war, enfield rifles, a battery of eight very valuable whitworth guns, and a quantity of pig lead; the battery and the lead were thrown overboard during the chase. the _nutfield_ had escaped from the blockading fleet at new inlet the night before and was off new river intending to try the cape fear the following night, but most unfortunately fell in with the _sassacus_, a fast cruiser, during the day. a large part of her valuable cargo was taken out of her by the federals. the "banshee's" narrow escape.[ ] mr. thomas e. taylor was agent for the blockade runner _banshee_, and i quote his narrative: "one very dark night (i think it was either on the fourth or fifth trip) we made the land about twelve miles above fort fisher, and were creeping quietly down as usual, when all at once we made a cruiser out, lying on our port bow, and slowly moving about yards from the shore. it was a question of going inside or outside her; if we went outside she was certain to see us, and would chase us into the very jaws of the fleet. as we had very little steam up we chose the former alternative, hoping to pass unobserved between the cruiser and the shore, aided by the dark background of the latter. it was an exciting moment; we got almost abreast of her, as we thought, unobserved, and success seemed within our grasp, till we saw her move in toward us and heard her hail as we came on, 'stop that steamer or i will sink you!' "old steele growled out that we hadn't time to stop, and shouted down the engine-room tube to erskine to pile on the coal, as concealment was no longer any use. our friend, which we afterwards found out was the _niphon_, opened fire as fast as she could and sheered close into us, so close that her boarders were called away twice, and a slanging match went on between us, like that sometimes to be heard between two penny steamboat captains on the thames. she closed the dispute by shooting away our foremast, exploding a shell in our bunkers, and, when we began to leave her astern, by treating us to grape and canister. it was a miracle that no one was killed, but the crew were all lying flat on the deck, except the steersman; and at one time i fear he did the same, for as pilot burroughs suddenly cried, 'my god, mr. taylor, look there!' i saw our boat heading right into the surf, so, jumping from the bridge, i ran aft and found the helmsman on his stomach. i rushed at the wheel and got two or three spokes out of it, which hauled her head off land, but it was a close shave. "two miles farther we picked up another cruiser, which tried to treat us in a similar manner, but as we had plenty of steam we soon left her. a little farther we came across a large side-wheel boat, which tried to run us down, missing us only by a few yards; after that we were unmolested and arrived in safe, warmly congratulated by lamb, who thought from the violent cannonade that we must certainly be sunk. "not more than one man out of a hundred would have brought a boat through as steele did that night--the other ninety-nine would have run her ashore." the "venus." the official report of lieutenant lamson, u.s. steamer _nansemond_, off new inlet, october , , says, "i have the honor to report the capture and entire destruction of the blockade runner _venus_, from nassau to wilmington with a cargo of lead, drugs, dry goods, bacon, and coffee. "this morning at . she attempted to run the blockade, but was discovered by this vessel, and after a short chase overhauled. when abeam, i opened fire on her, one shot striking her foremast, another exploding in her wardroom, a third passing through forward and killing one man, and a fourth, striking under the guard near the water line, knocked in an iron plate, causing her to make water fast. she was run ashore. we boarded her at once, capturing her captain and twenty-two of her officers and crew. the u.s.s. _niphon_, acting master j.b. breck commanding, which was lying near where she went ashore, came immediately to my assistance. i ran a -inch hawser to the _venus_, and captain breck sent a -inch hawser to the _nansemond's_ bow, but all our efforts were unavailing, as the tide had turned ebb and she was going at least knots an hour when she went ashore. finding it impossible to move her, i ordered her to be set on fire, which was done in three places by acting ensigns porter and henderson, of this vessel. our boats were for some time exposed to a sharp fire of musketry from the beach, and the vessel was within range of one of the batteries. we had just commenced shelling her machinery when another vessel was seen off shore, and by the light of the burning steamer i was able to give her one shot and started in pursuit, but it was so cloudy and hazy that we lost sight of her almost immediately. i ran east at the rate of fourteen knots till o'clock, but did not get sight of her again, and ran back, making the land on the northward. "in the meantime, captain breck, with the assistance of the _iron age_, lieut. commander stone, had completed the destruction of the _venus_, her boilers having been blown up and her hull riddled with shell. "i have to express my thanks to captain breck for the prompt assistance rendered me by sending his boats to assist in carrying my heavy hawser to the _nansemond's_ bows. his boats then reported to acting ensign j.h. porter, who was in charge of the _venus_. the fire forward not burning well as it was expected, he sent a boat on board in the morning and rekindled it." the _venus_ was feet long and , tons measurement, and is represented by her captain and officers to have been one of the finest and fastest vessels engaged in running the blockade. she had the finest engines of any vessel in this trade and was sheathed completely over with iron. she drew eight feet of water, and when bound out last, crossed the bar at low water with over bales of cotton on board. the wrecks of the _hebe_, _douro_, and _venus_ are within a short distance of each other. a private notebook was found by the federal boarding party in the effects of the captain of the _venus_, in which a list of blockade runners engaged in the year was entered as follows, a total of steamers, of which were captured or destroyed, but this list was not complete, as a hundred at least were engaged during that period. vessels engaged in running the blockade in . (those marked c had been captured or destroyed.) _nina_ (c) _leopard_ (c) _antonica_ _thistle_ (c) _douro_ (c) _calypso_ (c) _granite city_ (c) _flora_ _ruby_ (c) _eagle_ (c) _havelock_ _douglas_ _annie childs_ (c) _wave queen_ (c) _giraffe_ (c) _gladiator_ _hebe_ (c) _venus_ (c) _juno_ (c) _princess royal_ (c) _cronstadt_ (c) _phantom_ (c) _lord clyde_ _dolphin_ _hansa_ _ella_ _spaulding_ (c) _mary ann_ _mail_ (c) _spunkie cornubia_ (c) _nicolai i_ (c) _st. john_ (c) _hero_[ ] _gertrude_ (c) _britannia_ (c) _emma_ (c) _georgiana_ (c) _j.p. hughes_ _banshee_ _alice_ (_mobile_) _aries_ (_st. thomas_) (c) _neptune_ (c) _norseman_ (c) _merrimac_ (c) _kate_ (c) _orion_ _siriens_ (_sirius_?) _atlantic_ _eugénie_ _cuba_ (_mobile_) (c) _raccoon_ _arabian_ (c) _jupiter_ _gibraltar_ _boston_ _juno ii_ _scotia_ _flora ii_ _herald_ _elizabeth_ (c) _r.e. lee_ _beauregard_ _sumter_ _corsica_ _bendigo_ _diamond_ _margaret and jessie_ _don_ _pet_ _charleston_ _rouen_ _hero ii_ _fanny_ _stonewall jackson_ total, ; captured and destroyed, . the "hebe." between the th of august and the st of october, , the federal fleet known as the "north american blockading squadron" drove ashore five blockade runners between new inlet and masonboro--the _arabian_ inside the bar of new inlet, which became an obstruction to our ships trying to pass her; the beautiful steamer _hebe_ near masonboro inlet, the _phantom_, the _douro_, and the _venus_ near each other off masonboro sound. as her classical name implies, the _hebe_ was a fine example of marine architecture. she was loaded with a full cargo of drugs, coffee, clothing, and provisions, and although she was a fast ship of knots, she seems to have made a bad landfall on the morning of the th of august, , and while she was heading for new inlet, distant about eight miles, she was intercepted by the federal gunboat _niphon_, when she up helm and ran ashore, the crew escaping in boats. when the federals attempted to haul the _hebe_ off the beach after she had run ashore, they met with formidable resistance by the confederates. owing to a heavy sea the _niphon's_ boat was driven ashore and the federals were attacked by a troop of confederate cavalry and all of them were captured. a confederate force of riflemen, supported by a battery of whitworth guns, also attacked the cruiser _niphon_ from the shore and drove the blockader away from the _hebe_, but not before the confederate had destroyed another federal boat load of the enemy which attempted to land. the _niphon_ and the _shokokon_, the latter under the command of the celebrated lieut. w.b. cushing, then bombarded the _hebe_ and set her on fire. on august , , general whiting, in command of the confederate forces at wilmington headquarters, sent to the secretary of war, mr. seddon, the following account of the _hebe_ disaster: "headquarters, "_wilmington, august , _. "sir: * * * yesterday the enemy took a fancy to destroy what remained of the wreck of the _hebe_, a crenshaw steamer run ashore some days ago, and from which a company of the garrison of fort fisher was engaged in saving property. the steam frigate _minnesota_ and five other gunboats approached the beach, and, under a terrific fire, attempted to land, but were gallantly repulsed by captain munn, with a whitworth and two small rifle guns of short range. the site was about nine miles from fisher, on the narrow and low beach between the sounds and the ocean, and completely under the fire of the enormous batteries of the enemy. a portion of the squadron, steaming farther up the beach, effected a landing some two miles off in largely superior force, and came down upon captain munn, still gallantly fighting his little guns against the _minnesota_, they being moved by hand, and, having fired his last round, the whitworths disabled, one gunner killed, a lieutenant and four men wounded, captain munn and his small party were compelled to fall back under a heavy enfilade fire toward fort fisher, with the loss of his guns. "this took place about nine miles from fort fisher and about the same distance from the city. the narrow beach, separated from the mainland by the sounds, gives every facility to the enemy, and secures them from us who are without boats or means of getting at them. the fiftieth (north carolina) regiment--the only one i have--was off at a distance, called by a landing made by the enemy at topsail, in which they burned, the night before, a schooner, a salt work, and took two artillerymen prisoners. "these little affairs, however, are only mentioned in illustration. this is the first time they have landed; but what they have done once they can do again and doubtless will. there is no day scarcely until the winter gales set in but what they could put , men on the beach; they can get them from new berne and beaufort before i could know it. i only say if they do they can get either fort fisher or the towns, as they elect, if they set about it at once. "the efforts of the enemy to stop our steamers are increasing. their force is largely increased. i have met with a serious and heavy loss in that whitworth, a gun that in the hands of the indefatigable lamb has saved dozens of vessels and millions of money to the confederate states. i beg that a couple of the whitworth guns originally saved by him from the _modern greece_ may be sent here at once. their long range, five or six miles, makes them most suitable for a seaboard position. could i get them with horses we could save many a vessel that will now be lost to us. but chiefly in this letter i beg of you, if you concur in my views, to lay the matter of the necessity of increasing the force here before the president. "very respectfully, "w.h.c. whiting, "_major general_. "hon. james a. seddon, "_secretary war, richmond_." a port of refuge. the natural advantages of wilmington at the time of the war between the states made it an ideal port for blockade runners, there being two entrances to the river--new inlet on the north and western or main bar on the south of cape fear. the slope of our beach is very gradual to deep water. the soundings along the coast are regular, and the floor of the ocean is remarkably even. a steamer hard pressed by the enemy could run along the outer edge of the breakers without great risk of grounding; the pursuer, being usually of deeper draft, was obliged to keep farther off shore. the "lilian." the confederate steamer _lilian_, of which i was then purser, was chased for nearly a hundred miles from cape lookout by the u.s. steamer _shenandoah_, which sailed a parallel course within half a mile of her and forced the _lilian_ at times into the breakers. this was probably the narrowest escape ever made by a blockade runner in a chase. the _shenandoah_ began firing her broadside guns at three o'clock in the afternoon, her gunners and the commanding officers of the batteries being distinctly visible to the _lilian's_ crew. a heavy sea was running, which deflected the aim of the man-of-war, and this alone saved the _lilian_ from destruction. a furious bombardment by the _shenandoah_, aggravated by the display of the _lilian's_ confederate flag, was continued until nightfall, when, by a clever ruse, the _lilian_, guided by the flash of her pursuer's guns, stopped for a few minutes; then, putting her helm hard over, ran across the wake of the warship straight out to sea, and, on the following morning, passed the fleet off fort fisher in such a crippled condition that several weeks were spent in wilmington for repairs. the "lynx" and her pilot. he is now the rev. james william craig,[ ] methodist preacher, but i like to think of him as jim billy, the cape fear pilot of war times, on the bridge of the swift confederate blockade runner _lynx_, commanded by the intrepid captain reed, as she races through the blackness of night on her course west nor'west, straight and true for the federal fleet off new inlet, in utter silence, the salt spray of the sea smiting the faces of the watches as they gaze ahead for the first sign of imminent danger. soon there is added to the incessant noise of wind and waves the ominous roar of the breakers, as the surf complains to the shore, and the deep sea lead gives warning of shoaling water. "half-speed" is muttered through the speaking tube; a hurried parley; a recognized landfall, for reed is a fine navigator, and "are you ready to take her, pilot?" "ready, sir," comes from jim billy in the darkness. then the whispered orders through the tube: "slow down," as there looms ahead the first of the dread monsters of destruction; "starboard," "steady." and the little ship glides past like a phantom, unseen as yet. then "port," "port," "hard a'port," in quick succession, as she almost touches the second cruiser. she is now in the thick of the blockading squadron; and suddenly, out of the darkness, close aboard, comes the hoarse hail, "heave to, or i'll sink you," followed by a blinding glare of rockets and the roar of heavy guns. the devoted little confederate is now naked to her enemies, as the glare of rockets and drummond lights from many men-of-war illuminate the chase. under a pitiless hail of shot and shell from every quarter, she bounds forward full speed ahead, every joint and rivet straining, while jim billy dodges her in and out through a maze of smoke and flame and bursting shells. the range of fort fisher's guns is yet a mile away. will she make it? onward speeds the little ship, for neither reed nor jim billy has a thought of surrender. a shell explodes above them, smashing the wheelhouse; another shell tears away the starboard paddle box; and, as she flies like lightning past the nearest cruiser, a sullen roar from colonel lamb's artillery warns her pursuers that they have reached their limitations, and in a few minutes the gallant little ship crosses the bar and anchors under the confederate guns. the captain and his trusty pilot shake hands and go below, "to take the oath," as reed described it--for the strain must be relaxed by sleep or stimulation. "a close shave, jim," was all the captain said. "it was, sir, for a fact," was the equally laconic answer. the "ranger" and the "vesta." these two fine ships were stranded on our coast upon their first voyage and as i had no personal knowledge of either of them, i have copied in full the federal official reports, and a letter dated wilmington, n.c., january , , by lieutenant gift of the confederate navy, who was in command of the _ranger_. "u.s. flagship 'minnesota,' "off lockwood's folly inlet, "_january , _. "sir: at daylight this morning a steamer was seen beached and burning one mile west of this inlet. mr. o'connor, from this ship, boarded her with the loss of one man, shot under the fire from the enemy's sharp shooters occupying rifle pits on the sand hills, which were high and near, and got her log book, from which it appears that she is the _ranger_; that she left newcastle [england] november , , for bermuda, where, after touching at teneriffe, she arrived on the th of december; that she sailed from bermuda january , , made our coast january , about five miles northeast of murrell's inlet, and landed her passengers. the next morning at daylight, intercepted by this ship, the _daylight_, _governor buckingham_, and _aries_, in her approach to western bar, she was beached and fired by her crew, as above mentioned. the attempts of the _governor buckingham_, aided by the _daylight_ and _aries_, to extinguish the fire and haul the _ranger_ off were frustrated by the enemy's sharpshooters, whose fire completely commanded her decks. this ship, drawing about twenty-four feet, was taken in four and one-half fathoms of water in front of the wreck, and the other vessels stationed to cross fire on the riflemen on the sand hills opened a deliberate fire with a view to dislodge the enemy and allow an attempt to haul off the _ranger_ at high water at night. meanwhile, the _ranger_ was burning freely forward and the commanding officers of the _governor buckingham_ and _daylight_, who had a good view of her situation, thinking that it was not practicable to get her off, she was also fired into, which, as her hatches were closed, had the effect of letting the air in, when the fire burned freely aft and doubtless burned the _ranger_ out completely. meanwhile, black smoke was rising in the direction of shallotte inlet, and the _aries_, withdrawn last night from her station there, was ordered to chase. she soon returned, and acting volunteer lieutenant devens reported a fine-looking double-propeller blockade runner, resembling the _ceres_, beached and on fire between tubb's and little river inlets, and that the enemy's sharpshooters prevented his boats from boarding her. this was probably the same steamer that was chased the previous evening by the _quaker city_, _tuscarora_, and _keystone state_, and escaping from them made the western shore, where, communicating and learning of the presence of the blockaders in force, and perhaps being short of coal, was beached by her crew and fired rather than be captured. "the department will perceive that this is the twenty-second steamer lost by the rebels and the blockade runners attempting to violate the blockade of wilmington within the last six months, an average of nearly one steamer every eight days. these losses must greatly lessen the means of the rebel authorities to export cotton, obtain supplies, and sustain their credit, and thus dispirit and weaken them very much. "i have the honor to be, sir, "very respectfully yours, "s.p. lee, "_acting rear admiral_, "_comdg. north atlantic blockading squadron_. "hon. gideon welles, "_secretary of the navy_, "_washington, d.c._" "u.s.s. 'aries,' "off little river, "_january , _. "sir: i would most respectfully report that the steamer stranded between tubb's inlet and little river is the blockade runner _vesta_. boarded her this a.m.; made a hawser fast to her, but on examining her found her whole starboard side opened and several of the plates split; took two anchors from her, which was all we could save. "the _vesta_ was exactly like the _ceres_. "i left her a complete wreck, with five feet of water in her. her boats lay on the beach badly stove. "very respectfully, your obedient servant, "edward f. devens, "_acting volunteer lieutenant, commanding_." "wilmington, n.c., _january , _. "my dear sir: in bermuda i took command of a splendid merchant steamer, called the _ranger_, for the passage to wilmington. i had very heavy weather and no observation for the first three days out. on the fourth got sights which put me at noon eighty miles southeast from lightship off frying pan shoals. i went ahead full speed in heavy sea to sight the light early in the night, but the yankees had put it out, and fearing the drift of the gulf, i determined to run inshore and anchor during the next day ( th instant) and ascertain my position accurately, which i did, and landed my passengers and baggage. on the morning of the th, at . a.m., i got underway and ran along the coast for the bar near fort caswell. when eight miles from the fort i made the _minnesota_ about one mile off, and whilst observing her motions the pilot (who had charge of the ship) suddenly sheered her inshore, and in an instant she was in the breakers. i made every effort to get her off, but unavailingly, so you see a couple of turns of a wheel in the hands of a timid man lost a fine ship and a valuable cargo. she was destroyed. i was loaded for government. "your obedient servant, "george w. gift." the "spunkie." many blockade runners were given corresponding names, _owl_, _bat_, _badger_, _phantom_, _lynx_, but none seemed to be more appropriate than that given to a little toy steamer from the clyde named _spunkie_. she was not fast but she managed to make several successful runs. when i saw her in nassau i could scarcely believe that this little cockleshell of a boat had crossed the north atlantic and had run through the blockading fleet. the commander of the federal cruiser _quaker city_ reported to admiral lee february , , that he had discovered the _spunkie_ ashore at daylight on the th on the beach a short distance west of fort caswell, but he could not determine whether she was attempting to run in or run out. two tugs belonging to the blockading fleet made repeated but ineffectual efforts to float the _spunkie_ and she still lies near fort caswell. as the _spunkie_ was loaded with blankets, shoes, and provisions for the confederate soldiers, there is no doubt she was trying to come into the river by the western bar when she ran ashore. the "phantom." this was a new confederate steamer built abroad on the most approved lines for the confederate government. she was a handsome iron propeller of about tons, camouflaged, as were all blockade runners, to decrease her visibility. the usual method was to paint the hull and smoke funnels a grayish green to correspond with the sea and sky and the coast-line sand dunes, which often made them invisible even at close range. there were two federal cruisers most dreaded by the blockade runners because of their great speed: the _connecticut_ and the _fort jackson_. the former made many prizes. at daylight, the morning of september , , when about fifty miles east by north of new inlet, the _phantom_ was discovered by the _connecticut_ standing to the eastward. the _phantom_ was bound from bermuda for wilmington with a very valuable cargo of confederate arms, medicine, and general stores. she had evidently made a very bad landfall too far to the northward and eastward at daylight and was running away from the land until darkness would help her into cape fear river, when she would face the fleet again. but the _connecticut_ gave chase at her top speed and after four hours' vain effort to escape, the _phantom_ suddenly hauled in and ran ashore near rich inlet, where she still lies. the crew escaped in their own boats, after setting the _phantom_ on fire. the federals attempted to put out the fire and salve the _phantom_, but failed to do so. the "dare." this steamer was built abroad in for the confederate government. at daybreak on the morning of the th of january, , the cruiser _montgomery_ saw the _dare_ with confederate colors flying near lockwood's folly, heading for cape fear. the _montgomery_ and her consort the _aries_ gave chase, the latter heading off the _dare_, which endeavored to escape, but being in range of the guns of both pursuers for about four hours, she headed for the beach, and was stranded at . p.m. a little to the northward of north inlet, near georgetown, s.c. the weather was very stormy and the surf very high so that one of the federal boats, in attempting to board the _dare_, was capsized and her crew made prisoners by the confederates behind the sand dunes. other federal boats reached the stranded vessel and set her on fire. the officers and crew of the _dare_ escaped to the shore. the "bendigo." in , when the demand for suitable merchant steamers to run the wilmington blockade could not be met, even at enormous prices, the eager buyers began to bid on the clyde river steamers. some of extraordinary speed but of frail construction were lost on the long and often tempestuous voyage across the atlantic via madeira and bermuda, while others succeeded in passing the blockade with almost the regularity of mail boats. of such was the _bendigo_, previously named the _milly_. her description was as follows: topsail yard schooner _bendigo_; steamship of liverpool, late _milly_, tons, built of iron, hull painted green, three portholes on either side fore and aft of paddle boxes. elliptic stern, carriage and name on same painted white, bridge athwartships on top of paddle boxes; after funnel or smokestack, with steam pipe fore part of same, fire funnel or smoke stack with steam pipe fore part of same; draws eight feet six inches aft and eight feet forward. i am putting this description (now obsolete) on record because it was a type of many other blockade runners in - . the _wilmington journal_ of january , , described the stranding of the blockade runner _bendigo_ at lockwood's folly inlet, from which it appears that the wreck of the blockade runner _elizabeth_ was mistaken by the _bendigo_ for a federal cruiser, and in trying to run between the wreck and the beach the _bendigo_ was stranded. the _bendigo_ was discovered at a.m. january , , by acting rear admiral s.p. lee on his flagship _fahkee_, who attempted with the assistance of the _fort jackson_, _iron age_, _montgomery_, and _daylight_ to haul off the _bendigo_, in which they failed because the confederate batteries on shore drove them off with the loss of the _iron age_, which got aground and blew up. the _bendigo_ was set on fire and abandoned and her hull may be still visible at lockwood's folly bar. the "antonica." this confederate blockade runner i remember as a fine ship and very successful. she was of the old american type of passenger and mail boat, tons, known previously as the _herald_. so regular and reliable in her runs was she that i recall a remark of one of her officers that it was only necessary to start her engine, put her on her course for either wilmington or nassau, lash her wheel, and she would go in and out by herself. she ran several times in and out of charleston, where she was registered carrying , to , bales of cotton and some tobacco. she was commanded on her last voyage by capt. w.f. adair, who reported that on the night of the th of december, , the _antonica_ made the land at little river inlet, the dividing line between north carolina and south carolina, and stood to the eastward of lockwood's folly inlet and waited until the moon set at . a.m., when he attempted to run the blockade at cape fear bar, but in trying to pass the blockader _governor buckingham_ was forced ashore on frying pan shoals, and he and his crew, twenty-six all told, were captured while making for the beach in their own boats. the _antonica_ was loaded and bound for wilmington with a very valuable cargo of war supplies when she was lost. the wreck still remains on frying pan shoals. i recall an interesting episode with reference to the _antonica_ which nearly caused a rupture between the british and federal governments while i was with my ship in the british port of nassau. the incident was referred to by the late capt. michael usina of savannah in his most interesting address many years ago before the confederate veterans, and i repeat it in his words: "on one occasion i was awakened by the sound of cannon in the early morning at nassau, and imagine my surprise to see a confederate ship being fired at by a federal man-of-war. the confederate proved to be the _antonica_, captain coxetter, who arrived off the port during the night, and, waiting for a pilot and daylight, found when daylight did appear that an enemy's ship was between him and the bar. there was nothing left for him to do but run the gauntlet and take his fire, which he did in good shape, some of the shot actually falling into the harbor. the federal ship was commanded by commodore wilkes, who became widely known from taking mason and slidell prisoners. after the chase was over wilkes anchored his ship, and when the governor sent to tell him that he must not remain at anchor there he said: 'tell the governor, etc., etc., he would anchor where he pleased.' the military authorities sent their artillery across to hog island, near where he was anchored, and we confederates thought the fun was about to begin. but wilkes remained just long enough to communicate with the consul and get what information he wanted, and left." the "florie" and the "badger." these two fine boats were well known to me. the former was named after mrs. j.g. wright, of wilmington, the beautiful daughter of capt. john n. maffitt, who commanded my ship the _lilian_, a sister boat. the _florie_ was owned by the state of georgia and by some of its prominent citizens, gov. joseph brown, col. c.a.l. lamar, and others. she made several successful runs to wilmington, but her end is clouded in mystery. there is no record of her fate except a report by some "intelligent contrabands" to the federal fleet that she was sunk inside the bar in cape fear river; whether by accident or by shell fire i am unable to ascertain. it was said that the _badger_, sister ship to the _lynx_, came to her end the same way after making several runs through the fleet. * * * * * the following order of the confederate secretary of the navy to capt. john n. maffitt, who was then in command of the _owl_, will explain why so many valuable ships were run ashore rather than surrendered into the hands of the federals: order of the secretary of the navy to commander maffitt, c.s. navy, repeating telegram of instructions regarding the command of the blockade runner _owl_. "confederate states of america, "navy department, richmond, "_september , _. "sir: the following telegram was this day sent to you: "it is of the first importance that our steamers should not fall into the enemy's hands. apart from the specific loss sustained by the country in the capture of blockade runners, these vessels, lightly armed, now constitute the fleetest and most efficient part of his blockading force off wilmington. "as commanding officer of the _owl_ you will please devise and adopt thorough and efficient means for saving all hands and destroying the vessel and cargo whenever these measures may become necessary to prevent capture. upon your firmness and ability the department relies for the execution of this important trust. in view of this order, no passenger will, as a general rule, be carried. such exceptions to this rule as the public interests may render necessary, embracing those who may be sent by the government, will receive special permits from this department. "assistant paymaster tredwell has been instructed to pay over to you, taking your receipt for the same, , pounds in sterling bills. you will please keep an accurate account with vouchers in duplicate of all your expenditures, one set of which you will submit to mr. w.h. peters, our special agent at wilmington, upon each round trip you may make. "i am respectfully your obedient servant, "s.r. mallory, "_secretary of the navy_. "commander john n. maffitt, _c.s. navy_, "care w.h. peters, esq., "wilmington, n.c." the "cape fear." a notable blockade runner called the _virginia_ was bought by the confederate government during the war and renamed the _cape fear_. she was put under the command of captain guthrie, a cape fear pilot of recognized ability, who was succeeded by an english gentleman, a fine sailor, captain wise, who cast his lot with our people and ran the _cape fear_ up and down the river for several years as a confederate transport. she was destroyed in the river when the federals captured fort fisher. captain wise married a miss flora mccaleb, of wilmington, and for years after the war conducted a lumberyard here. he was a most courteous, attractive gentleman, generally respected in the community. he died here many years ago. the "north heath." during the third year of the war between the states, i was appointed at the age of seventeen years purser of the blockade-running steamer _north heath_, under command of captain burroughs, who had successfully run the blockade twelve times in charge of the confederate steamer _cornubia_, later named _lady davis_, after the wife of the president. i believe that under god, captain burroughs, by his fine qualities as a cool and capable seaman, saved this ship from foundering at sea when we ran into a hurricane shortly after our departure from st. george, bermuda, bound for wilmington. for two days and nights we were in imminent danger of our lives--tossed upon a raging sea, every man of our crew of except those at the wheel was lashed to the vessel, while we bailed with buckets and the use of hand pumps the flooded fireroom of our sinking vessel. for an entire night she wallowed like a log in a trough of mountainous waves, which broke over us in ever-increasing fury. i can never forget this frightful scene. it seems photographed upon my memory in all its fearsome details. the water had risen in our hold until every one of our fourteen furnaces was extinguished. there was no steam to run our donkey boilers and steam-power pumps. lashed to one another, in the blackness of darkness, relieved only by the intermittent flashes of lightning which illuminated the giant waves towering around us and threatening to overwhelm and sink the laboring, quivering fabric, we held on in despair until morning, when we began to gain on the leaks until our steam pumps could be used in relieving the boiler room, and our brave captain got the ship under control. then we succeeded in putting her about and headed back to bermuda. the strain of this exposure resulted in an attack of fever, which confined me to bed for a long time on shore, and captain burroughs reluctantly left me behind when the ship was ready for sea. after we repaired our badly damaged hull and machinery, the _north heath_ proceeded again toward wilmington, passing the blockading fleet safely. when she was about to load cotton for the outward voyage, the federal expedition against fort fisher arrived off cape fear and presented such a formidable appearance that the confederate government seized the _north heath_, loaded her with stone and sank her at a point below sunset park where the river channel is narrow, as an obstruction to the federal fleet which subsequently captured wilmington. for many years after she was an obstruction to peaceful commerce, but the wreck was finally removed by the river and harbor improvement engineers. the "kate." there were two blockade runners named _kate_, but they were quite different as to origin and enterprise. the first one of that name was an american-built steamer, previously in the coast trade. she was commanded by capt. thomas j. lockwood, and it was this vessel that brought to wilmington on the th of august, , the fearful plague of yellow fever, which raged for ten weeks and carried off of our people. after several successful voyages she ran ashore above fiddler's dreen, near southport, and went to pieces. about twenty years ago i related in justice clark's _north carolina regimental histories_, published in five volumes, , an incident in the career of this steamer _kate_ which may be worth repeating: on one occasion in the _kate_ lockwood had run inside the line of blockaders at the main bar some distance up the beach, and suddenly took the ground while jammed between an anchored man-of-war and the breakers. the blockader did not see him, although so near that no one on board the _kate_ was permitted to speak above a whisper. the tide was near the last of the ebb and there were only a few hours of darkness in which to work. george c. mcdougal, chief engineer and captain lockwood's brother-in-law, always ready for an emergency, had promptly loaded the safety valve down with a bag of iron castings to prevent any noise from escaping steam, and when it became absolutely necessary the steam was blown off very gently under the water. the boats were lowered noiselessly and several passengers and a lot of valuables landed in the surf on the lee side of the vessel, with orders to proceed to fort caswell in the distance. at first it seemed impossible to save the ship, as any noise from her paddles would inevitably have led to her destruction by the blockaders, which were seen plainly only a cable's length from the _kate's_ perilous position. lockwood held a consultation with his trusted engineer, and decided to open the gangway and quietly slide overboard a lot of lead wire in heavy coils, which was part of the inward cargo, and which was intended to be cut into bullets by the confederate government. this served to lighten the ship and also as an effectual bulkhead which prevented the vessel from working higher up on the beach when the tide turned, and the discharge went on for some time without apparent effect; but the rising tide soon after began to bump the bilges of the vessel against the sand bank inside. lockwood proposed an attempt to back clear or to beach her at once, but the "boss," as mcdougal was called, calmly showed him that unless they were sure of floating clear on the first attempt they would never be permitted to make a second trial, as the paddles would surely betray them to the fleet. another fifteen minutes that seemed an hour of suspense, and the captain again urged immediate action, but the imperturbable engineer said: "wait a little longer, oakie; she is rising every minute; let us be sure of getting off before we make the effort." meantime the bumping increased, and at last, with everything in readiness and a full head of steam, the engines were reversed full speed, and the _kate_, quickly afloat and responding to the wheel, gallantly passed the blockading fleet in the gray dawn and shortly afterwards anchored under the guns of fort caswell. she had hardly swung to the anchor before she was seen by the disappointed blockaders, who sent shell after shell flying after her, bursting in such uncomfortable proximity, that the _kate_ was moved up to mrs. stuart's wharf at smithville, where the shell and solid shot still followed her, many passing in a line more than a thousand yards beyond the wharf. with the aid of a good glass a man could be seen in the foretop of the federal flagship with a flag in his hand, which he waved to right or left as he saw the effect of the firing; this enabled the gunners to better their aim until the shells struck just astern of the _kate_ or passed in a line ahead of the vessel. on a closer approach of the fleet they were driven off by fort caswell's heaviest guns. the _kate_ and her crew were in great peril on this occasion, owing to the fact that there were a thousand barrels of gunpowder on board for the confederacy, making the risk from the shells extremely dangerous. mr. mcdougal said to me on this occasion that when the yankees began shelling them at fort caswell a detachment of soldiers was being embarked for wilmington on the confederate transport _james t. petteway_, and that when the first shell struck the beach near the _petteway_, the whole company broke ranks and ran like rabbits to the fort again. some time ago the _wilmington daily review_ published an account of the recovery of a large lot of wire from the bottom of the sea near fort caswell. this was doubtless part of the _kate's_ cargo thrown overboard as described. the second "kate." the second _kate_ was a new iron steamer, double-screw propeller, tons, english built, commanded by captain stubbs. she had made a successful run into charleston with a valuable cargo, and was also successful in running out again with bales of cotton, which she landed in nassau. she had loaded a second inward cargo at nassau and sailed for charleston, but, failing to elude the blockaders, she ran for wilmington and on july , , at . o'clock a.m., was making for new inlet close ahead when she was intercepted by the federal blockader _penobscot_, which opened a heavy fire on her and drove her ashore on the south end of smith's island, where her wrecked hull still remains. the federals attempted to haul the _kate_ off into deep water, but were prevented by the confederates on shore, who drove them away. with the exception of two of her crew who remained and were captured, the officers and men of the _kate_ escaped to the shore. the "night hawk." it is not surprising that the federal blockading fleet so often failed to refloat blockade runners after they were stranded on the beach, because the runners always timed their attempt to pass the fleet at high tide, the depth of water on the bar being only to feet and the channel beset with shoals and obstructions, so that before the federals could prepare for hauling off these vessels and thereby secure for themselves large sums of prize money, the tide would have fallen, leaving the stranded ships more firmly embedded in the sand, and when in daylight another high tide would come the federals had to deal with the confederate guns, which kept them at a distance. there were, however, several instances which i recall of the rescue of stranded ships by the confederates, notably that of the _kate_ and of the _night hawk_. the latter was a most spectacular, exciting affair, which i will relate in mr. thomas taylor's words: "it was on my second trip to bermuda that one of the finest boats we ever possessed, called the _night hawk_, came out, and i concluded to run in with her. she was a new side-wheel steamer of some tons gross, rigged as a fore-and-aft schooner, with two funnels, feet long, - / feet beam, and feet in depth; a capital boat for the work, fast, strong, of light draught, and a splendid sea boat--a great merit in a blockade runner, which sometimes has to be forced in all weathers. the _night hawk's_ career was a very eventful one, and she passed an unusually lively night off fort fisher on her first attempt. "soon after getting under way our troubles began. we ran ashore outside hamilton, one of the harbors of bermuda, and hung on a coral reef for a couple of hours. there loomed before us the dismal prospect of delay for repairs, or, still worse, the chance of springing a leak and experiencing such difficulties and dangers as we had undergone on the _will-o'-the-wisp_, but fortunately we came off without damage and were able to proceed on our voyage. "another anxiety now engrossed my mind: the captain was an entirely new hand, and nearly all the crew were green at the work; moreover, the wilmington pilot was quite unknown to me, and i could see from the outset that he was very nervous and badly wanting in confidence. what would i not have given for our trusty pilot tom burriss! however, we had to make the best of it, as, owing to the demand, the supply of competent pilots was not nearly sufficient, and toward the close of the blockade the so-called pilots were no more than boatmen or men who had been trading in and out of wilmington or charleston in coasters. "notwithstanding my fears, all went well on the way across, and the _night hawk_ proved to be everything that could be desired in speed and seaworthiness. we had sighted unusually few craft, and nothing eventful occurred until the third night. soon after midnight we found ourselves uncomfortably near a large vessel. it was evident that we had been seen, as we heard them beating to quarters and were hailed. we promptly sheered off and went full speed ahead, greeted by a broadside which went across our stern. when we arrived within striking distance of wilmington bar, the pilot was anxious to go in by smith's inlet, but as he acknowledged that he knew very little about it, i concluded it was better to keep to the new inlet passage, where, at all events, we should have the advantage of our good friend lamb to protect us; and i felt that as i myself knew the place so well, this was the safest course to pursue. we were comparatively well through the fleet, although heavily fired at, and arrived near to the bar, passing close by two northern launches which were lying almost upon it. unfortunately, it was dead low water, and although i pressed the pilot to give our boat a turn around, keeping under way, and to wait awhile until the tide made, he was so demoralized by the firing we had gone through and the nearness of the launches, which were constantly throwing up rockets, that he insisted upon putting her at the bar, and, as i feared, we grounded on it forward and with the strong flood tide quickly broached to, broadside on to the northern breakers. we kept our engines going for some time, but to no purpose, as we found we were only being forced by the tide more on to the breakers. therefore we stopped, and all at once found our friends, the two launches, close aboard; they had discovered we were ashore, and had made up their minds to attack us. "at once all was in confusion; the pilot and signalman rushed to the dinghy, lowered it, and made good their escape; the captain lost his head and disappeared; and the crews of the launches, after firing several volleys, one of which slightly wounded me, rowed in to board us on each sponson. just at this moment i suddenly recollected that our private dispatches, which ought to have been thrown overboard, were still in the starboard lifeboat. i rushed to it, but found the lanyard to which the sinking weight was attached was foul of one of the thwarts; i tugged and tugged, but to no purpose, so i sung out for a knife, which was handed to me by a fireman, and i cut the line and pitched the bag overboard as the northerners jumped on board. eighteen months afterwards that fireman accosted me in the liverpool streets, saying, 'mr. taylor, do you remember my lending you a knife?' 'of course i do,' i replied, giving him a tip at which he was mightily pleased. poor fellow! he had been thirteen months in a northern prison. "when the northerners jumped on board they were terribly excited. i don't know whether they expected resistance or not, but they acted more like maniacs than sane men, firing their revolvers and cutting right and left with their cutlasses. i stood in front of the men on the poop and said that we surrendered, but all the reply i received from the lieutenant commanding was, 'oh, you surrender, do you?' accompanied by a string of the choicest yankee oaths and sundry reflections upon my parentage; whereupon he fired his revolver twice point blank at me not two yards distant; it was a miracle he did not kill me, as i heard the bullets whiz past my head. this roused my wrath, and i expostulated in the strongest terms upon his firing on unarmed men; he then cooled down, giving me into charge of two of his men, one of whom speedily possessed himself of my binocular. fortunately, as i had no guard to my watch, they didn't discover it, and i have it still. "finding they could not get the ship off, and afraid, i presume, of lamb and his men coming to our rescue, the federate commenced putting the captain (who had been discovered behind a boat!) and the crew into the boats; they then set the ship on fire fore and aft, and she soon began to blaze merrily. at this moment one of our firemen, an irishman, sang out, 'begorra, we shall all be in the air in a minute; the ship is full of gunpowder!' no sooner did the northern sailors hear this than a panic seized them, and they rushed to their boats, threatening to leave their officers behind if they did not come along. the men who were holding me dropped me like a hot potato, and to my great delight jumped into their boat, and away they rowed as fast as they could, taking all our crew, with the exception of the second officer, one of the engineers, four seamen, and myself, as prisoners. "we chuckled at our lucky escape, but we were not out of the woods yet, as we had only a boat half stove in in which to reach the shore through some three hundred yards of surf, and we were afraid at any moment that our enemies, finding there was no powder on board, might return. we made a feeble effort to put the fire out, but it had gained too much headway, and although i offered the men with me £ apiece to stand by me and persevere, they were too demoralized and began to lower the shattered boat, swearing they would leave me behind if i didn't come with them. there was nothing for it but to go, yet the passage through the boiling surf seemed more dangerous to my mind than remaining on the burning ship. the blockaders immediately opened fire when they knew their own men had left the _night hawk_ and that she was burning; and lamb's great shells hurtling over our heads, and those from the blockading fleet bursting all around us, formed a weird picture. in spite of the hail of shot and shell and the dangers of the boiling surf, we reached the shore in safety, wet through, and glad i was, in my state of exhaustion from loss of blood and fatigue, to be welcomed by lamb's orderly officer. "the poor _night hawk_ was now a sheet of flame, and i thought it was all up with her; and indeed it would have been had it not been for lamb, who, calling for volunteers from his garrison, sent off two or three boat loads of men to her, and when i came down to the beach, after having my wound dressed and a short rest, i was delighted to find the fire had visibly decreased. i went on board, and after some hours of hard work the fire was extinguished. but what a wreck she was! "luckily, with the rising tide she had bumped over the bank, and was now lying on the main beach much more accessible and sheltered. still it seemed an almost hopeless task to save her; but we were not going to be beaten without a try, so, having ascertained how she lay and the condition she was in, i resolved to have an attempt made to get her dry, and telegraphed to wilmington for assistance. "our agent sent me down about three hundred negroes to assist in bailing and pumping, and i set them to work at once. as good luck would have it, my finest steamer, _banshee no. _, which had just been sent out, ran in the next night. she was a great improvement on the first _banshee_, having a sea speed of - / knots, which was considered very fast in those days; her length was feet, beam feet, depth feet, her registered tonnage tons, and her crew consisted of fifty-three in all. i at once requisitioned her for aid in the shape of engineers and men, so that now i had everything i could want in the way of hands. our great difficulty was that the _night hawk's_ anchors would not hold for us to get a fair haul at her. "but here again i was to be in luck. for the very next night the _condor_, commanded by poor hewett, in attempting to run in stuck fast upon the bank over which we had bumped, not one hundred yards to windward of us, and broke in two. it is an ill wind that blows nobody good, and hewett's mischance proved the saving of our ship. now we had a hold for our chain cables by making them fast to the wreck, and were able gradually to haul her off by them a little during each tide, until on the seventh day we had her afloat in a gut between the bank and the shore, and at high water we steamed under our own steam gaily up the river to wilmington. "considering the appliances we had and the circumstances under which we were working, the saving of that steamer was certainly a wonderful performance, as we were under fire almost the whole time. the northerners, irritated, no doubt, by their failure to destroy the ship, used to shell us by day and send in boats by night; lamb, however, put a stop to the latter annoyance by lending us a couple of companies to defend us, and one night, when our enemies rowed close up with the intention of boarding us, they were glad to sheer off with the loss of a lieutenant and several men. in spite of all the shot and shell by day and the repeated attacks by night, we triumphed in the end, and, after having the _night hawk_ repaired at a huge cost and getting together a crew, i gave may, a friend of mine, command of her, and he ran her out successfully with a valuable cargo, which made her pay, notwithstanding all her bad luck and the amount spent upon her. poor may! he was afterwards governor of perth gaol, and is dead now--a high-toned, sensitive gentleman, mightily proud of his ship, lame duck as she was. "when she was burning, our utmost efforts were of course directed toward keeping her engine room and boilers amidships intact, and confining the flames to both ends; in this we were successful, mainly owing to the fact of her having thwartship bunkers; but as regards the rest of the steamer she was a complete wreck; her sides were all corrugated with the heat, and her stern so twisted that her starboard quarter was some two feet higher than her port quarter, and not a particle of wood work was left unconsumed. owing to the limited resources of wilmington as regards repairs, i found it impossible to have this put right, so her sides were left as they were, and the new deck put on the slope i have described, and caulked with cotton, as no oakum was procurable. when completed she certainly was a queer looking craft, but as tight as a bottle and as seaworthy as ever, although i doubt if any lloyd's surveyor would have passed her. but as a matter of fact she came across the atlantic, deeply immersed with her coal supply, through some very bad weather, without damage, and was sold for a mere song, to be repaired and made into a passenger boat for service on the east coast, where she ran for many years with success. "it had been a hard week for me, as i had no clothes except what i had on when we were boarded, my servant very cleverly, as he imagined, having thrown my portmanteau into the man-of-war's boat when he thought i was going to be captured, and all i had in the world was the old serge suit in which i stood. being without a change and wet through every day and night for six days consecutively, it is little wonder that i caught fever and ague, of which i nearly died in richmond, and which distressing complaint stuck to me for more than eighteen months. i shall never forget, on going to a store in wilmington for a new rig-out (which by the by cost $ , ), the look of horror on the storekeeper's face when i told him the coat i had purchased would do if he cut a foot off it; he thought it such a waste of expensive material." the three-funnel boats. in the latter part of the war between the states, the experience of the blockade runners evolved a superior type of construction for great speed, shallow depth of hold, and increased furnace draught, for which three funnels were provided. a very interesting and unusual sight were these three-funnel boats. i recall their names, _falcon_, _flamingo_, _condor_, _ptarmigan_, _vulture_. mr. taylor in his book says that admiral hewett commanded the _falcon_ on an ill-fated voyage, but i remember it was the _condor_ and also that one of the passengers was the celebrated and unfortunate lady mrs. "greenhow" or "greenough," who lost her life when the _condor_ ran aground near the bar. the _condor_ went to pieces when she was stranded, the crew escaping to the shore. the "pevensey." the last stranded steamer on my list, the _pevensey_, was probably named for the earl of wilmington, who was also viscount pevensey. her chief officer, who gave his name to his captors as joseph brown, was undoubtedly joseph brown long, who ran the blockade many times in the _cornubia_ as chief officer with captain burroughs, and as the right-hand man of maj. norman s. walker, the confederate agent at bermuda. he was greatly esteemed by all southerners. i recall his many kindnesses to me with gratefulness. i quote in full the official reports of the stranding and destruction of the _pevensey_. _destruction of the blockade runner "pevensey," june , ._ (report of acting volunteer lieutenant harris, u.s. navy.) "u.s.s. 'new berne,' "_hampton roads, va., june _. "sir: i have the honor to report the stranding, on the th instant, of the blockade runner _pevensey_ (named _penversey_ in the extracts april , ), under the following circumstances: " . a.m., steering n.e. by n., beaufort miles distant, made a steamer bearing n.e. by e., miles distant, running slow and heading e.n.e.; she, being to the eastward, did not immediately discover this vessel. hauled up e.n.e., when, gaining on her within - / miles, she made all speed, steering e. opened fire and stood e by n. the second shot carried away the forward davit of her quarter boat. she immediately changed her course, steered n., and struck the beach miles west of beaufort at . a.m. her crew took to the boats at once, this vessel at the time being - / miles distant. ran into - / fathoms, and when within yards of the strand she blew up. "sent in three boats, boarded her, and found her engines and boilers completely blown out. plugged up the pipes; anchored in fathoms, and made arrangements to pull her off; a.m., tug _violet_ came down from beaufort and anchored on the quarter; . a.m., commander b.m. dove arrived in the _cherokee_, came on board and said he would take charge of the wreck, and the _new berne_ would proceed to beaufort, it being then high water, to save the tide in. recalled boats and arrived at beaufort at a.m., anchoring outside too late for the tide. "one prisoner was found on board the vessel, unharmed from the explosion, who proved himself to be an escaped prisoner from johnson's island, of morgan's guerillas. one body was found upon the beach, and thirty-five prisoners were captured on shore by the cavalry, three of whom are supposed to be confederate officers, one of them adjutant general to magruder. she was loaded on confederate account, cargo consisting of arms, blankets, shoes, cloth, clothing, lead, bacon, and numerous packages marked to individuals. she had been chased on the th instant by the _quaker city_, and had thrown overboard, by log book, tons lead and tons bacon; was tons, of english register; no manifest of cargo found. gunner s.d. hines has discovered seven whitworth tompions tied together, bright, and in good condition, which suggests the possibility of that number of guns being under the musket boxes. "the prisoners captured ashore were held in fort macon, and the one secured on board was transferred there by order of commander dove. i understood that after the army authorities had satisfied themselves with regard to the identity of the prisoners they were to be transferred to this [place] per _keystone state_. "i have learned since leaving beaufort that the reputed mate is the real captain; that he is a captain long, the outdoor agent of major walker (the confederate agent at bermuda), a citizen of new york, and having formerly commanded a ship from there. the reputed captain (an englishman) was merely the paper or clearing captain. of these facts i have informed captain gansevoort. "it will not now be possible to get the vessel off, but a large amount of the cargo can be saved, if properly guarded. "had the after -pound parrott, for which the requisition was approved by you april , been furnished, his chances of reaching the shore would have been reduced. he evidently was ignorant of his position, as the first question asked was, 'how far is it to fort caswell?' "very respectfully, "your obedient servant, "t.a. harris, "_acting volunteer lieutenant, commanding_. "acting rear admiral s.p. lee, "_commanding north atlantic blockading squadron_." (report of acting rear admiral lee, u.s. navy.) "flagship north atlantic blockading squadron, "_washington, d.c., july , _. "sir: inclosed i forward to the department a list of those of the crew of the blockade runner _pevensey_, which ran on shore and was destroyed by her crew near beaufort, n.c., on the th ultimo, who are now detained at camp hamilton, fort monroe, and at point lookout. the late master of the _pevensey_ was detained by captain gansevoort as a witness, he supposing that a portion of the cargo of the blockade runner was saved and would be sent north as a prize. "the others are detained as habitual violators of the blockade under the instructions of the department, dated may , , to rear admiral farragut, forwarded to me for my information may , . "the examination of these men took place in presence of commander peirce crosby and lieut. commander chester hatfield. the chief officer of the _pevensey_, joseph brown, is detained at camp hamilton as an habitual violator of the blockade; all the others are detained at point lookout. i have requested the commandant of the post at fort monroe to discharge the master of the _pevensey_, as there is no longer any reason for detaining him, the vessel and cargo having proved a total loss. "i have the honor to be, sir, "very respectfully, "s.p. lee, "_acting rear admiral_, "_comdg. north atlantic blockading squadron_. "hon. gideon welles, "_secretary of the navy_." the "ella and annie." the chief purpose of this book was to record the incidents leading to the stranding of blockade runners upon the cape fear coast while endeavoring to elude the federal cruisers in the war between the states. there were more than three times as many captured or sunk at sea; and a recital of some of these exciting chases would make another volume. i am tempted, however, to include in these stories of derelicts, an official account of the attempt of the confederate steamer _ella and annie_, in command of captain bonneau, with whom i was comparatively intimate, to run down the federal cruiser _niphon_, which opposed her entrance into the cape fear river, on the th of november, , because this incident was of unusual daring on the part of captain bonneau, who was liable to be hanged as a pirate for such temerity. the _ella and annie_ was subsequently armed and equipped as the u.s. flagship _malvern_ and served that purpose until the end of the war. (report of acting rear admiral lee, u.s. navy.) "u.s. flagship 'minnesota,' "off newport news, va., "_november , _. "sir: in addition to the captures of the _margaret and jessie_ and the _cornubia_, or _lady davis_, detailed in my nos. and of this date, i have the gratification of presenting to the department the details of the capture of the rebel blockade runner _ella and annie_, off wilmington. "at . o'clock on the morning of the th instant, the _niphon_, returning from an unsuccessful chase and steaming along the beach to the northward of new inlet, made another steamer near masonboro inlet coming down along the shore. the stranger finding himself intercepted, put his helm up and endeavored to run down the _niphon_. this attempt was partly avoided, though the _niphon_ was struck about the fore rigging, and her bowsprit, stem and starboard boats carried away. at the moment of collision acting master breck reports he opened upon the enemy with shell and canister and carried the prize by boarding. a keg of powder and slow match were found ready to blow her up. "the _ella and annie_ is represented to be a vessel of tons burden, in good order, with the exception of some small damages from shell and grape. "her cargo is chiefly composed of sacks of salt, sacks of saltpeter, cases of austrian rifles, barrels of beef, cases of paper, etc. "in the collision three men on board the _niphon_ and four on board the _ella and annie_ were slightly injured. "inclosed is a list of passengers from this prize, brought up by the _new berne_ (thirty-eight in number) and sent to new york in her. "the capture seems to have been well and gallantly made by acting master breck. captain ridgely, senior officer, commends his spirit and promptness. i hope that the department, in view of this especial and other good service on the part of acting master breck, will favorably consider my application for his promotion. "the _ella and annie_, i am informed, was built at wilmington, del., is of light draft, fast, and would, i think, be very convenient for general purposes in this squadron, being available either for inside or outside service. i would suggest that she be purchased by government and sent to this squadron, if, after examination, she be found suitable. "i have the honor to be, sir, "very respectfully yours, "s.p. lee, "_acting rear admiral_, "_comdg. north atlantic blockading squadron_. "hon. gideon welles, "_secretary of the navy, washington, d.c._" (report of acting master breck, u.s. navy, commanding u.s.s. _niphon_.) "u.s.s. 'niphon,' "off new inlet, "_november , _. "sir: i have the honor to report that on the morning of this date, while near the beach, saw a blockade runner running along the beach; gave chase, fired several guns and rockets, but at last lost sight of her; stood back to my station and steamed along the beach to the north and about . a.m. saw another steamer running along the shore to the southward; stood in to cut him off, when he turned directly toward me, evidently with the intention of running me down, which i avoided, in part, owing to this vessel answering her helm with great quickness. he struck me forward, both vessels running at great speed. as we came together, i fired a broadside--grape, canister, and shell--and immediately boarded him and took possession. in securing the prisoners a lot of shavings and a slow match attached to a keg of powder were found in the run, the captain acknowledging his intention to destroy the vessel. the collision broke bowsprit, stove all my starboard boats, broke beam, also some planks near the wood ends, damaged guard, chain plates, and caused her decks to leak badly. we have three men wounded; also four of the crew of the confederate steamer, one dangerously, by grape or shell. the blockade runner, which proved to be the _ella and annie_, of charleston, s.c., is tons; is in good order with the exception of numerous shot holes in her upper works. her cargo consists, as near as we can ascertain, of rifles, salt, saltpeter, paper, and hardware. she is a confederate steamer, officered mostly [by men] of the confederate navy. she was captured off masonboro inlet in four fathoms water, eighteen miles north of fort fisher; no vessel in signal distance or in sight immediately after her capture. steamed toward the fleet, and in about half an hour made the mastheads of a vessel which proved to be the u.s.s. _shenandoah_, and shortly after seven o'clock came to anchor about three miles north of the senior officer's usual station. about half an hour afterwards the _shenandoah_ came to anchor near us, and contrary to the usual custom the senior officer sent his own prize master on board. transferred the following officers and crew on board the _ella and annie_ by order of senior officer: acting ensign j.j. reagean, acting third assistant engineer j.j. sullivan, one fireman, one ordinary seaman, three landsmen, and two black refugees. "very respectfully, "your obedient servant, "j.b. breck, "_commanding u.s.s. 'niphon.'_ "hon. gideon welles, "_secretary u.s. navy, washington, d.c._" (third report of acting master breck, u.s. navy, commanding u.s.s. _niphon_.) "u.s.s. 'niphon,' "_beaufort, n.c., november , _. "sir: in addition to my former report, which was very hurried for want of time, i have to say that f.n. bonneau, captain of the _ella and annie_, states that he has an appointment as lieutenant in the confederate navy, and that one of the wounded prisoners, now on shore in the hospital beaufort, has an appointment as master in the confederate navy, and that all prisoners, except those detained on board of the prize as witnesses, and those in the hospital beaufort, were sent by order of commander lynch to fortress monroe per steamer _new berne_. "i wish also to state that no vessels were either in sight or signal distance at the time of the capture of the _ella and annie_ and that i know nothing more as to her cargo, as the senior officer in command sent an officer who is my senior to command the prize. "i also find that my damage to this ship is more serious than i at first thought, and will inclose reports from my executive officer and master in regard to the matter. "the _niphon_ will be hauled up on the sand to-morrow to ascertain the damage done to her, and we are lightening her forward. "i am, sir, very respectfully, "your obedient servant, "j.b. breck, "_commanding u.s.s. 'niphon.'_ "acting rear admiral s.p. lee, "_comdg. north atlantic blockading squadron_, "_off newport news_." a near derelict. this caption with reference to a vessel on fire at sea permits me to describe one of my gallant captain maffitt's last runs through the federal blockade in the war between the states. it should be borne in mind that the dangers of blockade running materially increased as the enemy became more expert and accumulated facilities to out-wit and out-maneuver the blockade runners. on one of the last voyages of captain maffitt he found that the risks were aggravated by the concentration of interest on the part of the federals to abaco light, a night's run from nassau, and the turning point for blockade runners. three federal men-of-war were stationed in the neighborhood and greeted the appearance of the small vessel with a salvo of shot which splintered spars and damaged bulwarks, and would have made short order of the barrels of gunpowder which constituted a portion of the cargo, if the confederate had not been able, by superior speed facilities, to put a safe distance between her and her pursuers. hardly out of danger from these three men-of-war, two others were sighted on the horizon, and the race was redoubled as the federals made a fight for the prize. the same methods used so successfully in the war just concluded in europe were the best expedients in those days, and captain maffitt's ship was saved by following a zig-zag course, which kept the enemy guessing, and finally eluded him altogether. it was after these strenuous experiences of the morning that the lookout announced to the weary officer, "a burning vessel reported aloft." surely this was a challenge to the chivalry and humanity of the captain of the hard-pressed confederate. to the perils of adventure that demanded all his wit and courage were now added the perils of the unknown and the perils of delay and risk to the inflammable cargo. plainly, however, it was a duty to be faced, not a danger to be evaded, and the captain ordered his ship's course in the direction of the burning vessel. when near enough to discern her character, it was perceived that she was a spanish barque with ensign at half-mast. from her fore hatch arose a dense smoke, abaft were gathered panic-stricken passengers and crew. the chief mate was dispatched in a cutter to render what assistance might be necessary, and he found on boarding the foreign barque that there were four ladies among the few passengers, and these were calmer than the officers and crew. the latter had completely lost their heads, and in the very act of lowering the long boat were confusedly hauling upon the stay tackle. the confederate mate went at once to the forecastle, which he instantly deluged with water, to the astonishment of the spaniards, who had not thought of this method of dealing with the fire which proved so effectual in this case that the flames were soon under control and the fire quickly extinguished. three of the ladies were natives of marblehead, returning from a visit to their uncle in cuba. they became quite confidential in explaining to the mate their great fears of being captured by confederate buccaneers with which the waters were infested, according to cuban rumors. on leaving the boat after rendering this important service, the mate could not refrain from declaring himself one of those awful confederate slave owners which were the terror of the high seas, but he did not add, as he well might have done, that he was also an officer in command of one of the blockade runners which they so greatly feared. their amazement was great enough without this bit of information, which might have been passed on by them and given aid and comfort to the enemy. as the confederate came into the waters off the coast of north carolina the dangers were materially increased, because all beacon lights were naturally shrouded to prevent disclosures to the enemy. ten miles from the bar one of the officers reported to captain maffitt his fear that they were in the proximity of the blockaders. the atmosphere was very hazy and to this they owed the possibility of escape, for two cruisers were at anchor just ahead of them and there was no course to pursue except the perilous one of running between the enemy ships. the federals were immediately aware of this daring maneuver, and a fiery rocket revealed the confederate and the moment's flare of a calcium light was followed by the curt demand of a federal officer, "heave to, or i'll sink you." in this case discretion was the better part of valor, and captain maffitt gave the order in a voice loud enough to be heard by foe as well as friend. assured that the confederate captain was complying with orders, the enemy did not suspect that the order that had been so plainly heard was merely a ruse and that the engineer had received whispered instructions, "full speed ahead, sir, and open your throttle valve." the movements of the paddle deceived the federals into the belief that the confederate was really backing, but just as the advantage was with the blockade runner and her clever scheme was detected, fire was opened upon her with relentless fury. drummond lights were burned, doubtless to aid the artilleryists, but so radiated the mist as to raise the hull above the line of vision, and the destructive missiles were poured into the sparse rigging and the hull was spared injury. thus the blockade runner escaped from the foe and delivered barrels of gunpowder to the confederates at wilmington, and this ammunition was used afterwards by general johnston at the battle of shiloh. a human derelict. the story of disasters on cape fear during the federal blockade, - , would be incomplete without reference to a human tragedy, the drowning of an accomplished southern woman, mrs. rose o'neal greenhow. mrs. greenhow was a prominent figure in washington society during the buchanan administration. she had become a resident of washington in her girlhood, and had grown to womanhood under the influences which are thrown around the society element in the nation's capital. she was rich, beautiful, and attractive, possessing a ready wit and a charming and forceful personality. she was a close personal friend of president buchanan and a friend of william h. seward. with such friends her social position was of the highest, and she entertained many of the most prominent men in the country in her hospitable home. when the war between the states began she was entertaining col. thomas jordan, later adjutant general of the confederate army. knowing well mrs. greenhow's strong sympathy for the land of her birth, colonel jordan determined to secure her services for the newborn confederacy, and proposed to her that she become a secret agent for his government. her social position, her wide acquaintance, her personal magnetism made her pre-eminently the one to extract information of military value for the southern cause. mrs. greenhow consented to perform this perilous service for the land she loved, and started at once to get possession of facts which would be useful in the coming campaign. she began her work in april, , and by november allan pinkerton, head of the federal secret service, sent in a report to the war department vehemently inveighing against mrs. rose greenhow for alienating the hearts of federal officers from their sympathy with their country, and accusing her of obtaining through her wiles and powerful personal methods memoranda (and maps) which could only have been known to officials of the federal government. when the cry "on to richmond!" was raised, it was absolutely essential for the confederate army under general beauregard to have definite information about the point of attack. this data was furnished him by mrs. greenhow. she advised him that the enemy would advance across the potomac and on manassas, via fairfax court house and centerville. the federal army delayed the advance, and a second messenger was sent to mrs. greenhow, who was able to add to her previous information, and on the strength of it johnston was ordered to re-ënforce beauregard with the last of his , men, and the wavering federal army turned back and fled in a rout--a mob of panic-stricken fugitives. it was soon known in washington that mrs. greenhow had supplied the information upon which the confederates had constructed their plans, and she was closely watched. long after she knew that she must some day be arrested, she continued her activities, finding opportunities every day to communicate with confederate officers, and her services were so valuable that she could not be persuaded to take refuge in the confederate lines when there was so much work for her to do in the federal capital. she was in her own home when she was finally placed under arrest. here she was closely guarded, but a friend and her little daughter were permitted to remain with her. in spite of the heavy guard, she continued to communicate with southern messengers and kept them informed of what she heard. after a few months she was transferred to the old capitol prison and kept in confinement with her child in a room by . she suffered keenly in this cold and cheerless place. the soldiers who guarded her were very strict, but in spite of their closest scrutiny she managed under their very eyes to send messages to the people who were eagerly awaiting news of her on the other side of the lines. after tedious months of imprisonment she was tried[ ] on the charge of treason. there was much direct and indirect evidence against her, but her attitude was uncompromising, and after the trial she was permitted to make her way through the lines to richmond, where she spent some time until she took passage in a blockade runner with her daughter, whom she wished to place in a convent in paris. she took with her letters to mason and slidell, which requested that every courtesy be shown her. in paris she was given a private audience with napoleon iii. while mrs. greenhow was in england her book, _my imprisonment, or the first year of abolition rule in washington_, was published and created a sensation. it was a vehicle for the most pronounced propaganda for the cause of the confederacy and served it well. not a little sympathy was created for the south by this book of personal experience. while in london mrs. greenhow became engaged to a nobleman and she expected to return and marry him after a voyage to america. in august, , she took passage on the _condor_ and there is strong reason to suppose that her business in wilmington was in the interests of the confederacy. the _condor_ arrived opposite the mouth of the river on the night of september , but as she crept up the river, the pilot saw an object about yards from shore which he thought was an enemy vessel, and he swerved his course and ran his vessel on new inlet bar. the object was the _night hawk_, a blockade runner which had been run down the previous night, and the _condor_ might have completed the trip in safety. mrs. greenhow and her party begged the captain to send them ashore in a boat, as this seemed the only chance of escape from a second arrest as a spy. the captain acceded to her request, and the boat put off. it capsized, however, and mrs. greenhow, weighted by her clothing and a quantity of golden sovereigns, was drowned a few yards from land. her body washed ashore the next day and was found by mr. thomas e. taylor, who afterwards took it to wilmington. she was laid out in the seamen's bethel, beautiful in death as she had been in life. she was wrapped in the confederate flag and with full honors of war interred in oakdale cemetery, where a small cross bearing her name may be seen to this day. after the funeral her personal effects and the articles she had brought with her from abroad were sold at public auction. it was said that an english countess or duchess had an interest in the speculation and was to have shared the profits. footnotes: [footnote : "let glasgow flourish by the preaching of the word."] [footnote : the _banshee_ and a few other blockade runners mentioned in this book as escaping capture were later either captured or stranded.] [footnote : returned to england.] [footnote : mr. craig has since died.] [footnote : there are no formal records available to verify this.] tales of the sea a confederate daughter. the following extract from _southern historical papers_, written about the year , by colonel lamb, the commander of fort fisher, gives a glimpse of the social side of life at the fort during the war between the states and of some of the distinguished gentlemen who were drawn into this dangerous traffic by a love of adventure, by sentiment, or by sympathy with the confederate cause, and by the promise of large profits for successful enterprises. "in the fall of a lovely puritan maiden, still in her teens, was married in grace church, providence, r.i., to a virginia youth, just passed his majority, who brought her to his home in norfolk, a typical ancestral homestead, where, beside the 'white folks,' there was quite a colony of family servants, from the pickaninny just able to crawl to the old gray-headed mammy who had nursed 'ole massa.' she soon became enamoured of her surroundings and charmed with the devotion of her colored maid, whose sole duty it was to wait upon her young missis. when the john brown raid burst upon the south and her husband was ordered to harpers ferry, there was not a more indignant matron in all virginia, and when at last secession came, the south did not contain a more enthusiastic little rebel. "on the th of may, , a few days after the surrender of norfolk to the federals by her father-in-law, then mayor, amid the excitement attending a captured city, her son willie was born. cut off from her husband and subjected to the privations and annoyances incident to a subjugated community, her father insisted upon her coming with her children to his home in providence; but, notwithstanding she was in a luxurious home with all that paternal love could do for her, she preferred to leave all these comforts to share with her husband the dangers and privations of the south. she vainly tried to persuade stanton, secretary of war, to let her and her three children with a nurse return to the south; finally he consented to let her go by flag of truce from washington to city point, but without a nurse, and as she was unable to manage three little ones, she left the youngest with his grandparents, and with two others bravely set out for dixie. the generous outfit of every description which was prepared for the journey, and which was carried to the place of embarkation, was ruthlessly cast aside by the inspectors on the wharf, and no tears or entreaties or offers of reward by the parents availed to pass anything save a scanty supply of clothing and other necessaries. arriving in the south, the brave young mother refused the proffer of a beautiful home in wilmington, the occupancy of the grand old colonial mansion orton, on the cape fear river, and insisted upon taking up her abode with her children and their colored nurse in the upper room of a pilot's house, where they lived until the soldiers of the garrison built her a cottage one mile north of fort fisher, on the atlantic beach. in both of these homes she was occasionally exposed to the shot and shell fired from blockaders at belated blockade runners. "it was a quaint abode, constructed in most primitive style, with three rooms around one big chimney, in which north carolina pine knots supplied heat and light on winter nights. this cottage became historic, and was famed for the frugal but tempting meals which its charming hostess would prepare for her distinguished guests. besides the many illustrious confederate army and navy officers who were delighted to find this bit of sunshiny civilization on the wild sandy beach, ensconced among the sand dunes and straggling pines and black-jack, many celebrated english naval officers enjoyed its hospitality under assumed names: roberts, afterwards the renowned hobart pasha, who commanded the turkish navy; murray, now admiral murray-aynsley, long since retired after having been rapidly promoted for gallantry and meritorious services in the british navy; the brave but unfortunate hugh burgoyne, v.c., who went down in the british ironclad _captain_, in the bay of biscay; and the chivalrous hewett, who won the victoria cross in the crimea and was knighted for his services as ambassador to king john of abyssinia, and who, after commanding the queen's yacht, died lamented as admiral hewett. besides these there were many genial and gallant merchant captains, among them halpin, who afterwards commanded the _great eastern_ while laying ocean cables; and famous war correspondents--hon. francis c. lawley, m.p., correspondent of the _london times_, and frank vizetelly, of the _london illustrated news_, afterwards murdered in the soudan. nor must the plucky tom taylor be forgotten, supercargo of the _banshee_ and the _night hawk_, who, by his coolness and daring escaped with a boat's crew from the hands of the federals after capture off the fort, and who was endeared to the children as the santa claus of the war. "at first the little confederate was satisfied with pork and potatoes, cornbread and rye coffee, with sorghum sweetening; but after the blockade runners made her acquaintance the impoverished storeroom was soon filled to overflowing, notwithstanding her heavy requisitions on it for the post hospital, the sick and wounded soldiers and sailors always being a subject of her tenderest solicitude, and often the hard-worked and poorly fed colored hands blessed the little lady of the cottage for a tempting treat. "full of stirring events were the two years passed in the cottage on confederate point. the drowning of mrs. rose greenhow, the famous confederate spy, off fort fisher, and the finding of her body, which was tenderly cared for, and the rescue from the waves, half dead, of professor holcombe, and his restoration, were incidents never to be forgotten. her fox hunting with horse and hounds, the narrow escapes of friendly vessels, the fights over blockade runners driven ashore, the execution of deserters, and the loss of an infant son, whose little spirit went out with the tide one sad summer night, all contributed to the reality of this romantic life. "when porter's fleet appeared off fort fisher, december, , it was storm bound for several days, and the little family with their household goods were sent across the river to orton before butler's powder ship blew up. after the christmas victory over porter and butler, the little heroine insisted upon coming back to her cottage, although her husband had procured a home of refuge in cumberland county. general whiting protested against her running the risk, for on dark nights her husband could not leave the fort, but she said if the firing became too hot she would run behind the sand hills as she had done before, and come she would. "the fleet reappeared unexpectedly on the night of the th of january, . it was a dark night, and when the lights of the fleet were reported her husband sent a courier to the cottage to instruct her to pack up quickly and be prepared to leave with children and nurse as soon as he could come to bid them good-bye. the garrison barge, with a trusted crew, was stationed at craig's landing, near the cottage. after midnight, when all necessary orders were given for the coming attack, the colonel mounted his horse and rode to the cottage, but all was dark and silent. he found the message had been delivered, but his brave wife had been so undisturbed by the news that she had fallen asleep and no preparations for a retreat had been made. precious hours had been lost, and as the fleet would soon be shelling the beach and her husband have to return to the fort, he hurried them into the boat as soon as dressed, with only what could be gathered up hastily, leaving dresses, toys, and household articles to fall into the hands of the foe." mr. thomas e. taylor's description of the famous englishmen referred to is worth repeating: "as my memory takes me back to those jovial but hard-working days of camaraderie, it is melancholy to think how many of those friends have gone before; mrs. murray-aynsley, mrs. hobart and her husband, hobart pasha; hugh burgoyne, one of the navy's brightest ornaments, who was drowned while commanding the ill-fated _captain_; hewett, who lately gave up command of the channel fleet only to die; old steele, the king of blockade-running captains; maurice portman, an ex-diplomatist; frank vizetelly, whose bones lie alongside those of hicks pasha in the soudan; lewis grant watson, my brother agent; arthur doering, one of my loyal lieutenants, and a host of old confederate friends, are all gone, and i could count on my fingers those remaining of a circle of chums who did not know what care or fear was, and who would have stood by each other through thick and thin in any emergency. in fact, my old friends admiral murray-aynsley and frank hurst are almost the only two living of that companionship. "of hobart pasha and of the important part he played in the turko-russian war and cretan rebellion (in which he acknowledged that his blockade-running experiences stood him in such good stead) most, if not all my readers will have read or heard. he commanded a smart little twin-screw steamer called the _don_, in fact one of the first twin-propeller steamers ever built. and very proud he was of his craft, in which he made several successful runs under the assumed name of captain roberts. on her first trip after captain roberts gave up command in order to go home, the _don_ was captured after a long chase, and his late chief officer, who was then in charge, was assumed by his captors to be roberts. he maintained silence concerning the point, and the northern newspapers upon the arrival of the prize at philadelphia were full of the subject of the 'capture of the _don_ and the notorious english naval officer, "captain roberts."' much chagrined were they to find they had got the wrong man, and that the english naval officer was still at large. "poor burgoyne, whose tragic and early end, owing to the capsizing of the _captain_, everybody deplored, as a blockade runner was not very successful. if i remember correctly he made only two or three trips. had he lived he would have had a brilliant career before him in the navy; bravest of the brave, as is evidenced by the v.c. he wore, gentle as a woman, unselfish to a fault, he might have saved his life if he had thought more of himself and less of his men on that terrible occasion off finisterre, when his last words were, 'look out for yourselves, men; never mind me.' "then there was hewett, another wearer of the 'cross for valor,' who has only recently joined the majority, after a brilliant career as admiral commanding in the east indies, red sea, and channel fleet; who successfully interviewed king john in abyssinia, and was not content to pace the deck of his flagship at suakim, but insisted upon fighting in the square at el teb, and whose hospitality and geniality later on as commander in chief of the channel fleet was proverbial. "murray-aynsley, i rejoice to say, is still alive.[ ] who that knows 'old murray' does not love him? gentle as a child, brave as a lion, a man without guile, he was perhaps the most successful of all the naval blockade runners. in the _venus_ he had many hairbreadth escapes, notably on one occasion when he ran the gauntlet of the northern fleet in daylight into wilmington. the _venus_, hotly pursued by several blockaders and pounded at by others, while she steamed straight through them, old murray on the bridge, with his coat sleeves hitched up almost to his arm-pits--a trick he had when greatly excited--otherwise as cool as possible, was, as lamb afterwards told me, 'a sight never to be forgotten.'" footnotes: [footnote : they are all gone now.--j.s.] intelligent contrabands. an almost daily incident of the federal blockading fleet was the rescue from frail boats of negro slaves, officially reported by the federals as "intelligent contrabands," who at the risk of their lives deserted their owners and escaped to the federal warships several miles from the beach. they numbered several hundred during the war, and i am informed that very few of them returned from the north, where many settled in their new-found freedom. some of the more industrious prospered, but a larger proportion died from exposure to the rigorously cold winters of the north. specimens of the official reports of such cases follow: "u.s.s. 'monticello,' "off wilmington, n.c., "_september , _. "sir: i beg leave to forward you the following information obtained from the within named persons, who came off to this vessel this morning: "frank clinton, aged thirty-five years, belonging to robert h. cowan. "samuel mince, aged twenty-three years, belonging to mrs. elizabeth mints. "thomas cowen, aged twenty-four years, belonging to mrs. j.g. wright. "charles millett, aged twenty-eight years, belonging to mrs. john walker. "james brown, aged twenty-three years, belonging to john brown. "horace smith, aged twenty-two years, belonging to mrs. william smith. "david mallett, aged twenty-six years, belonging to mrs. john walker. "the gunboat _north carolina_ is to be launched next saturday and is to be clad with railroad iron down to the water's edge. the sides of the boat are built angular, and the guns are to be mounted on a covered deck. the lower part of the hull is of pine and the upper of heavy oak. this vessel is to be fitted up by mr. benjamin beery and the engine she is to have is to come out of the steamer _uncle ben_, formerly a tugboat. the contrabands state that they are sanguine of having her ready by the th of october, . these contrabands are from in and about wilmington city, and they all agree in stating that that city is completely entrenched and guns mounted at every half mile upon the works. from their account cape fear river has several batteries upon its banks. the first is called camp brown, two miles from the city, which is an earth and log work on the right-hand side going up the river, and mounts two guns; opposite to it are obstructions in the river, consisting of sunken cribs. the next fort below is called mount tirza and mounts two guns and is on the same side of the river. the next is fort st. philip, a large work, mounting sixteen guns, near old brunswick, on the left-hand side of the river going up. opposite this last-named work the obstructions in the river are heavy piles with a narrow passageway through them. at this point the lightboat, which was taken from frying pan shoals, is anchored inside the obstruction and mounts four guns. there is also a lightboat anchored inside zeek's island, mounting a like number of guns. one of these contrabands is from fayetteville, n. c., and states that they are making rifles and gun carriages up there, and also that they are building a large foundry and blacksmith's shop. as fast as the arms are completed they are sent to raleigh, north carolina. "these contrabands state that the rebels succeeded in getting out of the _modern greece_ (which vessel was run ashore near new inlet) six rifled cannon, which, from their description, i should judge to be whitworth's breech-loading guns; also stand of arms and a large amount of powder and clothing, the last two in a damaged condition. one also states that the steamer _kate_, before running into this port, was chased by a cruiser and threw overboard , stand of arms. this he is positive of, as one of the hands on board the _kate_, a friend of his, told him so. from their accounts i judge that a regular and uninterrupted trade is kept up between nassau, new providence, and shallotte inlet, n.c., which inlet is about miles to the westward of this place. schooners are said to arrive here weekly, and, after discharging, take in cotton, turpentine, and rosin, and sail for nassau with papers purporting that they sailed from the city of wilmington. i would suggest that some means be taken to stop this trade, and i am, "very respectfully, "your obedient servant, "d.l. braine, "_lieutenant-commander_. "commander g.h. scott, "_comdg. u.s.s. 'maratanza,' "off western bar, cape fear river_." "u. s. gunboat 'penoboscot' "off cape fear, n.c., "_september , _. "sir: i have to inform you that seven contrabands came to this vessel this morning who gave their own and their masters' names as follows: "william, owned by s.g. northrop, of wilmington. "lewis, owned by dr. mccrea, of wilmington. "ben greer, owned by p.k. dickinson, of wilmington. "george, owned by t.d. walker, of wilmington. "virgil richardson, owned by james bradley. "abraham richardson, owned by d.a.f. flemming. "no information of importance was elicited, except that the steamer _mariner_, loaded with cotton, tobacco, and turpentine, was ready for sea and would make an early attempt to run the blockade of this port. "i am, respectfully, "your obedient servant, "j.m.b. clitz, "_commander_. "commander g.h. scott, "_commanding u.s.s. 'maratanza,' "and senior officer present_." "from william robins, contraband, ship carpenter, who has been at work upon one of the rebel gunboats at wilmington since july: " . there are two boats in process of construction; one at j.l. cassidy & sons, the other at beery & brothers. captain whitehead superintends the former and mr. williams the latter. commander muse has control of the whole. both boats are built upon the same plan, feet keel, feet beam, feet draft. they are to be iron-roofed like the _merrimac_. the iron is to be made in richmond and will be ready in four months. the engines are on board but not set. one of them is new, made at richmond; the other was taken from the _uncle ben_. propellers are about eight feet in diameter. the boats are pierced for eight guns, but will carry but three, which can be moved at ease. guns are not yet ready. boats would have been ready for launching in three weeks had not many of the workmen left. some struck for more pay; some were fearful of yellow fever. formerly ninety-five to one hundred were at work on each boat; now only thirty. pay $ . to $ . " . provisions scarce. flour, $ ; rice, - / cents; potatoes, $ . to $ ; bacon, cents; beef, cents; meal, $ ; butter, cents to $ . " . there are no soldiers in wilmington. colonel livingsthrop (leventhorpe), with one regiment, is at masonboro sound. there are about , in all in this vicinity. colonel lamb is at fort fisher. captain dudley evacuated zeek's island and is now at fort fisher. " . friday last was set apart by president davis as a day for thanksgiving and prayer for the victories before richmond and in maryland, as also for the capture of harpers ferry and cincinnati, both of which were taken without the loss of a life. " . no vessel has run in or out of the port since the _modern greece_ except the _kate_. the _modern greece_ had two shots through her boiler, and one through her donkey engine. her cargo consisted of powder and arms and whisky. much was taken out and much remains. powder was all wet. they dried some of it. she had two heavy guns. she was a very fine steamer. they saved none of her machinery. "the _kate_ ran in and out the main channel. the tug _mariner_ is now ready to run out, having bales of cotton and barrels of rosin. they say a schooner ran in at little river inlet not long ago. the _mariner_ is going to nassau for salt." information given by colonel shaw's body servant: "thirty-five hundred troops (a large margin given) in and about wilmington, including all the forts, under the command of general leventhorpe. at present most of the soldiers have left wilmington and moved down this way on account of yellow fever. there are about at fort caswell, and about double the number at fort fisher. the troops are clothed, very dirty, but apparently are sufficiently fed. provisions come to them from the country. they enlist from fourteen to fifty years of age. many of the conscripts run away; have deserted in one day. have telegrams from richmond, but they are in doubt about the entire correctness of such. previous to the battles before richmond the people were quite disheartened and were willing to give up the place; since, however, they are much encouraged, and a better feeling pervades. there are some union men in w. not any small craft at w. the two gunboats, not rams, are being completed; workmen from the army. one engine is new from richmond; the other old from _uncle ben_, and each boat will mount three guns on a side; also one forward and one aft. the tug _mariner_ is prepared to run for nassau. has two guns; is loaded with cotton. flour is $ per barrel; whisky $ a gallon; boots $ a pair. have grown some corn about w. this season. no business doing. clerks all enlisted. the fort's southwest breastworks were injured by the _otorara_; no one killed. beauregard at charleston, and lieut. commander flusser, who ought to have left out the 'l' in his name, said: 'a "reliable contraband" who says he deserted from the enemy today and who represents himself as an officer's servant, declares that he has heard of no boat building up this river; that he does not believe that there is one there; that one was some time since under construction at tarboro, but that work on her has been discontinued,' etc. i fear the 'reliable contraband' was sent in by _messieurs les secesh_. i do not think anyone can outlie a north carolina white, unless he be a north carolina negro." also there were occasional white deserters from fort fisher and from the out-lying confederate camps or outposts. these were not named for obvious reasons, and they were described in the official reports as so ragged and so infested with vermin that they had to be immediately divested of their clothing, which was thrown overboard, and the deserters were clothed from the ships' supply chests. as cleanliness is said to be next to godliness, it is manifest that these fellows were a very bad lot. malingerers. it is remarkable that the blockade runners seldom included in their complement of officers and crew a professional doctor or surgeon, although there were occasions when they were greatly needed. few of our men were wounded, although the bombshells burst all round us again and again and finally sunk the _lilian_ to a level with the deck. the runs from wilmington to nassau were made in forty-eight to fifty-two hours, and to bermuda in seventy-two to eighty hours, and the sick or wounded received scant attention until they reached port. it therefore devolved upon the purser or the chief officer to attend such cases, and my very limited knowledge of medicine restricted the treatment of our alleged sick men to compound cathartic pills and quinine. a majority of the cases of "pains all over them" were malingerers, some of whom dodged their duty during the entire voyage. captain hobart, of the _don_, told us of such a case on his ship interviewed by his chief officer, c----, as follows: c.: "well, my man, what's the matter with you?" patient: "please, sir, i've got pains all over me." c.: "oh, all over you, are they? that's bad." then during the pause it was evident that something was being mixed up, and i could hear c---- say: "here, take this, and come again in the evening." (exit patient.) then c---- said to himself: "i don't think he'll come again; he has got two drops of the croton. skulking rascal, pains all over him, eh?" "i never heard the voice of that patient again," said captain hobart; "in fact, after a short time we had no cases of sickness on board." c---- explained that what he served out, as he called it, was croton oil; and that none of the crew came twice for treatment. the ship's discipline was generally well maintained at sea, but instances of insubordination in port were of almost daily occurrence. these were dealt with usually by the first mate, or, as he was designated, the chief officer. but some of the incorrigibles were brought before the commander for treatment and something like this colloquy, which i take partly from _punch_, would ensue: commander: "what is this man's character apart from this offence?" petty officer: "well, sir, this here man, he goes ashore when he likes, he comes aboard when he likes, he uses 'orrible language when he's spoke to. in fact from his general behavior he might be taken for the captain of this ship," which exactly fitted the case of our skipper at that time, who was an expert in the use of 'orrible language. experiences in quarantine. eluding the blockading fleet at the cape fear bar was not the only adventure in those perilous days. it was quite within the range of possibility that a steamer would run into a harbor and find the town, hitherto perfectly healthy, withered under the malign spell of some scourge like yellow fever or smallpox. sometimes the plague would break out in the town while the steamer was loading, sometimes it would break out among the crew of the steamer, and this is what was alleged of the _lilian_ on the occasion i am about to relate. after several narrow escapes from the squadron in the gulf stream, the _lilian_ made st. george, bermuda, on the morning of the fourth day, and at once discharged her cargo, hoping to get away in time for another run while we had a few hours of darkness. we had, however, hardly received the half of our inward cargo of gunpowder and commissary supplies when we were visited by the harbor doctor, who alleged that we had a case of smallpox on board and peremptorily ordered us to the quarantine ground, about two miles out of port, among some uninhabited rocks, which made the usual dreariness of a quarantine station more distressing, and where he informed us we must remain at least twenty-one days. in vain our captain protested that he was mistaken, that the case to which he referred was a slight attack of malarial fever, combined with other symptoms which were not at all dangerous (which subsequently proved to be true). the doctor was unrelenting; if we did not proceed at once, he said, he would report us to the governor at hamilton, who would send h.m.s. _spitfire_, then on the station, to tow us out, and after we had served our quarantine, we would be arrested for resisting his authority. finding remonstrance of no avail, our captain agreed to get away as soon as possible, but before we could make preparation for our departure a tug was sent alongside which towed us out, _nolens volens_, and left us at anchor among the sea gulls, with only ten days' provisions for a three weeks' quarantine. being ex officio the ship's doctor, i began at once to physic the unfortunate sailor who had unwittingly brought us into this trouble, and, although my knowledge of the pharmacopoeia did not go beyond cathartic pills and quinine, i soon had him on his feet to join all hands for inspection by the quarantine officer, who came off to windward of us every day and at a respectable distance bawled out his category of questions which were required by law. we were daily warned that if any of our officers or crew were found on shore or on board any of the vessels in the harbor, the full extent of the law would be meted out to them, and we were given to understand that twenty-one days' quarantine was a mere bagatelle compared with the punishment which would follow any attempt to evade these restrictions; notwithstanding which, we came to a unanimous decision at the end of three days that we would prefer the risk of capture at sea to such a life in comparative security, and it was accordingly resolved by the captain that if any of us were plucky enough to take his gig and a boat's crew to st. george and secure some castings at a shipsmith's on shore which were required by the chief engineer, we would proceed toward wilmington without further preparation and without the formality required by law. being comparatively indifferent as to the result, albeit somewhat confident of success, i at once volunteered, to which our captain agreed, and amid a good deal of chaffing from several confederate officers who were with us as passengers, i started with our second engineer and five trustworthy men for the shore. we were careful to leave shortly after the visit of the health physician, so that our absence would not be noticed when all hands were turned out, and as we approached the harbor i was gratified to observe that we were entirely unnoticed. we landed about half a mile below the town, and leaving the men with the boat, which i ordered them to keep concealed, i proceeded with the engineer to dispatch our business, which delayed us several hours. at last we were ready for the return, and finding our men unmolested, we proceeded down the harbor toward the ship _storm king_, which had recently left the china trade to carry confederate states government cotton from the bermuda rendezvous to liverpool. as we passed under her quarter, we were excitedly hailed by her captain, to whom i was well known personally, with the intelligence that a quarantine boat had just left our ship and that we were probably discovered, as its course had been suddenly changed for us while we were pulling down the bay. thinking to elude the pursuer, if such it proved to be, i steered for the rocks along shore, the men giving way at the oars with a will, but we soon saw that we were closely watched and that our friend's fears were fully realized. the well-known yellow flag was borne by a boat now clearly in pursuit of us; and, finding escape cut off, we at once returned to the _storm king_ and entreated the captain to secrete us on board, and if the health officer boarded him, to profess ignorance of us altogether. this the good fellow agreed to do, and my men having been set to work as if they were part of the crew, i, with the engineer, was at once secreted and locked in one of the many staterooms then empty. we had hardly settled ourselves in the berths, determined that if the worst came we would cover up our heads and draw the curtains, when we heard the measured sound of oars approaching the gangway near the room in which we were hiding, and a moment later the hail, "_storm king_ ahoy!" "aye, aye, sir; what do you want?" "you have on board a boat's crew from the steamer _lilian_ in quarantine, who have left contrary to law. i demand their surrender." "quite a mistake, doctor; quite a mistake, i assure you," responded captain mcdonald. "but i saw the boat pull under your quarter a few minutes ago, and i insist upon their forthcoming, or we will search your ship." "but i protest, doctor, there are no such people on board my ship." "what a consummate liar old mcdonald is," groaned the engineer, sweltering under two pairs of blankets. "ah ha," exclaimed the health officer at this moment, "we have here the captain's gig alongside; and here is the name _lilian_ on the stern. how is this?" "oh," replied the imperturbable mcdonald, "we picked her up adrift this morning; i am glad to know the owner." "a very unlikely story, captain, and we will have to search," quoth the doctor; and then we heard several persons ascending the ladder, followed by further expostulations on the part of our friend the captain, evidently of no avail, for the party immediately entered the saloon and began their search. door after door was opened and shut, and as they gradually approached our hiding place, i looked up at sandy mckinnon, the scotch engineer, who presented a most ludicrous and woeful sight, the perspiration pouring down his fat cheeks, as in a most despairful voice he moaned, "it's a' up wi' us the noo, purser, it's a' up wi' us; we shall be put in preeson and the deil kens what'll be to pay." with anxious hearts we waited for the worst, and at last it came; a heavy hand wrenched our door knob and an impatient voice demanded that the door be unlocked. the steward protested that the room was empty and that the key was lost, which only seemed to increase the officer's determination to enter. high words ensued. the captain, with a heartiness which excited our admiration but increased our fear, poured a volley of abuse upon the unlucky doctor, who was apparently discharging his duty, and at times i fancied they had almost come to blows. this was at last quelled by a peremptory demand that the ship's carpenter be sent for to force the door. the steward at this juncture produced the key, which he averred had just been found in another lock, and while he fumbled at our door i thought i heard the sound of suppressed laughter on the outside, but dismissed the idea as absurd. a moment after the door opened, and before our astonished vision were ranged our good friends and shipmates, major hone of savannah, capt. leo vogel of st. augustine, sergeant gregory of crowells, and eugene maffitt, who with captain mcdonald and several of his friends were fairly shrieking with laughter at our sorry plight. we had been completely sold. the whole scheme was planned on board our own ship immediately after our departure, and captain mcdonald was privy to the arrangement which he so successfully carried out. the voices which we supposed in our fright came from her majesty's officers, were feigned by our own people, who made the most of the joke at our expense. the trick was too good to keep, and when the good doctor came next day to discharge us from quarantine, all traces of sickness having disappeared, no one enjoyed the fun more than he, although he said it might have resulted seriously enough. confederate states signal corps. the confederate states signal corps frequently rendered some very efficient service to the blockade runners after they had succeeded in getting between the blockaders and the beach, where they were also in danger of the shore batteries until their character became known to the forts. as the signal system developed, a detailed member was sent out with each ship, and so important did this service become that signal officers, as they were called, were occasionally applied for by owners or captains of steamers in the clyde or at liverpool before sailing for bermuda or nassau to engage in running the blockade. the first attempt to communicate with the shore batteries was a failure, and consequently the service suffered some reproach for a while, but subsequent practice with intelligent, cool-headed men resulted in complete success, and some valuable ships, with still more valuable cargoes, were saved from capture or destruction by the intervention of the signal service, when, owing to the darkness and bad landfall, the captain and pilot were alike unable to recognize their geographical position. to the late mr. frederick w. gregory, of crowells, n.c., belonged the honor of the first success as a signal operator in this service. identified with the corps from the beginning of the blockade, and with the cape fear at price's creek station, which was for a long time in his efficient charge, he brought to this new and novel duty an experience and efficiency equalled by few of his colleagues and surpassed by none. it was well said of him that he was always ready and never afraid, two elements of the almost unvarying success which attended the ships to which he was subsequently assigned. it was my good fortune to be intimately associated with mr. gregory for nearly two years, during which we had many ups and downs together as shipmates aboard and as companions ashore. he was one of the few young men engaged in blockade running who successfully resisted the evil influences and depraved associations with which we were continually surrounded. unselfish and honorable in all his relations with his fellows, courageous as a lion in time of danger, he was an honor to his state and to the cause which he so worthily represented. the following narrative related by him gives a more explicit account of the signal service than i could offer by description of its workings: "some time early in , the confederate government purchased on the clyde (i think) two steamers for the purpose of running the blockade. the first to arrive was the _giraffe_. while in the cape fear, captain alexander, who had charge of the signal corps at smithville, suggested the propriety of putting a signal officer aboard to facilitate the entrance of ships into the port at night by the use of two lights, a red and a white, covered with a shade in front of the globe to lift up and down, by which we could send messages as we did with the flag on land in the day and with the torch at night; the red light representing the wave to the right and the white light the wave to the left. after some consultation general whiting ordered captain alexander to send up a signal officer to join the _giraffe_, and robert herring was detailed for that purpose and sent to wilmington, where the lights were prepared, and he went aboard. the _giraffe_ went out and returned successfully, but from some cause (i never understood why) herring failed to attract the attention of the land force and sent no message ashore. in the meantime the other steamer, the _cornubia_, arrived in port, and captain alexander having been ordered elsewhere, and lieutenant doggett having been sent down from richmond to take charge of the signal corps, general whiting ordered a signal officer for the _cornubia_, and i was detailed and sent to wilmington to prepare the lights and report on board. "we cleared the bar successfully, with captain burroughs in command, and c.c. morse as pilot, and had a good voyage to st. george, bermuda, where we unloaded our cargo of cotton and reloaded with supplies for the southern army. on our return trip we made the land fifty or sixty miles above fort fisher and coasted down to the inlet, our intention being to get near the land inside the blockading fleet, which was obliged to keep off a certain distance on account of shoal water. as well as i remember, when within fifteen to twenty miles of fort fisher, captain burroughs sent for me to come on the bridge, and asked if i had my lights ready, and if i thought i could send a message ashore, pilot morse in the meantime telling me that he would let me know when we were opposite the signal station on the land, where a constant watch was kept all night for our signal. we had not gone far when morse told me we were opposite the post. we were feeling our way very slowly in the dark. i was put down on the deck, with the gangways open, my lights facing the land and a screen behind, when i was ordered to call the station. the officers and sailors were highly interested in the movement and crowded around to watch the proceedings. i had called but a few times when i was answered from the shore with a torch. i turned to captain burroughs and told him i had the attention of the land forces, and asked what message he wished to send. he replied as follows: 'colonel lamb, steamer _cornubia_. protect me. burroughs.' i got the o.k. for the message from shore, and saw the corps on land call up one station after the other, and transmit my message down to fort fisher, miles ahead of us, and afterwards learned that general whiting was notified by telegraph of the arrival of the _cornubia_ before she crossed the bar that night; and when we arrived at the fort we found colonel lamb down on the point with his whitworth guns ready to protect us if necessary. the success of this attempt gave an impetus to the signal corps, and from that time every steamer that arrived applied to the government for a signal officer before leaving port." the name of the _cornubia_ was subsequently changed to _lady davis_, in honor of the wife of president davis at richmond, and captain gale, an officer of the old navy who had gone over to the confederacy, was placed in command. "about the th of december, ," mr. gregory adds, "we left bermuda with a cargo for wilmington in charge of captain gale, with mr. robert grisson as pilot and myself as signal officer. we made land some miles above wilmington, apparently through bad navigation, almost as far north as cape lookout, and when opposite masonboro in coasting down we observed rockets going up directly ahead of us. we were running at full speed, when to our consternation rockets appeared quite near abreast of us; in fact we were apparently surrounded by cruisers. there was a hurried consultation on the bridge. i was at my post with my lights, waiting to be called, when the order was given to head for the beach and drive the ship high and dry. the blockaders were then cannonading us very heavily. when our good ship struck the beach she ploughed up the sand for a considerable distance, and keeled over on her side. the boats were lowered, and every man told to look out for himself, which i assure you we lost no time in doing, as we had scarcely left the ship before the enemy were boarding her on the opposite side and firing briskly with small arms. they followed us to the beach, and kept up a heavy fire from cannon and small arms for an hour. we dodged about in the bulrushes as best we could, and made our way toward the fort. captain thomas, acting chief officer, took ashore with him two fine chronometers, and selected me to carry one for him, but after beating around with them in the rushes for a mile or so, we became exhausted and had to throw them away. i have no doubt they are still lying in the rushes on the beach. we at last met a company of soldiers who protected and escorted us to the sound. we forded the sound and remained all night and were sent to wilmington the next day, overland, by mule teams. i always thought it was a shame that the _lady davis_ was lost, having no doubt we could have put to sea and escaped on the occasion referred to, although i was not informed as to the supply of coal on board. "captain gale had been very sick the day before, and was too feeble to leave the ship, so remained on board and was captured and taken to fort warren. the u.s.s. _james adger_, commanded by capt. james foster of bloomington, ind., had the good fortune to capture our ship, and hauled her off as a prize. "after reaching wilmington and supplying myself with clothing and a hat, i immediately went on board the steamer _flora_ with captain horner and made a successful run to bermuda. the _flora_ was considered too slow and sent back to england. i then joined the _index_, commanded by captain marshall, and made several successful voyages on her, but she too was condemned as too slow and was returned to glasgow. "i had a thrilling adventure on this ship on a homeward voyage, when, for the first time in all my experience, we made land opposite bald head light on frying pan shoals. as we were coming around to new inlet we fell in with a federal cruiser, so close when we discovered her that we could easily discern the maneuvers of the men on deck. she seemed to have anchors weighed, and was moving about and could easily have captured us, and we were at a loss to understand why she did not fire into us. some of our people decided that she wished to secure us as a prize without injury, as she steamed alongside of us for miles and all at once put her helm hard down and went close under our stern and attempted to go between us and the shoals. i remember the remark of our pilot, tom grissom, to captain marshall: 'if she follows us on that course i will wreck her before we reach the inlet.' "the cruiser had only steamed half a mile or so, when she suddenly passed from view, and in a few moments a rocket went up near where we last saw her, which was repeated at short intervals. after a few minutes, rockets could be seen going up from the whole squadron and there was evidently a great commotion among them on account of our pursuer, who seemed suddenly to have got into serious trouble. we passed through the inlet without further molestation, as the entire fleet had centered their attention upon the unfortunate cruiser which had suddenly gone down. when morning dawned, it revealed the federal cruiser hard and fast on the reef, with the other vessels of the squadron working manfully to relieve her. colonel lamb went down to the extreme point with his whitworth guns and opened fire on her. a month or so afterwards, while in bermuda, i saw a spirited sketch of the whole affair in _frank leslie's illustrated news_, giving an account of the wreck, and of an investigation of the conduct of the officers in charge. i think the vessel was the gun-boat _petrel_. "after the _index_ was sent back to glasgow, captain marshall took charge of the steamer _rouen_ and i joined her as signal officer. we loaded our cargo and started for wilmington, and on the third day out sighted a steamer about one o'clock p.m. this ship proved to be the u.s.s. _keystone state_, which captured us after a hot chase of six hours. we were all transferred to the _margaret and jessie_, a former blockade runner which had been captured and utilized as a cruiser. we were taken to new york and confined in the tombs prison. subsequently, all the officers and crew were discharged except four of us, and we were transferred to the ludlow street jail for further investigation. after six weeks' imprisonment we succeeded in effecting our escape through the medium of english gold, after which we went down to east river and found an old barque loaded with staves and hay for st. thomas. each one of us gave the captain $ in gold with the understanding that he would sail by st. george, bermuda, and land us there. we reached this place after several weeks to find it devastated by yellow fever. many personal friends died of this scourge, among whom was our lamented purser of the _index_, mr. robert williams, a well-known native of wilmington, much beloved for his superior personal qualities. "i then made one voyage in the _owl_, which became famous under the command of capt. john newland maffitt. after this i joined the new steel steamer _susan beirne_, commanded by captain martin, of which my old friend and shipmate james sprunt was purser. after a very hazardous voyage in this ship, during which we weathered a fearful gale, and although we came very near foundering, we returned to nassau to learn from captain maffitt of the steamer _owl_, which had just arrived, that the last port of the confederacy had been closed, and that the war was practically over. "a small party of almost reckless confederates, composed of our chief engineer, mr. lockhart; our second engineer, mr. carroll; our purser, mr. james sprunt, and the purser of another steamer in port, maj. william green, bought the steam launch belonging to our ship, a boat about forty feet in length and six feet breadth of beam, and made a perilous voyage by way of green turtle cay to cape canaveral, fla., where they landed in the surf after a two weeks' voyage, and proceeding on foot miles to ocala, fla., succeeded in evading the federal pickets and sentries at various points along the route and at last reached wilmington, having occupied about two months on the way. "i chose an easier and more agreeable route and proceeded via new york to visit some relatives in indiana and returned later to north carolina to find peace restored to our unhappy and desolated country." captain john newland maffitt. among that devoted band of united states navy officers whose home and kindred were in the south at the outbreak of the war, and who resigned their commissions rather than aid in subjugating their native state, there was none braver than our own capt. john newland maffitt, who, yielding to necessity, severed the strong ties of service under the old flag in which he had long distinguished himself, and relinquished not only a conspicuous position directly in line of speedy promotion to the rank of admiral, but sacrificed at the same time his entire fortune, which was invested in the north and which was confiscated shortly afterwards by the united states government. after the capture of the forts and the closing of the ports of wilmington and charleston in january, , maffitt, in command of the steamer _owl_ and unaware of the situation, ran into each port in quick succession, escaping from the fleet in each exploit as by a miracle, although under a heavy and destructive fire. while running out of charleston harbor when escape seemed impossible, his entire history of the cruise of the _florida_, which he had so long successfully commanded, was, by an unfortunate misunderstanding on the part of a subordinate, sent to the bottom of the sea, along with the confederate mail and other valuable papers. captain maffitt, gifted with the pen of a ready writer, left many valuable accounts of his adventures, among them a story of naval life in the old service entitled "nautilus," and a number of articles for the _army and navy magazine_ under the title "reminiscences of the confederate states navy." his paper on the building of the ram _albemarle_ by captain cooke, and that gallant officer's subsequent attack upon the federal fleet in plymouth sound, which is copied entire by colonel scharf in his history of the confederate navy, has been pronounced one of the finest descriptions of the civil war. it was my privilege to be numbered among his personal friends from the time he honored me, a lad of seventeen years, with his recommendation for the appointment as purser of his own ship, the confederate steamer _lilian_, which was confirmed just before he gave up the command to take charge of the confederate ram _albemarle_ at plymouth; and this friendship was unbroken until the close of his eventful life, the sacrifices and services of which should ever be held in grateful remembrance by our southern people. in the year after my appointment to the _lilian_, i had the misfortune to be captured at sea after an exciting chase of five hours by the federal cruisers _keystone state_, _boston_, _gettysburg_, and two others unknown, in which our ship was disabled under a heavy fire by shot below the water line, and was held a prisoner on board the u.s.s. _keystone state_, whose commander, captain crosby, a regular in the old navy, treated me most courteously. upon the invitation of the paymaster, i messed with the superior officers in the wardroom, where i heard frequent bitter allusions to captain semmes and other prominent confederates, but never a word of censure for the genial maffitt, the mention of whose name would provoke a kindly and amused smile as some of his pranks in the old times would be recalled by those who had not learned to regard him as a foe. the following passages, taken from admiral porter's _naval history of the civil war_, confirm the personal observations of the writer with reference to maffitt's reputation in the old navy: "maffitt was a different man from semmes. a thorough master of his profession, and possessed of all the qualities that make a favorite naval commander, he became a successful raider of the sea; but he made no enemies among those officers who had once known him and who now missed his genial humor in their messes. he was a veritable rover, but was never inhumane to those whom the fortunes of war threw into his hands, and he made himself as pleasant while emptying a ship of her cargo and then scuttling her, as claude duval when robbing a man of his purse or borrowing his watch from his pocket." porter then describes in almost flattering terms maffitt's superior skill and daring in fitting out the _florida_ under most adverse conditions, and then by way of explanation says: "it may appear to the reader that we have exhibited more sympathy for commander maffitt and given him more credit than he deserved; it must be remembered that we are endeavoring to write a naval history of the war, and not a partisan work. this officer, it is true, had gone from under the flag we venerate to fight against it; but we know it was a sore trial for him to leave the service to which he was attached and that he believed he was doing his duty in following the fortunes of his state, and had the courage to follow his convictions. he did not leave the u.s. navy with any bitterness, and when the troubles were all over, he accepted the situation gracefully. what we are going to state of him shows that he was capable of the greatest heroism, and that, though he was on the side of the enemy, his courage and skill were worthy of praise." he then recounts the wonderful story of maffitt's perilous run through commander preble's fleet in broad daylight, with a crew decimated by yellow fever, and he himself scarcely able to stand from its prostrating effects. "the _florida_ approached rapidly, her smoke pipes vomiting forth volumes of black smoke and a high press of steam escaping from her steam pipe. as she came within hailing distance, the federal commander ordered her to heave to, but maffitt still sped on, having sent all his men below, except the man at the wheel, and returned to reply to the hail. preble then fired a shot ahead of the _florida_, still supposing her to be some saucy englishman disposed to try what liberties he could take, though the absence of men on deck should have excited suspicion. he hesitated, however, and hesitation lost him a prize and the honor of capturing one of the confederate scourges of the ocean. preble had his crew at quarters, however, and as soon as he saw that the stranger was passing him he opened his broadside upon her and the other two blockaders did the same. but the first shots were aimed too high, and the _florida_ sped on toward the bar, her feeble crew forgetting their sickness and heaping coal upon the furnace fires with all possible rapidity. every man was working for his life, while the captain stood amid the storm of shot and shell perfectly unmoved, keenly watching the marks for entering the port and wondering to himself what his chances were for getting in. "during the whole war there was not a more exciting adventure than this escape of the _florida_ into mobile bay. the gallant manner in which it was conducted excited great admiration, even among the men who were responsible for permitting it. we do not suppose that there was ever a case where a man, under all the attending circumstances, displayed more energy or more bravery. "and so the _florida_ was allowed to go on her way without molestation, and maffitt was enabled to commence that career on the high seas which has made his name one of the notable ones of the war. he lighted the seas wherever he passed along, and committed such havoc among american merchantmen, that, if possible, he was even more dreaded than semmes. we have only to say that his being permitted to escape into mobile bay and then to get out again was the greatest example of blundering committed throughout the war. every officer who knew maffitt was certain that he would attempt to get out of mobile, and we are forced to say that those who permitted his escape are responsible for the terrible consequences of their want of vigilance and energy." preble's failure to sink the _florida_--for nothing else would have stopped maffitt--brought him into disgrace with the navy department, although he proved in his report of the affair that every means at his command had been used to intercept the bold confederate, and shortly afterwards the secretary of the navy, supported by a majority of naval officers, recommended the dismissal of commodore preble from the navy, which was carried into effect september , . preble repeatedly demanded an investigation, which was refused, but he ultimately got his case before congress and was restored to the list february , , with the grade of rear admiral. at the close of the war captain maffitt was summoned by a court of inquiry demanded by preble to testify as to the facts of his exploit in entering mobile bay, in which he said: "i can vouch for his (preble's) promptness and destructive energy on the occasion of my entering mobile bay. the superior speed of the _florida_ alone saved her from destruction, though not from a frightful mauling. we were torn to pieces--one man's head taken off and eleven wounded; boats, standing and running rigging shot away, also fore gaff. four shells struck our hull and had the one ( -inch) that grazed our boiler and entered the berth deck, killing one and wounding two, exploded every man belonging to the steamer would have been killed, as i had only the officers on deck until about to cross the bar, when i made some sail, and one man was wounded in the rigging. we had about , shrapnel shots in our hull, and our masts were pitted like a case of smallpox. the damage done her was so great that we did not get to sea again for over three months." the last voyage of captain maffitt was made on the _owl_, which he boarded at wilmington the st of december, , receiving her cargo of bales of cotton. with three other blockade runners in company he started for the bar. he escaped the federal sentinels "without the loss of a rope yarn," though one of his companions came to grief through an accident to machinery. their destination was st. george, bermuda, which they reached in safety, finding several steamers loaded and anxiously awaiting news from the federal expedition under general butler against fort fisher. through a halifax steamer the northern papers apprised them of the failure of the expedition, and in company with six other steamers and many gallant spirits, the _owl_ started on her return to dixie, all cheered by the joyful news. in the meantime another expedition against fort fisher had been fitted out under general terry and admiral porter, which had been successful, and the river was in possession of the federals. communicating with lockwood's folly, where they reported all quiet and fisher intact, captain maffitt steamed for the cape fear. at eight o'clock it was high water on the bar, and the moon would not rise before eleven. approaching the channel, he was surprised to see but one sentinel guarding the entrance. eluding him, he passed in. some apprehension was excited by a conflagration at bald head and no response to his signals, but as fort caswell looked natural and quiet, he decided to anchor off the fort wharf. he was immediately interviewed by the chief of ordnance and artillery, e.s. martin, and another officer, who informed him of the state of affairs, and that the train was already laid for the blowing up of fort caswell. gunboats were approaching, and in great distress captain maffitt hastily departed. a solitary blockader pursued him furiously for some time, and far at sea he heard the explosion that announced the fate of caswell. as his cargo was important and much needed, captain maffitt determined to make an effort to enter the port of charleston, although he had been informed that it was more closely guarded than ever before. many attempts were made to overhaul his vessel as he made his way into the harbor, but it was only necessary to stir up the fire draft a bit to start off with truly admirable speed that enabled him to outdistance his pursuers. anticipating a trying night and the bare possibility of capture, the captain had two bags slung and suspended over the quarter by a stout line. in these bags were placed the government mail not yet delivered, all private correspondence and the captain's war journal in which was the cruise of the _florida_. an intelligent quartermaster was instructed to stand by the bags with a hatchet, and to cut them adrift the moment capture became inevitable. the following is a description of what happened in captain maffitt's own words: "when on the western tail end of rattlesnake shoal, we encountered streaks of mist and fog that enveloped stars and everything for a few moments, when it would become quite clear again. running cautiously in one of these obscurations, a sudden lift in the haze disclosed that we were about to run into an anchored blockader. we had bare room with a hard-a-port helm to avoid him some fifteen or twenty feet, when their officer on deck called out: 'heave to, or i'll sink you.' the order was unnoticed, and we received his entire broadside, which cut away turtleback, perforated forecastle, and tore up bulwarks in front of our engine room, wounding twelve men, some severely, some slightly. the quartermaster stationed by the mail bags was so convinced that we were captured that he instantly used his hatchet, and sent them, well moored, to the bottom. hence my meager account of the cruise of the _florida_. rockets were fired as we passed swiftly out of his range of sight, and drummond lights lit up the animated surroundings of a swarm of blockaders, who commenced an indiscriminate discharge of artillery. we could not understand the reason of this bombardment, and as we picked our way out of the mêlée, concluded that several blockade runners must have been discovered feeling their way into charleston. "after the war, in conversing with the officer commanding on that occasion, he said that a number of the steamers of the blockade were commanded by inexperienced volunteer officers, who were sometimes overzealous and excitable, and hearing the gunboats firing into me, and seeing her rockets and signal lights, they thought that innumerable blockade runners were forcing a passage into the harbor, hence the indiscriminate discharge of artillery, which was attended with unfortunate results to them. this was my last belligerent association with blockade running. entering the harbor of charleston, and finding it in the possession of the federals, i promptly checked progress and retreated. the last order issued by the navy department, when all hope for the cause had departed, was for me to deliver the _owl_ to frazier, trenholme & co., in liverpool, which i accordingly did." captain maffitt and the consul. the following story was told me by the veteran blockade runner george c. mcdougal: "when the yankees ran the _kate_ out of new smyrna, fla., we had to run across light and leave capt. thomas lockwood, who had gone to charleston, behind. the command devolved on mr. carlin, first officer. we got the ship into nassau saturday night. on the following day, sunday, the british mail steamer appeared off nassau with the new governor of the bahamas on board, but owing to a heavy sea on the bar she could not cross, and accordingly ran down to the west end of the island and to smoother water in order to land the governor. during the day a number of prominent inhabitants of nassau came aboard the _kate_ and asked if the captain would go down to the west end and bring the governor up. captain carlin told them that they were quite welcome to the ship if she could be got ready in time, which would depend upon the chief engineer. he immediately consulted with me and we decided that as the people of nassau had been very kind to us, the _kate_ being a favorite, we would try to accommodate them at once. as we had arrived after midnight on saturday, and, not wishing to work on sunday, we had not blown the boilers out. the water was hot, and i told the captain i would be ready in an hour's time or less. i started the fires immediately and in a few minutes the committee went on shore to gather their friends and to send off refreshments. in a short time gunboats began to crowd alongside with the aforesaid refreshments, both solid and liquid, the latter as usual predominating in the shape of cases of champagne, brandy, etc. "when the guests were all on board we hove up the anchor and faced the bar. a tremendous sea was running, and at times our topgallant forecastle was under water. we worked out, however, and hauled down the coast for the west end. in a short time the refreshments began to work on the company, especially on the mate. captain carlin being afraid that the small anchor would not hold the ship, ordered the mate to get the large anchor from between decks to the gangway, carry the chain from the hawse pipe along the side of the ship by tricing lines and shackle it to the anchor. i noticed that the mate was almost incapable from the aforesaid refreshments, and i said to him, 'you will lose that anchor,' to which he replied, 'i know what i am about.' presently the ship took a roll down into the trough of the sea, and overboard went the anchor. when it struck bottom the ship was going twelve or fourteen miles an hour and the sudden jerk started the chain around the windlass, and the way that seventy fathoms of chain flew around the windlass and out of the hawse pipe made the fire fly. it looked as if half a dozen flashes of lightning were playing hide and seek between the decks. with a crack like a pistol shot the weather bitting parted and the end of the chain went out of the hawse pipe to look for the anchor. "we soon made the bay at the west end and ran alongside the mail steamer and let go our anchor, but found to our disappointment that the governor had gone to town in a carriage sent for him by the officials. after spending a pleasant hour in exchanging visits between the officers of the two steamers, our guests in the meantime partaking of refreshments, we hove up the anchor and started back toward nassau. "among our passengers was the gallant capt. john n. maffitt, who was then waiting at nassau to get the _oreto_, afterwards named the _florida_, out of irons. we had also captain whiting, the american consul at nassau, who asked permission to go down to the steamer to get his dispatches, which was not denied him, although this man was greatly disliked not only by confederate sympathizers but by the natives, having, as the irishman said, winning ways to make everybody hate him. during the run back the consul, overcome by his numerous potations, lay down with his dispatches and was soon asleep. when we aroused him at our destination the dispatches were missing, whereupon he accused maffitt of stealing them, resulting in a grand row all round. the dispatches were restored to him on the following day, their disappearance being caused by a practical joke on the part of the confederates. we delivered our passengers in a very shaky condition. "on monday morning, having turned out bright and early to start work, our attention was attracted to the shore by a noisy and excited group of negroes gathered around the flagstaff of the american consul, gesticulating and pointing to the top of the flagstaff, from which, to my astonishment, was flying a brand new confederate flag. it soon appeared that some one, said to be a confederate sympathizer, and whom every one believed to be maffitt, who was always ready for a joke, had climbed the flagstaff during the night, carrying up with him a confederate flag and a bucket of slush. the halyards were first unrove, next the confederate flag was nailed to the staff, and last of all as the joker descended, he slushed the staff all the way to the ground, making it impossible for any one to ascend to remove the ensign which was so hateful to our friend the consul. when whiting came down to the consulate after breakfast and took in the situation, he performed a war dance around that pole which was one of the most interesting spectacles ever witnessed by the confederates in nassau. he then employed a number of her majesty's colored subjects with cans of concentrated lye to remove the slush, and, after great difficulty, one of them succeeded in reaching the top of the staff and removed the confederate flag, replacing the halyards as before; but this was not the last of it. on the following morning a united states man-of-war appeared off the harbor, and when the consul in full official rig took his seat in the stern of his gig he found on reaching the cruiser that he was hard and fast by the nether extremities, some north carolina tar having been previously applied by the aforesaid confederate sympathizer to the seat of his gig. of course these annoyances created a great deal of feeling, and a down-east shipmaster, desiring to show his spite, made a fool of himself by hoisting the american flag over the british flag, the latter being union down, intending it as an insult, of course, which was immediately noticed on shore, and in a short time several thousand shouting, howling british negroes were lining the water front looking for boats and threatening to drown the american captain who had taken such a liberty with their beloved flag. before they could carry out their purpose, however, a man-of-war's launch shot out from the british gunboat _bulldog_ with a file of marines, and, boarding the brig, ordered the flags hauled down and the english flag detached, took the captain in the launch and pulled to the government wharf and immediately shoved him into the calaboose, from which confinement he was not released until the next day, with the admonition that if he remained on board his ship he would have no need of a surgeon. he took the hint and was seen no more on shore. "on thursday we were bound for the northwest channel with our regulation cargo of , barrels of gunpowder and arms and accouterments for , men. we ran into charleston on saturday night and on sunday morning the confederate quartermaster pressed every horse and dray in charleston to haul the cargo to the railroad station. the congregations of the churches along meeting and king streets probably derived very little benefit from the sermons delivered that sacred day, as the roar of the drays and wagons was incessant all day sunday and sunday night. as fast as a train was loaded it was started out for johnston's army, and a conductor of a train told me afterwards that the soldiers broke open the cases of rifles on the cars and distributed the firearms and accouterments from the car doors. it may be said that the _kate_ was a most important factor in the battle of shiloh. johnston's army was a mass of undisciplined men with single and double barrel shotguns, old time rifles, and anything else in the way of firearms that they could bring from home. they had nothing suitable to fight with. the three cargoes of war stores, therefore, carried in by the _kate_, one by the _mary celeste_ to smyrna and the fourth cargo carried by the _kate_ into charleston, actually equipped johnston's army, immediately after which came the battle of shiloh. one thousand barrels of gunpowder was a dangerous shipment to run through the federal blockade, and it was a great relief to us when the confederacy established powder mills in georgia, and our powder cargoes were changed to niter for the mills." captain john wilkinson. one of the most intelligent and successful commanders of the blockade-running fleet was capt. john wilkinson, who entered the united states navy as a midshipman in , and, after an honorable and distinguished career, tendered his services upon the secession of his native state, virginia, to the confederacy. having received a commission in the confederate states navy, he served in various responsible positions until ordered upon special service in command of the confederate states steamer _r.e. lee_. in his interesting book entitled _narrative of a blockade runner_, speaking of the citizens of virginia who resigned their commissions in the old service, he says: "they were compelled to choose whether they would aid in subjugating their state or in defending it against invasion; for it was already evident that coercion would be used by the general government, and that war was inevitable. in reply to the accusation of perjury in breaking their oath of allegiance, since brought against the officers of the army and navy who resigned their commissions to render aid to the south, it need only be stated that, in their belief, the resignation of their commissions absolved them from any special obligation. they then occupied the same position toward the government as other classes of citizens. but this charge was never brought against them till the war was ended. the resignation of their commissions was accepted when their purpose was well known. as to the charge of ingratitude, they reply, their respective states had contributed their full share toward the expenses of the general government, acting as their disbursing agent, and when these states withdrew from the union their citizens belonging to the two branches of the public service did not, and do not, consider themselves amenable to this charge for abandoning their official positions to cast their lot with their kindred and friends. but yielding as they did to necessity, it was, nevertheless, a painful act to separate themselves from companions with whom they had been long and intimately associated, and from the flag under which they had been proud to serve." with reference to his experience in blockade running at wilmington captain wilkinson continues: "the natural advantages of wilmington for blockade running were very great, chiefly owing to the fact that there were two separate and distinct approaches to cape fear river; i.e., either by new inlet, to the north of smith's island, or by the western bar to the south of it. this island is ten or eleven miles in length; but the frying pan shoals extend ten or twelve miles farther south, making the distance by sea between the two bars thirty miles or more, although the direct distance between them is only six or seven miles. from smithville (now southport), a little village nearly equidistant from either bar, both blockading fleets could be distinctly seen, and the outward-bound blockade runners could take their choice through which of them to run the gauntlet. the inward-bound blockade runners, too, were guided by circumstances of wind and weather, selecting that bar over which they could cross after they had passed the gulf stream, and shaping their course accordingly. the approaches to both bars were clear of danger with the single exception of the 'lump,' before mentioned; and so regular are the soundings that the shore can be coasted for miles within a stone's throw of the breakers. "these facts explain why the united states fleet was unable wholly to stop blockade running. it was, indeed, impossible to do so; the result to the very close of the war proves this assertion, for, in spite of the vigilance of the fleet, many blockade runners were afloat when fort fisher was captured. in truth the passage through the fleet was little dreaded; for although the blockade runner might receive a shot or two, she was rarely disabled; and in proportion to the increase of the fleet the greater would be the danger, we knew, of their firing into each other. as the boys before the deluge used to say, they would be very apt to 'miss the cow and kill the calf.' the chief danger was upon the open sea, many of the light cruisers having great speed. as soon as one of them discovered a blockade runner during daylight, she would attract other cruisers in the vicinity by sending up a dense column of smoke, visible for many miles in clear weather. a cordon of fast steamers stationed ten or fifteen miles apart, inside the gulf stream, and in the course from nassau and bermuda to wilmington and charleston, would have been more effectual in stopping blockade running than the whole united states navy concentrated off those ports; and it was unaccountable to us why such a plan did not occur to good mr. welles; but it was not our place to suggest it. i have no doubt, however, that the fraternity to which i then belonged would have unanimously voted thanks and a service of plate to the honorable secretary of the united states navy for this oversight. i say _inside the gulf stream_, because every experienced captain of a blockade runner made a point to cross the stream early enough in the afternoon, if possible, to establish the ship's position by chronometer, so as to escape the influence of that current upon his dead reckoning. the lead always gave indication of our distance from the land, but not, of course, of our position; and the numerous salt works along the coast, where evaporation was produced by fire, and which were at work night and day, were visible long before the low coast could be seen. occasionally the whole inward voyage would be made under adverse conditions. cloudy, thick weather and heavy gales would prevail so as to prevent any solar or lunar observations, and reduce the dead reckoning to mere guesswork. in these cases the nautical knowledge and judgment of the captain would be taxed to the utmost. the current of the gulf stream varies in velocity and (within certain limits) in direction; and the stream itself, almost as well defined as a river within its banks under ordinary circumstances, is impelled by a strong gale toward the direction in which the wind is blowing, overflowing its banks, as it were. the countercurrent, too, inside of the gulf stream, is much influenced by the prevailing winds. upon one occasion while in command of the _r.e. lee_, formerly the clyde-built iron steamer _giraffe_, we had experienced very heavy and thick weather, and had crossed the stream and struck soundings about midday. the weather then clearing, so that we could obtain an altitude near meridian, we found ourselves at least forty miles north of our supposed position, and near the shoals which extend in a southerly direction off cape lookout. it would be more perilous to run out to sea than to continue on our course, for we had passed through the offshore line of blockaders, and the sky had become perfectly clear. i determined to personate a transport bound to beaufort, which was in the possession of the united states forces and the coaling station of the fleet blockading wilmington. the risk of detection was not very great, for many of the captured blockade runners were used as transports and dispatch vessels. shaping our course for beaufort and slowing down as if we were in no haste to get there, we passed several vessels, showing united states colors to them all. just as we were crossing through the ripple of shallow water off the 'tail' of the shoals, we dipped our colors to a sloop of war which passed three or four miles to the south of us. the courtesy was promptly responded to, but i have no doubt her captain thought me a lubberly and careless seaman to shave the shoals so closely. we stopped the engines when no vessel was in sight, and i was relieved of a heavy burden of anxiety as the sun sank below the horizon, and the course was shaped at full speed for masonboro inlet. "the staid old town of wilmington was turned 'topsy turvey' during the war. here resorted the speculators from all parts of the south to attend the weekly auctions of imported cargoes; and the town was infested with rogues and desperadoes, who made a livelihood by robbery and murder. it was unsafe to venture into the suburbs at night, and even in daylight there were frequent conflicts in the public streets between the crews of the steamers in port and the soldiers stationed in the town, in which knives and pistols would be freely used; and not unfrequently a dead body would rise to the surface of the water in one of the docks with marks of violence upon it. the civil authorities were powerless to prevent crime. '_inter arma silent leges!_' the agents and employees of different blockade-running companies lived in magnificent style, paying a king's ransom (in confederate money) for their household expenses, and nearly monopolizing the supplies in the country market. toward the end of the war, indeed, fresh provisions were almost beyond the reach of everyone. our family servant, newly arrived from the country in virginia, would sometimes return from market with an empty basket, having flatly refused to pay what he called 'such nonsense prices' for a bit of fresh beef, or a handful of vegetables. a quarter of lamb at the time of which i now write, sold for $ , a pound of tea for $ . confederate money which in september, , was nearly equal to specie in value, had declined in september, , to ; in the same month, in , to , and before september, , to , ! "many of the permanent residents of the town had gone into the country, letting their houses at enormous prices; those who were compelled to remain kept themselves much secluded, the ladies rarely being seen upon the more public streets. many of the fast young officers belonging to the army would get an occasional leave to come to wilmington, and would live at free quarters on board the blockade runners or at one of the numerous bachelor halls ashore. "the convalescent soldiers from the virginia hospitals were sent by the route through wilmington to their homes in the south. the ladies of the town were organized by mrs. derosset into a society for the purpose of ministering to the wants of these poor sufferers, the trains which carried them stopping an hour or two at the depot, that their wounds might be dressed and food and medicine supplied to them. these self-sacrificing, heroic women patiently and faithfully performed the offices of hospital nurses. "liberal contributions were made by companies and individuals to this society, and the long tables at the depot were spread with delicacies for the sick to be found nowhere else in the confederacy. the remains of the meals were carried by the ladies to a camp of mere boys--home guards outside of the town. some of these children were scarcely able to carry a musket and were altogether unable to endure the exposure and fatigue of field service; and they suffered fearfully from measles and typhoid fever. general grant used a strong figure of speech when he asserted that 'the cradle and the grave were robbed to recruit the confederate armies.' the fact of a fearful drain upon the population was scarcely exaggerated, but with this difference in the metaphor, that those who were verging upon both the cradle and the grave shared the hardships and dangers of war with equal self-devotion to the cause. it is true that a class of heartless speculators infested the country, who profited by the scarcity of all sorts of supplies, but it makes the self-sacrifice of the mass of the southern people more conspicuous, and no state made more liberal voluntary contributions to the armies or furnished better soldiers than north carolina. "on the opposite side of the river from wilmington, on a low marshy flat, were erected the steam cotton presses, and there the blockade runners took in their cargoes. sentries were posted on the wharves day and night to prevent deserters from getting aboard and stowing themselves away; and the additional precaution of fumigating outward-bound steamers at smithville was adopted, but in spite of this vigilance, many persons succeeded in getting a free passage aboard. these deserters, or 'stowaways,' were in most instances sheltered by one or more of the crew, in which event they kept their places of concealment until the steamer had arrived at her port of destination, when they would profit by the first opportunity to leave the vessel undiscovered. a small bribe would tempt the average blockade-running sailor to connive at this means of escape. the impecunious deserter fared more hardly and would usually be forced by hunger or thirst to emerge from his hiding place while the steamer was on the outward voyage. a cruel device employed by one of the captains effectually put a stop, i believe, certainly a check, to the escape of this class of 'stowaways.' he turned three or four of them adrift in the gulf stream in an open boat with a pair of oars and a few days' allowance of bread and water." colonel scharf, writing of the confederate states navy, mentions the shore lights: "at the beginning of the war," he says, "nearly all the lights along the southern coast had been discontinued, the apparatus being removed to places of safety. in it was deemed expedient to re-establish the light on smith's island, which had been discontinued ever since the beginning of hostilities, and to erect a structure for a light on the 'mound.' the 'mound' was an artificial one, erected by colonel lamb, who commanded fort fisher." captain wilkinson says of the "mound" and the range lights: "two heavy guns were mounted upon it, and it eventually became a site for a light, and very serviceable for blockade runners; but even at this period it was an excellent landmark. joined by a long, low isthmus of sand with the higher mainland, its regular conical shape enabled the blockade runners easily to identify it from the offing; and in clear weather, it showed plain and distinct against the sky at night. i believe the military men used to laugh slyly at the colonel for undertaking its erection, predicting that it would not stand; but the result showed the contrary; and whatever difference of opinion may have existed with regard to its value as a military position, there can be but one as to its utility to the blockade runners, for it was not a landmark alone, along this monotonous coast, but one of the range lights for crossing new inlet bar was placed on it. seamen will appreciate at its full value this advantage; but it may be stated for the benefit of the unprofessional reader, that while the compass bearing of an object does not enable a pilot to steer a vessel with sufficient accuracy through a narrow channel, range lights answer the purpose completely. these lights were only set after signals had been exchanged between the blockade runner and the shore station, and were removed immediately after the vessel had entered the river. the range lights were changed as circumstances required; for the new inlet channel itself was and is constantly changing, being materially affected both in depth of water and in its course by a heavy gale of wind or a severe freshet in cape fear river." a normal blockading experience. probably one of the quickest and most uneventful voyages made during the war in running the blockade was that made by capt. c.g. smith, of southport. the following story on the blockade was told by captain smith, and is published to show the contrast between what some of the blockade runners had to undergo and how easy it was at other times to make the round trip without hindrance or adventure: "on a delightful day, about the first of may, , i left nassau as pilot on the fine side-wheel steamer _margaret and jessie_, captain wilson in command. "the _margaret and jessie_ was at that time regarded as one of the fastest steamers. of about tons, this steamer when in ballast could make fifteen miles an hour, but of course she was usually loaded down, therefore seldom doing better than ten knots while running the blockade. "passing out from nassau with a general cargo of goods, bound for wilmington, n.c., the first twenty-four hours were passed without incident, the steamer making a good passage, until a gale from the northeast met us, which lasted till noon of the third day out. "when the wind had lessened somewhat, captain wilson came to me and asked what point of land i wanted to make, to which i replied that i intended to run in at the western bar of the cape fear. finding it an impossibility on account of the weather to make the western bar before daylight, i made for masonboro and came in at new inlet, anchoring abreast of the mound battery which guarded this approach at about o'clock at night, and at daylight, with a fair tide, ran up to wilmington. "nothing in the shape of a blockader disturbed our voyage. at one time a steamer was seen east-southeast of us, but paid no attention to us. when at masonboro, one of the blockading squadron went to the southeastward of us, but being under the lee of the land she could not make us out. "after laying up in wilmington about ten days, discharging our cargo and taking on a load of cotton, we quietly dropped down the river one morning, and, anchoring in five-fathom hole, waited until night, when we passed out of new inlet, bound for nassau. "the return trip was made without incident of any kind, the weather was fine, not a vessel of any description could be seen on the voyage; and in fifty-two hours from the time of leaving the cape fear, we were safe at the dock at nassau, discharging our cargo, making one of the quickest and safest passages ever made by any of the blockade runners." captain joseph fry. in the year , a winsome, honest lad who had determined to join the navy of his country, and who had been thwarted in his purpose by friends at home, made his way alone from florida to washington and demanded his right to speak to the president, which was not denied him. mr. tyler was so pleased by the youthful manliness of the little chap, who was only eight years old, that he invited him to dine at the white house on the following day. the young floridian was the observed of all observers; members of the cabinet and their wives, members of congress and officers of the navy had heard of the little lad's story, and all united in espousing his patriotic cause. the president, won by his ardor as well as by his gentlemanly and modest behavior, granted the boy's request and immediately signed his warrant as a midshipman in the united states navy. the subsequent record of capt. joseph fry, the christian gentleman, the gallant sailor, the humane commander, the chivalrous soldier, is known to readers of american history. of heroic mould and dignified address, he was "a combination and a form indeed, where every god did seem to set his seal to give the world assurance of a man." when the civil war came, it found him among the most beloved and honored officers in the service. the trial of his faith was bitter but brief. he could not fight against his home and loved ones, much as he honored the flag which he had so long and faithfully cherished. he was a southerner, and with many pangs of sincere regret he went with his native state for weal or woe. his personal bravery during the war was wonderful; he never performed deeds of valor under temporary excitement, but acted with such coolness and daring as to command the admiration of superiors and inferiors alike. he was severely wounded at the battle of white river, and while on sick leave was ordered, at his own request, to command the confederate blockade runner _eugénie_, upon which the writer made a voyage. on one occasion the _eugénie_ grounded outside of fort fisher while trying to run through the fleet in daylight. the ship was loaded with gunpowder, the federal fleet was firing upon her, the risk of immediate death and destruction to crew and ship was overwhelming. fry was ordered by colonel lamb to abandon the vessel and save his crew from death by explosion. he accordingly told all who wished to go to do so, but as for himself, he would stand by the ship and try to save the powder, which was greatly needed by the confederate government. several boatloads of his men retreated to the fort; a few remained with fry, the enemy's shells flying thick and fast around them. in the face of this great danger, fry lightened his ship, and upon the swelling tide brought vessel and cargo safely in. later on he commanded the steamer _agnes e. fry_, named in honor of his devoted wife. in this ship he made three successful voyages, after which she was unfortunately run ashore by her pilot and lies not far distant from the _virginius_. captain fry was then placed in active service during the remainder of the war in command of the confederate gunboat _morgan_ and was highly complimented by his general, dabney h. maury, for conspicuous bravery in action. after the war his fortunes underwent many changes. several undertakings met with varying success or failure. at last, he went to new york in july, , where he hoped to secure employment in command of an ocean steamer. there he was introduced to general quesada, agent of the cuban republic, who offered him the command of the steamer _virginius_, then lying in the harbor of kingston, jamaica. he accepted the offer, and received a month's pay in advance, $ , two-thirds of which he sent to his needy family, and reserved the remainder for his personal outfit. the _virginius_, originally named _virgin_, was built in scotland in and was specially designed for a blockade runner in the confederate service. she made several successful trips between havana and mobile. being shut up in the latter port, she was used by the confederates as a dispatch and transport steamer. for a time after the war she was used by the federal government in the united states revenue service, but proving unsatisfactory, owing to her great consumption of coal, was sold at public auction by the united states treasury department to an american firm. the owners in took out american papers in legal form and cleared her for venezuela. from that time she was used in carrying volunteers and supplies to cuba; and while engaged in this business under the american flag, recognized by american consuls as an american vessel, she was overhauled at sea on the st of october, , by the spanish man-of-war _tornado_ and declared a prize to the spanish government. fry never dreamed of greater danger; he occupied the same position he had assumed while running the federal blockade and the same as in the recent cases of the _commodore_ and the _bermuda_. he was a merchantman, carried no guns, made no armed resistance, and flew the american flag. notwithstanding all this, a drumhead court martial was held on board the _tornado_ and on the second day afterwards the unfortunate victims were condemned as pirates and sentenced to immediate execution at santiago de cuba, where the spanish warship had arrived. even then captain fry and his crew, who were nearly all americans, expected a release through the intervention of the united states authorities. vain hope! the american consul was absent; the vice-consul did what he could in vain; the home government was silent; the british consul protested, but without avail, and the butchery of these brave men began. we read from the newspaper accounts of the dreadful scene as the victims were ranged facing a wall. captain fry asked for a glass of water, which was given him by the friendly hand of one of his own race. he then walked with firm, unfaltering steps to the place assigned him, and calmly awaited the volley which ended his noble life. a touching incident occurred on the march to execution. when the brave man passed the american consulate, he gravely saluted the bare pole which should have borne the flag, once and again so dear to his heart, but which had failed him in his extremity. although the firing party was only ten feet away, says the published account, fry was the only one killed outright. then ensued a horrible scene. "the spanish butchers advanced to where the wounded men lay, writhing and moaning in agony, and placing the muzzles of their guns in the mouths of their victims, shattered their heads into fragments. others were stabbed to death with knives and swords." fifty-three victims had suffered death, ninety-three more were made ready for execution; the bloody work was to be resumed, when an unlooked-for intervention came. the news had reached jamaica, and it found in the harbor the british man-of-war _niobe_ under command of capt. sir lambton lorraine, who, true to his anglo-saxon instincts, needed no orders to speed to the rescue. leaving in such haste that many of his men were left behind, he steamed with forced draft to santiago. before the anchor reached the bottom of the harbor the _niobe's_ drums had beat to quarters and the well-trained gunners were at their stations. commander lorraine ignored the customary formalities; precious lives were trembling in the balance; moments were vital. before the spanish general was made aware of his arrival, lorraine stood before him and demanded that the execution be stayed. to burriel's unsatisfactory response the brave commander returned answer that in the absence of an american man-of-war he would protect the interest of the americans. still the spaniard hesitated; he had tasted human blood, but his thirst was not satisfied. again the gallant britisher demanded an unequivocal answer, and, report says, confirmed it by a threat that he would bombard the town, as he had in honduras for the protection of the anglo-saxon. his prompt, decisive action arrested the bloody work, and eventually saved the lives of the remainder of the crew of the _virginius_. on his return to england some months later, sir lambton was detained some days in new york. the city authorities, animated by his gallant conduct, tendered him a public reception, which was modestly declined. virginia city, nev., desiring to testify its appreciation of his noble humanity, forwarded to him a fourteen-pound brick of solid silver, upon which was inscribed his name and the incident, with the legend "blood is thicker than water," signifying also in western eulogy "you're a brick." a tardy recognition of the rights of american possession was made later by the spanish government, and the _virginius_ was delivered to an american man-of-war. while towing the unfortunate craft off cape fear and bound for a northern port, the _virginius_ sprang a leak, or, some say, was scuttled, and found her grave in the ocean depths beneath us. recapture of the "emily st. pierre." the following strange story was told to me many years ago, and, although some of the details have been forgotten, the incident, which was declared to be quite true, led to one of the most extraordinary exploits of the war between the states in the famous recapture of the _emily st. pierre_. while great britain was at war with france in the year , a small scotch brig was approaching the british channel on the last leg of her voyage from the west indies for greenock on the river clyde. she had successfully eluded strange sails and the captain was quite hopeful of reaching his destination without encountering a french privateer, but alas, when the brig was within a few days' sail of the "land o'cakes," a smarter vessel, bearing the tricolor at her peak, overhauled the scotsman, and, with a round shot across her bows, compelled her surrender. a french prize crew was placed on board with orders to sail the brig to the nearest french port for adjudication. the scotch captain and his cabin boy were retained on board as prisoners, the former to assist in the working of the brig and the latter to wait upon the prize crew. with the enemy's flag apeak, the little brig was headed for the enemy's country and was soon alone upon the sea. with the accustomed discipline of the man-of-war somewhat relaxed, the frenchmen, wishing to make merry over their good fortune, sought among the brig stores the red wine to which they were accustomed, instead of which they broached a cask of jamaica rum, under whose masterful potency they became as dead men. the scotsman was quick to seize his opportunity, and with the lone assistance of his cabin boy he dragged every man jack into his forecastle and securely tied them to their bunks; the officers were likewise secured in the cabin and the course of the brig laid straight and true again for bonnie scotland. on the following morning while the brig was slowly proceeding under light canvas, which the master himself had set while the boy steered, another frenchman gave chase and the hopes of the scotsman gave way to despair as the swift cruiser overhauled him hand over hand. turning to the french officer whom he had secured to the poop deck for the fresh air, he was astonished to find him in a state of terror instead of in triumph at the prospect of his release. quickly the frenchman explained in his own language, with which the scotch captain was familiar, that his disgraceful plight and that of his crew would result in his speedy courtmartial and execution at the yard arm; that if the scotch captain would accept his parole, restore to him his uniform and sword, assume with his cabin boy the uniforms of two of his frenchmen, hoist the french ensign and leave the rest to him, he would extricate the brig, resume his bonds, and cast his lot in scotland, for he could never see his own country again. this was quickly done, for the alternative but assured the brig's recapture. on came the armed frenchman. boom! went one of her guns. the brig rounded to, and in response to his countryman's hail, the quondam prize master shouted through his trumpet that he was of the french privateer, in charge of a prize ship, taking her to a french port. the commander of the armed vessel waved a salute and sailed away quite satisfied. the _status quo ante_ of the brig was resumed, as arranged, the clyde was reached in safety, and the descendants of the french prize crew can account for some of the mysterious french names still heard in the scottish highlands to this day. and, _mirabile dictu_, the cabin boy of the brig became the hero of the following true story and was subsequently well known as the captain of a confederate blockade-running steamer into wilmington. it was during the fourth year of the war that this very extraordinary man, capt. william wilson, appeared in cape fear waters in command of a steamer which ran the blockade at wilmington perhaps three or four times; but there was nothing unusual about this incident, and perhaps for that reason i have forgotten her name. there was, however, something very unusual about wilson, whose unequalled bravery in recapturing his ship the _emily st. pierre_, of charleston, s.c., in , was, of all the stirring incidents of the blockade, the most admirable example of personal pluck and endurance. i have been told by a kinsman of miss emily st. pierre, for whom the ship was named, that she still lives in charleston, and i am repeating this story of wilson's wonderful exploits at his request. although not strictly a story of the cape fear, it will be none the less interesting to our readers, and i reproduce the account published in _chambers's edinburg journal_ entitled "a matter-of-fact story." "on the morning of the th of march, , the liverpool ship _emily st. pierre_ (william wilson, captain) arrived within about twelve miles of charleston and signaled for a pilot. she had made a long and tedious voyage of four months from calcutta, bound for st. john, new brunswick, calling at charleston for orders if charleston was open. if the southern port was blockaded, captain wilson's orders were to proceed direct to the british port of st. john, new brunswick. the ship had formerly belonged to charleston, but since the outbreak of the american civil war she had sailed under the english flag. her nominal owners were messrs. fraser, trenholm & co., of rumford place, liverpool, a firm doing an extensive business, who had very close relations with the confederate or southern states, for whom they acted as bankers and agents in this country. "upon approaching the charleston bar, the ship was hailed by a vessel which proved to be the northern cruiser _james adger_, and in response captain wilson hauled up his courses, backed his main yard, and lay to. an american naval lieutenant and a score of men came on board and demanded his papers. the manifest showed an innocent cargo, , bales of gunny bags, and the registration of the ship as english was in due order. charleston being blockaded, the captain demanded permission to proceed to his destination, the british port of st. john. the lieutenant refused, and referred the matter to his superior in command; and the two vessels proceeded into charleston roadstead, where they arrived at half past two in the afternoon. "captain wilson was ordered on board the flagship of the blockading squadron, the _florida_, where he was kept for two hours in solitude and suspense. at last a flag officer, captain goldsboro, came to him and said they had decided to seize the _emily st. pierre_ on several grounds. he asserted that she carried contraband of war--namely, saltpeter; that her english registration was not bona fide; that many articles on board had been found bearing the name charleston; that the same word had been scraped out on her stern and the name liverpool substituted; that captain wilson had not disclosed all his papers, but had been observed from the _james adger_ to throw overboard and sink a small parcel, probably of incriminating documents. captain wilson protested and appealed to the maritime law of nations, but in vain. he was informed that the law courts of philadelphia would adjudicate the matter; and finally captain wilson was invited to take passage in his vessel to philadelphia and to place at the disposal of the navigator his charts and instruments. the invitation in form was in fact a command. he returned to his vessel to find that his crew had all been removed, with the exception of two who were not sailors--the steward, named matthew montgomery, and the cook, named louis schevlin, hailing from frankfort-on-the-main. these were merely passengers and with them was an american engineer who had obtained permission to take passage to philadelphia. "the prize crew who took charge of the vessel consisted of lieutenant stone, of the united states navy, in command; a master's mate and twelve men, fourteen in all; with the american passenger, fifteen. the moment that captain wilson again stepped aboard his own vessel, he formed the resolution to recapture her and take her home. he was bold enough to think that it might be possible to recapture the ship even against such odds. an unarmed man, aided by the questionable support of a steward and a cook, was practically powerless against the fifteen of the crew. on the other hand, captain wilson was a brawny, big-framed scotsman (a native of dumfriesshire), a thorough seaman, determined in resolve, cool and prompt in action. he called the steward and the cook to him in his stateroom and disclosed the wild project he had formed. both manfully promised to stand by their chief. this was at half past four on the morning of the st of march, the third day out from charleston. captain wilson had already formed his plan of operations, and had prepared to a certain extent for carrying it out. with the promise of the cook and the steward secured, he lost no time, gave them no chance for their courage to evaporate, but proceeded at once in the darkness and silence of the night to carry out his desperate undertaking. he was prepared to lose his life or to have his ship; that was the simple alternative. "it was lieutenant stone's watch on deck, and the prize master's mate was asleep in his berth. the scotch captain went into the berth, handed out the mate's sword and revolvers, clapped a gag made of a piece of wood and some marline between his teeth, seized his hands, which montgomery, the steward, quickly ironed, and so left him secure. the lieutenant still paced the deck, undisturbed by a sound. then across to another stateroom, where the american engineer lay asleep. he also was gagged and ironed silently and without disturbance. his revolvers and those already secured were given to the steward and the cook, who remained below in the cabin. captain wilson went on deck. "lieutenant stone was pacing the deck, and the watch consisted of one man at the helm, one at the lookout, on the forecastle, and three others who were about the ship. for ten minutes captain wilson walked up and down, remarking on the fair wind, and making believe that he had just turned out. the ship was off cape hatteras, midway of their journey between charleston and philadelphia, the most easterly projection of the land on that coast. it is difficult navigation thereabouts, with the cross currents and a tendency to fogs, affording the two captains subject for talk. "'let her go free a bit, captain stone; you are too close to the cape. i tell you and i know.' "'we have plenty of offing,' replied the lieutenant; and then to the helmsman: 'how's her head?' "'northeast and by east, sir,' came the reply. "'keep her so. i tell you it is right,' said the lieutenant. "'well, of course i am not responsible now, but i am an older sailor than you, captain stone, and i tell you if you want to clear hatteras, another two points east will do no harm. do but look at my chart; i left it open on the cabin table. and the coffee will be ready now,' and captain wilson led the way from the poop to the cabin, followed by the commander. "there was a passage about five yards long leading from the deck to the cabin, a door at either end. the captain stopped at the first door, closing it, and picking from behind it an iron belaying pin which he had placed there. the younger man went forward to the cabin where the chart lay upon the table. "'stone!' the lieutenant turned at the sudden peremptory exclamation of his name. his arm upraised, the heavy iron bolt in his hand, in low, but hard, eager, quick words, 'my ship shall never go to philadelphia!' said the captain. he did not strike. it was unnecessary. montgomery had thrust the gag in the young lieutenant's mouth; he was bound hand and foot, bundled into a berth, and the door locked. three out of fifteen were thus disposed of. there was still the watch on deck and the watch below. "the construction of the _emily st. pierre_ was of a kind not unusual, but still not very common. the quarters of the crew were not in the forecastle, but in a roundhouse amidships. the name does not describe its shape. it was an oblong house on deck with windows and one door. from the poop, or upper deck, at the stern, over the cabins and staterooms and the passage before mentioned, there was a companion stair on the port side leading to the deck at the waist; whilst a similar companionway at the stern led down to the level of the deck, which could also be approached direct from the cabins through the passage. in this space, behind the poop, was the wheel, slightly raised, for the steersman to see clear of the poop; and there was a hatchway leading to the lazaret hold, a small supplementary hold usually devoted to stores, extra gear, coils of spare rope, and so on. nothing that might be done on this part of the deck could be seen, therefore, from the waist of the ship; vice versa, except by the steersman, who was elevated by a step or two above the level. "coming on this part of the deck from the cabin, captain wilson called to the three men who were about, and pointing to a heavy coil of rope in the lazaret, ordered them to get it up at once--lieutenant stone's orders. they jumped down without demur, suspecting nothing, as soon as the captain shoved the hatch aside. they were no sooner in than he quickly replaced and fastened the hatch. the three were securely trapped in full view of the helmsman, whose sailor's instinct kept him in his place at the wheel. "'if you utter a sound or make a move,' said the captain, showing a revolver, 'i'll blow your brains out!' and then he called aft the lookout man, the last of the watch on deck. the man came aft. would he help to navigate the ship to england? no; he would not. he was an american. then would he call the watch? he would do that. and eagerly he did it; but the next moment he was laid low on the deck, and bundled unceremoniously into the lazaret with his three companions, the hatchway replaced and secured, captain wilson standing on guard near by. "meanwhile the watch below had been called and were astir. when sailors tumble out they generally do so gradually and by twos and threes. the first two that came aft were quickly overpowered, one at a time, and bound. the third man drew his knife and dashed at the steward, who fired, wounding him severely in the shoulder. it was the only shot that was fired. finding that cook and steward and captain were all armed, the rest of the watch below quietly surrendered, and submitted to be locked in the roundhouse, prisoners of the bold and resolute man who in the course of an hour had thus regained possession of his ship against overwhelming odds. "for england! yes, homeward bound in an unseaworthy ship; for a ship that is undermanned is unseaworthy to the last degree. it is worse than overloading. and here is our brave captain , miles from home calmly altering her course the few points eastward he had recommended to the lieutenant, homeward bound for england, his crew a steward and a cook! neither could steer, nor hand, nor reef. brave-hearted matthew montgomery, honest louis schevlin, now is the time to show what savor of seamanship you have picked up amongst your pots and pans of the galley and the pantry. "the first thing was to wash and bandage the wounded shoulder of the man who was shot, the next to put all the prisoners in the roundhouse under lock and key. four of them out of twelve volunteered to assist in working the ship rather than submit to the tedium of imprisonment. the irony of fate. but one of the four could steer, and he imperfectly. and the courses are set, and the topsails, lower and upper, are drawing and the topgallant sails, too--pray heaven this wind may last and no stronger. "the lieutenant was admitted to the captain's table under guard and on parole. the meal over, he was ushered into his stateroom and locked in. once a day only--for the captain is captain and crew combined--bread and beef and water were passed to the prisoners in the roundhouse; no more attention than absolutely necessary could be spared to them. "homeward bound! captain wilson had overcome his captors; could he overcome the elements? the glass was falling, the wind was rising, threatening a gale. the reef tackles were passed to the capstan, so that one man's strength could haul them. then the wheel was resigned to the irish steward and german cook, whilst the captain had to lie aloft and tie the reef points, ever and anon casting a look behind and signaling to his faithful men how to move the wheel. hours of hard work, fearful anxiety before all is made snug to meet the fury of the coming storm. all is right at last, thought the captain, if everything holds. "yes, if. everything did not hold. the tiller was carried away in the midst of the gale, and captain wilson, brave heart as he was, felt the sadness of despair. he had been keeping watch day and night without intermission for many days, snatching an hour's sleep at intervals, torn with anxiety, wearied with work. it was but a passing faintness of the heart. the ship rolled and tossed, helmless, at the mercy of the sea. for twelve hours he wrought to rig up a jury rudder, and at last, lifting up his heart in gratitude, for the second time he snatched his ship out of the hands of destruction; for the second time he could inform lieutenant stone that he was in command of his own ship. no longer was the ship buffetted at the mercy of the wild wind and the cruel atlantic rollers, but her course was laid true and her head straight--for england. "for thirty days they sailed with westerly gales behind them. they made the land in safety, and the code signal was hoisted as they passed up the english channel. on the morning of the st of april, exactly one month since her course was altered on cape hatteras, the _emily st. pierre_ threaded the devious channels which led into the broad estuary of the mersey, the anchor fell with a plunge and an eager rattle of the leaping cable, and the ship rode stately on the rushing tide. "much was made of captain wilson during the next few weeks. all england rang with applause of his brave exploit. meetings were convened, presentations were made, speeches were delivered to the extent that might have turned the head of a less simple and true-hearted man. large sums of money were subscribed, of which plucky matthew montgomery and honest louis schevlin, the cook, got their share. but probably the happiest and proudest moment of his life was when the captain stood on deck on the day of the arrival, his wife by his side, near her the owner of the ship, charles k. prioleau, of fraser, trenholm & co., whilst he narrated in simple words the story of his exploit. his big beard was torn and ragged, his eyes bloodshot with weariness and loss of sleep, his face haggard, weather-beaten, and drawn; but he was a man of whom all britain was proud, a man to inspire her with the faith that the race of heroes does not die." the "lilian's" last successful run. the four years of blockade running, from to , were so crowded with incidents and adventures of an extraordinary and startling nature that each day brought a new and novel experience. i recall my first day under fire, the trembling knees, the terrifying scream of the approaching shells, the dread of instant death. again, the notable storm at sea in which our ship was buffetted and lashed by the waves until the straining steel plates cut the rivets and the fireroom was flooded and the engines stopped, while the tempest tossed us helpless upon the mountainous waves and all hope of our lives was gone, until we were mercifully cast upon a reef which extends about thirty miles from bermuda. again, when our party of five persons, endeavoring to reach the confederacy in a small launch after the fall of fort fisher, was cast away the second day upon green turtle cay, an obscure island of the bahamas, where we dwelt in a negro's hut for three weeks, and then foolishly risked our lives again for two weeks at sea in a small boat which landed us in the surf among the man-eating sharks off cape canaveral, in florida. in the narration of these reminiscences of war times on the cape fear, i have adhered to facts, supported, when in doubt, by official records. in the following story of my personal adventures, i have written some extraordinary incidents which came under my observation, although not in the sequence described; and the romantic features are based on a true incident of the war, the hero of which, captain m----, still lives in an honored old age. for uniformity, i have changed the text as it appeared in the _charlotte observer_ many years ago, by the substitution of real names. abstract log of u.s.s. "shenandoah." "saturday, july , . at meridian, latitude (d.r.) n.; longitude (d.r.) w., latitude (observed) n., longitude (by chronometer) w. at . p.m. sighted a steamer burning black smoke to the eastward; made all sail in chase. at . p.m. made stranger out to be a double smokestack, side-wheel steamer, apparently a blockade runner, standing to the northward and westward. at . he showed rebel colors. called the first division and powder division to quarters and began to fire at her with the and pounder rifle parrott. at p.m. boat to quarters and fired all the divisions. at p.m. took in fore-topgallant sail and foresail. at . took in fore-topsail. during the chase fired rounds from -pounder parrott, rounds from -inch guns, and one round from -pounder howitzer. at p.m. stopped firing, gave up the chase, stopped engines. at . cape lookout light bore n.e. by n., miles distant. sounded in fathoms of water. first saw the steamer in latitude , n., longitude w. at midnight cape lookout light bore n.e. by n. / n., distant seventeen miles. "(signed) acting master, _u.s. navy_." this matter-of-fact entry, read at random from the official records of the war, stirs my blood, because i, then seventeen years of age, was purser of that blockade runner, and it was i who hoisted those "rebel" colors on that eventful day fifty-five years ago; and thereby hangs a tale. the steamer _lilian_ was one of the most successful examples of a clyde-built blockade runner of in design and equipment. of tons net register, with two rakish funnels, the finest marine oscillating engines, a battery of boilers which drove her fifteen knots an hour, and loaded to her marks, she presented to the critical eye the graceful appearance of a racing yacht. a thing of beauty and a joy forever she was to all of us on board, and our beloved chief, the celebrated john newland maffitt, no less, was, we thought, the man of all men to command her. unluckily for us he was ordered to take charge of the ram _albemarle_, which the intrepid cushing later destroyed--the most conspicuous example of personal daring recorded in the history of the war. another southern man succeeded him, and, we having received from the confederate agent a cargo of mysterious packages, which was most carefully handled, proceeded from st. george, bermuda, bound for the port of wilmington, n.c. this desired haven of these fugitives of the sea was preferred to the more difficult blockaded ports farther south. there were two inlets, main bar or western channel, commanded by fort caswell, and new inlet, guarded by that malakoff of the south, fort fisher. many fine ships were lost in sight of these defenses when daylight overtook a belated landfall, and it was pitiful to watch the desperate efforts of the little greyhounds to run the gauntlet of the fleet, whose concentrated fire at close range sometimes drove them among the breakers, where many wrecks may still be seen after all these years. there were many more fortunate, whose daring roused to the highest pitch of enthusiasm the brave fellows of the confederate garrison who manned the protecting guns which kept the fleet at a respectful distance. as we passed the ships which lined the docks of the friendly islands of bermuda, their crews were mustered and cheer after cheer greeted us from lusty throats in unison. beyond the bar we sailed upon a tranquil sea, without a sail in sight, and then i paid each man his bounty of $ gold, an earnest of the greater sum which he would get for a successful run. upon our ship the discipline was rigorous and unrelenting. to each was given in few words his orders for the run; sobriety, silence, and civility were enforced. our chief engineer lockhart, chief officer vogel, pilot jim billy craig, our signal officer fred gregory and i were served at the captain's table; the other officers messed together. our crew numbered men. when night drew on the finest welsh coal was picked and piled upon the boiler-room plates, for use in an emergency, and the dexterous handling of the dampers prevented the telltale sparks from betraying our dangerous course across the line of the ever-watchful cruisers, which formed their cordon around the bermudas, upon the edge of the gulf stream, and across the most dangerous approaches to the cape fear river. no lights were permitted, smoking was inhibited, as, through impenetrable darkness, we ran full speed for dixie's land. a double watch was kept aloft, and upon the turtleback well forward, and the keenest eyes were fixed upon the course to guard against a collision with watchful cruisers, which also masked their lights. next in importance to the wilmington pilot, jim billy craig, who was a man of great ability, was a long thin fellow, a landsman, a nondescript known as "the watchman," who held himself in readiness day and night for service as a special lookout. this person's vision was wonderfully clear and far-reaching. he could see an object on the darkest night quite invisible to the rest of us, and his most efficient service was in the hour before daylight, when proximity to uncle sam's gunboats was most undesirable. several easy captures had been made in the first streak of dawn by the accidental meeting of a casual cruiser and his unhappy quarry, when escape by speed was simply impossible. it was for this reason that our long tom was retained at high wages, which he squandered with other prodigals in playing crackaloo with double gold eagles. it was a simple game; two or more persons each threw up a gold piece, the one falling upon a joint or crack in the deck winning the others which fell between the lines. this was forbidden at sea, but such discipline was relaxed in port. our first night at sea was clear and beautiful, the air, cool and grateful, contrasted with the severe and at times almost suffocating warmth of the limestone islands. after the evening meal, gregory and i, snugly ensconced in the lee of the cabin, which was on deck, sat far into the night gazing with wonder upon the tranquil glory of the stars, which shone with exceeding splendor, and talking with sad hearts of the waning light of the star of the confederacy, which had reached its zenith at chancellorsville and which sank so disastrously at the later battle of gettysburg. the wind was light, but the rush of the staunch little ship at full speed brought to our listening ears the faint sound of a bell, not that of a ship striking the change of the watch, but a continuous peal of irregular strokes. in a few moments it ceased, and i have often wondered what it meant, for no sail was visible that night. alert and eager for its repetition, which came not, our wonderment was increased by the cry of a human voice in the darkness ahead, which was also observed by the lookouts aloft and alow, and, while long tom was rapidly climbing the ratlines of the foremast to the crosstrees, our captain appeared on the bridge and brought the ship to a full stop. in painful silence all eyes and ears were strained to catch a sight or sound from the mysterious object ahead. again and again the long-drawn, wailing cry. could it be a castaway? the sailor's instinct and sympathy is never so much aroused as by such an incident. shifting our course a point or two, we proceeded slowly ahead; the cry grew clearer, with despairful lamentations; again our course was changed, the paddles slowly turning. ignoring the usual precaution of silence on board at night, the captain ordered the officer of the deck to answer with a hail. immediately the voice responded, and in a few moments long tom reported to the commander on the bridge, "a nigger in a ship's boat, sir." "what," said the captain, "can he be doing out here in a boat miles from land?" "i'm blessed if i know, sir, but i'm telling you the truth." "cast-away, sir, close aboard," was the second officer's report a few moments later. "heave him a line," said the commander. the falls of the davits were soon hooked on and the boat, with its lonesome occupant, hoisted to the deck. the next morning, when i was dressing, the chief steward knocked at my door and gravely asked if i would see the man whom we had rescued the night before, "for," said he, "there is something mysterious about his plight which he refuses to make known to me." on going forward i found a negro man of about fifty years of age, apparently in deep distress; mutual recognition was instantaneous; the poor fellow fell at my feet and embraced my knees, with broken sobs of "oh, marse jeems, marse jeems, marse jeems!" his story was soon told in the homely and pathetic vernacular of the old-time southern darkey. he had long been the butler and body servant of my friend at orton plantation, whose lovely daughter had given her heart to a manly young neighbor before he went away to the war which had desolated many southern homes. the fearful news of disaster had come from gettysburg, in which her lover was engaged with his company on culp's hill. he had been shot through the lungs and was left dying on the field, which was later occupied by the enemy. then a veil was drawn, for all subsequent inquiries as to his death and the disposal of his body were unavailing. the poor girl at orton, grief stricken, haunted by fears of the worst, and mocked by her efforts to seek him beyond the lines, slowly faded to a shadow of her former self. again and again my friend returned from a hopeless search among the living and the dead, when, he, too, began to pine away, for the war had robbed him of all but the child whom he adored, and now she was slipping away from him. it was then that this nature's nobleman in a black skin came forward and desired his liberty to go through the lines in virginia and never return until he brought the body dead, or news of his young master living, to the dear mistress whom he loved more than his own life. in vain my friend refused. how could he, a slave, overcome obstacles which the master, with all his influence, had failed to overcome? at last he gave the desired pass to proceed to the missing boy's command upon this mission of mercy, which was countersigned by the proper authority, and the faithful fellow proceeded on foot toward his destination. what followed, "in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness," would fill a volume. he reached the regiment at last, and carried to many hungry hearts the news of their loved ones at home, but he was told that his quest was in vain; the captain was dead, a federal surgeon who approached him on the field had found his wounds mortal, had received from him his sword, to be sent home to the young mistress, with fond words of his devotion to the last; he had better return home. but no, he attempted that night to slip through the lines toward the federal army; he was caught, brought back, and sentenced to be shot at sunrise. how he was saved, as by a miracle, through the recognition of the officer of the firing squad, and sent back to wilmington need not be told. he had formed another desperate resolve--he would go to orton in the night, and in a frail bateau attempt to pass the picket boats at fort anderson and fort fisher, and reach the blockading fleet beyond the bar. perhaps when they heard his story they would take pity and send him north, when he might resume his search. he had crossed the river by the market street ferry and was passing through the cotton yard, where several blockade runners were loading their outward cargoes, when a new idea came to him; why could he not go as a steward on a steamer, and, with his wages, reach the north by way of the west indies? with deferential humility he approached the captain of a steamer, which shall be nameless. he was not an american, neither was he a man in the sense of the noblest work of god; he was the embodiment of a personal devil; he laughed the old man to scorn; he had carried away on previous voyages runaway niggers, who, he said, had stowed away, and he had been obliged to pay for them on his return; the next one he caught at sea on board his ship would wish he had never been born; he didn't need a steward, and he did not doubt his tale of the young master was a lie. as the poor man turned away he was drawn aside by a kindly steward who had overheard the conversation, and, after much discussion and apprehension, he agreed to arrange a secret passage to bermuda. that night he was stowed away, where it was hoped that the cruel process of fumigation for the discovery of fugitive slaves and deserters from the army, then in vogue before sailing, would not reach him. cramped by the narrow space which forbade lying down, and deathly seasick, on the second night he crawled out for fresh air, was detected and seized by a passing sailor and reported to the captain. infuriated by his recognition of the stowaway, he actually stopped the ship and set the poor wretch adrift in a leaky boat, without oars or food or water. it was on the second night after that he heard the mysterious bell and shrieked aloud for deliverance. although these qualities were not a common possession, this remarkable instance of a slave's devotion to his owner was not exceptional. there were hundreds and perhaps thousands of such examples, especially on the part of those whose duties were of a domestic nature. it was not the evolution of gentle traits of character, for this man's grandfather had lived and died a savage in the wilds of africa. it was the result of daily contact with refined and kindly people whom he served, whose characteristic urbanity was unconsciously imitated, and whose consideration for others, which constitutes true politeness, was reflected in their servitor's devotion. i have a pensioner at orton who is ninety-four years of age. he was the personal servant in his youth of doctor porcher, of charleston. he is as polite as a cultivated frenchman might be, but he is sincere in speech. he uses at times french phrases. he can tell you in polished language, and with becoming deference, of the grand people of the exclusive set of charleston of long ago, and his solicitude for your health and for that of everyone connected with you whom he has never heard of is shown in expressions of old-time gentility, but he belongs to a class that is passing away. i have up to this time refrained from mentioning the fact that we had on board, as passengers, three important personages of the old navy, whose duty, as they saw it, impelled them to resign their commissions in a service which was dear to them, and to cast in their lot for weal or woe with the fortunes of their native state, which had seceded from the union. they had served with distinction afloat and around the world upon a noted confederate war vessel, and they were under orders to report to secretary mallory at richmond. at the time of which i write there were in nassau and in bermuda certain spies said to have been in the pay of the federal government, and they sometimes succeeded in passing themselves, disguised and under assumed names, as sailors and firemen, but more frequently as stewards on the blockade runners that were not careful enough in the selection of their crew. by this means much valuable information was communicated to the authorities at washington, and the mysterious loss of several fine blockade runners was attributed to the seditious influence of such persons in time of peril. there were also in each of our foreign ports of refuge a few fanatics, who, contrary to the usages of war, and upon their own initiative and responsibility, attempted the destruction of confederate steamers at sea by secretly hiding in their bunkers imitation lumps of coal, containing explosives of sufficient power to sink a vessel when this object was shoveled into the furnaces under the boilers. several such attempts had been frustrated because the deception was clumsy and easily detected in time by the coal passers, and i remember that these nefarious undertakings were frequently discussed by the engineers of our ship. meanwhile, i observed with some curiosity that we were off our regular course, and also, with feelings of dismay, that we were approaching a long, low, rakish-looking war vessel, barque-rigged and under steam, which was evidently lying to and awaiting us, but my apprehension was changed to wonder and amazement as i beheld flying apeak the new white flag of the confederacy. it was a sight i shall never forget; alone upon the wide sea, hunted by a hundred adversaries, the corvette _florida_, under the gallant maffitt, had circumnavigated the globe and spread consternation among the merchant marine of the stars and stripes without the loss of a man. she was a beautiful vessel and had been handled with consummate skill and daring. there was something pathetic in the object of our meeting, which had been secretly prearranged, for a boat was immediately lowered, into which were placed sundry parcels of opium for the hospital service of the southern army, probably from the hold of one of her prizes; and this sympathetic offering from these homeless fellows on the high sea to their sick and wounded comrades in the field hospitals, for the mitigation of their sufferings, appealed strongly to our hearts. we tarried briefly, dipping in a parting salute to each other our respective ensigns, probably the first and the last time that the conquered banner was used to exchange courtesies with the same flag at sea. the corvette proceeded under her new commander, capt. charles m. morris, cruising near and far until she reached bahia, brazil, in which neutral port she was attacked while disarmed, and captured at night by the _wachusett_, and later, it is said, was conveniently cast away near the last resting place of her famous commander, captain maffitt. our third and last day at sea began auspiciously, but we were drawing toward the coast much farther north than our usual landfall. at about half past three in the afternoon we were startled by the lookout in the crow's nest, with a lusty "sail ho!" "whereaway?" called the officer of the watch. "on the port quarter, sir, heading toward us." we were in a bad position, to the northward of cape lookout, but the stranger had not yet perceived us. in our eagerness for more steam, however, the telltale smoke was vomited from our funnels, and in a short time it was evident that we were being overhauled by a faster vessel under crowded canvas and full steam. the rising wind favored him, because we had but two sails, fore and aft, which served to steady us in a seaway, but this added little to our speed. as the stranger drew rapidly nearer, pushing us toward a lee shore, she opened fire with her rifled cannon, and for the first time in my life i heard the scream of a hostile shell as it passed between our funnels and plunged into the sea a half mile beyond. the sensation was most unpleasant; had we been able to return the fire, the excitement of battle must have been exhilarating, but to be hunted like a rabbit and pelted with parrott shells and -inch projectiles was enough to reduce my backbone to such laxation that my trembling knees refused to bear it. the cruiser's aim was deadly, for the -inch shells came tumbling end over end with such fearful accuracy that many of them passed only a few feet from my head. others sent the salt spray flying into our faces; and yet there were, up to six o'clock, no casualties of any importance. the admirable conduct of our naval passengers soon inspired me with courage--such is the influence of veterans beside raw troops--and, strangely enough, as the firing of single batteries was changed to broadsides, my despairful feelings gave way to hope and confidence. our pursuer was now fairly abeam and sailing the same course. why she did not destroy us utterly at such short range must have appeared to them incomprehensible, because we easily distinguished without glasses the movements of their gunners and the working of their crew at quarters; and our pursuer must have been surprised at the audacity of our passengers, who tranquilly measured with their watches the intervals between the firing of his projectiles and their passage overhead. they also used their sextants continuously during the chase, and it was doubtless owing to their superior knowledge and fortitude that our commander held on his course in the face of imminent destruction, for, be it remembered, we were loaded to the hatch combings with gunpowder for lee's army. as the sun sank lower on the horizon, so sank our hopes of escape, for every moment seemed to be drawing us nearer to the end. even our passengers became disheartened and said at last that it was a useless risk to all the lives on board. they accordingly proceeded to their cabins and destroyed their official papers, and threw overboard some valuable side arms and rifles, and i, by the captain's orders, took the confederate mail bag and government dispatches to the furnace and saw them go up in smoke. orders were now given to lower the boats to the rail, for what purpose i do not know, when a strange thing happened. there was a loud explosion in the forward fireroom, not made by the bursting of a shell but accompanied by a cloud of steam. immediately the stokers and firemen swarmed up the iron ladders to the deck, terror-stricken and bewildered. they had been kept at their work for hours at the point of a pistol in the hands of desperate and determined men, but now, panic-stricken, they rushed aft, not knowing what they would do. our chief engineer quietly reported the collapse of one of our boilers, cause unknown, steam reduced nearly one-half in consequence, but our slackened speed proved to be the means of our salvation. the sun had gone behind a cloud bank, a mist hung over the land to leeward, our ship, painted the dull grey color of the sand dunes along the shore line, was obscured from the view of the enemy, which was quite visible to us, forging ahead and firing wildly. our engines were stopped and sails lowered, every eye was upon the cruiser. would she discover our desperate expedient? had she done so, i believe our crew would have been ordered to the boats and the _lilian_ abandoned, with a lighted fuse for her destruction. but the cruiser drew farther away, firing his broadsides at an invisible foe. cautiously and slowly we limped to windward, crossing the wake of our discomfited antagonist, and laying our course straight and true for wilmington. it was now eight o'clock in the evening, a hundred miles between us and our dangerous destination, and daylight comes early in the summer months. by the closest calculation we might, without accidents, reach the cape fear by sunrise, and then in our disabled condition how could we hope to run the gauntlet of the blockading fleet? it was resolved to do it or die. fortune had favored us in an extremity, perhaps she would still be kind. we had an anxious night; sleep, even after the excitement and exhaustion of the previous day, was impossible. we saw the first faint streaks of day off masonboro sound, where our watchful gregory picked up the signal lights ashore and passed the word along the beach for our protection by the fort. it was a cloudy morning; on and on we drove the little ship; she seemed to feel the crisis while she labored like a sentient being to meet her fate as speedily as possible. at last, in the friendly haze of dawn, we were among them; blockaders to the right of us, blockaders to the left of us, blockaders ahead of us loomed up like monsters of the deep. craig coolly but anxiously peered ahead. long tom, well forward on the turtleback, whispered the words which a line of picked men reported to the bridge. again and again we stopped for the passage of a picket barge or gunboat in the darkness ahead, who saw us not, and for the bearings, which in our devious course we had lost in confusion. once more we slowly proceeded, when suddenly, out of the darkness and close aboard, flashed the fiery train of a rocket, and a deep, commanding voice, just over the side, shouted "heave to, or i'll sink you." quickly our bridge responded "aye, aye, sir, we stop the engines." "back your engines, sir, and stand by for my boats," called the lusty man-of-war. but our paddles were not reversed. lockhart said he never heeded such an order with the bar at hand; on the contrary our engines were evidently running away with the ship, and, while the confident blockader, diverted from his guns, was engaged in lowering his boats, the _lilian_ was gliding away toward the bar. a trail of rockets and drummond lights and bombshells from the rest of the fleet followed in our wake, but the friendly flash of signals from the fort encouraged us, while gregory, with his masked lights, revealed to them our steady progress until we anchored under the confederate guns. it was now broad daylight and the blockading fleet had sullenly withdrawn to a safe distance. we proceeded toward fort anderson and came to anchor at quarantine. the clouds had passed away, revealing in the brightness of the morning light the stately white columns of orton house in the distance. accompanied by our faithful scipio and escorted beyond the fort by its courteous colonel hedrick, we proceeded in silence through st. philip's churchyard and the dead colonial town of brunswick, past russellboro, where governor tryon met the first armed colonists (the cradle of american independence), through the long avenue of oaks, where, looking ahead, we beheld a sight which cheered our hearts; my friend and his daughter surrounded by the yelping hounds returning from a chase, for reynard's brush was at her saddlebow. with mutual exclamations of astonishment and delight we learned that the young captain had written by a flag of truce of his convalescence in a northern hospital. i will not say the touching words that scipio heard, as, with hands clasped by master and mistress, and with bowed head, he received their tearful benedictions. my friend has long since gone to his eternal rest and scipio's white soul soon followed him. they are buried at orton in a grove where the mocking bird builds its nest and sings; where, above the murmur of the tree tops, which bend to the soft south wind, is heard the distant booming of the sea, and in their death they were not divided. index abaco light, federal ships stationed near, . _ada iredale_ (_annie johnson_), derelict merchant ship, , . adair, capt. w.f., blockade runner _antonica_, . _advance_, blockade runner, ix. _agnes e. fry_, steamer, . _alapaha_, steamer, . _albemarle_, confederate ram, captain maffitt ordered to take charge of, ; paper by captain maffitt on building of, . _albert_, u.s.s., . alexander, captain, confederate states signal corps, . allingham, william, quoted, - . _alma cumming_, derelict merchant ship, . _alonzo_, blockade runner, ix. _amalco_, u.s.s., log of gives last information concerning u.s.s. _cyclops_, , . _antonica_,[ ] derelict blockade runner, - . _arabian_, derelict blockade runner, . _aries_, u.s.s. blockader, , , . _arizona_, steamship, damage to, . _atlantic_, blockade runner, change of name, . _badger_, derelict blockade runner, , , . badham, captain, confederate service, . bahnson, captain, confederate service, . bald head, wrecks near, . _banshee_, derelict blockade runner, first steel vessel to cross atlantic, , , , . _banshee_, number , blockade runner, . _bat_, blockade runner, . beaufort, n.c., held by federals, , . beery, benjamin, . _bendigo_, derelict blockade runner, , . _bergitte_, derelict merchant ship, . bermuda, federal spies in, . bertholf, commodore e.p., letter by, - . bier, capt. george h., blockade runner dee, . blake, capt. eugene, jr., u.s.s. _seminole_, official report by, - . blockade, federal, effectiveness of, xii. blockaders, names of: _aries_, , , ; _boston_, ; _cambridge_, , ; _cherokee_, ; _connecticut_, , ; _daylight_, , , ; _fahkee_, ; _florida_, , , , , ; _fort jackson_, , ; _gettysburg_, ; _glaucus_, ix; _governor buckingham_, , , ; _howquah_, ; _iron age_, , ; _james adger_, ; _keystone state_, ix, , , , ; _minnesota_, ; _montgomery_, , ; _nansemond_, , , , ; _new berne_, , , ; _niphon_, , , , , , , ; _penobscot_, ; _quaker city_, , , ; _sassacus_, , ; _shenandoah_, , ; _shokokon_, ; _stars and stripes_, ; _tuscarora_, , ; stations of, , . blockade runners, advantages of wilmington, n.c., as port for, , ; cargoes of, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; halifax, n.s., rendezvous of blockade runners escaping from federal prisons, ; losses through destruction of, ; number of ( ), , ; number of wrecks on cape fear coast of, - ; type of construction of, , , , , , , , , . blockade running, advantages of north carolina coast for, ; effect of gulf stream on, , ; methods of, . bonneau, capt. f.n., blockade runner _ella_ and _annie_, quoted, ; rams u.s.s. _niphon_, , , . _boston_, u.s. blockader, . braine, lieut.-commander d.l., u.s.s. _monticello_, official report by, - . breck, acting master j.b., u.s.s. _niphon_, official reports by, - . brown, governor joseph (georgia), part owner of blockade runner _florie_, . brunswick, n.c. (colonial), , . _bulldog_, british gunboat, . burgoyne, capt. hugh, loses life on british man-of-war _captain_, runs the blockade, , , . burroughs, captain, blockade runner _north heath_, - ; _cornubia_, , . butler's powder ship, . _cambridge_, u.s.s. blockader, , . camp brown, fort, location of, . cantwell, edward, . _cape fear_, derelict blockade runner, . cape fear blockade, accounts of, - , , . cape fear river, approaches to, , ; forts on, . capper, captain, blockade runner, , , . _captain_, man-of-war, capsizing of, , . carolina beach, wrecks near, . caswell, fort, , , , , , , , , , , , , , . _celestina_, derelict merchant ship, , . _c.e. morrison_, derelict merchant ship, . _chambers's edinburgh journal_, quoted, - , - . _chameleon_, blockade runner, xii. _cherokee_, u.s.s. blockader, . _chickamauga_, confederate warship, . _city of boston_, lost liner, , . _city of glasgow_, lost liner, . _city of paris_, steamship, damage to, , . clark, chief justice walter, mentioned, ix; quoted, xi, xii. clitz, commander j.m.b., u.s.s. gunboat _penobscot_, official report by, . clover, admiral richardson, u.s. hydrographer, . _coamo_, steamer, aid in rescue of steamer _korona_ by, . coast guard, u.s., coast service of in derelict destruction, ; intended international service of in derelict destruction, ; rescue service of, - . _condor_, british gunboat, lost, . _condor_, derelict blockade runner, , , . confederacy, lack of navy by, x, xi; several times on eve of success, xi. confederate flag, experiences of captain whiting with, , ; meeting of the _lilian_ at sea with, . confederate government, need of powder by, ; purchase of _virginia_ by, ; purchase of _cornubia_ by, ; purchase of _douro_ by, ; purchase of _giraffe_ by, ; seizure of _north heath_ by, . confederate money, depreciation of, , , . confederate navy department, orders to capt. john n. maffitt by, , , . confederate states, commissariat of sustained by blockade runners, . confederate states signal corps, work of, - . confederate steamers, attempts of fanatics to destroy, . _connecticut_, u.s.s., blockader, . contrabands, intelligent, information secured from, , - . _cornubia_, derelict blockade runner, , , - . see also _lady davis_. coxetter, captain, blockade runner _antonica_, ; _fannie and jennie_, , . craig, rev. james william, cape fear pilot, , , , . crosby, capt. peirce, u.s.s. _florida_, , , , ; u.s.s. _keystone state_, . cushing, lieut. w.b., u.s.s. _shokokon_, . _cyclops_, u.s.s. collier, loss of, - . _dare_, derelict blockade runner, , . _david g. worth_, lost freighter, . davis, hon. george, attorney-general of the confederacy, quoted, . davis, president jefferson, commissioners sent to england by, xi; issue of thanksgiving proclamation by, . _daylight_, u.s.s. blockader, , , . _dee_, derelict blockade runner, , . _delhi_, steamship, stranding of, . derelict blockade runners, accounts of, - . derelict blockade runners, accounts of individual ships: _antonica_, - ; _badger_, , ; _banshee_, - ; _bendigo_, , ; _cape fear_, ; _cornubia_, - ; _dare_, , ; _dee_, , ; _don_, ; _douro_, , ; _elizabeth_, , ; _ella_, - ; _ella and annie_, - ; _emily of london_, , ; _fannie and jennie_, - ; _florie_, ; _general beauregard_, , ; _georgiana mccaw_, - ; _hebe_, - ; _kate_, - ; _kate_, second, , ; _lynx_, escape of, - ; _modern greece_, - ; _night hawk_, - ; _north heath_, - ; _nutfield_, , ; _phantom_, , ; _pevensey_, - ; _ranger_, - , - ; _spunkie_, , ; _venus_, - ; _vesta_, , , ; _wild dayrell_, - . derelict destroyers, . derelict merchant ships, accounts of individual ships: _ada iredale_ (_annie johnson_), ; _alma cumming_, ; _birgitte_, ; _celestina_, , ; _c.e. morrison_, ; _drisko_, ; _duncow_, ; _falls of afton_, ; _fannie e. wolston_, , ; _glenalvon_, ; _korea_, ; _l.e. cann_, , ; _louise_, ; _marie celeste_, ; _resolute_, h.m.s., , ; _savannah_, ; _siddartha_, ; _vila_, ; _w.l. white_, . derelicts, accounts of, - ; drift of, , , , , , ; failure to destroy, , ; fictitious accounts of, - ; life of, , , , ; number of, , ; united states destruction of asked by international agreement, , . derosset, doctor, . derosset, mrs. a.j., work for convalescent soldiers by, . deserters, condition of, ; treatment of, , . devens, lieut. edward f., u.s.s. _aries_, official report by, , . diamond shoals, buoy at, . _dispatch_, blockade runner, . doggett, lieutenant, confederate states signal corps, . _don_, derelict blockade runner, , , . _douro_, derelict blockade runner, , , , , . _doyle_, capt. austin, british steamer _korona_, . _drisko_, derelict merchant ship, . _duncow_, derelict merchant ship, . _ella_, derelict blockade runner, - . _ella and annie_, blockade runner, capture of, , , ; named changed, . _elizabeth_, derelict blockade runner, , , . _emily of london_, derelict blockade runner, , . _emily st. pierre_, british ship, account of, - . _etruria_, steamship, swept by tidal wave, . _eugénie_, blockade runner, ix, , . everson, acting master, u.s.s. _victoria_, official report by, - . _fahkee_, u.s.s. blockader, . _falcon_, blockade runner, . _falls of afton_, derelict merchant ship, . _fannie and jessie_, derelict blockade runner, - , . _fannie e. wolston_, derelict merchant ship, , . fayetteville, n.c., making of arms and ammunition at, . fisher, fort, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . _flamingo_, blockade runner, . _flora_, blockade runner, . _florida_, u.s.s., blockader, , , , , . _florida_, confederate ship, captured by u.s.s. _wachusetts_, ; cruise of, , ; failure of commander preble to capture, - ; formerly _oreto_, ; meets _lilian_ on high seas, , ; remarkable escape into mobile bay, - . _florie_, derelict blockade runner, . _fort jackson_, u.s.s., blockader, , . forts, see camp brown, caswell, fisher, mount tirza, st. philip. foster, capt. james, u.s.s. _james adger_, . fraser, trenholm & company, owners of _emily st. pierre_, . fry, capt. joseph, in command of _agnes e. fry_, ; _eugénie_, ; confederate gunboat _morgan_, ; _virginius_, ; sketch of life and death of, - . frying pan shoals, buoy at, ; wrecks near, , . gale, captain, blockade runner _lady davis_, , . _general beauregard_, derelict blockade runner, , . _georgiana mccaw_, derelict blockade runner, - . _gettysburg_, u.s.s., blockader, . gift, lieut. george w., blockade runner _ranger_, ; official report by, , . _giraffe_, blockade runner, name changed, ; purchased by confederate government, . _glenalvon_, derelict merchant ship, . _governor buckingham_, u.s.s., blockader, , , . greenhow, mrs. rose o'neal, aid given confederacy by, - ; death of, , , ; imprisoned in old capitol prison, . gregory, frederick w., confederate states signal corps, character of, ; mentioned, , , , ; quoted, - , - . grosvenor, gilbert h., editor _national geographic magazine_, quoted, - . gulf stream, effect on blockade running, , . guthrie, captain, . halifax, nova scotia, rendezvous of blockade runners escaping from federal prisons, . hamilton, prof. j.g. deroulhac, v, . harris, lieut. t.a., u.s.s. _new berne_, official report by, - . _hebe_, derelict blockade runner, , , - . herring, robert, confederate states signal corps, . hewett, admiral, british navy, runs the blockade, , , , , . hobart, captain, blockade runner _don_, , , , , , . hobart pasha. see hobart, captain. holcombe, professor, rescued from drowning, . hone, major, . horner, captain, blockade runner _flora_, . horner, joseph, quoted, - , - . _howquah_, u.s.s., blockader, . _huronian_, lost liner, . hydrographic office, u.s., work regarding derelicts, , , , . _index_, blockade runner, account of, , . _integrity_, finding of valuable derelict by, . intelligent contrabands. see contrabands, intelligent. _iron age_, u.s.s., blockader, , . _ionian_, steamer, damaged by collision with derelict, . _james adger_, u.s.s., blockader, capture of _emily st. pierre_ by, , ; capture of _lady davis_ by, . _james t. petteway_, confederate transport, . jordan, adj.-gen. thomas, confederate army, . _kate_, derelict blockade runner, - , , , , , , . _kate_, second, derelict blockade runner, , . _keystone state_, u.s.s., blockader, , , , . _korea_, derelict merchant ship, . _korona_, british steamer, account of rescue by u.s.s. _seminole_, - ; aid of steamer _coamo_ in rescue of, ; letter of alexander sprunt & son relative to rescue of, , ; letter of franklin d. roosevelt relative to rescue of, , . _lady davis_, blockade runner, capture of, - ; former name of, , . lamar, col. c.a.l., part owner of blockade runner _florie_, . lamb, col. william, commander of fort fisher, , , , , , , , , , ; quoted, - . lamb, mrs. william, story of devotion of, - . lamson, lieutenant, u.s.s. _nansemond_, official report by, - . _lancaster_, finding of derelict by, . lawley, francis c., correspondent of _london times_, . _l.e. cann_, derelict merchant ship, , . lee, gen. r.e., loss of gift sword for, . lee, admiral s.p., u.s. navy, commanding north atlantic blockading squadron, , , , , ; official reports by, - , , , - . lights. see range lights. _lilian_, blockade runner, account of last successful run of, - ; capture of, , ; chase of, , , , , - ; mentioned, ix, , , ; quarantine experiences of, - . _loch torridon_, steamship, swept by tidal wave, . lockwood, capt. thomas j., blockade runner _elizabeth_, ; _kate_, , , , . lockwood's folly, wrecks near, , , . _london_, sinking of, . long, joseph brown, , . lorraine, sir lambton, captain british man-of-war, _niobe_, rescue of part of crew of steamer _virginius_ by, , . lost liners, accounts of, - ; financial losses by, ; number of, ; number of lives lost on, . lost liners, accounts of individual ships: _city of boston_, , ; _city of glasgow_, ; _cyclops_, - ; _david g. worth_, ; _huronian_, ; _naronic_, , ; _pacific_, , , ; _pericles_, ; _president_, , , ; _tempest_, ; _thanemore_, . _louise_, derelict merchant ship, . lumina, n.c., wreck near, . _lynx_, derelict blockade runner, - , , . mccaleb, flora, . mccrae, lieut.-col. john, quoted, vii. mcdonald, captain, ship _storm king_, , , , . mcdougal, george c., character of, ; mentioned, , , ; quoted, - . macon, fort, . maffitt, eugene, . maffitt, capt. john newland, account of activities in confederate navy, - ; attempts to enter forts taken by federals, , ; character and ability of, , ; daring run of, - ; dispute with american consul at nassau, ; finding of last port closed, , , ; in command of _lilian_, , ; of _owl_, xii, ; last voyage in command of _owl_, - ; mentioned, , ; orders to, , , ; paper on building of ram _albemarle_, ; regard of federal officers for, , ; remarkable run into mobile bay on _florida_ by, - ; rescue of spanish barque by, , ; takes charge of ram _albemarle_, ; of _oreto_ (_florida_), , . malingerers, stories about, - . mallory, hon. s.r., secretary of confederate navy, mentioned, ; order by, , . _malvern_, u.s.s., blockader, . _maratanza_, u.s.s., blockader, , . _margaret and jessie_, blockade runner, normal experience of, - . _margaret and jessie_, u.s.s., former blockade runner, , . _marie celeste_, derelict merchant ship, . _mariner_, tug, runs the blockade, , . marshall, captain, blockade runner _index_, , , . martin, captain, blockade runner _susan beirne_, . martin, alfred, . martin, e.s., , , , . _mary celeste_, blockade runner, . masonboro inlet, wrecks near, , , , , . masonboro sound, wrecks near, . maury, gen. dabney h., . _merrimac_, confederate ironclad, x. meteorological office, british, work regarding derelicts, . _minnesota_, u.s.s., blockader, , , . _modern greece_, derelict blockade runner, - , . _montgomery_, u.s.s., blockader, , . _morgan_, confederate gunboat, . morrelle, doctor, . morris, capt. charles m., confederate ship _florida_, . "mound," colonel lamb erects, ; range lights on, - . mount tirza, fort, location of, . munn, captain, , . murray-aynsley, admiral, british navy, , , , . _nansemond_, u.s.s., blockader, , , , . _naronic_, lost liner, , . _narrative of a blockade runner_, extracts from, - . nassau, british port of blockade runners, , , , ; federal spies in, ; incidents in, - . _naval history of the civil war_, extracts from, - . navy, federal, contribution to success of north in civil war, x, xii. near derelict, account of, - . new berne, n.c., . _new berne_, u.s.s., blockader, , , . new inlet, mentioned, , , , , , , , , , , ; wrecks near, , , . _night hawk_, derelict blockade runner, - , , . _niobe_, british man-of-war, rescue of part of crew of steamer _virginius_ by, - . _niphon_, u.s.s., blockader, , , , , , , , , , . _normania_, steamship, swept by tidal wave, . north american blockading squadron, . _north carolina_, confederate gunboat, building of, . north carolina coast, advantages for blockade running, , . _northfleet_, sinking of, . _north heath_, derelict blockade runner, ix, - . _nutfield_, derelict blockade runner, , . nutt, henry, . old capitol prison, mrs. greenhow imprisoned in, . old inlet, mentioned, . _oreto._ see _florida_, confederate ship. _owl_, blockade runner, , , - . _pacific_, lost liner, , , . _penobscot_, u.s.s., blockader, , . _pericles_, steamship, destruction of, . peters, w.h.c., confederate government agent in wilmington, . _pevensey_, derelict blockade runner, - . _phantom_, derelict blockade runner, , , , . porcher, doctor, . porter, admiral david d., u.s. navy, commander attacks on fort fisher, , ; quoted, - . preble, commander, u.s. navy, failure to capture confederate ship _florida_, - . _president_, lost liner, , , . prioleau, charles k., . _ptarmigan_, blockade runner, . _quaker city_, u.s.s., blockader, , , . quarantine experiences of blockade runner _lilian_, - . range lights, along southern coast, ; on the "mound," - . _ranger_, derelict blockade runner, - , , . reed, captain, blockade runner _lynx_, - . _r.e. lee_, blockade runner, successful deception by, , . _resolute_ (british), derelict merchant ship, , . ridgely, captain, u.s.s. _shenandoah_, . roberts, captain. see hobart. roberts, lieutenant, captain of the _president_ and the _sirius_, . roe, lieut.-commander f.a., u.s.s. _sassacus_, official report by, - . roosevelt, hon. franklin d., letter relative to rescue of steamer _korona_ from, , ; order declaring _cyclops_ lost signed by, . _rosario_, steamship, swept by tidal wave, . _rouen_, blockade runner, capture of, . _royal charter_, sinking of, . russellboro, n.c. (colonial), . st. philip, fort, location of, . _san francisco_, destruction of a derelict by, . _sassacus_, u.s.s., blockader, - , , . _savannah_, derelict merchant ship, . scharf, colonel, mentioned, ; quoted, . scipio, family servant, story of, - , . scotch brig, story of capture in , - . seddon, hon. james a., confederate secretary of war, , . _seminole_, u.s.s., rescue work of, - . semmes, captain, mentioned, , . _shenandoah_, u.s.s., blockader, abstract log of, , ; chases _lilian_, , , ; mentioned, . ships, causes of destruction of, - ; damage by tidal waves to, , ; malicious destruction of, , , - . _shokokon_, u.s.s., blockader, . _siddartha_, derelict barque, . _sirius_, first english-owned steamer to cross atlantic, . smith, capt. c.g., quoted, - . smith's island, . smithville, n.c. see southport, n.c. _southern historical papers_, extracts from, - . southport, n.c., mentioned, , ; wrecks near, . spanish barque, rescue by captain maffitt of, , . spanish government, recognition of american rights to steamer _virginius_ by, . spies, federal, in bermuda and nassau, . sprunt, alexander, . sprunt, alexander & son, letter relative to rescue of steamer _korona_ from, , . _spunkie_, derelict blockade runner, , . _stars and stripes_, u.s.s., blockader, . steele, captain, blockade runner _banshee_, ; mentioned, , . _storm king_, , . stubbs, captain, blockade runner _kate_, second, . _susan beirne_, blockade runner, ix, . _tallahassee_, confederate warship, . taylor, thomas e., escapes from federal captors, , ; mentioned, ; quoted, - , - , - , - . _tempest_, lost liner, . terry, general, commands land attack on fort fisher, . _thanemore_, lost liner, . three-funnel boats, account of, , . tidal waves, ships damaged by, , . _titanic_, iceberg causes sinking of, . topsail inlet, wrecks near, , . _tornado_, spanish man-of-war, capture of steamer _virginius_ by, . _tuscarora_, u.s.s., blockader, , . _umbria_, steamship, swept by tidal wave, . usina, capt. michael, quoted, , . _venus_, derelict blockade runner, - , , . _vesta_, derelict blockade runner, , , . _vila_, derelict merchant ship, . _virgin_, steamer. see _virginius_. _virginia_, blockade runner, name changed, . _virginius_, steamer, barbarous treatment of officers and crew by spaniards, , ; capture of, ; recognition by spanish government of american rights to, ; rescue of part of crew of, , ; sale of, ; sinking of, . vizetelly, frank, correspondent of _london illustrated news_, , . vogel, capt. leo, . _vulture_, blockade runner, . _wachusett_, u.s.s., capture of c.s. _florida_ by, . walker, maj. norman s., confederate agent, , . _wartah_, steamship, capsizing of, , . welles, hon. gideon, secretary u.s. navy, , , , . western bar of cape fear river, , . whiting, american consul at nassau, dispute with captain maffitt, ; experience with confederate flag, , . whiting, gen. w.h.c., commander confederate forces in wilmington, ; mentioned, , , , ; official report by, - . whitworth guns, , , , , , , , , , . _wild dayrell_, derelict blockade runner, , - . wilkes, commodore, , . wilkinson, capt. john, account of activities in confederate navy, - ; commander blockade runner _chameleon_, xii; c.s. steamer, _r.e. lee_, ; quoted, - , - . _will-o'-the-wisp_, blockade runner, . williams, robert, . williams, capt. thomas, . wilmington, n.c., advantages as port for blockade runners, , , , ; approaches to, ; confederate troops stationed in and around, , ; construction of confederate ships at, , ; effect of the war on, - . wilmington historical and literary society, investigations by, - . wilson, captain, blockade runner _margaret and jessie_, , . wilson, rev. doctor, father of the president, . wilson, capt. william, account of exploits with ship _emily st. pierre_, - . wise, captain, blockade runner _cape fear_, . _w.l. white_, derelict merchant ship, . wood, doctor, . wrightsville beach, wrecks near, , . _yamacraw_, coast guard cutter, . footnotes: [footnote : stranded blockade runners are indexed in this book as derelict blockade runners.] colony treatment of the insane and other defectives --by-- dr. p. l. murphy morganton, n. c. read before the meeting of the n. c. medical association june, , charlotte, n. c. (reprint from carolina medical journal.) colony treatment of the insane and other defectives the subject of this paper might be called "employment as a means of treating and caring for the insane and other defectives" the colony being the means of finding agreeable and profitable work for the inmates. to many of you a description of what is meant by the "colony treatment" is needed to fully understand the subject. as the expression is used in this paper, and as it is generally understood, it means the erection of buildings some distance from the central hospital plant and placing farm working patients there, to be under the control and management of the hospital officers. [illustration: first building at the colony] without discussing the origin of the idea, and with no reference to gheel, it is sufficient to say it was begun in germany in the sixties, and that it has slowly found its way into other countries. [illustration: the colony buildings] such a colony was established in connection with the morganton hospital three years ago, or rather it was ready for occupancy about that time. it took several years of talk to get the idea adopted, and as many more to get the colony built. the plan of conducting it by the hospital authorities was largely experimental, and was made to suit the people of western north carolina, but it is, after all, a modification of the original german conception. the first building was for men with rooms for a man and his family, the man to have general supervision of the place and the wife to cook and do the household work. afterwards a small cottage was built for the manager and his family, and his rooms were used for patients and later still another building was erected so that now patients can be accommodated. it would have been much better to have limited the rooms to as first intended. no single colony plant for the insane should much exceed that number. as many colonies as are needed may be had if land is sufficient, the number depending on the size of the hospital, as only a certain proportion of patients, about per cent., can thus be cared for, or at the outside per cent. [illustration: patients working raspberries] the colony buildings, outhouses and surroundings at the morganton colony were made as near as possible like the farm houses in this section of the state. this was done to give it a home-like appearance, and the management has been such as to make each patient feel at home; they are free to sit on the porches and the lawn in the summer, in the sitting room before open fires in the winter. they smoke, have games, read or do what pleases them during these hours of recreation. they have their own garden, orchard, vineyard, berry patches, poultry, pigs and cows, which they attend to. every effort is to make each one feel that these things are his own, he can gather berries, pull the fruit when he wants it or as he pleases. every one is expected to do something if no more than pick up chips for the cook. [illustration: general view of colony] early experiments. the first party of patients sent to the colony, about , were quiet, industrious men who were expected to be the nucleus of the organization. after these became accustomed to their new surroundings, others who were quiet and who had some remnant of mind left, but who did little or no work were tried. these readily dropped into the ways of those who preceded them and who set the pace. further experiment was made by sending those who seemed incurably demented, incapable by reason of their weakened minds of doing any kind of work. most of the last mentioned had been residents of the hospital for years and years in whom the last vestige of hope for any improvement had long vanished. strange as it may seem to you, as it did to us, acquainted with these men and their disease, they immediately went to work and are to-day profitably employed. they have gained in health and self-confidence, they are happier because they feel there is yet something in life for them. [illustration: snap shot--colony patients cultivating strawberries] it may occur to some to ask why these men had not been sent out to work before and given an opportunity. it has been the invariable custom since the hospital opened to try to induce every one to engage in some kind of employment and it had been tried repeatedly with these very men with complete failure. to conjecture why they were willing to work in one place and not in another might be profitless, it is sufficient to know it is true. [illustration: resting after the day's work] after the work was well under way, it was strange to see the development of the different fancies of the different men. each one was allowed, so far as possible, to follow his own inclination and to select his own work. one fancied painting and whitewashing and building fires under the heating apparatus. he studied economy in the use of fuel as much as the average head of a family, and is as intelligent in his work as could be expected of any ordinary man. another patient has become greatly interested in poultry and shows more than ordinary intelligence in following his bent. he reads journals on poultry, and not only builds coops, box nests, etc., but has actually invented several useful contrivances. another hauls wood to the kitchen in a little wagon he made himself, and so on almost indefinitely. [illustration: patient tending bronze turkeys] a brief report of two cases will partly illustrate what has been done. the following is quoted from a report to the board last december: "a boy, j. b., years old, came to the hospital in june, . he had a form of insanity (dementia praecox) which rarely improves; indeed, its tendency is generally to deterioration. this boy was no exception to the rule and he grew worse and worse until hope for any improvement had been given up. three months ago he was sent to the colony, but it was considered a desperate chance. to the astonishment of everyone he immediately began to improve, and this has steadily gone on until to-day he is a strong, vigorous young fellow of , full of hope and energy, whereas when he went there he was dull, indifferent and listless; he never inquired of his home or home people and seemed to care for nothing. recently he has written home telling of his marvelous improvement and of his joy in life. 'he testified as one risen from the dead,' after ten years of mental darkness. it is not certain that the improvement will continue; in fact, it is not expected, but even if he improves no more, great good has been accomplished in relieving this young fellow of such suffering as we shudder to think of." six months after this report was written this young man has gained but little and it is probable he is as well as he will ever be. he enjoys life as much as the average man, taking part and interest in baseball and other amusements we are able to furnish our people. the second case is of a man who was committed to the hospital in november, , this being his second admission. he complained of great discomfort in his head which he described as being unbearable, so much so, that he begged to be killed. his appetite was poor, he was anaemic and greatly run down in health and evidently was a great sufferer. every effort to relieve him failed. we were sure if he could be induced to exercise he would improve, but nothing we could do would cause him to take the slightest interest in anything. he was finally forced to go out with the working party, but he would lie on the ground complaining of his head. he was a few months ago sent to the colony along with nine other men almost as bad as he. to the amazement of us all, the man went to work, his health improved, the pain and discomfort disappeared and his face is ruddy and he gives every evidence of health and vigor. he works cheerfully, seems perfectly satisfied, never complaining of any bad feeling and is as comfortable as he can be. these two cases are only two of many as unpromising, who have been greatly relieved and some few cured by the colony treatment. [illustration: patients interested in grape growing] [illustration: barnyard and poultry houses at colony] [illustration: chicken runs] all this seems so simple and is so obviously the right course that we wonder why it had not long ago been tried. two ideas are prominent in this system, the first to find agreeable, healthful employment for the patients and to give them a home. show appreciation. this working class, while too defective to take up the burden of life, are yet appreciative of their surroundings and of most things that make life happy to the people in the outside world. they require the minimum amount of care and discipline and with this given they conduct themselves as well, indeed, better, than the same number of sane men. some under this treatment recover that otherwise would not, but the majority must remain under hospital care, this being their refuge and their home. how much need therefore that every effort should be put forth to make it pleasant to these afflicted men. in general hospitals, in institutions for children, and in reformatories we have a different class to deal with. a large number under one roof is not so objectionable, but these cases of chronic insanity are not children in whom the desire for a home is small, nor are they malefactors in prison for punishment. you will pardon a little digression, which, after all, leads to this subject from another and a practical standpoint. [illustration: two colony buildings] in north carolina there are not less than , white insane; of this number , are in two hospitals, leaving , uncared for by the state. to properly house all these people means the expenditure of a million dollars, and the annual cost of maintaining them will be $ , . it is well then to consider carefully how this burden on the taxpayers may be lightened. without discussing the question of the increase of insanity, there can be no doubt that there is an increased demand to have these persons cared for and properly so. all insane persons are dangerous in some degree to their neighbors, more so to themselves. insanity is the cause of many suicides, while sexual crimes, arson, assault, impostures, are often committed by those mentally deranged. [illustration: peach orchard and garden, seen from a colony porch] too often families are ruined by some insane member, the bread winner having to devote his whole time to the control of wife or child, or a crime is committed and every energy and the savings of a lifetime must be devoted to the cost of courts. whole communities are frequently terrorized by an insane person and the lives of the women and children made miserable. only a few recover at once or die, they live on for years not only imbecile and helpless themselves, but a burden on the family and community, a severe drain which must tend to weaken the general welfare of the state. there are sufficient reasons for you as physicians, men of standing in your respective communities, not only to make yourselves familiar with the disease in order that you may prescribe intelligently for those suffering from it, but to use your influence, which is great, to see that proper provision is made for them by the public. [illustration: patients playing baseball] much insanity is caused by alcohol and drugs. this touches you more closely, for you are largely responsible for these habits. you may do something by preventing unwise marriages of those whose heredity is not good. it should be your special province to recognize dangerous symptoms in time and by prompt action prevent suicides and accidents and to send to the hospitals at once these patients who have infinitely more chances to recover when placed under the care of competent alienists. [illustration: making first base] , white insane uncared for. the conclusions we reach are that , white insane people in north carolina are uncared for, that a great outlay of money will be required to build for this number and after that the never ending expense of maintaining them begins. if it can be demonstrated that the colony system is the best and the cheapest, it should by all means be adopted. there is an end to the willingness and even ability of the taxpayers to provide for the defectives in expensive hospitals and asylums, and it is clearly the duty of those who have these matters in hand to use proper economy. what is done by the legislature will depend on the demand of the people and the wisdom of the legislators. it will require great deliberation and the wisest action to solve this question. in north carolina no more hospitals ought to be built at present, those now in existence should be enlarged if possible. unfortunately at morganton no more land can be purchased and that institution cannot with advantage be greatly increased in size. the last opportunity to buy land there has been allowed to pass. this is to be deplored for the plan there has been so successful that much was hoped for in the judicious extension of these colonies. much more might be said on the general subject of caring for the insane, but time forbids. perhaps on some future occasion this will be taken up and discussed. hospitals for the insane cannot properly care for epileptics or idiots. i use the term idiot in the sense in which it is defined by the north carolina statutes "a person born deficient or who became deficient before the completion of the twelfth year of age." many of these defectives are capable of doing common labor and can be made very nearly self-sustaining if properly managed in such a colony for the insane as has been described. in many of the states where this is tried, it has been successful. in north carolina, where we have such good climate and where land can be purchased cheaply, more can be done than in other less fortunate communities. i believe in the cotton and truck section of the state such a colony could be nearly self-sustaining, but leaving that out of the question, there can be no doubt it is the best for these people to live outdoor lives with proper employment. i would like also to enlarge on this feature of my paper, but time will not permit. i trust, gentlemen, that you will become enough interested in these subjects to give them your hearty support. if you do, then the labors of those of us who are immediately responsible, will be greatly lightened and these afflicted fellow citizens will be happier and your state will be a better state. since this paper was written my attention was drawn to a statement in a medical journal of the number of insane sent to the hospitals in massachusetts during the year . it bears so closely on what has been said i repeat it and compare it with our state and hospitals. during that year , insane persons were admitted into the hospitals of massachusetts, none of whom had ever before been inmates of any hospital for insane. adding to these the number of re-admissions, which could not have been less than , we see , persons sent yearly to the hospitals of that state. between , and , patients are cared for by the public hospitals. as compared with north carolina the population of massachusetts is twice that of the white people of our state. we should have , white patients sent to our hospitals every year and we ought to have accommodation for , . as it is, less than are admitted and only , can be cared for in our hospitals. there is some differences, i believe, in the proportion of insane to the population in the two states, but not that much. massachusetts gives her insane citizens proper care. north carolina does not. [illustration] transcriber's notes: inconsistencies in spelling and punctuation have been standardized. some illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks and may or may not be on their original page. [illustration: cover art] [frontispiece: "'there they are! see? by the end of the house!' exclaimed philip." (see page .)] the last three soldiers by william henry shelton new york the century co. copyright, , , by the century co. the devinne press. with an apology to the little sister that the plot is not more blood-curdling and harrowing, this story of what might have been is affectionately dedicated to his young friends gussie and genie demarest by the author west fifty-fifth street, new york, september , contents chapter i completing the line ii the old man of the mountain iii the mountain of the twentieth red pin iv a day of discoveries v the cipher code vi messages of dire disasters vii in which the three soldiers make a remarkable resolution viii which ends in a battle ix the plateau receives a name x the prisoners xi in which the soldiers make a map xii how the bear disgraced himself xiii how the bear distinguished himself xiv which gives a nearer view of the neighbor called "shifless" xv the golden mill xvi which shows that a mishap is not always a misfortune xvii how the postmaster saw a ghost xviii knowledge from above xix the cave of the bats xx the stained-glass windows and the prismatic fowls xxi a scrap of paper xxii the deserted house xxiii starvation xxiv the rescue xxv conclusion list of illustrations "'there they are! see? by the end of the house!' exclaimed philip" . . . . . . _frontispiece_ "it was a mighty fortress, unscalable on its western side" andy tells the story of the old man of the mountain "lieutenant coleman was the first to ascend, with the telescope of the station strapped on his shoulders" "corporal bromley took position with a red flag having a large white square in the center" "poor philip, left alone, burst into tears" the mother bear comes for her cub "she rose suddenly on her hind feet and dealt him such a whack as nearly broke his ribs" christening the territory "the fowls hung about the door" "philip made up the most marvelous stories, which were recited before the fire" "the cask was overturned so that the yellow pieces poured out upon the floor" "they drove him off with sticks and stones" making a hundred-dollar caster the golden mill philip on the edge of the precipice "philip could see the hole in the snow, through which he knew he must have fallen" "rushing out from under the trees, they saw a huge balloon sweeping over their heads" "beyond the illumination of his torch he saw two gleaming eyes" exploring the cave of the bats "he was down on his hands and knees upon the turf" "the scrap of paper" the deserted house the grave of the old man of the mountain the beacon fire "he could only cry out, 'fred! fred! here they come!'" "they looked hardly less comical than before" the last three soldiers chapter i completing the line if andy zachary, the guide, had not mysteriously disappeared from his home within the month which followed the events of the night of the d of july in the year , sooner or later the postmaster in the cove on one side and the people in the valley on the other must have learned of the presence of the little colony on the summit of the great rock. on that particular night the cavalcade had come silently and secretly over the mountains by an unfrequented trail from the last station on upper bald, which towered above the sandy river country. the troopers had followed the guide in single file along the ridges and down the stony trails, and now, when they emerged on the open cove road for the first time, andy fell back to the captain's side, in his butternut suit and mangy fur cap, with his long rifle slung behind his broad, square shoulders. for that night his will was law above that of the captain; and before the three pack-mules at the end of the train had come out on the road, the head of the column had turned up a washout to the left, which presently brought the whole outfit into the shelter of a grove of pines alongside a deserted log cabin. it was just a trifle past midnight by the captain's watch, and the full moon which hung above the ridge to the west would light the cove face of old whiteside for yet an hour; and during the darkness which must follow in the small hours of the morning there would be ample time to steal through the sleeping settlement and find a lodgment high up on the mountain which was the objective of the expedition. the troopers dismounted, and some lay down on the ground by the horses, while two kindled a fire in the stone chimney of the cabin and made coffee for the others. corporal bromley leaned a bundle of red-and-white flags against the door-post, and after turning aside with lieutenant coleman and philip welton to inspect their supplies on the pack-mules, the three joined the captain and the guide in the shadow of that end of the cabin which looked toward the singular mountain standing boldly between the cove and the valley beyond. that it was a mighty fortress, unscalable on its western side, could be seen at a glance. the broad moonlight fell full on a huge boulder, whose mighty top, a thousand feet above the cove, was fringed with a tall forest growth that looked in the distance like stunted berry-bushes, and whose rounded granite side was streaked with black storm-stains where the rains of centuries had coursed down. the moonlight picked out white spots underneath the huge folds which here and there belted the rock and protected its under face from the storms. these were the spots which the rills dribbled over and the torrents jumped clear of to meet their old tracks on the bulging rock below. it looked for all the world as if the smoke from huge fires had been curling against the mountain for ages, so black were the broad upward streaks and so white in the moon's light were the surrounding faces of the rock. phil was the first to speak. [illustration: "it was a mighty fortress, unscalable on its western side."] "it must have been a giant that rolled it there," he said with a sigh of relief, and looking up at andy, the guide. "well, now, youngster," said andy, "you'd 'low so if you was round these parts in the springtime, when the sun loosens the big icicles hangin' on them black ledges, an' leaves 'em fall thunderin' into the cove bottom." the cove post-office, whose long white roof crowned a knoll nearly in the center of a small tract within the mountain walls, andy said, was at such times a great resort of the mountaineers, who came that they might watch the movement of the avalanches of snow and ice. because of its wonderful formation this mountain was of abundant interest to all during their brief halt, but it was examined most carefully by the three young soldiers who were to be stationed on its crest. philip welton was the youngest of the three, only just past seventeen, and it was well known to his officers that if he had not been an orphan, without parents to object, he would never have been permitted to enlist even as a drummer-boy in the d ohio, or in any capacity in any other command. the lad was of a gentle, affectionate nature, sensitive and refined, but his opportunities for education had been limited to the winter schools and the books he had read behind the flour-sacks in his uncle's mill. some said his uncle was glad to be rid of him when he went away to the war. like his friend and protector, bromley, he had served with the colors on many a hard-fought field, and now the two had just been detached from their regiment and assigned to duty under the command of frederick henry coleman, a second lieutenant whose regiment was the th united states cavalry. george bromley, although the oldest of the three, was not yet twenty at the time he had enlisted at the beginning of the war, and he had left college in his junior year to enter the army. lieutenant coleman had graduated from west point the summer before, the very youngest member of his class. although the three were mere boys at the time of their enlistment, each had entered the service through the strongest motives of patriotism, and each followed the fortunes of the national arms with an interest which showed itself in accordance with his personal character. at that time general sherman's army was engaged in that series of battles which began at marietta, georgia, and, including the capture of pine and lost mountains, was soon to end in the victory at kenesaw. the army of general sherman was steadily advancing its lines in spite of the most heroic resistance of general johnston, and every new position gained was fortified by lines of log breastworks, sometimes thrown up in an hour after the regiments had stacked arms. these hastily constructed works, extending ten and twelve miles across the thickly wooded country, were nowhere less than four feet high, with an opening under the top log for musketry, and out in front the tree-tops were thrown into a tangled mass, almost impossible for an attacking army to pass. these peculiar and original tactics of general sherman enabled him to hold his front with a thin line of men, while the bulk of his troops were sent around one flank or the other to turn the enemy out of his works and so gain a new position. this was the sort of service corporal bromley and philip welton had been engaged in during the early part of the campaign; and when they remembered the long rains and the deep mud through which the soldiers marched, and the wagon-trains foundered and stuck fast, they were not sorry to be mounted on good horses and riding over hard roads. now that the moon had set, the troopers mounted again and moved quietly along the stony road, andy zachary, the guide, riding with the captain at the head of the column. the deep silence of the forest was on every hand, broken only by the clicking of iron shoes and the occasional foaming and plunging of a mountain stream down some laurel-choked gorge. the road wound and turned about, fording branches, mounting hills, and dipping down into hollows for an hour, until open fields began to appear bristling with girdled trees, and then the wooded side of the huge granite mountain shot up, towering over the left of the column. soon thereafter the forest gave way to open country, and as the road swept round the base of the mountain it became a broad and sandy highway, so that when the horses trotted out there was only a light jangling of equipments,--sabers clicking on spurred heels, and the jingling of steel bits,--and when the pace was checked to a walk in passing some dark cabin only the creaking of the saddles was heard. so it was that the troopers stole silently through the valley of cashiers, with the solemn mountain-peaks standing like blind sentinels above the sparse settlement. occasionally a drowsy house-dog roused himself to bark, and his fellow gave back an answering echo across the bushy fields; but no one of the sleepers awoke under the patchwork quilts of many colors, and the long rifles hung undisturbed over the cabin doors. then the troopers exulted in their cleverness, and laughed softly in their beards, while the night winds blew over the roofs of the dark cabins as they passed. after they were clear of the sandy road in the settlement, it was a long way up the mountain-side, and the iron shoes of the scrambling horses clicked on many a rolling stone, and some sleepy heads caught forty winks as they climbed and climbed. the cabins disappeared, and the fences, and the plow-steers in the hill pastures rattled their copper bells from below as the troop got higher; and so it was lonesome enough on the shaggy mountain, and every trace of the habitation of man had disappeared long before they reached the rickety old bridge which spanned the deep gorge. andy said that this bridge was the only possible way by which the top of the mountain could be reached, and that it had been built a great many years ago by a crazy old man who once lived on the mountain, but who was long since dead. it was still too dark to examine its condition. it could be seen that the near-by poles of the old railing had rotted away and fallen into the black chasm below. more than half of the bridge was swallowed up in the shadows of the foliage on the other bank. away down in the throat of the gorge, where tall forest-trees grew and stretched their topmost limbs in vain to reach the level of the grass and flowers on the fields above them, a tinkling stream fell over the rocks with a far-away sound like the chinking of silver coins in a vault. the silence above and the murmur of the water below in the thick darkness were enough to make the stoutest hearts quail at the thought of crossing over by the best of bridges, so the captain prudently decided to wait for daylight; and as the distance they had gained above the settlement made the spot a safe encampment for a day, he ordered the troopers to unsaddle. after feeding the tired horses from the sacks of oats carried in front of the saddles, the men lay down on the ground and were soon sleeping soundly under the tall pines which grew above the bridge-head. chapter ii the old man of the mountain the captain and andy lingered by the bridgehead, and the three boy-soldiers who were to be left behind next day, long as the march had been, felt no inclination for sleep. they were too much interested in watching for the first light by which they could examine this important approach to their temporary station. "i should like to know something more of the crazy old man who built this crazy old bridge," said philip, appealing to lieutenant coleman. "why not ask the guide to tell us?" andy was by no means loath to tell the story so far as he knew it, which was plain enough to be seen by the deliberate way in which he seated himself on a rock. andy's audience reclined about him on the dry pine-needles. mountaineers are not given to wasting their words, and by the extreme deliberation of the guide's preparations it was sufficiently evident that something important was coming. "thirty years back," said andy, taking off his coonskin cap, and looking into it as if he read there the beginning of his story, "and for that matter down to five year ago, there was a man by the name of jo-siah woodring lived all by himself in a log cabin about half-way up this mountain, and just out o' sight of the trail we-all come up to-night. he owned right smart of timber-land and clearin', and made a crap o' corn every year, besides raisin' 'taters and cabbage and enions in his garden patch. he had a copper still hid away somewhere among the rocks, where he turned his corn crap into whisky; and when jo-siah needed anything in the line of store goods he hooked up his steer and went off, sometimes to walhalla and sometimes clean up to asheville. "now about a year after jo-siah settled on his clearin', about the time he might have been twenty or thereabouts, when he come back from one of those same merchandisin' trips, instid of one steer he had a yoke, and along with him there was a little man a good thirty year older 'n jo-siah, an' him walkin' a considerable piece behind the cart when they come through the settlement, same as if the two wa'n't travelin' together. the stranger was a dark-complected man, so the old folks say, and went just a trifle lame as he walked; and as for his clothes, he was a heap smarter dressed than the mountain folks. not that he looked to care for his dress, for he didn't, not he; but through the dust of the road, which was white on him, hit was plain that he wore the best of store cloth. "as the cart was plumb empty, hit would seem that the little man fetched nothing along with him besides the clothes on his hack, and such other toggery as he may have stowed away in the cowskin knapsack they do say he staggered under. if he had any treasure, he must 'a' toted hit in his big pockets, which, hit is claimed by some folks now livin', was stuffed out like warts on an apple-tree, and made him look as misshapen as he was small. "now, whether anybody heard the chinkin' o' gold or not (which i'm bettin' free they didn't), hit looked bad for jo-siah that this partic'lar stranger should disappear in his company, for he was never seen ag'in in the settlement, or anywhere else, by any human for a good two year after the night he come trudgin' along behind the cart. hit was nat'ral enough that the neighbor folks in time began to suspicion that jo-siah had murdered the man for his money, and all the more when he made bold to show some foreign-lookin' gold pieces of which nobody knowed the vally. "they say how feelin' run consid'ble high in the settlement that year, but hit was only surmisin' like, for there was no evidence that would hold water afore a jury of any crime havin' been committed; and hit all ended in the valley folks avoidin' jo-siah like his other name was cain--and that sort o' treatment 'peared to suit him mighty well. leastways, he went on with his plowin' and sowin' and stillin' his crap, and whistled at the neglect of his neighbors, who never came to the clearin' any more, and in that very year he built this bridge, with or without the help of the other one. "when the bridge was first seen, hit was stained by the weather, and moss had come to grow on the poles, and rotten leaves filled the chinks of the slab floor as if hit had never been new, and no one cared to ask any questions of jo-siah, who kept his own counsel and seemed to live more alone than ever. the bridge was only another mystery connected with the life of this man that everybody shunned, and nobody suspicioned that hit had anything to do with the disappearance of the other one, who was counted for dead. "now when day comes," said andy, "you-all will see for yourselves that there is no timber on the other side o' this here gully tall enough to make string-pieces for a bridge of this length, and so the two string-pieces must have been cut on this side so as to fall across the chasm pretty much where they were wanted. well, that was how it was; and the story goes that the man who first saw the bridge reported, judging by the stumps, that the right-hand timber had been cut six months or more before the other one, which might have been just about the time jo-siah brought the stranger home with him, and would easily account for his disappearance onto the summit of the mountain, for of course you understand he was not dead, and jo-siah the silent had no stain of blood on his conscience. "the mountain folks, however, thought different at that time, and looked cross-eyed at the painted cart drawed by the two slick critters on hits way to the low country. they was quick to take notice, too, when jo-siah come back, that the cart carried more kegs than what hit had taken away, besides some mysterious-lookin' boxes and packages. now this havin' continued endurin' several half-yearly trips, hit was the settled idee in the valley that jo-siah was a-furnishin' of his cabin at a gait clear ahead of the insolence like of drivin' two steers to his cart when honest mountain folks couldn't afford but one. hit was suspicioned, moreover, that he was a-doin' this with the ill-got gold of the old man he had murdered, and the gals shrugged their shoulders as he passed, for no one of the gals as knew his goin's-on would set a foot in his cabin. it leaked out some way that jo-siah had been investin' in books, which was the amazin' and crownin' extravagance of all, for hit was knowed that he could scarcely read a line of print or much more 'n write his own name. [illustration: andy tells the story of the old man of the mountain.] "these unjust suspicions of murder and robbery against an innocent man continued to rankle in the minds of the valley folks for more than two years, until a most surprisin' event took place on the mountain, to the great disappointment and annoyance of those gossips who had been loudest in their charges against jo-siah woodring. hit happened that two bear-hunters from the settlement found themselves belated in the neighborhood of this very bridge one september night, and, bein' worn out with the chase, they sat down to rest in the shadow of an old chestnut, where they soon fell asleep. they awoke just before mid-night, and were about to start on down the mountain when they heard footsteps coming up the trail, and presently, dark as the night was, they saw a man with a keg on his shoulder a-walkin' toward the bridge. the man was jo-siah; and after restin' his burden on a stump and wipin' the sweat from his forehead, he shouldered hit again and tramped on over the bridge. "the hunters were bold men and well armed, and, having had a good rest, they followed the man at a safe distance until he came to the ledge of rocks which you-all will view for yourselves by sun-up, and there he was met by a man with a ladder, who stood out on the rocks above. the hunters noticed that the stranger was a small man, and just then the moon came out from behind a cloud, and they knew him for the little old man who was supposed to have been murdered. "when the hunters told what they'd seen on the mountain, you may believe," said andy, "there was right smart excitement in cashiers, and some disappointment to find that jo-siah was neither a murderer nor a robber. they went on hating him all the same for driving two steers to his cart and for having deceived them so long about the man on the mountain, and then they started the story that he was feedin' his prisoner on whisky, and that it was only a slow murder, after all. after that, one day, when jo-siah had gone away to market, half a dozen of the valley men, with the two hunters to guide them, went up the mountain for the purpose of liberating that poor prisoner o' jo-siah's. "they carried a ladder along, and when they had climbed up the ledge they found a little log shelter not fit for a sheep-hovel; and as for the prisoner, he kept out of their way, for it was a pretty big place, with plenty of trees and rocks to hide among. well, as the years went on, jo-siah brought back less and less of suspicious packages in his cart when he came up from the low country; but it was known that he still went up the mountain on certain dark nights with a keg on his shoulder. the strange old man himself was seen at a distance from time to time, but at last his existence on the mountain came to be a settled fact, and the people ceased to worry about him. "well, five years ago, as i said," continued andy, "jo-siah took sick with a fever, and come down into the settlement to see the doctor; and he was that bad that the doctor had to go back with him to drive the cattle. he rallied after that so as to be about again, and even out at night; but three months from the time he took the fever he died. the doctor was with him at the time, and the night before he breathed his last he told the doctor that the little man on the mountain was dead. after the funeral another party went up to the top of the mountain, and, sure enough, there was the grave, just outside of the miserable shelter he had lived in so long; and it looks like he did, sure enough, drink himself to death, for there was no sign about the hovel that he ever cooked or ate ordinary food. "the strangest thing about the whole strange business," said andy, getting on to his feet, "is that there was nothing in jo-siah's poor cabin worth carrying away; and if the old man didn't build this here bridge with his own hands thirty year ago, hit stands to reason that he helped jo-siah." chapter iii the mountain of the twentieth red pin a fortnight before the events described in the opening chapter of this story, the topographical officer attached to general sherman's headquarters might have been seen leaning over a table in his tent, busily engaged in sticking red-headed pins into a great map of the cumberland and blue ridge mountains. the pins made an irregular line, beginning at chattanooga, and extending through tennessee and north carolina at no great distance from the georgia border. altogether there were just twenty of these pins, and each pin pierced the top of a mountain whose position and altitude were laid down on the map. after this officer, who was a lieutenant-colonel, had spent half the night, by the light of guttering candles, in arranging and rearranging his pins, he sent in the morning for the adjutant of a regiment of loyal mountaineers. beginning with the first pin outside of chattanooga, he requested the presence of a mountaineer who lived in the neighborhood of that particular peak. when the man reported, the colonel questioned him about the accessibility of the mountain under the first pin, its distance from that under the second pin, and whether each peak was plainly visible from the other. the colonel's questions, which were put to the soldier in the shade of the fly outside the tent where the map lay, brought out much useful information, and much more that was of no use whatever, because half the questions were intended to mislead the soldier and conceal the colonel's purpose. sometimes he changed a pin after the soldier went away; and at the end of three days of interviewing and shifting the positions of his pins, the twentieth red head was firmly fixed above the point laid down on the map as whiteside mountain. still a little farther along a blue-headed pin was set up, and then the work of the topographical officer of the rank of lieutenant-colonel was done. these pins represented a chain of signal-stations, nineteen of which the captain of cavalry, with andy zachary to guide him, had now established one after the other, with as much secrecy as the lieutenant-colonel had employed in selecting the positions. and now the gray dawn was coming on the side of the twentieth mountain as andy finished his story. in fact, as the last word fell from his lips a lusty cock tied on one of the pack-saddles set up a shrill crow to welcome the coming day. although tall pines grew thick about the bridge-head where the troopers were still sleeping, it was light enough to see that only low bushes and gnarled chestnuts grew on the other bank. the noisy branch kept up its ceaseless churning and splashing among the rocks far down in the throat of the black gorge, and the great height and surprising length of its single span made the crazy old bridge look more treacherous than ever. it swayed and trembled with the weight of the captain by the time he had advanced three steps from the bank, so that he came back shaking his head in alarm. by this time the men were afoot, and andy asked for an ax, which at the first stroke he buried to its head in the rotten string-piece. "just what i feared," said the captain. "do you think i am going to trust my men on that rotten structure?" andy said nothing in reply as he kicked off with his boot a huge growth of toadstools, together with the bark and six inches of rotten wood from the opposite side of the log. then he struck it again with the head of the ax such a blow that the old sticks of the railing and great sections of bark fell in a shower upon the tree-tops below. the guide saw only consternation in the faces of the men as he looked around, but there was a smile on his own. "hit may be old," said andy, throwing down the ax, "but there is six inches of tough heart into that log, and i'd trust hit with a yoke o' cattle." with that he strode across to the other side, and coming back jounced his whole weight on the center, with only the effect of rattling another shower of bark and dry fungi into the gorge. "bring me one of the pack-mules," cried andy; and presently, when the poor brute arrived at the head of the old causeway, it settled back on its stubborn legs and refused to advance. at this the guide tied a grain-sack over the animal's eyes and led him safely across. lieutenant coleman led over the second mule by the same device, and bromley the third. by this time it was broad daylight, and the captain detailed three men to help in the unpacking. these he sent over one at a time, so that after himself philip was the last to cross. beyond was an open field where blue and yellow flowers grew in the long, wiry grass, which was wet with the dew. this grass grew up through a thick mat of dead stalks, which was the withered growth of many years. under the trees and bushes the leaves had rotted in the rain where they had fallen, or in the hollows where they had been tossed by the wandering winds. there was not a sign of a trail, nor a girdled tree, nor a trace of fire, nor any evidence that the foot of man had ever trodden there. the little party seemed to have come into an unknown country, and after crossing the open field they continued climbing up a gentle ascent, winding around rocks and scraggly old chestnut-trees, until they arrived under the ledge which supported the upper plateau. this was found to extend from the boulder face on the cove side across to a mass of shelving rocks on the cashiers valley front, and was from thirty to fifty feet in height, of a perpendicular and bulging fold in the smooth granite. after a short exploration a place was found where the ledge was broken by a shelf or platform twenty feet from the ground; and just here, in the leaves and grass below, lay the rotted fragments of a ladder which had doubtless been used by the old man of the mountain himself. chapter iv a day of discoveries meanwhile andy, with the help of the detail, was cutting and notching the timber for ladders, the captain and the three young soldiers of the station made a breakfast, standing, from their haversacks and canteens, and looked about them over the wild country at their feet, and off at the blue peaks which rose above and around the valley of cashiers, and then at the ridges in the opposite direction, drawn like huge furrows across the western horizon, showing fainter and fainter in color until the blue of the land was lost in the blue of the sky. the men worked with a will, so that by ten o'clock the main ladder, which was just a chestnut stick deeply notched on the outer side, was firmly set in the ground against the face of the cliff. the landing-shelf was found to extend into a natural crevice, so that the short upper ladder was set to face the bridge, and so as to be entirely concealed from the view of any one approaching from below. when everything was in readiness, lieutenant coleman was the first to ascend, with the powerful telescope of the station strapped on his shoulders; and the others quickly followed, except the three troopers who remained behind to unpack the mules and bring up the rations and outfit for the camp. [illustration: "lieutenant coleman was the first to ascend, with the telescope of the station strapped on his shoulders."] at the point where they landed there was little to be seen of the top of the mountain beyond a few stunted chestnuts which clung to the rocks and were dwarfed and twisted by the wind; and nearly as many dead blue limbs lay about in the thin grass as there were live green ones forked against the sky. there was the suggestion of a path bearing away to the left, and following this they came to a series of steps in the rocks, partly natural and partly artificial, which brought them on to a higher level where an extended plateau was spread out before them. on the western border they saw the line of trees overhanging the cove side--the same that had looked like berry-bushes the night before from the cabin where they had halted for the moon to go down. from this point the crest of the upper bald was in plain view across the cove, but, anxious as they were to open communication with the other mountain, the flags had not yet come up, and there was nothing left for them to do but continue their exploration. it was observed, however, that the trees overhanging the cove would conceal the flagging operations from any one who might live on the slopes of the mountains in that direction, and, moreover, that by going a short distance along the ridge to the right a fine backing of dark trees would be behind the signal-men. philip would have scampered off to explore and discover things for himself, but the captain restrained him and directed that the party should keep together. andy carried his long rifle, and philip and bromley had brought up their carbines, so that they were prepared for any game they might meet, even though it were to dispute progress with a bear or panther. since they had come up the ladders the region was all quite new to andy, and he no longer pretended to guide them. back from the last ridge the ground sloped to a lower level, much of which was bare of trees and so protected from the wind that a rich soil had been made by the accumulation and decay of the leaves. at other points there were waving grass and clumps of trees, which latter shut off the view as they advanced, and opened up new vistas as they passed beyond them. it could be seen in the distance, however, that the southern end of the plateau was closed in by a ledge parallel to and not unlike that which they had already scaled, except that it was much more formidable in height. there was a stream of clear, cold water that was found to come from a great bubbling spring. it broke out of the base of this southern ledge, and after flowing for some distance diagonally across the plateau tumbled over the rocks on the cashiers valley side and disappeared among the trees. after inspecting this new ledge, which was clearly an impassable barrier in that direction, and as effectually guarded the plateau on that side as the precipices which formed its other boundaries, the captain and his party turned back along the stream of water, for a plentiful supply of water was more to be prized than anything they could possibly discover on the mountain. "there is one thing," said andy, as they walked along the left bank of the stream, "that you-all can depend on. risin' in the spring as hit does, that branch will flow on just the same, summer or winter." "probably," said lieutenant coleman; "but then, you know, we are not concerned about next winter." a little farther on a rose-bush overhung the bank, and at the next turn they found a grape-vine trailing its green fruit across a rude trellis, which was clearly artificial. a few steps more and they came to a foot-log flattened on the top; and, although it tottered under them, they crossed to the other side, and coming around a clump of chinkapin-bushes, they found themselves at the door of a poor hut of logs, whose broken roof was open to the rain and sun. the neglected fireplace was choked with leaves, and weeds and bushes grew out of the cracks in the rotting floor; and, surely enough, in one dry corner stood the very brown keg that josiah woodring had brought up the mountain. in the midst of the dilapidation and the rotting wood about it, it was rather surprising that the cask should be as sound as if it were new, and the conclusion was that it had been preserved by what it originally contained. just then there was a cry from philip, who had gone to the rear of the hovel; and he was found by the others leaning over the grave of the old man of the mountain, and staring at the thick oak headboard, which bore on the side next the cabin these words: one who wishes to be forgotten. the letters were incised deep in the hard wood, and seemed to have been cut with a pocket-knife. it was evident from the amount of patient labor expended on the letters that the work had been done by the unhappy old man himself, perhaps years before he died. of course it had been set up by josiah, who must have laid him in his last resting-place. "that looks like jo-siah was no liar, any more than he was a murderer and robber," said andy; "and if the little man could live up here twenty-five years, i reckon you young fellers can get along two months." a spot for camp was selected a few rods up the stream from the poor old cabin and grave. this was at a considerable distance from the ridge where the station was to be, but it had two advantages to balance that one inconvenience. in the first place, it was near the water, and then no smoke from the cook-fire would ever be seen in the valley below. accordingly, the stores were ordered to be brought to this point, and corporal bromley hurried away to the head of the ladders to detain such articles as would be needed at the station on the ridge. below the ledge the mules could be seen quietly browsing the grass, and, to the annoyance of lieutenant coleman, a blue haze was softly enveloping the distant mountains, as in a day in indian summer, so that it was no longer possible to think of communicating with the next station, which was ten miles away. that being the case, the afternoon was spent in pitching the tents and making the general arrangements of the camp. owing to the difficulty of transportation, but the barest necessaries of camp life were provided by the government; and, notwithstanding his rank, lieutenant coleman had only an "a" tent, and bromley and philip two pieces of shelter-tent and two rubber ponchos. it was quickly decided by the two soldiers to use their pieces of tent to mend the roof of the hut of the old man of the mountain, and to store the rations as well as to make their own quarters therein. from the commissary department their supplies for sixty days consisted precisely of four -pound boxes of hard bread, pounds ounces bacon, pounds salt beef, pounds white beans, pounds dry peas, pounds rice, pounds roasted and ground coffee, ounces tea, pounds light-brown sugar, quarts vinegar, pounds ounces adamantine candles, pounds ounces bar soap, pounds ounces table-salt, and ounces pepper. the medical chest consisted of quart of commissary whisky and ounces of quinine. besides the flags and telescope for use on the station, their only tools were an ax and a hatchet. on ordinary stations it was the rule to furnish lumber for building platforms or towers, but here they were provided with only a coil of wire and ten pounds of nails, and if platforms were necessary to get above the surrounding trees they must rely upon such timber as they could get, and upon the ax to cut away obstructions. fortunately for this particular station, they could occupy a commanding ridge and send their messages from the ground. philip had by some means secured a garrison flag, which was no part of the regular equipment; and through andy they had come into possession of a dozen live chickens and a bag of corn to feed them. on the afternoon before the departure of the troopers, the captain, who had now established the last of the line of stations, confided to lieutenant coleman his final directions and cautions. he asked andy to point out chestnut knob, which was the mountain of the blue pin, and whose bald top was in full view to the right of rock mountain, and not more than eight miles away in a southeasterly direction, and, as andy said, just on the border of the low country in south carolina. this was the mountain, the captain informed lieutenant coleman, from which in due time, if everything went well in regard to a certain military movement, he would receive important messages to flag back along the line. what this movement was to be was still an official secret at headquarters, and lieutenant coleman would be informed by flag of the time when he would be required to be on the lookout for a communication from the mountain of the blue pin. at the close of his directions, the captain, standing very stiff on his heels and holding his cap in his hand, made a little speech to lieutenant coleman, in which he complimented him for his loyalty and patriotic devotion to the flag, and reminded him that in assigning him to the last station the commanding general had thereby shown that he reposed especial confidence in the courage, honor, and integrity of lieutenant frederick henry coleman of the th cavalry, and in the intelligence and obedience of the young men who were associated with him. this speech, delivered just as the shadows were deepening on the lonely mountain-top, touched the hearts of the three boys who were so soon to be left alone, and was not a whit the less impressive because andy plucked off his coonskin cap and cried, in his homely enthusiasm, that "them was his sentiments to the letter!" it was understood that there should be no signaling by night, and no lights had been provided for that purpose; so that, there being nothing to detain them on the plateau, they decided to accompany the captain and andy back to the bridge and see the last of the escort as it went down the mountain. two of the troopers, contrary to orders, had during the day been as far as the deserted cabin of josiah woodring, and one of these beckoned philip aside and told him where he would find a sack of potatoes some one had hidden away on the other side of the gorge, which, with much disgust, he described as the only booty they had found worth bringing away. so great is the love of adventure among the young that there was not one of the troopers but envied his three comrades who were to be left behind on the mountain; but it was a friendly rivalry, and, in view of the possibilities of wild game, they insisted upon leaving the half of their cartridges, which were gladly accepted by philip and bromley. the moon was obscured by thick clouds, and an hour before midnight the horses were saddled, and with some serious, but more jocular, words of parting, the troopers started on the march down the mountain, most of them hampered by an additional animal to lead. the captain remained to press the hand of each of the three young soldiers, and when at last he rode away and they turned to cross the frail old bridge, whose unprotected sides could scarcely be distinguished in the darkness, they began to realize that they were indeed left to their own resources, and to feel a trifle lonely, as you may imagine. before leaving that side of the gorge, however, corporal bromley had shouldered their precious cartridges, which had been collected in a bag, and on the other side philip secured the sack of potatoes; and thus laden they trudged away across the open field and among the rocks and bushes, guided by the occasional glimpses they had of the cliff fringed with trees against the leaden sky. it was of the first importance that the cartridges should be kept dry, and to that end they hurried along at a pace which scattered them among the rocks and left but little opportunity for conversation. lieutenant coleman was in advance, with philip's carbine on his arm; next came corporal bromley, with the cartridges; and a hundred yards behind, philip was stumbling along with the sack of potatoes on his shoulder. they had advanced in this order until the head of the straggling column was scarcely more than a stone's throw from the cliff, when a small brown object, moving in the leaves about the foot of the ladder, tittered a low growl and then disappeared into the deeper shadow of the rock. at the same moment the rain began to fall, and corporal bromley stepped one side to throw his bag of cartridges into the open trunk of a hollow chestnut. while he was thus engaged, with the double purpose of freeing his hands and securing the cartridges from the possibility of getting wet, his carbine lying on the ground where he had hastily thrown it, lieutenant coleman fired at random at the point where he had indistinctly seen the moving object. the darkness had increased with the rain, and as the report of the carbine broke the quiet of the mountain a shadowy ball of fur scampered by him, scattering the leaves and gravel in its flight. the mysterious object passed close to bromley as he was groping about for his weapon, and the next moment there was a cry from philip, who had been thrown to the ground and his potatoes scattered over the hillside. "whatever it was," said philip, when he presently came up laughing at his mishap, "i don't believe it eats potatoes, and i will gather them up in the morning." as it was too dark for hunting, and the cartridges were in a safe place, lieutenant coleman and corporal bromley slung their carbines and followed philip, who was the first to find the foot of the ladder. it was not so dark but that they made their way safely to the camp, and, weary with the labors of the day, they were soon fast asleep in their blankets, unmindful of the rain which beat on the "a" tent and on the patched roof of the cabin of the old man of the mountain. chapter v the cipher code on the morning of july the sun rose in a cloudless sky above the mountains, and the atmosphere was so clear that the most remote objects were unusually distinct. the conditions were so favorable for signaling that, after a hurried breakfast, the three soldiers hastened to the point on the ridge which they had selected for a station. corporal bromley took position with a red flag having a large white square in the center, and this he waved slowly from right to left, while lieutenant coleman adjusted his spy-glass, resting it upon a crotched limb which he had driven into the ground; and at his left philip sat with a note-book and pencil in hand, ready to take down the letters as lieutenant coleman called them off. there are but three motions used in signaling. when the flag from an upright position is dipped to the right, it signifies ; to the left, ; and forward, . the last motion is used only to indicate that the end of the word is reached. twenty-six combinations of the figures and stand for the letters of the alphabet. [illustration: "corporal bromley took position with a red flag having a large white square in the center."] it is not an easy task to learn to send messages by these combinations of the figures and , and it is harder still to read the flags miles away through the telescope. the three soldiers had had much practice, however, and could read the funny wigwag motions like print. if any two boys care to learn the code, they can telegraph to each other from hill to hill, or from farm to farm, as well as george and philip. you will see that the vowels and the letters most used are made with the fewest motions--as, one dip of the flag to the left ( ) for i, and one to the right ( ) for t. z is four motions to the right ( ); and here is the alphabet as used in the signal-service: a, , o, , b, , p, , c, , q, , d, , r, , e, , s, , f, , t, , g, , u, , h, , v, , i, , w, , j, , x, , k, , y, , l, , z, , m, , &, , n, , ing, , tion, . when the flag stops at an upright position, it means the end of a letter--as, twice to the right and stop ( ) means a; one dip forward ( ) indicates the end of a word; , the end of a sentence; , the end of a message. thus - - - means "all right; we understand over here; go ahead"; and - - - means "stop signaling." then - - - means "repeat; we don't understand what you are signaling"; while - - - means "we have made an error, and if you will watch we will give the message to you correctly." now, if lieutenant coleman wanted to say to another signal-officer "send one man," the sentence would read in figures, " , , , , , , , , , , , , ." but in time of war the signalmen of the enemy could read such messages, and so each party makes a cipher code of its own, more or less difficult; and the code is often changed. so if lieutenant coleman's cipher code was simply to use for each letter sent the fourth letter later in the alphabet, his figures would have been quite different, and the letters they stood for would have read: w-i-r-h s-r-i q-e-r. s-e-n-d o-n-e m-a-n. so, after fifteen minutes of waiting, during which time the flag in corporal bromley's hand made a great rustling and flapping in the wind, moving from side to side, lieutenant coleman got his glass on the other flag, ten miles away, and found it was waving - - - --"all right." corporal bromley then sent back the same signal, and sat down on the bank to rest. what lieutenant coleman saw at that distance was a little patch of red dancing about on the object-glass of his telescope; he could not see even the man who waved it, or the trees behind him. promptly at bromley's signal "all right," the little object came to a rest; and when it presently began again, lieutenant coleman called off the letters, which philip repeated as he entered them in the book. for an hour and a half the messages continued repeating all the mass of figures which had come over the line during the last three days. when the mountain of the nineteenth red pin had said its say as any parrot might have done, for it was absolutely ignorant of the meaning of the figures it received and passed on (for the reason that it had no officer with the cipher), lieutenant coleman took from his pocket a slip of paper on which he had already arranged his return message to chattanooga. when this had been despatched, the lieutenant took the note-book from philip, and went away to his tent to cipher out the meaning of the still meaningless letters. they were sufficiently eager to get the latest news, for they knew that the army they had just left had been advancing its works and fighting daily since the twenty-second day of june for the possession of kenesaw mountain. the despatches were translated in the order in which they came, so that it was a good half-hour before lieutenant coleman appeared with a radiant face to say that general sherman had taken possession of kenesaw mountain on the day before. "and that is not all," he cried, holding up his hand to restrain any premature outburst of enthusiasm. "listen to this! 'the "alabama" was sunk by the united states steamer "kearsarge" on the nineteenth day of june, three miles outside the harbor of cherbourg, on the coast of france.'" corporal bromley was not a demonstrative man, yet the blood rushed to his face, and there was a glittering light in his eyes which told how deeply the news touched him; but philip, on the contrary, was wild with delight, and danced and cheered and turned somersaults on the grass. chapter vi messages of dire disasters "what a pity," cried philip, "that the boys on the next mountain should be left in ignorance of these victories when we could so easily send them the news without using the cipher--and this the fourth of july, too!" that form of communication, however, was strictly forbidden by the severe rules of the service, and it was the fate of number to remain in the dark, like all the other stations on the line, except the first and tenth and their own, which alone were in charge of commissioned officers who held the secret of the cipher. the news of the destruction of the "alabama," which had been the terror of the national merchant-vessels for two years, was of the highest importance, and would cause great rejoicing throughout the north. although the battle with the "kearsarge" had taken place on june , it must be borne in mind that this period was before the permanent laying of the atlantic cable, and european news was seven and eight days in crossing the ocean by the foreign steamers, and might be three days late before it started for this side, in case of an event which had happened three days before the sailing of the steamer. after several unsuccessful attempts, a cable had been laid between europe and america in , three years before the beginning of the great war, and had broken a few weeks after some words of congratulation had passed between queen victoria and president buchanan. some people even believed that the messages had been invented by the cable company, and that telegraphic communication had never been established at all along the bed of the ocean. at all events, news came by steamer in war-times, and so it happened that these soldiers, who had been three days in the wilderness, heard with great joy on july of the sinking of the "alabama," which happened on the coast of france on june . the garrison flag was raised on a pole over the "a" tent, and the day was given up to enjoyment, which ended in supping on a roast fowl, with such garnishings as their limited larder would furnish. on this occasion lieutenant coleman waived his rank so far as to preside at the head of the table,--which was a cracker-box,--and after the feast they walked together to the station and sat on the rocks in the moonlight to discuss the military situation. if general grant had met with some rebuffs in his recent operations against petersburg in virginia, he was steadily closing his iron grasp on that city and richmond; and not one of these intensely patriotic young men for a moment doubted the final outcome. philip and lieutenant coleman had been much depressed by the recent disaster, and the news of the morning greatly raised their spirits. if bromley was less excitable than his companions, the impressions he received were more enduring; but, on the other hand, he would be slower to recover from a great disappointment. "the reins are in a firm hand at last," said lieutenant coleman, referring to the control then recently assumed by general grant, "and now everything is bound to go forward. with grant and sheridan at richmond, farragut thundering on the coast, the 'alabama' at the bottom of the sea, and uncle billy forcing his lines nearer and nearer to atlanta, we are making brave progress. i believe, boys, the end is in sight." "amen!" said corporal bromley. "hurrah!" cried philip. "you boys," continued lieutenant coleman, "have enlisted for three years, while i have been educated to the profession of arms; but if this rebellion is not soon put down i shall be ashamed of my profession and leave it for some more respectable calling." so they continued to talk until late into the night, cheered by the good news they had heard, and very hopeful of the future. the following day was foggy, and philip went down the ladder to bring up the potatoes, which he had quite forgotten in the excitement of the day before. bromley, too, paid a visit to the tree where he had thrown in the cartridges; but the opening where he had cast in the sack was so far from the ground that it would be necessary to use the ax to recover it, and as he could find no drier or safer storehouse for the extra ammunition, he was content to leave it there for the present. lieutenant coleman busied himself in writing up the station journal in a blank-book provided for that purpose. when philip found his potatoes, which had been scattered on the ground where he had been thrown down in the darkness by the mysterious little animal, he was at first disposed to leave them, for they were so old and shrunken and small that he began to think the troopers had been playing a joke on him. but when he looked again, and saw the small sprouts peeping out of the eyes, a new idea came to him, and he gathered them carefully up in the sack. he bethought himself of the rich earth in the warm hollow of the plateau, where the sun lay all day, and where vegetation was only smothered by the coating of dead leaves; and he saw the delightful possibility of having new potatoes, of his own raising, before they were relieved from duty on the mountain. what better amusement could they find in the long summer days, after the morning messages were exchanged on the station, than to cultivate a small garden? if he had had the seeds of flowers, he might have thrown away the wilted potatoes; but next to the cultivation of flowers came the fruits of the earth, and if his plantation never yielded anything, it would be a pleasure to watch the vines grow. lieutenant coleman readily gave his consent; and, after raking off the carpet of leaves with a forked stick, the soft, rich soil lay exposed to the sun, so deep and mellow that a piece of green wood, flattened at the end like a wedge, was sufficient to stir the earth and make it ready for planting. philip cut the potatoes into small pieces, as he had seen the farmers do, and with the help of the others, who became quite interested in the work, the last piece was buried in the ground before sundown. on the following morning the flags announced that, in a cavalry raid around petersburg, general wilson had destroyed sixty miles of railroad, and that forty days would be required to repair the damage done to the danville and richmond road. during the next three days there was no news worth recording, and the fever of gardening having taken possession of philip, he planted some of the corn they had brought up for the chickens, and a row each of the peas and beans from their army rations. the th of july was sunday, the first since they had been left alone on the mountain; and lieutenant coleman required his subordinates to clean up about the camp, and at nine o'clock he put on his sword and inspected quarters like any company commander. after this ceremony, philip read a psalm or two from his prayer-book, and corporal bromley turned over the pages of the blue book, which was the revised army regulations of . these two works constituted their limited library. there was a dearth of news in the week that followed, and what little came was depressing to these enthusiastic young men, to whom the temporary inactivity of the army which they had just left was insupportable. on monday morning, however, came the cheering news that general sherman's army was again in motion, and had completed the crossing of the chattahoochee river the evening before. on the th they learned that general sherman had established his lines within five miles of atlanta, and that the confederate general johnston had been relieved by general hood. the messages by flag were received every day, when the weather was favorable, between the hours of nine and ten in the morning; and now that the campaign had reopened with such promise of continued activity, the days, and even the nights, dragged, so feverish was the desire of the soldiers to hear more. they wandered about the mountain-top and discussed the military situation; but, if anything more than another tended to soothe their nerves, it was the sight of their garden, in which the corn and potatoes were so far advanced that each day seemed to add visibly to their growth. on the morning of the st they learned that hood had assaulted that flank of the intrenched line which was commanded by general hooker, and that in so doing the enemy had been three times gallantly repulsed. the new confederate general was less prudent than the old one, and they chuckled to think of the miles of log breastworks they knew so well, at which he was hurling his troops. general sherman was their military idol, and they knew how well satisfied he would be with this change in the tactics of the enemy. by this time it had become their habit to remain near the station while lieutenant coleman figured out the messages, each of which he read aloud as soon as he comprehended its meaning. on saturday morning, july , while corporal bromley leaned stolidly on his flagstaff, and philip walked about impatiently, lieutenant coleman jumped up and read from the paper he held in his hand: "hood attacked again yesterday. repulsed with a loss of seven thousand killed and wounded." with no thought of the horrible meaning of these formidable figures to the widows and orphans of the men who had fallen in this gallant charge, philip and bromley cheered and cheered again, while the lieutenant sat down to decipher the next message. when he had mastered it the paper fell from his hands. he was speechless for the moment. "what is it?" said philip, turning pale with the certainty of bad news. "general mcpherson is killed," said lieutenant coleman. now, so strangely are the passions of men wrought up in the time of war that these three hot-headed young partizans were quick to shed tears over the death of one man, though the destruction of a great host of their enemies had filled their hearts only with a fierce delight. during the sunday which followed there was a feeling of gloomy foreboding on the mountain, and under it a fierce desire to hear what should come next. on monday morning, july , the sun rose in a cloudless sky, bathing the trees and all the distant peaks with cheerful light, while at the altitude of the station his almost vertical rays were comfortable to feel in the cool breeze which blew across the plateau. lieutenant coleman glanced frequently at the face of his watch, and the instant the hands stood at nine philip began waving the flag. there was no response from the other mountain for so long a time that corporal bromley came to his relief, and the red flag with a white center continued to beat the air with a rushing and fluttering sound which was painful in the silence and suspense of waiting. when at last the little flag appeared on the object-glass of the telescope, it spelled but seven words and then disappeared. philip uttered an exclamation of surprise at the brevity of the message, while bromley wiped the perspiration from his forehead and waited where he stood. in another minute lieutenant coleman had translated the seven words, but even in that brief time corporal bromley, whose eyes were fixed on his face, detected the deathly pallor which spread over his features. the young officer looked with a hopeless stare at his corporal, and without uttering a word extended his hand with the scrap of paper on which he had written the seven words of the message. bromley took it, while philip ran eagerly forward and looked tremblingly over his comrade's shoulder. the seven words of the message read: "_general sherman was killed yesterday before atlanta._" chapter vii in which the three soldiers make a remarkable resolution lieutenant coleman, although stunned by the news conveyed by the seven words of the message, as soon as he could reopen communication with the other mountain, telegraphed back to lieutenant swann, in command of the tenth station: "is there no mistake in flagging general sherman's death?" it was late in the afternoon when the return message came, which read as follows: "none. i have taken the same precaution to telegraph back to the station at chattanooga. "lieutenant james swann, u.s.a." after this, and the terrible strain of waiting, lieutenant coleman and corporal bromley walked away in different directions on the mountain-top; and poor philip, left alone, sat down on the ground and burst into tears over the death of his favorite general. he saw nothing but gloom and disaster in the future. what would the old army do without its brilliant leader? [illustration: "poor philip, left alone, burst into tears."] and, sure enough, on the following morning came the news that the heretofore victorious army was falling back across the chattahoochee; and another despatch confirmed the death of general sherman, who had been riding along his lines with a single orderly when he was shot through the heart by a sharp-shooter of the enemy. every morning after that the three soldiers went up to the station at the appointed hour, expecting only bad news, and, without fail, only bad news came. they learned that the baffled army in and about marietta was being reorganized by general thomas; but the ray of hope was quenched in their hearts a few days later, when the news came that general grant had met with overwhelming disaster before richmond, and, like mcclellan before him, was fighting his way back to his base of supplies at city point. one day--it was august --there came a message from the chief signal-office at chattanooga directing them to remain at their posts, at all hazards, until further orders; and, close upon this, a report that general grant's army was rapidly concentrating on washington by way of the potomac river. they had no doubt that the swift columns of lee were already in motion overland toward the national capital, and they were not likely to be many days behind the federal army in concentrating at that point. rumors of foreign intervention followed quick on the heels of this disheartening news, and on august came a despatch which, being interpreted, read: "yesterday, after a forced march of incredible rapidity, longstreet's corps crossed the upper potomac near the chain bridge, and captured two forts to the north of rock creek church. at daylight on august , after tearing up a section of the baltimore and ohio's tracks, a column of cavalry under fitzhugh lee captured a train-load of the government archives, bound for philadelphia." thus on the very day when general sherman was bombarding the city of atlanta, and when everything was going well with the national cause elsewhere, these misguided young men were brought to the verge of despair by some mysterious agency which was cunningly falsifying the daily despatches. nothing more melancholy can be conceived than the entries made at this time by lieutenant coleman in the station diary. returning to the entry of july , which was the day following that on which they had received information of the death of general sherman, the unhappy officer writes: "my men are intensely patriotic, and the despatch came to each of us like a personal blow. its effect on my two men was an interesting study of character. corporal bromley is a harvard man, having executive ability as well as education far above his humble rank, who entered the service of his country at the first call to arms without a thought for his personal advantage. he is a man of high courage, and if he has a fault, it is a too outspoken intolerance of the failures of his superiors. private welton is of a naturally refined and sensitive nature, and at first he seemed wholly cowed and broken in spirit. bromley, on the other hand, as he strode away from the station, showed a countenance livid with rage. "after supper, for we take our meals apart, i invited the men to my tent, and we sat out in the moonlight to discuss the probable situation. we talked of the overwhelming news until late in the evening, and then sat for a time in silence in the shadow of the chestnut-trees, looking out at the dazzling whiteness of the mountain-top before retiring, each to his individual sorrow." in the entry for august , after commenting somewhat bitterly on the report of the defeat of the army of the potomac, lieutenant coleman says, with reference to the despatch from the chief signal-officer of the same date: "the situation at this station is such, owing to our ignorance of the sentiment of the mountaineers and the hazard of visiting them in uniform, that i find a grave difficulty confronting me, which must be provided for at once. our guide to this point has returned to tennessee with the cavalry escort, and i have now reason deeply to regret that he was not required to put us in communication with some trustworthy union men. the issue of commissary stores is reduced from this date to half-rations, and we shall begin at once to eke out our daily portion by such edibles as we can find on the mountain. huckleberries are abundant in the field above the bridge, and the men are already counting on the wild mandrakes. "august . nothing cheering to brighten the gloom of continued defeat and disaster. the necessity of procuring everything edible within our reach keeps my men busy and affords them something to think of besides the disasters to the national armies. welton discovered to-day four fresh-laid eggs, snugly hidden in a nest of leaves, under a clump of chestnut sprouts, interwoven with dry grasses, three of which he brought in." these entries referring to trivial things are interesting as showing the temper of the men, and how they employed their time at this critical period. on august came a despatch that the army of northern virginia was entering washington without material opposition. lieutenant coleman, in a portion of his diary for this date, says: "after a prolonged state of anger, during which he has commented bitterly on the conduct of affairs at washington, corporal bromley has settled into a morose and irritable mood, in which no additional disaster disturbs him in the slightest degree. with his fine perceptions and well-trained mind, the natural result of a liberal education, i have found him heretofore a most interesting companion in hours off duty. my situation is made doubly intolerable by his present condition." at : a.m. of august , , came the last despatches that were received by the three soldiers on whiteside mountain. "hold on for immediate relief. peace declared. confederate states are to retain washington." the effect of this last message upon the young men who received it is fully set forth in the diary of the following day, and no later account could afford so vivid a picture of the remarkable events recorded by lieutenant coleman: "august , . the messages of yesterday were flagged with the usual precision, and we have no reason to doubt their accuracy. indeed, what has happened was expected by us so confidently that the despatches as translated by me were received in silence by my men and without any evidence of excitement or surprise. i myself felt a sense of relief that the inevitable and disgraceful end had come. * * * * * "last evening was a memorable occasion to the three men on this mountain. we are no longer separated by any difference in rank, having mutually agreed to waive all such conditions. in presence of such agreement, i, frederick henry coleman, second lieutenant in the th regiment of cavalry of the military forces of the united states (formerly so called), have this day, august , , written my resignation and sealed and addressed it to the adjutant-general, wherever he may be. i am fully aware that, until the document is forwarded to its destination, only some power outside myself can terminate my official connection with the army, and that my personal act operates only to divest me of rank in the estimation of my companions in exile. "after our supper last night we walked across the field in front of our quarters and around to the point where the northern end of the plateau joins the rocky face of the mountain. the sun had already set behind the opposite ridge, and the gathering shadows among the rocks and under the trees added a further color of melancholy to our gloomy and foreboding thoughts. "i am forced to admit that i have not been the dominant spirit in the resolution at which we have arrived. george bromley had several times asserted that he would never return to a disgraced and divided country. at the time i had regarded his words as only the irresponsible expression of excitement and passion. "as we stood together on the hill last night, bromley reverted to this subject, speaking with unusual calmness and deliberation. 'for my part,' said he, pausing to give force to his decision, 'i never desire to set foot in the united states again. i suppose i am as well equipped for the life of a hermit as any other man; and i am sure that my temper is not favorable to meeting my countrymen, who are my countrymen no longer, and facing the humiliation and disgrace of this defeat. i have no near relatives and no personal attachments to compensate for what i regard as the sacrifice of a return and a tacit acceptance of the new order of things. i came into the army fresh from a college course which marked the close of my youth; and shall i return in disgrace, without a profession or ambition, to begin a new career in the shadow of this overwhelming disaster? i bind no one to my resolution,' he continued in clear, cold tones; 'all i ask is that you leave me the old flag, and i will set up a country of my own on this mountain-top, whose natural defenses will enable me to keep away all disturbers of my isolation.' "i was deeply impressed with his words, and the more so because of the absence of all passion in his manner. i had respected him for his attainments; i now felt that i loved the man for his unselfish, consuming love of country. strange to say, i, too, was without ties of kindred. my best friends in the old army had fallen in battle for the cause that was lost. on the night when we sat together exulting over the double victory of the capture of kenesaw mountain and the sinking of the 'alabama,' i had expressed a determination to renounce my chosen profession in a certain event. that event had taken place. under the magnetic influence of bromley, what had only been a threat before became a bitter impulse and then a fierce resolve. "taking his hand and looking steadily into his calm eyes, i said: 'i am an officer of the united states army, but i will promise you this: until i am ordered to do so, i will never leave this place.' "philip welton had been a silent listener to this strange conversation. his more sentimental nature was melted to tears, and in a few words he signified his resolution to join his fate with ours. "we walked back across the mountain-top in the white light of the full moon, silently as we had come. after the resolve we had made, i began already to experience a sense of relief from the shame i felt at the failure of our numerous armies. the old government had fallen from its proud position among the nations of the earth. the flag we loved had been trampled under foot and despoiled of its stars--of how many we knew not. our path lay through the plantation of young corn, whose broad, glistening leaves brushed our faces and filled the air with the sweet fragrance of the juicy stalks. the planting seemed to have been an inspiration which alone would make it possible for us to survive the first winter." chapter viii which ends in a battle the morning after the three soldiers had pledged themselves to a life of exile, like the (otherwise) practical young persons they were, they proceeded resolutely to take stock of the provisions they had on hand and to consider the means of adding to their food-supply. they had already been nearly two months in camp, which was the period for which their rations had been issued; but, what with the generous measure of the government and the small game they had brought down with their carbines, nearly half of the original supply remained on storage in the hut of the old man of the mountain. it is true that there was but one box left of the hard bread; but the salt beef, which had been covered with brine in the cask found in the corner of the cabin, had scarcely been touched. a few strips of the bacon still hung from the rafters. of the peas and beans, only a few scattering seeds lay here and there on the floor. the precious salt formed but a small pile by itself, but there was still a brave supply of coffee and sugar, and the best part of the original package of rice. in another month they would have green corn and potatoes of their own growing, and they already had eggs, as, fortunately, they had killed none of their hens. the tract of ground on the mountain was a half-hundred acres in extent, with an abundance of wood and water, protected on the borders by trees and bushes, and accessible only by the wooden ladder by which they themselves had come up the ledge. their camp was in the center of the tract, where the smoke of their fires would never be seen from the valleys. overhanging the boulder face of the mountain, just back of the ridge they had used for a signal-station, was a clump of black oaks, through which something like an old trail led down to a narrow tongue of land caught on a shelf of granite, which was dark with a tall growth of pines, and the earth beneath was covered with a thick, gray carpet of needles, clean and springy to the feet. along the southern cliff, and to the west of the spring which welled out from under the rock, was a curtain of dogwoods and birches, and elsewhere the timber was chestnut. at some points the trees of the latter variety were old and gnarled, and clung to the rocks by fantastic twisted roots like the claws of great birds, and at others they grew in thrifty young groves, three and four lusty trunks springing from the sides of a decayed stump. they were certainly in the heart of the confederacy, but the plateau was theirs by the right of possession, and over this, come what might, they were determined that the old flag with its thirty-five stars should continue to float. they at least would stubbornly refuse to acknowledge that there had been any change in the number of states. owing to the danger of being seen, they agreed together that no one should go down the ladder during the day. they were satisfied that they had not been seen since they had occupied the mountain. they had no reason to believe that any human being had crossed the bridge since the night the captain and his troopers had ridden away into the darkness; but still the bridge remained, the only menace to their safety, and, with the military instinct of a small army retreating in an enemy's country, they determined to destroy that means of reaching them. accordingly, when night came, lieutenant coleman and george bromley, leaving philip asleep in the hut, armed themselves with the ax and the two carbines, and took their way across the lower field to the deep gorge. they had not been there since the night they parted with the captain and andy, the guide. it was very still in this secluded place--even stiller, they thought, for the ceaseless tinkling of the branch in the bottom of the gorge. they had grown quite used to the stillness and solitude of nature in that upper wilderness. enough of moonlight fell through the branches overhead so that they could see the forms of the trees that grew in the gorge; and the moon itself was so low in the west that its rays slanted under the bridge and touched with a ghostly light the dead top of a great basswood which forked its giant limbs upward like beckoning arms. then there was one ray of light that lanced its way to the very heart of the gorge, and touched a tiny patch of sparkling water alongside a shining rock. they had the smallest ends of the string-pieces to deal with, as the trees had fallen from the other side. bromley wielded the ax, which fell at first with a muffled sound in the rotten log, and then, as he reached the tougher heart, rang out clear and sharp, and echoed back from down the gorge. presently he felt a weakening in the old stick, and, stepping back, he wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his jacket. the stillness which followed the blows of the ax was almost startling; and the night wind which was rising on the mountain sounded like the rushing of wings in the tops of the pines on the opposite bank. after another moment's rest, corporal bromley laid his ax to the other string-piece. lieutenant coleman had taken position a few yards below the bridge, with his arm around a young chestnut, where he could detect the first movement of the swaying timbers. fragments of bark and rotten wood were shaken from the crazy structure at every stroke of the ax, and a tiny chipmunk sprang out of his home in the stones, frightened at the chopping, and fled with light leaps across the doomed causeway. now the blows fall more slowly, and after each stroke the ax-man steps back to listen. at last he hears a measured crackling in the resinous heart of the old log. he hears earth and small stones dropping from the abutment into the branches of the trees below. the structure lurches to one side; there is a sound like a dull explosion; a few loose sticks dance in the yellow cloud of dust that rises thick and stifling from the broken banks, and the toilsome work of thirty years before is undone in as many minutes. when the dust-cloud had drifted off, our two heroes, who had retreated for safety, came cautiously back and looked over into the gorge. they were startled at what they saw; for the frame of the old bridge was poised in the moonlight like mohammed's coffin, and swaying mockingly, as if the soul of the old man of the mountain had taken refuge in its timbers. its slivered planks stood up like the fins of some sea-monster, crisscrossed and trembling, and spread out like the broken sticks of a fan. "good!" said lieutenant coleman; "it has lodged in the forked arms of the dead basswood; and the mountain people will attach some mystery to its going, as they did to its coming." he said "good!" because the more mystery there was between their retreat and the enemy outside, the better. it would be many a long year now before anybody would be likely to come to disturb them; and with this thought in their hearts, they slung their carbines and took the way back. when they had come as far as the hollow tree into which the cartridges had been thrown on the first night to keep them from the rain, they halted; and george bromley felt of the edge of the ax as he measured the height of the opening above the ground with his eye. he was not quite satisfied with this kind of measurement, and so, leaning against the old trunk, he thrust his right arm to its full length into the broad, black cavity. he was about to touch with his fingers the spot outside, opposite to which his right hand reached, when something like an exclamation of anger fell from his lips, and he lifted out of the opening a bear cub as large as a woodchuck. bromley's bare hand had landed unexpectedly in the soft fur of the animal, and, with an absence of fear peculiar to himself, he had closed his powerful grip on the unknown object, and lifted out the young bear by the nape of its neck. strong as he was, he was unable to hold the squirming cub until he had turned it over on its back and planted his knee on its chest. behind the tree there was a great, dark hole among the rocks, which was the real entrance to the bears' den; and expecting an attack from that quarter, lieutenant coleman stood quietly in the moonlight, with his thumb on the lock of his carbine. as there was no movement anywhere, he presently returned to the hole in the tree, and prudently thrust in his short gun, which he worked about until the broad, flat end of the hinged ramrod was entangled in the coarse meshes of the sack. the cartridges were bone-dry after seven weeks in the bears' den, and the young cub was thrust into the bag, where he growled and struggled against the unknown power that was bearing him off. they had neither chains nor cage nor strong boxes, and when they had come safely back to the cabin with their prize they were greatly puzzled as to how they should secure it for the night. philip was sleeping soundly on a bed of boughs in one corner, and showed no disposition to wake. they were careful not to disturb him, wishing to prepare a pleasant surprise for him when he should wake in the morning and find the captured cub. "i have it," said bromley, when his eyes had traveled around the room to the fireplace; "the cub can't climb up the smooth stones of the chimney, and we will find a way to shut it in by blocking up the fireplace." they unslung the door of the cabin from its wooden hinges, and, after slipping the young bear from the mouth of the sack into the soft ashes, they quickly closed the opening, and secured the door in place, putting the meat-cask against one end and a heavy stone against the other. after a little disturbance in the ashes all was quiet in the fireplace. lieutenant coleman went away to his tent, and in five minutes after he lay down george bromley was fast asleep beside philip. at this time the moon was shining in at the open door; but shortly afterward it set behind the western ridges, and in the hour before daybreak it was unusually dark on the mountain. bromley was sleeping more lightly than usual, and, following his experience of the night, he was dreaming of desperate encounters with bears; or this may have happened because the cub in the chimney from time to time put his small nose to a hole in the door and whined, and then growled as he fell back into the ashes. [illustration: the mother bear comes for her cub.] one of the light cracker-boxes stood on end just inside the door, and it was the noise of this object thrown over on the floor that startled bromley in the midst of his dream, just at the point where he saw the bear approaching. he was awake in an instant, but the spell of the dream was still on him, and he wondered that, instead of the huge form of the bear of his sleep, he saw only two glittering eyes in the doorway. for an instant he was at a loss to tell where he was. he saw the grayish opening of the window in the surrounding blackness, and a peculiar hole in the roof not quite covered by the pieces of shelter-tent; and just as he came to himself the cub in the chimney, smelling its mother, whined joyfully at the hole in the door. with a deep growl the old bear scrambled over the creaking floor to her young one. instinctively bromley put out his hand for his carbine, and then he remembered that both guns had been left lying on the stone hearth. at the same time philip awoke with a start, and the she-bear, scenting her natural enemies, uttered a growl which was half a snarl, and was about to charge into the corner where they lay, when bromley snatched the blankets and threw them so dexterously over the gleaming eyes that in the momentary confusion of the brute he had time to drag and push philip through the open door and out of the cabin. furious as the beast was, she had no disposition to follow the boys into the open air. her natural instinct kept her in the neighborhood of her imprisoned offspring, where she sat heavily on the two carbines and growled fiercely. the bear now had full and undisputed possession of the cabin, as well as of the entire stock of firearms, which absurd advantage she held until daylight, while bromley and philip sat impatiently in the lower limbs of an old chestnut, where they had promptly taken refuge. bromley had secured the ax in his retreat, and while philip sat securely above him, he guarded the approach along the sloping trunk, and would have welcomed the bear right gladly. they were near enough to throw sticks upon the "a" tent, and before daylight lieutenant coleman was awakened and was lodged in the branches with them. "how very fortunate!" said philip from the top of the tree. "we shall have a supply of jerked bear's meat for the winter." "not so long as the bear sits on the carbines," said bromley, with a grim smile. "if we could get that young cub out of the chimney--" said lieutenant coleman. "or the old bear into it," suggested philip. "either way," said the lieutenant, "would put us in possession of the guns, and decide the battle in our favor." by the time they had, in their imaginations, dressed the bear and tanned her skin, it began to be light enough to enter upon a more vigorous and offensive campaign. this idea seemed to strike the bear at the same time, for she came out of the door, and, after sniffing the morning air, shambled three times around the cabin, smelling and clawing at the base of the chimney in each passage. having made this survey of her surroundings, she returned to her post and lay down on the carbines. these carbines were old smooth-bore muskets cut down for cavalry arms and fitted with a short bar and sliding ring over the lock-plate, which was stamped "tower--london, ." they carried a ball fixed in front of a paper cartridge, and were fired by means of a percussion-cap. the pieces were loaded where they lay, with caps under the locks. there was a crevice between the logs at that side of the chimney where the door was held in position by the stone, and the wooden spade which philip had used in his planting could be seen from where the three soldiers sat in the tree, lying across the grave of the old man of the mountain. lieutenant coleman and bromley slipped down to the ground and ran around to the back of the hut. the end of the door could be seen against the crevice, which was just above the level of the floor. the men took care to keep close to the chimney, so as to be out of sight of the bear, and when they had fixed their lever under the edge of the door they easily raised it high enough to let out the cub. when this was done they mounted to the roof of the cabin, coleman armed with the wooden spade and bromley with the ax. the bear came out presently, with the cub at her side, its thick fur gray with ashes. the two were headed to pass between the tent and the chestnut-tree, and when the old bear stopped at the foot of the trunk and raised her head with a threatening growl, bromley stood up on the roof and hurled the ax, which slightly wounded the bear in the flank and caused her to charge back toward the cabin, while the bewildered cub scrambled up the tree in which philip sat. philip only laughed and called loudly to his comrades to get the guns. at the sound of his voice the she-bear turned about, and, seeing her cub in the tree, began scrambling up after it. at this quite unexpected turn in affairs philip began to climb higher, no longer disposed to laugh, while bromley jumped down on the opposite side of the cabin and secured the carbines, one of which he passed up to lieutenant coleman on the roof. now, coleman had a clear eye and a steady hand with a gun, and would have hit the heart of the bear with his bullet like the handiest old sport of the woods, but as the animal crouched in the crotch of the tree a great limb covered her side and head. by this time philip was as high as he dared to climb. the cub from the ashes was hugging the same slender limb, breathing on his naked feet, and the old bear, with bristling hair and erect ears, was growling where she lay, and putting out her great claws to go aloft after philip. this was the critical moment, when bromley ran under the tree and shot the bear. his ball went crashing into her shoulder instead of between the ribs behind, as he had meant it should. it was just as well, he thought, when he saw her come rolling along the trunk to the ground as if she were thrice dead. if he had only known bears a little better, he would probably have exchanged carbines and kept a safe distance from the animal; and even then, in the end, it might have been worse for him. he had only broken her big, shaggy shoulder, and as he came near to the wounded brute she rose suddenly on her hind feet and dealt him such a whack with her sound paw as nearly broke his ribs and sent him rolling over and over on the ground. bear and man were so mixed in the air that even coleman feared to risk a shot. poor bromley, crippled and bleeding at the nose, lay almost helpless on his back under the tree, and in this state the maddened bear charged furiously on him, her foaming and bloody jaws extended. half stunned and more than half beaten, he had retained his cool nerve and a firm grip on his empty carbine; and as the bear came over him, with all his remaining strength he crushed the clumsy weapon into her open mouth like a huge bit. she was so near that he felt her hot breath on his face, and saw her flaming eyes through the blood which nearly blinded his own. bromley felt his strength going. the breath was nearly crushed out of his body by the weight of the bear, baffled for an instant by the mass of iron between her jaws. philip, drawing up his toes from the cub, forgot his own peril as he gazed down in terror at the struggle below. at the moment which he believed was bromley's last a quick report rang out from the roof, and the great bear rolled heavily to one side, with lieutenant coleman's bullet in her heart. [illustration: "she rose suddenly on her hind feet and dealt him such a whack as nearly broke his ribs."] it is not to be supposed that in the excitement of destroying bridges and killing bears lieutenant coleman neglected the signal-station. morning after morning they waved their flag, and watched the summit of upper bald through the glass. no one could be more eager than were the three soldiers without a country to hear some further news of the old government they had loved and lost. they even turned their attention to chestnut knob. the entries in the diary show that this duty was continued hopelessly through september, with no reply to their signals from either mountain. that disaster had overtaken the armies of the united states they accepted as a fact, and busied themselves about their domestic affairs that they might, being occupied, the more easily forget their great disappointment. the flesh of the bear was cured in long strips by the cool air and hot sun. to protect themselves from another unwelcome surprise, they removed the short upper ladder from the ledge in the cliff, and the bear cub, which had become a great pet under the name of "tumbler," was allowed the range of the plateau. in this month of september the soldier exiles built a comfortable new house on ground a little in front of the old hut. its walls were constructed of chestnut logs cut from the grove to the west, where they could be easily rolled down the hill, after which they were scored with the ax on the inner side, and notched so as to fit quite closely together. the roof was made of rafters and flattened string-pieces, and covered with shingles which they split from short sections of oak, and which were held in place with the nails that had been provided for the station. the floor was of pounded clay, raised a foot above the ground outside. it was a prodigious labor to bring down on rollers the great flat stone which they dug out of the hillside for the fireplace. after this was laid firmly for a hearth, they built the chimney outside, laying the stones in a mortar of clay until the throat was sufficiently narrow; and after that they carried the flue above the ridge-pole with sticks thickly plastered with mud. the house had two windows under the eaves opposite to each other; and the doorway, which was in the gable end facing the fireplace, was fitted with the door from the old cabin, which they had no doubt had been framed down the mountain, and brought up by josiah after midnight, and most likely it had been paid for with some of the strange gold pieces which had excited the suspicion of the gossips in the valley. it was a wonderfully comfortable house to look at, and almost made them long for the fall rain to beat on the roof, and for the cold nights when they could build a fire in the great chimney. chapter ix the plateau receives a name it was now october, and time to being harvesting the crop on the little plantation, which something very like an inspiration had prompted philip to plant. while lieutenant coleman continued work on the house, stopping the chinks between the logs with clay, and repairing the roof of the hut with spare shingles, bromley and philip "topped" the corn, cutting off the stalks above the ripened ears. then the potatoes were thrown out of the mellow soil with a wooden shovel, and left to dry in the sun, while a level place was prepared in the center of the plot, and thickly spread with a carpet of dry stalks. upon this surface, after removing a few bushels to the hut, the crop was gathered into a conical heap and thatched over with stalks, and then the whole was thickly covered with earth and trenched about to turn off the water. it was estimated that this cache contained thirty bushels, which, according to the table in the blue book (revised army regulations), would exceed the potato ration of three men for a period of five years. from the day of their arrival on the mountain, lieutenant coleman had never failed to make a daily entry in the station journal; and now that they had set up a country for themselves, he foresaw that the continuance of this practice would be necessary if they were not to lose the record of weeks and months. his entry was always brief. often it was no more than the date, and even the more important events were set down with the utmost brevity and precision. once a week he noted the recurrence of the sabbath, and on that day they suspended ordinary labor, and, if the weather was pleasant, inspected their increasing domestic comforts on the mountain-top and laid their plans for the future. after their military habit, the morning of sunday was devoted to personal cleanliness and to tidying up about their quarters. as the commissary supply of yellow bars diminished, it was evident that the time would soon come when they should be obliged to make their own soap. back of the chestnut-tree in which they had taken refuge from the bear was a peculiar hollowed rock, and above it a flat shelf of stone, on which philip erected a hollow log for leaching ashes. a little patient chipping of the upper stone with the ax-head made a shallow furrow along which the lye would trickle from the leach, and fall into the natural basin in the rock below, which was large enough to hold a half-barrel. this was a happy device, as the strong liquid would have eaten its way through any vessel other than an iron pot or an earthen jar, of which unfortunately they possessed neither. they had but a limited supply of hard corn, from which they selected the best ears for the next year's planting. these they braided together by the husks, and hung up in yellow festoons from the rafters of the hut, which they continued to use as a storehouse. much of what remained of their small crop would be needed by the fowls in the winter, and up to this time they had made no use of it for their own food. meal was out of the question, and to break the flinty kernels between stones was a tedious process to which they had not yet been forced to resort. the presence of the lye, however, suggested to bromley the hulled corn of his new england grandmother, which he had seen her prepare by soaking and boiling the kernels in a thin solution of lye. by this means the hulls or skins were removed, and after cleansing from potash, and boiling all day, the unbroken kernels became as white and tender as rice. this satisfied the three soldiers for a time, and made an agreeable addition to their diet of bear steak and potatoes. in the mountains of tennessee lieutenant coleman had once seen a rude hydraulic contrivance called a slow-john, which was a sort of lazy man's mill. to construct this affair it was necessary to have a bucket, which bromley set about making by the slow process of burning out a section of chestnut log with the red-hot ramrod of a carbine. at a short distance above the house, the branch which flowed from the spring, after making its refreshing way between grassy banks, tumbled over a succession of ledges which ended in a small cascade, and twelve feet below this waterfall there was a broad, flat rock which laved its mossy sides in the branch, and showed a clean, flat surface above the level of the water. below this rock they built a dam of stones, by means of which they could flood its surface. four feet up-stream from the rock a log was fixed from bank to bank for a fulcrum, and upon this rested a movable lever, the short arm of which terminated above the submerged rock, while the long arm just touched the water of the cascade. a wooden pin set in the under log passed through a slot in the lever, so as to hold it in position and at the same time give it free play. another flat stone of about thirty pounds' weight, which was the pestle of the mortar, was lashed with grape-vine thongs to the short arm of the lever directly over the submerged stone. to the long arm was attached bromley's bucket, bailed with a strong wire, and so hung as to catch the water of the cascade. as the bucket filled and sank, its weight raised the flat stone higher and higher above the submerged rock until the bucket met a bar fixed to tilt its contents into the stream, when the upper millstone came down upon its fellow with a fine splash and thud. after a wall of clay had been built about the surface where the two stones met, to keep the corn in place, the slow-john was ready for work. it was slow, but it was sure, and after that, when one of the three soldiers awoke in the night, it was cheerful to hear the regular splash and crash of the slow-john, like the ticking of a huge clock, lazy enough to tick once a minute, and patient enough to keep on ticking for two days and nights to pulverize as many quarts of corn. and now, for three young men who had solemnly renounced their country and cut themselves off voluntarily from all intercourse with their kind, they were about as cheerful and contented as could be expected. in spite of the great disaster which they believed had befallen the national cause, their lungs expanded in the rare mountain air, and the good red blood danced in their veins, and with youth and health of body it was impossible to take an altogether gloomy view of life. they had at first tried hard to be miserable, but nature was against them, and the effort had been a failure. in their free life they could no more resist the infection of happiness than the birds in the trees could refrain from singing, and so it came to pass that in view of the bountiful harvest they had gathered, and the comfortable house they had built, and all the domestic conveniences they had contrived, lieutenant coleman came out boldly in favor of setting apart thursday, the twenty-fourth day of november, as a day of thanksgiving, and quite forgot to name it a day of humiliation as well. to this the others joyfully agreed, and agreed, moreover, that from that day forward the plateau should be called lincoln territory in memory of the patriotism of the good president, notwithstanding they felt that his divided counselors and incompetent generals had wiped the half of a great nation from the map of the world. when this first holiday dawned on the mountain, the three soldiers arrayed themselves in full uniform for the ceremony of naming their possessions. bromley and philip buckled on their cavalry swords and slung their carbines at their backs, and lieutenant coleman, for the last time, assumed his discarded rank to take command. the arms had been polished the day before until they gleamed and flashed in the morning light, and the little army of two was dressed and faced and inspected, and then left at parade-rest while lieutenant coleman brought out the flag. how their honest hearts swelled with pride to think that here, alone in all the world, that flag would continue to float with an undiminished field of stars! little did they dream that on that very morning hundreds like it were waving in the heart of georgia over sherman's legions on their march to the sea. when at last it blew out from the staff, they gathered under its folds, and sang "the star-spangled banner" with tears in their eyes; and as the last words of the good old song rang out over the mountain-top, philip and bromley discharged their carbines, and all three cheered lustily for the old flag and the new name. [illustration: christening the territory.] this was to be their last military ceremony, and having no further use for their swords, they arranged them with belts and scabbards into a handsome decoration against the chimneypiece, and crossed above them the three red-and-white flags of the station. the revised army regulations and philip's prayer-book stood on the mantelpiece alongside the spy-glass in its leathern case. the few articles of extra clothing hung in a line on the wall just opposite to the three bunks, whose under layer of pine boughs gave an aromatic perfume to the room. after the ceremony of naming the plateau, and having fixed the trophies to their satisfaction, the three exiles took down their sky-blue overcoats from the line, for the november air was nipping cold, and set out with the two carbines and an empty sack to keep thanksgiving in the good old country way. they were still rather sad after what had happened in the morning; but by the time they were back all the gloom had worn off, for they brought with them two rabbits and a bag of chestnuts, and appetites sharpened by exercise in the keen air. philip made the stew, and bromley fried two chickens of their own raising, one after the other, on a half-canteen, and the potatoes, left to themselves, burst their jackets in the ashes with impatience to be eaten. each man made his own coffee in his own blackened tin cup, and drank it with a keener relish because it was near the last of their commissary stock. while they were eating and drinking within, the sky without had become thick with clouds blown up on the east wind, so that when they looked out at the door they saw tumbler, the bear, who also had been stuffing himself with acorns, and ants which he had pawed out of a rotten log, rolling home for shelter. there was yet time before the storm broke, and away they went up the hill as happy as lords, to load themselves with dead chestnut limbs and a few resinous sticks of fat pine; and when night came, and with it the rain, there was a warm fire in the new chimney, and a stick of lightwood thrust behind the backlog lighted the interior of the house with a good forty-adamantine-candle power. tumbler lay rolled up in his favorite corner, blinking his small eyes at the unusual light, and from time to time he passed his furry paw over his sharp nose and gave forth a low grunt of satisfaction. philip sat against the chimney opposite tumbler, stirring chestnuts in the ashes with a ramrod, while bromley put away the last of the supper things, and lieutenant coleman gazed out of the open window into the slanting rain, which beat a merry tattoo on the shingles, and tossed at intervals a sturdy drop on the hissing fire. it was certainly not the cheerful interior, beaming with light and heat, that turned lieutenant coleman's thoughts back to the dark cloud of disasters which had overwhelmed the national arms; it might have been the dismal outlook from the square window into the darkness and the storm. at all events, he turned abruptly about as if a new idea had struck him. "george, this sudden success of the johnnies has not been gained without important outside aid. the french in mexico may have decided at last to cross the border, and if they did it was in concert with the naval demonstrations of more than one european power against the blockade." "that is just what i have been thinking, fred," said bromley, "and england is sure to be at the bottom of it. after the sinking of the 'alabama' there was no time to be lost, and when grant's army began to fall back from richmond, that hostile government had the excuse it had long been waiting for, and recognized the confederacy at once." "i am of the opinion," replied lieutenant coleman, thoughtfully, "that the recognition of the european powers came before the withdrawal from richmond, because grant would never have yielded that position except in obedience to orders from washington. now would he?" "no, he wouldn't," said bromley. "of course not," said philip. "it all began with the death of uncle billy." "so it did," said bromley; "and after sherman's army was out of the way johnston probably joined his forces with hood, defeated thomas, and retook chattanooga. he could hardly have accomplished all that by august , but his cavalry must have struck our line of stations on that date." "exactly so, george," lieutenant coleman responded. "if they had captured the tenth station alone, with captain swann, the line would have been useless and no further messages could have reached us. if swann had found the line broken behind him, he would certainly have flagged that news to me without delay." "well, what's the odds?" said philip, drawing his chestnuts out upon the hearthstone. "the jig was up, and captain swann knew it. if they had taken any station this side of the tenth mountain, the effect to us would have been the same." "so it would," said lieutenant coleman, sadly, turning again to look out into the storm--"so it would." "it is a blessing that we are ignorant of some things that have happened," said bromley, who was disposed to look on the dark side. "it would have been just like lee's impudence, after washington was garrisoned, to cut loose with his army, and live on the country through maryland, pennsylvania, and new jersey until he reached his foreign allies in the port of new york. if he has done that, for instance, i should rather not know it. well," continued bromley, "there is one comfort: if the rebs conquer everything, they will defeat their own purpose and reestablish the union they sought to destroy." "yes," said lieutenant coleman, "but it would be a union with slavery everywhere. they can turn the northern states back into territories, and carry slavery into massachusetts." "bah!" exclaimed philip. "to think of the territory of ohio! the territory of pennsylvania! the territory of new york!" "dear me!" said lieutenant coleman; "it is all too humiliating to think of. after all, what a miserable figure abraham lincoln will cut in history! think of it! his emancipation proclamation is not worth the paper it was written on!" "ten thousand furies!" cried bromley, striding across the earthen floor and kicking the logs until the fire danced in the chimney; "we made a wise choice when we determined to stay on this mountain." "but we did make a mistake when we named the plateau lincoln territory," cried philip. "that's so," said bromley and lieutenant coleman, with one voice. "it's not too late yet," shouted bromley. "sherman! sherman was the only general worthy the name." and they all cried "sherman! sherman!" and by common consent, after all the ceremony of the morning, the name of the plateau was changed to sherman territory. chapter x the prisoners the ledge up which the ladders led from the direction of the gorge, it will be remembered, formed the northern support of the plateau. the unscalable cliff terminated its extent to the south; and of the two longer sides the one on the west overlooked whiteside cove, and that on the east cashiers valley. the view into the cove over the boulder side of the mountain, after the trees which grew on the edge were reached, was broad and unobstructed. on the eastern side there was but one gap in the timber which covered the mountain-side from the end of the ledge to the cliff, through which a perfect view could be had of the settlement in the valley. before andy zachary left the plateau, lieutenant coleman had sketched a rude plot of the mountains overlooking the valley, and at the guide's dictation had written down the name of each peak. yellow mountain was the nearest, and showed a dark, timbered ridge beyond the gorge. at the northern end of the valley rose the mass of sheep cliff, and joined to it were the lesser ridges of big and little terrapin. hog's back showed its blue top ten miles away to the east, beyond the nearer wooded ridges that shut in the valley on that side, down to rock mountain and chimney top, which reared their sharp peaks to the right of the plateau. directly below this eastern outlook lay the one white road which ran through the valley, the same road along which the cavalcade had picked its silent way in the small hours of the morning, five months before, when they had come, full of hope, to establish the station. our exiles up to this time had been so busy with their preparations for winter that they had given but little attention to their neighbors below. they had noticed on frosty mornings columns of white smoke rising straight into the air from half a dozen cabins in the valley, most of which had been hidden from view by the thick foliage during the summer months. now that the november winds had stripped the trees of their leaves, two cabins appeared in the direction of sheep cliff, standing side by side among the bare oaks on a knoll which sloped gently to the road. the two seemed to be precisely alike, with rude verandas in front, and at no great distance back of these, in an open clearing, surrounded with orchards and stacks, was a long house with a heavy stone chimney at each end. scattered to the right of the plateau were several cabins, and close on the road a square brown building which looked to be a store. just below this point of rocks where the three solders looked down on the valley stood the largest house in the settlement, old and rambling in construction, with lurching chimneys and roofs extending to left and rear. the woodpile was at the opposite side of the road, and comfortable log barns stood on the hillside above. all these details were to be seen with the naked eye, but the powerful telescope of the station revealed much more, even showing the faces and forms of the people who lived in the cabins. as the three exiles were lounging together one afternoon at this very point of rocks, studying their neighbors through the telescope as if they had been the inhabitants of another planet, philip broke the silence with quite an original speech--one only he could make. "see here, fellows," he said with that new familiarity they had begun to show toward each other, "as we are likely to take considerable interest in these people down below, it will be mighty inconvenient when we talk about them to say, 'the man in the big house across the road from the log barn did this,' or 'the man in the farthest twin cabin did that,' or 'the old chap in the long house flanked by orchards and stacks did something else'; so i say, let's give them family names." the others laughingly admitted that the idea was not a bad one, and bromley suggested at random the names smith, jones, and brown. "as good as any others," said philip. "very well," said bromley, "then we will call this first neighbor 'smith.'" "no, you don't," cried philip, with much spirit. "i've taken a prejudice against that old fellow, because he sits on the woodpile and smokes his pipe every afternoon while his wife does the milking. smith is too respectable a name for him." "i didn't know," said coleman, laughing, "that there was any particular virtue in the name of smith." "i didn't say there was," said philip, "but if this first old loafer should turn out half as bad as i fear he will, the name would be a slur on too many families, you know. now, if it's all the same to you, gentlemen, we will begin at the other end and call the man of the orchard 'smith.' 'jones' naturally falls to the owner of the second twin cabin, and this fellow below becomes--say, 'shifless,' whether he likes it or not." as no one of the three had ever heard of any one of the name of shifless, philip's arrangement was agreed to, and from time to time they settled other names on the dwellers in every cabin in sight, and one column of smoke which rose from behind an intervening ridge was spoken of as "thompson's smoke." on the morning of december in that first year on the mountain, the three soldiers were thrown into a great state of excitement by a remarkable discovery. coleman and bromley were clearing off the snow from a stack of pea-vines, preparatory to beating them out on the floor of the house, when philip came running toward them, holding up the telescope and beckoning them to meet him. he said he had seen three united states officers at the long cabin under sheep cliff, which was known as smith's. the others needed no urging to follow philip. indeed, they ran so rapidly over the frozen ground in the rare upper air that they scarcely had breath for speaking when they arrived on the point of rocks. philip directed the glass on the house again, and then, with a cry of delight, he passed it to coleman. "there they are! there they are! see? by the end of the house!" as soon as the lieutenant had adjusted the powerful glass to his eye, he had the men before him almost as distinctly as if they had been standing within hailing distance. there was no mistaking the evidence that two of them were officers of what the three soldiers considered the beaten and disbanded army, while, although the third was in citizen's dress, it was unlike the dress of the mountaineers. "heaven help them!" exclaimed lieutenant coleman, as he gazed in amazement on the scene at the end of the long house. "how ragged they are! they must have been hunted through the woods like wild animals. both of the two in uniform wear jackets of the mounted service, and--stop--as sure as you are born, the taller of the two is a lieutenant of artillery. he has but one shoulder-strap left, and that has too dark a ground for either cavalry or infantry. they may be from the staff. there is something about their uniforms, in spite of rags and dirt, that makes me think so. the other carries a roll of blankets over his shoulder--he must be a soldier; and they have just come in, too, for their haversacks are mighty lean." it looked as if the poor fellows had found friends at last; for, while they stood talking with two women at the end of the house, smith himself, who was a lank mountaineer with a red beard, was lounging by the gate with his gun on his shoulder, as if watching against surprise from the road. bromley, who had been patiently waiting, now took the glass. "by jove!" he cried, "there are four girls there now, and the short officer is going into the house. you are right, fred; the old man is on guard, with a sharp eye in his head, too. they are all going into the house now, by neighbor smith's advice, i fancy. i'll tell you who they are, fred. they are escaped prisoners from charleston. they must have been hiding in the woods and swamps for months. if that is the condition of the officers of the united states that were, a thousand times better is our lot on this free mountain-top." and returning the glass, bromley ventured some bitter reflections on the congress and the high officials who had conducted the war to a disastrous end. "we must not lose sight of these unhappy men while they remain in the valley," said coleman; and, it then being ten o'clock, he settled himself behind the glass, and gave his watch to bromley, who was to relieve him at twelve. philip was too much excited by the presence of the fugitive officers to leave the rocks of his own accord; but coleman presently sent him to the house for a loaded carbine, which was laid by in a dry niche of granite, to be fired as a signal to the others in case of any movement of importance at the cabin below. for the rest of the morning smith with his gun kept his post at the gate, and the officers were never once seen outside the cabin. judging by the volume of smoke from both chimneys, it would appear that they were faring pretty well inside. shortly before noon one of the girls ran through the bare woods to the two cottages overlooking the road, and brought back jones, who relieved smith at the gate. it was evident that jones was friendly to the officers, for when he was relieved in turn he went into the house, and it was a long time before he came out. whoever was on watch was seldom alone, so keen was the interest of the exiles in the movements of their fellow-soldiers, and in any other happening which might concern them. according to philip, who took the post of observation at four o'clock, old shifless bossed the milking from the woodpile as usual. it was plain that he had not been taken into the confidence of the smiths or the joneses, and this fact was laid up against him. after supper all three gathered on the rocky lookout, and remained observing the lights at the cabin of the smiths long after it was too dark to use the telescope. there were no signs of departure below, and after they returned to the house, chilled by exposure and inaction, they sat until a late hour by the warm fire, discussing the events of the day and laying plans for the morrow. at the first indication of dawn bromley dressed and set out for the rocks, while his comrades turned over for another nap, which was taken with one eye open, so excited were they in view of what might happen during the day. in their drowsy, half-wakeful state it seemed to coleman and philip as if no time at all had passed since the departure of bromley when they were startled by the echoing report of the carbine. hurrying on their clothing, they scampered across the hard snow to the rocks, where they found bromley with the telescope fixed on the house of shifless. "there the old rogue is," said bromley, handing the spy-glass to coleman, "leading his mule out of the stable. he must have got some information during the night, for, after going to the stable with a lantern, he climbed up on to that ridge beyond and looked over at smith's clearing as if he wanted to satisfy himself that all was quiet there. i suspected he was up to some deviltry as soon as i got out here, for i saw a light in the house, showing first from one window and then from another. drat his picture!" bromley continued. "as soon as he began climbing the hill i fired the alarm." "i never knew him to turn out before eight o'clock," said philip. "he certainly means mischief," said coleman, "for he is saddling the mule. now he has blown out the lantern and hung it on the bar-post. now he is mounting, the treacherous old villain! confound him! there he goes trotting down the road toward the store." philip and bromley took a look at the man, hurrying along in the gray of the morning before another soul was awake in the settlement, and then they saw him turn on to the road which would lead him around the mountain into the cove. "if i were only down in his neighborhood now," said coleman, following shifless with the telescope, "with a good rifle, i'd tumble him off that mule. i should be serving my country." "what country?" sneered bromley. to this coleman made no reply, and the three walked slowly across the mountain to the boulder side. they had not long to wait there before the man on the mule appeared on the road below, and they followed him with scowling eyes until he drew up in front of the cove post-office, dismounted, and went in. "of course," exclaimed bromley, "the postmaster is a creature of the confederacy." in half an hour the two men trotted away together, and soon disappeared among the mountains. our heroes turned back, certain in their minds that this stealthy journey of shifless had been undertaken with hostile intentions toward the three officers who still remained in the cabin under the shadow of sheep cliff. they felt keenly their inability to warn them of the danger which hung over them, and hoped that during the day they might see the visitors leaving the valley. their anxiety now made it necessary to watch for developments in the cove as well as in the valley, and they scarcely found time to prepare their meals, which they ate as they moved about. all day the telescope was in transit from one side of the mountain to the other until there was a deep path trodden in the snow. from time to time one or another of the officers was seen near the cabin, and even if they had not been seen at all, the presence of smith or one of the girls watching at the gate would have been sufficient evidence that the officers were still there. they might be waiting for a guide or the cover of night before going on. the day was unusually cold, and beyond the smoke from the chimneys, and here and there a woman in a doorway, there was no movement in the quiet valley. late in the afternoon of this december --for it was christmas eve, and not a very cheerful one on the mountain--bromley, who was watching on the cove side, spied a body of men at that very point in the road where the two horsemen had disappeared in the morning. he shouted so lustily for the telescope that both philip and coleman joined him with all haste. what they saw through the glass was a straggling column of mountaineers advancing in single file along the winding road, their steel rifle-barrels catching the last rays of the setting sun. there were thirteen men in the party, of whom about half wore some part of a confederate uniform; but neither shifless nor the cove postmaster was with them. they had scarcely time to pass the glass from one to another, in their excitement, before the men left the road and turned up the mountain-side with a stealthy movement that made it plain they were going into temporary concealment. a few extracts from lieutenant coleman's diary at this point give a vivid picture of what was happening during the night on the mountain and about it. "i am writing by the light of the fire in our house on this christmas eve, at : o'clock by my watch, powerless to warn our friends at the cabin of the impending calamity. soon after dark, fire appeared on mountainside, and it is now burning brightly, as reported by philip, who has just returned to the lookout. " , midnight. have just come in--fire still visible. " : . philip reports that fire has just been extinguished on mountain-side. sparks indicated fire was put out by beating and scattering the brands. we are all about to go to point of rocks--shall probably be up all night." it seems that as soon as day began to dawn faintly on the mountain-tops, and while it was still dark in the valley, the three soldiers were crouching on the rocks eagerly awaiting light in the clearing. first the whitewashed walls of the cabin came into view, and then, in the gray dawn, as they fully expected, they began to distinguish motionless figures stationed at regular intervals in the clearing, and forming an armed cordon about the house. there was no sign of smoke from the stone chimneys, nor any other evidence that the inmates had been disturbed by the soldiers or had awakened of their own accord. there was one hope left. the officers might have gone away during the night. they should soon know; and meanwhile the snowy mountains reared their dark ridges against the slowly reddening eastern sky, and a great silence lay on the valley. chapter xi in which the soldiers make a map the forbearance of the captors to disturb their prisoners was puzzling to the three soldiers huddled together on the point of rocks. through the telescope the men could now be plainly seen, in their rough mountain dress, moving to and fro on their stations, and apparently keeping under cover where trees or outhouses were available as a mask. at one point several men were grouped together behind a fodder-stack, as if in consultation, and on the road could be seen one who seemed to be watching impatiently for some expected arrival. holding the telescope soon grew tiresome, and they passed it from one to another, that no movement in the gruesome pantomime might escape their observation; and the observer for the time being broke the silence at intervals with details of what he saw. "there!" cried philip, at last, "the men are getting lively behind the fodder-stack. now the fellow in the road is waving his hat. hold on! there comes a man--two men--on horseback. now the sentinels are moving in toward the cabin." thus the cordon was drawn close about the house, in which the inmates still showed no signs of life. the horsemen dismounted and tied their horses to the fence, and then, with an armed guard, advanced to the door. lieutenant coleman looked at his watch. it was twenty minutes after seven. at seven twenty-eight the old mountaineer appeared, and was passed down the line to the road. next came the three officers, one after the other, and they were removed to one side under guard. then the four women seemed to be driven out of the house by the soldiers, and forced along by violence into the road. some of the men appeared to be breaking the windows of the cabin, and others were running out of the open door, appropriating some objects and ruthlessly destroying others. for the first time the soldier exiles realized how far they were removed, by their own will, from a world in which they had no part. the sufferers were their friends whom they knew not, and to help whom they had no power. they were like spirits looking down from a world above on the passions of mortals--as helpless to interfere as the motionless rocks. after a brief consultation the mounted men rode away to the north, while the prisoners, with their guards, advanced in the opposite direction and soon disappeared behind that ridge up which shifless had climbed to look over in the gray of the morning of the day before. a puff of smoke burst from the deserted cabin and rose like a tower into the frosty air. fire gleamed through the broken windows, and red tongues of flame licked about the dry logs, and lashed and forked under the eaves and about the edges of the shingled roof. the reflection from the flames reddened the snow in the little clearing. the stacks caught fire. the boughs of the orchard withered and crisped in the fierce heat. now, as if satisfied with their work of destruction, the men who had remained at the house joined the others behind the ridge, and the armed guards, with their miserable prisoners, soon reappeared, moving over the snow under the bare trees. the three soldiers lay out on the rocks above to watch the poor captives picking their way down a stony, winding trail, forming one straggling file between two flanking columns of mountaineers. knowing something of the stoical ways of these people, they could feel the silence of that gloomy progress. they even fancied they could hear the crunching of the snow, the rolling of displaced stones on the frosty hillside, the crackling of brittle twigs under foot, and the subdued sobbing of the women. steadily the procession of ill omen moved along over the snow under the thin trees, disappearing and reappearing and dwindling in the distance, until it was lost behind the spurs of the mountain called chimney top. by this time the roof of the house had fallen into the burning mass between the two stone chimneys; the sun had risen, and the dense column of smoke cast a writhing shadow against the snowy face of sheep cliff. when the glass was brought to bear on the house and road below, it revealed shifless and the cove postmaster riding quietly home on their mules, doubtless well satisfied with the evil deed their heads had planned. as the three soldiers turned back in the direction of their house, bromley was in a rage, and philip could no longer command himself. all three were worn and haggard with loss of sleep, and depressed by the outcome of the affair in the valley. in fact, the disheartening effect of the experiences connected with this first christmas continued to oppress our exiles well into the next year. if, in the narrow valley on which they were privileged to look down, three officers of the old armies had been thus hunted and dragged off before their eyes, they had reason to believe that fragments of those armies were receiving similar or worse treatment wherever they might be found. time and their daily work gradually calmed their minds and helped them to forget the pain of what they had seen. they missed the company of the bear, too; for even before this great disturbance of their tranquillity that amusing companion of their solitude had burrowed himself away, to consume his own fat, where not even their telescope could discover him for several months. presently the winter snows became deeper on the mountain, and they were confined more and more to the house. the slow-john was frozen up in the branch, and the fowls, which could no longer forage for their own living, hung about the door for the scraps from the table and an occasional handful of corn. they roosted in the cabin of the old man of the mountain, and now and then, in return for their keep, laid an egg, which was often frozen before it was found. [illustration: "the fowls hung about the door."] the soft, clean husks of the corn, added to the pine boughs, made comfortable beds, and the tents spread over the blankets provided abundant covering. great bunches of catnip and pennyroyal for tea hung from the rafters, and even the wild gentian, potent to cure all ailments, was not forgotten in the winter outfit. the prayer-book and army regulations, which formed their library, were read and re-read, and discussed until theology and the art of clothing and feeding an army were worn threadbare. philip, who was blessed with a vivid imagination and great originality, made up the most marvelous ghost-stories and the most heartrending and finally soul-satisfying romances, which were recited in the evenings before the fire, to the huge enjoyment of his companions. if it was romance, a fat pine-knot thrust between the logs illumined the interior and searched the farthest corners and crannies of the room with a flood of light; and in case it was a ghost-story, the logs were left to burn low and fall piecemeal into the red coals before the eyes of the three figures sitting half revealed in sympathetic obscurity. [illustration: "philip made up the most marvelous stories, which were recited before the fire"] one of the most interesting incidents of the first winter was the construction, by lieutenant coleman, of a map of the "old united states," and the plotting thereon of the confederacy as they supposed it to be. when it is remembered that the map was drawn entirely from memory, the clear topographical knowledge of the officer was, to say the least, surprising. the first reference to the map is found in lieutenant coleman's entry in the diary for the th of january, : "as we were sitting before the fire last night, george introduced a subject which, by common consent, we have rather avoided any reference to or conversation upon. this related to the probable boundaries of the new nation established by the triumphant confederates. we had no doubt that the confederacy embraced all the states which were slaveholding states at the outbreak of the rebellion; and as they doubtless had made washington their capital, it was more than probable that they had added little delaware to maryland on their northern border. we assumed that so long as there were two governments in the old territory, the ohio river would be accepted as a natural boundary as far as to the mississippi; but we were of widely different opinions as to the line of separation thence. "george, who is inclined to the darker view, is of the opinion that the southern republic, if it be a republic at all, would certainly demand an opening to the pacific ocean, and therefore must embrace a part, if not the whole, of california. "february . we have been confined to the house two days by a driving snow-storm, and the territorial extent of the confederacy has come up again, not, however, for the first time since the discussion on the d of january. as we still have one stormy month before the opening of spring, i have determined to enter upon the construction of a map which shall lay down the probable boundaries of the two nations. when george and i are unable to agree, the point in dispute will be argued before philip, and settled by the votes of the three." on february , then, this map was begun on the inner side of one of the rubber ponchos after buttoning down and gluing with pitch the opening in the center. it was stretched on a frame, and thus provided a clean white canvas five feet square on which to draw the map. if lieutenant coleman and his companions had known that general sherman, after whom they had named their island in the sky and whom they mourned as dead, was that very morning marching into the city of columbia, the capital of south carolina, with all his bands playing and flags flying, the map would never have been made, and the life on the mountain would have come to a sudden end. fortunately for the continuance of this history, they were ignorant of that fact, and lieutenant coleman on this very day began plotting his map with charcoal. after going over the coasts and watercourses and establishing the boundaries of states, and that greatest and most difficult of all boundaries, the one between "the two countries," he would blow off the charcoal and complete the details with ink. of this necessary fluid there was a canteen full, which had been made in the fall from oak-galls (lumps or balls produced on the oak-leaves by tiny insects) and the purple pokeberries which had been gathered from the field below the ledge. the oak-leaves had been steeped in warm water, and this mixture, together with the berries, had been strained through a cloth and bottled up in the canteen. while at west point, cadet coleman, of the class of ' , had devoted himself to mapping, and he believed he was tolerably familiar with his subject until, at the very outset, difficulties began to arise. he found that his knowledge about the northwestern territories was shaky, and it was difficult to convince bromley that arkansas was not west of kansas. they finally gave little delaware to the confederacy, accepting the bay and river as a natural geographical separation. thence they followed the southern boundary of pennsylvania to the ohio river, the ohio and mississippi to the southern boundary of iowa, and thence west and south on the northern and western frontiers of missouri. the indian territory became the first point of disagreement. under date of march , , lieutenant coleman says: "with the aid of philip, i pressed the boundary line south to the red river. we all conceded texas to the confederacy. i was disposed to establish the extreme western boundary of the confederacy as identical with the western frontier of texas. george allowed this so far as the rio grande formed a natural boundary along the frontier of mexico, but stoutly insisted that the successful southerners would never consent to a settlement which did not extend their borders to the pacific ocean. to this claim on the part of the south he contended that the imbecility of congress and the timidity of northern leaders would offer little or no opposition. he held that if they took part of california, they might as well take the whole; and in either case they would take new mexico and arizona as the natural connection with their pacific territory. "i contended that california had never been a slave state, and would never consent to such an arrangement. to this george replied that california was without troops, and that her wishes would not be a factor in the solution of the problem; that the south, flushed with victory, could not be logically expected to content itself with less; that it would be a matter to be settled between the two governments, and that, for his part, he saw no reason to believe that the north, in view of its blunders civil and its failures military, would have the power or the courage to prevent such seizure by the enemy. philip leaned to this view, and was even willing to throw in utah for sentimental reasons." bromley showed great skill and cleverness in advocating his peculiar views. when he had a point to gain, with the natural cunning of a legal mind, he took care to begin his argument by claiming much more than he expected to establish. thus, not content with the concession of california and the southern tier of territories leading thereto, he called the attention of the others to the great rocky mountain range, offering itself, from the north-western extremity of texas to the british possessions, as a natural geographical wall between nations. he admitted that the western men had been the bone and sinew of the late fruitless struggle; but they were the hardy soldiers of illinois, wisconsin, iowa, and kansas, still far to the east of the great mountain-range, with vast uncivilized territories between. to this view lieutenant coleman opposed the jealousy of the great ally of the south as not likely to favor an unequal partition; he said that england would certainly not lend her aid to bringing the more aggressive of the two nations up to her own colonial borders. besides, he contended, the south was without a navy, and at the outset could never defend such a great addition to her already vastly superior coast-line. this long argument resulted in a compromise, and by the decision of philip, california, arizona, and new mexico were given to the confederacy, and half the pacific coast was saved to the old government. bromley's matter-of-fact character had no sentimental side. he was a worker, and no dreamer. he threw himself with all the weight of his convictions and the force of his well-trained mind into the discussion of the extent of the confederate victory; but the moment the boundary was settled he seemed to forget the existence of the map and to lose himself in the next piece of work. after completing the outlines of the map in ink, lieutenant coleman began laying a tone of lines over the whole confederacy. as the work progressed, the three soldiers watched the new power creeping like an ominous shadow over the map. the one break in the expanse of gloom was the white star at the northwestern corner of north carolina, which marked the location of sherman territory. when the map was finished and hung on the logs, the confederacy looked like nothing so much as a huge dragon crouching on the gulf of mexico, with the neck and head elevated along the pacific and the tail brushing cuba. [illustration: map of the united states and confederate states by frederick henry coleman (late usa) sherman territory a.d. .] although they accepted the map without further discussion, its white face, looking down on them from the wall as they sat about the evening fire, provoked many a talk about affairs in the world below. the time for the election of a new president had passed since they had been on the mountain. after the complete and pitiful collapse of lincoln's administration, they had no doubt that mcclellan had been elected. philip thought the new capital should be located at piqua, ohio (which was where his uncle lived), as it was near the center of population! but bromley favored the city of cleveland. ohio, he pointed out, extended entirely across the union, and, as the state which linked the two parts together, it would need to be strongly guarded, and the capital with its troops and fortifications would strengthen that weak link in the chain. cincinnati was too close to the enemy's territory to be thought of as a capital. shortly before undertaking the map, lieutenant coleman had the good fortune to bring down a large gray eagle, which, although soaring high above the valleys, was but just skimming the mountain-top. this was a fortunate event, because the very last steel pen had become very worn and corroded. lieutenant coleman had been longing above all things for quills, and now that he wrote again with an easy and flowing hand, he seems to have forgotten that his supply of paper was limited. in the controversy over the map the entries are of unusual length, and then suddenly they become brief and cramped, and are written in so small a hand that there can be no doubt the writer took sudden alarm on discovering how few blank pages were left in the book. since christmas the telescope had rarely been taken from its place on the chimney, and if they looked over into the cove or the valley without it, those snow-covered regions below were far-off countries, where the houses showed only as rounded forms, and the human ants who lived in them were scarcely visible. chapter xii how the bear disgraced himself at last the long winter came to an end. by the middle of march the warm sun and soft south winds began to thaw the february snows. on such a day, when the afternoon sun beat with unusual warmth on the northern face of the mountain, the three soldiers stood together in front of the house, noting everywhere the joyful signs of the approach of spring. the snow, where it lay thickest in the hollows of the plateau, was soft and porous and grimy with dirt. there were bare spaces here and there on the ground, and where a stick or a stone showed through the thin crust the snow had retired around it as if it gave out a heat of its own. the melting icicles pendent from the eaves glittered in the sun and dripped into the channels alongside the walls. they had a great longing to see the grass and the leaves again and welcome the early birds of spring. as they looked about on these hopeful signs in the midst of the great stillness to which they had become used, a sudden deafening crash rang in their startled ears. the sound was like the explosion of a mine or the dull roar of a siege-mortar at a little distance away. it came from the cove to the north, and the first crash was followed by lesser reports, and each sound was echoed back from the mountains beyond. the first thought of the three soldiers was of the opening of a battle. their first fear was that a great mass of earth and rock had fallen from the edge of the plateau to the base of the mountain. they made their way cautiously in the direction of the sound, almost distrusting the ground under their feet. the gnarled chestnuts on the edge of the cliff were as firmly rooted as ever. when they had advanced to where philip's sharp eyes caught the first view of the postmaster's cabin through the twisted tree-trunks, he remembered the words of andy, the guide, on the night when they had waited for the moon to go down. he quickly caught the arms of his companions. "it's the avalanche," he said--"the icicles and the ice falling into the cove from the face of the great boulder." they could see tiny figures standing about the cabin, and they shrank back lest they, too, might be seen by the people, who were evidently gazing with all their eyes at the top of the mountain. just then there was another deafening crash, and at intervals all day long they heard the falling of the ice. "they are the opening guns of spring," said lieutenant coleman; and now that they knew what the sound was, they listened eagerly for each report. late on that very afternoon, as they sat together outside the house, they saw tumbler, the bear, shambling down the hillside in front of the house, and they had no doubt he had been awakened from his winter's nap by the roar of the avalanche. he was thin of flesh and ragged of fur, and so weak on his clumsy legs that he sat down at short intervals to rest. he made his way first to the branch, where he refreshed himself with a drink, and then came on with renewed vigor toward the house. he was such a very disreputable-looking bear, and had been gone so long, and must be so dangerously hungry, that the men stood up doubtfully at his approach until they saw a weak movement of his stumpy tail and the mild look in his brown eyes as he seated himself on the chips and lolled out his red tongue. philip brought him a handful of roast potatoes, which he devoured with a relish, and then stood up so handsomely to ask for more that they rolled him raw ones until his hunger was satisfied, after which he waddled through the open door, and lay down for another nap in his old place by the fire, just as if he had gone out but yesterday, which was probably just what he thought he had done. by this time the last page of the station journal had been used, and lieutenant coleman had added to it the five fly-leaves of the precious blue book, which he had cut out neatly with his knife. paper was so scarce at last that on this march , which was the day the bear woke up, the circumstance of the avalanche alone was recorded, and that was entered after the date in the most wonderfully small and cramped letters you can imagine. now, philip was of the opinion that the return of the bear was of quite as much importance as the falling of the ice. it happened that he had in his breast pocket a letter which had been written to him by his uncle. it was postmarked, "piqua, ohio," and addressed, "philip welton, co. c, d ohio infy., camp near resaca, ga." philip had been looking over coleman's shoulder as he made the cramped entry in the diary. "now look here," said he, taking up the quill as it was laid down; "if you don't choose to make a record of the bear, i will." so taking from his pocket the letter, he wrote across the top of the envelop: "whiteside mountain, march , . "tumbler, the bear, woke up to-day. "(signed) philip welton, "george bromley, "frederick henry coleman." "well," said coleman, "what are you going to do with that? drop it over into the cove?" "not a bit of it," said philip. "i am just going to keep the record out of respect to the bear"; and with that, as it happened, he put the envelop back in one pocket and the letter in another. but a few weeks later, when the snow had quite gone and the buds were beginning to swell on the trees, philip was chopping on the hill where the boulder side of the mountain joined the cliff above the spring; and as he grew warm with his work he cast off his cavalry jacket, and it happened in some way that the envelop on which he had written fell out into the grass. philip did not notice this loss at the time, and it was a week before he missed the envelop. he kept his loss to himself at first, but as he became alarmed lest it should blow over into the cove and disclose their hiding-place, he confessed to lieutenant coleman what had happened. the three soldiers searched everywhere for this dangerous paper, except in the snug place under the tuft of grass where it lay. it was suspected that philip was repenting of the agreement he had made to remain on the mountain, and both coleman and bromley lectured him roundly for his carelessness. while philip was still chafing under the suspicions of his comrades, all the more that he was conscious of his perfect loyalty to the old flag and to the compact they had made together for its sake, the bear was growing stronger every day and more mischievous. although he had the whole plateau to roam over, nothing seemed to please tumbler so much as to nose about and dig into the grave of the old man of the mountain. he was such a wicked bear that the more they kicked and cuffed him away, the more stubbornly he came back to his unholy work; and then it appeared that the light soil of the mound had been taken possession of by a colony of ants. it was a temptation such as no hungry bear could resist, and the sacrilege was so offensive to the three soldiers that they resolved to remove the last remnant of the ant-hill and fill it in with clay in which no insect could live. it was after supper when they came to this resolution, and they fell to work at once with the wooden spade and a piece of tent-cloth, in which philip carried the dirt a stone's-throw away and piled it into a new mound. the bear seemed to think this was all for his benefit, and while the work went merrily on he rooted into the new heap and wagged his stumpy tail with every evidence of gratitude and satisfaction. it was a sufficiently disagreeable task for coleman and bromley, whose legs and bodies were bitten by the ants until they danced with pain. at the same time the little pests went up philip's sleeves and came out on his neck. bad as the business was, they set their teeth and kept at work, determined to finish it now they had begun. of course the colony was mostly near the surface of the ground; but when they had gone down three feet into the sandy soil there were still ants burrowing about. now, bromley was a man of great resolution and perseverance, and although it was growing dark he had no thought of stopping work; so he called for a pine torch, which coleman held on the bank above. when the earth gave way, the oak slab with the peculiar inscription, "one who wishes to be forgotten," was tenderly removed and leaned against the hut, to be reverently reset the next day. annoying as the ants were, the soldiers continued their work with that feeling of awe which always attends the disturbing of a grave; and as they dug they spoke with charity and tenderness of the old man of the mountain. it made them think of the time when they themselves would be laid to rest in the same soil; and if they breathed any inward prayer, it was that their remains might sleep undisturbed. although they were young, and death seemed a long way off, the thought came to them of the last survivor, and how lonely he would be, and how, when he should die, there would be no one left to bury his poor body in the ground. "whatever happens," said philip, "i don't want to be the last." the pine torch flared and smoked in the cool night wind, and lighted the solemn faces of the three soldiers as well as the hole in the earth, where bromley still stood to his middle. there was yet a little loose earth to be thrown out before they left the work for the night, and philip had brought some sticks of wood to lay over the grave lest in the morning the bear should begin to dig where they had left off. he had, in fact, come up and seated himself in the circle of light, and was looking on with great interest at their proceedings. "i declare," said bromley, just then, straightening himself, "i have gone too far already. my spade struck on the coffin--that is, i think it did. perhaps i had better see what condition it is in. what do you think, fred?" "no," said philip; "cover it up." "it will be as well," said lieutenant coleman, "now that we have the opportunity, to see that everything is all right. i can't help feeling that the old man's remains are in our care." "hold the light nearer, then," said bromley, as he got down on his knees and commenced to paw away the loose earth with his hands. philip was silent, and, soldier though he was, his face blanched in the neighborhood of one poor coffin. both the men outside were staring intently into the open grave. the torch-light fell broadly on bromley's back, and cast a black shadow from his bent body into the space below, where his hands were at work. "well, this is queer!" said he, straightening his back and showing a surprised face to the light. "i've struck the chime of a cask." "no!" cried coleman and philip together. "yes, i have," said bromley. "hand me the spade." now the work of digging was begun in good earnest, and, i am afraid, with less awe than before of what lay below. light as the soil was, the opening had to be enlarged, and it was hard upon midnight when the small beer-keg was free enough to be moved from its resting-place. with the first joggle bromley gave it, there was a sound of chinking like coin. "do you hear that?" exclaimed bromley. "that's not the sound of bones." "it's money!" cried philip. lieutenant coleman said nothing, but jumping down to the aid of bromley, they lifted it out on the grass, where it rolled gently down a little slope, chink-a-ty-chink, chink-a-ty-chink. "bring the ax!" "no; let's roll it into the house!" "it's money!" "it's nails!" "bring it in to the fire," said lieutenant coleman, going ahead with the torch. so they rolled the tough old cask, chink-a-ty-chink, around the cabin and up to the house, into the open door and across the earthen floor, and set it on end on the stone hearth. they were reeking with perspiration. coleman threw the torch upon the smoldering logs, and by the time bromley had the ax there was a ruddy light through the room. "stand back," he cried as he swung the ax aloft. three times the ax rang on the head of the cask, the firelight glittering in the eyes of the soldiers, before the strong head gave way on one side, and three golden guineas bounced out on to the hearth. bromley dropped the ax, and then all three, without deigning to notice the gold pieces upon the floor, thrust their hands deep down into the shining mass of gold coin. all hustled and pushed one another at the opening. philip was on the point of striking out right and left in sheer excitement; and in their scramble the cask was overturned so that the yellow pieces poured out upon the floor and the hearth, and some flopped into the fire, while others rolled here and there into the dark corners of the room. the golden guineas which first appeared were now covered with gold double-eagles, and there were a few silver coins in the bottom of the cask. [illustration: "the cask was overturned so that the yellow pieces poured out upon the floor."] the three soldiers hugged one another with delight. "we are rich!" cried philip. "let's count our treasure," said coleman. "the double-eagles first--fifty to a thousand." forgotten was the old man of the mountain, forgotten were their weariness and the lateness of the hour, as they eagerly fell a-counting. they piled the shining yellow columns on the mantel-piece; and when that was full, without stopping to count the thousands, they began bunches of piles on the hard floor. they could hardly believe that such a treasure had fallen to their possession. in their greedy delight they utterly forgot the old flag of the thirty-five stars, and the total defeat of the union armies, as they toiled and counted. philip was the first to yield to the demands of tired nature. with his hands full of gold, he sank down on his bunk and fell asleep. lieutenant coleman was the next; and as the cock began to crow at earliest dawn, bromley bolted the door for the first time since the house had been built, and crept exhausted into his blankets. the treasure was found, as shown by the diary, on friday, april , in the year , on the very night of the murder of the good president whom the three soldiers believed to be living somewhere, a monument of failure and incapacity. the entry was in a few brief words, and by the sunday which followed, lieutenant coleman would not have exchanged the four blank leaves of the diary for the whole treasure they had dug up. after the first excitement of their discovery they began to realize that the yellow stamped pieces were of no value except as a medium of exchange, and that, as there was nothing on the mountain for which to exchange them, they were of no value at all. if they had found a saucepan or a sack of coffee in the cask, they would have had some reason to rejoice. so it fell out that within a week's time the gold was looked upon as so much lumber, and the cask which held it was kicked into a dark corner, neglected and despised. some of the coins were even trodden under foot, and others lay among the chips at the door. on the evening of the second sunday after the discovery of the gold, they sat together outside the door of the house, and tried to think of some likely thing the cask might have held more useless than the guineas and double-eagles; and, hard as they tried, they could name nothing more worthless. the result was that they turned away to their beds, feeling poor and dissatisfied, and down on their luck. now it happened, as the three soldiers lay asleep in their bunks that night, and while tumbler slept too, with his nose and his hairy paws in the light, cool ashes of the fireplace (for the nights were warm now), there came up a brisk wind which blew across the mountain from the southwest. this rising wind went whistling on its way, tossing the tree-tops, up on the hill above the birches, whirling the dry leaves across the plateau, scattering them on the field below the ledge, and even dropping some stragglers away down into the cove far below. at first this wind only shook the tuft of grass that overhung the lost envelop, and then, as it grew stronger, whirled it from its snug hiding-place, and tumbled it over and over among the dry chestnut-burs and the old, gray, dead limbs. if the envelop came to a rest, this wind was never content to leave its plaything alone for long. when it landed the little paper against a stump and held it fluttering there until that particular gust was out of breath, the envelop fell to the ground of its own weight, only to be picked up again and tossed on, little by little, always in the same direction, until at last it lay exposed on the brow of the hill to a braver and stronger blast, which lifted it high into the air and sent it sailing over the roof of the house. this envelop, with the names of the three soldiers and their hiding-place written out in a fair, round hand, might have sailed along on the southwest wind until it fell at the door of the post-office in the cove but for the queer way it had of navigating the air. it would turn over and over on its way, or shoot up, or dart to one side, or take some unexpected course; and so just as it was sailing smoothly above the house, its sharp edge turned in the wind, and with a backward dive it struck hard on the rock below philip's leach. just a breath of wind turned it over and over on the stone, until it fell noiselessly into the pool of lye. now, lieutenant coleman chanced to come out first in the morning; and when he saw the lost envelop floating on the dark-brown pool alongside a hen's egg, which had been placed there to test the strength of the liquid, he was glad it had blown no farther. the paper had turned very yellow in the strong potash, and so he fished it out with a twig, and carried it across to the branch by the slow-john, and dipped it into the water. when he picked it out it was still slimy to the touch, and the letters had faded a little. he brushed a word with his finger, and the letters dissolved under his eyes. he gave a great cry of joy; for in that instant he saw the possibility of converting into blank paper, for keeping their records, the five hundred and ninety-four pages of the revised army regulations of . chapter xiii how the bear distinguished himself if the old man of the mountain was not in his grave, where was he? he had certainly not gone back to the world and left the buried treasure behind him. if the grave had been empty, the soldiers might have suspected foul play. josiah woodring, who had been his agent and provider, had already been five years in his own grave at the time they had arrived on the mountain. as long as they believed that the bones of the old man were quietly at rest under the oak slab in the garden spot, the condition of the hut, neglected and going to decay, was sufficient evidence that he had died there, and that no one had occupied it for more than five years before. with almost his last breath josiah had announced his death to the doctor from the settlement; and under such solemn circumstances it was impossible to believe that he had stated anything but the truth. he had not mentioned, it is true, the precise time when the old man died. after the night when the treasure was found, the three soldiers, to thoroughly satisfy themselves, had cleared away the earth down to the bed-rock. indeed, the cask itself was evidence enough that the bones of the old man were not below it, for he himself must have buried that. if josiah had known of its existence, it would certainly have traveled down through the settlement in his two-steer cart, like any other honest cask, and neither cattle nor driver would have ever come back. after taking such a load to market, josiah would have established himself in luxury in his ignorant way, and probably cut a great splurge in the "low country," with no end of pomp and vulgarity. the three soldiers studied this problem with much care, weighing all the evidence for and against. they even hit upon a plan of determining when the old man came limping through the settlement of cashiers behind josiah's cart, covered with dust, and staggering under the weight of his leathern knapsack. they emptied out the little keg of gold on the earthen floor a second time, and began a search for the latest date on the coins. some were remarkably old and badly worn. a few of the guinea pieces bore the heads of the old georges and "dei gratia rex," and -- this and -- that, and some of the figures were as smooth as the pate, and as blind as the eyes, of the king on the coin. the newest double-eagles--and there were quite a number of them--bore the date , so it must have been in that year or the year following that the old man without a name had given up the world and become a hermit on the mountain. they decided that he must have had his own ideas about the vanity of riches, and that after doling out his gold, or, more likely, his small silver pieces, with exceeding stinginess to josiah for the small services rendered him, when he saw his end approaching, he had buried the cask of treasure, and set up the slab above it, trusting to the superstition with which the mountain people regarded the desecration of a grave to protect the gold for all time. it would certainly have protected it from any examination by the soldiers but for the strange behavior of the bear, who had no delicate scruples. the old man had probably told josiah, with a cunning leer in his eyes, that the empty grave was a blind to deceive any one who might climb to the top of the mountain, as the hunters had done long before, and very likely he had given him a great big silver half-dollar to wink at this little plan. when death did really come at last to claim its own, it was evident that josiah, faithful to the old man's request, had either taken his remains down the mountain or buried them somewhere on the plateau without mound or slab to reveal the place, and, as likely as not, he had found enough small change in the old miser's pockets to pay him for his trouble. thus the mystery of the old man of the mountain was settled by the three soldiers, after much discussion, and the cask of gold was trundled back into the dark corner of the house, where they threw their waste, and such guineas and double-eagles as had joggled out upon the floor were kicked after it. directly after the lost envelop had turned up in the pool of lye, lieutenant coleman had made his arrangements for the manufacture of blank paper for the diary. the blue book was his personal property, but before commencing its destruction he counseled with bromley, who, as a man of letters, he felt, under the circumstances, had an equal interest with himself in the fate of one half of their common library. bromley, seated on the bank alongside the leach, was engaged at the time in making a birch broom, and as he threw down the bunch of twigs a shade of disappointment overspread his handsome face. he said that he had never thoroughly appreciated the work of the learned board of compilers until his present exile, and that it contained flights of eloquence and scraps of poetry--if you read between the lines. "but, putting all joking aside," said bromley, "begin with a single leaf by way of experiment, and let us see first what will be the effect on the fiber of the paper; and then, if everything works well, we will first sacrifice the index and the extracts from the acts of that renegade congress whose imbecility has blotted a great nation from the map of the world." lieutenant coleman had more confidence in the result of the experiment they were about to make than had bromley, for the increased length of his entry in the diary shows that he was no longer economizing paper: "april , . wednesday. we have cut out ten leaves of the index of the blue book, which we scattered loosely on the surface of the lye in the cavity of the rock. after twenty minutes i removed a leaf which had undergone no perceptible change in appearance, and washed it thoroughly in running water. while so doing i was pleased to find that with the lightest touch of my fingers the ink dissolved, leaving underneath only a faint trace of the letters, which would in no way interfere with my writing. it required much patience to cleanse the paper of the slimy deposit of potash. "thursday, april , . of the leaves prepared yesterday, two, which were less carefully washed than the others, are somewhat yellowed by the potash and show signs of brittleness. "april . we have continued our paper-making experiments, and find that a longer bath in a weaker solution of lye has the same effect on the ink, and is less injurious to the fiber of the paper. philip has burned a lot of holes in one of the cracker-boxes, in which we place the leaves, leaving them to soak in the running water." thus it turned out that the dangerous envelop, by a freak of the sportive wind, was made to play an important part in the economy of the exiles, while the cask of gold stood neglected in the corner, and the summer of began with no lack of paper on which to record its events. both philip and the bear had been in temporary disgrace, the one for losing the tell-tale envelop, and the other for disturbing the sacred quiet of a grave. both cases of misbehavior had resulted in important discoveries, but the mishap of philip had produced such superior benefits that the bear was fairly distanced in the race. this may have been the reason that prompted tumbler to try his hand, or rather his paw, again, for he was a much cleverer bear than you would think to look at his small eyes and flat skull. at any rate, one hot morning in july he put his foot in it once more, and very handsomely, too, for the benefit of his masters. it was philip who caught the first view of him well up on the trunk of the tallest chestnut on the plateau, which, growing in a sheltered place under the northwest hill, had not been dwarfed and twisted by the winds like its fellows higher up. at the moment he was discovered, he was licking his paw in the most peaceful and contented way, while the air about his head was thick with a small cloud of angry bees, darting furiously among the limbs and thrusting their hot stings into his shaggy coat, seeming to disturb him no more than one small gnat can disturb an ox. the soldiers had been deprived of sweets since the last of the sugar had been used, in the early winter, and a supply of honey would just fit the cravings of their educated taste. share and share alike, bear and man, was the unwritten law of sherman territory, and so, while philip shouted for the ax, he began to throw clubs at tumbler, which were so much larger and more persuasive than the stings of the bees that the bear began promptly to back his way down the trunk of the tree. coleman and bromley appeared in a jiffy, casting off their jackets and rolling up their sleeves as they came. when the chips began to fly, tumbler sat down to watch, evidently feeling that some superior intelligence was at work for his benefit, while the stupid bees kept swarming about the hole above, except a few stray ones who had not yet got tired of burrowing into the shaggy coat of the bear, and these now turned their attention to the men and were promptly knocked down by wisps of grass in the hands of coleman and philip, while bromley plied the ax. if only they had had a supply of sulphur, by waiting until the bees were settled at night, they could have burned some in the opening made by the ax, and with the noxious fumes destroyed the last bee in the tree. then, too, if they had been in less of a hurry they might have waited until a frosty morning in november had benumbed the bees; but in that case tumbler would have eaten all the honey he could reach with his paws. as it was, the swarm extended so low that, as soon as the ax opened the first view into the hollow trunk, the bees began to appear, and the opening had to be stuffed with grass, and a bucket of water which philip brought did not come amiss before the chopping was done. all this time tumbler licked his jaws, and kept his beady eyes fixed on the top of the tree, like a good coon dog, and never stirred his stumps until, with the last blow of the ax, the old tree creaked, and swayed at the top, and fell with a great crash down the hill. the three soldiers ran off to a safe distance as soon as the tree began to fall, while tumbler, after regarding their flight with a look of disgust, walked deliberately into the thick of the battle, and began to crunch the dripping comb as coolly as a pig eats corn. the brittle trunk of the old tree had split open as it fell, and for twenty feet of its length the mass of yellow honey lay exposed to the gaze of the men, while the infuriated bees darkened the air above it, and made a misty halo about the head of the happy bear. the happiness of tumbler was not altogether uninterrupted, for the soldiers drove him off now and again with sticks and stones; but however far he retired from the tree, he was surrounded and defended by such an army of bees that it was quite out of the question to capture him. there was no end of the honey; but the worst of it was, the bear was eating the whitest and newest of the combs, and when at last his greedy appetite was satisfied, and he came of his own accord to the house, he brought such disagreeable company with him that the soldiers got out through the door and windows as best they could, leaving him in undisputed possession--very much as his lamented mother had held the fort on that night when her little cub, tumbler, had slept in the ashes the year before. [illustration: "they drove him off with sticks and stones."] there was nothing else to be done but to walk about for the rest of the day; for until nightfall there was a line of bees from the house to the tree. the soldiers secured the bear by closing the door and windows, but it was not yet clear how they could obtain the honey. coleman and bromley were city-bred, but philip had been brought up in the country, and he had received some other things from his uncle besides kicks and cuffs and a knowledge of how to run a mill. he remembered the row of hives under the cherry-trees beyond the race, and how the new swarms had come out, and been sawed off with the limbs in great bunches, or called out of the air by drumming on tin pans, and how at last they had been enticed into a hive sprinkled inside with sweetened water. so, under philip's directions, a section of a hollow log was prepared, covered at the top and notched at the bottom, and pierced with cross-sticks to support the comb. as a temporary bench for it to rest upon, they blocked up against the back wall of the house the oak slab, which they no longer respected as a gravestone. after it became quite dark, the bees had so far settled that a few broken pieces of honeycomb, which had been tossed off into the grass from the falling tree, were secured to sweeten the new hive, and it was finally propped up on the rubber poncho in front of the thickest bunch of bees. tumbler was kept a close prisoner in the house, and early the next morning the bees began crowding after their queen into their new house, and by the afternoon they were carrying in the honey and wax on their legs. so it was the second night after cutting the bee-tree before the soldiers removed the hive, wrapped about with a blanket, to the bench behind the house, and got access to the honey in the broken log. there was so much of it that, after filling every dish they could spare, they were forced to empty the gold on to the earthen floor, and fill the cask with some of the finest of the combs. what remained was given up to the bear and the bees, who got on more pleasantly together than you can think; and in time they cleaned out the old log and scoured the wood as if they had been so many housemaids. during the remainder of the summer the gold lay neglected in the corner together with certain wilted potatoes and fat pine-knots and the sweepings of the floor. if a shining coin turned up now and then in some unexpected place, it doubtless served to remind coleman how handy these small tokens of exchange might be if there were any other person in all their world of whom they could buy an iron pot or an onion; or it may have suggested to the clever brain of bromley some scheme of utilizing the pile as raw material. worthless as the gold was in its present form, in the hands of the soldiers so fertile of resource and so clever in devices to accomplish their ends, it was not possible for so much good metal to remain altogether useless. they soon saw that, if they had the appliances of a forge, they could tip their wooden spades with gold, and make many dishes and household goods. so after the harvest they set to work in good earnest to build a smithy, and equip it in all respects as well as their ingenuity and limited resources would permit. the first thing they did was to dig a charcoal pit, into which they piled several cords of dry chestnut wood, setting the sticks on end in a conical heap. over this they placed a layer of turf and a thick outer covering of earth, leaving an opening at the top. several holes for air were pierced about the base of the heap, and then some fat pine-knots which had been laid in about the upper opening, or chimney, were set on fire. these burned briskly at first, and then died down to a wreath of smoke, which was left to sweat the wood for three days, after which the holes at the base were stopped and others made half-way up the pile. late in november the dry, warm earth about the charcoal pit was a favorite resort of tumbler, and he tried several times to dig into the smoldering mass, with results more amusing to the soldiers and less satisfactory to himself than those of any digging he had ever tried before. when the smoke ceased to come out of these holes at the sides, they were closed up and others pierced lower down, and so on until the process was complete. while this slow combustion was going on, a pen was built about the fireplace of the old hut and filled in with earth to a convenient height for the forge. the flue was narrowed down to a small opening for the proper draft, and a practical pumping-bellows, made of two pointed slabs of wood and the last rubber blanket, was hung in place. besides nailing, the edges were made air-tight with a mixture of pitch and tarry sediment from the bottom of the charcoal pit, and the first nozzle of the bellows was a stick of elder, which was very soon replaced by a neat casting of gold. bromley was the smith, and his first pincers were rather weak contrivances of platted wire; but after half the barrel of one of the carbines had with the head of the hatchet been hammered out on a smooth stone into a steel plate to cover their small anvil-block, it was possible to make of the iron that remained a few serviceable tools. [illustration: making a hundred-dollar caster.] while they now had good reason to be sorry that the gold was not iron, they were thankful for their providential supply of the softer metal, and bromley toiled and smelted and hammered and welded and riveted, in the smoke of the forge and the steam of the water-vat, and turned out little golden conveniences that would have made a barbaric king or a modern millionaire green with envy. so it came about that, poor as they were, the three exiled soldiers, without friends or country they could call their own, sat on three-legged stools shod with hundred-dollar casters, and drank spring-water from massy golden cups fit for the dainty lips of a princess. chapter xiv which gives a nearer view of the neighbor called "shifless" with the events which closed the last chapter the three soldiers had been more than a year on the mountain. they had become thoroughly settled in their delusion, and more contented in their way of living than they would have thought it possible, in the beginning, ever to become. the long war had come to an end in a way of its own, and without any regard for the messages flagged from upper bald. the soldiers of both armies had been disbanded, and the good news had found its way into the mountain settlements at about the time the bear had discovered the bee-tree. far and near the union outliers had come in from their hiding-places among the rocks, and were gradually settling their differences with their confederate neighbors, in which delicate process there was just enough shooting to prevent peace from settling too abruptly among the mountains. in cashiers valley there was scarcely any difference of opinion, and the old postmaster in the cove, who had attended strictly to his duties and never spied on his neighbors, was not molested under the new order of things, or even deprived of his office. on the very evening when the fires were first lighted under the charcoal pit, it happened that two men were driving along a stony road which led into the valley over a spur of little terrapin. all day the rain had been falling steadily, and the team showed unmistakable signs of weariness, the sodden ears of the mule flapping dejectedly outward, and the steer halting to rest on every shelf of the descent, as the light wagon creaked and splashed down the mountain in full view of the wooded face of old whiteside, now relieved boldly against a twilight sky which showed signs of clearing. the two men sat crouched on the wet seat, with a border of sodden bedquilt showing under their rubber coats, their wool hats dripping down their shining backs, and the barrels of their guns pointing to right and left out of the dry embrace in which the locks rested. as they mounted the next ridge, the major was getting a little comfort out of a spluttering pipe, and sandy was looking hopefully between the horns of the steer at the patch of clearing sky. "there's some humans a-outlyin' on old whiteside to-night," said sandy. "i 'lowed them critters had all come in." "what yer talkin' 'bout?" growled the major. "i'm a-sayin'," said the other, "that there's somebody campin' on the mountain. it 'pears to be gone now, but i certainly seen a light up thar." the major only grunted as if the matter were of no consequence, and then both relapse into silence as the creaking wheels jolt over the rocks and grind down the mountain behind the bracing cattle. the form of the steer grows whiter in the gathering darkness. the men are evidently familiar with the country, for presently they turn off the big road into a cart-track, the sides of the wagon brushing against the dripping bushes as they push through the darkness with the fewest possible words. now and then they see a light in the settlement, glimmering damply through the trees, and dancing and disappearing before them, as the wagon lurches and rolls upon the weary animals struggling for a foothold on the shelving rocks. at last they trot out on a sandy level and pass a log barn, where a group of men are playing cards by a fire. a little farther on a low line of lights becomes a row of windows casting a ruddy glow under the dripping trees, and shining out upon the very wood-pile where, according to philip, the man he had named "shifless" was wont to sit and watch the milking. "hello, inside!" cried the major, hailing the house. "is elder long to home?" "well, he ain't fur off," replied a tall woman in a calico sunbonnet and a homespun gown, who came out on the side porch, shading her eyes with her hand. "jest light out o' yer hack an' come in to the fire, an' i'll carry the critters round to the stable." sandy and the major clambered out of the wagon upon the chip dirt, with a polite inquiry after the news, to which the woman, as she seated herself on the bedquilt and gathered up the reins, replied that "the best news she knowed of was that the war was done ended." the travelers walked stiffly into the house, carrying their guns, besides which the major held a cow-skin knapsack by the straps, which he dropped on the floor inside the door. both men said "howdy" as they stalked over to the fireplace, peering from under their hats at the shadowy forms of a number of women sitting in the uncertain light, who answered "howdy" in return; and then, while the men took off their rubber coats, one woman, bolder than the others, stirred the fire and thrust a pine-knot behind the backlog. presently the ruddy flames leaped up in the stone chimney and picked out the brass buttons on two butternut-and-gray uniforms, and revealed the faces of the women, evidently not over-pleased at what they saw. there was an awkward silence in the room for a moment, and then a tall man entered, followed by two others, and then a party of three. each man carried his gun, and each said "howdy," to which the strangers responded; but the conversation showed no signs of being general until the elder came in, unarmed, as became his peaceful calling. his gun and powder-horn, however, were handy in a rack over the door, and as soon as his benevolent face appeared in the firelight the man sandy advanced from the corner behind the chimney and held out his hand. "ye may have disremembered me, elder, in three years' time," said sandy, rather sheepishly. "i hain't forgot ye," said the elder, gravely, stepping back a pace and crossing his hands behind his back. "i hain't forgot ye. been in the confederate army, i reckon,"--at which remark there was a rustle among the elder's friends and a murmur from the women. "jes so," said sandy, not at all disturbed by his cold reception; "an' likewise my friend the major--major mckinney." "sir to you," said the major, with a wave of his hand. "we're a-studyin'," said sandy, "'bout campin' down in this yer valley--" "we're all o' one mind here, sandy marsh," exclaimed. mrs. long, who had come in from the stable. "we're union to a man." "that's what we be in cashiers," snapped one of the neighbors, who was fondling his gun; and then there followed a little movement of boots and rifle-stocks on the floor, which caused the major to get upon his feet with the intention of making an explanation. there was a hostile flash in his eye, however, which elder long observed, and stretching out his long arm, he pointed to the major's chair. "now set down, comrade, do," said the elder, and then, to the others: "these two men are my guests to-night. they'll have the best that the house affords, an' ye'd better be layin' the supper-table, mother. we'll feed them an' their critters, an' welcome, an' when day comes they'll move on. like mother put hit, we're of one way of thinkin' in cashiers. no offense, gentlemen, but hit's plumb certain we shouldn't agree." under the advice of the elder, the men stacked their weapons together, the long rifles with the army guns; and after supper was over the whole party returned to the fire in an amiable and talkative mood, but with a perfect understanding that the two confederates would move on in the morning. this point having been settled, the travelers were listened to with the interest the stranger always receives in remote settlements where new faces and new ideas seldom come; and the men of the valley, who had been sullen and suspicious before they had broken bread, now laughed at the droll adventures of the major and vied with him in story-telling on their own account. the women had mostly been silent listeners up to the time when sandy mentioned the light he had seen on the crest of whiteside mountain, as they came over little terrapin. the major hastened to express a doubt of his companion having seen anything of the kind, which the other as stoutly contended he had seen with his eyes open, and that the light was not lightning or a stray star among the trees, but real fire. "ye needn't waste time studyin' 'bout that light, sandy marsh," said mrs. long, throwing the last stick on the fire, which was only a heap of glowing embers. "'t ain't worth the candle, since everybody in cashiers knows that mountain is harnted." "and has been ever since the little old man died up thar all by hisself," chimed in little miss bennett. "i ain't a great believer in harnts," said the elder, "but if you viewed anything like fire up thar, hit certainly wa'n't built by human hands, for there ain't no possible way for a human to git there." "there's the bridge josiah woodring built," sandy ventured to say. "i crossed over to hit myself once afore the war-time." "hit fell into the gorge of its own weight an' rottenness, more 'n a year back," said the elder, "an' hit's certain that no man has set foot on the top of whiteside since." the fresh stick, which was only a branch, burned up and threw a flickering light on the grave faces about the shadowy room, in the midst of a general silence which was broken by the harsh voice of the mistress of the house. "hit's obleeged to be the harnts, an' comes 'long o' the bones o' the little old man not havin' had christian burial up yonder." "you see," said the elder, "his takin' off wa'n't regular, bein' altogether unbeknownst, otherwise i'd 'a' seen he had gospel service said over him that would 'a' left him layin' easy in his grave." "which hit stands to reason he can't do now," put in mrs. long, "under that heathen inscription they do say is writ on his headstone. if he really wanted to be forgot, he'd better left word with jo-siah to bury him without so much as markin' the place; an' everybody knows that unmarked graves holds uneasy spirits." "accordin' to that doctrine, mis' long," said the major, "whole regiments of harnts 'u'd be marchin' an' counter-marchin' over some battle-fields i know." "'t ain't them that has plenty o' company that gits lonely an' uneasy," replied the woman, very promptly, "but such as lays by themselves on the tops of the mountains or anywheres in the unknown kentry." "old whiteside hain't never brought luck to anybody that owned hit," said a piping voice from a niche behind the fireplace, where granny white sat in her accustomed rocker. the old woman was the mother of the mistress of the house, and an authority far and near on all things supernatural. her white frilled cap was just visible behind the stones of the jamb, and even the strangers listened with respect to what she had to say, in the ghostly silence and in the half-light of the dying embers. "i've lived in the shadder of hit for eighty year, an' ther' ain't many that's been atop o' old whiteside. arter josiah built the bridge, the hooper horned critters lay across the gorge one summer, an' two o' the best cows lost their calves. that must 'a' been in ' . hay, larkin, son--' , wa'n't hit?" "that's true, aunt lucy," said the elder; "an' a great mystery hit was at the time. some suspicioned that the little old man might 'a' killed 'em for meat, but such of us as went up found his cabin empty, an' we could no more find him than if he had been a harnt hisself." this statement was received in silence, which was presently broken by the garrulous voice of the old woman. "woe! woe! unto them that ventures onto the dangerous mountains. the last man knowed to have set foot on whiteside was hiram kitchen, an' let me tell ye the harnts had a hand in burnin' hiram kitchen's cabin on christmas day an' totin' him off along with his prisoners. hit was a plain judgment ag'in' disbelief. hay, larkin, son? you're l'arned in scripture." the elder only gazed at the feathery embers. "wherever the old man o' the mountain is a-layin'," continued granny, "he ain't restin' easy, an' ther' might be a reason for hit, too. he had plenty o' silver--plenty o' silver." her voice sank to a husky whisper. "an' hit's a monstrous lonely place up yonder--somebody might 'a' murdered him. hay, larkin, son? somebody might 'a' done that." the old woman's words had a powerful effect on the simple crowd assembled in the shadowy room. they were prone to superstitious beliefs; and if the two strangers, who had seen more of the world and had fought in real battles, were less impressed than the others, they kept a discreet silence, in which the elder rose to his feet and uttered the evening prayer, not forgetting to ask that they might be guarded from unseen enemies and from invisible dangers. in the morning, after the two confederates had driven away with their mule-and-ox team in search of a more congenial neighborhood, the elder seated himself on the woodpile to smoke his morning pipe and watch the milking. "mother," said he, after a while, when his wife came forward between the well-filled pails, "i don't believe in harnts burnin' houses, but thar must 'a' been some spirit information pre-ju-dicial to hiram kitchen that i never could git through my head. the last thing i did afore i rode off to preach granny taylor's funeral sermon was to go up on the hill yonder an' satisfy myself that everything was quiet around hiram's. i never let on to the postmaster that there was any yankee prisoners around, an' if he knew of hit, he kept hit to hisself. hit certainly looks, mother, as if the spirits had a hand in hit, an' a bad business hit was." "that's hit, larkin, son," said aunt lucy, who leaned on her staff by the fence among the great purple cabbage-heads. "when there's mischief goin' on ye can depend on hit the harnts has a hand in hit. an' hit's a fair mountain, too," she continued, shading her eyes with her hand and gazing up at the wooded mass of whiteside, behind which the sun was rising. "hit's fair to view, an' innocent-appearin', but there's few has set foot on the top o' hit." the mountain, which harbored no spirits other than the guileless souls of the three deluded soldiers, was indeed fair to look upon, towering above its fellows and above the sweet valley of cashiers. a curtain of purple haze softened the rich greens of the forest which clothed the mountain on the valley side, and now, after the rain, white clouds of vapor were beginning to puff out as if huge concealed boilers were generating steam behind the trees. chapter xv the golden mill three years have come and gone since the forge was built, and the three misguided patriots, still loyal to their vow and to the thirty-three stars on their dear old flag, are sitting together in the fair sunlight of a sabbath morning on the steps of the golden mill. tumbler the bear, very shaggy and faded as to his mangy coat, is sleeping comfortably on the dusty path that winds away to the house. coleman's tawny and curly beard and the black hair on bromley's face have grown long and thick, and the down which beforetime was on philip's lip and chin now flares out from his neck and jaws like a weak red flame. philip sits a little apart from the others, with the telescope in its leathern case strapped on his back, and there is a look of sadness in his face and in his wandering, downcast eyes. three years have wrought great changes in the plateau. the harvests have been abundant, and at a little distance from where the men sit purple grapes hang in great clusters from the vines which have been grown from cuttings of that solitary plant which overhung the branch on the july day when they first came down its bank with the captain of the troopers and andy the guide. the building of the mill has been a work of time, and it is not yet a month since bromley emptied the first yellow grist into the flaring hopper. two long years were spent in shaping the upper and the nether stones, and the new mill was rightly called "golden," for five thousand guineas from the mints of george the fourth and good queen vic. were melted in the forge and beaten into straps and bolts and rings and bands for the wooden machinery. gold glistens in the joints of the dripping-wheel, and gleams in the darkness at the bottom of the hopper, where the half of a priceless cavalry boot-leg distributes the corn between the grinding-stones. the hopper itself is rimmed with gold, and the circular wooden box, rough hewn, that covers the stones is bolted and belted with the metal elsewhere called precious; and from the half-roof of oak shingles to the slab floor, gold without stint enriches and solidifies the structure. it plates the handle and caps the top of the pole that shifts the water on to the wheel, and the half-door which shuts out tumbler the bear swings on golden hinges and shuts with a golden hasp. [illustration: the golden mill.] healthy living and abundance of food have rounded the lusty brown limbs of the three soldiers and charged their veins with good red blood; but alas! in the midst of the abundance of nature and the opulence of the golden mill, by reason of their tattered and scant covering they are pitiful objects to look upon as they sit together in the sunlight. the smart uniforms with yellow facings are gone, and the long cavalry boots, and the jaunty caps with cross-sabers above the flat vizors; and so little remains of their former clothing that they might almost blush in the presence of the bear. lieutenant coleman has some rags of blue flannel hanging about his broad shoulders, which flutter in the soft wind where they are not gathered under the waistband of a pair of new and badly made canvas trousers having the letters "u.s." half lost in the clumsy seam of the right leg and a great "a" on the back, which sufficiently indicates that they have been made from the stiff cloth of the tent called "a," and that, if required, they could easily stand alone. such as they are, these trousers, on account of their newness and great durability, seem to be the pride of the colony. they are certainly much smarter than philip's, which are open with rents and patched with rags of various shades of blue, and tied about his legs with strings, and finally hung from his bare, tanned shoulders, under the telescope, by a single strip of canvas. all three of the men have hard, bare feet, and the tunic or gown of faded blue cloth which hangs from bromley's neck shows by its age that the overcoat-capes which were sacrificed to make it were sacrificed long ago. this what-you-may-call-it is girded in at the waist by a coil of young grape-vine covered with tender green leaves, and fringed at bottom with mingled tatters of blue cloth and old yellow lining. and this completes the costume of the dignified corporal who enlisted from harvard in his junior year, except some ends of trousers which hang about his knees like embroidered pantalets. with all their poverty of apparel, the persons of the three soldiers, and their clothing as far as practicable, are sweet and clean, which shows that at least two of them have lost none of that pride which prompted them to stay on the mountain, and which still keeps up their courage in the autumn of the good year ' . and now let us see what it is that ails philip. many entries in the diary for the fifth summer on the mountain, which is just over, indicate that the conduct of philip was shrouded in an atmosphere of mystery which his companions vainly tried to penetrate. so early as march , , we find it recorded: "philip spends all his unemployed time in observations with the telescope." in the following april and may, entries touching on this subject are most frequent, and lieutenant coleman and george bromley have many conversations about welton's peculiar conduct, and record many evidences of a state of mind which causes them much annoyance and some amusement. "may . requested philip to remove one of the bee gums to the new bench. instead of complying with my request, he plugged the holes with grass, removed the stone and board from the top, and emptied a wooden bowl of lye into the hive, destroying both swarm and honey. after this act of vandalism he entered the house, took down the telescope, and, slinging it over his shoulder, walked away in the direction of the point of rocks, whistling a merry tune as he went." at another time he was asked to set the slow-john in motion to crack a mess of hominy, and instead of spreading the corn on the rock he covered that receptacle with a layer of eggs, and hung the bucket on the long arm of the lever. such evidences of a profound absence of mind were constantly occurring; and if they were not indications of his desire to return to the world, his secret observations with the telescope made it plain enough that he was absorbed in events outside the borders of sherman territory. if questioned, he assigned all sorts of imaginary reasons for his conduct, and at the same time he held himself more and more aloof from his companions, to wander about the plateau alone. during the previous winter, philip had reported that one of the four young girls removed by the confederates at the time of the capture of the officers had reappeared in the vicinity of the burned house. this fact was soon forgotten by coleman and bromley, who were working like beavers, pecking the stones for the mill; but to philip it was an event of absorbing interest. where were the others? what sufferings and what indignities had the returned wanderer endured in her long absence, and what hardships and dangers had not she braved to reach her native valley again? gentle as philip's nature was, he possessed in a marked degree the power to love and the hunger to be loved in return. occasionally a man in a dungeon or on a desert island, or in the shadow of a scaffold, has devoted himself to a one-sided passion in circumstances as baffling as those that hedged in philip. the sight of this lonely girl wandering back to the blackened ruin in the deserted clearing furnished the dolorous lady his knightly fancy craved. a speck in the distance, he drew her to his arms in the magic lens, and consoled her with such words of sympathy and endearment as his fancy prompted. in short, he had the old disease that makes a princess out of a poor girl in cow-skin shoes and a homespun frock, and had it all the worse that she kept her distance, as this one did. in the long days when storms interrupted his observations, or fog hung over the valley, he wrote tender letters to his princess on prepared leaves of his prayer-book, in which the grave responses of the litany ran in faint lines, like a water-mark, under the burning words on the paper. he watched jones and the kindly neighbors (not including shifless) clearing away the wreckage and rebuilding the smith house between the sturdy stone chimneys. the new cabin was divided by an open covered passage, through which philip could look with the glass to the sunlit field beyond, and watch the princess smith entering either of the doors opposite to each other in the sides of the passage. this love of philip's had sprung into being full fledged, without any stage of infant growth like an ordinary passion. besides its unsuspecting object, it was ample enough to take under its wings her wandering kinsfolk, dead or alive, and included the cow with the soundless bell which came to be milked in the evening by the hands of the princess herself, and then to crop the grass and lie in the dust of the road until morning. from the time when she waved him a banner of smoke at sunrise until the firelight reddened on the cabin window, philip came to linger almost constantly on the rocks, to the neglect of his share in the labors of the little community. when planting-time came, and hands were in demand to spade up the soil, his companions for the first time secured and hid away the telescope. for a day--for two days--philip was uneasy, going and coming by himself, doing no work, speaking to no one, scarcely partaking of food. at last the suspense and disappointment became unendurable, and going to lieutenant coleman, resting from his work in the shade of a spreading chestnut, he threw himself at his feet and begged for the return of the telescope, revealing for the first time the nature of his infatuation. his lips once opened, poor philip ran on in a rhapsody so fantastic and incoherent that the diseased state of his mind was at the same time made apparent. in the diary for july , lieutenant coleman writes: "an unspeakable calamity has fallen on the dwellers in sherman territory. reason has been blotted out in the mind of our companion philip, and now we are but two in the company of an amiable madman." in view of philip's malady lieutenant coleman felt it wise to humor him with the telescope, and to try the effect of more active sympathy by joining him in his observations. after an eager examination of the clearing in the valley, "gone! gone!" he cried in a voice of despair. "you have driven away my princess! you hate her--you and the other one! you hate me! i'm not wise enough for your company--you and the other one. give me back my princess--give me back--" taking the glass from his trembling hand, coleman leveled it on the house in the clearing; and, happily, there stood the woman, midway of the passage, and on the point of advancing into the light. "take her back, dear philip," he said, returning him the telescope. "we will never steal her again--i and the other one. see, there she is!" with a quick movement philip looked, and without a spoken word he fell a-laughing and crooning in his delight, in a way so unnatural and so uncanny that it was sadder to see than his excitement. the only chance of reclaiming philip seemed to be in the direction of feigning sympathy with and interest in his delusion, trusting to time, in the absence of opposition, to bring him back to reason. never after this exhibition of petulance on the rocks with lieutenant coleman did he show the slightest tendency to violence. when he came in on that particular evening, the lieutenant took his hand, and in a few friendly words told him how glad he was that all was well and that the lost was found, and ordered the flag run up in honor of the occasion. philip looked in a dazed way at the flag, showing that that emblem had lost its old power to stir him with enthusiasm. all that summer, when his expert advice was sorely needed, poor infatuated philip took no more interest in the construction of the golden mill than he took in the spots on the moon. he was as ignorant of the affairs of sherman territory as the princess smith, that plain, ignorant working-girl in the valley, was of his existence. so week after week, and month after month, through the long summer and into the sad autumn days, his companions kept a melancholy watch on philip, who wandered to and fro on the mountain, with the telescope in its leathern case strapped over his bare shoulders, as we saw him first in the shadow of the golden mill. scantily as the three soldiers were clad at that time, they still had their long blue overcoats to protect them from the cold of winter, and broken shoes to cover their feet; and so in the short december days poor philip, grown nervous and haggard with want of sleep, strapped the telescope outside his coat, and wandered about the point of rocks. the morning of january , as it dawned on the three forgotten soldiers,--if it may be said to have dawned at all,--cast a singular light on the mountain-top. it had come on to thaw, and the time of the winter avalanches was at hand. the sky overhead was of a colorless density which was no longer a dome; and it seemed to philip, as he stood on the rocks, as if he could stretch out his hand and touch it. somewhere in its depth the sun was blotted out. ragged clouds settled below the mountain-top, and then, borne on an imperceptible wind, a sea of fog swallowed up the clouds and blotted out the valley and the ranges beyond, even as it had blotted out the sun, leaving sherman territory an island drifting through space. philip closed the telescope with a moan, and replaced it in its leathern case. even the trees on the island, and the rocks heaped in ledges, grew gray and indistinct, and presently the thick mist resolved itself into a vertical rain falling gently on the melting snow. the strokes of an ax in the direction of the house had a muffled sound, like an automatic buoy far out at sea. philip turned with another sigh, and took the familiar path in the direction of the ax, groping his way in the mist as a mountaineer feels the trail in the night with his feet. the sound of the chopping ceases, and a great stillness broods on the mountain. evidently the chopper has sought shelter from the rain. brown leaves begin to show where the snow has disappeared on the path, so familiar to the feet of the wanderer that no sound should be needed to toll him home. but to-day, while his feet are on the mountain-top, his aching heart is in the valley. she has gone forever from the arms of the lover she never saw. he sees before him the wedding of yesterday, and in his gentleness he is incapable of hating even his successful rival. he is capable only of grief. bitter tears fall on his breast and on his clasped hands. a great aching is in his throat, and a dimness in his suffused eyes. he throws his arms out and presses his temples with his clenched hands, and mutters with a choking sound, as he walks. he does not know that the rain is falling on his upturned face. he turns to go back. he changes his mind and advances. he is no longer in the path. he has no thought of where he goes. the blades of dead grass, and the dry seeds and fragments of leaves, cling thick upon the sodden surface of his tattered boots. he strides on absently over the ground, parting the fog and cooling his feverish face in the rain; and every step leads him nearer to the boulder face of the mountain where the great avalanches are getting ready to fall a thousand feet into the cove below. the events of yesterday go before him. he sees the procession come out of the church house, the women in one group and the men following in another, and he and she going hand in hand in the advance. he feels the sunshine of yesterday on his head and the misery in his heart. then it is night, and he sees the lights of the frolic at the cabin in the clearing. he is no longer the cheerful, happy philip of other years, but a weakened, distracted shadow of that other philip staggering on through the rain. he has forgotten his soldier comrades and the meaning of his life on the mountain. he has forgotten even his patriotism and the existence of the flag with thirty-three stars. sherman territory is receding under his feet, and the grief that he has created for himself so industriously and nursed so patiently is leading him on. a blotch of shadows to the right assumes the ghostly form of spreading trees, the naked branches blending softly in the blanket of the fog. the gnarled chestnuts, that looked like berry-bushes while they waited at the deserted cabin on that first night for the moon to go down, give no voice of warning, and philip comes steadily on, with the telescope strapped to his back and the load in his heart. under his heedless feet the dead weeds and the sodden leaves give way to the slippery rock. [illustration: philip on the edge of the precipice.] for a moment the slender figure crossed by the telescope is massed against the mist overhanging the cove. then there is a despairing cry and a futile clutching at the cruel ledge, and, in the silence that follows, the vertical rain, out of the blanket of the fog, goes on shivering its tiny lances on the slippery rocks. chapter xvi which shows that a mishap is not always a misfortune it was still early in the day when philip fell over the boulder face of the mountain; and when the chopping which he had heard through the fog ceased at the house, bromley had indeed gone in, but not for shelter from the rain. he had gone to warn lieutenant coleman of the absence of their half-demented comrade and of the peril he ran in wandering about on the mountain in the fog. they felt so sure of finding him near the point of rocks that they went together in that direction; but before they started philip had wandered from the path, and by the time they reached the rocks he had put the house behind him and was walking in the direction of the cove. finding no trace of him there, and seeing the dense mist which covered the valley and made observation impossible, they separated and went off in opposite ways, calling him by name, "philip! philip!" and as they got farther and farther from each other, "philip! philip!" came back to each faintly through the fog and the rain. they made their way to such points as he might have found shelter under, but their calls brought no response. they knew that in his peculiar state of mind he might hear their voices and make no reply, and in this was at last their only hope of his safety as they continued their search. at twelve o'clock a wind set in from the east, redoubling the rain, but rapidly dispelling the fog. in an hour every place where he could possibly have concealed himself had been searched, and with one mind they came back to the point of rocks. they lay out on the wet ledge and looked over with fear and trembling, half expecting to see his mangled body below. they could see clearly to the foot of the precipice, and there was nothing there but the smooth, trackless snow; and then when they drew back they looked in each other's faces and knew for the first time how much they loved philip and how much each was to the other. they were almost certain now that he had fallen over one face of the mountain or the other. yesterday they could have followed his track in the thin snow, but now the rain, which was still falling heavily, had obliterated one after melting what remained of the other. they went together down the ladders, and for its whole length along the base of that ledge. when they returned to the plateau, lieutenant coleman and bromley were tired, and soaked with the rain, and crushed with the awful certainty that philip had fallen over the great rock face into the cove. they could neither eat nor sleep as long as there was a possibility of discovering any clue to his fate; and so in time they came to the slippery rock in front of the station, where the heel of his boot or the sharp edge of the telescope had made a scratch on the stone that the rain was powerless to wash out. it was no use to call his name after that dreadful plunge, the very thought of which tied their tongues to that extent that the two men stood in silence over their discovery; and when they could learn no more they came away hand in hand, without uttering a word. this was indeed the point where philip had gone over the great rock; but by a strange good fortune his body had plunged into a mass of rotten snow fifty feet from the brink of the precipice. it was the snow of the avalanche making ready to fall; and through this first bank his body broke its way, falling from point to point for another fifty feet, until he lay unconscious over the roots of the great icicles which hung free from the rounded ledge below him, dripping their substance nine hundred feet into the cove. when he came to himself, chilled and sore after his great fall, the moon was shining softly on the snow about him and sparkling on the ice below. he had no recollection of his fall, and but the vaguest remembrance of what had gone before. it was rather as if he had dreamed that he had fallen upon the avalanche, and when he had first opened his eyes upon the snow about him and above him, he tried to reason with himself that no dream could be so real. he remembered vaguely the autumn days by the golden mill, and he knew that it was not winter at all; and yet this was real snow in which he lay bruised and helpless. he realized that he was almost frozen, and his clothing, that had been wet, was now stiffening on his limbs. the great shock had restored his shattered mind, leaving a wide blank, it is true, to be filled in for the best part of the year that was past. he was himself, again now, but where it was not at first so clear. there was nothing to be seen above beyond the snow which hung over him; but when he turned his sore body so as to look away from the mountain-side, his eyes rested on the long white roof of the cove post-office, as he had seen it often before from the top of the plateau. philip knew now that he was in the very heart of the avalanche. he lay on the very brink of the ice which might fall with the heat of another day's sun. at first he began to cry out for help; but his voice was such a small thing in the mass of snow against the great rock. and then he thought of the people from the hills who would come at noon of the next day to watch by the post-office to see him fall--him, philip welton! and then he thought of coleman and bromley, who must have given him up for dead; and even of his uncle at the old mill, with more of desire than he had ever felt for him before. he tried to drag himself a little from the icy brink; but his legs and arms were numb and stiffened with the cold. he began to clap his nerveless hands and stimulate the circulation of his blood by such movements as he could make. he had an instinctive feeling that the avalanche had been trembling yesterday where it clung to the great, black, vertical stain on the face of the boulder just below the trees that looked like berry-bushes from the road in the cove. he knew that it would not fall during the night. he had no recollection of the rain. he knew that more heat of the sun was yet required to loosen it for the great plunge. it was freezing now, and every hour added solidity to the surface of the snow; and yet as he gained the power he feared to move, as the workman distrusts the strong scaffold about the tall steeple because of its great height from the ground. above him, ten feet away, he could see the hole in the snow through which he knew he must have fallen; and as he thought of the fearful shoot his body would have made, clearing even the great ledge of icicles, if the surface of that bank had not been rotted by some cause, his limbs were almost paralyzed with terror. the thought helped to stir the sluggish blood in his veins, and he shrank, rather than moved, a little from the awful brink where he lay. gradually he rose to his feet and looked about him. the cove post-office, showing its white roof through the naked trees that looked like berry-bushes in their turn, far, far below him, fascinated him until he felt a mad impulse to leap over the icicles to oblivion. instead of yielding to this impulse, however, he covered his eyes with his hands until he found strength to turn his back on the tiny object that terrified him. if he cried out, his voice, against the rock for a sounding-board, might awaken the sleeping postmaster before his comrades on the plateau. even in that case no help could reach him from below across the bridgeless gorge; and even if his comrades were above him on the rocks, they could do nothing for him. [illustration: "philip could see the hole in the snow through which he knew he must have fallen."] should he wait there to meet certain death in the avalanche to-morrow or the nest day? he thought of the cool courage of bromley, and wondered what he would do if he were there in his place. as long as there was a foothold to be gained, he knew bromley would climb higher, if it were only to fall the farther, and he felt a thrill of pride in the dauntless nerve of his comrade. this thought prompted him to do something for himself, and he began by whipping his arms around his body, keeping his back resolutely on the small post-office, and trying to forget its dizzy distance below him. as he grew warmer and stronger, he felt more courage. it was impossible to reach the hole in the snow through which he had come, for the broken sides separated in the wrong way from the perpendicular. he was not a fly to crawl on a ceiling. a few yards to his right, as he stood facing the mountain, the bank through which his body had broken its way made a smooth curve to the ledge where the icicles began. as he looked at the great polished surface of the snow, the thought came to him that nothing in all the world but the soft moonlight could cling there. hopeless as the passage by the bank was, he could reach it; and the feeling that it led away to the region above prompted him to pick his way along the narrow ledge until he could touch with his hand the smooth surface of the bank. he could only touch it with his hand, for the edge curved over his head as he stood alongside it. he felt that the bank was hard; he was unable to break its crust with his hand; and he knew that every moment it was growing harder. his strong knife was in his pocket. he drew out this and opened it with his stiff fingers. then he began to cut his way under the bank. beyond the first surface the snow yielded readily to his efforts; and as it fell under his feet he made his way diagonally upward until at the end of half an hour, as it seemed to him, he broke the crust of the great bank and pushed his head through into the fair moonlight. he looked up at the glaring steep above him, and it was beyond his power not to take one look back at the tiny post-office below him. if he had not been safely wedged in the bank, it would have been his last look in life. as it was, he shrank trembling into the snow, and for a whole minute he never moved a muscle. fortunately for his shattered nerves, it was not necessary to go out upon the surface of the bank, which was considerably less than perpendicular. he had only to cut away the crust with his knife, and so gradually work his way upward in a soft trench, leaving only his head and shoulders above the crust. philip felt a strange exultation in this new power to advance upward, and all his sturdy strength came to his aid in his extremity. he felt no disposition to look back at the trail he knew he was leaving in the snow. he was certain now of gaining the top of the bank, but what lay beyond he knew not. half the distance he had fallen would still be above him. he was almost up now; but at the very top of the bank there was another curl of the snow, and once more he had to burrow under like a mole. when philip's head did appear again on the surface, it was not so light as before, and with his first glance around he saw that the moon was already sinking below the opposite ridge. he was almost within reach of another hole to his left; and by its appearance, and by the distance he had come, he knew it was not the same which he had seen from below, and alongside it the last rays of the moon glinted on the brass barrel of the telescope attached to its broken strap. how it had come there he had no idea, any more than he had how he had come to be lying on the ledge above the icicles where he had found himself a few hours before. it was the old familiar telescope of the station, through which the three soldiers had looked at the prisoners and at old shifless in the valley, and it made him glad as if he had met an old friend. he stretched out his hand to draw it to him. instead of securing it, his clumsy fingers rolled it from him on the smooth snow, and as he looked at it the telescope turned on end and disappeared through the hole in the bank. in the awful stillness on the side of the mountain, he heard it strike twice. it was nothing to philip now whether it fell in advance or waited to go down with the avalanche. and just as this thought had passed through his mind, and as he turned his eyes to the side of the cliff above him, the far-away sound of metal striking on stone broke sharply on his ear, and he knew that the telescope had been smashed to atoms on the rocks in the cove bottom. from where he crouched now on the snow he could see the edge of the plateau above him, and as near as he could judge it was rather less than fifty feet away. the smooth rock was cased in thin ice--so thin that he believed he could see the black storm-stain underneath. it was growing dark now, and after all his toil and hope he had only gained a little higher seat on the back of the avalanche. he saw with half a glance that it would be impossible to climb higher. he heard the wind whistle through the branches of the dwarfed old chestnut-trees over his head; and as the cold was so still about him, he knew that it was an east wind. he could go nearer to the ledge, but he could gain no foothold on the rock. in the midst of his cruel disappointment and his awful dread of the sun which would come to melt the snow next day, he felt a greater terror than he had felt when he had first found himself down below. his companions might have gone mad and thrown him over the rock. it was all a dark mystery to poor philip. he could barely see about him now. even the sun would be better than this darkness. it might be cold to-morrow. at any rate, it would be afternoon before the sun, however warm, could get in its deadly work on the avalanche. it never occurred to him that he was nearly famished, and he must have slept some where he sat in the snow, for he dreamed that the people were gathered at the post-office to see him fall, and a crash like the roar of battle brought him to his senses with a start. the next time he awoke, the bright sun was indeed shining, and he was stiff with the cold, as he had found himself at first. he was hungry, too, as he had never been hungry before, and the fear of starvation seemed more dreadful to him than the dread of the avalanche. as he lay there in his weakened state, his ears were alert for the faintest sound. he thought he heard a movement on the ledge above him, and then he heard voices clear and distinct. they were the voices of coleman and bromley. "poor philip!" he heard them say. at first he was unable to speak in his excitement, and then he raised his voice with all the strength of his lungs, and cried, "help! help!" "is that you, philip?" "yes, george! yes! help!" by questioning him they learned what his situation was, and the distance he lay from the top of the ledge; for they could gain no position where they could see him. they bade him keep up his courage until they came again. it was indeed a long time before he heard their voices again speaking to him, and then down over the icy rock came a knotted rope made of strips of the canvas that remained of the "a" tent. at the end of the life-line, as it dangled nearer and nearer, were two strong loops like a breeches-buoy. philip felt strong again when he had the line in his hand, and thrusting his legs through the loops, he called out to hoist away. as he went up, up, he clung fast with his hands to the strip of canvas; but he was too weak to keep himself away from the rock with his feet, so he bumped against it until he was drawn over the surface of the same stone he had slipped on the morning before. he saw the kind faces of his two comrades, and then he sank unconscious on the firm earth at their feet. chapter xvii how the postmaster saw a ghost on the day when philip fell into the avalanche, although it was likely to break away from the face of the mountain at any moment and come thundering down on the rocks below, not a single person came to the office to watch with the postmaster, who went outside from time to time and gazed up into the mist, and then, with a sigh of relief, returned to his arm-chair before the fireplace. in better weather he would have had plenty of gossiping company, for avalanche day was quite the liveliest day in his calendar. despite the rain which kept pattering on the low roof, he hoped that the snow and ice would hold fast to the rock until the sun came again; but nevertheless his old ears were constantly on the alert for the crash which he feared. on many a january day, in the years that were past, he had occupied his favorite chair in the warm sun against the east wall of the office, surrounded by his neighbors, watching the glittering mass, and noting the small fragments of ice which broke away from time to time before the final crash. he had heard nothing yet, and as the gloomy afternoon wore on he began to be almost certain that he was not to lose his holiday, after all. the postmaster, though living so much alone, had a way of talking to himself, and on this occasion he was more talkative than ever, because of the uneasiness he felt. "hit's a quare thing," he said, getting up and kicking the logs into a blaze, and then sitting down again in his sheepskin-cushioned chair. "hit's plumb quare." by way of making these solitary talks more sociable, the old man had developed a clever habit of talking in dialogue, imagining himself for the time in the company of some congenial spirit, for whom he spoke as well as for himself. on this particular occasion his imaginary companion was a mountain woman for whom he had felt a sentimental regard years before, but to whom he had never told his love. "_what's quare, 'manuel_? why, look here, 'liz'beth; i've sorted the mail here more 'n thirty year, watchin' the avalanches fall off yonder mounting, an' in all that time i've never set my foot onto the top of hit. _most of us on this side hain't, 'manuel; an' since the bridge rotted away an' tumbled into the gorge, there ain't no way o' gittin' thar_. 'liz'beth, i'm nat'rally a venturesome man, though i never showed it to you, 'liz'beth, when i ought to. that's what ye didn't. i'm a venturesome man; an' this here is what i've made up my mind to, 'liz'beth hough. i'm detarmined to see the top o' that mounting afore i'm a year older; an' i've set the time, 'liz'beth--nothin' personal in that, but meanin' that when the dogwood blossoms in the spring i'm goin' to find some way to git up thar. _how'll ye do hit, 'manuel_? hit's likely i'll fall a tree across the gorge. _don't do hit, 'manuel_. why not?" the postmaster looked wise, and put out his hand as if he were playfully touching his imaginary companion under the chin. "why not, 'liz'beth? _because folks do say that the old man that lived up thar was murdered, an' that his spirit has took the form of a harnt, an' brings bad luck to such as goes up thar to disturb him._" the postmaster rose and kicked the fire impatiently. "bah! i'm a bold man, 'liz'beth, past occasions notwithstandin'. i'm sot an' detarmined to do hit when the dogwood-trees blossom out, an' i'm 'lowin' you'll come an' tend the office, 'liz'beth, while i'm gone." the postmaster stood with his back to the fire, looking down over his left shoulder to where the imaginary form of elizabeth sat. "you'll come an' spell me, will ye, 'liz'beth? you allus was a 'commodatin' woman. no, there ain't nothin' for ye to-day--not so much as a paper. don't be in a hurry. this here idee of explorin' that mounting has took a powerful hold on me, sure. nothin' that you can say will prevent me from so doin'. well, if you must go, 'liz'beth, i s'pose hit's high time i was gittin' my supper. after i wash the dishes, i 'low to walk across to the big road an' see if there's any tracks. good-by, 'liz'beth. _good-by, 'manuel._" the postmaster was silent while he raked out a bed of coals and set the three-legged iron skillet over the very hottest place. then he mixed some indian meal with milk and a pinch of salt, and having patted it down in the skillet, he put on the cover, and filled the rim with more coals and some burning embers. after he had buried a potato in the ashes, and set the coffee down to warm over, he broke out again: "i couldn't 'a' been mistaken about there bein' nothin' for 'liz'beth. i sort o' spoke at random, knowin' that the last letter she got was in ' , month o' may." then he stepped back so as to look through the letter-boxes, which were before the south window. "there's nothin' in h except a linch-pin, an' i 'low that oughter be in l--no, that's for riley hooper. hello! hit's clearin'. there'll be a moon to-night, an' nothin' 's goin' to drap afore to-morrow." after he had eaten, and put away the supper-things, the postmaster took down his rifle from the rack over the door, and stepped out into the clearing. the sky was not yet free from rolling clouds, which were drifting into the east across the face of the great full moon that hung directly over the mountain. stretching away to the seamed rock where the avalanche hung was a wide old field, broken by rocks and bristling with girdled trees, whose dead limbs wriggled upward and outward like the hundred hands of briareus. the postmaster kept to the foot-worn trail, shuffling over the wet leaves, and glancing up now and then at the granite front of old whiteside with great satisfaction, not only because the avalanche was safe for the night, but because he loved to think that whatever secrets the mountain held would be his when the dogwood-blossoms came in the spring. he went as far as the big road, and finding plenty of fresh tracks, he kept on in the direction of cashiers until he came to a cabin where the bright warm light glowed through the chinks between the logs and through the cracks about the chimney as if the place were on fire. by the merry laughter he heard and the scraping of a violin he knew that a frolic was going on, and he chuckled to think that he had in his pocket a certain letter which would be a convenient excuse for dropping in on the revelers. the postmaster must have been welcome in his own social person over and above the favor of the letter he brought, for it was hard upon twelve o'clock when he came out and took his way homeward, feeling jollier than he had felt for many a day, and carrying a cake in a paper parcel under his arm for the coming festivities at the office. "who'd 'a' thought," he said, turning to look back at the lighted cabin, where the revelry was at its height, "that i'd 'a' been dancin' a figger this night on the puncheons with 'liz'beth hough? hit sort o' took all the boldness out o' me when she come over an' asted me. i don't 'low any other human could 'a' cowed me that-a-way. i'm a bold man under ordinary conditions prevailin' an' takin' place. i ain't easy to skeer," he continued as he resumed his walk, "leastways where men is concarned." it was cold now, and still, and the wrinkled mud on the road was curdled with frost. the moon was well over to the west range. the last cloud had disappeared, and the stars were like jewels in the sky through the bare limbs of the trees. he was in such a rare state of exhilaration that he was more talkative than ever, and kept up a running conversation with first one neighbor and then another, until his cheerful dialogue, which had brought him to the border of his own field and in sight of the office, was rudely interrupted by the "too-hoot" of an owl somewhere among the girdled trees. "shet up," said the postmaster, carefully laying the cake down on the leaves, and cocking his rifle. "good night, riley. linch-pin's come; twelve cents postage stamped on the tag. _good night, 'manuel_. i must tend to this sassy critter, interruptin' of his betters. where be ye, anyway? know enough to hold yer tongue, don't ye'? i'll let ye know i'm a bold man, leastways--" and with that he fired his gun at random. in the windless night the sharp report seemed to strike against the granite mountain and be thrown back like a ball of sound, to go bounding across the cove, rolling into the distance. the postmaster reloaded his gun and eased the lock down upon a fresh cap before he took up the cake, muttering at the owl, and then chuckling to think that he had silenced his rival. he turned out of the trail to a little knoll which commanded a clear view of the granite mountain, streaked down with black storm-stains that looked like huge banners fluttering out from the shining mass of snow and ice clinging to the crest. the postmaster gazed upward for some minutes, and then moved on in silence toward the office, under the girdled trees. the avalanche was uppermost in his mind, however, and before he had gone far he stopped on another place of vantage to take a last fond look. "freezin' tighter an' tighter every blessed minute," he began. "when the dogwood-trees blossom in the spring-time, old rock, i'll let ye know i'm a bold--" he never finished the sentence. the cake and the rifle fell to the ground, and the postmaster's jaw dropped on its hinges. cold chills ran up his back and blew like a wind through his hair, while the blood seemed to throb in his ears. he was powerless to speak. he could only gaze with his bulging eyes at the small figure which rose slowly from the roots of the great icicles and then stood motionless and black against the snow. it looked to be a figure, so small and far away in the uncertain moonlight, and yet it stood where no living man could possibly be. his first conviction was that he saw the spirit of the old man of the mountain, who, for one reason or another, was believed to rest uneasily in his grave; and when the small object began to thresh the air with its arms like the wings of a windmill, he had no further doubt that it was the dreadful "harnt" of whom 'liz'beth had warned him. with a howl he turned and fled over the field in the direction of the office, and as he ran the owl resumed its dismal note--"too-hoo, too-hoot." as many times as he fell down he clambered upon his feet again, and ran on, never daring to look back at the "harnt" waving its ghostly arms above the roots of the great icicles. he thought his time had come, for he had heard that men never lived who had once seen the dead; and all the time, as he ran, the mocking cry of the owl resounded through the woods. the postmaster was staggering and breathless when he reached his door, and once inside, he shoved the wooden bolt, and leaned against the table in the center of the room. only a few glimmering coals lighted the ashes between the iron fire-dogs. just enough moonlight struggled through the grimy south window to show the glazed boxes, holding a paper here and an uncalled-for letter there, while the unused places were stuffed with bunches of twine, and heaps of nails, and strings of onions, and quite the dustiest litter of odds and ends filled the compartments x, y, and z. as the old man raised his eyes and glared around the shadowy walls, there was something which caught a fleck of moonlight high up on the chimney, but that was only the perforated cross of the churn-dasher thrust between the logs. in the north window, over opposite to the letter-boxes, his eyes fell on a wide-mouthed bottle, from whose top two dead stalks of geraniums drooped over to the shoulders of the bottle, and then spread out to right and left against the glass. with a shiver of fear, he supported himself over to his arm-chair, and sank down with his back to the object, which reminded him of the "harnt" flinging its arms against the snow on the mountain. the postmaster had not yet found his voice. perhaps he feared to break the death-like stillness of the room, heavy with the sooty odor of the fireplace. for some moments he heard nothing but his own heavy breathing, and then a dull clatter, like some hard object striking on wood, came from behind the house. instead of being startled at hearing this noise, the postmaster got upon his feet, and shuffled across the floor and out through a creaking door into a lean-to, where the moonlight poured through the loose log wall and lay in spots and stripes on the old brindle plow-steer, which was still grinding his crumpled horns against the wooden rack above his manger. "i've seen hit, buck! i've seen hit. the harnt!--the harnt!" the postmaster's voice had come at last, and as he spoke he leaned on the shoulders of the ox, whose cold wet nose sought his groping hand. "i hain't got long to stay. i've seen what 't ain't good to see, an' live. i hope ye'll git a good master when i'm gone, buck. tell 'liz'beth that i died a-blessin' of her name, with all the boldness took clean out of me. cut off in my sins," he moaned, throwing his arms about the neck of the ox, "for seein' a harnt unbeknownst, an' hit strikin' out desperit at jo-siah, or whoever did the murder, an' not keerin' for the avalanche no more 'n you keer for a hickory gad. whoa, buck, whoa," and as he spoke he patted the animal on the neck. "i'm a-goin' to stay 'long o' you, buck, this whole endurin' night. i'm afeard to go back into the office." the postmaster trembled where he stood, and a ray of moonlight, coming through a knot-hole in the slab roof, fell full on his ashen face and glaring eyes. he spoke no more for a time, except an occasional caressing word to soothe the uneasy ox, which sidled about and grated his horns against the wooden stanchions. then, when he grew weary in that position, he climbed over into the long manger and crouched down on the corn-shucks, where he could see the mild eyes of the ox, and the spots and stripes of moonlight on his tough hide. gradually he grew calmer, and tried to put the gruesome sight he had seen out of his mind. "i never knowed before ye was sech good company, buck. you've got eyes like a woman, an' a heap more patience. i'll never strike ye another blow, an' if i live to see to-morrow i'll write ye a letter, an' put hit in b box, expressin' my brotherly feelin's in language more fitter than i'm able to do now." the postmaster continued to mutter caressingly to his dumb companion, until the bars and spots of moonlight began to fade, leaving the ox in obscurity, which was the time when philip reached the upper bank and sank down on the snow, after hearing the telescope strike on the rocks in the cove; and both men must have fallen asleep at about the same time. it was mid-forenoon when the postmaster awoke, and a man was standing over him, shaking his shoulder. the man was coming home from, the frolic at the cabin, and finding the front door bolted, had come around to the shed. he had the cake and the gun, which he had found in the field. "what in the name o' sense are ye doin' here at this time o' day, 'manuel? come outen that manger." the postmaster obeyed in a dazed sort of way, and when he was on his feet he shook the straws and bits of corn-husks from his clothing, the old brindle ox looking at the two men with his mild eyes from his place in the corner. "what made ye drap these things out in the field, 'manuel?" said the man. "come into the office, jonas," said the postmaster, leading the way; and then he told the other of the fearful sight he had seen. the sun was warm after the rain, and soon others began to come,--men and women,--and he told his story again and again, to the awe and amazement of his simple listeners. "i seen a quare streak down the long bank, as i came through the woods," said one man; "i did sure." and then they all went out into the field where the gun and the cake had been found. sure enough, there was a dull line plainly to be seen on the smooth crust of the snow. they all agreed that this was the track of the "harnt," who had amused himself in the night-time by climbing up and sliding down on the face of the avalanche. the story spread through the settlements, and no man was bold enough thereafter to think of bridging the gorge to get upon the haunted mountain. chapter xviii knowledge prom above when philip awoke, after having swooned at the feet of his comrades when his rescue was accomplished, he lay in the delicious warmth of his bunk. the late afternoon sun streamed in at the window over his head, and coleman sat watching at his side. bromley was stirring the fire, which was burning briskly on the hearth, and the smell of gruel was in the room. the station flags and the crossed sabers brightened the space above the chimneypiece. the map hung on the opposite wall, and over it the old flag with thirty-five stars seemed to have been draped just where it would first catch his waking eye. strangely enough, the immediate cause that awoke philip was a dull boom which made the faces of his comrades turn pale, and which was no less than the fall of the avalanche on which he had passed the night and the best part of the day before. philip, if he heard the sound at all, was not sufficiently awake at the time to understand its awful meaning; and without noticing the pallor of his comrades, he weakly put out his hand, which coleman took in his own with a warm pressure, and bromley came over to the side of the bunk and looked doubtingly into his face. neither of his comrades uttered a word. "give me the gruel," said philip; "i was never so hungry before. and don't look at me so, george; i'm not mad." after he had eaten, he talked so rationally that coleman and bromley shook each other's hands and laughed immoderately at every slightest excuse for merriment, but said not a word of the delusion which had so lately darkened philip's mind. they were so very jolly that philip laughed weakly himself by infection, and then he asked them to tell him how he had fallen over the mountain without knowing it. in reply to this question, coleman told him that he had been sick, and that he must have walked off the great rock in the thick fog. philip was silent for a space, as if trying to digest this strange information, and then with some animation he said: "look here, fred! the funniest part of this whole dark business was when i had climbed up to the top of the great bank. there, alongside a hole in the snow, lay our telescope. when i put out my hand to take it, it rolled away through the opening in the snow; and the lord forgive me, fellows, i heard it ring on the rocks at the bottom of the cove." with this long speech, and without waiting for a reply, philip fell off into a gentle doze. coleman and bromley, having no doubt now that philip's mind was restored, because he seemed to have no recollection of the princess or of his strange behavior on the mountain for the year that was past, were very happy at this change in his condition. as to the telescope, they regarded its fall as a very dangerous matter, and a catastrophe which might bring them some unwelcome visitors. but, then, it was possible that it had fallen among inaccessible rocks, and would never be found at all. if any one should come to disturb them, they might hear of some unpleasant facts of which they would rather remain in ignorance. now that nearly five years had passed since the great war, they thought that whoever came would not exult over them in an unbearable way, or rub insults into their wounds. they knew that some of the mountaineers had been union men; and although they would never seek communication with them, a connection formed against their will might result to their advantage. they had a good supply of the double eagles left. somebody held title to the mountain, they knew; and if the telescope did bring them visitors, they could buy the plateau from the deep gorge up, and pay in gold for it handsomely, too. then they could send down their measures to a tailor and have new uniforms made to the buttons they had saved--that is, if the tailor was not a secessionist too hot-headed to soil his hands with the uniform of the old, mutilated, and disgraced union. then, too, they could buy seeds and books and a great many comforts to make their lives more enjoyable on the mountain. and so it came about that, when month after month passed and nobody came, the three soldiers were rather disappointed. they resolved to save what remained of their minted and milled coins against any unforeseen chance they might have to put them in circulation; and now that they thought of it, it would have been much wiser to have melted the coins of the united states and saved the english guineas. if, however, the world had not changed greatly since they left it, they believed the natives in the valley below would accept good red gold if the face of the old boy himself was stamped on the coin. when philip was quite himself again, by reason of his knowledge of milling he took entire control of the golden mill. in the cold weather his old overcoat was dusty with meal, as a miller's should be; and in the summer days plenty of the yellow dust clung to the hairs on his arms and in his thin red beard. it is a sunday morning in september again, and, to be exact with the date,--for it was a very important one in their history,--it is the fifth day of the month in the year ' . the three soldiers are standing together by the door of the mill, dressed very much as we last saw them there, and engaged in an animated conversation. "an egg," said lieutenant coleman, facing his two comrades, and crossing his hands unconsciously over the great "a" on the back of his canvas trousers, "as an article of food may be considered as the connecting-link between the animal and the vegetable. if we had to kill the hen to get the egg, i should consider it a sin to eat it. what we have to do, and that right briskly, is to eat the eggs to prevent the hens from increasing until they are numerous enough to devour every green thing on the mountain." "i am not so sure of that," said philip, toying with his one dusty suspender; "we could feed the eggs to the bear." "we could, but we won't," said bromley, shaking some crumbs from the front of his gown. "when nature prompts a hen to cackle, do you think we are expected to look the other way? why, philip, you will be going back on honey next because bees make it. we are vegetarians because we no longer think it right to destroy animal life. we not only think it wrong to destroy, but we believe it to be our duty to preserve it wherever we find it. don't we spread corn on the snow in the winter for the coons and squirrels? come, now! we are not vegetarians at all. we are simply unwilling to take life, which leaves us to choose between vegetable diet and starvation. now, then," said bromley, spreading out his bare arms and shrugging his shoulders, "of the two, i choose a vegetable diet; but if i could eat half a broiled chicken without injury to the bird, i'd do it. that's the sort of vegetarian i am." "nonsense!" said philip. "you're a dabster at splitting hairs, you are. it was uphill work making a vegetarian of you, george; but we have got you there at last, and you can't squirm out of it." "give it to him, phil!" cried coleman. "hit him on the salt!" "exactly!" continued philip, taking a swallow of water from a golden cup, and addressing himself to bromley. "when the salt was gone you thought you'd never enjoy another meal, didn't you?--and how is it now? you are honest enough to admit that you never knew what a keen razor-edge taste was before. i'll bet you a quart of double eagles, george, that you get more flavor out of a dish of common--" at that moment a bag of sand came through the branches of the tree which shaded the three soldiers as they talked. there was a dark shadow moving over the sunlit ground, and a rushing sound in the air above. their own conversation, and the noise of the water pouring from the trough over the idle wheel and splashing on the stones, must have prevented their hearing human voices close at hand. rushing out from under the trees, they saw a huge balloon sweeping over their heads. the enormous bag of silk, swaying and pulsating in the meshes of the netting, was a hundred feet above the plateau; but the willow basket, in which two men and one woman were seated, was not more than half that distance from the ground. the surprise, the whistling of the monster through the air, the snapping and rending of the drag-rope with its iron hook, which was tearing up the turf, and which in an instant more scattered the shingles on the roof of their house like chaff, and carried off some of their bedding which was airing there--all these things were so startling, and came upon them so suddenly, that they had but short opportunity to observe the human beings who came so near them. [illustration: "rushing out from under the trees, they saw a huge balloon sweeping over their heads."] brief as the time was, the faces of the three strangers were indelibly impressed upon their memory, and no portion of their dress seen above the rim of the basket escaped their observation. the woman, who appeared to be perfectly calm and self-possessed, kissed her hand with a smile so enchanting, lighting a face which seemed to the soldiers to be a face of such angelic beauty, that they half doubted if she could really belong to the race of earthly women they had once known so intimately. the men were not in like manner attractive to their eyes, but seemed to be of that oily-haired, waxy-mustached, beringed, and professorish variety which suggested to them chiropodists or small theatrical managers. notwithstanding the rushing and creaking of the cordage, the voices of the men in the balloon had that peculiar quality of distinctness that sound has on a lowery morning before a storm. indeed, each voice above them had a vibration of its own which enabled the soldiers to hear all commingled and yet to hear each separately and distinctly. the hurried orders for the management of the balloon were given in subdued tones, and uttered with less excitement than might have been expected in the circumstances, yet the words came to the earth with startling distinctness. when they saw the soldiers, the taller of the men, who wore the larger diamond in his shirt-front, put his hand to his mouth and cried in deafening tones: "'skylark,' from charleston, : yesterday." at the same time the beautiful lady, laying her hand on her breast as if to indicate herself, uttered the words: "new york! new york!" even while they spoke, their voices grew softer as the balloon sped on, the great gas-bag inclined forward by the action of the drag-rope, and its shadow flying beneath it over the surface of the plateau. as soon as the two professors saw the danger which threatened the log house, they began to throw out sand-bags from the car, and the lady clung with both hands to the guy-ropes. it was too late, however, to prevent the contact, and the lurch given to the basket by the momentary hold which the grappling-hook took in the roof of the house threw several objects to the ground, and on its release the balloon rose higher in the air, having a "u.s." blanket streaming back from the end of the drag-rope. the property they were bearing away was seen by the men in the car, and the rope was taken in with all speed; but a fresh breeze having set in from the east, the balloon was swept rapidly along, so that it was well beyond the plateau when the blanket fluttered loose from the hook. the soldiers ran after it with outstretched arms until they came to the edge of the great boulder, where they saw their good woolen blanket again, still drifting downward with funny antics through the air, until it fell noiselessly at the very door of the cove postmaster. the balloon itself was by this time soaring above the mountains beyond the cove, and they kept their eyes on the receding ball until it was only a speck among the clouds and then vanished altogether into the pale blue of the horizon. the soldiers had not seen the objects tumble out of the car when the drag-rope caught in the shingles of their house, and the thoughts of their wrecked roof and lost blanket had the power for the moment to displace even the image of the beautiful lady, whom they could never, never forget. the passage of the balloon had at first dazed and awed, and then charmed and bewildered them, leaving them in a state of trembling excitement impossible for the reader to conceive of. they no longer had the telescope with which to observe the surprise of the cove postmaster when he found the gray blanket with "u.s." in the center; but they had the presence of mind to get behind trees, where they waited until he came out. he looked very small in the distance when he came at last, but they could see that the object was a man. it was evident, from his not having been out before, that he had not seen the balloon pass over. he seemed to stoop down and raise the blanket, and then to drop it and stand erect, and by a tiny flash of light which each of the soldiers saw and knew must be the reflection of the sun on his spectacles, they were sure he was looking at the top of the mountain and thinking of the east wind. there was no help for it; and when he disappeared into the office with their blanket, they chinked the gold in their pockets; for they carried coin with them now, and thought that an opportunity might soon come for them to spend it. as they moved away in the direction of the house, they were sorry that the drag-rope of the balloon had not fastened its hook in the plateau; for they believed they were rich enough to buy the coats off the backs of the two men, and the diamonds in their shirt-fronts if they had cared for them. as the three soldiers neared the house, they began, picking up the sand-bags, stenciled "skylark, ." philip, who was in the advance, had secured three, which he suddenly threw down into the grass with a cry of joy; for at their feet lay a book with an embellished green cover. the three were almost as much excited as they had been when they discovered the contents of the keg which they had dug out of the grave of the old man of the mountain, and instantly had their heads together, believing that they were about to learn something of the condition of the old united states, and even fearing they might read that they no longer existed at all. they were so nervous that they fumbled at the covers and hindered one another; and between them, in their haste, they dropped it on the ground. when they had secured it again and got their six eyes on the title-page, imagine their surprise and disgust when they read, "a treatise on deep-sea fishing"! "bother deep-sea fishing!" exclaimed philip. "hum!" said coleman, "it will work up into paper for the diary." bromley said nothing, but looked more disgusted than either of his comrades, and gave the book, which they had dropped again, a kick with his foot. their disappointment was somewhat relieved presently, for in the chips by the door of the house they found a small hand-bag of alligator leather marked with three silver letters, "e.q.r." the key was attached to the lock by a ribbon; and as soon as the bag could be opened, coleman seized upon another small book which was called "the luck of roaring camp." the author was one francis bret harte, of whom they had never heard before. the book was a new one, for it bore " " on the title-page, and the leaves were uncut except at a particular story entitled "miggles." besides this book the bag contained numerous little trinkets, among which the most useful article was a pair of scissors. they found three dainty linen handkerchiefs with monograms, a cut-glass vinaigrette containing salts of ammonia, a rag of chamois-skin dusty with a white powder, a tooth-brush, and a box of the tooth-powder aforesaid, a brush and comb, a box of bonbons, a pair of tan-colored gloves, a button-hook, and an opened letter addressed to elizabeth q. rose, no. west th street, new york city. the letter bore the postmark, "liverpool, august ," and was stamped at the new york office, "august , p.m." here was evidence of progress. _eight days from liverpool to new york!_ the envelop had been torn off at the lower right-hand corner in opening, so that it was impossible to tell whether the letters "u.s." or "c.s." had been written below "new york." the soldiers cut the leaves of the book, and glanced hurriedly over the pages without finding anything to clear up the mystery which interested them most. they sat down on the woodpile, sorely disappointed, to talk over the events of the morning; and presently they began clipping off their long beards with the scissors, and using the brush and comb, to which their heads had so long been strangers. the experience was all so strange that but for the treasures left behind, not counting the "treatise on deep-sea fishing," they might have doubted the reality of the passage of their aërial visitor. when it came to a division of the trifles of a lady's toilet, the well-known prejudice of the world below concerning a second-hand tooth-brush was cast to the winds by bromley, while lieutenant coleman, who had some qualms of conscience, was better satisfied with the rag of chamois-skin for the same purpose. the vinaigrette and the gloves fell to philip. they had just a handkerchief apiece, and nobody cared for the button-hook. the letter found in the bag was a subject of heated discussion, and from motives of chivalrous delicacy remained for a long time unread. george bromley contended that its contents might throw some light on the subject which the books had left in obscurity, while lieutenant coleman shrank from offering such an indignity to the memory of the angelic lady of the air. it was finally agreed that bromley might examine and then destroy it, lieutenant coleman declining to be made acquainted with its contents. they never quite understood the association of the beautiful lady with the two men, of whom they had but a poor opinion. when bromley suggested that to their starved eyes a cook might seem a princess, his comrades were sufficiently indignant, and reminded him of her literary taste, as shown by the quality of the new book found in the bag. after all, they had learned nothing of the great secret that vexed their lives. was there still in existence a starry flag bearing any semblance to this one which was now floating over the mountain? was it still loved in the land and respected on the sea? to men who had seen it bent forward under the eagles of the old republic, gray in the stifling powder-clouds, falling and rising in the storm of battle, a pale ghost of a flag, fluttering colorless on the plain or climbing the stubborn mountain, human lives falling like leaves for its upholding--this was the burning question. chapter xix the cave of the bats when the nine small gunny-sacks stenciled "skylark, ," were emptied on the floor of the house, the crustacea of the atlantic's sands had found a resting-place on the summit of whiteside mountain, and might yet furnish evidence to some grave scientist of the future to prove beyond a doubt that the sea at no very remote period had surged above the peaks of the blue ridge. starfish, shells, and bones, and fragments of the legs of spider-crabs, horseshoe-crabs, and crayfish, and some very active sand-fleas afforded much scientific amusement to our exiles, and brought vividly to mind the boom of the sea and the whitebait and whales that wiggle-waggle in its depth. neither the telescope nor the army blanket with "u.s." in the center, nor the two combined, had brought any visitors to the three soldiers, nor any information of the real state of affairs in the united states, which would quickly have terminated their exile. the very pathetic and amusing volume of stories found in the alligator-skin bag caused more tears and healthy laughter than the soldiers had given way to since their great disappointment, and actually brought about such neglect of the october work on the plantation that more than half the potato crop rotted in the ground. on the st of that month in this very balloon year, the area of sherman territory was extended by the addition of half an acre of rocks and brambles on the boulder side of the mountain, and afterward of much more, as will be shown in due time. the twenty-first day of october in the year ' , then, was a lowery day. a strong, humid wind was blowing steadily across the mountain and soughing in the boughs of the pines, while the low clouds, westward bound, flew in ragged rifts overhead. it was a pleasant wind to feel, and the rising and falling cadence of its song reminded the soldiers of a wind from the sea. in the successive seasons they had gleaned the grove so thoroughly, even cutting the dry limbs from the trees, that they were now obliged to search under the carpet of needles for the fat pine-knots which formerly lay in abundance on the surface. at the extreme southern end of the tongue of land on which the pines grew, a solitary stump clung in the base of the cliff. the outer fiber of the wood had crumbled away, leaving the resinous heart and the tough roots firmly bedded in the soil. they had been chopping and digging for an hour before they loosened and removed the central mass. continuing their quest for one of the great roots which ran into the earth under the cliff, george dealt a vigorous stroke on the rotten stone and earth behind, which yielded so unexpectedly that he lost his footing, and at the same time his hold on the ax, which promptly disappeared into the bowels of the earth. they heard it ring upon the rocks below with strange echoes, as if it had fallen into a subterraneous cavern. at the same time the wind rushed through the opening in a current warmer than the surrounding atmosphere, and brought with it a strong, offensive smell, as if they had entered a menagerie in august. as soon as the soldiers recovered from their surprise they set vigorously to work for the recovery of the ax, attacking the loose earth with their gold-tipped shovel and with the tough oaken handspike with which they had been prying at the stump. their efforts rapidly enlarged the opening, and presently the great root itself tumbled in after the ax. philip ran to the house for a light, and by the time he returned with a blazing torch, coleman and bromley had enlarged the opening under the cliff until it was wide enough to admit their bodies easily. all was darkness, even blackness, within, and the rank animal smell was as offensive as ever, so that philip held his nose in disgust. by passing the torch into the opening of the cavern they could see the ax lying on the earthen floor ten feet below, and to the right the overlapping strata of granite seemed to offer a rude stairway for their descent. george entered at once, with the torch in one hand, and in the other the handspike with which to test his footing in advance. in another moment he stood on the hard floor by the ax and the light of his torch revealed the rocky sides of the cavern stretching away to the south along the side of the mountain. coleman provided himself with one of the fattest of the pine-knots, and descended into the cavern after bromley. with some hesitation philip followed. the resinous smoke of the torches relieved the subterraneous atmosphere somewhat of its offensive animal odor, and the flames flooded the walls and ceiling with light. their voices, calling to each other as they advanced, sounded abnormally loud, and seemed to fill the space about them with a cavernous ring in which they detected no side echoes which would indicate lateral chambers branching off from the main passage. by the current of air flaring the torches back toward the opening they had made, they knew that the passage itself must be open to the day at its other end. the roof seemed to be about eight feet above their heads, although at times it drew nearer, and occasionally it retired to a greater altitude, but never beyond the searching illumination of their torches. presently, as they advanced, their attention was drawn to brown masses of something like fungi clinging to the rock overhead, but partaking so closely of the color and texture of the stone that they seemed, after all, to be but flinty lumps on the roof. as bromley, who was in front, came to a point where the ceiling hung so low as to be within reach, he swept the flame of his torch across one of these brown patches, and straightway the stifling air was filled with a squeaking, unearthly chorus, and with the beating of innumerable wings. scorched by the flame and blinded by the light, many of these disabled creatures, which proved to be a colony of bats, fluttered to the floor, and dashed against the bare feet of the soldiers with a clammy touch that made the cold chills rise in their hair. this was too much for philip, who turned back to join tumbler in the open air at the mouth of the cavern. at the same time, however, the offensive odor was accounted for, and bromley and coleman had no further fear of meeting larger animals as they advanced. as a lover of animals, george was shocked at the cruel consequences of his rash action; as a bold explorer, however, he pushed on into the gruesome darkness at a pace that soon left coleman's prudent feet far behind. the latter had a wholesome fear of treading on some yielding crust which might precipitate him to other and more terrible depths. the way seemed to turn somewhat as they advanced; for at times the light of george's torch vanished behind the projection of one or the other wall, and at such times coleman called eagerly to him to wait. bromley's cheery voice, evidently advancing, came ringing back so distinctly that his companion was reassured by his seeming nearness. once, when the darkness had continued for a long time in front, coleman began to be alarmed at the thought that bromley's torch must have gone out, and then the fear that he might have fallen into some fissure in the rocks made him cold about the heart. lieutenant coleman was now picking his way more gingerly than ever, and holding his light high above his head, when, to add to his terror, he thought he heard something approaching behind him. sure enough, when he turned about, in the darkness of the cavern just beyond the illumination of his torch he saw two gleaming eyes. the eyes were fixed upon him, and the head of the animal moved from side to side, but came no nearer. he would have given worlds for the carbine. his blood ran cold in his veins at the thought of his terrible situation. he was utterly helpless, hemmed in by the rocks. it was impossible to go back. he could only go forward. he remembered then that the fiercest of wild animals, even lions and tigers, kept back in the darkness and glared all night with their hungry eyes at the fires of hunters. he was safe, then, to go on, but a dreadful conflict was in store for the two men if the animal should follow them out of the cavern. [illustration: "beyond the illumination of his torch he saw two gleaming eyes."] bromley's torch now reappeared in the distance. coleman was too terrified to call, but instead moved on in silence, occasionally flaring his torch behind him, and always seeing the gleaming eyes when he looked back. try as he would, he could get no farther from them. there were occasional stumbling-blocks in the way, and once or twice he encountered rocks which he was obliged to pass around. whenever coleman turned and waved the torch, the animal whined as if he too were in fear. terrified as lieutenant coleman was, he could not help noticing that the brown colonies of bats now appeared more frequently on the stone ceiling, and presently the air grew perceptibly fresher as he advanced. he began to realize the presence of a gray light apart from that of his torch; and finally coming sharply around a projecting rock, he saw the welcome light of day streaming in through a wide opening in the rocks, and at one side, thrust into a crevice, george's torch was flaring and smoking in the wind. coleman placed his torch with the other, hoping that the lights would continue to protect them from the animal and then he sprang out of the cavern into the sweet open air, with that joyous feeling of relief which can be understood only by one who has passed through a similar experience. george was standing in the dry grass, with a great stone in each hand, as if he already knew their danger and was prepared; but when coleman told him in hurried words what they had to expect, he dropped the stones, and they began to look about for a place of safety. it was not far to a high rock upon which they both scrambled, and then bromley let himself down again, and passed up a number of angular stones for ammunition. whatever the mysterious beast might be, they could keep him off from the rock for a time, but they were not prepared for a siege. they had little to say to each other, and that in whispers as they strained their eyes to look into the entrance to the cavern. bromley, however, was softly humming a tune, and just as coleman looked up at him in astonishment he dropped the stones from his hands and burst into laughter; and sure enough, there in the mouth of the cavern stood their tame bear, tumbler, wagging his head from side to side just as coleman had seen the mysterious eyes move in the darkness, and, moreover, he was still licking his chops after the feast he had made on the bats. lieutenant coleman had been so alarmed at first, and then so gratified at the happy outcome of his adventure, that he had not noticed the character of the stones which bromley had been handling. it was not until his attention was called to a flake of mica that he looked about him on the ground, to see every where blocks and flakes of what is commonly called isinglass. they could have something better than wooden shutters for their windows now. by a certain gnarled chestnut which overhung the cliff above them, growing out of the hill near the spring, they estimated the length of the subterraneous passage to be not less than a quarter of a mile. the sun, which had broken through the clouds, indicated by the angle of his rays that the afternoon was well past. they now thought it advisable to retrace their steps through the unsavory cavern. in view of the stifling passage, coleman inhaled deep drafts of the sweet outer air, and shuddered involuntarily at the necessity of repeating the experience, even when he knew the animal now following him was only stupid old tumbler. george handed him a piece of the mica to carry, and his careless, happy mood indicated that he returned to the subterraneous passage as gaily as if it were a pleasant walk overland. as they drew near the entrance to the cavern, with the bear shambling at their heels, an indefinable dread of trouble ahead took possession of coleman. it might have been the absence of the resinous smell of the torches. at all events, they were presently standing in the gruesome half-light before the empty crevice, through which they could see their pine-knots still burning fifty feet below in an inner cavern. as their torches had burned to the edge of the rock they had fallen through the opening. they were without fire, and if they should succeed in striking it with their flints, they had no means of carrying it a hundred yards into the darkness. the situation was frightful. outside, the perpendicular cliff rose a matter of sixty feet to the overhanging trees of the plateau, and close to the south ledge, which towered above it. the two men and the bear were prisoners on this barren shelf of rocks, with a quarter of a mile of subterraneous darkness separating them from food and shelter--from life itself. was it their destiny, coleman thought, to die of starvation among these inhospitable rocks, hung like a speck between the plateau and the valley, watched by the circling eagles and by the patient buzzards, who would perch on the nearer tree-tops to await their dissolution? the very thought of the situation unmanned him. [illustration: exploring the cave of the bats.] lieutenant coleman was not a man to shrink from enemies whom he could see; but the darkness and the dangers of the half-explored cavern terrified him. corporal bromley, on the other hand, was only made angry by the loss of the torches; and the livid expression of his face reminded his comrade of the morning when they had received the news of general sherman's death before the works at atlanta. in a moment, however, he was calm. without a word, he walked away among the rocks, and when he came back he held in his hands a lithe pole ten or twelve feet long. "not a very interesting outlook, fred, for a man who would rather be eating his supper," said george, trying the strength of his pole; "but you must be patient and amuse yourself as best you can." lieutenant coleman stared at bromley in speechless amazement as he disappeared into the cavern, carrying the pole across his breast. it was something less than courage--it was the utter absence of the instinct of fear which the others had so often noticed in his character. would he succeed the better for the very want of this quality with which the all-wise has armed animal life for its protection? perhaps. the bear was snuffing about coleman as if he were trying to understand why he remained; and when he failed to attract his attention, he turned about and shambled after bromley. although coleman was deeply concerned by the dangers which threatened his comrade, he reasoned with certainty that wherever bromley was, he was as calm as an oyster, regarding his progress as only a question of time and some bruises. to keep his mind away from the cavern, he rose mechanically, and began to gather up the fragments of mica and heap them together. for an hour he threaded his way among the rocks, thus employed. the glittering heap grew larger, for the supply was quite inexhaustible, and he discovered fresh deposits on every hand. it was now grown quite dark, and he made his way to the mouth of the cavern, vainly hoping to see a star advancing in the darkness, but only to meet a flight of bats wheeling out into the night. carefully he crept back and seated himself on a smooth stone by the side of his store of mica, and imagined himself a hunter in the middle of a trackless desert, dying for a drop of water beside a princely fortune in accumulated elephants' tusks. when he looked up the dark mass of the tree-crowned cliff cut softly against a lighter gloom; but when he turned his eyes away from the mountain, the sky or the clouds, or whatever it might be, seemed to surround him and press upon him. oh, for one star in the distance to lift the sky from his head; or, better yet, the calm face of the moon, and the touch of its yellow light on tree and stone! instead of anything so cheerful, a patter of raindrops met his up-turned face, as if in mockery of his wish; and then the rain increased to a steady downpour, beating from the east, and he knew the autumnal equinox was upon them. he reflected that george might never feel the rain. miserable thought! what if he were to perish in the darkness, separated from him and from philip, after having lived so long together! coleman might have sought shelter in the mouth of the cavern; but he was indifferent to the rain falling on his bare back and canvas trousers. how long he had been waiting, two hours or three, he had no means of telling. his watch had long since ceased to run. up on the plateau they had noon-marks at the house and at the mill, and at night, when it was clear, they went out and looked at the seven stars. he was thoroughly drenched by the rain, which had now been falling for a long time. certainly george should have returned before this, if all had gone well with him. and then his mind returned to the contemplation of that other possibility with a perverseness over which he could exercise no control. he saw bromley lost in some undiscovered byway of the subterraneous passage, groping his way hopelessly into the center of the mountain; knowing that he was lost when, go which way he would, his pole no longer reached the walls. he saw him retracing his steps, now going this way, now that, but always going he knew not whither, too brave to yield to despair. then he saw him in a lower cavern, where he had fallen through the floor, groping about the rough walls with bleeding hands and staring eyes, patiently searching for a foothold, his indomitable pluck never failing him. horrible as these fancies were, others more dreadful oppressed his half-wakeful mind; for he was so tired that in spite of the rain he lapsed into a state of unconsciousness, in which he dreamed that the roof of that suffocating cavern, covered with the brown blotches of bats, was settling slowly upon george, until he could no longer walk erect. lower, lower it came in its fearful descent, until it bumped his head as he crawled. now the roof grazes his back as he writhes on his belly like a snake. "fred! old boy! fred!" and there stood bromley in the flesh, as calm as if nothing unusual had happened, the raindrops hissing in the flame of his torch. chapter xx the stained-glass windows and the prismatic fowls owing to the difficulties of the passage through the cave of the bats, and the utter barrenness of the rocky half-acre which lay at its other end, the three soldiers never entered it again during the fall and winter which followed its discovery. the two blocks of isinglass which they had brought away on their first visit were ample for their purpose; and as soon as they had secured their supply of fat pine-knots for light in the long winter evenings, they set about constructing two windows to take the place of the sliding boards which closed those openings in the cold, snowy days. it is true, they could not look out through the new windows, but much light could enter where all had been darkness before. time was nothing to the soldiers in these late autumn days; and, indeed, the more of it they could spend on any work they undertook, the more such work contributed to their contentment and happiness. they wished to have their windows ornamental as well as useful; and it was philip's suggestion that they should try an imitation of stained glass. they had some of the carbine cartridges left; and as they no longer killed any creatures, the bullets would supply them with lead to unite the small pieces of isinglass and outline their designs. one of the mica blocks chanced to be of a pale-green color, and they made many experiments to produce reds and blues. oxide of iron, or the common red iron-rust, gave a rich carmine powder, which, mixed with the white of an egg, adhered to the inner side of the small panes. they found a few dried huckleberries, from which they extracted a strong blue by boiling. they could procure yellow only by beating a small bit of gold to the thinnest leaf, which they pasted upon the flake of mica. the reds and blues as they applied them were only water-colors; but the inner side of the glass was not exposed to the rain. after the one square window, which looked toward the cove and consequently let in the afternoon sun, was finished in a fantastic arrangement of the three rich colors, bordered by pale green, it was decided, with great enthusiasm, to reproduce in the opposite window their dear old flag with its thirty-five stars. to do this, they cut away the logs on one side until they had doubled the area of the opening. they managed to stiffen the frame on the inner side with strips of dogwood, which made a single cross against the light, leaving the blue field of stars unobstructed. it was a great comfort to their patriotic hearts to see the sun glowing on their united states window when they awoke in the morning, or to see the ruddy firelight dancing on the old flag, if one of them came in from the mill or the branch in the evening. in fact, when this work was finished, the three soldiers, wrapped in their faded blue overcoats, were never tired of walking about outside their house, in the chilly november evenings, to admire their first art-work illuminated by the torch-light within. their tough, bare feet, insensible to the sharp stones and the gray hoar-frost, wore away the withered grass opposite to each of their stained-glass windows; but the patch of trodden earth outside the window which showed the glowing stripes and gleaming stars of the old flag was much the larger. otherwise their prospects for the winter were by no means as brilliant as their windows; for besides the failure in the potato crop, the white grubs had made sad havoc with their corn in two successive plantings, and the yield in october had been alarmingly light. even the chestnuts had been subject to a blight; and altogether it was what the farmers would call "a bad year." the fowls had increased to an alarming extent, considering the necessity of feeding so many, and as winter approached their eggs were fewer than ever. the case was not so bad that it would be necessary to shorten their rations, as they had done before the harvest of the first year; but with so many mouths to feed, there was danger that they would find themselves without seed for the next planting. then, too, there was a very grave danger that before spring these stubborn vegetarians would be forced to resort to broiled chicken, spiced with gunpowder, which was nearly as repulsive to their minds as leaving the mountain and going down into a triumphant confederacy. the bear, at least, would require no feeding, and with the very first snow old tumbler disappeared as usual, making the soldiers rather wish that, for this particular winter, hibernation could be practised by human animals as well as by bears. after christmas the weather became unusually cold, and the winds swept with terrific force across the top of the mountain. the snow was so deep that the path they dug to the mill was banked above their heads as they walked in it, and the mill itself showed only its half-roof of shingles and its long water-trough above the surface of the snow. from the trough huge icicles were pendent, and it was ornamented with great curves of snow; and when philip set the wheels in motion, a gray dust rose above the bank, and the whir of the grinding as heard at the house was subdued and muffled like the very ghost of a sound. the soldiers dug open spaces to give light, outside the stained-glass windows, and through these the evening firelight repeated the gorgeous colors on the snow. from the path to the mill they dug a branch to the forge, and tunneled a passage to the water, from which they broke the ice every day. short as was their supply of corn, they were obliged to feed it to the fowls with a lavish hand as long as the deep snow remained. this necessity kept them busy shelling the ears by the fire in the warm house, after they had brought them in from the mill or the forge, and half a gunny-sack of corn was thrown out on the snow at the morning and evening feeding. since the hut of the old man of the mountain had been made into a forge, the fowls had roosted in the branches of the old chestnuts, and had got on very well, even in the winters that were past. with full crops, they seemed to be thriving equally well during the severe cold which attended the period of deep snow. the th of january in the new year, which was , was the first of a four days' thaw. the sun beamed with unusual heat on the mountain, and under his rays the snow rapidly disappeared, and the ground came to light again with its store of dry seeds. the three-pronged tracks of the fowls were printed everywhere in the soft top-soil, where they scampered about in pursuit of grubs and worms. on the fourth day the avalanche fell from the great boulder into the cove, with the usual midwinter crashes and reverberations, which reminded philip of his narrow escape the winter before. on the evening of this fourth day the thaw was followed by a light rain, which froze as it fell, and developed into a regular ice-storm during the night. when the three soldiers looked out on the morning of the th, they found their house coated with ice, and the mountain-top a scene of glittering enchantment. every tree and bush was coated with a transparent armor of glass. the lithe limbs of the birches and young chestnuts were bent downward in graceful curves by the weight of the ice, which, under the rays of the rising sun, guttered and scintillated with all the colors of the rainbow. every rock and stone had its separate casing, and every weed and blade of grass was stiffened with a tiny shining overcoat. the stalks on the plantation stood up like a glittering field of pikes. despite the difficulty of walking over the uneven ground and the slippery rocks, they made their way, not without occasional falls, to the western side of the plateau to observe the effect in the cove. philip was in raptures over the prismatic variety of colors, picking out and naming the tints with a childish glee and with a subtle appreciation of color that far outran the limited vision of his comrades, and made them think that sherman territory had possibly defrauded the world below of a first-rate painter. as they turned back toward the house, after their first outburst of enthusiasm over the beauties of the ice-storm, bromley remarked that it was strange they had not been awakened as usual by the crowing of the cocks. indeed, the stillness of the hour was remarkable. it was strange that while they had lain in their bunks after daybreak they had not heard the cocks answering one another from one end of the plateau to the other. usually they heard first the clear, ringing note of some knowing old bird burst loud and shrill from under the very window, and then the pert reply of some upstart youngster who had not yet learned to manage his crow drifting faintly back from the rocks to the west; then straightway all the crowers, of all ages and of every condition of shrillness and hoarseness, tried for five mortal minutes to crow one another down; and when one weak, far-away chicken seemed to have got the last word, another would break the stillness, and the strident contest would begin again. perhaps they had heard all this and not noticed it. they were so used to the noise; it was like the ticking of a clock or the measured pounding of the slow-john; but it was certain that nothing of the kind was going on at present. in leaving the house they had been so enchanted by the hues of the ice-storm that they now remembered they had not so much as turned their eyes in the direction of the roost. when they came upon the brow of the hill which overlooked the mill,--which was a silver mill now,--the limbs of the trees which stretched along the bank beyond were crowded with the fowls, at least four hundred of them, sitting still on their perches. philip, who fell down in his eagerness, and rolled over on the ice, remarked as he got upon his feet that it was too knowing a flock of birds to leave the sure hold it had on the limbs to come down onto the slippery ground. as the soldiers came nearer, however, they noticed that their fowls in the sunlight were quite the most brilliantly prismatic objects they had seen; for their red combs and party-colored feathers made a rich showing through the transparent coating of ice which enveloped them like shells and held them fast to the limbs where they sat. whether they had been frozen stiff or smothered by the icy envelop, they were unable to determine; but they could see that all the fowls had met with a very beautiful death, except two or three of the toughest old roosters, who had managed to crack the icy winding-sheet about their bills. one of these, who had more life in him than the others, made a dismal attempt to crow. bromley hastened to get the ladder from the mill, and the hatchet, and wherever a living bird was to be seen he put up the ladder regardless of the dead ones, which broke off and fell down, and chipping the ice about its claws, removed it tenderly to the ground. in the end the three soldiers carried just two apiece, one under each arm, of these tough old veterans into the house, and not daring to bring them near the fire, set them up to thaw gradually against the inner side of the door. then they made a pot of hasty-pudding for their own breakfast; but before they touched it themselves they fed a little of it, steaming hot, to each reviving old bird. in fact, the poor fowls looked so much like colored-glass images, when tilted against the door, that, fearing at any moment they might topple over and break into fragments, they laid each rooster carefully on his side, where the ice melted by degrees into sloppy pools on the floor. the oldest of these unhappy survivors had come up the mountain tied to a pack-saddle, and consequently was more than six years old. he was big of frame and tawny of color, and had long, sharp spurs curved like small powder-horns, and his crow when he was in good health proclaimed him the leader of the flock. the other five cocks, although but a trifle younger, belonged to the next generation, for they came of the first summer's hatching. their plumage was red and black, and their long, sweeping tail-feathers cased in ice would certainly have been snapped off if they had had the least power to move their bodies. as the ice melted from their heads, they looked about the house with their round red eyes, and otherwise lay quite helpless on their sides, their claws drawn up to their crops, and curved as they had been taken from the limbs. the soldiers looked on, full of sympathy, and fed their patients now and then with a small portion of warm pudding; and finally, remembering their medicine-chest, which they had never yet had occasion to use, they waited patiently until the ice melted, so that they could handle the fowls without danger of breaking, and then they held each rooster up by the neck and dosed him with a spoonful of whisky and quinine. following this prescription they laid the old birds in a row on a warm blanket, sufficiently elevating their heads, and covering them up to their bills, and left them to sleep and sweat after the most approved hospital practice. and now, having done their duty by the living, they went outside to look at the dead, which were, if possible, more beautiful than ever. the sun was unusually warm, and by this time everything was dripping and glittering in the light, which was half blinding, and the thin ice was snapping everywhere as the lightened limbs sought to regain their natural positions. as to the dead fowls, a few had fallen to the ground, but most of them remained rigidly perched on the great limbs, dripping a shower of raindrops upon the ice below. here and there, where a few rays of the sun had found passage to a particular limb, a section of the icy coating had turned so that a half-dozen fowls hung heads downward, or the casing of a hen had melted, while her claws were still frozen fast, leaving her to lop over against her neighbor for support. by afternoon they began to fall off the branches like ripened fruit, and drop on the ground with a thud like apples in an orchard on a windy day. it was a dismal sound in the ears of the three soldiers, and a sad sight to see the heaps of dead fowls as they accumulated on the ground. the military training of these young men had taught them to make the most of every reverse, and if possible to turn defeat into victory; and so they fell to work and plucked off a great quantity of soft feathers, and all the next day was spent in skinning the breasts, which they would find some way to cure and make into covers for their beds, or even garments for themselves. a portion of the carcases they tried out over the fire, and made a brave supply of oil for the mill, and then the poor remains were thrown over the cliff. the six old roosters remained alive in a crippled and deformed condition, some having three stumpy toes to a foot, and others two or one, on which they wabbled and limped about with molting feathers and abbreviated combs, the most dismal-looking fowls that can be imagined. the old yellow patriarch was paralyzed as to his legs and thighs, so that he was nearly as helpless as a tailor's goose, and had to be set about and fed like an infant. for the five red ones bromley fixed a roost in the corner of the house behind the door, where some of them had to be helped up at night, and where they crowed hoarsely in the morning, over against the window of the stained-glass flag. philip, in pursuance of a brilliant idea which he kept to himself, selected a dozen of the new-laid eggs which they happened to have in the house, and put them away in a warm place where no breath of frost could reach them. when the first warm days of spring came, he made a nest of corn-husks and feathers on a sunny shoulder of rock. into this nest he put the eggs he had saved, and covered them with the old paralyzed yellow rooster, who had never been known to move from where he was set down since the night he was frozen on the limb. the indignant old bird certainly gave philip a look of remonstrance as he left him in this degrading position; and when philip came a few hours later to feed him, this cunning old rooster, strengthened perhaps by his outraged feelings, had in some way managed to turn over so that he lay on his side on the rock, his helpless claws extending stiffly over the nest. as often as he was set back he managed to accomplish the same feat, when if left on the ground he would sit for a week where he was placed, as stolid and immovable as a decoy-duck. the loss of the fowls had left an abundance of corn for planting; but when the warm days came after this trying winter, it was a queer sight to see the three soldiers walking about the top of the mountain, with their five sad roosters wabbling at their heels. chapter xxi a scrap of paper the long, cold winter of , which froze all the fowls except the six sad roosters, and followed the failure of the potato and corn crops, was also disastrous to the bees. the hives had increased to a fine long row in the years that followed the capture of the first swarm discovered by tumbler, the bear, and the honey had been a welcome addition to the soldiers' simple fare; but the cold weather had destroyed every swarm, leaving only bee-bread and some half-consumed old combs from which the dead bees had fallen in a dry mass upon the bench below. while coleman and bromley were engaged in planting, philip was making an effort to find a new bee-tree. he had noticed some bees buzzing about the wild flowers on the ridge by the old flagging-station, and he determined to "line" them by a method he had seen his uncle practise when he was a boy in ohio. he made a little box with a sliding cover, into which he put a small honeycomb, and taking the old yellow rooster under one arm for company,--or perhaps for luck,--he went over to where the flowers grew near the northern end of the plateau. he set down the old rooster on the ground, and opened the box on a stone in front of him, and waited, watching his bait. it was something like fishing in the old mill-pond, of which he had once been fond, and he found a singular fascination about watching the opening in the box as he used to watch his bobber. the june weather on the mountain was like may in the ohio valley, and the sweet smell of the flowers carried his mind back to his old home. he had no longer to wait for the first nibble than he had waited in the old days for the first stir of his cork and the spreading ring on the water. a bee lighted on the lid and then made his way down into the box. after loading his legs with honey, the bee reappeared, and rising into the air, flew away to the south. philip followed the small insect with his eyes, and then, picking up the old rooster, he came on for a hundred yards in the same direction, and set his bait as before. this time he had two bees in his box, and when they had loaded themselves they flew away in the same direction as the first. they disappeared so soon above the tree-tops that he thought the swarm was not far away; but every time he advanced, the loaded bees continued to fly south, until he had moved the paralyzed old rooster by easy stages the whole length of the plateau; and the bees, which came in greater numbers now, rose into the air and flew in a "bee-line" over the top of the southern cliff. philip was disgusted at this result of his bee-hunt, as any fisherman, after wading to his middle in a cold river to humor a fine trout, might be, to lose his victim at last in the foaming rapids; but he knew to a certainty that there was a bee-tree somewhere beyond the thus far unscalable southern cliff. for the present the vision of honey was abandoned, and the economy of the camp, where food was now alarmingly low, was cunningly exercised to discover edible things in lieu of the corn, which, after the planting, was all stored in the nine gunny-sacks which had fallen from the balloon. the sacks were piled one upon another in a small heap behind the hopper in the mill, and the six sad roosters had to shift for themselves as best they could, except the old fellow who was paralyzed, and for him they gathered grubs and worms, and saved the crumbs that fell from the table. it appeared possible to the minds of the soldiers that the liver-colored slabs of fungus which grew out of the sides of the chestnut-trees and the birches might be as palatable and nourishing as mushrooms. they broke off one of these pieces one day, which was shaped like the half of an inverted saucer, and was moist and clammy on the under side. they had a suspicion that such things were poison. they had never heard of any one eating the like, and after they had stewed it in their camp-kettle, inviting as its odor was, they sniffed and hesitated and feared to taste it. in the end they shook their heads, and spilled the contents of the kettle on the ground, where as soon as their backs were turned tumbler and the five sad roosters fell to devouring the rejected food. when the soldiers discovered what their domestic animals were about, the bear was licking his chops and the old roosters were waltzing about in the grass picking up the last morsels of the feast. they regretted their carelessness, and rather expected that before night the old paralyzed rooster would be their only living companion on the mountain. when, however, the bear and the five sad roosters survived the test, and seemed rather to flourish on the new food, the soldiers took heart, and found the fungus not only good, but so much like meat that it was quite startling to their vegetarian palates. after eating all of this peculiar food-product that grew on the plateau, they gleaned the field above the deep gorge, and as a last resort they made a hunting expedition to the half-acre of rocks and brambles where they had found the mica. terrible as the passage through the cavern had at first seemed to the mind of lieutenant coleman, the lapse of time and a better acquaintance with the interior of the subterraneous tunnel made it but a commonplace covered way to the field of mica. not that the soldiers had any further use for the mineral wealth which was so lavishly strewn among the rocks. it was as valueless to them now as the button-hook found in the hand-bag of alligator-skin. to go now and then through the underground passage, however, if only for the purpose of looking at the world outside from the view-point of their newest territorial possession, was a temptation which no landed proprietors could resist. the little shelf afforded them a glimpse to the south of the cove road, which on account of certain intervening trees was not to be had from the plateau above. several cabins could be seen smoking in the small clearings which surrounded them, but since the telescope had gone into the avalanche with philip there was but poor satisfaction in looking at them. they found a single piece of the liver-colored fungus growing on the root of a half-decayed old chestnut, and even this they regarded as well worth their journey. they spent some time wandering about the mica shelf, and when lieutenant coleman and philip were boring their torches into the ground, one after the other, to rid them of the dead coal, and getting ready for the start back, bromley, who had been poking about among the rocks, called to them in a tone of voice that indicated a pretty important discovery in the stone line. he was down on his hands and knees on the turf, boring his toes into the soil, and as his comrades approached him, he exclaimed: "i haven't touched it yet. just come here and look!" [illustration: "he was down on his hands and knees upon the turf."] naturally, coleman and philip thought he had found some curious reptile. instead, however, of this being the case, bromley was kneeling over a scrap of newspaper which was impaled on a dead twig under the shelter of a rock where neither the sun nor the rain could reach it. the torn fragment was scarcely larger than the palm of one's hand, and snugly as it was now protected from the weather, it was yellow from former exposure, and the print was much faded, so that parts of it were illegible. it was possible, however, to decipher enough of the small advertisements on the exposed side to show that it was a charleston paper, and they knew of course that it must have come by the balloon almost a year before. undoubtedly it had lain for a long time on the plateau above, exposed to the storms, before the wind had tossed it over the cliff and landed it in such a wonderful way on the twig under the cover of the rock. on the reverse side most of the print was fairly legible. the scrap was torn from the top of the paper, and had on it a capital g, which was the only letter left of the name of the paper. the line below read: "september [date of month gone], - ." the center column was headed: "foreign world "the hon. charles snowden, m.p., goes down with his yacht--earthquake in spain; four distinct shocks felt--no dam----e done--movement of specie "london, september . the steam-yacht of the honorable charles snowden, m.p., which was wrecked yesterday off the old head of kinsale on the south coast of ireland, was this morning looted by thieves. the ri----, plate, carpets, upholstery, and fittings, as well as quantity of storage, sails, and stores, were taken. lights were seen from the mainland at two o'clock this morning, when a heavy sea was running. "later. the hon. charles snowden and the first officer of the boat lost their lives by the swamping of the raft on which they had embarked. "madrid, september . four distinct shocks of an earthquake this morning were felt in the province of granada, in the south of spain. coming as t shocks have, twenty-four hours later than the ances reported on the coast of italy by y ws, would indicate that the disturbance no damage is reported. in from the vineyards." what remained of the right-hand column bore, to the soldiers, these surprising words, in sentences and parts of sentences: "local happenings--charleston-- r. e. lee as general--sherman at the war office "the controversy just concluded between the couri mercury on the strategic merits of the two command developed nothing new. the sherman cam ending at the city of atlanta ably discussed and with justice to the dead comma the great march to the sea, b more brilliant achievement of the war and its in another colum south is satisfie happy endin" when coleman and philip caught the first glimpse of the scrap of paper, tattered and yellow, they believed it to be some fragment of the blue book which they themselves had discarded. the exposed surface was almost as free of print as if it had been treated with potash, and looked as insignificant as a dried leaf or a section of corn-husk. bromley, on the other hand, had examined it more closely, and just as coleman began to laugh at him, he put out his hand and removed the scrap of paper from the twig which held it fast; and as he turned it over to the light, he was nearly as much surprised as his companions. the three were down on their knees in an instant, eagerly devouring the words of the head-lines; and philip being on the right, it happened that his eyes were the first to fall on the name of general sherman. "'sherman at the war office'!" he cried. "what does that mean?" "it means we have been deceived," said coleman. "i--" "hurrah!" cried philip, leaping up and dancing about until the rags of his tattered clothing fluttered in the sunlight. "hurrah! uncle billy is alive! he never was killed at all! if that message was false, they were all false--all lies! lies! what fools we have been! we must leave the mountain to-morrow--to-night." "we have been the victims of an infamous deception," exclaimed lieutenant coleman. "let us go back to the house at once, and determine what is to be done." against this undue haste bromley remonstrated feebly, for he himself was laboring under unusual excitement. his eyes were so dimmed by a suffusion of something very like tears--tears of anger--that he could read no further for the moment, and he put the paper carefully into his pocket, and picked up his torch and followed his comrades sulkily into the cavern. upon bromley's peculiar character this new revelation had a depressing effect. he still entertained doubts. if the new hope was finally realized, his joy would be as deep and sincere as that of the others. for the present, the thought that they might have been deceived all along angered him. he had an inclination to stop even then and examine the paper more fully by torch-light; but the underground passage was long, and the pine-knot he carried was burning low. he felt obliged to hasten on after coleman and philip, who were now considerably in advance. they were still in view, however, and as he held the torch to one side that which he saw far up the narrowing cavern had a softening effect on his conflicting emotions. he even laughed at the grotesque exhibition; for the small figures of coleman and philip were dancing and hugging each other and dashing their torches against the rocks in a way that made them look like mad salamanders in the circling flames and sparks. such reckless enthusiasm was a condition of mind which george could not understand; but the possibility occurred to him that in their wild excitement they might set fire to the house as a beacon-light to the people in the valley; for they could never get away from the plateau without help from beyond the deep gorge. to prevent, if possible, any rash action on the part of his more excited comrades, bromley hurried his pace, and, in the effort to overtake them, soon found himself leaping over obstacles and dodging corners of the rocky wall in a wild race, which tended to excite even his phlegmatic nature. as he ran on, that magical sentence, "sherman at the war office," stood out in black letters before his eyes. what war office? if the paper referred to the war office of the united states, it certainly would have so designated a department of a foreign government. if there were two governments, it would be necessary to say which war office was meant. if the old government in whose military service he had enlisted as a boy had regained its own, the phrase "sherman at the war office" would be natural and correct; and with this triumphant conviction he ran on the faster. on the other hand, if the confederacy had gained everything!--at the sickening thought his feet became so heavy that his speed relapsed into a labored walk, and the oppressive air of the cavern seemed to stifle him. he would reach his companions as soon as possible, and compel them to examine the scrap of paper and weigh its every word. it was beginning to dawn upon bromley that they had acted like children; and when he finally came out at the entrance to the cave of the bats into the subdued light under the dark pines, he found philip and coleman waiting for him, and clamoring for another look at the scrap of paper. there was not much to read in the fraction of a column that interested them most, but philip and coleman were determined to twist the reading to the support of their new hopes, and bromley naturally took the opposite view, heartily wishing, however, that the others might prove him mistaken. there was something in the reading of the broken sentences that tended to quiet the enthusiasm of lieutenant coleman, and when bromley could make himself heard, he called attention to the second sentence, "the sherman campaign ending at the ---- atlanta, ably discussed," and "justice to the dead commander." what dead commander, if not general sherman? if he had lived his campaign would not have ended at atlanta. it was evident that there had been a newspaper controversy in charleston on the merits of two campaigns by sherman and lee--the atlanta campaign and the march to the sea--whatever that might be. the latter, bromley thought, was clearly some achievement of lee's. and then he remembered his prophecy on the night when they had changed the name of the plateau from lincoln to sherman territory. "it proves," cried bromley, "just what i foresaw: that, after the capture of washington, lee led his army across maryland, pennsylvania, and new jersey, living on the country, to meet the foreign allies of the confederacy in the harbor of new york. it was certainly a brilliant military movement. look," he cried, when the others were silent, "'south is satisfied--happy ending--'" "but," said philip, still obstinate, "what do you make of those five words, 'sherman at the war office'? how do you get around that?" "why, my dear boy," said bromley, "this is only the heading of a newspaper article. it does not mean that general sherman was at the war office in person. it simply refers to general sherman's record in the war department." after all their excitement, coleman and philip were obliged to give way to the convincing evidence revealed in the broken sentences. they were too tired by this time to consider the bits of foreign news, or notice the dates, and it was quite dark when they reached the house and went dejected and supperless to bed. [illustration: "the scrap of paper."] the next morning they got down the map, and looked ruefully at the states which lee must have devastated in his triumphant march. with the consent of the others, bromley took a pen and traced the probable route by baltimore, philadelphia, and trenton to the jersey coast of new york harbor. bromley was determined to lay out the line of march by harrisburg, and was restrained only by physical force, which resulted in blotting the map at the point where his clumsy line was arrested. they agreed, however, that lee's victorious army had undoubtedly camped on the lower bay and along the raritan river, in the country between perth amboy and the old battle-field of monmouth. they were convinced that the map was utterly wrong, for after such a march it was doubtful if there were any united states at all. the disaster appeared more overwhelming than ever, and they hung the map back on the wall--in another place, however, for it was discovered that the rain had beaten through the logs and run down across the pacific side. poor as it was, they were determined to preserve it. it was not until late in the afternoon of the day on which they had altered the map that the three soldiers returned to the examination of the scrap of paper which they had agreed from the first could have reached the mountain-top only by falling from the balloon the year before. "how is this?" cried coleman, pointing excitedly to the dates of the foreign telegrams. "this piece of newspaper could not have come by the balloon. the balloon passed over the mountain on september , having left the city of charleston, as declared by the tall aeronaut, at : o'clock of the afternoon before, which was the th of september. look at the dates for yourself," he continued, handing the paper to bromley. "wasn't the honorable m.p. drowned on the morning of september ? can't you read there that the earthquake in spain was on the th?" "what of that?" said bromley; "you can't make out the date of the paper." "i don't care what the date of publication was," replied coleman. "if it came by the balloon it was published before september . now please tell me how it could bring european news of the th." "hum!" said bromley, somewhat puzzled. "if it had been published on the d, it couldn't bring news of the th--that's certain." "i have it," cried philip; "fred has got the dates of the diary more than a week out of the way. we thought the balloon passed on september . it was nearer the th." "no," exclaimed coleman, glaring at philip; "there is no mistake in the record; not a date is omitted. leap-year was added to the days in february when it came around. _i_ make a mistake in the date! no, sir! there is no mistake. whatever happens, i will stand on the rec--" "you are right, old man," cried bromley, interrupting him; "and the paper proves it. don't you see the point? they have got the atlantic cable down at last, and working like a charm. the paper was published on the th of september. it was an afternoon paper, and this piece fell from the balloon on the th of september." they agreed that this was wonderful as explaining without doubt what at first seemed impossible, and at the same time verifying the accuracy of the dates in the diary which lieutenant coleman had conducted for more than six years at the time the balloon passed. coleman and bromley remembered distinctly the unsuccessful attempts at laying the atlantic cable in the summer of , and the fame of cyrus field as its projector; and now by the discovery of this scrap of yellow and tattered paper they were made aware that the great project had been continued to a successful issue. possibly they were the more keenly interested in this evidence of progress in the world below from having been themselves connected with telegraphing in a modest way. at all events, they regarded the yellow messenger as one of their most significant possessions, and skewered it against the chimney through the very hole made by the dry twig which had held it so long under the cover of the rock awaiting their inspection. it was near the end of july now, and the spears of corn which had thrust their tiny dark-green lances out of the mellow earth had first turned yellow, and then withered and died. a few plants here and there had escaped the ravages of the grubs, but the yield would be insignificant, and they were good enough farmers by this time to know that to plant more would be only a waste of the small store of food they had left. if the lives of the fowls had been spared, it might have been different. at the time the ground had been spaded the five sad roosters had done all that lay in their power to exterminate the grubs, but their capacity was not the capacity of the four hundred fowls of the season before. the potatoes had suffered, though in less degree, from the same hidden enemy; and unless something could be done to increase their food-supply the three soldiers would be reduced to the verge of starvation before another winter came around. they might yet be forced to abandon their vegetarian principles and to eat the bear and the six old roosters. rather than do anything so inhuman, they declared they would find some way to open communication with the people in the valley. they might easily have planted a larger area in former years, and stored up corn against a failure in the crop, but of this they had never thought. the morning after they had discovered the scrap of paper on the mica shelf, they all went solemnly to the mill and watched philip set the machinery in motion and grind the first of the nine small sacks of corn. the whir of the wheels and the hum of the stones in the midst of the splashing of the water outside made the sweetest of music in their ears, but the song of the mill was of brief duration. when the last kernels began to dance on the old cavalry boot-leg in the bottom of the hopper, the miller shut off the water, and in the silence that followed the three soldiers looked ruefully at the small heap of yellow meal on the floor of the dusty bin. it was not more than enough to keep themselves and the paralyzed old rooster alive for a week. if they relied upon the meal alone, in nine weeks they would be out of bread, and the golden mill would be a useless possession. discovery was their only hope of further subsistence. they had made some remarkable finds in the past, but at the beginning of their eighth year on the mountain it would seem that no secrets of the plateau had escaped the prying eyes of these enterprising young men. philip reminded his comrades of the bee-tree, which was undoubtedly stored with honey, beyond the southern cliff, but this they had always regarded as impassable. from the mica shelf they could see that it was a narrow ledge, and not a higher level; and although the small shelf extended a trifle beyond it, the soldiers had seen no way of scaling the rocks which rose from the brambles and mica, so as to reach the territory beyond the southern ledge. they had never seen these rocks from above, nor any part of the brambly half-acre, for the reason that the edge of the plateau shelved off in a dangerous incline of smooth granite, which it was not possible to look over. otherwise they might have discovered the outside half-acre long before they found the cavernous path which led to it. bromley now proposed to be lowered to the outer edge of the shelving rock by means of the breeches-buoy which had lifted philip from his perilous seat on the avalanche. it was not at all a dangerous experiment, and as soon as he was in a position to examine the rocks below the base of the southern cliff, he saw a narrow ledge which would afford a sure foothold, and which led away upward until it was lost behind the rocks. although invisible from below, it could be reached by their longest ladder. whether the path along the ledge would enable them to reach the top of the mountain to the south remained to be determined. they were all on fire with the fever of exploration; and they had no doubt that the rich bee-tree would reward their efforts with new stores of honey. that night, by means of the canvas strap, they lowered their ladder over the ledge until it rested on the mica shelf. next morning, bright and early, philip got out his small honey-box, and would have taken the old paralytic rooster along but for the implements it was necessary to carry. besides their torches, in passing through the cavern their hands would be full with the ax and a pail for water, and another in which to bring back the honey. it was a clear july day, with a soft south wind breathing on the mountain; and when the three soldiers arrived on their brambly half-acre they found their ladder leaning safely against the rocks where they had lowered it. after they had smothered their torches and laid them by to await their return, they tried the ladder, which proved to be too short by a couple of rungs to reach the path on the cliff. at first they thought they should be obliged to return and make a longer one, but lieutenant coleman was something of an engineer on fortifications, and under his directions they fell to work building a platform of stones and timber, which afforded the ladder a secure foundation and raised it safely to the brow of the ledge. bromley went ahead with the ax, and coleman and philip followed with the pails. the soldiers had brought along their overcoats for the fight with the bees; and when they put them on after the rough exercise of handling the stones, they found them rather oppressive to their brown shoulders, whose summer costume usually consisted of one suspender. bromley was very red in the face as he pushed along on the rocky path, cutting away a root or an overhanging limb which obstructed their passage. chapter xxii the deserted house the path up which the three soldiers were climbing was not a path at all in the sense of its having been worn by the feet of men or animals. it was at first a narrow ledge, and then the dry bed of a watercourse, which overflowed for a few days when the snows melted in the spring, and was walled in by an outer ledge, and turned upward at an easy incline which offered no serious obstacle to the progress of the explorers. the soldiers halted midway, and took off their oppressive overcoats and wiped their red faces. the top of the mountain beyond the southern wall was about half the area of their own plateau, and, to the consternation of the three soldiers, in the very center of the tract stood a log house flanked by some tumble-down sheds. this unexpected discovery was so startling that they retreated below the bank for consultation. they had no doubt that the bees philip had lined came from the hives of these people. if there were a bee-tree at all, they would not be allowed to cut it. lieutenant coleman was at first disposed to return without revealing themselves to the strangers. their curiosity, however, was so roused, and their desire was so great to learn something of their neighbors, that the three soldiers crept back until only their heads were above the edge of the bank, and their wondering eyes fixed on the house. there might be women there, and from a sense of modesty each man got back into his old blue overcoat. they talked in husky whispers as they stared through the bushes, expecting every moment to see some one come out for a pail of water or an armful of wood. "there's a man down there by the shed," whispered philip; and so timid of their kind had the soldiers become after seven years of seclusion, during which they had not spoken to a human being, that they ducked their three heads in a tremble of excitement. presently bromley looked again, and almost laughed out loud; for the man was only a stump with something thrown over it that stirred with the wind. there was no smoke from the chimney; but it was mid-way between breakfast and dinner, and fire was not to be expected at that hour in midsummer. there were no clothes hung out to dry, and no growing crops in sight; but there were small stacks of corn-stalks at different points on the field, and these were in every stage of decay, from the conical heap overgrown with vines to the flat mound of gray stalks through which the young chestnuts had sprouted and grown to a thrifty height. a forest of hop-vines grew over the eaves of the house, flaunting their green tendrils in the soft south wind, and giving an unmistakably home-like air to the place. as no one appeared after an hour's watching, it was more than likely that the family was absent for the day or asleep inside. the longer the soldiers waited, the greater their curiosity became, and then they remembered their scarcity of food, and felt the gold coins in their pockets. it would be foolish to return without buying something from these neighbor-people. their vow was not to go down from the mountain; and if they neglected this opportunity to supply their wants, starvation would soon drive them into the confederacy, vow or no vow. bromley, as usual, was the first to come to a decision; and then all three climbed boldly out upon the bank and prepared to visit the house. as they advanced over the grass they buttoned their overcoats more closely about their throats, and jingled the coins in their pockets to keep up their courage. they looked down at their bare feet and legs, which naturally made them timid at the prospect of meeting women; and so, huddled together for support, they crossed the dry chip dirt, and came around the corner of the house. the door stood open above the smooth stone step, and bromley struck it with his knuckles, while his comrades waited behind him, feeling instinctively, in their momentary embarrassment, for their collars and wristbands, which had never before been out of their reach in the presence of the other sex. if they had been less embarrassed they would have noticed the utter absence of all signs of habitation outside the house, and that the door itself was sagging inward from its rusty hinges. the interior was darkened by the sliding boards which closed the windows, and gave forth a musty, earthy smell. [illustration: the deserted house.] "there's nobody lives here," said bromley, in his strong, natural voice, at which coleman and philip were startled into a small spasm of feeling again for their shirt-collars; and then, as he gave a kick to the lurching door, they dropped their nervous fingers and followed him in. bromley opened one of the windows, which let in but a dim light because of the thick mat of hop-vines which had overgrown it. the first object that caught the eyes of the soldiers was a considerable library of books crowded together on three shelves above the fireplace. philip had his hand at once on the familiar cover of "uncle tom's cabin"; bromley took down a faded volume of the "anti-slavery record" for the year ; and coleman went outside the door to examine a small book which bore in gilded letters on the cover, "the branded hand." on the title-page there was a woodcut of a hand with two s's on the open palm. the story was of the trial and imprisonment of jonathan waller, or walker, at pensacola, florida; and a few pages on, the author was shown dripping with perspiration in the pillory. this book had been published in , and lieutenant coleman dropped it on the door-step and hastened back to find something more modern. in fact, the three soldiers were moved by the same desire to find something--anything--that had been printed since the year . so it was with the greatest disgust that they took from the lower shelf and threw down, one after another, such ancient history as "captain canot; or, twenty years of an african slaver," ; "the alton riots," by rev. edward beecher, ; "abolition a sedition," ; "memoir of rev. elijah p. lovejoy," ; and "slavery unmasked," . there were other curious works on the same subject, bearing equally remote dates. on the second shelf there was a mixed collection of thin periodicals in blue, yellow, and gray covers, such as "the quarterly anti-slavery magazine," "the emancipator," and "the slave's friend," and several volumes of speeches by william lloyd garrison and wendell phillips, bearing date as late as . the upper shelf was filled with small books and pamphlets on temperance and prohibition, not one of which had been published since the year . lieutenant coleman and bromley were so keenly disappointed at finding among so many books nothing that threw any light on the state of the country since their arrival on the mountain, that they were almost tempted to throw the library into the fireplace and burn it up by starting a fire with their flints. the perfect order in which the books had been arranged was strangely in contrast with the otherwise wrecked condition of the room. the excitement of the soldiers on seeing the library had prevented them from noticing that the hearthstone had been wrenched from its original position, and that the earth had been dug out to some depth beneath it and thrown in a heap against the edge of the single bunk by the south wall. stones had been pried from the back of the chimney, and there was abundant evidence that some person had been hunting for treasure. the rusty spade with which the digging had been done lay in the fireplace, where it had been thrown by the baffled robber. the bedtick had been ripped open with a knife, and the straw with which it had been filled was scattered over the dry earth on the floor. the blankets and everything of value in the house had been carried away. it might be that murder had been committed here as well as robbery. as there was no stain of blood on the mattress or on the floor, lieutenant coleman concluded that the robber was only a cowardly thief who had stolen the property from the deserted cabin. it would seem, however, that this man had had some knowledge of the dead mountaineer which had caused him to suspect that there was hidden treasure in the house. possibly he had found what he sought. the discovery of the house and its contents was so startling that the soldiers forgot all about the bee-tree they had come in search of. the absence of everything in the nature of food forced itself upon their minds, as they felt the coins in their pockets. there might be corn in one of the tumbledown outhouses. both were sadly decayed and broken by the winds and storms to which the strong walls and good roof of the house had not yet yielded. the first shed contained a small heap of wood and a rusty ax, and the other appeared to have been used as a cow-stall. the paths were overgrown with grass, which indicated that years had passed since the place had been inhabited. the good order in which the books had been left led the soldiers to doubt if the place had been visited since the robber had gone away. it was true that the library was of a character that would be undesirable in a slaveholding confederacy; and if any one had seen it since the robbery, it was strange that he had not destroyed the objectionable books. this state of things was so puzzling to lieutenant coleman and his comrades that they set out at once to make the circuit of this small tract on the mountain-top, which they naturally believed must be somewhat difficult of access. there must be a road that led to it. the robber might have climbed over the rocks, through some difficult pass, and so might the owner of the house; but the cow-shed would make it seem that domestic animals had been driven up from the valley. the western front was the boulder side of the mountain, and as unapproachable here as on their own plateau. after the most careful exploration, the remaining sides were found to be of the same character as the cashiers valley side beyond the dividing cliff. this smaller tract of mountain-top was supported by sheer ledges which rose above the forest below. there might be some point in the wall where a man could scale it with the help of a long ladder, but it was evident that no cow had ever fed in that stall. it was past noon now, and the soldiers sat down on a rock in the mild sunlight which poured over the dividing ledge, and talked of the strange situation. "there have been human beings here," said bromley; "at least two of them: the fellow who lived in that house, and the robber who looted it. now i am not much of a detective, but it is certainly our business to find out how they got here and how they got away." "how the robber got away," suggested coleman; "for there is no doubt in my mind that the man who lived here was his victim." "yes," said philip, "i am certain there was a murder committed here. don't you see that if the murderer had carried off the books they would have been evidence against him sufficient to have convicted him of the crime?" this view of philip's was so plausible that the others adopted it. they assumed that the unfortunate victim had been shot in the open field, and buried where he fell. if the crime had been committed so long ago that the grass had found time to take root in the hard paths, it would have long since overgrown the shallow grave. then it occurred to the soldiers, who had helped to bury the dead on more than one battle-field, that as time passes a shallow grave has a way of sinking. the murderer would have been careful not to raise a mound, and the very place of his crime should by this time be plainly marked by a long grassy hollow. they started at once to search for the grave; but they were thirsty, not to say hungry, after their exertions of the morning, and so they went first to a spring which they had seen near the head of the path where they had climbed up. it was a large bubbling spring, and flowed under the rocks so nearly opposite to where the branch appeared on the other side that they knew it was the source of their own supply. it was not pleasant to think how easily their neighbor in his lifetime might have turned it in some other direction, thus stopping the wheels of their mill, and possibly leaving them to perish of thirst. after they had lain down on the ground and drunk from the spring, they turned in the direction of the lonely house, flattering themselves that they were, after all, pretty clever detectives. by putting together the facts which they had now determined and proved, they had made a rather shrewd beginning at the discovery of a crime. they agreed, as they went along, that nothing further should be disturbed within or without the house until they should have unraveled the history of the foul murder. that was, they believed, the method observed by the best detectives and coroners. they might not establish their theory to-day or to-morrow, but they could go and come by the new path they had found, and sooner or later they would force the secret from the mute objects in the midst of which the crime had been committed. as they arrived at this united and enthusiastic decision, they were approaching the house on the opposite side to that which they had passed on their first coming. the turf was so firmly rooted here that it was not easy to determine whether there had or had not been a garden on this side. a thick clump of young chestnut-trees had grown up since cultivation had been suspended, and as the three soldiers turned around these, they came suddenly upon something which exploded their fine-spun theories. [illustration: the grave of the old man of the mountain.] it was nothing less than a grave with an uncommonly high mound above it, and marked at the head by a broad slab of oak. besides the wild-rose bush which grew out of the matted grass on the mound, there was another object which staggered the soldiers more than the grave itself. on the upper part of the headboard the following inscription was deeply cut: here rest the bones of hezekiah wallstow abolitionist and apostle of temperance who died here ended the letters, which were cut with a knife, evidently by the said hezekiah himself, with the expenditure of much time and patience. below, the inscription was continued with black paint, half written and half printed in one ungrammatical and badly spelled sentence: hit was sumwhar betune april & juin the , . the other object, found lying across the grave, was the skeleton of the cow, whose crumpled horns were attached to the bleached skull, and whose white ribs provided a trellis for the rose-bush. strangest of all strange things in this mysterious affair, one horn of the skeleton was hooked over the top of the slab so as to hold the great skull reversed close against the headboard on the side opposite to the inscription. evidently the faithful creature had died of starvation during the winter which followed the death of her master. by accident or through a singular exhibition of affection, she had lain down to die on the hard snow which was banked high above the grave, and as this melted the head of the cow had lodged in this remarkable position. "well," said philip, with a sigh for his pet theory, "whoever he was and however he came here, his name was hezekiah wallstow, and there was no murder after all--unless a third man came to bury him." "that's all settled," said bromley, resignedly; "but how about the cow? did she come here in a balloon?" "my dear fellow," said lieutenant coleman, "we have not yet found how the men got here. when we learn that, it may make all the rest plain." without entering the house again, the soldiers made a second circuit of the field, examining carefully every foot of the cliffs. they were absolutely certain now that there was no road or path leading to this smaller plateau except that by which they themselves had come; and yet here were the bones of a full-grown cow and the ruined stall which had at some time been her winter quarters. they next examined the heaps of stalks, which were sixteen in number, and represented that many harvests; but the older ones were little more than a thin layer of decayed litter through which the grass and bushes had grown up. there might have been many others of an earlier date, all traces of which had long since disappeared. at first it seemed strange that a cow should have starved in the deepest snow in the midst of such surroundings. on a closer examination, however, it appeared that the tops of the two larger stacks had been much torn, and the stiff stalks cropped bare of leaves. it was plain enough that the lean cow had wandered here on the hard crust of the snow and scattered the stalks as she fed. even now these could be seen lying all about in the grass where they had lodged when the snow melted. under one of the stacks another skull was found, the owner of which must have died before the cow, or have been killed for beef. instead of one, two domestic animals, then, had cropped the grass and switched at the flies on this plateau which was surrounded by inaccessible cliffs. how did they come there? by sunset the soldiers were no nearer to a solution of this difficult problem, and so they filled their two pails with antislavery books, and returned to ponder and wonder in the society of the bear and the six sad roosters. they could sleep but little after such a day of excitement, and they were scarcely refreshed by their night's rest when they returned on the following day to the deserted house. this time they left their overcoats at home, and took with them a loaf of corn-bread for luncheon, and the pails, in which they intended to bring back more books. they halted again before the oak slab bearing the name of hezekiah wallstow, apostle of temperance, etc., and crowned by the mourning skull of the cow, as if to assure themselves of the reality of what they had seen, and then they walked humbly into the house. they could think of no guiding clue to start them in the solution of the problem of the cattle, and so they weakly yielded to their curiosity about the books. bromley cut away the thicket of hop-vines which darkened the two windows, and in the improved light they fell to examining the coarse woodcuts of runaway slaves with their small belongings tied up in a pocket-handkerchief, which headed certain advertisements in the periodicals. "the adventures of captain canot" was a thick book with numerous illustrations of a distressing character. in one picture a jolly sailor with a pipe in his mouth was smilingly branding the back of an african woman, while another sailor stood by with a lantern in broad daylight. they hoped to find an account-book or a diary, but there was nothing of the sort on the shelves beyond one or two entries in pencil on a fly-leaf of the "memoir of rev. elijah p. lovejoy," acknowledging the receipt of a cask of meal or a quarter of lamb. chapter xxiii starvation following their first visit, the three soldiers returned during four successive days to the deserted house and the field surrounding it. by this time they had carried home the last of the books by pailfuls, making the long journey through the cave of the bats by torch-light; but they had arrived no nearer to the solution of the riddle of the cattle. in fact, so long as any part of the library remained where they had found it, they had come to wander hopelessly in the early morning along the ledges which upheld the smaller plateau, and then retire to the cool house to read. after the books had been removed by the soldiers to their own side of the dividing cliff, they found it so hard to leave them that they stopped at home for a whole week, reading by turns and worrying themselves thin about the bones of the cattle. they had abundant need at this time to keep their flesh and spirits, for two more of the nine sacks of corn had been ground in the mill, and the prospect for the future was more dismal than ever. the end of this week of inaction, however, found the three soldiers in the early morning again standing by the deserted house. lieutenant coleman had a systematic, military mind, and, now the diverting books were out of their reach, he stated the problem to his companions in this direct and concise way: "we know that two cattle have lived and died on this field." "undoubtedly," replied bromley and philip. "we have examined three sides of the field, and found that the cattle could not have come from either of those directions. is not that so?" "it is absolutely certain," said the others. "therefore," continued lieutenant coleman, "they must have come by the fourth side." this conclusion was admitted to be logical; but it provoked a storm of argument, in the course of which the soldiers got wild-eyed and red in the face. in the end, however, they consented to trim out the bushes which formed a thicket along the base of the ledge. it seemed to lieutenant coleman that they must find some passage here, and, sure enough, not far from the middle of this natural wall they came upon a low-browed opening, which presently narrowed down to a space not much more than five feet square. the farther end of this tunnel was closed by a pile of loose earth, which was spread out at the base, and had every appearance of having been thrown in from the other side of the ledge. the rusty shovel was brought from the fireplace of the house, and after a few minutes of vigorous digging, a ray of light broke through the roots and grass near the roof of the hole. the soldiers gave a wild cheer, and rushed out into the fresh air to cool off. "that settles it," said lieutenant coleman. "hezekiah wallstow was the old man of the mountain, and after josiah woodring buried him he filled up this passage. the treasure he was searching for was the very cask of gold we dug out of the fake grave--thanks to the sacrilegious behavior of the bear." "but how about the cattle?" said bromley, still skeptical. "easy enough," said coleman, triumphantly. "they brought two young calves up the ladders." this hitherto unsuspected passage through the ledge made everything clear. it had evidently been wide open during all the years the old man had lived on the mountain. it might have been screened by bushes so that any chance visitors, like the hunters who came over the bridge, would be easily deceived, and not disposed to look farther than the ruined cabin and the non-committal gravestone. it was not strange that the three soldiers had never suspected that there was an opening here through the rocks, for a four-pronged chestnut had taken firm root in the grassy bank which josiah had thrown up, and the old man had been dead six years when they first arrived on the mountain. how soon after the burial the passageway had been closed, it was not so easy to determine, but numerous hollows which were afterward found near certain trees and rocks on the smaller plateau made it look as if josiah had spent a good many moonlight nights in digging for the treasure before he gave it up altogether. according to the story of andy, the guide, josiah himself must have died soon after his strange patron, and most likely he closed the entrance to the passage in despair when he felt his last illness approaching. there was still much for the soldiers to learn about the motive of the hermit in burying his surplus gold. the comforts with which he had surrounded himself would indicate that he was no miser, and his devotion to the cause of the slave made it extremely probable that he had willed his treasure to some emancipation society, which had not succeeded in reclaiming it before the war, and which, for plenty of reasons, had not been able to secure it since. after the soldiers had reopened the passage through the dividing cliff so that they could pass readily from one plateau to the other, they suspended further investigation and yielded to the luxury of reading, which had been denied them so long. the more they read of this peculiar literature from the library left by hezekiah wallstow, the more interested they became in the cause of the slave who, they believed, had been made free on paper by the impotent proclamation of abraham lincoln, only to have his fetters more firmly riveted than ever by the success of the confederate arms. among the other books there was one entitled "two-fold slavery of the united states." this book had been published in london in the year , and contained as a frontispiece a black-and-white map, which, so far west as it extended, was remarkably like the one which hung on the wall of their house. philip shed new tears over the pathetic lives of uncle tom and little eva, and lieutenant coleman and george bromley grew more and more indignant as they read of the sufferings of the rev. elijah p. lovejoy, and the self-confessed cruelties of captain canot. however much the soldiers were wrought up by these books, it was left to the mass of pamphlets and periodicals to fill their hearts with an unspeakable bitterness toward the institution which the united efforts of their comrades in arms had failed to overthrow. it was evident that the old man had kept up some sort of communication by mail with the boston abolitionists, and that his agent, josiah, had yielded his views, if he had any, to a liberal supply of gold; for up to the time of his death he had continued to receive these periodicals. as long as he received such dangerous publications, he must have maintained correspondence with their editors; and the more the soldiers became imbued by their reading with the ideas which had made a hermit of hezekiah wallstow, the more certain they became that he had willed his money to the cause of abolition, or perhaps that he only held it in trust from the first. otherwise, why should he have adopted so crafty a method of hiding it from josiah? to speculate on the cunning of these two men became a favorite occupation of coleman and bromley when their eyes were worn out with reading. they were sure that every fresh lot of pamphlets had come, through the settlement and up the mountain, at the bottom of a cask of meal. the old man had no mill or other means of grinding his corn, which he must have cultivated for his cattle, relying upon josiah for most of his food. undoubtedly the very keg which the hunters had seen josiah carrying up by moonlight, and which they believed was filled with whisky, contained seditious literature enough, if they had ever found it, to have put them to the unpleasant necessity of hanging the bearer to the nearest limb. so the soldiers continued to read, to the neglect of every other duty, through the entire month of august, except that lieutenant coleman made a brief entry in the diary each morning, and, when they were out of food, philip laid by his book long enough to grind another sack of the corn. the few ears which had shown themselves on the plantation had been eaten green, and the yellow and shriveled stalks which had escaped the grub at the root stood in thin, sickly rows. it was an off year even for the chestnuts. when, in addition to this, it was found in september that the potato crop had rotted in the ground, the reading was brought to a sudden end, and the soldiers found themselves face to face with a condition which threatened starvation, and that before the winter began. they remembered the bee-tree, and took up the line where philip had left it, at the edge of the southern wall, only to find that the bees flew on to some tree in the forest below and beyond the plateau. when it was quite settled that they would have no supplies for the winter unless they bought them from the people in the valley with their gold pieces, as the old man had done before them, they settled down to their reading again, foraging by turns for every edible thing they could find, and putting off the evil hour when they should be forced to reveal themselves. the more they read of these fiery periodicals the more they loathed their neighbors in the valley and shrank from communicating with them. they knew that these people in the mountains seldom owned slaves themselves; but they felt that they were in full sympathy with all the cruelties of which the yellow-and-blue covered pamphlets treated. if the guineas in the hoard of hezekiah wallstow meant anything, they represented the proportion of the gold which had been contributed by antislavery societies in england; and they began seriously to consider their moral obligation to return the entire sum to its rightful owners. in order to accomplish this just purpose, their lives must be preserved during the approaching winter, and seeds secured for another planting. after that, they would find means to replace with iron the gold they had used in the construction of the mill and of various domestic utensils; and when the treasure was restored to the cask, they would find some way to open communication with the benevolent antislavery societies. by the end of october they had eaten the last of their meal. there were a few clusters of purple grapes on the vines, and to these they turned for food, still dreading to make any signs to their enemies, with a dread which was born of the pamphlets they were reading. for two days more they stained their hands and faces with the juice of the grapes, until an exclusive fruit diet, and meditation day and night on the awful wickedness of men, weakened their bodies and began to affect their minds. the dread hour had finally come, and they could no longer delay making signs of their distress. to this end they collected a pile of dry wood, and heaped it on the point of rocks, in full view of the settlement of cashiers. it was growing dusk when everything was ready to start the fire, and philip had come from the house with a lighted torch. at the moment he was about to touch it to the dry wood, bromley snatched the torch from his hand and extinguished it in the dirt. coleman and philip tried to prevent this rash act of their comrade, and in their excitement gave free expression to their anger; but bromley stamped out the last spark of the fire without paying any heed to their bad language and frantic gestures. "are you mad?" he then cried, retreating a little from what threatened to be an assault. "what do you think will be our fate at the hands of these people, when we are found in possession of such books as we have been reading? we should be imprisoned like lovejoy, or branded like walker. we might pay with our lives for your recklessness to-night." philip and coleman were shocked at the danger they had so narrowly escaped, and thanked bromley for his forethought and prompt action. of course they must bury the books, but they would have all of the next day to attend to that; and with many expressions of thankfulness they returned to the house and crept into their bunks. when morning came they were weak and hungry, with nothing whatever to eat; but in spite of all this they heaped the antislavery books and pamphlets on the earthen floor, carefully separating them from the works on temperance. they had come to regard these books as little less than sacred, and they naturally shrank from burying them in the ground. happy thought!--there was the cave of the bats. so, packing them into the pails, the soldiers carried the books in two toilsome journeys by torch-light to the middle of the cavernous passage, and laid them carefully together on the stone floor. they were well-nigh exhausted by this exertion; but after a rest they found strength to close the entrance with brush and earth, and to cover their work with pine-needles. half famished as lieutenant coleman and his comrades were, they could only drink from the branch and wait patiently for night. the poor old paralyzed rooster, sitting in the chips by the door, looked so forlorn and hungry that philip set him out among the dry weeds, and lay down on the ground beside him, so as to be ready to turn him about and set him along when he had plucked the few seeds in his front. as for the bear and the five crippled roosters, they shambled and hobbled about, and shifted bravely for themselves. there were still many things to consider as to how they would be received by these people, and what success they would have in exchanging united states gold pieces for food and clothing. perhaps they would be obliged to buy confederate notes at ruinous rates of exchange. perhaps their visitors would confiscate their gold pieces at sight, and take them down the mountain as state prisoners. they must keep some coins in their pockets for barter, which was their object in summoning their dubious neighbors; but it would certainly be prudent to conceal the bulk of their money. so the last thing the soldiers did on this november afternoon was to dump the gold that remained in the cask into a hole in the ground, and cover it up. as soon as it began to grow dark on the mountain they set fire to the pile of wood, which was presently a great tower of flame, lighting up the rocks and trees, and forming a beacon which must be seen from valley and mountain for miles around. at that hour, and in the glare of their own fire, they could see nothing of its effect in the settlement; but they were sure it would be watched by the families outside every cabin; and in this belief they moved about to the right and left of the flames, waving their arms in token of their distress. [illustration: the beacon fire.] surely a fire on this mountain-top, where no native had set foot for seven long years, would excite the wonder of the people below. it could be kindled only by human hands, and they would be eager to know to whom the hands belonged. in the morning the three soldiers crept out to the smoldering remains of their fire, which was still sending up a thin wreath of smoke. on the distant road through the valley they could see groups of tiny people, evidently watching and wondering. they could come no nearer than the bridgeless gorge, and so, weak as the soldiers were, after making every effort to show themselves in the smoke, they made their way to the head of the ladders and climbed down to the field below. philip stopped behind to run up the old flag on the pole; for, whatever effect that emblem might have on their neighbors, they were determined to stand by their colors. they found a few chestnuts and dried berries in the old field, which they devoured with wolfish hunger as they crept along toward the gorge. they hoped to see human faces on the opposite bank when they arrived; but there was no one there to meet them. they were not greatly disappointed, for it was still early in the day, and the people had a much longer journey to make from the valley. there was the same old-time stillness on that part of the mountain: the tinkling brook in the bottom of the gorge, and the soughing of the wind in the tops of the tall pines on the other side. there were still some sticks of the old bridge wedged in the top of the dead basswood--the bridge which had served the old abolitionist in his lifetime, and the destruction of which had served the purpose of the soldiers equally well. the mild november sunshine lay bright on the faded landscape, and the soldiers sat down on the dry grass to await the coming of their deliverers. if one of the tall pines had been standing on their own side of the gorge they would have used their last strength to cut it down and fell it across the chasm. they had put on their old blue overcoats, to make a decent appearance before the people when they arrived; but hour after hour crept slowly by, and nobody came except tumbler, the bear, who had backed down the ladders and shambled across the field to join them. by the sun it was past noon when he came, and as he seated himself silently in the gloomy circle, he made but a sorry addition to the anxious waiters. why did no one come to their relief? they knew that their fire had been seen where the presence of a human being would be regarded as little less than a miracle by the dwellers in the valley. what if they had accepted it as a miracle altogether, and avoided the place accordingly? they were ignorant people, and therefore superstitious; or else they were as cruel and heartless as they were described in the "weekly emancipator." the rustling wind in the tree-tops, and the occasional tapping of a woodpecker in the forest beyond, became hateful sounds to their impatient ears. bromley, who was the strongest of the three, and the more indignant that no one came to their relief, wandered back upon the old field, where he found a few more chestnuts, which he divided equally with his half-famished comrades. every mouthful of food helped to keep up their strength and courage, and now the slanting rays of the afternoon sun reminded them that they must repeat their signal, and that no time was to be lost in gathering wood for another fire. there was still hope that relief would come before dark, and philip was left to watch with the bear, while coleman and bromley returned to the plateau. the postmaster in the cove might be less superstitious, they thought, or less hard-hearted than the people in the valley. if their strength held out they would have two fires that night. no chance should be neglected. as coleman and bromley dragged together a few dead limbs upon the edge of the great boulder, they hoped that the postmaster had found the remains of the telescope, as they knew he had found the army blanket which fell from the balloon, so that when he saw their fire he would connect it, in his mind, with the other objects which had come down from the mountain. it was after sunset when philip and tumbler appeared on the plateau. no one had come even so far as the gorge; and philip helped to carry the last of their wood to the rocky point where the blackened embers of the first fire lay in the thin ashes. coleman and philip remained to kindle this beacon, while bromley went to the cove side with a lighted torch and a bundle of fat pine-knots. when bromley saw the first smoke of the other fire across the ridge, no light had yet appeared in the windows of the small post-office. moreover, with his strong eyes he was sure he saw some object moving along the road in the direction of the office. he waited a little, waving his torch, and then he applied it to the dry leaves and sticks at the base of the pile, which flashed quickly into a blaze. bromley was not content to move about in the light replenishing his fire, but, as often as a fat pine-knot had become enveloped in flame, he separated it from the pile and poked it over the edge of the great smooth rock, to flare against the black storm-stains as it fell, and perhaps to start a new fire in the cove bottom. a brisk east wind was blowing across the mountain, which carried the smoke and sparks over the long roof of the post-office. bromley remained late at his work; but at last his strength and his will-power yielded to the weakness that comes with hunger. an overpowering drowsiness compelled him to leave the fire and go stumbling over the hill to the house, where he found coleman and philip already asleep. chapter xxiv the rescue when the three soldiers awoke on the morning which followed the kindling of the two fires, philip was too ill to leave his bunk, and lieutenant coleman and bromley were too weak to drag themselves as far as the rocks where the embers were still smoking. the sun was shining on their united states window, and when they looked out at the door, the old flag of thirty-five stars was floating bravely on the fresh wind. "three cheers for the stars and stripes, and for sherman territory!" cried bromley, and the weak cheers so exhausted the two men that they sat down on the wooden bench in a state of collapse. faint as they were from hunger, they were still fainter from thirst, and after a moment's rest they staggered over to the branch and drank their fill of the cool water, and laved their feverish faces in the stream. they brought a cup of the water to philip who lay quietly in his bunk, and was altogether so weak that they were obliged to hold him up while he drank. "there, there," said coleman, as they eased him back on his pillow. "you must keep a good heart, for some one will surely come to us to-day." philip looked brighter for the draft of water, but he only smiled in reply. the sun was warm outside, but the act of drinking, while it had greatly revived and encouraged coleman and bromley, had so chilled their starved bodies that they put on their overcoats and buttoned them up to the throat. they could do no more in the way of calling for help than they had already done. men had died of starvation before, and it might be their fate to perish of hunger, but they had a strong faith that the fires they had built for two nights on this uninhabited mountain would bring some one to their relief. they regretted now that the reading of the abolition books had influenced them to delay so long their appeal for help. to reach them their rescuers must fell one or more of the tall pines across the bridgeless gorge, but they were too weak to go down the ladders, and what wind there was blew across the mountain in the direction of the gorge, so that they would not be able to hear the sound of an ax a mile away. time had never dragged so slowly before. the sun lay in at the open door, and by the marks they had made on the floor, as well as by the shadows cast by the trees outside, they could judge closely of the hour. they could hardly believe that it was only ten o'clock in the morning, when it seemed as if they had already passed a whole day in vain hope of relief. it was such a terrible thing to await starvation in the oppressive stillness of the mountain, that bromley, almost desperate with listening, went to the branch and hung the bucket on the arm of the old slow-john, which presently began to pound and splash in its measured way. dismal as the sound was, it gave them something to count, and relieved their tired ears of the monotonous flapping of the flag and of the rustling of the barren corn-stalks. they talked of the old man who had died alone on the other plateau. he, too, might have died of starvation. there were no signs of food in the deserted house when they had discovered it. they had never thought of it before, but his cunning agent might have been a villain after all. he might have grown weary at last of lugging casks up the mountain by moonlight, and getting the old man's gold by slow doles. he must have had some knowledge of the treasure for which he dug so persistently afterward, and in his greed to possess it he might have deliberately starved the old abolitionist. they thought of hezekiah wallstow burning beacon-fires in his extremity, when there was a good bridge to connect the mountain-top with the valley, and yet he was left to die alone. the thought was not encouraging to coleman and bromley in their weakened, nervous condition, and tended to make them more than ever distrustful of the natives to whom they had appealed. they withheld these disturbing suspicions from philip, but the more they pondered on the subject the more they were convinced of the barbarity of the confederates, and of their determination to leave them to their fate. lieutenant coleman wrote what he believed to be the last entry in the diary. it was november , ; and on the prepared paper of the book which treated of deep-sea fishing, he stated briefly their starving condition and their fruitless efforts to summon relief. they still had the tin box in which the adamantine candles had been stored, and into this bromley helped to pack the leaves of the diary, already neatly tied in separate packages, and labeled for each year. if he had had a little more strength he would have carried it to the forge, and sealed the cover of the box which contained the record of their lives. as it was, they set it on the mantelpiece under the trophy formed of the station flags and the swords and carbines, and laid a weight on the lid. after this was accomplished, lieutenant coleman lay down and turned his face to the wall, and bromley seated himself on the bench outside the door, too stubborn to give up all hope of relief. the warm sun lighted the chip dirt at his feet, and seemed to glorify the bright colors of the old flag as it floated from the staff. he forgot his desperate situation for a moment, as his mind turned back to the battle-days when he had seen it waving in the sulphurous smoke. it gave him no comfort, however, to think of his old comrades and the dead generals and the cause that was lost; and when his eyes fell on the ground at his feet, he tried to keep them fixed on a tiny ant which came out of a crumbling log. the small thing was so full of life, darting and halting and turning this way and that! now it disappeared under the log, and then it came out again, rolling a kernel of corn by climbing up on one side of the grain, to fall ignominiously down on the other. bromley was just about to pounce on the grain of corn and crush it between his teeth when he heard a sound on the hill, and, raising his eyes, he saw two men coming on toward the house. they carried long bird-rifles on their shoulders, and to his starved vision they looked to be of gigantic size against the sky. he could only cry out, "fred! fred! here they come!" [illustration: "he could only cry out, 'fred! fred! here they come!"] these electric words brought coleman's haggard face to the door, and even philip turned in his blankets. the strange dress and wild appearance of the two soldiers clinging to the door of the house, and the fantastic effect of the afternoon sun on the stained-glass window, as if the interior were on fire, so startled the strangers that they lowered their rifles to a position for defense, and turned from the direct approach, until they had gained a position among the rustling corn-stalks in front of the door. the various buildings and the evidence of cultivation on the mountain-top staggered the visitors, and the haggard faces of coleman and bromley led them to believe that they had come upon a camp of the fabled wild men of the woods. they had never seen a stained-glass window before, and to their minds it suggested some infernal magic, so the two valley-men stood elbow to elbow in an attitude for defense, and waited for the others to speak. "come on, neighbors," said bromley, holding out his empty hands. "we are only three starving men." one of the valley-men was tall and lank, and the other was sturdily built; and at these pacific words of bromley they advanced, still keeping close together. "we don't see but two," said the stout man, coming to a halt again. "where's the other one at?" "he's too weak to get out of his bunk," said lieutenant coleman. "for god's sake, have you brought us food?" "that's just what we have," said the rosy-faced stout man, who came on without any further hesitation. "we've brought ye a corn-pone. we 'lowed there might be some human critters starvin' up here." with that he whisked about the thin man, and snatched a corn-loaf from the haversack on his back. "how did you-all ever git here?" said the thin man. "hit's seven year since the old bridge tumbled into the gorge." there was no reply to this question, for bromley was devouring his bread like a starved wolf, while coleman had turned away to share his piece with philip. the eagerness with which they ate seemed to please the two valley-men, who were willing enough to wait a reasonable time for the information they sought. it was a fine opportunity to give some account of themselves, and the rosy-faced man made good use of it. "we're plumb friendly," he said, "and mighty glad we brought along the bread, ain't we, tom? mightn't 'a' done hit if hit hadn't 'a' been for my old woman insistin'. she 'lowed some hunter fellers had got up here and couldn't git down ag'in, and she hild fast to that idea while she was a-bakin' last night, time your fire was a-burnin'. hit certainly takes women folks to git the rights o' things, don't hit, tom? my name is riley hooper, and this yer friend o' mine is tom zachary, and we're nothin' if we ain't friendly." poor philip was unable to swallow the dry bread, and coleman came to the door with the golden cup in his hand, and begged one of the men to bring a cup of water from the branch. tom zachary hurried off on this mission of mercy. "hit's a wonder," he exclaimed, when he came back with the dripping cup, "that you-all ain't been pizoned afore this, drinkin' out o' brass gourds. that's what ailed colum. long time he had the greensickness. but his woman was cookin' into a brass kittle, and that might 'a' made some difference." the two men now pressed into the house to see philip, and bromley, whose hands were at last empty, and whose strength was fast returning, came after them. "i'm jist nacherly put out," said hooper, when he saw the condition of philip, "that i didn't bring along somethin' to warm up a cold stomic. poor feller! say, where's your fryin'-pan at? i'll fix a dose for him. here, tom, wake up. fill this skillet with water out o' the branch, 'thout no flavor o' brass into hit"; and as he spoke he whisked tom around again, and took the haversack from his shoulders. "no, ye don't," said he to bromley, who came forward for more bread. "no, ye don't, my boy. i've viewed starvin' humans afore. what you want to do is to go slow. a dose o' gruel is jest the ticket for this yer whole outfit." the rosy-faced man was too busy with the fire and the gruel, and too eager to improve the condition of the men he had rescued, to ask any disturbing questions; and tom zachary was so considerate, in the presence of actual starvation, that he seated himself on a three-legged stool, and stared at the stained-glass windows and the flags and the curious map on the wall. it was just as well that bromley had removed the golden casters, years before, from the legs of the stools, when they were found to make ruts and furrows in the earthen floor. tom zachary would have been more astonished than ever if he had found himself rolling about on double-eagles. when the hot gruel had been served, philip was so much revived as to be able to sit up on the edge of his bunk. if it was delicacy that still prevented the visitors from asking questions, it was a dread of overwhelming bad news that sealed the soldiers' lips. they had become so settled in their convictions, and so confirmed in their strange blindness, that they shrank from hearing the mortifying particulars. so the five men sat staring at one another, each party waiting for the other to begin. "sojer coats," said the lean man, nudging his companion. "and cavalry guns and swords," said the rosy-faced one, casting his eyes on the trophy. "and my affydavid," said the tall one, "if them ain't the reg'lar old signal-flags--one, two, one." lieutenant coleman was thankful that his visitors had said nothing disagreeable thus far, but he feared every moment that they would make some insulting remark about the old flag, which they could see through the door-way. bromley restrained himself as long as he could, and then, in reply to the three mild observations, in which he thought he detected a shade of sarcasm, he exclaimed: "well, what of it? we are not ashamed of our uniform or of our arms." "there ain't no reason why ye should be, my buck," said the rosy-faced man. "soldierin' is as good a trade as any other." "hit's better 'n some," said the tall one. "gentlemen," said lieutenant coleman, who began to fear more personal remarks, "you have saved our lives to-day. we shall never forget your kindness, or cease to feel ourselves your debtors. you see our destitute condition. we need food for the coming winter, and seed for another year, for which we are able to pay; and if you know who owns this mountain-top, we shall be glad to arrange, through you, to buy it." "well, now, i'll be gormed," said the rosy-faced man, "if he ain't a thoroughbred as soon's he gits fed up a little. wants to buy these yer rocks, does he? tom, who do you reckon owns this mounting?" "dunno," said tom, with a grin, "if you don't." "well, i do," said hooper, expanding himself with an air of proprietorship, "and there hain't nobody never disputed my title to this upper kentry." "are you willing to sell it?" said lieutenant coleman. "i'll sell anything i've got," said hooper, looking more rosy and smiling than ever, "so i git my figger." "very well," said coleman. "if we take the mountain-top from the deep gorge up, at what price would you value it?" "well, now," said hooper, "if you really mean business, this yer track ain't worth a fortun'. timber-land in these parts brings a dollar an acre when hit brings anything. rock-land like this, without no timber onto hit, is worth fifty cents; but, cousiderin' the improvements and the buildin's," he continued, "i reckon seventy-five would be dirt-cheap. hit ain't ever been surveyed, but i 'low there's two hundred acres above the gorge." lieutenant coleman already had his hand in the pocket of his canvas trousers, and, bringing out two double-eagles, he handed them to the rosy-faced proprietor as a first payment. hooper jumped up from his seat and took the two yellow coins in his hands, and chinked them together, and tossed them about as if he feared they might burn his palms. "durned if hit ain't united states gold money, tom," he exclaimed, passing one of the coins to zachary, who was equally excited. "we hain't viewed that kind o' money for seven years in these parts, have we, tom?" tom indorsed his companion's statement in pretty strong language, and lieutenant coleman hastened to say that if the money was not satisfactory, they could probably agree upon some rate of exchange. at this point of the conversation, the two mountaineers exchanged some words in a whisper, and the soldiers believed they were agreeing upon the discount between united states and confederate money. to fill up this awkward break in the conversation, lieutenant coleman began again to express his gratitude to his rescuers. "now, hold on, captain," exclaimed hooper, facing about. "whatsoever me and tom has done, we have done willin', and nobody willin'er, and we're goin' to stand by ye to the end; but we ain't goin' no further in this business till you tell us how ye got here. the way we study hit out, you ain't treatin' me and tom fair." "pardon me, my good friends," said lieutenant coleman. "i had no intention of being rude. we came here in the summer of , in the line of our duty as union soldiers, and when the war ended with the success of the confederates--" "what!" cried the two men together, gasping in amazement at what they heard. "and the union was destroyed," continued lieutenant coleman. "and the capitol fell into the hands of the confederates." "and slavery was restored," exclaimed bromley. "and the flag was disgraced and robbed of its stars," put in philip, with such voice as he could command. the two mountaineers stood open-mouthed for a moment, and then they burst into peals of laughter. "whoop!" cried the rosy-faced man, slapping his leg and throwing his wool hat on the floor as if it had been a brickbat. "if that ain't the jolliest thing i ever heard, and hit's kind o' serious-like, too! why, men, there ain't no confederacy. hit's the old united states, from canada to the gulf of mexico, and from the atlantic ocean clear across to the pacific." "and general sherman--" gasped philip. "he's gineral of the army up in washington right now, and gineral grant is president," cried the rosy-faced man. somehow the interior of the house grew vague and misty, as if a sea-fog had swept in through the windows. everything and everybody danced and reeled about, until the soldiers fell away from the embrace of their deliverers, quite exhausted by the excitement and the news they had heard. while all this was going on, philip lay back on his blanket and shed tears of joy over the wonderful news. in fact, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. even the eyes of the men from cashiers glistened with moisture, as they vied with each other in discharging facts, like cannon-balls, into the ears of the astonished soldiers. they gave them a rough history of the end of the great war, of the tragic death of lincoln, and of some of the events which had since taken place in the united states. "there were thirty-five stars on the old flag when we came here," cried lieutenant coleman. "and there's thirty-seven now," said hooper. "thirty-seven!" repeated the soldiers, looking at one another through their tears. "thirty-seven!" the soldiers ate some more of the bread from the haversack, and with renewed strength went out into the afternoon sunlight, coleman and bromley supporting philip, and all five sat down under the old flag. and as they sat there together like brothers, the soldiers told the others why they had first come to the mountain, and the bad news they had got by flag, and the resolution they had made, and all that had come of it. and when they had done speaking, tom zachary, whose face had grown longer and sadder as he listened to their story, said he had something to tell them for which he hoped they would forgive him. "i was only a boy in the war-time," said tom, "and i lived with my kin-folks in a settlement at the foot of the tenth mountain. gineral thomas commanded the home guard brigade, with headquarters at quallatown, in the cherokee kentry, and he had signal-flag men like you-all, and 'mongst the rest there was one named bud bryson. now bud was mighty peart, and he boasted as how he could study out any cipher that ever was made, if only he had time enough. so when the gineral heard that there was a yankee station on that mountain, he sent bud with a spy-glass, to make out the cipher and read the telegrafts for him. many's the day i stayed out on the south ridge with bud, and wrote down the letters as he read 'em off, and, turn 'em which way we would, we could never make head or tail of 'em. it was a-z-q-j-g and such fool letters, and after two weeks' hard work bud bryson was no nearer to makin' sense of the letters than when he begun, though he did always say that if they had only give him time he would 'a' studied out the trick. "but the gineral got tired o' waitin' on bud, and one day he sent a squad of fifteen cavalry soldiers to capture the stations. the soldiers started up the mountain in the early mornin', with bud to guide 'em and give 'em points. i went up with the rest, just to see the fun, and when we got to the top, the soldiers rushed in on two sets o' men, sawin' the air with their flags and sendin' messages both ways. lieutenant swann was the officer's name, a big red man, and mighty mad he was when the soldiers took him. they searched him from head to foot, and 'mongst the papers on him they found the secret cipher bud had been workin' for. "what with guardin' the prisoners and the prospect of capturin' more, fifteen troopers was too scant a crowd to divide into two squads, and so the captain ordered bud to stay on the mountain and give the stations ahead enough news to keep 'em quiet until he come back. "that game suited bud mighty well, and havin' nobody to help him, he made me stay with him to take down the letters. we had the camp just as they left it, with plenty o' rations and coffee to drink such as we hadn't tasted for years, and every time bud looked at the flags he burst out laughin'. hit was somewhere near the end of july when we took the mountain, and that same afternoon bud begun to figger the letters of his first message crooked accordin' to the cipher, and git hit ready to send on. 'tom,' he says to me with a grin, 'i reckon we better kill off gineral sherman first,' and then he laughed and rolled over on the blankets. "next mornin' he sent the message, and when the telegraft come back to know if the news was true, he sent word hit was, 'honor bright,' and signed the lieutenant's name, 'james swann.' hit was three weeks before the squad got back from chattanooga way, and all the time bud kept sendin' lies about great confederate victories. he was keerful what he sent, too, and figgered on the dates, and kept all the messages he had sent before wrote down in order, so he wouldn't get mixed. when we got all ready to leave bear clift, which was the tenth station, bud flagged an order to hold on--that relief was comin'. "now, after we started east, we picked up a station every mornin'; and as soon as bud got his hands on the flags, he begun to lie more than ever, closin' up the war with a dash. we had over fifty prisoners when we took the three men off from upper bald, and there havin' been six on every other station, we nat'rally thought we had found the last; and the cavalry went away with their prisoners to quallatown." chapter xxv conclusion after the straightforward story of tom zachary, which explained the cunning method by which lieutenant coleman and his comrades had been deceived by the flag-messages, the soldiers could feel no resentment toward tom. they were so happy in the possession of all the good news they had heard that they would have shaken hands with bud bryson himself, if he had been one of their rescuers. "now i reckon," said the rosy-faced man, as he got on his feet to go down the mountain, "considerin' the way things has turned out, you-all won't keer about investin' in property in this upper kentry, and i'll give ye back your money," he continued, looking fondly at the two yellow coins. coleman and bromley, however, insisted that a bargain was a bargain, and that they wanted the land more than ever. they should go away, they said, the next day if philip was able to make the journey; and lieutenant coleman pressed another coin upon hooper, for which he was to bring them a supply of clothing which they could wear as far as asheville. it all seemed like a dream to the three belated soldiers when their visitors had gone; but bromley, who was the more practical, reminded his comrades that the antislavery societies must have been long since disbanded, and that the gold was theirs by the right of discovery. so, after making a supper of the corn-bread from the haversack, coleman and bromley fell to work with a will, stripping the mill of its golden bands and hinges and hasps; and late into the night the windows of the forge glowed and beamed, and the ruddy firelight streamed out through the cracks in the logs, where bromley, the goldsmith, was smelting and hammering the precious metal into bars, and beating into each, while it was soft, the impress of a double-eagle, reversed. when all the gold was packed in the very cask in which they had found it, and so wedged and padded with leaves of the temperance books that it no longer chinked when it was moved, a book-cover was nailed on the head, and the package was addressed to "lieutenant frederick henry coleman, u.s.a., washington, d.c." the tin box containing the diary, and the flags and swords and such books as they wished to keep, were gathered together and packed for transportation. by noon of the following day the two mountaineers appeared again, looking like old-clothes men as they came over the hill. when the three soldiers got out of their tattered clothing, and into the butternut-and-gray suits which had been borrowed for them from the neighbor folk in the settlement, the misfits were such that they looked hardly less comical than before. philip was the first to appear from the house ready for the descent. his hat was a bell-crowned beaver, his trousers were turned up half-way to his knees, and he carried in his hand the alligator-skin bag which had belonged to the beautiful lady of the balloon. [illustration: "they looked hardly less comical than before."] after they got down the ladders, coleman carried the cask as far as the gorge, resting at intervals, but never permitting the two mountaineers to test its weight or even suspect its contents. philip and bromley divided between them the flags and sabers, the remaining carbine, the map, and the tin box containing the diary. hooper and zachary were occupied with the six sad roosters, and tumbler, the bear, ambled along behind the men as they picked their way down the mountain. it was really a perilous journey along the rough trunk of the great pine which lay across the dark chasm, but bromley shouldered the cask, and walked over as steadily as old tumbler himself, and, arrived on the opposite side, he set it on end in the tail of the steer-cart, which was hitched to a sapling alongside the very rock on which andy, the guide, had been seated when he told the story of the old man of the mountain. the tall pines were whispering together in the soft wind as unconcernedly as if it had been seven days instead of seven years since the soldiers had stood on that spot before, and the tinkling stream below was still chinking on its way like silver coins in a vault. at first philip mounted the seat beside tom zachary, and took charge of the fowls jolting in a yellow, croaking mass between his feet, except the old paralyzed rooster, which he earned tenderly in his lap. he was too excited to ride, however, and presently he got down and walked with the others. at every stage of the descent the soldiers were learning new facts about the war, which made their return to the united states a triumphal and delirious progress. by the time they reached the hill-pastures where they were greeted by some of the very same copper bells that had startled the cavalcade going up, they began to be joined by the people who had heard of their discovery. they came in twos, and threes, and whole families, to swell their train, so that when they turned into the sandy road through the valley they were attended by a joyous procession of curious followers, which steadily increased until the cart, with the bear shambling alongside, came to a stand by the woodpile of elder long, misnamed shifless. philip took off his bell-crowned hat right and left to the women; and lieutenant coleman greeted aunt lucy, who leaned on her crutches at the gate among the purple cabbage-heads, with the stately courtesy he had learned at west point. riley hooper mounted the woodpile, and announced, with a merry twinkle in his eye, that he and tom had captured the "harnts" that had been "doin'" the ghost business so long on old whiteside; at which aunt lucy glared through her spectacles as if the remark were a personal affront to her, and the elder exclaimed fervently, "may the lord's will be done!" when presently the mail-carrier came along in his one-horse gig, lieutenant coleman wrote a hurried despatch to the adjutant-general of the army, announcing the relief of his station, and the cask containing the treasure was committed to the carrier's charge, to be sent on by express, as if it were only the commonest piece of luggage. when the sun disappeared behind the mountain, ushering in the long twilight in the valley, the crowd was still increasing, and one of the last to arrive was the old postmaster from the cove. when he came the soldiers and their deliverers were seated with the elder's family about the supper-table in the kitchen, where the neighbors lined the walls and filled the doors and windows, eager to hear more of the life on the mountain. the great round table itself excited the soldiers', surprise; for, besides being covered with a gaudy patchwork of oilcloth, it was encircled at a lower level with a narrow ledge which held the plates and cups and knives and forks, while the great center was loaded with smoking loaves of corn-bread, platters of fried chicken, bowls of potatoes, jugs of milk, and pots of fragrant tea. room was made for the postmaster at the hospitable board, and after the elder had said grace standing, he invited everybody to help himself, at the same time giving the table a twirl which sent the smoking dishes and the flaring tallow dips circling around on an inner clockwork of creaking wooden wheels. it was altogether such a bewildering and unexpected movement that philip nearly fell out of his chair, and even bromley, who had just laid a piece of corn-bread on the edge of the oilcloth, dropped his knife as he saw the bread sail around until it rested in front of the postmaster, very much as the blanket had fluttered down from the balloon. after the supper was over, and all the neighbor folks had been satisfied, eating and drinking where they stood, lieutenant coleman, speaking for his companions, related such incidents in connection with their life on the mountain as he chose to disclose. he ended his long story by presenting the bear to riley hooper, and the six sad roosters to tom zachary, with a sum of money to pay for their keeping. the library of abolition books he presented to elder long, telling him where he would find it in the long cavern. "hit's plumb quare," said the postmaster, after lieutenant coleman sat down. "did you 'ns ever drop sech a thing as a spy-glass?" "we did indeed," said all three of the soldiers together. "an' mighty well battered an' twisted hit was," said the postmaster. "i found hit 'mongst the rocks a spell after the blanket landed front o' my door, an' i always 'lowed hit fell out o' the balloon." the soldiers laughed. "i come drefful nigh comin' up thar in ' ," said the postmaster. "say, strangers," he continued, dropping his voice, "tell me true; did you 'ns ever view the harnt up yonder?" "we never had the pleasure," said lieutenant coleman. "that's quare, too," said the postmaster, "an' you livin' thar seven year; fur i viewed hit, an' no mistake, that winter afore i 'lowed to come up, a-gyratin' an' cavortin' on the avalanche in the moonlight, the same bein' the night afore hit fell." bromley sat back in his chair, and laughed aloud. "here's the 'harnt' you saw," he exclaimed, slapping philip on the shoulders. "no, no!" cried the postmaster, getting onto his feet with a scared look in his face. "yer funnin' with me, stranger, fur no human could 'a' got thar whar i viewed the harnt." "but he did," said bromley; and then he described how philip fell, and how he got up again. "by the way," continued bromley, looking around, "is the young woman present who used to live alone in the house under sheep cliff?" at this question some of the neighbor women pushed forward a tall, stoop-shouldered girl with a sallow face, who struggled to avoid the gaze of the soldiers. "what fur ye want 'o know?" she said in a sullen voice, still pushing to get back to her place against the wall. "oh, nothing," said philip; "only we used to see you through the telescope." the soldiers and the family sat for a time in silence after the most of the neighbors had gone. "well, i declare," said the postmaster, giving a twirl to the creaking table which caused the last guttering candle to approach him in a smoky circle, "how things do come round!" the light reddened the postmaster's face for an instant, and gleamed on his glasses, as he blew out the candle and pinched the wick. and so ends the history of the three soldiers who remained in voluntary exile for seven years, and were happily rescued at last. internet archive (https://archive.org) note: images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/lastninetydaysof spen the last ninety days of the war in north-carolina. by cornelia phillips spencer. new-york: watchman publishing company, w. h. chase, publishing agent . entered, according to act of congress, in the year , by charles f. deems, in the clerk's office of the district court of the united states for the southern district of new-york. to the hon. d.l. swain, ll.d., at whose suggestion it was undertaken, and by whose invaluable advice, encouragement, and assistance it has been completed, this book is most respectfully dedicated. preface. the papers on the last ninety days of the war in north-carolina, which originally appeared in the new-york watchman, and are now presented in book form, were commenced with no plan or intention of continuing them beyond two or three numbers. the unexpected favor with which they were received led to their extension, and finally resulted in their republication. to do justice to north-carolina, and to place beyond cavil or reproach the attitude of her leaders at the close of the great southern states rights struggle--to present a faithful picture of the times, and a just judgment, whether writing of friend or foe, has been my sole object. slight as these sketches are, they may claim at least the merit of truth, and this, i am persuaded, is no slight recommendation with the truth-loving people of north-carolina. contents. chapter i. page difficulties of the history--the position of north-carolina--the peace convention--the montgomery convention--governor vance--the salisbury prison--testimony on the trial, chapter ii. winter of -' --letter of governor vance--appeal for general lee's army--the destitution of the people--fall of fort fisher--advance of general sherman--contrast between sherman and cornwallis--extracts from lord cornwallis's order-book--the "bloody tarleton," chapter iii. judge ruffin--his history--his character--his services--general couch's outrages after peace had been declared--general sherman's outrages--his unblushing official report--"army correspondents"--sherman in fayetteville--cornwallis in fayetteville--coincidences of plans--contrasts in modes--the negro suffers--troops concentrating under general johnston, chapter iv. laws of war--"right to forage older than history"--xenophon--kent on international law--halleck's authority _versus_ sherman's theory and practice--president woolsey--letter of bishop atkinson, chapter v. lord cornwallis in fayetteville--a young lady's interview with him--how he treated her--how sherman's men treated her grandson--"the story of the great march"--major nichols and the "quadroon girls"--such is not war--why these things are recorded--confederate concentration in north-carolina--a sad story, chapter vi. "shays's rebellion"--kent on massachusetts--conduct of a northern government to northern rebels--the "whisky insurrection"--how washington treated a rebellion--secession of new-england birth--the war of --bancroft on --the baconists--an appeal, chapter vii. schofield's army--sherman's--their outrages--union sentiment--a disappointment--ninety-two years ago--governor graham--his ancestry--his career--governor manly, chapter viii. governor graham opposes secession--but goes with his state--is sent to the confederate senate--his agency in the hampton roads interview--remarkable and interesting letters from governor graham, written from richmond in , chapter ix. state of parties--the feeling of the people--the "peace" party--important letter from governor vance in january, --his reëlection--the war party--the peace party--the moderates--governor graham's letter of march, --evacuation of richmond, chapter x. general johnston preparing to uncover raleigh--urgent letter from governor swain to governor graham--governor graham's reply--a programme of operations agreed upon--finally governors graham and swain start for sherman's headquarters, chapter xi. raleigh, when uncovered--the commissioners to general sherman--they start--are recalled by general johnston--are stopped by kilpatrick's forces--their interview with kilpatrick--are carried to sherman's headquarters--his reply to governor vance--the further proceedings of the commission--a pleasant incident--the commissioners return to raleigh--governor vance had left--his letter to sherman--the federal troops enter raleigh--incidents, chapter xii. johnston's retreat--governors graham and swain misunderstood--wheeler's cavalry--confederate occupancy of chapel hill--the last blood--"stars and stripes"--one in death--general atkins--scenes around raleigh--military lawlessness, chapter xiii. correspondence between governor swain and general sherman--governor vance's position and conduct--kilpatrick--the conduct of the servants--"lee's men"--president lincoln, chapter xiv. general stoneman--outrages--cold-blooded murders--general gillam--progress through lenoir, wilkes, surry, and stokes--stoneman's detour into virginia--the defense of salisbury--the fight in the streets of salisbury--general polk's family--temporary occupancy of salisbury--continuous raiding, chapter xv. iredell county--general palmer's courtesy to mrs. vance--subsequent treatment of this lady by federal soldiers--major hambright's cruelty in lenoir--case of dr. ballew and others--general gillam--his outrages at mrs. hagler's--dr. boone clark--terrible treatment of his family--lieutenants rice and mallobry--mrs. general vaughan--morganton, chapter xvi. plundering of colonel carson--of rev. mr. paxton--general martin repulses kirby--gillam plunders during the armistice--occupation of asheville--wholesale plunder--dispatch from general palmer, chapter xvii. surrender of general lee--why north-carolina could not have taken measures to send commissioners--review--the coal-fields railway--difficulties of transportation--provisions--the last call--recreants--privations--the condition of the press, chapter xviii. the university--its early history--its continued growth--the ardor of the young men--application for relief from conscription--governor swain to president davis--another draft on the boys--a dozen boys in college when sherman comes; and the bells ring on--"commencement" in --one graduate--he pronounces the valedictory--conclusion, appendix. i.--university record, ii.--general james johnston pettigrew, the last ninety days of the war in north-carolina. chapter i. difficulties of the history--the position of north-carolina--the peace convention--the montgomery convention--governor vance--the salisbury prison--testimony on the trial. it will be long before the history of the late war can be soberly and impartially written. the passions that have been evoked by it will not soon slumber, and it is perhaps expecting too much of human nature, to believe that a fair and candid statement of facts on either side will soon be made. there is as yet too much to be forgotten--too much to be forgiven. the future historian of the great struggle will doubtless have ample material at his disposal; but from a vast mass of conflicting; evidence he will have to sift, combine, and arrange the grains of truth--a work to which few men of this generation are competent. but meanwhile there is much to be done in collecting evidence, especially by those who desire that justice shall be done to the south: and this evidence, it is to be hoped, will be largely drawn from _private_ sources. history has in general no more invaluable and irrefragable witnesses for the truth than are to be found in the journals, memoranda, and private correspondence of the prominent and influential men who either acted in, or were compelled to remain quiet observers of the events of their day. especially will this be found to be the case when posterity shall sit in judgment on the past four years in the south. from no other sources can so fair a representation be made of the conflicts of opinion, or of the motives of action in the time when madness seemed to rule the hour, when all individual and all state efforts for peace were powerless, when sober men were silenced, and when even the public press could hardly be considered free. if it be true of the south in general, that even in the most excited localities warning voices were raised in vain, and that a strong undercurrent of good sense and calm reflection undoubtedly existed--overborne for a time by the elements of strife and revolution--more especially and with tenfold emphasis is it true of the state of north-carolina. "where we lay, our chimneys were blown down: and, as they say, lamentings heard i' the air; strange screams of death; and prophesying, with accents terrible, of dire combustion, and confused events, new-hatched to the woful time." that north-carolina accepted a destiny which she was unable to control, when she ranged herself in the war for southern independence, is a fact which can not be disputed. and though none the less ardently did her sons spring to arms, and none the less generously and splendidly did her people sustain the great army that poured forth from her borders; though none the less patient endurance and obedience to the general government was theirs; yet it is also a fact, indisputable and on record, that north-carolina was never allowed her just weight of influence in the councils of the southern confederacy, nor were the opinions or advice of her leading men either solicited or regarded. and therefore, nowhere as in the private, unreserved correspondence of her leading men, can her attitude at the beginning, her temper and her course all through, and her action at the close of the war, be so clearly and so fairly defined and illustrated, and shown to be eminently consistent and characteristic throughout. the efforts made by north-carolina, during the winter and spring of , to maintain peace and to preserve the union, were unappreciated, unsuccessful, and perhaps were not even generally known. in february of that year, two separate delegations left the state, appointed by her legislature, each consisting of selections from her best citizens--one for washington city and the other for montgomery, alabama. judge ruffin, governor morehead, governor reid, d.m. barringer, and george davis were accredited to the peace convention at washington; governor swain and messrs. bridgers and ransom to the convention at montgomery, to meet the delegations expected to convene there from the other southern states. neither of these delegations, however, were able to effect any thing. they were received with courtesy, respect, and attention on each side, but nothing was done. the peace convention at washington was a failure--why or how, has never been clearly shown. if one or other of the distinguished gentlemen who formed the north-carolina delegation would commit an account of the mission to writing, he would be doing the state good service. i would venture to suggest it to judge ruffin, whose appearance there was said to have been in the highest degree venerable and impressive, and his speech _for the union_ and for the old flag most eloquent and affecting. the expected delegations from the other southern states to montgomery failed to arrive, and north-carolina was there alone, and could only look on. the provisional government for such of the states as had already seceded was then acting, and the general confederate government was in process of organization. our delegates were treated with marked courtesy, and were invited to attend the secret sessions of the congress, which, however, they declined. north-carolina stood there alone; and as she maintained an attitude of calm and sad deprecation, she was viewed with distrust and suspicion by all extremists, and was taunted with her constitutional slowness and lack of chivalric fire. the moderation and prudence of her counsels were indeed but little suited to the fiery temper of that latitude. too clearly, even then, she saw the end from the beginning; but what was left for her, when the clouds lowered and the storm at last broke, but to stand where the god of nature had placed her, and where affection and interest both inclined her--_in_ the south and _with_ the south? to that standard, then, her brave sons flocked, in obedience to her summons; for them and for their safety and success were her prayers and tears given; for their comfort and subsistence every nerve was strained in the mortal struggle that followed; and their graves will be forever hallowed--none the less, i repeat, that from the first the great body of her people and the best and most clear-sighted of her public men deprecated the whole business of secession, and with sad prevision foretold the result. if history shall do her justice, the part played by north-carolina all through this mournful and bloody drama will be found well worthy of careful study. the quiet and self-reliant way in which, when she found remonstrance to be in vain, she went to her inevitable work; the foresight of her preparations; the thoroughness of her equipments; the splendor of her achievements on the battle-field; her cheerful and patient yielding to all lawful demands of the general government; her watchful guard against unlawful encroachments, as the times grew more and more lawless; her silence, her modesty, and her efficiency--were all strikingly _north-carolinian_. not one laurel would she appropriate from the brow of a sister state--nay, the blood shed and the sufferings endured in the common cause but cement the southern states together in dearer bonds of affection. no word uttered by a north-carolinian in defense or praise of his own mother, can be construed as an attempt to exalt her at the expense of others. but i am speaking now of north-carolina alone, and my principal object will be to present the closing scenes of the war, as they appeared within some part of her borders, and to make a plain record of her action therein--a sketch which may afford valuable memoranda to the future historian. much of the energy and the efficiency displayed by the state in providing for the exigencies of war, were due to the young man whom she chose for her governor, in august, . governor vance was one of the people--one of the soldiers--and came from the camp to the palace undoubtedly the most popular man in the state. a native of buncombe county, he had been in a great measure the architect of his own fortunes. possessing unrivaled abilities as a popular speaker, he had made his way rapidly in the confidence of the brave and free mountaineers of western carolina, and was a member of the united states house of representatives for the term ending at the inauguration of president lincoln. he used all his influence most ardently to avert the disruption of the union, down to the time when the convention of may, , passed the ordinance of secession. then, following the fortunes of his own state, he threw himself with equal ardor into the ranks of her army. volunteering as private in one of the first companies raised in buncombe, he was soon elected captain, and thence rose rapidly to be colonel of the twenty-sixth regiment. his further military career was closed by his being elected governor in , by an overwhelming vote, over the gentleman who was generally considered as the candidate of the secession party. we were, indeed, all secessionists then; but those who were defined as "_original secessionists_"--men who invoked and cheered on the movement and the war--were ever in a small minority in this state, both as to numbers and to influence. governor vance was elected because he _had been_ a strong union man, and _was_ a gallant soldier--two qualifications which some of our northern brethren can not admit as consistent or admirable in one and the same true character, but which together constituted the strongest claim upon the confidence and affection of north-carolina. governor vance's career from the first was marked by devotion to the people who had distinguished him, and by a determination to do his duty to _them_ at all hazards. this is not the place, nor have i the material for such a display of governor vance's course of action as would do him deserved justice; but this i may say, that his private correspondence, if ever it shall be published, will endear him still more to the state which he loved, and to the best of his ability served. his employment of a blockade-runner to bring in clothing for the north-carolina troops was a noble idea, and proved a brilliant success.[ ] if he had done nothing else in his official career to prove himself worthy to be our governor, this alone would be sufficient. it matters but little as to the amount, great or small, of confederate money spent in this service. it is all gone now; but the substantial and incalculable good that resulted at the time from this expenditure, can neither be disputed nor forgotten. for two years his swift-sailing vessels, especially the a.d. vance, escaped the blockaders, and steamed regularly in and out of the port of wilmington, followed by the prayers and anxieties of our whole people. "the advance is in!" was a signal for congratulations in every town in the state; for we knew that another precious cargo was safe, of shoes, and blankets, and cloth, and medicines, and cards. and so it was that when other brave men went barefoot and ill-clad through the winter storms of virginia, our own north carolina boys were well supplied, and their wives and little ones at home were clothed, thanks to our governor and to our god. i have seen tears of thankfulness running down the cheeks of our soldiers' wives on receiving a pair of these cards, by which alone they were to clothe and procure bread for themselves and their children. and they never failed to express their sense of what they owed to their governor. "god bless him!" they would cry, "for thinking of it. and god _will_ bless him." one striking evidence of the fullness and efficiency of these supplies i can not refrain from giving, as it occurred at the close of the war, when our resources, it might be supposed, were utterly exhausted. it will also serve to show what manner of man governor vance was, in more ways than one. in february, , the attention of our people was called to the condition of the federal prisoners at salisbury. the officer in charge of them may or may not have been as he is represented. time will bring the truth to light. but it was alleged against him, that he would not only do nothing himself for the unhappy prisoners under his care, but would allow no private interference for their comfort. the usual answer of all such men, when appealed to on the score of common humanity, was, "what business have these yankees here?" this was deemed triumphant and unanswerable. that their food should be scanty and of poor quality was unavoidable when our own citizens were in want and our soldiers were on half-rations; but sufficient clothing, kind attendance, and common decencies and comforts were, or might have been, extended to all within the bounds of our state. how far the federal government was itself responsible and criminal in this matter, by its refusal to exchange prisoners, future investigations will decide. the following extract of a letter from a prominent member of our last legislature to a distinguished citizen, shows what the state of north-carolina could and would have done for their relief: "i called at governor vance's office, in the capitol, and found him sitting alone; and though his desk was covered with papers and documents, these did not seem to engage his attention. he rather seemed to be in profound thought. he expressed himself pleased to see me, and proceeded to say that he had just seen a confederate surgeon from salisbury--mentioning his name--and was shocked at what he had heard of the condition of the federal prisoners there. he went on to detail what he had heard, and testified deep feeling during the recital. he concluded by saying that he wished to see the state take some action on the subject. i assured him immediately how entirely i sympathized with him, and asked what relief it was in our power to bestow. he replied that the state had a full supply of clothing, made of english cloth, for our own troops, and that she had also a considerable quantity made of our own factory cloth. and further, that the state had also a very large supply of under-clothing, blankets, etc.; a supply of all which things might be dispensed to the prisoners, without trenching upon the comfort of our own troops. i told him that a resolution, vesting him with proper authority to act in the matter, could, i thought, be passed through the legislature. that i thought it very desirable that such a resolution should be passed unanimously; and with a view to obviate objections from extreme men, it was better so to shape the resolution as to make it the means of obtaining reciprocal relief for our own prisoners at the north. this was done. the resolution requesting governor vance to effect an arrangement by which, in consideration of blankets, clothing, etc., to be distributed by the federal government to prisonners of war from north-carolina, blankets, clothing, etc., in like quantity, should be distributed by the state of north-carolina to the federal prisoners at salisbury, passed both houses, i think, without one dissentient voice, within the next day." the letter-books of governor vance, it will be remembered, passed into the hands of the military authorities in may, ; and, under the order of general schofield, were transmitted to the state department at washington. whether they have been or are to be returned to the executive department of this state, to whom they properly belong, remains to be seen. a correspondent of the new-york press, who was allowed to examine them, remarks that "among much evil they exhibited _redeeming traits of character_!" that "the letters of governor vance to mr. secretary seddon, of the war department of richmond, and to general bradley johnson, who had control of the prisoners at salisbury, _urged_ upon both these functionaries the immediate relief of the suffering prisoners, as alike dictated by humanity and policy." this correspondence, when it shall come to light, will show that the action of the executive was as prompt and decided as that of the legislative department of the state. whatever may be said of the treatment of prisoners at andersonville and elsewhere, it is certain that no efforts were spared on the part of the public authorities of north-carolina, nor, we may add, of the community around salisbury, to mitigate, as far as was possible, the inevitable horrors of war; and that our governor, especially, exerted all the power and influence at his command to render immediate and effectual relief. governor vance received no reply to his application to the federal authorities. from general bradley johnson, at salisbury, he received in reply a list of clothing and provisions then being received from the north for the prisoners; and a statement that they needed nothing but some tents, which governor vance was unable to send them. the investigations of the gee trial, held at raleigh since the above was written, have served to substantiate all that i have said. what we could do, we were willing to do for our unhappy prisoners. but our own people, our own soldiers, were on the verge of starvation. every effort was made by our authorities to induce the northern government to exchange, without effect. their men died by thousands in our semi-tropical climate, because we were powerless to relieve them with either food or medicine. no one can read the testimony given at the gee trial without a deep impression of the awful state of destitution among us. the country around salisbury was stripped bare of provisions, and the railroads were utterly unfit for service. one of the witnesses stated that they had to take up the turn-outs to mend the road with. "writing now, at a distance of nearly two years, i can not recall the dark and hopeless days of that winter without a shudder. we knew the condition of those prisoners while we were mourning over the destitution of our own army. the coarse bread served at our own meagre repasts was made bitter by our reflections. a lady, writing from salisbury, said: i am much more concerned at the condition of these prisoners than at the advance of sherman's army." that north-carolina had at least clothing to offer them was more than could be said for any other southern state in that respect. she was probably worse off for provision than those south of her. she gave what she had. she did what she could. footnotes: [footnote : since the publication of the above, i have been informed by governor vance that the first suggestion of this plan was due to gen. j.g. martin alone. he was at that time adjutant-general of the state, and at a consultation held by governor vance soon after his entrance upon office, to devise ways and means for providing for our soldiers, gen. martin suggested and advocated the employment of a blockade-runner. it was a bold and happy thought, and as boldly and happily carried out by governor vance.] chapter ii. winter of -' --letter of governor vance--appeal for general lee's army--the destitution of the people--fall of fort fisher--advance of general sherman--contrast between sherman and cornwallis--extracts from lord cornwallis's order-book--the "bloody tarleton." the fall and winter of -' were especially gloomy to our people. the hopes that had so long delusively buoyed up the southern states in their desperate struggle against overwhelming odds were beginning to flag very perceptibly in every part of the confederacy where people were capable of appreciating the facts of the situation. more especially, then, in north-carolina, situated so near to the seat of war that false rumors, telegrams, and "reliable gentlemen" from the front had never had more than a very limited circulation here, and whose sober people never had been blinded or dazzled by the glare of false lights; more especially here were there only gloomy outlooks for the year , as it dawned. in september, , our representative governor had written thus confidentially to his oldest and most warmly attached personal friend, a gentleman of the highest consideration in the state--a letter that needs neither introduction nor comment to secure it attention: "raleigh, september , . "i would be glad if i could have a long talk with you. i never before have been so gloomy about the condition of affairs. early's defeat in the valley i consider as the turning-point in this campaign; and, confidentially, i fear it seals the fate of richmond, though not immediately. it will require our utmost exertions to retain our footing in virginia till ' comes in. mcclellan's defeat is placed among the facts, and abolitionism is rampant for four years more. the army in georgia is utterly demoralized; and by the time president davis, who has gone there, displays again his obstinacy in defying public sentiment, and his ignorance of men in the change of commanders, its ruin will be complete. they are now deserting by hundreds. in short, if the enemy pushes his luck till the close of the year, we shall not be offered any terms at all. "the signs which discourage me more than aught else are the utter demoralization of the people. with a base of communication five hundred miles in sherman's rear, through our own country, not a bridge has been burned, not a car thrown from its track, nor a man shot by the people whose country he has desolated. they seem everywhere to submit when our armies are withdrawn. what does this show, my dear sir? it shows what i have always believed, that _the great popular heart_ is not now, and never has been in this war. it was a revolution of the _politicians_, not the _people_; and was fought at first by the natural enthusiasm of our young men, and has been kept going by state and sectional pride, assisted by that bitterness of feeling produced by the cruelties and brutalities of the enemy. "still, i am not out of heart, for, as you know, i am of a buoyant and hopeful temperament. things may come round yet. general lee is _a great man_, and has the remnant of the best army on earth, bleeding, torn, and overpowered though it be. saturday night may yet come to all of our troubles, and be followed by the blessed hours of rest. god grant it! 'lord, i believe, help thou mine unbelief' in final liberty and independence. i would fain be doing. how can i help to win the victory? what can i do? how shall i guide this suffering and much-oppressed israel that looks to me through the tangled and bloody pathway wherein our lines have fallen? duty called me to resist to the utmost the disruption of the union. duty calls me now to stand by the new union, 'to the last gasp with truth and loyalty.' this is my consolation. the beginning was bad: i had no hand in it. should the end be bad, i shall, with god's help, be equally blameless. "i hope when you come down, you will give yourself time to be with me a great deal. "i am, dear sir, very truly yours, "z.b. vance." the saddest forebodings of this letter, which would have been echoed by many a failing heart in the state, were soon to be realized. by january, , there was very little room left for "belief" of any sort in the ultimate success of the confederacy. all the necessaries of life were scarce, and were held at fabulous and still increasing prices. the great freshet of january th, which washed low grounds, carried off fences, bridges, mills, and tore up railroads all through the central part of the state, at once doubled the price of corn and flour. two destructive fires in the same month, which consumed great quantities of government stores at charlotte and at salisbury, added materially to the general gloom and depression. the very elements seemed to have enlisted against us. and soon, with no great surplus of food from the wants of her home population, north-carolina found herself called upon to furnish supplies for two armies. early in january, an urgent and most pressing appeal was made for lee's army; and the people, most of whom knew not where they would get bread for their children in three months' time, responded nobly, as they had always done to any call for "the soldiers." few were the hearts in any part of the land that did not thrill at the thought that those who were fighting; for us were in want of food. from the humble cabin on the hill-side, where the old brown spinning-wheel and the rude loom were the only breastworks against starvation, up through all grades of life, there were none who did not feel a deep and tender, almost heartbreaking solicitude for our noble soldiers. for them the last barrel of flour was divided, the last luxury in homes that had once abounded was cheerfully surrendered. every available resource was taxed, every expedient of domestic economy was put in practice--as indeed had been done all along; but our people went to work even yet with fresh zeal. i speak now of central north-carolina, where many families of the highest respectability and refinement lived for months on corn-bread, sorghum, and peas; where meat was seldom on the table, tea and coffee never; where dried apples and peaches were a luxury; where children went barefoot through the winter, and ladies made their own shoes, and wove their own homespuns; where the carpets were cut up into blankets, and window-curtains and sheets were torn up for hospital uses; where soldiers' socks were knit day and night, while for home service clothes were twice turned, and patches were patched again; and all this continually, and with an energy and a cheerfulness that may well be called _heroic_. there were localities in the state where a few rich planters boasted of having "never felt the war;" there were ladies whose wardrobes encouraged the blockade-runners, and whose tables were still heaped with all the luxuries they had ever known. there were such doubtless in every state in the confederacy. i speak not now of these, but of the great body of our citizens--the _middle_ class as to fortune, generally the _highest_ as to cultivation and intelligence--_these_ were the people who denied themselves and their little ones, that they might be able to send relief to the gallant men who lay in the trenches before petersburgh, and were even then living on crackers and parched corn. the fall of fort fisher and the occupation of wilmington, the failure of the peace commission, and the unchecked advance of sherman's army northward from savannah, were the all-absorbing topics of discussion with our people during the first months of the year . the tide of war was rolling in upon us. hitherto our privations, heavily as they had borne upon domestic comfort, had been light in comparison with those of the people in the states actually invaded by the federal armies; but now we were to be qualified to judge, by our own experience, how far their trials and losses had exceeded ours. what the fate of our pleasant towns and villages and of our isolated farm-houses would be, we could easily read by the light of the blazing roof-trees that lit up the path of the advancing army. general sherman's principles were well known, for they had been carefully laid down by him in his letter to the mayor of atlanta, september, , and had been thoroughly put in practice by him in his further progress since. to shorten the war by increasing its severity: this was his plan--simple, and no doubt to a certain extent effective. but it is surely well worth serious inquiry and investigation on the part of those who decide these questions, and settle the laws of nations, how far the laws and usages of war demand and justify the entire ruin of a country and its unresisting inhabitants by the invading army; or if those laws, as they are interpreted by the common-sense of civilized humanity, do indeed justify such a course, how far they are susceptible of change and improvement. that the regulations which usually obtain in armies invading an enemy's country do at least permit every species of annoyance and oppression, tending to assist the successful prosecution of the war, to be exercised toward non-combatants, is unhappily testified by the annals of even modern and so-called christian warfare. especially are the evil passions of a brutal soldiery excited and inflamed where the inhabitants betake themselves to guerrilla or partisan warfare; and more especially and fatally in the case of long-protracted sieges, or the taking of a town by storm. the excesses committed by both the english and the french armies in the war of the peninsula are recorded (and execrated) by their own generals, and are characterized by the historian as "all crimes which man in his worst excesses can commit--horrors so atrocious that their very atrocity preserves them from our full execration because it makes it impossible to describe them." havoc and ruin have always accompanied invading armies to a greater or less degree, modified by the causes of the war, the character of the commanding officers, and the amount of discipline maintained. a little more historical and political knowledge diffused among her people might have saved the south the unnecessarily bitter lesson she has received on this matter. very, very few of the unthinking young men and women who clamored so madly for war four years ago, knew what fiend they were invoking. few, very few of their leaders knew. could the curtain that vailed the future have been lifted but for a moment before them, how would they have recoiled horror-stricken! but while admitting that in cases of very bitter national hatreds, ill-disciplined soldiery, and raw generals, excesses are allowed and defended, it is also the province of history to point with pride to those instances where veteran commanders, knowing well the horrors of war, seek to alleviate its miseries, and "seize the opportunities of nobleness," and, believing with napier, that "discipline has its root in patriotism," do effectually control the armies they lead. of such as these there are happily not a few great names whose humanity and generosity exhibited to the unfortunate inhabitants of the country they were traversing lend additional lustre to their fame as consummate soldiers. i shall, however, recall but one example to confirm this position--an example likely to be particularly interesting to southerners as a parallel, and most striking as a contrast, to general sherman's course in the south. in the month of january, , exactly eighty-four years before general sherman's artillery trains woke the echoes through the heart of the carolinas, it pleased god to direct the course of another invading army along much the same track; an army that had come three thousand miles to put down what was in truth "a rebellion;" an army stanch in enthusiastic loyalty to the government for whose rights it was contending; an army also in pursuit of retreating "rebels," and panting to put the finishing blow to a hateful secession, and whose commander endeavored to arrive at his ends by strategical operations very much resembling those which in this later day were crowned with success. here the parallel ends. the country traversed then and now by invading armies was, eighty-four years ago, poor and wild and thinly settled. instead of a single grand, deliberate, and triumphant march through a highly cultivated and undefended country, there had been many of the undulations of war in the fortunes of that army--now pursuing, now retreating--and finally, in the last hot chase of the flying (and yet triumphant) rebels from the southern to the northern border of north-carolina, that invading army, to add celerity to its movements, voluntarily and deliberately destroyed all its baggage and stores, the noble and accomplished commander-in-chief himself setting the example. the inhabitants of the country, thinly scattered and unincumbered with wealth, exhibited the most determined hostility to the invaders, so that if ever an invading army had good reason and excuse for ravaging and pillaging as it passed along, that army may surely be allowed it. what was the policy of its commander under such circumstances toward the people of carolina? i have before me now lord cornwallis's own order-book--truly venerable and interesting--bound in leather, with a brass clasp, the paper coarse and the ink faded, but the handwriting uncommonly good, and the whole in excellent preservation. a valuable relic in these days, when it is well to know what are the traits which go to make a true soldier, and how he may at least endeavor to divest war of its brutality. a few extracts will show what cornwallis's principles were. "camp near beattie's ford, } january , . } "lord cornwallis has so often experienced the zeal and good-will of the army, that he has not the smallest doubt that the officers and soldiers will most cheerfully submit to the ill conveniences that must naturally attend war so remote from water carriage and the magazines of the army. the supply of rum for a time will be absolutely impossible, and that of meal very uncertain. it is needless to point out to the officers the necessity of preserving the strictest discipline, and of preventing the oppressed people from suffering violence by the hands from whom they are taught to look for protection. "to prevent the total destruction of the country and the ruin of his majesty's service, it is necessary that the regulation in regard to the number of horses taken should be strictly observed. major-general leslie will be pleased to require the most exact obedience to this order from the officers commanding brigades and corps. the supernumerary horses that may from time to time be discovered will be sent to headquarters." "headquarters, cansler's plantation, } february , . } "lord cornwallis is highly displeased that several houses have been set on fire to-day during the march--a disgrace to the army--and he will punish with the utmost severity any person or persons who shall be found guilty of committing so disgraceful an outrage. his lordship requests the commanding officers of the corps will endeavor to find the persons who set fire to the houses this day." "headquarters, dobbin's house, } february , . } "lord cornwallis is very sorry to be obliged to call the attention of the officers of the army to the repeated orders against plundering, and he assures the officers that if their duty to their king and country, and their feeling for humanity, are not sufficient to enforce their obedience to them, he must, however reluctantly, make use of such power as the military laws have placed in his hands. "great complaints having been made of negroes straggling from the line of march, plundering and using violence to the inhabitants, it is lord cornwallis's positive orders that no negro shall be suffered to carry arms on any pretense, and all officers and other persons who employ negroes are desired to acquaint them that the provost-marshal has received orders to seize and shoot on the spot any negro following the army who may offend against these regulations. "it is expected that captains will exert themselves to keep good order and prevent plundering. should any complaint be made of the wagoners or followers of the army, it will be necessarily imputed to neglect on the part of the captains. any officer who looks on with indifference, and does not do his utmost to prevent shameful marauding, will be considered in a more criminal light than the persons who commit these scandalous crimes, which must bring disgrace and ruin on his majesty's service. "all foraging parties will give receipts for the supplies taken by them." "headquarters, freelands, } february , . } memorandum. "a watch found by the regiment of bose. the owner may have it from the adjutant of that regiment on proving his property." "camp smith's plantation, } march , . } "brigade orders. "it is brigadier-general o'hara's orders that the officers commanding companies cause an immediate inspection of the articles of clothing, etc., in the possession of the women in their companies, and an exact account taken thereof by the pay-sergeants; after which, their necessaries are to be regularly examined at proper intervals, and every article found in addition thereto burnt at the head of the company--except such as have been fairly purchased on application to the commanding officers and added to their former list by the sergeants as above. the officers are likewise ordered to make these examinations at such times, and in such manner as to prevent the women (supposed to be the source of infamous plundering[ ]) from evading the purport of this order. "a woman having been robbed of a watch, a black silk handkerchief, a gallon of peach brandy, and a shirt, and, as by the description, by a soldier of the guards, the camp and every man's kit is to be immediately searched for the same by the officers of the brigade. "notwithstanding every order, every entreaty that lord cornwallis has given to the army, to prevent the shameful practice of plundering and distressing the country, and these orders backed by every effort that can have been made by brigadier-general o'hara, he is shocked to find that this evil still prevails, and ashamed to observe that the frequent complaints he receives from headquarters of the irregularity of the guards particularly affect the credit of that corps. he therefore calls upon the officers, non-commissioned officers, and those men who are yet possessed of the feelings of humanity, and actuated by the principles of true soldiers, _the love of their country, the good of the service, and the honor of their own corps_, to assist with the same indefatigable diligence the general himself is determined to persevere in, in order to detect and punish all men and women so offending with the utmost severity of example." such was lord cornwallis's policy. what was the disposition toward him of the country through which he was passing? "so inveterate was the rancor of the inhabitants, that the expresses for the commander-in-chief were frequently murdered; and the people, instead of remaining quietly at home to receive pay for the produce of their plantations, made it a practice to waylay the british foraging parties, fire their rifles from concealed places, and then fly to the woods." (stedman's history.) in all cases where the country people practice such warfare, retaliation by the army so annoyed is justified. but even in colonel tarleton's ("bloody tarleton's") command, lord cornwallis took care that justice should be done. in tarleton's own narrative we read: "on the arrival of some country people, lord cornwallis directed lieutenant-colonel tarleton to dismount his dragoons and mounted infantry, and to form them into a rank entire, for the convenient inspection of the inhabitants, and to facilitate the discovery of the villains who had committed atrocious outrages the preceding evening. a sergeant and one private were pointed out, and accused of rape and robbery. they were condemned to death by martial law. the immediate infliction of this sentence exhibited to the army and manifested to the country the discipline and justice of the british general." in lee's memoirs, we learn that on one occasion he captured on the banks of the haw, in alamance, two of tarleton's staff, "who had been detained in _settling for the subsistence of the detachment_." what was the course of general sherman's officers, eighty-four years afterward, in the very same neighborhood, on the very same ground, let us now see. "look on this picture, then on that." footnotes: [footnote : 'tis a thousand pities that a certain gallant major-general, late of the cavalry service in general s.'s army, (now minister to chili,) could not have his attention drawn to this.] chapter iii. judge ruffin--his history--his character--his services--general couch's outrages after peace had been declared--general sherman's outrages--his unblushing official report.--"army correspondents"--sherman in fayetteville--cornwallis in fayetteville--coincidences of plans--contrasts in modes--the negro suffers--troops concentrating under general johnston. in the first week of may, , _after_ the final surrender of general johnston's army, and _after_ general grant's proclamation of protection to private property, major-general couch, with a detachment of some twelve or fourteen thousand infantry, passing up the main road from raleigh to greensboro, encamped on a noble plantation, beautifully situated on both sides of the haw river, in alamance county. of the venerable owner of this plantation i might be pardoned if i were to give more than a cursory notice; for, as a representative north-carolinian, and identified for nearly fifty years with all that is best in her annals and brightest in her reputation at home and abroad, no citizen in the state is regarded with more pride and veneration than judge ruffin. his claims to such distinction, however, are not to be fairly exhibited within the limits of such a sketch as this, though a reference to his public services will have a significant value in my present connection. judge ruffin was born in , graduated at princeton in , was admitted to the bar in , and from the year , when he first represented hillsboro in the house of commons, to the present time, he has been prominently before the people of our state, holding the highest offices within her gift with a reputation for learning, ability, and integrity unsurpassed in our judicial annals. in the year , after forty-five years of brilliant professional life, he resigned the chief-justiceship, and, amid the applause and regret of all classes of his fellow-citizens, retired to the quiet enjoyment of an ample estate acquired by his own eminent labors, and to the society of a numerous and interesting family. the judicial ermine which judge ruffin had worn for so many years not only shielded him from, but absolutely forbade, all active participation in party politics. he was, however, no uninterested observer of the current of events. he had been warmly opposed to nullification in , and was no believer in the rights of peaceable secession in . in private circles, he combated both heresies with all that "inexorable logic" which the london _times_ declared to be characteristic of his judicial opinions on the law of master and slave. he regarded the "sacred right of revolution" as the remedy for the redress of insupportable grievances only. his opinions on these subjects were well known, when, in , he was unexpectedly summoned by the legislature to the head of the able delegation sent by the state to the peace convention at washington. the reference to his course there, in the first of these sketches, renders it unnecessary to say more at present. eminent statesmen, now in high position in the national councils, can testify to his zealous and unremitting labors in that convention to preserve and perpetuate the union of the states; and none, doubtless, will do so more cordially than the venerable military chieftain[ ] who, sixty years ago, was his friend and fellow-student in the office of an eminent lawyer in petersburgh. judge ruffin returned home, dispirited and discouraged by the temper displayed in the convention, and still more by the proceedings of congress. he still cherished hopes of reconciliation, however, when, without any canvass by or for him, he was elected to the convention which, on the twentieth of may, , adopted, by a unanimous vote, the ordinance of secession. having given that vote, he was not the man to shrink from the responsibilities it involved. in common with every other respectable citizen in the state, he felt it his duty to encourage and animate our soldiers, and to contribute liberally to their support and that of their families at home. his sons who were able to bear arms were in the battle-field, and his family endured all the privations, and practiced all the self-denial common to our people; cheerfully dispensing with the luxuries of life, and laboring assiduously for the relief of the army and the needy around them. toward this most eminent and venerable citizen, whose name added weight to the dignity and influence of the whole country, what was the policy of major-general couch, encamped on his grounds, in the pleasant month of may? the plantation had already suffered from the depredations of major-general wheeler's cavalry of the confederate army in its hurried transit; but it was reserved for general couch to give it the finishing touch. in a few words, ten miles of fencing were burned up, from one end of it to the other; not an ear of corn, not a sheaf of wheat, not a bundle of fodder was left; the army wagons were driven into the cultivated fields and orchards and meadows, and fires were made under the fruit-trees; the sheep and hogs were shot down and left to rot on the ground, and several thousand horses and cattle were turned in on the wheat crops, then just heading. all the horses, seventeen in number, were carried off, and all the stock. an application for protection, and remonstrance against wanton damage, were met with indifference and contempt. such being the course of one of general sherman's subaltern officers in time of peace, it is natural to turn to general sherman himself, and inquire what was the example set by him in the progress of "the great march." he speaks for himself, and history will yet deliver an impartial verdict on such a summing up: "we consumed the corn and fodder in the region of country thirty miles on either side of a line from atlanta to savannah; also the sweet potatoes, hogs, sheep, and poultry, and carried off more than ten thousand horses and mules. i estimate the damage done to the state of georgia at one hundred million dollars; at least twenty million dollars of which inured to our advantage, and the remainder was simple waste and destruction." (official report.) simple people, who understand nothing of military necessities, must be permitted to stand aghast at such a recital, and ask why was this? to what end? what far-sighted policy dictated such wholesale havoc? lord cornwallis--a foreigner--acting as a representative of the _mother_ country, seeking to reclaim her alienated children, we have seen everywhere anxious to conciliate, generously active to spare the country as much as possible, to preserve it for the interests of the mother country, and enforcing strict discipline in his army for the benefit of the service. what changes have been effected in the _morale_ of war by nearly a century of christian progress and civilization since lord cornwallis's day? an army, in the middle of the nineteenth century, acting as the representative of _sister states_, seeking to reclaim "wayward sisters"--an army enlisted with the most extraordinary and emphatic avowals of purely philanthropic motives that the world has ever heard--an army marching through what it professes to consider as its own country--this army leaves a waste and burning track behind it of sixty miles' width! "o bloodiest picture in the book of time! sarmatia fell unwept, without a crime; found not a generous friend, a pitying foe, strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe! dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear, closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career." the gay and airy pen-and-ink sketches, furnished to the northern press by "our own army correspondents," of the exploits of bummers, the jocular descriptions of treasure-seekers, the triumphant records of fire, famine, and slaughter, served up with elegant illustrations--wood-cuts in harper's best style--and, if likely to be a trifle too glaring for even radical sensibilities, toned down and made to assume an air of retributive justice by a timely allusion to the "wretched slaves"--these interesting reports, piquant and gayly-colored and suggestive though they were, were yet dull and tame and faded in comparison with the dismal reality. and all this "waste and destruction," it will be the verdict of posterity, even the calmed sense of the present generation will agree, was wholly uncalled for, wholly unnecessary, contributed in no way to the prosperous and speedy termination of the war, but added materially to the losses by the war of the general government, lit up the fires of hatred in many a hitherto loyal southern breast, brutalized and demoralized the whole federal army, and was in short inexcusable in every aspect except upon the determination to exterminate the southern people. we knew that there were men in the church and in the state who openly avowed such aspirations; but as to the great body of the sober, intelligent, and conscientious northern people, we do them the justice to believe that when the history of the war _at the south_ comes to be truthfully written, they will receive its records with incredulity; and when belief is compelled, will turn from them shuddering. the smoke of burning columbia, and of the fair villages and countless plantations that lay in the route, where, for hundreds of miles, many a house was left blazing, and not a panel of fence was to be seen, rolled slowly up our sky; and panic-stricken refugees, homeless and penniless, brought every day fresh tales of havoc and ruin. by the eleventh of march, general sherman was in possession of fayetteville, in our own state. the coïncidences in the plan, and the contrasts in the mode of conducting the campaigns of lord cornwallis and general sherman, are striking, and suggestive to the student of history. cornwallis hesitated whether to strike north-carolina in the heart of the whig settlements--between the yadkin and the catawba--or enter among his friends between the pedee and cape fear, and ultimately decided to accomplish both purposes. in january, , sir james henry craig captured wilmington, and on the nineteenth of february, lord cornwallis forced the passage of the catawba at beattie's ford. general schofield had possession of wilmington when general sherman, making _a feint_ at charlotte, captured fayetteville. in lord cornwallis's progress through carolina he met with every thing to exasperate him in the conduct of the people. on his first entrance into charlotte, september, , the whole british army was actually held at bay for half an hour by a body of about one hundred and fifty militia, and a few volunteers, commanded by major joseph graham, posted behind the court-house and houses, and commanded by colonel davie, who was "determined to give his lordship an earnest of what he might expect in the state." three separate charges of the british legion were repulsed by this handful of devoted men, who retired at last on being flanked by the infantry, in perfect order, with but a loss of eleven killed and wounded, while the british admitted a loss of forty-three killed and wounded. "when the legion was afterward reproached for cowardice in suffering such a check from so small a detail of militia, they excused themselves by saying that the confidence with which the americans behaved made them apprehend an ambuscade, for surely nothing of that sort was to be expected in an open village at mid-day." i have by me as i write, in colonel davie's own handwriting, his account of "the affair at charlotte," as he modestly styles it, and it is well worth comparing with tarleton's and stedman's report of the same. a more brilliant and audacious exploit was not performed during the whole revolutionary war. a series of such annoyances, heading and dogging the british army at every step all through that country, gained for charlotte the well-earned and enviable _sobriquet_ of "the hornets' nest," and the commander-in-chief paid the whole region the compliment of declaring that "mecklenburg and rowan were the two most rebellious counties in america." yet cornwallis burned no houses here--plundered no plantations. his aim was very apparently to conciliate if possible, to teach the people to look to him for protection and a good government. to be sure, he had not enjoyed the benefit of a west-point military training--he was evidently in profound ignorance of the advantages to be derived from the principle of "smashing things generally," as he passed along; but he was, nevertheless, (perhaps in consequence,) a _gentleman_, and an accomplished statesman, as well as a consummate soldier. he well knew-- "----who overcomes by force, hath overcome but half his foe." as to fayetteville, and her lot in these later days, no such slight sketch as this will suffice for the story. perhaps no town in the south had surpassed her in the ardor and liberality with which (after secession had become the law of the state) she supported the war. she gave her bravest sons; her best blood was poured out like water in the cause of the south, and then she gave of her substance. the grace of giving had surely been bestowed upon the people of cumberland without measure, for there seemed literally no end to their liberality. for four years the columns of their papers had exhibited an almost weekly list of donations, that in number and value would have done infinite credit to a much wealthier community. the ladies, as usual, were especially active and indefatigable. where, indeed, in all the sunny south were they not? and why should they not have been? they were working for their fathers, husbands, sons, brothers, and lovers, and for principles which these beloved ones had instructed them to cherish. would it not have been culpable in the last degree for the women of the country to have remained even indifferent to a cause (good or bad) for which the men were laying down their lives? why should they not take joyfully all privations and all hardships, for the sake of these, and soothe the agony of bereavement with the belief that they who needed their cares no longer, lying rolled in their bloody blankets in the bosom of virginia, or on the fatal hills of pennsylvania, had died in a good cause and were resting in honored graves? who shall question the course of the women of the south in this war, or dare to undervalue their lofty heroism and fortitude, unsurpassed in story or in song? when i forget you, o ye daughters of my country! your labors of love, your charity, faith, and patience, all through the dark and bloody day, lighting up the gloom of war with the tender graces of woman's devotion and self-denial, and now, in even darker hours, your energy and cheerful submission in toil and poverty and humiliation--when i cease to do homage to your virtues, and to your excellences, may my right hand forget its cunning and my voice be silent in the dust! the people of fayetteville supported the confederate government warmly to the last gasp, upon the principle that _united_, the south might stand--_divided_, she certainly would fall. after the failure of the peace commission, the citizens met and passed vigorous war resolutions, calling on all classes to rally once more in self-defense--a proceeding which did more credit to their zeal than to their ability to read the signs of the times; for, rally or no rally, the fate of the confederacy was already written on the wall. all these antecedents doubtless conspired to give fayetteville a bad character in the opinion of our northern brethren, who, for their part, were bent on peace-making; and accordingly, when the hour and the man arrived, on the eleventh of march, , she found she must pay the penalty. a skirmish took place in the streets between general sherman's advanced-guard and a part of general hampton's cavalry, which covered the retreat of hardee's division across the cape fear. this, no doubt, increased the exasperation of feeling toward this "nest of rebels," and the determination to put a check to all future operations there in behalf of the cause. in less than two hours after the entrance of the federal forces, so adroitly had every house in the town and its suburbs been ransacked and plundered, that it may be doubted if all fayetteville, the next day, could have contributed two whole shirts or a bushel of meal to the relief of the confederate army. the incidents of that most memorable day, and for several days succeeding, would fill (and _will_ fill) a volume; and as for the nights, they were illuminated by the glare of blazing houses all through the pine groves for several miles around fayetteville. one of the first of the "soldiers in blue" who entered the town, accosted in the street a most distinguished and venerable clergyman, rev. william hooper, d.d., ll.d., more than seventy years of age--the grandson of one of the signers of the declaration of independence--and who had suffered reproach for his adherence to the union, and whose very appearance should have challenged respect and deference--accosted him as a "d----d rebel," and putting a pistol to his head, demanded and carried off his watch and purse. southerners can not write calmly of such scenes yet. their houses were turned into seraglios, every portable article of value, plate, china and glass-ware, provisions and books were carried off, and the remainder destroyed; hundreds of carriages and vehicles of all kinds were burned in piles; where houses were isolated they were burned; women were grossly insulted, and robbed of clothing and jewelry; nor were darker and nameless tragedies wanting in lonely situations. no; they hardly dare trust themselves to think of these things. "that way lies madness." but the true story of "the great march" will yet be written. not the least remarkable of all these noble strategical operations was the fact that black and white suffered alike. nothing more strikingly evinces the entire demoralization and want of honor that prevailed. the negro whom they came to liberate they afterward plundered; his cabin was stripped of his little valuables, as well as his master's house of its luxuries; his humble silver watch was seized, as well as the gentleman's gold repeater. this policy is also modern, and due to the enlightenment of the nineteenth century. a good many years ago, a grand liberation of slaves took place, where the leaders and deliverer sanctioned the "spoiling of the egyptians," but they hardly picked the pockets of the freedmen afterward. during the month of march our central counties were traversed by straggling bodies of confederate soldiers, fragments of the once powerful army of tennessee, hurrying down toward raleigh to concentrate under general johnston once more, in the vain hope of being able yet to effect something. tennesseeans, texans, georgians, alabamians, men who had been in every fight in the west, from corinth to perrysville, from perrysville to atlanta--men who had left pleasant homes, wives and children, many of whom they knew were without a house to shelter them; "for the blackness of ashes marked where it stood, and a wild mother's scream o'er her famishing brood!" the whole population of our town poured out to see these war-worn men; to cheer them; to feed and shelter them. the little children gathered handfuls of the early daffodils "that take the winds of march with beauty," and flung to them. what we had to eat we gave them, day after day. repeatedly the whole of a family dinner was taken from the table and carried out to the street, the children joyfully assisting. they were our soldiers--our own brave boys. the cause was desperate, we knew--the war was nearly over--our delusions were at an end; but while we had it, our last loaf to our soldiers--a cheer, and a blessing, with dim eyes, as they rode away. footnotes: [footnote : general winfield scott.] chapter iv. laws of war--"right to forage older than history"--xenophon--kent on international law--halleck's authority versus sherman's theory and practice--president woolsey--letter of bishop atkinson. in the preceding chapter, attention was drawn to the striking contrast between the policy pursued by general sherman toward the inhabitants of the country he was invading, and that of his illustrious predecessor in the days of the revolution. i think there can be but little doubt as to which of these distinguished commanders is entitled to most credit on the score of _humanity_. general sherman's friends, considering that he who conducts a campaign to a successful issue may well afford to disregard the means to the desired end, will doubtless support his policy; for where cornwallis failed, he succeeded, and succeeded brilliantly. lord cornwallis, however, in the general benevolence of his character--tempering, as far as was practicable, the severities of war with forbearance and generosity--is more justly entitled to stand by the side of washington than any other military commander of his age. as to his failure, time has shown that it was well for both countries that he did fail; and his memory is crowned with more unfading laurels than the title of mere conqueror could have conferred. self-control, discipline, and magnanimous consideration for the weak and the defenseless are better than burning houses and a devastated country. if, however, it still be asserted that humanity is _necessarily_ no part of a soldier's duty, and that his business is to win the fight, no matter how, an appeal to the authorities on such points, recognized in all civilized nations, will show that the law is otherwise laid down. general sherman begins his famous letter to general hampton with the assertion that "the right to forage is older than history." what was the precise character of this right among barbarians in the morning twilight of civilization it may hardly be worth our while to inquire. but we have clear historic evidence that, long before the coming of the prince of peace, in the earliest ages of profane history, among civilized nations the "right to forage" did _not_ mean a right to indiscriminate pillage, "waste, and destruction"--destruction extending not only to the carrying off of the cattle necessary in farming operations, but to the agricultural tools and implements of every description. more than twenty centuries ago, xenophon, at the head of the ten thousand, accomplished his famous retreat from babylon to the sea. the incidents of that great march are given by himself in a narrative, whose modesty, spirit, and elegance have charmed all subsequent ages. his views as to the right to forage are clearly stated in the following passage, taken from _kent's commentaries on international law_--an authority that was studied by general sherman at west-point, and was taught by him when superintendent of the military academy of louisiana. treating of plunder on land, depredations upon private property, etc., he says: "such conduct has been condemned in all ages by the wise and virtuous, and it is usually punished severely by those commanders of disciplined troops who have studied war as a science, and are animated by a sense of duty or the love of fame. we may infer the opinion of xenophon on this subject, (and he was a warrior as well as a philosopher,) when he states, in the _cyropoedia_, that cyrus of persia gave orders to his army, _when marching upon the enemy's borders_, not to disturb the cultivators of the soil; and there have been such ordinances in modern times for the protection of innocent and pacific pursuits. if the conqueror goes beyond these limits wantonly, or when it is not clearly indispensable to the just purposes of war, and seizes private property of pacific persons for the sake of gain, and destroys private dwellings, or public edifices devoted to civil purposes only; or makes war upon monuments of art, and models of taste, he violates the modern usages of war, and is sure to meet with indignant resentment, and to be held up to the general scorn and detestation of the world." (part i. sec. .) to this authority may be added a still more modern and binding exposition of the laws of war. _halleck's international law and laws of war_, written and published in by an officer of the government, and for a time a major-general and commander-in-chief of the federal army, may be considered as the latest and ablest summary of the best authorities on these subjects. it was in the hands of general sherman and his officers, and its decisions may be regarded as final. nothing can be more explicit or more emphatic than the following extracts. first, as to general right of war in an enemy's property (on land): "the general theory of war is, as heretofore stated, that all private property may be taken by the conqueror; and such was the ancient practice. but the modern usage is, not to touch private property on land without making compensation, except in certain specified cases. these exceptions may be stated under three general heads: st. confiscations or seizures by way of penalty for military offenses; d. forced contributions for the support of the invading army, or as an indemnity for the expenses of maintaining order, and affording protection to the conquered inhabitants; and d. property taken on the field of battle, or in storming a fortress or town. "in the first place, we may seize upon private property, by way of penalty for the illegal acts of individuals, or of the community to which they belong. thus, if an individual be guilty of conduct in violation of the laws of war, we may seize and confiscate the private property of the offender. so, also, if the offense attach itself to a particular community or town, all the individuals of that community or town are liable to punishment; and we may seize upon their property, or levy upon them a retaliatory contribution by way of penalty. when, however, we can discover and secure the individuals so offending, it is more just to inflict the punishment on them only; but it is a general law of war that communities are accountable for the acts of their individual members. if these individuals are not given up, or can not be discovered, it is usual to impose a contribution upon the civil authorities of the place where the offense is committed; and these authorities raise the amount of the contribution by a tax levied on their constituents." (chap. , pages , .) if the town of fayetteville had in any way become peculiarly obnoxious to the federal army, one would have thought that a glance into halleck might have satisfied the commanding officers as to their rights and duties there on the eleventh of march, . not a word here of plunder, pillage, or arson. there can be no doubt that fayetteville would have gladly compounded for her offenses by a tax of almost any possible amount, levied and collected in a lawful and civilized way, in preference to her actual experiences. next, as to right of forage, etc.: "in the second place, we have a _right_ to make the enemy's country contribute to the expenses of the war. troops in the enemy's country may be subsisted either by regular magazines, by forced requisitions, or by authorized pillage. it is not always politic, or even possible, to provide regular magazines for the entire supply of an army during the active operations of a campaign. when this can not be done, the general is obliged either to resort to military requisitions, or to intrust their subsistence to the troops themselves. the inevitable consequences of the latter system are universal pillage, and a total relaxation of discipline: the loss of private property, and the violation of individual rights, are usually followed by the massacre of straggling parties; and the _ordinary peaceful and non-combatant inhabitants are converted into bitter and implacable enemies_. the system is, therefore, regarded as both impolitic and unjust, and is coming into general disuse among the more civilized nations--at least for the support of the main army. in case of small detachments, where great rapidity of motion is requisite, it sometimes becomes necessary for the troops to procure their subsistence wherever they can. in such a case, the seizure of private property becomes a necessary consequence of the military operations, and is, therefore, unavoidable. other cases of similar character might be mentioned. but even in most of these special and extreme cases, provisions might be made for subsequently compensating the owners for the loss of their property." (page .) "the evils resulting from irregular requisitions, and foraging for the ordinary supplies of an army, are so very great, and so generally admitted, that it has become a recognized maxim of war, that the commanding officer who permits indiscriminate pillage, and allows the taking of private property without a strict accountability, whether he be engaged in defensive or offensive operations, fails in his duty to his own government, and violates the usages of modern warfare. it is sometimes alleged, in excuse for such conduct, that the general is unable to restrain his troops; but in the eye of the law there is no excuse; for _he who can not preserve order in his army has no right to command it_. in collecting military contributions, trustworthy troops should be sent with the foragers, to prevent them from engaging in irregular and unauthorized pillage; and the party should always be accompanied by officers of the staff and administrative corps, to see to the proper execution of the orders, and to report any irregularities on the part of the troops. in case any corps should engage in unauthorized pillage, due restitution should be made to the inhabitants, and the expenses of such restitution deducted from the pay and allowances of the corps by which such excess is committed. but modify and restrict it as you will, the system of subsisting armies on the private property of an enemy's subjects without compensation is very objectionable, and almost inevitably leads to cruel and disastrous results. there is, therefore, very seldom a sufficient reason for resorting to it." (chap. , page .) "while there is some uncertainty as to the exact limit fixed by the voluntary law of nations to our right to appropriate to our own use the property of an enemy, or to subject it to military contributions, _there is no doubt whatever respecting its waste and useless destruction_. _this is forbidden alike by the law of nature and the rules of war._ there are numerous instances in military history where whole districts of country have been totally ravaged and laid waste. such operations have sometimes been defended on the ground of necessity, or as a means of preventing greater evils. 'such violent remedies,' says vattel, 'are to be sparingly applied: there must be reasons of suitable importance to justify the use of them. he who does the like in an enemy's country when impelled by no necessity, or induced by feeble reasons, becomes the scourge of mankind.' "the general rule by which we should regulate our conduct toward an enemy is _that of moderation; and on no occasion should we unnecessarily destroy his property_. 'the pillage and destruction of towns,' says vattel, 'the devastation of the open country, ravaging and setting fire to houses, are measures no less odious and detestable on every occasion when they are evidently put in practice without absolute necessity, or at least very cogent reasons. but as the perpetrators of such outrageous deeds might attempt to palliate them, under pretext of deservedly punishing the enemy, be it here observed that the natural and voluntary law of nations does not allow us to inflict such punishments, except for enormous offenses against the law of nations; and even then it is glorious to listen to the voice of humanity and clemency, when rigor is not absolutely necessary.'" (pages -- .) to these unimpeachable decisions i can not refrain from adding that of president woolsey, of yale college. in his introduction to the study of international law, sec. , pp. -- , he says: "the property, movable and immovable, of private persons in an invaded country is to remain uninjured. but if the wants of the hostile army require, it may be taken by authorized persons at a fair value; but marauding must be checked by discipline and penalties." and even as to "permissible requisitions," which wellington regarded as iniquitous, and opposed as "_likely to injure those who resorted to them_," president woolsey adds that they "are demoralizing; they arouse the avarice of officers, and _leave a sting in the memory of oppressed nations_." it is this _sting_, left in the breasts of the southern people, these bitter hatreds aroused by the indiscriminate and licensed pillage to which they were subjected, which are more to be deprecated than any consequence of the blood shed in fair and open fight during the war. hard blows do not necessarily make bad blood between generous foes. it is the ungenerous policy of the exulting conqueror that adds poison to the bleeding wounds. from a mass of agreeing testimony, as to the conduct of the federal troops on their entrance into our state, i select the following letter from a clergyman of distinction, the authorized head of one of the most influential denominations in the state; a man of national reputation for the learning, ability, and piety with which he adorns his high office in the church of god. let it be carefully read, and its calm and moderate tone be fairly estimated and appreciated: ... "i am altogether indisposed to obtrude myself on the public, and especially to bring before it complaints of personal grievance; but it seemed to me important, not only for the interests of justice, but of humanity, that the truth should be declared concerning the mode in which the late civil war was carried on, and i did not see that i was exempted from this duty rather than any one else who had personal knowledge of facts bearing on that subject. for this reason i made the statement to my convention which you allude to, and for the same reason i have, after some hesitation, felt bound to give you the information you ask. "when general sherman was moving on cheraw, in south-carolina, one corps of his army, under general slocum, i believe, advanced in a parallel line north of him, and extended into this state. some companies of kilpatrick's cavalry attached to this corps came on friday, third march, to wadesboro, in anson county, where i was then residing. as their approach was known, many persons thought it best to withdraw from the place before the cavalry entered it; but i determined to remain, as i could not remove my family, and i did not suppose that i would suffer any serious injury. i saw the troops galloping in, and sat down quietly to my books, reading, having asked the other members of my family to remain in a room in the rear of the building. after a time a soldier knocked at the door, which i opened. he at once, with many oaths, demanded my watch, which i refused to give him. he then drew a pistol and presented it at me, and threatened to shoot me immediately if i did not surrender it. i still refused, and, the altercation becoming loud, my wife heard it, ran into the room and earnestly besought me to give it up, which i then did. having secured this, he demanded money, but as we had none but confederate, he would not take that. he then proceeded to rifle our trunks and drawers, took some of my clothes from these, and my wife's jewelry; but he would have nothing to do with heavy articles as, fortunately, he had no means of carrying them off. he then left the house, and i went in search of his officers to ask them to compel him to return what he had taken from me. this might seem a hopeless effort; for the same game had been played in every house in the town where there seemed to be any thing worth taking. however, in my case, the officers promised, if i could identify the robber, to compel him to make restitution. the men, accordingly, were drawn up in line, and their commander and i went along it examining their countenances, but my acquaintance was not among them. it turned out that he had gone from my house to that of a neighbor, to carry on the same work, and during my absence had returned to my house, taken a horse from the stable, and then moved off to his camp at some miles' distance. the next day other bands visited us, taking groceries from us and demanding watches and money. they broke open the storehouses in the village; and as at one of these i had some tierces of china and boxes of books, these they knocked to pieces, breaking the china, of course, and scattering the books, but not carrying them off, as they probably did not much value them, and had, fortunately, no wagons. i finally recovered nearly all of them. another part of sherman's army, in their march through richmond county, passed by two railroad stations where i had a piano and other furniture, which they destroyed; and also at fayetteville i had furniture at the house of a friend, which shared the fate of his. yet i was among those who suffered _comparatively lightly_. where the army went with its wagons, they swept the country of almost every thing of value that was portable. in some instances defenseless men were killed for plunder. a mr. james c. bennet, one of the oldest and wealthiest men in anson county, was shot at the door of his own house because he did not give up his watch and money, which had been previously taken from him by another party. "these and the like atrocities ought to be known; for even men who do not much fear the judgments of god, are kept somewhat in awe by the apprehension of the sentence of the civilized world and of posterity. "in conclusion, i must say that i wish as little reference to be made to me, and the injuries done me, as is consistent with the faithful narrative which you have undertaken to give of the last ninety days of the war in north-carolina. "i remain, very truly and respectfully yours, "thomas atkinson." bishop atkinson, it is well known, was the first to set the example, after the war was closed, of leading his church half-way to reünite the church connection north and south. an example of christian charity, meekness, and forbearance most worthy of our admiration and imitation. chapter v. lord cornwallis in fayetteville--a young lady's interview with him--how he treated her--how sherman's men treated her grandson--"the story of the great march"--major nichols and the "quadroon girls"--such is not war--why these things are recorded--confederate concentration in north-carolina--a sad story. when lord cornwallis was on his march to wilmington, after the battle of guilford court-house, passing by the residence of a planter near cross creek, (now fayetteville,) the army halted. the young mistress of the mansion, a gay and very beautiful matron of eighteen, with the impulsive curiosity of a child, ran to her front piazza to gaze at the pageant. some officers dismounting approached the house. she addressed one of the foremost, and begged that he would point out to her lord cornwallis, if he was there, for "she wished to see a lord." "madam," said the gentleman, removing his hat, "i am lord cornwallis." then with the formal courtesy of the day he led her into the house, giving to the frightened family every assurance of protection. with the high breeding of a gentleman and the frankness of a soldier, he won all hearts during his stay, from the venerable grandmother in her chair to the gay girl who had first accosted him. while the army remained, not an article was disturbed on the plantation, though, as he himself warned them, there were stragglers in his wake whom he could not detect, and who failed not to do what mischief they could in the way of plundering, after he had passed. 'tis eighty-four years ago, and that blooming girl's granddaughters tell the story with grateful regard for the memory of the noble englishman, who never forgot what was due to a defenseless homestead, and who well deserves to be held in admiration by woman.[ ] how tender the light that plays round this great captain's memory! smarting from recent virtual defeat, hurrying through a hostile country, disappointed in his expectations of receiving relief and reënforcement in this very neighborhood of cross creek, he is master of himself and of his army through all reverses of fortune--gentle and considerate in the midst of adversity. the recollections of that young southern matron's grandson, charles b. mallett, esq., of the great army passing so lately over the very same ground, and of their visit to his plantation, afford matter for curious consideration and comparison. these are his reminiscences: "the china and glass-ware were all carried out of the house by the federal soldiers, and deliberately smashed in the yard. the furniture--piano, beds, tables, bureaus--were all cut to pieces with axes; the pantries and smoke-houses were stripped of their contents; the negro houses were all plundered; the poultry, cows, horses, etc., were shot down and carried off; and then, after all this, the houses were all fired and burned to the ground. the cotton factory belonging to the family was also burned, as were six others in the neighborhood of fayetteville." i have also the statement of a near neighbor of this gentleman, john m. rose, esq., condensed as follows: "the federal soldiers searched my house from garret to cellar, and plundered it of every thing portable; took all my provisions, emptied the pantries of all stores, and did not leave me a mouthful of any kind of supplies for one meal's victuals. they took all my clothing, even the hat off my head, and the shoes and pants from my person; took most of my wife's and children's clothing, all of our bedding; destroyed my furniture, and robbed all my negroes. at leaving they set fire to my fences, out-houses, and dwelling, which, fortunately, i was able to extinguish. the remains of a dozen slaughtered cattle were left in my yard. (nine dwellings were burned to the ground in this neighborhood. four gentlemen, whose names are given, were hung up by the neck till nearly dead, to force them to tell where valuables were hidden. one was shot in his own house, and died soon after.) the yard and lot were searched, and all my money, and that of several companies which i represent, was found and taken. all my stocks and bonds were likewise carried off. my wagon, and garden, and lot implements were all burned in my yard. the property taken from another family--the jewelry, plate, money, etc.--was estimated to be worth not less than twenty-five thousand dollars. hundreds of pleasure vehicles in the town were either wantonly burned in parcels and separately, or carried off with the army. houses in the suburbs and vicinity suffered more severely than those in the town. no private dwellings in the town were burned, and after the guards were placed the pillage ceased. the misfortune was, that the guards were not placed till the houses had been sacked." i have other statements, but perhaps these are sufficient for my present purpose.[ ] i have given none that can not be verified if necessary, though they differ widely from those of a book lately published at the north, entitled the story of the great march, and which is doubtless regarded there as of unquestionable authority. on page i observe it is stated, "private property in fayetteville has been respected to a degree which is remarkable;" and on page : "the city of fayetteville was offensively rebellious, and it has been a matter of surprise that our soldiers, who are quick to understand the distinction, have not made the citizens feel it in one way or another." it is just possible that major nichols did not know the truth; that, being very evidently of an easy and credulous temper, and too busy making up his little book for sale, he allowed himself to be imposed upon by wicked jokers. let us all believe that he knew nothing of the robberies that were going on. he was evidently hard of hearing, besides; for he says, page , "i have yet to hear of a single outrage offered to a woman by a soldier of our army." let us all believe that he was too deeply interested in his interviews with the handsome "quadroon family," mentioned on page , to know what was going on among the whites. by the way, it would seem these quadroon girls were too deep for him too. his reported conversation with the family is a very amusing tissue of blunders and misrepresentation. foot-notes should certainly accompany the thirtieth edition, and in particular it should be stated of these "intelligent quadroons," not one of whom was ever named hannah, and not one of any name was ever sold, that not one of them has yet left the lot of their old master, or expressed a wish to leave. major nichols does not seem to know much; but he probably knows this, that it was not for want of asking that these handsome quadroons did not go. enough of such disclosures and of such scenes. if it be asked why these have been presented, and why i seek to prolong these painful memories, and to keep alive the remembrances that ought rather to slumber and be forgotten with the dead past, let me reply that it is deliberately, and of set purpose, that i sketch these outlines of a great tragedy for our northern friends to ponder. the south has suffered; that they admit in general terms, and add, "_such is war_." i desire to call their attention to the fact that such is is not war, as their own standards declare; that the career of the grand army in the great march, brilliant as was the design, masterly as was the execution, and triumphant as was the issue, is yet, in its details, a story of which they have no reason to be proud, and which, when truly told, if there be one spark of generosity, one drop of the milk of human kindness in northern breasts, should turn their bitterness toward the south into tender pity, their exultation over her into a manly regret and remorse. they do not know--they never will know unless southerners themselves shall tell the mournful story--what the sword hath done in her fair fields and her pleasant places. their triumphant stories and war-lyrics are not faithful expositors of the woe and ruin wrought upon a defenseless people. when the sounds of conflict have finally died away, i would fain see the calmed senses of a great people who, having fairly won the fight, can afford to be magnanimous, take in clearly the situation of the whole southern country, and "repent them for their brother benjamin, and come to the house of god, and weep sore for their brother, and say, o lord god, why is this come to pass that there should be to-day one tribe lacking in israel?" thousands of delicate women, bred up in affluence, are now bravely working with their hands for their daily bread; many in old age, and alone in the world, are bereft of all their earthly possessions. thousands of families are absolutely penniless, who have never before known a want ungratified. let me not be mistaken to represent southerners as shrinking from work, or ignobly bewailing the loss of luxury and ease. the dignity and the "perennial nobleness" of labor were never more fairly asserted than among us now, and i have never seen, or read, or heard of a braver acceptance of the situation, a more cheerful submission to god's will, or a more spirited application to unaccustomed toils and duties, than are exhibited here this day. nobody is ashamed of himself, or ashamed of his position, or of his necessities. what the south wants is not charity--charity as an alms--but generosity; that generosity which forbears reproach, or insult, or gay and clamorous exultation, but which silently clears the way of all difficulties, and lends an arm to a fainting, wounded brother; that says, "there _must_ be an inheritance for them that be escaped of benjamin." it is for this that i present these sketches, which, but for some good to be accomplished by them, would better have never been written. where wrongs can not be redressed, or their recital be made available for good, they would far better be buried in oblivion, the wrong-doer and the sufferer alike awaiting in dread repose the final award of the great tribunal. how shall the south begin her new life? how, disfranchised and denied her civil rights, shall she start the wheels of enterprise and business that shall bring work and bread to her plundered, penniless people? how shall her widows and orphans be fed, her schools and colleges be supported, her churches be maintained, unless her rights and liberties be regained--unless every effort be made to give her wounds repose, and restore health and energy to her paralyzed and shattered frame? is there any precedent in history of a war that ended with the freeing not only from all obligation to labor, but from all disposition to labor, of all the operatives of the conquered country? is not the social status of the south at present without a parallel? just emerging from an exhausting and devastating war, the country might well be crippled and poverty-stricken; but with three or four millions of enfranchised slaves, a population that is even now hastening to inaugurate the worst evils of insubordination, idleness, and pauperism among us, what hope for us unless the northern sense of justice can be aroused into speedy action! while general sherman's wagons were wallowing in the mud between fayetteville and goldsboro, vain attempts were being made in raleigh to galvanize into some show of action and strength the fragments of an army that were concentrating there. general lee's desperate situation in virginia was not understood and realized by the multitude, nor that the confederate territory was fast narrowing down to the northern counties of central north-carolina, and that raleigh was the last capital city we could claim. beauregard, johnston, hardee, hoke, hampton, wheeler--names that had thrilled the whole southern country with pride and exultation--they were all there, and for a time people endeavored to believe that raleigh might be defended. general sherman's plans appeared to be inscrutable. when he left columbia, charlotte was supposed to be his aim; but when he fell suddenly upon fayetteville, then raleigh was to be his next stage. the astute plan of a junction with schofield at goldsboro, which appears now to have been pre-arranged while he was yet in savannah, did not dawn upon our minds till it was too late to prevent it. the fight at bentonsville was a desperate and vain attempt to do what might possibly have been done before, and in that last wild struggle many a precious life was given in vain. with sad anxiety for the fate of those we loved, with sinking hearts, we heard, from day to day, from averasboro and from bentonsville, of the wild charge, the short, fierce struggle, and the inevitable retreat, little thinking that these were indeed the last life-throbs of our dying cause. there was one from our own circle, whose story is but a representative one of the many thousand such that now darken what was once the sunny south. he had joined the army in the beginning of the war, and his wife and children had fled from their pleasant home near new-berne, on its first occupation by the federal forces, leaving the negroes, plantation, house, furniture, and all to the invaders. they had taken refuge at chapel hill among old friends; and in a poor and inconvenient home, those who had counted their wealth by thousands were glad of a temporary shelter, as was the case with hundreds of families from the east, scattered all over the central part of the state. the energetic wife laid aside the habits of a lifetime and went to work, while her brave husband was in the army. from new-berne to richmond, from charleston to the blackwater, we, who had known him from boyhood, traced his gallant career, sharing his wife's triumphs in his successes, and her fears in his perils. her health in unaccustomed toils began to fail, but we looked forward hopefully to the time when she might return to her beautiful home on the sea-shore, where a blander air would restore her. so we read his loving, cheerful letters, and believed that the life which had been spared through so many battles would yet be guarded for the sake of the wife and the curly-haired little ones. on the twenty-second of march, riding unguardedly near a thicket, our friend received the fire of a squad of sharp-shooters concealed there. he fell from his horse and was carried to a place of safety, where he lay on the muddy ground of the trampled battle-field for a few hours, murmuring faintly at intervals, "my wife! my poor wife!" till death mercifully came. he was wrapped by his faithful servant in his blood-stained uniform and muddy blankets as he lay; a coarse box was procured with great difficulty, and so the soldier was brought back to his family. his last visit home had been just before the fall of fort fisher; and when the news of the attack came, though his furlough was not out by ten days, yet he left at once for wilmington, saying, "it was every man's duty to be at the front." he had returned to us now, "off duty forever." loving hands laid him slowly and sadly down to a soldier's honored rest, while his little children stood around the grave. the wife made an effort to live for these children. she bore up through that woful spring and summer, and the thin, white, trembling hands were ever at work. but the brown hair turned gray rapidly, the easy-chair was relinquished for the bed, and before winter came the five children were left alone in the world. the wife had joined her husband. the ample estate that should have been theirs was gone. strangers were in their home by the sea, and had divided out their lands; nor is it yet known whether they will be permitted to claim their inheritance. this man, colonel edward b. mallett, brave, beloved, lamented, was also a grandson of the gay girl who had entertained lord cornwallis in her house near cross creek, and his fortunes were linked with those of the brother whose house and factory had been burned so lately. thus did the destruction in one part of the state help on and intensify the ruin in another part. stories such as these are our inheritance from the great war; and yet, looking at the fate of those who have survived its dangers to be crushed by its issues, we may rather envy those who were laid sweetly to their rest while their hope for the country was not yet subjugated within them. let them rave! thou art quiet in thy grave. footnotes: [footnote : his own beloved young wife, dying of a broken heart on the separation caused by his coming to america, "directed on her death-bed that a thorn-tree should be planted on her grave, as nearly as possible over her heart, significant of the sorrow that destroyed her life. her request was complied with, and that thorn-tree is still living." ( .)--the cornwallis correspondence, chap. i. p. .] [footnote : the writer might have mentioned that j.p. mclean was hung up by the neck three times and shot at once, to make him disclose hidden valuables. w.t. horne, jesse hawley, and alexander mcauthor, were all hung up until nearly dead. john waddill was shot down and killed in his own house. the country residences of c.t. haigh, j.c. haigh, archibald graham, and w.t. horne, were all burned within a short distance of one another; this was all in one neighborhood. dr. hicks, of duplin, was hung until nearly dead, and will probably never recover. so it was elsewhere.--editor.] chapter vi. "shays's rebellion"--kent on massachusetts--conduct of a northern government to northern rebels--the "whisky insurrection"--how washington treated a rebellion--secession of new-england birth--the war of --bancroft on --the baconists--an appeal. by the last of march general sherman had entered goldsboro, and effected his long meditated junction with general schofield. he himself at once proceeded to southern virginia to hold a conference with general grant, while the grand army lay quiet a few days to rest, recruit, and prepare for its further advance. leaving them there, i venture to make a digression, suggested by the concluding lines of the preceding number of these sketches--a digression having for its object the consideration of the present policy of the federal government toward vanquished rebels, as compared with its policy in former cases of rebellion against its authority, even more inexcusable and unprovoked. chancellor kent, adverting to the first rebellion against the government of this country, known in history as "shays's rebellion," pays the state of massachusetts the following well-merited compliment on her conduct upon its suppression: "the clemency of massachusetts in , after an unprovoked and wanton rebellion, in not inflicting a single capital punishment, contributed, by the judicious manner in which its clemency was applied, to the more firm establishment of their government." (com. on am. law. vol. i. p. .) what were the circumstances of this first rebellion? in , the legislature of that state laid taxes which were expected to produce near a million of dollars. the country had just emerged from the war of the revolution in an exhausted and impoverished condition. litigation abounded, and the people, galled by the pressure of their debts and of these taxes, manifested a spirit of revolt against their government. from loudly-expressed complaints they proceeded to meetings, and finally took up arms. they insisted that the courts should be closed; they clamored against the lawyers and their exorbitant fees, against salaried public officers; and they demanded the issue of paper money. the governor of massachusetts, john bowdoin, convened the legislature, and endeavored to allay the general and growing mutiny by concessions; but the excitement still increasing, the militia were ordered out, and congress voted a supply of thirteen thousand men to aid the state government. the leader of the insurrection was daniel shays, late a captain in the continental army. at the head of one thousand men he prevented the session of the supreme court at worcester, and his army soon increasing to two thousand, they marched to springfield, to seize the national arsenal. being promptly repulsed by the commandant there, they fled, leaving several killed and wounded. general lincoln, at the head of four thousand militia, pursued them to amherst, and thence to pelham. on his approach they offered to disperse on condition of a general pardon; but general lincoln had no authority to treat. they then retreated to petersham. lincoln pursued, and pushing on all night through intense cold and a driving snow-storm, he accomplished an unprecedented march of forty miles, and early next morning completely surprised the rebels in petersham, taking one hundred and fifty prisoners, and dispersing the rest so effectually that they never rallied again. many took refuge in new-hampshire and the neighboring states, where they were afterward arrested on requisition of massachusetts. this ill-sustained and wanton rebellion was easily quelled. fourteen of the prisoners were convicted of treason, but not one was executed, and the terms of pardon imposed were so moderate that eight hundred took the benefit of them. prudence dictated this moderation and clemency, for it was known that at least a third of the population sympathized with the rebels. it was a significant fact that at the ensuing election, governor bowdoin, who had distinguished himself by his zeal and energy, was defeated, and other public officers who had been especially active against the rebels lost their seats, and were replaced by more popular men. daniel shays lived to a good old age, and died still in the enjoyment of his revolutionary pension.[ ] such was the generous policy of a northern government to northern rebels in the first rebellion. the second rebellion, commonly called the "whisky insurrection" of western pennsylvania, assumed more formidable proportions, and was instigated by even more sordid and inexcusable motives. in , the distillers of that part of the state were resolved to deny the right of excise to the federal government. the excise law, though very unpopular, had been carried into execution in every part of the united states, and in most of the counties of pennsylvania; but west of the alleghany the people rose in arms against the government officers, prevented them from exercising their functions, maltreated them, and compelled them to fly from the district, and finally called a meeting "to take into consideration the situation of the western country." they seized upon the mail, and opened the letters to discover what reports had been sent of their proceedings to philadelphia, and by whom. they addressed a circular letter to the officers of the militia in the disaffected counties, calling on them to rendezvous at braddock's field on the first of august, with arms in good order, and four days' provisions, an "expedition," it was added, "in which they could have an opportunity of displaying their military talent, and of serving the country." this insurrection was headed by david bradford, the prosecuting attorney for washington county, and was secretly fomented by agents of the french republic, who desired nothing better than to see the downfall of washington's administration, and the reign of anarchy inaugurated on this continent. a large body of men, estimated at from five to ten thousand, met on the day appointed at braddock's field. bradford took upon himself the military command. albert gallatin (lately a rejected united states senator, on the ground that he had not been a resident of the state the length of time prescribed for foreigners) was appointed secretary. "cowards and traitors" were freely denounced, and those who advocated moderate measures were over-awed and silenced. the rioters then marched to pittsburgh, which they would have burned but for the conciliatory conduct of the people of the town. they burned the houses of several obnoxious men, compelled them to leave the country, and then dispersed. it had been bradford's design to get possession of fort pitt, and seize the arms and ammunition there; but not being supported in this by the militia officers, he had abandoned it. all the remaining excise officers in the district were now forced to leave. many outrages were committed, houses burned, citizens insulted, and a reign of terror completely established. the news of this formidable and wide-spread insurrection reaching philadelphia, the president issued a proclamation reciting the acts of treason, commanding the insurgents to disperse, and warning others against abetting them. this was the first of such proclamations ever issued in this country, and was no doubt the model proposed, to himself, and followed by president lincoln in . but washington, at the same time, appointed three commissioners--a member of his cabinet, a pennsylvania united states senator, and a judge of the supreme court in that state--to repair to the scene of action, confer with the insurgents, and make every practicable attempt toward a peaceful adjustment. the policy of calling out the militia was discussed in the cabinet. hamilton and knox were in favor of it. randolph opposed it, and so did governor mifflin, who was consulted, on the ground that a resort to force might influence and augment the excitement and unite the whole state in rebellion. washington finally determined to take the responsibility on himself and act with vigor, since if such open and daring resistance to the laws were not met and checked at once, it might find many imitators in other parts of the country, then so agitated and unsettled. the commissioners having failed to come to any satisfactory terms with the rebels, the opinion rapidly gained ground that the interposition of an armed force was indispensable. a body of fifteen thousand militia was called out from the states of pennsylvania, new-jersey, maryland, and virginia, and the whole force put under the command of governor (and general) henry lee, of virginia,[ ] the father of _our_ general robert e. lee. the news that this army was on the march materially increased the numbers and influence of the moderate party in western pennsylvania. the standing committee of the insurgents met and recommended submission, which was ably and zealously advocated by albert gallatin and breckenridge. nothing decisive was agreed upon, and pending another convention, many of the ring-leaders fled from the state; david bradford, who had been foremost among them, being the first to seek safety in flight to new-orleans. a resolution of submission was passed at the second convention, and a committee of two, one of whom, findley, was a member of congress, appointed to convey it to the president at carlisle. the president received this committee courteously, but the march of the troops was not arrested. a third convention being held, and resolutions to pay all excise duties and recommending the surrender of all delinquents having passed, general lee issued a proclamation granting an amnesty to all who had submitted, and calling on the people to take the oath of allegiance to the united states. orders were issued and executed to seize those offenders who had not submitted, and send them to philadelphia. of those who were tried before the circuit court, only two were found guilty of capital offenses, one of arson and the other of robbing the mail; and both were ultimately pardoned by the president. in less than four months from the burning of the first house, the insurrection was completely defeated, and entire order restored. a force of twenty-five hundred militia was retained in the disaffected district during the ensuing winter, under command of general morgan. provision was made to indemnify those whose property had been destroyed, and an appropriation of more than a million of dollars was made by congress to defray the expenses incurred. albert gallatin, who was then a hardly naturalized foreigner, notwithstanding the part he had taken in the earlier stages of the rebellion, by his subsequent moderate counsels had regained the confidence of the government, and being the choice of the people of that district, was elected to the next congress, taking his seat without any opposition or word of rebuke. his subsequent brilliant career is now part of our national history. findley, who was a member of congress at the time of the outbreak, and was at one time prominent among the sympathizers, though he acted at no time with decision, did not forfeit his seat by his participation in the revolt. he appeared in his place in congress the ensuing november. he afterward wrote an elaborate history of the insurrection and a vindication of himself and his friends. according to him the troops sent to quell the rebellion would have left more emphatic tokens of their desire for vengeance on the rebels, "if it had not been for the moderation of washington and his resistless weight of character in the execution of his purposes."[ ] the prompt, energetic, and efficient measures of the administration in arresting the progress of this revolt, and its magnanimity and moderation toward the offenders afterward, contributed very materially to strengthen the government at a critical period of its existence, to give it dignity and influence, and to rally round it the best affections of the people. and its patience and forbearance had been somewhat tried by the state of pennsylvania in those days. there had been many symptoms of instability in the "keystone" of the newly-erected arch of civil liberty. there were two examples of mutiny among the pennsylvania troops during the revolution, and two popular insurrections in regard to the excise laws, and this one had opened with the exhibition of a temper ferocious and reckless. the estimate by the administration of the danger of the rebellion in may be inferred from the fact that the number of troops called for to suppress it was greater, in proportion to the then population of the united states, than the call made by president lincoln in to the present population. in , the white population of the united states was , , . the troops called out in ' were , . in , the white population was , , . troops ordered out, , . the proportion in was greater, according to these figures, in the ratio of to , without allowing for increase from to ' . and the magnitude of the danger did indeed fully justify all the apprehensions and precautions of the guardians of the state. the young republic was but newly formed, the government scarcely settled. many prominent and able men in different parts of the country were turning admiring eyes toward france in her wild career, others toward some vision of a monarchical form. emissaries from the distracted states of the old world were prompt and zealous to foment discords and disturbances, and precedents were wanting every day to meet new issues that arose continually. the situation needed all the wisdom, prudence, and magnanimity of the illustrious man called by providence to guide the first steps of a great nation. does any one hesitate to believe that if we had had a washington for president in and , the late war would never have taken place; that secession would never have been accomplished? how vigorous and yet how conciliatory would have been the measures. the seventy-five thousand would no doubt have been called for, but commissioners of peace to the "wayward sisters" would have preceded them. in our day it was the insurgents who sent commissioners. the best men of the south were a month in washington city, vainly endeavoring for a hearing, vainly hoping for some oiler of conciliation or adjustment, and deluded by promises from the highest officials that were never meant to be fulfilled. does any one doubt what would have been washington's conduct of the grand army through its unparalleled and immortal march of triumph? even had he not been guided by christian principles of honor and humanity, he would at least have emulated the example and shared the glory of the noble heathen of whom it was said: "_postremo signa, et tabulas, ceteraque ornamenta græcorum oppidorum, quæ ceteri tollenda esse arbitrantur, ea sibi ille ne visenda quidem existimavit. itaque omnes quidem nunc in his locis cn. pompeium sicut aliquem non ex hac urbe missum, sed de ælo delapsum, intuentur._"[ ] and finally, can any one doubt what his policy would now be toward the people so lately in arms against their government? alas! to him alone, first in war and first in peace, can the whole of the splendid eulogy of the roman orator to the great captain of _his_ day be fittingly applied: "_humanitati jam tantâ est, ut difficile dictu sit, utrum hostes magis virtutem ejus pugnantis timuerint, an mansuetudinem victi delixerint_."[ ] just twenty years from the time of the second rebellion, the third, and by far the most evil-disposed, malignant, and far-reaching expression of hostility to the general government was organized. the hartford convention indeed never proceeded so far as to make an appeal to arms, but the spirit that suggested it, and the temper displayed by its leaders, give it undoubtedly the best claim to have inaugurated the hateful doctrine of secession. the war of with england was, in general, excessively unpopular in the new-england states. their commerce was burned; their fisheries were broken up, and their merchants and ship-owners, who constituted the wealthiest and most influential class among them, were heavy losers. the administration had always been unpopular with them, and now its policy of embargo, non-importation, non-intercourse, and finally of war, were sufficient to rouse them into active opposition. this was manifested in various ways; in the annual addresses of their governors; in reports of legislative committees; in laws to embarrass the action of the federal executive, as, for instance, forbidding it the use of any of their jails for the confinement of prisoners of war, and ordering all their jailers to liberate all british prisoners committed to their keeping; in refusing to contribute their quota of men for the support of the war, and even to allow them to march beyond the limits of their own state. the spirit of disaffection was diligently cherished by the leaders, and went on increasing in bitterness and extent till a convention was proposed and agreed upon. on the th of december, , there assembled in the city of hartford twelve delegates from massachusetts, seven from connecticut, four from rhode island, three county delegates from new-hampshire, and one from vermont. they sat with closed doors till the th of january, , when they adjourned, having issued a report setting forth their grievances and aims. the following extract from a report of the proceedings of the legislature will exhibit the spirit that prevailed through the state: "we believe that this war, so fertile in calamities, and so threatening in its consequences, has been waged with the worst possible views, and carried on in the worst possible manner, forming a union of wickedness and weakness which defies, for a parallel, the annals of the world. we believe also that its worst effects are yet to come; that loan upon loan, tax upon tax, and exaction upon exaction, must be imposed, until the comforts of the present and the hopes of the rising generation are destroyed. _an impoverished people will be an enslaved people._" of the right of the state to prevent the exercise of unconstitutional power by the general government, they had no doubt. "a power to regulate commerce is abused when employed to destroy it, and a voluntary abuse of power sanctions the right of resistance as much as a direct and palpable usurpation. the sovereignty reserved to the states was reserved to protect the citizens from acts of violence by the united states, as well as for purposes of domestic regulation. we spurn the idea that the free, sovereign, and independent state of massachusetts is reduced to a mere municipal corporation, without power to protect its people, or to defend them from oppression, from whatever quarter it comes. whenever the national compact is violated, and the citizens of this state oppressed by cruel and unauthorized enactments, this legislature is bound to interpose its power, and to wrest from the oppressor its victim. this is the spirit of our union." the manifesto of the convention did not, could not, use stronger language. after proposing seven amendments to the constitution, and giving reasons for their adoption, they disclaimed all hostility to that constitution, and professed only to aim to unite all the friends of the country of all parties, and obtain their aid in effecting a change of federal rulers. should this be hopeless, they hinted at the "necessity of more mighty efforts," which were plainly set forth in their resolutions, and everywhere understood to refer to a secession of the five new-england states, their consolidation into an independent government of their own, or alliance with england.[ ] the time chosen for such a display of enmity to the union was most opportune for the purposes of the traitors. a war with a foreign foe, and that foe the most powerful nation on earth, was in progress; the administration was greatly embarrassed; the country was rent with fierce party factions. what would be the issue no human wisdom could foresee; but that the ruin of the country was not then effected, can not be attributed to the patriotism of the new-england states. three commissioners, appointed by the governor of massachusetts, to whom connecticut added two others, proceeded to washington to lay their resolutions and applications before the government. but, most happily, news of the treaty of ghent and consequent peace arriving at the same time with these envoys, their mission became the theme of unsparing taunt and ridicule in the papers, and they returned home without disburdening themselves of their object. thus the third rebellion was snuffed out by events; but its sparks were blown far and wide by viewless winds, and effected a lodgment where, though smothered for a generation or two, they yet burned in secret, and at length burst out in the great conflagration of , which lit the whole horizon and dyed the very heavens with its crimson. the principles of the hartford convention were the seeds of nullification and secession. the eminent historian from massachusetts records in glowing pages the stifling of the earliest throbs of civil and religious liberty on this continent in . the earliest martyr in the bacon rebellion against monarchical tyranny was william drummond, the first governor of north-carolina. his name is written on the beautiful sheet of water that lies within the tangled brakes of the great swamp on the borders of the land he loved and served so well. in that rebellion the women (as at this day) shared the popular enthusiasm. "the child that is unborn," said sarah drummond, "shall rejoice for the good that will come by the rising of the country." she would not suffer a throb of fear in her bosom, and in the greatest perils to which her husband was exposed, she confidently exclaimed, "we shall do well enough," and continually encouraged the people and inspired the soldiers with her own enthusiasm. when edmund cheesman was arraigned for trial, his wife declared that but for her he never would have joined the rebellion, and on her knees begged that she might bear the punishment. yet these devoted people saw the cause for which they had risked and lost every thing in the dust, overthrown, and trampled upon with vindictive fury by the triumphant royalists. in the judicial trials that followed, a rigor and merciless severity were exhibited, worthy of the gloomy judge whose "bloody assize," ten years later, on the western circuit of england, has left an indelible blot on her history. twenty-two were hanged; three others died of cruelty in prison; three more fled before trial; two escaped after conviction. nor is it certain when sir william berkeley's thirst for blood would have been appeased if the newly convened assembly had not voted an address that the governor "should spill no more blood." on berkeley's return to england he was received with coldness, and his cruelty openly disavowed by the government. "that old fool," said the kind-hearted charles ii., "has taken more lives in that naked country than i for the murder of my father."[ ] "more blood was shed," adds the historian, "than, on the action of our present political system, would be shed for political offenses in a thousand years." alas! for the sunny south, the scorched and consumed south, alas for her! that the prediction of the great american historian is not history! considering this rebellion in the perspective afforded by nearly two hundred years, it is easy for us to understand how the severity with which it was punished by the fanatic old royal governor only drove the entering-wedge of separation between the mother country and her colonies in america deeper. the principles of bacon and his party had obtained a great hold on the popular mind; and though for years all tendency to a popular government appeared to be crusted out and forever silenced, yet they were there, in the hearts of men, silently growing, nurtured by a deep sense of injustice and wrong, and biding their time. just a century from the suppression of the "baconists," the declaration of independence was adopted; sarah drummond's words were verified, and bacon and drummond and cheesman and hansford were amply avenged. it is to such pages of history as these that i would turn the attention of our northern friends now. here they may see how the father of his country dealt with his wayward children. how a prompt and dignified and successful assertion of the rights of the federal government were followed by leniency and generous and prudent forbearance such as a great government can afford to show, and by which it best exhibits its strength and its claims to the love and veneration of its people. here they may see how a brutal gratification of vengeance, a lust of blood, like the tiger's spring, overleaps its mark. the hardest lesson to be learned is moderation in the hour of triumph; the greatest victory to be achieved is the victory over self. where now are the bowdoins, the hancocks, the dexters, the ames, the websters of massachusetts? has she no statesman now capable of rising to the magnanimity which characterized her early history? has thrice revolting and thrice pardoned pennsylvania no representative man who can rise to the height of the great argument, and vindicate the cause of a country pillaged and plundered and peeled to an extent of which the history of civilized humanity affords us no parallel? is there no one now to stand up and advocate for southerners the same measure of forbearance and generosity that was shown by a southern president to northern rebels? "o thou that spoilest and wast not spoiled, that dealt treacherously, and they dealt not treacherously with thee!" haste to the work of reconciliation and to build up the waste places! even now on our thresholds are heard the sounds of the departing feet of those who in despair for their country, hopeless of peace or of justice, are leaving our broad, free, noble land for the semi-civilized haciendas of mexico or of far-off tropical brazil. even now are their journals scattered freely among us--invitations, beckonings, sneers at the north, flattery of the south, fair promises, golden lures, every inducement held out to a high-hearted and fainting people to cast their lot in with them. haste to arrest them by some display of returning fraternity and consideration, ere for them we raise the saddest lament yet born of the war: "weep ye not for the dead, neither bemoan him; but weep sore for him that goeth away, for he shall return no more, nor see his native country!" footnotes: [footnote : for these particulars, i am indebted to tucker's history of the united states, vol. i. chap. , and to hildreth's history of the united states, first series, vol. iii. chap. .] [footnote : my readers will remember the reference in the second chapter to the capture by this officer of a portion of tarleton's staff on haw river, while engaged in satisfying the claims of a countryman for forage. no member of general sherman's command is known to have suffered a surprise under similar circumstances. certainly not in this region! washington's characteristic sagacity and humanity were shown in the selection of general lee as commander of the forces.] [footnote : tucker's history, vol, i. chap. . hildreth's history, second series, vol. i. chap. .] [footnote : "lastly, the statues and pictures and other ornaments of grecian cities, which other commanders suppose might be carried off, he indeed thought that they ought not even to have been looked at by him. therefore now all the inhabitants in those places look upon cn. pompey as one not sent from this city, but descended from heaven."] [footnote : "now, by the exercise of such great humanity it has become hard to say whether his enemies feared his valor more when they were fighting, or loved his humanity more when they were conquered."] [footnote : tucker's history, vol. iii. chap. . hildreth, vol. iii. chap. .] [footnote : bancroft's history, vol. ii. chap. .] chapter vii. schofield's army--sherman's--their outrages--union sentiment--a disappointment--ninety-two years ago--governor graham--his ancestry--his career--governor manly. the town of goldsboro was occupied by general schofield's army on the twenty-first of march. no resistance was offered by the confederates, who had withdrawn in the direction of smithfield, with the exception of one regiment of cavalry, which had a slight skirmish with schofield's advance near the town. general schofield's conduct toward the citizens of the town was conciliatory. no plundering was allowed by him; efficient guards were stationed, and beyond the loss of fences and out-houses torn down for firing, etc., depredations on poultry-yards, etc., and a few smoke-houses, there was but little damage done. but in the surrounding country the outrages were innumerable, and in many places the desolation complete. on the twenty-third of march general sherman's grand army made its appearance, heralded by the columns of smoke which rose from burning farm-houses on the south side of the neuse. for thirty-six hours they poured in, in one continuous stream. every available spot in the town, and for miles around it, was covered with the two armies, estimated at one hundred and twenty-five thousand men. general sherman's reputation had preceded him, and the horror and dismay with which his approach was anticipated in the country were fully warranted. the town itself was in a measure defended, so to speak, by general schofield's preöccupation; but in the vicinity and for twenty miles round, the country was most thoroughly plundered and stripped of food, forage, and private property of every description. one of the first of general sherman's own acts, after his arrival, was of peculiar hardship. one of the oldest and most venerable citizens of the place, with a family of sixteen or eighteen children and grandchildren, most of them females, was ordered, on a notice of a few hours, to vacate his house, for the convenience of the general himself, which of course was done. the gentleman was nearly eighty years of age, and in very feeble health. the out-houses, fences, grounds, etc., were destroyed, and the property greatly damaged during its occupation by the general. not a farm-house in the country but was visited and wantonly robbed. many were burned, and very many, together with out-houses, were pulled down and hauled into camps for use. generally not a live animal, not a morsel of food of any description was left, and in many instances not a bed or sheet or change of clothing for man, woman, or child. it was most heart-rending to see daily crowds of country people, from three-score and ten years of age, down to the unconscious infant carried in its mother's arms, coming into the town to beg food and shelter, to ask alms from those who had despoiled them. many of these families lived for days on parched corn, on peas boiled in water without salt, on scraps picked up about the camps. the number of carriages, buggies, and wagons brought in is almost incredible. they kept for their own use what they wished, and burned or broke up the rest. general logan and staff took possession of seven rooms in the house of john c. slocumb, esq., the gentleman of whose statements i avail myself. every assurance of protection was given to the family by the quartermaster; but many indignities were offered to the inmates, while the house was as effectually stripped as any other of silver plate, watches, wearing apparel, and money. trunks and bureaus were broken open and the contents abstracted. not a plank or rail or post or paling was left anywhere upon the grounds, while fruit-trees, vines, and shrubbery were wantonly destroyed. these officers remained nearly three weeks, occupying the family beds, and when they left the bed-clothes also departed. it is very evident that general sherman entered north-carolina with the confident expectation of receiving a welcome from its union-loving citizens. in major nichols's story of the great march, he remarks, on crossing the line which divides south from north-carolina: "the conduct of the soldiers is perceptibly changed. i have seen no evidence of plundering, the men keep their ranks closely; and more remarkable yet, not a single column of the fire or smoke which a few days ago marked the positions of the heads of columns, can be seen upon the horizon. our men seem to understand that they are entering a state which has suffered for its union sentiment, and whose inhabitants would gladly embrace the old flag again if they can have the opportunity, which we mean to give them," (page .) but the town-meeting and war resolutions of the people of fayetteville, the fight in her streets, and governor vance's proclamation, soon undeceived them, and their amiable dispositions were speedily corrected and abandoned. on first entering our state, major nichols, looking sharply about him, and fortunately disposed to do justice, under the impression that he was among friends, declares: "it is not in our imagination alone that we can at once see a difference between south and north-carolina. the soil is not superior to that near cheraw, but the farmers are a vastly different class of men. i had always supposed that south-carolina was agriculturally superior to its sister state. the loud pretensions of the chivalry had led me to believe that the scorn of these gentlemen was induced by the inferiority of the people of the old north state, and that they were little better than 'dirt-eaters;' but the strong union sentiment which has always found utterance here should have taught me better. the real difference between the two regions lies in the fact that here the plantation owners work with their own hands, and do not think they degrade themselves thereby. for the first time since we bade farewell to salt water, i have to-day seen an attempt to manure land. the army has passed through thirteen miles or more of splendidly-managed plantations; the corn and cotton-fields are nicely plowed and furrowed; the fences are in capital order; the barns are well built; the dwelling-houses are cleanly, and there is that air of thrift which shows that the owner takes a personal interest in the management of affairs," (page .) it happens curiously enough that north-carolina, ninety-two years ago, made much the same impression on a stranger then traveling peacefully through her eastern border; and his record is worth comparing with the foregoing, as showing that her state individuality was as strongly and clearly defined then as now, and that the situation of our people in closely resembled in some particulars that of their descendants in . "the soils and climates of the carolinas differ, but not so much as their inhabitants. the number of negroes and slaves is much less in north than in south-carolina. their staple commodity is not so valuable, not being in so great demand as the rice, indigo, etc., of the south. hence labor becomes more necessary, and he who has an interest of his own to serve is a laborer in the field. husbandmen and agriculture increase in number and improvement. industry is up in the woods at tar, pitch, and turpentine; in the fields plowing, planting, clearing, or fencing the land. herds and flocks become more numerous. you see husbandmen, yeomen, and white laborers scattered through the country instead of herds of negroes and slaves. healthful countenances and numerous families become more common as you advance. property is much more equally diffused through one province than in the other, and this may account for some if not all the differences of character in the inhabitants. the people of the carolinas certainly vary much as to their general sentiments, opinions, and judgments; and there is very little intercourse between them. _the present state of north-carolina is really curious; there are but five provincial laws in force through the colony, and no courts at all in being. no one can recover a debt, except before a single magistrate, where the sums are within his jurisdiction, and offenders escape with impunity. the people are in great consternation about the matter; what will be the consequence is problematical._" (_memoir of josiah quincy, jr._, page .) the situation of north-carolina during the last eight months of furnishes an exact parallel to the above concluding paragraph, and the whole may be taken as a fair illustration of the oft-repeated sentiment that history but repeats itself. major nichols's impression of the old north state would scarcely have been so favorably expressed had he known what reception her people were to give the grand army. one week later, he writes: "thus far we have been painfully disappointed in looking for the union sentiment in north-carolina, about which so much has been said. our experience is decidedly in favor of its sister state. the city of fayetteville was offensively rebellious;" and further on, "the rebels have shown more pluck at averasboro and at bentonsville than we have encountered since leaving atlanta." while the federal armies lay at goldsboro, trains were running day and night from beaufort and from wilmington, conveying stores for the supply and complete refit of sherman's army. the confederate army, lying between goldsboro and raleigh, having no supplies or reënforcements to receive, waited grimly and despairingly the order to fall back upon raleigh, which came as soon as general sherman, having effected his interview with general grant, had returned to goldsboro, with his future plan of action matured, and once more, on the tenth of april, set the grand army in motion. the scenes in raleigh during the first week of april were significant enough. the removal of government stores, and of the effects of the banks; the systematic concealment of private property of every description; the hurried movements of troops to and fro; the doubt, dismay, and gloom painted on every man's face, told but too well the story of anticipated defeat and humiliation. if there were any who secretly exulted in the advance of the federal army, they were not known. the nearest approach to any such feeling in any respectable man's breast was probably the not unnatural sense of satisfaction with which men who had long seen their opinions derided and execrated now felt that their hour of vindication was arriving, the hour which every thoughtful man in the state had long since foreseen. the united north was too strong for the south, and the weaker cause--whether right or wrong--was doomed. i repeat, not a thoughtful or clear-headed man in north-carolina but had foreseen this result as most probable, while at the same time not a thoughtful man or respectable citizen within our borders but had considered it his duty as well as his interest to stand by his state and do all in his power to assist her in the awful struggle. till the northern people, as a body, can understand how it was that such conflicting emotions held sway among us, and can see how an honorable people could resist and deplore secession, and yet fight to the last gasp in support of the confederacy, and in obedience to the laws of the state, it is idle to hope for a fair judgment from them. this, however, contradictory as it may seem to superficial observers, was the position of north-carolina all through the war, from its wild inception to its sullen close, and as such was defended and illustrated by her best and ablest statesmen. foremost and most earnest in her efforts to maintain peace and preserve the union--for she was the only state which sent delegates to both the northern and southern peace conventions--she was yet foremost also in the fight and freest in her expenditure of blood and treasure to sustain the common cause, which she had so reluctantly embraced; and now the time was fast approaching when she was again to vindicate her claims to supreme good sense and discretion, by being among the first to admit the hopelessness and sin of further effort, and the first to offer and accept the olive-branch. frequently during the winter of - , had the eyes of our people been turned toward our senator in the confederate congress, anxious for some public expression of opinion as to the situation from him, waiting to see what course he would indicate as most proper and honorable. for of those who stood foremost as representative north-carolinians, of those who possessed the largest share of personal popularity and influence in the state, it is not too much to say that ex-governor graham was by far the most conspicuous and preëminent--the man of whom it may be said more truly than of any other, that as he spoke so north-carolina felt, and as he acted, so north-carolina willed. and now, in the approaching crisis, there was no man by whose single deliberate judgment the whole state would have so unanimously agreed to be guided. it may be well to pause here and glance at governor graham's antecedents and associations, the better to understand his claims to such prominence and such influence. in a country such as ours, where hereditary distinctions do not exist, it is peculiarly pleasant to observe such a transmission of principles, and virtues, and talents, as is exhibited in the graham family. the father of governor graham was general joseph graham, of revolutionary fame, than whom there did not exist a more active and able partisan leader in north-carolina. in the affair at charlotte in , referred to in a preceding number, when one hundred and fifty militia, under colonel davie, gave the whole british army under cornwallis such a warm reception, most efficient aid was rendered by major joseph graham, who commanded a small company of volunteers on that occasion. he was covered with wounds, and his recovery was considered by his friends as little short of miraculous. but he was afterward distinguished in many heroic exploits, and commanded in no less than fifteen different engagements. his youngest son, william alexander, was born in , in lincoln county, graduated at the state university in , chose the profession of the law, and entered upon public life as member of the general assembly in , three years before the death of his venerable father. the talents, patriotism, and energy which had distinguished the revolutionary patriot, were transmitted in full measure to his son, and north-carolina evinced her appreciation of his abilities by retaining him in public office whenever he would consent to serve, from the time of his first entrance. and governor graham has never failed, has never been unequal to the occasion, or to the expectations formed of him, however high. his very appearance gives assurance of the energy, calm temper, high ability, and nerve which have always characterized him. as a lawyer and advocate, his reputation is eminent and his success brilliant; but it is as a statesman that his career is particularly to be noted now. he was united states senator in , elected governor of the state in , and reëlected in . his immediate predecessor in this office was the hon j.m. morehead, previously referred to as a member of the peace convention at washington; and his successor was the hon. charles manly--all whigs--and governor manly, the last of that school of politics elected to that office, previous to the civil war. governor graham was appointed secretary of the navy in , by president fillmore, which he resigned in on receiving the nomination for vice-president on the ticket with general scott. he was repeatedly member of the general assembly, and in all positions has merited and enjoyed the fullest and most unhesitating confidence of the people he represented, worthy of them and worthy of his parentage. his connection in politics having been ever with the whig party, he was thereby removed in the furthest possible degree from any countenance to the doctrines of nullification and secession. hence he had concurred with webster's great speech in reply to hayne in , with the proclamation of jackson in , with clay in , and with the entire policy of president fillmore's eminently national administration. in february, , he visited washington city to consult with such friends as crittenden of kentucky, hives of virginia, and granger of new-york, on the dangers then environing and threatening the country, the result of which was a convention nominating bell and everett for the presidential ticket, with the motto, "the union, the constitution, and the enforcement of the laws." he canvassed the state on his return home, for these candidates and principles, warning the people, however, that there was a likelihood of mr. lincoln's election; and that in such a case it was evidently the purpose of the secessionists who supported breckinridge, to break up the government and involve the country in civil war. party, however, was at that time stronger than patriotism, and breckinridge carried the state. on mr. lincoln's election, governor graham made public addresses, exhorting the people to submit and yield due obedience to his office. when the legislature that winter ordered an election to take the sense of the people on the call of a convention, and at the same time to elect delegates, governor graham opposed the call, and it was signally defeated in the state. he was proposed as a commissioner to the peace convention at washington, but was rejected by the secessionist majority because of his decided and openly expressed union sentiments. after the attack on fort sumter, and the secession of virginia and of tennessee, leaving north-carolina perfectly isolated among the seceded states, and with civil war already begun, governor graham decided to adopt the cause of the southern states, but with pain and reluctance, not upon any pretense of right, but as a measure of revolution, and of national interest and safety. he was a member of the convention which in may, , carried the state out of the union, and from the date of the secession ordinance he endeavored in good faith and honor to sustain the cause of the confederate states, but without any surrender on the part of the people of the rights and liberties of freemen. in the convention of , he delivered an elaborate speech in opposition to test oaths, sedition laws, the suspension of the privilege of _habeas corpus_, and all abridgments of the constitutional rights of the citizen, either by state conventions, or by legislatures, or by congress, which may be safely pronounced the clearest and ablest vindication of the cardinal principles of civil liberty presented in the annals of the confederacy. the expression of such views, such an evident determination that the country should be free, not only in the end, but in the means, coupled with great moderation of opinion as to the final result of the struggle, and a total absence of all fire-eating proclivities, drew down upon him the free criticism of the secession press and party, many of whom did not hesitate to brand him as a traitor to the cause, notwithstanding the assurances he gave of five sons in the army, some one of whom was in every important battle on the atlantic slope, except bull run and chancellorsville; two being present when the flag of lee went down on his last battle-field at appomattox, while a third then lay languishing with a severe and recent wound at petersburg. governor graham's sons derived no advantage from their father's distinguished position in north-carolina. they received no favors or patronage from the government, but were engaged in arduous and perilous service all through, in such subordinate offices as were conferred by the election of their comrades, or in the ordinary course of promotion. no families in the state gave more freely of their best blood and treasure in the support of the war than the graham family and its connections. governor graham's younger sister, mrs. morrison, wife of the rev. dr. morrison, of lincoln county, the first president of davidson college, had three sons in the service, and four sons-in-law, namely, major avery, general barringer, general d.h. hill, and _o præclarum et venerabile nomen_, stonewall jackson! perhaps no two families entered upon the rebellion more reluctantly, nor in their whole course were more entirely in unison with the views and feelings of the great body of our citizens. major avery, the youngest of dr. morrison's sons-in-law, was one of five brothers, sons of colonel isaac t. avery, of burke; grandsons of colonel waightstill avery, who commanded a regiment during the revolutionary war, and was a member of the mecklenburg convention, and a colleague there of major robert davidson, mrs. morrison's maternal grandfather. three of these five brothers fell in battle. the youngest, colonel isaac t. avery, named for his father, fell at gettysburgh. he survived his wounds a few minutes, long enough to beckon to his lieutenant-colonel for a pencil and a scrap of paper, on which with his dying fingers he assured his father that he died doing his whole duty. his father, approaching his eightieth year, received the note, stained with his son's life-blood, and died a few weeks afterward. the oldest of the brothers, waightstill, named for his grandfather, and the pride of the family, was a son-in-law of governor morehead, and his colleague in the first confederate congress. he fell in kirk's raid near morganton. governor morehead,[ ] who was, with the exception of the distinguished president of the university, governor swain, the oldest of the surviving ex-governors of the state, had two sons and two sons-in-law in the army; the two latter were killed. governor graham's immediate successor as governor--charles manly, of raleigh--had three sons in the army, all of whom saw hard service; and three sons-in-law, two of whom were killed. there were not wanting those in the dark hours of the contest who spoke of it as "the rich man's war, and the poor man's fight." these examples show that it was the war of all. the rich and the poor met together, and mingled their blood in a common current, and lie together among the unrecorded dead. the history of many families may be traced whose sacrifices were similar to the above instances. and it is now the imperative duty of those fitted for the work, to gather up these records for posterity, and for the future historian and annalist of the country. many striking coïncidences and connections in family history, many most affecting instances of unselfish devotion and of irreparable loss, are yet to be preserved by hands eager "to light the flame of a soldier's fame on the turf of a soldier's grave." footnotes: [footnote : this distinguished gentleman has departed this life since these sketches were first published in the watchman.--editor.] chapter viii. governor graham opposes secession--but goes with his state--is sent to the confederate senate--his agency in the hampton roads interview--remarkable and interesting letters from governor graham, written from richmond in . whatever distrust of governor graham was manifested by those who had invoked the war, he was fully sustained by the people; for the adoption of the ordinance of secession by no means implied the accession of secessionists to power in the state. that step having been taken, the confederate constitution ratified, and the honor and future destiny of our people being staked on the revolution, governor graham stood prepared to devote all the energies of the state to give it success; and the mass of the people, not being willing to forgive the authors of the movement, demanded the services of the union men who had embraced it as a necessity. governor graham was sent from the legislature by a majority of three fourths to the confederate senate, in december, , on the resignation of the hon. george davis, who had accepted the appointment of attorney-general in the cabinet of president davis. before the commencement of his term, (may, ,) by means of conscription and impressment laws, and the suspension of _habeas corpus_, the whole population and resources of the country had been placed at the command of the president for the prosecution of the war. the implicit and entire surrender by the whole southern people of their dearest civil rights and liberties, of their lives and property into the hands of the government, for the support of a war, which, it may be safely asserted, the large majority were opposed to, will form a field of curious and interesting speculation to the future historian and philosopher. there can not be a higher compliment paid to the character of our people, and the principles in which they had been nurtured, than the fact that no intestine disorders or disasters followed, upon such extraordinary demands of power on the one part, and such extraordinary resignation of rights on the other. whatever the confederate government asked for its own security, the people gave, and gave freely to the last. the defeats at gettysburgh and vicksburgh had turned the tide of success in favor of the north, and although this was partially relieved by the minor victories of plymouth and elsewhere, the hopes of ultimate success were becoming much darkened. governor graham had never doubted that the north had the physical ability to conquer, if her people could be kept up to a persevering effort, nor that our only chances depended on their becoming wearied of the contest. as our fortunes lowered, all men of prevision and sagacity turned their thoughts toward the possibility of overtures for peace as becoming daily of greater importance and more imminent necessity. but how could this be done? with a powerful enemy pressing us, with war established by law, with entire uncertainty as to the terms to be expected in case of submission, with the necessity imposed of making no public demonstration which should dampen the ardor of our troops, or depress still further the spirits of our people, and excite the hopes of the enemy; with such obstacles in the way, peace could not be approached by a public man without involving the risk of inaugurating greater evils than those he sought to avert. besides all this, by the adoption of the constitution of the confederate states, (which, by the way, governor graham had vainly endeavored to prevent in convention, without a second,) all legal power to terminate the war had been surrendered to the president. any other method would have been revolutionary, and have provoked civil strife among us, and, doubtless, sharp retribution. the only plan, therefore, which could afford reasonable hope of success was to operate upon and through the president. this was attempted at the first session of congress of which governor graham was a member, by secret resolutions introduced by mr. orr, the present governor of south-carolina, which, however, failed to get a majority vote of the senate. governor graham, who was deeply impressed with a sense of the absolute necessity of some movement toward peace, and who was not among the confidential friends of the president, attempted next to operate on him through those who were in some measure influential with him. by this means he had an agency in setting on foot the mission to fortress monroe, the result of which is well known. in the absence of mr. hunter on that mission, governor graham was president _pro tem._ of the senate. disappointed and mortified by that failure, he then approached president davis directly, and the results were stated in his private correspondence with a confidential friend in north-carolina. there can be no better exponent of governor graham's position and views at this momentous crisis in our history, than is found in these letters, and i esteem myself peculiarly fortunate in being able to present to my readers such extracts from them as will assist my purpose. they are the letters of a consummate statesman, and of a patriot, and need no heralding: richmond, january , . my dear sir: the intervention of f.p. blair, who has passed two or three times back and forth from washington to this city recently, has resulted in the appointment to-day by the president of an informal commission, consisting of messrs. a.h. stephens, r.m.t. hunter, and j.a. campbell, to proceed to washington and confer with a like band there, on the subject-matters of difference between the northern and southern states, with a view to terms of peace. the action of the senate was not invoked, it is presumed because the appointment of formal ministers might be considered inadmissible until the question of recognition should be settled in our favor. i trust that a termination of hostilities will be the result. from several conversations with mr. hunter, in concert with whom i have been endeavoring to reach this form of intercourse since the commencement of the session of congress, i am satisfied that the first effort will be to establish an armistice of as long duration as may be allowed, and then to agree upon terms of settlement. upon the latter i anticipate great conflict of views. the northern mind is wedded to the idea of reconstruction, and notwithstanding the violence of the extravagant republicans, i am convinced would guarantee slavery as it now exists, and probably make other concessions, including of course, amnesty, restoration of confiscated property, except slaves, and perhaps some compensation for a part of these. on the other hand, while the people of the south are wearied of the war, and are ready to make the greatest sacrifice to end it, there are embarrassments attending the abdication of a great government such as now wields the power of the south, especially by the agents appointed to maintain it, that are difficult to overcome. the commission is a discreet one, and upon the whole is as well constituted as i expected, and i trust that good will come of it. i have not seen any of the gentlemen since hearing to-day of their appointment, and i learn they are to set off to-morrow. i am therefore ignorant of the instructions they may carry, if any have been given. the vice-president was not on terms with the head of the government until a reconciliation yesterday. although the north would seem to be bent on war unless and until the union be restored, they yet regard us as a formidable foe, and i suspect the ruling authorities estimate our power as highly as it deserves. the secretary of state here, i understand, says they have been frightened into negotiations by the articles in the richmond _enquirer_, threatening a colonial connection with england and france; while others, i hear from mr. rives, assert that the north is much troubled by the proposition to make soldiers of slaves. i have no faith in either of these fancies, but have no doubt they regard us as far from being subdued, and are willing to treat rather than incur the preparations for what they conceive necessary for final success. an intelligent prisoner, mr. roulhac of florida, recently returned, informs me that by the influence of his mercantile acquaintance, he was paroled and allowed to spend six weeks in the city of new-york, and to travel to washington, etc. according to his observation, there is an abatement in the feelings of hostility to the south, and a disposition to peace, but upon the basis of reconstruction. mr. singleton of illinois, who has been here at times for two or three weeks, and is a supposed _quasi_ diplomat, but from the company he keeps is more of a speculator, gives the same account. the virginia delegation in congress, having in view the secretary of state, declared a want of confidence in the cabinet, but struck no game except their own secretary of war. he has resigned, and breckinridge, it is announced, is to succeed him, ... a representative of a state which has not ten thousand men in our army. no reports are given from official sources of the fall of fort fisher. private accounts represent it as a disgraceful affair.... mr. trenholm insists on adding one hundred per cent to the taxes of last year, including tithes. he is a good merchant and has talent, but is not versed in the finances of a nation. general lee has addressed a letter to a member of the virginia senate, advocating the enlistment of slaves as soldiers, with emancipation of themselves and families, and ultimately of the race. with such wild schemes and confessions of despair as this, it is high time to attempt peace, and i trust the commission above named may pave the way to it.... very faithfully yours, w.a. graham. richmond, feb. , . my dear sir: the commission to confer with the northern government returned yesterday evening. i have not seen any of the gentlemen, but learn on good authority that nothing was effected of a beneficial nature, except that a general exchange of prisoners on parole may be looked for. they were met on shipboard by messrs. lincoln and seward in person, (in sight of fortress monroe,) who said they could entertain no proposition looking to the independence of the southern states, and could only offer that these states should return to the union under the constitution in the existing condition of affairs, with slavery as it is, but liable to be abolished by an amendment of the constitution. they brought also the information that congress, on wednesday last, had passed a bill, by a vote of one hundred and eighteen to fifty-four, to amend the constitution, so as to abolish slavery in the states, which is to be submitted to the state legislatures for approval of three fourths. these officers are said to have exhibited great courtesy and kindness in the interview, lincoln recurring to what he had been willing to do in the outset, and from time to time since, but that public opinion now demanded his present ultimatum. the commissioners saw large numbers of black troops on their journey. i have seen but few persons to-day; but the impression will be that there is no alternative but to prosecute the war. the administration is weak in the estimation of congress, and a vote of want of confidence could be carried through the senate if approved by those it has been accustomed to consider opposition. i am not sure that this vote will not be carried as to the secretary of state. senator hill left yesterday for georgia, to attend the session of the legislature, and endeavor to revive public confidence, etc. the committee of our legislature left the evening before the return of the commissioners, disposed, i believe, to await further progress of events. the situation is critical, and requires a guidance beyond human ken. very truly yours. richmond, feb. , . my dear sir: you will have seen in the papers the report of the commissioners appointed to confer with the united states government, with the message of the president, as well as his speech at the african church, the addresses of the secretary of state, and of several members of congress, at a public meeting to give expression to sentiment on the result of the mission. judging from these, and the editorials of the newspapers of this city, there would appear to be nothing in contemplation but _bella, horrida bella_. i was not present at any of these proceedings, but learn that the assemblages were large and apparently very enthusiastic; but no volunteers were called for, nor any offered. instead of that, labored arguments were made in favor of making soldiers of slaves. the speech of the secretary of state went far beyond the newspaper reports, and its imprudences in his situation are the subject of severe criticism. he declared among other things, "that unless the slaves were armed, the cause was lost;" with revelations of details of the attempt at negotiation, exceedingly impolitic. all these demonstrations are likely to pass off as the idle wind, and the great question still remains, what is to be done to save the country? mr. stephens and judge campbell refused to make any public addresses. the former has gone home, and it is understood does not design to speak in public there, though the papers have announced the contrary.... it seems they were under instructions not to treat except upon the basis of independence, and carried romantic propositions about an armistice, coupled with an alliance to embark in a war with france, to maintain the monroe doctrine, and expel maximilian from mexico. lincoln was courteous and apparently anxious for a settlement; but firm in the announcement that nothing could be entertained till our difficulties were adjusted, and that upon the basis of a restoration of the union. that as far as he had power as president, amnesty, exemption from confiscation, etc., should be freely extended; reviewed his announcements in his inaugural, proclamations, messages, etc., to show what he considered his liberality to the south, and that he could unsay nothing that he had said. as to slavery, it must stand on the legislation of congress, with the proposed amendments to the constitution, which he informed them had passed both houses, but which the dissent of ten states could still reject. these terms not being agreed to, he and seward rose to depart, but with a manifestation of disappointment, as inferred by my informant, that propositions were not submitted on our side. thus terminated the conference. there is a widening breach between the president and congress; a growing opinion on their part that he is unequal to the present duties of his position while there is a division of opinion as to the prospect of relief in a different line of policy and under different auspices. the military situation is threatening. grant has been reënforced. sherman seems to advance almost without impediment, and with divided counsels among our generals in that quarter, judge campbell thinks another mission should be sent; but regards it as out of the question in the temper and with the committals of the president. our legislature has adjourned; that of georgia meets this week. _speed in affairs is necessary._ there is not time for states to act in concert, (without which they can effect nothing,) nor sufficient harmony of views here for action without the executive; and many, perhaps a majority, are for the most desperate expedients. a short time will bring forth important results. i have written very freely, but in confidence that you would observe the proper secrecy. i would be glad to have any suggestions that may occur to you. opportunities for consultation here are not so numerous as i could wish. very truly yours. richmond, feb. , . my dear sir: ... a bill to conscribe negroes in the army was postponed indefinitely in the senate yesterday, in secret session. i _argued it_ at length as unconstitutional according to the dred scott decision as well as inexpedient and dangerous. a bill for this purpose, which had passed the house, was laid on the table. there may be attempts to revive this fatal measure. all the influence of the administration and of general lee was brought to bear, but without success. an effort is being made to instruct the virginia senators to vote for it. mr. benjamin has been writing letters to induce the brigades of the army to declare for it. i rather regret that i did not join in a vote of want of confidence in him, which only failed. had i gone for it, i learn it would have been carried by a considerable majority. the military situation is exceedingly critical. there will be no stand made short of greensboro; whether there successfully, is doubtful.... opinion is growing in favor of more negotiations, to rescue the wreck of our affairs, if military results continue adverse. i shall meet some friends this evening on that topic. i write in haste. as to matters of confidence, please observe the proper secrecy. it is the duty of the people to sustain the war till their authorities, confederate or state, determine otherwise. but in the mean time there is no reason for inflamed resolutions to do what may be found impossible, and which they may be compelled to retract. very truly yours, w.a. graham. the publication of further extracts from these representative letters must be deferred to the succeeding chapter. meanwhile the thoughtful student of the events of that day will recognize the direct hand of providence in the continuation of the war till the utter failure of our resources was so fully manifest that peace, when it came, should be _unchallenged_, _profound_, and _universal_. chapter ix. state of parties--the feeling of the people--the "peace" party--important letter from governor vance in january, --his reËlection--the war party--the peace party--the moderates--governor graham's letter of march, --evacuation of richmond. he who would write a history of public events passing in his own day will find, among the many obstacles in the way of a clear and correct delineation, that he is continually met with doubts and hesitations in his own mind as to the impartiality of his views and decisions. the prejudices of party feeling must inevitably confuse and blind to some extent even the clearest judgment; and while a consciousness of this renders the faithful historian doubly anxious to exercise strict impartiality, he will find himself embarrassed by the divisions and subdivisions of opinion, bewildered by conflicting representations, and in danger of becoming involved in contradictions and inconsistencies. in the first chapter of these sketches it was remarked, with reference to the north and the south, that there was too much to be forgotten and too much to be forgiven between them, to hope at present for a fair and unprejudiced history of the war on either side. in relation to the parties that existed among ourselves during the war, it is equally true that the time has not yet arrived for a fair statement or comparison of their respective merits or demerits. while there is much that may be written and much that has been written which may with propriety be given to the public, there is much more that must at present be suppressed or receive only a passing notice. more especially is this true in regard to the secession party and its adherents. yet in presenting even these slight sketches of the state of things during the war in north-carolina, it would be impossible to ignore them, and unfair to represent them as without influence among us. for while it is incontestably true that the great mass of our people engaged reluctantly in the war, and hailed the prospect of peace and an honorable reünion, yet there was at the same time hardly a town in the state or an educated and refined community which did not furnish their quota of those who, without having been _original secessionists_, yet had thrown themselves with extreme ardor on the side of the southern states rights, and were ready to go all lengths in support of the war, and who are even now, though helpless and powerless, unwilling to admit that they were either in the wrong or in the minority. with many of them it was the triumph of heroic sentiment and generous feeling over the calmer suggestions of reason, for they were chiefly among our most refined and highly cultivated citizens. as a party, if not numerous, they were well organized and compact; they were socially and politically conspicuous, and did most of the writing and talking. they differed from the great body of their fellow-citizens, chiefly in the intensity of their loyalty toward president davis and his government--being resolved to support him at all hazards--and in the implacable temper they manifested toward the common enemy. one who mingled freely with both parties, and by turns sympathized with both, and who would fain do justice to both, will find it impossible to adjust their conflicting representations, and at the same time observe the prudent reticence which our present circumstances imperatively demand. two of the most prominent and influential leaders of the war party, governors ellis and winslow, have passed beyond the reach of earthly tribunals, and of the living actors it is obvious that no mention can now be made. very different but no less cogent reasons impose a similar reticence in relation to the more numerous but not more respectable or influential organization known as the "peace party" of the last eighteen months of the war, and as "union men of the straitest sect" at this day. of this party, governor holden is the admitted founder and the present head, and senator pool his most prominent exponent. a representation of their principles and their history should be made by themselves. they possess all the materials and all the abilities requisite for the work, and they owe it to themselves and to the public to place it on record for the judgment of their cotemporaries and of posterity. they and they alone are competent to the performance of this duty in the best manner. the precise date of the earliest formation of this party is given in the following letter from governor vance, which, is inserted here, not only as affording a clear view of the principles which guided _his_ course of action, but as enabling the reader to comprehend governor graham's policy, exhibited in the further extracts from his correspondence. this letter was addressed by governor vance to the same friend who received the letter given in my first number, and is marked by the same clearness and energy of thought, the same generosity of feeling, and the same unaffected ardor of patriotism which characterize all of the governor's letters that i have been privileged to see. raleigh, january , . my dear sir: the final plunge which i have been dreading and avoiding--that is to separate me from a large number of my political friends, is about to be made. it is now a fixed policy of mr. holden and others to call a convention in may to take north-carolina back to the united states, and the agitation has already begun. resolutions advocating this course were prepared a few days ago in the _standard_ office, and sent to johnson county to be passed at a public meeting next week; and a series of meetings are to be held all over the state. for any cause now existing, or likely to exist, i can never consent to this course. never. but should it be inevitable, and i be unable to prevent it, as i have no right to suppose i could, believing that it would be ruinous alike to the state and the confederacy, producing war and devastation at home, and that it would steep the name of north-carolina in infamy, and make her memory a reproach among the nations, it is my determination quietly to retire to the army and find a death which will enable my children to say that their father was not consenting to their degradation. this may sound a little wild and romantic--to use no stronger expression--but it is for your eye only. i feel, sir, in many respects, as a son toward you; and when the many acts of kindness i have received at your hands are remembered, and the parental interest you have always manifested for my welfare, the feeling is not unnatural. i therefore approach you frankly in this matter. i will not present the arguments against the proposed proceeding. there is something to be said on both sides. we are sadly pushed to the wall by the enemy on every side, it is true. that can be answered by military men and a reference to history. many people have been worse off, infinitely, and yet triumphed. our finances and other material resources are not in worse condition than were those of our fathers in -' , though repudiation is inevitable. almost every argument against the chances of our success can be answered but one: that is the cries of women and little children for bread! of all others, that is the hardest for a man of humane sentiments to meet, especially when the sufferers rejoin to your appeals to their patriotism, "you, governor, have plenty; your children have never felt want." still, no great political or moral blessing: ever has been or can be attained without suffering. such is our moral constitution, that liberty and independence can only be gathered of blood and misery, sustained and fostered by devoted patriotism and heroic manhood. this requires a deep hold on the popular heart; and whether our people are willing to pay this price for southern independence, i am somewhat inclined to doubt. but, sir, in tracing the sad story of the backing down, the self-imposed degradation of a great people, the historian shall not say it was due to the weakness of their governor, and that saul was consenting unto their death! neither do i desire, for the sake of a sentiment, to involve others in a ruin which they might avoid by following more ignoble counsels. as god liveth, there is nothing which i would not do or dare for the people who so far beyond my deserts have honored me. but in resisting this attempt to lead them back, humbled and degraded, to the arms of their enemies, who have slaughtered their sons, outraged their daughters, and wasted their fields with fire, and lay them bound at the feet of a master who promises them _only life_, provided they will swear to uphold his administration, and surrender to the hangman those whom they themselves placed in the position which constitutes their crime--in resisting this, i say, i feel that i am serving them truly, worthily. in approaching this, the crisis of north-carolina's fate, certainly of my own career, i could think of no one to whom i could more appropriately go for advice than yourself for the reasons before stated. if you can say any thing to throw light on my path, or enable me to avoid the rocks before me, i shall be thankful. my great anxiety now, as i can scarcely hope to avert the contemplated action of the state, is to prevent civil war, and to preserve life and property as far as may be possible. with due consideration on the part of public men, which i fear is not to be looked for, this might be avoided. it shall be my aim, under god, at all events. all the circumstances considered, do you think i ought again to be a candidate? it is a long time to the election, it is true, but the issue will be upon the country by spring. my inclination is to take the stump early, and spend all my time and strength in trying to warm and harmonize the people. * * * * * believe me, my dear sir, yours sincerely, z.b. vance. governor vance, it is well known, took the field against this new party; and in the overwhelming majority with which he was reëlected the following summer, convincing proof was given that much as north-carolinians desired peace, they were not willing to take irregular or revolutionary measures to obtain it, and that they preferred even a hopeless war to a dishonorable reünion. besides the moderates, who constituted the bulk of the people, and the war party, and the "peace party," there were many besides of a class which can never be influential, but may well be counted among the _impedimenta_ of all great movements; who, unable to answer the arguments of either side, could give no counsel to either, though they were always prepared to blame any unsuccessful movement made in any direction. these, overwhelmed by doubts and fears in the moment of peril, could only wring their hands in hopeless inefficiency. surrounded with such conflicting elements, those who fain would have led the people "by a right way," found the obstacles interposed by party spirit almost insurmountable. in presenting governor graham, therefore, as a representative north-carolinian, it must be borne in mind that there were many men among us true and patriotic, but so ardently devoted to the cause of the confederacy as to remain to the last implacable toward any attempt at negotiation, who looked upon all suggestions tending that way as dastardly and traitorous to the south, and who, backed by the whole civil and military confederate authorities, were ready to brand and arrest as traitors the authors of any such move. with these reflections, i resume the extracts from governor graham's correspondence, assured that his inaction in the momentous crisis, deprecated as it was at the time, by one party as evincing too little energy in behalf of peace, if not a disposition to continue the war; and reviled by the other as indicative of a disposition toward inglorious surrender and reconstruction, was in effect _masterly_, that masterly inactivity with which he who surveys the tumult of conflict from an eminence, may foresee and calmly await the approaching and inevitable end. richmond, march , . my dear sir: the passing week will develop important events. the president has requested congress to prolong its session to receive communications which he desires to make. three days have since elapsed, but nothing but routine messages have thus far been received. i am not at liberty to anticipate what is coming, or probably to reveal it when received; but doubtless the whole horizon of the situation will be surveyed, and an occasion presented for determinate action as to the future. in my opinion, he is powerless, and can neither make peace for our security nor war with success. but _nous verrons_. the bill to arm slaves has become a law. it professes to take them only with the consent of their masters; and in the event of failure in this, to call on the state authorities to furnish. i trust no master in north-carolina will volunteer or consent to begin this process of abolition, as i feel very confident the general assembly will not. we hear the enemy are near fayetteville, notwithstanding the check to kilpatrick by hampton. i think our officers of state, except the governor, should not leave raleigh, but should claim protection for the state property from fire or other destruction, if the enemy come there. a raid of sheridan's force has been above this city some days, destroying the james river canal and other property; and last night, at one a.m., the alarm-bell was rung, calling out the local force for the defense of the city, it being reported that the enemy was within seven miles. it is said to-day that the party has joined grant below richmond. commander hollins and several citizens are said to have been killed by them. you may conceive that the path of those intrusted with the great interests of the people is beset with difficulties; but it must be trodden with what serenity and wisdom we may command. very truly yours, w.a. graham. hillsboro, n.c., march , . my dear sir: i am much indebted for your note by dr. h----. i arrived at home on this day week, and the next day went to raleigh to have an interview with the governor on the subject-matter referred to in your letter. the result was a convocation of the council of state to assemble to-morrow. the legislature of virginia has taken a recess until the twenty-ninth instant, and i think it very important that that of north-carolina shall be in session as early thereafter as possible. the war is now nearly reduced to a contest between these two states and the united states. the military situation is by no means favorable, and i perceive no solution of our difficulties except through the action of the states. the public men in the service of the confederacy are so trammeled by the parts they have borne in past events, and their apprehensions as to a consistent record, that the government does not answer the present necessities of the country. i wish, if possible, to see you in the course of this week for a full conference on these important topics. the governor is, i think, reasonable, but was much surprised by some of the facts i communicated to him. i do not know the disposition of the council. if the legislature shall be convened, i will attend their session, and if desired, will address them in private meeting. much pertaining to the present position of affairs can not with propriety be communicated to the public. i received last night a telegram from my son james, informing me that his brothers john and robert were both wounded--the former in both legs, the latter in the left, in an attack by general lee on the left of grant's line yesterday morning. i am expecting another message to-night from general ransom, which may occasion me to go to petersburg to attend to them. lee was successful in surprising the enemy and driving him from three lines of intrenchments and taking five hundred prisoners; but by a concentrated fire of the artillery of the foe, was compelled to retire. james says he was unhurt. i am also under a great necessity to go to the catawba, but with a large force of _reserve artillery_ all around us, and some apprehensions of the advance of sherman, i know not which way to turn. i had a conversation with governor morehead at greensboro, and believe he realizes the situation. very sincerely yours, w.a. graham. if the legislature of virginia convened at richmond on the twenty-ninth of march, , small time was allowed for their deliberations; and it would have been of very little practical utility if the general assembly of north-carolina had been summoned to correspond with it at that date. on the second of april, richmond was evacuated. our president and his cabinet were fugitives in the clear starlight of that woful night; our capital was delivered over to a mob, and in flames. but we did not even dream of it. it was more than a week before the certain intelligence was received in central carolina, and even then many doubted. dismal rumors from lee's army, of the fall of petersburg, of the fate of richmond, were whispered, but were contradicted every hour by those whose wish was father to the thought that there was hope yet, that all was not lost. we were indeed in the very turning-point and fatal crisis of the great _southern states rights struggle_; but we hardly realized through what an era of history we were living. in the quiet and secluded village in which i now write, the uninterrupted order of our daily life afforded a strong confirmation of the great english historian's saying, that in all wars, after all, but a comparatively small portion of a nation are actually engaged or affected. the children plan their little fishing-parties, the plow-boy whistles in the field, the wedding-supper is provided, and the daily course of external domestic life in general flows as smoothly as ever, except immediately in the track of the armies. it is not indifference nor insensibility. it is the wise and beneficent order of providence that it should be with the body politic as with our physical frame. one part may suffer mutilation, and though a sympathetic thrill of anguish pervade every nerve of the whole body, yet the natural functions are not suspended in any other member. men must lie down, and sleep, and eat, and go through the ordinary routine of daily duty in circumstances of the most tragic interest. it is only on the stage that they tear their hair and lie prostrate on the ground. so we still exchanged our confederate money with each other--the bright, new, clean twenties and tens, which we tried to believe were worth something, for there was still a faint magical aroma of value hovering round those promises to pay "six months after a treaty of peace with the united states;" $ a yard for country jeans, $ a yard for calico, $ for a pair of cotton socks, $ for a wheat-straw hat, $ for a bushel of meal, and $ to have a tooth pulled, and very cheap at that--if we had only known all. mothers were still preparing boxes for their boys in the army; the farmer got his old battered tools in readiness for his spring's work; the merchant went daily to preside over the scanty store of thread, needles, and buttons, remnants of calico, and piles of homespun, which now constituted his stock in trade; and our little girls still held their regular meetings for knitting soldiers' socks, all unconscious of the final crash so near, while the peach-trees were all abloom and spring was putting on all her bravery. chapter x. general johnston preparing to uncover raleigh--urgent letter prom governor swain to governor graham--governor graham's reply--a programme of operations agreed upon--finally governors graham and swain start for sherman's headquarters. when the intention of general johnston to uncover the city of raleigh became generally known, and when the retrograde movement of his army commenced in the direction of chapel hill, and along the line of the central railroad; when general wheeler's troopers, followed hard by kilpatrick's command, poured along our country roads, and the people gave half of their provision to the retreating friends, and were stripped of the other half by the advancing foe; there were few thoughtful persons in orange county whose waking and sleeping hours were not perturbed and restless. what could be done? whither were we tending? what was to be the result? an hour or two of anxious reflection on such questions before day on the morning of april th, induced governor swain, president of the university of north carolina--than whom, though immured in the cloisters of a venerable literary institution, no man in the confederacy took a keener interest in the progress of public events, surveyed the action of parties with more sagacious apprehension, or was oftener consulted by leading men--induced him to rise at an early hour and make another effort to influence the public authorities of the state to adopt immediate measures for saving what remained of the country from devastation, and the seat of government and the university from the conflagration which had overwhelmed the capitals of our sister states. he wrote the subjoined letter to governor graham, at daylight; but such was the apprehension of the time, that it was difficult to find a messenger, and still more difficult to procure a horse to bear it from the university to hillsboro. by ten that morning it was on the way, and by six in the evening governor graham's reply was received. chapel hill, } saturday morning, april , . } my dear sir: since the organization of the state government, in december, , north-carolina has never passed through so severe an ordeal as that we are now undergoing. unless something can be done to prevent it, suffering and privation, and death--death in the battle-field, and death in the most horrible of all forms, the slow and lingering death of famine, are imminent to thousands, not merely men, but women and children. the general assembly, by its own resolution, is not to meet until the th of may. if the governor shall desire to convene the members at an earlier day, it may not, in the present state of the country, be possible to effect his purpose. some of the members will find it impossible to reach raleigh in the existing state of the railroads, others may be in danger of arrest if they shall attempt it in any way, and there are few who can leave home without peril to person or property. we are compelled, then, to look to other sources for relief from the dangers by which we are environed. in ancient times, when the most renowned of republics experienced similar trials, the decree went forth: "_viderent consules ne quid detrimenti respublica caperet._" a dictatorship is, in my opinion, repugnant to every principle of civil liberty, and i would neither propose nor support one under any existing circumstances. but something must be done, and done immediately, or the opening campaign will be brief and fatal. anarchy may ensue, and from anarchy the descent to a military despotism is speedy and natural. the state has no such citizen to whom all eyes turn with deep anxiety and confident hope for the counsel and guidance demanded by the crisis, as yourself. fully satisfied of this fact, i venture to suggest the propriety of your meeting me in raleigh on monday morning, and inviting a conference with the governor on the state of public affairs. he numbers among his many friends none who have yielded him earlier, more constant, or more zealous support, in the trying circumstances in which providence has been pleased to place him, than ourselves. i am the oldest of his predecessors in his office, and about the time of your entrance into public life, was summoned to the discharge of similar duties in the midst of similar perils. i have had from him too numerous and decided proofs of confidence, respect, and affection, to doubt that he will listen to me kindly; and i know that he will receive you with as great cordiality and give as favorable consideration to your suggestions as he would yield to any citizen or functionary in the confederacy. perhaps he may be disposed not only to hear us, but to invite all his predecessors--morehead, manly, reid, bragg, and clark--to unite with us in consultation at a time and under circumstances, calling for the exercise of the highest powers of statesmanship. at present, i do not deem it incumbent on me, even if my views were more fully matured, to intimate the ideas i entertain of what must be done, and done promptly, to arrest the downward tendency of public affairs. i content myself with simply urging that you shall meet me in raleigh, as above proposed, on monday, if it be possible, and if you concur with me in opinion that we are in the midst of imminent perils. yours very sincerely, d.l. swain. hillsboro, april , . my dear sir: yours of this date has just been received, and i entirely concur in your estimate of the dangers that environ us. i left richmond thoroughly convinced that-- st. independence for the southern confederacy was perfectly hopeless. d. that through the administration of mr. davis we could expect no peace, so long as he shall be supplied with the resources of war; and that d. it was the duty of the state government immediately to move for the purpose of effecting an adjustment of the quarrel with the united states. i accordingly remained at home but twenty-four hours (that being the sabbath, and having had no sleep the night preceding) before repairing to raleigh to lay before the governor such information as i possessed, and to urge him to convene the general assembly immediately. i told him that richmond would fall in less than thirty days, and would be followed probably by a rout or dispersion of lee's army for want of food, if for no other cause. that the confederate government had no plan or policy beyond this event, although it was generally anticipated. that i had reason to believe that general lee was anxious for an accommodation. that johnston had not and could not raise a sufficient force to encounter sherman. that i had conferred with the president, and found him, though in an anxious frame of mind, constrained by the scruple that he could not "commit suicide" by treating his government out of existence, nor even ascertain for the states what terms would be yielded, provided they consented to readopt the constitution of the united states. that the wisest and best men with whom i had been associated, or had conversed, were anxious for a settlement; but were so trammeled by former committals, and a false pride, or other like causes, that they were unable to move themselves, or in their states, but were anxious that others should; and that it was now the case of a beleaguered garrison before a superior force, considering the question whether it was best to capitulate on terms, or hold out to be put to the sword on a false point of honor. the governor was evidently surprised by my statement of facts, and, i apprehend, incredulous at least as to my conclusions. he agreed to consider the subject, and to convene the council on that day week. i heard nothing of their action, and being solicitous on the subject, on thursday last i visited raleigh again, found the governor on the cars here returning from statesville, and we journeyed together, and i dined with him after arrival. he said he had purposed visiting me, but it had been neglected; that a bare _quorum_ of his council attended the meeting, and being equally divided, he had not summoned the legislature; but that mr. gilmer, whom i had advised him to consult, and every body else now he believed agreed with me in opinion. he had recently seen mr. gilmer, and he suggested to him to solicit an interview with general sherman on the subject of peace. i told him that president davis would probably complain of this, and should be apprised of it if held. he replied that this of course should be done. i suggested, however, that even if this course were taken, he should be in a position to act independently of the president, and therefore should convene the general assembly. on this he was reluctant, but finally agreed to call the council of state again. i told him in parting, that if, in any event, he supposed i could be useful to him, to notify me, and i would attend him. i am induced to believe that the result of the deliberation of the council was not disagreeable to him; but since the fall of richmond he has a truer conception of the situation. i wrote him a note on the day the council met, advising him of your concurrence in the necessity of calling the general assembly. he went, on friday last, to witness a review of johnston's army, and proposed to me to accompany him. i declined; not seeing any good to be accomplished there. general johnston i know, and appreciate him highly. * * * * * i hope you will go, as you propose, to see governor vance. i thought of inviting you to my first interview with him; and if he shall contrive a meeting with sherman, i hope you may be present. i do not think it necessary, perhaps not advisable myself, to visit him again on these topics. my conversations with him were very full and earnest. i told him i should attend the session of the general assembly, and if desired would address them in secret session; that i had had confidential conversations with a committee of the virginia legislature, which had taken a recess for ten days, and that it was important to act in concert with that body; that my colleagues in the house, the leaches, turner, ramsay, fuller, and logan, were ready to call a session of the assembly together by advertisement; but all this had no effect in procuring a recommendation to the council in favor of the call. * * * * * i do not perceive that any thing will be gained by a convention of those who have held the office of chief magistrate.... _prejudices are still rife_, and the poison of party spirit yet lurks in the sentiments of many otherwise good men, who swear by the administration, and will wage indefinite war while other people can be found to fight it. suppose you come to my house to-morrow, and take the cars from here next morning. there is much to say that i can not write. i set off to chapel hill this morning to see you; but riding first to the depot to inquire for news, thought i had intelligence of my sons in the army. this proved a mistake, but prevented my visit. i fear that john and robert and my servant davy fell into the enemy's hands on the evacuation of petersburg. they were at the house of william r. johnson, jr., and doing well. cooke's brigade, in which james is a captain, was hotly engaged in the action of sunday. i have no tidings of his fate. hoping to see you soon, i remain, yours very truly, w.a. graham. governor swain, in compliance with governor graham's request that he would take hillsboro in his way to raleigh, spent the next day at his house in hillsboro, in consultation as to the best mode of effecting their common purpose. they agreed upon the course of action indicated in the following outline drawn up by governor graham: my dear sir: referring to our conversation in relation to the critical and urgent condition of our affairs as regards the public enemy, i am of opinion that-- st. the general assembly should be convened at the earliest day practicable. d. that when convened, it should pass resolutions expressive of a desire for opening negotiations for peace, and stopping the effusion of blood; and inviting the other states of the south to unite in the movement. d. that to effect this object, it should elect commissioners to treat with the government of the united states, and report the result to a convention, which should be at once called by the legislature to wield the sovereign power of the state in any emergency that may arise out of the changing state of events. th. that in the event of sherman's advance upon the capital, or indeed without that event, let the governor propose a conference, or send a commission to treat with him for a suspension of hostilities, until the further action of the state shall be ascertained in regard to the termination of the war. all this i should base upon the doctrine of the president of the confederate states, that he conceives it inconsistent with his duty to entertain negotiations for peace except upon the condition of absolute independence to the southern confederacy, with all the territories claimed as belonging to each state comprising it, and should give him the earliest information of the proceedings in progress. very truly yours, w.a. graham. april , . at seven the next (monday) morning, governor swain took the train from hillsboro to raleigh, dined with governor vance, and at the close of a long and earnest conference, the latter agreed to carry out the scheme submitted if the concurrence of general johnston could be obtained. he promised to ride out immediately to general johnston's headquarters and consult him upon the subject. the next morning he authorized governor swain to telegraph governor graham and request his presence. the latter responded promptly that he would come down in the eleven o'clock train that night, and governor swain spent the night with governor vance in anxious expectation of his arrival. the train failed to arrive until three o'clock on wednesday morning. governor swain, at early dawn, found governor vance writing dispatches by candle-light, and governor graham was at the door before sunrise. mrs. vance and her children had retired from raleigh to a place of supposed greater safety, and the three gentlemen, together with colonel burr, of governor vance's staff, were the only occupants of the executive mansion. after an early breakfast, they went to the capitol, where a communication from governor vance to general sherman was prepared. general johnston, in the mean time, had retired in the direction of hillsboro, and general hardee was the officer of highest grade then in raleigh. he promptly accepted an invitation from governor vance to be present at a conference, prepared a safe-conduct through his lines for governors swain and graham, who undertook the commission to general sherman; and by ten o'clock, attended by three of the governor's staff--surgeon-general warren, colonel burr, and major devereux--they left raleigh in a special train, bearing a flag of truce, for general sherman's headquarters. governor bragg, mr. moore, and mr. raynor had all been consulted in relation to the course proposed to be pursued, and all had concurred most heartily in its propriety and necessity. there were others who were not consulted, who nevertheless suspected the design of those concerned in these conferences; and one of them is understood to have kept president davis, who was then in greensboro, regularly advised by telegraph of all, and more than all, that was contemplated by the embassy. the fate of the mission, and its final results, form, as i doubt not my readers will agree, as interesting and important a chapter in the history of the state as has occurred since its organization. chapter xi. raleigh, when uncovered--the commissioners to general sherman--they start--are recalled by general johnston--are stopped by kilpatrick's forces--their interview with kilpatrick--are called to sherman's headquarters--his reply to governor vance--the further proceedings of the commission--a pleasant incident--the commissioners return to raleigh--governor vance had left--his letter to sherman--the federal troops enter raleigh--incidents. the commissioners to general sherman from governor vance left raleigh on wednesday morning, april twelfth, at ten o'clock, as before stated. they were expected to return by four o'clock that afternoon, at the farthest, as general sherman was understood to be not more than fourteen miles from the city. that day raleigh presented, perhaps, less external appearance of terror and confusion than might have been supposed. that general sherman would arrive there in the course of his march, had been anticipated ever since his entrance into the state; and general johnston, on the tenth, had given governor vance notice of his intention to uncover the city, so that such preparations as could be made to meet their fate had been completed. an immense amount of state property had been removed to various points along the central railroad. some forty thousand blankets, overcoats, clothes, and english cloth equal to at least one hundred thousand suits complete; leather and shoes equal to ten thousand pairs; great quantities of cotton cloth and yarns, and cotton-cards; six thousand scythe-blades; one hundred and fifty thousand pounds of bacon; forty thousand bushels of corn; a very large stock of imported medical stores; and many other articles of great value, together with the public records, treasury and literary board, and other effects, were mostly deposited at graham, greensboro, and salisbury. governor vance and the state officers under his direction had worked day and night, with indefatigable zeal, to effect this transportation, so that before mid-day on the twelfth every thing was in readiness. every suggestion of ingenuity, meanwhile, had been put in practice by the citizens in concealing their private property, though, indeed, with very little hope that they would escape such accomplished and practiced marauders as those who composed the approaching "grand army." men who had been on the _qui vive_, ever since leaving atlanta, to discover and appropriate or wantonly destroy all of household treasures and valuables that lay in their way, or anywhere within sixty miles of their way, snappers-up of even such unconsidered trifles as an old negro's silver watch or a baby's corals--from the hands of such as these what was to be expected; what nook, or cranny, or foot of inclosed ground would be safe from their search! many citizens repaired to governor vance's office for advice and comfort, and none left him without greater courage to meet what was coming. though overburdened with cares and unspeakable anxieties on this memorable day, all found him easy of access and ready to give prudent counsel to those who asked for it. he advised the citizens generally to remain quiet in their own houses, and, as far as possible, protect their families by their presence. he himself was resolved to await the return of the embassy to sherman, and learn upon what conditions he could remain and exercise the functions of his office, or if at all. when the train bearing the commissioners reached general hampton's lines, they requested an interview with him. the safe-conduct from general hardee, and the letter from governor vance to general sherman were shown him. he remarked that general hardee was his superior, and that of course he yielded to authority, but expressed his own doubts of the propriety or expediency of the mission. he prepared a dispatch, however, immediately, and transmitted it by a courier to general sherman, together with a note from governors graham and swain, requesting to be advised of the time and place at which a conference might take place. general hardee then retired with his staff, and the train moved slowly on. when at the distance, perhaps, of two miles, one of his couriers dashed up, halted the train, and informed the commissioners that he was directed by general hampton to say that he had just received an order from general johnston to withdraw their safe conduct, and direct them to return to raleigh. they directed the courier to return and say to the general that such an order ought to be given personally or in writing, and that the train would be stationary till he could be heard from. this message was replied to by the prompt appearance of the general himself. the extreme courtesy of his manner, and his air and bearing confirmed the impression made in the previous interview, that he was a frank, and gallant, and chivalrous soldier. he read the copy of a dispatch that he had sent by a courier to general sherman, which in substance was as follows: "general: since my dispatch of half an hour ago, circumstances have occurred which induce me to give you no further trouble in relation to the mission of ex-governors graham and swain. these gentlemen will return with the flag of truce to raleigh." this dispatch he had sent immediately on receiving general johnston's order to direct their return. the commissioners were of course surprised and disappointed. the mission was not entered upon without the deliberate assent and advice of general johnston, after a full consultation with governor vance, and also with general hardee's entire concurrence, and a safe-conduct from him in general johnston's absence. the engine, however, was reversed, general hampton retired, and the train had proceeded slowly about a mile or so in the direction of raleigh, when it was again halted, and this time by a detachment of a hundred spencer rifles, a portion of kilpatrick's cavalry, under the command of general atkins. the commissioners were informed that they must proceed to the headquarters of general kilpatrick, distant a mile or more. while waiting for a conveyance they were courteously treated, and a band of music ordered up for their entertainment. after a brief interval general kilpatrick's carriage arrived for them, and they proceeded in it under escort to the residence of mr. fort, where the general then was. he received them politely, examined the safe-conduct of general hardee, and the dispatches for general sherman, and then remarked that the circumstances in which they were placed, according to the laws of war, gave him the right, which, however, he had not the smallest intention of exercising, to consider them as prisoners of war. "it is true, gentlemen," said he, "that you came under the protection of a flag of truce, and are the bearers of important dispatches from your governor to my commanding general, but that gave you no right to cross my skirmish-line while a fight was going on." governor graham remarked that the circumstances under which they came explained themselves, and were their own justification. that in a special train, with open windows, proceeding with the deliberation proper to a flag of truce, with only five persons in a single car, they had little temptation to proceed if they had known, in time to stop, that they were to be exposed to a cross-fire from the skirmish-lines of the two armies. general kilpatrick replied that all that was very true, but that it was proper, nevertheless, that he should require them to proceed to general sherman's headquarters. he then remarked that the war was virtually at an end, and that every man who voluntarily shed blood from that time forth, would be a murderer; and read a general order from general sherman, congratulating the army on the surrender of general lee, intelligence of which had just reached him by telegraph. this was the first intimation our commissioners had received of this final blow to the southern cause. it was indeed not unexpected, but no anticipation of such tidings can equal the moment of realization; and to receive it under such circumstances, where extreme caution and self-command were an imperative duty, and where no expression could be allowed to the natural feelings of anguish and dismay with which it filled their breasts, gave an additional pang. general kilpatrick further stated, among other things, that the course pursued by general lee was illustrative of the importance of regular military training; that an able and skillful commander knew when to fight, and when it was a more imperative duty to surrender; that a brave but rash and inexperienced officer would have sacrificed his army, and involved the whole country in ruin for the want of the proper skill to direct, and the _prestige_ to sustain him in the discharge of a duty requiring more than courage. after an hour or two's delay, the commissioners were escorted back to the train which was in waiting where they had left it, and thence proceeded to general sherman's headquarters, passing for several miles through open columns of large bodies of troops, amidst the deafening cheers with which they welcomed the surrender of the great confederate commander, and the arrival of a commission which, as they supposed, was authorized to treat for the surrender of general johnston's army. general sherman, attended by his aids, met the commission at the station-house at clayton, and conducted them to his tent. governor graham presented the letter from governor vance, and entered into a discussion of the various points it embraced, and found general sherman apparently desirous to accede to its propositions as far as was possible for him, and ready to make an amicable and generous arrangement with the state government. i have endeavored to procure copies of all the official letters written by governor vance at this important crisis in our affairs, but, with one exception, have failed. copies of these letters, together with his letter-book then in use, with other important documents, were packed in a box which was captured at greensboro, and taken to washington city, as i have elsewhere mentioned. these records will doubtless be restored to the state at no distant day; and our people will yet have proof that their governor did all that man could do--i may say all that a man thwarted by undue interference could do--to save the state and her capital from outrage, and humiliation, and anarchy. i subjoin general sherman's reply to the letter delivered by the commission: headquarters military division } of the mississippi, in the field, } gully's station, n.c., april , . } _to his excellency z.b. vance, governor of the state of north-carolina_: sir: i have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your communication of this date, and inclose you a safeguard for yourself and any members of the state government that choose to remain in raleigh. i would gladly have enabled you to meet me here, but some interruption occurred to the train by the orders of general johnston, after it had passed within the lines of my cavalry advance; but as it came out of raleigh in good faith, it shall return in good faith, and will in no measure be claimed by us. i doubt if hostilities can be suspended as between the army of the confederate government and the one i command; but i will aid you all in my power to contribute to the end you aim to reach--the termination of the existing war. i am, truly, your obedient servant, w.t. sherman, major-general. in however unfavorable a light strict regard for the truth of history places general sherman as a disciplinarian and leader of the great army that swept the southern states with a besom of destruction; however dark the pictures of lawless pillage and brutal outrage, unrestrained and uncensured by the commanding general--if indeed they were not especially directed and approved by him and his officers; however unenviable general sherman's fame in _these_ respects, equal regard for truth demands that in representing him at the council-board he shall appear in a much more commendable aspect, exhibiting there feelings of humanity and a capacity for enlarged and generous statesmanship entirely worthy of a really great general. if general sherman's views and plans for closing the war had been adopted by his government, there can be no doubt that peace would have been _accomplished_ in less than two months from the surrender of our armies; peace that would have been speedily followed by good-will in every southern state, in spite of the waste and burning track of his army. the hope which the commissioners had entertained of being able to return to raleigh on the evening of the same day, was now found to be impracticable, owing to the various delays and impediments they had met with. general sherman promised that their detention should be as brief as possible; but it soon became obvious that he intended they should spend the night at his headquarters. he had been promptly advised of general hampton's having required their return to raleigh, and had taken the necessary measures to prevent it, and was now equally determined that nothing should thwart the beneficial results of their conference, or any advantage that might accrue therefrom. the gentlemen were in his power, and submitted to his requisitions quietly, not cheerfully. it was intimated to them that the engine which brought them down required some repairs, and so soon as this could be effected, the train should again be at their service. the reply to governor vance's letter was placed in their hands, and a safe-conduct and permission to proceed in the train to hillsboro, after the necessary interview with governor vance. general sherman hoped they might be able to get off by midnight; but if that should be found impossible, they might retire to rest, take a cup of coffee with him at daylight, and breakfast in raleigh. a couple of hours were spent in general conversation on public affairs, and less exciting topics. at the close of the official conference between governor graham and general sherman, governor swain remarked to the latter that, at the beginning of their troubles they were engaged in kindred pursuits. "yes, sir," said the general. "i am aware that you are the president of the university of north-carolina; and i was the superintendent of the state military academy of louisiana." "two or three of your boys," said the governor, "were with me for a time." "yes," replied the general, "and many more of yours have been with me during the war, who came, poor fellows, before they were men, and when they ought to have remained with you; and they too frequently helped to fill my hospitals. i think, however, when they return, they will do me the justice to tell you that i treated them kindly." governor swain inquired for general blair, remarking that he was his pupil in . general sherman replied that he was only two hours in the rear, and that he had just been reading terrible accounts in a raleigh paper of his proceedings in fayetteville, adding, "i will turn frank over to you to answer for it in the morning." in connection with this, reference was made to the burning of columbia. the general remarked with great emphasis: "i have been grossly misrepresented in regard to columbia. i changed my headquarters eight times during that night, and with every general officer under my command, strained every nerve to stop the fire. i declare in the presence of my god that hampton burned columbia, and that he alone is responsible for it. he collected immense piles of cotton in the streets and set them on fire; the wind rose during the night, and dispersed the flakes of burning cotton among the shingle-roofs, and created a conflagration beyond human control." at the close of the conversation general sherman intimated that the gentlemen had better retire to rest; that he would have them called at any hour that the train might be in readiness; and that, at all events, they should be ready to proceed by sunrise. governor graham was invited to occupy the general's tent, and they shared the same apartment. every courtesy was extended to the other members of the commission. and now occurred one of those little coïncidences which brighten life under its best aspects, and which are capable of giving pleasure even in such dispiriting circumstances as these; which, from constitutional predilections, no man appreciates more highly than governor swain, and which, perhaps, for that very reason, happen more frequently to him than to most men. one of general sherman's aids approached the governor, inviting him to go with him--that he had vacated his tent for his benefit. the governor replied that he must object to turning him out, but would occupy it with him with pleasure. the officer replied that he could find a lodging elsewhere, and wished to make the governor comfortable. he then apologized for desiring to introduce himself, by remarking that no name was more familiar than governor swain's in his mother's household. the governor inquired his name, and found him to be the son of a school-companion, the beloved friend of earlier years, a lady of rare merits and accomplishments, who had long since entered upon her rest. she, with the mother of governor vance, had been in early girlhood the governor's schoolmates, and competitors with him for school distinctions in the most anxious and generous strife he has ever known. governor graham and governor swain both voted, in , for the uncle of this gallant young officer, for president of the united states, as the advocate of "the union, the constitution, and the enforcement of the laws," in the vain hope that the evils which then threatened and have since overwhelmed the country might be averted. to such offered kindness from such a quarter, under such circumstances, one might well respond, "i take thy courtesy, by heaven, as freely as 'tis nobly given." at sunrise the next morning the commissioners proceeded on their return in the train, somewhat in advance of the army, with the understanding that they were to go to raleigh, notify governor vance of the conditions agreed upon, and return to advise general sherman of their acceptance before he should reach the boundaries of the city. when within a mile of the capital they saw the flames rising to a great height above the station-house, which had been first plundered and then set on fire by stragglers from the retreating forces of general wheeler. the fire put a sudden stop to the progress of the train. the commissioners alighted, and passed around the blazing building in the hope of finding another train on the other side in which they might proceed to hillsboro, on the conclusion of their business in raleigh, but were disappointed. they went to the house of a friend at the head of hillsboro street, but found it shut up, and the proprietor a refugee. they walked the entire length of the street, and did not see a human being till they reached the state house. every door was shut, every window-blind was closed. the same absence of all signs of life, the same death-like silence and air of desertion, the same precautions against intrusion characterized fayetteville street from the capitol to the palace. the very air seemed shriveled. in the brief interval that elapsed from the retreat of her protectors to the arrival of her foes, the beautiful city of raleigh stood under the outstretched arms of her noble oaks, embowered in the luxuriant shrubbery of a thousand gardens, just touched with vernal bloom and radiance--stood with folded hands and drooping head, in all the mortal anguish of suspense, in a silence that spoke, awaiting her fate. governor vance, it was soon ascertained, had left the city, together with all the state officers, having heard the night before that the commission had been captured, and detained as prisoners of war. despairing then of obtaining any terms from general sherman, and unwilling to surrender himself unconditionally into his hands, in entire uncertainty of what treatment he might expect, governor vance had decided to leave for hillsboro, after making every possible arrangement for the surrender of the city by the mayor and council. he wrote the following letter to general sherman, to be delivered by the city authorities: state of north-carolina, } executive department, } raleigh, april , . } _general w.t. sherman, commanding united states forces_: general: his honor, mayor william b. harrison, is authorized to surrender to you the city of raleigh. i have the honor to request the extension of your favor to its defenseless inhabitants generally; and especially to ask your protection for the charitable institutions of the state located here, filled as they are with unfortunate inmates, most of whose natural protectors would be unable to take care of them, in the event of the destruction of the buildings. the capitol of the state, with its libraries, museum, and most of the public records, is also left in your power. i can but entertain the hope that they may escape mutilation or destruction, inasmuch as such evidences of learning and taste can advantage neither party in the prosecution of the war, whether destroyed or preserved. i am, general, very respectfully, z.b. vance. the governor lingered in raleigh till midnight, hoping to receive some news of the commission, and then, _without a single member of his staff_, accompanied by captain bryan and captain j.j. guthrie, who volunteered to escort him, he rode out to general hoke's encampment, not far from page's, (carey's,) some eight miles from the city. generals hardee, hampton, hoke, and wheeler, with their commands, had passed through raleigh in the evening. leaving governor vance's course for future consideration, i return to the group of gentlemen standing in front of the state house shortly after sunrise on the morning of thursday, thirteenth. the only person they met at the capitol was the servant who waited in the executive office, and who had been intrusted by governor vance with the keys. true to the trust reposed in him, he was present at the proper time to deliver the keys as he had been directed--an instance of fidelity and punctuality under trying circumstances that would, doubtless, have been rewarded with his freedom, even had there been no liberating army at hand. the commission received the key from him, and after a hasty consultation, it was agreed that one should open the state house and remain till the arrival of the federal army, taking such measures as he might deem most expedient; and that the other should make his way, with the best means he could command, to hillsboro, taking the university in his way, and endeavoring to provide for the safety of friends and neighbors in that quarter. when walking from the railroad station to the city, the commissioners had passed through the lines of general wheeler's cavalry, pressing in the direction of chapel hill. half an hour after reaching the state house, a dozen men, the _débris_ of our army, were observed at the head of fayetteville street, breaking open and plundering the stores. governor swain, who had remained at the state house, approached them, and stated that he was immediately from general sherman's headquarters, and had assurance from him that if no resistance was offered to his advance-guard, the town should be protected from plunder and violence, and urged the soldiers to leave at once and join their retreating comrades. they replied, "d----n sherman and the town too; they cared for neither." robert g. lewis, esq., the first citizen of raleigh who had yet been seen, came up just then, and joined his entreaties with earnestness. more and more vehement remonstrances were used without effect, till the head of kilpatrick's column appeared in sight advancing up the street, when they all, with a single exception, sprang to their horses and started off in full gallop. their leader, a lieutenant whose name and previous history are yet unknown, mounted his horse, and took his station midway between the old new-berne bank and the book-store, drew his revolver, and waited till kilpatrick's advance was within a hundred yards, when he discharged it six times in rapid succession in the direction of the officer at the head of the troops. he then wheeled, put spurs to his horse, and galloped up morgan street, followed by a dozen fleet horsemen in hot pursuit. turning a corner his horse fell. he remounted, and dashed round the corner at pleasant's store on hillsboro street. a few yards further on, near the bridge over the railroad, he was overtaken, and was brought back to the capitol square, where general kilpatrick ordered his immediate execution. it is said that he asked for five minutes' time to write to his wife, which was refused. he was hung in the grove just back of mr. lovejoy's, and was buried there. he died bravely--a vile marauder, who justly expiated his crimes, or a bold patriot, whose gallantry deserved a more generous sentence, as friend or foe shall tell his story. no southerner will cast a reproach on that solitary grave, or will stand beside it with other than feelings of deep commiseration. his crime was more the rash act of a passionate and reckless boy, an aimless bravado from one wild and despairing man to a hundred and twenty thousand. what our soldiers did or did not do in those last dark days of confusion and utter demoralization, we record with sad and tender allowance. wrong was done in many instances, and excesses committed; but we feel that the remembrance of their high and noble qualities will in the end survive all temporary blots and blurs. and for those who perished in the wrong-doing engendered by desperation and failure and want, their cause has perished with them. _so perish the memory of their faults!_ governor graham, accompanied by colonel burr, set out for hillsboro on foot, the road to chapel hill being blocked up by wheeler's retreating squadrons, and resolved to trust to the chances of obtaining horses by the way. finding themselves, however, involved in a skirmish between hampton's rear-guard and kilpatrick's advance, and in somewhat perilous circumstances, they made the best of their way back to raleigh, where they arrived in the course of the morning. governor swain, meanwhile, had received at the state house the federal officer charged with the erection of the national flag over the dome of the building. he met him with the remark, "i am just from your commanding general, and have his promise that this edifice shall not be injured." the officer replied, "i know you, sir, and have orders to attend to your wishes." they took quiet possession, and the stars and stripes were soon waving from the summit. governor swain remained at the capitol, in company with mayor harrison, who, assisted by mayor devereux, major hogg, and surgeon-general warren, and other gentlemen, advised with the provost-marshal in relation to the stationing of guards for the protection of the citizens, and other matters, until two o'clock, when, with governor graham, he went to general sherman's quarters in the government house, and delivered the keys to him. general sherman regretted governor vance's departure from the city, and desired his return as speedily as possible. he therefore wrote him a letter inviting his return, and inclosing a safe-conduct through his lines for him and any members of the state or city government. headquarters raleigh, n.c., } army in the field, april , . } _to all officers and soldiers of the union army_: grant safe-conduct to the bearer of this to any point twelve miles from raleigh and back, to include the governor of north-carolina and any members of the state or city government, on his way back to the capital of the state. w.t. sherman. major-general commanding. this letter the commission undertook to transmit to governor vance without loss of time; but no horses were to be had among their friends in the city, nor could any messenger be got willing to undertake the errand. as soon as general sherman heard this, he directed his adjutant-general to furnish the gentlemen with the means of locomotion, which was promptly done. the next morning (friday) they left raleigh for hillsboro, where it was supposed governor vance was; passed rapidly through kilpatrick's columns, and then through hampton's; had a short interview with the latter at strayhorns, where he was to spend the night; reached hillsboro in the evening, and, entering governor graham's parlor, found governor vance there, with colonel ferebee, quietly awaiting intelligence. till informed by the commissioners, neither he nor general hampton had heard of the surrender of general lee, and even then could hardly be induced to believe it. general sherman's letter inviting his return to raleigh was put in his hands, and he was urged to return thither immediately with the commissioners; but he had also just received a dispatch from president davis, urging him most earnestly to meet him in greensboro by the returning train. general johnston had also gone on to greensboro, and before returning to raleigh, governor vance desired to see both him and the president--the former to get his permission to pass his lines, and the latter, to learn his future plans and acquaint him with his intention to surrender. this much was due, at least in courtesy, to the falling chieftain, though he was president only in name of a nation that had no longer any existence. governor vance was never the man to turn his back upon the setting sun to pursue his own advantage. so he decided to obey president davis's last requisition before accepting general sherman's invitation, and left hillsboro for greensboro on saturday morning. governor graham remained at home with his family, and governor swain proceeded to chapel hill, where he arrived on saturday morning, and found it occupied by general wheeler's cavalry, general hoke's command having passed through, pressing on to greensboro. chapter xii. johnston's retreat--governors graham and swain misunderstood--wheeler's cavalry--confederate occupancy of chapel hill--the last blood--"stars and stripes"--one in death--general atkins--scenes around raleigh--military lawlessness. when the retrograde movement of general johnston's army was at last fairly understood--the supply-trains moving slowly along the roads of orange, and general wheeler's cavalry, acting upon the maxim that all that they left behind them was so much aid and comfort to the enemy, taking care to leave at least as few horses and mules as possible--then deluded people, who had all along hugged themselves in the belief that their remoteness was their security, began to shake the dust from their eyes, and open them to admit a view of the possibility of sherman's army reaching even their secluded homes. the mission of governors graham and swain was not generally understood, even by their near neighbors. that any available attempt to check the ruin and devastation that had hitherto accompanied that army could be made, or was even consistent with honor and our allegiance to the confederate government, very few believed. a distinguished confederate general, standing on our sidewalk, as his division of infantry marched through on friday, fourteenth, said, in reference to the commissioners, that they were a couple of traitors, and ought to be hung. general wheeler's cavalry held the village of chapel hill until mid-day of april sixteenth, easter sunday. not a house in the place but was thrown open to show them kindness and hospitality. there were rough riders among these troopers--men who, if plunder was the object, would have cared little whether it was got from friend or foe. how much of this disposition to subsist by plunder was due to the west-point training of their general, it would perhaps be inquiring too curiously to consider. a few such reckless men in a regiment would have been enough to entail an evil name upon the whole; and at the time of which i now speak there were more than a few in general wheeler's command who were utterly demoralized, lawless, and defiant. having said this much, because the truth must be told, i will add that of that famous band by far the greater part were true and gallant men. we mingled freely with them, from general wheeler himself, who slept in the drenching rain among his men, and was idolized by them, to his poorest private, and the impression made by them was altogether in their favor. there were men from every southern state, and from every walk in life. there were mechanics from georgia and planters from alabama: one of the latter i especially remember, who had been a country physician in the north-east corner of the state; a frank and steady, gray-haired man, whose very address inspired confidence, and whose eldest boy rode by his side: there were gay frenchmen from louisiana and lawyers from tennessee, some of whom had graduated at this university in the happy days gone by, who revisited these empty corridors with undisguised sadness, foreboding that not one stone would be left upon another of these venerable buildings, perhaps not an oak left standing of the noble groves, after sherman's army had passed. many of these men had not been paid one cent, even of confederate currency, in more than a year. few of them had more than the well-worn suit of clothes he had on, the inefficient arms he carried, and the poor and poorly equipped horse he rode. a lieutenant, not four years before a graduate of this university, who had not seen his home within a year, and who had not long before received intelligence that his house in tennessee had been burned to the ground by the enemy, and that his wife and child were homeless, when the certain news was brought by governor swain of general lee's surrender, covered his face with his hands to hide a brave man's tears. he told us that a twenty-five cent confederate note was all that he possessed in the world besides his horse. the privates generally discussed the situation of affairs calmly and frankly, and with an amount of intelligence that the southern and south-western yeomanry have not generally had credit for possessing. they one and all agreed that, if the end was near, they would not surrender. "no, no," said a red-cheeked georgian boy of nineteen, "they won't get me;" and one six-foot-six saturnine kentuckian assured me that he would join the army of france, and take his allegiance and his revolver over the water. i trust he is on his little farm, by the licking river, as i write, and has found him a wife, and is settled down to do his whole duty to the country once more. these men rode up frankly to our gates. "may i have my dinner here?" "can you give me a biscuit?" well, it was not much we had, but we gave it joyfully--dried fruit, sorghum, dried peas, and early vegetables. poor as it was, we seasoned it with the heartiest good-will and a thousand wishes that it were better. the divisions of infantry passed through at a rapid step without halting, so that we could give them no more than the mute welcome and farewell, and a hearty god bless them, as they passed. their faces were weather-beaten but cheery; their uniforms were faded, stained, and worn; but they stepped lightly, and had a passing joke for the town gazers, and a kindly glance for the pretty girls who lined the sidewalks, standing in the checkered shade of the young elms. on friday afternoon general wheeler rode in from the raleigh road with his staff, and alighted at the first corner. one of his aids came up with a map of north-carolina, which he unrolled and laid on the ground. general wheeler knelt down to consult it, and the group gathered round him. several of our citizens drew near, and a circle of as bright eyes and fair faces as the confederacy could show anywhere, eager to look upon men whose names had been familiar for four years, and whose fame will be part of our national history. the federal cavalry were in close pursuit, and several skirmishes had taken place on the road from raleigh. a brigade under general atkins followed general wheeler, while kilpatrick, with the rest of his division, followed hampton toward hillsboro, along the central railroad line. the last skirmish occurred, and perhaps the last blood of the war was shed on friday evening, fourteenth, at the atkins plantation, eight miles from chapel hill, near the new-hope river, which was much swollen by heavy rains, and the bridge over which, as well as all others on the road, was destroyed by general wheeler's men. they attacked the enemy endeavoring to cross on fallen trees and driftwood, and several were killed on both sides. some of our men were killed in a skirmish at morrisville, and some of the wounded came on with the trains. one poor fellow from selma, ala., mortally wounded, was carried to the house of one of our principal physicians, and tenderly cared for, for two or three days, while he talked of his distant home and his mother, and sent messages to those who would see him no more. after his comrades had passed on and the place was in the hands of the federals, he resigned himself to die with childlike patience, asking for a favorite hymn, and begging the lovely girl who had watched him with a sister's fidelity to kiss him, as he was dying, "for his sister." he was laid to rest in the garden, and perhaps as bitter tears of regret and despair fell on that lonely grave as on any during the war; for the war was over, and he and the rest had died in vain. on sunday, at two p.m., general wheeler called in his pickets; and once more, and for the last time, we saw the gallant sight of our gray-clad confederate soldiers, and waved our last farewell to our army. a few hours of absolute and sabbath stillness and silence ensued. the groves stood thick and solemn, the bright sun shining through the great boles and down the grassy slopes, while a pleasant fragrance was wafted from the purple panicles of the paullonia. all that nature can do was still done with order and beauty, while men's hearts were failing them for fear, and for looking after those things which were coming on the earth. we sat in our pleasant piazzas and awaited events with quiet resignation. the silver had all been buried--some of it in springs, some of it under rocks in the streams, some of it in fence-corners, which, after the fences had been burned down, was pretty hard to find again; some of it in the woods, some of it in the cellars. there was not much provision to be carried off--that was one comfort. the sight of our empty store-rooms and smoke-houses would be likely to move our invaders to laughter. our wardrobes were hardly worth hiding--homespun and jeans hung placidly in their accustomed places. but the libraries, public and private, the buildings of the university--all minor selfish considerations were merged in a generous anxiety for these. so we talked and speculated, while the very peace and profound quiet of the place sustained and soothed our minds. just at sunset a sedate and soldierly-looking man, at the head of a dozen _dressed in blue_, rode quietly in by the raleigh road. governor swain, accompanied by a few of the principal citizens, met them at the entrance, and stated that he had general sherman's promise that the town and university should be saved from pillage. the soldier replied that such were his orders, and they should be observed. they then rode in, galloped up and down the streets inquiring for rebels; and being informed that _there were none_ in town, they withdrew for the night to their camp; and the next morning, being easter monday, april seventeenth, general atkins, at the head of a detachment of four thousand cavalry, entered about eight a.m., and we were captured. that was surely a day to be remembered by us all. for the first time in four years we saw the old flag--the "stars and stripes," in whose defense we would once have been willing to die, but which certainly excited very little enthusiasm now. never before had we realized how entirely our hearts had been turned away from what was once our whole country, till we felt the bitterness aroused by the sight of that flag shaking out its red and white folds over us. the utmost quiet and good order prevailed. guards were placed at every house immediately, and with a promptness that was needful; for one residence, standing a little apart, was entered by a squad of bummers in advance of the guard, and in less than ten minutes the lower rooms, store-rooms, and bed-rooms were overhauled and plundered with a swift and business-like thoroughness only attainable by long and extensive practice. a guard arriving, they left; but their plunder was not restored. the village guards, belonging to the ninth michigan cavalry, deserve especial mention as being a decent set of men, who, while they were here, behaved with civility and propriety. that was surely a day to be remembered by us all; yet the first returning anniversary of that day brought the village of chapel hill an occasion as generally interesting, but invested with a tenderness of its own. on the sixteenth of april, , the whole town poured out to receive two confederate soldiers--two brothers--who had fallen in battle in our defense.[ ] they came back home that day, and were placed side by side in that church, whose aisles their infant feet had trodden. the plain deal boxes that inclosed them were graced with garlands, and the emblem of the holy faith in which they had died "more than conquerors," woven of the flowers of their own dear native state. it was all that north-carolina could do for her sons who had died in obedience to her laws. come, southern flowers, and twine above their grave; let all our rath spring blossoms bear a part; let lilies of the vale and snowdrops wave, and come thou too, fit emblem, bleeding-heart! bring all our evergreens--the laurel and the bay, from the deep forests which around us stand; they know them well, for in a happier day they roamed these hills and valleys hand in hand. ye winds of heaven, o'er them gently sigh, and april showers fall in kindliest rain, and let the golden sunbeams softly lie upon the sod for which they died in vain. it was something--it was much, that we could lay them among their own familiar hills, pleasant in their lives and undivided in their deaths. and north-carolina dust will lie lightly on their gentle and noble breasts. while the command of general atkins remained in chapel hill--a period of nearly three weeks--the same work, with perhaps some mitigation, was going on in the country round us, and around the city of raleigh, which had marked the progress of the federal armies all through the south. planters having large families of white and black were left without food, forage, cattle, or change of clothing. being in camp so long, bedding became an object with the marauders; and many wealthy families were stripped of what the industry of years had accumulated in that line. much of what was so wantonly taken was as wantonly destroyed and squandered among the prostitutes and negroes who haunted the camps. as to raleigh, though within the corporate limits, no plundering of the houses was allowed; yet in the suburbs and the country the inscrutable policy of permitting unrestrained license to the troops prevailed to its widest extent. from the statements of several of the prominent citizens of raleigh i make the following extracts, the first giving a general view, and the other simply one man's personal experience: "immediately around raleigh the farms were completely despoiled of every thing in the shape of provisions and forage, so as to leave literally nothing for the support of man or beast. in many instances the houses were burned or torn to pieces, and the fences and inclosures entirely destroyed, so as to render it impossible at that season of the year to produce one third of a crop, even with the greatest industry and attention. every horse and mule found in the country fit for service was taken off, and only a few old and half-starved ones are to be found on the farms." the other statement i give in full:[ ] "on the thirteenth day of april, general sherman took military possession of raleigh. a portion of his body-guard pitched their tents (eight in number) in my front-yard, which, with a room in my office, were occupied by officers. their servants--cooks, waiters, and hostlers--took possession of my kitchens, out-houses, and stables, appropriating them in a most riotous and insolent manner. the soldiers tore down my yard and garden-fences for fuel and tents, and turned their horses and mules upon my vegetables and fruit-trees, destroying a large lot of corn, potatoes, peas, etc.; took off my horses and mules, tore off the doors, flooring, and weather-boarding of my out-houses and barns for tents; killed all my poultry, upward of thirty young hogs, cooking them in my kitchen for the officers' tables. after the removal of this squad, another took instant possession, and pitched twenty-four tents in my front-yard and a large number in the lower part of my grounds, still using my kitchen, beside building fires all over the yard. at my plantation, three miles from town, the devastation was thorough and unsparing. i had no overseer there. the negroes, some seventy in number, were plundered of their clothing and provisions, consisting of bacon, pickled beef, corn-meal, and flour. my dwelling-house was broken open, weather-boarding, flooring, and ceiling carried off, every window-sash and glass broken out, and every article of furniture for house or kitchen either carried off or wantonly destroyed. barns, cotton-house, and sheds were all torn down; blacksmith's, carpenter's, and farming implements carried off or broken up; three carts and two large wagons, with their gear, destroyed; the fences burned; and a large number of mules and horses pastured on the wheat-fields; all my mules and horses there (seventeen in number) carried off; fifty head of cattle, forty sheep, fifty hogs, and a large flock of geese and poultry either taken off or wantonly shot down; a quantity of medicine, some excellent wines, brandy, whisky, and two hundred gallons of vinegar were taken. wagon-trains went down day after day, till barrels of corn, , pounds of fodder, , pounds of hay, and all my wheat, peas, cotton, etc., were carried off, leaving the whole place entirely bare, so that my negroes had to come in town for rations." by the above account it will be seen that the having a guard did not avail to protect the premises, even within the city, though, as a general rule, their presence did avail to protect the grounds immediately around the house. a lady residing beyond the city limits, the wife of a general officer in our army, had her house repeatedly pillaged, and all the provisions belonging to her negroes, as well as her own, carried off. the tent of a general in the federal army was pitched just in front of the house, and every marauder going in and coming out laden with spoils was immediately in his view; yet not a word was said to check the men, nor any steps allowed for her protection. a guard was refused her, on the ground of the action of wheeler's men at their entrance; and when, after repeated solicitation, a guard reluctantly came, he allowed all who were on the premises laden, to march off with what they had in hand, saying he had no authority to take any thing away from them! the unfortunate negroes were the severest sufferers, they being literally stripped of their all, and, beginning a new life of freedom, began it without even the little savings and personal property accumulated in slavery. that general sherman was well aware of all this, and not only tacitly permitted it, but considered it a necessary part of war that non-combatants lying at the mercy of his army should receive no mercy at all, is one of the extraordinary developments of the war. there would rather seem to be a deficiency of judgment on his part than a real want of humanity, for which he may have been indebted to the astute military training received at west-point. to that institution alone must be conceded the unenviable distinction of sending out soldiers instructed to carry fire, famine, and slaughter through the invaded country, and then sententiously declaring that "_such is war_." "to her alone the praise is due, she let them loose and cried halloo!" even while the peace negotiations were in progress, as we have seen, and in many cases after peace was declared, the grand army hastened to improve the shining hours in wake, orange, and alamance. wholesale robbery, abuse, and insult were practiced in so many instances under the eyes of the commanding officers, that those who would have said that the _officers_ did not know or permit such things, and that they were the work of only lawless stragglers and camp-followers, such as are found in all armies, were forced to the unavoidable conclusion that this species of warfare was encouraged and approved by the commanders as an important branch of the service, and an invaluable aid in the work of subjugation and reconstruction. footnotes: [footnote : junius c. and w. lewis, the two youngest sons of the hon. w.h. battle.] [footnote : there seems to be no good reason to refrain from saying that this statement describes the treatment received by governor manly, and that the lady mentioned in the next paragraph is the wife of general cox.--editor.] chapter xiii. correspondence between governor swain and general sherman--governor vance's position and conduct--kilpatrick--the conduct of the servants--"lee's men"--president lincoln. i am persuaded that it requires the exercise of an implicit faith, and a total rejection of the evidence of things seen, to believe that general sherman as a man, deplored the policy which, as a general, he felt bound to pursue. i shall, however, give him the benefit of his own professions, which, whether sincere or not, are certainly in unison with the part he played in the treaty with general johnston. the following correspondence will be read with interest: chapel hill, april , . _major-general w.t. sherman, commanding united states forces_: general: ... on my return to this village on saturday morning, fifteenth instant, i found that general wheeler, with his division of cavalry, had been encamped here for two days. he resumed his march on sunday morning, leaving the country denuded to a considerable extent of forage, and taking with him a number of horses and mules. general atkins arrived with his brigade on monday morning, and is in camp here now. i have had several interviews with general atkins, and have pleasure in stating that he manifests a disposition to execute his orders with as much forbearance as he deems compatible with the proper discharge of his duty. nevertheless, many worthy families have been stripped by his soldiers of the necessary means of subsistence. a baptist clergyman--a most estimable, quiet, and charitable citizen, and the most extensive farmer within a circle of three miles--is almost entirely destitute of provision for man and beast; and with a family of more than fifty persons, (white and colored,) has not a single horse or mule. other instances, not less striking, exist, of families in less affluent circumstances; but i refer particularly to mr. purefoy, because he has been my near neighbor for about thirty years, and i hold him in the highest estimation. he, like many others, is not merely without the present means of subsistence, but unless his horses and mules are restored or replaced, can make no provision for the future. the delay of a few days even may render it impossible to plant corn in proper time. i am satisfied from the impression made on me in our recent interview, that personally, you have no disposition to add to the unavoidable horrors of war, by availing yourself of the utmost license which writers on the subject deem admissible, but that, on the contrary, you would prefer to treat the peaceful tillers of the soil with no unnecessary harshness. i venture to hope, therefore, that the present state of negotiations between the contending armies will enable you to relax the severity of the orders under which general atkins is acting, and i am satisfied that if you shall feel yourself justified by the course of events in doing so, an intimation of your purpose will be welcome intelligence to him. i am, very respectfully, your obedient servant, d.l. swain. headquarters military division of the } mississippi, in the field, } raleigh, n.c., april , . } _hon. d.l. swain, chapel hill, n.c._: my dear sir: yours of april nineteenth was laid before me yesterday, and i am pleased that you recognize in general atkins a fair representative of our army. the moment war ceases, and i think that time is at hand, all seizures of horses and private property will cease on our part. and it may be that we will be able to spare some animals for the use of the farmers of your neighborhood. there now exists a species of truce, but we must stand prepared for action; but i believe that in a very few days a definitive and general peace will be arranged, when i will make orders that will be in accordance with the new state of affairs. i do believe that i fairly represent the feelings of my countrymen--that we prefer peace to war; but if war is forced upon us, we must meet it; but if peace be possible, we will accept it, and be the friends of the farmers and working classes of north-carolina, as well as actual patrons of churches, colleges, asylums, and all institutions of learning and charity. accept the assurances of my respect and high esteem. i am, truly yours, w.t. sherman, major-general commanding. without ascribing to general sherman any extraordinary degree of merit as a writer, i am inclined to give him credit for sincerity in these professions, simply because of the corroborating evidence afforded by his conduct in the treaty with johnston. their first agreement was not ratified at washington, and general sherman's position therein was severely censured; but no one who rightly estimated the condition of the south at the close of the war, and the state of public feeling among us, has ever doubted that, if that treaty had been ratified, the happiest results would have followed, and an immense amount of trouble, expense, and evil would have been avoided by the whole country. i repeat what i have said previously, that general sherman alone, of all the prominent men and leaders among our antagonists, was at that time possessed of the requisite ability and statesmanship and magnanimity to comprehend the situation, and seize the opportunity and the means for an equitable adjustment of our difficulties. i greatly regret not being able to present my readers with a copy of his letter of invitation to governor vance to return to raleigh. on the fourteenth of april general johnston sent him his first letter, requesting a suspension of hostilities, with a view to entering into arrangements for putting a stop to the war. this application was replied to by general sherman in a really noble and generous spirit, and their correspondence resulted in those interviews at durham's station, on the north-carolina central railroad, which concluded the war and have become historical. no one can read that correspondence without seeing unmistakable evidence that general sherman manifested an eager anxiety to save the south from further devastation. perhaps a late remorse had touched him; but however that may be, in the _civil_ policy he has always advocated toward the south, he has shown himself at once generous and politic. if he had pursued an equally far-sighted course as a soldier; if he had advocated a humane forbearance toward the defenseless people who were crushed beneath his march; if he had enforced a strict discipline in his army, and chosen to appear as a restorer rather than as a destroyer, there are few at the south who would not join to pronounce him the hero of the war on the northern side, and his name would worthily go down to posterity by the side of the great captain of the age, who declared, when leading his victorious veterans into france, that rather than suffer them to pillage the country as they passed, he would resign his command. * * * * * while generals johnston and sherman were engaged in their negotiations at durham's, governor vance found that by having obeyed president davis's summons to greensboro before accepting general sherman's invitation to raleigh, he was effectually precluded from all further participation in the affairs of the state. i am not at liberty to say why or how this was; but it is probable the governor himself does not very deeply regret it, since it is not likely he would have been permitted by the federal authorities to retain his office, even if he had returned to raleigh and resumed the reins. all general sherman's views and official acts as peacemaker were speedily disavowed and overruled at washington; and though governor vance was willing to have made the experiment, being urged thereto by his best friends, yet, as _matters have since turned out_, it is as well that he was prevented. he and his noble state were equally incapable of any attempt to make terms for themselves, even had it been likely that any terms would have been granted. our fortunes were to be those of our sister states whom we had joined deliberately, fought for, and suffered with; and governor vance was never more truly our representative than in the treatment he received from the federal government after the surrender. our governor left hillsboro on saturday, arrived in greensboro on sunday morning, april sixteenth, and found that president davis had left for charlotte the day before. the whole confederate government left danville the preceding monday, april tenth, arrived at greensboro on the same day, and had ever since been living in the cars around the railroad station at that place. mr. trenholm being very ill, had been taken to governor morehead's. but the confederate president, and all the government officials lived for five rainy days in the miserable leaky cars that had brought them thither, having abundant government stores of provision in their train. on the slope of a hill near by, which tradition points out as that on which general greene had held a council of war previous to the battle of guilford, in , president davis and his cabinet, and generals beauregard and johnston held their last conference a day or two before governor vance's arrival. it had resulted in the first terms which general johnston was authorized to make with general sherman, and he was already on his way back to hillsboro, to hold his first interview with the federal commander. failing to see the president, governor vance would now have returned to raleigh. all that can be said at this point is, that he _was not permitted by our military authorities to pass through their lines while the negotiations were pending_. he then followed president davis to charlotte, and had a final interview with him, giving him notice of his intention, as general johnston was then on the point of surrendering the army, to surrender himself to sherman, and use what means were in his power to save the state and state property from further ruin, treating the confederacy as at an end. returning to greensboro, he found the first terms agreed upon had been rejected at washington, and the two commanding generals were engaged in a fresh negotiation. failing still to receive permission to proceed to raleigh, he wrote a letter to general sherman, and sent it by treasurer worth, who found on his arrival in raleigh that general sherman was gone, and general schofield was in command, who refused to allow governor vance to return at all. the governor then remained quietly in greensboro until schofield's arrival there, when he had an interview with him, giving him necessary information as to state property, records, etc., etc., and bespeaking his protection for them and for our people, especially in those localities where they were at feud with each other. he then tendered his own surrender, which general schofield refused to accept, saying he had no orders to arrest him, and he might go where he pleased. governor vance then told him he would join his family at statesville, and would be found there if requisition should be made for him. he arrived in statesville, rejoining his family on the fourth of may--by a curious coincidence, the very day on which, four years before, he had left them, a volunteer for the war! and four such years!--sketched for us thirty years ago in that sublime and solemn picture upon the canvas of webster, where lay a land rent with civil feuds, and drenched in fraternal blood. he remained until the thirteenth, when he was arrested by order of the federal government, by major porter, commanding a detachment of three hundred cavalry, ninth pennsylvania, conveyed a prisoner to raleigh, and thence to the old capitol prison at washington city. on the thirteenth of april, general sherman entered raleigh. the day before, general stoneman had occupied salisbury. he entered the state from knoxville, tenn., taking most of the towns in his way, and committing an immense amount of damage, and finally arriving in salisbury just in time to destroy utterly all the valuable state and confederate property which had been so sedulously conveyed from raleigh, to escape general sherman! the particulars of this important and successful move i have as yet been unable to procure. i hope, however, to present them at some time in a detailed and authentic narrative. the coöperation with sherman was timely, and would have been a perfect success if stoneman had ventured to hold salisbury. he might easily have done so, though, to be sure, he did not know that; but if he had, he might have given checkmate to the confederacy at once. president davis would never have reached charlotte. as it was, the raiders from stoneman's command, who cut the danville road above greensboro, were within half an hour of capturing the whole confederate government in its flight. during the occupation of chapel hill by kilpatrick's cavalry, the citizens of the place possessed their souls in as much patience as they could muster up, endeavoring to arrive at a stoical not to say philosophical frame of mind, in view of the sudden dislocation of all things--among other things, maintaining a decent degree of composure upon the establishment of liberia in our midst, and accommodating ourselves to this new phase of things with a good deal of grim humor. the negroes, however, behaved much better, on the whole, than northern letter-writers represent them to have done. indeed, i do not know a race more studiously misrepresented than they have been and are at this present time. they behaved well during the war: if they had not, it could not have lasted eighteen months. they showed a fidelity and a steadiness which speaks not only well for themselves but well for their training and the system under which they lived. and when their liberators arrived, there was no indecent excitement on receiving the gift of liberty, nor displays of impertinence to their masters. in one or two instances they gave "missus" to understand that they desired present payment for their services in gold and silver, but, in general, the tide of domestic life flowed on externally as smoothly as ever. in fact, though of course few at the north will believe me, i am sure that they felt for their masters, and secretly sympathized with their ruin. they knew that they were absolutely penniless and conquered; and though they were glad to be free, yet they did not turn round, as new-england letter-writers have represented, to exult over their owners, nor exhibit the least trace of new-england malignity. so the bread was baked in those latter days, the clothes were washed and ironed, and the baby was nursed as zealously as ever, though both parties understood at once that the service was voluntary. the federal soldiers sat a good deal in the kitchens; but the division being chiefly composed of north-western men, who had little love for the negro, (indeed i heard some d----n him as the cause of the war, and say that they would much rather put a bullet through an abolitionist than through a confederate soldier,) there was probably very little incendiary talk and instructions going on. in all which, in comparison with other localities, we were much favored. so we endeavored to play out the play with dignity and self-possession, watching the long train of foragers coming in every day by every high-road and by-way leading from the country, laden with the substance of our friends and neighbors for many miles, (though in many cases, let me say, the government made payment for food and forage taken after peace was declared,) watching them with such feelings as made us half ashamed of our own immunity, wondering where it would all end, and that we should have lived to see such a day; reviewing the height from which we had fallen, and struggling, i say, to wear a look of proud composure, when all our assumed stoicism and resignation was put to flight by the appearance, on a certain day, of a squad of unarmed men in gray, dusty and haggard, walking slowly along the road. a moment's look, a hasty inquiry, and "_lee's men!_" burst from our lips, and tears from our eyes. there they were, the heroes of the army of virginia, walking home, each with _his pass_ in his pocket, and nothing else. to run after them, to call them in, to feel honored at shaking those rough hands, to spread the table for them, to cry over them, and say again and again, "god bless you all; we are just as proud of you, and thank you just as much as if it had turned out differently;" this was a work which stirred our inmost souls, and has left a tender memory which will outlast life. day after day we saw them, sometimes in twos and threes, sometimes in little companies, making the best of their way toward their distant homes, penniless and dependent on wayside charity for their food, plodding along, while the blue jackets pranced gayly past on the best blood of southern stables. but i am glad to record that wherever a federal soldier met any of them, he was prompt to offer help and food, and express a kindly and soldierly cordiality. grant's men, they all said, had been especially generous. there was something worth studying in the air and expression of these men, a something which had a beneficial and soothing effect on the observers. they were not unduly cast down, nor had any appearance of the humiliation that was burning into our souls. they were serious, calm, and self-possessed. they said they were satisfied that all had been done that could be done, and they seemed to be sustained by the sense of duty done and well done, and the event left to god, and with his award they had no intention of quarreling. it was a fair fight, they said, but the south had been starved out; one dark-eyed young south-carolinian said, for his part he was going home to settle down, and if any body ever said "secesh" to him again, he meant to knock 'em over. many looked thin and feeble; and a gallant major from fayetteville told me himself that when ordered to the last charge, he and his men, who had been living for some days on parched corn, were so weak that they reeled in their saddles. "but we would have gone again," he added, "if lee had said so." the news of the death of president lincoln, received at first with utter incredulity, deepened the gloom and horrible uncertainty in which we lived. that he was dead simply may not have excited any regret among people who for four years had been learning to regard him as the prime agent in all our troubles. but when the time, place, and manner of his death came to be told, an unaffected and deep horror and dismay filled our minds. the time has not yet come for southern people to estimate president lincoln fairly. we never could admire him as he appeared as a candidate for the presidency, nor look upon him as a great man, in any sense of the word. but even if we had recognized him as a lofty and commanding genius, fit to guide the destiny of a great nation through a crisis of imminent peril, the smoke of the battle-fields would have obscured to us all his good qualities, and we should have regarded him only as the malignant star, whose ascendency boded nothing but evil to us. he was always presented to us in caricature. the southern press never mentioned him but with some added _sobriquet_ of contempt and hatred. his simplicity of character and kindliness of heart we knew nothing of; nor would many now at the south, much as they may deplore his death, concede to him the possession of any such virtues. they judged him by the party which took possession of him after his inauguration, and by his advisers. but a sense of remorse fills my mind now as i write of him, realizing how much that was really good and guileless, and well-intentioned and generous, may have come to an untimely end in the atrocious tragedy at ford's theatre. the extravagance of eulogy by which the northern people have sought to express their sense of his worth and of his loss, has had much to do with our unwillingness to judge him fairly. to place the illinois lawyer by the side of washington would have been an offense against taste and common-sense; but to compare him to the son of god, to ascribe to him also the work of "dying the just for the unjust," is an impious indecency which may suit the latitude of mr. bancroft, and the overstrained tone of the northern mind generally, but whose only effect at the south is to widen the distance between us and the day when we shall frankly endeavor to understand and do justice to president lincoln. chapter xiv. general stoneman--outrages--cold-blooded murders--general gillam--progress through lenoir, wilkes, surry, and stokes--stoneman's detour into virginia--the defense of salisbury--the fight in the streets of salisbury--general polk's family--temporary occupancy of salisbury--continuous raiding. on the same day that general sherman entered raleigh, general stoneman occupied salisbury, april - th, thus completing the chain of events which was closing in upon the confederacy. among the prisoners kept at salisbury were some of the better class, who were at large on _parole_. this they broke in the winter of -' , and, making their escape over the mountains into tennessee, carried such accounts of the accumulation of stores, etc., at salisbury, as made its capture an object of importance. general stoneman entered the state during the last week of march, by the turnpike leading from taylorsville, tennessee, through watauga county to deep gap, on the blue ridge. his force was probably six or seven thousand strong, though rumor increased it to fifteen, twenty, thirty, and in one instance to sixty thousand. they entered boone, the county-seat of watauga, on the twenty-sixth of march. the village was completely taken by surprise. no one was aware of the approach of an enemy till the advance-guard dashed up the main street, making no demand for surrender, but firing right and left at every moving thing they saw. mrs. james council, hearing the noise, stepped into her piazza with her child in her arms, and immediately a volley of balls splintered the wood-work all around her. she, however, escaped unhurt. the people of this county had been warmly attached to the confederate cause, and had bravely resisted east-tennessee raiders and marauders. the county-seat was therefore, perhaps, especially obnoxious; and whatever may have been general stoneman's policy, there were subordinate officers in his command who were only too happy in the opportunity to retort upon a defenseless and unresisting population. the jail was burned by order of general gillam. for this it is said he was sternly rebuked by general stoneman; but all the county records, books, and private papers were destroyed. private houses were of course plundered, and the citizens were consoled by the assurance that "kirk was to follow and clean them out." several citizens were shot under circumstances of peculiar aggravation. a party of the raiders went into the field of mr. jacob council, where he was plowing with a negro. he was over the conscript age, a prudent, quiet man, who had taken no part in the war. he was shot down in cold blood, notwithstanding his piteous appeals for mercy, because, upon the negro's statement, he was "an infernal rebel." another, warren green, was killed while holding up his hands in token of surrender. another, calvin green, was pursued and surrendered, but they continued firing upon him after his surrender. he then resolved to defend himself, and fought, loading and firing till he was shot down and left for dead. he shattered the arm of one of the federal soldiers, so that it had to be amputated that night. but instead of dying himself, he recovered, and is now living. steele frazier, a lad of fifteen, was chased by a squad of half a dozen. he made a running fight of it. getting over a fence, he coolly waited till they were within range, and then fired and shot one through. he then ran again, loading, and turned again and killed another of his pursuers; and notwithstanding the pursuit was kept up some distance, the balls whistling round him, he finally made good his escape, and will probably make none the worse citizen, when he is grown, for his adventurous boyhood. through the whole of this raid general stoneman is represented to have been apparently anxious to mitigate the distresses and horrors of war as far as was practicable, by courteous and humane treatment of the people. his record and that of general palmer are in refreshing contrast to those of his subordinate, general gillam, and of certain other higher names in the federal army. there is one story, however, told of him in boone, which, after all, may be due to his quartermaster or commissary-in-chief. mrs. council had been kind to some federal prisoners confined in the jail; and the invaders hearing of it, requited her by affording her protection during their stay. kirk's raiders, however, came down after stoneman had passed on, and stripped the place of all that had been left--the gallant colonel kirk himself making his headquarters with this lady--keeping her a close prisoner in her own room, while he and his men made free with the rest of the house and the premises. that they left little or nothing but the bare walls, may be inferred from general stoneman's remark on his return to the place after the capture of salisbury. standing in the piazza and taking a survey of what had once been a happy and beautiful home--the fencing all gone, the gardens, shrubbery, and yard trampled bare, covered with raw hides of cattle and sheep, decaying carcasses, and all manner of filth--he turned to the lady and said, "well, mrs. c., i suppose you hardly know whether you are at home or not." gratefully remembering his former courtesy to her, she exerted herself to entertain him with such scanty stores as the raiders had left. a firkin of uncommonly fine butter had been overlooked by them, and she placed some of this on the table. the general commended this butter especially, and asked her if she had any more of it. she told him it was about the only thing to eat she had left, and congratulated herself on its safety under his protection. what was her mortification, a short time after, to see the firkin ordered out and placed in the general's own provision-wagon. so much that is favorable to general stoneman's character has reached me, that i can not help hoping he was ignorant of this unspeakably small transaction. on the twenty-seventh of march, the column was divided. general stoneman, with one division, went direct to wilkesboro. the other, under general gillam, crossed the blue ridge at blowing rock, and went to patterson, in caldwell county, thence rejoining stoneman at wilkesboro. at patterson general gillam took the responsibility of ordering the extensive cotton factory there to be burned. general stoneman is said to have regretted this destruction especially, as mr. patterson, the owner, had received a promise that it should be spared, and the people of east-tennessee had been largely supplied from it. but general gillam, when not immediately under general stoneman's eye, could not restrain his propensities. he announced that "the government had been too lenient, and rebels must look out for consequences," and ordered the torch to be applied. while the raiders were in the yadkin river-bottom, they were detained three days by freshets. small parties scoured the country, carrying off all the horses and mules, and burning the factories. there seemed to be no systematic plan of destruction; for while some mills and factories were burned, others in the same neighborhood and quite as easily accessible were spared. much depended on the personal character and disposition of the commanding officer of these detachments. if he happened to be a gentleman, the people were spared as much as possible; if he were simply a brute dressed in a little brief authority, every needless injury was inflicted, accompanied with true underbred insolence and malice. the privates always followed the lead of their commander. the factories on hunting creek, in the upper part of tredell, were burned with large quantities of cotton. eagle mills alone lost eight hundred bales. among general gillam's exploits in wilkesboro, was the finding the horse of the late general james gordon in the stable of a brother-in-law of the general. this, general g. immediately, with great intrepidity, "captured;" and further to impress the family with a sense of his heroic achievement, he had a man to mount the animal and parade him slowly up and down before the door of the house for an hour or two. leaving wilkesboro on the thirty-first of march, general stoneman moved over into surry county, in the direction of mount airy, and thence into virginia, aiming for christiansburg, on the tennessee railroad. a portion of the command being detached to wytheville, was met near that place by general duke's cavalry, and repulsed, but rallying, took the town and destroyed the depot of supplies there. having effectually destroyed the road above wytheville, between new river and big lick, general stoneman turned back upon north-carolina, reëntering it from patrick county, virginia, and marching rapidly through stokes county, appeared suddenly in salem and winston on the tenth of april. here he sent out various detachments to cut the north-carolina central road and the danville and greensboro road, destroy bridges, supplies, etc., etc. one of these parties, as i have said before, narrowly missed capturing the train conveying the whole confederate government, in its flight to greensboro. they burned the bridge at jamestown, and were about to fire the depot, but upon a sudden false alarm, fled precipitately without finishing their work. at high point they burned the depot and large quantities of government stores, also seventeen hundred bales of cotton belonging to francis fries, of salem. the public buildings and stores at lexington and thomasville were saved by the arrival of a body of ferguson's cavalry, who chased the raiders back to salem. the general plan of the whole raid seemed to contemplate the destruction of stores and the cutting off communications without risking a battle. at salem and winston private property was protected, no pillage being permitted. this was probably owing to the fact that the inhabitants having had notice of the approach of the raiders, sent a deputation to meet them and make a formal surrender of the town. i am not aware that a demand for surrender was made of any place during the entire raid, or that any place beside salem and winston, which may be regarded as one, offered a surrender. the first notice of the presence of any enemy, in most cases, was given by the unlooked-for arrival of the advance-guard galloping in and taking possession. at mocksville, a number of the citizens, supposing it was only a small squad that was hurrying through the country and plundering, prepared to give them a warm reception, and a short distance from town fired upon the advancing column. soon finding their mistake, they retreated. threats of burning the village for this audacious thought of resistance were made, but as general stoneman was pressing forward with all speed upon salisbury, no time was allowed for any such exchange of compliments. general stoneman's _detour_ into virginia had completely mystified the people of north-carolina. they breathed freely as he passed over the border, and congratulated themselves that the dreaded raid, which for weeks had been anticipated, was so soon at an end. the troops which had been posted by general beauregard at salisbury, for its protection, were moved off to greensboro and to the railroad bridge across the yadkin, and the town was left with little or no defense. if stoneman had marched thither from wilkesboro, he would probably have been repulsed with disaster; for a large body of infantry, with artillery and cavalry, had been concentrated there; but when salisbury was attacked, on the morning of the twelfth of april, the whole effective force did not much exceed five hundred men, including two batteries on their way to join johnston at raleigh. of these five hundred two hundred were "galvanized" irish, recruited from among the federal prisoners--besides artisans in the government employ from the various shops, junior reserves, and a number of citizens who volunteered in defense of their homes. in the absence of general bradley t. johnson, the commandant of the post, general gardner took command, and disposed his handful of men at various points on the road toward mocksville, so as to man and support the batteries, there being nowhere more than one hundred and fifty men at any point. the attack began at daylight. by eight o'clock the batteries were flanked. the artillery-men fought bravely, but were of course soon overpowered and compelled to leave their guns in the hands of the enemy. a few of the "galvanized" irish fought well, but the majority went over in a body to the federals soon after the fight commenced, leaving the artillery without support, and of course betraying the weakness of the confederates. a desultory fight was kept up till the suburbs of the town were reached, and then all order and subordination were lost, the confederates scattering through the town and to the woods beyond. several of them were wounded, and one or two were killed in the town. the loss of the federals is unknown, but several were buried on the battle-field. a number of confederates were taken prisoners, some citizens, negroes, etc. by nine o'clock the place was in quiet possession of the enemy, who galloped in with drawn swords and full of strange oaths. many of the citizens, negroes, and children, were in the doors and on the sidewalks gazing for the first time at the federal uniform. in the desultory running fight that was kept up through the streets, one of the irish recruits before mentioned, fighting bravely, was shot through the lungs; but he continued to load and fire as he retreated till he fell on the piazza of mrs. m.e. ramsay. though the balls fell thick about him, and she was alone with her little children, she went out to him and managed to get him inside the house, where she nursed and stimulated him the greater part of the day, till she could get a physician to him and have him removed to the hospital. he said to her, "they have killed me, but i die a brave man; i fought them as long as i could stand." she supposed that of course his wound was mortal, but a fortnight after, to her astonishment, he returned to thank her for her kindness. captain frank y. mcneely was found in the arsenal and shot. lieutenant stokes, of maryland, was sitting on his horse in front of general bradley johnson's headquarters, when a squad of the enemy dashed into the street. an officer in front cried out, "there's a d----d rebel--charge him." the lieutenant waited till the officer was in point-blank range, and then shot him through, and putting spurs to his horse fled--hotly pursued. one of the pursuers was gaining on him, considerably in advance of the rest, and probably intended to sabre him; but the lieutenant suddenly reining his horse aside, let the raider pass, and as he passed fired and killed him, and then made good his escape. the officer shot proved to be one of general stoneman's staff. a small squad of the confederates retreated fighting through the yard and premises of frank shober, esq. one of their number was killed in the piazza of the house. this hand-to-hand fighting in the streets--such incidents as these, and the fact that salisbury was an especial object of hatred to the invaders as the prison depot of so many of their unfortunate comrades, whose graves were to be counted there by thousands--these things certainly gave general stoneman every excuse for the plunder and destruction of the whole town had he chosen to interpret the laws of war as did general sherman. but he did not so interpret them; he did not even fall back upon the reserve that he was unable to restrain his justly infuriated soldiers. he declined to avail himself of general gillam's burning zeal for the honor of the union. this latter officer was heard to say that, if he had his way, he would make the people of salisbury think "all hell was let loose upon them." another account states that he declared that "_though born in salisbury_, he would be glad to lay it in ashes."[ ] but general stoneman's policy toward the inhabitants of salisbury is a very striking illustration of the principles which, in a previous chapter, i have endeavored to show were the only true and generous and really politic guide for the commanders of an invading army. private property was protected, guards were stationed, and general stoneman repeatedly gave strict orders for the enforcement of quiet and protection of the citizens. he himself in person inspected the public stores, which were of course by the laws of war doomed to destruction, and refused to allow the confederate quartermaster's depot to be burned lest it should endanger the town. the officers, whether willingly or not, seconded their commander. whatever plundering and insolence the people were subjected to--and there were a number of such cases--was very evidently the work of unauthorized bummers, who appeared in mortal dread of the guards, and did their work hurriedly and furtively. corn-cribs and smoke-houses were entered, horses and mules and arms were seized; but, on the whole, the general policy was the sound one of protection to non-combatants. early in the morning of the attack several large trains with government stores made their escape from salisbury toward charlotte and greensboro, but a passenger train on the western road was not so fortunate. having proceeded a mile or two from town, the track was found obstructed; and as soon as the train stopped, a volley was poured into it without any demand for surrender. several passengers were wounded, but happily none of the ladies, among whom were the widow and daughters of general leonidas polk. the cars being set on fire, much of the baggage belonging to the passengers was burned--all that was rescued was plundered--and among mrs. polk's valuables were found the sword, uniform, papers, and other cherished relics of her husband. these things were all seized with great triumph, and though much that was taken besides was afterward restored to mrs. polk, no inducements could prevail upon the gallant colonel slater of the eleventh kentucky cavalry to return to the widowed lady these mementos of her husband. he claimed them as "taken on the battle-field," and kept them. as soon as the town was quiet, a strong force was detailed to attack the railroad bridge across the yadkin, six miles distant. here strong fortifications on the davidson side of the river had been erected, under beauregard's supervision, on a hill commanding the bridge and the rowan shore. general york of louisiana, with ten or twelve hundred men--home-guards and "galvanized" irish--defended the bridge: its preservation was of the greatest importance to the confederate cause, and strict orders had been issued by general beauregard to defend it at all hazards. at two o'clock p.m., on the twelfth, the raiders arrived, and brisk skirmishing was kept up on the rowan side. at three o'clock some of the cannon captured in the morning on the other side of salisbury, were brought down, and opened on the confederate batteries. heavy cannonading between the two continued till dark, when the raiders, thinking the place too well fortified to risk an assault, returned to salisbury, destroying the railroad as they went. a few confederates were wounded, one or two were killed. the federal loss, if any, is unknown. the assailants returned to assist in the destruction of the public stores at salisbury, which i have before stated were immense. they had been accumulating there for weeks from columbia, charlotte, richmond, danville, and raleigh. the clothing, provisions, medical stores, etc., were collected in the main street and fired. the length of four entire squares was occupied by the burning mass, valued at at least a million in specie. much was given away to negroes and the lower class of the white population--much was quietly appropriated, and by some who should have known better. the distresses and privations of war make times of strong temptation, and the general demoralization that prevailed all over our country was no greater at salisbury than elsewhere. to people who had been half starved for months, and many of them half clothed, it was hard to see such quantities of sugar, coffee, spice, flour, bacon, luxuries to which they had long been strangers, burning in their streets like so much rubbish. the stores were all emptied besides of private property--and many people were to be seen passing along the streets loaded with what they chose. many soldiers had dozens of coats, shirts, etc., piled up before them on their horses. the value of the medical stores alone was estimated at $ , in gold. it is a little curious that, while such an amount was being thrown into the flames, one of the surgeons of the federal army entered the office of one of the principal physicians in the place--dr. j.j. summerell--and was about to carry off all his scanty store of medicine; but upon remonstrance, he agreed to _divide_, saying, he could not bear to rob a brother practitioner. on the night of the - th the ordnance stores, arsenal, foundry, with much valuable machinery, the government steam distillery, the depots and other buildings belonging to both the central and western roads, and other public buildings were fired. the night being perfectly still, the sheets of flame rose steadily into the air, and the great conflagration was plainly visible at the distance of fifteen miles; and for several hours the incessant and distinct explosions of shells and fixed ammunition conveyed the impression to the anxious watchers, miles away, in the adjoining counties, that a fierce battle was raging. there was no hallooing by the soldiers--no shouts--only the crackling of the flames and the bursting of the shells. now and then a mounted troop swept through the streets, the horsemen in profound silence, the lurid flames from the burning distillery making their rough faces look ghastly enough, while the buttons and other mountings of their equipments sparkled in the firelight. no one thought of sleep that night, not even the children. a large building, three stories high, originally built for a cotton factory, but for some time past occupied by federal prisoners--all of whom a few weeks previously had been sent to richmond and wilmington for exchange--together with the barracks and all other buildings connected with it, were burned; and it may be well imagined that the federal soldiers felt a peculiar satisfaction in the destruction of a spot so memorable to them--the scene of so much wretchedness and want and despair. many of the men with stoneman had been among the prisoners there, and many had had brothers and other relatives there. i have heard that general gillam himself had been one of the number before his promotion. no one who knows what the condition of these prisoners was, can wonder at any amount of rage expressed by the survivors and avengers. the way in which both sides, during the war, treated their prisoners, is an exceedingly curious commentary on the boasted christian civilization of the whole country, from maine to texas. for the northern side there is no excuse. for the southern side there is one--and but one. our prisoners were starved, as i have said before, because we were starving ourselves; our children were crying for bread, and our soldiers were fighting on half-rations of parched corn and peas. we could not tell our enemies this! we were not to confess to them this fatal weakness in our cause! but what we could do to induce their government to take these poor wretches home and give us our own in exchange, we did do. every inducement was offered to them again and again in vain. so far, then, our skirts are clear. but brutality of speech and behavior, cruel indifference to their situation, unnecessary harshness and violence to helpless unarmed men, diseased and dying--of this there may have been much among certain of our officials, and for this we will yet have to repent before him who hears the sighing of the prisoner. it has been estimated that the loss in buildings alone, which were mostly of brick, would reach to half a million in specie, and the total loss of all property to several millions. had the war continued, the capture of salisbury would have been a stunning blow to general johnston, and would have severely crippled his movements. as it was, it is a matter of great regret that such a vast amount of most valuable property should have been destroyed just at a time when its destruction was no longer necessary to the overthrow of a cause already dead. general stoneman might safely have held salisbury from the hour he entered it, and preserved every dollar's worth of its stores for the advantage of his own government. he might have prevented the further flight of the confederate government, and president davis and all his cabinet might have been forced to surrender with general johnston. and it would have been better if they had. but general stoneman did not know what a brilliant part he was playing in the last act of the great tragedy, and he hurried to get through with it and leave salisbury as rapidly as he had entered it. on the th a terrific explosion of the magazine finished the work, and that evening the federals moved off toward statesville, riding most of the night as if under apprehension of pursuit. general stoneman must certainly be allowed to have accomplished his ends with a skill, celerity, and daring, which entitle him to high praise as a military leader. add to this the higher praise of humanity, and the ability to control his troops, and he well deserves a higher niche than some who led grand armies on great marches. salisbury, comparing her lot with that of columbia and fayetteville, may well afford to hold general stoneman's name in grateful remembrance. i have taken no pleasure in this recital of injuries, insults, inhumanity, and breach of faith. the truth of history demands that the facts shall be told on both sides calmly and with impartiality. the world, which has heard so much of one side, should hear the other too; and posterity, at whose bar we shall all stand for this four years' work, should have every opportunity afforded for a righteous verdict. and there are other ways in which the truth plainly told may do good. people will be enabled, looking at these details, to arrive at a just estimate of what war may become, even among christian people, and shudder to invoke its horrors lightly, and may teach their children so. how many of us knew in the spring of what was about to break out among us--what wide-spread ruin, what raging passions, what furies of hell, which once evoked will not down at our bidding? quiet men, who were familiar with the pages of european history and knew what christian armies had done again and again in the fairest and most civilized portion of her empires, these came gravely from their studies with words of warning to the gay throngs of young people who were cheering each other on to the impending strife. but these were the old fogies of that day--cold-blooded--unpatriotic--who did not love the south. what a short and brilliant programme was laid down! the girls made their silken banners, and the boys marched proudly off to glorious victory; england and france would see fair play; and this dear and sunny south was to spring at once upward and onward in a career of glory. one of the most influential journals in the south--one of the soberest--dealing lightly and easily with the great issues of the war; settling at a word the boundary lines of the new southern republic, and dotting what were to be our frontier states with a chain of forts; establishing the new war office, and the standing army, henceforth to be a necessary feature, grew enthusiastic over the splendid resource thus to be afforded to our "aristocratic young men of family and fortune." the army was to be especially for the _gentlemen_ of the south. alas! and alas! now, torn and bleeding and broken-hearted, humiliated, stripped, crushed, disfranchised, and helpless, we may look back and learn a lesson. it may be well, too, if public attention can be directed by such narratives to an investigation of the laws of war, and some inquiry be suggested as to the necessity of their being revised and mitigated. and it can not but a have a beneficial effect that even victorious military heroes shall be made amenable to public opinion for the manner in which they have wielded the great powers intrusted to them, and find, in some cases, their fresh-plucked laurels withering in their grasp. the actual loss and injury inflicted by the enemy, in the progress of the war, on personal and public property, was very far from being the greatest evil which its continuance entailed upon us. i speak not now of losses by death. _inter arma leges silent_ is an old saying; and though framed in a dead language, its drift is well understood and acted upon by people who can not even read it. the longer the war lasted the more evident became the demoralization of our people, and their disregard for laws and principles of action by which they had been guided all their lives. at the break-up respectable citizens, who would once have shrunk from even the imputation of such conduct, helped themselves unblushingly to government stores and public property, even when it had been intrusted to them for safe keeping. when their betters set such an example, the common people of course threw off all restraint; and we could then plainly see how petty, compared with the advantages gained, are the taxes which we pay for the support of law and government. there seemed to be a general feeling, during the last ninety days, that there was no government outside of the military pressure for conscripts, deserters, and tithes. i am reminded of a poor neighbor as i write, who, during the winter of ' -' , like many others, provided his family with wood to which he had no right. being remonstrated with, he said with energy, "there is no law in the land in these days," and continued his depredations openly. and i do believe the general feeling was, "what else _can_ he do, with wood at forty dollars a cord?" nor are such fruits of war confined to the southern side of the potomac. the fires that have lit up so many northern cities; the tales of murder, robbery, and riot, which have crowded the columns of their journals for the past year; and the general lawlessness and contempt of authority which prevail there, point unmistakably to the dangers which accompany a triumphant and utterly undisciplined army, whether in the enemy's land or returning home flushed with victory and demoralized with licensed rapine and riot. did northern people soberly believe that it was zeal for the union and hatred of secession that prompted such wholesale plunder in the south? let their own experience since, and the records of their criminal courts within the last year, show, that when plunder is to be had, lawless and unrestrained men care little whether it belongs to friend or foe; and that lust, once aroused and let loose, can not distinguish, and is amenable to no laws. herein, as in thousands of other instances, is that saying true, "the measure we mete is measured to us again." human nature is indeed a wild beast that has need to be chained and continually surrounded with restraints, or we should prey upon each other as savages do, and so lapse into barbarism. let the experience of the last five years teach the people of this great republic henceforth to preserve indissolubly the bonds of peace, that so, as a nation, they may do their appointed part toward hastening on the coming of that prince of whose kingdom there shall be no end. "te duce, qui maneant sceleris vestigia nostri irrita perpetuâ solvent formidine terras."[ ] footnotes: [footnote : _is_ general gillam a son of north-carolina? i put the note and query for the future historian. if so, then we have only another proof that decency and good principles are not always hereditary.] [footnote : with thee for our guide, whatever relics of our crimes remain shall be taken away, and free the world from perpetual fears.] chapter xv. iredell county--general palmer's courtesy to mrs. vance--subsequent treatment of this lady by federal soldiers--major hambright's cruelty in lenoir--case of dr. ballew and others--general gillam--his outrages at mrs. hagler's--dr. boone clark--terrible treatment of his family--lieutenants rice and mallobry--mrs. general vaughn--morganton. statesville was entered on the night of the th, and occupied for a few hours only. long enough, however, to insure the destruction of the government stores and railroad depot, and of the _iredell express_ office, a paper which was obnoxious from the warmth with which it had advocated the cause of the confederacy. no county in the state had suffered more severely than iredell in the loss of her best and bravest sons in the army. the famous fourth north-carolina regiment was composed of iredell boys, and the colors of no regiment in the service were borne more daringly or more nobly. i remember to have heard it said, after one of the great battles around richmond, that half the families of iredell were in mourning. when it became known that the _express_ office was to be burned, the ladies and citizens plead earnestly that it might be spared for the sake of the town, which was in great danger of being involved in the conflagration. the citizens offered to tear it down and remove the materials to a vacant square to be burned, but this was not allowed by the officer who had charge of the business. the office was fired where it stood, and in consequence a large private dwelling, belonging to dr. dean, standing near it, was also consumed, and a large family turned out houseless and utterly prostrated otherwise--gen. sherman's army having just previously destroyed certain other resources of theirs. the wind providentially blowing in the right direction, saved the town from general ruin. one of the citizens, mr. frank bell, was cruelly beaten and tortured to make him disclose the hiding-place of gold which they suspected he possessed. he, however, had none. the raiders moved, on the th, to taylorsville, alexander county, and from thence to lenoir, caldwell county, which they reached on saturday, th, and occupied till monday, th. on the road from statesville a part of the command was dispatched in the direction of lincolnton, under general palmer. of this officer the same general account is given as of general stoneman, that he exhibited a courtesy and forbearance which reflected honor on his uniform, and have given him a just claim to the respect and gratitude of our western people. the following pleasant story is a sample of his way of carrying on war with ladies: mrs. vance, the wife of the governor, had taken refuge, from raleigh, in statesville with her children. on the approach of general stoneman's army, she sent off to lincolnton, for safety, a large trunk filled with valuable clothing, silver, etc., and among other things two thousand dollars in gold, which had been intrusted to her care by one of the banks. this trunk was captured on the road by palmer's men, who of course rejoiced exceedingly over this finding of spoil more especially as belonging to the rebel governor vance. its contents were speedily appropriated and scattered. but the circumstance coming to general palmer's knowledge, within an hour's time he had every article and every cent collected and replaced in the trunk, which he then immediately sent back under guard to mrs. vance with his compliments. general palmer was aiming for charlotte when he was met by couriers announcing news of the armistice. there was no plundering allowed in statesville. mrs. vance was treated with respect and entirely unmolested. but several weeks afterward, when governor vance was a prisoner in washington, a squad of federal soldiers came to her residence and carried away every article of furniture in the house. some of this belonged to the mansion house in raleigh, and had been removed to statesville for safety at the same time when other government property was sent off. the officer who was in command had the grace to appear ashamed of his business, and apologized to mrs. vance repeatedly, stating that he was acting under orders, and that it was done at the suggestion of north-carolinians in raleigh, who desired that the articles belonging to the executive mansion should be restored. every thing in the house was taken away, private property and all, and not one article ever reached the executive mansion. two queries occur: first, who were the north-carolinians who instigated this insult to mrs. vance? and second, whatever _did_ become of the furniture? every thing in the way of furniture was carried off, and mrs. vance, who was then ill, and her children were left without even a bed. in less than twelve hours after this raid extraordinary became known to the people in the town and neighborhood, the house was entirely refurnished with more than it had contained previously. i can well imagine that there was no one who did not esteem it a privilege thus to testify their love and respect for the governor and his family. general stoneman pressed on toward tennessee through watauga county, with the prisoners, leaving general gillam, with three hundred men, to proceed to asheville _via_ morganton. of the prisoners it was estimated there were about nine hundred. many of them were old men past the conscript age, some were boys, others were discharged confederate soldiers in feeble health or maimed, who had been captured at their homes. in regard to them no settled course or plan of action seems to have been adopted. in some instances they easily escaped, or were allowed to do so tacitly, and regained their homes in a short time. most of them, however, were dragged on with every circumstance of barbarity and cruelty. a few instances may be given illustrative of their treatment. in lenoir they were confined in and about the episcopal church, under a strong guard, with peremptory orders from general gillam to shoot every man who attempted to escape. the gallant general added, that he "would rather have ten men shot than one escape." it must be remembered that a number of them were over sixty years of age; some were permanently diseased; some were men who had not walked continuously five miles for years, or perhaps hardly in their whole lives; and that, when they reached lenoir, they had all of them marched twenty-five and thirty miles in eight or ten hours. they had been double-quicked a good part of the way from taylorsville to lenoir, and arrived there on saturday afternoon nearly exhausted with fatigue and hunger. notwithstanding their deplorable condition, they had nothing to eat after that march till sunday at ten a.m., and then they were only partially supplied from the scanty stores of the plundered villagers; for lenoir, having been pronounced a "rebellious little hole," was sentenced to receive its full share of punishment at the hands of general gillam. it was not till the afternoon of sunday that rations were issued. whenever any of the towns-people carried any thing to the prison, the scene was said to have been most piteous, so many men begging for just one morsel of dry bread. there seemed to be an especial spirit of bitterness toward the prisoners among the federal soldiers generally, and in some instances among the officers. s. hambright, major and provost-marshal, with headquarters at the same place with general gillam, was especially insulting to citizens, and cruel to the prisoners. dr. ballew, a citizen of lenoir, enfeebled and emaciated with consumption, was arrested and carried to headquarters. feeling exhausted with the effort to walk there, he sat down on the steps of the piazza, to await the major's pleasure. it was determined to send him to prison, and he was ordered to get up and march, but, from his feebleness, not being able to move quickly enough to suit the chivalrous soldier, the major, to help him rise, stepped behind and gave him "_a rousing kick_." the citizens were heartily cursed for taking food to them. from lenoir they were marched rapidly up to the top of the blue ridge; several gave out, several who started from salisbury died. they were all urged forward with threats of death. a lieutenant shotwell attempted to escape, but being overtaken, surrendered. he was then shot down and left on the roadside unburied. a mr. wilfong, who had captured a straggler of kirk's command, brought him into lenoir, not knowing the federals were there. the tables were of course turned, and he in his turn became a prisoner, and was given in charge to his former captive, who wreaked such cruel vengeance on him that he died before reaching greenville, tenn. all who reached knoxville were sent to camp chase, ohio. general gillam deserves especial notice at the hands of the historian. all concurrent testimony represents him as most supercilious, insulting, and unfeeling. his headquarters in lenoir, were at mr. albert hagler's. the family were all crowded off into one room, while the gallant general and his staff appropriated all the rest of the premises, including kitchen and stables. to miss sarah hagler, an accomplished young lady, he was especially impertinent, though she parried his attacks with the civility of a lady. on one occasion he said to her rudely, "i know you are a rebel from the way you move--an't you a rebel?" she replied, "general gillam, did you ever hear the story of the tailor's wife and the scissors?" "yes." "then i am a rebel as high as i can reach." coarseness, however, can not always be met playfully, and mrs. hagler incurred his anger to its fullest extent when, in reply to his violent denunciation of the confederates for starving their prisoners, she ventured to suggest that the federal authorities might have saved all this suffering had they agreed to exchange and take them north, where provisions were plenty. the general's reply to this was the giving his men tacit license to plunder and destroy the houses of mrs. h.'s married daughter and niece, who lived very near her, and who, she had supposed, were to be protected, from his headquarters being at her house. no houses in the place suffered more severely than theirs. the house of her daughter, mrs. hartley, was pillaged from top to bottom. barrels of sorghum were broken and poured over the wheat in the granary, and over the floors of the house. furniture and crockery were smashed, and what was not broken up was defiled in a manner so disgusting as to be unfit for use. mrs. clark, the niece, was driven out of her house by the brutality of her plunderers. her husband, dr. boone clark, was a captain in the confederate service, had been wounded in the battle of leesburg, early in the war--an admirable and most graphic account of which engagement he wrote for the raleigh _standard_ soon after. in several subsequent battles he had received severe wounds, and though partially disabled by one of them at this time, he was endeavoring to raise a company of cavalry for home defense, as marauders, under the notorious keith and blalock, were constantly threatening to pillage lenoir. these facts were known to some of gillam's men, and they evidently enjoyed the opportunity to plunder his house and insult his defenseless wife. he himself was at home, sitting at table, when the raiders dashed in town. seizing his gun, he ran out and secreted himself behind some adjoining buildings, and though a colonel did him the honor to enter his house almost immediately, and with a squad made a thorough search for him, his retreat remained undiscovered, and at night he left for more secure quarters. the raiders swarmed through the house that evening and night, breaking open trunks, wardrobes, drawers; searching for arms and carrying off all the valuables, and destroying what they did not want. finding a coat of the captain's, they cut it to pieces. they destroyed all the provisions, all the furniture, crockery, and wearing apparel. they tore up fine silk dresses into ribbons for their hats, or cut large squares out and carefully wrapped up quids of tobacco in them and deposited them on the mantel-piece. the little daughter's hat and garments were placed on the floor, and loathsomely polluted. they even took the lady's thimble from her work-box, and carried off the likeness of her deceased mother, paying no regard to her entreaties. they constantly addressed her, as she sat weeping and motionless amid the wreck they were making, in the most profane and obscene and insulting language, repeatedly calling her a liar and other degrading names. they compelled her and her little daughter to remain and witness the destruction; and, finally, when there was nothing more to break and steal, one of them approached her and thrust his fist in her face. as she raised her head to avoid it, he struck her forehead, seized her by the throat, cursing her furiously. she begged him not to kill her; he let her throat loose then; seizing the neck of her dress, tore it open, snatched her gold watch, which hung by a ribbon, tore it off and left her. half dead with fright, she rushed to the door with the child, and amid curses and cries of "stop her!" "don't let her go!" got out of the house, ran down to her aunt's, and fell fainting on the threshold. after she was recovered, the ladies begged general gillam to interfere, but he refused, saying, "there were bad men in all crowds." in the case of mrs. hartley he turned his back to the ladies without a word. mrs. clark then appealed to lieutenant jerome b. rice of the signal corps, and also to lieutenant theodore mallobry in the same command. these were _gentlemen_, and manifested a determination to protect her. one of them returned to her house with her and viewed the utter destruction of her household property with every appearance of shame and indignation. as they entered the house a soldier--the last of the gang--ran out. the lieutenant had him arrested and carried to headquarters. when mrs. clark was called on to identify him as one of the robbers, he denied having been near her house. "why," said she, "that is a piece of a silk dress of mine round your hat now." "is it?" said he, coolly taking it off and handing it to her; "well, then, you may have it back." this was in the presence of general gillam, for whom, by the way, it was generally observed, the men seemed to have no respect. general brown sent a strong guard to mrs. clark's house; but it was too late to save any thing, and she had no redress. i have been thus particular to give an account which is, after all, a condensed one, of the treatment of _one_ southern lady by certain soldiers of the army of the union. there are thousands of such cases unreported. this i present as a sample. so much is said of the "unharmonized" attitude of southern women at present that i think it is as well to let the world see upon what ground it is they feel as if some time must elapse before they can honestly profess to love their enemies. while plundering one house in the village, the marauders forced themselves into the chamber of a lady while she was in child-birth. with great difficulty the attending physician prevented them from plundering that room. mrs. general vaughn was residing in lenoir at this time. it is said that generals gillam and vaughn had been friends before the war, and had agreed together that if the family of one should fall into the hands of the other, they should be protected. general gillam placed a guard at mrs. vaughn's house; but as soon as he left the town, two of his men went in and demanded her watch. on her refusal they attempted to search her. she drew a pistol, but they took it from her before she could fire. she resisted their search with all her might, and at last they left her without the watch, having nearly torn her dress off. shortly after, the same two returned with five others, and with threats of violence compelled her to give the watch up. that night squads of half-intoxicated men came back and committed further depredations in the village and neighborhood. the house of dr. felix dula, with all its furniture, was burned. this, however, it is conjectured, might have been done by deserters. they left lenoir for morganton on the th, and on the way burned the house of a mr. johnston, one of the home guards. on reaching rocky ford, on the catawba river, a mile or two from morganton, they found a party of about fifty confederates, strongly posted on the opposite side, well armed, and with one brass howitzer. this party was under the command of captain george west, lieutenant-colonel s. m'dowell tate volunteering with them. they were well posted and sheltered on their side, while the enemy approached without cover to attempt a very difficult ford. a sharp engagement ensued, which resulted in general gillam's withdrawal toward fleming's ford, a little higher up. he lost about twenty-five, killed and wounded. few were wounded. an eye-witness says he counted eight dead bodies of federal soldiers floating down the stream. the confederates lost none, their position being so advantageous. at fleming's ford general gillam easily forced his way, the fifty confederates taking to the mountains on finding themselves overpowered here. the raiders remained at morganton a day or two. there was very little plundering done in the houses here. they exercised their ingenuity in searching for hidden treasure out of doors. it seemed to have been understood that the morganton people, warned of their approach, had _cached_ most of their valuables. these _caches_ were hunted up with unremitting vigor, and most of them were discovered and rifled. many amusing stories are current now all through the south, of valuable deposits, scarcely hidden at all, which escaped, and some, not so amusing, of others hidden in inscrutable places which were pounced upon at once. of a quantity of old family silver buried out of town, by a clump of rocks shaded with a persimmon-tree or two and a grape-vine, and on the departure of the enemy the owner going out and finding that a camp had been made just there, and the camp-fire built just over the _cache_, which was untouched. of a valuable _cache_ made by several families united, in a secluded spot in the woods, and found afterward undisturbed save by the hoof of a raider's horse having sunk in upon it, having evidently caused a stumble, but no suspicion of the cause. of valuable papers and jewels so well hidden that it was months before the owners themselves could find where they had put them. chapter xvi. plundering of colonel carson--of rev. mr. paxton--general martin repulses kirby--gillam plunders during the armistice--occupation of asheville--wholesale plunder--dispatch from general palmer. on the road from morganton to asheville general gillam's men went through their usual programme, wherever a house was to be plundered and ladies were to be insulted and robbed! at pleasant garden one of them, feeling that some clean linen was necessary to his comfort, demanded a shirt of colonel carson. the colonel assured him that the house had been thoroughly plundered, and the only shirt remaining to him was the one he then had on. having satisfied himself of this fact, the soldier compelled the colonel (an old gentleman) to strip, and carried off his sole remaining shirt. i believe no officers were present at the plundering of colonel carson's; but at the house of the rev. mr. paxton, an aged and amiable man, a minister of the presbyterian church, officers were present, and countenanced, if they did not directly aid, the pillage. they carried off all that was portable, even to knives and forks, and destroyed the rest of the furniture. having found some marmalade and molasses, they made a mixture and smeared it over the bedroom furniture, etc. some of them locked mrs. paxton in her room, and attempted to torture her into the disclosure of hidden treasure, if she had such. her cries brought others to the door, and they desisted. mr. paxton's horse, watch, and all his clothing were taken of course. such were the rudeness and brutality which accompanied these robberies, that people were thankful to escape with their lives. about the time that general stoneman's return was expected in the west, a brigade of infantry, under command of a colonel kirby, was moved by the federals from greenville, tenn., on asheville, n.c. it was supposed they would meet stoneman there; but they arrived a little too soon, during the second week of april, and were met by the confederates near camp woodfire, and so successfully repulsed that they turned about at once and returned to greenville. the troops by whom kirby was repulsed were a part of the command of general j.g. martin, referred to in our first chapter as the originator of the plan to furnish our soldiers through the blockade-runners. he was, as governor vance writes of him, a most gallant and efficient officer, especially valuable for the prompt energy which he infused into every department of business under his control. when it was found that general gillam intended to take asheville, general martin ordered his whole command, consisting of palmer's brigade (composed of the sixty-second, sixty-fourth, and sixty-ninth north-carolina, and a south-carolina battery) and love's regiment of thomas's legion, to the vicinity of swannanoa gap, on the road from morganton to asheville. love's regiment was ordered to the gap. they reached it before gillam did, and after cutting down some trees, and making a few other arrangements to receive the raiders, waited their approach, and on their advance repulsed them without difficulty. general gillam spent two days at this gap, vainly endeavoring to effect a passage, and finally moved off in the direction of hickory-nut gap. palmer's brigade was ordered to meet them there; but general martin, giving an account of this affair, adds, "i regret to say the men refused to go." rumors of general lee's surrender and of johnston's armistice were floating through the country, and men who fought bravely as long as there was hope were only too willing to lay down their arms at the first news of peace. general martin ordered the south-carolina battery to greenville, s.c., their horses being in too bad condition for active service. on its way it fell in with general gillam, and was captured. on saturday, twenty-second of april, general martin received notice of general johnston's armistice with sherman, and immediately sent out two flags of truce, on different roads, to meet general gillam. on sunday afternoon he was met on the hendersonville road, about six miles from asheville. he agreed to abide by the truce, and requested an interview with general martin, who accordingly, on monday morning, twenty-fourth, went out to his camp. the interview resulted in an agreement that general gillam should go through asheville to tennessee, and that he should be furnished with three days' rations for his men, and that they would observe the truce. general gillam, it should be remarked, upon the testimony of his own officers, had had official information of the armistice while at rutherfordton, on his way from swannanoa. but, nevertheless, he had continued the same system of depredation all along his route from rutherfordton, sweeping the country of horses, mules, carriages, and property of every description, and destroying what they could not take along. on the twenty-fifth, general gillam arrived in asheville. perfect order was observed. the nine thousand rations required were duly issued to him. general gillam and his staff dined with general martin; and as he was about to mount his horse to join his command, in the evening, general martin asked him if he would give _him_ the forty-eight hours' notice provided for in the truce, before renewing hostilities. general gillam replied, "_certainly--that the notice should be given_." that night general gillam left his command encamped not far from asheville, and went on to tennessee. during the day, while the federals were coming in, a party of officers dashed into town from the french broad road, in a state of very apparent excitement. this was the notorious colonel kirke and his staff, who had approached at the head of two regiments for the openly avowed purpose of plundering asheville, having heard of the dispersion of the confederates from swannanoa, and feeling sure of their prize at last. but finding the town quietly occupied by general gillam, under the terms of the armistice, they expressed deep disappointment, and swore roundly they would yet return and lay it in ashes. now they were compelled to leave in advance of general gillam.[ ] the federal army led in its rear an immense train of plunder--animals of all sorts, and carriages and wagons piled with property--household goods and treasures. one load, however, was of questionable value, being no less than fifteen negro babies, the mothers marching in the crowd. the asheville people had the mortification of seeing the guns of the south-carolina battery, just captured, driven through by negroes. not a citizen was visible in the streets; doors and windows were all closed; but i have the best authority--that of a lady--for saying that from behind curtains and blinds many a glance was shot from bright eyes, of contempt and hatred, on the blue jackets. such lightning, however, is unfortunately innocuous, and not known to produce fatal effects outside of romances; and so the raiders lounged carelessly about, or sat down on the street-corners and played cards, while waiting for their rations, in perfect immunity from such electrical batteries. tuesday night passed quietly, and asheville was beginning to hope that hostilities suspended would prove to be hostilities ended. our troops had almost ceased to exist in an organized form. the town was guarded by only one company--captain teague's scouts--besides general martin and his staff, including in all about thirty officers. a small party of federals passed through during the twenty-sixth, under flag of truce, carrying dispatches to general palmer, who was then approaching from lincolnton by the hickory-nut gap. at sunset on the twenty-sixth, general brown, in command of a portion of the same troops that had just passed through with gillam, suddenly reëntered the place, capturing all the officers and soldiers, and giving up the town to plunder. the men were paroled to go home, the officers to report to general stoneman at knoxville. this, be it remembered, was within twenty-four hours after the above agreement with general gillam, on official news of general sherman's armistice. general martin being arrested, was taken to general brown, and after less than an hour's absence, was permitted to return home in charge of a united states officer. on arriving at his house, he found the ladies of his family, with lighted candles, going over the house at the bidding of the marauders, lighting them while they broke open doors, trunks, drawers, and boxes, and helped themselves to what they chose. and this was the experience of every house in the place that night. many were entered by three or four different gangs at once. they swarmed in at every avenue of entrance, generally by the back-door, having taken counsel with the negroes first. mrs. martin recovered some of her stolen goods by the assistance of a guard who was detailed after the house had been plundered. not even the town of fayetteville suffered more severely from pillage. mrs. james w. patton and her sister were both sick in bed. their house was entered from front and back at the same time. the ladies' rooms were entered, they were dragged from their beds, their persons and the rooms searched, and their valuables taken. this was supposed to have been done upon the information of a servant, who had told that there were four watches in the house. of these four watches, three were afterward recovered, through the agency of a captain patterson, assistant adjutant-general to general gillam, who had been quartered at mrs. patton's, and who proved to be one of the few _gentlemen_ in that division of the united states army. judge bailey's family suffered as severely as any others, every thing portable of value being carried off, even to the boots from the judge's feet. the wedding-rings of his wife and daughter were forced from their hands. other ladies were stopped in the street and their jewelry forced from them. those who applied to general brown, who had the honor to command this extraordinary expedition, received no redress whatever. dr. chapman, a well-known and widely respected minister of the presbyterian church, was so entirely robbed of all his goods and valuables, that he had not a change of clothes left beside what he wore. the tenth and eleventh michigan regiments certainly won for themselves in asheville that night a reputation that should damn them to everlasting fame. no excuse was given for this violation of the armistice, except a lame story of their having been attacked by general vaughn and returning to asheville to revenge themselves. general vaughn was at that time in virginia. on thursday, parties scoured the country in all directions, carrying on the work of plunder and destruction. on friday, they left, having destroyed all the arms and ammunition they could find and burned the armory. on friday afternoon, they sent off the officers they had captured under a guard. the town being left thus without arms or protectors, the citizens, remembering kirke's threats, begged general brown to leave a small force as guard; but he refused, saying, "they might take care of themselves." on the twenty-eighth, the following dispatch from general palmer--who was brown's senior officer--to general martin, released our officers and men from their parole, and set the disgraceful circumstance of their surprise and capture in its proper light, though not stigmatizing it as it deserved: headquarters of east tenn. cav. div., } hickory-nut gap road, } april , . } general: i could not learn any of the particulars of your capture and that of colonel palmer and other officers and men, at asheville, on the twenty-sixth, and as our troops at that point were obliged to leave immediately, there was no time for me to make the necessary investigation. i therefore ordered your release on a parole of honor, to report to general stoneman. on further reflection, i have come to the conclusion that our men should have given you, under all the circumstances, notice of the termination of the armistice, and that in honor we can not profit by any failure to give this notice. you will therefore please inform all the officers and soldiers paroled by general brown under the circumstances referred to, that the parole they have given (which was by my order) is not binding, and that they may consider that it was never given. regretting that your brother officers and yourself should have been placed in this delicate position, i am, general, respectfully your obedient servant, william j. palmer, brevet brigadier-general commanding. general j.g. martin, asheville. the citizens of asheville also owed it to general palmer's interference that two regiments of negroes, which had been sent over into yancey county, and which were bearing down upon asheville, (it was said, at the suggestion and with the concurrence of kirke and gillam,) for the purpose of plunder and arson, were countermanded and sent over into tennessee. the asheville pillage concludes such accounts of general stoneman's remarkable raid through western carolina as i have been able to collect. a rich harvest of incident yet remains for the future historian. i have done little more than indicate his route. much of the above is taken verbatim from a ms. narrative furnished me, at my request, by dr. r.l. beall, of lenoir, so admirably and accurately prepared that i hope it will be given to the public entire at no distant day. it gives me pleasure to acknowledge here my indebtedness to this gentleman, and my thanks for the generous public spirit he has displayed in his invaluable contribution to these pages. footnotes: [footnote : perhaps it is not generally known in north-carolina that colonel kirke had ardent aspirations for the provisional governorship of his beloved native state. i saw a letter from him just after the break-up, in which he avowed this noble ambition, evidently anticipating no very distant day when a grateful country should reward his patriotism and gallantry. by the way, it is said that colonel kirke also is a native of salisbury. both kirke and gillam! i am afraid there is a disposition to slander that fine old borough.] chapter xvii. surrender of general lee--why north-carolina could not have taken measures to send commissioners--review--the coal-fields railway--difficulties of transportation--provisions--the last call--recreants--privations--the condition of the press. not till we had seen general lee's farewell to his army, printed on a slip from the danville _register_ office, and read in household circles with tears and sobs--not till then did we finally and fairly give up the southern cause, and feel that it was indeed lost. that (for us) dismal fact once established, the large majority--i may say, the great body of southern people--surrendered with their beloved and trusted leader. here and there were doubtless some resolved still to blind themselves, to hope against hope, who talked wildly of collecting the scattered fragments of our armies, and prolonging the war beyond the mississippi--or somewhere; but they were the exceptions, few and far between--_rari nantes_--who took counsel of their desperation rather than of their reason. for all men knew now, what had long been feared and suspected, that the ground on which we stood was hollow, and had given way hopelessly and forever, and that now we were to pay the reckoning of our four years' madness. if north-carolina had, through her executive, anticipated the final crash, and after the failure of the peace mission to fortress monroe, had endeavored to treat separately with the united states government, and be the first to tender her submission, (as there were some who would fain have had her try the experiment,) if our state had taken this step, four generations would not have heard the last of it. the whole failure of the cause would in time have been attributed to the treachery and faint-heartedness of old rip, as there are even now those who say it was the croakers who ruined us, and that generals lee and johnston should not have surrendered so lightly. besides the infamy, we should have gained _absolutely nothing_, as is plainly indicated by the course pursuing and pursued of the united states government. governor graham, as our representative in the confederate senate, and from his position, high _prestige_, and extended reputation, commanding the entire confidence of our people, might very well recommend that some steps should be taken, _if possible_, to avert the approaching crash, and spare the state the horrors of military subjugation. this it was his duty to do; for to him more than any other man in the state, our people looked for guidance, and for some indication of the policy proper to be pursued in circumstances so critical and so desperate. but if governor vance had moved in the matter of sending commissioners to general sherman one week sooner than he did, or had taken one step looking toward reconciliation, or submission, or negotiation, at any time previous to the second week of april, , he would in all probability have been arrested by our military authorities as a traitor. there was positively nothing that with honor or credit could have been done to meet the united states army sooner than it was done. our affairs were at a dead-lock from the time of the adjournment of the confederate congress. let those, therefore, who may yet be inclined to deplore that certain steps were not taken by our executive, be satisfied that the course pursued was the only one possible. there is no room for misconstruction or misrepresentation in the future. inaction in certain great and supreme moments is the highest wisdom, the truest dignity, as the indian who finds his bark within the sweep of the rapids, and on the verge of the abyss, folds his arms and awaits the inevitable plunge with self-possession and calmness. north-carolina had nothing to retract, nothing to unsay, no pardon to beg. she had acted deliberately in joining the southern cause. she had given her whole strength to it, with no lukewarm adherence; and now, in the hour of acknowledged defeat and failure, she did not attempt to desert, or abjectly bespeak any favors for herself on the ground of her anti-secession record or proclivities. and when the negotiations were completed and peace was finally announced, it would not be difficult to say what feelings most predominated amongst us. we had desired peace--an end to the bloodshed and to the impending starvation of women and children. peace we had longed and prayed for; but not _this_ peace. the reünion was not _this_ reünion. with all her former attachment to the old union--with all her incredulity as to the stability or possibility of a separate independent confederacy of the southern states, even in case of its triumphant establishment--with all her sober conservative principles--i will venture to say, that there were not five hundred decent men within the limits of north-carolina who could be found to rejoice in her military subjugation, or who, under such circumstances, welcomed the reäppearance of the stars and stripes as our national emblem. i have never yet seen one who did, or who was, at any rate, willing to avow it. at the same time, i must say, i have never seen one who evinced any intention of other than an honest acceptance of the situation, and a determination to do their whole duty and make the best of the inevitable. looking back at our delusions, errors, and miscalculations for the four years of the war, the wonder is, that the confederacy lasted as long as it did. the last six mouths of its existence were indeed but mere outside show of seeming. that richmond was doomed, was patent to all shrewd observers in the fall of ; and there was probably not a member of the confederate congress who did not know it when he took his seat at the beginning of its last session. it certainly reflects very little credit on the wisdom or the patriotism of that body that they did not, before adjourning, take some steps in concert to notify their respective constituents of their opinion as to the situation, and give some indication of the course they judged their states should pursue. respect for president davis, who was well known to be extremely averse to any movement looking toward reconstruction, and who refused to contemplate the event of our subjugation as possible--due respect for him may have influenced the extraordinary reticence of our congress; but it is more probable that an undue regard for their own political reputation and influence was the prime object with most of them. whatever it was, history will point with a dubious expression to our representatives, each nudging his neighbor and desiring him to go forward--all convinced of the hopelessness of the cause, yet almost no man bold enough to say so publicly. the confederacy did not fail for want of genius to direct our military operations, nor for lack of the best qualities that go to make good soldiers in our armies, nor for lack of devotion and self-sacrifice among our people; for they who most doubted the wisdom of our policy or of our success gave as freely as the most sanguine. the history of the rise and fall of the confederate currency will be a singularly interesting and instructive lesson if it should ever be honestly written. its steady, unchecked decline but too surely marshaled us the way we were going, and in the successive stages of its destruction we may read as in a mirror the story of our own facile descent. after general grant had succeeded in cutting the petersburg railroad, the authorities at richmond looked with anxiety to the deep river coal-fields in our state as the point where workshops could be located. before that time there was but little interest felt or expressed in the struggle north-carolina was making to get a road opened to them; but when the richmond coal-fields were almost surrounded by the enemy, chatham county, in our state, became an object of great interest to the government. all the heads of departments were at once willing to lend a helping hand to the raleigh and chatham coal-fields road. the iron from the danville road, which had been taken up on account of the necessity of relaying that road with a more heavy rail, (taken from the charlotte and statesville road,) was granted to it, and a part of it was already on the way when sherman arrived in raleigh. it is an interesting and suggestive fact connected with the want of transportation facilities in our last days, and showing the dire extremity to which we were reduced, that coal was carried from deep river by rail and river past fayetteville to wilmington, thence by rail _via_ goldsboro, raleigh, and greensboro, to supply the government workshops in salisbury and charlotte. south-carolina also sent trains for it to wilmington. this coal was pronounced to be of the first quality, equal to the cumberland coal, and one hundred per cent superior to the richmond for blacksmith purposes. this want of transportation was one of the many stumbling-blocks in the way of the fainting confederacy, and connected with the scarcity of provisions, and the strict military surveillance established in every district, brought many of us to the verge of starvation. provisions were confined by military order to particular districts, each general taking care of his own. i have been told by kemp p. battle, esq., our present state treasurer, at that time president of the raleigh, and chatham road, that on one occasion he was compelled--though he could have bought an abundance of provisions in eastern carolina--to send for bacon to south-western georgia. he had to go to richmond to see secretary seddon himself, and send an agent to general beauregard at charleston, in order to get permission to move it to north-carolina. he was endeavoring; on one occasion to get some corn for his own family up to raleigh from his plantation in edgecombe county, when the general in command of that department seized it, and in reply to application for it said, "if the owner is in the field, he may have his corn; if otherwise, not." in this connection what were called "the bonded plantations" were a curious institution in those latter days, which greatly added to the distress of our non-producers. for instance, the owner of a large estate with slaves, in order to keep an overseer out of the army to attend to it, gave bond with good security to deliver to the government, or to soldiers' families, all his surplus produce at government prices. by this arrangement of course our large planters could only sell their produce at much below the market price, and in fact for almost nothing, considering the value of our currency. and even this the government did not pay. it died in debt to many: to mr. battle for nearly his whole crop of . with great difficulty he got from a quartermaster, in march, , six thousand dollars, which he immediately exchanged for fifty-seven dollars in gold. besides this the government impressed half the working mules, a source alone of no little vexation and distress among our small farmers. our quartermasters were not always fair in their assessment, nor competent to decide. the difficulties in the way of procuring provision can hardly be imagined by any but those who lived through that time. one of the last resorts was to smuggle cotton to the chowan country in exchange for bacon, pound for pound. the greatest irregularities, of course, prevailed in different parts of the south. in some of the central counties of the gulf states provisions were almost a drug in the market, (there being no transportation,) while here and in the army we were starving. one of the last desperate expedients of our government, and which bore as hardly on our people as any other, was the calling out of men between the ages of forty-five and fifty, and the junior reserves, mere children who should have been at home with their mothers. when the heads of families were taken away, often leaving a houseful of girls only to assist the mother to make bread, the distress and trouble were most piteous. at first the government was inclined to be liberal in exemptions, but in the last ninety days all were taken. on some counties of our state there was a disposition to resist or evade this wholesale conscription, and there were in consequence many deserters, many of whom lived by plundering their neighbors, and thus added to the general confusion and anxiety and peril of the times. many acts of violence were committed in certain localities. their expedients to escape capture, the modes of living they resorted to, the singular hiding-places they improvised or elaborated, would make an amusing and curious chapter in the history of the war--only these are the points which historians who desire to represent a people as unanimous in a great national struggle for rights and liberty do not generally care to present. if any of the immortal three hundred faltered on the way to thermopylæ we have never been told of it. i know that we were greatly mortified to hear the stories that were told by those who were sent in search of our recreants. it was a severe shock to our high-strung theories of southern chivalry and patriotism, to think of southerners hiding in dens and caves of the earth, resolved with great constancy not to be martyrs, having to be unearthed in these burrows and dragged out to the fight. one warrior lived for weeks in a hollow tree, fed by his wife; another was conscripted from beneath his own hen-house, where he had dug out a sort of grave, into which, well supplied with blankets, he descended in peace every morning. one took possession of an old, deserted, and forgotten mine in his neighborhood, and by a skillful disposal of brush and rubbish at the entrance, kept house quite comfortably for months, plying his trade of shoemaker meanwhile, and supplied with food from home. the women, in such cases, were the instigators of the skulking. one soldier returning to his regiment, after a furlough at home in a certain county, said "he'd be d----d if jeff davis wouldn't desert too if he were to stay at ---- awhile." the history of our personal privations, our household expenses, our public donations, and our taxes, will be a curious study of domestic and political economy combined. people who before the war had lived up fully to incomes of two thousand dollars a year, were reduced to less than one tenth of that sum, and are fully qualified now to give an answer to the question of how little one can live on. fifty dollars in gold would have been gladly taken in exchange for many a whole year's salary in confederate currency for the last year or two. even now it is an inexplicable mystery to me how people with moderate salaries lived who had families to feed and clothe. it was done only by confining themselves strictly to the most common and coarsest articles, and by an entire renunciation of all the luxuries and most of the comforts of life. when tallow was thirty dollars per pound, people necessarily sat in darkness. i have walked from end to end of our town at night and not observed half a dozen lights. if we did not realize charles lamb's notion of society, as it must have existed before the invention of lights, when people had to feel about for a smile, and handle a neighbor's cheek to be sure that he understood a joke, it was because lightwood-knots were plentiful, and turpentine easy of access. the condition of the press was a striking commentary on the state of things among us. some pains have been taken to secure an accurate list of our state papers from an entirely reliable source. at the commencement of the war there were but two daily papers in the state; at the close, there were four in the city of raleigh alone. of fifty-seven papers in existence in may, , twenty-six ceased during the war. there are thirty-three now in the state, of which ten are dailies. people who had never taken more than their own county weekly in all their lives, found the richmond dailies a necessity during the war, so great was the general anxiety to have the latest news, and above all from the army. the post-offices were besieged for the dingy half-sheets that came freighted with momentous intelligence for us. the _fayetteville observer_ and the _north-carolina presbyterian_ were the only two papers in the state whose dimensions were not reduced to a half-sheet. the _fayetteville observer_ had been for forty years one of the most ably edited, most sterling, and most influential journals in the state, and i may add, in the whole southern country.[ ] its influence for good all through that long period can hardly be overrated. the editor, e.j. hale, was an old-line whig in politics--a conservative of the strictest sort. his paper ranged side by side with the _national intelligencer_, the _richmond whig_, and the other noble old journals of that school which had stood as breakwaters for more than a generation against the incoming tide of radicalism north and south, but were swept away at last in the great flood. mr. hale opposed the doctrine of secession, and resisted its movement as long as it was possible to do so. mr. lincoln's call for seventy-five thousand men to coerce the south first aroused his opposition to the united states government; and after this state had gone over he supported her act, and supported the war with all his power, giving his sons, giving most liberally of all his substance, and devoting his paper enthusiastically to the benefit of the army, and the upholding of the state and general government. for though no admirer in past times of mr. davis's record as a democrat politician, yet when he was elevated to the post of president of the confederacy, and became the representative of the southern people, no man gave him a more generous support. his paper was published weekly and semi-weekly without intermission, and with a constantly increasing circulation and influence, until the appearance in fayetteville of general sherman's army, on the twelfth of april, , when the office was entirely destroyed, and the fruits of a lifetime of labor scattered to the winds. the office of the _north-carolina presbyterian_ was also destroyed at the same time. the _raleigh standard_, edited by w.w. holden, was for many years the leading organ of the democratic party in the state; indeed it may be said to have been the creator and preserver of that party, and was perhaps the most widely-circulated and influential of all our journals, for its reputation was not confined to the state. it was edited with marked ability by a man, unsurpassed as a party tactician, who thoroughly understood his business, and who always kept his powder dry. during the first two years of the war all parties seemed melted down and fused into one by the general ardor and excitement of the times; and our heretofore antagonist papers presented a most edifying spectacle of concord and agreement. in , mr. holden seeing no prospect of a favorable end to the war by fighting, began to advocate a resort to negotiation upon the basis of possible reconstruction. this speedily rendered him obnoxious to those of us who desired the war to go on, preferring even military subjugation to peaceful reconstruction; while it drew more closely to his support those who desired peace on any terms. the state of feeling between these two parties came to be such that an internecine war among ourselves might have broken out at any time. it was excessively difficult and dangerous for our public men to move either way. a party of soldiers passing through raleigh, in september, , mobbed the _standard_ office, and the compliment was returned, by the friends of mr. holden mobbing the office of the war paper, conducted at that time by john spelman, under the title of the _state journal_. mr. holden deemed it prudent to suspend the issue of his paper for two months in the spring of in consequence of the passage of the act suspending the writ of _habeas corpus_--suspended also for a day or two on the arrival of general sherman's army. the _state journal_ changed hands and name in . under the title of _the confederate_, and edited by colonel d.k. mcrae, it became the daily organ of the confederate government in this state, and continued to advocate the policy of our chief and the indefinite continuance of the war till within three days of general sherman's entrance into raleigh, when the office was entirely destroyed. it was edited with much spirit and ability, but with singular audacity and bitterness. the organ of governor vance's administration was _the conservative_, established in as a daily, and continuing till general sherman's arrival, when it shared the fate of the _confederate_, being utterly destroyed, except one small press, which general slocum carried away with him. _the progress_, daily, followed the lead of the _standard_ in politics, and like the _standard_, was suspended for only a day or two on the occupation of raleigh. it had the reputation of being the earliest and sprightliest retailer of news--generally ahead of its competitors in that department. all these, as well as all others in the confederacy, with a few exceptions, were printed on half-sheets of exceedingly dingy paper, and their price ranged from twenty-five dollars to fifty dollars for six months. no subscriptions were taken for a longer period, in consequence of the steady decline in value of our currency. the typography and general appearance, to say nothing of their matter, would have rendered them objects of curiosity in any part of the civilized world, and afford a close resemblance to the journals published in the days of the revolution of . such was the scarcity of paper among us, that they disappeared as fast as they were received; and a complete file of one of our confederate papers, which would be an invaluable possession for an historical society fifty years hence, is probably even now an impossibility. all literary influences were of course greatly checked and straitened, while our people held their breath in suspense as to the issue of the war. colleges were closed, schools went on lamely for want of teachers, who were in the army, and for want of text-books. an effort was made here and there to supply the increasing demand for grammars, arithmetics, readers, and primers; but the paper was coarse and dark, and the type was old and worn--the general getting up of these home-made books affording the clearest evidence of the insurmountable difficulties under which our people labored in endeavoring to make books while struggling for bread. some of them ran the blockade, being sent abroad to be stereotyped. some of them need only a new dress to take their place as standards in any school in the country now; but the majority of them may be set down as failures. the common-schools, kept going at first, shared at last in the general decline and relaxation of order, and were hardly in existence at all at the close. as to books from abroad--magazines, papers, etc.--it may well be imagined that in the interior of the confederacy at least, we were at a standstill in regard to all such means of improvement or information. occasionally a copy of the _london times_, or one or two of the leading new-york journals found its way from richmond, or wilmington, or charleston, and was sent from house to house until utterly worn out. occasionally some enterprising publishing house, getting hold of a copy of the latest english novel, would issue a reprint of it, solitary copies of which circulated through a county, and soon shared the fate of the papers. northern magazines or books were but little in request, and little read if obtained.[ ] i am by no means certain that the loss of the current "light literature" of the day was a loss much to be deplored. such privations may rather be classed among the benefits of the war. footnotes: [footnote : the writer might have added--or in america. its editor, mr. hale, is a gentleman of broad intellect, large information, and rare journalistic ability.--ed. watchman.] [footnote : but one number of _harper's magazine_ was seen at chapel hill during the war; this ran the blockade from nassau: and one number of the _london quarterly review_, found among the effects of mrs. rosa greenhow, which floated ashore from the wreck in which she perished. among such of her books as were recovered, much damaged and stained with sea-water, was her narrative of her imprisonment in washington, just published in london, and the ms. of her private journal kept during her visit to london and paris. her elegant wardrobe was sold at public sale in raleigh, by order of the confederate government, for the benefit of her daughter in paris.] chapter xviii. the university--its early history--its continued growth--the ardor of the young men--application for relief from conscription--governor swain to president davis--another draft on the boys--a dozen boys in college when sherman comes; and the bells ring on--"commencement" in --one graduate--he pronounces the valedictory--conclusion. as to the state university, perhaps more than a mere reference to its condition at the close of the war may not unjustly form part of a contribution to our state history, since its influence and reputation have been second to those of no similar institution in the country, and its benefits have been widely diffused through every state of the confederacy. its revolutionary history is not uninteresting in this connection. at the very time when all our state interests lay prostrate and exhausted from the revolutionary struggle, the very time when a superficial observer would have thought it enough for the people to get bread to eat and clothes to wear, our far-seeing patriots, who knew well that without education no state can become great, and that the weaker we were physically the more need there was for intellectual force and power to enable us to maintain our stand among the nations--these wise men projected and laid the foundations of a state literary institution, which, uncontrolled and uncontaminated by party politics or religious bigotries, should be an honor and a benefit to the commonwealth through all future generations. general davie may be said to have been the father of the university, though every man of distinction in the state at that time manifested a deep and cordial interest in its establishment. most of my readers are sufficiently familiar with the history of the state to be aware that, before the revolution, the mother country would permit no college or university or school to be established but upon certain conditions utterly repugnant to principles of civil and religious liberty. the charter of queen's college, at charlotte, mecklenburg county, (the college, town, and county, all three being named in loyal compliment to his queen,) was disallowed by george iii., because other than members of the established church of england were appointed among the trustees. this act of tyranny did more to arouse the revolutionary spirit than the stamp act and all other causes combined. the money that belonged to the common-school fund was squandered by the mother country in the erection of a palace for the royal governor--the most splendid edifice of the time on the continent. and at the close of the war for independence, so impoverished was the country that the general assembly could contribute nothing toward the establishment of the university, beyond endowing it with doubtful debts, escheats, and derelict property. so that if aid had not been given from private sources, it would never have struggled into existence. at the first meeting of the trustees, colonel benjamin smith, the aide-de-camp of general washington and subsequent governor of the state, made a donation of twenty thousand acres of chickasaw lands. major charles girard, who had served throughout the perils of the war, childless in the providence of god, adopted the newly-born university, and bestowed on it property supposed to be equal in value to forty thousand dollars. general thomas person, the old chief of the regulators, gave in cash ten hundred and twenty-five dollars[ ] to the completion of one of the buildings; and girard hall, person hall, and smith hall, preserve in their names the grateful remembrance of the earliest and most munificent patrons of the institution. it is a striking evidence of the poverty of the times that the ladies of the chief city of north-carolina were able to present only a quadrant in token of their interest in the new undertaking, and the ladies of raleigh a small pair of globes. in , the first student arrived, and from that day to this the whole course of the university has been one of great and steadily increasing reputation and usefulness. dr. joseph caldwell was president from to , (with the exception of four years, when rev. dr. chapman presided,) when the hon. david l. swain was appointed his successor, and he still remains at the head, the oldest college president in the united states, and one of the most successful. it is a remarkable fact, and one strongly illustrative of the conservative tone of our society, and of our north-carolina people in general, that for the long period of seventy years there have been virtually but two presidents--that two of the senior professors have remained for forty years each, one of them occupying the same chair for that whole period. another professor has held his chair for twenty-eight years, another for twenty-four, another for seventeen years. i doubt if any other college in the country can show a similar record. during the five years immediately preceding the war, the average number of students was about four hundred and twenty-five--a larger number than was registered at any similar institution in the union except yale. the average receipts for tuition exceeded twenty thousand dollars per annum; and it is another circumstance which probably has no parallel in american colleges, that with a meagre endowment, the munificent patronage of the public enabled the authorities of the institution to make permanent improvements in the edifices and grounds, and additions to the library and apparatus, amounting in value, as exhibited by the reports of the trustees, to the sum of more than a hundred thousand dollars! this was effected by skillful financiering, and by giving the faculty very moderate salaries, and is a striking illustration at least of north-carolina thrift and careful management. since , moreover, the faculty have been authorized to receive without charge for tuition or room-rent, any native of the state possessed of the requisite endowments, natural and acquired, whose circumstances may make such assistance necessary. about ten young men annually have availed themselves of this privilege, and these have in numerous instances won the highest honors of the university, and attained like distinction in the various walks of life. two remarkable cases of this character, presented during the discussion of the proposition to extend temporary relief to the university, in the last general assembly, must be fresh in the remembrance of many of my readers. in addition to the beneficence of this general ordinance, the two literary societies of the institution have each annually defrayed the entire expenses of one or more beneficiaries, during the time referred to, and these recipients of their bounty have rendered service and occupy positions of eminence and usefulness which offer the highest encouragement to perseverance in such benefactions. an account current between the state and the university for the past quarter of a century, will show the amount of the tuition and room-rent of those young men, added to the benefactions of the societies, is greatly in excess of all the direct contributions for its support derived from the public authorities. nay, more, that these sums, added to the hundred thousand dollars resulting from the net earnings of the institution, were quite equal in amount to the entire endowment now annihilated by the repudiation of the war-debt, and the consequent insolvency of the bank of north-carolina, in the stock of which more than the entire endowment was invested. can any other college in the united states say as much? at the opening of the war, the ardor with which the young men rushed into the military service may be inferred from the fact that of the eighty members of the freshman class, but _one_ remained to continue his education, and he was incapacitated by feeble health from joining his comrades in the field. five members of the faculty volunteered for the war; and those who remained in their chairs, being incapacitated by age or by their sacred profession from serving their country otherwise than as teachers, resolved to keep the doors of the university open as long as a dozen boys could be found amid the din of arms who might be able to profit by it. when conscription was resorted to, to fill up the depleted armies of the south, the trustees resolved to appeal to president davis in behalf of the university, lest it should be entirely broken up by too rigid an enforcement of the law. the results were an important part of our state history during the war, and embodied facts which had a significant influence at the close. "raleigh, october , . "at a meeting of the board of trustees of the university this day, present: his excellency governor vance, president; w.a. graham, jonathan worth, d.m. barringer, p.h. winston, thomas ruffin, j.h. bryan, k.p. battle, charles manly. "_resolved_, that the president of the university be authorized to correspond with the president of the confederate states, asking a suspension of any order or regulation which may have been issued for the conscription of students of the university, until the end of the present session, and also with a view to a general exemption of young men advanced in liberal studies, until they shall complete their college course. "that the president of the university open correspondence with the heads of other literary institutions of the confederacy, proposing the adoption of a general regulation, exempting for a limited time from military service the members of the _two higher classes_ of our colleges, to enable them to attain the degree of bachelor of arts. "charles manly, secretary." in accordance with this resolution, governor swain addressed the following letter to president davis, which will be read with interest, as presenting some very remarkable statements in regard to the university and the village of chapel hill: "university of north-carolina, } chapel hill, oct. , . } "_to his excellency, jefferson davis, president of the confederate states_: "sir: the accompanying resolutions, adopted by the trustees of this institution at their meeting in raleigh, on the eighth instant, make it my duty to open a correspondence with you on the subject to which they relate. "a simple statement of the facts, which seem to me to be pertinent, without any attempt to illustrate and enforce them by argument, will, i suppose, sufficiently accomplish the purposes of the trustees. "at the close of the collegiate year - , (june seventh, ,) the whole number of students on our catalogue was four hundred and thirty. of these, two hundred and forty-five were from north-carolina, twenty-nine from tennessee, twenty-eight from louisiana, twenty-eight from mississippi, twenty-six from alabama, twenty-four from south-carolina, seventeen from texas, fourteen from georgia, five from virginia, four from florida, two from arkansas, two from kentucky, two from missouri, two from california, one from iowa, one from new-mexico, one from ohio. they were distributed in the four classes as follows: seniors eighty-four, juniors one hundred and two, sophomores one hundred and twenty-five, freshmen eighty. "of the eight young men who received the first distinction in the senior class, four are in their graves, (soldiers' graves,) and a fifth a wounded prisoner. more than a seventh of these graduates are known to have fallen in battle. "the freshmen class of eighty members pressed into the service with such impetuosity that but a single individual remained to graduate at the last commencement; and he in the intervening time had entered the army, been discharged on account of impaired health, and was permitted by special favor to rejoin his class. "the faculty at that time was composed of fourteen members, no one of whom was liable to conscription. five of the fourteen were permitted by the trustees to volunteer. one of these has recently returned from long imprisonment in ohio, with a ruined constitution. a second is a wounded prisoner, now at baltimore. a third fell at gettysburgh. the remaining two are in active field-service at present. "the nine gentlemen who now constitute the corps of instructors are, with a single exception, clergymen, or laymen beyond the age of conscription. no one of them has a son of the requisite age who has not entered the service as a volunteer. five of the eight sons of members of the faculty are now in active service; one fell mortally wounded at gettysburgh, another at south-mountain. "the village of chapel hill owes its existence to the university, and is of course materially affected by the prosperity or decline of the institution. the young men of the village responded to the call of the country with the same alacrity which characterized the college classes; and fifteen of them--a larger proportion than is exhibited in any other town or village in the state--have already fallen in battle. the departed are more numerous than the survivors; and the melancholy fact is prominent with respect to both the village and the university, that the most promising young men have been the earliest victims. "without entering into further details, permit me to assure you, as the result of extensive and careful observation and inquiry, that i know of no similar institution or community in the confederacy that has rendered greater services or endured greater losses and privations than the university of north-carolina, and the village of chapel hill. "the number of students at present here is sixty-three; of whom fifty-five are from north-carolina, four from virginia, two from south-carolina, and one from alabama; nine seniors, thirteen juniors, fourteen sophomores, and twenty-seven freshmen. "a rigid enforcement of the conscription act may take from us nine or ten young men with physical constitutions in general better suited to the quiet pursuits of literature and science than to military service. they can make no appreciable addition to the strength of the army; but their withdrawal may very seriously affect our organization, and in its ultimate effects compel us to close the doors of the oldest university at present accessible to the students of the confederacy. "it can scarcely be necessary to intimate that with a slender endowment and a diminution of more than twenty thousand dollars in the annual receipts for tuition, it is at present very difficult and may soon be impossible to sustain the institution. the exemption of professors from the operation of the conscript act is a sufficient indication that the annihilation of the best established colleges in the country was not the purpose of our congress; and i can but hope with the eminent gentlemen who have made me their organ on this occasion, that it will never be permitted to produce effects which i am satisfied no one would more deeply deplore than yourself. "i have the honor to be, with the highest consideration, your obedient servant, d.l. swain." the result of this application was that orders were issued from the conscript office to grant the exemption requested. president davis is reported to have said in the beginning of the war in reference to the drafting of college boys, that it should not be done; "that the _seed-corn_ must not be ground up." but as the exigencies of the country became more and more pressing, the wisdom of this precept was lost sight of. in the spring of , in reply to a second application in behalf of the two lower classes, mr. seddon returned the following opinion to the conscript bureau: "i can not see in the grounds presented such peculiar or exceptional circumstances as will justify departure from the rules acted on in many similar instances. youths under eighteen will be allowed to continue their studies. those over, capable of military service, will best discharge their duty and find their highest training in defending the country in the field. "march , ." in compliance with this opinion, the conscript act was finally enforced at the university; the classes were still further reduced by the withdrawal of such as came within the requirements of the act, or who were determined to share at all hazards the fate of their comrades in the army. the university, however, still struggled on; and when general sherman's forces entered the place, there were some ten or twelve boys still keeping up the name of a college. the bell was rung by one of the professors, and morning and evening prayers attended to during the stay of the united states forces. the students present, with two or three exceptions, were those whose homes were in the village. the two or three who were from a distance, left on the advent of the federals, walking to their homes in neighboring counties, there being no other means of locomotion in those days. but one senior, mr. w.c. prout, graduated at the ensuing commencement, having taken the whole course. there were three others who received diplomas at the same time. for the first time in thirty years, the president was absent from these exercises, having been summoned by president johnson to washington city, to confer with him and with other north-carolina gentlemen on the condition of affairs in the state. not a single visitor from abroad attended the commencement, with the exception of some _thirty gentlemen dressed in blue_, who had been delegated to remain here and keep order. the residents of the village were the only audience to hear the valedictory pronounced by the sole remaining representative of his class. where were the hundreds who had thronged these halls four years before? virginia, and maryland, and pennsylvania, and tennessee, and georgia were heaving with their graves! in every state that had felt the tread of armies, and wherever the rough edge of the battle had joined, there had been found the foster-children of north-carolina's university;[ ] and now, sitting discrowned and childless, she might well have taken up the old lamentations which come to us in these later days more and more audibly across the centuries, "oh! that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that i might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people!" there is not a prettier village in the south than that which lies around the university, and has grown up with it and has been sustained and elevated by it. and not a village in the south gave more freely of its best blood in the war, not one suffered more severely in proportion to its population. thirty-five of our young men died in the service. some of them left wives and little ones; some were the only support and blessing of aged parents; all were, with very few exceptions, the very flower of our families, and were representatives of every walk and condition of life. the first company that left the place in may, , commanded by captain r.j. ashe, was attached to the famous first north-carolina regiment, which so distinguished itself at the memorable battle of bethel, june tenth of that year. upon the disbanding of this regiment, the members of the orange light infantry attached themselves to other companies--for no fewer than four were raised here and in the vicinity--and many of them were among those who dragged themselves home on foot from lee's last field. the decline of the university threw many of our citizens out of employment, and the privations endured here tell as sad a story as can be met with anywhere. there was some alleviation of the general distress for those who had houses or furniture to rent; for every vacant room was crowded at one time by refugee families from the eastern part of the state, from norfolk, and latterly from petersburg. and this was the case with every town in the interior of the state. some of these settled here permanently during the war, attracted by the beauty and secluded quiet of the place, and by the libraries--best society of all! some of them merely alighted here in the first hurry of their flight, and afterward sought other homes, as birds flit uneasily from bough to bough when driven from their nests. these families were generally representatives of the best and most highly cultivated of our southern aristocracy. they fled hither stripped of all their earthly possessions, except a few of their negroes. many came not only having left their beautiful homes in the hands of invaders, but with heads bowed down with mourning; for gallant sons who had fallen in vain defense of those homes. some of them, the elders among them, closed their wearied eyes here, and were laid to rest among strangers, glad to die and exchange their uncertain citizenship in a torn and distracted country for that city which hath foundations. the benefits of the war in our state should not be overlooked in summing up even a slight record concerning it. it brought all classes nearer to each other. the rich and the poor met together. a common cause became a common bond of sympathy and kind feeling. charity was more freely dispensed, pride of station was forgotten. the supreme court judges and the ex-governors, whose sons had marched away in the ranks side by side with those of the day-laborer, felt a closer tie henceforth to their neighbor. when a whole village poured in and around one church building to hear the ministers of every denomination pray the parting prayers and invoke the farewell blessings in unison on the village boys, there was little room for sectarian feeling. christians of every name drew nearer to each other. people who wept, and prayed, and rejoiced together as we did for four years, learned to love each other more. the higher and nobler and more generous impulses of our nature were brought constantly into action, stimulated by the heroic endurance and splendid gallantry of our soldiers, and the general enthusiasm which prevailed among us. heaven forbid we should forget the good which the war brought us, amid such incalculable evils; and heaven forbid we should ever forget its lessons--industry, economy, ingenuity, patience, faith, charity, and above all, and finally, humility, and a firm resolve henceforth to _let well alone_. that north-carolina has within herself all the elements of a larger life and hope, and a more diffused prosperity than she has ever known, is not to be doubted by those who are acquainted with the wealth of her internal resources and the consummate honesty, industry, and resolution of her people. time will heal these wounds yet raw and bleeding; the tide of a new and nobler life will yet fill her veins and throb in all her pulses; and taught in the school of adversity the noblest of all lessons, our people will rise from their present dejection when their civil rights have been restored them, and with renewed hope in god will go on to do their whole duty as heretofore. silently they will help to clear the wreck and right the ship; silently they will do their duty to the dead and to the living, and to those who shall come after them; silently and with the modesty of all true heroism they will do great things, and leave it to others to publish them. remarkable as north-carolinians have ever been for reticence and sobriety of speech and action, it is reserved for such epochs as those of may twentieth, , and may twentieth, , and for such great conflicts as succeeded them, to show what a fire can leap forth from this grave, impassive people--what a flame is kindled in generous sympathy, what ardor burns in defense of right and liberty. they are now to show the world what true and ennobling dignity may accompany defeat, surrender, and submission. i close these slight and inadequate sketches of a memorable time with the words of my first sentence. the history of the great war is yet to be written, and can scarcely be fairly and impartially written by this generation. but it is our imperative duty to ourselves and to our dead to begin at once to lay up the costly material for the great work. every man should contribute freely according to his ability, gold and silver, precious stones, iron and wood; and with this motive, i have ventured to present such an outline of events in the last ninety days as circumstances would permit me to gather. footnotes: [footnote : there was then, as now, no money in the country, and this was the largest cash donation ever received by the university.] [footnote : it is stated upon good authority, and is confidently believed, that there was not a single regiment in the entire confederate service in which could not be found one or more old students of chapel hill.] appendix. i. "_more than a seventh of the aggregate number of graduates are known to have fallen in battle._" this was written in october, . when the war was closed, the proportion was much greater. it is hardly consistent with the slight character of these sketches to enter deeply into questions of constitutional law, involving the rights of belligerents and insurgents in time of civil war. i had no intention of attempting more than a plain, unvarnished statement of facts; with some hope, i confess, that a faithful narrative of the losses and the sufferings of the vanquished might do something at least toward arousing a generous remorse and regret in the breasts of the victors. this volume will produce an effect altogether contrary to what is intended if it serves only to prolong the remembrances which excite sectional animosity. the records of our literary institutions all over the south will be found especially valuable in making up the estimate of our losses on the battle-field; for they will show unerringly that it was the _best_ blood of the south that was poured out like water; that her educated young men were the first to offer themselves in what they deemed a glorious cause, and were among the first to fall. and north-carolina, in particular, may point with pride to her university for an example of patriotic devotion unsurpassed by any other institution in the south. i had hoped to be able to exhibit in this appendix a collection of statistical details in connection with our university, of a deep and melancholy interest; and have taken much pains and made numerous inquiries to ascertain what proportion of the living alumni had participated in the contest, and what number had fallen in battle. it is, however, impossible to accomplish this design at present, and a complete record, if it can ever be obtained, must be reserved for future publication. i must content myself with a general view in relation to the actors of one particular era; judging by which we may form some estimate of the whole number of those, who, having enjoyed the best advantages of education, and representing the best classes of society, counted not their lives dear in the service of their country. let me here present one scene at the university as it occurred in the days when the almighty was yet with us, when his candle shined upon our head, and our children were about us. the annual commencement of was rendered a literary festival of unusual interest, by the attendance of president polk, and the secretary of the navy, judge mason, both of whom were alumni of the university. the commencement of was rendered no less memorable by the visit of president buchanan, and the secretary of the interior, hon. jacob thompson, who was not only a graduate, but had been at one time a tutor in the institution. how vivid is the recollection of those scenes in the minds of all who witnessed them! how interesting and imposing the assemblage of all that could give dignity or influence to a state, or shed the light of beauty and grace on these venerable cloisters and schools of learning. in , apprehensions of the permanency of the union were beginning to be excited by symptoms of dissatisfaction in the neighboring states. secretary thompson, in reply to the welcome addressed to him at his reception in front of governor swain's residence, referring to these ominous indications, congratulated the assembly on the steadiness of attachment to the union everywhere manifested by the people of his native state. he was applauded with a vehemence which gave full assurance of the deep and universal loyalty of his hearers. president buchanan repeatedly expressed his pleasure at these evidences of feeling which were reïterated whenever occasion offered. how little did he, how little did any one, foresee what changes a single year was to effect. on the evening preceding commencement-day, president buchanan appeared upon the rostrum and performed an interesting part in the exercises. at the request of the rev. dr. wheat, the then professor of rhetoric, he delivered the prize awarded to the best english writer in the sophomore class, eldridge e. wright, of memphis, tenn., who afterward graduated with the highest distinction, and the most flattering hopes and promises of future usefulness. he fell, a captain of artillery, in defense of his battery at the battle of murfreesboro. the two eldest sons of dr. wheat both fell in battle--one at shiloh and the other in virginia. of the six college tutors then present but one survives. of the crowd of trustees and distinguished north-carolinians who surrounded that rostrum, time would fail me to tell of the prostrate hopes and darkened hearths; but in brief, i may say, that of the four hundred and thirty young men then listening with intense eagerness and prolonged applause to words of wisdom and affection from their chief magistrate, more than a fifth, in less than five years, fell in fratricidal strife on every battle-field from pennsylvania to texas. could the curtain that in mercy vailed the future, have been that day withdrawn, what would have been the emotions of the audience? could they have seen one hundred of those four hundred and thirty gay and gallant boys lying in all the ghastly and bloody forms of death on the battle-field; a like proportion with amputated limbs, or permanently impaired constitutions; and all, with few exceptions, seamed with honorable scars, would they not have recoiled horror-stricken from such a revelation of war as it really is? what would have been the effect on that veteran statesman could he have seen all this--seen his friend and associate in the councils of the nation an exile, wandering in foreign lands, and all the wide-spread havoc, ruin, and woe of a four years' merciless war darkly curtaining the broad and smiling land? in the providence of god he was childless. how many fathers of that goodly throng have gone down to the grave sorrowing--for sorrow slays as well as the sword; how many mothers, sisters, and wives refuse to be comforted, and long for the grave, and are glad when they find it! i have selected the catalogue of - referred to in the letter from governor swain to president davis, as best calculated to show the results of the fearful change produced among us in the brief interval preceding the civil war. the senior class of consisted of eighty-four members. the subjoined table will show that every one of these able to bear arms, with perhaps a single exception, entered the service, and that _more than a fourth_ of the entire number now fill soldiers' graves. the proportion of the wounded to the killed is ordinarily estimated as not smaller than three to one; and judging by this rule, it appears and is believed to be the fact, that very few of the whole class remained unscathed. of the younger classes, my information is not sufficiently complete to justify the giving a list; but enough is ascertained to make it certain that the sacrifice of life among them was in very nearly the same proportion as among the seniors. as a matter of undying interest to the people of my own state, and significant enough to those of others, i present this record of the sons of her university. adams, robert b. in service from south-carolina. alexander, sydenham b., capt. d n.c. regt. anderson, lawrence m., lieut. killed at shiloh. askew, george w., capt. miss. regt. attmore, isaac t. killed in virginia. baird, william w., lieut. n.c. regt. barbee, algernon s., lieut. com. dept. army of the west. barrett, alexander, lieut. th n.c. regt. battle, junius c., killed at sharp's mountain. bond, lewis, chief ord. to gen. jackson. borden, william h., lieut. th n.c. regt. bowie, john r., sergt. signal corps, louisiana. brickell, sterling h., capt, th n.c. regt. resigned from wounds. brooks, william m., d n.c. cav. bruce, charles, jr. killed at richmond. bryan, george p., capt. d n.c. regt. killed. bullock, richard a., com. sergt. th n.c. regt. butler, pierce m., st lieut. d s.c. cav. cole, alexander t., capt. d n.c. regt. coleman, daniel r., th n.c. regt. cooper, robert e., chaplain cobb's legion. cooper, thomas w., st lieut. th n.c. regt. killed at gettysburgh. daniel, s. venable, st lieut. th n.c. regt. davis, samuel c., lieut. th n.c. regt. davis, thomas w., lieut. th n.c. regt drake, edwin l., col. tenn. regt. cav. fain, john h.d., capt. d n.c. regt. killed at petersburg, d april, . ferrand, horace, louisiana regt. fogle, james o.a., medical dept. richmond. franklin, samuel r. died in service. garrett, woodston l., lieut. th ala. cav. gay, charles e., lieut. miss. artillery. graham, james a., capt. th n.c. regt. haigh, charles, sergt.-major th n.c. cav. hale, edward j., jr., capt. a.a.g. to gen. lane. hardin, edward j., lieut. and adjt. conscript bureau. hays, robert b., forrest's cavalry. headen, william j., lieut. th n.c. regt. killed. henry, william w., capt. artillery, army of the west. hightower, samuel a., th louisiana regt. holliday, thomas c., capt. a.a.g. to gen. davis. killed. houston, r. bruce b., lieut. d n.c. regt. jones, h. francis, lieut. a.d.c. to gen. young. killed. jones, walter j., heavy artillery. afterward th n.c. regt. kelly, james, presbyterian clergyman. kelly, john b., th n.c. regt. king, william j., medical dept. richmond. lutterloh, jarvis b., lieut. th n.c. regt. killed at gum swamp. martin, eugene s., lieut. st battery heavy artillery. martin, george s., capt. tenn. art'y. killed by bushwhackers. mccallum, james b., lieut. st n.c. regt. killed at bermuda hundreds. mcclelland, james c. died in , in arkansas. mckethan, edwin t., lieut. st n.c. regt. mckimmon, arthur n., q.m. dept. raleigh. mckimmon, james, jr., lieut. manly's battery. mebane, cornelius, adjt. th n.c. regt. mebane, john w. capt. tenn. artillery. killed at kenesaw mountain. micou, augustin, lieut. and a.a.g. drew's battalion. mimms, thomas s., western army. nicholson, william t., capt. th n.c. regt. killed. pearce, oliver w., d regt. n.c. cav. pittman, reddin g., st lieut. eng. dep. pool, charles c. quarles, george mcd. died in service. ryal, tims, louisiana regt. royster, iowa, lieut. th n.c. regt. killed at gettysburgh. sanders, edward b., sergt.-major th n.c. regt. saunders, jos. h., lieut.-col. d n.c. regt. scales, erasmus d., capt. and com. sub. d n.c. cav. smith, farquhard, jr., d n.c. cav. smith, norfleet, st lieut. d n.c. cav. smith, thomas l. killed at vicksburgh. sterling, edward g. died in service. strong, hugh. in south-carolina service. sykes, richard l. in mississippi service. taylor, george w., ass't. surgeon, th la. thompson, samuel m., colonel tenn. regt. thorp, john h., capt. th n.c. regt. vaughan, vernon h. in alabama service. wallace, james a., th n.c. regt. wier, samuel p., lieut. th n.c. regt. killed at fredericksburgh. whitfield, cicero, sergt. d n.c. regt. wilson, george l. died. wooster, william a., capt. st n.c. regt. killed at richmond. of field-officers in the confederate service, at least thirteen illustrious names are among the alumni of the university, namely: lieut.-general leonidas polk, brig.-generals geo. b. anderson, rufus barringer, l. o'b. branch, thomas l. clingman, robert d. johnston, gaston lewis, james johnston pettigrew, matt. w. ransom, ashley w. spaight; and adjutant-generals r.c. gatlin, john f. hoke. generals polk, anderson, branch, and pettigrew were killed, and all the others (with the exception of the two bureau officers) severely wounded, and most of them more than once. i regret that my information in regard to many other gallant field-officers is at present too imperfect to justify the enumeration; much less am i able to give a correct list of subaltern officers, and the unrecorded dead. it will be a labor of love to continue my inquiries, in the hope of being able at some future day to present a suitable memorial of all our loved and lost. beloved till time can charm no more, and mourned till pity's self be dead. in looking over the list of even so few as are recorded above, one is struck with the number of those killed, of whom interesting and touching obituary memorials might be written. nearly all of them were men of rank. one of the most widely read and admired and useful religious biographies of the day has been miss marsh's life of captain hedley vicars of the english crimean army. we had many a captain vicars in our southern confederate army, whose life, if written as well, would be quite as striking, quite as valuable--many pure and noble christian young men, the beauty of whose daily lives still sheds a glow around their memories. it was in fact a common remark, during the war, that it was the best who fell. i am sure that north-carolinians, at least, will not be displeased with particular mention of a few of their dead in this place. of the six tutors connected with the university at the opening of the war, all of whom volunteered at once, _five_--namely, captains anderson, bryan, johnson, morrow, and lieutenant royster--fell on the battle-field, and they were all, without one exception, young men of more than ordinary promise. captain anderson, of wilmington, was a brother of general george b. anderson. he graduated with the highest distinction in the year . his class consisted of ninety-four members, nearly all of whom it is believed entered the army. two of the seven who shared the first distinction with him--one subsequently tutor in the university, w.c. dowd, the other captain w.c. lord, of salisbury--are in their graves. captain william adams, of greensboro, whose name occurs first on the roll of his classmates, was killed at sharpsburgh. captain hugh t. brown, (half-brother to general gordon,) fell at springfield; and lieutenant thomas cowan, at sharpsburgh. among those who have survived the perils of the battle-field and the hospital, are lieutenant-colonels h.c. jones, a.c. mcallister, and j.t. morehead, colonels john a. gilmer and l.m. mcafee, and general robert d. johnston. captain anderson was a candidate for orders in the episcopal church, but believed it his duty to contribute his share to the vindication of the rights of his country. he served with continually increasing reputation, and fell in the battle of the wilderness creek. captain george pettigrew bryan, of raleigh, was another most rare spirit. belonging to the class of , enumerated above, he was the youngest of eight who received the first distinction. during his college life, and throughout the whole of his brief but brilliant career, he was as conspicuous for his fidelity to duty as for his intellectual attainments. he, too, was to have consecrated his rare gifts to the ministry of the church. he fell, while leading a charge on the enemy's works, ten miles east of richmond. mortally wounded in the breast, he said, "boys, i'm killed, but i wish i could live to see you take those works." in a few moments the works were carried and the enemy routed. in half an hour after, he died peacefully and calmly: his promotion to lieutenant-colonel arriving just after his death. captain george b. johnson, of edenton, a graduate of , bearing away the highest honors, died in chapel hill of a decline brought on by the hardships of prison life at sandusky, ohio. one of his professors wrote of him: "his powers of mind were unusual, his energy of character very marked, his tastes all scholarly, and his attainments extensive and accurate. always pure and upright and truthful and unselfish. never was a whisper of reproach or censure uttered against him." lieutenant i. royster, of raleigh, was one of the graduates of this university who would have shed a lustre on its name had he lived. one of the eight of who received the first distinction, he was in many respects a remarkable genius--intellectually one of the most gifted young men who ever left these halls. he fell at gettysburgh, advancing to the charge considerably in front of his company and singing "dixie" as he met his instant death. captain e. graham morrow, of chapel hill, fell at gettysburgh. another noble, modest, gallant, and true young man. he was a son of north-carolina in a particular sense, for he came of fathers, grandfathers, great-grandfathers and ancestors even more remote who had been an honor to the same soil before him. on these six slight memorials there is yet a crown to be placed. these young men were all christians. that light above any that ever shone by sea or shore falls upon their graves. in the list of the seniors of given above, of the eight who received the first honors of the university, but three survive; of the _twenty-seven_ distinguished (more than a third of the whole number) ten are no more. of the twenty-four dead, who shall estimate the loss to their country, and to their families of even these? of one of the fairest and best, captain john fain, of warren, who was the only child of his mother, and she a widow; killed after passing safely through four years of peril and suffering, and falling in the last day of the last fight before petersburg, april d, . another of the first eight was junius c. battle, of chapel hill, fourth son of the law professor, judge battle. having suffered amputation of the left leg, after the battle of south-mountain, he occupied such of the few remaining hours of his life as he could redeem from his own sufferings, in reading to the crowd of confederate and federal wounded around him. we can well imagine, wrote a friend, how eloquent such reading was to such an audience. the reader's own eye was fast glazing, and the pains of death among strangers were upon him, but he rallied the remnants of his vision and self-control, and spent them in directing the fading eyes around him to that wicket-gate and shining light. surely it was a cup of cold water given in the name of his master, and even now is abundantly rewarded. of william a. wooster of wilmington, and of george l. wilson of new-berne, of whom, standing before him to say farewell, gov. swain said that he never had under his care, never had known two young men of higher character, purer faith, or more gifted intellect than these two beloved pupils. i am tempted to go on with this list, but am reminded that i shall exceed my limits. some abler hand, i trust, will some day gather up for preservation all these records of our noble boys; worthy, all of them, of that glorious epitaph once to be seen at thermopylæ: "tell it in _north-carolina_, that we lie here in obedience to her laws." of our generals much might be said that would be of deep and permanent interest. in general pettigrew, north-carolina was universally and justly considered to have lost one of the most remarkable men that this continent has ever produced. he graduated in , when he and general ransom received the first distinction in their class. the latter delivered the salutatory of his class to president polk, and fortunately survives the perils of many a battle-field still further to honor and receive honor from his native state. of general pettigrew i append a biographical sketch, which originally appeared in the _fayetteville observer_, by a hand fully competent to do him justice, and which presents him not overdrawn nor too highly colored. of none of the thousands of the flower of this southern land who fell in her defense can it be said more justly than of james johnston pettigrew: "_felix non solum claritatê vitæ, sed etiam opportunitatê mortis._"[ ] footnotes: [footnote : fortunate not only in the renown of his life, but also in the opportunity of his death.] ii. gen. james johnston pettigrew. from the fayetteville observer. james johnston pettigrew, late a brigadier in the army of the confederate states, was born at lake scuppernong, in tyrrell county, north-carolina, upon the th day of july, . his family is originally of french extraction. at an early period, however, one branch of it emigrated to scotland, where it may be traced holding lands near glasgow about the year . afterward a portion of it removed to the northern part of ireland. from this place james pettigrew, the great-grandfather of the subject of this notice, about the year , came into pennsylvania, and, some twenty years afterward, into north-carolina. about , this gentleman removed to south-carolina, leaving here, however, his son charles, who was a resident successively of the counties of granville, chowan, and tyrrell. charles pettigrew was subsequently the first bishop-elect of the protestant episcopal church in this diocese. he died in , and his memory survives, fragrant with piety, charity, and an extended usefulness. his son ebenezer succeeded to his estates and reputation. devoting his life to the successful drainage and cultivation of the fertile lands which he owned, and to the government of the large family of which he was the head, mr. pettigrew resisted every solicitation presented by his neighbors for the employment of his talents in public service. upon one occasion alone was his reluctance overcome. in , he was chosen by a very flattering vote to represent his district in the congress of the united states. at that election he received the rare compliment of an almost unanimous vote from his fellow-citizens of tyrrell, failing to obtain but three votes out of more than seven hundred. he could not be prevailed upon to be a candidate at a second election. mr. pettigrew married miss shepard, a daughter of the distinguished family of that name seated at new-berne. she died in july , when her son james johnston was but two years of age. ebenezer pettigrew lived until july, , having witnessed with great sensibility the very brilliant opening of his son's career among the cotemporary youth of the land. after his mother's death the child was taken to the home of his grandmother at new-berne, and there remained until he was carried into orange county, to pursue his education. owing to an unfortunate exposure whilst an infant, young pettigrew was a delicate boy, but by diligent and systematic exercise he gradually inured his constitution to endure without harm extraordinary fatigue and the extremes of weather. he was a member of various schools at hillsboro from the year , enjoying the advantages of instruction by mr. bingham for about four years previously to his becoming a student at the university. during this period the state of his health required him to be often at home for several months together. he was a member of the university of north-carolina during the full term of four years, graduating there at the head of his class in june, . from early childhood young pettigrew had been noted as a boy of extraordinary intellect. at all the schools he was easily first in every class and in every department of study. he seemed to master his text-books by intuition. they formed the smallest portion of his studies, for his eager appetite for learning ranged widely over subjects collateral to his immediate tasks. nor did they always stop here. his father was amused and gratified upon one occasion to observe the extent to which he had profited by his excursions among the medical books of an eminent physician at hillsboro, of whose family he was an inmate at the age of fourteen. in the class-room at the university he appeared in reciting rather to have descended to the level of the lesson, than to have risen up to it. student as he was, and somewhat reserved in demeanor, he was nevertheless very popular with his fellows, and the object of their enthusiastic admiration. anecdotes were abundant as to the marvelous range of his acquirements, and the generosity and patience with which he contributed from his stores even to the dullest applicant for aid. nor was it only in letters that he was chief. a fencing-master, who happened to have a class among the collegians, bore quite as decided testimony to his merits as he had obtained from the various chairs of the faculty. the commencement at which he graduated was distinguished by the attendance of president polk, mr. secretary mason, and lieutenant maury of the national observatory. impressed by the homage universally paid to his merits, as well as by the high character of his graduating oration, these gentlemen proposed to him to become an assistant in the observatory at washington city. after spending some weeks in recreation, mr. pettigrew reported to lieutenant maury, and remained with him for some six or eight months. in the occupations of this office he fully maintained his earlier promise; but soon relinquished the position, inasmuch as the exposure and labor incident to it were injuriously affecting his health. after an interval of travel in the northern states, mr. pettigrew, in the fall of , became a student of law in the office of james mason campbell, esq., of baltimore, where he remained for several months. at the close of this period, by the solicitation of his kinsman, the late james l. petigru of charleston, s.c., he entered his office with the design of being subsequently associated with him in the practice of his profession. upon obtaining license, mr. pettigrew, by the advice of his kinsman just mentioned, proceeded to berlin and other universities in germany in order to perfect himself in the civil law. he remained in europe for nearly three years. two years of this time he devoted to study, the remainder he spent in traveling upon the continent, and in great britain and ireland. he availed himself of this opportunity of becoming acquainted with modern european languages so far as to be able to speak with ease in those of germany, france, italy, and spain. during this tour he contracted a great partiality for the spanish character and history, having had considerable opportunity for studying the former not only as a private gentleman, but also as secretary of legation for a short while to colonel barringer, then minister of the united states near the court of spain. it may be proper to add here, that among the unaccomplished designs of mr. pettigrew, to which he had given some labor, was that of following prescott in further narratives of the connection of spain with america, and as a preliminary to this he had formed a collection of works in arabic, and had made himself acquainted with that language. mr. pettigrew returned to charleston in november, , and entered upon the practice of law in connection with his honored and accomplished relative. he profited so well by his studies in europe and by his subsequent investigations, that in the opinion of his partner, who was well qualified to judge, he became a master of the civil law not inferior in acquisition and in grasp of principle to any in the united states. his success at the bar was brilliant. in , he was chosen one of the representatives of the city in the legislature, holding his seat under that election for the two sessions of december, , and december, . he rose to great distinction in that body. his report against the reöpening of the slave trade, and his speech upon the organization of the supreme court, gave him reputation beyond the bounds of the state. he failed to be reëlected in . mr. pettigrew persistently refused to receive any portion of the income of the partnership of which he was a member. independent in property, and simple in his habits of personal expenditure, he displayed no desire to accumulate money. noble in every trait of character, he held the contents of his purse subject to every draft that merit might present. for some years previous to the rupture between the north and the south, mr. pettigrew had anticipated its occurrence, and believing it to be his duty to be prepared to give his best assistance to the south in such event, had turned his attention to military studies. like many other rare geniuses, he had always a partiality for mathematics, and so very naturally devoted much time to that branch of this science which deals with war. even as far back as he had been desirous of becoming an officer in the prussian army; and negotiations for that end set upon foot by military friends whom he had made at berlin, failed only because he was a republican. afterward he became aid to governor alston of south-carolina, and more recently to governor pickens. upon the breaking out of the war between sardinia and austria, colonel pettigrew at once arranged his private business and hastened to obtain position in the army under general marmora. his application to count cavour was favorably received, but after consideration his offer was declined on the ground that the event of the battle of solferino had rendered further fighting improbable. he was greatly disappointed, as his reception had inspired him with hopes of seeing active service in the sardinian army with rank at least as high as that of a colonel. availing himself, however, of his unexpected leisure, he revisited spain, and after a stay of a few months returned to south-carolina. the fruits of this second visit were collected by him into a volume entitled spain and the spaniards, which he printed for the inspection of his friends in . it will be found to be a thoughtful, spirited, and agreeable record of his impressions of that romantic land. at the opening of the present war, colonel pettigrew, as aid to governor pickens, took a prominent part in the operations of charleston. he was at that time also colonel of a rifle regiment in which he was much interested, and which became conspicuous amongst the military organizations around charleston in the winter of - . as commander of this body he received the surrender of castle pinckney, and subsequently held himself in readiness to storm fort sumter, in case it had not surrendered after bombardment. later in the spring, having failed to procure the incorporation of his regiment into the army of the confederate states, and believing there was little chance of seeing active service in south-carolina, he transferred himself as a private into hampton's legion, and early in the summer accompanied that corps into virginia. a few days afterward he was recalled to the service of his native state by an unsolicited election as colonel of the th regiment of north-carolina volunteers, now the d regiment of north-carolina troops. it had been colonel pettigrew's earnest wish to become connected with the north-carolina army, and so he at once accepted the honorable position, and repaired to raleigh where his regiment was stationed in its camp of instruction. he devoted his attention to its discipline with great assiduity, and in the early days of august was ordered into virginia. the fall and winter of were spent by him near evansport, upon the potomac. he gave his whole time and attention to the perfecting of his regiment, in the duties of soldiers. he fully shared in every hardship that was incident to their situation. in this new position colonel pettigrew became conspicuous for another characteristic necessary to eminent success in every department, but especially in that of military life. the men under his command became devotedly attached to him. their enthusiasm knew no bounds. their confidence in his administration of the police of the camp was perfect, and their assurance of his gallantry and skill unqualified. he soon felt that he might rely upon his brave men for all that was possible to soldiers, and his attachment to the regiment became marked. being offered promotion to the rank of brigadier, he declined it on the ground that it would separate him from his regiment. some time later in the spring of , an arrangement was made by which the th regiment was included in the brigade that was tendered to him, and he no longer felt any difficulty in accepting the promotion. general pettigrew shared in the march under general johnston into the peninsula, and afterward in the retreat upon richmond. on the st day of june, , in the battle of seven pines, he was severely wounded by a ball which passed transversely along the front of his throat and so into the shoulder, cutting the nerves and muscles which strengthen the right arm. this occurred in a charge which he had headed with great gallantry. he was left upon the field for dead, and recovered his consciousness only to find himself in the hands of the enemy. some weeks later his exchange was effected, and, being still an invalid, he was placed in command at petersburg. the exigencies of the service having required his regiment to be transferred to another brigade, he found, upon his return, that it had been placed under the gallant--and now, alas! lamented--general pender. by degrees a new brigade assembled around general pettigrew, and such was his pains in its instruction, and such the desire among the north-carolina soldiers to make part of his command, that by the close of the year he was at the head of a brigade which, in point of quality, numbers, and soldierly bearing, was equal to any in the army. he commanded this brigade in repelling the federal raid into martin county, late in the fall of , and again in general foster's expedition against goldsboro, in december, , and although the quick dexterity of the enemy in falling back did upon neither occasion afford him and his associates an opportunity of trying conclusions with them, yet upon both occasions the magnificent appearance of pettigrew's brigade tended greatly to revive the spirit of a community recently overrun by the enemy. he was also with general d.h. hill during the spring of this year, in his attempt upon washington in this state; and in the very brilliant affair at blount's creek gave the public a taste of what might be expected from his abilities when untrammeled by the orders of a superior. at the time of general stoneman's raid on the north of richmond, general pettigrew was ordered to the protection of that city, and shortly afterward took position at hanover junction. his brigade subsequently made part of the army of northern virginia, and accompanied general lee into pennsylvania. at the battle of gettysburgh he was in command of general heth's division, and won many laurels. his division was greatly cut up. the loss of his brigade in killed and wounded was so heavy as almost to destroy its organization. he himself was wounded by a ball which broke one of the bones of his hand. he regarded it so little as not to leave the field. moving afterward with general lee to hagerstown and the potomac, it devolved upon general pettigrew, on the night of the th and the morning of the th of july, to assist in guarding the passage of that part of the army which recrossed at falling water. about nine o'clock in the morning of the latter day, having been in the saddle all night, general pettigrew and other officers had thrown themselves upon the ground for a few moments' rest, when a party of federal cavalry rode into their midst. in the _mêlée_ which ensued general pettigrew was shot--the ball taking effect in the abdomen and passing through his body. when the enemy had been repulsed, he was taken up by his sorrowing soldiers and carried across the river some seven miles into virginia, along the track of the army. upon the next day he was carried some fifteen miles further, to the house of mr. boyd at bunker hill, where he received every attention of which his situation allowed. upon general lee's expressing great sorrow for the calamity, he said that his fate was no other than one might reasonably anticipate upon entering the army, and that he was perfectly willing to die for his country. to the rev. mr. wilmer he avowed a firm persuasion of the truths of the christian religion, and said that in accordance with his belief he had some years before made preparations for death, adding, that otherwise he would not have entered the army. he lingered until the th, and then at twenty-five minutes after six in the morning, died, quietly and without pain. the expression of sympathy for his sad fate was universal. private soldiers from other commands and distant states, vied with his own in repeated inquiries after his condition. upon its way to raleigh his body was received by the authorities and by the citizens everywhere with all possible respect and attention. on the morning of friday, the th of july, the coffin, wrapped in the flag of the country, and adorned with wreaths of flowers and other tributes of feminine taste and tenderness, lay in the rotunda of the capitol, where, within the year, had preceded him his compatriots branch and anderson. later in the day the state received his loved and honored remains into her bosom. it was a matter of great gratification to north-carolina when this son, after an absence of a few years, gladly returned to her service. she views his career in arms with a just pride. she will ever reckon him among the most precious of her jewels; and will hold him forth as the fittest of all exemplars to the coming generations of her young heroes. chief among his triumphs will it be reckoned that in the midst of his elevation and of the high hopes which possessed his soul, he so demeaned himself as to secure a place, hallowed by grief, in many an humble heart throughout north-carolina. his name is to be pronounced reverently and with tears by the winter fireside of many a hut; and curious childhood will beg to have often repeated the rude stories in which soldiers shall celebrate his generosity, his impartiality, his courtesy, and his daring. it is true that many eyes which flashed with enthusiasm as their favorite urged his gray horse into the thick of the battle, are forever dull upon the fatal hills of pennsylvania; but this will render his memory only the more dear to the survivors; what of his fame was not theirs originally, they will claim to have inherited, from the dead around gettysburgh. if this story has been properly told, little remains to be said by way of comment. a young man of very rare accomplishments and energy, fitted equally for the cloister of the scholar and for the field of battle, has been snatched from our midst. admirably qualified to be of assistance to the country as a soldier or as a statesman, general pettigrew has been suddenly removed at the very commencement, as it were, of his career. _ostendent terris hunc tantum fata, neque ultra esse sinent._ although what he has achieved is sufficient for fame, that which impresses the observer most forcibly is that such vast preparation should, in the course of providence, be defeated of an opportunity for display at all commensurate with what seemed its reasonable requirements. under the circumstances his death looks like a prodigious waste of material. it adds a striking illustration to that class of subjects which has always been popular in poetry, and in morals whether heathen or christian. it appears very clearly that the ruler of all things is under no necessity to employ rare talents and acquirements in the course of his awful administration, but in the crisis of great affairs can lay aside a pettigrew with as little concern as any other instrument, even the meanest. upon some fitting occasion no doubt his friends will see that the public is furnished with a more suitable and detailed account of the preparation he had made to do high service to his generation. it will then be better known that no vulgar career of ambition, and no ordinary benefit to his country, had presented itself to him as worthy of the aims and endowments of james johnston pettigrew.